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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Overland Red, by Henry Herbert Knibbs
+
+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: Overland Red
+       A Romance of the Moonstone Cañon Trail
+
+Author: Henry Herbert Knibbs
+
+Illustrator: Anton Fischer
+
+Release Date: November 11, 2006 [EBook #19763]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OVERLAND RED ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: (page 123) OVERLAND LIMITED!]
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+OVERLAND RED
+
+A ROMANCE OF THE MOONSTONE CAÑON TRAIL
+
+WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY ANTON FISCHER
+
+NEW YORK
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
+
+ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+To I. J. K.
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+CONTENTS
+
+          THE ROAD                                             xi
+       I. THE PROSPECTOR                                        3
+      II. WATER                                                10
+     III. RAGGED ROMANCE                                       14
+      IV. "ANY ROAD, AT ANY TIME, FOR ANYWHERE"                25
+       V. "CAN HE RIDE?"                                       39
+      VI. ADVOCATE EXTRAORDINARY                               48
+     VII. THE GIRL WHO GLANCED BACK                            60
+    VIII. THE TEST                                             72
+      IX. A CELESTIAL ENTERPRISE                               88
+       X. "PERFECTLY HARMLESS LITTLE OLE TENDERFOOT"           98
+      XI. DESERT LAW                                          110
+     XII. "FOOL'S LUCK"                                       125
+    XIII. THE RETURN                                          132
+     XIV. "CALL IT THE 'ROSE GIRL'"                           141
+      XV. SILENT SAUNDERS                                     157
+     XVI. BLUNDER                                             163
+    XVII. GUESTS                                              177
+   XVIII. A RED EPISODE                                       185
+     XIX. "TO CUT MY TRAIL LIKE THAT"                         202
+      XX. THE LED HORSE                                       211
+     XXI. BORROWED PLUMES                                     223
+    XXII. THE YUMA COLT                                       231
+   XXIII. SILENT SAUNDERS SPEAKS                              247
+    XXIV. "LIKE SUNSHINE"                                     254
+     XXV. IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS                          262
+    XXVI. SPECIAL                                             273
+   XXVII. THE RIDERS                                          278
+  XXVIII. GOPHERTOWN                                          288
+    XXIX. TOLL                                                299
+     XXX. TWO ROSES                                           305
+    XXXI. NIGHT                                               320
+   XXXII. MORNING                                             332
+  XXXIII. A SPEECH                                            345
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+OVERLAND LIMITED! (page 123)                         Frontispiece
+THE GIRL'S LEVEL GRAY EYES STUDIED THE TRAMP'S FACE            16
+"IT'S A CLEAN-UP"                                             296
+"CAN'T I HAVE ANOTHER ONE, ROSE GIRL?"                        340
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+
+
+
+The Road
+
+
+Through the San Fernando Valley, toward the hills of Calabasas runs that
+old road, El Camino Real of the early Mission days.
+
+And now replicas of old Mission bells, each suspended in solitary
+dignity from a rusted iron rod, mark intervals along the dusty way, once
+a narrow trail worn by the patient feet of that gentle and great padre,
+Junípero Serra,--a trail from the San Gabriel Valley to the shores of
+Monterey. A narrow trail then, but, even then, to him it was broad in
+its potential significance of the dawn of Grace upon the mountain shores
+of Heaven's lost garden, California.
+
+Not far from one iron-posted bell in the valley, El Camino Real falters,
+to find, eventually, a lazy way round the low foothills, as though
+reluctant to lift its winding length over the sharp pitch of the Canajo
+Pass, beyond.
+
+Near this lone bell another road, an offspring of old El Camino Real,
+runs quickly from its gray and patient sire. Branching south in hurried
+turns and multiple windings it climbs the rolling hills, ever dodging
+the rude-piled masses of rock, with scattered brush between, but forever
+aspiring courageously through the mountain sage and sunshine toward its
+ultimate green rest in the shadowy hills.
+
+In the sweet sage is the drone of bees, like the hum of a far city. The
+thinning, acrid air is tinged with the faint fragrance of sunburnt
+shrubs and grasses.
+
+With the sinuous avoidings of a baffled snake the road turns and turns
+upon itself until its earlier promise of high adventuring seems
+doubtful. As often as not it climbs a semi-barren dun stretch of
+sunbaked earth dotted with stubby cacti--passes these dwarfed
+grotesques, and attempts the narrowing crest of the cañon-wall, to swing
+abruptly back to the cacti again, gaining but little in its upward
+trend.
+
+Impatient, it finally plunges dizzily round a sharp, outstanding angle
+of rock and down into the unexpected enchantment of Moonstone Cañon.
+Here the gaunt cliffs rise to great wild gardens, draped with soft rose
+and poignant red amid drowsy undertones of gray and green and gold. Dots
+of vivid colors flame and fade and pass to ledges of dank, vineclad rock
+and drifts of shale, as the road climbs again.
+
+At the next turn are the indistinct voices of water, commingling in a
+monotone--and the road ceases to be, as the cool silver of a mountain
+stream cuts through it, with seemingly inconsequential meanderings, but
+with the soft arrogance of a power too great to be denied. And the
+indistinct voices, left behind, fade to unimaginable sounds as the
+stream patters down its gravelly course, contented beyond measure with
+its own adventuring.
+
+Patiently the road takes up its way, moving in easier sweeps through a
+widening valley, but forever climbing.
+
+Again and again, fetlock deep across it runs the stream, gently
+persistent and forever murmuring its happy soliloquies.
+
+Here and there the road passes quickly through a blot of shade,--a group
+of wide-spreading live-oaks,--and reappears, gray-white and hot in the
+sun.
+
+And then, its high ambition fulfilled, the road recovers from its last
+climbing sweep round the base of a shouldering hill and runs straight
+and smooth to its ultimate green rest in the shade of the sycamores.
+Beyond these two huge-limbed warders of the mountain ranch gate, there
+is a flower-bordered _way_, but it is the road no longer.
+
+The mountain ranch takes its name from the cañon below. It is the
+Moonstone Ranch, the home of Louise, whose ancestors, the Lacharmes,
+grew roses in old France.
+
+Among the many riders to and from the ranch, there is one, a great,
+two-fisted, high-complexioned man, whose genial presence is ever
+welcome. He answers to many names. To the youngsters he is "Uncle
+Jack,"--usually with an exclamation. To some of the older folk he is
+"Mr. Summers," or "Jack." Again, the foreman of the Moonstone Ranch
+seldom calls him anything more dignified than "Red." Louise does
+sometimes call him--quite affectionately--"Overland."
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+
+
+
+OVERLAND RED
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE PROSPECTOR
+
+
+For five years he had journeyed back and forth between the little desert
+station on the Mojave and the range to the north. The townspeople paid
+scant attention to him. He was simply another "desert rat" obsessed with
+the idea that gold was to be found in those northern hills. He bought
+supplies and paid grudgingly. No one knew his name.
+
+The prospector was much younger than he appeared to be. The desert sun
+had dried his sinews and warped his shoulders. The desert wind had
+scrawled thin lines of age upon his face. The desert solitude had
+stooped him with its awesome burden of brooding silence.
+
+Slowly his mind had been squeezed dry of all human interest save the
+recurrent memory of a child's face--that, and the poignant memory of the
+child's mother. For ten years he had been trying to forget. The last
+five years on the desert had dimmed the woman's visioned face as the
+child came more often between him and the memory of the mother, in his
+dreams.
+
+Then there were voices, the voices of strange spirits that winged
+through the dusk of the outlands and hovered round his fire at night.
+
+One voice, soft, insistent, ravished his imagination with visions of
+illimitable power and peace and rest. "Gold! Lost gold!" it would
+whisper as he sat by the meager flame. Then he would tremble and draw
+nearer the warmth. "Where?" he would ask, tempting the darkness as a
+child, fearfully certain of a reply.
+
+Then another voice, cadenced like the soft rush of waves up the sand,
+would murmur, "Somewhere away! Somewhere away! Somewhere away!" And in
+the indefiniteness of that answer he found an inexplicable joy. The
+vagueness of "Somewhere away" was as vast with pregnant possibilities as
+his desert. His was the eternity of hope, boundless and splendid in its
+extravagant promises. Drunk with the wine of dreams, he knew himself to
+be a monarch, a monarch uncrowned and unattended, yet always with his
+feet upon the wide threshold of his kingdom.
+
+Then would come the biting chill of night, the manifold rays of stars
+and silence, silence reft of winds, yet alive with the tense immobility
+of the crouching beast, waiting ... waiting....
+
+The desert, impassively withering him to the shell of a man, or wracking
+him terribly in heat or in storm and cold, still cajoled him day and
+night with promises, whispered, vague and intoxicating as the perfume of
+a woman's hair.
+
+Finally the desert flung wide the secret portals of her treasure-house
+and gave royally like a courtesan of kings.
+
+The man, his dream all but fulfilled, found the taste of awakening
+bitter on his lips. He counted his years of toil and cursed as he viewed
+his shrunken hands, claw-like, scarred, crippled.
+
+He felt the weight of his years and dreaded their accumulated burdens.
+He realized that the dream was all--its fulfillment nothing. He knew
+himself to be a thing to be pointed at; yet he longed for the sound of
+human voices, for the touch of human hands, for the living sweetness of
+his child's face. The sirens of the invisible night no longer whispered
+to him. He was utterly alone. He had entered his kingdom. Viewed from
+afar it had seemed a vast pleasure-dome of infinite enchantment. He
+found Success, as it ever shall be, a veritable desert, grudging man
+foothold, yet luring him from one aspiration to another, only to consume
+his years in dust.
+
+A narrow cañon held his secret. He had wandered into it, panned a little
+black sand, and found color. Finally he discovered the fountainhead of
+the hoarded yellow particles that spell Power. There in the fastness of
+those steep, purgatorial walls was the hermitage of the two
+voices--voices that no longer whispered of hope, but left him in the
+utter loneliness of possession and its birthright, Fear.
+
+He cried aloud for the companionship of men--and glanced fearfully round
+lest man had heard him call.
+
+He again journeyed to the town beside the railroad, bought supplies and
+vanished, a ragged wraith, on the horizon.
+
+Back in the cañon he set about his labors, finding a numbing solace in
+toil.
+
+But at night he would think of the child's face. He had said to those
+with whom he had left the child that he would return with a fortune.
+They knew he went away to forget. They did not expect him to return.
+That had been ten years ago. He had written twice. Then he had drifted,
+always promising the inner voice that urged him that he would find gold
+for her, his child, that she might ever think kindly of him. So he tried
+to buy himself--with promises. Once he had been a man of his hands, a
+man who stood straight and faced the sun. Now the people of the desert
+town eyed him askance. He heard them say he was mad--that the desert had
+"got him." They were wrong. The desert and its secret was his--a sullen
+paramour, but _his_ nevertheless. Had she not given him of her very
+heart?
+
+He viewed his shrunken body, knew that he stooped and shuffled, realized
+that he had paid the inevitable, the inexorable price for the secret.
+His wine of dreams had evaporated.... He sifted the coarse gold between
+his fingers, letting it fall back into the pan. Was it for _this_ that
+he had wasted his soul?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the desert town men began to notice the regularity of his comings and
+goings. Two or three of them foregathered in the saloon and commented on
+it.
+
+"He packed some dynamite last trip," asserted one.
+
+There was a silence. The round clock behind the bar ticked loudly,
+ominously.
+
+"Then he's struck it at last," said another.
+
+"Mebby," commented the first speaker.
+
+The third man nodded. Then came silence again and the absolute ticking
+of the clock. Presently from outside in the white heat of the road came
+the rush of hoofs and an abrupt stop. A spurred and booted rider, his
+swarthy face gray with dust, strode in, nodded to the group and called
+for whiskey.
+
+"Which way did he go, Saunders?" asked one.
+
+"North, as usual," said the rider.
+
+"Let's set down," suggested the third man.
+
+They shuffled to a table. The bartender brought glasses and a bottle.
+Then, uninvited, he pulled up a chair and sat with them. The rider
+looked at him pointedly.
+
+"Oh, I'm in on this," asserted the bartender. "Daugherty is the
+Wells-Fargo man here. He won't talk to nobody but me--about _business_."
+
+"What's that got to do with it?" queried the rider.
+
+"Just what you'd notice, Saunders. Listen! The rat left a bag of dust in
+the Company's safe last trip. Daugherty says its worth mebby five
+hundred. He says the rat's goin' to bring in some more. Do I come in?"
+
+"You're on," said the rider. "Now, see here, boys, we got to find out if
+he's filed on it yet, and what his name is, and then--"
+
+"Mebby we'd better find out _where_ it is first," suggested one.
+
+"And then jump him?" queried the rider over his glass.
+
+"And then jump him," chorused the group. "He's out there alone. It's
+easy." And each poured himself a drink, for which, strangely enough, no
+one offered to pay, and for which the bartender evidently forgot to
+collect.
+
+Meanwhile the prospector toiled through the drought of that summer
+hoarding the little yellow flakes that he washed from the gravel in the
+cañon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+WATER
+
+
+All round him for miles each way the water-holes had gone dry. The
+little cañon stream still wound down its shaded course, disappearing in
+a patch of sand at the cañon's mouth, so the prospector felt secure.
+None had ridden out to look for him through that furnace of burning sand
+that stretched between the hills and the desert town.
+
+The stream dwindled slowly, imperceptibly.
+
+One morning the prospector noticed it, and immediately explored the
+creek clear to its source--a spurt of water springing from the roof of a
+grotto in the cliff. Such a supply, evidently from the rocky heart of
+the range itself, would be inexhaustible.
+
+A week later he awoke to find the creek-bed dry save in a few
+depressions among the rocks. He again visited the grotto. The place was
+damp and cool, glistening with beads of moisture, but the flow from the
+roof-crevice had ceased. Still he thought there must be plenty of water
+beneath the rocks of the stream-bed. He would dig for it.
+
+Another week, and he became uneasy. The stream had disappeared as though
+poured into a colossal crevice. A few feet below the gravel he struck
+solid rock. He tried dynamite unsuccessfully. Then he hoarded the
+drippings from the grotto crevice till he had filled his canteen.
+Carefully he stowed his gold in a chamois pouch and prepared to leave
+the cañon. His burro had strayed during the week of drought--was
+probably dead beside some dry water-hole.
+
+The prospector set out to cross the range in the light of the stars.
+
+Fearful that he might be seen, panic warped his reasoning. He planned to
+journey south along the foothills, until opposite the desert town and
+then cross over to it. If he approached from such a direction, no one
+would guess his original starting-place. He knew of an unfailing
+water-hole two days' journey from the cañon. This water-hole was far out
+of his way, but his canteen supply would more than last till he reached
+it.
+
+Then Fate, the fate that had dogged his every step since first he
+ventured into the solitudes, closed up and crept at his heels. He became
+more morose and strangely fearful. His vision, refined by the wasting of
+his body, created shadows that lay about his feet like stagnant pools,
+shadows where no shadows should be.
+
+Ominous was his fall as he crossed an arroyo. The canteen, slung over
+his shoulder, struck a sharp point of rock that started one of the
+seams. The leak was infinitesimal. The felt cover of the canteen
+absorbed the drip, which evaporated. When he arrived at the water-hole,
+_that_ was dry. His canteen felt strangely light. He could not remember
+having used so much water. He changed his plan. He struck straight from
+the hills toward the railroad. He knew that eventually he would, as he
+journeyed west, cross it, perhaps near a water-tank.
+
+Toward the blinding afternoon of that day he saw strange lakes and pools
+spread out upon the distant sand and inverted mountain ranges stretching
+to the horizon.
+
+Fate crept closer to his heels, waiting with the dumb patience of the
+desert to claim the struggling, impotent puppet whose little day was all
+but spent.
+
+He stumbled across the blazing bars of steel that marked the railroad.
+His empty canteen clattered on the ties as he fell. He got to his knees
+and dragged himself from the track. He laughed, for he had thwarted Fate
+this once; he would not be run over by the train. He lay limp, wasted,
+scarcely breathing.
+
+Serenely Fate crouched near him, patient, impassive....
+
+He heard a man speak and another answer. He felt an arm beneath his
+head, and water.... Water!
+
+He drank, and all at once his strength flamed up. It was not water they
+gave him; it was merely the taste of it--a mockery. He wanted more ...
+all!
+
+He lurched to his feet, struggling with a bearded giant that held him
+from his desire--to drink until he could drink no more--to die drinking
+the water they had taken from him even as they gave it. He fought
+blindly. Fate, disdaining further patience, arose and flung itself about
+his feet. He stumbled. A flash wiped all things from his vision and the
+long night came swiftly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+RAGGED ROMANCE
+
+
+At the wide gate of the mountain ranch stood the girl. Her black
+saddle-pony Boyar fretted to be away. Glancing back through the
+cavernous shade of the live-oaks, the girl hesitated before opening the
+gate. A little breeze, wayfaring through Moonstone Cañon and on up to
+the mountain ranch, touched the girl's cheek and she breathed deeply of
+its cool fragrance.
+
+The wide gate swung open, and Louise Lacharme, curbing Black Boyar, rode
+out of the shadows into the hot light of the morning, singing as she
+rode.
+
+Against the soft gray of the cañon wall flamed a crimson flower like a
+pomegranate bud. Across the road ran the cool mountain stream. Away and
+away toward the empty sky the ragged edges of the cliffs were etched
+sharply upon the blue.
+
+The road ran swiftly round the eastern wall of the cañon. Louise, as
+fragrantly bright as morning sunshine on golden flowers, laughed as the
+pony's lithe bound tore the silver of the ford to swirling beads and
+blade-like flashes.
+
+On the rise beyond, the girl drew rein at the beginning of the Old
+Meadow Trail, a hidden trail that led to a mountain meadow of ripe
+grasses, groups of trees, and the enchantment of seclusion.
+
+The pony shouldered through the breast-high greasewood and picked his
+steps along the edge of the hill. The twigs and branches lisped and
+clattered against the carved leather tapaderos that hooded the stirrups.
+The warm sun awoke the wild fragrance of sage and mountain soil. Little
+lizards of the stones raced from Black Boyar's tread, becoming rigid on
+the sides of rocks, clinging at odd angles with heads slanted, like
+delicate Orient carvings in dull brass.
+
+The girl's eyes, the color of sea-water in the sun, were leveled toward
+the distant hills across the San Fernando Valley. From her fingers
+dangled the long bridle-reins. Her lips were gently parted. Her gaze was
+the gaze of one who dreams in the daylight. And close in the hidden
+meadow crouched Romance, Romance ragged, unkempt, jocular....
+
+Boyar first scented the wood-smoke. Louise noticed his forward-standing
+ears and his fidgeting. Immediately before her was the low rounded rock,
+a throne of dreams that she had graced before. From down the slope and
+almost hidden by the bulk of the rock, a little wand of smoke stood up
+in the windless air, to break at last into tiny shreds and curls of
+nothingness.
+
+"It can't be much of a fire yet!" exclaimed Louise, forever watchful, as
+are all the hill-folk, for that dread, ungovernable red monster of
+destruction, a mountain fire. "It can't be much of a fire _yet_."
+
+The pony Boyar, delicately scenting something more than wood-smoke,
+snorted and swerved. Louise dismounted and stepped hurriedly round the
+shoulder of the rock. A bristle-bearded face confronted her. "No, it
+ain't much of a fire yet, but our hired girl she joined a movin'-picture
+outfit, so us two he-things are doin' the best we can chasin' a
+breakfast." And the tramp, Overland Red, ragged, unkempt, jocular, rose
+from his knees beside a tiny blaze. He pulled a bleak flop of felt from
+his tangled hair in an over-accentuated bow of welcome.
+
+"We offer you the freedom of the city, ma'am. Welcome to our midst, and
+kindly excuse appearances this morning. Our trunks got delayed in New
+York."
+
+Unsmilingly the girl's level gray eyes studied the tramp's face. Then
+her glance swept him swiftly from bared head to rundown heel. "I was
+just making up my mind whether I'd stay and talk with you, or ask you to
+put out your fire and go somewhere else. But I think you are all right.
+Please put on your hat."
+
+[Illustration: THE GIRL'S LEVEL GRAY EYES STUDIED THE TRAMP'S FACE]
+
+Overland Red's self-assurance shrunk a little. The girl's eyes were
+direct and fearless, yet not altogether unfriendly. He thought that deep
+within them dwelt a smile.
+
+"You got my map all right," he said, a trifle more respectfully.
+"'Course we'll douse the fire when we duck out of here. But what do you
+think of Collie here, my pal? Is he all right?"
+
+"Oh, he's only a boy," said Louise, glancing casually at the youth
+crouched above the fire.
+
+The boy, a slim lad of sixteen or thereabout, flushed beneath the
+battered brim of his black felt hat. He watched the tomato-can
+coffee-pot intently. Louise could not see his face.
+
+"Yes, Miss. _I'm_ all right and so is he." And a humorous wistfulness
+crept into the tramp's eyes. "He's what you might call a changeling."
+
+"Changeling?"
+
+"Uhuh! Always changin' around from place to place--when you're young.
+Ain't that it?"
+
+"Oh! And when you are older?" she queried, smiling.
+
+Overland Red frowned. "Oh, then you're just a tramp, a Willie, a Bo, a
+Hobo."
+
+He saw the girl's eyes harden a little. He spoke quickly, and, she
+imagined, truthfully. "I worked ten years for one outfit once, without
+a change. And I never knowed what it was to do a day's work out of the
+saddle. You know what that means."
+
+"Cattle? Mexico?"
+
+Overland Red grinned. "Say! You was born in California, wasn't you?"
+
+"Yes, of course."
+
+"'Cause Mexico has been about the only place a puncher could work that
+long without doin' day labor on foot half the year. Yes, I been there.
+'Course, now, I'm doin' high finance, and givin' advice to the young,
+and livin' on my income. And say, when it comes to real brain work, I'm
+the Most Exhausted Baked High Potentate, but I wouldn't do no mineral
+labor for nobody. If I can't work in the saddle, I don't work--that's
+all."
+
+"Mineral labor? What, mining?" asked Louise.
+
+"No, not mining. Jest mineral labor like Japs, or section-hands, or
+coachmen with bugs on their hats. Ain't the papers always speakin' of
+that kind as minerals?"
+
+"Don't you mean menials?"
+
+"Well, yes. It's all the same, anyway. I never do no hair-splittin' on
+words. Bein' a pote myself, it ain't necessary."
+
+"A--a poet! Really?"
+
+"Really and truly, and carry one and add five. I've roped a lot of
+po'try in my time, Miss. Say, are we campin' on your land?"
+
+"No. This is government land, from here to our line up above--the
+Moonstone Rancho."
+
+"The Moonstone Rancho?" queried Overland Red, breaking a twig and
+feeding the fire.
+
+"Yes. It's named after the cañon. But don't let me keep you from
+breakfast."
+
+"Breakfast, eh? That's right! I almost forgot it, talkin' to you.
+Collie's got the coffee to boilin'. No, _you_ ain't keepin' us from our
+breakfast any that you'd notice. It would take a whole reg'ment of
+Rurales to keep us from a breakfast if we seen one runnin' around loose
+without its pa or ma."
+
+Louise Lacharme did not smile. This was too real. Here was adventure
+with no raconteur's glamour, no bookish gloss. Here was Romance. Romance
+unshaven, illiterate, with its coat off making coffee in a
+smoke-blackened tomato-can, but Romance nevertheless. That this romance
+should touch her life, Louise had not the faintest dream. She was
+alone ... but, pshaw! Boyar was grazing near, and besides, she was not
+really afraid of the men. She thought she rather liked them, or, more
+particularly, the boisterous one who had said his name was Overland Red.
+
+The tramp gazed at her a moment before he lifted the tomato-can from the
+embers. "We know you won't join us, but we're goin' to give you the
+invite just the same. And we mean it. Ma'am, if you'll be so kind as to
+draw up your chair, us gents'll eat."
+
+"Thank you!" said Louise, and Overland's face brightened at the
+good-fellowship in her voice. "Thank you both, but I've had breakfast."
+
+She gazed at the solitary, bubbling, tomato-can coffee-pot of
+"second-edition" coffee. There was nothing else to grace the board, or
+rather rock. "I'll be right back," she said. "I'll just take off Boyar's
+bridle. Here, Boy!" she called. "You'll be able to eat better."
+
+And she ran to the pony. From a saddle-pocket she took her own lunch of
+sandwiches and ripe olives wrapped in oiled paper. She delayed her
+return to loosen the forward cincha of the saddle and to find the little
+stock of cigarette-papers and tobacco that she carried for any chance
+rider of the Moonstone who might be without them.
+
+Collie, the boy tramp, glanced up at Overland Red. "I guess she's gone,"
+he said regretfully.
+
+"You're nutty, Collie. She ain't the kind to sneak off after sayin'
+she's comin' back. I know a hoss and a real woman when I see 'em. I was
+raised in the West, myself."
+
+The boy Collie was young, sensitive, and he had not been "raised in the
+West." He frowned. "Yes, you was raised in the West, and what you got to
+show for it?"
+
+"Well, hear the kid!" exclaimed Overland. "Out of the mouth of babes and
+saplings! What have I got to show? What have I--! Wha--? Oh, you go
+chase a snake! I know a good hoss and a good woman when I see 'em, and I
+seen both together this morning."
+
+"But what do _she_ want with us bos?" asked the boy.
+
+"S-s-h-h! Why, she's interested in me romantic past, of course. Ain't I
+the 'cute little gopher when it comes to the ladies? Fan me, Collie, and
+slow music and a beer for one. I'm some lady's-man, sister!"
+
+"You're a bo, the same as me," said the boy.
+
+"S-s-h-h! For the love of Pete, don't you handle that word 'bo' so
+careless. It's loaded. It has a jarrin' effect on ears
+unattenuated--er--meanin' ears that ain't keyed up to it, as the pote
+says. She's comin' back. Fold your napkin. Don't look so blame hungry!
+Ain't you got any style?"
+
+"She's the prettiest girl I ever seen," said the boy, hastily swallowing
+his share of the hot, insipid coffee.
+
+"Pretty?" whispered Overland, as Louise approached. "She's thoroughbred.
+Did you see them eyes? Afraid of nothin', and smilin' at what might dast
+to scare her. Not foolish, either. She's wise. And she's kind and
+laughin', and not ashamed to talk to us. That's thoroughbred."
+
+Round the rock came Louise, the neat package of sandwiches in one hand.
+In the other was the tobacco and cigarette-papers. "I'm going to have my
+luncheon," she said. "If you won't object, I'll take a sandwich. There,
+I have mine. The rest are for you."
+
+"We had our breakfast," said Overland quickly, "when you was talkin' to
+your pony."
+
+Louise glanced at the empty tomato-can. "Well, I'll excuse you for not
+waiting for me, but I shall not excuse you from having luncheon with me.
+I made these sandwiches myself. Have one. They're really good."
+
+"Oh!" groaned Overland, grimacing. "If I could curry up my language
+smooth, like that, I--I guess I'd get deaf listenin' to myself talk. You
+said that speech like takin' two turns round the bandstand tryin' to
+catch yourself, and then climbin' a post and steppin' on your own
+shoulders so you could see the parade down the street. Do you get that?"
+And he sighed heavily. "Say! These here sandwiches is great!"
+
+"Will you have one?" asked Louise, gracefully proffering the olives.
+
+"Seein' it's you. Thanks. I always take two. The second one for a chaser
+to kill the taste of the first. It's the only way to eat 'em--if you
+know where to stop. They do taste like somethin' you done and are sorry
+for afterwards, don't they?"
+
+"Were you ever sorry for anything?" asked the boy, feeling a little
+piqued that he had been left out of the conversation.
+
+"I was raised in the West, myself," growled the tramp, scowling. "But
+that's a good pony you got, Miss. That your saddle too?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You rope any?"
+
+"A little. How did you know?"
+
+"Rawhide cover to the saddle-horn is wore with a rope," said Overland,
+helping himself to a second sandwich.
+
+Then the tramp and the girl, oblivious to everything else, discussed
+rawhide riatas as compared with the regular three-strand stock rope, or
+lariat,--center-fire, three quarter, and double rigs, swell forks and
+old Visalia trees, spade bits and "U" curbs,--neither willing, even
+lightly, to admit the other's superiority of chosen rig.
+
+The boy Collie listened intently and a trifle jealously. Overland Red
+and the girl had found a common ground of interest that excluded him
+utterly. The boy itched for an excuse to make the girl speak to him,
+even look at him.
+
+The sandwiches gone, Louise proffered Overland tobacco and papers.
+Actual tears stood in the ex-cowboy's eyes. "Smoke! Me?" he exclaimed.
+"I was dyin' for it. I'd do time for you!"
+
+Then in that boyish spirit that never quite leaves the range-rider,
+Overland Red took the tobacco and papers and cleverly rolled a cigarette
+with one hand. In the other he held his battered felt hat. His eyes had
+a far-away look as he reached forward and lighted his cigarette at the
+fire. "I was settin' on a crazy bronc', holdin' his head up so he
+couldn't go to buckin'--outside a little old adobe down in Yuma,
+Arizona, then," he explained, glancing at the girl. "Did you ever drift
+away complete, like that, jest from some little old trick to make you
+dream?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+"ANY ROAD, AT ANY TIME, FOR ANYWHERE"
+
+
+The boy Collie took the empty tomato-can and went for water with which
+to put out the fire.
+
+Louise and Overland Red gazed silently at the youthful figure crossing
+the meadow. The same thought was in both their hearts--that the boy's
+chance in life was still ahead of him. Something of this was in the
+girl's level gray eyes as she asked, "Why did you come up here, so far
+from the town and the railroad?"
+
+"We generally don't," replied Overland Red. "We ain't broke. Collie's
+got some money. We got out of grub from comin' up here. We come up to
+see the scenery. I ain't kiddin'; we sure did! 'Course, speakin' in
+general, a free lunch looks better to me any day than the Yosemite--but
+that's because I need the lunch. You got to be fed up to it to enjoy
+scenery. Now, on the road we're lookin' at lots of it every day, but we
+ain't seein' much. But give me a good feed and turn me loose in the Big
+Show Pasture where the Bridal Veil is weepin' jealous of the Cathedral
+Spires, and the Big Trees is too big to be jealous of anything, where
+Adam would 'a' felt old the day he was born--jest take off my hobbles
+and turn me out to graze _there_, and _feed_, and say, lady, I scorn the
+idea of doin' _any_thing but decomposin' my feelin's and smokin' and
+writin' po'try. I been there! There's where I writ the song called 'Beat
+It, Bo.' Mebby you heard of it."
+
+"No, I should like to hear it."
+
+The fire steamed and spluttered as Collie extinguished it. Overland Red
+handed the tobacco and papers to him.
+
+"About comin' up this here trail?" he resumed as the boy stretched
+beside them on the warm earth. "Well, Miss, it was four years ago that I
+picked up Collie here at Albuquerque. His pa died sudden and left the
+kid to find out what a hard map this ole world is. We been across, from
+Frisco to New York, twice since then, and from Seattle to San Diego on
+the side, and 'most everywhere in California, it bein' my native State
+and the best of the lot. You see, Collie, he's gettin' what you might
+call a liberated education, full of big ideas--no dinky stuff. Yes, I
+picked him up at Albuquerque, a half-starved, skinny little cuss that
+was cryin' and beggin' me to get him out of there."
+
+"Albuquerque?" queried Louise.
+
+"Uhuh. Later, comin' acrost the Mojave, we got thrun off a freight by
+mistake for a couple of sewin'-machines that we was ridin' with to
+Barstow, so the tickets on the crates said. That was near Daggett, by a
+water-tank. It was hotter than settin' on a stove in Death Valley at 12
+o'clock Sunday noon. We beat it for the next town, afoot. Collie
+commenced to give out. He was pretty tender and not strong. I lugged him
+some and he walked some. He was talkin' of green grass and cucumbers in
+the ice-box and ice-cream and home and the Maumee River, and a whole lot
+of things you can't find in the desert. Well, I got him to his feet next
+mornin'. We had some trouble, and was detained a spell in Barstow after
+that. They couldn't prove nothin', so they let us go. Then Collie got to
+talkin' again about a California road that wiggled up a hill and through
+a cañon, and had one of these here ole Mission bells where it lit off
+for the sky-ranch. Funny, for he was never in California then. Mebby it
+was the old post-card he got at Albuquerque. You see his pa bought it
+for him 'cause he wanted it. He was only a kid then. Collie, he says
+it's the only thing his pa ever did buy for him, and so he kept it till
+it was about wore out from lookin' at it. But considerin' how his pa
+acted, I guess that was about all Collie needed to remember him by.
+Anyhow, he dreamed of that road, and told me so much about it that I
+got to lookin' for it too. I knowed of the old El Camino Real and the
+bells, so we kept our eye peeled for that particular dream road, kind of
+for fun. We found her yesterday."
+
+"What, this? The road to our ranch?"
+
+"Uhuh. Collie, he said so the minute we got in that cañon, Moonstone
+Cañon, you said. We're restin' up and enjoyin' the scenery. We need the
+rest, for only last week we resigned from doin' a stunt in a
+movin'-picture outfit. They wanted somebody to do native sons. We said
+we didn't have them kind of clothes, but the foreman of the outfit says
+we'd do fine jest as we was. It was fierce--and, believe me, lady, I
+been through some! I been through some!
+
+"They was two others in checker clothes and dip-lid caps, and they
+_wasn't_ native sons. They acted like sons of--I'd hate to tell you
+what, Miss--to the chief dollie in the show. They stole her beau and
+tied him to the S. P. tracks; kind of loose, though. She didn't seem to
+care. She jest stood around chewin' gum and rollin' her lamps at the
+head guy. Then the movin'-picture express, which was a retired
+switch-engine hooked onto a Swede observation car, backs down on
+Adolphus, and we was to rush up like--pretty fast, and save his life.
+
+"She was a sassy little chicken with blond feathers and a three-quarter
+rig skirt. She had a regular strawberry-ice-cream-soda complexion, and
+her eyes looked like a couple of glass alleys with electric lights in
+'em. I wondered if she took 'em out at night to go to sleep or only
+switched off the current. Anyhow, up she rides in a big reddish kind of
+automobile and twists her hands round her wrists and looks up the track
+and down the track and sees us and says, 'Oh, w'ich way has he went?
+W'ich way did Disgustus Adolphus beat it to?' And chewin' gum right on
+top of that, too. It was tough on us, Miss, but we needed the money.
+
+"'Bout the eighteenth time she comes coughin' up in that old one-lung
+machine,--to get her expression right, so the boss kept hollerin',--why,
+I gets sick and tired. If there's anything _doin_', why, I'm game, but
+such monkeyin'! There was that picture-machine idiot workin' the crank
+as if he was shellin' a thicket-full of Injuns with a Gatling, and his
+fool cap turned round with the lid down the back of his neck, and me and
+Collie, the only sensible-actin' ones of the lot, because we was actin'
+natural, jest restin'. I got sick and tired. The next time up coughs
+that crippled-up automobile with the mumps on its front tire, and she
+says, 'Where, oh, where has he went?' I ups and says, 'Crazy, Miss, and
+can you blame him?'
+
+"She didn't see no joke in that, so the boss he fired us. He wasn't
+goin' to pay us at that, but I picks up the little picture-machine box
+and I swings her up over the track kind of suggestive like. 'One!' said
+I. 'Do we get our money?'
+
+"'Drop that machine!' says he, rushin' up to me.
+
+"'I'm a-goin' to,' says I, 'good and hard. Think again, while I count.
+Do we get our money?'
+
+"'You get pinched!' says he.
+
+"'Two,' says I, and I swings the box up by the legs.
+
+"'Hole on!' yells the boss. 'Pay the mutt, Jimmy, and, for Gord sake,
+get that machine before he ruins the best reel we made yet!'
+
+"We got paid."
+
+"But the bell and Moonstone Cañon?" questioned Louise, glancing back at
+Boyar grazing down the meadow.
+
+"Sure! Well, we flopped near here that night--"
+
+"Flopped?"
+
+"Uhuh. Let's see, you ain't hep to that, are you? Why, we crawled to the
+hay, hit the feathers, pounded our ear--er--went to bed! That's what it
+used to be. Well, in the morning, me and Collie got some sardines and
+crackers to the store and a little coffee. It was goin' over there that
+we seen the bell and the road and the whole works. I got kind of
+interested myself in that cañon. I never saw so many moonstones layin'
+right on top the gravel, and I been in Mex., too. We liked it and we
+stayed over last night, expectin' to be gone by now."
+
+"And when you leave here?" queried Louise.
+
+"Same old thing," replied Overland cheerfully. "I know the ropes. Collie
+works by spells. Oh, we're livin', and that's all you need to do in
+California."
+
+"And that is all--now that you have found the road?"
+
+"Oh, the road is like all of them dreams," said Overland. "Such things
+are good for keepin' people interested in somethin' till it's done,
+that's all. It was fun at first, lookin' up every arroyo and slit in the
+hills, till we found it. Same as them marriages on the desert, after
+that."
+
+"Marriages?"
+
+"Uhuh. Seein' water what ain't there, like."
+
+"Oh, mirages!" And Louise laughed joyfully.
+
+"I don't see no joke," said Overland, aggrieved.
+
+"I really beg your pardon."
+
+"That's all right, Miss. But what would you call it?"
+
+"Oh, an illusion, a mirage, something that seems to be, but that is
+not."
+
+"I don't see where it's got anything on marriages, then, do you? But I
+ain't generally peppermistic. I believe in folks and things, although
+I'm old enough to know better."
+
+"I'm glad you believe in folks," said Louise. "So do I."
+
+"It's account of bein' a pote, I guess," sighed the tramp. "'Course I
+ain't a professional. They got to have a license. I never took out one,
+not havin' the money. Anyway, if I did have enough money for a regular
+license, I'd start a saloon and live respectable."
+
+"Won't you quote something?" And the girl smiled bewitchingly. "Boyar
+and I must go soon. It's getting hot."
+
+"I'm mighty sorry you're goin', Miss. You're real California stock.
+Knowed it the minute I set eyes on you. Besides, you passed us the
+smokes."
+
+"Red, you shut up!"
+
+Overland turned a blue, astonished eye on Collie. "Why, kiddo, what's
+bitin' _you_?"
+
+"Because the lady give us the makings don't say _she_ smokes, does it?"
+
+Overland grunted. "Because you're foolish with the heat, don't say I am,
+does it? Them sandwiches has gone to your head, Chico. Who said she did
+smoke?"
+
+Louise, grave-eyed, watched the two men, Overland sullen and scowling,
+Collie fierce and flaming.
+
+"We ain't used to--to real ladies," apologized Overland. "We could do
+better if we practiced up."
+
+"Of course!" said Louise, smiling. "But the poetry."
+
+"U-m-m, yes. The po'try. What'll I give her, Collie?"
+
+"I don't care," replied the boy. "You might try 'Casey Jones.' It's
+better'n anything _you_ ever wrote."
+
+"That? I guess not! That ain't her style. I mean one of my
+_own_--somethin' _good_."
+
+"Oh, I don't know. 'Toledo Blake,'" mumbled Collie.
+
+"Nope! But I guess the 'Grand Old Privilege' will do for a starter."
+
+"Oh, good!" And Louise clapped her hands. "The title is splendid. Is the
+poem original?"
+
+The tramp bowed a trifle haughtily. "Original? Me life's work, lady."
+And he awkwardly essayed to button a buttonless coat, coughed, waved his
+half-consumed cigarette toward the skies, and began:--
+
+  "Folks say we got no morals--that they all fell in the soup;
+  And no conscience--so the would-be goodies say;
+  And I guess our good intentions _did_ jest up and flew the coop,
+  While we stood around and watched 'em fade away.
+
+  "But there's one thing that we're lovin' more than money, grub, or booze,
+  Or even decent folks that speaks us fair;
+  And that's the Grand Old Privilege to chuck our luck and choose,
+  _Any_ road at _any_ time for _any_ where."
+
+And Overland, his hand above his heart, bowed effusively.
+
+"I like 'would-be goodies,'" said Louise. "Sounds just like a mussy,
+sticky cookie that's too sweet. And 'Any road at any time for any
+where--' I think that is real."
+
+Overland puffed his chest and cleared his throat. "I can't help it,
+Miss. Born that way. Cut my first tooth on a book of pomes ma got for a
+premium with Mustang Liniment."
+
+"Well, thank you." And Louise nodded gayly. "Keep the tobacco and papers
+to remember me by. I must go."
+
+"We don't need them to remember you by," said Overland gallantly. Then
+the smile suddenly left his face.
+
+Down the Old Meadow Trail, unseen by the girl and the boy, rode a single
+horseman, and something at his hip glinted in the sun. Overland's hand
+went to his own hip. Then he shrugged his shoulders, and slowly
+recovered himself. "What's the use?" he muttered.
+
+But there was that in his tone which brought Collie's head up. The lad
+pushed back his battered felt hat and ran his fingers through his wavy
+black hair, perplexedly. "What's the matter, Red? What's the matter?"
+
+"Nothin'. Jest thinkin'." Yet the tramp's eyes narrowed as he glanced
+furtively past the girl to where Boyar, the black pony, grazed in the
+meadow.
+
+Louise, puzzled by something familiar in the boy's upturned, questioning
+face, raised one gauntleted hand to her lips. "Why, you're the boy I
+saw, out on the desert, two years ago. Weren't you lying by a water-tank
+when our train stopped and a man was kneeling beside you pouring water
+on your face? Aren't you that boy?"
+
+"Yes!" exclaimed Collie, getting to his feet. "Red told me about _you_,
+too."
+
+"Yes, it's her," muttered Overland, nodding to himself.
+
+"And you chucked a rose out of the window to us?" said the boy.
+"Overland said _she_ did."
+
+"Yes. It's her, the Rose-Lady Girl," said Overland. "Some of the folks
+in the train laughed when I picked up the rose. I remember. Some one
+else says, 'They're only tramps.' I recollect that, too."
+
+"But those men were arrested at Barstow, for murder, Uncle Walter said."
+
+Again Overland Red nodded. "They was, Miss. But they couldn't prove
+nothin', so they let us go."
+
+"We always was goin' to say thanks to the girl with the rose if we ever
+seen her," said the boy Collie. "We ain't had such a lot of roses give
+to us."
+
+"So we says it now," said Overland quickly. "Or mebby we wouldn't never
+have another chance." Then he slowly rolled another cigarette.
+
+Just then the black pony Boyar nickered. He recognized a friend entering
+the meadow.
+
+Overland lighted his cigarette. As he straightened up, Louise was
+surprised to see him thrust both hands above his head while he continued
+smoking placidly. "Excuse me, Miss," he said, turning the cigarette
+round with his lips; "but the gent behind you with the gun has got the
+drop on me. I guess he's waitin' for you to step out of range."
+
+Louise turned swiftly. Dick Tenlow, deputy sheriff, nodded good-morning
+to her, but kept his gun trained on the tramp.
+
+"Just step out from behind that rock," said Tenlow, addressing
+Overland.
+
+"Don't know as I will," replied the tramp. "You're no gentleman; you
+didn't say 'please.'"
+
+"Come on! No bluff like that goes here," said the deputy.
+
+"Can't you see I ain't finished smokin' yet?" queried Overland.
+
+"Come on! Step along!"
+
+"No way to address a gent, you Johnny. Say, I'll tell you _now_ before
+you fall down and shoot yourself. Do you think you got me because you
+rode up while I was talkin' to a lady, and butted into polite
+conversation like a drunk Swede at a dance? Say, you think I'd 'a' ever
+let you got this far if there hadn't been a lady present? Why, you
+little nickle-plated, rubber-eared policeman, I was doin' the double
+roll with a pair of Colts .45's when you was learnin' the taste of
+milk!"
+
+"That'll be about all for _you_," said the sheriff, grinning.
+
+"No, it ain't. You ain't takin' me serious, and there's where you're
+makin' your mistake. I'm touchy about some things, Mr. Pussy-foot. I
+could 'a' got you three times while you was ridin' down that trail, and
+I wouldn't 'a' had to stop talkin' to do it. And you with that little
+old gun out before you even seen me!"
+
+"Why didn't you, then?" asked Tenlow, restraining his anger; for Louise,
+in spite of herself, had smiled at Overland's somewhat picturesque
+resentment. "Why didn't you, then?"
+
+"Huh!" snorted Overland scornfully. "Do you suppose I'd start anything
+with a _lady_ around? That ain't my style. You're a kid. You'll get hurt
+some day."
+
+Deputy Tenlow scowled. He was a big man, slow of tongue, ordinarily
+genial, and proverbially stupid. He knew the tramp was endeavoring to
+anger him. The deputy turned to Louise. "Sorry, Miss Lacharme, but I got
+to take him."
+
+"There's really nothing to hinder, is there?" Louise asked sweetly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+"CAN HE RIDE?"
+
+
+The tramp glanced up, addressing the deputy. "Yes, even now there is
+something to hinder, if I was to get busy." Then he coolly dropped his
+arms and leaned against the rock with one leg crossed before the other
+in a manner sometimes supposed to reflect social ease and elegance. "But
+I'm game to take what's comin'. If you'll just stick me up and extract
+the .38 automatic I'm packin' on my hip,--and, believe me, she's a bad
+Gat. when she's in action,--why, I'll feel lots better. The little gun
+might get to shootin' by herself, and then somebody would get hurt sure.
+You see, I'm givin' you all the chance you want to take me without
+gettin' mussed up. I'm nervous about firearms, anyhow."
+
+Deputy Dick Tenlow advanced and secured the gun.
+
+"Now," said Overland Red, heaving a sigh; "now, I ain't ashamed to look
+a gun in the face. You see, Miss," he added, turning to address the
+girl, "I was sheriff of Abilene once, in the ole red-eye, rumpus days. I
+have planted some citizens in my time. You see, I kind of owe the ones
+I did plant a silent apology for lettin' this here chicken-rancher get
+me so easy."
+
+"You talk big," said Tenlow, laughing. "Who was you when you was sheriff
+of Abilene, eh?"
+
+"Jack Summers, sometimes called Red Jack Summers," replied Overland
+quietly, and he looked the deputy in the eye.
+
+"Jack Summers!"
+
+Overland nodded. "Take it or leave it. You'll find out some day. And now
+you got some excuse for packin' a gun round these here peaceful hills
+and valleys the rest of your life. You took Jack Summers, and there
+ain't goin' to be a funeral."
+
+Something about the tramp's manner inclined the deputy to believe that
+he had spoken truth. "All right," said Tenlow; "just step ahead. Don't
+try the brush or I'll drop you."
+
+"'Course you would," said Overland, stepping ahead of the deputy's pony.
+"But the bunch you're takin' orders from don't want me dead; they want
+me alive. I ain't no good all shot up. You ought to know that."
+
+"I know there's a thousand dollars reward for you. I need the money."
+
+Overland Red grinned. "It's against me morals to bet--with kids. But
+I'll put up that little automatic you frisked off me, against the
+thousand you expect to get, that you don't even get a long-range smell
+of that money. Are you on?"
+
+Tenlow motioned the other to step ahead.
+
+"I'm bettin' my little gun to a thousand dollars less than nothin'.
+Ain't you game? I'm givin' you the long end."
+
+"Never mind," growled Tenlow. "You can talk later."
+
+The boy Collie, recovering from his surprise at the arrest, stepped up
+to the sheriff. "Where do I come in?" he asked. "You can't pinch Red
+without me. I was with him that time the guy croaked out on the Mojave.
+Red didn't kill him. They let us go once. What you doin' pinchin' us
+again? How do _you_ know--"
+
+"Hold on, Collie; don't get careless," said Overland. "He don't know
+nothin'. He's followin' orders. The game's up."
+
+Louise whistled Boyar to her and bridled him. The little group ahead
+seemed to be waiting for her. She led the pony toward the trail. "Did he
+do it?" she asked as she caught up with Collie.
+
+"No," he muttered. "Red's the squarest pal on earth. Red tried to save
+the guy--out there on the desert. Gave him all the water we had, pretty
+near. He dassent to give him all, for because he was afraid it would
+kill him. The guy fell and hit his head on the rail. Red said he was
+dyin' on his feet, anyway. Then Red lugged me clean to that tank where
+you seen us from the train. I was all in. I guess Red saved my life. He
+didn't tell you that."
+
+"Is he--was he really a cowboy? Can he ride?" asked Louise.
+
+"Can he ride? Say, I seen him ride Cyclone once and get first money for
+ridin' the worst buckin' bronc' at the rodeo, over to Tucson. Well, I
+guess!"
+
+"Boyar, my pony, is the fastest pony in the hills," said Louise
+pensively.
+
+"What you givin' us?" said the boy, glancing at her sharply.
+
+"Nothing. I was merely imagining something."
+
+"Red's square," asserted the boy.
+
+"Sheriff Tenlow is a splendid shot," murmured Louise, with apparent
+irrelevance.
+
+They had crossed the meadow. Ahead of the sheriff walked Overland, his
+slouch gone, his head carried high. Collie noted this unusual alertness
+of poise and wondered.
+
+"Don't try the brush," cautioned Tenlow, also aware of Overland's
+alertness.
+
+"When I leave here, I'll ride. Sabe?" And Overland stepped briskly to
+the trail, turning his back squarely on the alert and puzzled sheriff.
+
+"He's been raised in these hills," muttered the tramp. "He knows the
+trails. I don't. But--I'd like to show that little Rose-Lady Girl some
+real ridin' once. She's a sport. I'd ride into hell and rake out the
+fire for her.... I hate to--to do it--but I guess I got to."
+
+"Step up there," said Tenlow. "What you talkin' about, anyhow?"
+
+"Angels," replied Overland. "I see 'em once in a while." And he glanced
+back. He saw Collie talking to the girl, who stood by her pony, the
+reins dangling lightly from her outstretched hand.
+
+"Snake!" screamed Overland Red, leaping backward and flinging up his
+arms, directly in the face of the deputy's pony. The horse reared.
+Overland, crouching, sprang under its belly, striking it as he went.
+Again the pony reared, nearly throwing the deputy.
+
+"Overland Limited!" shouted the tramp, dashing toward Boyar. With a
+spring he was in the saddle and had slipped the quirt from the
+saddle-horn to his wrist. He would need that quirt, as he had no spurs.
+
+Round swung Tenlow, cursing. Black Boyar shot across the meadow, the
+quirt falling at each jump. The tramp glanced back. Tenlow's right hand
+went up and his gun roared once, twice....
+
+The boy Collie, white and gasping, threw himself in front of Tenlow's
+horse. The deputy spurred the pony over him and swept down the meadow.
+
+Louise, angered in that the boy had snatched Boyar's reins from her as
+Overland shouted, relented as she saw the instant bravery in the lad's
+endeavor to stop Tenlow's horse. She stooped over him. He rose stiffly.
+
+"Oh! I thought you were hurt!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Nope! I guess not. I was scared, I guess. Let's watch 'em, Miss!" And
+forgetful of his bruised and shaken body, he limped to the edge of the
+meadow, followed by Louise. "There they go!" he cried. "Red's 'way
+ahead. The sheriff gent can't shoot again--he's too busy ridin'."
+
+"Boyar! Boyar! Good horse! Good horse!" cried the girl as the black pony
+flashed across the steep slope of the ragged mountain side like a winged
+thing. "Boyar! Boy!"
+
+She shivered as the loose shale, ploughed by the pony's flying hoofs,
+slithered down the slope at every plunge.
+
+"Can he ride?" shouted Collie, wild tears of joy in his eyes.
+
+Suddenly Overland, glancing back, saw Tenlow stop and raise his arm. The
+tramp cowboy swung Black Boyar half-round, and driving his unspurred
+heels into the pony's ribs, put him straight down the terrific slope of
+the mountain at a run.
+
+Tenlow's gun cracked. A spray of dust rose instantly ahead of Boyar.
+
+"Look! Look!" cried Louise. The deputy, angered out of his usual
+judgment, spurred his horse directly down the footless shale that the
+tramp had ridden across diagonally. "Look! He can't--The horse--! Oh!"
+she groaned as Tenlow's pony stumbled and all but pitched headlong. "The
+other man--knew better than that--" she gasped, turning to the boy. "He
+waited--till he struck rock and brush before he turned Boyar."
+
+"Can he ride?" shouted Collie, grinning. But the grin died to a gasp. A
+burst of shale and dust shot up from the hillside. They saw the flash of
+the cinchas on the belly of Tenlow's horse as the dauntless pony
+stumbled and dove headlong down the slope, rolling over and over, to
+stop finally--a patch of brown, shapeless, quivering.
+
+Below, Overland Red had curbed Boyar and was gazing up at a spot of
+black on the hillside--Dick Tenlow, motionless, silent. His sombrero lay
+several yards down the slope.
+
+"Oh! The horse!" cried Louise, chokingly, with her hand to her breast.
+
+As for Dick Tenlow, lying halfway down the hillside, stunned and
+shattered, she had but a secondary sympathy. He had sacrificed a gallant
+and willing beast to his anger. The tramp, riding a strange pony over
+desperately perilous and unfamiliar ground, had used judgment. "Your
+friend is a man!" she said, turning to the boy. "But Dick Tenlow is
+hurt--perhaps killed. He went under the horse when it fell."
+
+"I guess it's up to us to see if the sheriff gent is done for, at that,"
+said the boy. "Mebby we can do something."
+
+"You'll get arrested, now," said the girl. "If Dick Tenlow is alive,
+you'll have to go for help. If he isn't...."
+
+"I'll go, all right. I ain't afraid. I didn't do anything. I guess I'll
+stick around till Red shows up again, anyhow."
+
+"You're a stranger here. I should go as soon as you have sent help,"
+said the girl.
+
+"Mebby I better. I'll help get him up the hill and in the shade. Then
+I'll beat it for the doc. If I don't come back after that," he said
+slowly, flushing, "it ain't because I'm scared of anything I done."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Far down in the valley Boyar's sweating sides glistened in the sun. An
+arm was raised in a gesture of farewell as the tramp swung the pony
+toward the town. Much to her surprise, Louise found herself waving a
+vigorous adieu to the distant figure.
+
+The tramp Overland, realizing that the deputy was badly injured, told
+the first person he met about the accident, advising him to get help at
+once for the deputy. Then he turned the pony toward the foothills. In a
+clump of greasewood he dismounted, and, leaving the reins hanging to the
+saddle-horn, struck Black Boyar on the flank. The horse leaped toward
+the Moonstone Trail. The tramp disappeared in the brush.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+ADVOCATE EXTRAORDINARY
+
+
+Louise Lacharme, more beautiful than roses, strolled across the
+vine-shadowed porch of the big ranch-house and sat on the porch rail
+opposite her uncle. His clear blue eyes twinkled approval as he gazed at
+her.
+
+Walter Stone was fifty, but the fifty of the hard-riding optimist of the
+great outdoors. The smooth tan of his cheeks contrasted oddly with the
+silver of his close-cropped hair. He appeared as a young man prematurely
+gray.
+
+"How is Boyar?" he asked, smiling a little as Louise, sitting sideways
+on the porch-rail, swung her foot back and forth quickly.
+
+"Oh, Boy is all right. The tramp turned him loose in the valley. Boy
+came home."
+
+"It was a clever bit of riding, to get the best of Tenlow on his own
+range. Was Dick very badly hurt?" queried Walter Stone.
+
+"Yes, his collar-bone was broken and he was crushed and terribly
+bruised. His horse was killed. When I was down, day before yesterday,
+the doctor said Dick would be all right in time."
+
+"How about this boy, the tramp boy they arrested?"
+
+"Oh," said Louise, "that was a shame! He stayed and helped the doctor
+put Dick in the buggy and rode with him to town. Mr. Tenlow was
+unconscious, and the boy had to go to hold him. Then the boy explained
+it all at the store, and they arrested him anyway, as a suspicious
+character. I should have let him go. When Mr. Tenlow became conscious
+and they told him they had the boy, he said to keep him in the
+calaboose; that that was where he belonged."
+
+"And you want me to see what I can do for this boy?"
+
+"I didn't say so." And Louise tilted her chin.
+
+"Now, sweetheart, don't quibble. It isn't like you."
+
+The gray silk-clad ankle flashed back and forth. "Really, Uncle Walter,
+you could have done something for the boy without making me say that I
+wanted you to. You're always doing something nice--helping people that
+are in trouble. You don't usually have to be asked."
+
+"Perhaps I like to be asked--by--Louise."
+
+"You're just flattering me, I know! But uncle, if you had seen the boy
+jump in front of Mr. Tenlow's horse when Dick shot at the tramp,--and
+afterwards when the boy helped me with Dick and stuck right to him clear
+to his house,--why, you couldn't help but admire him. Then they
+arrested him--for what? It's a shame! I told him to run when I saw the
+doctor's buggy coming."
+
+"Yes, Louise; the boy may be brave and likable enough, but how are we to
+know what he really is? I don't like to take the risk. I don't like to
+meddle in such affairs."
+
+"Uncle Walter! Risk! And the risks you used to take when you were a
+young man. Oh, Aunty Eleanor has told me all about your riding bronchos
+and the Panamint--and lots of things. I won't tell you all, for you'd be
+flattered to pieces, and I want you in one whole lump to-day."
+
+"Only for to-day, Louise?"
+
+"Oh, maybe for to-morrow, and to-morrow and to-morrow. But, uncle, only
+last week you said at breakfast that the present system of arrest and
+imprisonment was all wrong. That was because they arrested that editor
+who was a friend of yours. But now, when you have a chance to prove that
+you were in earnest, you don't seem a bit interested."
+
+"Did I really say all that, sweetness?"
+
+"Now _you_ are quibbling. And does 'sweetness,' mean me, or what you
+said at breakfast? Because you said 'the whole damn system'; and there
+were two ladies at the table. Of course, that was before breakfast.
+After breakfast you picked a rose for aunty, and kissed me."
+
+Walter Stone laughed heartily. "But I do take a great deal of interest
+in anything that interests you."
+
+Louise slipped lithely from the porch-rail and swung up on the broad arm
+of his chair, snuggling against him impetuously. "I know you do, uncle.
+I just love you! I'll stop teasing."
+
+"I surrender. I'm a pretty fair soldier at long range, but this"--and
+his arm went round her affectionately--"this is utter defeat. I strike
+my colors. Then, you always give in so gracefully."
+
+"To you, perhaps, Uncle Walter. But I haven't given in this time. I'm
+just as interested as ever."
+
+"And you think they are the men we saw out on the Mojave by the
+water-tank?"
+
+"Oh, I know it! They remembered the rose. They spoke of it right away,
+before I did."
+
+"Yes, Louise. And you remember, too, that they were arrested at
+Barstow--for murder, the conductor said?"
+
+"That's just it! The boy Collie says the tramp Overland Red didn't kill
+the man. He was trying to save him and gave him water. If you could only
+hear what the boy says about it--"
+
+"I don't suppose it would do any harm," said the rancher. "I dislike to
+use my influence. You know, I practically control Dick Tenlow's place at
+the elections."
+
+"That's just why he should be willing to let the boy go," said Louise
+quickly.
+
+"No, sweetheart. That's just why I shouldn't ask Dick to do anything of
+the kind. But I see I'm in for it. You have already interested your Aunt
+Eleanor. She spoke to me about the boy last night."
+
+"Aunty Eleanor is a dear. I didn't really ask her to speak to you."
+
+"No," he said, laughing. "Of course not. You're too clever for that. You
+simply sow your poppy-seed and leave it alone. The poppies come up fast
+enough."
+
+Louise laughed softly. "You're pretending to criticize and you're really
+flattering,--deliberately,--aren't you, Uncle Walter?"
+
+"Flattering? And you?"
+
+"Because Aunt Eleanor said you could be simply irresistible when you
+wanted to be. I think so, too. Especially when you are on a horse."
+
+"Naturally. I always did feel more confident in the saddle. I could, if
+need arose, ride away like the chap in Bobby Burns's verse, you
+remember--
+
+  "He gave his bridle-rein a shake,
+  And turned him on the shore,
+  With, 'Farewell, forever more, my dear,
+  Farewell, forever more.'"
+
+"But you didn't, uncle. Aunty said she used to be almost afraid that
+you'd ride away with her, like Lochinvar."
+
+"Yes." And Walter Stone sighed deeply.
+
+"Oh, Uncle Walter! That sounded full of regrets and things."
+
+"It was. It is. I'm fifty."
+
+"It isn't fifty. It's a lack of exercise. And you wouldn't be half so
+fine-looking if you were fat. I _always_ sigh when I don't know what to
+do. Then I just saddle Boy and ride. And I'll _never_ let myself get
+fat."
+
+"A vow is a vow--at sixteen."
+
+"Now I _know_ you need exercise. You're getting reminiscent, and that's
+a sign of torpid liver."
+
+Walter Stone laughed till the tears came. "Exercise!" he exclaimed. "Ah!
+I begin to divine a subtle method in your doctrine of health. Ah, ha! I
+look well on a horse! I need exercise! It's a very satisfactory ride
+from here to town and back. Incidentally, Louise, I smell a rat. I used
+to be able to hold my own."
+
+"It isn't my fault if you don't now," said Louise, snuggling in his
+arm.
+
+"That's unworthy of you!" he growled, his arm tightening round her slim
+young figure. "Tell me, sweetheart; how is it that you can be so
+thoroughly practical and so unfathomably romantic in the same breath?
+You have deliberately shattered me to bits that you might mould me
+nearer to your heart's desire. And your heart's desire, just now, is to
+help an unknown, a tramp, out of jail."
+
+Louise pouted. "You say 'just now' as though my heart's desires weren't
+very serious matters as a rule. You _know_ you wouldn't be half so happy
+if I didn't tease you for something at least once a week. I remember
+once I didn't ask you for anything for a whole week, and you went and
+asked Aunty Eleanor if I were ill. Besides, the boy _needs_ help,
+whether he did anything wrong or not. Can't you understand?"
+
+"That's utopian, Louise, but it isn't generally practicable."
+
+"Then make it individually practicable, uncle--just this time. Pshaw! I
+don't believe you're half-trying to argue. Why, when Boyar bucked you
+off that time and ran into the barb-wire, then _he_ didn't need
+doctoring for that awful cut on his shoulder, because he had done
+wrong."
+
+"That is no parallel, Louise. Boyar didn't know any better. And this boy
+is not sick or injured."
+
+"How do you know that? He's down in that terribly hot, smelly jail. If
+he did get sick, who would know it?"
+
+"And Boyar isn't a human being. He can't reason."
+
+"Oh, Uncle Walter! I thought you knew horses better than that. Boyar can
+reason much better than most people."
+
+"The proof being that he prefers you to any one else?"
+
+"No," replied Louise, smiling mischievously. "That isn't Boyar's
+_reason_; it's his affection. That's different."
+
+"Yes, quite different," said Walter Stone. "Is this boy good-looking?"
+And the rancher fumbled in his pocket for a cigar.
+
+Louise slipped from the arm of his chair and stood opposite him, her
+lips pouted teasingly, the young face glowing with mischief and fun. "Am
+I?" she asked, curtsying and twinkling. "'Cause if you're going to ride
+down to the valley to see the boy just because Beautiful asked you,
+Beautiful will go alone. But if you come because _I_ want you,"--and
+Louise smiled bewitchingly,--"why, Beautiful will come too, and sing for
+you--perhaps."
+
+"My heart, my service, and my future are at your feet, Señorita Louisa,
+my mouse. Are your eyes gray or green this morning?"
+
+"Both," replied Louise quickly. "Green for spunk and gray for love.
+That's what Aunty Eleanor says."
+
+"Come a little nearer. Let me see. No, they are quite gray now."
+
+"'Cause why?" she cooed, and stooping, kissed him with warm, careless
+affection. "You always ask me about my eyes when you want me to kiss
+you. Of course, when you want to kiss _me_, why, you just come and take
+'em."
+
+"My esteemed privilege, sweetheart. I am your caballero."
+
+"Did Aunty Eleanor?" said Louise.
+
+But Walter Stone rose and straightened his shoulders. "That will do,
+mouse. I can't have any jealousy between my sweethearts."
+
+"Never! And, Uncle Walter, do you want to ride Major or Rally? Rally and
+Boyar get along better together. I'll saddle Boy in a jiffy."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+To ride some ten miles in the blazing sun of midsummer requires a kind
+of anticipatory fortitude, at fifty, especially when one's own vine and
+fig tree is cool and fragrant, embowered in blue flowers and graced by,
+let us say, Louise. And a cigar is always at its best when half-smoked.
+But when Louise came blithely leading the two saddle-ponies, Black Boyar
+and the big pinto Rally, Walter Stone shook an odd twenty years from
+his broad shoulders and swung into the saddle briskly.
+
+From the shade of the great sycamore warders of the wide gate, he waved
+a gauntleted salute to Aunt Eleanor, who stood on the porch, drawing a
+leaf of the graceful moon-vine through her slender fingers. She nodded a
+smiling farewell.
+
+Louise and her uncle rode as two lovers, their ponies close together.
+The girl swayed to Boyar's quick, swinging walk. Walter Stone sat the
+strong, tireless Rally with solid ease.
+
+The girl, laughing happily at her triumph, leaned toward her escort
+teasingly, singing fragments of old Spanish love-songs, or talking with
+eager lips and sparkling eyes. Of a sudden she would assume a
+demureness, utterly bewitching in its veiled and perfect mimicry. Quite
+seriously he would set about to overcome this delightful mood of hers
+with extravagant vows of lifelong love and servitude, as though he were
+in truth her chosen caballero and she his Señorita of the Rose.
+
+And as they played at love-making, hidden graces of the girl's sweet
+nature unfolded to him, and deep in his heart he wondered, and found
+life good, and Youth still unspoiled by the years, and Louise a
+veritable enchantress of infinite moods, each one adorable.
+Golden-haired, gray-eyed, quick with sympathy, sweetly subtle and subtly
+sweet was Louise.... And one must worship Youth and Beauty and Love,
+even with their passing bitter on one's lips.
+
+But to Walter Stone no such bitterness had come, this soldierly, wise
+caballero escorting his adorable señorita on an errand of mercy. His was
+the heart of Youth, eternal and undaunted Youth. And Beauty was hers, of
+the spirit as well as of the flesh. And Love....
+
+"Why, Louise! There are tears on your lashes, my colleen!"
+
+"But I am singing, uncle." And she smiled through her tears.
+
+"Sweetheart?"
+
+"Yes, Uncle Walter?"
+
+"What is it? Tell me."
+
+"I wish I could. I don't know. I think I'm getting to be grown up--just
+like a woman. It--it makes me--think of lots of things. Let's ride." And
+her silver spurs flashed.
+
+Boyar, taken quite by surprise, grunted as he leaped down the Moonstone
+Trail. He resented this undeserved punishment by plunging sideways
+across the road. Again came the flash of the silver spurs, and Walter
+Stone heard Louise disciplining the pony.
+
+"Just a woman. Just like a woman," murmured the rancher. "Now, Boyar,
+and some others of us, will never quite understand what that means." And
+with rein and voice he lifted the pinto Rally to a lope.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE GIRL WHO GLANCED BACK
+
+
+At the crossroads in the valley stood the local jail, or "coop," as it
+was more descriptively called. Unpainted, isolated, its solitary
+ugliness lacked even the squalid dignity commonly associated with the
+word "jail." The sun pelted down upon its bleached, unshaded roof and
+sides. The burning air ran over its warped shingles like a kind of
+colorless fire.
+
+The boy Collie, half-dreaming in the suffocating heat of the place,
+started to his feet as the door swung open. He had heard horses coming.
+They had stopped. He could hardly realize that the sunlight was swimming
+through the close dusk of the place. But the girl of Moonstone Cañon,
+reining Boyar round, was real, and she smiled and nodded a greeting.
+
+"This is Mr. Stone, my uncle," she said. "He wants to talk with you."
+
+With a glance that noted each unlovely detail of the place, the broken
+iron bed, the cracked pitcher, and the unspeakable blankets, Louise
+touched her pony and was gone.
+
+Collie rubbed his eyes, blinking in the sun as he stood gazing after
+her.
+
+Walter Stone, standing near the doorway, noted the lad's clear, healthy
+skin, his well-shaped head with its tumble of wavy black hair, and the
+luminous dark eyes. He felt an instant sympathy for the boy, a sympathy
+that he masked with a business-like brusqueness. "Well, young man?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Come outside. It's vile in there."
+
+Stone led his pony to the north side of the "coop."
+
+Collie followed.
+
+Away to the west he saw the hazy peaks. A lake of burning air pulsed
+above the flat, hot floor of the valley. Over there lay the hills and
+the shade and the road.... Somewhere beyond was Overland, his friend,
+penniless, hunted, hungry....
+
+"She brung you?" queried the boy.
+
+"Yes. I have seen Tenlow, the sheriff. He is willing to let you go at my
+request. What do you intend doing, now that you are free?"
+
+"I don' know. Find Red, I guess."
+
+Walter Stone nodded. "What then?"
+
+"Oh, stick it out with Red. They'll be after him sure now. Red's my
+pal."
+
+"What has he done to get the police after him?"
+
+"Nothin'. It's the bunch."
+
+"The bunch?"
+
+"Uhuh. Them guys out on the Mojave. But say, are you workin' me to get
+next to Red and get him pinched again?"
+
+"No. You don't have to answer me. This man Red is nothing to me, one way
+or the other. He took Miss Lacharme's pony, but she has overlooked that.
+I thought, perhaps, you might care to explain your position. Perhaps you
+had rather not. You may go now if you wish."
+
+"Is that straight?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+For several tense seconds the lad gazed at his questioner. Finally his
+gaze shifted to the hills. "I guess you're straight," he said presently.
+"I guess she wouldn't have you for a relation if you wasn't straight."
+
+The elder man laughed. "That's right--she wouldn't, young man."
+
+"How's the sheriff guy?" asked the boy.
+
+"He's getting along well enough. What made you ask?"
+
+"Oh, nothin'. I hate to see any guy get hurt."
+
+"I'm glad to hear you say that. I begin to think you are a bigger man
+than he is."
+
+"Me?" And Collie flushed, misunderstanding the other's drift. "I guess
+you're kiddin'."
+
+"No, I mean it. Mr. Tenlow still seemed pretty hot about your share in
+this--er--enterprise. You seem to have no hard feelings against him."
+
+"Huh! He shouldn't to be sore at _me_. I didn't spur no horse onto him
+and ride him down like a dog. I guess Red would 'a' killed him if he'd
+seen it. Say, nobody got Red, did they?"
+
+"I haven't heard of it. How did this man Red come to pick you up? You're
+pretty young to be tramping."
+
+"Cross your heart you ain't tryin' to queer Red? You ain't tryin' to put
+the Injun sign on us, are you?"
+
+"No. I have heard all about the Mojave affair--the prospector that died
+on the track--and the arrest of Overland Red at Barstow. You told my
+niece that this Overland Red was 'square.' How did you come to be mixed
+up in it?"
+
+"I guess I'll have to tell you the whole thing, straight. Red always
+said that to tell the truth was just as good as lyin', because nobody
+would believe us, anyway. And if a fella gets caught tellin' the truth,
+why, he's that much to the good."
+
+"Well, I shall try and believe you this time," said Stone. "Miss
+Lacharme thinks you're honest."
+
+"A guy couldn't lie to her!" said the boy.
+
+"Then just consider me her representative," said Stone, smiling.
+
+Collie squatted in the meager shade of the "coop."
+
+Walter Stone, dropping the pony's reins, came and sat beside the lad.
+There was something in the older man's presence, an unspoken assurance
+of comradeship and sincerity that annulled the boy's tendency to
+reticence about himself. He began hesitatingly, "My dad was a drinkin'
+man. Ma died, and he got worse at it. I was a kid and didn't care, for
+he never done nothin' to me. We lived back East, over a pawnbroker's on
+Main Street. One day pa come home with a timetable. He sat up 'most all
+night readin' it. Every time I woke up, he was readin' it and talkin' to
+himself. That was after ma died.
+
+"In the mornin', when I was gettin' dressed, he come over and says to
+take the needle he had and stick it through the timetable anywhere. I
+was scared he was goin' to have the jimmies. But I took the needle--it
+had black thread in it--and stuck it through the timetable. He opened
+the page and laughed awful loud and queer. Albuquerque was where the
+needle went in. He couldn't say the name right, but he kept lookin' at
+it.
+
+"Then he went out and was gone all day and all night. When he come back
+he showed me a whole wad of money. I says, 'Where did you get it?' He
+got mad and tells me to shut up.
+
+"That day we got on a train. I says, 'Where are we goin'?' and he says
+to never mind, and did I want some peanuts.
+
+"We kept ridin' and ridin' in the same car, and eatin' bananas and
+san'wiches and sleepin' settin' up at nights. I was just about sick when
+we come to Albuquerque. You see, that was where the needle went through
+the timetable, and dad said we would get off there. He got awful drunk
+that night.
+
+"Next day he said he was goin' to quit liquor and make a fresh start. I
+knowed he wouldn't, 'cause he always said that next mornin'. But I guess
+he tried to quit. I don't know.
+
+"One night he didn't come back to the room where we was stayin' upstairs
+over the saloon. They found him 'way down the track next day, all cut to
+pieces by the train."
+
+The boy paused, reached forward, and plucked a withered stem of grass
+which he wound round and round his finger.
+
+Walter Stone sat looking across the valley.
+
+"I guess his money was all gone," resumed the boy. "Anyhow, 'bout a year
+after, Overland Red comes along. He comes to the saloon where I was
+stayin',--they give me a job cleanin' out every day,--and he got to
+talkin' a lot of stuff about scenery and livin' the simple life, and all
+that guff. The bartender got to jawin' with him, and I laughed, and the
+bartender hits me a lick side the head. Red, he hits the bartender a
+lick side of _his_ head--and the bartender don't get up right away.
+'I'll learn him to hit kids,' said Red. 'If you learn him to hit 'em as
+hard as that,' I says to Red, 'then it will be all off with me the next
+time.'
+
+"Does he hit you very often?' said Red.
+
+"Whenever he feels like it,' I told him.
+
+"Red laughed and said to come on. I was sick of there, so I run away
+with Red. We tried it on a freight and got put off. Red had some water
+in a canteen he swiped. It was lucky for us he did. We kept walkin' and
+goin' nights, and mebby ridin' on freights in the daytime if we could.
+One day, a long time after that, we was crossin' the desert again. We
+got put off a freight that time, too. We was walkin' along when we found
+a guy layin' beside the track. Red said he wasn't dead, but was dyin'.
+We give him some water. Then he kind of come to and wanted to drink it
+all. Red said, 'No.' Then the guy got kind of crazy. He got up and
+grabbed Red. I was scared.
+
+"Red, he passed me the canteen and told me to keep it away from the guy
+because more water would kill him. Then the guy went for Red. 'He's
+dyin' on his feet,' said Red. 'It's his last flash.' And he tried to
+hold the guy quiet, talkin' decent to him all the time. They was
+staggerin' around when the guy tripped backwards over the rail. His head
+hit on the other rail and Red fell on top of him. Anyway, the guy was
+dead."
+
+Walter Stone shifted his position, turning to gaze at the boy's white
+face. "Yes--go on," he said quietly.
+
+"Red was for searchin' the guy, but I says to come on before we got
+caught. Red, he laughed kind of queer, and asked me, 'Caught at what?'
+Then I said, 'I dunno,' but I was scared.
+
+"Anyway, he went through the dead guy's clothes and found some papers
+and old letters and a little leather bag with a whole lot of gold-dust
+in it. Red said mebby five hundred dollars!"
+
+"Gold-dust?"
+
+"Uhuh! Then Red _was_ scared. He buried the bag and the papers 'way out
+in the sand and made a mark on the ties to find it by."
+
+"Did you find out the dead man's name?" asked Stone, glancing curiously
+at the boy.
+
+"Nope. We just beat it for the next station. I was feelin' sick. I give
+out, and Red, he lugged me to the next water-tank. He was pourin' water
+on me when the Limited come along and stopped, and _she_ throwed the
+rose to us. Red told me about it after. You wouldn't go back on a pal
+like that, would you?"
+
+"No, I don't know that I should."
+
+"That's me!" said the boy. "Then they went to work and pinched us at
+Barstow. Said we killed the guy because his head was smashed in where he
+hit the rails. They tried to make Red say that he robbed the guy after
+killin' him. But Red told everything, except he didn't tell about the
+letters and the gold-dust. They tried to make me say it, but I dassent.
+I knowed they would fix Red sure if I did, and he told me not to tell
+about the gold if they did pinch us."
+
+"They let you go--after the police examination. Then how is it that the
+authorities are after you again?"
+
+"It's the bunch," replied the boy. "Them guys out there knowed the dead
+guy had a mine or a ledge or somethin' where he got the gold. Nobody was
+wise to where. They told at the jail how he used to come in once in a
+while and send his dust to Los Angeles by the express company. All them
+guys like the sheriff and the station agent and all the people in that
+town are workin' tryin' to find out where the gold come from. They think
+because Red and me is tramps that they can make us tell and arrest us
+whenever they like. But even Red don't know, unless it's in the papers
+he hid in the sand."
+
+"That sounds like a pretty straight story," said Stone. "So you intend
+to stick to this man Red?"
+
+"Sure! Would you quit him now, when they're after him worst?"
+
+"They will get him finally."
+
+"Mebby. But Red's pretty slick at a getaway. If they do pinch him again,
+that's where I come in. I'm the only witness and the only friend he's
+got."
+
+"Of course. But don't you see, my boy, that your way of living is so
+much against you that you couldn't really help him? A man's naked word
+is worth just what his friends and neighbors will allow him for it, and
+no more."
+
+"But ain't a guy got no rights in this country?"
+
+"Certainly he has. But he has to prove that he is entitled to them, by
+his way of living."
+
+"Then he's got to go to church, and work, and live decent, or he don't
+get a square deal, hey?"
+
+"But why shouldn't he do that much?"
+
+Collie did not answer. Instead, he inspected his questioner critically
+from head to foot. "I guess you're right," he said finally. "I've heard
+folks talk like that before, but I never took no stock. They kind of
+said it because they knowed it. I guess you say it because you mean it."
+
+"Of course I do," said Stone heartily. "Well, here comes my niece with
+the mail. See! Over there is El Camino Real, running north. My ranch is
+up _there_, in the hills. My foreman's name is Williams. If you should
+ask him for work, I believe he might give you something to do. I heard
+him say he needed a man, not long ago."
+
+Walter Stone cinched up the saddle and mounted his pony. The boy's eyes
+shone as he gazed at the strong, soldierly figure. Ah, to look like
+that, and ride a horse like that!
+
+Boyar, the black pony, clattered up and stopped. "Hello, folks!" said
+Louise, purposely including the boy in her greeting.
+
+Collie flushed happily. Then a bitterness grew in his heart as he
+thought of his friend Overland, hunted from town to town by the same law
+that protected these people--an unjust law that they observed and
+fostered.
+
+"Well?" said Stone.
+
+Collie's gaze was on the ground. "I don' know," he muttered. "I don'
+know."
+
+"Well, good luck to you!" And the ponies swung into that philosophical
+lope of the Western horse who knows his journey's length.
+
+The figures of the riders grew smaller. Still the boy stood in the road,
+watching them. Undecided, he gazed. Then came an answer to his stubborn
+self-questioning. Louise glanced back--glanced back for an instant in
+mute sympathy with his loneliness.
+
+Slowly the boy turned and entered the jail. He folded his coat over his
+arm, stepped outside, and closed the door.
+
+Before him stretched the hot gray level of El Camino Real, the road to
+the beyond. From it branched a narrower road, reaching up into the
+southern hills,--on, up to the mysterious Moonstone Cañon with its
+singing stream and its gracious shade. Somewhere beyond, higher, and in
+the shadowy fastness of the great ranges lay the Moonstone Ranch ... her
+home.
+
+"I guess, steppin' up smart, I'll be there just about in time for
+supper," said the boy. And whistling cheerily, he set his feet toward
+the south and the Moonstone Trail.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE TEST
+
+
+After a week of weeding in the vegetable garden, Collie was put to work
+repairing fence. There were many miles of it, inclosing some twenty
+thousand acres of grazing-land, and the cross-fencing of the oat,
+alfalfa, fruit, and vegetable acreage. The fence was forever in need of
+repair. The heavy winter rains, torrential in the mountains, often
+washed away entire hillsides, leaving a dozen or so staggering posts
+held together by the wires, tangled and sagging. Cattle frequently
+pulled loosened posts from the earth by kneeling under the wire and
+working through, oblivious to the barbs. Again, "stock gone a little
+loco" would often charge straight through the rigid and ripping wire
+barriers as though their strands were of thread. Posts would split in
+the sun, and staples would drop out, leaving sagging spaces which cattle
+never failed to find and take advantage of. Trees uprooted by the rain
+and wind would often fall across the fence.
+
+Altogether, the maintaining of a serviceable fence-line on a
+well-ordered ranch necessitates eternal vigilance.
+
+The Moonstone Rancho was well ordered under the direct supervision of
+Walter Stone's foreman, "Brand" Williams. Williams was a Wyoming cowman
+of the old school; taciturn, lean, sinewy.
+
+Some ten years before, Williams, seeking employment, had ridden over the
+range with Stone. Returning, the cowman remarked disconsolately, "I like
+your stock, and I'll tie to you. But, say, it's only playin' at ranchin'
+on twenty thousand fenced. I was raised in Wyoming."
+
+"All right," Stone had replied. "Play hard and we'll get along
+first-rate."
+
+Every inch of Brand Williams's six feet was steeped in the astringent of
+experience. He played hard and prospered, as did his employer.
+
+Collie stood awaiting the foreman's instructions.
+
+"Ever mend fence?" asked Williams.
+
+"Nope."
+
+"Good. Then you can learn right. Go rope a cayuse--get some staples and
+that leetle axe in my office, and go to it. There's plenty fence."
+
+The "Go rope a cayuse" momentarily staggered the boy, but he went
+silently to the corral, secured a riata, and by puzzling the playful
+ponies by his amateur tactics he finally entangled "Baldy," a
+white-faced cow-pony of peaceful mien but uncertain disposition.
+
+Williams, watching the performance, lazily rolled a straw-paper
+cigarette.
+
+Snubbed to the post, bridled and saddled awkwardly, Baldy gave no
+outward sign of his malignant inward intent of getting rid of the lad
+the minute he mounted.
+
+Williams slowly drew a match across his sleeve from elbow to wrist,
+ending with a flame that was extremely convenient to his cigarette. He
+wasted no effort at anything. He was a man who never met a yawn halfway,
+but only gave in to it when actually obliged to. Collie climbed into the
+saddle and started for the corral gate. He arrived there far ahead of
+the horse. He got to his feet and brushed his knees. The pony was
+humping round the corral with marvelous agility for so old a horse.
+
+"He never did like a left-handed man," said Williams gravely. "Next time
+get on him from the _other_ side, and see if he don't behave. Hold on;
+don't be in a hurry. Let him throw a few more jumps, then he'll quit for
+to-day most likely. And say, son, if he does take to buckin' with you
+again, don't choke that saddle to death hangin' on to the horn. Set up
+straight, lean a little back, and clinch your knees. You'll get piled,
+anyhow, but you might as well start right."
+
+The boy approached the horse again, secured the dangling reins, and
+again mounted. Baldy was as demure as a spinster in church. He actually
+looked pious.
+
+Collie urged the pony toward the gate. Baldy reared.
+
+"A spade bit ain't made to pull teeth with, although you can," said
+Williams. "Baldy's old, but his teeth are all good yet. Just easy now.
+Ride in your saddle, not on your reins. That's it! And say, kid, I would
+'a' got them staples and that axe before crawlin' the hoss, eh?"
+
+Collie flushed. He dismounted and walked to the foreman's office. When
+he returned to the corral, the horse was gone. Williams still sat on the
+corral bars smoking and gazing earnestly at nothing.
+
+Round the corner of the stable Collie saw the pony, his nose peacefully
+submerged in the water-trough, but his eye wide and vigilant. The boy
+ran toward him. Baldy snorted and, wheeling, ran back into the corral,
+circled it with an expression which said plainly, "Let us play a little
+game of tag, in which, my young friend, you shall always be 'It.'"
+
+Again Collie tried to rope the pony.
+
+"Want any help?" asked Williams, as he slid from the corral bars to the
+ground.
+
+"Nope." And Collie disentangled his legs from an amazing contortion of
+the riata and tried to whirl the loop as he had seen the cowmen whirl
+it.
+
+"Hold on, son!" said Williams. "You mean right, but don't go to rope him
+with the saddle on. If you looped that horn, he, like as not, would yank
+you clean to Calabasas before you got your feet out of that mess of rope
+you're standin' in. Anyway, you ain't goin' to Calabasas; you're due up
+the other way."
+
+Collie was learning things rapidly, and, better still, he was learning
+in a way that would cause him to remember.
+
+Williams spoke sharply to the pony. Baldy stopped and eyed the foreman
+with vapid inquisitiveness. "Now, son, I got three things to tell you,"
+and the foreman gathered up the reins. "First--keep on keepin' your
+mouth shut and tendin' to business. It pays. Second--always drop your
+reins over a hoss's head when you get off, whether he's trained that way
+or not. And last--always figure a hoss thinks he knows more than you do.
+Sometimes he does. Sometimes he don't. Then he won't fool you so
+frequent, for you'll be watchin' him. I wouldn't 'a' said that much,
+only you're a tenderfoot from the East, I hear. If you was a tenderfoot
+from the West, you would 'a' had to take your own medicine."
+
+Collie's shoulder was lame from his fall and was becoming stiff, but he
+grinned cheerfully, and said nothing, which pleased Williams.
+
+The foreman leveled his slow, keen eyes at him for a minute. "You'll
+find a spring under the live-oaks by the third cross-fence north. Reckon
+you'll get there about noon. Keep your eye peeled for fire. I thought I
+seen somebody up there as I come across from the corral early this
+mornin'. We come close to burnin' out here once, account of a hobo's
+fire. Understand, if you ketch anybody cantelopin' around _a-foot_, you
+just ride 'em off the range pronto. That's all."
+
+As Collie rode away through the morning sunshine, Williams loafed across
+the corral, roped and saddled a white-eyed pinto, and, spurring up a
+narrow cañon west of the ranch buildings, disappeared round a turn of
+the shady trail. As the foreman rode, he alternately talked to the pony
+and himself.
+
+"Tramp, eh?" he said, addressing the pony. "What do you say, Sarko?
+Nothin', eh? Same as me.... Overland Red's kid pal, eh? Huh! I knowed
+Jack Summers, Red Jack Summers, down in Sonora in '83. Mexico was some
+open country then. Jack was a white pardner, too. Went to the bad,
+account of that Chola girl that he was courtin' goin' wrong.... Funny
+how the boss come to pick up that kid. Thinks there's somethin' in him.
+O' course they is. But what? Eh, Sarko, what? You say nothin', same as
+me.... Here, you! That's a lizard, you fool hoss. Never seen one before,
+so you're try in' to catch it by jumpin' through your bridle after it,
+eh? Never seen one before, oh, no! Don't like that, eh? Well, you quit,
+and I will. Exactly. It's me, and my ole Spanish spurs. I'm
+listenin'.... Nothin' to say?... Uhuh! I reckon little Louise had
+somethin' to do with gettin' the kid the job. Well, if _she_ likes him,
+I got to. Guess I'd love a snake if she said to. Yes, I'm listenin' to
+myself ..." And the taciturn foreman's hard, weathered face wrinkled in
+a smile. "I'm listenin' ... None of the boys know Red's camped up by the
+spring. I do. Red used to be a damn white Injun in the old days. I'll
+give the kid a chance to put him wise for old times. And I'll find out
+if the kid means business or not ... which is some help to know how to
+handle him later."
+
+Williams picketed his pony in the meadow above the third cross-fence.
+Loafing down the slope toward the spring, he noticed the faint smoke of
+a fire. Farther down the line fence, he could see Collie in the
+distance, riding slowly toward the three live-oaks. The foreman found a
+convenient seat on a ledge, rolled another of his eternal cigarettes,
+and watched the boy approach from below.
+
+Collie had already dismounted three times that morning; twice to mend
+fence, and once more involuntarily. He determined, with a mighty vow to
+the bow-legged god of all horseflesh, to learn to stay on a broncho or
+die learning.
+
+The boy had a native fondness for animals, and he had already thought of
+buying a pony with his first few months' wages. But the vision of his
+erstwhile companion Overland, perhaps imprisoned and hopeless in the
+grip of the "bunch," annulled that desire. He would save every cent for
+that emergency.
+
+Arrived at the spring, both boy and horse drank gratefully, for the day
+was hot. Then Collie noticed the thin smoke coming through the trees and
+strode toward it.
+
+"It ain't much of a fire yet," said Overland. "Our hired girl--" and he
+grinned through a two-weeks' tangle of red beard. "Oh, but ain't he the
+'cute little workin'-man with his little ole hoss and his garments of
+toil."
+
+"Oh, Red!" exclaimed the boy.
+
+"Me sure! I been hidin' in my whiskers so long I didn't know if you'd
+know me."
+
+"I been thinking about you every day."
+
+"Uhuh. So have I. I reckon some others has, too. Say, what you been
+doin' lately, studyin' law or learnin' the piano? I been lookin' for
+you for a week. It's the first day I seen you out on the range."
+
+"I was working in the garden first. Then they put me at this, this
+mornin'."
+
+"Uhuh. Well, Col, that there getaway of mine is in all the papers.
+'Tramp Cowboy Steals Horse and Escapes.' Say, did she yip about my
+borrowin' the cayuse?"
+
+"She was mad at first. But your fancy ridin' kind of made her forget. I
+told her you was square, Red."
+
+"Huh! I guess she could tell that herself."
+
+"But, Red, I'm not kidding. I told her uncle about the bunch and the guy
+on the desert."
+
+"Did he believe it?"
+
+"I guess so. He ain't said much. But he gives me the chance to make
+good. He must have believed somethin'."
+
+"Well, stick to it, Collie. You never was cut out for a genuine towerist
+like me, anyhow. It ain't in your blood."
+
+"What you goin' to do now, Red?"
+
+"Me? Listen! There's gold out there, somewhere. I'm broke now. I need
+some dough. I got ideas. Ten dollars does it. I get a new set of clothes
+and get shaved and me hair trimmed close. Then I commence me good work
+in Main Street, in Los. Down on North Main is where I catch the gent
+from the East who will fall for anything that wears a Stetson and some
+outdoors complexion. I tell all about my ledge in the Mojave and get
+staked to go out and prospect. It's bein' done every day--it and the
+other fella."
+
+"But, Red--"
+
+"Hold on, kid. I ain't goin' to bunk nobody. This here's square. I need
+financin'--a burro and a grubstake and me for the big dry spot. Ship the
+outfit to the desert town, and then hit it along the rails to where we
+hid it. If the papers we hid is any good, me to locate the ledge.
+Anyhow, there's a good five hundred in the poke, and that's better than
+a kick in the pants."
+
+"You'll get pinched sure, Red."
+
+"Nix, kiddo. Not out there. Money talks. 'Course it ain't makin' any
+distressin' sounds around here jest now, but, say, got the makin's?"
+
+"I ain't smoked since I been here, Red."
+
+"Excuse me, Miss Collie. What denomination did you say?"
+
+"Straight, Red. I'm savin' my money."
+
+"What do they pay you for settin' on that cayuse?"
+
+"Fifteen a month, and board, and the horse to ride."
+
+"Don't mention the hoss, pal. Jest make motions with your hands when you
+mean him. Talkin' is apt to wake him up."
+
+"He pitched me twice."
+
+"Just havin' bad dreams, that's all," said Overland, grinning. "Fifteen
+a month and found ain't bad for a bum, is it?"
+
+"Cut that out, Red. I ain't no bum."
+
+"Ex-cuse me. There I gone and laminated your feelin's again. Why in hell
+don't you blush, or drop your little ole lace handkerchief, or fix your
+back hair, so I can remember I'm talkin' to a lady? It ain't manners,
+this here impersonatin' you're a boy like that."
+
+"Quit your kiddin', Red. Mebby you think it was easy to cut out the old
+stuff, and everybody on the ranch on to what I used to be. I was cryin'
+the first night. I was lonesome for you."
+
+Overland's eyelids flickered. He grinned. "Uhuh! I could hear you clean
+over in the Simi Valley. I was thinkin' of comin' right back, only--"
+
+"Oh, if you think I'm lyin to you--"
+
+Overland thrust up a soiled palm. "Nix; you never did yet. How much coin
+can you rustle?"
+
+"I got that eight-and-a-half I had when we was pinched. It's down to the
+bunk-house."
+
+"Well, bring it up here to-morrow mornin'. And, say, swipe a sogun for
+me. I near froze last night."
+
+Collie's brows drew together. "I'll bring the money, sure! but I can't
+swipe no blanket, even for you. The boss thinks I'm square, and so does
+she. I'll bring tobacco and papers. Got any grub?"
+
+"Well, some. I ain't exactly livin' on sagebrush and scenery yet. I been
+trainin' some chickens to do the Texas Tommy. Every one that learns to
+do it in one lesson gets presented with a large hot fryin'-pan.
+Surprisin' how them chickens is fond of dancin'. I reckon I learned six
+of 'em since I seen you last. But don't forget the eight rollers and
+four bits. I need ten, but eight-fifty will do. I'll have to leave out
+the silk pejammies and the rosewater this trip. But kickie pants is good
+enough for me to sleep in. How's that sheriff gent?"
+
+"Busted his collar-bone and killed his horse."
+
+"I'm sad for the hoss. How do you like livin' decent?"
+
+"Fine, Red! I wish you would--"
+
+"Hold on, Collie, not me! I'm gettin' too old, too plumb old and
+disgusted with this vale of steers to change and tie down to short
+grass. Now you're near enough to the age of that little Louise girl to
+make life interestin'."
+
+"Who said anything about her?"
+
+"Whoa, Chico! Back up. You're steppin' on your bridle. Don't go 'way
+mad. Why, I said somethin' about her, that's who. You got any idea of
+hobblin' my talk?"
+
+"No. But--"
+
+"Oh, you can't flim your ole pal, nohow. You're just commencin' life on
+what that little Louise lady thinks you ought to be. And you will be it
+some day, if you keep straight. So will I."
+
+"You?" Collie was unable to associate a reconstructive idea with
+Overland's mode of life.
+
+"Say! Just as if I never knowed a good woman. Say, I could actooly give
+up smokin' for her, if I had to hire some guy to do it for me. That's
+what I think of her. When I get me plush rags and the dizzy lid, I'll
+call around in me private caboose and take you both for a little ride."
+
+For a moment the boy gazed away to where the silver of the Southern
+Pacific rails glinted in the valley. Overland Red's presence brought
+back poignantly the long, lazy days of loafing and the wide, starry
+nights of wayside fire, tobacco, and talk. There was a charm in the free
+life of the road--that long gray road that never ended--never ended in
+the quiet shade of a mountain ranch or in the rose-bordered pathway to a
+valley cottage. The long gray road held out no promise of rest for worn
+and aged folk. After all, its only freedom was the freedom of eternal
+wandering ... until one could adventure no longer ... and then? Better
+to tread the harder path of duty.
+
+The boy's black eyes were lifted pleadingly. "Red," he said
+hesitatingly. "Red, I got to tell you to camp the other side of that
+line fence till I come to-morrow."
+
+Overland understood instantly that the lad was but following general
+instructions. He loved the boy, and so, perversely, worked upon his
+feelings. "Oh, the _other_ side? Ex-cuse me, chief, for intrudin' on
+this here resavation. Sorry I'm crowdin' you so."
+
+"Now, Red, wait--"
+
+"Wait? What, for you to insult your ole pal again by tellin' him he
+might drink all the water in this here spring, mebby, or inflooence the
+morals of the cattle, or steal the wire off the fence? Huh! I thought I
+was your _pal_?"
+
+"Oh, Red, quit kiddin'. Don't you see I got orders? I got orders."
+
+"You're gettin' civilized fast, all right. The first thing civilization
+does is to projooce hobos and bums. Then she turns up her nose because
+hobos and bums ain't civilized. Did you ever see a ma cat get mad
+because one of her kittens was born with sore eyes? I guess not. Cats
+has got sense. Now, what if I don't indignify myself to the extent of
+crawlin' under that line fence?"
+
+"'Course I'll bring you the coin in the mornin'. But if you don't go
+now, why, I got to quit this job. I got to play square to him."
+
+"So it's orders or me, eh?"
+
+"Yes, Red, and I want to use you right, and be square, too."
+
+Overland Red's beard hid the quiver of his lips as he asked huskily:
+"And you would be comin' back on the road with your ole pal again? You
+would give up the job and the chance of a smile from that little
+Rose-Lady Girl and flew the coop with me again if I said the word?"
+
+"Sure I would. You come first and the job comes second; but--but I want
+to keep the job."
+
+Overland's keen blue eyes filled with instant emotion. "Oh, you go chase
+a snake up your sleeve. Do you think I'd bust your chances of makin'
+good here? Do you reckon I'd let a line fence stand between me and you,
+speakin' poetical? Say, I'll go camp in that sheriff gent's front yard
+if it'll do any good to you, or before I'll see you in bad with the
+little Rose Girl!"
+
+"Please, Red; I mean it."
+
+"So do I. I'll fade quicker than spit on a hot stove. Don't forget
+to-morrow mornin'. Some day I'll put you hep to how to ride. You better
+get to your fence job."
+
+Brand Williams watched the man and the boy as they walked along the
+line-fence trail together. Collie leading the pony, the man talking and
+gesticulating earnestly. Finally they shook hands. The tramp crawled
+under the fence. The boy mounted Baldy and rode away.
+
+Williams, catching up his own horse, spurred quickly across the ridge
+above the spring that the boy might not see him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+A CELESTIAL ENTERPRISE
+
+
+Broad avenues of feathery pepper trees, long driveways between shadowy
+rows of the soldierly eucalyptus, wide lawns and gigantic palms of the
+southern isles, weaving pampas grass, gay as the plumes of romance,
+jasmine, orange-bloom, and roses everywhere. Over all is the eternal
+sunshine and noon breeze of the sea, graciously cooling. Roundabout is a
+girdle of far hills.
+
+Some old Spanish padre named it "Nuestra Señora Reina de Los Angeles,"
+making melody that still lures with its ancient charm. A city for
+angels, verily. A city of angels? Verily; some fallen, indeed, for there
+is much nefarious trafficking in real estate, but all in all the
+majority of souls in Los Angeles are celestial bound, treading upon
+sunbeams in their pilgrimage.
+
+The plaza, round which the new town roars from dawn to dusk, is still
+haunted by a crumbling old adobe, while near it droop dusty pepper trees
+that seem to whisper to each other endlessly--"Mañana! Mañana!" Whisper
+as did those swarthy vaqueros and the young, lithe, low-voiced
+señoritas who strolled across the plaza in the dusk of by-gone days.
+"Mañana! Mañana!--To-morrow! To-morrow!"
+
+And the to-morrows have come and gone as did those Spanish lovers,
+riding up through the sunshine on their silver-bitted pinto ponies and
+riding out at dusk with tinkling spur-chains into that long to-morrow
+that has shrouded the ancient plaza in listless dreams. Mexicans in
+black sombreros and blue overalls still prowl from cantina to cantina,
+but the gay vaquero and his señorita are no more.
+
+Overland Red, a harsh note in the somnolence of the place, stepped
+buoyantly across the square. And here, if ever, Overland was at home.
+
+A swarthy, fat Mexican shaved him while a lean old rurale of Overland's
+earlier acquaintance obligingly accepted some pesos with which to drink
+the señor's health, and other pesos with which to purchase certain
+clothing for the señor.
+
+The retired rurale drove a relentless bargain with a countryman,
+returning with certain picturesque garments that Overland donned in the
+back room of the little circus-blue barber shop.
+
+The tramp had worthily determined to hold wise and remunerative converse
+with the first Easterner that "looked good to him." He would make
+half-truths do double duty. He needed money to purchase a burro, packs,
+canteen, pick, shovel, dynamite, and provisions. He intended to repay
+the investor by money-order from some desert town as soon as he found
+the hidden gold. This unusual and worthy intention lent Overland added
+assurance, and he needed it. Fortune, goddess evanishing and coy, was
+with him for once. If he could but dodge the plain-clothes men long
+enough to outfit and get away....
+
+The "Mojave Bar," on North Main Street of the City of Angels was all but
+empty. Upon it the lassitude of early afternoon lay heavily. The
+spider-legged music-racks of the Mexican string orchestra, the empty
+platform chairs, the deserted side-tables along the pictured wall, the
+huge cactus scrawled over with pin-etched initials,--all the impedimenta
+of the saloon seemed to slumber.
+
+The white-coated proprietor, with elbows on the bar, gazed listlessly at
+a Remington night-scene--a desert nocturne with a shadowy adobe against
+the blue-black night, a glimmer of lamplight through a doorway, and in
+the golden pathway a pony and rider and the red flash of pistol shots.
+
+Opposite the bartender, at a table against the wall, sat a young man,
+clad in cool gray. He smoked a cigarette, and occasionally sipped from a
+tall glass. He was slender, clean-cut, high-colored, an undeniable
+patrician. In his mild gray eyes, deep down, gleamed a latent humor, an
+interior twinkling not apparent to the multitude.
+
+Sweeney Orcutt, the saloon-keeper, noticed this reserve characteristic
+now for the first time, as the young man turned toward him. Sweeney was
+a retired plain-clothes man with a record, and a bank account. It was
+said that he knew every crook from Los Angeles to New York. Be it added,
+to his credit, that he kept his own counsel--attending to his own
+business on both sides of the bar.
+
+"Do they ever do those things now?" queried the young man, nodding
+toward the picture.
+
+Sweeney Orcutt smiled a thin-lipped smile. "Not much. Sometimes in Texas
+or Mexico. I seen the day when they did."
+
+The young man lazily crossed his legs. "Nice and cool here," he remarked
+presently.
+
+"Been in town long?" asked Sweeney.
+
+"No, only a few days."
+
+"I was goin' to say there's a good show over on Spring
+Street--movin'-pictures of the best ridin' and buckin' and ropin' I seen
+yet."
+
+"Yes? Is there any one in town who is not working for the movies?"
+
+Again Sweeney Orcutt smiled his thin-lipped smile. "Yes, I guess there
+is. I might scare up one or two I used to know who is workin' the
+transients, which ain't exactly workin' _for_ the movies."
+
+"I should like to meet some character who is really doing something in
+earnest; that is, some cowboy, miner, prospector, teamster,--one of
+those twenty-mule-team kind, you know,--or any such chap. Why, even the
+real estate men that have been up to my hotel seem to be acting a part.
+One expects every minute to see one of them pull a gun and hold up a
+fellow. No doubt they mean business."
+
+"Bank on that," said Orcutt dryly.
+
+"You see," continued the young man, "I have too much time on my hands
+just now. The doctors tell me to rest, and I've been doing nothing else
+all my life. It's pretty monotonous. I've tried to get interested in
+some of the chaps on North Main Street, and around the plaza. I've
+offered to buy them drinks and all that, but they seem to shy off. I
+suppose they think I'm a detective or something of that kind."
+
+"More like, a newspaper man after a story. Hello, there! Now, what's
+doin'?"
+
+Outside near the curb a crowd had collected. A traffic officer was
+talking to the driver of an automobile. As Sweeney Orcutt strolled
+toward the doorway, Overland Red, clean-shaven, clothed in new corduroys
+and high lace boots, and a sombrero aslant on his stiff red hair, dove
+into the saloon and called for a "bucket of suds."
+
+"Close--shave--Red--" whispered Orcutt.
+
+"Had me Orcutt, likewise," replied the tramp. "Say, Sweeney, stall off
+the Dick out there. I think he piped me as I blew in, but I ain't sure.
+He'll be pokin' in here in a minute. If he sees me talkin',--to the guy
+there, for instance,--and you give him a steer, he won't look too close.
+Sabe?" And Overland drank, observing the Easterner at the table over the
+top of his glass.
+
+"They got that guy Overland Red mugged in every station from here to
+Chicago," whispered Orcutt. "Paper says he put it over a desert rat up
+near Barstow. Did you hear about it?"
+
+"Some," replied Overland sententiously.
+
+"And did you hear about his last get-away on one of the Moonstone Rancho
+ponies? Some class to that!"
+
+"I read somethin' about it," replied Overland.
+
+"Well, Red, if you won't tumble, all I got to say is, beat it. You're
+worth a thousand bucks to any fly-cop that nips you in this town. I'm
+handin' you a little dope that you can slide out on and not get stuck."
+
+"Thanks, Sweeney. Well, I'll ring you up from Kalamazoo."
+
+"Kalamazoo? In them clothes?"
+
+"Sure. There's a law against travelin' naked in some States. Where you
+been grazin' lately?"
+
+"In the bull-pasture; and say, Red, it's gettin' warm there, for some."
+
+"Well, I guess I'll beat it," said Overland.
+
+"Take a slant at the door first."
+
+Overland turned leisurely. In the doorway stood the traffic officer. He
+glanced from Orcutt to the two men near the table. "Hello, Sweeney!" he
+called, glancing a second time at Overland.
+
+"Hello!" answered Sweeney, strolling to the end of the bar. "Somebody
+speedin'?"
+
+"Yes. Say, who's the guy, the big one?"
+
+"Him? Oh, that's Billy Sample, the fella that does the desert stuff for
+the General Film Company. The kid is his pardner who acts the
+tenderfoot. They 're waitin' for the machine now to take 'em out to
+Glendale. Got some stunt to pull off this afternoon, so Billy was
+tellin' me. They're about half-stewed now. They make me sick."
+
+"Thought I saw the big guy out on the street a minute ago," said the
+officer, hesitating. "There's a card out for a fella that looks like
+him. I guess--"
+
+"He thought it was his machine comin'," said Orcutt. "He run out to see.
+It's a wonder how them movie actors can make up to look like most
+anybody. Why, I been in your line of business, as you know, and I been
+fooled lots of times. Makes a fella feel like he don't know where he's
+at with the town full of them movin'-picture actors."
+
+"Well, so long, Sweeney." And the traffic officer, a little afraid of
+being laughed at by the famous ex-officer, Sweeney Orcutt, departed,
+just a thousand dollars poorer than he might have been had he had the
+courage of his convictions.
+
+Overland and Orcutt exchanged glances. Orcutt's glance rested meaningly,
+for an instant, on the Easterner at the table. Overland grinned. Orcutt
+spoke to the young Easterner, who immediately rose to his feet and
+bowed.
+
+"You was lookin' for somebody that's the real thing, you said. This
+here's my friend Jack Summers. He used to be sheriff of Abilene once. He
+ain't workin' for a movin'-picture outfit and he won't borrow your
+watch. Mebby he has a little business deal to put up to you and mebby
+not. Take my word for it, he's straight."
+
+"I'm William Winthrop, back East. 'Billy' will do here. I'm a
+tenderfoot, but I'm not exactly a fool. I observed the delicacy with
+which you engineered the recent exodus of the policeman. I'm
+interested."
+
+"Sounds like plush to me," said Overland. "I got a little time--not
+much. You're correct about the cop. I got a pretty good thing out in
+the Mojave--gold--"
+
+Winthrop laughed. "You aren't losing any time, are you?"
+
+"You wouldn't neither if you was in my boots," said Overland, grinning
+cheerfully.
+
+"Oh, Red's all right," said Orcutt. "What'll you gents have?"
+
+"Seein' I'm all right, Sweeney, I'll take five dollars in small change.
+I need the coin for entertainin' purposes, I'll pay you in the mornin'."
+
+"You got me that time," said Orcutt. "Here's the coin."
+
+"Shall we sit down here?" asked Winthrop, indicating one of the tables.
+
+"Sure! Now this ain't no frame-up. No, I'll set where I can watch
+Sweeney. He's like to steal his own cash-register if you don't watch
+him." And Winthrop noticed that his companion faced the door. He also
+noticed, as the man's coat brushed against a chair as he sat down, that
+that same coat covered a shiny black shoulder holster in which gleamed
+the worn butt of an automatic pistol.
+
+"My real name is Jack Summers," began Overland Red. "Some folks took to
+callin' me 'Overland Red,' seein' as I been some towerist in my time."
+
+"Great!" murmured the Easterner. "'Overland Red!' That name has me
+hypnotized."
+
+"You was sayin'?" queried Overland.
+
+"Beg your pardon. Nothing worth while. I haven't been so happy for a
+year. Let me explain. I have a little money, pretty well invested. I
+also have lungs, I believe. The doctors don't quite agree about that,
+however. The last one gave me six months to live. That was a year ago. I
+owe him an apology and six months. I'm not afraid, exactly, and I'm
+certainly not glad. But I want to forget it. That's all. Go ahead about
+that desert and the gold. I'm listening."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+"PERFECTLY HARMLESS LITTLE OLE TENDERFOOT"
+
+
+William Stanley Winthrop woke next morning with a vague impression of
+having lost something. He gazed indolently at the sunlight filtering
+through the curtains of his sleeping-room. Beyond the archway to the
+adjoining room of his suite, a ray of sunshine lay like living gold upon
+the soft, rich-hued fabric of the carpet.
+
+"Gold!" he murmured. "Mojave Desert! Overland Red! Lost gold! No, it
+isn't the two hundred dollars I invested in the rascal's story, for it
+was worth the money. I never spent four happier hours in my life, at
+fifty dollars an hour. The best of it is he actually made me believe
+him. I think he believed himself."
+
+Winthrop sat up in bed, yawning. "I think black coffee will be about
+all, this morning," he murmured, as he dressed leisurely.
+
+He was tying a fastidiously correct bow on his tan oxford when he
+happened to glance out of the window. It was early, altogether too
+early, he reflected, to appear in the breakfast-room of the hotel.
+Winthrop's indefinite soliloquy melted into the rapt silence of
+imagination. Below on the smooth black pavement pattered two laden
+burros. On their packs hung dusty, weatherworn canteens, a pick and
+shovel, and a rifle in its soiled and frayed scabbard. The sturdy,
+shaggy burros followed a little, lean old man, whose flop-brimmed hat,
+faded shirt, and battered boots told a tale of the outlands, whispered
+of sun-swept immensities, of sage and cacti, sand and silence. Winthrop
+drew a long breath. Such an adventurer was the Overland Red he had
+talked with the evening previous. The tramp had mentioned a town far out
+on the desert. Winthrop sauntered down to the deserted office and
+secured a timetable.
+
+When the east-bound express left Los Angeles the following morning,
+Winthrop was aboard, uncomfortably installed in the private drawing-room
+of a sleeper. He had cheerfully paid the double fare that he might have
+the entire space to himself, and he needed it. Around him, on the floor,
+in the seats, in the racks, and on the hooks were innumerable packages,
+bags, and bundles.
+
+"Very eccentric. He must be rich," whispered the wife of a dry-goods
+merchant from Keokuk, as her husband pushed her ahead of him past the
+door of the drawing-room.
+
+"Just plain hog!" said the dry-goods merchant. "A man that'll pay
+double fare to have the whole earth to himself when other folks has to
+be packed into a berth and suffocate! The conductor said he paid double
+to Chicago to get that compartment, and he's only goin' out in the
+desert a little ways. I'd 'a' took it myself."
+
+"Well, we could hardly afford it, anyway," said the woman pleasantly.
+"We've had such a good time I don't mind sleeping in a berth, Hiram."
+
+They crowded on and finally found their seats.
+
+Winthrop smiled to himself. He liked the woman's voice.
+
+He lighted a cigarette and gazed wistfully, even despairingly, at the
+"outfit" which surrounded him. He sighed. "Awful accumulation of
+plunder. Wonder what I'll do with it?"
+
+As the train climbed the grade beyond San Bernardino, he grew restless.
+Flinging down his cigarette, he began unwrapping his belongings. Out
+came blankets, extra clothing, a rifle, canteens of several patterns,
+two pack-saddles, a coil of rope, a pair of high lace boots,--hobnailed,
+heavy, and unserviceable,--a pocket compass, a hunting-knife, a patent
+filter, two halters, two galvanized pails, a small, compact, silk tent,
+an axe, a fishing-rod, a rubber cup, a box of cigars, a bottle of
+brandy, several neckerchiefs, a cartridge-belt, a Colts revolver of
+large and aggressive caliber, cartridges, a prospector's pick, a shovel,
+a medicine-case, a new safety razor, a looking-glass, a clinic
+thermometer, and a copy of "Robinson Crusoe."
+
+He pondered over the agglomeration of articles pensively. "He was a good
+salesman," he said, smiling. "I'll be either a juggler or a strong man
+before I'm through with these things. I think I'll begin now and
+re-pack. I'll make one glorious bundle of it. That's the ticket!"
+
+Winthrop went to work, whistling cheerfully. He spread the blanket and
+rearranged his possessions, finally rolling them up into an uncertain
+bundle which he roped with the weird skill of the amateur packer. He
+tried to lift the bundle to the opposite seat. He decided to leave it on
+the floor.
+
+Over the grade and on the level of the desert the train gathered speed.
+The shimmering spaces revolved slowly, to meet the rushing track ahead.
+Hour after hour sat Winthrop, reading and occasionally glancing out
+across the desert. His was the wildest of wild-goose chases. A stranger
+had told him of a mysterious ledge of gold somewhere out on the desert,
+and the stranger had named a desert town--the town toward which Winthrop
+was journeying. Would the eccentric Overland Red be there? Winthrop
+hoped so. He wanted to believe that this Ulysses of the outlands had
+spoken truth. He imagined vividly Overland Red's surprise when one
+William Stanley Winthrop, late of New York, should appear, equipped to
+the chin and eager to participate in the hunt for the lost gold. Then
+again, the prospector might not care to be burdened with the
+companionship of a tenderfoot. Still, the uncertainty of his welcome
+lent zest to Winthrop's enterprise. He closed the door of his
+drawing-room and wound through a mahogany maze toward the dining-car.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Next morning, as the train slowed down for the desert town, Winthrop was
+in the vestibule, peering out anxiously. It did not occur to him that
+Overland Red knew nothing of his coming, or that the other would be
+waiting on the station platform if he did. The tramp had not the
+faintest desire to make himself conspicuous. Some of Winthrop's
+enthusiasm had evaporated during the hot night in the sleeper.
+
+"Thank you very much," called the lady from Keokuk, Iowa.
+
+"Don't mention it," said Winthrop, disembarking behind the porter with
+his "plunder." Then, as the Pullman slid away, Winthrop deliberately and
+gracefully threw a kiss to the dry-goods merchant's wife. "Nice little
+woman," he reflected. "Too nice to associate with that grampus. Well, I
+hope they'll enjoy the rest of the trip in the drawing-room. I'm glad I
+was able to arrange it."
+
+He watched the train crawl down the track. He wondered how long he would
+be able to distinguish the pattern of the brasswork on the observation
+car-rail.
+
+Out of the empty distance came the _click_, _clink_, _clank_ of hammers
+and shovels as the section-men, a mile down the track, stepped into work
+behind the train.
+
+"Prospectin'?" queried a lank individual, slouching up to Winthrop.
+
+"A little," said Winthrop. "It's pretty dry work."
+
+"Uhuh. It's goin' to be hot about noon."
+
+"I suppose so. Will you kindly give me a hand with this monstrosity,"
+said Winthrop, indicating the pack. "The agent seems to be busy."
+
+"Sure! She ain't roped very tight."
+
+Which proved to be true. The bundle, with a kind of animate
+indifference, slowly sagged, opened, and things began to trickle from it
+in its journey across the platform. Among the things was the bottle of
+brandy. The lank individual picked this up tenderly and set it to one
+side. Winthrop noticed his solicitude, and smiled.
+
+"We can rope 'em up again," said the lank one, suddenly becoming
+enthusiastic. "My name's Jim Hicks. I'm constable here."
+
+"I see. Well, I'm William Winthrop, from Los Angeles. I'm a naturalist.
+Will you accept a cigar?"
+
+"Thanks. You want to pack this here bottle, too?"
+
+"Not right away. Whew! It is getting hot."
+
+"Goin' up to the hotel?" queried the constable.
+
+Winthrop glanced along the street. The hotel did not look inviting. "I
+don't know. I'd like to get in the shade somewhere."
+
+"There's old Fernando's 'dobe down the track under them pepper trees.
+He's a friend of mine. He ain't to home to-day. Mebby you'd like to set
+down there and wait for your friend."
+
+"My friend?"
+
+"Why, ain't you waitin' for anybody? You ain't goin' to tackle that
+bug-huntin' trip alone, be you? It's dangerous out there for a
+tenderfoot. Now I have took folks out, and brought 'em back all
+right,--gone as far as them hills over there, and that's a good jag from
+here,--and I only charge four dollars a day and grub."
+
+"I thought you said you were constable?"
+
+"So I be. Takin' parties across the desert is on the side. How far you
+figurin' on goin'?"
+
+"I haven't made up my mind yet. Say we go down as far as the adobe you
+spoke about, as a beginning. Perhaps we can arrange terms."
+
+"I'm on, pard," said the constable.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Under the pepper trees shading Fernando's adobe sat Winthrop and the
+constable. The brandy-bottle was half empty and a box of cigars was open
+beside it on the bench. The afternoon shadows were lengthening. The
+constable had been discursive, voluminous, in his entertaining. Time was
+as nothing. He borrowed generously of to-morrow and even the next day.
+He became suddenly quite fond of this quiet, gentlemanly chap opposite
+him, who said little, but seemed to be a prince of good fellows.
+
+"'S this way," said the constable, leaning forward and waving his cigar.
+"You're fren' of mine--sure thing. 'S af'ernoon now, but I was plumb
+fooled this mornin'. Y' know i's af'ernoon now. Thought you was the guy
+I'm lookin' for. H'overlan' Red--bum--tram'. Wire from Loshangeles to
+upperan' him if he shows up here. See?"
+
+"You're not quite clear to me," replied Winthrop. "But never mind about
+apprehending any one. Let's talk about this glorious prospect of sand,
+silence, and solitude. I feel like a fallen angel. Never mind about
+arresting anybody. Life is too short. Let's talk of roses."
+
+"Roshes! Huh!" sniggered the constable. "You're kin' of sof, ain't you?
+Roshes nothin'! I'm goin' talk 'bout business. It's business, my
+business to talk 'bout it, see? 'T ain't your business. You c'n lissen,
+an' when I get through, then you c'n talk roshes."
+
+"But what is your business?" asked Winthrop, with an indifference that
+he did not feel.
+
+"S-s-s-h-h! I'm cons'able. Tha's on the quiet. Thousand dollars rewar'
+f'r th' appr'enshun of 'Verlan' Red. Thought you was him--hic--hee!
+hee!"
+
+"Please don't laugh like that. It hurts my feelings," said Winthrop. "It
+is bad enough to be taken for a--er--tramp."
+
+"Nobody's feelin's--pologishe. '_Course_ you ain' him! You're jus' a
+li'l' ole ten'erfoot--perfec'ly harmless li'l' ole ten'erfoot."
+
+"Thanks. May I ask you to have another?"
+
+"Nope. 'Nough's 'nough. 'S time f'r dinner."
+
+"Nearly. Well, if you flatly refuse to drink my health, I'll have to
+drink it alone, and that's rather egotistical, isn't it?"
+
+"Never. B' Gosh! You're sport. Funny li'l' ole ten'erfoot--perf'ly
+harmless. Sure, I'll drink all th' health you got, 'n then go
+home--dinner."
+
+"One will be sufficient, I think," said Winthrop.
+
+"Sufficen' wha'?" And the constable leered cunningly.
+
+"To drown all pangs. Well, here's pleasant dreams."
+
+Far down the line came the faint thrill of wheels and the distant,
+clear-cut blast of a locomotive. The local freight from Los Angeles was
+whistling for the "block."
+
+Winthrop glanced at his watch, then at the constable. "What train is
+that?" asked the Easterner.
+
+The constable's eyelids drooped, then opened languidly. "Railro' train,
+'f course." And he slid forward to his elbow and thence to the bench.
+Presently he snored.
+
+Winthrop strolled toward the approaching train. "Pretty stiff session,"
+he commented. "Now if happy chance should bring Overland Red on this
+freight, with his burro and outfit; I'll have one reason to offer for
+wanting to go with him. I've probably saved him some annoyance,
+indirectly, but rather effectively, I think."
+
+The great oil-burning locomotive roared in, casting heat-waves that
+smelled of steam, iron, and mechanical energy. The hot air sickened
+Winthrop.
+
+A car was cut out and shunted to a siding. Then the engine, pausing to
+drink a gargantuan draught at the tank, simmered away in the dusk,
+clanking across the switch-points. A figure leaped from the freight-car
+to the ground. Then out came a burro and several bundles. The figure
+strode to the station and filled two canteens. Winthrop walked toward
+the burro. When he of the burro and canteens returned, he found Winthrop
+stroking the little animal's nose.
+
+"What the--! How the--! Who lost you out here?" asked Overland.
+
+Winthrop spoke rapidly and to the point. "Express this morning. Lonesome
+again. Thought I'd make a change. My outfit is over at the station.
+Don't say 'No' before you hear me. You're going to need me--tenderfeet
+and all."
+
+"But you can't--"
+
+"Wait. The local constable has a wire from the Los Angeles police to
+look out for you. Perhaps you got this far because you're traveling in a
+freight-car. No doubt all the passenger trains have been watched all
+along the line. The constable has been my--er--my guest since morning.
+He is asleep now. I had to do it. He told me, after either the sixth or
+seventh glass, I forget which, that he was looking for you. Come on over
+to the station and inspect my outfit, please. I think we had better
+vanish."
+
+Overland breathed once, deeply. "Lead me to it!" he exclaimed. "You got
+my number. I guess you're some lame chicken, eh? No? I'll never call you
+a tenderfoot as long as I live. Shake!"
+
+The inspection of the outfit was brief. "Take the Colts and the
+cartridges, and the blankets and the rope. T' hell with the rest."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+DESERT LAW
+
+
+Away out in the night of stars and silence plodded the patient burro,
+and beside him shuffled Overland Red and Billy Winthrop.
+
+"We'll fool 'em," said Overland. "Keep joggin'. We'll be over the range
+before mornin'. Then let 'em find us."
+
+Winthrop, staggering along, felt his moral stamina crumbling within him.
+"I don't know--about that. Perhaps I'll be a drag to the expedition. I'm
+pretty tired."
+
+Overland, experienced in the remorse that follows liquor on an empty
+stomach, swore vigorously and picturesquely. "You'll stick! Do you
+suppose I'd shake you now after you overcomin' a genuine nickel-plated
+desert constable? Nix. That ain't my style. You believed me when I said
+I was comin' to this particular town. It's worth somethin' to have a
+fella around that believes a fella once in a while. But what I want to
+know is, why you done up the constable so offhand like, not knowin'
+whether I'd show up here or not?"
+
+"Why?" And Winthrop smiled wanly. "Because I'm a perfectly harmless
+little old tenderfoot." And his voice caught as he tried to laugh.
+
+An hour of plodding through the dusk, two hours, and they were at a
+water-hole near the northern hills. Overland unroped one of the packs,
+made a fire, and presently had some hot coffee for his companion, who
+was pretty well used up. Nature was taking inexorable toll for his
+conquest of the constable.
+
+"You take it easy and don't worry," said Overland.
+
+Winthrop raised on his elbow and gazed at the tiny fire. "Tiger, tiger
+burning bright!" he quoted.
+
+"This here coffee'll fix you right," responded Overland Red, grinning.
+"Didn't know I was a pote, did you? Now if I was a doc, I'd give you a
+shot in the arm that would put you to sleep. Seein' I ain't, it's coffee
+for yours."
+
+"Do you think they will follow us?" Winthrop asked presently.
+
+"As sure as snakes," said Overland. "And this here water-hole is the
+first place they'll strike for. They'll wait till mornin' to find our
+trail."
+
+"When they do find it?"
+
+"I'll show 'em a Mexican trick with a hole in it. You go to sleep,
+pardner."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The moon rolled down to the rim of the world. The infinitesimal
+mountain peaks rose slowly along the lower edge of the flat silver
+shield, black and growing bolder in outline and size as they blotted
+half, three quarters, finally all of the burnished radiance. Then along
+the edge of the far range ran an instant delicate light, a light that
+melted into space and was gone, leaving a palpitating glory of myriad
+summer stars.
+
+The little fire died down. The barren outland wastes slumbered in the
+charitable dusk of night.
+
+Overland, cross-legged on his blanket, smoked moodily. His thoughts
+drifted out on the tide of silence to Moonstone Cañon and Collie and the
+Rose Girl, Louise Lacharme. For them he planned impossibly. Of them he
+dreamed absurd dreams.
+
+Out of the flotsam of his pondering came memories of other nights such
+as this, desert nights on the border ranges of old Mexico--that lost
+world of his adventurous youth. Mingled with his waking dreams were the
+sounds of many familiar names--Sonora, Trevino, Nueva Laredo, Nava, San
+José, Las Cruces, Nogales, Yuma, San Antonio,--each a burning ember of
+memory that glowed and faded while the music of silver strings and
+singing girls pulsed rhythmically in the stillness--to break at last
+into the querulous wailing of a lone coyote. Winthrop stirred restlessly
+and muttered.
+
+All at once the tramp realized that this easygoing young Easterner,
+wealthy, unused to hardship, delicate of health, had his battle to
+fight, as well. "I've knowed 'em to get over it," reflected Overland.
+"She's high and dry up here on the desert, and I reckon to go where it's
+higher. He's game, but he's desp'rate. He's tryin' to dodge the verdict,
+which can't be did. Well, if excitement will help any, I guess he's
+ridin' the right range. If he's got to pass over, he might as well go
+quick. Mebby he's the best kind of a pal for this deal, after all."
+
+Overland looked across at the muffled form. "Pardner!" he called.
+Winthrop did not answer.
+
+"Well, it saves explainin'," muttered the tramp, and he rose quietly. He
+gathered the few camp-utensils together, rolled his blankets, brushed
+sand over the embers of the fire, and groped stealthily toward the
+burro. He roped the pack, glancing back toward the water-hole
+occasionally. Winthrop slept heavily.
+
+"Guess I'll go back and get that gun," muttered Overland. "I might need
+two; anyway, he might wake up and plug his old friend the constable
+before he knowed it. I ain't givin' a whoop for the constable, but I
+don't want to see the kid get in wrong."
+
+Then Overland, wily and resourceful in border tactics, led the burro
+round the camp in a wide circle, from which he branched toward the hills
+to the north. For two hours he journeyed across the starlit emptiness.
+Arriving at a narrow cañon in the foothills, he picketed the burro. Then
+he sat down. Why not continue with his pack and provisions? He could
+camp in the fastness of the mountain country and explore it alone. He
+would run less risk of capture. Winthrop was not strong. The Easterner
+meant well enough, but this was the desert.
+
+The blue of the eastern horizon grew shallower, changing to a cold thin
+gray which warmed slowly to the straw color of tempering steel. The
+tramp, watching the sky, shook his clenched fist at the dawn. "You, up
+there!" he growled. "You didn't give me a square deal when I was down
+and out that time--in Sonora. I had to crawl to it alone. But I'll show
+you that I'm bigger than you. I'm goin' back to the tenderfoot and see
+him through if I swing pole-high for it."
+
+It was light when the tramp had arrived at the water-hole. He crept
+behind a sharp dip in the hummocks. The crest of his hiding-place was
+covered with brush. It was a natural rifle-pit affording him seclusion
+and shelter.
+
+With the sun came the faint thud of hoofs as two riders came warily up
+to the water-hole. One dismounted and stooped over Winthrop. The other
+sat his horse, silent, vigilant, saturnine.
+
+"Say, where's your pal, that there Overland Red guy?" asked the
+constable, shaking Winthrop awake and glaring at him with a bleared and
+baleful eye.
+
+The man on the horse frowned, considering, in the light of his
+experience as a successful and still living two-gun man, that such
+tactics were rather crude.
+
+The Easterner sat up, coughed and blinked in the dawn. "Where is what?
+Why, good-morning! You're up early." And his eye swept the empty camp.
+So Overland Red had deserted him, after all. He might have expected as
+much. "I haven't any 'pal,' as you can see. I'm out here studying insect
+life, as I told you I would be, yesterday. You needn't shake me any
+more. I'm awake. I can't say that I'm exactly pleased with my first
+specimen."
+
+"Oh! I'm a specimen, am I? I'm a insect, hey? Well, you're crooked, and
+you just talk up quick or the calaboose for yours!"
+
+"No. I beg your pardon--but, no. You are in no condition, this morning,
+to talk with a gentleman. However, you are my guest. Have a cigar?"
+
+The horseman's eyes twinkled. He admired the young Easterner's
+coolness. Not so the constable.
+
+"See here, you swindlin' tin-horn shell-shover, you cough up where
+Overland Red is or there'll be somethin' doin'. You doped that booze
+yesterday, but you can't throw no bluff like that to-day."
+
+"I did what? Please talk slowly."
+
+"You doped that booze you--"
+
+Much to the constable's surprise he found himself sitting on Winthrop's
+blankets and one of his eyes felt as though some one had begun to stitch
+it up quickly with coarse thread.
+
+Winthrop, smiling serenely, nodded. "Sorry to have to do it. I know I
+don't look like that kind, and I'm not, but I happen to know how."
+
+The constable got to his feet.
+
+"I didn't doctor the brandy, as you intimated," said Winthrop. "And you
+needn't finger that belt of yours. I haven't a gun with me, and I
+believe it is not the thing for one man to use a gun on another when
+the--er--victim happens to be unarmed."
+
+The horseman, who had courage, admired Winthrop's attitude. He rode
+between them. "Cut it out, Hicks," he said. "You're actin' locoed. Guess
+you're carryin' your load yet. I'll talk to the kid. We 're losing time.
+See here, stranger...."
+
+Overland, watching and listening from his hiding-place, grinned as the
+constable sullenly mounted his horse.
+
+Winthrop politely but firmly declined to acknowledge that he had had a
+companion. Overland was pleased and the riders were baffled by the young
+man's subtle evasion of answering them directly.
+
+"Size of it is, you're stung," said the man who had questioned Winthrop
+last. "He's lit out, now he's done you."
+
+To this the Easterner made no reply.
+
+The horsemen rode away, following the circle of burro tracks toward the
+hills. Winthrop watched them, wondering what had become of his
+companion. He could hardly believe that the tramp had deserted him, yet
+the evidence was pretty plain. Even his revolver was gone, and his belt
+and cartridges. Winthrop yawned. He was hungry. There was no food. But
+there was water. He walked toward the water-hole.
+
+"Stand still--and listen," said a voice.
+
+Winthrop jumped back, startled and trembling. The voice seemed to come
+from the water-hole at his feet.
+
+"Over here--this way," the voice said.
+
+Winthrop smiled. If it were a disembodied spirit talking, it was no
+other than the spirit of Overland Red. The accent was unmistakable. The
+Easterner glanced round and observed a peculiar something behind the
+brush edging the rise beyond the water-hole.
+
+"It's me," said Overland, still concealed. "Thought I quit you, eh? Are
+them fellas out of sight yet?"
+
+"No. They're still in sight. They are too far to see anything, though."
+
+"And you can see them all right, son? That don't figure out correct."
+
+Winthrop laughed. "That's so. Where's the burro?"
+
+"He's hid--right in plain sight up a little arroyo."
+
+"Won't they find him, and confiscate him and the things?"
+
+"Not on your life! 'T ain't exactly healthy, even for constables, to go
+round confiscatin' outfits they don't know who's connected with. They
+can't say for sure that burro and stuff is mine. They'll look it over
+and leave it right there."
+
+"But why did you come all the way back here?" asked Winthrop.
+
+"Seein' they's lots of time, I'll explain. If I had kep' on goin', they
+would 'a' trailed me, and mebby got a crack at me in them hills. They
+are two to one, and they could get me at night. Now they'll either give
+it up, or spot my back tracks and find me here. That's all."
+
+"Perhaps that won't be all," ventured Winthrop, walking toward the ridge
+where Overland lay concealed.
+
+The tramp grinned up at him. "Mebby not, pardner. You was tellin'
+Sweeney Orcutt back in Los Angeles that you wanted to get up against the
+real thing. I reckon you bought the right ticket this trip."
+
+"Will they--will there be any shooting?" asked the Easterner.
+
+"Not if I can help it," replied Overland. "I borrowed your gun on the
+chance of it. 'Course, if they get sassy, why, they's no tellin' what
+will happen. I'm mighty touchy about some things. But listen! I'm actin'
+as your travelin' insurance agent, pro temperly, as the pote says, which
+means keepin' your temper. If they do spot me, and get foolish enough to
+think that I got time to listen to any arguments against my rights as a
+free and unbranded citizen of the big range, why, you drop and roll
+behind the first sand-hill that is a foot high. After the smoke blows
+away, I'll be dee-lighted to accept your congratulations."
+
+"I guess you mean business," said Winthrop, becoming serious. "I'm game,
+but isn't there any other way out of it?"
+
+"Not for me, son. What chance would I have with the whole desert town to
+swear against me? They're after the gold, and they reckon to scare me
+into tellin' where it is. I'm after that same gold, and I don't reckon
+to be bluffed off by a couple of pikers like them."
+
+"The dark one, the man on the bay horse, seemed to be a pretty
+capable-looking individual," said Winthrop.
+
+"Glad you noticed that. You're improvin'. He is a capable gent. He's a
+old two-gun man. Did you see how he had his guns tied down low so they
+would pull quick. Nothin' fancy about him, but he's good leather. The
+other one don't count."
+
+"What shall I do when they come back?"
+
+"You jest go to studyin' bugs or rattlesnakes or tarantulas or
+somethin'. Make a bluff at it. If they ask you anything, answer 'em nice
+and polite, _and so I can hear_. A whole pile depends on my keepin' up
+with the talk. I'll figure from what they say, or don't say."
+
+"They seem to be turning. They've stopped. One of them is down on the
+ground looking at something. Now he's up again. They're riding back,"
+said Winthrop.
+
+"They cut my back trail," said Overland, snuggling down behind the
+brush. "You go and set down by the water-hole and find a bug to study."
+
+"Are you going to fight?"
+
+"Not if it can be helped. Otherwise--till me wires are down and me lamps
+are out. She's desert law out here. They seems to be some chance for a
+argument about who's goin' to be judge. I'm out for the job myself. I
+reckon to throw about fifteen votes--they's six in your gun and nine in
+the automatic. The election is like to be interestin' and close."
+
+"I wish I could help," said the Easterner.
+
+"You can--by keepin' your nerve," replied Overland. Then he rolled a
+cigarette and lay smoking and gazing at the sky. Winthrop watched the
+approaching horsemen. Presently he got up and sauntered to the
+water-hole.
+
+The tramp lay curled like a snake behind the mound. He drew Winthrop's
+gun from its holster and inspected it, shaking his head as he slid it
+back again. "She's new and will pull stiff. That means she'll throw to
+the right. Well, I got the little Gat. to open up the show with."
+
+William Stanley Winthrop, despite his resolution, found that his hands
+trembled and that his heart beat chokingly. He wanted to shout, to run
+out toward the horsemen, to do anything rather than sit stupidly silent
+by the water-hole.
+
+The two riders loped up. The constable dismounted. "Nothin' doin'," he
+said, stooping to drink.
+
+"No. Nothing doing," echoed the man on horseback.
+
+"That," muttered Overland Red, squirming a little higher behind the
+bushes, "was intended for me. I know that tone. It means there's a hell
+of a lot doin'. Well, I'm good and ready." And he lifted both of his
+red, hairy hands to the edge of the hole and both his hands were
+"filled."
+
+About then the man on the pony began to ride out from the water-hole in
+a wide circle. The constable came from the spring. Overland noticed that
+he kept Winthrop between himself and the sage on the ridge. "That
+settles it," Overland swiftly concluded. "They're on. I'm right sad to
+have to do it."
+
+The heavy, space-blunted report of the circling horseman's gun--and
+Overland calmly spat out the sand that flitted across his lips. The
+rider had ventured a shot and had ridden behind a ridge instantly.
+
+Winthrop exclaimed at these strange tactics.
+
+"He seen a jack run in there," explained the constable, leering.
+
+"This here's gettin' interestin'," mumbled Overland as the constable
+unholstered his gun and sauntered toward the ridge. "I got to get the
+gent on the cayuse. The other one don't count."
+
+The rider had appeared from behind the ridge. Slowly Overland raised
+his right hand. Then the old fighting soul of Jack Summers, sheriff of
+Abilene, rebelled. "No! Dam' if I'll ambush any white man." And he
+leaped to his feet. "Overland Limited!" he shouted, and with his
+battle-cry came the quick tattoo of shots. The horseman wavered, doubled
+up, and pitched forward to the sand.
+
+Overland Red dropped and rolled to one side as the constable's gun
+boomed ineffectually. The tramp lay still.
+
+A clatter of empty stirrups, the swish of a horse galloping past, and
+silence.
+
+Slowly the constable approached Overland's prostrate figure. "Time's up
+for you!" he said, covering the tramp with his gun.
+
+"Water!" groaned Overland.
+
+"Water, eh? Well, crawl to it, you rat!"
+
+Winthrop, his heart thumping wildly, followed the constable. So this was
+desert law? No word of warning or inquiry, but a hail of shots, a
+riderless horse,--two men stretched upon the sand and the burning sun
+swinging in a cloudless circle above the desolate silence.
+
+"You seem to kind of recognize your friend now," sneered the constable.
+
+That was too much for Winthrop's overstrung nerves. His pulses roared in
+his ears. With a leap he seized the constable's gun and twisted at it
+with both hands. There was an explosion, and Winthrop grinned savagely,
+still struggling. With insane strength he finally tore the gun from the
+other's grasp. "You're the only coward in this affair," he gasped, as he
+levelled the gun at the constable. That officer, reading danger in
+Winthrop's eye, discreetly threw up his hands.
+
+"Good!" exclaimed Overland, sitting up suddenly. "That was risky, but it
+worked out all right. I had a better plan. You go set down, Billy. I'll
+see this gent safe toward home."
+
+Winthrop laughed hysterically. "Why, you--you--you're a joke!" he cried.
+"I thought--"
+
+"So did the little man with the pie-pan pinned on his shirt," said
+Overland. "You keep his gun. I got to see how bad the other gent's hit."
+
+An hour later the constable of the desert town led his pony toward the
+railroad. On the pony was his companion, with both arms bandaged. He
+leaned forward brokenly, swaying and cursing. "I'll--get him, if it
+takes--a thousand years," he muttered.
+
+"I reckon it'll take all of that," growled the constable. "You can have
+all you want of his game, Saunders,--I'm through."
+
+Out by the water-hole, Overland turned to Winthrop. "I'm glad you
+enjoyed the performance," he said, grinning. "We've opened the pot and
+the best man rakes her down. She's desert law from now to the finish."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+"FOOL'S LUCK"
+
+
+Gaunt, unshaven, weary, Winthrop rested on the crest of the northern
+range. Overland, looking for water, toiled on down the slope with the
+little burro. Winthrop rose stiffly and shuffled down the rocks. Near
+the foot of the range he saw the burro just disappearing round a bend in
+a cañon. When he came up with Overland, the tramp had a fire going and
+had pitched the tent. The cañon opened out to a level green meadow,
+through which ran a small stream. They had come a long day's journey
+from the water-hole on the other side of the range. They were safe from
+ordinary pursuit. That evening beside the fire, Overland Red told again
+the story of the dead prospector, the gold, and the buried papers. In
+his troubled slumbers the Easterner dreamed of pacing along the track
+counting the ties, and eventually digging in the sand, digging until his
+very soul ached with the futility of his labor. Waking, he never lost
+faith in the certainty of finding the place. He now knew the tramp well
+enough to appreciate that the other had not risked his own life and
+nearly killed one of his pursuers through sheer bravado, or fear, or
+personal hatred. Something more potent was beneath the tramp's
+motives--some incentive that was almost a religion. So far, Winthrop was
+correct. He erred, however, in supposing Overland to be obsessed with a
+mania for gold for its own sake. The erstwhile sheriff of Abilene had
+dreamed a dream about an adopted waif and a beautiful young girl. The
+dream was big. Its fulfillment would require much money. There was more
+of the poet in Overland Red than his best friend had ever imagined.
+
+Three days they rested in the wild seclusion of the cañon. The silence,
+the solemnity of the place, fascinated Winthrop. The tiny stream, cold
+and clear, the vegetation, in a region otherwise barren-gray and
+burning,--the arid Mojave with its blistering heat, the trees, the
+painted rocks,--ochre, copper, bronze, red, gray, and dim lilac in the
+distances,--the gracious shade, the little burro, half ludicrous, half
+pathetic in its stolid acceptance of circumstances,--all had a charm for
+him that soothed and satisfied his restlessness.
+
+Meanwhile the indefatigable Overland spun yarn after yarn of the road
+and range, and rolled innumerable cigarettes with one hand, much to
+Winthrop's amusement.
+
+The third morning Winthrop had awakened feeling so completely refreshed
+that he begged Overland to allow him to make an attempt to find the
+hidden papers and the little bag of gold. Overland demurred at first,
+fearing that the Easterner would become lost or stricken with the heat.
+Throughout the day Winthrop argued stubbornly that he ran no risk of
+capture, while Overland did. He asserted that he could easily find the
+water-hole, which was no difficult task, and from there he could go by
+compass straight out to the tracks. Overland had told him that somewhere
+near a little culvert beneath the track was the marked tie indicating
+the hiding-place of the dead prospector's things. It would mean a
+journey of a day and a night, traveling pretty continuously.
+
+Finally Overland agreed to Winthrop's plan to make the attempt the
+following day.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the foot of the range Overland gave his companion a canteen and a
+piece of gunnysack wrapped round some hardtack and jerked beef.
+
+"Don't I need my gun this time?" queried Winthrop.
+
+"Nope, Billy. 'Cause why? You don't generally kill a little gopher or a
+little owl that's settin' up tendin' to his business, because you ain't
+scared of them. But you will go off of the trail to kill a rattler, a
+side-winder, because he's able to kill you if he takes a notion.
+Correct. Now a tenderfoot totin' a gun is dangerouser than any rattler
+that ever hugged hisself to sleep in the sun--and most fellas travelin'
+the desert knows it. Why, I'm plumb scared of a gun-totin' tenderfoot,
+myself. Not havin' a gun will be your best recommend, generally
+speakin'. Stick to the bugs, Billy; stick to the bugs."
+
+"Well, you ought to know."
+
+"I got seven puckers in my hide to prove what I say. Six of 'em were put
+there by plumb amachoors in the gun line; fellas I never took pains to
+draw on quick, never suspectin' nothin'. The other, number seven, was
+put there by a gent that meant business. He died of a kind of lead
+poisonin' right immediate."
+
+They shook hands, the battered, sunburned adventurer, rough-bearded,
+broad-chested, genial with robust health, and the slender, almost
+delicately fashioned Easterner, who had forgotten that there were such
+things as lungs, or doctors,--for the time being.
+
+"Say, Billy, you need a shave," commented Overland, as the other turned
+to begin his journey across the desert.
+
+Winthrop grinned. "You need--er--decapitating," he retorted, glancing
+back. Then he faced the south and strode away.
+
+Overland, ascending the range, paused halfway up. "Decap-itating," he
+muttered. "Huh! That's a new one on me. De-cap--Let's see! Somethin' to
+do with a fella's hat, I reckon. It's easy to run a word down and hole
+it if you got brains. Mebby Billy meant for me to get a new one. Well,
+the constable's friend only put one hole in her--she's a pretty good hat
+yet."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Overland found his slow way back to the hidden cañon. He felt a little
+lonely as he thought of Collie. He gave the burro some scraps of camp
+bread, knowing that the little animal would not stray so long as he was
+fed, even a little, each day.
+
+It was while he was scouring the fry-pan that he noticed the black sand
+across the stream. Leisurely he rose and scooped a panful of the sand
+and gravel and began washing it, more as a pastime than with an idea of
+finding gold. Slowly he oscillated the whispering sand, slopping the
+water out until he had panned the lot. He spread his bandanna on a
+smooth rock and gently emptied the residue of the washing on it.
+"Color--but thin," he said. "Let's try her again."
+
+He moved farther upstream--this time with one of his regular pans. He
+became absorbed in his experiment. He washed panful after panful,
+slowly, carefully, collectedly. Suddenly he stood up, swore softly, and
+flung the half-washed dirt of the last pan on the rocks. "I'm a nut!"
+he exclaimed. "This livin' in civilization has been puttin' my intellec'
+to the bad. Too much Eastern sassiety." And with this inexplicable
+self-arraignment he stooped at the tent-door, buckled on his gun, and
+started upstream. He glanced from side to side of the steep and
+narrowing walls as he advanced slowly. He passed places where the stream
+disappeared in the sand to find some subterranean channel and reappear
+below again. Rounding an angle of the cliff, he dropped to his knees and
+examined some tiny parallel scratches on a rounded rock--the marks made
+by a boot-heel that had slipped. For an hour he toiled over the rocks on
+up the diminishing stream. "Gettin' thin," he muttered, gazing at the
+silver thread of water rippling over the pebbles. A few feet ahead the
+cliffs met at the bottom in a sharp-edged "V," not over a foot apart in
+the stream-bed, but widening above. Overland scrambled through. On the
+other side of the opening he straightened up, breathing hard. His hand
+crept to his hip. On a sandy level a few yards ahead of him stood a
+ragged and faded canvas tent, its flap wavering idly in a breath of
+wind. In front of the tent was the rain-washed charcoal of an old fire.
+A rusted pan, a pick, and the worn stub of a shovel lay near the stream.
+A box marked "Dynamite" was half-filled with odds and ends of empty
+tins, cooking-utensils, and among the things was a glass fruit-jar half
+filled with matches.
+
+Slowly Overland's hand dropped to his side. He stepped forward, stooped,
+and peered into the tent. "Thought so," he said laughing queerly. Save
+for a pair of old quilts and an old corduroy coat, the place was empty.
+
+"Fool's luck," muttered Overland. "Wonder the Gophertown outfit didn't
+find him and fix him. But come to think of it, they ain't so anxious to
+cross over to this side of the range and get too clost to a real town,
+and get run in or shot up. Fool's luck," he reiterated, coolly rolling a
+cigarette and gazing about with a critical eye. "They's another trail
+into this cañon that the prospector knowed. I got to find it. Billy'll
+be some interested."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE RETURN
+
+
+Overland Red lay concealed in an arroyo at the foot of the range. He
+could overlook the desert without being seen. It was the afternoon of
+the day following Winthrop's departure.
+
+Since discovering the dead prospector's camp and all that it meant, the
+tramp was doubly vigilant. He tried to believe that his anxiety was for
+his own safety rather than for Winthrop's. He finally gave up that idea,
+grumbling something about becoming "plumb soft in his feelin's since he
+took to associatin' with sassiety folks." However, had Winthrop been of
+the West and seasoned in its more rugged ways, Overland would have
+thought little of the young man's share in recent events. While he knew
+that Winthrop looked upon their venture as nothing more than a rather
+keenly exciting game, Overland realized also that the Easterner had
+played the game royally. Perhaps the fact that Winthrop's health was not
+of the best appealed to some hidden sentiment in the tramp's peculiar
+nature. In any event, Overland Red found himself strangely solicitous
+for his companion's return.
+
+Far in the south a speck moved, almost imperceptibly. The tramp's keen
+eyes told him that this was no horseman. He rolled a cigarette and lay
+back in the shade of a boulder. "He's a couple of points off his course,
+but he can't miss the range," he reflected.
+
+Desiring to assure himself that no horseman followed Winthrop, Overland
+Red made no sign that might help the other to find the trail over the
+range. The rim of Winthrop's hat became distinguishable; then the white
+lacing of his boots. Nearer, Overland saw that his face was drawn and
+set with lines of fatigue.
+
+No riders appeared on the horizon. Overland stepped out from behind the
+rock. "Well, how did you make it?" he called.
+
+Winthrop came forward wearily "No luck at all."
+
+"Couldn't find it, eh?"
+
+"I counted every tie between the tank and that little ditch under the
+track. The entire stretch has been relaid with new ties."
+
+Overland whistled. Then he grinned. "You had a good healthy walk,
+anyhow," he observed.
+
+"It doesn't seem to worry you much," said Winthrop.
+
+"Nope. Now you're back, it don't. I reckon you done your dam'dest as
+the song says. Angels can do no less. Buck up, Billy! You 're limper'n a
+second-hand porous-plaster. Here, take a shot at this. That will stiffen
+your knees some. Did you meet up with anybody?"
+
+"Not a soul. I thought I should freeze last night, though. I didn't
+imagine the desert could get so cold."
+
+"Livin' out here on the old dry spot will either kill you or cure you.
+That's one reason I let you go look for them things. The harder you hit
+the trail, and can stand it, the quicker you'll get built up." Then
+Overland, realizing that his companion was worse than tired, that he was
+dispirited, became as wily as the proverbial serpent. His method,
+however, could hardly be compared with the dove's conciliatory cooing.
+"You sure are a bum scout," he began.
+
+Winthrop flushed, but was silent.
+
+"Bet a banana you didn't even leave the track and look for it."
+
+"No, I didn't. Where could I have begun?"
+
+Overland ignored the question. "I'm hungrier than a gorilla. Just send a
+wireless to them feet of your'n. We got some climbin' to do afore dark."
+
+"I'd just as soon camp here. Go up to-morrow," said Winthrop.
+
+"So'd I if it wasn't for bein' scared some of the hills would mosey off
+before I got back." And Overland set a brisk pace up the mountain,
+talking as he climbed. Winthrop could do nothing but listen. He was
+breathless.
+
+"Or that cañon," continued Overland. "She might not be there if we
+stayed away all night. Besides, I'm scared to leave _it_ alone by
+itself."
+
+"Leave what?" gasped Winthrop.
+
+"It. The find I made while you was out surveyin' the Santa Fé. I was
+feared you'd get nervous prosecution if I told you all to once, so I
+breaks it easy like."
+
+"What was it?"
+
+"Nothin' but a tent in the cañon we're campin' in. But, Billy, when you
+find a tent and some minin' tools and other signs of trouble 'way up
+some lonesome old slot in the hills, you want to get ready for a
+surprise. Mebby it'll be nothin' but some old clothes and bones. Mebby
+it'll be them and somethin' else. I didn't find the bones, but I found
+the somethin' else, coarse, and fair dribblin' thick in the dirt. It's
+there and rich, Billy, rich!"
+
+Overland Red turned and paused as Winthrop leaned against a rock.
+
+"It's the--the real thing?" queried the Easterner.
+
+"The real thing, pardner. Now what do you think of that for highbrow
+stuff?"
+
+"Meaning that you stumbled on the secret?"
+
+"If you want to say it that way, yes. Just like fallin' into a sewer and
+findin' a gold watch where you lit."
+
+"Then it's all true? We've found the gold? You really believed we
+should, and for that matter, so did I. I can't say why. I rather felt
+that we should."
+
+"I guess I'm some class when it comes to findin' the incubator that
+hatches them little yella babies with the come-and-find-me eyes."
+
+Winthrop straightened his tired shoulders. "You seem to think that
+you're pretty clever," he said, laughing. "But in the elegant and
+expressive diction of the late--the late Overland Red Summers, 'I think
+you're a bum scout.'" And they shook hands, laughing as they turned to
+climb the trail.
+
+Near the crest, Overland again paused. "Say, Billy, you said the 'late'
+Overland Red Summers. You took particular noise to make me hear that
+word 'late.' Have you got any objections to explainin' that there idea?
+I been examinin' the works of that word 'late,' and it don't tick right
+to me. 'Late' means 'planted,' don't it?"
+
+"Sometimes. It may also mean behind time. Do you remember that I said, a
+day or two ago, that I shouldn't be surprised if the lost gold were in
+the very cañon where we camped? I claim precedence of divination,
+auto-suggestion, and right of eminent domain. I shall not waive my
+prerogative."
+
+"I never owned one," said Overland. "But afore I'll let you come any
+style over me, I'll have one made with a silk linin' and di'monds in the
+buttons, jest as soon as the claim gets to payin' good. Say, pardner,
+it's _free_ gold, and _coarse_. I wisht Collie was here--the little
+cuss."
+
+"Collie?"
+
+"Uhuh. The kid I was tellin' you about, that I adopted back in
+Albuquerque. He's got a share in this here deal, by rights. He invested
+his eight rollers and four bits in the chances of my findin' the stuff.
+It was all the coin he had at the time. You see, I was campin' up on the
+Moonstone for a change of air, and Collie and me had a meetin' of the
+board of dissectors. The board votes unanimous to invest the paid-in
+capital in a suit of new jeans for the president, which was me. I got
+'em on now. You see, I had to be dollied up to look the part so I could
+catch a come-on and get me grubstake."
+
+"I see," said Winthrop, his gray eyes twinkling. "And I was the
+come-on?"
+
+"Well," said Overland, scratching his head, "mebby you _was_, but you
+ain't no more. If she pans out anything like I expect, you'll be
+standin' up so clost to bein' rich that if she was a bronc' you'd get
+kicked sure."
+
+They rested for a few minutes, both gazing down on the evening desert.
+The reflected light, strong and clear, drew abrupt, keen-edged contrasts
+between the black, triangular shadows of the peaks and the gray of the
+range. Something elusive, awesome, unreal was in the air about them. The
+rugged mountain-side with its chaos of riven boulders, its forest of
+splintered rocky spires, silver cold in the twilight, its impassive bulk
+looming so large, yet a mere segment in the circling range, was as a
+day-dream of some ancient Valhalla, clothed in the mystic glory of
+ever-changing light, and crowned with slumbering clouds.
+
+Winthrop sighed as he again faced the range. Overland heard and smiled.
+"You said it all," he muttered. "You said it all then."
+
+"You're something of a poet, aren't you?" queried Winthrop.
+
+"You bet! I'm some artist, too. A lady I was figurin' on acceptin' a
+invite to dinner with, once,--one of them rich kind that always wants to
+get their money's worth out of anything they do for a poor
+guy,--happened to come out on the back steps where I was holdin' kind of
+a coroner's request over a lettuce san'wich. 'My man,' she says, 'I have
+always been interested to know if you--er--tramps ever think of
+anything else but food and lodging and loafing. Nothing personal, I
+assure you. Merely a general interest in social conditions which you
+seem so well fitted to explode from experience. For instance, now, what
+are your favorite colors?'
+
+"I couldn't see what that had to do with it, and I got kind of mad. A
+lettuce san'wich ain't encouragin' to confidence, so I up and says,
+'What are me favorite colors, lady? Well, speakin' from experience, they
+is _ham_ and _eggs_.'
+
+"She took a tumble to herself and sent me out some of the best--and a
+bottle of Red Cross beer with it."
+
+On up the slope they toiled, Winthrop half-forgetting his weariness in
+thinking of Overland's sprightly experiences with what he termed "the
+hard ole map--this here world."
+
+At the summit they paused again to rest.
+
+"That was the time," began Overland, "when I writ that there pome called
+'Heart Throbs of a Hobo.' Listen!"
+
+  "Oh, my stummick is jest akein'
+   For a little bite of bacon,
+   A slice of bread, a little mug of brew.
+   I'm tired of seein' scenery,
+   Jest lead me to a beanery,
+   Where there's something more than only air to chew."
+
+"The last line sounds like a sneeze," said Winthrop, laughing.
+
+"Speakin' of sneeze," said Overland, "makes me think you ain't coughed
+so much lately, Billy."
+
+"I had a pretty bad time yesterday morning," replied Winthrop.
+
+"Well, you'll get cured and stay cured, up here," said Overland, hugely
+optimistic.
+
+"Of course," rejoined Winthrop, smiling. "It's such hard work to breathe
+up here that I have to keep alive to attend to it."
+
+"That's her! Them little old bellowsus of your'n 'll get exercise--not
+pumpin' off the effects of booze an' cigarettes, neither, but from
+pumpin' in clean thin air with a edge to it. Them little old germs will
+all get dizzy and lose their holt."
+
+"That's getting rather deep into personalities," said Winthrop. "But I
+think you're correct. I could eat a whole side of bacon, raw."
+
+And he followed Overland silently across the range and down into the
+cool depths of the hidden cañon, where the tramp, ever watchful of the
+younger man's health, slipped from his coat and made Winthrop put it on,
+despite the latter's protest that he was hot and sweating.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+"CALL IT THE 'ROSE GIRL'"
+
+
+"What are you going to do with those things?" asked Winthrop. "Not burn
+them?"
+
+"Yep; every strap and tie-string," replied Overland, gathering together
+the dead prospector's few effects. "Cause why? Well, Billy, if this
+claim ain't filed on,--and I reckon it ain't,--why, we files on her as
+the original locators. Nobody gets wise to anything and it saves the
+chance of gettin' jumped. The bunch over there would make it interestin'
+for us if they knowed we was goin' to file on it. They'd put up a fight
+by law, and mebby one not by law. Sabe?"
+
+"I think so. Going to burn that little--er--cradle arrangement, too?"
+
+"Yep. Sorry, 'cause it's wood, and wood is wood here. That little rocker
+is a cradle all right for rockin' them yella babies in and then out. The
+hand that rocks that cradle hard enough rules the world, as the pote
+says."
+
+"So this is how gold is mined?" queried Winthrop, examining the crude
+rocker and the few rusted tools.
+
+"One way. Pan, cradle, or sluice for free gold. They's about four other
+ways. This here's our way."
+
+"Is it a rich claim?"
+
+"Tolerable. I panned some up the branch. She runs about two dollars a
+pan."
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+Overland smiled as he poked a smouldering corner of blanket into the
+fire. "It is and it ain't. I reckon you could pan fifty pans a day.
+That's a hundred dollars. Then I could do that much and the cookin',
+too. That's another hundred. Two hundred dollars a day ain't bad wages
+for two guys. It ought to keep us in grub and postage stamps and some
+chewin'-gum once in a while."
+
+"Two hundred a day!" And Winthrop whistled. "That doesn't seem much in
+New York--on the street, but out here--right out of the ground. Why,
+that's twelve hundred a week."
+
+"Nope--not exactly. She's a rich one, and bein' so rich at the start
+she'll peter out fast, I take it. I know these here kind. When we come
+to the end of the cañon we're at the end, that's all. Besides, she's so
+rich we won't work six days every week. If she was half as good, mebby
+we would. You never done much fancy pick-handle exercise, did you?"
+
+"No, but I'm going to. This beats signing checks all to pieces."
+
+"Never got cramps that way myself," grunted Overland. "But I have from
+swingin' a pick. Your back'll be so blame stiff in about three days that
+you'll wish you never seen a pan or a shovel. Then you'll get over the
+fever and settle down sensible. Three of us could do a heap better than
+two. I wish Collie was on the job."
+
+"I'm willing," said Winthrop.
+
+"'Course you are, but you get your half of this as agreed. Collie's
+share comes out of my half. I'm playin' this hand over the table, in
+plain sight."
+
+Winthrop glanced quickly at Overland's inscrutable face. "Suppose I
+should tell you that my income, each week, is about equal to what we
+expect to get from this claim?"
+
+"Makes no difference," growled Overland. "It wasn't your money that
+stood off the constable--and later out in the desert. It was _you_.
+They's some places left on this old map yet where a man is jest what his
+two fists and his head is worth. This here Mojave is one of 'em. Are you
+squeak to that?"
+
+"I understand," said Winthrop.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They worked steadily until evening. They staked out their respective and
+adjoining claims, dropped the rusted tools in a bottomless crevice, and
+removed the last shred and vestige of a previous occupancy.
+
+"This here's been too easy," said Overland, as he sliced bacon for the
+evening meal. "When things comes as easy as this, you want to watch out
+for a change in the weather. We ain't through with the bunch yet."
+
+The Easterner, making the evening fire, nodded. "How are we to get
+provisions?" he asked.
+
+"First, I was thinkin' of packin' 'em in from Gophertown, over yonder.
+She's about thirty miles from here, across the alkali. 'T aint a regular
+town, but they got grub. But if we got to comin' in regular, they'd
+smell gold quicker than bees findin' orange-blossoms. They got my
+number, likewise."
+
+"How's that?"
+
+"They know I been standin' out on the edge ever since I had a little
+fuss with some folks over at Yuma, quite a spell ago."
+
+"Won't you tell me about it?"
+
+"Sure! They was three parties interested--me and another gent and a
+hoss. I guess the hoss is still alive."
+
+Winthrop laughed. "That's a pretty brief epic," he said.
+
+"Uhuh. It was. But I reckon we got to hit the breeze out of here right
+soon. Here, le' me take that fry-pan a minute. It's this way. Me and
+you's located this claim. Now we go and file. But first we got to get
+some dough. I got a scheme. I'm thinkin' of gettin' a dude
+outfit--long-tailed coat and checker pants and a elevated lid with a
+shine to it. Then you and me to the State House and file on this here
+claim. You stay right in them kickie clothes and that puncher hat. We
+file, see? The gents supportin' the bars and store corners will be so
+interested in seein' me do you for your pile that they'll forget to
+remember who I am, like I would be in me natural jeans. They'll size me
+for a phoney promoter excavatin' your pocketbook. It's a chance--but we
+got to take it."
+
+"That's all very weird and wonderful," said Winthrop, "and not so very
+flattering to me, but I am game. I'll furnish the expense money."
+
+After the evening meal they drew nearer the fire and smoked in the chill
+silence. The flames threw strange dancing shadows on the opposite cliff.
+
+Winthrop, mindful of Overland's advice, slipped on his coat as the night
+deepened. "About your adopting a disguise," he began; "I should think
+you would look well enough clean-shaven and dressed in some stylish,
+rough tweed. You have fine shoulders and--"
+
+"Hold on, Billy! I'm a livin' statoo, I know. But listen! I got to go
+the limit to look the part. You can't iron the hoof-marks of hell and
+Texas out of my mug in a hundred years. The old desert and the border
+towns and the bottle burned 'em in to stay. Them kind of looks don't go
+with business clothes. I got to look fly--jest like I didn't know no
+better."
+
+"Perhaps you are right. You seem to make a go of everything you tackle."
+
+"Yep! Some things I made go so fast I ain't caught up with 'em yet. You
+know I used to wonder if a fella's face would ever come smooth again in
+heaven. That was a spell ago. I ain't been worryin' about it none
+lately."
+
+"How old are you?"
+
+"Me? I'm huggin' thirty-five clost. But not so clost I can't hear
+thirty-six lopin' up right smart."
+
+"Only thirty-five!" exclaimed Winthrop. Then quickly, "Oh, I beg your
+pardon."
+
+"That's nothin'", said Overland genially. "It ain't the 'thirty-five'
+that makes me feel sore--it's the 'only.' You said it all then. But
+believe me, pardner, the thirty-five have been all red chips."
+
+"Well, you have _lived_," sighed Winthrop.
+
+"And come clost to forgettin' to, once or twice. Anyhow,--speakin' of
+heaven,--I'd jest as soon take my chances with this here mug of mine,
+what shows I earned all I got, as with one of them there dead-fish faces
+I seen on some guys that never done nothin' better or worse than get up
+for breakfast."
+
+Winthrop smiled. "Yes. And you believe in a heaven, then?"
+
+"From mornin' till night. And then more than ever. Not your kind of a
+heaven, or mebby any other guy's. But as sure as you're goin' to crease
+them new boots by settin' too clost to the fire, there's somethin' up
+there windin' up the works regular and seein' that she ticks right, and
+once in a while chuckin' out old wheels and puttin' in new ones. Jest
+take a look at them stars! Do you reckon they're runnin' right on time
+and not jumpin' the track and dodgin' each other that slick--jest
+because they was throwed out of a star-factory promiscus like a shovel
+of gravel? No, sir! Each one is doin' its stunt because the other one
+is--same as folks. Sure, there's somethin' runnin the big works; but
+whether me or you is goin' to get a look-in,--goin' to be let in on
+it,--why, that's different."
+
+Winthrop drew back from the fire and crossed his legs. He leaned
+forward, gazing at the flames. From the viewless distance came the howl
+of coyotes.
+
+"They're tryin' to figure it out--same as us," said Overland, poking a
+half-burned root into the fire. "And they're gettin' about as far along
+at it, too. Like most folks does in a crowd--jest howlin' all together.
+Mebby it sounds good to 'em. I don' know."
+
+"I'm somewhat of a scoffer, I think," said Winthrop presently.
+
+"Most lungers is," was Overland's cheerful comment. "They're sore on
+their luck. They ain't really sore at the big works. They only think so.
+I've knowed lots of 'em that way."
+
+"To-night,--here in this cañon,--with the stars and the desert so near,
+you almost persuade me that there is something."
+
+"Hold on, Billy! You're grazin' on the wrong side of the range if you
+think I'm preachin'. My God! I hate preachin' worse than I could hate
+hell if I thought they was one. My little old ideas is mine. I roped 'em
+and branded 'em and I'm breakin' 'em in to ride to suit me. I ain't
+askin' nobody to risk gettin' throwed ridin' any of my stock. Sabe?"
+
+"But a chap may peek through the fence and watch, mayn't he?"
+
+"Sure! Mebby you're breakin' some stock of your own like that. If you
+are, any little old rig I got is yours."
+
+"Thank you. And I'm not joking. Perhaps I'll get the right grip on
+things later. I've been used to town and the pace. I've always had
+money, but I never felt really clean, inside and out, until now. I
+never before burned my bridges and went it under my own flag."
+
+Overland nodded sagely. "Uhuh. It's the air. Your feelin' clean and
+religious-like is nacheral up here. Don't worry if it feels queer to you
+at first--you'll get used to it. Why, I quit cussin', myself, when
+everything seems so dum' quiet. Sounds like the whole works had stopped
+to listen to a fella. Swearin' ain't so hefty then. Sort of outdoor
+stage fright, I reckon. Say, do you believe preachin' ever did much
+good?"
+
+"Sometimes I've thought it did."
+
+"I seen a case once," began Overland reminiscently. "It was Toledo
+Blake. He was a kind of bum middleweight scrapper when he was workin' at
+it. When he wasn't trainin' he was a kind of locoed heavyweight--stewed
+most of the time. It was one winter night in Toledo. Me and him went
+into one of them 'Come-In-Stranger' rescue joints. 'Course, they was
+singin' hymns and prayin' in there, but it was warmer than outside, so
+we stayed.
+
+"After a while up jumps the foreman of that gospel outfit. His foretop
+was long, and he wore it over one ear like a hoss's when the wind is
+blowin'.
+
+"He commenced wrong, I guess. He points down the room to where me and
+Toledo was settin', and he hollers, 'Go to the ant, you slugger!
+Consider her game and get hep to it,' or somethin' similar.
+
+"That word 'slugger' kind of jarred Toledo. He jumps up kind of mad.
+'Mebby I am a slugger, and mebby I ain't, but you needn't to get
+personal about it. Anyhow, I ain't got no aunt.'
+
+"'The text,' says the hoss-faced guy on the platform, 'the text, my
+brother, is semaphorical.'
+
+"Toledo couldn't understand that, so I whispers, 'Set down, you mutt!
+Semaphore is a sign ain't it? Well, he's givin' you the sign talk. Set
+down and listen.'
+
+"Toledo, he hadn't had a drink for a week, and he was naturally feelin'
+kind of ugly. 'All right,' he growls at the preacher guy. 'All right. I
+pass.'
+
+"'Ah, my brother!' says the hoss-faced guy. 'I see the spirits is at
+work.' That kind of got Toledo's goat.
+
+"'Your dope is _bum_,' says Toledo. 'I ain't had a drink for a week.
+First you tell a fella to go see his aunt, when she's been planted for
+ten years. Then--'
+
+"'Listen, brother!' says the preacher guy. 'I referred to ants--little,
+industrious critters that are examples of thrift to the idle, the
+indignant, the--'
+
+"'Hold on!' says Toledo. 'Do you mean red ants or black ants?' And I
+seen that a spark had touched Toledo's brainbox and that he was
+wrastlin' with somethin' that felt like thinkin'.
+
+"'Either, my brother,' says the hoss-faced guy, smilin' clear up to his
+back teeth.
+
+"'Well, you're drawin' your dope from the wrong can,' says Toledo,
+shufflin' for the door. 'Because,' says he, turnin' in the doorway,
+'because, how in hell is a fella goin' to find any ants with two feet of
+snow on the ground?'
+
+"And then Toledo and me went out. It was a mighty cold night."
+
+Overland Red rolled a cigarette, pausing in his narrative to see whether
+Winthrop, who sat with bowed head, was asleep or not.
+
+Winthrop glanced up. "I'm awake," he said, smiling. "Very much awake. I
+can see it all--you two, down on your luck, and the snow freezing and
+melting on the bottoms of your trousers. And the stuffy little rescue
+mission with a few weary faces and many empty chairs; the 'preacher
+guy,' as you call him, earnest, and ignorant, and altogether wrong in
+trying to reason with Toledo Blake's empty stomach."
+
+"That's it!" concurred Overland. "A empty stomach is a plumb
+unreasonable thing. But the preacher guy done some good, at that. He set
+Toledo Blake to thinkin' which was somethin' new and original for
+Toledo.
+
+"It was nex' spring Toledo and me was travelin' out this way, inspectin'
+the road-bed of the Santa Fé, when we runs onto a big red-ant's nest in
+the sand alongside of the track. Toledo, he squats down and looks. The
+first thing he sees was a leetle pa ant grab up a piece of crust twice
+his size and commence sweatin' and puffin' to drag it home to the kids.
+
+"'The leetle cuss!' says Toledo. 'He's some strong on the lift!' And
+Toledo, he takes the piece of crust from the pa ant and sticks it at the
+top of the hole, thinkin' to help the pa ant along. But the pa ant, he
+hustles right up and grabs the crust and waves her around his head a
+couple of times to show how strong he is, and then starts back to where
+he found the crust. Down he plumps it--gives it a h'ist or two and then
+grabs it up. He waves it around in his mitts and wobbles off toward the
+hole again. Independent? Well, mostly!
+
+"Toledo, he said nothin', but his eyes was pokin' out of his head tryin'
+to think. You never see a man sweat so tryin' to get both hands onto a
+idea at once. His dome was kind of flat, but he could handle one idea,
+in single harness, at a time.
+
+"Anyhow, the next town we strikes, Toledo, he quits me and gets a sort
+of chambermaid's job tidyin' up around a little old boiler-factory and
+machine-shop; pilin' scrap-iron and pig-iron and little things like
+that. And he stuck, too.
+
+"A couple of years after that I was beatin' it on a rattler goin' west,
+and I drops off at that town. About the first thing I seen was Toledo
+comin' down the street. Alongside of him was a woman carry in' a kid in
+her arms, and another one grazin' along close behind. And Toledo had a
+loaf of bread under his arm.
+
+"'This here is Mrs. Blake,' says Toledo, kind of nervous.
+
+"'I am glad she is,' says I. 'Toledo, you're doin' well. Don't know
+nothin' about the leetle colt in the blanket, but the yearlin' is built
+right. He's got good hocks and first-class action.'
+
+"Mrs. Toledo, she kind of sniffed superior, but said nothin'. You know
+that kind of sayin' nothin' which is waitin' for you to move on.
+
+"'Won't you come up to the shack and have grub?' says Toledo, hopin' I'd
+say 'No.'
+
+"'Nope,' says I. 'Obliged jest the same. I see you got hep to the ant
+all right.'
+
+"'I'll let you know I'm nobody's aunt!' says Mrs. Toledo, yankin' the
+yearlin' off his hoofs and settin' him down again. For a fact, she thunk
+I was alludin' to her.
+
+"'Of course not, madam,' says I, polite, and liftin' me lid. 'And I
+judge somebody's in luck at that.'
+
+"I guess it was her not used to bein' spoke and acted polite to that got
+her goat. Mebby she smelt somethin' sarcastic. I dunno. Anyhow, she was
+a longhorn with a bad eye. 'Go on, you chicken-lifter!' she says.
+
+"Bein' no hand to sass a lady, I said nothin' more to _her_. But I hands
+Toledo a jolt for bein' ashamed of his old pal.
+
+"'Well, so long,' says I, kind of offhand and easy. 'So long. I'll tell
+Lucy when I see her that you was run over by a freight and killed. Then
+she can take out them papers and marry Mike Brannigan that's been
+waitin' in the hopes you'd pass over. You remember Mike, the cop on
+Cherry Street. You oughta. He's pinched you often enough. 'Course you
+do. Well, so long. Little Johnny was lookin' fine the last I seen of
+him. He's gettin' more like his pa every day. But I got to beat it.'"
+
+Overland Red leaned back and puffed a great cloud of smoke from a fresh
+cigarette.
+
+"Who was Lucy?" asked Winthrop.
+
+"Search me!" replied Overland. "They wasn't any Lucy or nobody like
+that. But I'd like to 'a' stayed to hear Toledo explain that to Mrs.
+Toledo, though. She was a hard map to talk to."
+
+"I suppose there's a moral attached to that, or, more properly, embodied
+in that story. But it is good enough in itself without disemboweling it
+for the moral."
+
+"You can't always go by ants, neither," said Overland.
+
+Winthrop nodded. His eyes were filled with the awe of great distances
+and innumerable stars. "Gold!" he whispered presently, as one whispers
+in dreams. "Gold! Everywhere! In the sun--in the starlight--in the
+flowers--in the flame. In wine, in a girl's hair.... Gold! Mystery....
+Power ... and as impotent as Fate." Winthrop's head lifted suddenly.
+"What shall we call the mine?" he asked.
+
+Overland Red started, as though struck from ambush. "How did you guess?"
+he queried.
+
+"Guess what?"
+
+"That I was thinkin' about the claim?"
+
+"I didn't guess it. I was dreaming. Suddenly I asked a question,
+without knowing that I was speaking."
+
+"Mebby I was bearin' down so hard on the same idea that you kind of felt
+the strain."
+
+"Possibly. That's not unusual. What _shall_ we call it?"
+
+"Wha--I was thinkin' of callin' it the 'Rose Girl' after a girl Collie
+and me knows up Moonstone Cañon way."
+
+"It's rather a good name," said Winthrop. "Is the girl pretty?"
+
+"Pretty? Gosh! That ain't the word. Her real name is Louise Lacharme,
+and, believe me, Billy, she's all that her name sounds like, and then
+some."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+SILENT SAUNDERS
+
+
+One after another, in the course of the two years following Collie's
+arrival, the old riders of the Moonstone Rancho drifted away. There
+remained but Brand Williams the foreman, Collie, and the sturdy,
+hard-riding Miguel, a young Spanish vaquero who was devoted to but two
+things in life, his splendid pinto pony, and the Moonstone Ranch.
+
+The others had been lured to the new oil-fields up north--to the
+excitement of Goldfield, or to Mexico City, where even more excitement
+promised. In their stead came new men--Bud Light, Parson Long, Billy
+Dime, and one Silent Saunders.
+
+Louise became acquainted with the new men while riding with her uncle.
+She was his constant companion in the hills. One by one the new arrivals
+became devoted to her. Her sincere interest in the ranch work pleased
+them, and naturally, for it was their work. Walter Stone was also
+pleased with his niece's interest in the detail of the ranch work. She
+was as a daughter to him. Some day the property would be hers.
+
+Fully conscious, from within herself, of her dependence upon her uncle,
+Louise managed to be of inestimable service. She performed her
+self-allotted tasks without ostentation. She had that rare quality of
+stimulating enthusiasm among the men--enthusiasm for their work and
+pride in giving faithful and energetic service--pride in accomplishing a
+little more each day than was asked or expected of them. Louise's youth,
+her beauty, her sincerity, and, above all, her absolute simplicity of
+manner commanded admiration and respect among the hard-riding Moonstone
+boys. She was, to them, a "lady," yet a lady they could understand. Hers
+was a gentle tyranny. A request from her was deemed a great compliment
+by its recipient.
+
+All of them, with the exception of Collie, openly praised her
+horsemanship, her quiet daring, her uniform kindness. Her beauty had
+ceased to be commented upon. It was accepted by them as one accepts the
+fragrant beauty of a rose, naturally, silently, gratefully.
+
+Collie had gained in height and breadth of shoulder. He no longer needed
+instruction in managing broncho stock. He loved the life of the hills;
+the cool, invigorating mornings, the keen wind of the noon peaks, the
+placidity of the evening as the stars multiplied in the peaceful sky.
+
+He became that rare quantity among cowmen, a rider who handled and
+mastered unbroken horses without brutality. This counted heavily for him
+both with Louise and Walter Stone. Men new to the range laughed at his
+method of "gentling" horses. Later their laughter stilled to envious
+desire. Lacking his invariable patience, his consistent magnetism, they
+finally resumed their old methods, and earned dominance by sheer
+strength of arm--"main strength and awkwardness," as Williams put it.
+
+"It's easy--for him," commented Brand Williams, discussing Collie's
+almost uncanny quelling of a vicious, unbitted mustang. "It's easy. You
+fellas expect a boss to buck and bite and kick and buffalo you
+generally. _He_ don't. He don't expect anything like that, and he don't
+let 'em learn how."
+
+"Can you work it that way?" asked Billy Dime.
+
+"Nope. I learned the other way and the bosses knows it. I always had to
+sweat. He's born to it natural, like a good cow-pony is."
+
+And Collie looked upon his work as a game--a game that had to be played
+hard and well, but a game, nevertheless. Incidentally he thought often
+of Overland Red. He had searched the papers diligently for a year,
+before he received the first letter from Overland. The news it contained
+set Collie to thinking seriously of leaving the Moonstone Rancho and
+joining his old companion in this new venture of gold-digging which, as
+Overland took pains to explain, was "paying big." But there was
+Louise.... They were great friends. They had even ridden to town
+together and attended the little white church in the eucalyptus
+grove.... He thought of their ride homeward late that Sunday
+afternoon....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Once and once only had Overland's name been mentioned in the bunk-house.
+Saunders, discussing horses and riders in general, listened to Collie's
+account of Overland's escape from the deputy, Tenlow. Then he spoke
+slightingly of the feat, claiming that any man who had ever ridden range
+could do as much, with the right pony.
+
+Brand Williams tried to change the subject, for shrewd reasons of his
+own, but Collie flamed up instantly. "I got a little saved up," he said;
+"mebby eight hundred. She's yours if you dast to walk a horse, comin' or
+goin', over that drift that Red took on the jump. Are you game?"
+
+"I'm not on the bet," replied Saunders. "So Overland Red is a friend of
+yours, eh?"
+
+"Overland Red could ride where you dassent to walk and drag a halter,"
+asserted Collie. Then he relapsed to silence, a little ashamed in that
+he had been trapped into showing temper.
+
+Williams the taciturn astonished the bunk-house by adding: "The kid is
+right. Red could outride most men. I was his pal once, down in Sonora.
+There ain't a better two-gun artist livin'." And the lean foreman looked
+pointedly at Saunders.
+
+Saunders smiled evilly. He had reason to believe that Williams had
+spoken the truth.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A few weeks later, Williams, returning unexpectedly to the bunk-house,
+found Saunders changing his shirt preparatory to a ride to town. The
+rest of the boys were already on their way to the Oro Rancho across the
+valley. Williams saw two puckered scars, each above the elbow on
+Saunders's bared arms.
+
+"That was dam' good shootin'," said the foreman, indicating the other's
+scarred arms.
+
+"Fair," said Saunders gruffly.
+
+"Takes a gun-artist to put a man out of business that way and not finish
+him," said Williams, smiling.
+
+"Cholo mix-up," said Saunders.
+
+"And shootin' from the ground, at that," continued Williams. "And at a
+fella on a horse. Easy to see that, for the both holes are slantin' up.
+The shootin' was done from below."
+
+Saunders flushed. He was about to speak when Williams interrupted him.
+"Makes me think of some of Overland Red's--that is, old Red Jack
+Summers's fancy work. I don' know why," he drawled, and turning he left
+the bunk-house.
+
+Collie, returning from a visit to the Oro Rancho that evening, was met
+by Williams. The latter was on foot.
+
+"Drop into my shack after dark," said the foreman. Then he stepped back
+into the bushes as the other men rode up.
+
+The foreman's interview with Collie that evening was brief. It left a
+lot to the imagination. "You said too much about Overland Red the other
+night, when you was talkin' to Silent Saunders," said Williams. "He's
+tryin' to find out somethin'. I don't know what he's after. Keep your
+eye peeled and your teeth on the bit. That's all."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+BLUNDER
+
+
+"Oh, he's built all right, and he comes of good stock," said Brand
+Williams, nodding toward a bay colt that stood steaming in the sun.
+
+It had rained the night before--an unexpected shower and the last of the
+winter rains. Now that the snow had left the hills, the young stock,
+some thirty-odd year-old colts had been turned into the north range.
+Collie and Williams had ridden over to look at the colts; Williams as a
+matter of duty, Collie because he was interested and liked Williams's
+society.
+
+The colt, shaking itself, turned and nipped at its shoulder and switched
+its tail.
+
+"He's stayed fat, too," continued Williams. "But look at him! He's
+bitin' and switchin' because he's wet. Thinks it's fly-time a'ready.
+He's jest a four-legged horse-hide blunder. I know his kind."
+
+Collie, dismounting and unbuttoning his slicker, rolled it and tied it
+to the saddle. "I guess you're right, Brand. Last week I was over this
+way. He had his head through the corral bars at the bottom and he
+couldn't get loose. He was happy, though. He must have been there quite
+a spell, for he ate about half a bale of hay. I got him loose and he
+tried his darndest to kick my head off."
+
+"Uhuh," grunted the foreman. "Reckon it's the last rain we'll get this
+year. Now would you look at that! He's the limit!"
+
+The colt, sniffing curiously at a crotch in the live-oak against which
+he had been rubbing, had stepped into the low fork of the tree. Perhaps
+he had some vague notion to rub both his sides at once as an economy of
+effort. His front feet had slipped on the wet ground. He went down,
+wedged fast. He struggled and kicked. He nickered plaintively, and
+rolled his terror-stricken eyes toward the cowmen in wild appeal.
+
+"And like all of his kind, hoss and human," said Williams, dismounting,
+"he's askin' for help in a voice that sounds like it was our fault that
+he's in trouble. He's the limit!"
+
+With much labor they finally released the colt, who expressed prompt
+gratitude by launching a swift and vicious kick at Collie.
+
+"He's feeling good enough," said that youth, coolly picking up his hat
+that had dropped as he dodged.
+
+"Yes. All he needs is a couple of punchers and a hoss-doctor and a
+policeman to ride round with him and keep him out of trouble. He's no
+account; never will be," growled Williams.
+
+"I don't know, Brand. He's a mighty likely-looking and interesting
+specimen. He's different. I kind of like him."
+
+"Well, I don't. I ain't got time. He's always goin' to manufacture
+trouble, when he don't come by it natural. He's got a kind eye, but no
+brains behind it."
+
+They mounted and rode up the hill, looking for breaks in the fences and
+counting the colts, some of whom, luxuriously lazy in the heat of the
+sun, stood with lowered heads, drowsing. Others, scattered about the
+hillsides and in the arroyos, grazed nippingly at the sparse
+bunch-grass, moving quickly from clump to clump.
+
+The "blunder" colt seemed to find his own imbecilities sufficiently
+entertaining, for he grazed alone.
+
+The foreman's inspection terminated with the repairing of a break in the
+fence inclosing the spring-hole, a small area of bog-land dotted with
+hummocks of lush grass. Between the hummocks was a slimy, black ooze
+that covered the bones of more than one unfortunate animal. The heavy,
+ripe grass lent an appearance of stability, of solidity, to the
+treacherous footing.
+
+Williams and Collie reinforced the sagging posts with props of fallen
+limbs and stones carried from the trail below. They piled brush where
+the wire had parted, filling the opening with an almost impassable
+barrier of twisted branches. Until the last rain, the spring-hole fence
+had appeared solid--but one night of rain in the California hills can
+work unimaginable changes in trail, stream-bed, or fence line.
+
+"Get after that fence first thing in the morning," said Williams as he
+unsaddled the pinto that afternoon. "I noticed the blunder colt followed
+us up to the spring. If there's any way of gettin' bogged, he'll find
+it, or invent a new way for himself."
+
+The blunder colt's mischief-making amounted to absolute genius. There
+was much of the enterprising puppy in his nature and in his methods. The
+impulse which seemed to direct the extremely uneven tenor of his way
+would have resolved itself orally into: "Do it--and then see what
+happens!" He was not vicious, but brainlessly joyful in his mischief.
+
+As the foreman and Collie disappeared beyond the crest of the hill, the
+colt, who had watched them with absurdly stupid intensity, lowered his
+head and nibbled indifferently at the grass along the edge of the
+spring-hole fence. He approached the break and sniffed at the props and
+network of branches. This was interesting! And a very carelessly
+constructed piece of fence, indeed! He would investigate. The blunder
+colt was never too hungry to cease grazing and turn toward adventure.
+
+He nosed one of the props. He leaned against it heavily, deliberately,
+and rubbed himself. Verily "His eye had all the seeming of a demon's
+that is dreaming"--of unalloyed mischief.
+
+The prop creaked, finally became loosened, and fell. The colt sprang
+back awkwardly, snorting in indignant surprise. "The very idea!" he
+would have said, even as he would have chewed gum and have worn a
+perpetual tear in his trousers had he been human.
+
+With stiff stealthiness he approached the break again, pretending a
+hesitancy that he enjoyed immensely. He reached under the lower wire,
+neck outstretched, and nibbled at a bunch of ripe grass. There was
+plenty of grass within easier reach, but he wanted the unattainable. A
+barb caught in his mane. He jerked his head up. The barb pricked his
+neck. He jerked harder. Another prop became loosened. Then he strode
+away, this time with calm indifference. He pretended to graze, but his
+eye roved back to the break. His attitude expressed a sly
+alertness--something of the quiet vigilance a grazing horse betrays when
+one approaches with a bridle. He drew nearer the fence again. With head
+over the top wire he gazed longingly at the clumps of grass on the
+hummocks scattered over the muck of the overflow. His shoulder needed
+scratching. With drooping head, eyes half-closed, and lower lip pendant,
+he rubbed against the loosened post. The post sagged and wobbled.
+Whether it was deliberate intent, or just natural "horse" predominating
+his actions, it would be difficult to determine. Finally the post gave
+way and fell. The colt drew back and contemplated the opening with a
+vacuous eye. It was not interesting now. No, indeed! He wandered away.
+
+But in the dusk of that evening, when a chill dew sparkled along the
+edges of the bog, he came, a clumsy shadow and grazed among the
+hummocks. Slowly he worked toward the treachery of black ooze that shone
+in the starlight. He sank to his fetlocks. He drew his feet up one after
+another, still progressing toward the centre of the bog, and sinking
+deeper at each step. He became stricken with fear as he sank to his
+hocks. He plunged and snorted. The bog held him with a soft, detaining
+grip--and drew him slowly down. He nickered, and finally screamed in
+absolute terror. Up to his heaving belly the black mud crept. He flung
+himself sideways. Exhausted, he lay with neck and head outstretched.
+Again he struggled, his eyes wild and protruding with the blood pressure
+of his straining. Then the chill of night crept over him. He became
+quiet--shivered a little, and nickered faintly.
+
+In the willows a little owl called pensively.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The morning light, streaming across the hills, spread like raw gold over
+the bog. Collie whistled as he rode down the trail, and beat his gloved
+hands to keep warm. He heard a plaintive whinny and a bubbling gasp. He
+leaped from his pony, the coiled riata in his hand as he touched the
+ground.
+
+The blunder colt, neck outstretched, was still above the ooze. His eyes
+were bloodshot, as their white rims showed. His nose quivered and
+twisted with his quick, irregular breathing.
+
+It was a "two-man job," but Collie knew that the colt would probably be
+gone before he could ride back and return with help. He swung the riata,
+then hesitated. To noose the colt's neck would only result in strangling
+it when he pulled. He found a branch large enough to stiffen the brush
+near the break. Swiftly he built a shaky footing and crept out toward
+the colt. By shoving the riata under the colt's belly with a forked
+stick, and fishing the loose end up on the other side, he managed to get
+a loop round the animal's hind quarters. He mounted his own horse and
+took a turn of the riata round the saddle-horn.
+
+His pony set its feet and leaned to the work. Slowly the colt was drawn
+to solid ground.
+
+He was a pitiful object as he lay panting and shivering, plastered with
+mud and black slime, and almost dead from shock and chill. Collie spread
+his slicker over him and rode up the hill at a trot. The blunder colt
+raised its head a little, then dropped it and lay motionless.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Collie and Billy Dime returned with gunnysacks and an old blanket,
+the sun had warmed the air. The mud on the colt's side and neck had
+begun to dry.
+
+Billy Dime commented briefly. "He's a goner. He's froze clean to his
+heart. Why didn't you leave him where he was?"
+
+Collie spread the gunnysacks on a level beneath a live-oak, beneath
+which they dragged the colt and covered him with the blanket. They gave
+him whiskey with water that they heated at a little fire of brush. The
+colt lifted its head, endeavoring spasmodically to get to its feet.
+
+"He's wearin' hisself out. He ain't got much farther to go," said Billy
+Dime, mounting and turning his pony. "Come on, kid. If he's alive
+to-morrow mornin'--good enough."
+
+"I think I'll stay awhile," said Collie. "Brand says he isn't worth
+saving, but--I kind of like the cuss. He's different."
+
+"Correct, nurse, he is. You can telephone me if the patient shows signs
+of bitin' you. Keep tabs on his pulse--give him his whiskey regular, but
+don't by no means allow him to set up in bed and smoke. I'll call again
+nex' year. So long, sweetness."
+
+"You go plump!" laughed Collie.
+
+And Billy Dime rode over the hill singing a dolefully cheerful ditty
+about burying some one on the "lo-o-ne prairee." To him a horse was
+merely something useful, so long as it could go. When it couldn't go, he
+got another that could.
+
+Collie replenished the smoking fire, scraped some of the mud from the
+colt's thick, winter coat, and heated a half-dozen large stones.
+
+His brother cowmen would have laughed at these "tender ministrations,"
+and Collie himself smiled as he recalled Billy Dime's parting
+directions.
+
+Collie placed the heated stones round the shivering animal, re-dried the
+blanket at the fire, and covered the pitifully weak and panting
+creature. The colt's restless lifting of its head he overcame by sitting
+near it and stroking its muzzle with a soothing hand.
+
+Time and again he rose to re-heat the stones and replenish the fire. The
+colt's breathing became less irregular. He gave it more of the hot
+whiskey and water.
+
+Then he mended the fence. He had brought an axe with him and a supply of
+staples.
+
+Toward mid-afternoon he became hungry and solaced himself with a
+cigarette.
+
+Again the blunder colt became restless, showing a desire to rise, but
+for lack of strength the desire ended with a swaying and tossing of its
+head.
+
+Evening came quickly. The air grew bitingly chill. Collie wished that
+one of the boys would bring him something to eat. The foreman surely
+knew where he was. Collie could imagine the boys joking about him over
+their evening "chuck."
+
+With the darkness he drew on his slicker and squatted by the fire. He
+fell asleep. He awoke shivering, to find the embers dull. The stars were
+intensely brilliant and large.
+
+Once during the evening he made up his mind to return to the
+ranch-house, but a stubborn determination to save the colt, despite the
+ridicule he knew he would elicit, held him to his task. Should he leave,
+the colt might become chilled again and die. Then he _would_ be open to
+ridicule. Collie reasoned that he must finish the task as he had begun
+it--thoroughly.
+
+Again he heated the stones, warmed the blanket, and gave "Blunder," as
+he now called him affectionately, some hot whiskey. Then he built a
+larger fire, wrapped himself in his saddle-blankets, and, with feet to
+the blaze, slept. His own pony grazed at large, dragging a rope.
+
+Habit brought Collie awake early. The fire had gone out. He was stiff
+with cold. Arising, he glanced at the heap beneath the blanket ringed
+with stones. "Time to eat!" he cried lustily, and whipped the blanket
+from the mud-encrusted Blunder. The colt raised its head, struggled, put
+out one stiff fore leg, and then the other. Collie grabbed the animal's
+tail and heaved. Blunder humped himself--and was on his feet, wobbling,
+dizzy-eyed, scandalously "mussed up"--but alive!
+
+"Whoop-ee!" shouted Collie as the colt staggered a pace or two trying
+his questionable strength. "Gee! But I'm hungry!"
+
+The Blunder, a mere caricature of a horse in pose and outward seeming,
+gazed at his rescuer with stupid eyes. He had not the faintest idea what
+all the joy was about, but something deep in his horse nature told him
+that the boisterous youth was his friend. Timidly he approached Collie,
+wagged his head up and down experimentally, as if trying his neck
+hinges, and reached out and nuzzled the young man's hand, nipping
+playfully at his fingers.
+
+Collie was dumbfounded. "He's thankin' me--the little cuss! Why, you
+rubber-kneed, water-eyed mud turtle you! I didn't know you had that
+much sense."
+
+The youth did not hear the regular beat of hoofs as Williams loped up,
+until the colt, stilt-legged, emitted a weak nicker. Collie turned.
+
+Williams smiled grimly. "Knew you'd stick," he said.
+
+He gazed at the revived colt, the circle of stones, and the blanket. He
+made no comment.
+
+Collie caught up his pony and mounted. As they rode over the hill
+together, Williams, turning in the saddle, laughed and pointed down
+toward the arroyo.
+
+The blunder colt, apparently overjoyed to be alive, had ambled awkwardly
+up to one of his mates who stood stolidly waiting for the sun to warm
+him. The other colt, unused to the Blunder's society and perhaps
+unfavorably impressed by his dissipated appearance, received this
+friendly overture with a pair of punishing hoofs. Blunder staggered and
+fell, but scrambled to his feet again, astonished, indignant, highly
+offended.
+
+"If you was to drive that blunder colt up to horse-heaven and he knew it
+_was_ horse-heaven, you'd have to turn him around and back him in. Then
+I reckon he'd bust the corral tryin' to get out again."
+
+Collie grinned. "Well, I wouldn't this morning--if there was anything
+to eat there, even hay."
+
+"Well, you don't get your breakfast at the chuck-house _this_ morning,"
+said Williams gruffly.
+
+"I don't, eh? Since when?"
+
+Williams again turned in his saddle, observing Collie for a minute
+before he spoke. "I see you're smilin', so I'll tell you. Since when?
+Well, since about two hours ago, when Miss Louise come steppin' over to
+the bunk-house and asks where you are. Billy Dime ups and tells her you
+was sick-nursin' the blunder colt. She didn't smile, but turned to me
+and asked me. I told her about what was doin'. I seen she had it in for
+somebody. It was me. 'Brand,' she says, quiet-like, 'is it customary on
+the Moonstone for lunch or dinner to be taken to the men that are
+staying out from camp?'
+
+"'Yes, ma'am,' says I.
+
+"And the plumb hell of it was," continued Williams, "she didn't say
+another word. I wisht she had. I feel like a little less than nothin'
+shot full of holes this lovely mornin'."
+
+Collie rode on silently.
+
+"Why don't you say somethin'?" queried Williams.
+
+"I was waiting for the rest of it," said Collie.
+
+Williams laughed. "I guess you ain't such a fool, at that, with your
+nussin' stock and settin' up nights with 'em. Miss Louise says to tell
+you to come right up to the house,--the _house_, you understand,--and
+get your breakfast with them. They said they was goin' to wait for you.
+I guess that ain't throwin' it into the rest of us some. Keep it up,
+Collie kid, keep it up, and you'll be payin' us all wages some day."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+GUESTS
+
+
+A month had passed since the rescue of the blunder colt. The air was
+warm and clear, the sky intensely blue. Moonstone Cañon grew fragrant
+with budding flowers. The little lizards came from their winter crevices
+and clung to the sun-warmed stones. A covey of young quail fluttered
+along the hillside under the stately surveillance of the mother bird.
+Wild cats prowled boldly on the southern slopes. Cotton-tails huddled
+beneath the greasewood brush and nibbled at the grasses. The cañon
+stream ran clear again now that the storm-washed silt had settled. On
+the peaks the high winds were cold and cutting, but on the slopes and in
+the valleys the earth was moist and warm.
+
+Louise, humming a song, rode slowly along the Moonstone Cañon Trail. At
+the "double turn" in the cañon, where dwelt Echo and her myrmidons,
+Louise rode more slowly.
+
+  "Dreaming Fance, the cobbler's son, took his tools and laces,
+  Wrought her shoes of scarlet dye, shoes as pale as snow.
+  They shall lead her wild-rose feet all the faëry paces,
+  Danced along the road of love, the road such feet should go."
+
+She sang slowly, pausing after each line that the echoes might not blur.
+
+"Danced along ... along ... the road ... of love, the road ... of
+love ... of love," sang the echoes.
+
+Louise smiled dreamily. Then the clatter of Boyar's shod hoofs rang and
+reëchoed, finally to hush in the gravel of the ford beyond.
+
+Why Louise thought of Collie just then, it would be difficult to
+imagine. Still, she had, ever since his night's vigil with the blunder
+colt, caught herself noting little details associated with him and his
+work. He brushed his teeth. Not all of the other men did. He did not
+chew tobacco. Despite his lack of early training, he was naturally neat.
+He disliked filth instinctively. His bits, spurs, and trappings shone.
+He had learned to shoe his string of ponies--an art that is fast
+becoming lost among present-day cowmen. With little comment but faithful
+zeal he copied Brand Williams. This, of course, flattered the taciturn
+cowman, who unobtrusively arranged Collie's work so that it might bring
+the younger man before the notice of Walter Stone, and incidentally
+Louise. Of course, Louise was not aware of this.
+
+The girl no longer sang as she rode, but dreamed, with unseeing eyes on
+the trail ahead--dreamed such dreams as one may put aside easily until,
+perchance, the dream converges toward reality which cannot be so lightly
+put aside.
+
+Brand Williams had his own ideas of romance; ideas pretty well submerged
+in the deeps of hardy experience, but existing, nevertheless, and as
+immovable as the bed of the sea. He badgered Collie whenever he chanced
+to have seen him with the Rose Girl, and smiling inwardly at the young
+man's indignation, he would straightway arrange that Collie should ride
+to town, for, say, a few pounds of staples wanted in a hurry, when he
+knew that the buckboard would be going to town on the morrow, and also
+that there were plenty of staples in the storeroom.
+
+Something of the kind was afoot, or rather a-saddle, as Louise rode down
+the Moonstone Trail, for beyond the turn and the rippling ford she saw a
+lithe, blue-shirted figure that she knew.
+
+Louise would not have admitted even to herself that she urged Boyar.
+Nevertheless the reins tightened and slackened gently. Boyar swung into
+his easy lope. It pleased the girl that Collie, turning in his saddle at
+the sound of hoofs, waved a salute, but did not check his horse. He had
+never presumed on her frank friendship and "taken things for granted."
+He kept his place always. He was polite, a little reticent, and very
+much in love with Louise. Louise did not pretend to herself that she
+was not aware of it. She was all the more pleased that Collie should act
+so admirably. She had loaned him books, some of which he had read
+faithfully and intelligently. In secret he had kissed her name written
+on the flyleaf of each of them. He really rather adored Louise than
+loved her, and he builded well, for his adoration (unintimate as
+adoration must ever be until perchance it touches earth and is
+translated into love) was of that blithe and inspiriting quality that
+lifts a man above his natural self and shapes the lips to song and the
+heart to unselfish service. He knew himself to be good-looking and not
+altogether a barbarian. No morbid hopelessness clouded his broad
+horizon. He knew himself and cherished his strength and his optimism. He
+ate slowly, which is no insignificant item on the credit side of the big
+book of Success.
+
+Collie lifted his broad-brimmed hat as Louise rode up. His face was
+flushed. His lips were smiling, but his dark eyes were steady and grave.
+
+"'Morning, Collie! Boyar is just bound to lope. He never can bear to have
+a horse ahead of him."
+
+"He don't have to, very often," said Collie.
+
+"Of course, there are Kentucky saddle-horses that could beat him. But
+they are not cow-ponies."
+
+"No. And they couldn't beat him if they had to do his work in the
+hills. About a week of the trails would kill a thoroughbred."
+
+"Boyar is very conceited, aren't you, Boy?" And she patted the sleek
+arch of his neck.
+
+"I don't blame him," said Collie, his eyes twinkling.
+
+"Going all the way to town?" asked Louise.
+
+"Yes. Brand wants some things from the store."
+
+"I'm going to the station. We expect a telegram from some friends. Maybe
+they'll be there themselves. I hope not, though. They said they were
+coming to-morrow, but would telegraph if they started sooner. We would
+have to get Price's team and buckboard--and I'd be ashamed to ride
+behind his horses, especially with my--my friend from the East."
+
+"Boyar and this here buckskin colt would make a pretty fair team,"
+ventured Collie, smiling to himself.
+
+"To drive? Heavens, Collie, no! They've neither of them been in
+harness."
+
+"I was just imagining," said Collie.
+
+"Of course!" exclaimed Louise, laughing. "I understand. Why, I must be
+late. There's the train for the north just leaving the station. I
+expected to be there in case the Marshalls did come to-day. But they
+said they'd telegraph."
+
+"I can see three folks on the platform," said Collie. "One is the
+agent; see his cap shine? Then there's a man and a woman."
+
+"If it's Anne, she'll never forgive me. She's so--formal about things.
+It can't be the Marshalls, though."
+
+"We can ride," suggested Collie. And the two ponies leaped forward. A
+little trail of dust followed them across the valley.
+
+At the station Louise found her guests, young Dr. Marshall and his wife;
+also the telegram announcing the day they would arrive.
+
+"I'm sorry," began Louise; but the Marshalls silenced her with hearty
+"Oh, pshaws!" and "No matters!" with an incidental hug from Anne.
+
+"Why, you have changed so, Anne!" exclaimed Louise. "What _have_ you
+been doing? You used to be so terribly formal, and now you're actually
+hugging me in public!"
+
+"The 'public' has just departed, Miss Lacharme, with your pony, I
+believe. He rides well--the tall dark chap that came with you."
+
+"Oh, Collie. He's gone for the buckboard, of course. Stupid of me not to
+drive down. We really didn't expect you until to-morrow, but you'll
+forgive us all, won't you? You can see now how telegrams are handled at
+these stations."
+
+Anne Marshall, a brown-eyed, rather stately and pleasingly slender girl,
+smiled and shook her head. "I don't know. I may, if you will promise to
+introduce me to that fascinating young cowboy that rode away with your
+horse. I used to dream of such men."
+
+Young Dr. Marshall coughed. The girls laughed.
+
+"Oh, Collie?" said Louise. "Of course, you will meet him. He's our
+right-hand man. Uncle Walter says he couldn't get along without him and
+Aunty Eleanor just thinks he is perfect."
+
+"And Louise?" queried Anne Marshall.
+
+"Same," said Louise non-committally. "I don't see why he took Boyar with
+him to the store, though."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Marshalls and Louise paced slowly up and down the station platform,
+chatting about the East and Louise's last visit there, before Anne was
+married. Presently they were interrupted by a wild clatter of hoofs and
+the grind and screech of a hastily applied brake. The borrowed
+buckboard, strong, light, two-seated, and built for service, had arrived
+dramatically. Collie leaned back, the reins wrapped round his wrists,
+and his foot pressing the brake home. In the harness stood, or rather
+gyrated, Boyar and Collie's own pony Apache. It is enough to say that
+neither of them had ever been in harness before. The ponies were trying
+to get rid of the appended vehicle through any possible means. Louise
+gasped.
+
+"Price's team is out--over to the Oro Ranch. I knew you wanted a team in
+a hurry--" said Collie.
+
+"It looks quite like a team in a hurry," commented Dr. Marshall. "Your
+man is a good driver?"
+
+"Splendid!" said Louise. "Come on, Anne. You always said you wanted to
+ride behind some real Western horses. Here they are."
+
+"Why, this is just--just--bully!" whispered the stately Anne Marshall.
+"And isn't he a striking figure?"
+
+"Yes," assented Louise, who was just the least bit uncertain as to the
+outcome of Collie's hasty assembling of untutored harness material. "It
+is just 'bully.' Where in the world did you unearth that word, Anne?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+A RED EPISODE
+
+
+Dr. Marshall's offhand designation of the buckboard as "a team in a
+hurry" was prophetic, even unto the end.
+
+What Boyar could not accomplish in the way of equine gymnastics in
+harness, Apache, Collie's pony, could.
+
+Louise was a little fearful for her guests, yet she had confidence in
+the driver. The Marshalls apparently saw nothing more than a pair of
+very spirited "real Western horses like one reads about, you know,"
+until Dr. Marshall, slowly coming out of a kind of anticipatory haze, as
+Boyar stood on his hind feet and tried to face the buckboard, recognized
+the black horse as Louise's saddle animal. He took a firmer grip on the
+seat and looked at Collie. The young man seemed to be enjoying himself.
+There wasn't a line of worry on his clean-cut face.
+
+"Pretty lively," said the doctor.
+
+Collie, with his foot on the brake and both arms rigid, nodded.
+Moonstone Cañon Trail was not a boulevard. He was not to be lured into
+conversation. He was giving his whole mind and all of his magnetism to
+the team.
+
+Boyar and Apache took advantage of every turn, pitch, steep descent, and
+ford to display the demoniacal ingenuity inspired by their outraged
+feelings. They were splendid, obedient saddle-animals. But to be buckled
+and strapped in irritating harness, and hitched to that four-wheeled
+disgrace, a buckboard!...
+
+Anne Marshall chatted happily with Louise, punctuating her lively
+chatter with subdued little cries of delight as some new turn in the
+trail opened on a vista unimaginably beautiful, especially to her
+Eastern eyes.
+
+Young Dr. Marshall, in the front seat with Collie, braced his feet and
+smiled. _He_ had had experience, in an East-Side ambulance, but then
+that had been over level streets. He glanced over the edge of the cañon
+road and his smile faded a little. It faded entirely as the front wheel
+sheared off a generous shovelful of earth from a sharp upright angle of
+the hill as the team took the turn at a gallop. The young physician had
+a sense of humor, which is the next best thing to courage, although he
+had plenty of his kind of courage also. He brushed the earth from his
+lap.
+
+"The road needs widening there, anyway," commented Collie, as though
+apologizing.
+
+"I have my--er--repair kit with me," said the genial doctor. "I'm a
+surgeon."
+
+Collie nodded, but kept his eyes rigidly on the horses. Evidently this
+immaculate, of the white collar and cuffs and the stylish gray tweeds,
+had "sand."
+
+"They're a little fussy--but I know 'em," said Collie, as Boyar,
+apparently terror-stricken at a manzanita that he had passed hundreds of
+times, reared, his fore feet pawing space and the traces dangerously
+slack. Louise bit her lower lip and quickly called Anne's attention to a
+spot of vivid color on the hillside. To Dr. Marshall's surprise, Collie
+struck Apache, who was behaving, smartly with the whip. Apache leaped
+forward, bringing Boyar down to his feet again. The doctor would have
+been inclined to strike Boyar for misbehaving. He saw Collie's wisdom
+and smiled. To have punished Boyar when already on his hind feet would
+have been folly.
+
+At the top of the next grade the lathering, restive ponies finally
+settled to a stubborn trot. "Mad clean through," said Collie.
+
+"I should say they were behaving well enough," said the doctor, not as
+much as an opinion as to relieve his tense nerves in speech.
+
+"When a bronc' gets to acting ladylike, then is the time to look out,"
+said Collie. "Boyar and Apache have never been in harness before. Seems
+kind of queer to 'em."
+
+"What! Never been--Why! Huh! For Heaven's sake, don't let Mrs. Marshall
+hear that."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Walter Stone and his wife made the Marshalls feel at home immediately.
+Walter Stone had known Dr. Marshall's father, and he found in the son a
+pleasant living recollection of his old friend. Aunt Eleanor and Louise
+had visited with Anne when they were East. She was Anne Winthrop then,
+and Louise and she had found much in common to enjoy in shopping and
+sightseeing. Their one regret was that Louise would have to return to
+the West before her marriage to the young Dr. Marshall they all admired
+so much. There had been vague promises of coming West after "things were
+settled," as Anne put it. Which was merely another way of saying, "After
+we are married and have become enough used to each other to really enjoy
+a long trip West."
+
+The Marshalls had arrived with three years of happiness behind them, and
+apparently with an æon or so of happiness to look forward to, for they
+were quiet, unassuming young folks, with plenty of money and no desire
+whatever to make people aware of it.
+
+The host brought cigars and an extra steamer-chair to the wide veranda.
+"It's much cooler out here. We'll smoke while the girls tell each other
+all about it."
+
+"I _should_ like to sit on something solid for a few minutes," said the
+doctor. "It was a most amazing drive."
+
+"We're pretty well used to the cañon," said Stone. "Yet I can see how it
+would strike an Easterner."
+
+"Indeed it did, Mr. Stone. There is a thrill in every turn of it, for
+me. I shall dream of it."
+
+"Were you delayed at the station?" queried Stone.
+
+"We wired," said the doctor. "It seems that the telegram was not
+delivered. Miss Lacharme explained that messages have to wait until
+called for, unless money is wired for delivering them."
+
+"That is a fact, Doctor. Splendid system, isn't it?"
+
+"I am really sorry that we put Miss Lacharme to so much trouble. She had
+to scare up a team on the instant."
+
+"Price, the storekeeper, brought you up, didn't he?"
+
+"I don't think so. Miss Louise called him 'Collie,' I believe. He'd make
+a splendid army surgeon, that young man! He has nerves like tempered
+steel wire, and I never saw such cool strength."
+
+"Oh, that's nothing. Any one could drive Price's horses."
+
+The doctor smiled. "The young man confided to me that their names were
+'Boyar' and 'Apache,' I believe. They both lived up to the last one's
+name."
+
+"Well, I'll be--Here, have a fresh cigar! I want to smoke on that.
+Hu-m-m! Did that young pirate drive those saddle-animals--drive 'em from
+the station to this rancho--Whew! I congratulate you, Doctor. You'll
+never be killed in a runaway. He's a good horseman, but--Well, I'll talk
+to _him_."
+
+"Pardon me if I ask you not to, Stone. The girls enjoyed it immensely.
+So did I. I believe the driver did. He never once lost his smile."
+
+"Collie is usually pretty level-headed," said Walter Stone. "He must
+have been put to it for horses. Price's team must have been out."
+
+"He's more than level-headed," asserted Dr. Marshall. "He's magnetic. I
+could feel confidence radiating from him like sunshine from a brick
+wall."
+
+"I think he'll amount to something, myself. Everything he tackles he
+tackles earnestly. He doesn't leave loose ends to be picked up by some
+one else later. I've had a reason to watch him specially. Three years
+ago he was tramping it with a 'pal.' A boy tramp. Now see what he's
+grown to be."
+
+"A _tramp_! No!"
+
+"Fact. He's done pretty well for himself since he's been with us. He had
+a hard time of it before that."
+
+"I served my apprenticeship in the slums," said Dr. Marshall. "East-Side
+hospital. I think that I can also appreciate what you have done for
+him."
+
+"Thank you, Doctor,--but the credit belongs with the boy. Hello! Here
+are our girls again." And Walter Stone and the doctor rose on the
+instant.
+
+"I think I shall call you Uncle Walter," said Anne Marshall, who had not
+met Walter Stone until then.
+
+"I'm unworthy," said the rancher, his eyes twinkling. "And I don't want
+to be relegated to the 'uncle' class so soon."
+
+"_Thanksawfully_," said Louise.
+
+"Jealous, mouse?"
+
+"Indeed, no. I'm not Mrs. Marshall's husband."
+
+"I have already congratulated the doctor," said Walter Stone, bowing.
+
+"Doctor," said Anne, in her most formal manner. "You're antique. Why
+don't you say something bright?"
+
+"I do, every time I call you Anne. I really must go in and brush up a
+bit, as you suggest. You'll excuse me, I'm sure."
+
+"Yes, indeed,--almost with pleasure. And, Doctor, _don't_ wear your
+fountain-pen in your white vest pocket. You're not on duty, now."
+
+In the shadows of the mountain evening they congregated on the veranda
+and chatted about the East, the West, and incidentally about the
+proposed picnic they were to enjoy a few days later, when "boots and
+saddles" would be the order of the day. "And the trails are not bad,
+Anne," said Louise. "When you get used to them, you'll forget all about
+them, but your pony won't. He'll be just as deliberate and anxious about
+your safety, and his, at the end of the week as he was at the
+beginning."
+
+"Imagine! A week of riding about these mountains! How Billy would have
+enjoyed it, Doctor."
+
+"Yes. But I believe he is having a pretty good time where he is."
+
+"We wish he could be here, Anne," said Louise. "I've never met your
+brother. He's always been away when I have been East."
+
+"Which has been his misfortune," said Dr. Marshall.
+
+"He writes such beautiful letters about the desert and his mining
+claim,--that's his latest fad,--and says he's much stronger. But I
+believe they all say that--when they have his trouble, you know."
+
+"From Billy's last letter, I should say he was in pretty fair shape,"
+said the doctor. "He's living outdoors and at a good altitude, somewhere
+on the desert. He's making money. He posts his letters at a town called
+'Dagget,' in this State."
+
+"Up above San Berdoo," said Walter Stone. And he straightway drifted
+into reverie, gazing at the bright end of his cigar until it faded in
+the darkness.
+
+"Hello!" exclaimed Dr. Marshall, leaning forward. "Sounds like the
+exhaust of a pretty heavy car. I didn't imagine any one would drive that
+cañon road after dark."
+
+"Unusual," said Stone, getting to his feet. "Some one in a hurry. I'll
+turn on the porch-light and defy the mosquitoes."
+
+With a leonine roar and a succeeding clatter of empty cylinders, an
+immense racing-car stopped at the gate below. The powerful headlight
+shot a widening pathway through the night. Voices came indistinctly from
+the vicinity of the machine. Before Walter Stone had reached the bottom
+step of the porch, a huge figure appeared from out the shadows. In the
+radiance of the porch-light stood a wonderfully attired stranger. Frock
+coat, silk hat, patent leathers, striped trousers, and pearl gaiters, a
+white vest, and a noticeable watch-chain adorned the driver of the
+automobile. He stood for a minute, blinking in the light. Then he swept
+his hat from his head with muscular grace. "Excuse me for intrudin'," he
+said. "I seen this glim and headed for it. Is Mr. Walter Stone at
+lee-sure?"
+
+"I'm Walter Stone," said the rancher, somewhat mystified.
+
+"My name's Summers, Jack Summers, proprietor of the Rose Girl Mine." And
+Overland Red, erstwhile sheriff of Abilene, cowboy, tramp, prospector,
+gunman, and many other interesting things, proffered a highly engraved
+calling-card. Again he bowed profoundly, his hat in his hand, a white
+carnation in his buttonhole and rapture in his heart. He had seen Louise
+again--Louise, leaning forward, staring at him incredulously. Wouldn't
+the Rose Girl be surprised? She was.
+
+"I can't say that I quite understand--" began Stone.
+
+"Why, it's the man who borrowed my pony!" exclaimed Louise.
+
+"Correct, Miss. I--I come to thank you for lendin' me the cayuse that
+time."
+
+Walter Stone simply had to laugh. "Come up and rest after your trip up
+the cañon. Of course, you want to see Collie. He told me about your
+finding the claim. Says you have given him a quarter-interest. I'm glad
+you're doing well."
+
+"I took a little run in to Los to get some new tires. The desert eats
+'em up pretty fast. The Guzzuh, she cast her off hind shoe the other
+day. I was scared she'd go lame. Bein' up this way, I thought I'd roll
+up and see Collie."
+
+"The 'Guzzuh'?" queried Stone. "You rode up, then?"
+
+"Nope. The Guzzuh is me little old racin'-car. I christened her that
+right after I got so as I could climb on to her without her pitchin' me
+off. She's some bronc' she is."
+
+Overland Red, despite his outward regeneration, was Overland Red still,
+only a little more so. His overwhelming apparel accentuated his
+peculiarities, his humorous gestures, his silent self-consciousness. But
+there was something big, forceful, and wholesouled about the man,
+something that attracted despite his incongruities.
+
+Anne Marshall was at once--as she told Louise later--"desperately
+interested." Dr. Marshall saw in Overland a new and exceedingly virile
+type. Even gentle Aunt Eleanor received the irrepressible with
+unmistakable welcome. She had heard much of his history from Collie.
+Overland was as irresistible as the morning sun. While endeavoring
+earnestly to "do the genteel," as he had assured Winthrop he would when
+he left him to make this visit, Overland had literally taken them by
+storm.
+
+Young Dr. Marshall studied him, racking his memory for a name. Presently
+he turned to his wife. "What was Billy's partner's name--the miner? I've
+forgotten."
+
+"A Mr. Summers, I believe. Yes, I'm sure. Jack Summers, Billy called him
+in his letters."
+
+"Just a minute," said the doctor, turning to Overland, who sat,
+huge-limbed, smiling, red-visaged, happy. "Pardon me. You said Mr. Jack
+Summers, I believe? Do you happen to know a Mr. Winthrop, Billy
+Winthrop?"
+
+"Me? What, Billy? Billy Winthrop? Say, is this me? I inhaled a whole lot
+of gasoline comin' up that grade, but I ain't feelin' dizzy. Billy
+Winthrop? Why--" And his exclamation subsided as he asked cautiously,
+"Did you know him?"
+
+"I am his sister," said Anne Marshall.
+
+Overland was dumbfounded. "His sister," he muttered. "The one he writ to
+in New York. Huh! Yes, me and Billy's pardners."
+
+"Is he--is he better?" asked Anne hesitatingly.
+
+"Better! Say, lady, excuse me if I tell you he's gettin' so blame frisky
+that he's got me scared. Why, I left him settin' on a rock eatin' a
+sardine san'wich with one hand and shootin' holes in all the tin cans in
+sight with the other. 'So long, Red!' he hollers as I lit out with the
+burro to cross the range. 'So long, and don't let your feet slip.' And
+_Pom!_ goes the .45 that he was jugglin' and another tin can passed
+over. He takes a bite from the san'wich and then, _Pom!_ goes the gun
+again and another tin can bites the dust, jest as free and easy as if he
+wasn't keepin' guard over thirty or forty thousand dollars' worth of
+gold-dust and trouble, and jest as if he ain't got no lungs at all."
+
+"Billy must have changed a little," ventured Dr. Marshall, smiling.
+
+"Changed? Excuse me, ladies. But when I first turned my lamps on him in
+Los, I says to myself if there wasn't a fella with one foot in the grave
+and the other on a banana-peel, I was mistook. And listen! He come out
+to the Mojave with me. He jest almost cried to come. I was scared it was
+vi'lets and 'Gather at the River,' without the melodeum, for him. But
+you never see a fella get such a chest! Search me if I knows where he
+got it from, for he wasn't much bigger around in the works than a
+mosquito when I took him up there. And eat! My Gosh, he can eat! And a
+complexion like a Yaqui. And he can sleep longer and harder and louder
+than a corral of gradin' mules on Saturday night! 'Course he's slim
+yet, but it's the kind of slim like rawhide that you could hobble a
+elephant with. And, say, he's a pardner on your life! Believe me, and
+I'm listenin' to myself, too."
+
+"His lungs are better, then?"
+
+"Lungs? He ain't got none. They're belluses--prime California skirtin'
+leather off the back. Lady, that kid is a wonder."
+
+"I'm awfully glad Billy is better. He _must_ be, judging from what you
+tell me."
+
+"I wisht I'd 'a' had him runnin' the 'Guzzuh' instead of that little
+chicken-breasted chaffer they three-shelled on to me in Los Angeles. I
+hired him because they said I 'd better take him along until I was some
+better acquainted with the machine. The Guzzuh ain't no ordinary
+bronc'."
+
+"The 'Guzzuh'?" queried Dr. Marshall.
+
+"Uhuh. That's what I christened her. She's a racer. She's sixty
+hoss-power, and sometimes I reckon I could handle sixty hosses easier to
+once than I could her. We was lopin' along out in the desert, 'bout
+fifty miles an hour by the leetle clock on the dashboard, when all of a
+sudden she lays back her ears and she bucks. I leans back and keeps her
+head up, but it ain't no use. She gives a jump or two and says
+'_Guzzuh!_' jest like that, and quits. I climbs out and looked her over.
+She sure was balky. I was glad she said _somethin'_, if it was only
+'Guzzuh,' instead of quittin' on me silent and scornful. Sounded like
+she was apologizin' for stoppin' up like that. I felt of her chest and
+she was pretty much het up. When she cooled off, I started her
+easy--sort of grazin' along pretendin' we wasn't goin' to lope again.
+When she got her second wind I give her her head, and she let out and
+loped clean into the desert town, without makin' a stumble or castin' a
+shoe. Paid three thousand for her in Los. She is guaranteed to do eighty
+miles on the level, and she does a whole lot of other things that ain't
+jest on the level. She'd climb a back fence if you spoke right to her. A
+sand-storm ain't got nothin' on her when she gets her back up."
+
+"Your car must be unique," suggested Walter Stone.
+
+"Nope. She ain't a 'Yew-neck.' I forget her brand. I ain't had her very
+long. But I can run her now better than that little
+two-dollar-and-a-half excuse they lent me in Los. He loses his nerve
+comin' up the cañon there. You see the Guzzuh got to friskin' round the
+turns on her hind feet. So I gives him a box of candy to keep him quiet
+and takes the reins myself. I got my foot in the wrong stirrup on the
+start--was chokin' off her wind instead of feedin' her. Then I got my
+foot on the giddap-dingus and we come. The speed-clock's limit is ninety
+miles an hour and we busted the speed clock comin' down that last
+grade. But we're here."
+
+Dr. Marshall and Walter Stone gazed at each other. They laughed.
+Overland smiled condescendingly. Anne Marshall had recourse to her
+handkerchief, but Louise did not smile.
+
+"Does Billy ever drive your car?" asked Anne Marshall presently.
+
+"He drives her in the desert and in the hills some. He drove her into a
+sand-hill once clean up to her withers. When he came back,--he kind of
+went ahead a spell to look over the ground, so he says,--he apologizes
+to her like a gent. Oh, he likes her more 'n I do. Bruck two
+searchlights at one hundred dollars a glim, but that's nothin'. Oh, yes,
+Billy's got good nerve."
+
+Overland shifted his foot to his other knee and leaned back luxuriously,
+puffing fluently at his cigar.
+
+"Billy did get to feelin' kind of down, a spell back. He had a argument
+with a Gophertown gent about our claim. I wasn't there at the time, but
+when I come back, I tied up Billy's leg--"
+
+"Goodness! His leg?" exclaimed Anne.
+
+"Yes, ma'am. The Gophertown gent snuck up and tried to stick Billy up
+when Billy was readin' po'try--some of mine. Billy didn't scare so easy.
+He reaches for his gun. Anyhow, the Gophertown gent's bullet hit a rock,
+and shied up and stung Billy in the leg. Billy never misses a tin can
+now'days, and the gent was bigger than a can. We never seen nothin' of
+him again."
+
+"Gracious, it's perfectly awful!" cried Anne.
+
+"Yes, lady. That's what Billy said. He said he didn't object to gettin'
+shot at, but he did object to gettin' hit, especially when he was
+readin' po'try. Said it kind of bruck his strand of thought. That guy
+was no gent."
+
+Walter Stone again glanced at Dr. Marshall. Aunt Eleanor rose, bidding
+the men good-night. Louise and Mrs. Marshall followed somewhat
+reluctantly. Stone disappeared to return with cigars, whiskey and
+seltzer, which he placed at Overland's elbow. "My friend Dr. Marshall is
+an Easterner," he said.
+
+Overland waved a comprehending hand, lit another cigar, and settled
+back. "Now I can take the hobbles off and talk nacheral. When you gents
+want me to stop, just say 'Guzzuh.'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+"TO CUT MY TRAIL LIKE THAT!"
+
+
+Overland Red was concluding his last yarn, a most amazing account of
+"The night the Plancher boys shot up Abilene."
+
+It was exactly two o'clock by Dr. Marshall's watch.
+
+"Both my guns was choked up with burnt powder. I reached down and
+borrowed two guns off a gent what wasn't usin' his jest then. Next day I
+was elected sheriff unanimous. They was seven of us left standin'. That
+was back in '98." Overland yawned and stood up.
+
+"The boys are all asleep now," said Walter Stone. "We have plenty of
+room here. You'll not object to taking one of the guest-rooms as you
+find it, I'm sure."
+
+"For better or for worse, as the pote says." And Overland grinned. "But
+I got to put that little chaffer to roost somewhere."
+
+"That's so."
+
+"I'll go wake him up." And Overland strode to the racing-car. The
+"chaffer" had departed for parts unknown.
+
+"I guess he was scared at that last grade," said Overland, returning to
+the house. "He's gone. He must 'a' been scared, to beat it back down the
+road afoot."
+
+"Perhaps he has gone to the stables," said Stone. "Well, we'll take care
+of you here. You can see Collie in the morning."
+
+Overland, closing the door of the spacious, cool guest-room, glanced
+about curiously. What was it made the place seem so different from even
+the most expensive hotel suites? The furniture was very plain. The
+decorations were soft-toned and simple. "It's--it's because the Rose
+Girl lives here, I guess," he soliloquized. "Now this kind of a roost
+would jest suit Billy, but it makes me feel like walkin' on eggs. This
+here grazin' is too good for me."
+
+He undressed slowly, folding his unaccustomed garments with great care.
+He placed his automatic pistol on the chair by the bed. Then he crept
+beneath the sheets, forgetting to turn out the light. "Huh! Gettin'
+absent-minded like the old perfessor what picked up a hairbrush instead
+of a lookin'-glass to see if he needed shavin'. He was dum' near scared
+to death to see how his beard was growin'." And Overland chuckled as he
+turned out the lights.
+
+He could not go to sleep at once. He missed the desert night--the spaces
+and the stars. "I left here in a hurry once," he muttered. "'Bout three
+years ago. Then I was kiddin' Collie about wearin' silk pejammies. Now I
+got 'em--got 'em on, by thunder! Don't know as I feel any heftier in the
+intellec'. And I can't show 'em to nobody. What's the good of havin' 'em
+if nobody knows it? But I can hang 'em on the bedpost in the mornin',
+careless like, jest like I was raised to it. Them pejammies cost four
+dollars a leg. Some class...." And he drifted to sleep.
+
+After breakfast Dr. Marshall, who had taken a fancy to Overland,
+strolled with him over to the bunk-house. Most of the men were on the
+range. Collie was assembling bits and bridles, saddles, cinchas, and
+spurs, to complete an equipment for the proposed camping trip in the
+hills. He was astounded at Overland's appearance. However, he had
+absorbed Western ideals rapidly. He was sincerely glad, overjoyed, to
+see his old friend, but he showed little of it in voice and manner. He
+shook hands with a brief, "How, Red!" and went on with his work.
+
+Dr. Marshall, after expressing interest in the equipment, excused
+himself and wandered over to the corrals, where he admired the horses.
+
+"Where did you get 'em?" queried Collie, adjusting the length of a pair
+of stirrup-leathers.
+
+"These?" And Overland spread his coat-tails and ruffled. "Why, out of
+the old Mojave. Dug 'em up with a little pick and shovel."
+
+"You said in your letter you found the claim."
+
+"Uhuh. Almost fell over it before I did, though. We never found the
+other things, by the track. New ties. No mark. Say, that Billy Winthrop
+I writ about is the brother of them folks stayin' here! What do you
+think!"
+
+"Wish I was out there with you fellows," said Collie.
+
+"You're doin' pretty good right here, kiddo. The boss don't think you're
+the worst that ever came acrost, and I expect the ladies can put up with
+havin' you on the same ranch by the way they talk. Got a hoss of your
+own yet?"
+
+"Nope. I got my eye on one, though. Say, Red, this is the best place to
+work. The boss is fine. I'm getting forty a month now, and savin' it.
+The boys are all right, too. Brand Williams, the foreman--"
+
+"Brand who?"
+
+"Williams. He came from Wyoming."
+
+"Well, this here's gettin' like a story and not like real livin'. Why, I
+knowed old Brand in Mex. in the old days when a hoss and a gun was about
+all a guy needed to set up housekeepin'. We was pals. So he's foreman
+here, eh? Well, you follow his trail close about cattle or hosses and
+you'll win out."
+
+"I been doing that," said Collie. "The other day he told me to keep my
+eye on one of the boys. Silent Saunders, he's called. Kind of funny. I
+don't know anything about Saunders."
+
+"Well, you bank on it. Stack 'em up chin-high on it, Collie, if Brand
+says that. He knows some-thin' or he would never talk. Brand is a
+particular friend of yours?"
+
+"You bet!"
+
+"Well, tie to him. What he says is better than fine gold as the pote
+says. I reckon coarse gold suits me better, outside of po'try. How does
+the Saunders insec' wear his clothes?"
+
+"He's kind of lame in one arm and--here he comes now. You can see for
+yourself. The one on that pinto."
+
+As Saunders rode past the two men, he turned in his saddle. Despite
+Overland's finery he recognized him at once.
+
+Overland's gaze never left the other's hands. "Mornin'," said Overland,
+nodding. "Ain't you grazin' pretty far this side of Gophertown?"
+
+"Who the hell are you talkin' to?" Saunders asked venomously, and his
+eyes narrowed.
+
+Overland grinned, and carelessly shifted the lapel of his coat from
+beneath which peeped the butt of his automatic pistol. Collie felt his
+scalp tightening. There was something tense and suggestive in the air.
+
+"I'm talkin' to a fella that ought to know better than to get sassy to
+me," said Overland, "or to cut my trail like that."
+
+Saunders rode on.
+
+"Seen him before?" asked Collie.
+
+"Yep. Twice--over the end of a gun. He come visitin' me and Billy at a
+water-hole out in the dry spot. We got to exchangin' opinions. Two of
+mine he ain't forgot, I guess."
+
+"Saunders is branded above the elbows on both arms," said Collie. "He's
+been shot up pretty bad."
+
+"You don't tell! Wonder how that happened. Mebby he was practicin' the
+double roll and got careless. Now, I wonder!"
+
+"He's one of the 'bunch'?" said Collie, suddenly awake to the situation.
+"Come on over to the bunk-house where we can talk, Red. I'll introduce
+you regular to Silent."
+
+"All right. Here, you walk on the other side. I'm left-handed when I
+shake with him."
+
+But Saunders was not at the bunk-house. Instead he had ridden on down to
+the gate and out upon the Moonstone Trail. He had become acquainted with
+Deputy Tenlow. He would make things interesting for the man who had
+"winged" him out in the desert.
+
+"I smell somethin' burnin'," said Overland significantly. "The Saunders
+man has got somethin' up his sleeve. He didn't turn his pony into the
+corral, did he?"
+
+"No."
+
+"All right. Now, about them papers and your part of this here claim ..."
+
+For an hour they talked about the claim, Winthrop, Collie's prospects,
+and their favorite topic, the Rose Girl. They were speaking of her when
+she appeared at the bunk-house door.
+
+"Good-morning, Mr. Summers. Mrs. Marshall wished to know if you would
+tell her more about her brother--when you have visited with Collie. She
+was afraid you might leave without her seeing you again."
+
+"I was thinkin' about that myself," replied Overland. "Yes, Miss, I'll
+be right over direct."
+
+Louise nodded, smiled, and was gone.
+
+"Say, Red, you better go quick, in the machine," said Collie, fearful
+that Saunders was up to mischief.
+
+"Grand idea, that," said Overland, calmly brushing his hat. "But Tenlow
+and Saunders--that you're thinkin' about--ain't neither of 'em goin' to
+ride up too close to me again. They are goin' to lay for me down the
+cañon. They'll string a riata across the road and hold up the car, most
+likely. They know I can't get out of here any other road."
+
+"Then what will you do?"
+
+"Me? Why, me and the Guzzuh'll go down the trail jest as slow and easy
+as a baby-buggy pushed by a girl that's waitin' in the park for her
+beau."
+
+"You'll ditch the machine and get all broke up," ventured Collie.
+
+"I am havin' too good a time to last, I know, seein' the Rose Girl again
+and you and visitin' the folks up to the house. Well, if it's my turn, I
+ain't kickin'. Sorry Brand ain't here. I'd like to see him. Here's a
+little old map I drawed of the hills, and how to get to the claim in
+case I get detained for speedin'. Get Brand, if anything happens. He's a
+steady old boat and he'll tell you what to do."
+
+"But, Red, you don't think--?"
+
+"Not when it hurts me dome," interrupted Overland. "I got a hunch I'll
+see you again before long. So long, Chico. I got to shine some of the
+rust off my talk and entertain the ladies. You might get into my class,
+too, some day, if you knowed anything except hoss-wrastlin' and
+cow-punchin'," he added affectionately.
+
+And Overland departed, sublimely content and not in the least disturbed
+by future possibilities. "He's the great kid!" he kept repeating to
+himself. "He's the same kid--solid clean through.... Good-morning,
+ladies. Now about Billy--er--Mr. Winthrop; why, as I was say-in' last
+night.... No, thanks, I'll set facin' the road. Sun? Why, lady, I'm
+sun-cured, myself."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+THE LED HORSE
+
+
+Anne Marshall had stepped from the porch to the living-room. Overland
+Red was alone with Louise.
+
+Facing her quickly, his easy banter gone, his blue eyes intense,
+untroubled, magnetic, he drew a deep breath. "They're waiting for me
+down the cañon, about now," he said, and his tone explained his speech.
+
+Louise frowned slightly, studying his face. "That is unfortunate, just
+now," she said slowly.
+
+"Or most any time--for the other fella," responded Overland cheerfully.
+
+The girl gazed at the toe of her slipper. "I know you didn't speak
+because you were afraid. What do you intend?"
+
+"If I ain't oversteppin' the rules in invitin' you--why, I was goin' to
+say, 'Miss Lacharme, wouldn't you like to take a little buggy-ride in
+the Guzzuh, nice and slow. She's awful easy ridin' if you don't rein her
+too strong.'"
+
+"I don't know," said Louise pensively. "Your car can only hold two?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"I couldn't run away and leave Mrs. Marshall. Of course, you would go
+on--after--after we were in the valley. How could I get back?"
+
+"That's so!" exclaimed Overland, with some subtlety, pretending he had
+not thought of that contingency. "'Course Collie could ride down ahead
+with a spare hoss. You see the sheriff gent and Saunders--"
+
+"Saunders? Our man Saunders?"
+
+"Uhuh. Me and him ain't friends exactly. I figure he's rode down to tell
+the Tenlow man that I'm up here."
+
+"You are sure?"
+
+"Yes, Miss. I don't make no mistakes about him."
+
+"Then one of our men has gone to get the deputy to arrest you, and you
+are our guest."
+
+"Thanks, Miss, for sayin' that. It's worth gettin' pinched to be _your_
+guest."
+
+"I did intend to ride down for the mail. Boyar needs exercising."
+
+"So does the Guzzuh, Miss. It's queer how she acts when she ain't been
+worked every day."
+
+"I don't believe Anne would care to come, in the machine. I'll ask her."
+And Louise stepped to the living-room.
+
+Collie, who had been watching anxiously from the corrals, came across
+the yard to the veranda. He was dressed for riding, and he had a gun on
+his hip. Overland scowled. "You little idiot," he said, "when your Uncle
+Jack's brains get ossified, just give the sad news to the press. You're
+jest itchin' to get in a muss and get plugged. I ain't. I figure to ride
+down the Moonstone Trail, steerin' the Guzzuh with one hand and smellin'
+a bunch of roses in the other. Watch my smoke. Now, beat it!"
+
+Louise, coming blithely from the living-room, nodded to Overland. Her
+pensiveness had departed. Her cheeks were flushed. "Oh, Collie! Saddle
+Boyar--" she began, but Overland coughed disapprovingly. He did not wish
+Tenlow and Saunders to suspect that the led horse was for Louise.
+
+"Or--no. Saddle Sarko," said Louise, at once aware of Overland's plan.
+"And have him at the foot of the hill for me as soon as you can."
+
+"Yes, Miss Louise." And Collie departed for the corrals wonderingly.
+Overland was too much for him.
+
+They had luncheon and allowed Collie two hours to arrive at the valley
+level with the led pony. After luncheon Louise appeared in riding-skirt
+and boots. "Mr. Summers is going to take me for a ride in his new car,"
+she said. "Don't worry, aunty. He is going to drive slowly. He finds
+that he has to leave unexpectedly."
+
+"I'm sorry you are going without seeing Mr. Stone and Dr. Marshall
+again," said Aunt Eleanor. "You'll be careful, won't you?"
+
+"So am I, ma'am.--Yes, I'll run slow."
+
+"But how will you come back?" queried Anne.
+
+"Collie has gone ahead with a spare pony. Good-bye, aunty."
+
+"I can't thank you enough for all that you have done for Billy. I am so
+glad he's well and strong again. We never could manage him. Good-bye,
+and tell Billy he _must_ come over and see us right away."
+
+"You'll drive carefully?" queried Aunt Eleanor again.
+
+"Jest like I was goin' to get pinched," said Overland, bowing.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As Collie rode down the last pitch, leading the restive Sarko, Dick
+Tenlow stepped from the brush. "'Morning, Collie. Out for a little
+pasear?"
+
+"Shouldn't wonder, Dick."
+
+"Horses are lookin' good. Feed good on the hills yet?"
+
+"Pretty good."
+
+"I hear you got company up to the Moonstone."
+
+"Yep. Eastern folks, doctor and his wife." And Collie looked the deputy
+hard in the eye.
+
+"Oh, that was their machine I heard coughin' up the cañon last night,
+eh?"
+
+"I didn't ask them about that," replied Collie.
+
+"You're improvin' since you first come into these hills," said Tenlow,
+with some sarcasm.
+
+"I'm holdin' down a better job than I did then," said Collie
+good-naturedly.
+
+"Well, I ain't. I'm holdin' the same job, which you will recollect. It
+ain't much of a job, but it's good to requisition that cayuse you're
+leadin'."
+
+"What you kiddin' about?"
+
+"Straight goods," said Tenlow, reaching for Sarko's reins. "Just hand
+over your end of that tie-rope."
+
+"I guess not, Dick. You're on the wrong trail. What do you think I am?"
+
+"Same as I always thought."
+
+"Then you want to change your opinion of me," said Collie, relinquishing
+the tie-rope. "I ain't breaking the law, but you are going to hear more
+about this."
+
+"I'll risk that. You can ride right along, pronto."
+
+"And you keep Sarko? I guess not! I'll stick."
+
+"You can't throw no bluff this morning," said Tenlow, irritated by the
+youth's persistence. "I guess you know what I mean."
+
+"You got the horse, but I don't leave here without him," said Collie
+stubbornly. And there was an underlying assurance about Collie's
+attitude that perplexed the deputy, who was satisfied that the led horse
+was for Overland Red's use.
+
+Saunders, hiding back in the brush, cursed Tenlow's stupidity. To have
+let Collie go on and have followed him under cover would have been the
+only sensible plan. Rapidly approximating the outcome of this muddle,
+Saunders untied his pony and rode back toward the ranch, taking an
+unused and densely covered bridle-trail.
+
+From up in the cañon came the thunder of the racing-car. Far above them
+Tenlow and Collie could see it creeping round a turn in the road. It
+disappeared in a dip, to reappear almost instantly, gliding swiftly down
+the long slant toward the valley. The staccato drumming of the exhaust
+echoed along the hillside. Overland's silk hat shone bravely in the sun.
+Beside the outlaw was the figure of a woman. Tenlow foresaw
+complications and muttered profanely.
+
+Down the next ditch rolled the car, rocking to the unevenness of the
+mountain road. Overland opened the throttle, the machine shot forward,
+and in a few seconds drew up abreast of the deputy.
+
+"Thank you so much, Mr. Summers," said Louise, stepping from the car.
+"How are you, Mr. Tenlow."
+
+"How'do, Miss Lacharme."
+
+"Good-bye, Mr. Summers. I enjoyed the ride very much."
+
+"Just a minute--" began the deputy.
+
+"Where's my pony, Collie? He didn't get away, did he?"
+
+"No, ma'am. Mr. Tenlow 'requisitioned' him. Thought I'd wait till you
+came along so I could explain."
+
+"Requisitioned my pony! What do you mean?"
+
+"It's this way, Miss Lacharme. That man there in the machine is wanted.
+He--"
+
+"What has that to do with my pony, please?"
+
+"I guess you know who he is. I figured he was layin' to get away on that
+pony."
+
+"You want to go back to school, pardner, and learn to figure correct,"
+said Overland, his foot on the accelerator pedal of the throbbing car.
+"One minus one is nothin'."
+
+"Hold on there!" cried Tenlow, striding forward. Louise stood between
+the deputy and the car.
+
+"My horse, please," she said quietly. As she spoke the car roared,
+jumped forward, and shot down the smooth grade of the valley road.
+
+"Now, Mr. Tenlow, I wish you would explain this to me. And then to Uncle
+Walter. I sent one of our men with a horse. He was to wait for me here.
+What right have you to interfere with him?"
+
+"I guess I got as much right as you have to interfere with me," said
+Tenlow sullenly.
+
+"Hold on there!" cried Collie, jumping forward.
+
+"Collie, I'll talk with him."
+
+"Take my horse, Miss Louise," said Collie, flushing.
+
+"No, indeed. I'll ride Sarko."
+
+"I'll get him," said Collie.
+
+"No. Mr. Tenlow will get him, I am sure."
+
+"A woman can make any deal look smooth--if she is interested," said
+Tenlow, turning toward the brush. He came out leading the pony.
+
+"Thank you. Collie, you may get the mail, please."
+
+Collie stood watching her as she rode away. Then with much deliberation
+he tied his own pony Apache to a clump of greasewood. He unbuckled his
+belt and flung it, with gun and holster, to the ground.
+
+"Now," he said, his face blazing white with suppressed anger. "I'm going
+to make you eat that speech about any woman making things look
+smooth--_if she's interested_."
+
+"You go on home or I'll break you in two," said Tenlow.
+
+Collie's reply was a flail-like blow between Tenlow's eyes. The deputy
+staggered, gritted his teeth, and flung himself at the younger man. The
+fight was unequal from the beginning. Apache snorted and circled as the
+bushes crashed and crackled.
+
+A few minutes later, Tenlow strode from the brush leading his pony. He
+wiped the blood and sweat from his face and spat viciously.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Louise, riding homeward slowly, heard a horse coming behind her. She
+reined Sarko and waited. Collie saw no way out of it, so he rode up,
+grinning from a bruised and battered face.
+
+"Why, Collie!"
+
+The young man grinned again. His lips were swollen and one eye was
+nearly closed.
+
+Dismounting, Louise stepped to the ford. "Oh, I'm sorry!" she cried.
+"Your face is terribly bruised. And your eye--" She could not help
+smiling at Collie's ludicrous appearance.
+
+"I took a fall," he mumbled blandly. "Apache here is tricky at times."
+
+Louise's gaze was direct and reproachful. "Here, let me bathe your face.
+Stoop down, like that. You don't look so badly, now that the dirt is
+off. Surely you didn't fall on your _eye_?"
+
+Collie tried to laugh, but the effort was not very successful.
+
+Tenderly she bathed his bruised face. Her nearness, her touch, made him
+forget the pain. Suddenly he seized her hand and kissed it, leaving a
+stain of blood where his lips had touched. She was thrilled with a
+mingled feeling of pride and shame--pride in that he had fought because
+of her, as she knew well enough, and shame at the brutality of the
+affair which she understood as clearly as though she had witnessed it.
+She was too honest to make herself believe she was not flattered, in a
+way, but she made Collie think otherwise.
+
+He evaded her direct questioning stubbornly. Finally she asked whether
+Mr. Tenlow "had taken a fall," or not.
+
+"Sure he did!" replied Collie. "A couple or three years ago--tryin' to
+outride Overland Red. Don't you remember?"
+
+"Collie, you're a regular hypocrite."
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"And you look--frightful."
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"You're not a bit ashamed."
+
+"Yes, ma'am, I am."
+
+"Don't say 'Yes, ma'am' all the time. You don't seem to be ashamed. Why
+should you be, though. Because you were fighting?"
+
+"No, Miss Louise. Because I got licked."
+
+Louise mounted Sarko and rode beside Collie silently. Presently she
+touched his arm. "But did you?" she asked, her eyes grave and her tone
+conveying a subtle question above the mere letter.
+
+"No! By thunder!" he exclaimed. "Not in a hundred years!"
+
+"Well, get some raw meat from the cook. I'll give your explanation to
+Dr. and Mrs. Marshall, for you will have to be ready for the trip
+to-morrow. You will have to think of a better explanation for the boys."
+
+While riding homeward, Louise dropped her glove. Collie was afoot
+instantly and picked it up. "Can I keep it?" he said.
+
+The girl looked curiously at him for a moment. "No, I think not,
+Collie," she said gently.
+
+Collie rode up to the corrals that afternoon whistling as blithely as he
+could considering his injuries. He continued to whistle as he unsaddled
+Apache.
+
+At the bunk-house Brand Williams looked at him once, and bent double
+with silent laughter. The boys badgered him unmercifully. "Fell off a
+hoss!--Go tell that to the chink!--Who stepped on your face, kid?--Been
+ridin' on your map, eh?--Where _was_ the wreck?--Who sewed up your
+eye?"
+
+"S-s-h-h, fellas," said Miguel, grinning. "If you make all that noise,
+how you going to hear the tune he is whistling, hey?"
+
+Collie glanced at Saunders, who had said nothing. "Got anything to offer
+on the subject, Silent?" he asked.
+
+"Nope. I take mine out in thinkin'."
+
+"You're going to have a chance to do a whole lot more of it before
+long," said Collie; and he said it with a suggestiveness that did not
+escape the taciturn foreman, Brand Williams.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+BORROWED PLUMES
+
+
+"He speaks of a pretty round sum," said Walter Stone, returning the
+letter that Collie had asked him to read. "I don't know but that the
+land you speak of is a good investment. You were thinking of raising
+stock--horses?"
+
+"Yes, sir. The Oro people are making good at it. The land north of you
+is good grazing-land and good water. Of course, I got to wait for a
+while. Red says in the letter that my share of the claim so far is five
+thousand. That wouldn't go far on that piece of land, but I've saved
+some, too."
+
+"You might make a payment to hold the land," said Stone.
+
+"I don't like that way. I want to buy it all at once."
+
+Walter Stone smiled. Collie was ambitious, and rather inexperienced. "So
+you think you will leave us and go to mining until you have made enough
+more to buy it outright?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I don't want you to think I ain't satisfied here. I like it
+here."
+
+"I know you do, Collie. Well, think it over. Prospecting is gambling.
+It is sometimes magnificent gambling. Miss Lacharme's father was a
+prospector. We have never heard from him since he went out on the
+desert. But that has nothing to do with it. If I didn't believe you'd
+make a first-rate citizen, I shouldn't hesitate a minute about your
+going. I'd rather see you ranching it. We need solid men here in
+California. There are so many remittance-men, invalids, idlers,
+speculators, and unbalanced enthusiasts that do more harm than good,
+that we need a few _new_ landmarks. We need a few new cornerstones and
+keystones to stiffen the structure that is building so fast. I realize
+that we must build from the ground up--not hang out tents from the
+trees. That day is past."
+
+"It's a big thing--to be stuck on California more than getting rich,"
+said Collie.
+
+"Yes. The State of California is a bank--a new bank. The more depositors
+we have, the stronger we shall be--provided our depositors have faith in
+us. We have their good will now. We need solid, two-handed men who can
+take hold and prove that investment in our State is profitable."
+
+"You bet!" exclaimed Collie, catching some of the older man's
+enthusiasm. Then he added with less enthusiasm: "But how about such
+things as the Jap ranchers dumping carloads of onions in the rivers and
+melons in the ocean, by the ton, and every one cut so it can't be used
+by poor folks? If Eastern people got on to that they would shy off
+pretty quick."
+
+"Yes," said the rancher, frowning. "It's true enough that such things do
+happen. I've known of boatloads of fish being dumped back in the ocean
+because the middlemen wouldn't give the fishermen a living price. In
+western Canada thousands of bushels of grain have been burned on the
+ground because the Eastern market was down and the railroads would not
+make a rate that would allow a profit to the farmer. Such things are not
+local to California. California is in the limelight just now and such
+things are naturally prominent."
+
+"It looks awful bad for good fruit and vegetables and fish to be thrown
+away when folks have to pay ten cents for a loaf of bread no bigger than
+a watch-charm," said Collie.
+
+"It is bad. Crookedness in real estate transactions is bad. We don't
+want to waste our time, however, in feeling worried about it. What we
+want to do is to show the other fellow that _our_ work is successful and
+straight."
+
+"Yes, sir. A fellow has got to believe in something. I guess believing
+in his own State is the best."
+
+"Of course. Now, about your leaving us. I had rather you would stay
+until the Marshalls go. Louise and Mrs. Stone depend on you so much."
+
+"Sure I will! You see, Red don't say to come, in his letter, but he sent
+the check for three hundred if I did want to come. There's no hurry."
+
+"All right. Hello, Louise! Dinner waiting?"
+
+"Yes, Uncle Walter. How are you, Collie?" And Louise nodded to him.
+"What are you two hatching? You seem so serious."
+
+"Plans for the ultimate glory of the State," said Stone.
+
+"Ultimate?"
+
+"Yes. We've been going beneath the surface of things a little. Collie
+expects to go even deeper, so he tells me."
+
+Collie walked slowly toward the bunk-house. Halfway there he took
+Overland's check from the letter and studied it. He put it back into his
+pocket. As he passed the corrals, Apache nickered in a friendly way.
+"Haven't got a thing for you," said Collie. "Not a bite. We're not goin'
+to town to-day. To-morrow, maybe, for there'll be doings at the Oro
+Rancho and we'll be there--we'll be there!"
+
+With a run and a spring the young man leaped the gate and trotted into
+the bunk-house.
+
+Brand Williams was solemnly shaving. He turned a lathered face toward
+Collie whose abrupt entrance had all but caused the foreman to
+sacrifice his left ear. "Well," he drawled, "who is dead?"
+
+"You mean, Who is alive? I guess. Say, Brand, what do you think that
+Yuma horse over at the Oro is worth?"
+
+"That dam' outlaw? Ain't worth the trouble of mentioning."
+
+"But, oh, Brand, she's built right! I tell you! Short-coupled, and them
+legs and withers! They ain't a pony in the valley can touch her. And
+only three years old!"
+
+"Nor a man neither," said Williams.
+
+"She's been scared to death because the fellows was scared of her and
+started in wrong."
+
+"So'll the man be that tries to ride her. Say, I seen that
+copper-colored, china-eyed, she-son of a Kansas cyclone put Bull O'Toole
+so far to the bad once that his return ticket expired long before he got
+back. I tell you, kid, she's _outlaw_. She's got the disposition of a
+Comanche with a streak of lightnin' on a drunk throwed in. You keep off
+that hoss!"
+
+"Maybe," said Collie. "But I notice you put me to breakin' about all the
+stock on this ranch that you can't handle yourself."
+
+Which was true. Williams shaved and perspired in silence.
+
+"Let's see," he said presently, emerging from the wash-basin. "When's
+that barbecue comin' off?"
+
+"To-morrow. As if you didn't know!"
+
+"Sunday, eh? Well, you might as well get killed on a Sunday as any other
+day. I suppose your askin' about that hoss means you are thinkin' of
+ridin' her, eh?"
+
+"I was thinkin' of it. They are putting her up as a chance for the man
+that can. She has put three of their boys to the bad. Matt Gleason, the
+Oro foreman, says he'll give her to any Moonstoner that can stay on her
+two minutes."
+
+"He said 'Moonstoner' particular?" queried Williams.
+
+"He did. To me. I was over tryin' to buy her."
+
+"You're plumb loco. So he said any _Moonstoner_ eh? Any Moonstoner. By
+crip, I've a notion--Let's see, there's Miguel--he's too swift. Billy
+Dime might make it if he didn't get too much red-eye in him first. Bud
+ain't steady enough--and it wouldn't look right if I was the only rider
+here to take a chance. I dunno."
+
+"What you gaspin' about?" queried Collie.
+
+"Nothin', kid. You can get hosses ready for all the ladies for to-morrow
+mornin' at six sharp. Sabe? I got orders to send you over with 'em.
+Mebby you're some proud now, eh? Well, don't fall off Apache pertendin'
+you're so polite you can't spit."
+
+"What you sore about, Brand?"
+
+"I was thinkin' what a slashin' string of riders we got. Here a little
+old ranch like the Oro says they'll give a hoss to any Moonstoner what
+kin stay on him for two minutes. It's plumb sickenin'. Kids! Jest kids,
+on this ranch."
+
+"That so? Say, Brand, you ain't got rid of so much English talk at once
+since I been here. You ought to talk more. You keep too quiet. Talking
+sociable will help to take the wrinkles out of your neck."
+
+"You talk so much you'll never live to get any."
+
+"Say, Brand."
+
+"Uhuh."
+
+"Will you lend me the Chola spurs and that swell quirt old Miguel
+plaited for you, and your Mexican bridle, just for to-morrow?"
+
+"So that's what you been lovin' up to me for, eh?"
+
+"Lovin' up to you, you darned old--darned old--_dude_, you."
+
+"Hold on! You said it! Take the spurs! Take the quirt! Take the bridle!
+Take the hat and gloves with the silk roses on! Anybody that's got nerve
+enough to call _me_ a _dude_ can take anything I got. Say, you don't
+want to borrow a pair of _pants_, do you?"
+
+Honors were about even when Collie left the bunk-house, his arms laden
+with the foreman's finery. He colored to his hair as he saw Louise
+coming toward him. He fumbled at the gate, opened it, and stood aside
+for her to pass. As she smiled and thanked him, he heard his name
+called.
+
+"Hey!" shouted Williams, coming suddenly from the bunk-house. "Hey,
+Collie! You went away without them pants! I'll lend 'em to you--"
+
+Collie, his face flaming, strode down the trail, the blood drumming in
+his ears.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+THE YUMA COLT
+
+
+The Oro Rancho sent out word that the fiftieth year of its existence
+would be celebrated with an old-fashioned Spanish barbecue. The
+invitation was general, including every one within a radius of fifty
+miles.
+
+Added to the natural interest in good things to eat and drink was that
+of witnessing the pony races. Each rancher would bring, casually, almost
+accidentally, as it were, one pony that represented its owner's idea of
+speed and quality. No set programme offered, which made the races all
+the more interesting in that they were genuine.
+
+The Oro Ranch had long ago established and proudly maintained a
+reputation for breeding the best saddle-and work-stock in Southern
+California. In fact, the ranch survived the competition of the
+automobile chiefly because it was the only important stock-raising ranch
+in the southland.
+
+Good feeling went even so far as to include the sheep-ranchers of the
+old Spanish Grant, by special invitation.
+
+It was the delight and pride of native Californians to ride their best
+saddle-horses on such occasions. True, motor-cars came from the city and
+from the farthest homes, but locally saddle-horses of all sizes and
+kinds were in evidence. Sleek bays with "Kentucky" written in every
+rippling muscle, single-footed in beside heavy mountain ponies, well
+boned, broad of knee, strong of flank, and docile; lean mustangs of the
+valley, short-coupled buckskins with the endurance of live rawhide;
+Mexican pintos, restless and gay in carved leather, and silver
+trappings; scrawny stolid cayuses that looked half-starved, but that
+could out-eat and out-last many a better-built horse; they all came, and
+their riders were immediately made welcome.
+
+Under the trees, along the corrals and fences, in and around the
+stables, stood the ponies, heads tossing, bits jingling, stamping,
+thoroughly alive to the importance of the festive occasion, and filling
+the eye with an unforgettable picture--a living vignette of the old days
+of the range and riata.
+
+Mrs. Stone, Mrs. Marshall, Louise, Dr. Marshall, and Walter Stone were
+among the earlier arrivals. A half-dozen men sprang to take their horses
+as they rode up, but Collie gathered the bridle-reins and led the ponies
+to the shade of the pepper trees. Then he wandered over to the corrals.
+His eyes glowed as he watched the sleek ponies dodging, wheeling,
+circling like a battalion, and led by a smooth-coated, copper-hued mare,
+young, lithe, straight-limbed, and as beautifully rounded as a Grecian
+bronze. He moistened his lips as he watched her. He pushed back his hat,
+felt for tobacco and papers, and rolled a cigarette. This was the
+renowned "Yuma colt," the outlaw. He wanted her. She was a horse in a
+thousand.
+
+In some strange way he was conscious that Louise stood beside him,
+before he turned and raised his sombrero.
+
+"More beautiful than strong men or beautiful women," said Louise.
+
+"That's so, Miss Louise. Because they just live natural and act natural.
+And that copper-colored mare,--she's only a colt yet,--there's a horse a
+man would be willing to work seven years for like the man in the Bible
+did for his wife."
+
+Louise smiled. "Would you work seven years for her?" she asked.
+
+"I would, if I had to," he said enthusiastically.
+
+"Of course, because you really love horses, don't you?"
+
+"Better than anything else. Of course, there are mean ones. But a real
+good horse comes close to making an ordinary man feel ashamed of
+himself. Why, see what a horse will do! He will go anywhere--work all
+day and all night if he has to--run till he breaks his heart to save a
+fellow's life, and always be a friend. A horse never acts like eight
+hours was his day's work. He is willing at any time and all the
+time--and self-respectin' and clean. I reckon a knowin' horse just plumb
+loves a man that is good to him."
+
+Louise, her gray eyes wide and pensive, gazed at the young cowboy. "How
+old is the colt?" she asked.
+
+"They say three years. But she's older than that in brains. She is
+leading older horses than her."
+
+"Then if you worked seven years for her, she would be ten years old
+before you owned her."
+
+"You caught me there. I didn't think of that."
+
+"Uncle Walter says she is outlaw. I believe she could be tamed. Boyar
+was pretty wild before he was broken to ride."
+
+"If you want that pony, Miss Louise, she's yours. I guess I could break
+her."
+
+"They won't sell her. No, I was only romancing. Isn't she beautiful! She
+seems to be almost listening to us. What a head and what a quick,
+intelligent eye! Oh, you wonderful horse!" And laughing, Louise threw a
+kiss to the Yuma colt. "I must go. I came over to see the horses before
+the crowd arrived."
+
+Collie stood hat in hand watching Louise as she strolled toward the
+ranch-house. He saw her stop and pat Boyar.
+
+"I kind of wish I was a horse myself," he said whimsically. "Either the
+black or the outlaw. She treats them both fine."
+
+Brand Williams, Bud Light, Parson Long, Billy Dime, and Miguel rode up,
+talking, joking, laughing.
+
+"Fall to the kid!" said Miguel, indicating Collie. "I guess I'm scalded
+if he ain't nailed to the fence. He's just eating his head off thinking
+about the Yuma horse he dassent ride. No? Eh, Collie?"
+
+"Hello, Miguel. Nope. I'm taking lessons in tendin' to my own
+business--like them." And Collie nodded toward the horses.
+
+"Ain't he purty?" said Billy Dime. "All fussed up and walkin' round like
+a new rooster introducin' hisself to a set of strange hens. Oh, pshaw!"
+
+"And you're making a noise like one of the hens trying to get the notice
+of the new rooster, I guess."
+
+"Well, seem' I got the notice, come on over and I'll show you where they
+keep the ice--with things on it," said Billy Dime.
+
+The Moonstone riders dismounted, slapped the dust from their shirts and
+trousers, and ambled over toward the refreshments.
+
+The little group, happy, talkative, pledged each other and the Moonstone
+Ranch generously.
+
+Brand Williams, close to Collie, nudged him. "If you are thinkin' of
+takin' a fall out of the outlaw cayuse, don't hit this stuff much," he
+said. And Collie nodded.
+
+The Moonstoners would one and all back Boyar for a place in the finals
+of the pony races, despite the Mexican "outfit" that already mingled
+with them making bets on their favorite pinto.
+
+"Who's ridin' Boyar?" queried Bud Light.
+
+"In the races? Why, Miguel here," said Williams, slapping the Mexican on
+the shoulder. "He don't weigh much, but he's some glue-on-a-sliver when
+it comes to racin' tricks. The other Mexicans are after our pesos this
+time. Last year we skinned 'em so bad with Boyar takin' first that some
+of 'em had to wait till dark to go home."
+
+Collie, listening, felt his heart pump faster. He turned away for an
+instant that his fellows might not see the disappointment in his face.
+He had hoped to ride Boyar to victory.
+
+"Miss Louise could get more out of Boyar in a race than even Miguel
+here," said Billy Dime.
+
+"I dunno," said Williams. "She give me orders that Miguel was to ride
+Boyar if they was any racin'."
+
+So Louise herself had chosen Miguel to ride the pony. Collie grew
+unreasonably jealous. Once more and again he pledged the Moonstone
+Rancho in a brimming cup. Then he wandered over to the Mexican ponies,
+inspecting them casually.
+
+A Mexican youth, handsome, dark, smiling, offered to bet with him on the
+result of the races. Collie declined, but gained his point. He learned
+the Mexican's choice for first place, a lean, wiry buckskin with a goat
+head and a wicked eye, but with wonderful flanks and withers. Collie
+meditated. As a result he placed something like fifty dollars in bets
+with various ranchers, naming the Mexican horse for first place. Word
+went round that the Moonstone Kid was betting against his own horse.
+
+Later Brand Williams accosted him. "What you fell up against?" he asked
+sternly. "What made you jar yourself loose like that?"
+
+"It's horses with me to-day--not home-sweet-home, Brand. Bet you a pair
+of specs--and you need 'em--to a bag of peanuts that the Chola cayuse
+runs first."
+
+"Your brains is afloat, son. You better cut out the booze."
+
+Unexpectedly Collie encountered Louise as he went to look after his own
+horses.
+
+"I hear that you intend to ride the outlaw Yuma. Is it so?"
+
+Collie nodded.
+
+"I had rather you didn't," said Louise.
+
+"Why?" asked Collie, tactlessly.
+
+Louise did not answer, and Collie strode off feeling angry with himself
+and more than ever determined to risk breaking his neck to win the
+outlaw.
+
+Boyar, the Moonstone pony, ran second in the finals. The buckskin of the
+Mexicans won first place. Collie collected his winnings indifferently.
+He grew ashamed of himself, realizing that a foolish and unwarrantable
+jealousy had led him into a species of disloyalty. He was a Moonstone
+rider. He had bet against the Moonstone pony, and _her_ pony. He was
+about to ask one of the other boys to see to the horses when a tumult in
+the corrals drew his attention. He strolled over to the crowd, finding a
+place for himself on the corral bars.
+
+Mat Gleason, superintendent of the Oro Ranch, loafed, his back against a
+post. Two men with ropes were following the roan pony round the corral.
+Presently a riata flipped out and fell. Inch by inch the outlaw was
+worked to the snubbing-post. One of the Oro riders seized the pony's ear
+in his teeth and, flinging his legs round her neck, hung, weighing her
+head down. There was the flash of teeth, a grunting tug at the cinchas,
+a cloud of dust, and Jasper Lane, foreman of the Oro outfit, was in the
+saddle. The cloud of dust, following the roan pony, grew denser. Above
+the dun cloud a sombrero swung to and fro fanning the outlaw's ears.
+Jasper Lane had essayed to ride the Yuma colt once before. His broken
+shoulder had set nicely, in fact, better than Bull O'Toole's leg which
+had been broken when the outlaw fell on him. Billy Squires, a young
+Montana puncher working for the Oro people, still carried his arm in a
+sling. All in all, the assembled company, as Brand Williams mildly put
+it, "were beginning to take notice of that copper-colored she-son of a
+cyclone."
+
+Jasper Lane plied spurs and quirt. The visiting cowmen shrilled their
+delight. The pony was broncho from the end of her long, switching tail
+to the tip of her pink muzzle.
+
+Following a quick tattoo of hoofs on the baked earth came a flash like
+the trout's leap for the fly--a curving plunge--the sound as of a
+breaking willow branch, and then palpitating silence.
+
+The dun cloud of dust settled, disclosing the foam-flecked,
+sweat-blackened colt, oddly beautiful in her poised immobility. Near her
+lay Jasper Lane, face downward. The pony sniffed at his crumpled
+sombrero.
+
+"That horse is plumb gentle," said Collie. "Look at her!"
+
+"Crazy with the heat," commented Billy Dime, jerking his thumb toward
+Collie.
+
+Tall, slim, slow of movement, Collie slipped from the corral bars and
+secured the dangling reins. Across the utter silence came the whistle of
+a viewless hawk. The cowmen awakened from their momentary apathy. Two of
+them carried Jasper Lane toward the ranch-house. Some one laughed.
+
+Gleason, the superintendent, gazed at the outlaw pony and fingered his
+belt. "That's the fourth!" he said slowly and distinctly. "She ain't
+worth it."
+
+"The fourth Oro rider," said a voice. "You ain't countin' any Moonstone
+riders."
+
+"Ain't seen any to count," retorted Gleason, and there was a general
+laugh.
+
+Strangely enough, the outlaw pony followed Collie quietly as he led her
+toward Gleason, "The boys say there's a bet up that nobody can stick on
+her two minutes. She's the bet. Is that right?" said Collie.
+
+"What you goin' to do?" queried Gleason, and some of the Oro boys
+laughed.
+
+"I don't know yet," said Collie. "Maybe I'll take her back to the
+Moonstone with me."
+
+Miguel of the Moonstone removed his sombrero and gravely passed it.
+"Flowers for the Collie kid," he said solemnly.
+
+Collie, grave, alert, a little white beneath his tan, called for
+Williams to hold the pony. Then the younger man, talking to her
+meanwhile, slipped off the bridle and adjusted a hackamore in its place.
+He tightened the cinchas. The men had ceased joking. Evidently the kid
+meant business. Next he removed his spurs and flung them, with his
+quirt, in a corner.
+
+"Just defending yourself, eh, Yuma girl?" he said. "They cut all the
+sense out of you with a horse-killin' bit and rip you with the spurs,
+and expect you to behave."
+
+"He'll be teachin' her to say her prayers next," observed Bud Light.
+"He's gettin' a spell on her now."
+
+"He'll need all _his_ for himself," said Pars Long.
+
+The pony, still nervously resenting the memory of the mouth-crushing
+spade-bit, and the tearing rowels, flinched and sidled away as Collie
+tried to mount. Her glossy ears were flattened and the rims of her eyes
+showed white.
+
+"Jump!" whispered Williams. "And don't rough her. Mebby you'll win out."
+
+And even as Collie's hand touched the saddle-horn, Williams sprang back
+and climbed the corral bars.
+
+With a leap the Moonstone rider was in the saddle. The pony shook her
+head as he reined her round toward the corral gate. The men stared.
+Gleason swore. Billy Dime began to croon a range ditty about "Picking
+little Posies on the Golden Shore." The roan's sleek, sweating sides
+quivered.
+
+"Here's where she goes to it," said Williams.
+
+"Whoop! Let 'er buck!" shouted the crowd.
+
+Rebellion swelled in the pony's rippling muscles. She waited, fore feet
+braced, for the first sting of the quirt, the first rip of the spurs, to
+turn herself into a hellish thing of plunging destruction.
+
+Collie, leaning forward, patted her neck. "Come on, sis. Come on, Yuma
+girl. You're just a little hummingbird. You ain't a real horse."
+
+With a leap the pony reared. Still there came no sting of spur or quirt.
+She dropped to her feet. Collie had cleverly consumed a minute of the
+allotted time.
+
+"One minute!" called Williams, holding the watch.
+
+"Why, that ain't ridin'," grumbled an Oro man.
+
+"See you later," said Williams, and several of his companions looked at
+him strangely. The foreman's eyes were fixed on the watch.
+
+Collie had also heard, and he dug his unspurred heels into the pony's
+sides. She leaped straight for the corral gate and freedom. With a
+patter of hoofs, stiff-legged, she jolted toward the plain. The men
+dropped from the bars and ran toward the gate, all, except Williams, who
+turned, blinking in the sun, his watch in his hand.
+
+A few short jumps, a fish-like swirl sideways, and still Collie held his
+seat. He eased the hackamore a little. He was breathing hard. The horse
+took up the slack with a vicious plunge, head downward. The boy's face
+grew white. He felt something warm trickling down his mouth and chin. He
+threw back his head and gripped with his knees.
+
+"They're off!" halloed a puncher.
+
+"Only one of 'em--so far," said Williams. "One minute and thirty
+seconds."
+
+Then, like a bolt of copper light, the pony shot forward at a run.
+
+On the ranch-house veranda sat Walter Stone conversing with his host,
+where several girls, bright-faced and gowned in cool white, were talking
+and laughing.
+
+The pony headed straight for the veranda. The laughing group jumped to
+their feet. Collie, using both hands, swung the hackamore across the
+outlaw's neck and tugged.
+
+She stopped with a jolt that all but unseated him. Walter Stone rose.
+"It's one of my boys," he said. And he noticed that a little stream of
+red was trickling from Collie's mouth and nostrils.
+
+His head was snapped back and then forward at every plunge. Still he
+gripped the saddle with rigid knees. The outlaw bucked again, and flung
+herself viciously sideways, turning completely round. Collie pitched
+drunkenly as the horse came down again and again. His eyes were blurred
+and his brain grew numb. Faintly he heard Brand Williams cry, "Two
+minutes! Moonstone wins!" Then came a cheer. His gripping knees relaxed.
+He reeled and all around him the air grew streaked with slivers of
+piercing fire. He pitched headforemost at the feet of the group on the
+veranda.
+
+In a flash Louise Lacharme was beside him, kneeling and supporting his
+head. "Water!" she cried, wiping his face with her handkerchief.
+
+Boot-heels gritted on the parched earth and spurs jingled as the men
+came running.
+
+The pony, with hackamore dangling, raced across the plain toward the
+hills.
+
+"This'll do jest as well," said Williams, pouring a mouthful of whiskey
+between Collie's lips. Then the taciturn foreman lifted the youth to his
+feet. Collie dragged along, stepping shakily. "Dam' little fool!" said
+Williams affectionately. "You ain't satisfied to get killed where you
+belong, but you got to go and splatter yourself all over the front yard
+in front of the ladies. You with your bloody nose and your face shot
+plumb full of gravel. If you knowed how you looked when she piled you--"
+
+"I know how she looked," said Collie. "That's good enough for me. Did I
+make it?"
+
+"The bronc' is yours," said Williams. "Bud and Miguel just rode out
+after her."
+
+Then Williams did an unaccountable thing. He hunted among the crowd till
+he found the man who had said, "Why, that ain't ridin'." He asked the
+man quietly if he had made such a remark. The other replied that he had.
+Then Williams promptly knocked him down, with all the wiry strength of
+his six feet of bone and muscle. "Take that home and look at it," he
+remarked, walking away.
+
+Through the dusk of the evening the Moonstone boys jingled homeward, the
+horses climbing the trail briskly. Two of them worked the outlaw up the
+hill, each with a rope on her and each exceedingly busy. Collie was too
+stiff and sore to help them.
+
+Miguel, hilarious in that he had ridden Boyar to second place, and so
+upheld the Moonstone honor, sang many strange and wonderful songs and
+baited Collie between-whiles. Proud of their companion's conquest of the
+outlaw colt, the Moonstone boys made light of it proportionately.
+
+"Did you see him reclinin' on that Yuma grasshopper," said Bud Light,
+"and pertendin' he was ridin' a hoss?"
+
+"And then," added Billy Dime, "he gets so het up and proud that he rides
+right over to the ladies, and 'flop' he goes like swattin' a frog with a
+shingle. He rides about five rods on the cayuse and then five more on
+his map. Collie's sure tough. How's your mug, kid?"
+
+"It never felt so bad as yours looks naturally," responded Collie,
+puffing at a cigarette with swollen lips. "But I ain't jealous."
+
+"Now, ain't you?" queried Williams, who had ridden silently beside him.
+"Well, now, I was plumb mistook! I kind of thought you was."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+SILENT SAUNDERS SPEAKS
+
+
+Meanwhile Collie kept a vigilant eye on Silent Saunders. The other,
+somewhat sullenly but efficiently, attended to his work. Collie's
+vigilance was rewarded unexpectedly and rather disagreeably.
+
+One day, as he stood stroking Black Boyar's neck, he happened to glance
+across the yard. Saunders was saddling one of the horses in the corral.
+Louise, astride Boyar, spoke to Collie of some detail of the ranch work,
+purposely prolonging the conversation. Something of the Collie of the
+Oro barbecue had vanished. In its stead was an inexplicable but positive
+quality of masterfulness, apparent in poise and manner.
+
+Louise, because she knew him so well, was puzzled and curious. She could
+not account for the change. She was frankly interested in him in spite
+of, or perhaps because of, his early misfortunes. Instinctively she felt
+that he had gained a moral confidence in himself. His physical
+excellence and ability had always been manifest. This morning, his
+grave, dark eyes, upturned to her face as he caressed Boyar, were
+disconcertingly straightforward. He seemed to be drinking his fill of
+her beauty. His quick smile, still boyish, and altogether irresistible,
+flashed as she spoke humorously of his conquest of the outlaw colt Yuma.
+
+"I learned more--ridin' that cayuse for two minutes--than I ever expect
+to learn again in that time."
+
+Remembering that she had been first to reach him when he was thrown, the
+fresh bloom of her cheeks deepened. Her eyelids drooped for an instant.
+"One can learn a great deal quickly, sometimes," she said. Then added,
+for he had smiled again,--"About horses."
+
+"And folks." He spoke quietly and lifted her gauntleted hand, touching
+it lightly with his lips. So swift, so unexpected had been his homage
+that she did not realize it until it was irrevocably paid.
+
+"Why, Collie!"
+
+"Because you wasn't ashamed to help a guy in front of the others."
+
+"Please don't say 'guy.' And why should I be ashamed to help any of our
+boys?" she said, laughing. She had quite recovered herself.
+
+"'Course you wouldn't be. But this is a kind of 'good-bye,' too. I was
+going to ask you to mail this letter to Overland Red. I told him in it
+that I was coming."
+
+"We are sorry that you are leaving," said Louise. "Uncle Walter said you
+had spoken to him."
+
+"It isn't the money. I could wait. But I don't feel like taking all that
+money and not doing anything for it. I guess Red needs me, too. Brand
+says I'm a fool to quit here now. Mebby I am. I like it here; the work
+and everything."
+
+Saunders, watching them, saw Collie give Louise a letter. He saw her
+tuck it in her waist and rein Boyar round toward the gate.
+
+As Collie came toward the corrals he noticed that Saunders had saddled
+the pinto Rally. He was a little surprised. Rally was Walter Stone's
+favorite saddle-horse and used by none but him. He knew his employer was
+absent. Perhaps Saunders had instructions to bring Rally to the station.
+
+Collie paid no further attention to Saunders until the latter came from
+his quarters with a coat and a blanket-roll which he tied to the saddle.
+Then Collie became interested. He left the road and climbed the hill
+back of the corrals. He watched Saunders astride the pinto as he opened
+the gate and spurred through without closing it. That was a little
+unusual.
+
+"I feel almost like taking a cayuse and following him," muttered Collie.
+"But, no. What for, anyway?"
+
+On a rise far below was Black Boyar, loping along easily. Collie saw him
+stop and turn into the Old Meadow Trail. He watched for Saunders to
+appear on the road below the ranch. Presently out from the shoulder of a
+hill leaped Rally. Saunders was plying quirt and spur. The pinto was
+doing his best.
+
+"Something's wrong. I'll just take a chance." And Collie ran to the
+corral and roped the Yuma colt. He saddled her, led her a few steps that
+she might become used to the feel of the cinchas, and then mounted. He
+turned the pony up the hill and sat watching the pinto on the road
+below. He saw Saunders draw rein and dismount, apparently searching the
+road for something. Then he saw him mount quickly and disappear on the
+Old Meadow Trail.
+
+Collie whirled the pony round and down the hill. Through the gateway he
+thundered. The steel-sinewed flanks stiffened and relaxed rhythmically
+as the hillside flew past. The Yuma colt, half-wild, ran with great
+leaps that ate into space. They swept through the first ford. A thin
+sheet of water spread on either side of them. The outlaw fought the curb
+all the way up the hill beyond. Pebbles clattered from her hoofs and
+spun skyward as she raced along the level of the hilltop.
+
+Down the next grade the pony swung, taking the turns with short leaps.
+On the crest Collie checked her. The road beyond, clear to the valley,
+was empty.
+
+He examined the tracks entering the Old Meadow Trail. He had not been
+mistaken. Saunders had ridden in. Mounting, Collie spurred through the
+greasewood, trusting to the pony's natural activity and sure-footedness.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Louise, sitting on the dream-rock in the old meadow, gazed out across
+the valley. Black Boyar stood near with trailing bridle-reins.
+
+Despite herself the girl kept recalling Collie's face as he had talked
+with her at the ranch. Admiration she had known before and many
+times--adoration never, until that morning.
+
+For a long time she dreamed. The shadows of the greasewood lengthened.
+The air grew cooler. Louise ended her soliloquy by saying aloud: "He's a
+nice boy, though. I do hope he will keep as he is."
+
+Boyar, lifting his head, nickered and was answered by Rally, entering
+the meadow. Silent Saunders rode up hurriedly.
+
+"Why, Saunders,--what is it? That's Rally! Were you going to meet Uncle
+Walter?"
+
+"No, Miss. I'm in a hurry. Just hand over that letter that young Collie
+give to you at the ranch. I want it. I mean business."
+
+"You want the letter? What do you mean? What right have you--"
+
+"No right. Only I want it. I don't want to make trouble."
+
+"You! A Western man, and speak that way to a woman! Saunders, I'm
+ashamed to think you ever worked for us."
+
+"Oh, I know you got nerve. But I'm in a hurry. Hand it over. Then you
+can call me anything you like."
+
+"I shall not hand it over."
+
+"All right. I got to have it."
+
+The girl, her gray eyes blazing with indignation, backed away as he
+strode toward her. "You'd dare, would you?" And as Saunders laughed she
+cut him across the face with her quirt.
+
+His face, streaked with the red welt of the rawhide, grew white as he
+controlled his anger. He leaped at her and had his hands on her when she
+struck him again with all her strength. He staggered back, his hand to
+his eyes.
+
+A wild rush of hoofs, a shock, a crash, and he was beneath the plunging
+feet of the Yuma colt. The pony flashed past, her head jerking up.
+Louise saw Collie leap to the ground and come running back.
+
+Saunders, rolling to his side, reached for his holster, when he saw that
+in Collie's hand which precluded further argument.
+
+"Don't get up!" said Collie quietly. "I never killed a man--but I'm
+going to, quick, if you lift a finger."
+
+Saunders kept still. Collie stepped round behind him. "Now, get up,
+slow," he commanded.
+
+When Saunders was on his feet, Collie reached forward and secured his
+gun.
+
+"I'll send your check to the store," said Louise, addressing Saunders.
+"I shall tell Mr. Stone that I discharged you. I don't believe I had
+better tell the men about this."
+
+"Beat it, Saunders," said Collie, laughing. "You are leaving here afoot,
+which suits me fine. Red would be plumb happy to know it."
+
+"Red's goin' to walk into my lead some of these days."
+
+"That's some day. This is to-day," said Collie.
+
+Saunders, turning, gazed covetously at the pinto Rally. Collie saw, and
+smiled. "I missed twice. The third trick is goin' to be mine. Don't you
+forget that, Mister Kid," said Saunders.
+
+"Oh, you here yet?" said Collie; and he was not a little gratified to
+notice that Saunders limped as he struck off down the trail.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+"LIKE SUNSHINE"
+
+
+Louise drew off her gauntlets and tossed them on the rock. Collie saw
+the print of Saunders's fingers on her wrist and forearm. "I ought to
+'a' made him kneel down and ask you to let him live!" he said.
+
+"I was afraid--at first. Then I was just angry. It was sickening to see
+the marks grow red and swell on his face. I hit him as hard as I could,
+but I'm not sorry."
+
+"Sorry?" growled Collie. "He takes your brand with him. He didn't get
+the letter. I got to thank you a whole lot for that."
+
+"But how did he know I had it? What did he want with the letter?"
+
+"He saw me give it to you. He's one of the bunch, the Mojave bunch
+that's been trailing Red all over the country. When Red disappeared up
+in those desert hills, I reckon Saunders must have got hold of a paper
+and read about the get-away here at the Moonstone. He just naturally
+came over here and got a job to see if he couldn't trace Red."
+
+"You are thinking of joining Mr. Summers at the claim?"
+
+"Yes. The Eastern folks are gone now. I hate to go. But I got to get
+busy and make some money. A fellow hasn't much of a show without money
+these days."
+
+Louise was silent. She sat gazing across the valley.
+
+Collie approached her hesitatingly. "I just got to say it--after all
+that's happened. Seems that I could, now."
+
+Louise paled and flushed. "Oh, Collie!" she cried entreatingly. "We have
+been such good friends. Please don't spoil it all!"
+
+"I know I am a fool," he said, "or I was going to be. But please to take
+Boyar and go. I'll bring Rally. I was wrong to think you would listen a
+little."
+
+But Louise remained sitting upon the rock as though she had not heard
+him. Slowly he stepped toward her, his spurs jingling musically. He
+caught up one of her gloves and turned it over and over in his fingers
+with a kind of clumsy reverence. "It's mighty little--and there's the
+shape of your hand in it, just like it bends when you hold the reins. It
+seems like a thing almost too good for me to touch, because it means
+_you_. I know you won't laugh at me, either."
+
+Louise turned toward him. "No. I understand," she said.
+
+"Here was where Red and I first saw you to know who you was. I used to
+hate folks that wore good clothes. I thought they was all the same, you
+and all that kind. But, no, it ain't so. You looked back once, when you
+were riding away from the jail that time. I was going to look for Red
+and not go to work at the Moonstone. I saw you look back. That settled
+it. I was proud to think you cared even anything for a tramp. I was
+mighty lonesome then. Since, I got to thinking I'd be somebody some day.
+But I can see where I stand. I'm a puncher, working for the Moonstone.
+You kind of liked me because I had hard luck when I was a kid. But that
+made me _love_ you. It ain't wrong, I guess, to love something you can't
+ever reach up to. It ain't wrong to keep on loving, only it's awful
+lonesome not to ever tell you about it."
+
+"I'm sorry, Collie," said Louise gently.
+
+"Please don't you be sorry. Why, I'm glad! Maybe you don't think it is
+the best thing in the world to love a girl. I ain't asking anything but
+to just go on loving you. Seems like a man wants the girl he loves to
+know it, even if that is just all. You said I love horses. I do. But
+loving you started me loving horses. Red said once that I was just
+living like what I thought you wanted me to be. Red's wise when he
+takes his time to it. But now I'm living the way I think I want to. I
+won't ask you to say you care. I guess you don't--that way. But if I
+ever get rich--then--"
+
+"Collie, you must not think I am different from any other girl. I'm just
+as selfish and stubborn as I can be. I almost feel ashamed to have you
+think of me as you do. Let's be sensible about it. You know I like you.
+I'm glad you care--for--what you think I am."
+
+"That's it. You are always so kind to a fellow that it makes me feel
+mean to speak like I have. You listened--and I am pretty glad of that."
+
+He turned and caught Boyar's bridle. Mounting he caught up Yuma and
+Rally. Slowly Collie and the girl rode the trail to the level of the
+summit. Slowly they dropped down the descent into Moonstone Cañon. The
+letter, Overland Red, Silent Saunders, were forgotten. Side by side
+plodded the pony Yuma and Black Boyar. Rally followed. The trees on the
+western edge of the cañon threw long, shadowy bars of dusk across the
+road. Quail called from the hillside. Other quail answered plaintively
+from a distance. Alternate warmth and coolness swam in the air and
+touched the riders' faces.
+
+At a bend in the road the ponies crowded together. Collie's hand
+accidentally brushed against the girl's and she drew away. He glanced
+up quickly. She was gazing straight ahead at the distant peaks. He felt
+strangely pleased that she had drawn away from him when his hand touched
+hers. Some instinct told him that their old friendship had given place
+to something else--something as yet too vague to describe. She was not
+angry with him, he knew. Her face was troubled. He gazed at her as they
+rode and his heart yearned for her tenderly. Life had suddenly assumed a
+tensity that silenced them. The little lizards of the stones scurried
+away from either side of the road. One after another, with sprightly
+steps, a covey of mountain quail crossed the road before them, leaving
+little starlike tracks in the dust. Though homeward bound the ponies
+plodded with lowered heads. Moonstone Cañon, always wonderful in its
+wild, rugged beauty, seemed as a place of dreams, only real as it echoed
+the tread of the ponies. The cañon stream chattered, murmured, quarreled
+round a rock-strewn bend, laughed at itself, and passed, singing a
+cool-voiced melody.
+
+They rode through a vale of enchantment, only known to Youth and Love.
+Her gray eyes were misty and troubled. His eyes were heavy with
+unuttered longing. His heart pounded until it almost choked him. He bit
+his lips that he might keep silent.
+
+The glint of the slanting sunlight on her hair, the turn of her wrist as
+she held the reins, her apparent unconsciousness of all outward things
+enthralled him. A spell hung round him like a mist, blinding and
+baffling all clearer thought. And because Louise knew his heart, knew
+that his homage was not of books, but of his very self, she lingered in
+the dream whose thread she might have snapped with a word, a gesture.
+
+Generously the girl blamed herself that she had been the one to cause
+him sorrow. She could not give herself to him, be his wife as she knew
+he wished her to be. Yet she liked him more than she cared to admit. He
+had fought for her once and taken his punishment with a grin. She felt
+joy in his homage, and yet she felt humility. In what way, she asked
+herself, was she better, cleaner of heart, kinder or cleverer than
+Collie? Why should people make distinctions as to birth, or breeding, or
+wealth, when character and physical excellence meant so much more?
+
+"Collie!" she whispered, and the touch of her fingers on his arm was as
+the touch of fire,--"Collie!"
+
+She drew one of her little gray gauntlets from her belt. "Here," she
+said, and the word was a caress.
+
+But he put the proffered token away from him with a trembling hand.
+"Don't!" he cried. "I tried not to want you! I did try! This
+morning--before I told you--I could have knelt and prayed to your glove.
+But now, Louise, Louise Lacharme, I can't. That glove would burn me and
+drive me wild to come back to you."
+
+"To come back to you ...?" The words sung themselves through her
+consciousness. "Come back to you...." He was going away. "You care so
+much?" she asked. There was a new light in her eyes. Her face was almost
+colorless. So she had looked when Saunders threatened her. She swayed in
+the saddle. Collie's arm was about her. She raised one arm and flung it
+round his neck, drawing his face down to her trembling lips. Then she
+drew away, her face burning.
+
+Across the end of the cañon a vagrant sunbeam ran like a bridge of faëry
+gold. It pelted the gray wall with a million particles of mellow fire.
+It flickered, flashed anew, and faded. The ponies drew apart. The colt
+Yuma grew restless.
+
+"Good-bye," murmured Louise.
+
+"Like the sunshine," he said, pointing to the cliff.
+
+"It is gone," she whispered, shivering a little as the shadows drew
+down.
+
+"It will shine again," he said, smiling.
+
+Without a word she touched Black Boyar with the spurs. A stone clattered
+down as he leaped forward, and she was gone.
+
+Collie curbed the colt Yuma, who would have followed. "No, little
+hummingbird," he said whimsically. "We aren't so used to heaven that we
+can ride out of it quite so fast."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Next morning, with blanket and slicker rolled behind his saddle, he rode
+down the Moonstone Cañon Trail. At the foot of the range he turned
+eastward, a new world before him. The far hills, hiding the desert
+beyond, bulked large and mysterious.
+
+Louise had not been present when he bade good-bye to his Moonstone
+friends.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS
+
+
+The afternoon of the third day out from the Moonstone Ranch, Collie
+picketed the roan pony Yuma near a water-hole in the desert. He spread
+his saddle-blankets, rolled a cigarette, and smoked. Presently he rose
+and took some food from a saddle-pocket.
+
+The pony, unused to the desert, fretted and sniffed at the sagebrush
+with evident disgust. Collie had given her water, but there was no
+grazing.
+
+After he had eaten he studied the rough map that Overland had given him.
+There, to the south, was the desert town. He had passed that, as
+directed, skirting it widely. There to the east were the hills.
+Somewhere behind them was the hidden cañon and Overland Red.
+
+Stiff and tired from his long ride, he stretched himself for a short
+rest. He dozed. Something touched his foot. It was the riata with which
+he had picketed the pony. He meant to travel again that night. He would
+sleep a little while. The horse, circling the picket, would be sure to
+awaken him again.
+
+He slept heavily. The Yuma colt stood with rounded nostrils sniffing the
+night air. The pony faced in the direction of the distant town. She knew
+that another horse and rider were coming toward her through the
+darkness. They were far off, but coming.
+
+For a long time she stood stamping impatiently at intervals. Finally she
+grew restive. The oncoming horse had stopped. That other animal, the
+man, had dismounted and was coming toward her on foot. She could not see
+through the starlit blanket of night, but she knew.
+
+The man-thing drew a little nearer. The pony swerved as if about to run,
+but hesitated, ears flattened, curious, half-belligerent.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+That afternoon Silent Saunders, riding along the border of the desert
+town, had seen a strange horse and rider far out--away from the road and
+evidently heading for the water-hole. Saunders rode into town, borrowed
+a pair of field-glasses, and rode out again. He at once recognized the
+roan pony as the Oro outlaw, but the rider? He was not so sure. He would
+investigate.
+
+The fact that he saw no glimmer of fire as he now approached the
+water-hole made him doubly cautious. Nearer, he crouched behind a bush.
+He threw a pebble at the pony. She circled the picket, awakening Collie,
+who spoke to her sleepily. Saunders crept back toward his horse. He
+knew _that_ voice. He would track the young rider to the range and
+beyond--to the gold. He rode back to town through the night, entered the
+saloon, and beckoned to a belated lounger.
+
+Shivering in the morning starlight, Collie arose and saddled the pony.
+He rode in the general direction of the range. The blurred shadow of the
+foothills seemed stationary. His horse was not moving forward--simply
+walking a gigantic treadmill of black space that revolved beneath him.
+The hills drew no nearer than did the constellations above them.
+
+Suddenly the shadows of the hills pushed back. Almost instantly he faced
+the quick rise of the range. Out of the silence came the slithering step
+of some one walking in the sand. The darkness seemed to expand.
+
+Overland Red stood before him, silent, alert, anxious. "You, Chico?" he
+asked.
+
+"Sure. Hello, Red."
+
+"Anybody see you come across yesterday?"
+
+"Not that I know of. I kept away from the town."
+
+"Your hoss shod?"
+
+"Yes. All around. Why?"
+
+"Nothin'. I'm sufferin' glad to see you again. When we get on top of the
+hills, you take the left trail and keep on down. You can't miss the
+cañon. I'll leave you here. I got to stay here a spell to see that
+nothin' else comes up but the sun this mornin'."
+
+"All right, Red. Your pardner down there?"
+
+"Yep. Whistle when you get up to the meadow in the cañon. Billy'll be
+lookin' for you."
+
+"Any trouble lately?"
+
+"Nope. But Billy's got a hunch, though. He says he feels it in the air."
+
+At the crest Collie rode on down the winding trail, or rather way, for
+no regular trail existed. At the foot of the range he turned to the
+right and entered the narrow cañon, following the stream until he came
+to the meadow, where he picketed the pony.
+
+He continued on up the cañon on foot. When he arrived at the camp,
+Overland was there waiting. Winthrop and he greeted Collie cordially.
+"Short cut," explained Overland, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.
+"No hoss trail, though. Too steep."
+
+Faint dawn lights were shifting along the cañon walls as they had
+breakfast. As the morning sunlight spread to their camp Collie's natural
+curiosity in regard to Overland's pardner was satisfied. He saw a
+straight, slender figure, in flannel shirt and khaki. The gray eyes were
+peculiarly keen and humorous. Winthrop was not a little like his sister
+Anne in poise and coloring. The hands were nervously slender and
+aristocratic, albeit roughened and scarred by toil. There was a
+suggestion of dash and go about Winthrop that appealed to Collie. Even
+in repose the Easterner seemed to be alert. Undoubtedly he would make a
+good companion in any circumstance.
+
+"There's spare blankets in the tent. Roll in for a snooze, Collie. Billy
+and me'll pack your saddle and stuff up here later."
+
+"I guess I will. You might sponge Yuma's back a little, Red. She's
+brought me close to two hundred miles in the last three days."
+
+"Sure, Bo! I'll brush her teeth and manicure her toe-nails if you say
+the word. I guess that hoss has kind of made a hit with you."
+
+Collie yawned. "Mebby. But it isn't in it with the hit she'll make with
+you if you try to take up her feet. She's half-sister to a shot of
+dynamite. I'm only telling you so she won't kick your fool head off."
+
+"You talk like most a full-size man," said Overland.
+
+Down at the meadow, Overland looked at the colt and shook his head. "He
+is correct," he said succinctly. "That hoss don't welcome handlin' worth
+a bean."
+
+Winthrop's silence rather stirred Overland's sensitive pride in his
+horsemanship. "'Course I broke and rode hundreds like her, down in Mex.
+But then I was paid for doin' it. It was my business then. Now, minin'
+and educatin' Collie is my business, and a busted neck wouldn't help
+any."
+
+Winthrop realized for the first time that Overland's supreme interest in
+life was Collie's welfare. Heretofore the paternal note had not been
+evident. Winthrop had imagined them chums, friends, tramps together.
+They were more than that. Overland considered Collie an adopted son.
+
+The Easterner glanced at Overland's broad shoulders stooped beneath the
+weight of the heavy stock saddle. Something in the man's humorous
+simplicity, his entire willingness to serve those whom he liked and his
+stiff indifference to all others, appealed to Winthrop. So this flotsam
+of the range, this erstwhile tramp, this paradox of coarseness and
+sentiment, had an object in life? A laudable object: that of serving
+with his sincerest effort the boy friend he had picked up on the desert,
+a castaway.
+
+As they toiled up the stream toward the camp, Winthrop recalled their
+former chats by the night-fire. Now he began to see the drift of
+Overland's then frequent references to Collie. And there was a
+girl,--mentioned by Overland almost reverently,--the Rose Girl, Louise
+Lacharme, of whom Anne Marshall had written much in eulogy to him. And
+Winthrop himself?
+
+His swift introspection left him aware that of them all he alone seemed
+to lack a definite aim. Making money--mining--was still to him a game,
+interesting and healthful, but play. To Overland it was life. Winthrop
+saw himself as he was. His improved health scoffed at the idea of
+becoming sentimental about it. He laughed, and Overland, turning,
+regarded him with bushy, interrogative brows.
+
+"Nothing," said Winthrop.
+
+"Ain't you feelin' good lately, Billy?"
+
+"I'm all right."
+
+"Glad of that. It's good to forget you got such a thing as health if you
+want to keep it. If you get to lookin' for it, like as not you'll find
+it's gone."
+
+"I'm looking for something entirely different. Something you
+have--something that I never possessed."
+
+"I don't know anything I got that you haven't 'less it's that new
+Stetson I got in Los. You can have her, Billy, and welcome. Your lid
+_is_ gettin' on the bum."
+
+"Not that," laughed Winthrop. "Something you keep under it."
+
+"'T ain't me hair. I'm plumb sure of that."
+
+"No."
+
+"Mebby you're jealous of some of me highbrow ideas?"
+
+"Add an 'l' and you have it."
+
+"I-d-e-a-l-s. Oh, ideals, eh? Never owned none except that little
+electric do-diddle-um of the Guzzuh what makes the spark to keep the
+machinery goin'. That's called the 'Ideal.'"
+
+"The spark to keep the machinery going--that's it," said Winthrop.
+
+At the camp he prepared to make his trip to the Moonstone Ranch. He read
+his sister's letter over and over again. Finally he sauntered up the
+cañon to where Overland was at work. "I'll lend a hand," he said, in
+answer to Overland's questioning face. "I don't believe I'll go before
+to-morrow night. It is hardly right to leave the minute my new pardner
+arrives. I want to talk with him."
+
+Overland nodded. "Guess you're right. It won't hurt to keep in the
+shadow of the hills for a day or two. Can't tell who might 'a' spotted
+Collie ridin' out this way."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+That afternoon, toward evening, Collie arose, refreshed, and eager to
+inspect the claim. He could hear the faint click of pick and shovel up
+the cañon. He stretched himself, drank from the stream, and sauntered
+toward the meadow. He would see to his pony first.
+
+He found the horse had been picketed afresh by Overland when he had come
+for the saddle. He was returning toward camp when he heard a slight
+noise behind him--the noise a man's boot makes stepping on a pebble that
+turns beneath his weight.
+
+Collie wheeled quickly, saw nothing unusual, and turned again toward the
+camp. Then he hesitated. He would look down the cañon. He realized that
+he was unarmed. Then he grew ashamed of his hesitancy. He picked his way
+down the stream. A buzzard circled far above the cliffs. The air hummed
+with invisible bees in the rank wild clover. He peered past the next
+bend. A short distance below stood a riderless horse. The bridle was
+trailing. For an instant Collie did not realize the significance of the
+animal waiting patiently for its rider. Then, like the flash of a
+speeding film, he saw it all--his pony's tracks up the cañon--the rider
+who had undoubtedly seen him crossing to the water-hole, and who had
+waited until daylight to follow the tracks; who had dismounted, and was
+probably in ambush watching him. He summoned all his reserve courage.
+Turning away, he remarked, distinctly, naturally, casually, "Thought I
+heard something. Must have been the water."
+
+He walked slowly back to the notch in the cañon walls. Stepping through
+it, he continued on up the stream. A few paces beyond the notch, and a
+face appeared in the cleft rock, watching him. The watcher seemed in
+doubt. Collie's action had been natural enough. Had he seen the horse?
+The hidden face grew crafty. The eyes grew cold. The watcher tapped the
+side of the cliff with his revolver butt. The noise was slight, but in
+that place of sensitive echoes, loud enough to be heard a long way up
+the cañon. Then it was that Collie made a courageous but terrible
+mistake. He heard the sound, and seemed to realize that it was made
+intentionally--to attract his attention. Yet he was not sure. He kept
+on, ignoring the sound. Had he not suspected some one was in the cañon,
+to have glanced back would have been the most natural thing in the
+world. The watcher realized this. He knew that the other had heard
+him--suspected his presence, and was making a daring bluff.
+
+"Got to stop that," muttered the watcher, and he raised his hand.
+
+The imprisoned report rolled and reëchoed like mountain thunder. Collie
+threw up his arms and lurched forward.
+
+Below in the cañon clattered the hoofs of the speeding horse. The rider,
+still holding his six-gun, muzzle up, glanced back. "I didn't care
+partic'lar about gettin' _him_, but gettin' the kid hits the red-head
+between the eyes. I guess I'm about even now." And Silent Saunders
+holstered his gun, swung out of the cañon, and spurred down the
+mountain, not toward the desert town, but toward Gophertown, some thirty
+miles to the north. He had found the claim. The desert town folk he had
+used to good advantage. They had paid his expenses while he trailed
+Overland and Collie. They had even guaranteed him protection from the
+law--such as it was on the Mojave. He had every reason to be grateful to
+them, but he was just a step or two above them in criminal artistry. He
+had been a "killer." Like the lone wolf that calls the pack to the hunt,
+he turned instinctively to Gophertown, a settlement in the hills not
+unknown to a few of the authorities, but unmolested by them. The
+atmosphere of Gophertown was not conducive to long life.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+SPECIAL
+
+
+Overland, leaning on his shovel, drew his sleeve across his forehead.
+"Reckon I'll go down and wake Collie. He'll sleep his head off and feel
+worse 'n thunder."
+
+"I'll go," said Winthrop, throwing aside a pan of dirt with a fine
+disregard of its eventual value. "I want some tobacco, anyway."
+
+"Fetch a couple of sticks of dynamite along, Billy. I'll put in one more
+shot for to-night."
+
+A distant, reverberating report caused the two men to jerk into
+attitudes of tense surprise.
+
+"What the hell!" exclaimed Overland, running toward the tent. "That
+wasn't the kid. Collie's only packin' a automatic, and here it is."
+
+He stopped in the tent-door, grabbed up the gun and belt, and ran down
+the cañon, Winthrop following breathlessly. Near the notch he paused,
+motioning Winthrop to one side. "Mebby it was to draw us on. You keep
+there, Billy. I'll poke ahead."
+
+But Overland did not go far. He almost stumbled over the prone figure of
+Collie. With a cry he tore his handkerchief from his throat and plugged
+the wound. "Clean through," he said, getting to his feet. "Get the
+whiskey."
+
+"Shan't I help you carry him?" queried Winthrop.
+
+Overland shook his head. "Get the whiskey and get a fire goin'. I'll
+bring him."
+
+"Will he--live?" asked Winthrop, hesitating.
+
+"I reckon not, Billy. He was plugged from behind--close--and clean
+through. Here's the slug."
+
+Then Overland picked up the limp form. So this was the end of all his
+planning and his toil? He cursed himself for having urged Collie to come
+to the desert. He strode carefully, bent with the weight of that
+shattered body. He felt that he had lost more than the visible Collie;
+that he had lost the inspiration, the ideal, the grip on hope that had
+held him toward the goal of good endeavor. His old-time recklessness
+swept down upon him like the tides, submerging his better self. Yet he
+held steadily to one idea. He would do all that he could to save
+Collie's life. Failing in that ... there would be a red reckoning. After
+that he would not care what came.
+
+Already he had planned to send Winthrop, in his big car, for a doctor.
+The car was at the desert town, where a liveryman accepted a royal
+monthly toll in advance to care for it.
+
+At the tent Overland laid Collie on the blankets, bathed and bandaged
+the wound, and watched his low pulse quicken to the stimulant that he
+gave him in small doses.
+
+"It's the shock as much as the wound," said Overland. "He got it close,
+and from behind--_from behind_ do you hear?"
+
+Winthrop, startled by the other's intensity, stammered: "What shall I
+do? What shall I do?"
+
+Overland bit his nails and scowled. "You will ride to town. Collie's
+hoss is here. Take the Guzzuh and burn the road for Los and get a
+doctor. Not a pill doctor, but a knife man. Bring the car clean back
+here to the range. To hell with the chances."
+
+Winthrop slipped into his coat and filled a canteen.
+
+"If that horse throws me--" he began.
+
+"You got to ride. You _got_ to, understand? I dassent leave him."
+
+Down in the meadow Overland saddled the pony Yuma. He mounted and she
+had her "spell" of bucking. "Now, take her and ride," said Overland.
+"After you hit the level, let her out and hang on. If any one tries to
+stick you up this time--why, jest nacherally _plug_ 'em. Sabe?"
+
+Winthrop nodded.
+
+Two hours later a wild-eyed, sweating pony tore through the desert town
+at a run. Her rider slid to the ground as the liveryman grabbed the
+pony's bridle.
+
+"Take--care--of her," gasped Winthrop. "I want--the machine."
+
+"Anybody hurt?"
+
+"Yes. Who did that?"
+
+Winthrop stood with mouth open and eyes staring. The tires of the big
+machine were flat.
+
+"I dunno. I watched her every day. I sleep here nights. Las' Sunday I
+was over to Daggett."
+
+"And left no one in charge?"
+
+"The boy was here."
+
+"Well--the job is done. Take care of the horse. I'll be back in a
+minute."
+
+At the station Winthrop wired for a special car and engine. He gave his
+check for the amount necessary and went back to the stable. He was
+working at the damaged tires when the agent appeared. "Special's at the
+Junction now. Be here in five minutes."
+
+Winthrop climbed to the engine-cab. "I'll give you ten dollars for every
+minute you cut from the regular passenger schedule," he said.
+
+The engineer nodded. "Get back on the plush and hang on," was his brief
+acknowledgment.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was dark when the surgeon, drying his hands, came from the cañon
+stream to the tent. "That's about all I can do now," he said, slipping
+into his coat.
+
+Overland, who was sitting on a box beside the tent, stood up and
+stretched himself. "Is he goin' to make it?" he asked.
+
+"I can't say. He is young, in good condition, and strong. If you will
+get me some blankets, I'll turn in. Call me in about two hours."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+THE RIDERS
+
+
+Several days passed before the surgeon would express a definite opinion.
+
+Collie lay, hollow-cheeked and ghastly, in the dim interior of the tent.
+His eyes were wide and fixed. Overland came in. Collie recognized him
+and tried to smile. Overland backed out of the tent and strode away
+growling. The tears were running down his unshaven cheeks. He did not
+return until later in the day. Then he asked the surgeon that
+oft-repeated question.
+
+"I don't see how he can recover," said the surgeon quietly. "Of course
+there's a slim chance. Don't build on it, though."
+
+"If there's a chance, I reckon he will freeze to it," said Overland.
+"From what he was ramblin' about when he was off his head, I reckon he's
+got somethin' more to live for than just himself."
+
+"Has he any relatives?" queried the surgeon.
+
+"Nope. Except me. But he was expectin' to have, I guess. And I tell you
+what, Doc, she's worth gettin' shot up for."
+
+"Too bad! Too bad," muttered the surgeon.
+
+"What's too bad, eh?"
+
+The other shook his head. "If there is any one that he would care to
+see, or that would care to see him, you had better write at once."
+
+Overland was stunned. The doctor's word had been given at last, and it
+was not a word of hope.
+
+Overland Red bowed to the doctor's opinion, but his heart was
+unconquerable. He wrote a long letter to his old-time friend, Brand
+Williams, of the Moonstone Ranch. The letter was curiously worded. It
+did not mention Louise Lacharme, nor Mrs. Stone, nor the rancher. It
+was, in the main, about Mexico and the "old days"; no hint of Collie's
+accident was in the page until the very end. The letter concluded with
+"But you needn't think you owe me anything for that. I was glad to put
+him to the hush because we was pals them days. Collie was shot by
+Saunders. The doctor says he will die most likely. He was shot in the
+back. It would go bad with Saunders if the Moonstone boys ever heard of
+this."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The letter dispatched by Winthrop, Overland Red took courage. He felt
+that he himself was holding Collie's life from sinking. His huge
+optimism would not admit that his friend _could_ die.
+
+He was leaning back against a rock near the notch and gazing at the
+slanting moonlight that spread across the somber canyon walls. A week
+had gone since he mailed his letter to Brand Williams, of the
+Moonstone, and Collie was still alive. Overland shifted his position,
+standing beside him the Winchester that had lain across his knees, and
+pulling his sombrero over his eyes. The notch made an excellent
+background for an object over the sights of a rifle, even at night, so
+long as the moon shone. Gophertown riders would never venture that far
+up the cañon with horses. They would tether their ponies at the entrance
+and come afoot and under cover. Still, they would have to pass the notch
+in any event.
+
+Thus it was that when, some few minutes later, Overland heard the faint
+jingle of rein-chains, he grinned. It was celestial music to him.
+
+The sound came again, nearer the notch, and clearer. He remained
+motionless gazing at the shadowy opening.
+
+Slowly a shaft of moonlight drew down toward the notch, silvering its
+ragged edges. Lower the light slid until it revealed the opening and in
+it the figure of a horseman. In the white light Overland could see the
+quirt dangling from the other's wrist. The horseman's wide belt
+glittered.
+
+"Brand!" called Overland Red softly. The opposite wall took up the name
+hesitatingly and tossed it back.
+
+"Brand!" whispered the echoes that drifted to the darkened corners of
+the cliff and were lost in voiceless murmurings.
+
+"Brand your own stock," came the answer, low and distinct.
+
+Overland laughed. It was their old-time pun upon the foreman's name. He
+got to his feet and approached. "It does me good," he said, extending
+his hand.
+
+"How is Collie?" asked Williams, dismounting.
+
+Overland heaved great sigh. "He's floatin' somewhere between here and
+the far shore. Mebby he's tryin' to pull through. The doc says the kid
+don't seem to care whether he does or not. Did--the little Rose
+Girl--tell you anything to--to say to him?"
+
+"When I was leavin' she come out to the gate," said Williams. "She
+didn't say much. She only hands me this, and kind of whispered, 'Give
+him this. He will understand.'"
+
+And Williams drew a small gray gauntlet from his shirt. Overland took
+the glove and tucked it in his pocket.
+
+"Anything doing?" asked Williams.
+
+"Nope. They're overdue to jump us if shootin' Collie was any sign."
+
+"Like old times," said Williams.
+
+"Like old times," echoed Overland. "No trouble findin' your way across?"
+
+"Easy. Followed them automobile tracks clear to the range. We fed up at
+the town. The boys gets kind of restless--"
+
+"Boys? Ain't you alone?"
+
+"Hell, no!" replied Williams disgustedly. "I wish I was! I got four
+pigeon-toed, bow-legged, bat-eared Moonstoners down in that meadow, just
+itchin' mad to cut loose. And they ain't sayin' a word, which is
+suspicious. Worryin' across the old dry spot the last three days has
+kind of het 'em up. And then hearin' about Collie...."
+
+"How'd you come to have so much comp'ny?" queried Overland.
+
+"I was plumb fool enough to read that letter of yours to 'em. They all
+like Collie first-rate. Better than I calculated on. The boss talked
+turkey to 'em, but he had to let 'em come. He did everything he could to
+hold 'em, knowin' what was in the wind."
+
+"And they quit?"
+
+"Quit? Every red-eyed bat of 'em. Bud and Pars and Billy and Miguel.
+Told the boss they quit, because me bein' foreman they would do as I
+says, but if they quit I wasn't their foreman any longer, and they would
+do as they dum please. They had the nerve to tell me that I could come
+along if I was wishful."
+
+"Kind of bad for Stone, eh?"
+
+"The Price boys are holdin' down the ranch. You see, Jack, it hit us
+kind of hard, Collie ridin' away one mornin', and next thing your
+letter that he was down and pretty nigh out. The boys didn't just like
+that."
+
+Overland nodded. "Well, Brand, I guess I'll step down and look 'em
+over."
+
+"Only one thing, Jack. I feel kind of responsible for them boys, even if
+I ain't their foreman just now. Don't you go to spielin' to 'em and get
+'em thinkin' foolish. They're about ready to shoot up a town, if
+necessary."
+
+"Been hittin' the booze any?"
+
+"Some. But not bad."
+
+"All right. I don't want to say only 'How!' and thank 'em for Collie. If
+I say more than three words after that, you can have my hat."
+
+"It don't take three words, sometimes," said Williams, somewhat
+ambiguously.
+
+"Leave it to me," said Overland, still more ambiguously.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ringed round their little fire in the meadow sat or lay the Moonstone
+riders. While crossing the desert Williams had sketched a few of the red
+episodes in Overland's early career. These pleased the riders mightily.
+They were anxious to meet Red Jack Summers. When Williams did introduce
+him, they were rather silent, asking after Collie in monosyllables. They
+seemed strangely reticent.
+
+Both Williams and Overland felt an inexplicable tensity in the
+situation.
+
+Miguel, the young Mexican vaquero, broke silence. "How long you call it
+to this Gophertown place, I think?"
+
+"Thirty miles," said Overland.
+
+"Walkin' backwards--like Miguel's talk," said Billy Dime.
+
+"That's easy," said Bud Light.
+
+"What's easy?" questioned Williams.
+
+"Walkin' backwards," replied the facetious Bud.
+
+"If you don't step on your neck," said Pars Long.
+
+"I'm gettin' cold feet," asserted Bud Light after a silence.
+
+"That disease is ketchin'," said Billy Dime.
+
+"I know it. I been sleepin' next to you," retorted Bud.
+
+Brand Williams glanced across the fire at Overland, who smiled
+inscrutably. The undercurrent was unfathomable to Williams, though he
+guessed its main drift.
+
+Suddenly Pars Long glanced at the foreman. "Brand," he said quietly, "we
+expect you didn't read all of that letter from your friend here. You
+said Collie was shot. You didn't say how, which ain't natural. We been
+talkin' about it. Where was he hit?"
+
+Overland saw his chance and grasped it with both hands. "In the back,"
+he said slowly, and with great intensity.
+
+Followed a silence in which the stamping of the tethered horses and the
+whisper of the fire were the only sounds.
+
+Presently Miguel ran his fingers through his glossy black hair. "In the
+back!" he exclaimed. "And you needn't to tell that he was run away,
+neither."
+
+"In the back?" echoed Billy Dime.
+
+Overland and Williams exchanged glances. "You done it now," said
+Williams.
+
+"'Cordin' to agreement," said Overland.
+
+"Make it a wireless," said Billy Dime. "We ain't listenin', anyhow."
+
+"Only thirty miles. What do you say, Brand?"
+
+"Nothin'."
+
+"_As_ usual," ejaculated Dime.
+
+"I say about three to-morrow morning," ventured Pars Long. "Light will
+be good about nine. We can do the thirty by nine. A fella would be able
+to ride round town then without fallin' over anything."
+
+"What you fellas gettin' at?" queried Williams.
+
+"Gophertown," replied Dime. "You want to come along?"
+
+"Is it settled?" asked the foreman.
+
+The group nodded.
+
+"Well, boys, it would 'a' been _my_ way of evenin' up for a pal."
+
+"Then you're comin', too?"
+
+"Do you think I'm packin' these here two guns and this belt jest to
+reduce my shape?" queried Williams in a rather hurt tone.
+
+"Whoop-ee for Brand!" they chorused, and the tethered ponies shied and
+circled.
+
+"I never rode out _lookin'_ for trouble," said Williams. "And I never
+shied from lookin' _at_ it when it come my way."
+
+"Who said anything about trouble?" queried Billy Dime innocently. "I'm
+_dry_. I want a _drink_. I'm goin' over to Gophertown to get it. I'll
+treat the bunch."
+
+"Which bunch?"
+
+"Any and all--come stand up and down it."
+
+"We'll be there when you call our numbers, sister. You comin'?" asked
+Pars Long, nodding toward Overland.
+
+"Me? Nope.... I'm goin'. I'm goin' to ask you boys to kindly allow me
+the privilege of gettin' my drink first and by my lonesome. There will
+be a gent there with sore eyes. He got sore eyes waitin' and watchin'
+for me to call. I expect to cure him of his eye trouble. After that you
+will be as welcome as Mary's little lamb--fried."
+
+"Bur-rie me not on the lo-o-ne prai-ree," sang Bud Light.
+
+"Not while you got the fastest hoss in the outfit," said Williams.
+
+"Collie's hoss is here," said Overland. "I'm ridin' her this trip. I
+kind of like the idea of usin' his hoss on this here errand of mercy."
+
+"Three--to-morrow mornin'!" called Billy Dime, as Overland disappeared
+in the shadows.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brand Williams, the taciturn, the silent, stepped from the fire and
+strode across the meadow. He paused opposite the Yuma colt and gazed at
+her in the moonlight. He jerked up his chin and laughed noiselessly.
+"Two-gun Jack Summers on that red Yuma hoss, ridin' into Gophertown with
+both hands filled and lookin' for trouble.... God! He was bad enough
+when he was dodgin' trouble. Well, I'm glad I'm livin' to see it. I was
+commencin' to think they wasn't any more _men_ left in the country. I'm
+forty-seven year old. To-morrow I'll be twenty again ... or nothin'."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+GOPHERTOWN
+
+
+Some towns "nestle" on the plain. Others, more aspiring, "roost" in the
+hills. Gophertown squatted on the desert at the very edge of a range of
+barren foothills. Its principal street was not much more than a
+bridle-trail that led past eleven ramshackle cabins, derelicts of the
+old mining days when Gophertown knew gold.
+
+The population of Gophertown was of an itinerant order. This was not
+always due to internecine disputes. Frequently a citizen became overbold
+and visited his old haunts instead of remaining safely, even if
+monotonously, at home. Train robbery was a sure passport to Gophertown's
+protection. Man-killing lent an added distinction to an applicant for
+hurried admission. Cattle-and horse-thieving were mere industries not to
+be confounded with these higher professions.
+
+Overland Red had once wintered in Gophertown. Immediately previous to
+his arrival in Gophertown he had been obliged to maintain, in an
+unofficial capacity, his former prestige as sheriff of Abilene. The town
+of Abilene had sympathized with him heartily, but had advised him to
+absent himself indefinitely and within the hour.
+
+The general store and saloon of the old mining camp still stood at the
+corner of the town facing the desert. A bleached and faded sign once
+read, "Palace Emporium." The letters now seemed to be shrinking from
+public gaze--vanishing into the wood as though ashamed of themselves.
+The wording of the sign had been frequently and indifferently
+punctuated. Each succeeding marksman had exploded his own theory, and
+passed on.
+
+Liquor was still to be obtained at the general store. Provisions were
+occasionally teamed in and were made up of peculiarly conglomerate lots.
+There were no women in Gophertown. There was little local gossip. There
+was no regular watch kept on the outlands. Gophertown felt secure in
+itself. Each man was his own argus. He was expected to know his enemies
+by instinct. He was expected, as a usual thing, to settle his disputes
+single-handed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Silent Saunders was in the general store and saloon. He was disgusted in
+that he had been unable to induce the citizens to ride out with him and
+clean up Overland Red's claim. Overland had once been of them, even if
+briefly. He had been popular, especially as he was then the quickest
+man with a gun they had ever honored with their patronage. Also, the
+Gophertown folk had recently received a warning letter from the
+superintendent of a transcontinental railroad. They were not interested
+in Saunders's proposal.
+
+Saunders, coming from the saloon, was not a little surprised to see a
+band of horsemen far out on the desert. He felt that their presence in
+his vicinity had something to do with himself. He counted the horses.
+There were six of them. He knew instantly that the riders were cowmen,
+although he could not distinguish one from another. He beckoned to the
+saloon-keeper.
+
+"We could 'a' stopped that," he said, pointing toward the desert.
+
+"Big bunch. One--two--three--six of 'em. _Big_ bunch to come visitin'
+here."
+
+Saunders gestured toward the cañon behind Gophertown.
+
+The saloon-keeper shook his head. "Don't think most of our boys will be
+back this week. Brandin' that bunch of new stock. Takes time to do it
+right."
+
+"Well, here comes Parks and Santa Fé Smith," said Saunders. "That makes
+four of us."
+
+"Mebby--and mebby not," said the saloon-keeper. "That depends. Depends
+on the party that's callin' and who they're callin' _on_."
+
+"There's Sago--just ridin' the ledge trail. That's five."
+
+"'Lige and Joe Kennedy are up at the corrals," said the saloon-keeper.
+"They would hate to miss anything like this."
+
+"Mebby they won't, if that bunch gets past us," said Saunders.
+
+"Seen the time when you could handle them alone, didn't you, Si?"
+
+"Yes, and I can now."
+
+"Nix, Si. Your gun arms ain't what they was sence Overland Red winged
+you."
+
+"How in hell do you know he did?"
+
+"I could tell you more. But come on in and have one on the house. If I
+was you, I'd set with my back to the door and be taking a drink. Red
+Summers never shot a man in the back yet. If he's playin' for _you_,
+why, that gives you a chance to pull a gun."
+
+"How about you?" queried Saunders.
+
+"Me? None of my business. I'm here to push the booze."
+
+"And you'll do your collectin' with a gun, or go broke, if it's Red
+Summers and his friends."
+
+"Tryin' to scare me because you are?" asked the bartender.
+
+"Red helped Kennedy out of a mix once. Kennedy is his friend."
+
+"But Joe ain't here. What's gettin' into you? How do you know it is Red,
+anyway? You act queer."
+
+"I got a hunch," said Saunders.
+
+"Then you want to go into action quick, for when a gunman gets a hunch
+that he knows who is trailin' him, it's a bad sign."
+
+Saunders drummed on the table with his fingers. The drink of liquor had
+restored his nerve. Perhaps the riders were not coming to visit him,
+after all. He rose and stepped to the door. The oncoming horses were
+near enough for him to distinguish the roan outlaw Yuma--Collie's horse.
+Her rider's figure was only too familiar. Saunders fingered his belt.
+Unbuckling it, he stepped back into the barroom and laid the
+two-holstered guns and the belt on the table.
+
+Parks, from up in the cañon, rode up, tied his pony, and strolled to the
+bar, nodding to Saunders. Following him came Santa Fé Smith, a
+bow-legged individual in sweater and blue jeans. He nodded to Saunders.
+Presently Sago, the Inyo County outlaw, came in, wheezing and
+perspiring. Saunders stepped to the bar and called for "one all around."
+
+As they drank two more ponies clattered up and 'Lige and Joe Kennedy
+joined the group at the bar. "Hutch and Simpson are comin' afoot," said
+Joe Kennedy.
+
+"That leaves Wagner and the Chink to hear from," said the saloon-keeper.
+
+"Wagner's sick. I don't know where the Chink is. Everybody seems to 'a'
+got up in time for dinner, this mornin', eh?" And big Joe Kennedy
+laughed. "This here bar is right popular jest now."
+
+"Goin' to be more popular," said the saloon-keeper.
+
+"That so?" exclaimed several, facetiously.
+
+"Ask Saunders there," said the saloon-keeper.
+
+"Friends of yours, Silent?"
+
+"Yes. Friends of mine."
+
+"Whole six of 'em, eh?"
+
+"Whole six of 'em."
+
+"Well, we won't butt in. We'll give you lots of room."
+
+Saunders said nothing. He paid for the liquor, and, stepping to the
+table, sat with his back to the doorway. In front of him lay his guns,
+placed handily, but with studied carelessness. He leaned naturally on
+one elbow, as though half asleep. His hat was tilted over his brows.
+
+From outside came the jingle of spurs and rein-chains and the distant
+sound of voices. Saunders began leisurely to roll a cigarette. He laid a
+few matches on the table. Several of the men at the bar grinned
+knowingly.
+
+Then came the gritting of heels on the hardpacked trail and Overland
+Red stood in the doorway. "Mornin', gents--and Saunders," he said,
+glancing at the figure seated back toward him.
+
+"Hello, Red!" exclaimed Joe Kennedy. "Out early, ain't you. Have a
+drink."
+
+"Not out too early. Hello, Lusk!"
+
+"How, Red," said the saloon-keeper.
+
+"Where's your friends. Ask 'em in," said Kennedy.
+
+"Shall I ask 'em in, Saunders?" queried Overland, his voice edged with a
+double meaning.
+
+"Not on my account," said Saunders over his shoulder.
+
+"All right. Let's have a drink, boys."
+
+Even "Go-Light" Sago, the vilest of the Gophertown crew, admired
+Overland's coolness in turning his back on Saunders and facing the bar.
+
+For a second Saunders's fingers twitched. He glanced up.
+
+Joe Kennedy was looking at him over his glass of whiskey. "Ain't you
+drinkin', Silent?" he asked.
+
+"With some folks," said Saunders.
+
+Overland whirled round. "Have a drink with me, then."
+
+Saunders laughed.
+
+"Then you don't smoke either, while I'm here," said Overland, his hand
+on his hip.
+
+"That so?"
+
+"Yes, that's so! When you try to pull that old bluff of a match-game on
+me, wait till I'm a hundred and four years old, Silent. That gun-trick
+died of old age. Think up a new one."
+
+"Ain't you talkin' a little loud for polite sassiety?" questioned Sago,
+addressing Overland.
+
+"Seein' you're the only one that thinks so, I reckon not," said
+Overland.
+
+"Then," said Sago, moving slightly from the bar, "Saunders smokes."
+
+It was an open declaration of war. Sago, the Inyo County outlaw, sided
+with Saunders.
+
+According to the ethics of gunmen, Saunders was not armed. He was not
+"packing iron." His weapons lay on the table within reach, but he knew
+Overland would not precipitate matters by shooting him down where he
+sat. He glanced at Sago. The other winked.
+
+"Then I smoke," said Saunders, and reached for a match. He shot from the
+hip, swinging his guns sideways. The stutter of Overland's automatics
+mingled with the roar of Saunders's heavy Colts.
+
+Sago, jumping clear, pulled his gun. Kennedy clutched his arm. Saunders
+slid from his chair, coughed horribly, and wilted to the floor. Overland
+backed toward the door, both guns leveled.
+
+Sago, jerking his arm free, threw two shots at Overland, who replied
+with a rippling tattoo of the automatics. The Inyo County outlaw sank to
+his hands and knees. Then Overland leaped through the doorway. The
+Moonstone riders spurred toward the saloon, thinking that the quarrel
+had provoked too many guns. Overland tried to stop them, but they were
+hot for fight.
+
+"It's a clean up!" yelled Parks, running out of the saloon and mounting
+his horse. "You framed it, you red-headed son--" He got no further.
+Brand Williams, thundering down at the head of the Moonstone riders,
+threw a level shot that cut through Parks, who wavered, but managed to
+wheel his horse and fire at Overland Red. Then the outlaw slid from the
+saddle clawing at it as he fell.
+
+The Gophertown men poured from the saloon, and, seizing their ponies,
+circled round to the back of the building, firing as they retreated.
+
+Miguel spurred his big pinto in among them and emptied his gun. He rode
+out at a lope, reloading. The front of his flannel shirt was shot away,
+but he was not aware of it.
+
+Billy Dime coolly sat his horse and "drew fine" at each shot, till a
+leaden slug drilled his gun-arm. He swore profusely, and wisely spurred
+out of range.
+
+"I got one!" cried Miguel, swinging shut the cylinder of his gun. "I go
+get another one."
+
+"Give 'em my com-pli-ments," said Dime, winding a handkerchief round his
+arm and knotting it with one hand and his teeth.
+
+Williams, keeping under cover, fired slowly and with great precision.
+Overland Red, utterly unable to manage the Yuma colt under fire, rode up
+to Williams. "Let's call it off, Brand. I got my man. They was no need
+of the rest of it. How did it start, anyhow?"
+
+"That's about what the kid said when he let go the wagon on top of the
+hill. I counted five Gophers down. Billy's hit, and Miguel's goin' to
+be, the dam' little fool. Look at him!"
+
+The Gophertown men were drawing away toward the cañon. They turned
+occasionally to throw a shot at Miguel and Pars Long, who followed them.
+
+Bud Light sat his horse, gazing solemnly at the stump of his gun-finger.
+His shirt was spattered with blood.
+
+Suddenly Williams raised a shrill call. The Moonstone boys wheeled their
+ponies and rode toward him. Williams pointed up the cañon. Down it rode
+a group of men who seemed to be undecided in their movements. They would
+spur forward and then check and circle, apparently waiting for their
+friends to come up to them. "It's the rest of the Gophertown outfit. We
+might as well beat it," said Williams. "This here thing's gettin' too
+popular all to once."
+
+"Did that guy get you?" asked Williams, nodding to Overland.
+
+"Not what you'd notice," replied Overland. "We'll take a drink on the
+house. She ain't so tidy as she was."
+
+"Neither is the guy behind the bar," said Bud Light, pointing with the
+stub of his finger to Lusk's face. The saloon-keeper had been hit between
+the eyes by a chance bullet.
+
+"He's where he belongs," said Williams. "So is this one." And Williams
+touched Saunders's body with his boot. "Let's drink and vamoose."
+
+"Here's to the kid!" cried Overland, strangely white and shaky.
+
+"Here's hoping!" chorused the Moonstone riders.
+
+[Illustration: IT'S A CLEAN-UP]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+TOLL
+
+
+None of the Moonstone boys had supposed that Overland Red was hit. He
+rode joyfully and even began a poem to the occasion. Williams was first
+to notice that Overland's speech was growing thick and that his free
+hand clasped the saddle-horn.
+
+The others, riding a little to the rear, burst suddenly into boisterous
+laughter. "What you think, Brand?" called Pars Long. "Bud's jest been
+countin' his fingers and he says there is one missin'. He ain't sure
+yet, but he's countin' hard. He has to skip when he comes to number one
+on his right mitt. Says he can't get started to count, that way."
+
+"Some lucky it ain't his head," replied Williams.
+
+"His head? Bud would never miss that. But his pore little ole finger,
+layin' calm and cold back there. A very sad business, brethren."
+
+"I paid twelve sweaty plunks for her in Los and look at her!" cried Pars
+Long, doffing his sombrero. The high crown was literally shot to pieces.
+"I guess I am some wise guy. You fellas kidded me about sportin' an
+extra high lid. Come on, Chico, they're laughin' at us!"
+
+"If they'd 'a' shot the crown off clean down to your ears, you'd never
+noticed it," grumbled Billy Dime.
+
+"Mebby I am a flat-headed chicken, Billy, but I got both wings yet,"
+retorted Long.
+
+Billy Dime looked down at the blood-soaked sleeve of his right arm. "The
+fella that did it is eatin' grass now," he muttered.
+
+"Now, what's the matter with Miguel? Discovered any bullets nestin' in
+your manly buzzum, Miguel?"
+
+"I think no. But I lose something," replied Miguel, smiling.
+
+"That so?"
+
+"I did have the tobacco and papers here," he said, and he put his hand
+on his chest. "Now I look and the pocket and some of the shirt is not
+there--and my tobacco is gone, and the little papers."
+
+"Is that all? Sad. I thought you'd lost a railroad or a steamship or
+something. Cheer up! Things might be better."
+
+"I think I like to smoke," said Miguel, quite seriously. "I will ride
+back and get some tobacco and some more papers."
+
+"That ain't all you'll get. Here, smoke up. You look fine in that
+peek-a-boo shirt. Never knowed you had such a good shape. What size
+gloves do you wear, pet?" And Pars Long passed tobacco and papers to
+Miguel, who rolled a cigarette and smoked contentedly.
+
+"Billy, you look sick," said Bud Light.
+
+"Oh, no! I want to go to a dance, right away. Whoa!"
+
+They drew rein. Williams, dismounting, was bending over his companion
+Overland, who had suddenly slipped from the saddle.
+
+"Where's he punctured?" queried Bud Light.
+
+Williams examined the prostrate man. "Kind of low down, and in the side.
+'T ain't bad, but it's bad enough. Got any whiskey?"
+
+"You bet! I got a pocket-gun here. Swiped it in the saloon." And Pars
+Long handed a flask to Williams.
+
+The riders, standing round the fallen man, watched Williams as he bound
+up the wound, which was bleeding slowly. The whiskey partially revived
+Overland. He managed finally to cling to the saddle, supported by
+Williams.
+
+"She's thirty hot miles to camp. Red won't last out," said Long.
+
+"I say he does," said Bud Light. "Did you see them puckers in his hide?
+I counted seven. He ain't made to be stopped by a gun."
+
+"Mebby he ain't stopped, but he's slowed up considerable. Did you see
+the two guys he got? Saunders was pretty nigh cut in two and the other
+one by the bar had four holes in him. I counted 'em, to quit thinkin' of
+my arm. Them automatics is fierce!"
+
+"He would never 'a' got out if he'd been packin' a regular old six-gun,"
+said Bud Light. "_Both_ them guys were throwin' lead at him."
+
+"How do you know? You wasn't there."
+
+"Easy. He went in to get Saunders. He gets him. The other one takes a
+hand. He got _him_. _We_ didn't do any shootin' inside."
+
+"Guess that's right. But how about the barkeep?"
+
+"Oh, he just got in the way. He was drilled between the lamps. In a mix
+like that who's goin' to take time to draw fine?"
+
+"Did you see Brand lift the Gophertown guy out of his saddle--the one
+that was shootin' at Red in front of the joint? Brand threw a forty-five
+into him, and comin' on the jump, too. The Gopher humped up like he'd
+been horned by the Santa Fé Limited. Now what's the dope?"
+
+Overland Red had again fallen from his horse. Williams beckoned to Long.
+"Take the Yuma colt, Pars, and fan it for the cañon. Send the doc back,
+and you stay with that young Winthrop and look after Collie. Your hoss
+is quieter for Red, anyway. Tell the doc to bring his tools along. I
+reckon we'll camp over there near the hills till to-morrow."
+
+"Who was it got me?" questioned Overland as he was revived a second
+time.
+
+"I don't know," replied Williams. "The only distinguishin' brand on him
+was one I put there. It ain't worryin' him now."
+
+"Like old times," said Overland, trying to smile.
+
+"Like old times," echoed Williams.
+
+"I guess it was Parks," murmured Overland. "He had plenty of chance. I
+wasn't after him."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Slowly the group of horsemen rode across the desert. The afternoon sun
+made queer shadows of them and their mounts. Billy Dime rode bent
+forward. His face was white and beaded with sweat. Overland, on Long's
+pony, was supported by Miguel and Brand Williams. Pars Long had
+disappeared in the shadows of the range.
+
+Billy Dime's eyes grew strangely bright. He laughed, gazing at the
+foreman's back. "The whole damn fuss was wrong, _wrong_, I tell you! We
+had no _business_ shootin' up that town."
+
+"But it was considerable pleasure," said Bud Light. "You're off your
+bean, Billy. I guess you forget what they did to Collie."
+
+Billy Dime leered. The fever from his wound was working through his
+blood. "Don't pertend to me, Bud Light, that you come on this little
+pasear on account of _Collie_. It was _her_ eyes that said to go. You
+know that. She never said words, but her _eyes_ said to go--and to kill!
+Do you get that? That's what a woman can do to a man, without sayin' a
+word. And what did Collie ever do for me? Look at that arm. _Look_ at
+it! What did Collie ever do for me to get shot up this way?" And Billy
+Dime began to weep. "I killed two of 'em--two of 'em. I saw 'em drop. I
+was drawin' fine--_fine_, I tell you, and I couldn't miss."
+
+Bud Light rode forward to Williams. "Billy's gone off his crust. He's
+ravin' back there, Brand."
+
+Williams drew Long's flask from his saddle-pocket. "Give him a shot of
+this. Take some yourself. Miguel and I don't need any. Hold on--I'll
+give Red a shot first. When it gets to workin', you yip and ride for the
+hills. We'll all ride--_ride_, you understand? It'll be a dry camp, and
+a hard flash, but we'll make it."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+TWO ROSES
+
+
+One morning, some three weeks after the invasion of Gophertown, Bud
+Light, Billy Dime, and Brand Williams appeared at the Moonstone Ranch
+office.
+
+Quite casually they had dismounted, and jingling up had asked for Walter
+Stone. Upon his appearance the younger men applied individually for
+their old places. The room smelled of cigarette smoke and antiseptics.
+Quite as though nothing unusual had happened the rancher reinstated
+them.
+
+"Have a good time, boys?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, sir. Very good time. Better than we expected," replied Billy Dime.
+Bud Light nodded.
+
+Stone looked hard at Billy Dime's bandaged arm. "Miguel and Parson Long
+have a good time also?"
+
+"Stayed to help Overland Red work the claim. Overland Red got hurt a
+little, doin' somethin'. He's all right now."
+
+"None of the Moonstone boys were injured?"
+
+"Nope. Not a one of us," replied Dime blandly.
+
+Walter Stone's eyes twinkled, but he did not smile. "We will call it a
+vacation this time, with pay. Tell Williams to step in here, please."
+And the rancher dismissed his embarrassed and happy punchers with a
+gesture.
+
+The interview with Williams was not so brief. "The boys came out of it
+all right?" asked Stone, shaking hands with his old foreman.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"How did you manage that?"
+
+"Didn't. They did."
+
+"Any one--er--of the other side have an accident?"
+
+"Saunders--and six gents got hurt pretty bad."
+
+"Whew! Our boys were lucky."
+
+"It was nothin' but luck that they ain't all back there now--on the
+sand. You see, the Gophertown outfit are all what you'd call good with a
+gun, but it was kind of a surprise, the spreadin' of the thing from
+Red's little private deal to a six-hand game. We sure was lucky."
+
+"And Collie?"
+
+Williams shook his head. "I don't know. We thought he had crossed over.
+Seems he took a new holt. The doc and Winthrop brung him to Los in the
+automobile. He's at the hospital. But they say he don't pick up any
+since he come there."
+
+"All right, Brand. I think that is all."
+
+"How about my name goin' back on the books?" asked Williams.
+
+"It hasn't been off the books. You know, Louise attends to the
+time-sheet."
+
+Williams nodded. "I expect Miguel and Parson Long will be sniffin'
+around lookin' for a job before long. They agreed to stay with Red till
+he got on his feet again. But they told him they would go just as soon
+as he was all right, for you couldn't run your ranch without 'em."
+
+Walter Stone smiled broadly. "You're foreman, Brand."
+
+"They was fightin' just as much for the name of the old Moonstone as for
+Collie, or for fun," said Williams.
+
+"I know it. But I don't believe in such methods. That sort of thing is
+about done with," said Stone.
+
+"I was readin' about the old days in the Panamint, not long ago," said
+Williams, gazing at a corner of the office. "I--they was a list of names
+of the ranchers that cleaned up the rustlers over there, back in '86. It
+was interestin'--some of them names."
+
+Walter Stone coughed and turned in his chair. He gazed out of the
+window. Finally he faced Williams again. "We had to do it," he said,
+smiling.
+
+Williams nodded. They understood each other.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Marshalls, delighted with Los Angeles, had taken apartments in the
+city. Dr. Marshall, at the urgent request of Walter Stone, had called at
+the hospital to see Collie. The wound had healed slowly. Collie gained
+no strength. He seemed indifferent as to whether he recovered or not.
+Dr. Marshall, consulting with the surgeon, agreed that the young man's
+recovery was still doubtful. His vitality was extremely low. His usual
+optimism had stagnated.
+
+Later, when Walter Stone, Mrs. Stone, and Louise visited the hospital,
+Collie had smiled wanly and said but little, thanking them for their
+visit with a word.
+
+Louise returned home, heartsick and haunted by Collie's eyes that had
+seemed so listless, so indifferent, so weary. She had hoped to cheer
+him. His indifference affected her more than his actual physical
+condition, which seemed to be the cause of it. Louise recognized in
+herself a species of selfishness in feeling as she did. Like most folk
+of superabundant health she was unable to realize the possibilities of
+sickness. She longed for his companionship. She had not dared to ask
+herself whether or not she loved him. She was glad that he should love
+her--and yet she was not altogether happy. She had sent him her token,
+the little gray riding-gauntlet. He had in no way acknowledged it.
+
+The sentiment incident to Collie's almost fatal misfortune did not blind
+her in the least. She told herself frankly that she missed him. At the
+ranch he had been with her much. From her he had gleaned of books and
+people. The actual advantage to him was not in the quantity of knowledge
+he had gained, but in the quality and direction suggested by her
+attitude toward all things. The advantage to her in his companionship
+had been the joy of giving, of shaping his thought, of seeing him slowly
+and unconsciously differentiate himself--stand apart from his fellows as
+something she had helped to create. This much of him she possessed
+through conscious effort.
+
+Then to have seen him in the hospital, helpless, seemingly beyond any
+noticeable influence of her presence, stirred in her a kind of maternal
+jealousy. Straightway she visited Anne Marshall, who kissed her, held
+her at arms' length, saw the soft rose glow in her face, and spoke to
+the point, albeit in parables. Dr. Marshall had been very poor--a doctor
+in the slums--just before _they_ were married. People had _said_ things
+and had _looked_ things, which was even worse. They subtly intimated
+that the doctor was marrying her for her money. She was the happiest
+woman in the world. She thought Collie was the manliest and most
+striking figure she had ever seen.
+
+To all of which Louise listened quietly, blushing a little. "And he is
+wealthy," concluded Anne. "For so young a man, he is wealthy. The Rose
+Girl Mining Company, Incorporated, my dear, pays well. Collie is one of
+the three largest stockholders. You see, Billy and Overland Red have
+decided to turn the claim into a corporation."
+
+"Don't you contradict your--your theory a little, Anne?" asked Louise.
+
+"No, indeed! It doesn't matter in the least who has the money, so long
+as the man is the right one."
+
+And Louise was silent, and a bit happier.
+
+The little parcel that came to the hospital, directed to Collie, was
+from Overland. It was accompanied by a vividly worded note and a small,
+stained, and wrinkled glove, at once familiar.
+
+Overland's note explained the delay in forwarding the glove. "It's some
+mussed up," he wrote, "because I had it in my shirt when I was hit. I
+was some mussed up likewise, or I would not 'a' forgot it so long. The
+little Rose Girl sent it to you by Brand when she thinks you was going
+to cross over on the last sunset limited. And I am feeling Fine,
+thanks. Do not rite to me if it gives you cramps.--Youres verry
+fathefuly, Jack."
+
+Collie turned the gauntlet over in his trembling fingers. His eyes
+glowed. He called the nurse, telling her he was hungry.
+
+Anne Marshall's visits were always refreshing. Well-gowned, cool,
+fragrant, she came, next afternoon, to Collie's bedside.
+
+"You _must_ get well," she said, smiling. "The doctor will be terribly
+disappointed if you don't. Isn't that coldly encouraging? What a thing
+to say!"
+
+"I don't want to disappoint anybody," said Collie.
+
+"Well, you will if you don't get better right away, sir! I wish I could
+do something to help. I can only sympathize and encourage the doctor."
+
+"I know he's doing a whole lot for me. I think mebby you could help--a
+little--if you wanted to."
+
+"Gracious! As though I didn't! Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
+
+"It only came yesterday," said Collie, tremulously drawing the gauntlet
+from beneath his pillow.
+
+Anne Marshall gazed at the soiled and wrinkled glove with unenlightened
+eyes. Then her quick smile flashed. "Oh! Now I know! So that is the
+talisman? Came yesterday? No wonder you seem brighter."
+
+Collie's answering smile was irresistible. "It isn't just the glove--but
+would you--I mean, if you was like me--without being educated or
+anything--" He hesitated, breathing deeply.
+
+But Anne Marshall understood him instantly, and answered his shyly
+questioning eyes.
+
+"Indeed, I should. If I had half your chance, I shouldn't waste a minute
+in claiming the mate to that glove. One glove is of absolutely no use,
+you know."
+
+"This one was--pretty much," sighed Collie. "I was feeling like letting
+go inside and not trying to--to stay any longer, just before it came."
+
+"S-s-s-h! Don't even think of that. Some one called on me a few days
+ago. You are a very fortunate young man."
+
+Anne Marshall's ambiguity was not altogether displeasing to Collie, in
+that it was not altogether unintelligible.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+William Stanley Winthrop, sojourning briefly but fashionably in Los
+Angeles, appeared at the hospital in immaculate outing flannels. It was
+several weeks after his sister's last visit there. Winthrop took the
+convalescent Collie to the Moonstone Rancho in his car.
+
+Bud Light and Billy Dime accidentally met the car in the valley and
+accompanied it vigorously through Moonstone Cañon.
+
+Aunt Eleanor and Walter Stone were at the gate. Collie was helped to the
+house and immediately taken to the guest-room. He was much fatigued with
+the journey. The question in his eyes was answered by Aunt Eleanor.
+"Louise rode over to the north range to-day. She should be back now."
+
+Winthrop scarce needed an introduction. He was Anne Marshall's brother.
+That was sufficient for the host and hostess. He was made welcome--as he
+was wherever he went. He had heard a great deal, from his sister, of the
+Stones, and their beautiful niece, Louise Lacharme. He was enthusiastic
+about the Moonstone Cañon. He grew even more enthusiastic after meeting
+Louise.
+
+She came riding her black pony Boyar down the afternoon hillside--a
+picture that he never forgot. Her gray sombrero hung on the saddle-horn.
+Her gloves were tucked in her belt. She had loosened the neck of her
+blouse and rolled back her sleeves, at the spring above, to bathe her
+face and arms in the chill overflow. Her hair shone with a soft golden
+radiance that was ethereal in the flicker of afternoon sunlight through
+the live-oaks. From her golden head to the tip of her small riding-boot
+she was a harmony of vigor and grace, of exquisite coloring and
+infinite charm.
+
+Her naturalness of manner, her direct simplicity, was almost, if not
+quite, her greatest attraction, and a quality which Winthrop fully
+appreciated.
+
+"I have been quite curious about you, Mr. Winthrop," she said. "You are
+quite like Anne. I adore Anne. Shall we turn Boyar into the corral?"
+
+If William Stanley Winthrop had had any idea of making an impression, he
+forgot it. The impression Louise was unconsciously making straightway
+absorbed his attention.
+
+"Yes, indeed! Turn him into the corral--turn him into _anything_, Miss
+Lacharme. You have the magic. Make another admirer of him."
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Winthrop. But Boyar could hardly be improved."
+
+"You trained him, didn't you?" queried Winthrop.
+
+Louise laughed. "Yes. But he was well-bred to begin with."
+
+Winthrop ejaculated a mental "Ouch!" Simplicity did not necessarily mean
+stupidity.
+
+"Do you enjoy mining--the real work--out there in the desert, Mr.
+Winthrop?"
+
+"I could enjoy anything in company with Overland."
+
+"Of course. Do you think people who have lots of money are apt to be
+cynical?" she asked.
+
+"Not more so than people without money. But what splendid animals!" he
+exclaimed as they approached the corral.
+
+"Uncle Walter and I are very fond of them," she said, turning Boyar into
+the inclosure.
+
+"Do you know, Miss Lacharme, I like horses and dogs and cats, and I just
+revel in burros. But animals don't seem to like me. They're rather
+indifferent to me. I wonder if it is a matter of health, or magnetism,
+or something of that sort?"
+
+"Oh, no! But it is difficult to explain. Even if you are very fond of
+animals it doesn't follow that they will like you. That seems rather
+cold, doesn't it? It's almost unfair."
+
+"Yes, if one considers it seriously."
+
+"Don't you?"
+
+Winthrop gazed at her for a second before replying. "I see I must tell
+you the truth," he said lightly. "You compel it. It _does_ hurt me to
+have anything or any one that I care for indifferent to me. Perhaps it's
+because I realize that I am giving affection and selfishly want 'value
+returned,' so to speak. Pardon me for becoming serious."
+
+"Surely! But I thank you, too. See Boyar roll! He's happy. No, he
+doesn't roll because his back itches. You see, he's sweaty where the
+saddle covered him. Before he rolled, you noticed that he deliberately
+found a dusty spot. The dust dries the sweat and he doesn't take cold.
+That's the real explanation."
+
+"I knew it couldn't be through happiness at leaving you," said Winthrop.
+
+"If you are determined to keep it up," said Louise mischievously, "all
+right. But be careful, sir! I enjoy it. It's been dull--dreadfully dull
+since Anne and the doctor left. May I have your knife?"
+
+A belated crimson Colombe rose nodded beneath the guest-room window.
+Louise cut the stem and pinned the flower in the lapel of Winthrop's
+white flannel coat. He gazed at her intent on her task.
+
+"There!" she said, with a light touch of her supple fingers. "That will
+do." And slowly her gray eyes lifted to his.
+
+The color flooded to his face. His eyes became momentarily brilliant. He
+drew a deep breath. "You told me to be careful. I shall be," he said,
+bowing slightly. "Please say something. Your silent attack was a little
+too--too successful."
+
+"Truce?" she queried, laughing.
+
+"Never!" replied Winthrop. "Even as our rather mutual and distinctly
+illustrious friend Overland says, 'Not till me wires are all down and
+me lights are out.'"
+
+Collie, standing at the open French window just above them, drew back.
+Quite naturally, being a young man in love, he misinterpreted all that
+he had seen and heard. Louise had been away the day he was expected to
+return to the ranch. She had come back. She was seemingly satisfied with
+Winthrop's society. She was even more than satisfied; she was flirting
+with him. An unreasonable, bucolic jealousy, partly due to his
+condition, overcame Collie's usual serenity. His invalidism magnified
+the whole affair to absurd proportions.
+
+Perhaps it was the intensity of his gaze that caused Louise to glance
+up. His expression startled her. His eyes were burning. His face was
+unnaturally white. He met her glance, but gave no sign of recognition--a
+rudeness that he regretted even while he manifested it.
+
+Louise turned away proudly, calling Winthrop's attention to a huge
+garden-seat beneath the live-oaks. "We have dinner out there quite
+often," she said, her eyes glowing. "Would you care to rest a while
+after your ride?"
+
+"'A jug of wine--a loaf of bread--'" he quoted.
+
+"But it isn't a wilderness. And dinner won't be ready for an hour yet.
+Don't you think a wilderness would have been utterly stupid with his
+'thou' beside him singing everlastingly? Now please don't say, 'It would
+depend on the _thou_.'"
+
+"Do you sing, Miss Lacharme?"
+
+"A little."
+
+"Please, then,--a little. Then I'll answer your question."
+
+"I had rather not, just now."
+
+"My answer would be the same in either case. This is living, after the
+desert and its loneliness. I discovered one thing out there,
+however,--myself. It was a surprise. My 'way-back ancestors must have
+been pirates."
+
+"Mine--grew roses--in southern France."
+
+"I am glad they eventually came to America," he said.
+
+"Are you so fond of candy, Mr. Winthrop?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Neither am I."
+
+"I'm glad they came, just the same. I simply can't help it."
+
+"Overland--Mr. Summers--doesn't take life very seriously, does he?"
+asked Louise.
+
+"Not as seriously as life has taken him, at odd times."
+
+"You brought Collie in your car, didn't you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"He's much better?"
+
+"Yes. But he's pretty shaky yet. He's a little queer, in fact. As we
+came up the cañon he asked me to stop the car by the cliff, near this
+end,--that place where the sunlight comes through a kind of notch in the
+west. I thought he was tired of the motion of the car, so we stopped and
+he lay back looking at the cliff. Pretty soon the sun shot a long ray
+past us and it fairly splattered gold on the cañon wall. Then the shaft
+of sunlight went out. 'It will shine again,' he said, as if I didn't
+know that. Collie's a pretty sick man."
+
+Later Winthrop and Louise joined the others at the veranda. Louise
+excused herself. She searched a long time before she found another rose.
+This time it was a Colombe bud, full, red, and beautiful. She stepped to
+Collie's window. "Boy!" she called softly.
+
+White and trembling, he stood in the long window looking down at her.
+"I'm glad you are home again," she said.
+
+He nodded, and glanced away.
+
+"Boy!" she called again. "Catch." And she tossed the rose. He caught it
+and pressed it to his lips.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+NIGHT
+
+
+Evening, placidly content with the warm silence, departed lingeringly.
+Belated insects still buzzed in the wayside foliage. A bee, overtaken in
+his busy pilfering by the obliterating dusk, hung on a nodding mountain
+flower, unfearful above the cañon's emptiness. An occasional bird
+ventured a boldly questioning note that lingered unfinished in the
+silence of indecision. Across the road hopped a young rabbit, a little
+rounded shadow that melted into the blur of the sage. A cold white fire,
+spreading behind the purple-edged ranges, enriched their somber panoply
+with illusive enchantments, ever changing as the dim effulgence drifted
+from peak to peak. Shadows grew luminous and were gone. In their stead
+wooded valleys and wide cañons unfolded to the magic of the moon. There
+was no world but night and imagination.
+
+With many rustlings the quail huddled in the live-oaks, complaining
+querulously until the darkness silenced them.
+
+The warm, acrid fragrance of the hills was drawn intermittently across
+the cooler level of the shadowy road. A little owl, softly reiterating
+his cadences of rue, made loneliness as a thing tangible, a thing
+groping in the dusk with velvet hands.
+
+Then came that hush of rest, that pause of preparation, as though night
+hesitated to awaken her countless myrmidons. With the lisping of
+invisible leaves the Great Master's music-book unfolded. That low,
+orchestral "F"--the dominant note of all nature's melodies--sounded in
+timorous unison--an experimental murmuring. Repeated in higher octaves,
+it swelled to shrill confidence, then a hundred, then myriad invisibles
+chanted to their beloved night or gossiped of the mystery of stars.
+
+Then Night crept from the deep, cool cañons to the starlit peaks and
+knelt with her sister hill-folk, Silence and Solitude; knelt, listening
+with bowed head to that ancient antiphony of thankfulness and praise;
+then rose and faced the western sea.
+
+Boyar, the black pony, shook his head with a silvery jingling of
+rein-chains. His sleek flanks glistened in the moonlight. Louise curbed
+him gently with hand and voice as he stepped through the wide gateway of
+the ranch.
+
+He paced lightly across the first shallow ford. Then the narrowing walls
+of the cañon echoed his clean-cut steps--a patter of phantom hoof-beats
+following him, stride for stride. Down the long, ever-winding road they
+swung.
+
+Louise, impelled to dreams by the languorous warm night and Boyar's easy
+stride up the steep, touched his neck with the rein and turned him into
+the Old Meadow Trail.
+
+The tall, slender stems of the yucca and infrequent clumps of dwarfed
+cacti cast clear-edged shadows on the bare, moonlit ground. Boyar,
+sniffing, suddenly swung up and pivoted, his fore feet hanging over
+sheer black emptiness. Louise leaned forward, reining him round. Even
+before his fore feet touched the trail again, she heard the sibilant
+_bur-r-ing_ of the cold, uncoiling thing as it slid down the blind
+shadows of the hillside.
+
+"I shan't believe in omens," she murmured.
+
+She reassured the trembling Boyar, who fretted sideways and snorted as
+he passed the spot where the snake had been coiled in the trail.
+
+At the edge of the Old Meadow the girl dismounted, allowing Boyar to
+graze at will.
+
+She climbed to the low rounded rock, her erstwhile throne of dreams,
+where she sat with knees gathered to her in her clasped hands. The pony
+paused in his grazing to lift his head and look at her with gently
+wondering eyes.
+
+The utter solitude of the place, far above the viewless valley, allowed
+her thought a horizon impossible at the Moonstone Rancho. Alone she
+faced the grave question of making an unalterable choice. Collie had
+asked her to marry him. She had evaded direct reply to his direct
+question. She knew of no good reason why she should marry him. She knew
+of no better reason why she should not. She thought she was content with
+being loved. She was, for the moment.
+
+The Old Meadow, that had once before revealed a sprightly and ragged
+romance, slumbered in the southern night; slumbered to awaken to the
+hushed tread of men and strange whisperings.
+
+Down in the valley the coyotes called dismally, with that infinite
+shrill sadness of wild things that hunger, and in their wailing pulsed
+the eternal and unanswerable "Why?" challenging the peaceful stars.
+Something in their questioning cry impelled Louise to lift her hands to
+the night. "What is it? What is it up there--behind everything--that
+never, never answers?"
+
+The moon was lost somewhere behind the ragged peaks. The night grew
+deeper. The Old Meadow, shadowed by the range above it, grew dark,
+impenetrable, a place without boundary or breadth or depth.
+
+"Got a match, kid?"
+
+Louise raised her head. Some one was afoot on the Old Meadow Trail. She
+could hear the whisper of dried grasses against the boots of the men as
+another voice replied, "Sure! Here you are." And Louise knew that Collie
+was one of the men.
+
+About to call, she hesitated, strangely curious as to who the other man
+might be, and why Collie and he should foregather in the Old Meadow, at
+night.
+
+"Never mind," mumbled the first speaker; "I thought I wanted to smoke,
+but I don't. I want to talk first--about the Rose Girl."
+
+Louise tried to call out, but she was interrupted by Overland's voice.
+The two men had stopped at the lower side of the great rock. She could
+hear them plainly, although she could not see them.
+
+"Collie--we're busted. We're done, Chico. I ain't said nothin' to Billy
+yet. He's got money, anyway. This here only hits you and me."
+
+"What do you mean, Red?"
+
+"I mean that the Rose Girl Mining Company, Incorporated, Jack Summers,
+President and General Manager, don't belong to us and never did. We been
+sellin' stock that ain't ours and never was."
+
+"How's that?"
+
+"I was goin' to write. But I ain't no hand to write about business.
+Writin' po'try is bad enough. You recollec' them papers and that dust
+Billy tried to find, out there by the track?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, I found it all. Since the company is workin' the claim now and I
+didn't have so much to do, I got to thinkin' of them papers. I went out
+there, paced her off down the track, guessed at about where it was, and
+found 'em."
+
+"Found them?"
+
+"Yes, sir. There was that little bag almost atop of the sand, account of
+wind and rain. Then there was a record of the claim, our claim. It's
+been filed on before. We made a mistake and filed on the wrong section.
+When me and Billy went to file, I noticed the clerk said something about
+havin' neighbors on the claim next, but I was scared of answerin' too
+many questions, so I give him some cigars and beat it."
+
+"Who owns our claim, then?"
+
+"That's the queer part of it. You know the guy we give the water to--the
+one that died out there. _He_ owns the claim, or he did. It belongs by
+rights to his girl now. His name was André Lacharme."
+
+"Lacharme!"
+
+"Yes, Louise's pa. Recollect your boss tellin' us as how the Rose Girl's
+daddy was missin' out in the Mojave? Then they was a letter--old and
+'most wore out--from Walter Stone himself. It was to him--her
+pa--tellin' him about the little Louise baby and askin' him to come to
+the Moonstone and take a job and quit prospectin'. That's where we
+stand."
+
+Louise, breathless, listened and could not believe that she was real,
+that this was not a dream. André Lacharme! Her father!
+
+"I seen a lawyer about it," resumed Overland. "He said it was plain
+enough that the claim belonged to the dead prospector or his girl, now.
+You see, we worked the claim and kep' up the work accordin' to law. What
+we made ain't ours, but I'm mighty glad it's hers. 'Course, we earned
+what dust we dug, all right. Now I'm leavin' it up to you. Do we tell
+her or do we say nothin', and go on gettin' rich?"
+
+"Why do you put it up to me?" asked Collie.
+
+"Because, kid, you got the most to lose. Your chance is about gone with
+the Rose Girl if you let go the gold. Sabe? The little Rose Girl is
+wise. She don't give two cents for money--but she ain't foolish enough
+to marry a puncher that's workin' for wages on her uncle's ranch. And
+when she gets all me and Billy made and your share, she'll be rich. That
+won't be no time for you to go courtin' _her_. It ain't that you ain't
+good enough for any girl. But now'days things is different. You got to
+have money."
+
+"Do you think Louise would take the money?" asked Collie.
+
+"I don't know. But that ain't it. We either give it up--or we don't.
+What do you say?"
+
+"Why--to tell Louise, of course. I meant that right along. You ought to
+know that."
+
+"You givin' it up because you had some fuss with her, or anything like
+that?"
+
+"No, Red. I say tell her, because it's square. Did she stop to ask
+questions when I was in trouble? No. She went to work to help me, quick.
+I guess we care more for her than a whole carload of gold."
+
+"Well, I guess. Once I wouldn't 'a' stopped to worry about whose gold it
+was. But knowin' the Rose Girl,--knowin' what she _is_,--why, it's
+makin' me soft in me morals."
+
+"What do we do now, Red?"
+
+"I'm goin' to beat it. Back to the dusty for mine."
+
+"You don't have to do that, Red."
+
+"That's just why I'm a-doin' it. I like to do what I like."
+
+"Quitting now seems like saying, 'I'm whipped,'" said Collie. "Quitting
+after giving up our money to her looks like we were sore--even if we do
+it and smile. She would feel bad, Red. She'd think she drove us off."
+
+"No, I reckon not. She'll see that I always been a good daddy to you and
+put you right in this case. It was all right when you had a chance. It
+ain't now. It ain't fair to her, neither, because she's like to stick to
+any promises she might 'a' made you."
+
+"Why don't you ask Stone for a job?" said Collie.
+
+"What? Me? After bein' President of the Rose Girl Mining Company,
+in--Say! They's no halfway house for me. It's all or nothin'. Why, I
+don't even own the Guzzuh. Could you stand it to see her every day, and
+you just a puncher workin' for the Moonstone. She would smile and treat
+you _fine_, and you'd be eatin' your own heart out for her."
+
+"No, I couldn't," said Collie slowly. "Red, I guess you're right."
+
+Collie's perspective was distorted through sudden disappointment. The
+old life of the road ... the vague to-morrows of indolence ... the
+sprightly companionship of Overland Red, inventive, eloquent....
+
+"Red, if I come with you, it's because I can't stand seeing her--after
+everything that has happened. It is square to her, too, I guess."
+
+"I ain't askin' you, Collie, but there's nothin' like ramblin' to make
+you forget. It's got hard work beat to a mush, because when you're
+ramblin' you're 'most always hungry. Listen! Love is when you ain't
+satisfied. So is a empty stomach. A fella's got to eat. Do you get
+that?"
+
+"Yes. But, Red, you said you loved a woman once. You didn't forget."
+
+"No, kid. I didn't. Once I didn't do nothin' else but remember. I got
+over that. It's only accidental to circumstances pertainin' to the fact
+that I remember now. You never seen _me_ cry in my soup, did you?"
+
+"But you're different."
+
+"That's the blat every yearlin' makes till he grows up and finds out
+he's a cow jest like his ma. I ain't different inside. And bleedin'
+inside is dangerouser than bleedin' outside. Listen! Remember the little
+fire beside the track, when we was 'way up in the big hills? Remember
+the curve, like a snake unwindin' where she run round the hill, and
+nothin' beyond but space and the sun drippin' red in the ocean? Remember
+the chicken we swiped and et that night? And then the smokes and lookin'
+up at the stars? Remember that? Listen!
+
+  "It's beat it, bo, while your feet are mates,
+  And we'll see the whole United States.
+  With a smoke and a pal and a fire at night,
+  And up again in the mornin' bright,
+  With nothin' but road and sky in sight
+     And nothin' to do but go.
+
+  "Then, beat it, bo, while the walkin' 's good;
+  And the birds on the wires is sawin' wood.
+  If to-day ain't the finest for you and me,
+  There's always to-morrow, that's goin' to be.
+  And the day after that is a-comin'. See!
+     And nothin' to do but go.
+
+  "I'm the ramblin' son with the nervous feet,
+  That never was made for a steady beat.
+  I had many a job for a little spell;
+  I been on the bum, and I've hit it swell.
+  But there's only one road to Fare-ye-well,
+     And nothin' to do but go."
+
+"With nothing to do but go," whispered Collie. "Red, we've always been
+friends?"
+
+"You bet your return ticket!"
+
+"And we are always going to be," said Collie. "I guess that settles it.
+I--I wish Saunders--had--finished me."
+
+Louise, numb from sitting still so long, moved slightly.
+
+"What's that?" exclaimed Collie.
+
+"Jest some of your little old ideas changin' cars," replied Overland.
+"You'll get used to it."
+
+"No; I heard something."
+
+"You'll be seein' things next. Got a match? I'm jest dyin' for a smoke.
+Remember when she give us the makin's and you got hot at me?"
+
+Overland cupped the flame in his hands and lighted his cigarette. The
+soft glow of the match spread in the windless air, penetrating the
+darkness. For an instant, a breath, Overland saw a startled face gazing
+down at him; the white face of the Rose Girl!
+
+"Great Snakes!" he cried, stepping back as the flame expired.
+
+"What's the matter, Red?"
+
+"Nothin'. I was just thinkin'. I burned my mitt. Come on, Collie.
+Brand'll find a bunk for me to-night, I reckon. We'll tell the boss and
+the Rose Girl all about it to-morrow."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII
+
+MORNING
+
+
+"Something's goin' to happen," stated Brand Williams.
+
+"How's that?" queried Bud Light.
+
+"See them two bosses--the Yuma colt and Boyar--?"
+
+"Uhuh."
+
+"Well, Boyar's been standin' there since daylight, saddled. Nobody rides
+him but Miss Louise."
+
+"It's mighty early, but I don't see nothin' strange about the rest of
+it."
+
+"Wait a minute, Bud. Did you see Collie this mornin'? Was he all fixed
+up with his hair jest _so_, and his bandanna jest _so_, and his new
+sombrero and his silver spurs, and them new chaps, lookin' mighty
+important? He saddles Yuma and ties her over there. While he was eatin',
+the Boyar hoss trails his bridle over to where Yuma is tied. There they
+stand visitin' like two old soldiers on crutches instead of two mighty
+quick-actin' cayuses. Now that Yuma hoss has kicked the fancy linin' out
+of every cayuse that dast come nigh her. They 're _all_ scared of her.
+She's makin' an exception this mornin'. She's plumb friendly with
+Boyar. That signifies! Hosses can see farther in the dark than folks."
+
+"Signifies what?"
+
+"Well, after all the talk I jest wasted on you, it signifies that you're
+too thick-headed, Buddy, to waste any more on. I can learn you to
+_spell_ if you wanta take lessons."
+
+"You're dreamin', Brand. Wake up! As to spellin'--I'm spellin' right now
+while the fo'man is entertainin' me."
+
+"Thanks for callin' my attention to it. You can take your hoss and ride
+over to the Three Oaks. There's some fence down, over at the North
+Spring. I ain't dreamin' about that."
+
+Bud Light departed, swearing to himself. He disliked mending fence.
+Williams knew it. The cheerful Bud, "Reckoned he ought to 'a' known
+better than to try to ride the old man into the fence. Next time he
+would listen--and mebby learn something."
+
+Louise, drawing on her gauntlets, came down the broad steps of the
+ranch-house. The November air was crisp with the tang of early morning.
+
+She was puzzled at finding Boyar and Yuma together. She noticed Boyar
+had trailed his bridle across the yard--an unusual thing for him to do,
+considering his training. Louise spoke to the Yuma colt, who sniffed at
+her gloved hand. The girl wondered why Collie had saddled Yuma. He
+usually rode one of the ranch horses to work. She wanted to talk with
+him--to reason with him; for her knowledge of the previous night's
+disclosures worried and distressed her. She thought Collie's half
+promise to Overland Red to turn to their old life had been too easily
+made. Her pride in him was touched. She was hurt, and not a little
+angry. She saw the flaw in his ultimate decision to sacrifice himself
+and his prospects through a too stringent and quixotic interpretation of
+his duty. To go back to the old life again--a tramp!
+
+But Collie was not to be seen. However, Louise never hesitated long.
+Deliberately she untied the Yuma colt and swung into the saddle. Black
+Boyar seemed to realize something unusual in her preference. He fretted
+as the roan pony leaped sideways toward the gate.
+
+Louise knew that Collie would follow her. She was riding his pony, the
+Yuma colt, and he would be fearful for the rider's safety.
+
+Collie, coming from the bunk-house, glanced up and saw Black Boyar
+standing alone where his own pony had stood. This was not an invitation;
+this was daring him to follow.
+
+He rode into the cañon, half conscious of Yuma's tracks ahead of him. He
+rode past the tracks as they swerved toward a grassy level near the
+stream.
+
+"Collie!"
+
+Louise stood beside the sweating Yuma, patting the pony's neck. Collie
+raised his sombrero formally.
+
+Louise was bareheaded. The clear morning sunlight enhanced her rich
+coloring. Against the misty gray of the cañon wall, her head in profile,
+as she stood beside the horse, was as delicately beautiful as that
+vision that imagination knows full well but may seldom realize.
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"Collie, don't! Say anything but that. You look awfully glum. Surely not
+because I took Yuma."
+
+"No. Only I was afraid for you."
+
+"So you followed at break-neck speed to rescue the timorous, the
+despairing, and-so-forth?"
+
+"I can't joke like that this morning."
+
+"Why? I'm here, safe enough. Had breakfast?"
+
+"Yes. I wanted to see you about something, Louise."
+
+"All right. But you are so unnaturally tall and severe and judicial
+sitting there on Boyar. You look almost funereal. Please get down. Roll
+a cigarette and act natural. I'm not going to scold you, sir."
+
+"I wish you would."
+
+"Why? What have you been doing that makes you look so ashamed of
+yourself. Tell me!"
+
+"I didn't know I was."
+
+"You don't act naturally. Is there something about me that is different?
+Is that it?"
+
+"No. I wish you was different, sometimes."
+
+"You do?"
+
+"No," he said gently. "I don't wish you were different. I want to
+remember you like you are."
+
+"To _remember_ me?"
+
+"Yes," he whispered, "to remember you."
+
+He seemed to see regret, astonishment, questioning, gentle reproof, even
+a hint of amusement in her eyes. But her expression changed instantly.
+"I think you have something to remember me by; something you asked me
+for once, long ago. I sent it to you. You have never spoken of
+it--acknowledged it. I can't quite forgive that."
+
+"Your glove. I know. I got it here." And he touched his breast. "I
+thought you would understand."
+
+"I do. But, Collie, a girl always likes to be told that she is
+understood, even when she knows it."
+
+"I was going to write about getting your glove, at the hospital. I guess
+I was too tired."
+
+"At the hospital?"
+
+"Yes. Red sent it to me. Brand gave it to him to give to me--that time."
+
+"Oh!" And Louise felt like retracting a little; but sweetly perverse,
+she obeyed sheer instinct. "Collie, do you realize that I have already
+asked you to dismount? Shall I have to ask you again? Do you realize
+that I am standing while you are sitting your horse?"
+
+"I am begging your pardon, Louise."
+
+The girl nodded brightly, smiling as she noticed the little scar on his
+chin--a wound that she had made him blush for when she had admonished
+him for fighting with Dick Tenlow.
+
+She watched the rise and fall of the muscles of his arm, beneath his
+flannel shirt, as he lighted his cigarette. How broad-chested and strong
+and wholesome he seemed in the morning sunlight! There was an untamed
+grace about his movements, his gestures, which, together with his
+absolute unconsciousness of self, pleased and attracted her.
+
+"Yuma is a little wild, but she is a fine saddle-pony. I'm really
+jealous for Boyar's prestige."
+
+"I was afraid for you to ride her," said Collie.
+
+"She behaves beautifully."
+
+"Would you take her as a kind of present from me?" he asked.
+
+"Give Yuma to me? I thought you loved her?"
+
+"I do. That's why I want you to have her."
+
+"He would give you away," said Louise, stroking Yuma's neck. "Give you
+away just as you're learning to trust him and perhaps even like him a
+little--and he says he loves you! Let's run away from him, Hummingbird!"
+
+"I think I could stand it if you would just be mean once," said Collie.
+
+"Stand what, Collie?"
+
+He had been watching her shapely hand and supple, rounded wrist as she
+stroked the pony's neck. Swiftly she turned from the horse and faced
+him. "What, Collie?" There was laughter in her eyes, a laughter that
+challenged more than his serious mood. Her lips were smiling. Her chin
+was tilted provokingly.
+
+His eyes grew wide with unspoken love, unuttered longing. He delighted
+in the delicious curve of her cheek, and of her arm resting on the
+saddle. Her poise had an inexplicable suggestion of royal courage, as
+though she were battling for more than her lips could utter. In her
+absence he had adored her. Now he forgot all that he had meant to tell
+her in the sensuous delight of her mere presence. But even that was not
+enough. He dropped the pony's reins and strode toward her. Louise paled
+even as he drew near, but he saw nothing but her eyes and her lips, lips
+that curved wistfully, provoking tenderness and love. For an instant
+Louise held her heart aloof.
+
+"Let me just worship you--a little while--a little while," he whispered.
+
+"Only a little while?" she breathed; and the soft rose glowed in her
+cheeks.
+
+"Just forever," he said.
+
+And Louise Lacharme, more beautiful than the morning, Louise, his most
+gracious señorita, his Madonna of the Rose, lifted her arms to him. Her
+lips quivered like a child's, tremulous with longing to tell him
+silently, as his lips found hers, all that her heart was giving and all
+the wealth of love it yet should give.
+
+Gently his hands clasped her golden head. His whole being thrilled as he
+touched her hair, her cheeks, her lips. "Oh, Collie! Collie! Love me
+always," she whispered. And she drew him down to her breast and caressed
+his cheek, sighing and murmuring little endearments and sweet, broken
+words of love.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Moonstone Cañon, coldly beautiful, echoed the hoof-beats of the ponies
+as they walked homeward.
+
+Louise turned in the saddle. "Collie," she said with an indescribable
+gesture of appeal, "you will always take care of me, won't you?"
+
+"My Rose Girl! Why do you say that?"
+
+"I was thinking of my father."
+
+Louise saw his lips stiffen and his chin lift. "Louise, I had no right,
+just now,--I haven't any right--I'm poor. The claim wasn't ours."
+
+"I didn't mean that," she said, smiling wistfully. "But you will always
+care for me, won't you? I don't care one bit about the claim. It has
+made trouble and sorrow enough. I can't remember my father. I can hardly
+think of him as my father. But it is horrible to think of his dying for
+water because he cared so much for gold."
+
+"But how did you know?"
+
+"I know," she answered gravely. "And I know that you are a very, very
+foolish boy, not to trust your friends more than you do. Did you suppose
+you would be happier or better in leaving Moonstone Rancho? Did you
+suppose I would be happier? Collie, you have so much to learn."
+
+"I guess that's so," he sighed. Then his eyes brightened with his
+old-time mischief. "Couldn't you begin now to teach me a little--like
+back there in the cañon?"
+
+And being of a decisive habit of mind, he rode close to Louise and
+claimed immediate and delicious instruction.
+
+"But how _did_ you know?" he asked again--"about the claim and your
+father and me?"
+
+"A secret that I share with Overland," she replied.
+
+[Illustration: CAN'T I HAVE ANOTHER ONE, ROSE GIRL?]
+
+"So he told you! When? Not last night. He was asleep when I came away
+this morning."
+
+"So he is here, then?"
+
+"Louise, you're joking. Didn't Red talk to you?"
+
+"No."
+
+"And you know all about it already?" He looked at her curiously for a
+moment. "Did you know that I said I was going to leave the Moonstone?"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"For the same reason that I can't now--you. Red and Billy Winthrop and I
+don't own a cent's worth of the claim now. I don't even own what's in
+the bank. All I got is Yuma."
+
+"You gave Yuma to me, Collie."
+
+"I sure did. I haven't even her. But I've got you. Oh, Louise! I can't
+believe it. I could just shout. Can't I have another one, Rose Girl?"
+
+"Must I teach you not to ask?" said Louise.
+
+Collie took her other meaning as she made a little mouth at him. "Not
+after this," he said, and gave apt proof that he meant it.
+
+"More than a whole carload of gold?" she asked, gazing at him.
+
+"You know _that_, too?"
+
+"Collie?"
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Promise that you won't speak to any one about the claim, or the
+desert, or my father until I say you may."
+
+"Of course I promise."
+
+"Nor about ourselves, until I tell you to."
+
+"Never--if it will make you happy."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Overland Red, sitting on a boulder beside the road, stooped and gathered
+up a handful of pebbles. Then, for lack of other interest, he invented a
+game of ancient and honorable origin. "She loves me," he said tossing
+away a pebble. "She loves me not." And up spun another pebble. So he
+continued until the pebbles were gone. "She loves me not," he muttered
+lugubriously. Then his face brightened. "Of course she don't. She loves
+_him_. That's what I was tryin' to get at, anyway."
+
+He fumbled at a huge bunch of little red flowers called "Hummingbird's
+Trumpets." He arranged the hastily constructed bouquet to suit him. Then
+he laid it on the rock.
+
+"Accordin' to the latest book on good table-manners, or 'How to Be Happy
+Though Dressed Up,' this here bouquet is the proper thing. They'll think
+I'm some wiz' when I step out and present these here hummin'birds'
+bugles. Huh! I seen the two bosses gone, and I gets wise direct. But I
+got to brace up. Wonder what she'll think about me--after hearin' what I
+said last night at the Old Meadow? Gee! I wonder what I did say? Did I
+cuss much? I forget. H-m-m. Good-mornin', folks! I--er--This here--Them
+hummin'birds' bugles--flowers--Happy day--Collie, what's wrong with you?
+What you laughin' at?"
+
+"You, of course. Where did you get the posies?"
+
+"Picked 'em along the Golden Shore. Just got back."
+
+"You do look scared, Red."
+
+"Seein' you're gettin' personal--_you_ needn't to think because _you_
+just been there that I never will."
+
+"Say, Overland--I--we--" began Collie.
+
+"I knowed it! I won't say a word to nobody."
+
+Collie glanced at Louise. She nodded. Then she gave Overland her hand.
+He seized it and stood looking into her sweet gray eyes. "Little Rose
+Girl," he said quietly, "you always was the best and kindest and
+beautifullest we ever knowed. It ain't the first time you give your hand
+to help them that ain't fit to touch it. If there _is_ any Golden Shore,
+I guess me and Collie will be there just because we knowed you down here
+and couldn't stay around, nohow, where you wasn't. And, believe me, if
+he don't treat you from now on like you was a plumb angel, I'll--I'll
+ride him off the big range and into space quicker'n shootin' stars!
+These here flowers is for you--not for that long-legged grasshopper
+ridin' your hoss there. I should think Boyar would be plumb ashamed."
+
+"Then Collie can walk," said Louise promptly. "Collie, will you please
+let Mr. Summers take Boyar? I want to talk with the President of--of my
+mine a little while."
+
+"Don't faint, Chico," said Overland, swinging into the saddle. "I always
+was the 'cute little gopher with the ladies. You watch _us_ ride up this
+trail if you want to see a pair that _can_ ride."
+
+Collie shook his fist at the grinning Overland, who had turned as he
+rode away. "You want to learn to act quick when a lady asks you," called
+Overland. "You didn't get off this hoss any too spry."
+
+Then Collie stooped and picked up a little red flower that had dropped
+from the boisterous one's offering.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII
+
+A SPEECH
+
+
+The Marshalls and Billy Winthrop came in their car. The ride through the
+cañon had been pleasant. They were talking about Overland. They had been
+discussing the rearrangement of a great many things since the news of
+Louise's heritage had become known.
+
+"You had better close the muffler, Billy. You are frightening that
+pony!"
+
+"That's the Yuma colt," said Winthrop. "Overland is riding her."
+
+"Overland?"
+
+"Yes. He's coming to meet us."
+
+Plunging through the crackling greasewood at the side of the road, the
+Yuma colt leaped toward the car. In broad sombrero, blue silk
+neckerchief, blue flannel shirt, and silver-studded leather chaps, was a
+strangely familiar figure. The great silver spurs rang musically as the
+pony reared. The figure gave easily to the wild plunging of the horse,
+yet was as firm as iron in the saddle.
+
+Anne drew a deep breath. It was not the grotesque, frock-coated Overland
+of a recent visit, nor was it the ragged, unkempt vision Louise had
+conjured up for her in relating the Old Meadow story. In fact, it was
+not Overland Red at all, but Jack Summers, the range-rider of the old
+red Abilene days. He was clean-shaven, vigorous, splendidly strong, and
+confident. In the saddle, bedecked in his showy trappings, surrounded by
+his friends, Jack Summers had found his youth again, and the past was as
+a closed book, for the nonce.
+
+"I'm the boss's envy extraordinary," said Overland, by way of greeting.
+"Walt said something else, too, about bein' a potentiary, but I reckon
+_that_ was a joke."
+
+"Good-morning! Don't get down! Glad to see you again!"
+
+But Overland was in the road, hat in hand, and Yuma's bridle-reins over
+one arm.
+
+"'Mornin', Billy! 'Mornin', Doctor! You run right up to the house. I left
+the gate open."
+
+Then Overland rode back, following them. Later he reappeared, minus
+spurs and chaps, but still clad in the garb of the range-rider. He was
+as proud and happy as a boy. He seemed to have dropped ten years from
+his shoulders. And he was strangely unlike his old boisterous self
+withal.
+
+The noon sun crept through the moon-vine. Out on the wide veranda was
+the long table. They were a happy group at luncheon there. Even the
+taciturn Brand Williams had been persuaded to come. His native
+picturesqueness was rather effaced by a black, characterless suit of
+"store clothes."
+
+Walter Stone, at the conclusion of the luncheon, asked Overland to make
+a speech. Nothing daunted, Overland rose briskly.
+
+"I expect you're lookin' for me to fall off the roof of the cannery into
+the tomato-vat and make a large red splash. Not me. I got somethin' to
+say. Now the difference in droppin' a egg on the kitchen floor and
+breakin' it calm-like, in a saucer, ain't only the muss on the floor.
+You save the egg. Just recent I come nigh to losin' my whole basket. You
+all know who saved 'em. Not namin' any names, the same person, by jest
+bein' herself, and kind to everybody, put me wise to the fact that money
+and clothes ain't all that goes to make a man. And, at the same time,
+speakin' kind of orthodoxical, money and clothes has a whole lot to do
+with makin' a man. I just got hep to that idea recent.
+
+"Speakin' of clothes leads me to remark that I got a new outfit up at
+the bunk-house. It's a automobilein' outfit. Billy says it's the correc'
+thing. He helped me pick it out. Which leads Billy into this here thing,
+too. He said to break the news gentle, and not scare anybody to death
+and not get 'em to thinkin' that somebody was hurt or anything like
+that, so I'm breakin' it to you easy. Me and Billy is goin' away. We're
+goin' in the Guzzuh--'God save the mush,' as the pote says. We are the
+Overland Red Towerist and Observation Company, Unlimited. We are goin'
+
+  "'Round the world and back again;
+  Heel and toe in sun and rain'--
+
+as another pote says. Only we ride. I ain't got nothin' to say about
+gettin' married, or happy days, or any of that ordinary kind of stuff. I
+want to drink the health of my friends. I got so many and such good ones
+that I dassent to incriminate any particular one; so I say, lookin' at
+your faces like roses and lilies and--and faces, I say,--
+
+  "'Here's to California, the darling of the West,
+  A blessin' on those livin' here--
+  And God help all the rest.'"
+
+Overland sat down amid applause. He located his tobacco and papers,
+rolled a cigarette with one hand, and gazed across the hills. Glancing
+up, he saw Louise looking at him. He smiled. "I was settin' on a crazy
+bronc' holdin' his head up so he couldn't go to buckin'--outside a
+little old adobe down in Yuma, Arizona, then. Did you ever drift away
+like that, just from some little old trick to make you dream?"
+
+At a nod from Aunt Eleanor they all rose.
+
+Louise stepped from her end of the table to where Overland stood gazing
+out across the hills. She touched him lightly on the arm. He turned and
+looked at her unseeingly. His eyes were filled with the dreams of his
+youth, dreams that had not come true ... and yet.... He gazed down into
+her face. His expression changed. His eyes grew misty with happiness. He
+realized how many friends he had and how loyal and excellent they were.
+And of all that he had gained his greatest treasure was his love for
+Louise--for Louise Lacharme, the little Rose Girl of his dreams. That
+love lay buried deep in his rugged heart. She would never know of it. No
+one should ever know--not even Collie.
+
+Louise, in an ecstasy of affection and pity that she could not
+understand, suddenly flung her arms around Overland's neck and kissed
+him full on the lips.
+
+More than he had ever dared to dream had come true.
+
+THE END
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
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+
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+
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+
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+
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+
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+
+
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+
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+
+
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+
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+
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+
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+
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+
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+
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+GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK
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+KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN'S STORIES OF PURE DELIGHT
+
+Full of originality and humor, kindliness and cheer
+
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+THE OLD PEABODY PEW. Large Octavo. Decorative text pages, printed in two
+colors. Illustrations by Alice Barber Stephens.
+
+One of the prettiest romances that has ever come from this author's pen
+is made to bloom on Christmas Eve in the sweet freshness of an old New
+England meeting house.
+
+
+PENELOPE'S PROGRESS. Attractive cover design in colors.
+
+Scotland is the background for the merry doings of three very clever and
+original American girls. Their adventures in adjusting themselves to the
+Scot and his land are full of humor.
+
+
+PENELOPE'S IRISH EXPERIENCES. Uniform in style with "Penelope's
+Progress."
+
+The trio of clever girls who rambled over Scotland cross the border to
+the Emerald Isle, and again they sharpen their wits against new
+conditions, and revel in the land of laughter and wit.
+
+
+REBECCA OF SUNNYBROOK FARM.
+
+One of the most beautiful studies of childhood--Rebecca's artistic,
+unusual and quaintly charming qualities stand cut midst a circle of
+austere New Englanders. The stage version is making a phenomenal
+dramatic record.
+
+
+NEW CHRONICLES OF REBECCA. With illustrations by F. C. Yohn.
+
+Some more quaintly amusing chronicles that carry Rebecca through various
+stages to her eighteenth birthday.
+
+
+ROSE O' THE RIVER. With illustrations by George Wright.
+
+The simple story of Rose, a country girl and Stephen a sturdy young
+farmer. The girl's fancy for a city man interrupts their love and merges
+the story into an emotional strain where the reader follows the events
+with rapt attention.
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK
+
+
+
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+
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+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Overland Red, by Henry Herbert Knibbs
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+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+    "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Overland Red, by Henry Herbert Knibbs.
+    </title>
+        <style type="text/css">
+/*<![CDATA[  XML blockout */
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+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Overland Red, by Henry Herbert Knibbs
+
+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: Overland Red
+       A Romance of the Moonstone Cañon Trail
+
+Author: Henry Herbert Knibbs
+
+Illustrator: Anton Fischer
+
+Release Date: November 11, 2006 [EBook #19763]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OVERLAND RED ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<h1>Overland Red</h1>
+
+<h2>A ROMANCE<br/>
+OF THE MOONSTONE CA&Ntilde;ON TRAIL</h2>
+
+<div class='figcenter' style='width: 244px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="illus-001" id="illus-001"></a>
+<img src='images/img001.jpg' alt='' title='' width = '244' height = '206'/>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='major' />
+
+<div class='figcenter' style='width: 400px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="illus-002" id="illus-002"></a>
+<img src='images/img002.jpg' alt='(page 123) OVERLAND LIMITED!' title='' width = '400' height = '624'/><br />
+<span class='caption'>OVERLAND LIMITED! (page 123) </span>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='major' />
+
+<table width='450' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='' border='1'><tr><td>
+<p class="titleblock" style="font-size: 220%; margin-top: 40px; margin-bottom:20px; font-weight: bold;">Overland Red</p>
+<p class="titleblock" style="font-size: 140%;">A ROMANCE</p>
+<p class="titleblock" style="font-size: 140%; margin-bottom: 40px;">OF THE MOONSTONE CA&Ntilde;ON TRAIL</p>
+<p class="titleblock" style="font-size: 100%;">WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY</p>
+<p class="titleblock" style="font-size: 100%;">ANTON FISCHER</p>
+<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 60px; padding-bottom: 60px;'>
+<img src='images/img003.jpg' width = '106' height = '137' alt=''/>
+</div>
+<p class="titleblock">NEW YORK</p>
+<p class="titleblock" style="font-size: 120%;">GROSSET &amp; DUNLAP</p>
+<p class="titleblock" style="margin-bottom: 40px;">PUBLISHERS</p>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr class='major' />
+
+<p class='center' style='font-size:80%'>
+COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY<br /><br />
+ALL RIGHTS RESERVED</p>
+
+<hr class='major' />
+
+<p class='center'>To I. J. K.</p>
+
+<div class='figcenter' style='width: 181px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="illus-003" id="illus-003"></a>
+<img src='images/img005.jpg' alt='' title='' width = '181' height = '166'/><br />
+</div>
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div class='figcenter' style='width: 302px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="illus-004" id="illus-004"></a>
+<img src='images/img006.jpg' alt='' title='' width = '302' height = '592'/><br />
+</div>
+
+<hr class='major' />
+
+<div class='figcenter' style='width: 327px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="illus-005" id="illus-005"></a>
+<img src='images/img007.jpg' alt='' title='' width = '327' height = '104'/><br />
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="Contents" id="Contents"></a>Contents</h2>
+<div class="smcap">
+<table border="0" width="500" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents">
+<col style="width:20%;" />
+<col style="width:70%;" />
+<col style="width:10%;" />
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">The Road</td>
+  <td align="left"></td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#The_Road"><span style='font-variant:normal'>xi</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">I</td>
+  <td align="left">The Prospector</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">3</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">II</td>
+  <td align="left">Water</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">10</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">III</td>
+  <td align="left">Ragged Romance</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">14</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">IV</td>
+  <td align="left">"Any Road, At Any Time, For Anywhere"</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">25</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">V</td>
+  <td align="left">"Can He Ride?"</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">39</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">VI</td>
+  <td align="left">Advocate Extraordinary</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">48</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">VII</td>
+  <td align="left">The Girl Who Glanced Back</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">60</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">VIII</td>
+  <td align="left">The Test</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">72</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">IX</td>
+  <td align="left">A Celestial EnterprisE</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">88</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">X</td>
+  <td align="left">"Perfectly Harmless Little Ole Tenderfoot"</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">98</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">XI</td>
+  <td align="left">Desert Law</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">110</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">XII</td>
+  <td align="left">"Fool's Luck"</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">125</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">XIII</td>
+  <td align="left">The Return</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">132</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">XIV</td>
+  <td align="left">"Call it The 'rose Girl'"</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">141</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">XV</td>
+  <td align="left">Silent Saunders</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">157</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">XVI</td>
+  <td align="left">Blunder</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">163</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">XVII</td>
+  <td align="left">Guests</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">177</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">XVIII</td>
+  <td align="left">A Red Episode</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">185</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">XIX</td>
+  <td align="left">"To Cut My Trail Like That!"</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">202</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">XX</td>
+  <td align="left">The Led Horse</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">211</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">XXI</td>
+  <td align="left">Borrowed Plumes</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">223</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">XXII</td>
+  <td align="left">The Yuma Colt</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">231</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">XXIII</td>
+  <td align="left">Silent Saunders Speaks</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">247</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">XXIV</td>
+  <td align="left">"Like Sunshine"</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">254</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">XXV</td>
+  <td align="left">In the Shadow Of The Hills</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">262</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">XXVI</td>
+  <td align="left">Special</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">273</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">XXVII</td>
+  <td align="left">The Riders</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">278</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">XXVIII</td>
+  <td align="left">Gophertown</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">288</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">XXIX</td>
+  <td align="left">Toll</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">299</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">XXX</td>
+  <td align="left">Two Roses</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">305</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">XXXI</td>
+  <td align="left">Night</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">320</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">XXXII</td>
+  <td align="left">Morning</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">332</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="pr" align="right">XXXIII</td>
+  <td align="left">A Speech</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">345</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div class='figcenter' style='width: 292px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="illus-006" id="illus-006"></a>
+<img src='images/img008.jpg' alt='' title='' width = '292' height = '162'/><br />
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="Illustrations" id="Illustrations"></a>Illustrations</h2>
+<div class="smcap">
+<table border="0"  width="600" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations">
+<col style="width:80%;" />
+<col style="width:20%;" />
+<tr><td align="left">Overland Limited! (page 123)</td><td align="right"><a href="#illus-002"><span style='font-variant:normal; font-style:italic;'>Frontispiece</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">The Girl's Level Gray Eyes Studied the Tramp's Face</td><td align="right"><a href="#illus-012">16</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">It's a Clean-Up</td><td align="right"><a href="#illus-013">298</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Can't I Have Another One, Rose Girl?</td><td align="right"><a href="#illus-014">340</a></td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<div class='figcenter' style='width: 208px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="illus-007" id="illus-007"></a>
+<img src='images/img009.jpg' alt='' title='' width = '208' height = '202'/><br />
+</div>
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div class='figcenter' style='width: 262px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="illus-008" id="illus-008"></a>
+<img src='images/img010.jpg' alt='' title='' width = '262' height = '296'/><br />
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class='figcenter' style='width: 256px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="illus-009" id="illus-009"></a>
+<img src='images/img011.jpg' alt='' title='' width = '256' height = '98'/><br />
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="The_Road" id="The_Road"></a>The Road</h2>
+
+<p>Through the San Fernando Valley, toward the hills of Calabasas runs that
+old road, El Camino Real of the early Mission days.</p>
+
+<p>And now replicas of old Mission bells, each suspended in solitary
+dignity from a rusted iron rod, mark intervals along the dusty way, once
+a narrow trail worn by the patient feet of that gentle and great padre,
+Jun&iacute;pero Serra,&mdash;a trail from the San Gabriel Valley to the shores of
+Monterey. A narrow trail then, but, even then, to him it was broad in
+its potential significance of the dawn of Grace upon the mountain shores
+of Heaven's lost garden, California.</p>
+
+<p>Not far from one iron-posted bell in the valley, El Camino Real falters,
+to find, eventually, a lazy way round the low foothills, as though
+reluctant to lift its winding length over the sharp pitch of the Canajo
+Pass, beyond.</p>
+
+<p>Near this lone bell another road, an offspring of old El Camino Real,
+runs quickly from its gray and patient sire. Branching south in hurried
+turns and multiple windings it climbs the rolling hills, ever dodging
+the rude-piled masses of rock, with scattered brush between, but forever
+aspiring courageously through the mountain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span> sage and sunshine toward its
+ultimate green rest in the shadowy hills.</p>
+
+<p>In the sweet sage is the drone of bees, like the hum of a far city. The
+thinning, acrid air is tinged with the faint fragrance of sunburnt
+shrubs and grasses.</p>
+
+<p>With the sinuous avoidings of a baffled snake the road turns and turns
+upon itself until its earlier promise of high adventuring seems
+doubtful. As often as not it climbs a semi-barren dun stretch of
+sunbaked earth dotted with stubby cacti&mdash;passes these dwarfed
+grotesques, and attempts the narrowing crest of the ca&ntilde;on-wall, to swing
+abruptly back to the cacti again, gaining but little in its upward
+trend.</p>
+
+<p>Impatient, it finally plunges dizzily round a sharp, outstanding angle
+of rock and down into the unexpected enchantment of Moonstone Ca&ntilde;on.
+Here the gaunt cliffs rise to great wild gardens, draped with soft rose
+and poignant red amid drowsy undertones of gray and green and gold. Dots
+of vivid colors flame and fade and pass to ledges of dank, vineclad rock
+and drifts of shale, as the road climbs again.</p>
+
+<p>At the next turn are the indistinct voices of water, commingling in a
+monotone&mdash;and the road ceases to be, as the cool silver of a mountain
+stream cuts through it, with seemingly inconsequential meanderings, but
+with the soft<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</a></span> arrogance of a power too great to be denied. And the
+indistinct voices, left behind, fade to unimaginable sounds as the
+stream patters down its gravelly course, contented beyond measure with
+its own adventuring.</p>
+
+<p>Patiently the road takes up its way, moving in easier sweeps through a
+widening valley, but forever climbing.</p>
+
+<p>Again and again, fetlock deep across it runs the stream, gently
+persistent and forever murmuring its happy soliloquies.</p>
+
+<p>Here and there the road passes quickly through a blot of shade,&mdash;a group
+of wide-spreading live-oaks,&mdash;and reappears, gray-white and hot in the
+sun.</p>
+
+<p>And then, its high ambition fulfilled, the road recovers from its last
+climbing sweep round the base of a shouldering hill and runs straight
+and smooth to its ultimate green rest in the shade of the sycamores.
+Beyond these two huge-limbed warders of the mountain ranch gate, there
+is a flower-bordered <i>way</i>, but it is the road no longer.</p>
+
+<p>The mountain ranch takes its name from the ca&ntilde;on below. It is the
+Moonstone Ranch, the home of Louise, whose ancestors, the Lacharmes,
+grew roses in old France.</p>
+
+<p>Among the many riders to and from the ranch, there is one, a great,
+two-fisted, high-complexioned man, whose genial presence is ever
+welcome. He answers to many names. To the youngsters he is "Uncle
+Jack,"&mdash;usually with an exclamation. To some of the older folk he is
+"Mr. Summers," or "Jack." Again, the foreman of the Moonstone Ranch
+seldom calls him anything more dignified than "Red." Louise does
+sometimes call him&mdash;quite affectionately&mdash;"Overland."</p>
+
+<div class='figcenter' style='width: 231px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="illus-010" id="illus-010"></a>
+<img src='images/img014.jpg' alt='' title='' width = '231' height = '342'/><br />
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Overland_Red" id="Overland_Red"></a>Overland Red</h2>
+
+<div class='figcenter' style='width: 267px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="illus-011" id="illus-011"></a>
+<img src='images/img015.jpg' alt='' title='' width = '267' height = '194'/><br />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+
+<h2>Overland Red</h2>
+
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">3</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER I</h2><h3>THE PROSPECTOR</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>For five years he had journeyed back and forth between the little desert
+station on the Mojave and the range to the north. The townspeople paid
+scant attention to him. He was simply another "desert rat" obsessed with
+the idea that gold was to be found in those northern hills. He bought
+supplies and paid grudgingly. No one knew his name.</p>
+
+<p>The prospector was much younger than he appeared to be. The desert sun
+had dried his sinews and warped his shoulders. The desert wind had
+scrawled thin lines of age upon his face. The desert solitude had
+stooped him with its awesome burden of brooding silence.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly his mind had been squeezed dry of all human interest save the
+recurrent memory of a child's face&mdash;that, and the poignant memory of the
+child's mother. For ten years he had been trying to forget. The last
+five years on the desert had dimmed the woman's visioned face as the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">4</a></span>
+child came more often between him and the memory of the mother, in his
+dreams.</p>
+
+<p>Then there were voices, the voices of strange spirits that winged
+through the dusk of the outlands and hovered round his fire at night.</p>
+
+<p>One voice, soft, insistent, ravished his imagination with visions of
+illimitable power and peace and rest. "Gold! Lost gold!" it would
+whisper as he sat by the meager flame. Then he would tremble and draw
+nearer the warmth. "Where?" he would ask, tempting the darkness as a
+child, fearfully certain of a reply.</p>
+
+<p>Then another voice, cadenced like the soft rush of waves up the sand,
+would murmur, "Somewhere away! Somewhere away! Somewhere away!" And in
+the indefiniteness of that answer he found an inexplicable joy. The
+vagueness of "Somewhere away" was as vast with pregnant possibilities as
+his desert. His was the eternity of hope, boundless and splendid in its
+extravagant promises. Drunk with the wine of dreams, he knew himself to
+be a monarch, a monarch uncrowned and unattended, yet always with his
+feet upon the wide threshold of his kingdom.</p>
+
+<p>Then would come the biting chill of night, the manifold rays of stars
+and silence, silence reft of winds, yet alive with the tense immobility
+of the crouching beast, waiting ... waiting....<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">5</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The desert, impassively withering him to the shell of a man, or wracking
+him terribly in heat or in storm and cold, still cajoled him day and
+night with promises, whispered, vague and intoxicating as the perfume of
+a woman's hair.</p>
+
+<p>Finally the desert flung wide the secret portals of her treasure-house
+and gave royally like a courtesan of kings.</p>
+
+<p>The man, his dream all but fulfilled, found the taste of awakening
+bitter on his lips. He counted his years of toil and cursed as he viewed
+his shrunken hands, claw-like, scarred, crippled.</p>
+
+<p>He felt the weight of his years and dreaded their accumulated burdens.
+He realized that the dream was all&mdash;its fulfillment nothing. He knew
+himself to be a thing to be pointed at; yet he longed for the sound of
+human voices, for the touch of human hands, for the living sweetness of
+his child's face. The sirens of the invisible night no longer whispered
+to him. He was utterly alone. He had entered his kingdom. Viewed from
+afar it had seemed a vast pleasure-dome of infinite enchantment. He
+found Success, as it ever shall be, a veritable desert, grudging man
+foothold, yet luring him from one aspiration to another, only to consume
+his years in dust.</p>
+
+<p>A narrow ca&ntilde;on held his secret. He had wandered into it, panned a little
+black sand, and found color. Finally he discovered the fountainhead<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">6</a></span> of
+the hoarded yellow particles that spell Power. There in the fastness of
+those steep, purgatorial walls was the hermitage of the two
+voices&mdash;voices that no longer whispered of hope, but left him in the
+utter loneliness of possession and its birthright, Fear.</p>
+
+<p>He cried aloud for the companionship of men&mdash;and glanced fearfully round
+lest man had heard him call.</p>
+
+<p>He again journeyed to the town beside the railroad, bought supplies and
+vanished, a ragged wraith, on the horizon.</p>
+
+<p>Back in the ca&ntilde;on he set about his labors, finding a numbing solace in
+toil.</p>
+
+<p>But at night he would think of the child's face. He had said to those
+with whom he had left the child that he would return with a fortune.
+They knew he went away to forget. They did not expect him to return.
+That had been ten years ago. He had written twice. Then he had drifted,
+always promising the inner voice that urged him that he would find gold
+for her, his child, that she might ever think kindly of him. So he tried
+to buy himself&mdash;with promises. Once he had been a man of his hands, a
+man who stood straight and faced the sun. Now the people of the desert
+town eyed him askance. He heard them say he was mad&mdash;that the desert had
+"got him." They were wrong. The desert and its secret was his&mdash;a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">7</a></span> sullen
+paramour, but <i>his</i> nevertheless. Had she not given him of her very
+heart?</p>
+
+<p>He viewed his shrunken body, knew that he stooped and shuffled, realized
+that he had paid the inevitable, the inexorable price for the secret.
+His wine of dreams had evaporated.... He sifted the coarse gold between
+his fingers, letting it fall back into the pan. Was it for <i>this</i> that
+he had wasted his soul?</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>In the desert town men began to notice the regularity of his comings and
+goings. Two or three of them foregathered in the saloon and commented on
+it.</p>
+
+<p>"He packed some dynamite last trip," asserted one.</p>
+
+<p>There was a silence. The round clock behind the bar ticked loudly,
+ominously.</p>
+
+<p>"Then he's struck it at last," said another.</p>
+
+<p>"Mebby," commented the first speaker.</p>
+
+<p>The third man nodded. Then came silence again and the absolute ticking
+of the clock. Presently from outside in the white heat of the road came
+the rush of hoofs and an abrupt stop. A spurred and booted rider, his
+swarthy face gray with dust, strode in, nodded to the group and called
+for whiskey.</p>
+
+<p>"Which way did he go, Saunders?" asked one.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">8</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"North, as usual," said the rider.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's set down," suggested the third man.</p>
+
+<p>They shuffled to a table. The bartender brought glasses and a bottle.
+Then, uninvited, he pulled up a chair and sat with them. The rider
+looked at him pointedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm in on this," asserted the bartender. "Daugherty is the
+Wells-Fargo man here. He won't talk to nobody but me&mdash;about <i>business</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"What's that got to do with it?" queried the rider.</p>
+
+<p>"Just what you'd notice, Saunders. Listen! The rat left a bag of dust in
+the Company's safe last trip. Daugherty says its worth mebby five
+hundred. He says the rat's goin' to bring in some more. Do I come in?"</p>
+
+<p>"You're on," said the rider. "Now, see here, boys, we got to find out if
+he's filed on it yet, and what his name is, and then&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Mebby we'd better find out <i>where</i> it is first," suggested one.</p>
+
+<p>"And then jump him?" queried the rider over his glass.</p>
+
+<p>"And then jump him," chorused the group. "He's out there alone. It's
+easy." And each poured himself a drink, for which, strangely enough, no
+one offered to pay, and for which the bartender evidently forgot to
+collect.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">9</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the prospector toiled through the drought of that summer
+hoarding the little yellow flakes that he washed from the gravel in the
+ca&ntilde;on.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">10</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER II</h2><h3>WATER</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>All round him for miles each way the water-holes had gone dry. The
+little ca&ntilde;on stream still wound down its shaded course, disappearing in
+a patch of sand at the ca&ntilde;on's mouth, so the prospector felt secure.
+None had ridden out to look for him through that furnace of burning sand
+that stretched between the hills and the desert town.</p>
+
+<p>The stream dwindled slowly, imperceptibly.</p>
+
+<p>One morning the prospector noticed it, and immediately explored the
+creek clear to its source&mdash;a spurt of water springing from the roof of a
+grotto in the cliff. Such a supply, evidently from the rocky heart of
+the range itself, would be inexhaustible.</p>
+
+<p>A week later he awoke to find the creek-bed dry save in a few
+depressions among the rocks. He again visited the grotto. The place was
+damp and cool, glistening with beads of moisture, but the flow from the
+roof-crevice had ceased. Still he thought there must be plenty of water
+beneath the rocks of the stream-bed. He would dig for it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">11</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Another week, and he became uneasy. The stream had disappeared as though
+poured into a colossal crevice. A few feet below the gravel he struck
+solid rock. He tried dynamite unsuccessfully. Then he hoarded the
+drippings from the grotto crevice till he had filled his canteen.
+Carefully he stowed his gold in a chamois pouch and prepared to leave
+the ca&ntilde;on. His burro had strayed during the week of drought&mdash;was
+probably dead beside some dry water-hole.</p>
+
+<p>The prospector set out to cross the range in the light of the stars.</p>
+
+<p>Fearful that he might be seen, panic warped his reasoning. He planned to
+journey south along the foothills, until opposite the desert town and
+then cross over to it. If he approached from such a direction, no one
+would guess his original starting-place. He knew of an unfailing
+water-hole two days' journey from the ca&ntilde;on. This water-hole was far out
+of his way, but his canteen supply would more than last till he reached
+it.</p>
+
+<p>Then Fate, the fate that had dogged his every step since first he
+ventured into the solitudes, closed up and crept at his heels. He became
+more morose and strangely fearful. His vision, refined by the wasting of
+his body, created shadows that lay about his feet like stagnant pools,
+shadows where no shadows should be.</p>
+
+<p>Ominous was his fall as he crossed an arroyo.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">12</a></span> The canteen, slung over
+his shoulder, struck a sharp point of rock that started one of the
+seams. The leak was infinitesimal. The felt cover of the canteen
+absorbed the drip, which evaporated. When he arrived at the water-hole,
+<i>that</i> was dry. His canteen felt strangely light. He could not remember
+having used so much water. He changed his plan. He struck straight from
+the hills toward the railroad. He knew that eventually he would, as he
+journeyed west, cross it, perhaps near a water-tank.</p>
+
+<p>Toward the blinding afternoon of that day he saw strange lakes and pools
+spread out upon the distant sand and inverted mountain ranges stretching
+to the horizon.</p>
+
+<p>Fate crept closer to his heels, waiting with the dumb patience of the
+desert to claim the struggling, impotent puppet whose little day was all
+but spent.</p>
+
+<p>He stumbled across the blazing bars of steel that marked the railroad.
+His empty canteen clattered on the ties as he fell. He got to his knees
+and dragged himself from the track. He laughed, for he had thwarted Fate
+this once; he would not be run over by the train. He lay limp, wasted,
+scarcely breathing.</p>
+
+<p>Serenely Fate crouched near him, patient, impassive....</p>
+
+<p>He heard a man speak and another answer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">13</a></span> He felt an arm beneath his
+head, and water.... Water!</p>
+
+<p>He drank, and all at once his strength flamed up. It was not water they
+gave him; it was merely the taste of it&mdash;a mockery. He wanted more ...
+all!</p>
+
+<p>He lurched to his feet, struggling with a bearded giant that held him
+from his desire&mdash;to drink until he could drink no more&mdash;to die drinking
+the water they had taken from him even as they gave it. He fought
+blindly. Fate, disdaining further patience, arose and flung itself about
+his feet. He stumbled. A flash wiped all things from his vision and the
+long night came swiftly.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">14</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER III</h2><h3>RAGGED ROMANCE</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>At the wide gate of the mountain ranch stood the girl. Her black
+saddle-pony Boyar fretted to be away. Glancing back through the
+cavernous shade of the live-oaks, the girl hesitated before opening the
+gate. A little breeze, wayfaring through Moonstone Ca&ntilde;on and on up to
+the mountain ranch, touched the girl's cheek and she breathed deeply of
+its cool fragrance.</p>
+
+<p>The wide gate swung open, and Louise Lacharme, curbing Black Boyar, rode
+out of the shadows into the hot light of the morning, singing as she
+rode.</p>
+
+<p>Against the soft gray of the ca&ntilde;on wall flamed a crimson flower like a
+pomegranate bud. Across the road ran the cool mountain stream. Away and
+away toward the empty sky the ragged edges of the cliffs were etched
+sharply upon the blue.</p>
+
+<p>The road ran swiftly round the eastern wall of the ca&ntilde;on. Louise, as
+fragrantly bright as morning sunshine on golden flowers, laughed as the
+pony's lithe bound tore the silver of the ford to swirling beads and
+blade-like flashes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">15</a></span></p>
+
+<p>On the rise beyond, the girl drew rein at the beginning of the Old
+Meadow Trail, a hidden trail that led to a mountain meadow of ripe
+grasses, groups of trees, and the enchantment of seclusion.</p>
+
+<p>The pony shouldered through the breast-high greasewood and picked his
+steps along the edge of the hill. The twigs and branches lisped and
+clattered against the carved leather tapaderos that hooded the stirrups.
+The warm sun awoke the wild fragrance of sage and mountain soil. Little
+lizards of the stones raced from Black Boyar's tread, becoming rigid on
+the sides of rocks, clinging at odd angles with heads slanted, like
+delicate Orient carvings in dull brass.</p>
+
+<p>The girl's eyes, the color of sea-water in the sun, were leveled toward
+the distant hills across the San Fernando Valley. From her fingers
+dangled the long bridle-reins. Her lips were gently parted. Her gaze was
+the gaze of one who dreams in the daylight. And close in the hidden
+meadow crouched Romance, Romance ragged, unkempt, jocular....</p>
+
+<p>Boyar first scented the wood-smoke. Louise noticed his forward-standing
+ears and his fidgeting. Immediately before her was the low rounded rock,
+a throne of dreams that she had graced before. From down the slope and
+almost hidden by the bulk of the rock, a little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">16</a></span> wand of smoke stood up
+in the windless air, to break at last into tiny shreds and curls of
+nothingness.</p>
+
+<p>"It can't be much of a fire yet!" exclaimed Louise, forever watchful, as
+are all the hill-folk, for that dread, ungovernable red monster of
+destruction, a mountain fire. "It can't be much of a fire <i>yet</i>."</p>
+
+<p>The pony Boyar, delicately scenting something more than wood-smoke,
+snorted and swerved. Louise dismounted and stepped hurriedly round the
+shoulder of the rock. A bristle-bearded face confronted her. "No, it
+ain't much of a fire yet, but our hired girl she joined a movin'-picture
+outfit, so us two he-things are doin' the best we can chasin' a
+breakfast." And the tramp, Overland Red, ragged, unkempt, jocular, rose
+from his knees beside a tiny blaze. He pulled a bleak flop of felt from
+his tangled hair in an over-accentuated bow of welcome.</p>
+
+<p>"We offer you the freedom of the city, ma'am. Welcome to our midst, and
+kindly excuse appearances this morning. Our trunks got delayed in New
+York."</p>
+
+<p>Unsmilingly the girl's level gray eyes studied the tramp's face. Then
+her glance swept him swiftly from bared head to rundown heel. "I was
+just making up my mind whether I'd stay and talk with you, or ask you to
+put out your fire and go somewhere else. But I think you are all right.
+Please put on your hat."</p>
+
+<div class='figcenter' style='width: 400px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="illus-012" id="illus-012"></a>
+<img src='images/img030.jpg' alt='THE GIRL&#39;S LEVEL GRAY EYES STUDIED THE TRAMP&#39;S FACE' title='' width = '400' height = '554'/><br />
+<span class='caption'>THE GIRL'S LEVEL GRAY EYES STUDIED THE TRAMP'S FACE</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">17</a></span>Overland Red's self-assurance shrunk a little. The girl's eyes were
+direct and fearless, yet not altogether unfriendly. He thought that deep
+within them dwelt a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"You got my map all right," he said, a trifle more respectfully.
+"'Course we'll douse the fire when we duck out of here. But what do you
+think of Collie here, my pal? Is he all right?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he's only a boy," said Louise, glancing casually at the youth
+crouched above the fire.</p>
+
+<p>The boy, a slim lad of sixteen or thereabout, flushed beneath the
+battered brim of his black felt hat. He watched the tomato-can
+coffee-pot intently. Louise could not see his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Miss. <i>I'm</i> all right and so is he." And a humorous wistfulness
+crept into the tramp's eyes. "He's what you might call a changeling."</p>
+
+<p>"Changeling?"</p>
+
+<p>"Uhuh! Always changin' around from place to place&mdash;when you're young.
+Ain't that it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! And when you are older?" she queried, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>Overland Red frowned. "Oh, then you're just a tramp, a Willie, a Bo, a
+Hobo."</p>
+
+<p>He saw the girl's eyes harden a little. He spoke quickly, and, she
+imagined, truthfully. "I worked ten years for one outfit once, without<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">18</a></span>
+a change. And I never knowed what it was to do a day's work out of the
+saddle. You know what that means."</p>
+
+<p>"Cattle? Mexico?"</p>
+
+<p>Overland Red grinned. "Say! You was born in California, wasn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, of course."</p>
+
+<p>"'Cause Mexico has been about the only place a puncher could work that
+long without doin' day labor on foot half the year. Yes, I been there.
+'Course, now, I'm doin' high finance, and givin' advice to the young,
+and livin' on my income. And say, when it comes to real brain work, I'm
+the Most Exhausted Baked High Potentate, but I wouldn't do no mineral
+labor for nobody. If I can't work in the saddle, I don't work&mdash;that's
+all."</p>
+
+<p>"Mineral labor? What, mining?" asked Louise.</p>
+
+<p>"No, not mining. Jest mineral labor like Japs, or section-hands, or
+coachmen with bugs on their hats. Ain't the papers always speakin' of
+that kind as minerals?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you mean menials?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, yes. It's all the same, anyway. I never do no hair-splittin' on
+words. Bein' a pote myself, it ain't necessary."</p>
+
+<p>"A&mdash;a poet! Really?"</p>
+
+<p>"Really and truly, and carry one and add five.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">19</a></span> I've roped a lot of
+po'try in my time, Miss. Say, are we campin' on your land?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. This is government land, from here to our line up above&mdash;the
+Moonstone Rancho."</p>
+
+<p>"The Moonstone Rancho?" queried Overland Red, breaking a twig and
+feeding the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. It's named after the ca&ntilde;on. But don't let me keep you from
+breakfast."</p>
+
+<p>"Breakfast, eh? That's right! I almost forgot it, talkin' to you.
+Collie's got the coffee to boilin'. No, <i>you</i> ain't keepin' us from our
+breakfast any that you'd notice. It would take a whole reg'ment of
+Rurales to keep us from a breakfast if we seen one runnin' around loose
+without its pa or ma."</p>
+
+<p>Louise Lacharme did not smile. This was too real. Here was adventure
+with no raconteur's glamour, no bookish gloss. Here was Romance. Romance
+unshaven, illiterate, with its coat off making coffee in a
+smoke-blackened tomato-can, but Romance nevertheless. That this romance
+should touch her life, Louise had not the faintest dream. She was
+alone ... but, pshaw! Boyar was grazing near, and besides, she was not really
+afraid of the men. She thought she rather liked them, or, more
+particularly, the boisterous one who had said his name was Overland Red.</p>
+
+<p>The tramp gazed at her a moment before he lifted the tomato-can from the
+embers. "We<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">20</a></span> know you won't join us, but we're goin' to give you the
+invite just the same. And we mean it. Ma'am, if you'll be so kind as to
+draw up your chair, us gents'll eat."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you!" said Louise, and Overland's face brightened at the
+good-fellowship in her voice. "Thank you both, but I've had breakfast."</p>
+
+<p>She gazed at the solitary, bubbling, tomato-can coffee-pot of
+"second-edition" coffee. There was nothing else to grace the board, or
+rather rock. "I'll be right back," she said. "I'll just take off Boyar's
+bridle. Here, Boy!" she called. "You'll be able to eat better."</p>
+
+<p>And she ran to the pony. From a saddle-pocket she took her own lunch of
+sandwiches and ripe olives wrapped in oiled paper. She delayed her
+return to loosen the forward cincha of the saddle and to find the little
+stock of cigarette-papers and tobacco that she carried for any chance
+rider of the Moonstone who might be without them.</p>
+
+<p>Collie, the boy tramp, glanced up at Overland Red. "I guess she's gone,"
+he said regretfully.</p>
+
+<p>"You're nutty, Collie. She ain't the kind to sneak off after sayin'
+she's comin' back. I know a hoss and a real woman when I see 'em. I was
+raised in the West, myself."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">21</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The boy Collie was young, sensitive, and he had not been "raised in the
+West." He frowned. "Yes, you was raised in the West, and what you got to
+show for it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, hear the kid!" exclaimed Overland. "Out of the mouth of babes and
+saplings! What have I got to show? What have I&mdash;! Wha&mdash;? Oh, you go
+chase a snake! I know a good hoss and a good woman when I see 'em, and I
+seen both together this morning."</p>
+
+<p>"But what do <i>she</i> want with us bos?" asked the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"S-s-h-h! Why, she's interested in me romantic past, of course. Ain't I
+the 'cute little gopher when it comes to the ladies? Fan me, Collie, and
+slow music and a beer for one. I'm some lady's-man, sister!"</p>
+
+<p>"You're a bo, the same as me," said the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"S-s-h-h! For the love of Pete, don't you handle that word 'bo' so
+careless. It's loaded. It has a jarrin' effect on ears
+unattenuated&mdash;er&mdash;meanin' ears that ain't keyed up to it, as the pote
+says. She's comin' back. Fold your napkin. Don't look so blame hungry!
+Ain't you got any style?"</p>
+
+<p>"She's the prettiest girl I ever seen," said the boy, hastily swallowing
+his share of the hot, insipid coffee.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">22</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Pretty?" whispered Overland, as Louise approached. "She's thoroughbred.
+Did you see them eyes? Afraid of nothin', and smilin' at what might dast
+to scare her. Not foolish, either. She's wise. And she's kind and
+laughin', and not ashamed to talk to us. That's thoroughbred."</p>
+
+<p>Round the rock came Louise, the neat package of sandwiches in one hand.
+In the other was the tobacco and cigarette-papers. "I'm going to have my
+luncheon," she said. "If you won't object, I'll take a sandwich. There,
+I have mine. The rest are for you."</p>
+
+<p>"We had our breakfast," said Overland quickly, "when you was talkin' to
+your pony."</p>
+
+<p>Louise glanced at the empty tomato-can. "Well, I'll excuse you for not
+waiting for me, but I shall not excuse you from having luncheon with me.
+I made these sandwiches myself. Have one. They're really good."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" groaned Overland, grimacing. "If I could curry up my language
+smooth, like that, I&mdash;I guess I'd get deaf listenin' to myself talk. You
+said that speech like takin' two turns round the bandstand tryin' to
+catch yourself, and then climbin' a post and steppin' on your own
+shoulders so you could see the parade down the street. Do you get that?"
+And he sighed heavily. "Say! These here sandwiches is great!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">23</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Will you have one?" asked Louise, gracefully proffering the olives.</p>
+
+<p>"Seein' it's you. Thanks. I always take two. The second one for a chaser
+to kill the taste of the first. It's the only way to eat 'em&mdash;if you
+know where to stop. They do taste like somethin' you done and are sorry
+for afterwards, don't they?"</p>
+
+<p>"Were you ever sorry for anything?" asked the boy, feeling a little
+piqued that he had been left out of the conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"I was raised in the West, myself," growled the tramp, scowling. "But
+that's a good pony you got, Miss. That your saddle too?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"You rope any?"</p>
+
+<p>"A little. How did you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Rawhide cover to the saddle-horn is wore with a rope," said Overland,
+helping himself to a second sandwich.</p>
+
+<p>Then the tramp and the girl, oblivious to everything else, discussed
+rawhide riatas as compared with the regular three-strand stock rope, or
+lariat,&mdash;center-fire, three quarter, and double rigs, swell forks and
+old Visalia trees, spade bits and "U" curbs,&mdash;neither willing, even
+lightly, to admit the other's superiority of chosen rig.</p>
+
+<p>The boy Collie listened intently and a trifle jealously. Overland Red
+and the girl had found<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">24</a></span> a common ground of interest that excluded him
+utterly. The boy itched for an excuse to make the girl speak to him,
+even look at him.</p>
+
+<p>The sandwiches gone, Louise proffered Overland tobacco and papers.
+Actual tears stood in the ex-cowboy's eyes. "Smoke! Me?" he exclaimed.
+"I was dyin' for it. I'd do time for you!"</p>
+
+<p>Then in that boyish spirit that never quite leaves the range-rider,
+Overland Red took the tobacco and papers and cleverly rolled a cigarette
+with one hand. In the other he held his battered felt hat. His eyes had
+a far-away look as he reached forward and lighted his cigarette at the
+fire. "I was settin' on a crazy bronc', holdin' his head up so he
+couldn't go to buckin'&mdash;outside a little old adobe down in Yuma,
+Arizona, then," he explained, glancing at the girl. "Did you ever drift
+away complete, like that, jest from some little old trick to make you
+dream?"</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">25</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2><h3>"ANY ROAD, AT ANY TIME, FOR ANYWHERE"</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>The boy Collie took the empty tomato-can and went for water with which
+to put out the fire.</p>
+
+<p>Louise and Overland Red gazed silently at the youthful figure crossing
+the meadow. The same thought was in both their hearts&mdash;that the boy's
+chance in life was still ahead of him. Something of this was in the
+girl's level gray eyes as she asked, "Why did you come up here, so far
+from the town and the railroad?"</p>
+
+<p>"We generally don't," replied Overland Red. "We ain't broke. Collie's
+got some money. We got out of grub from comin' up here. We come up to
+see the scenery. I ain't kiddin'; we sure did! 'Course, speakin' in
+general, a free lunch looks better to me any day than the Yosemite&mdash;but
+that's because I need the lunch. You got to be fed up to it to enjoy
+scenery. Now, on the road we're lookin' at lots of it every day, but we
+ain't seein' much. But give me a good feed and turn me loose in the Big
+Show Pasture where the Bridal Veil is weepin' jealous of the Cathedral
+Spires, and the Big Trees is too big to be jealous<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">26</a></span> of anything, where
+Adam would 'a' felt old the day he was born&mdash;jest take off my hobbles
+and turn me out to graze <i>there</i>, and <i>feed</i>, and say, lady, I scorn the
+idea of doin' <i>any</i>thing but decomposin' my feelin's and smokin' and
+writin' po'try. I been there! There's where I writ the song called 'Beat
+It, Bo.' Mebby you heard of it."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I should like to hear it."</p>
+
+<p>The fire steamed and spluttered as Collie extinguished it. Overland Red
+handed the tobacco and papers to him.</p>
+
+<p>"About comin' up this here trail?" he resumed as the boy stretched
+beside them on the warm earth. "Well, Miss, it was four years ago that I
+picked up Collie here at Albuquerque. His pa died sudden and left the
+kid to find out what a hard map this ole world is. We been across, from
+Frisco to New York, twice since then, and from Seattle to San Diego on
+the side, and 'most everywhere in California, it bein' my native State
+and the best of the lot. You see, Collie, he's gettin' what you might
+call a liberated education, full of big ideas&mdash;no dinky stuff. Yes, I
+picked him up at Albuquerque, a half-starved, skinny little cuss that
+was cryin' and beggin' me to get him out of there."</p>
+
+<p>"Albuquerque?" queried Louise.</p>
+
+<p>"Uhuh. Later, comin' acrost the Mojave, we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">27</a></span> got thrun off a freight by
+mistake for a couple of sewin'-machines that we was ridin' with to
+Barstow, so the tickets on the crates said. That was near Daggett, by a
+water-tank. It was hotter than settin' on a stove in Death Valley at 12
+o'clock Sunday noon. We beat it for the next town, afoot. Collie
+commenced to give out. He was pretty tender and not strong. I lugged him
+some and he walked some. He was talkin' of green grass and cucumbers in
+the ice-box and ice-cream and home and the Maumee River, and a whole lot
+of things you can't find in the desert. Well, I got him to his feet next
+mornin'. We had some trouble, and was detained a spell in Barstow after
+that. They couldn't prove nothin', so they let us go. Then Collie got to
+talkin' again about a California road that wiggled up a hill and through
+a ca&ntilde;on, and had one of these here ole Mission bells where it lit off
+for the sky-ranch. Funny, for he was never in California then. Mebby it
+was the old post-card he got at Albuquerque. You see his pa bought it
+for him 'cause he wanted it. He was only a kid then. Collie, he says
+it's the only thing his pa ever did buy for him, and so he kept it till
+it was about wore out from lookin' at it. But considerin' how his pa
+acted, I guess that was about all Collie needed to remember him by.
+Anyhow, he dreamed of that road, and told me so much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">28</a></span> about it that I
+got to lookin' for it too. I knowed of the old El Camino Real and the
+bells, so we kept our eye peeled for that particular dream road, kind of
+for fun. We found her yesterday."</p>
+
+<p>"What, this? The road to our ranch?"</p>
+
+<p>"Uhuh. Collie, he said so the minute we got in that ca&ntilde;on, Moonstone
+Ca&ntilde;on, you said. We're restin' up and enjoyin' the scenery. We need the
+rest, for only last week we resigned from doin' a stunt in a
+movin'-picture outfit. They wanted somebody to do native sons. We said
+we didn't have them kind of clothes, but the foreman of the outfit says
+we'd do fine jest as we was. It was fierce&mdash;and, believe me, lady, I
+been through some! I been through some!</p>
+
+<p>"They was two others in checker clothes and dip-lid caps, and they
+<i>wasn't</i> native sons. They acted like sons of&mdash;I'd hate to tell you
+what, Miss&mdash;to the chief dollie in the show. They stole her beau and
+tied him to the S. P. tracks; kind of loose, though. She didn't seem to
+care. She jest stood around chewin' gum and rollin' her lamps at the
+head guy. Then the movin'-picture express, which was a retired
+switch-engine hooked onto a Swede observation car, backs down on
+Adolphus, and we was to rush up like&mdash;pretty fast, and save his life.</p>
+
+<p>"She was a sassy little chicken with blond feathers and a three-quarter
+rig skirt. She had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">29</a></span> a regular strawberry-ice-cream-soda complexion, and
+her eyes looked like a couple of glass alleys with electric lights in
+'em. I wondered if she took 'em out at night to go to sleep or only
+switched off the current. Anyhow, up she rides in a big reddish kind of
+automobile and twists her hands round her wrists and looks up the track
+and down the track and sees us and says, 'Oh, w'ich way has he went?
+W'ich way did Disgustus Adolphus beat it to?' And chewin' gum right on
+top of that, too. It was tough on us, Miss, but we needed the money.</p>
+
+<p>"'Bout the eighteenth time she comes coughin' up in that old one-lung
+machine,&mdash;to get her expression right, so the boss kept hollerin',&mdash;why,
+I gets sick and tired. If there's anything <i>doin</i>', why, I'm game, but
+such monkeyin'! There was that picture-machine idiot workin' the crank
+as if he was shellin' a thicket-full of Injuns with a Gatling, and his
+fool cap turned round with the lid down the back of his neck, and me and
+Collie, the only sensible-actin' ones of the lot, because we was actin'
+natural, jest restin'. I got sick and tired. The next time up coughs
+that crippled-up automobile with the mumps on its front tire, and she
+says, 'Where, oh, where has he went?' I ups and says, 'Crazy, Miss, and
+can you blame him?'</p>
+
+<p>"She didn't see no joke in that, so the boss<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">30</a></span> he fired us. He wasn't
+goin' to pay us at that, but I picks up the little picture-machine box
+and I swings her up over the track kind of suggestive like. 'One!' said
+I. 'Do we get our money?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Drop that machine!' says he, rushin' up to me.</p>
+
+<p>"'I'm a-goin' to,' says I, 'good and hard. Think again, while I count.
+Do we get our money?'</p>
+
+<p>"'You get pinched!' says he.</p>
+
+<p>"'Two,' says I, and I swings the box up by the legs.</p>
+
+<p>"'Hole on!' yells the boss. 'Pay the mutt, Jimmy, and, for Gord sake,
+get that machine before he ruins the best reel we made yet!'</p>
+
+<p>"We got paid."</p>
+
+<p>"But the bell and Moonstone Ca&ntilde;on?" questioned Louise, glancing back at
+Boyar grazing down the meadow.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure! Well, we flopped near here that night&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Flopped?"</p>
+
+<p>"Uhuh. Let's see, you ain't hep to that, are you? Why, we crawled to the
+hay, hit the feathers, pounded our ear&mdash;er&mdash;went to bed! That's what it
+used to be. Well, in the morning, me and Collie got some sardines and
+crackers to the store and a little coffee. It was goin' over there that
+we seen the bell and the road and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">31</a></span> whole works. I got kind of
+interested myself in that ca&ntilde;on. I never saw so many moonstones layin'
+right on top the gravel, and I been in Mex., too. We liked it and we
+stayed over last night, expectin' to be gone by now."</p>
+
+<p>"And when you leave here?" queried Louise.</p>
+
+<p>"Same old thing," replied Overland cheerfully. "I know the ropes. Collie
+works by spells. Oh, we're livin', and that's all you need to do in
+California."</p>
+
+<p>"And that is all&mdash;now that you have found the road?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the road is like all of them dreams," said Overland. "Such things
+are good for keepin' people interested in somethin' till it's done,
+that's all. It was fun at first, lookin' up every arroyo and slit in the
+hills, till we found it. Same as them marriages on the desert, after
+that."</p>
+
+<p>"Marriages?"</p>
+
+<p>"Uhuh. Seein' water what ain't there, like."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mirages!" And Louise laughed joyfully.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see no joke," said Overland, aggrieved.</p>
+
+<p>"I really beg your pardon."</p>
+
+<p>"That's all right, Miss. But what would you call it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, an illusion, a mirage, something that seems to be, but that is
+not."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">32</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I don't see where it's got anything on marriages, then, do you? But I
+ain't generally peppermistic. I believe in folks and things, although
+I'm old enough to know better."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad you believe in folks," said Louise. "So do I."</p>
+
+<p>"It's account of bein' a pote, I guess," sighed the tramp. "'Course I
+ain't a professional. They got to have a license. I never took out one,
+not havin' the money. Anyway, if I did have enough money for a regular
+license, I'd start a saloon and live respectable."</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you quote something?" And the girl smiled bewitchingly. "Boyar
+and I must go soon. It's getting hot."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm mighty sorry you're goin', Miss. You're real California stock.
+Knowed it the minute I set eyes on you. Besides, you passed us the
+smokes."</p>
+
+<p>"Red, you shut up!"</p>
+
+<p>Overland turned a blue, astonished eye on Collie. "Why, kiddo, what's
+bitin' <i>you</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because the lady give us the makings don't say <i>she</i> smokes, does it?"</p>
+
+<p>Overland grunted. "Because you're foolish with the heat, don't say I am,
+does it? Them sandwiches has gone to your head, Chico. Who said she did
+smoke?"</p>
+
+<p>Louise, grave-eyed, watched the two men,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">33</a></span> Overland sullen and scowling,
+Collie fierce and flaming.</p>
+
+<p>"We ain't used to&mdash;to real ladies," apologized Overland. "We could do
+better if we practiced up."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course!" said Louise, smiling. "But the poetry."</p>
+
+<p>"U-m-m, yes. The po'try. What'll I give her, Collie?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care," replied the boy. "You might try 'Casey Jones.' It's
+better'n anything <i>you</i> ever wrote."</p>
+
+<p>"That? I guess not! That ain't her style. I mean one of my
+<i>own</i>&mdash;somethin' <i>good</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't know. 'Toledo Blake,'" mumbled Collie.</p>
+
+<p>"Nope! But I guess the 'Grand Old Privilege' will do for a starter."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, good!" And Louise clapped her hands. "The title is splendid. Is the
+poem original?"</p>
+
+<p>The tramp bowed a trifle haughtily. "Original? Me life's work, lady."
+And he awkwardly essayed to button a buttonless coat, coughed, waved his
+half-consumed cigarette toward the skies, and began:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Folks say we got no morals&mdash;that they all fell in the soup;</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">34</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">And no conscience&mdash;so the would-be goodies say;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I guess our good intentions <i>did</i> jest up and flew the coop,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While we stood around and watched 'em fade away.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"But there's one thing that we're lovin' more than money, grub, or booze,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or even decent folks that speaks us fair;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And that's the Grand Old Privilege to chuck our luck and choose,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Any</i> road at <i>any</i> time for <i>any</i> where."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>And Overland, his hand above his heart, bowed effusively.</p>
+
+<p>"I like 'would-be goodies,'" said Louise. "Sounds just like a mussy,
+sticky cookie that's too sweet. And 'Any road at any time for any
+where&mdash;' I think that is real."</p>
+
+<p>Overland puffed his chest and cleared his throat. "I can't help it,
+Miss. Born that way. Cut my first tooth on a book of pomes ma got for a
+premium with Mustang Liniment."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, thank you." And Louise nodded gayly. "Keep the tobacco and papers
+to remember me by. I must go."</p>
+
+<p>"We don't need them to remember you by," said Overland gallantly. Then
+the smile suddenly left his face.</p>
+
+<p>Down the Old Meadow Trail, unseen by the girl and the boy, rode a single
+horseman, and something at his hip glinted in the sun. Overland's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">35</a></span> hand
+went to his own hip. Then he shrugged his shoulders, and slowly
+recovered himself. "What's the use?" he muttered.</p>
+
+<p>But there was that in his tone which brought Collie's head up. The lad
+pushed back his battered felt hat and ran his fingers through his wavy
+black hair, perplexedly. "What's the matter, Red? What's the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothin'. Jest thinkin'." Yet the tramp's eyes narrowed as he glanced
+furtively past the girl to where Boyar, the black pony, grazed in the
+meadow.</p>
+
+<p>Louise, puzzled by something familiar in the boy's upturned, questioning
+face, raised one gauntleted hand to her lips. "Why, you're the boy I
+saw, out on the desert, two years ago. Weren't you lying by a water-tank
+when our train stopped and a man was kneeling beside you pouring water
+on your face? Aren't you that boy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes!" exclaimed Collie, getting to his feet. "Red told me about <i>you</i>,
+too."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it's her," muttered Overland, nodding to himself.</p>
+
+<p>"And you chucked a rose out of the window to us?" said the boy.
+"Overland said <i>she</i> did."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. It's her, the Rose-Lady Girl," said Overland. "Some of the folks
+in the train laughed when I picked up the rose. I remember.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">36</a></span> Some one
+else says, 'They're only tramps.' I recollect that, too."</p>
+
+<p>"But those men were arrested at Barstow, for murder, Uncle Walter said."</p>
+
+<p>Again Overland Red nodded. "They was, Miss. But they couldn't prove
+nothin', so they let us go."</p>
+
+<p>"We always was goin' to say thanks to the girl with the rose if we ever
+seen her," said the boy Collie. "We ain't had such a lot of roses give
+to us."</p>
+
+<p>"So we says it now," said Overland quickly. "Or mebby we wouldn't never
+have another chance." Then he slowly rolled another cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>Just then the black pony Boyar nickered. He recognized a friend entering
+the meadow.</p>
+
+<p>Overland lighted his cigarette. As he straightened up, Louise was
+surprised to see him thrust both hands above his head while he continued
+smoking placidly. "Excuse me, Miss," he said, turning the cigarette
+round with his lips; "but the gent behind you with the gun has got the
+drop on me. I guess he's waitin' for you to step out of range."</p>
+
+<p>Louise turned swiftly. Dick Tenlow, deputy sheriff, nodded good-morning
+to her, but kept his gun trained on the tramp.</p>
+
+<p>"Just step out from behind that rock," said Tenlow, addressing
+Overland.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">37</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Don't know as I will," replied the tramp. "You're no gentleman; you
+didn't say 'please.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Come on! No bluff like that goes here," said the deputy.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't you see I ain't finished smokin' yet?" queried Overland.</p>
+
+<p>"Come on! Step along!"</p>
+
+<p>"No way to address a gent, you Johnny. Say, I'll tell you <i>now</i> before
+you fall down and shoot yourself. Do you think you got me because you
+rode up while I was talkin' to a lady, and butted into polite
+conversation like a drunk Swede at a dance? Say, you think I'd 'a' ever
+let you got this far if there hadn't been a lady present? Why, you
+little nickle-plated, rubber-eared policeman, I was doin' the double
+roll with a pair of Colts .45's when you was learnin' the taste of
+milk!"</p>
+
+<p>"That'll be about all for <i>you</i>," said the sheriff, grinning.</p>
+
+<p>"No, it ain't. You ain't takin' me serious, and there's where you're
+makin' your mistake. I'm touchy about some things, Mr. Pussy-foot. I
+could 'a' got you three times while you was ridin' down that trail, and
+I wouldn't 'a' had to stop talkin' to do it. And you with that little
+old gun out before you even seen me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why didn't you, then?" asked Tenlow, restraining his anger; for Louise,
+in spite of herself,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">38</a></span> had smiled at Overland's somewhat picturesque
+resentment. "Why didn't you, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Huh!" snorted Overland scornfully. "Do you suppose I'd start anything
+with a <i>lady</i> around? That ain't my style. You're a kid. You'll get hurt
+some day."</p>
+
+<p>Deputy Tenlow scowled. He was a big man, slow of tongue, ordinarily
+genial, and proverbially stupid. He knew the tramp was endeavoring to
+anger him. The deputy turned to Louise. "Sorry, Miss Lacharme, but I got
+to take him."</p>
+
+<p>"There's really nothing to hinder, is there?" Louise asked sweetly.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">39</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER V</h2><h3>"CAN HE RIDE?"</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>The tramp glanced up, addressing the deputy. "Yes, even now there is
+something to hinder, if I was to get busy." Then he coolly dropped his
+arms and leaned against the rock with one leg crossed before the other
+in a manner sometimes supposed to reflect social ease and elegance. "But
+I'm game to take what's comin'. If you'll just stick me up and extract
+the .38 automatic I'm packin' on my hip,&mdash;and, believe me, she's a bad
+Gat. when she's in action,&mdash;why, I'll feel lots better. The little gun
+might get to shootin' by herself, and then somebody would get hurt sure.
+You see, I'm givin' you all the chance you want to take me without
+gettin' mussed up. I'm nervous about firearms, anyhow."</p>
+
+<p>Deputy Dick Tenlow advanced and secured the gun.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," said Overland Red, heaving a sigh; "now, I ain't ashamed to look
+a gun in the face. You see, Miss," he added, turning to address the
+girl, "I was sheriff of Abilene once, in the ole red-eye, rumpus days. I
+have planted some citizens<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">40</a></span> in my time. You see, I kind of owe the ones
+I did plant a silent apology for lettin' this here chicken-rancher get
+me so easy."</p>
+
+<p>"You talk big," said Tenlow, laughing. "Who was you when you was sheriff
+of Abilene, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Jack Summers, sometimes called Red Jack Summers," replied Overland
+quietly, and he looked the deputy in the eye.</p>
+
+<p>"Jack Summers!"</p>
+
+<p>Overland nodded. "Take it or leave it. You'll find out some day. And now
+you got some excuse for packin' a gun round these here peaceful hills
+and valleys the rest of your life. You took Jack Summers, and there
+ain't goin' to be a funeral."</p>
+
+<p>Something about the tramp's manner inclined the deputy to believe that
+he had spoken truth. "All right," said Tenlow; "just step ahead. Don't
+try the brush or I'll drop you."</p>
+
+<p>"'Course you would," said Overland, stepping ahead of the deputy's pony.
+"But the bunch you're takin' orders from don't want me dead; they want
+me alive. I ain't no good all shot up. You ought to know that."</p>
+
+<p>"I know there's a thousand dollars reward for you. I need the money."</p>
+
+<p>Overland Red grinned. "It's against me morals to bet&mdash;with kids. But
+I'll put up that little automatic you frisked off me, against the
+thousand you expect to get, that you don't even<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">41</a></span> get a long-range smell
+of that money. Are you on?"</p>
+
+<p>Tenlow motioned the other to step ahead.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm bettin' my little gun to a thousand dollars less than nothin'.
+Ain't you game? I'm givin' you the long end."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind," growled Tenlow. "You can talk later."</p>
+
+<p>The boy Collie, recovering from his surprise at the arrest, stepped up
+to the sheriff. "Where do I come in?" he asked. "You can't pinch Red
+without me. I was with him that time the guy croaked out on the Mojave.
+Red didn't kill him. They let us go once. What you doin' pinchin' us
+again? How do <i>you</i> know&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hold on, Collie; don't get careless," said Overland. "He don't know
+nothin'. He's followin' orders. The game's up."</p>
+
+<p>Louise whistled Boyar to her and bridled him. The little group ahead
+seemed to be waiting for her. She led the pony toward the trail. "Did he
+do it?" she asked as she caught up with Collie.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he muttered. "Red's the squarest pal on earth. Red tried to save
+the guy&mdash;out there on the desert. Gave him all the water we had, pretty
+near. He dassent to give him all, for because he was afraid it would
+kill him. The guy fell and hit his head on the rail. Red said he was
+dyin' on his feet, anyway. Then Red lugged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">42</a></span> me clean to that tank where
+you seen us from the train. I was all in. I guess Red saved my life. He
+didn't tell you that."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he&mdash;was he really a cowboy? Can he ride?" asked Louise.</p>
+
+<p>"Can he ride? Say, I seen him ride Cyclone once and get first money for
+ridin' the worst buckin' bronc' at the rodeo, over to Tucson. Well, I
+guess!"</p>
+
+<p>"Boyar, my pony, is the fastest pony in the hills," said Louise
+pensively.</p>
+
+<p>"What you givin' us?" said the boy, glancing at her sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing. I was merely imagining something."</p>
+
+<p>"Red's square," asserted the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Sheriff Tenlow is a splendid shot," murmured Louise, with apparent
+irrelevance.</p>
+
+<p>They had crossed the meadow. Ahead of the sheriff walked Overland, his
+slouch gone, his head carried high. Collie noted this unusual alertness
+of poise and wondered.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't try the brush," cautioned Tenlow, also aware of Overland's
+alertness.</p>
+
+<p>"When I leave here, I'll ride. Sabe?" And Overland stepped briskly to
+the trail, turning his back squarely on the alert and puzzled sheriff.</p>
+
+<p>"He's been raised in these hills," muttered the tramp. "He knows the
+trails. I don't. But&mdash;I'd<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">43</a></span> like to show that little Rose-Lady Girl some
+real ridin' once. She's a sport. I'd ride into hell and rake out the
+fire for her.... I hate to&mdash;to do it&mdash;but I guess I got to."</p>
+
+<p>"Step up there," said Tenlow. "What you talkin' about, anyhow?"</p>
+
+<p>"Angels," replied Overland. "I see 'em once in a while." And he glanced
+back. He saw Collie talking to the girl, who stood by her pony, the
+reins dangling lightly from her outstretched hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Snake!" screamed Overland Red, leaping backward and flinging up his
+arms, directly in the face of the deputy's pony. The horse reared.
+Overland, crouching, sprang under its belly, striking it as he went.
+Again the pony reared, nearly throwing the deputy.</p>
+
+<p>"Overland Limited!" shouted the tramp, dashing toward Boyar. With a
+spring he was in the saddle and had slipped the quirt from the
+saddle-horn to his wrist. He would need that quirt, as he had no spurs.</p>
+
+<p>Round swung Tenlow, cursing. Black Boyar shot across the meadow, the
+quirt falling at each jump. The tramp glanced back. Tenlow's right hand
+went up and his gun roared once, twice....</p>
+
+<p>The boy Collie, white and gasping, threw himself in front of Tenlow's
+horse. The deputy spurred the pony over him and swept down the meadow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">44</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Louise, angered in that the boy had snatched Boyar's reins from her as
+Overland shouted, relented as she saw the instant bravery in the lad's
+endeavor to stop Tenlow's horse. She stooped over him. He rose stiffly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I thought you were hurt!" she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Nope! I guess not. I was scared, I guess. Let's watch 'em, Miss!" And
+forgetful of his bruised and shaken body, he limped to the edge of the
+meadow, followed by Louise. "There they go!" he cried. "Red's 'way
+ahead. The sheriff gent can't shoot again&mdash;he's too busy ridin'."</p>
+
+<p>"Boyar! Boyar! Good horse! Good horse!" cried the girl as the black pony
+flashed across the steep slope of the ragged mountain side like a winged
+thing. "Boyar! Boy!"</p>
+
+<p>She shivered as the loose shale, ploughed by the pony's flying hoofs,
+slithered down the slope at every plunge.</p>
+
+<p>"Can he ride?" shouted Collie, wild tears of joy in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Overland, glancing back, saw Tenlow stop and raise his arm. The
+tramp cowboy swung Black Boyar half-round, and driving his unspurred
+heels into the pony's ribs, put him straight down the terrific slope of
+the mountain at a run.</p>
+
+<p>Tenlow's gun cracked. A spray of dust rose instantly ahead of Boyar.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">45</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Look! Look!" cried Louise. The deputy, angered out of his usual
+judgment, spurred his horse directly down the footless shale that the
+tramp had ridden across diagonally. "Look! He can't&mdash;The horse&mdash;! Oh!"
+she groaned as Tenlow's pony stumbled and all but pitched headlong. "The
+other man&mdash;knew better than that&mdash;" she gasped, turning to the boy. "He
+waited&mdash;till he struck rock and brush before he turned Boyar."</p>
+
+<p>"Can he ride?" shouted Collie, grinning. But the grin died to a gasp. A
+burst of shale and dust shot up from the hillside. They saw the flash of
+the cinchas on the belly of Tenlow's horse as the dauntless pony
+stumbled and dove headlong down the slope, rolling over and over, to
+stop finally&mdash;a patch of brown, shapeless, quivering.</p>
+
+<p>Below, Overland Red had curbed Boyar and was gazing up at a spot of
+black on the hillside&mdash;Dick Tenlow, motionless, silent. His sombrero lay
+several yards down the slope.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! The horse!" cried Louise, chokingly, with her hand to her breast.</p>
+
+<p>As for Dick Tenlow, lying halfway down the hillside, stunned and
+shattered, she had but a secondary sympathy. He had sacrificed a gallant
+and willing beast to his anger. The tramp, riding a strange pony over
+desperately perilous and unfamiliar ground, had used judgment. "Your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">46</a></span>
+friend is a man!" she said, turning to the boy. "But Dick Tenlow is
+hurt&mdash;perhaps killed. He went under the horse when it fell."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess it's up to us to see if the sheriff gent is done for, at that,"
+said the boy. "Mebby we can do something."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll get arrested, now," said the girl. "If Dick Tenlow is alive,
+you'll have to go for help. If he isn't...."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go, all right. I ain't afraid. I didn't do anything. I guess I'll
+stick around till Red shows up again, anyhow."</p>
+
+<p>"You're a stranger here. I should go as soon as you have sent help,"
+said the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Mebby I better. I'll help get him up the hill and in the shade. Then
+I'll beat it for the doc. If I don't come back after that," he said
+slowly, flushing, "it ain't because I'm scared of anything I done."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Far down in the valley Boyar's sweating sides glistened in the sun. An
+arm was raised in a gesture of farewell as the tramp swung the pony
+toward the town. Much to her surprise, Louise found herself waving a
+vigorous adieu to the distant figure.</p>
+
+<p>The tramp Overland, realizing that the deputy was badly injured, told
+the first person he met about the accident, advising him to get help at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">47</a></span>
+once for the deputy. Then he turned the pony toward the foothills. In a
+clump of greasewood he dismounted, and, leaving the reins hanging to the
+saddle-horn, struck Black Boyar on the flank. The horse leaped toward
+the Moonstone Trail. The tramp disappeared in the brush.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">48</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2><h3>ADVOCATE EXTRAORDINARY</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Louise Lacharme, more beautiful than roses, strolled across the
+vine-shadowed porch of the big ranch-house and sat on the porch rail
+opposite her uncle. His clear blue eyes twinkled approval as he gazed at
+her.</p>
+
+<p>Walter Stone was fifty, but the fifty of the hard-riding optimist of the
+great outdoors. The smooth tan of his cheeks contrasted oddly with the
+silver of his close-cropped hair. He appeared as a young man prematurely
+gray.</p>
+
+<p>"How is Boyar?" he asked, smiling a little as Louise, sitting sideways
+on the porch-rail, swung her foot back and forth quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Boy is all right. The tramp turned him loose in the valley. Boy
+came home."</p>
+
+<p>"It was a clever bit of riding, to get the best of Tenlow on his own
+range. Was Dick very badly hurt?" queried Walter Stone.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, his collar-bone was broken and he was crushed and terribly
+bruised. His horse was killed. When I was down, day before yesterday,
+the doctor said Dick would be all right in time."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">49</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"How about this boy, the tramp boy they arrested?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said Louise, "that was a shame! He stayed and helped the doctor
+put Dick in the buggy and rode with him to town. Mr. Tenlow was
+unconscious, and the boy had to go to hold him. Then the boy explained
+it all at the store, and they arrested him anyway, as a suspicious
+character. I should have let him go. When Mr. Tenlow became conscious
+and they told him they had the boy, he said to keep him in the
+calaboose; that that was where he belonged."</p>
+
+<p>"And you want me to see what I can do for this boy?"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't say so." And Louise tilted her chin.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, sweetheart, don't quibble. It isn't like you."</p>
+
+<p>The gray silk-clad ankle flashed back and forth. "Really, Uncle Walter,
+you could have done something for the boy without making me say that I
+wanted you to. You're always doing something nice&mdash;helping people that
+are in trouble. You don't usually have to be asked."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps I like to be asked&mdash;by&mdash;Louise."</p>
+
+<p>"You're just flattering me, I know! But uncle, if you had seen the boy
+jump in front of Mr. Tenlow's horse when Dick shot at the tramp,&mdash;and
+afterwards when the boy helped me with Dick and stuck right to him clear
+to his house,&mdash;why,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">50</a></span> you couldn't help but admire him. Then they
+arrested him&mdash;for what? It's a shame! I told him to run when I saw the
+doctor's buggy coming."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Louise; the boy may be brave and likable enough, but how are we to
+know what he really is? I don't like to take the risk. I don't like to
+meddle in such affairs."</p>
+
+<p>"Uncle Walter! Risk! And the risks you used to take when you were a
+young man. Oh, Aunty Eleanor has told me all about your riding bronchos
+and the Panamint&mdash;and lots of things. I won't tell you all, for you'd be
+flattered to pieces, and I want you in one whole lump to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"Only for to-day, Louise?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, maybe for to-morrow, and to-morrow and to-morrow. But, uncle, only
+last week you said at breakfast that the present system of arrest and
+imprisonment was all wrong. That was because they arrested that editor
+who was a friend of yours. But now, when you have a chance to prove that
+you were in earnest, you don't seem a bit interested."</p>
+
+<p>"Did I really say all that, sweetness?"</p>
+
+<p>"Now <i>you</i> are quibbling. And does 'sweetness,' mean me, or what you
+said at breakfast? Because you said 'the whole damn system'; and there
+were two ladies at the table. Of course,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">51</a></span> that was before breakfast.
+After breakfast you picked a rose for aunty, and kissed me."</p>
+
+<p>Walter Stone laughed heartily. "But I do take a great deal of interest
+in anything that interests you."</p>
+
+<p>Louise slipped lithely from the porch-rail and swung up on the broad arm
+of his chair, snuggling against him impetuously. "I know you do, uncle.
+I just love you! I'll stop teasing."</p>
+
+<p>"I surrender. I'm a pretty fair soldier at long range, but this"&mdash;and
+his arm went round her affectionately&mdash;"this is utter defeat. I strike
+my colors. Then, you always give in so gracefully."</p>
+
+<p>"To you, perhaps, Uncle Walter. But I haven't given in this time. I'm
+just as interested as ever."</p>
+
+<p>"And you think they are the men we saw out on the Mojave by the
+water-tank?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I know it! They remembered the rose. They spoke of it right away,
+before I did."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Louise. And you remember, too, that they were arrested at
+Barstow&mdash;for murder, the conductor said?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's just it! The boy Collie says the tramp Overland Red didn't kill
+the man. He was trying to save him and gave him water. If you could only
+hear what the boy says about it&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">52</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I don't suppose it would do any harm," said the rancher. "I dislike to
+use my influence. You know, I practically control Dick Tenlow's place at
+the elections."</p>
+
+<p>"That's just why he should be willing to let the boy go," said Louise
+quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sweetheart. That's just why I shouldn't ask Dick to do anything of
+the kind. But I see I'm in for it. You have already interested your Aunt
+Eleanor. She spoke to me about the boy last night."</p>
+
+<p>"Aunty Eleanor is a dear. I didn't really ask her to speak to you."</p>
+
+<p>"No," he said, laughing. "Of course not. You're too clever for that. You
+simply sow your poppy-seed and leave it alone. The poppies come up fast
+enough."</p>
+
+<p>Louise laughed softly. "You're pretending to criticize and you're really
+flattering,&mdash;deliberately,&mdash;aren't you, Uncle Walter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Flattering? And you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because Aunt Eleanor said you could be simply irresistible when you
+wanted to be. I think so, too. Especially when you are on a horse."</p>
+
+<p>"Naturally. I always did feel more confident in the saddle. I could, if
+need arose, ride away like the chap in Bobby Burns's verse, you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">53</a></span>
+remember&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"He gave his bridle-rein a shake,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And turned him on the shore,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With, 'Farewell, forever more, my dear,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Farewell, forever more.'"</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"But you didn't, uncle. Aunty said she used to be almost afraid that
+you'd ride away with her, like Lochinvar."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes." And Walter Stone sighed deeply.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Uncle Walter! That sounded full of regrets and things."</p>
+
+<p>"It was. It is. I'm fifty."</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't fifty. It's a lack of exercise. And you wouldn't be half so
+fine-looking if you were fat. I <i>always</i> sigh when I don't know what to
+do. Then I just saddle Boy and ride. And I'll <i>never</i> let myself get
+fat."</p>
+
+<p>"A vow is a vow&mdash;at sixteen."</p>
+
+<p>"Now I <i>know</i> you need exercise. You're getting reminiscent, and that's
+a sign of torpid liver."</p>
+
+<p>Walter Stone laughed till the tears came. "Exercise!" he exclaimed. "Ah!
+I begin to divine a subtle method in your doctrine of health. Ah, ha! I
+look well on a horse! I need exercise! It's a very satisfactory ride
+from here to town and back. Incidentally, Louise, I smell a rat. I used
+to be able to hold my own."</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't my fault if you don't now," said Louise, snuggling in his
+arm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">54</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That's unworthy of you!" he growled, his arm tightening round her slim
+young figure. "Tell me, sweetheart; how is it that you can be so
+thoroughly practical and so unfathomably romantic in the same breath?
+You have deliberately shattered me to bits that you might mould me
+nearer to your heart's desire. And your heart's desire, just now, is to
+help an unknown, a tramp, out of jail."</p>
+
+<p>Louise pouted. "You say 'just now' as though my heart's desires weren't
+very serious matters as a rule. You <i>know</i> you wouldn't be half so happy
+if I didn't tease you for something at least once a week. I remember
+once I didn't ask you for anything for a whole week, and you went and
+asked Aunty Eleanor if I were ill. Besides, the boy <i>needs</i> help,
+whether he did anything wrong or not. Can't you understand?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's utopian, Louise, but it isn't generally practicable."</p>
+
+<p>"Then make it individually practicable, uncle&mdash;just this time. Pshaw! I
+don't believe you're half-trying to argue. Why, when Boyar bucked you
+off that time and ran into the barb-wire, then <i>he</i> didn't need
+doctoring for that awful cut on his shoulder, because he had done
+wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"That is no parallel, Louise. Boyar didn't know any better. And this boy
+is not sick or injured."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">55</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"How do you know that? He's down in that terribly hot, smelly jail. If
+he did get sick, who would know it?"</p>
+
+<p>"And Boyar isn't a human being. He can't reason."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Uncle Walter! I thought you knew horses better than that. Boyar can
+reason much better than most people."</p>
+
+<p>"The proof being that he prefers you to any one else?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," replied Louise, smiling mischievously. "That isn't Boyar's
+<i>reason</i>; it's his affection. That's different."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, quite different," said Walter Stone. "Is this boy good-looking?"
+And the rancher fumbled in his pocket for a cigar.</p>
+
+<p>Louise slipped from the arm of his chair and stood opposite him, her
+lips pouted teasingly, the young face glowing with mischief and fun. "Am
+I?" she asked, curtsying and twinkling. "'Cause if you're going to ride
+down to the valley to see the boy just because Beautiful asked you,
+Beautiful will go alone. But if you come because <i>I</i> want you,"&mdash;and
+Louise smiled bewitchingly,&mdash;"why, Beautiful will come too, and sing for
+you&mdash;perhaps."</p>
+
+<p>"My heart, my service, and my future are at your feet, Se&ntilde;orita Louisa,
+my mouse. Are your eyes gray or green this morning?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">56</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Both," replied Louise quickly. "Green for spunk and gray for love.
+That's what Aunty Eleanor says."</p>
+
+<p>"Come a little nearer. Let me see. No, they are quite gray now."</p>
+
+<p>"'Cause why?" she cooed, and stooping, kissed him with warm, careless
+affection. "You always ask me about my eyes when you want me to kiss
+you. Of course, when you want to kiss <i>me</i>, why, you just come and take
+'em."</p>
+
+<p>"My esteemed privilege, sweetheart. I am your caballero."</p>
+
+<p>"Did Aunty Eleanor?" said Louise.</p>
+
+<p>But Walter Stone rose and straightened his shoulders. "That will do,
+mouse. I can't have any jealousy between my sweethearts."</p>
+
+<p>"Never! And, Uncle Walter, do you want to ride Major or Rally? Rally and
+Boyar get along better together. I'll saddle Boy in a jiffy."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>To ride some ten miles in the blazing sun of midsummer requires a kind
+of anticipatory fortitude, at fifty, especially when one's own vine and
+fig tree is cool and fragrant, embowered in blue flowers and graced by,
+let us say, Louise. And a cigar is always at its best when half-smoked.
+But when Louise came blithely leading the two saddle-ponies, Black Boyar
+and the big pinto Rally,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">57</a></span> Walter Stone shook an odd twenty years from
+his broad shoulders and swung into the saddle briskly.</p>
+
+<p>From the shade of the great sycamore warders of the wide gate, he waved
+a gauntleted salute to Aunt Eleanor, who stood on the porch, drawing a
+leaf of the graceful moon-vine through her slender fingers. She nodded a
+smiling farewell.</p>
+
+<p>Louise and her uncle rode as two lovers, their ponies close together.
+The girl swayed to Boyar's quick, swinging walk. Walter Stone sat the
+strong, tireless Rally with solid ease.</p>
+
+<p>The girl, laughing happily at her triumph, leaned toward her escort
+teasingly, singing fragments of old Spanish love-songs, or talking with
+eager lips and sparkling eyes. Of a sudden she would assume a
+demureness, utterly bewitching in its veiled and perfect mimicry. Quite
+seriously he would set about to overcome this delightful mood of hers
+with extravagant vows of lifelong love and servitude, as though he were
+in truth her chosen caballero and she his Se&ntilde;orita of the Rose.</p>
+
+<p>And as they played at love-making, hidden graces of the girl's sweet
+nature unfolded to him, and deep in his heart he wondered, and found
+life good, and Youth still unspoiled by the years, and Louise a
+veritable enchantress of infinite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">58</a></span> moods, each one adorable.
+Golden-haired, gray-eyed, quick with sympathy, sweetly subtle and subtly
+sweet was Louise.... And one must worship Youth and Beauty and Love,
+even with their passing bitter on one's lips.</p>
+
+<p>But to Walter Stone no such bitterness had come, this soldierly, wise
+caballero escorting his adorable se&ntilde;orita on an errand of mercy. His was
+the heart of Youth, eternal and undaunted Youth. And Beauty was hers, of
+the spirit as well as of the flesh. And Love....</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Louise! There are tears on your lashes, my colleen!"</p>
+
+<p>"But I am singing, uncle." And she smiled through her tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Sweetheart?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Uncle Walter?"</p>
+
+<p>"What is it? Tell me."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I could. I don't know. I think I'm getting to be grown up&mdash;just
+like a woman. It&mdash;it makes me&mdash;think of lots of things. Let's ride." And
+her silver spurs flashed.</p>
+
+<p>Boyar, taken quite by surprise, grunted as he leaped down the Moonstone
+Trail. He resented this undeserved punishment by plunging sideways
+across the road. Again came the flash of the silver spurs, and Walter
+Stone heard Louise disciplining the pony.</p>
+
+<p>"Just a woman. Just like a woman," murmured<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">59</a></span> the rancher. "Now, Boyar,
+and some others of us, will never quite understand what that means." And
+with rein and voice he lifted the pinto Rally to a lope.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">60</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2><h3>THE GIRL WHO GLANCED BACK</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>At the crossroads in the valley stood the local jail, or "coop," as it
+was more descriptively called. Unpainted, isolated, its solitary
+ugliness lacked even the squalid dignity commonly associated with the
+word "jail." The sun pelted down upon its bleached, unshaded roof and
+sides. The burning air ran over its warped shingles like a kind of
+colorless fire.</p>
+
+<p>The boy Collie, half-dreaming in the suffocating heat of the place,
+started to his feet as the door swung open. He had heard horses coming.
+They had stopped. He could hardly realize that the sunlight was swimming
+through the close dusk of the place. But the girl of Moonstone Ca&ntilde;on,
+reining Boyar round, was real, and she smiled and nodded a greeting.</p>
+
+<p>"This is Mr. Stone, my uncle," she said. "He wants to talk with you."</p>
+
+<p>With a glance that noted each unlovely detail of the place, the broken
+iron bed, the cracked pitcher, and the unspeakable blankets, Louise
+touched her pony and was gone.</p>
+
+<p>Collie rubbed his eyes, blinking in the sun as he stood gazing after
+her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">61</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Walter Stone, standing near the doorway, noted the lad's clear, healthy
+skin, his well-shaped head with its tumble of wavy black hair, and the
+luminous dark eyes. He felt an instant sympathy for the boy, a sympathy
+that he masked with a business-like brusqueness. "Well, young man?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Come outside. It's vile in there."</p>
+
+<p>Stone led his pony to the north side of the "coop."</p>
+
+<p>Collie followed.</p>
+
+<p>Away to the west he saw the hazy peaks. A lake of burning air pulsed
+above the flat, hot floor of the valley. Over there lay the hills and
+the shade and the road.... Somewhere beyond was Overland, his friend,
+penniless, hunted, hungry....</p>
+
+<p>"She brung you?" queried the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I have seen Tenlow, the sheriff. He is willing to let you go at my
+request. What do you intend doing, now that you are free?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don' know. Find Red, I guess."</p>
+
+<p>Walter Stone nodded. "What then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, stick it out with Red. They'll be after him sure now. Red's my
+pal."</p>
+
+<p>"What has he done to get the police after him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothin'. It's the bunch."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">62</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"The bunch?"</p>
+
+<p>"Uhuh. Them guys out on the Mojave. But say, are you workin' me to get
+next to Red and get him pinched again?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. You don't have to answer me. This man Red is nothing to me, one way
+or the other. He took Miss Lacharme's pony, but she has overlooked that.
+I thought, perhaps, you might care to explain your position. Perhaps you
+had rather not. You may go now if you wish."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that straight?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>For several tense seconds the lad gazed at his questioner. Finally his
+gaze shifted to the hills. "I guess you're straight," he said presently.
+"I guess she wouldn't have you for a relation if you wasn't straight."</p>
+
+<p>The elder man laughed. "That's right&mdash;she wouldn't, young man."</p>
+
+<p>"How's the sheriff guy?" asked the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"He's getting along well enough. What made you ask?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nothin'. I hate to see any guy get hurt."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad to hear you say that. I begin to think you are a bigger man
+than he is."</p>
+
+<p>"Me?" And Collie flushed, misunderstanding the other's drift. "I guess
+you're kiddin'."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I mean it. Mr. Tenlow still seemed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">63</a></span> pretty hot about your share in
+this&mdash;er&mdash;enterprise. You seem to have no hard feelings against him."</p>
+
+<p>"Huh! He shouldn't to be sore at <i>me</i>. I didn't spur no horse onto him
+and ride him down like a dog. I guess Red would 'a' killed him if he'd
+seen it. Say, nobody got Red, did they?"</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't heard of it. How did this man Red come to pick you up? You're
+pretty young to be tramping."</p>
+
+<p>"Cross your heart you ain't tryin' to queer Red? You ain't tryin' to put
+the Injun sign on us, are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I have heard all about the Mojave affair&mdash;the prospector that died
+on the track&mdash;and the arrest of Overland Red at Barstow. You told my
+niece that this Overland Red was 'square.' How did you come to be mixed
+up in it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I guess I'll have to tell you the whole thing, straight. Red always
+said that to tell the truth was just as good as lyin', because nobody
+would believe us, anyway. And if a fella gets caught tellin' the truth,
+why, he's that much to the good."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I shall try and believe you this time," said Stone. "Miss
+Lacharme thinks you're honest."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">64</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"A guy couldn't lie to her!" said the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Then just consider me her representative," said Stone, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>Collie squatted in the meager shade of the "coop."</p>
+
+<p>Walter Stone, dropping the pony's reins, came and sat beside the lad.
+There was something in the older man's presence, an unspoken assurance
+of comradeship and sincerity that annulled the boy's tendency to
+reticence about himself. He began hesitatingly, "My dad was a drinkin'
+man. Ma died, and he got worse at it. I was a kid and didn't care, for
+he never done nothin' to me. We lived back East, over a pawnbroker's on
+Main Street. One day pa come home with a timetable. He sat up 'most all
+night readin' it. Every time I woke up, he was readin' it and talkin' to
+himself. That was after ma died.</p>
+
+<p>"In the mornin', when I was gettin' dressed, he come over and says to
+take the needle he had and stick it through the timetable anywhere. I
+was scared he was goin' to have the jimmies. But I took the needle&mdash;it
+had black thread in it&mdash;and stuck it through the timetable. He opened
+the page and laughed awful loud and queer. Albuquerque was where the
+needle went in. He couldn't say the name right, but he kept lookin' at
+it.</p>
+
+<p>"Then he went out and was gone all day and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">65</a></span> all night. When he come back
+he showed me a whole wad of money. I says, 'Where did you get it?' He
+got mad and tells me to shut up.</p>
+
+<p>"That day we got on a train. I says, 'Where are we goin'?' and he says
+to never mind, and did I want some peanuts.</p>
+
+<p>"We kept ridin' and ridin' in the same car, and eatin' bananas and
+san'wiches and sleepin' settin' up at nights. I was just about sick when
+we come to Albuquerque. You see, that was where the needle went through
+the timetable, and dad said we would get off there. He got awful drunk
+that night.</p>
+
+<p>"Next day he said he was goin' to quit liquor and make a fresh start. I
+knowed he wouldn't, 'cause he always said that next mornin'. But I guess
+he tried to quit. I don't know.</p>
+
+<p>"One night he didn't come back to the room where we was stayin' upstairs
+over the saloon. They found him 'way down the track next day, all cut to
+pieces by the train."</p>
+
+<p>The boy paused, reached forward, and plucked a withered stem of grass
+which he wound round and round his finger.</p>
+
+<p>Walter Stone sat looking across the valley.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess his money was all gone," resumed the boy. "Anyhow, 'bout a year
+after, Overland Red comes along. He comes to the saloon where I was
+stayin',&mdash;they give me a job cleanin' out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">66</a></span> every day,&mdash;and he got to
+talkin' a lot of stuff about scenery and livin' the simple life, and all
+that guff. The bartender got to jawin' with him, and I laughed, and the
+bartender hits me a lick side the head. Red, he hits the bartender a
+lick side of <i>his</i> head&mdash;and the bartender don't get up right away.
+'I'll learn him to hit kids,' said Red. 'If you learn him to hit 'em as
+hard as that,' I says to Red, 'then it will be all off with me the next
+time.'</p>
+
+<p>"Does he hit you very often?' said Red.</p>
+
+<p>"Whenever he feels like it,' I told him.</p>
+
+<p>"Red laughed and said to come on. I was sick of there, so I run away
+with Red. We tried it on a freight and got put off. Red had some water
+in a canteen he swiped. It was lucky for us he did. We kept walkin' and
+goin' nights, and mebby ridin' on freights in the daytime if we could.
+One day, a long time after that, we was crossin' the desert again. We
+got put off a freight that time, too. We was walkin' along when we found
+a guy layin' beside the track. Red said he wasn't dead, but was dyin'.
+We give him some water. Then he kind of come to and wanted to drink it
+all. Red said, 'No.' Then the guy got kind of crazy. He got up and
+grabbed Red. I was scared.</p>
+
+<p>"Red, he passed me the canteen and told me to keep it away from the guy
+because more water would kill him. Then the guy went for Red.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">67</a></span> 'He's
+dyin' on his feet,' said Red. 'It's his last flash.' And he tried to
+hold the guy quiet, talkin' decent to him all the time. They was
+staggerin' around when the guy tripped backwards over the rail. His head
+hit on the other rail and Red fell on top of him. Anyway, the guy was
+dead."</p>
+
+<p>Walter Stone shifted his position, turning to gaze at the boy's white
+face. "Yes&mdash;go on," he said quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"Red was for searchin' the guy, but I says to come on before we got
+caught. Red, he laughed kind of queer, and asked me, 'Caught at what?'
+Then I said, 'I dunno,' but I was scared.</p>
+
+<p>"Anyway, he went through the dead guy's clothes and found some papers
+and old letters and a little leather bag with a whole lot of gold-dust
+in it. Red said mebby five hundred dollars!"</p>
+
+<p>"Gold-dust?"</p>
+
+<p>"Uhuh! Then Red <i>was</i> scared. He buried the bag and the papers 'way out
+in the sand and made a mark on the ties to find it by."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you find out the dead man's name?" asked Stone, glancing curiously
+at the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Nope. We just beat it for the next station. I was feelin' sick. I give
+out, and Red, he lugged me to the next water-tank. He was pourin' water
+on me when the Limited come along and stopped, and <i>she</i> throwed the
+rose to us. Red<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">68</a></span> told me about it after. You wouldn't go back on a pal
+like that, would you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't know that I should."</p>
+
+<p>"That's me!" said the boy. "Then they went to work and pinched us at
+Barstow. Said we killed the guy because his head was smashed in where he
+hit the rails. They tried to make Red say that he robbed the guy after
+killin' him. But Red told everything, except he didn't tell about the
+letters and the gold-dust. They tried to make me say it, but I dassent.
+I knowed they would fix Red sure if I did, and he told me not to tell
+about the gold if they did pinch us."</p>
+
+<p>"They let you go&mdash;after the police examination. Then how is it that the
+authorities are after you again?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's the bunch," replied the boy. "Them guys out there knowed the dead
+guy had a mine or a ledge or somethin' where he got the gold. Nobody was
+wise to where. They told at the jail how he used to come in once in a
+while and send his dust to Los Angeles by the express company. All them
+guys like the sheriff and the station agent and all the people in that
+town are workin' tryin' to find out where the gold come from. They think
+because Red and me is tramps that they can make us tell and arrest us
+whenever they like. But even Red don't know, unless it's in the papers
+he hid in the sand."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">69</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That sounds like a pretty straight story," said Stone. "So you intend
+to stick to this man Red?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure! Would you quit him now, when they're after him worst?"</p>
+
+<p>"They will get him finally."</p>
+
+<p>"Mebby. But Red's pretty slick at a getaway. If they do pinch him again,
+that's where I come in. I'm the only witness and the only friend he's
+got."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. But don't you see, my boy, that your way of living is so
+much against you that you couldn't really help him? A man's naked word
+is worth just what his friends and neighbors will allow him for it, and
+no more."</p>
+
+<p>"But ain't a guy got no rights in this country?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly he has. But he has to prove that he is entitled to them, by
+his way of living."</p>
+
+<p>"Then he's got to go to church, and work, and live decent, or he don't
+get a square deal, hey?"</p>
+
+<p>"But why shouldn't he do that much?"</p>
+
+<p>Collie did not answer. Instead, he inspected his questioner critically
+from head to foot. "I guess you're right," he said finally. "I've heard
+folks talk like that before, but I never took no stock. They kind of
+said it because they knowed it. I guess you say it because you mean it."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I do," said Stone heartily. "Well,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">70</a></span> here comes my niece with
+the mail. See! Over there is El Camino Real, running north. My ranch is
+up <i>there</i>, in the hills. My foreman's name is Williams. If you should
+ask him for work, I believe he might give you something to do. I heard
+him say he needed a man, not long ago."</p>
+
+<p>Walter Stone cinched up the saddle and mounted his pony. The boy's eyes
+shone as he gazed at the strong, soldierly figure. Ah, to look like
+that, and ride a horse like that!</p>
+
+<p>Boyar, the black pony, clattered up and stopped. "Hello, folks!" said
+Louise, purposely including the boy in her greeting.</p>
+
+<p>Collie flushed happily. Then a bitterness grew in his heart as he
+thought of his friend Overland, hunted from town to town by the same law
+that protected these people&mdash;an unjust law that they observed and
+fostered.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" said Stone.</p>
+
+<p>Collie's gaze was on the ground. "I don' know," he muttered. "I don'
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, good luck to you!" And the ponies swung into that philosophical
+lope of the Western horse who knows his journey's length.</p>
+
+<p>The figures of the riders grew smaller. Still the boy stood in the road,
+watching them. Undecided, he gazed. Then came an answer to his stubborn
+self-questioning. Louise glanced back&mdash;glanced<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">71</a></span> back for an instant in
+mute sympathy with his loneliness.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly the boy turned and entered the jail. He folded his coat over his
+arm, stepped outside, and closed the door.</p>
+
+<p>Before him stretched the hot gray level of El Camino Real, the road to
+the beyond. From it branched a narrower road, reaching up into the
+southern hills,&mdash;on, up to the mysterious Moonstone Ca&ntilde;on with its
+singing stream and its gracious shade. Somewhere beyond, higher, and in
+the shadowy fastness of the great ranges lay the Moonstone Ranch ... her
+home.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess, steppin' up smart, I'll be there just about in time for
+supper," said the boy. And whistling cheerily, he set his feet toward
+the south and the Moonstone Trail.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">72</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2><h3>THE TEST</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>After a week of weeding in the vegetable garden, Collie was put to work
+repairing fence. There were many miles of it, inclosing some twenty
+thousand acres of grazing-land, and the cross-fencing of the oat,
+alfalfa, fruit, and vegetable acreage. The fence was forever in need of
+repair. The heavy winter rains, torrential in the mountains, often
+washed away entire hillsides, leaving a dozen or so staggering posts
+held together by the wires, tangled and sagging. Cattle frequently
+pulled loosened posts from the earth by kneeling under the wire and
+working through, oblivious to the barbs. Again, "stock gone a little
+loco" would often charge straight through the rigid and ripping wire
+barriers as though their strands were of thread. Posts would split in
+the sun, and staples would drop out, leaving sagging spaces which cattle
+never failed to find and take advantage of. Trees uprooted by the rain
+and wind would often fall across the fence.</p>
+
+<p>Altogether, the maintaining of a serviceable fence-line on a
+well-ordered ranch necessitates eternal vigilance.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">73</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Moonstone Rancho was well ordered under the direct supervision of
+Walter Stone's foreman, "Brand" Williams. Williams was a Wyoming cowman
+of the old school; taciturn, lean, sinewy.</p>
+
+<p>Some ten years before, Williams, seeking employment, had ridden over the
+range with Stone. Returning, the cowman remarked disconsolately, "I like
+your stock, and I'll tie to you. But, say, it's only playin' at ranchin'
+on twenty thousand fenced. I was raised in Wyoming."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," Stone had replied. "Play hard and we'll get along
+first-rate."</p>
+
+<p>Every inch of Brand Williams's six feet was steeped in the astringent of
+experience. He played hard and prospered, as did his employer.</p>
+
+<p>Collie stood awaiting the foreman's instructions.</p>
+
+<p>"Ever mend fence?" asked Williams.</p>
+
+<p>"Nope."</p>
+
+<p>"Good. Then you can learn right. Go rope a cayuse&mdash;get some staples and
+that leetle axe in my office, and go to it. There's plenty fence."</p>
+
+<p>The "Go rope a cayuse" momentarily staggered the boy, but he went
+silently to the corral, secured a riata, and by puzzling the playful
+ponies by his amateur tactics he finally entangled "Baldy," a
+white-faced cow-pony of peaceful mien but uncertain disposition.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">74</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Williams, watching the performance, lazily rolled a straw-paper
+cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>Snubbed to the post, bridled and saddled awkwardly, Baldy gave no
+outward sign of his malignant inward intent of getting rid of the lad
+the minute he mounted.</p>
+
+<p>Williams slowly drew a match across his sleeve from elbow to wrist,
+ending with a flame that was extremely convenient to his cigarette. He
+wasted no effort at anything. He was a man who never met a yawn halfway,
+but only gave in to it when actually obliged to. Collie climbed into the
+saddle and started for the corral gate. He arrived there far ahead of
+the horse. He got to his feet and brushed his knees. The pony was
+humping round the corral with marvelous agility for so old a horse.</p>
+
+<p>"He never did like a left-handed man," said Williams gravely. "Next time
+get on him from the <i>other</i> side, and see if he don't behave. Hold on;
+don't be in a hurry. Let him throw a few more jumps, then he'll quit for
+to-day most likely. And say, son, if he does take to buckin' with you
+again, don't choke that saddle to death hangin' on to the horn. Set up
+straight, lean a little back, and clinch your knees. You'll get piled,
+anyhow, but you might as well start right."</p>
+
+<p>The boy approached the horse again, secured<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">75</a></span> the dangling reins, and
+again mounted. Baldy was as demure as a spinster in church. He actually
+looked pious.</p>
+
+<p>Collie urged the pony toward the gate. Baldy reared.</p>
+
+<p>"A spade bit ain't made to pull teeth with, although you can," said
+Williams. "Baldy's old, but his teeth are all good yet. Just easy now.
+Ride in your saddle, not on your reins. That's it! And say, kid, I would
+'a' got them staples and that axe before crawlin' the hoss, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>Collie flushed. He dismounted and walked to the foreman's office. When
+he returned to the corral, the horse was gone. Williams still sat on the
+corral bars smoking and gazing earnestly at nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Round the corner of the stable Collie saw the pony, his nose peacefully
+submerged in the water-trough, but his eye wide and vigilant. The boy
+ran toward him. Baldy snorted and, wheeling, ran back into the corral,
+circled it with an expression which said plainly, "Let us play a little
+game of tag, in which, my young friend, you shall always be 'It.'"</p>
+
+<p>Again Collie tried to rope the pony.</p>
+
+<p>"Want any help?" asked Williams, as he slid from the corral bars to the
+ground.</p>
+
+<p>"Nope." And Collie disentangled his legs from an amazing contortion of
+the riata and tried<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">76</a></span> to whirl the loop as he had seen the cowmen whirl
+it.</p>
+
+<p>"Hold on, son!" said Williams. "You mean right, but don't go to rope him
+with the saddle on. If you looped that horn, he, like as not, would yank
+you clean to Calabasas before you got your feet out of that mess of rope
+you're standin' in. Anyway, you ain't goin' to Calabasas; you're due up
+the other way."</p>
+
+<p>Collie was learning things rapidly, and, better still, he was learning
+in a way that would cause him to remember.</p>
+
+<p>Williams spoke sharply to the pony. Baldy stopped and eyed the foreman
+with vapid inquisitiveness. "Now, son, I got three things to tell you,"
+and the foreman gathered up the reins. "First&mdash;keep on keepin' your
+mouth shut and tendin' to business. It pays. Second&mdash;always drop your
+reins over a hoss's head when you get off, whether he's trained that way
+or not. And last&mdash;always figure a hoss thinks he knows more than you do.
+Sometimes he does. Sometimes he don't. Then he won't fool you so
+frequent, for you'll be watchin' him. I wouldn't 'a' said that much,
+only you're a tenderfoot from the East, I hear. If you was a tenderfoot
+from the West, you would 'a' had to take your own medicine."</p>
+
+<p>Collie's shoulder was lame from his fall and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">77</a></span> was becoming stiff, but he
+grinned cheerfully, and said nothing, which pleased Williams.</p>
+
+<p>The foreman leveled his slow, keen eyes at him for a minute. "You'll
+find a spring under the live-oaks by the third cross-fence north. Reckon
+you'll get there about noon. Keep your eye peeled for fire. I thought I
+seen somebody up there as I come across from the corral early this
+mornin'. We come close to burnin' out here once, account of a hobo's
+fire. Understand, if you ketch anybody cantelopin' around <i>a-foot</i>, you
+just ride 'em off the range pronto. That's all."</p>
+
+<p>As Collie rode away through the morning sunshine, Williams loafed across
+the corral, roped and saddled a white-eyed pinto, and, spurring up a
+narrow ca&ntilde;on west of the ranch buildings, disappeared round a turn of
+the shady trail. As the foreman rode, he alternately talked to the pony
+and himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Tramp, eh?" he said, addressing the pony. "What do you say, Sarko?
+Nothin', eh? Same as me.... Overland Red's kid pal, eh? Huh! I knowed
+Jack Summers, Red Jack Summers, down in Sonora in '83. Mexico was some
+open country then. Jack was a white pardner, too. Went to the bad,
+account of that Chola girl that he was courtin' goin' wrong.... Funny
+how the boss come to pick up that kid. Thinks there's somethin' in him.
+O' course they is. But what? Eh,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">78</a></span> Sarko, what? You say nothin', same as
+me.... Here, you! That's a lizard, you fool hoss. Never seen one before,
+so you're try in' to catch it by jumpin' through your bridle after it,
+eh? Never seen one before, oh, no! Don't like that, eh? Well, you quit,
+and I will. Exactly. It's me, and my ole Spanish spurs. I'm
+listenin'.... Nothin' to say?... Uhuh! I reckon little Louise had
+somethin' to do with gettin' the kid the job. Well, if <i>she</i> likes him,
+I got to. Guess I'd love a snake if she said to. Yes, I'm listenin' to
+myself ..." And the taciturn foreman's hard, weathered face wrinkled in
+a smile. "I'm listenin' ... None of the boys know Red's camped up by the
+spring. I do. Red used to be a damn white Injun in the old days. I'll
+give the kid a chance to put him wise for old times. And I'll find out
+if the kid means business or not ... which is some help to know how to
+handle him later."</p>
+
+<p>Williams picketed his pony in the meadow above the third cross-fence.
+Loafing down the slope toward the spring, he noticed the faint smoke of
+a fire. Farther down the line fence, he could see Collie in the
+distance, riding slowly toward the three live-oaks. The foreman found a
+convenient seat on a ledge, rolled another of his eternal cigarettes,
+and watched the boy approach from below.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">79</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Collie had already dismounted three times that morning; twice to mend
+fence, and once more involuntarily. He determined, with a mighty vow to
+the bow-legged god of all horseflesh, to learn to stay on a broncho or
+die learning.</p>
+
+<p>The boy had a native fondness for animals, and he had already thought of
+buying a pony with his first few months' wages. But the vision of his
+erstwhile companion Overland, perhaps imprisoned and hopeless in the
+grip of the "bunch," annulled that desire. He would save every cent for
+that emergency.</p>
+
+<p>Arrived at the spring, both boy and horse drank gratefully, for the day
+was hot. Then Collie noticed the thin smoke coming through the trees and
+strode toward it.</p>
+
+<p>"It ain't much of a fire yet," said Overland. "Our hired girl&mdash;" and he
+grinned through a two-weeks' tangle of red beard. "Oh, but ain't he the
+'cute little workin'-man with his little ole hoss and his garments of
+toil."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Red!" exclaimed the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Me sure! I been hidin' in my whiskers so long I didn't know if you'd
+know me."</p>
+
+<p>"I been thinking about you every day."</p>
+
+<p>"Uhuh. So have I. I reckon some others has, too. Say, what you been
+doin' lately, studyin' law or learnin' the piano? I been lookin' for
+you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">80</a></span> for a week. It's the first day I seen you out on the range."</p>
+
+<p>"I was working in the garden first. Then they put me at this, this
+mornin'."</p>
+
+<p>"Uhuh. Well, Col, that there getaway of mine is in all the papers.
+'Tramp Cowboy Steals Horse and Escapes.' Say, did she yip about my
+borrowin' the cayuse?"</p>
+
+<p>"She was mad at first. But your fancy ridin' kind of made her forget. I
+told her you was square, Red."</p>
+
+<p>"Huh! I guess she could tell that herself."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Red, I'm not kidding. I told her uncle about the bunch and the guy
+on the desert."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he believe it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I guess so. He ain't said much. But he gives me the chance to make
+good. He must have believed somethin'."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, stick to it, Collie. You never was cut out for a genuine towerist
+like me, anyhow. It ain't in your blood."</p>
+
+<p>"What you goin' to do now, Red?"</p>
+
+<p>"Me? Listen! There's gold out there, somewhere. I'm broke now. I need
+some dough. I got ideas. Ten dollars does it. I get a new set of clothes
+and get shaved and me hair trimmed close. Then I commence me good work
+in Main Street, in Los. Down on North Main is where I catch the gent
+from the East who will fall for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">81</a></span> anything that wears a Stetson and some
+outdoors complexion. I tell all about my ledge in the Mojave and get
+staked to go out and prospect. It's bein' done every day&mdash;it and the
+other fella."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Red&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hold on, kid. I ain't goin' to bunk nobody. This here's square. I need
+financin'&mdash;a burro and a grubstake and me for the big dry spot. Ship the
+outfit to the desert town, and then hit it along the rails to where we
+hid it. If the papers we hid is any good, me to locate the ledge.
+Anyhow, there's a good five hundred in the poke, and that's better than
+a kick in the pants."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll get pinched sure, Red."</p>
+
+<p>"Nix, kiddo. Not out there. Money talks. 'Course it ain't makin' any
+distressin' sounds around here jest now, but, say, got the makin's?"</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't smoked since I been here, Red."</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse me, Miss Collie. What denomination did you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Straight, Red. I'm savin' my money."</p>
+
+<p>"What do they pay you for settin' on that cayuse?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fifteen a month, and board, and the horse to ride."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't mention the hoss, pal. Jest make motions with your hands when you
+mean him. Talkin' is apt to wake him up."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">82</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"He pitched me twice."</p>
+
+<p>"Just havin' bad dreams, that's all," said Overland, grinning. "Fifteen
+a month and found ain't bad for a bum, is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Cut that out, Red. I ain't no bum."</p>
+
+<p>"Ex-cuse me. There I gone and laminated your feelin's again. Why in hell
+don't you blush, or drop your little ole lace handkerchief, or fix your
+back hair, so I can remember I'm talkin' to a lady? It ain't manners,
+this here impersonatin' you're a boy like that."</p>
+
+<p>"Quit your kiddin', Red. Mebby you think it was easy to cut out the old
+stuff, and everybody on the ranch on to what I used to be. I was cryin'
+the first night. I was lonesome for you."</p>
+
+<p>Overland's eyelids flickered. He grinned. "Uhuh! I could hear you clean
+over in the Simi Valley. I was thinkin' of comin' right back, only&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, if you think I'm lyin to you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Overland thrust up a soiled palm. "Nix; you never did yet. How much coin
+can you rustle?"</p>
+
+<p>"I got that eight-and-a-half I had when we was pinched. It's down to the
+bunk-house."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, bring it up here to-morrow mornin'. And, say, swipe a sogun for
+me. I near froze last night."</p>
+
+<p>Collie's brows drew together. "I'll bring the money, sure! but I can't
+swipe no blanket, even<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">83</a></span> for you. The boss thinks I'm square, and so does
+she. I'll bring tobacco and papers. Got any grub?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, some. I ain't exactly livin' on sagebrush and scenery yet. I been
+trainin' some chickens to do the Texas Tommy. Every one that learns to
+do it in one lesson gets presented with a large hot fryin'-pan.
+Surprisin' how them chickens is fond of dancin'. I reckon I learned six
+of 'em since I seen you last. But don't forget the eight rollers and
+four bits. I need ten, but eight-fifty will do. I'll have to leave out
+the silk pejammies and the rosewater this trip. But kickie pants is good
+enough for me to sleep in. How's that sheriff gent?"</p>
+
+<p>"Busted his collar-bone and killed his horse."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sad for the hoss. How do you like livin' decent?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fine, Red! I wish you would&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hold on, Collie, not me! I'm gettin' too old, too plumb old and
+disgusted with this vale of steers to change and tie down to short
+grass. Now you're near enough to the age of that little Louise girl to
+make life interestin'."</p>
+
+<p>"Who said anything about her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Whoa, Chico! Back up. You're steppin' on your bridle. Don't go 'way
+mad. Why, I said somethin' about her, that's who. You got any idea of
+hobblin' my talk?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">84</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No. But&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you can't flim your ole pal, nohow. You're just commencin' life on
+what that little Louise lady thinks you ought to be. And you will be it
+some day, if you keep straight. So will I."</p>
+
+<p>"You?" Collie was unable to associate a reconstructive idea with
+Overland's mode of life.</p>
+
+<p>"Say! Just as if I never knowed a good woman. Say, I could actooly give
+up smokin' for her, if I had to hire some guy to do it for me. That's
+what I think of her. When I get me plush rags and the dizzy lid, I'll
+call around in me private caboose and take you both for a little ride."</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the boy gazed away to where the silver of the Southern
+Pacific rails glinted in the valley. Overland Red's presence brought
+back poignantly the long, lazy days of loafing and the wide, starry
+nights of wayside fire, tobacco, and talk. There was a charm in the free
+life of the road&mdash;that long gray road that never ended&mdash;never ended in
+the quiet shade of a mountain ranch or in the rose-bordered pathway to a
+valley cottage. The long gray road held out no promise of rest for worn
+and aged folk. After all, its only freedom was the freedom of eternal
+wandering ... until one could adventure no longer ... and then? Better
+to tread the harder path of duty.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">85</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The boy's black eyes were lifted pleadingly. "Red," he said
+hesitatingly. "Red, I got to tell you to camp the other side of that
+line fence till I come to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>Overland understood instantly that the lad was but following general
+instructions. He loved the boy, and so, perversely, worked upon his
+feelings. "Oh, the <i>other</i> side? Ex-cuse me, chief, for intrudin' on
+this here resavation. Sorry I'm crowdin' you so."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Red, wait&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Wait? What, for you to insult your ole pal again by tellin' him he
+might drink all the water in this here spring, mebby, or inflooence the
+morals of the cattle, or steal the wire off the fence? Huh! I thought I
+was your <i>pal</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Red, quit kiddin'. Don't you see I got orders? I got orders."</p>
+
+<p>"You're gettin' civilized fast, all right. The first thing civilization
+does is to projooce hobos and bums. Then she turns up her nose because
+hobos and bums ain't civilized. Did you ever see a ma cat get mad
+because one of her kittens was born with sore eyes? I guess not. Cats
+has got sense. Now, what if I don't indignify myself to the extent of
+crawlin' under that line fence?"</p>
+
+<p>"'Course I'll bring you the coin in the mornin'. But if you don't go
+now, why, I got to quit this job. I got to play square to him."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">86</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"So it's orders or me, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Red, and I want to use you right, and be square, too."</p>
+
+<p>Overland Red's beard hid the quiver of his lips as he asked huskily:
+"And you would be comin' back on the road with your ole pal again? You
+would give up the job and the chance of a smile from that little
+Rose-Lady Girl and flew the coop with me again if I said the word?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure I would. You come first and the job comes second; but&mdash;but I want
+to keep the job."</p>
+
+<p>Overland's keen blue eyes filled with instant emotion. "Oh, you go chase
+a snake up your sleeve. Do you think I'd bust your chances of makin'
+good here? Do you reckon I'd let a line fence stand between me and you,
+speakin' poetical? Say, I'll go camp in that sheriff gent's front yard
+if it'll do any good to you, or before I'll see you in bad with the
+little Rose Girl!"</p>
+
+<p>"Please, Red; I mean it."</p>
+
+<p>"So do I. I'll fade quicker than spit on a hot stove. Don't forget
+to-morrow mornin'. Some day I'll put you hep to how to ride. You better
+get to your fence job."</p>
+
+<p>Brand Williams watched the man and the boy as they walked along the
+line-fence trail together. Collie leading the pony, the man talking and
+gesticulating earnestly. Finally they shook<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">87</a></span> hands. The tramp crawled
+under the fence. The boy mounted Baldy and rode away.</p>
+
+<p>Williams, catching up his own horse, spurred quickly across the ridge
+above the spring that the boy might not see him.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">88</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2><h3>A CELESTIAL ENTERPRISE</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Broad avenues of feathery pepper trees, long driveways between shadowy
+rows of the soldierly eucalyptus, wide lawns and gigantic palms of the
+southern isles, weaving pampas grass, gay as the plumes of romance,
+jasmine, orange-bloom, and roses everywhere. Over all is the eternal
+sunshine and noon breeze of the sea, graciously cooling. Roundabout is a
+girdle of far hills.</p>
+
+<p>Some old Spanish padre named it "Nuestra Se&ntilde;ora Reina de Los Angeles,"
+making melody that still lures with its ancient charm. A city for
+angels, verily. A city of angels? Verily; some fallen, indeed, for there
+is much nefarious trafficking in real estate, but all in all the
+majority of souls in Los Angeles are celestial bound, treading upon
+sunbeams in their pilgrimage.</p>
+
+<p>The plaza, round which the new town roars from dawn to dusk, is still
+haunted by a crumbling old adobe, while near it droop dusty pepper trees
+that seem to whisper to each other endlessly&mdash;"Ma&ntilde;ana! Ma&ntilde;ana!" Whisper
+as did those swarthy vaqueros and the young, lithe,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">89</a></span> low-voiced
+se&ntilde;oritas who strolled across the plaza in the dusk of by-gone days.
+"Ma&ntilde;ana! Ma&ntilde;ana!&mdash;To-morrow! To-morrow!"</p>
+
+<p>And the to-morrows have come and gone as did those Spanish lovers,
+riding up through the sunshine on their silver-bitted pinto ponies and
+riding out at dusk with tinkling spur-chains into that long to-morrow
+that has shrouded the ancient plaza in listless dreams. Mexicans in
+black sombreros and blue overalls still prowl from cantina to cantina,
+but the gay vaquero and his se&ntilde;orita are no more.</p>
+
+<p>Overland Red, a harsh note in the somnolence of the place, stepped
+buoyantly across the square. And here, if ever, Overland was at home.</p>
+
+<p>A swarthy, fat Mexican shaved him while a lean old rurale of Overland's
+earlier acquaintance obligingly accepted some pesos with which to drink
+the se&ntilde;or's health, and other pesos with which to purchase certain
+clothing for the se&ntilde;or.</p>
+
+<p>The retired rurale drove a relentless bargain with a countryman,
+returning with certain picturesque garments that Overland donned in the
+back room of the little circus-blue barber shop.</p>
+
+<p>The tramp had worthily determined to hold wise and remunerative converse
+with the first Easterner that "looked good to him." He would make
+half-truths do double duty. He needed money to purchase a burro, packs,
+canteen, pick,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">90</a></span> shovel, dynamite, and provisions. He intended to repay
+the investor by money-order from some desert town as soon as he found
+the hidden gold. This unusual and worthy intention lent Overland added
+assurance, and he needed it. Fortune, goddess evanishing and coy, was
+with him for once. If he could but dodge the plain-clothes men long
+enough to outfit and get away....</p>
+
+<p>The "Mojave Bar," on North Main Street of the City of Angels was all but
+empty. Upon it the lassitude of early afternoon lay heavily. The
+spider-legged music-racks of the Mexican string orchestra, the empty
+platform chairs, the deserted side-tables along the pictured wall, the
+huge cactus scrawled over with pin-etched initials,&mdash;all the impedimenta
+of the saloon seemed to slumber.</p>
+
+<p>The white-coated proprietor, with elbows on the bar, gazed listlessly at
+a Remington night-scene&mdash;a desert nocturne with a shadowy adobe against
+the blue-black night, a glimmer of lamplight through a doorway, and in
+the golden pathway a pony and rider and the red flash of pistol shots.</p>
+
+<p>Opposite the bartender, at a table against the wall, sat a young man,
+clad in cool gray. He smoked a cigarette, and occasionally sipped from a
+tall glass. He was slender, clean-cut, high-colored, an undeniable
+patrician. In his mild gray<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">91</a></span> eyes, deep down, gleamed a latent humor, an
+interior twinkling not apparent to the multitude.</p>
+
+<p>Sweeney Orcutt, the saloon-keeper, noticed this reserve characteristic
+now for the first time, as the young man turned toward him. Sweeney was
+a retired plain-clothes man with a record, and a bank account. It was
+said that he knew every crook from Los Angeles to New York. Be it added,
+to his credit, that he kept his own counsel&mdash;attending to his own
+business on both sides of the bar.</p>
+
+<p>"Do they ever do those things now?" queried the young man, nodding
+toward the picture.</p>
+
+<p>Sweeney Orcutt smiled a thin-lipped smile. "Not much. Sometimes in Texas
+or Mexico. I seen the day when they did."</p>
+
+<p>The young man lazily crossed his legs. "Nice and cool here," he remarked
+presently.</p>
+
+<p>"Been in town long?" asked Sweeney.</p>
+
+<p>"No, only a few days."</p>
+
+<p>"I was goin' to say there's a good show over on Spring
+Street&mdash;movin'-pictures of the best ridin' and buckin' and ropin' I seen
+yet."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes? Is there any one in town who is not working for the movies?"</p>
+
+<p>Again Sweeney Orcutt smiled his thin-lipped smile. "Yes, I guess there
+is. I might scare up one or two I used to know who is workin'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">92</a></span> the
+transients, which ain't exactly workin' <i>for</i> the movies."</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to meet some character who is really doing something in
+earnest; that is, some cowboy, miner, prospector, teamster,&mdash;one of
+those twenty-mule-team kind, you know,&mdash;or any such chap. Why, even the
+real estate men that have been up to my hotel seem to be acting a part.
+One expects every minute to see one of them pull a gun and hold up a
+fellow. No doubt they mean business."</p>
+
+<p>"Bank on that," said Orcutt dryly.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," continued the young man, "I have too much time on my hands
+just now. The doctors tell me to rest, and I've been doing nothing else
+all my life. It's pretty monotonous. I've tried to get interested in
+some of the chaps on North Main Street, and around the plaza. I've
+offered to buy them drinks and all that, but they seem to shy off. I
+suppose they think I'm a detective or something of that kind."</p>
+
+<p>"More like, a newspaper man after a story. Hello, there! Now, what's
+doin'?"</p>
+
+<p>Outside near the curb a crowd had collected. A traffic officer was
+talking to the driver of an automobile. As Sweeney Orcutt strolled
+toward the doorway, Overland Red, clean-shaven, clothed in new corduroys
+and high lace boots, and a sombrero aslant on his stiff red hair, dove<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">93</a></span>
+into the saloon and called for a "bucket of suds."</p>
+
+<p>"Close&mdash;shave&mdash;Red&mdash;" whispered Orcutt.</p>
+
+<p>"Had me Orcutt, likewise," replied the tramp. "Say, Sweeney, stall off
+the Dick out there. I think he piped me as I blew in, but I ain't sure.
+He'll be pokin' in here in a minute. If he sees me talkin',&mdash;to the guy
+there, for instance,&mdash;and you give him a steer, he won't look too close.
+Sabe?" And Overland drank, observing the Easterner at the table over the
+top of his glass.</p>
+
+<p>"They got that guy Overland Red mugged in every station from here to
+Chicago," whispered Orcutt. "Paper says he put it over a desert rat up
+near Barstow. Did you hear about it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Some," replied Overland sententiously.</p>
+
+<p>"And did you hear about his last get-away on one of the Moonstone Rancho
+ponies? Some class to that!"</p>
+
+<p>"I read somethin' about it," replied Overland.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Red, if you won't tumble, all I got to say is, beat it. You're
+worth a thousand bucks to any fly-cop that nips you in this town. I'm
+handin' you a little dope that you can slide out on and not get stuck."</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks, Sweeney. Well, I'll ring you up from Kalamazoo."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">94</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Kalamazoo? In them clothes?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure. There's a law against travelin' naked in some States. Where you
+been grazin' lately?"</p>
+
+<p>"In the bull-pasture; and say, Red, it's gettin' warm there, for some."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I guess I'll beat it," said Overland.</p>
+
+<p>"Take a slant at the door first."</p>
+
+<p>Overland turned leisurely. In the doorway stood the traffic officer. He
+glanced from Orcutt to the two men near the table. "Hello, Sweeney!" he
+called, glancing a second time at Overland.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello!" answered Sweeney, strolling to the end of the bar. "Somebody
+speedin'?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Say, who's the guy, the big one?"</p>
+
+<p>"Him? Oh, that's Billy Sample, the fella that does the desert stuff for
+the General Film Company. The kid is his pardner who acts the
+tenderfoot. They 're waitin' for the machine now to take 'em out to
+Glendale. Got some stunt to pull off this afternoon, so Billy was
+tellin' me. They're about half-stewed now. They make me sick."</p>
+
+<p>"Thought I saw the big guy out on the street a minute ago," said the
+officer, hesitating. "There's a card out for a fella that looks like
+him. I guess&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He thought it was his machine comin'," said Orcutt. "He run out to see.
+It's a wonder how them movie actors can make up to look like most<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">95</a></span>
+anybody. Why, I been in your line of business, as you know, and I been
+fooled lots of times. Makes a fella feel like he don't know where he's
+at with the town full of them movin'-picture actors."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, so long, Sweeney." And the traffic officer, a little afraid of
+being laughed at by the famous ex-officer, Sweeney Orcutt, departed,
+just a thousand dollars poorer than he might have been had he had the
+courage of his convictions.</p>
+
+<p>Overland and Orcutt exchanged glances. Orcutt's glance rested meaningly,
+for an instant, on the Easterner at the table. Overland grinned. Orcutt
+spoke to the young Easterner, who immediately rose to his feet and
+bowed.</p>
+
+<p>"You was lookin' for somebody that's the real thing, you said. This
+here's my friend Jack Summers. He used to be sheriff of Abilene once. He
+ain't workin' for a movin'-picture outfit and he won't borrow your
+watch. Mebby he has a little business deal to put up to you and mebby
+not. Take my word for it, he's straight."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm William Winthrop, back East. 'Billy' will do here. I'm a
+tenderfoot, but I'm not exactly a fool. I observed the delicacy with
+which you engineered the recent exodus of the policeman. I'm
+interested."</p>
+
+<p>"Sounds like plush to me," said Overland. "I got a little time&mdash;not
+much. You're correct<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">96</a></span> about the cop. I got a pretty good thing out in
+the Mojave&mdash;gold&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop laughed. "You aren't losing any time, are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"You wouldn't neither if you was in my boots," said Overland, grinning
+cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Red's all right," said Orcutt. "What'll you gents have?"</p>
+
+<p>"Seein' I'm all right, Sweeney, I'll take five dollars in small change.
+I need the coin for entertainin' purposes, I'll pay you in the mornin'."</p>
+
+<p>"You got me that time," said Orcutt. "Here's the coin."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall we sit down here?" asked Winthrop, indicating one of the tables.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure! Now this ain't no frame-up. No, I'll set where I can watch
+Sweeney. He's like to steal his own cash-register if you don't watch
+him." And Winthrop noticed that his companion faced the door. He also
+noticed, as the man's coat brushed against a chair as he sat down, that
+that same coat covered a shiny black shoulder holster in which gleamed
+the worn butt of an automatic pistol.</p>
+
+<p>"My real name is Jack Summers," began Overland Red. "Some folks took to
+callin' me 'Overland Red,' seein' as I been some towerist in my time."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">97</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Great!" murmured the Easterner. "'Overland Red!' That name has me
+hypnotized."</p>
+
+<p>"You was sayin'?" queried Overland.</p>
+
+<p>"Beg your pardon. Nothing worth while. I haven't been so happy for a
+year. Let me explain. I have a little money, pretty well invested. I
+also have lungs, I believe. The doctors don't quite agree about that,
+however. The last one gave me six months to live. That was a year ago. I
+owe him an apology and six months. I'm not afraid, exactly, and I'm
+certainly not glad. But I want to forget it. That's all. Go ahead about
+that desert and the gold. I'm listening."</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">98</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER X</h2><h3>"PERFECTLY HARMLESS LITTLE OLE TENDERFOOT"</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>William Stanley Winthrop woke next morning with a vague impression of
+having lost something. He gazed indolently at the sunlight filtering
+through the curtains of his sleeping-room. Beyond the archway to the
+adjoining room of his suite, a ray of sunshine lay like living gold upon
+the soft, rich-hued fabric of the carpet.</p>
+
+<p>"Gold!" he murmured. "Mojave Desert! Overland Red! Lost gold! No, it
+isn't the two hundred dollars I invested in the rascal's story, for it
+was worth the money. I never spent four happier hours in my life, at
+fifty dollars an hour. The best of it is he actually made me believe
+him. I think he believed himself."</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop sat up in bed, yawning. "I think black coffee will be about
+all, this morning," he murmured, as he dressed leisurely.</p>
+
+<p>He was tying a fastidiously correct bow on his tan oxford when he
+happened to glance out of the window. It was early, altogether too
+early, he reflected, to appear in the breakfast-room of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">99</a></span> hotel.
+Winthrop's indefinite soliloquy melted into the rapt silence of
+imagination. Below on the smooth black pavement pattered two laden
+burros. On their packs hung dusty, weatherworn canteens, a pick and
+shovel, and a rifle in its soiled and frayed scabbard. The sturdy,
+shaggy burros followed a little, lean old man, whose flop-brimmed hat,
+faded shirt, and battered boots told a tale of the outlands, whispered
+of sun-swept immensities, of sage and cacti, sand and silence. Winthrop
+drew a long breath. Such an adventurer was the Overland Red he had
+talked with the evening previous. The tramp had mentioned a town far out
+on the desert. Winthrop sauntered down to the deserted office and
+secured a timetable.</p>
+
+<p>When the east-bound express left Los Angeles the following morning,
+Winthrop was aboard, uncomfortably installed in the private drawing-room
+of a sleeper. He had cheerfully paid the double fare that he might have
+the entire space to himself, and he needed it. Around him, on the floor,
+in the seats, in the racks, and on the hooks were innumerable packages,
+bags, and bundles.</p>
+
+<p>"Very eccentric. He must be rich," whispered the wife of a dry-goods
+merchant from Keokuk, as her husband pushed her ahead of him past the
+door of the drawing-room.</p>
+
+<p>"Just plain hog!" said the dry-goods merchant.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">100</a></span> "A man that'll pay
+double fare to have the whole earth to himself when other folks has to
+be packed into a berth and suffocate! The conductor said he paid double
+to Chicago to get that compartment, and he's only goin' out in the
+desert a little ways. I'd 'a' took it myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we could hardly afford it, anyway," said the woman pleasantly.
+"We've had such a good time I don't mind sleeping in a berth, Hiram."</p>
+
+<p>They crowded on and finally found their seats.</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop smiled to himself. He liked the woman's voice.</p>
+
+<p>He lighted a cigarette and gazed wistfully, even despairingly, at the
+"outfit" which surrounded him. He sighed. "Awful accumulation of
+plunder. Wonder what I'll do with it?"</p>
+
+<p>As the train climbed the grade beyond San Bernardino, he grew restless.
+Flinging down his cigarette, he began unwrapping his belongings. Out
+came blankets, extra clothing, a rifle, canteens of several patterns,
+two pack-saddles, a coil of rope, a pair of high lace boots,&mdash;hobnailed,
+heavy, and unserviceable,&mdash;a pocket compass, a hunting-knife, a patent
+filter, two halters, two galvanized pails, a small, compact, silk tent,
+an axe, a fishing-rod, a rubber cup, a box of cigars, a bottle of
+brandy, several neckerchiefs, a cartridge-belt,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">101</a></span> a Colts revolver of
+large and aggressive caliber, cartridges, a prospector's pick, a shovel,
+a medicine-case, a new safety razor, a looking-glass, a clinic
+thermometer, and a copy of "Robinson Crusoe."</p>
+
+<p>He pondered over the agglomeration of articles pensively. "He was a good
+salesman," he said, smiling. "I'll be either a juggler or a strong man
+before I'm through with these things. I think I'll begin now and
+re-pack. I'll make one glorious bundle of it. That's the ticket!"</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop went to work, whistling cheerfully. He spread the blanket and
+rearranged his possessions, finally rolling them up into an uncertain
+bundle which he roped with the weird skill of the amateur packer. He
+tried to lift the bundle to the opposite seat. He decided to leave it on
+the floor.</p>
+
+<p>Over the grade and on the level of the desert the train gathered speed.
+The shimmering spaces revolved slowly, to meet the rushing track ahead.
+Hour after hour sat Winthrop, reading and occasionally glancing out
+across the desert. His was the wildest of wild-goose chases. A stranger
+had told him of a mysterious ledge of gold somewhere out on the desert,
+and the stranger had named a desert town&mdash;the town toward which Winthrop
+was journeying. Would the eccentric Overland Red be there? Winthrop<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">102</a></span>
+hoped so. He wanted to believe that this Ulysses of the outlands had
+spoken truth. He imagined vividly Overland Red's surprise when one
+William Stanley Winthrop, late of New York, should appear, equipped to
+the chin and eager to participate in the hunt for the lost gold. Then
+again, the prospector might not care to be burdened with the
+companionship of a tenderfoot. Still, the uncertainty of his welcome
+lent zest to Winthrop's enterprise. He closed the door of his
+drawing-room and wound through a mahogany maze toward the dining-car.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Next morning, as the train slowed down for the desert town, Winthrop was
+in the vestibule, peering out anxiously. It did not occur to him that
+Overland Red knew nothing of his coming, or that the other would be
+waiting on the station platform if he did. The tramp had not the
+faintest desire to make himself conspicuous. Some of Winthrop's
+enthusiasm had evaporated during the hot night in the sleeper.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you very much," called the lady from Keokuk, Iowa.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't mention it," said Winthrop, disembarking behind the porter with
+his "plunder." Then, as the Pullman slid away, Winthrop deliberately and
+gracefully threw a kiss to the dry-goods merchant's wife. "Nice little
+woman," he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">103</a></span> reflected. "Too nice to associate with that grampus. Well, I
+hope they'll enjoy the rest of the trip in the drawing-room. I'm glad I
+was able to arrange it."</p>
+
+<p>He watched the train crawl down the track. He wondered how long he would
+be able to distinguish the pattern of the brasswork on the observation
+car-rail.</p>
+
+<p>Out of the empty distance came the <i>click</i>, <i>clink</i>, <i>clank</i> of hammers
+and shovels as the section-men, a mile down the track, stepped into work
+behind the train.</p>
+
+<p>"Prospectin'?" queried a lank individual, slouching up to Winthrop.</p>
+
+<p>"A little," said Winthrop. "It's pretty dry work."</p>
+
+<p>"Uhuh. It's goin' to be hot about noon."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose so. Will you kindly give me a hand with this monstrosity,"
+said Winthrop, indicating the pack. "The agent seems to be busy."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure! She ain't roped very tight."</p>
+
+<p>Which proved to be true. The bundle, with a kind of animate
+indifference, slowly sagged, opened, and things began to trickle from it
+in its journey across the platform. Among the things was the bottle of
+brandy. The lank individual picked this up tenderly and set it to one
+side. Winthrop noticed his solicitude, and smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"We can rope 'em up again," said the lank<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">104</a></span> one, suddenly becoming
+enthusiastic. "My name's Jim Hicks. I'm constable here."</p>
+
+<p>"I see. Well, I'm William Winthrop, from Los Angeles. I'm a naturalist.
+Will you accept a cigar?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks. You want to pack this here bottle, too?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not right away. Whew! It is getting hot."</p>
+
+<p>"Goin' up to the hotel?" queried the constable.</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop glanced along the street. The hotel did not look inviting. "I
+don't know. I'd like to get in the shade somewhere."</p>
+
+<p>"There's old Fernando's 'dobe down the track under them pepper trees.
+He's a friend of mine. He ain't to home to-day. Mebby you'd like to set
+down there and wait for your friend."</p>
+
+<p>"My friend?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, ain't you waitin' for anybody? You ain't goin' to tackle that
+bug-huntin' trip alone, be you? It's dangerous out there for a
+tenderfoot. Now I have took folks out, and brought 'em back all
+right,&mdash;gone as far as them hills over there, and that's a good jag from
+here,&mdash;and I only charge four dollars a day and grub."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you said you were constable?"</p>
+
+<p>"So I be. Takin' parties across the desert is on the side. How far you
+figurin' on goin'?"</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't made up my mind yet. Say we go<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">105</a></span> down as far as the adobe you
+spoke about, as a beginning. Perhaps we can arrange terms."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm on, pard," said the constable.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Under the pepper trees shading Fernando's adobe sat Winthrop and the
+constable. The brandy-bottle was half empty and a box of cigars was open
+beside it on the bench. The afternoon shadows were lengthening. The
+constable had been discursive, voluminous, in his entertaining. Time was
+as nothing. He borrowed generously of to-morrow and even the next day.
+He became suddenly quite fond of this quiet, gentlemanly chap opposite
+him, who said little, but seemed to be a prince of good fellows.</p>
+
+<p>"'S this way," said the constable, leaning forward and waving his cigar.
+"You're fren' of mine&mdash;sure thing. 'S af'ernoon now, but I was plumb
+fooled this mornin'. Y' know i's af'ernoon now. Thought you was the guy
+I'm lookin' for. H'overlan' Red&mdash;bum&mdash;tram'. Wire from Loshangeles to
+upperan' him if he shows up here. See?"</p>
+
+<p>"You're not quite clear to me," replied Winthrop. "But never mind about
+apprehending any one. Let's talk about this glorious prospect of sand,
+silence, and solitude. I feel like a fallen angel. Never mind about
+arresting anybody. Life is too short. Let's talk of roses."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">106</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Roshes! Huh!" sniggered the constable. "You're kin' of sof, ain't you?
+Roshes nothin'! I'm goin' talk 'bout business. It's business, my
+business to talk 'bout it, see? 'T ain't your business. You c'n lissen,
+an' when I get through, then you c'n talk roshes."</p>
+
+<p>"But what is your business?" asked Winthrop, with an indifference that
+he did not feel.</p>
+
+<p>"S-s-s-h-h! I'm cons'able. Tha's on the quiet. Thousand dollars rewar'
+f'r th' appr'enshun of 'Verlan' Red. Thought you was him&mdash;hic&mdash;hee!
+hee!"</p>
+
+<p>"Please don't laugh like that. It hurts my feelings," said Winthrop. "It
+is bad enough to be taken for a&mdash;er&mdash;tramp."</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody's feelin's&mdash;pologishe. '<i>Course</i> you ain' him! You're jus' a
+li'l' ole ten'erfoot&mdash;perfec'ly harmless li'l' ole ten'erfoot."</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks. May I ask you to have another?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nope. 'Nough's 'nough. 'S time f'r dinner."</p>
+
+<p>"Nearly. Well, if you flatly refuse to drink my health, I'll have to
+drink it alone, and that's rather egotistical, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never. B' Gosh! You're sport. Funny li'l' ole ten'erfoot&mdash;perf'ly
+harmless. Sure, I'll drink all th' health you got, 'n then go
+home&mdash;dinner."</p>
+
+<p>"One will be sufficient, I think," said Winthrop.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">107</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Sufficen' wha'?" And the constable leered cunningly.</p>
+
+<p>"To drown all pangs. Well, here's pleasant dreams."</p>
+
+<p>Far down the line came the faint thrill of wheels and the distant,
+clear-cut blast of a locomotive. The local freight from Los Angeles was
+whistling for the "block."</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop glanced at his watch, then at the constable. "What train is
+that?" asked the Easterner.</p>
+
+<p>The constable's eyelids drooped, then opened languidly. "Railro' train,
+'f course." And he slid forward to his elbow and thence to the bench.
+Presently he snored.</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop strolled toward the approaching train. "Pretty stiff session,"
+he commented. "Now if happy chance should bring Overland Red on this
+freight, with his burro and outfit; I'll have one reason to offer for
+wanting to go with him. I've probably saved him some annoyance,
+indirectly, but rather effectively, I think."</p>
+
+<p>The great oil-burning locomotive roared in, casting heat-waves that
+smelled of steam, iron, and mechanical energy. The hot air sickened
+Winthrop.</p>
+
+<p>A car was cut out and shunted to a siding. Then the engine, pausing to
+drink a gargantuan<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">108</a></span> draught at the tank, simmered away in the dusk,
+clanking across the switch-points. A figure leaped from the freight-car
+to the ground. Then out came a burro and several bundles. The figure
+strode to the station and filled two canteens. Winthrop walked toward
+the burro. When he of the burro and canteens returned, he found Winthrop
+stroking the little animal's nose.</p>
+
+<p>"What the&mdash;! How the&mdash;! Who lost you out here?" asked Overland.</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop spoke rapidly and to the point. "Express this morning. Lonesome
+again. Thought I'd make a change. My outfit is over at the station.
+Don't say 'No' before you hear me. You're going to need me&mdash;tenderfeet
+and all."</p>
+
+<p>"But you can't&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Wait. The local constable has a wire from the Los Angeles police to
+look out for you. Perhaps you got this far because you're traveling in a
+freight-car. No doubt all the passenger trains have been watched all
+along the line. The constable has been my&mdash;er&mdash;my guest since morning.
+He is asleep now. I had to do it. He told me, after either the sixth or
+seventh glass, I forget which, that he was looking for you. Come on over
+to the station and inspect my outfit, please. I think we had better
+vanish."</p>
+
+<p>Overland breathed once, deeply. "Lead me to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">109</a></span> it!" he exclaimed. "You got
+my number. I guess you're some lame chicken, eh? No? I'll never call you
+a tenderfoot as long as I live. Shake!"</p>
+
+<p>The inspection of the outfit was brief. "Take the Colts and the
+cartridges, and the blankets and the rope. T' hell with the rest."</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">110</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2><h3>DESERT LAW</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Away out in the night of stars and silence plodded the patient burro,
+and beside him shuffled Overland Red and Billy Winthrop.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll fool 'em," said Overland. "Keep joggin'. We'll be over the range
+before mornin'. Then let 'em find us."</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop, staggering along, felt his moral stamina crumbling within him.
+"I don't know&mdash;about that. Perhaps I'll be a drag to the expedition. I'm
+pretty tired."</p>
+
+<p>Overland, experienced in the remorse that follows liquor on an empty
+stomach, swore vigorously and picturesquely. "You'll stick! Do you
+suppose I'd shake you now after you overcomin' a genuine nickel-plated
+desert constable? Nix. That ain't my style. You believed me when I said
+I was comin' to this particular town. It's worth somethin' to have a
+fella around that believes a fella once in a while. But what I want to
+know is, why you done up the constable so offhand like, not knowin'
+whether I'd show up here or not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" And Winthrop smiled wanly. "Because<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">111</a></span> I'm a perfectly harmless
+little old tenderfoot." And his voice caught as he tried to laugh.</p>
+
+<p>An hour of plodding through the dusk, two hours, and they were at a
+water-hole near the northern hills. Overland unroped one of the packs,
+made a fire, and presently had some hot coffee for his companion, who
+was pretty well used up. Nature was taking inexorable toll for his
+conquest of the constable.</p>
+
+<p>"You take it easy and don't worry," said Overland.</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop raised on his elbow and gazed at the tiny fire. "Tiger, tiger
+burning bright!" he quoted.</p>
+
+<p>"This here coffee'll fix you right," responded Overland Red, grinning.
+"Didn't know I was a pote, did you? Now if I was a doc, I'd give you a
+shot in the arm that would put you to sleep. Seein' I ain't, it's coffee
+for yours."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think they will follow us?" Winthrop asked presently.</p>
+
+<p>"As sure as snakes," said Overland. "And this here water-hole is the
+first place they'll strike for. They'll wait till mornin' to find our
+trail."</p>
+
+<p>"When they do find it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll show 'em a Mexican trick with a hole in it. You go to sleep,
+pardner."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The moon rolled down to the rim of the world.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">112</a></span> The infinitesimal
+mountain peaks rose slowly along the lower edge of the flat silver
+shield, black and growing bolder in outline and size as they blotted
+half, three quarters, finally all of the burnished radiance. Then along
+the edge of the far range ran an instant delicate light, a light that
+melted into space and was gone, leaving a palpitating glory of myriad
+summer stars.</p>
+
+<p>The little fire died down. The barren outland wastes slumbered in the
+charitable dusk of night.</p>
+
+<p>Overland, cross-legged on his blanket, smoked moodily. His thoughts
+drifted out on the tide of silence to Moonstone Ca&ntilde;on and Collie and the
+Rose Girl, Louise Lacharme. For them he planned impossibly. Of them he
+dreamed absurd dreams.</p>
+
+<p>Out of the flotsam of his pondering came memories of other nights such
+as this, desert nights on the border ranges of old Mexico&mdash;that lost
+world of his adventurous youth. Mingled with his waking dreams were the
+sounds of many familiar names&mdash;Sonora, Trevino, Nueva Laredo, Nava, San
+Jos&eacute;, Las Cruces, Nogales, Yuma, San Antonio,&mdash;each a burning ember of
+memory that glowed and faded while the music of silver strings and
+singing girls pulsed rhythmically in the stillness&mdash;to break at last
+into the querulous wailing of a lone coyote. Winthrop stirred restlessly
+and muttered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">113</a></span></p>
+
+<p>All at once the tramp realized that this easygoing young Easterner,
+wealthy, unused to hardship, delicate of health, had his battle to
+fight, as well. "I've knowed 'em to get over it," reflected Overland.
+"She's high and dry up here on the desert, and I reckon to go where it's
+higher. He's game, but he's desp'rate. He's tryin' to dodge the verdict,
+which can't be did. Well, if excitement will help any, I guess he's
+ridin' the right range. If he's got to pass over, he might as well go
+quick. Mebby he's the best kind of a pal for this deal, after all."</p>
+
+<p>Overland looked across at the muffled form. "Pardner!" he called.
+Winthrop did not answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it saves explainin'," muttered the tramp, and he rose quietly. He
+gathered the few camp-utensils together, rolled his blankets, brushed
+sand over the embers of the fire, and groped stealthily toward the
+burro. He roped the pack, glancing back toward the water-hole
+occasionally. Winthrop slept heavily.</p>
+
+<p>"Guess I'll go back and get that gun," muttered Overland. "I might need
+two; anyway, he might wake up and plug his old friend the constable
+before he knowed it. I ain't givin' a whoop for the constable, but I
+don't want to see the kid get in wrong."</p>
+
+<p>Then Overland, wily and resourceful in border<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">114</a></span> tactics, led the burro
+round the camp in a wide circle, from which he branched toward the hills
+to the north. For two hours he journeyed across the starlit emptiness.
+Arriving at a narrow ca&ntilde;on in the foothills, he picketed the burro. Then
+he sat down. Why not continue with his pack and provisions? He could
+camp in the fastness of the mountain country and explore it alone. He
+would run less risk of capture. Winthrop was not strong. The Easterner
+meant well enough, but this was the desert.</p>
+
+<p>The blue of the eastern horizon grew shallower, changing to a cold thin
+gray which warmed slowly to the straw color of tempering steel. The
+tramp, watching the sky, shook his clenched fist at the dawn. "You, up
+there!" he growled. "You didn't give me a square deal when I was down
+and out that time&mdash;in Sonora. I had to crawl to it alone. But I'll show
+you that I'm bigger than you. I'm goin' back to the tenderfoot and see
+him through if I swing pole-high for it."</p>
+
+<p>It was light when the tramp had arrived at the water-hole. He crept
+behind a sharp dip in the hummocks. The crest of his hiding-place was
+covered with brush. It was a natural rifle-pit affording him seclusion
+and shelter.</p>
+
+<p>With the sun came the faint thud of hoofs as two riders came warily up
+to the water-hole.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">115</a></span> One dismounted and stooped over Winthrop. The other
+sat his horse, silent, vigilant, saturnine.</p>
+
+<p>"Say, where's your pal, that there Overland Red guy?" asked the
+constable, shaking Winthrop awake and glaring at him with a bleared and
+baleful eye.</p>
+
+<p>The man on the horse frowned, considering, in the light of his
+experience as a successful and still living two-gun man, that such
+tactics were rather crude.</p>
+
+<p>The Easterner sat up, coughed and blinked in the dawn. "Where is what?
+Why, good-morning! You're up early." And his eye swept the empty camp.
+So Overland Red had deserted him, after all. He might have expected as
+much. "I haven't any 'pal,' as you can see. I'm out here studying insect
+life, as I told you I would be, yesterday. You needn't shake me any
+more. I'm awake. I can't say that I'm exactly pleased with my first
+specimen."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I'm a specimen, am I? I'm a insect, hey? Well, you're crooked, and
+you just talk up quick or the calaboose for yours!"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I beg your pardon&mdash;but, no. You are in no condition, this morning,
+to talk with a gentleman. However, you are my guest. Have a cigar?"</p>
+
+<p>The horseman's eyes twinkled. He admired<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">116</a></span> the young Easterner's
+coolness. Not so the constable.</p>
+
+<p>"See here, you swindlin' tin-horn shell-shover, you cough up where
+Overland Red is or there'll be somethin' doin'. You doped that booze
+yesterday, but you can't throw no bluff like that to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"I did what? Please talk slowly."</p>
+
+<p>"You doped that booze you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Much to the constable's surprise he found himself sitting on Winthrop's
+blankets and one of his eyes felt as though some one had begun to stitch
+it up quickly with coarse thread.</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop, smiling serenely, nodded. "Sorry to have to do it. I know I
+don't look like that kind, and I'm not, but I happen to know how."</p>
+
+<p>The constable got to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't doctor the brandy, as you intimated," said Winthrop. "And you
+needn't finger that belt of yours. I haven't a gun with me, and I
+believe it is not the thing for one man to use a gun on another when
+the&mdash;er&mdash;victim happens to be unarmed."</p>
+
+<p>The horseman, who had courage, admired Winthrop's attitude. He rode
+between them. "Cut it out, Hicks," he said. "You're actin' locoed. Guess
+you're carryin' your load yet. I'll talk to the kid. We 're losing time.
+See here, stranger...."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">117</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Overland, watching and listening from his hiding-place, grinned as the
+constable sullenly mounted his horse.</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop politely but firmly declined to acknowledge that he had had a
+companion. Overland was pleased and the riders were baffled by the young
+man's subtle evasion of answering them directly.</p>
+
+<p>"Size of it is, you're stung," said the man who had questioned Winthrop
+last. "He's lit out, now he's done you."</p>
+
+<p>To this the Easterner made no reply.</p>
+
+<p>The horsemen rode away, following the circle of burro tracks toward the
+hills. Winthrop watched them, wondering what had become of his
+companion. He could hardly believe that the tramp had deserted him, yet
+the evidence was pretty plain. Even his revolver was gone, and his belt
+and cartridges. Winthrop yawned. He was hungry. There was no food. But
+there was water. He walked toward the water-hole.</p>
+
+<p>"Stand still&mdash;and listen," said a voice.</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop jumped back, startled and trembling. The voice seemed to come
+from the water-hole at his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Over here&mdash;this way," the voice said.</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop smiled. If it were a disembodied spirit talking, it was no
+other than the spirit of Overland Red. The accent was unmistakable.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">118</a></span> The
+Easterner glanced round and observed a peculiar something behind the
+brush edging the rise beyond the water-hole.</p>
+
+<p>"It's me," said Overland, still concealed. "Thought I quit you, eh? Are
+them fellas out of sight yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. They're still in sight. They are too far to see anything, though."</p>
+
+<p>"And you can see them all right, son? That don't figure out correct."</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop laughed. "That's so. Where's the burro?"</p>
+
+<p>"He's hid&mdash;right in plain sight up a little arroyo."</p>
+
+<p>"Won't they find him, and confiscate him and the things?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not on your life! 'T ain't exactly healthy, even for constables, to go
+round confiscatin' outfits they don't know who's connected with. They
+can't say for sure that burro and stuff is mine. They'll look it over
+and leave it right there."</p>
+
+<p>"But why did you come all the way back here?" asked Winthrop.</p>
+
+<p>"Seein' they's lots of time, I'll explain. If I had kep' on goin', they
+would 'a' trailed me, and mebby got a crack at me in them hills. They
+are two to one, and they could get me at night. Now they'll either give
+it up, or spot my back tracks and find me here. That's all."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">119</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps that won't be all," ventured Winthrop, walking toward the ridge
+where Overland lay concealed.</p>
+
+<p>The tramp grinned up at him. "Mebby not, pardner. You was tellin'
+Sweeney Orcutt back in Los Angeles that you wanted to get up against the
+real thing. I reckon you bought the right ticket this trip."</p>
+
+<p>"Will they&mdash;will there be any shooting?" asked the Easterner.</p>
+
+<p>"Not if I can help it," replied Overland. "I borrowed your gun on the
+chance of it. 'Course, if they get sassy, why, they's no tellin' what
+will happen. I'm mighty touchy about some things. But listen! I'm actin'
+as your travelin' insurance agent, pro temperly, as the pote says, which
+means keepin' your temper. If they do spot me, and get foolish enough to
+think that I got time to listen to any arguments against my rights as a
+free and unbranded citizen of the big range, why, you drop and roll
+behind the first sand-hill that is a foot high. After the smoke blows
+away, I'll be dee-lighted to accept your congratulations."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess you mean business," said Winthrop, becoming serious. "I'm game,
+but isn't there any other way out of it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not for me, son. What chance would I have with the whole desert town to
+swear against me?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">120</a></span> They're after the gold, and they reckon to scare me
+into tellin' where it is. I'm after that same gold, and I don't reckon
+to be bluffed off by a couple of pikers like them."</p>
+
+<p>"The dark one, the man on the bay horse, seemed to be a pretty
+capable-looking individual," said Winthrop.</p>
+
+<p>"Glad you noticed that. You're improvin'. He is a capable gent. He's a
+old two-gun man. Did you see how he had his guns tied down low so they
+would pull quick. Nothin' fancy about him, but he's good leather. The
+other one don't count."</p>
+
+<p>"What shall I do when they come back?"</p>
+
+<p>"You jest go to studyin' bugs or rattlesnakes or tarantulas or
+somethin'. Make a bluff at it. If they ask you anything, answer 'em nice
+and polite, <i>and so I can hear</i>. A whole pile depends on my keepin' up
+with the talk. I'll figure from what they say, or don't say."</p>
+
+<p>"They seem to be turning. They've stopped. One of them is down on the
+ground looking at something. Now he's up again. They're riding back,"
+said Winthrop.</p>
+
+<p>"They cut my back trail," said Overland, snuggling down behind the
+brush. "You go and set down by the water-hole and find a bug to study."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you going to fight?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">121</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Not if it can be helped. Otherwise&mdash;till me wires are down and me lamps
+are out. She's desert law out here. They seems to be some chance for a
+argument about who's goin' to be judge. I'm out for the job myself. I
+reckon to throw about fifteen votes&mdash;they's six in your gun and nine in
+the automatic. The election is like to be interestin' and close."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I could help," said the Easterner.</p>
+
+<p>"You can&mdash;by keepin' your nerve," replied Overland. Then he rolled a
+cigarette and lay smoking and gazing at the sky. Winthrop watched the
+approaching horsemen. Presently he got up and sauntered to the
+water-hole.</p>
+
+<p>The tramp lay curled like a snake behind the mound. He drew Winthrop's
+gun from its holster and inspected it, shaking his head as he slid it
+back again. "She's new and will pull stiff. That means she'll throw to
+the right. Well, I got the little Gat. to open up the show with."</p>
+
+<p>William Stanley Winthrop, despite his resolution, found that his hands
+trembled and that his heart beat chokingly. He wanted to shout, to run
+out toward the horsemen, to do anything rather than sit stupidly silent
+by the water-hole.</p>
+
+<p>The two riders loped up. The constable dismounted. "Nothin' doin'," he
+said, stooping to drink.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">122</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No. Nothing doing," echoed the man on horseback.</p>
+
+<p>"That," muttered Overland Red, squirming a little higher behind the
+bushes, "was intended for me. I know that tone. It means there's a hell
+of a lot doin'. Well, I'm good and ready." And he lifted both of his
+red, hairy hands to the edge of the hole and both his hands were
+"filled."</p>
+
+<p>About then the man on the pony began to ride out from the water-hole in
+a wide circle. The constable came from the spring. Overland noticed that
+he kept Winthrop between himself and the sage on the ridge. "That
+settles it," Overland swiftly concluded. "They're on. I'm right sad to
+have to do it."</p>
+
+<p>The heavy, space-blunted report of the circling horseman's gun&mdash;and
+Overland calmly spat out the sand that flitted across his lips. The
+rider had ventured a shot and had ridden behind a ridge instantly.</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop exclaimed at these strange tactics.</p>
+
+<p>"He seen a jack run in there," explained the constable, leering.</p>
+
+<p>"This here's gettin' interestin'," mumbled Overland as the constable
+unholstered his gun and sauntered toward the ridge. "I got to get the
+gent on the cayuse. The other one don't count."</p>
+
+<p>The rider had appeared from behind the ridge.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">123</a></span> Slowly Overland raised
+his right hand. Then the old fighting soul of Jack Summers, sheriff of
+Abilene, rebelled. "No! Dam' if I'll ambush any white man." And he
+leaped to his feet. "Overland Limited!" he shouted, and with his
+battle-cry came the quick tattoo of shots. The horseman wavered, doubled
+up, and pitched forward to the sand.</p>
+
+<p>Overland Red dropped and rolled to one side as the constable's gun
+boomed ineffectually. The tramp lay still.</p>
+
+<p>A clatter of empty stirrups, the swish of a horse galloping past, and
+silence.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly the constable approached Overland's prostrate figure. "Time's up
+for you!" he said, covering the tramp with his gun.</p>
+
+<p>"Water!" groaned Overland.</p>
+
+<p>"Water, eh? Well, crawl to it, you rat!"</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop, his heart thumping wildly, followed the constable. So this was
+desert law? No word of warning or inquiry, but a hail of shots, a
+riderless horse,&mdash;two men stretched upon the sand and the burning sun
+swinging in a cloudless circle above the desolate silence.</p>
+
+<p>"You seem to kind of recognize your friend now," sneered the constable.</p>
+
+<p>That was too much for Winthrop's overstrung nerves. His pulses roared in
+his ears. With a leap he seized the constable's gun and twisted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">124</a></span> at it
+with both hands. There was an explosion, and Winthrop grinned savagely,
+still struggling. With insane strength he finally tore the gun from the
+other's grasp. "You're the only coward in this affair," he gasped, as he
+levelled the gun at the constable. That officer, reading danger in
+Winthrop's eye, discreetly threw up his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Good!" exclaimed Overland, sitting up suddenly. "That was risky, but it
+worked out all right. I had a better plan. You go set down, Billy. I'll
+see this gent safe toward home."</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop laughed hysterically. "Why, you&mdash;you&mdash;you're a joke!" he cried.
+"I thought&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"So did the little man with the pie-pan pinned on his shirt," said
+Overland. "You keep his gun. I got to see how bad the other gent's hit."</p>
+
+<p>An hour later the constable of the desert town led his pony toward the
+railroad. On the pony was his companion, with both arms bandaged. He
+leaned forward brokenly, swaying and cursing. "I'll&mdash;get him, if it
+takes&mdash;a thousand years," he muttered.</p>
+
+<p>"I reckon it'll take all of that," growled the constable. "You can have
+all you want of his game, Saunders,&mdash;I'm through."</p>
+
+<p>Out by the water-hole, Overland turned to Winthrop. "I'm glad you
+enjoyed the performance," he said, grinning. "We've opened the pot and
+the best man rakes her down. She's desert law from now to the finish."</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">125</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2><h3>"FOOL'S LUCK"</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Gaunt, unshaven, weary, Winthrop rested on the crest of the northern
+range. Overland, looking for water, toiled on down the slope with the
+little burro. Winthrop rose stiffly and shuffled down the rocks. Near
+the foot of the range he saw the burro just disappearing round a bend in
+a ca&ntilde;on. When he came up with Overland, the tramp had a fire going and
+had pitched the tent. The ca&ntilde;on opened out to a level green meadow,
+through which ran a small stream. They had come a long day's journey
+from the water-hole on the other side of the range. They were safe from
+ordinary pursuit. That evening beside the fire, Overland Red told again
+the story of the dead prospector, the gold, and the buried papers. In
+his troubled slumbers the Easterner dreamed of pacing along the track
+counting the ties, and eventually digging in the sand, digging until his
+very soul ached with the futility of his labor. Waking, he never lost
+faith in the certainty of finding the place. He now knew the tramp well
+enough to appreciate that the other had not risked his own life and
+nearly killed one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">126</a></span> of his pursuers through sheer bravado, or fear, or
+personal hatred. Something more potent was beneath the tramp's
+motives&mdash;some incentive that was almost a religion. So far, Winthrop was
+correct. He erred, however, in supposing Overland to be obsessed with a
+mania for gold for its own sake. The erstwhile sheriff of Abilene had
+dreamed a dream about an adopted waif and a beautiful young girl. The
+dream was big. Its fulfillment would require much money. There was more
+of the poet in Overland Red than his best friend had ever imagined.</p>
+
+<p>Three days they rested in the wild seclusion of the ca&ntilde;on. The silence,
+the solemnity of the place, fascinated Winthrop. The tiny stream, cold
+and clear, the vegetation, in a region otherwise barren-gray and
+burning,&mdash;the arid Mojave with its blistering heat, the trees, the
+painted rocks,&mdash;ochre, copper, bronze, red, gray, and dim lilac in the
+distances,&mdash;the gracious shade, the little burro, half ludicrous, half
+pathetic in its stolid acceptance of circumstances,&mdash;all had a charm for
+him that soothed and satisfied his restlessness.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the indefatigable Overland spun yarn after yarn of the road
+and range, and rolled innumerable cigarettes with one hand, much to
+Winthrop's amusement.</p>
+
+<p>The third morning Winthrop had awakened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">127</a></span> feeling so completely refreshed
+that he begged Overland to allow him to make an attempt to find the
+hidden papers and the little bag of gold. Overland demurred at first,
+fearing that the Easterner would become lost or stricken with the heat.
+Throughout the day Winthrop argued stubbornly that he ran no risk of
+capture, while Overland did. He asserted that he could easily find the
+water-hole, which was no difficult task, and from there he could go by
+compass straight out to the tracks. Overland had told him that somewhere
+near a little culvert beneath the track was the marked tie indicating
+the hiding-place of the dead prospector's things. It would mean a
+journey of a day and a night, traveling pretty continuously.</p>
+
+<p>Finally Overland agreed to Winthrop's plan to make the attempt the
+following day.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>At the foot of the range Overland gave his companion a canteen and a
+piece of gunnysack wrapped round some hardtack and jerked beef.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't I need my gun this time?" queried Winthrop.</p>
+
+<p>"Nope, Billy. 'Cause why? You don't generally kill a little gopher or a
+little owl that's settin' up tendin' to his business, because you ain't
+scared of them. But you will go off of the trail to kill a rattler, a
+side-winder, because he's able<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">128</a></span> to kill you if he takes a notion.
+Correct. Now a tenderfoot totin' a gun is dangerouser than any rattler
+that ever hugged hisself to sleep in the sun&mdash;and most fellas travelin'
+the desert knows it. Why, I'm plumb scared of a gun-totin' tenderfoot,
+myself. Not havin' a gun will be your best recommend, generally
+speakin'. Stick to the bugs, Billy; stick to the bugs."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you ought to know."</p>
+
+<p>"I got seven puckers in my hide to prove what I say. Six of 'em were put
+there by plumb amachoors in the gun line; fellas I never took pains to
+draw on quick, never suspectin' nothin'. The other, number seven, was
+put there by a gent that meant business. He died of a kind of lead
+poisonin' right immediate."</p>
+
+<p>They shook hands, the battered, sunburned adventurer, rough-bearded,
+broad-chested, genial with robust health, and the slender, almost
+delicately fashioned Easterner, who had forgotten that there were such
+things as lungs, or doctors,&mdash;for the time being.</p>
+
+<p>"Say, Billy, you need a shave," commented Overland, as the other turned
+to begin his journey across the desert.</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop grinned. "You need&mdash;er&mdash;decapitating," he retorted, glancing
+back. Then he faced the south and strode away.</p>
+
+<p>Overland, ascending the range, paused halfway<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">129</a></span> up. "Decap-itating," he
+muttered. "Huh! That's a new one on me. De-cap&mdash;Let's see! Somethin' to
+do with a fella's hat, I reckon. It's easy to run a word down and hole
+it if you got brains. Mebby Billy meant for me to get a new one. Well,
+the constable's friend only put one hole in her&mdash;she's a pretty good hat
+yet."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Overland found his slow way back to the hidden ca&ntilde;on. He felt a little
+lonely as he thought of Collie. He gave the burro some scraps of camp
+bread, knowing that the little animal would not stray so long as he was
+fed, even a little, each day.</p>
+
+<p>It was while he was scouring the fry-pan that he noticed the black sand
+across the stream. Leisurely he rose and scooped a panful of the sand
+and gravel and began washing it, more as a pastime than with an idea of
+finding gold. Slowly he oscillated the whispering sand, slopping the
+water out until he had panned the lot. He spread his bandanna on a
+smooth rock and gently emptied the residue of the washing on it.
+"Color&mdash;but thin," he said. "Let's try her again."</p>
+
+<p>He moved farther upstream&mdash;this time with one of his regular pans. He
+became absorbed in his experiment. He washed panful after panful,
+slowly, carefully, collectedly. Suddenly he stood up, swore softly, and
+flung the half-washed dirt of the last pan on the rocks. "I'm a nut!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">130</a></span>
+he exclaimed. "This livin' in civilization has been puttin' my intellec'
+to the bad. Too much Eastern sassiety." And with this inexplicable
+self-arraignment he stooped at the tent-door, buckled on his gun, and
+started upstream. He glanced from side to side of the steep and
+narrowing walls as he advanced slowly. He passed places where the stream
+disappeared in the sand to find some subterranean channel and reappear
+below again. Rounding an angle of the cliff, he dropped to his knees and
+examined some tiny parallel scratches on a rounded rock&mdash;the marks made
+by a boot-heel that had slipped. For an hour he toiled over the rocks on
+up the diminishing stream. "Gettin' thin," he muttered, gazing at the
+silver thread of water rippling over the pebbles. A few feet ahead the
+cliffs met at the bottom in a sharp-edged "V," not over a foot apart in
+the stream-bed, but widening above. Overland scrambled through. On the
+other side of the opening he straightened up, breathing hard. His hand
+crept to his hip. On a sandy level a few yards ahead of him stood a
+ragged and faded canvas tent, its flap wavering idly in a breath of
+wind. In front of the tent was the rain-washed charcoal of an old fire.
+A rusted pan, a pick, and the worn stub of a shovel lay near the stream.
+A box marked "Dynamite" was half-filled with odds and ends of empty
+tins, cooking-utensils, and among the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">131</a></span> things was a glass fruit-jar half
+filled with matches.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly Overland's hand dropped to his side. He stepped forward, stooped,
+and peered into the tent. "Thought so," he said laughing queerly. Save
+for a pair of old quilts and an old corduroy coat, the place was empty.</p>
+
+<p>"Fool's luck," muttered Overland. "Wonder the Gophertown outfit didn't
+find him and fix him. But come to think of it, they ain't so anxious to
+cross over to this side of the range and get too clost to a real town,
+and get run in or shot up. Fool's luck," he reiterated, coolly rolling a
+cigarette and gazing about with a critical eye. "They's another trail
+into this ca&ntilde;on that the prospector knowed. I got to find it. Billy'll
+be some interested."</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">132</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2><h3>THE RETURN</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Overland Red lay concealed in an arroyo at the foot of the range. He
+could overlook the desert without being seen. It was the afternoon of
+the day following Winthrop's departure.</p>
+
+<p>Since discovering the dead prospector's camp and all that it meant, the
+tramp was doubly vigilant. He tried to believe that his anxiety was for
+his own safety rather than for Winthrop's. He finally gave up that idea,
+grumbling something about becoming "plumb soft in his feelin's since he
+took to associatin' with sassiety folks." However, had Winthrop been of
+the West and seasoned in its more rugged ways, Overland would have
+thought little of the young man's share in recent events. While he knew
+that Winthrop looked upon their venture as nothing more than a rather
+keenly exciting game, Overland realized also that the Easterner had
+played the game royally. Perhaps the fact that Winthrop's health was not
+of the best appealed to some hidden sentiment in the tramp's peculiar
+nature. In any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">133</a></span> event, Overland Red found himself strangely solicitous
+for his companion's return.</p>
+
+<p>Far in the south a speck moved, almost imperceptibly. The tramp's keen
+eyes told him that this was no horseman. He rolled a cigarette and lay
+back in the shade of a boulder. "He's a couple of points off his course,
+but he can't miss the range," he reflected.</p>
+
+<p>Desiring to assure himself that no horseman followed Winthrop, Overland
+Red made no sign that might help the other to find the trail over the
+range. The rim of Winthrop's hat became distinguishable; then the white
+lacing of his boots. Nearer, Overland saw that his face was drawn and
+set with lines of fatigue.</p>
+
+<p>No riders appeared on the horizon. Overland stepped out from behind the
+rock. "Well, how did you make it?" he called.</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop came forward wearily "No luck at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Couldn't find it, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"I counted every tie between the tank and that little ditch under the
+track. The entire stretch has been relaid with new ties."</p>
+
+<p>Overland whistled. Then he grinned. "You had a good healthy walk,
+anyhow," he observed.</p>
+
+<p>"It doesn't seem to worry you much," said Winthrop.</p>
+
+<p>"Nope. Now you're back, it don't. I reckon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">134</a></span> you done your dam'dest as
+the song says. Angels can do no less. Buck up, Billy! You 're limper'n a
+second-hand porous-plaster. Here, take a shot at this. That will stiffen
+your knees some. Did you meet up with anybody?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a soul. I thought I should freeze last night, though. I didn't
+imagine the desert could get so cold."</p>
+
+<p>"Livin' out here on the old dry spot will either kill you or cure you.
+That's one reason I let you go look for them things. The harder you hit
+the trail, and can stand it, the quicker you'll get built up." Then
+Overland, realizing that his companion was worse than tired, that he was
+dispirited, became as wily as the proverbial serpent. His method,
+however, could hardly be compared with the dove's conciliatory cooing.
+"You sure are a bum scout," he began.</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop flushed, but was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Bet a banana you didn't even leave the track and look for it."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I didn't. Where could I have begun?"</p>
+
+<p>Overland ignored the question. "I'm hungrier than a gorilla. Just send a
+wireless to them feet of your'n. We got some climbin' to do afore dark."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd just as soon camp here. Go up to-morrow," said Winthrop.</p>
+
+<p>"So'd I if it wasn't for bein' scared some of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">135</a></span> the hills would mosey off
+before I got back." And Overland set a brisk pace up the mountain,
+talking as he climbed. Winthrop could do nothing but listen. He was
+breathless.</p>
+
+<p>"Or that ca&ntilde;on," continued Overland. "She might not be there if we
+stayed away all night. Besides, I'm scared to leave <i>it</i> alone by
+itself."</p>
+
+<p>"Leave what?" gasped Winthrop.</p>
+
+<p>"It. The find I made while you was out surveyin' the Santa F&eacute;. I was
+feared you'd get nervous prosecution if I told you all to once, so I
+breaks it easy like."</p>
+
+<p>"What was it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothin' but a tent in the ca&ntilde;on we're campin' in. But, Billy, when you
+find a tent and some minin' tools and other signs of trouble 'way up
+some lonesome old slot in the hills, you want to get ready for a
+surprise. Mebby it'll be nothin' but some old clothes and bones. Mebby
+it'll be them and somethin' else. I didn't find the bones, but I found
+the somethin' else, coarse, and fair dribblin' thick in the dirt. It's
+there and rich, Billy, rich!"</p>
+
+<p>Overland Red turned and paused as Winthrop leaned against a rock.</p>
+
+<p>"It's the&mdash;the real thing?" queried the Easterner.</p>
+
+<p>"The real thing, pardner. Now what do you think of that for highbrow
+stuff?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">136</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Meaning that you stumbled on the secret?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you want to say it that way, yes. Just like fallin' into a sewer and
+findin' a gold watch where you lit."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it's all true? We've found the gold? You really believed we
+should, and for that matter, so did I. I can't say why. I rather felt
+that we should."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess I'm some class when it comes to findin' the incubator that
+hatches them little yella babies with the come-and-find-me eyes."</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop straightened his tired shoulders. "You seem to think that
+you're pretty clever," he said, laughing. "But in the elegant and
+expressive diction of the late&mdash;the late Overland Red Summers, 'I think
+you're a bum scout.'" And they shook hands, laughing as they turned to
+climb the trail.</p>
+
+<p>Near the crest, Overland again paused. "Say, Billy, you said the 'late'
+Overland Red Summers. You took particular noise to make me hear that
+word 'late.' Have you got any objections to explainin' that there idea?
+I been examinin' the works of that word 'late,' and it don't tick right
+to me. 'Late' means 'planted,' don't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes. It may also mean behind time. Do you remember that I said, a
+day or two ago, that I shouldn't be surprised if the lost gold were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">137</a></span> in
+the very ca&ntilde;on where we camped? I claim precedence of divination,
+auto-suggestion, and right of eminent domain. I shall not waive my
+prerogative."</p>
+
+<p>"I never owned one," said Overland. "But afore I'll let you come any
+style over me, I'll have one made with a silk linin' and di'monds in the
+buttons, jest as soon as the claim gets to payin' good. Say, pardner,
+it's <i>free</i> gold, and <i>coarse</i>. I wisht Collie was here&mdash;the little
+cuss."</p>
+
+<p>"Collie?"</p>
+
+<p>"Uhuh. The kid I was tellin' you about, that I adopted back in
+Albuquerque. He's got a share in this here deal, by rights. He invested
+his eight rollers and four bits in the chances of my findin' the stuff.
+It was all the coin he had at the time. You see, I was campin' up on the
+Moonstone for a change of air, and Collie and me had a meetin' of the
+board of dissectors. The board votes unanimous to invest the paid-in
+capital in a suit of new jeans for the president, which was me. I got
+'em on now. You see, I had to be dollied up to look the part so I could
+catch a come-on and get me grubstake."</p>
+
+<p>"I see," said Winthrop, his gray eyes twinkling. "And I was the
+come-on?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Overland, scratching his head, "mebby you <i>was</i>, but you
+ain't no more. If she pans out anything like I expect, you'll be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">138</a></span>
+standin' up so clost to bein' rich that if she was a bronc' you'd get
+kicked sure."</p>
+
+<p>They rested for a few minutes, both gazing down on the evening desert.
+The reflected light, strong and clear, drew abrupt, keen-edged contrasts
+between the black, triangular shadows of the peaks and the gray of the
+range. Something elusive, awesome, unreal was in the air about them. The
+rugged mountain-side with its chaos of riven boulders, its forest of
+splintered rocky spires, silver cold in the twilight, its impassive bulk
+looming so large, yet a mere segment in the circling range, was as a
+day-dream of some ancient Valhalla, clothed in the mystic glory of
+ever-changing light, and crowned with slumbering clouds.</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop sighed as he again faced the range. Overland heard and smiled.
+"You said it all," he muttered. "You said it all then."</p>
+
+<p>"You're something of a poet, aren't you?" queried Winthrop.</p>
+
+<p>"You bet! I'm some artist, too. A lady I was figurin' on acceptin' a
+invite to dinner with, once,&mdash;one of them rich kind that always wants to
+get their money's worth out of anything they do for a poor
+guy,&mdash;happened to come out on the back steps where I was holdin' kind of
+a coroner's request over a lettuce san'wich. 'My man,' she says, 'I have
+always been interested<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">139</a></span> to know if you&mdash;er&mdash;tramps ever think of
+anything else but food and lodging and loafing. Nothing personal, I
+assure you. Merely a general interest in social conditions which you
+seem so well fitted to explode from experience. For instance, now, what
+are your favorite colors?'</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn't see what that had to do with it, and I got kind of mad. A
+lettuce san'wich ain't encouragin' to confidence, so I up and says,
+'What are me favorite colors, lady? Well, speakin' from experience, they
+is <i>ham</i> and <i>eggs</i>.'</p>
+
+<p>"She took a tumble to herself and sent me out some of the best&mdash;and a
+bottle of Red Cross beer with it."</p>
+
+<p>On up the slope they toiled, Winthrop half-forgetting his weariness in
+thinking of Overland's sprightly experiences with what he termed "the
+hard ole map&mdash;this here world."</p>
+
+<p>At the summit they paused again to rest.</p>
+
+<p>"That was the time," began Overland, "when I writ that there pome called
+'Heart Throbs of a Hobo.' Listen!"</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Oh, my stummick is jest akein'</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">For a little bite of bacon,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">A slice of bread, a little mug of brew.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">I'm tired of seein' scenery,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Jest lead me to a beanery,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Where there's something more than only air to chew."</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">140</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"The last line sounds like a sneeze," said Winthrop, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"Speakin' of sneeze," said Overland, "makes me think you ain't coughed
+so much lately, Billy."</p>
+
+<p>"I had a pretty bad time yesterday morning," replied Winthrop.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you'll get cured and stay cured, up here," said Overland, hugely
+optimistic.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," rejoined Winthrop, smiling. "It's such hard work to breathe
+up here that I have to keep alive to attend to it."</p>
+
+<p>"That's her! Them little old bellowsus of your'n 'll get exercise&mdash;not
+pumpin' off the effects of booze an' cigarettes, neither, but from
+pumpin' in clean thin air with a edge to it. Them little old germs will
+all get dizzy and lose their holt."</p>
+
+<p>"That's getting rather deep into personalities," said Winthrop. "But I
+think you're correct. I could eat a whole side of bacon, raw."</p>
+
+<p>And he followed Overland silently across the range and down into the
+cool depths of the hidden ca&ntilde;on, where the tramp, ever watchful of the
+younger man's health, slipped from his coat and made Winthrop put it on,
+despite the latter's protest that he was hot and sweating.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">141</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2><h3>"CALL IT THE 'ROSE GIRL'"</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>"What are you going to do with those things?" asked Winthrop. "Not burn
+them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yep; every strap and tie-string," replied Overland, gathering together
+the dead prospector's few effects. "Cause why? Well, Billy, if this
+claim ain't filed on,&mdash;and I reckon it ain't,&mdash;why, we files on her as
+the original locators. Nobody gets wise to anything and it saves the
+chance of gettin' jumped. The bunch over there would make it interestin'
+for us if they knowed we was goin' to file on it. They'd put up a fight
+by law, and mebby one not by law. Sabe?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think so. Going to burn that little&mdash;er&mdash;cradle arrangement, too?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yep. Sorry, 'cause it's wood, and wood is wood here. That little rocker
+is a cradle all right for rockin' them yella babies in and then out. The
+hand that rocks that cradle hard enough rules the world, as the pote
+says."</p>
+
+<p>"So this is how gold is mined?" queried Winthrop, examining the crude
+rocker and the few rusted tools.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">142</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"One way. Pan, cradle, or sluice for free gold. They's about four other
+ways. This here's our way."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it a rich claim?"</p>
+
+<p>"Tolerable. I panned some up the branch. She runs about two dollars a
+pan."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that all?"</p>
+
+<p>Overland smiled as he poked a smouldering corner of blanket into the
+fire. "It is and it ain't. I reckon you could pan fifty pans a day.
+That's a hundred dollars. Then I could do that much and the cookin',
+too. That's another hundred. Two hundred dollars a day ain't bad wages
+for two guys. It ought to keep us in grub and postage stamps and some
+chewin'-gum once in a while."</p>
+
+<p>"Two hundred a day!" And Winthrop whistled. "That doesn't seem much in
+New York&mdash;on the street, but out here&mdash;right out of the ground. Why,
+that's twelve hundred a week."</p>
+
+<p>"Nope&mdash;not exactly. She's a rich one, and bein' so rich at the start
+she'll peter out fast, I take it. I know these here kind. When we come
+to the end of the ca&ntilde;on we're at the end, that's all. Besides, she's so
+rich we won't work six days every week. If she was half as good, mebby
+we would. You never done much fancy pick-handle exercise, did you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, but I'm going to. This beats signing checks all to pieces."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">143</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Never got cramps that way myself," grunted Overland. "But I have from
+swingin' a pick. Your back'll be so blame stiff in about three days that
+you'll wish you never seen a pan or a shovel. Then you'll get over the
+fever and settle down sensible. Three of us could do a heap better than
+two. I wish Collie was on the job."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm willing," said Winthrop.</p>
+
+<p>"'Course you are, but you get your half of this as agreed. Collie's
+share comes out of my half. I'm playin' this hand over the table, in
+plain sight."</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop glanced quickly at Overland's inscrutable face. "Suppose I
+should tell you that my income, each week, is about equal to what we
+expect to get from this claim?"</p>
+
+<p>"Makes no difference," growled Overland. "It wasn't your money that
+stood off the constable&mdash;and later out in the desert. It was <i>you</i>.
+They's some places left on this old map yet where a man is jest what his
+two fists and his head is worth. This here Mojave is one of 'em. Are you
+squeak to that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I understand," said Winthrop.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>They worked steadily until evening. They staked out their respective and
+adjoining claims, dropped the rusted tools in a bottomless crevice, and
+removed the last shred and vestige of a previous occupancy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">144</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"This here's been too easy," said Overland, as he sliced bacon for the
+evening meal. "When things comes as easy as this, you want to watch out
+for a change in the weather. We ain't through with the bunch yet."</p>
+
+<p>The Easterner, making the evening fire, nodded. "How are we to get
+provisions?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"First, I was thinkin' of packin' 'em in from Gophertown, over yonder.
+She's about thirty miles from here, across the alkali. 'T aint a regular
+town, but they got grub. But if we got to comin' in regular, they'd
+smell gold quicker than bees findin' orange-blossoms. They got my
+number, likewise."</p>
+
+<p>"How's that?"</p>
+
+<p>"They know I been standin' out on the edge ever since I had a little
+fuss with some folks over at Yuma, quite a spell ago."</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you tell me about it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure! They was three parties interested&mdash;me and another gent and a
+hoss. I guess the hoss is still alive."</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop laughed. "That's a pretty brief epic," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Uhuh. It was. But I reckon we got to hit the breeze out of here right
+soon. Here, le' me take that fry-pan a minute. It's this way. Me and
+you's located this claim. Now we go and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">145</a></span> file. But first we got to get
+some dough. I got a scheme. I'm thinkin' of gettin' a dude
+outfit&mdash;long-tailed coat and checker pants and a elevated lid with a
+shine to it. Then you and me to the State House and file on this here
+claim. You stay right in them kickie clothes and that puncher hat. We
+file, see? The gents supportin' the bars and store corners will be so
+interested in seein' me do you for your pile that they'll forget to
+remember who I am, like I would be in me natural jeans. They'll size me
+for a phoney promoter excavatin' your pocketbook. It's a chance&mdash;but we
+got to take it."</p>
+
+<p>"That's all very weird and wonderful," said Winthrop, "and not so very
+flattering to me, but I am game. I'll furnish the expense money."</p>
+
+<p>After the evening meal they drew nearer the fire and smoked in the chill
+silence. The flames threw strange dancing shadows on the opposite cliff.</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop, mindful of Overland's advice, slipped on his coat as the night
+deepened. "About your adopting a disguise," he began; "I should think
+you would look well enough clean-shaven and dressed in some stylish,
+rough tweed. You have fine shoulders and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hold on, Billy! I'm a livin' statoo, I know. But listen! I got to go
+the limit to look the part. You can't iron the hoof-marks of hell and
+Texas<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">146</a></span> out of my mug in a hundred years. The old desert and the border
+towns and the bottle burned 'em in to stay. Them kind of looks don't go
+with business clothes. I got to look fly&mdash;jest like I didn't know no
+better."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you are right. You seem to make a go of everything you tackle."</p>
+
+<p>"Yep! Some things I made go so fast I ain't caught up with 'em yet. You
+know I used to wonder if a fella's face would ever come smooth again in
+heaven. That was a spell ago. I ain't been worryin' about it none
+lately."</p>
+
+<p>"How old are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Me? I'm huggin' thirty-five clost. But not so clost I can't hear
+thirty-six lopin' up right smart."</p>
+
+<p>"Only thirty-five!" exclaimed Winthrop. Then quickly, "Oh, I beg your
+pardon."</p>
+
+<p>"That's nothin'", said Overland genially. "It ain't the 'thirty-five'
+that makes me feel sore&mdash;it's the 'only.' You said it all then. But
+believe me, pardner, the thirty-five have been all red chips."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you have <i>lived</i>," sighed Winthrop.</p>
+
+<p>"And come clost to forgettin' to, once or twice. Anyhow,&mdash;speakin' of
+heaven,&mdash;I'd jest as soon take my chances with this here mug of mine,
+what shows I earned all I got, as with one of them there dead-fish faces
+I seen on some guys<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">147</a></span> that never done nothin' better or worse than get up
+for breakfast."</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop smiled. "Yes. And you believe in a heaven, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"From mornin' till night. And then more than ever. Not your kind of a
+heaven, or mebby any other guy's. But as sure as you're goin' to crease
+them new boots by settin' too clost to the fire, there's somethin' up
+there windin' up the works regular and seein' that she ticks right, and
+once in a while chuckin' out old wheels and puttin' in new ones. Jest
+take a look at them stars! Do you reckon they're runnin' right on time
+and not jumpin' the track and dodgin' each other that slick&mdash;jest
+because they was throwed out of a star-factory promiscus like a shovel
+of gravel? No, sir! Each one is doin' its stunt because the other one
+is&mdash;same as folks. Sure, there's somethin' runnin the big works; but
+whether me or you is goin' to get a look-in,&mdash;goin' to be let in on
+it,&mdash;why, that's different."</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop drew back from the fire and crossed his legs. He leaned
+forward, gazing at the flames. From the viewless distance came the howl
+of coyotes.</p>
+
+<p>"They're tryin' to figure it out&mdash;same as us," said Overland, poking a
+half-burned root into the fire. "And they're gettin' about as far along
+at it, too. Like most folks does in a crowd&mdash;jest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">148</a></span> howlin' all together.
+Mebby it sounds good to 'em. I don' know."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm somewhat of a scoffer, I think," said Winthrop presently.</p>
+
+<p>"Most lungers is," was Overland's cheerful comment. "They're sore on
+their luck. They ain't really sore at the big works. They only think so.
+I've knowed lots of 'em that way."</p>
+
+<p>"To-night,&mdash;here in this ca&ntilde;on,&mdash;with the stars and the desert so near,
+you almost persuade me that there is something."</p>
+
+<p>"Hold on, Billy! You're grazin' on the wrong side of the range if you
+think I'm preachin'. My God! I hate preachin' worse than I could hate
+hell if I thought they was one. My little old ideas is mine. I roped 'em
+and branded 'em and I'm breakin' 'em in to ride to suit me. I ain't
+askin' nobody to risk gettin' throwed ridin' any of my stock. Sabe?"</p>
+
+<p>"But a chap may peek through the fence and watch, mayn't he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure! Mebby you're breakin' some stock of your own like that. If you
+are, any little old rig I got is yours."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you. And I'm not joking. Perhaps I'll get the right grip on
+things later. I've been used to town and the pace. I've always had
+money, but I never felt really clean, inside and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">149</a></span> out, until now. I
+never before burned my bridges and went it under my own flag."</p>
+
+<p>Overland nodded sagely. "Uhuh. It's the air. Your feelin' clean and
+religious-like is nacheral up here. Don't worry if it feels queer to you
+at first&mdash;you'll get used to it. Why, I quit cussin', myself, when
+everything seems so dum' quiet. Sounds like the whole works had stopped
+to listen to a fella. Swearin' ain't so hefty then. Sort of outdoor
+stage fright, I reckon. Say, do you believe preachin' ever did much
+good?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes I've thought it did."</p>
+
+<p>"I seen a case once," began Overland reminiscently. "It was Toledo
+Blake. He was a kind of bum middleweight scrapper when he was workin' at
+it. When he wasn't trainin' he was a kind of locoed heavyweight&mdash;stewed
+most of the time. It was one winter night in Toledo. Me and him went
+into one of them 'Come-In-Stranger' rescue joints. 'Course, they was
+singin' hymns and prayin' in there, but it was warmer than outside, so
+we stayed.</p>
+
+<p>"After a while up jumps the foreman of that gospel outfit. His foretop
+was long, and he wore it over one ear like a hoss's when the wind is
+blowin'.</p>
+
+<p>"He commenced wrong, I guess. He points down the room to where me and
+Toledo was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">150</a></span> settin', and he hollers, 'Go to the ant, you slugger!
+Consider her game and get hep to it,' or somethin' similar.</p>
+
+<p>"That word 'slugger' kind of jarred Toledo. He jumps up kind of mad.
+'Mebby I am a slugger, and mebby I ain't, but you needn't to get
+personal about it. Anyhow, I ain't got no aunt.'</p>
+
+<p>"'The text,' says the hoss-faced guy on the platform, 'the text, my
+brother, is semaphorical.'</p>
+
+<p>"Toledo couldn't understand that, so I whispers, 'Set down, you mutt!
+Semaphore is a sign ain't it? Well, he's givin' you the sign talk. Set
+down and listen.'</p>
+
+<p>"Toledo, he hadn't had a drink for a week, and he was naturally feelin'
+kind of ugly. 'All right,' he growls at the preacher guy. 'All right. I
+pass.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Ah, my brother!' says the hoss-faced guy. 'I see the spirits is at
+work.' That kind of got Toledo's goat.</p>
+
+<p>"'Your dope is <i>bum</i>,' says Toledo. 'I ain't had a drink for a week.
+First you tell a fella to go see his aunt, when she's been planted for
+ten years. Then&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>"'Listen, brother!' says the preacher guy. 'I referred to ants&mdash;little,
+industrious critters that are examples of thrift to the idle, the
+indignant, the&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>"'Hold on!' says Toledo. 'Do you mean red<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">151</a></span> ants or black ants?' And I
+seen that a spark had touched Toledo's brainbox and that he was
+wrastlin' with somethin' that felt like thinkin'.</p>
+
+<p>"'Either, my brother,' says the hoss-faced guy, smilin' clear up to his
+back teeth.</p>
+
+<p>"'Well, you're drawin' your dope from the wrong can,' says Toledo,
+shufflin' for the door. 'Because,' says he, turnin' in the doorway,
+'because, how in hell is a fella goin' to find any ants with two feet of
+snow on the ground?'</p>
+
+<p>"And then Toledo and me went out. It was a mighty cold night."</p>
+
+<p>Overland Red rolled a cigarette, pausing in his narrative to see whether
+Winthrop, who sat with bowed head, was asleep or not.</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop glanced up. "I'm awake," he said, smiling. "Very much awake. I
+can see it all&mdash;you two, down on your luck, and the snow freezing and
+melting on the bottoms of your trousers. And the stuffy little rescue
+mission with a few weary faces and many empty chairs; the 'preacher
+guy,' as you call him, earnest, and ignorant, and altogether wrong in
+trying to reason with Toledo Blake's empty stomach."</p>
+
+<p>"That's it!" concurred Overland. "A empty stomach is a plumb
+unreasonable thing. But the preacher guy done some good, at that. He set
+Toledo Blake to thinkin' which was somethin' new and original for
+Toledo.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">152</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It was nex' spring Toledo and me was travelin' out this way, inspectin'
+the road-bed of the Santa F&eacute;, when we runs onto a big red-ant's nest in
+the sand alongside of the track. Toledo, he squats down and looks. The
+first thing he sees was a leetle pa ant grab up a piece of crust twice
+his size and commence sweatin' and puffin' to drag it home to the kids.</p>
+
+<p>"'The leetle cuss!' says Toledo. 'He's some strong on the lift!' And
+Toledo, he takes the piece of crust from the pa ant and sticks it at the
+top of the hole, thinkin' to help the pa ant along. But the pa ant, he
+hustles right up and grabs the crust and waves her around his head a
+couple of times to show how strong he is, and then starts back to where
+he found the crust. Down he plumps it&mdash;gives it a h'ist or two and then
+grabs it up. He waves it around in his mitts and wobbles off toward the
+hole again. Independent? Well, mostly!</p>
+
+<p>"Toledo, he said nothin', but his eyes was pokin' out of his head tryin'
+to think. You never see a man sweat so tryin' to get both hands onto a
+idea at once. His dome was kind of flat, but he could handle one idea,
+in single harness, at a time.</p>
+
+<p>"Anyhow, the next town we strikes, Toledo, he quits me and gets a sort
+of chambermaid's job tidyin' up around a little old boiler-factory<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">153</a></span> and
+machine-shop; pilin' scrap-iron and pig-iron and little things like
+that. And he stuck, too.</p>
+
+<p>"A couple of years after that I was beatin' it on a rattler goin' west,
+and I drops off at that town. About the first thing I seen was Toledo
+comin' down the street. Alongside of him was a woman carry in' a kid in
+her arms, and another one grazin' along close behind. And Toledo had a
+loaf of bread under his arm.</p>
+
+<p>"'This here is Mrs. Blake,' says Toledo, kind of nervous.</p>
+
+<p>"'I am glad she is,' says I. 'Toledo, you're doin' well. Don't know
+nothin' about the leetle colt in the blanket, but the yearlin' is built
+right. He's got good hocks and first-class action.'</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Toledo, she kind of sniffed superior, but said nothin'. You know
+that kind of sayin' nothin' which is waitin' for you to move on.</p>
+
+<p>"'Won't you come up to the shack and have grub?' says Toledo, hopin' I'd
+say 'No.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Nope,' says I. 'Obliged jest the same. I see you got hep to the ant
+all right.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I'll let you know I'm nobody's aunt!' says Mrs. Toledo, yankin' the
+yearlin' off his hoofs and settin' him down again. For a fact, she thunk
+I was alludin' to her.</p>
+
+<p>"'Of course not, madam,' says I, polite, and liftin' me lid. 'And I
+judge somebody's in luck at that.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">154</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I guess it was her not used to bein' spoke and acted polite to that got
+her goat. Mebby she smelt somethin' sarcastic. I dunno. Anyhow, she was
+a longhorn with a bad eye. 'Go on, you chicken-lifter!' she says.</p>
+
+<p>"Bein' no hand to sass a lady, I said nothin' more to <i>her</i>. But I hands
+Toledo a jolt for bein' ashamed of his old pal.</p>
+
+<p>"'Well, so long,' says I, kind of offhand and easy. 'So long. I'll tell
+Lucy when I see her that you was run over by a freight and killed. Then
+she can take out them papers and marry Mike Brannigan that's been
+waitin' in the hopes you'd pass over. You remember Mike, the cop on
+Cherry Street. You oughta. He's pinched you often enough. 'Course you
+do. Well, so long. Little Johnny was lookin' fine the last I seen of
+him. He's gettin' more like his pa every day. But I got to beat it.'"</p>
+
+<p>Overland Red leaned back and puffed a great cloud of smoke from a fresh
+cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>"Who was Lucy?" asked Winthrop.</p>
+
+<p>"Search me!" replied Overland. "They wasn't any Lucy or nobody like
+that. But I'd like to 'a' stayed to hear Toledo explain that to Mrs.
+Toledo, though. She was a hard map to talk to."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose there's a moral attached to that, or, more properly, embodied
+in that story. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">155</a></span> it is good enough in itself without disemboweling it
+for the moral."</p>
+
+<p>"You can't always go by ants, neither," said Overland.</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop nodded. His eyes were filled with the awe of great distances
+and innumerable stars. "Gold!" he whispered presently, as one whispers
+in dreams. "Gold! Everywhere! In the sun&mdash;in the starlight&mdash;in the
+flowers&mdash;in the flame. In wine, in a girl's hair.... Gold! Mystery....
+Power ... and as impotent as Fate." Winthrop's head lifted suddenly.
+"What shall we call the mine?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Overland Red started, as though struck from ambush. "How did you guess?"
+he queried.</p>
+
+<p>"Guess what?"</p>
+
+<p>"That I was thinkin' about the claim?"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't guess it. I was dreaming. Suddenly I asked a question,
+without knowing that I was speaking."</p>
+
+<p>"Mebby I was bearin' down so hard on the same idea that you kind of felt
+the strain."</p>
+
+<p>"Possibly. That's not unusual. What <i>shall</i> we call it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Wha&mdash;I was thinkin' of callin' it the 'Rose Girl' after a girl Collie
+and me knows up Moonstone Ca&ntilde;on way."</p>
+
+<p>"It's rather a good name," said Winthrop. "Is the girl pretty?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">156</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Pretty? Gosh! That ain't the word. Her real name is Louise Lacharme,
+and, believe me, Billy, she's all that her name sounds like, and then
+some."</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">157</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2><h3>SILENT SAUNDERS</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>One after another, in the course of the two years following Collie's
+arrival, the old riders of the Moonstone Rancho drifted away. There
+remained but Brand Williams the foreman, Collie, and the sturdy,
+hard-riding Miguel, a young Spanish vaquero who was devoted to but two
+things in life, his splendid pinto pony, and the Moonstone Ranch.</p>
+
+<p>The others had been lured to the new oil-fields up north&mdash;to the
+excitement of Goldfield, or to Mexico City, where even more excitement
+promised. In their stead came new men&mdash;Bud Light, Parson Long, Billy
+Dime, and one Silent Saunders.</p>
+
+<p>Louise became acquainted with the new men while riding with her uncle.
+She was his constant companion in the hills. One by one the new arrivals
+became devoted to her. Her sincere interest in the ranch work pleased
+them, and naturally, for it was their work. Walter Stone was also
+pleased with his niece's interest in the detail of the ranch work. She
+was as a daughter to him. Some day the property would be hers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">158</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Fully conscious, from within herself, of her dependence upon her uncle,
+Louise managed to be of inestimable service. She performed her
+self-allotted tasks without ostentation. She had that rare quality of
+stimulating enthusiasm among the men&mdash;enthusiasm for their work and
+pride in giving faithful and energetic service&mdash;pride in accomplishing a
+little more each day than was asked or expected of them. Louise's youth,
+her beauty, her sincerity, and, above all, her absolute simplicity of
+manner commanded admiration and respect among the hard-riding Moonstone
+boys. She was, to them, a "lady," yet a lady they could understand. Hers
+was a gentle tyranny. A request from her was deemed a great compliment
+by its recipient.</p>
+
+<p>All of them, with the exception of Collie, openly praised her
+horsemanship, her quiet daring, her uniform kindness. Her beauty had
+ceased to be commented upon. It was accepted by them as one accepts the
+fragrant beauty of a rose, naturally, silently, gratefully.</p>
+
+<p>Collie had gained in height and breadth of shoulder. He no longer needed
+instruction in managing broncho stock. He loved the life of the hills;
+the cool, invigorating mornings, the keen wind of the noon peaks, the
+placidity of the evening as the stars multiplied in the peaceful sky.</p>
+
+<p>He became that rare quantity among cowmen,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">159</a></span> a rider who handled and
+mastered unbroken horses without brutality. This counted heavily for him
+both with Louise and Walter Stone. Men new to the range laughed at his
+method of "gentling" horses. Later their laughter stilled to envious
+desire. Lacking his invariable patience, his consistent magnetism, they
+finally resumed their old methods, and earned dominance by sheer
+strength of arm&mdash;"main strength and awkwardness," as Williams put it.</p>
+
+<p>"It's easy&mdash;for him," commented Brand Williams, discussing Collie's
+almost uncanny quelling of a vicious, unbitted mustang. "It's easy. You
+fellas expect a boss to buck and bite and kick and buffalo you
+generally. <i>He</i> don't. He don't expect anything like that, and he don't
+let 'em learn how."</p>
+
+<p>"Can you work it that way?" asked Billy Dime.</p>
+
+<p>"Nope. I learned the other way and the bosses knows it. I always had to
+sweat. He's born to it natural, like a good cow-pony is."</p>
+
+<p>And Collie looked upon his work as a game&mdash;a game that had to be played
+hard and well, but a game, nevertheless. Incidentally he thought often
+of Overland Red. He had searched the papers diligently for a year,
+before he received the first letter from Overland. The news it contained
+set Collie to thinking seriously of leaving the Moonstone<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">160</a></span> Rancho and
+joining his old companion in this new venture of gold-digging which, as
+Overland took pains to explain, was "paying big." But there was
+Louise.... They were great friends. They had even ridden to town
+together and attended the little white church in the eucalyptus
+grove.... He thought of their ride homeward late that Sunday
+afternoon....</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Once and once only had Overland's name been mentioned in the bunk-house.
+Saunders, discussing horses and riders in general, listened to Collie's
+account of Overland's escape from the deputy, Tenlow. Then he spoke
+slightingly of the feat, claiming that any man who had ever ridden range
+could do as much, with the right pony.</p>
+
+<p>Brand Williams tried to change the subject, for shrewd reasons of his
+own, but Collie flamed up instantly. "I got a little saved up," he said;
+"mebby eight hundred. She's yours if you dast to walk a horse, comin' or
+goin', over that drift that Red took on the jump. Are you game?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not on the bet," replied Saunders. "So Overland Red is a friend of
+yours, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Overland Red could ride where you dassent to walk and drag a halter,"
+asserted Collie. Then he relapsed to silence, a little ashamed in that
+he had been trapped into showing temper.</p>
+
+<p>Williams the taciturn astonished the bunk-house<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">161</a></span> by adding: "The kid is
+right. Red could outride most men. I was his pal once, down in Sonora.
+There ain't a better two-gun artist livin'." And the lean foreman looked
+pointedly at Saunders.</p>
+
+<p>Saunders smiled evilly. He had reason to believe that Williams had
+spoken the truth.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>A few weeks later, Williams, returning unexpectedly to the bunk-house,
+found Saunders changing his shirt preparatory to a ride to town. The
+rest of the boys were already on their way to the Oro Rancho across the
+valley. Williams saw two puckered scars, each above the elbow on
+Saunders's bared arms.</p>
+
+<p>"That was dam' good shootin'," said the foreman, indicating the other's
+scarred arms.</p>
+
+<p>"Fair," said Saunders gruffly.</p>
+
+<p>"Takes a gun-artist to put a man out of business that way and not finish
+him," said Williams, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"Cholo mix-up," said Saunders.</p>
+
+<p>"And shootin' from the ground, at that," continued Williams. "And at a
+fella on a horse. Easy to see that, for the both holes are slantin' up.
+The shootin' was done from below."</p>
+
+<p>Saunders flushed. He was about to speak when Williams interrupted him.
+"Makes me think of some of Overland Red's&mdash;that is, old Red Jack<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">162</a></span>
+Summers's fancy work. I don' know why," he drawled, and turning he left
+the bunk-house.</p>
+
+<p>Collie, returning from a visit to the Oro Rancho that evening, was met
+by Williams. The latter was on foot.</p>
+
+<p>"Drop into my shack after dark," said the foreman. Then he stepped back
+into the bushes as the other men rode up.</p>
+
+<p>The foreman's interview with Collie that evening was brief. It left a
+lot to the imagination. "You said too much about Overland Red the other
+night, when you was talkin' to Silent Saunders," said Williams. "He's
+tryin' to find out somethin'. I don't know what he's after. Keep your
+eye peeled and your teeth on the bit. That's all."</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">163</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2><h3>BLUNDER</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Oh, he's built all right, and he comes of good stock," said Brand
+Williams, nodding toward a bay colt that stood steaming in the sun.</p>
+
+<p>It had rained the night before&mdash;an unexpected shower and the last of the
+winter rains. Now that the snow had left the hills, the young stock,
+some thirty-odd year-old colts had been turned into the north range.
+Collie and Williams had ridden over to look at the colts; Williams as a
+matter of duty, Collie because he was interested and liked Williams's
+society.</p>
+
+<p>The colt, shaking itself, turned and nipped at its shoulder and switched
+its tail.</p>
+
+<p>"He's stayed fat, too," continued Williams. "But look at him! He's
+bitin' and switchin' because he's wet. Thinks it's fly-time a'ready.
+He's jest a four-legged horse-hide blunder. I know his kind."</p>
+
+<p>Collie, dismounting and unbuttoning his slicker, rolled it and tied it
+to the saddle. "I guess you're right, Brand. Last week I was over this
+way. He had his head through the corral<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">164</a></span> bars at the bottom and he
+couldn't get loose. He was happy, though. He must have been there quite
+a spell, for he ate about half a bale of hay. I got him loose and he
+tried his darndest to kick my head off."</p>
+
+<p>"Uhuh," grunted the foreman. "Reckon it's the last rain we'll get this
+year. Now would you look at that! He's the limit!"</p>
+
+<p>The colt, sniffing curiously at a crotch in the live-oak against which
+he had been rubbing, had stepped into the low fork of the tree. Perhaps
+he had some vague notion to rub both his sides at once as an economy of
+effort. His front feet had slipped on the wet ground. He went down,
+wedged fast. He struggled and kicked. He nickered plaintively, and
+rolled his terror-stricken eyes toward the cowmen in wild appeal.</p>
+
+<p>"And like all of his kind, hoss and human," said Williams, dismounting,
+"he's askin' for help in a voice that sounds like it was our fault that
+he's in trouble. He's the limit!"</p>
+
+<p>With much labor they finally released the colt, who expressed prompt
+gratitude by launching a swift and vicious kick at Collie.</p>
+
+<p>"He's feeling good enough," said that youth, coolly picking up his hat
+that had dropped as he dodged.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. All he needs is a couple of punchers and a hoss-doctor and a
+policeman to ride round with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">165</a></span> him and keep him out of trouble. He's no
+account; never will be," growled Williams.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, Brand. He's a mighty likely-looking and interesting
+specimen. He's different. I kind of like him."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't. I ain't got time. He's always goin' to manufacture
+trouble, when he don't come by it natural. He's got a kind eye, but no
+brains behind it."</p>
+
+<p>They mounted and rode up the hill, looking for breaks in the fences and
+counting the colts, some of whom, luxuriously lazy in the heat of the
+sun, stood with lowered heads, drowsing. Others, scattered about the
+hillsides and in the arroyos, grazed nippingly at the sparse
+bunch-grass, moving quickly from clump to clump.</p>
+
+<p>The "blunder" colt seemed to find his own imbecilities sufficiently
+entertaining, for he grazed alone.</p>
+
+<p>The foreman's inspection terminated with the repairing of a break in the
+fence inclosing the spring-hole, a small area of bog-land dotted with
+hummocks of lush grass. Between the hummocks was a slimy, black ooze
+that covered the bones of more than one unfortunate animal. The heavy,
+ripe grass lent an appearance of stability, of solidity, to the
+treacherous footing.</p>
+
+<p>Williams and Collie reinforced the sagging posts with props of fallen
+limbs and stones carried<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">166</a></span> from the trail below. They piled brush where
+the wire had parted, filling the opening with an almost impassable
+barrier of twisted branches. Until the last rain, the spring-hole fence
+had appeared solid&mdash;but one night of rain in the California hills can
+work unimaginable changes in trail, stream-bed, or fence line.</p>
+
+<p>"Get after that fence first thing in the morning," said Williams as he
+unsaddled the pinto that afternoon. "I noticed the blunder colt followed
+us up to the spring. If there's any way of gettin' bogged, he'll find
+it, or invent a new way for himself."</p>
+
+<p>The blunder colt's mischief-making amounted to absolute genius. There
+was much of the enterprising puppy in his nature and in his methods. The
+impulse which seemed to direct the extremely uneven tenor of his way
+would have resolved itself orally into: "Do it&mdash;and then see what
+happens!" He was not vicious, but brainlessly joyful in his mischief.</p>
+
+<p>As the foreman and Collie disappeared beyond the crest of the hill, the
+colt, who had watched them with absurdly stupid intensity, lowered his
+head and nibbled indifferently at the grass along the edge of the
+spring-hole fence. He approached the break and sniffed at the props and
+network of branches. This was interesting! And a very carelessly
+constructed piece of fence, indeed! He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">167</a></span> would investigate. The blunder
+colt was never too hungry to cease grazing and turn toward adventure.</p>
+
+<p>He nosed one of the props. He leaned against it heavily, deliberately,
+and rubbed himself. Verily "His eye had all the seeming of a demon's
+that is dreaming"&mdash;of unalloyed mischief.</p>
+
+<p>The prop creaked, finally became loosened, and fell. The colt sprang
+back awkwardly, snorting in indignant surprise. "The very idea!" he
+would have said, even as he would have chewed gum and have worn a
+perpetual tear in his trousers had he been human.</p>
+
+<p>With stiff stealthiness he approached the break again, pretending a
+hesitancy that he enjoyed immensely. He reached under the lower wire,
+neck outstretched, and nibbled at a bunch of ripe grass. There was
+plenty of grass within easier reach, but he wanted the unattainable. A
+barb caught in his mane. He jerked his head up. The barb pricked his
+neck. He jerked harder. Another prop became loosened. Then he strode
+away, this time with calm indifference. He pretended to graze, but his
+eye roved back to the break. His attitude expressed a sly
+alertness&mdash;something of the quiet vigilance a grazing horse betrays when
+one approaches with a bridle. He drew nearer the fence again. With head
+over the top wire he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">168</a></span> gazed longingly at the clumps of grass on the
+hummocks scattered over the muck of the overflow. His shoulder needed
+scratching. With drooping head, eyes half-closed, and lower lip pendant,
+he rubbed against the loosened post. The post sagged and wobbled.
+Whether it was deliberate intent, or just natural "horse" predominating
+his actions, it would be difficult to determine. Finally the post gave
+way and fell. The colt drew back and contemplated the opening with a
+vacuous eye. It was not interesting now. No, indeed! He wandered away.</p>
+
+<p>But in the dusk of that evening, when a chill dew sparkled along the
+edges of the bog, he came, a clumsy shadow and grazed among the
+hummocks. Slowly he worked toward the treachery of black ooze that shone
+in the starlight. He sank to his fetlocks. He drew his feet up one after
+another, still progressing toward the centre of the bog, and sinking
+deeper at each step. He became stricken with fear as he sank to his
+hocks. He plunged and snorted. The bog held him with a soft, detaining
+grip&mdash;and drew him slowly down. He nickered, and finally screamed in
+absolute terror. Up to his heaving belly the black mud crept. He flung
+himself sideways. Exhausted, he lay with neck and head outstretched.
+Again he struggled, his eyes wild and protruding with the blood pressure
+of his straining. Then the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">169</a></span> chill of night crept over him. He became
+quiet&mdash;shivered a little, and nickered faintly.</p>
+
+<p>In the willows a little owl called pensively.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The morning light, streaming across the hills, spread like raw gold over
+the bog. Collie whistled as he rode down the trail, and beat his gloved
+hands to keep warm. He heard a plaintive whinny and a bubbling gasp. He
+leaped from his pony, the coiled riata in his hand as he touched the
+ground.</p>
+
+<p>The blunder colt, neck outstretched, was still above the ooze. His eyes
+were bloodshot, as their white rims showed. His nose quivered and
+twisted with his quick, irregular breathing.</p>
+
+<p>It was a "two-man job," but Collie knew that the colt would probably be
+gone before he could ride back and return with help. He swung the riata,
+then hesitated. To noose the colt's neck would only result in strangling
+it when he pulled. He found a branch large enough to stiffen the brush
+near the break. Swiftly he built a shaky footing and crept out toward
+the colt. By shoving the riata under the colt's belly with a forked
+stick, and fishing the loose end up on the other side, he managed to get
+a loop round the animal's hind quarters. He mounted his own horse and
+took a turn of the riata round the saddle-horn.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">170</a></span></p>
+
+<p>His pony set its feet and leaned to the work. Slowly the colt was drawn
+to solid ground.</p>
+
+<p>He was a pitiful object as he lay panting and shivering, plastered with
+mud and black slime, and almost dead from shock and chill. Collie spread
+his slicker over him and rode up the hill at a trot. The blunder colt
+raised its head a little, then dropped it and lay motionless.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>When Collie and Billy Dime returned with gunnysacks and an old blanket,
+the sun had warmed the air. The mud on the colt's side and neck had
+begun to dry.</p>
+
+<p>Billy Dime commented briefly. "He's a goner. He's froze clean to his
+heart. Why didn't you leave him where he was?"</p>
+
+<p>Collie spread the gunnysacks on a level beneath a live-oak, beneath
+which they dragged the colt and covered him with the blanket. They gave
+him whiskey with water that they heated at a little fire of brush. The
+colt lifted its head, endeavoring spasmodically to get to its feet.</p>
+
+<p>"He's wearin' hisself out. He ain't got much farther to go," said Billy
+Dime, mounting and turning his pony. "Come on, kid. If he's alive
+to-morrow mornin'&mdash;good enough."</p>
+
+<p>"I think I'll stay awhile," said Collie. "Brand says he isn't worth
+saving, but&mdash;I kind of like the cuss. He's different."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">171</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Correct, nurse, he is. You can telephone me if the patient shows signs
+of bitin' you. Keep tabs on his pulse&mdash;give him his whiskey regular, but
+don't by no means allow him to set up in bed and smoke. I'll call again
+nex' year. So long, sweetness."</p>
+
+<p>"You go plump!" laughed Collie.</p>
+
+<p>And Billy Dime rode over the hill singing a dolefully cheerful ditty
+about burying some one on the "lo-o-ne prairee." To him a horse was
+merely something useful, so long as it could go. When it couldn't go, he
+got another that could.</p>
+
+<p>Collie replenished the smoking fire, scraped some of the mud from the
+colt's thick, winter coat, and heated a half-dozen large stones.</p>
+
+<p>His brother cowmen would have laughed at these "tender ministrations,"
+and Collie himself smiled as he recalled Billy Dime's parting
+directions.</p>
+
+<p>Collie placed the heated stones round the shivering animal, re-dried the
+blanket at the fire, and covered the pitifully weak and panting
+creature. The colt's restless lifting of its head he overcame by sitting
+near it and stroking its muzzle with a soothing hand.</p>
+
+<p>Time and again he rose to re-heat the stones and replenish the fire. The
+colt's breathing became less irregular. He gave it more of the hot
+whiskey and water.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">172</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then he mended the fence. He had brought an axe with him and a supply of
+staples.</p>
+
+<p>Toward mid-afternoon he became hungry and solaced himself with a
+cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>Again the blunder colt became restless, showing a desire to rise, but
+for lack of strength the desire ended with a swaying and tossing of its
+head.</p>
+
+<p>Evening came quickly. The air grew bitingly chill. Collie wished that
+one of the boys would bring him something to eat. The foreman surely
+knew where he was. Collie could imagine the boys joking about him over
+their evening "chuck."</p>
+
+<p>With the darkness he drew on his slicker and squatted by the fire. He
+fell asleep. He awoke shivering, to find the embers dull. The stars were
+intensely brilliant and large.</p>
+
+<p>Once during the evening he made up his mind to return to the
+ranch-house, but a stubborn determination to save the colt, despite the
+ridicule he knew he would elicit, held him to his task. Should he leave,
+the colt might become chilled again and die. Then he <i>would</i> be open to
+ridicule. Collie reasoned that he must finish the task as he had begun
+it&mdash;thoroughly.</p>
+
+<p>Again he heated the stones, warmed the blanket, and gave "Blunder," as
+he now called him affectionately, some hot whiskey. Then he built<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">173</a></span> a
+larger fire, wrapped himself in his saddle-blankets, and, with feet to
+the blaze, slept. His own pony grazed at large, dragging a rope.</p>
+
+<p>Habit brought Collie awake early. The fire had gone out. He was stiff
+with cold. Arising, he glanced at the heap beneath the blanket ringed
+with stones. "Time to eat!" he cried lustily, and whipped the blanket
+from the mud-encrusted Blunder. The colt raised its head, struggled, put
+out one stiff fore leg, and then the other. Collie grabbed the animal's
+tail and heaved. Blunder humped himself&mdash;and was on his feet, wobbling,
+dizzy-eyed, scandalously "mussed up"&mdash;but alive!</p>
+
+<p>"Whoop-ee!" shouted Collie as the colt staggered a pace or two trying
+his questionable strength. "Gee! But I'm hungry!"</p>
+
+<p>The Blunder, a mere caricature of a horse in pose and outward seeming,
+gazed at his rescuer with stupid eyes. He had not the faintest idea what
+all the joy was about, but something deep in his horse nature told him
+that the boisterous youth was his friend. Timidly he approached Collie,
+wagged his head up and down experimentally, as if trying his neck
+hinges, and reached out and nuzzled the young man's hand, nipping
+playfully at his fingers.</p>
+
+<p>Collie was dumbfounded. "He's thankin' me&mdash;the little cuss! Why, you
+rubber-kneed, water-eyed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">174</a></span> mud turtle you! I didn't know you had that
+much sense."</p>
+
+<p>The youth did not hear the regular beat of hoofs as Williams loped up,
+until the colt, stilt-legged, emitted a weak nicker. Collie turned.</p>
+
+<p>Williams smiled grimly. "Knew you'd stick," he said.</p>
+
+<p>He gazed at the revived colt, the circle of stones, and the blanket. He
+made no comment.</p>
+
+<p>Collie caught up his pony and mounted. As they rode over the hill
+together, Williams, turning in the saddle, laughed and pointed down
+toward the arroyo.</p>
+
+<p>The blunder colt, apparently overjoyed to be alive, had ambled awkwardly
+up to one of his mates who stood stolidly waiting for the sun to warm
+him. The other colt, unused to the Blunder's society and perhaps
+unfavorably impressed by his dissipated appearance, received this
+friendly overture with a pair of punishing hoofs. Blunder staggered and
+fell, but scrambled to his feet again, astonished, indignant, highly
+offended.</p>
+
+<p>"If you was to drive that blunder colt up to horse-heaven and he knew it
+<i>was</i> horse-heaven, you'd have to turn him around and back him in. Then
+I reckon he'd bust the corral tryin' to get out again."</p>
+
+<p>Collie grinned. "Well, I wouldn't this morning&mdash;if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">175</a></span> there was anything
+to eat there, even hay."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you don't get your breakfast at the chuck-house <i>this</i> morning,"
+said Williams gruffly.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't, eh? Since when?"</p>
+
+<p>Williams again turned in his saddle, observing Collie for a minute
+before he spoke. "I see you're smilin', so I'll tell you. Since when?
+Well, since about two hours ago, when Miss Louise come steppin' over to
+the bunk-house and asks where you are. Billy Dime ups and tells her you
+was sick-nursin' the blunder colt. She didn't smile, but turned to me
+and asked me. I told her about what was doin'. I seen she had it in for
+somebody. It was me. 'Brand,' she says, quiet-like, 'is it customary on
+the Moonstone for lunch or dinner to be taken to the men that are
+staying out from camp?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes, ma'am,' says I.</p>
+
+<p>"And the plumb hell of it was," continued Williams, "she didn't say
+another word. I wisht she had. I feel like a little less than nothin'
+shot full of holes this lovely mornin'."</p>
+
+<p>Collie rode on silently.</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you say somethin'?" queried Williams.</p>
+
+<p>"I was waiting for the rest of it," said Collie.</p>
+
+<p>Williams laughed. "I guess you ain't such a fool, at that, with your
+nussin' stock and settin'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">176</a></span> up nights with 'em. Miss Louise says to tell
+you to come right up to the house,&mdash;the <i>house</i>, you understand,&mdash;and
+get your breakfast with them. They said they was goin' to wait for you.
+I guess that ain't throwin' it into the rest of us some. Keep it up,
+Collie kid, keep it up, and you'll be payin' us all wages some day."</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">177</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2><h3>GUESTS</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>A month had passed since the rescue of the blunder colt. The air was
+warm and clear, the sky intensely blue. Moonstone Ca&ntilde;on grew fragrant
+with budding flowers. The little lizards came from their winter crevices
+and clung to the sun-warmed stones. A covey of young quail fluttered
+along the hillside under the stately surveillance of the mother bird.
+Wild cats prowled boldly on the southern slopes. Cotton-tails huddled
+beneath the greasewood brush and nibbled at the grasses. The ca&ntilde;on
+stream ran clear again now that the storm-washed silt had settled. On
+the peaks the high winds were cold and cutting, but on the slopes and in
+the valleys the earth was moist and warm.</p>
+
+<p>Louise, humming a song, rode slowly along the Moonstone Ca&ntilde;on Trail. At
+the "double turn" in the ca&ntilde;on, where dwelt Echo and her myrmidons,
+Louise rode more slowly.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Dreaming Fance, the cobbler's son, took his tools and laces,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wrought her shoes of scarlet dye, shoes as pale as snow.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They shall lead her wild-rose feet all the fa&euml;ry paces,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Danced along the road of love, the road such feet should go."</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">178</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She sang slowly, pausing after each line that the echoes might not blur.</p>
+
+<p>"Danced along ... along ... the road ... of love, the road ... of
+love ... of love," sang the echoes.</p>
+
+<p>Louise smiled dreamily. Then the clatter of Boyar's shod hoofs rang and
+re&euml;choed, finally to hush in the gravel of the ford beyond.</p>
+
+<p>Why Louise thought of Collie just then, it would be difficult to
+imagine. Still, she had, ever since his night's vigil with the blunder
+colt, caught herself noting little details associated with him and his
+work. He brushed his teeth. Not all of the other men did. He did not
+chew tobacco. Despite his lack of early training, he was naturally neat.
+He disliked filth instinctively. His bits, spurs, and trappings shone.
+He had learned to shoe his string of ponies&mdash;an art that is fast
+becoming lost among present-day cowmen. With little comment but faithful
+zeal he copied Brand Williams. This, of course, flattered the taciturn
+cowman, who unobtrusively arranged Collie's work so that it might bring
+the younger man before the notice of Walter Stone, and incidentally
+Louise. Of course, Louise was not aware of this.</p>
+
+<p>The girl no longer sang as she rode, but dreamed, with unseeing eyes on
+the trail ahead&mdash;dreamed such dreams as one may put aside easily<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">179</a></span> until,
+perchance, the dream converges toward reality which cannot be so lightly
+put aside.</p>
+
+<p>Brand Williams had his own ideas of romance; ideas pretty well submerged
+in the deeps of hardy experience, but existing, nevertheless, and as
+immovable as the bed of the sea. He badgered Collie whenever he chanced
+to have seen him with the Rose Girl, and smiling inwardly at the young
+man's indignation, he would straightway arrange that Collie should ride
+to town, for, say, a few pounds of staples wanted in a hurry, when he
+knew that the buckboard would be going to town on the morrow, and also
+that there were plenty of staples in the storeroom.</p>
+
+<p>Something of the kind was afoot, or rather a-saddle, as Louise rode down
+the Moonstone Trail, for beyond the turn and the rippling ford she saw a
+lithe, blue-shirted figure that she knew.</p>
+
+<p>Louise would not have admitted even to herself that she urged Boyar.
+Nevertheless the reins tightened and slackened gently. Boyar swung into
+his easy lope. It pleased the girl that Collie, turning in his saddle at
+the sound of hoofs, waved a salute, but did not check his horse. He had
+never presumed on her frank friendship and "taken things for granted."
+He kept his place always. He was polite, a little reticent, and very
+much in love with Louise. Louise did not pretend<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">180</a></span> to herself that she
+was not aware of it. She was all the more pleased that Collie should act
+so admirably. She had loaned him books, some of which he had read
+faithfully and intelligently. In secret he had kissed her name written
+on the flyleaf of each of them. He really rather adored Louise than
+loved her, and he builded well, for his adoration (unintimate as
+adoration must ever be until perchance it touches earth and is
+translated into love) was of that blithe and inspiriting quality that
+lifts a man above his natural self and shapes the lips to song and the
+heart to unselfish service. He knew himself to be good-looking and not
+altogether a barbarian. No morbid hopelessness clouded his broad
+horizon. He knew himself and cherished his strength and his optimism. He
+ate slowly, which is no insignificant item on the credit side of the big
+book of Success.</p>
+
+<p>Collie lifted his broad-brimmed hat as Louise rode up. His face was
+flushed. His lips were smiling, but his dark eyes were steady and grave.</p>
+
+<p>"'Morning, Collie! Boyar is just bound to lope. He never can bear to have
+a horse ahead of him."</p>
+
+<p>"He don't have to, very often," said Collie.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, there are Kentucky saddle-horses that could beat him. But
+they are not cow-ponies."</p>
+
+<p>"No. And they couldn't beat him if they had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">181</a></span> to do his work in the
+hills. About a week of the trails would kill a thoroughbred."</p>
+
+<p>"Boyar is very conceited, aren't you, Boy?" And she patted the sleek
+arch of his neck.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't blame him," said Collie, his eyes twinkling.</p>
+
+<p>"Going all the way to town?" asked Louise.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Brand wants some things from the store."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to the station. We expect a telegram from some friends. Maybe
+they'll be there themselves. I hope not, though. They said they were
+coming to-morrow, but would telegraph if they started sooner. We would
+have to get Price's team and buckboard&mdash;and I'd be ashamed to ride
+behind his horses, especially with my&mdash;my friend from the East."</p>
+
+<p>"Boyar and this here buckskin colt would make a pretty fair team,"
+ventured Collie, smiling to himself.</p>
+
+<p>"To drive? Heavens, Collie, no! They've neither of them been in
+harness."</p>
+
+<p>"I was just imagining," said Collie.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course!" exclaimed Louise, laughing. "I understand. Why, I must be
+late. There's the train for the north just leaving the station. I
+expected to be there in case the Marshalls did come to-day. But they
+said they'd telegraph."</p>
+
+<p>"I can see three folks on the platform," said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">182</a></span> Collie. "One is the
+agent; see his cap shine? Then there's a man and a woman."</p>
+
+<p>"If it's Anne, she'll never forgive me. She's so&mdash;formal about things.
+It can't be the Marshalls, though."</p>
+
+<p>"We can ride," suggested Collie. And the two ponies leaped forward. A
+little trail of dust followed them across the valley.</p>
+
+<p>At the station Louise found her guests, young Dr. Marshall and his wife;
+also the telegram announcing the day they would arrive.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry," began Louise; but the Marshalls silenced her with hearty
+"Oh, pshaws!" and "No matters!" with an incidental hug from Anne.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you have changed so, Anne!" exclaimed Louise. "What <i>have</i> you
+been doing? You used to be so terribly formal, and now you're actually
+hugging me in public!"</p>
+
+<p>"The 'public' has just departed, Miss Lacharme, with your pony, I
+believe. He rides well&mdash;the tall dark chap that came with you."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Collie. He's gone for the buckboard, of course. Stupid of me not to
+drive down. We really didn't expect you until to-morrow, but you'll
+forgive us all, won't you? You can see now how telegrams are handled at
+these stations."</p>
+
+<p>Anne Marshall, a brown-eyed, rather stately and pleasingly slender girl,
+smiled and shook her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">183</a></span> head. "I don't know. I may, if you will promise to
+introduce me to that fascinating young cowboy that rode away with your
+horse. I used to dream of such men."</p>
+
+<p>Young Dr. Marshall coughed. The girls laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Collie?" said Louise. "Of course, you will meet him. He's our
+right-hand man. Uncle Walter says he couldn't get along without him and
+Aunty Eleanor just thinks he is perfect."</p>
+
+<p>"And Louise?" queried Anne Marshall.</p>
+
+<p>"Same," said Louise non-committally. "I don't see why he took Boyar with
+him to the store, though."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The Marshalls and Louise paced slowly up and down the station platform,
+chatting about the East and Louise's last visit there, before Anne was
+married. Presently they were interrupted by a wild clatter of hoofs and
+the grind and screech of a hastily applied brake. The borrowed
+buckboard, strong, light, two-seated, and built for service, had arrived
+dramatically. Collie leaned back, the reins wrapped round his wrists,
+and his foot pressing the brake home. In the harness stood, or rather
+gyrated, Boyar and Collie's own pony Apache. It is enough to say that
+neither of them had ever been in harness before. The ponies were trying
+to get rid of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">184</a></span> appended vehicle through any possible means. Louise
+gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"Price's team is out&mdash;over to the Oro Ranch. I knew you wanted a team in
+a hurry&mdash;" said Collie.</p>
+
+<p>"It looks quite like a team in a hurry," commented Dr. Marshall. "Your
+man is a good driver?"</p>
+
+<p>"Splendid!" said Louise. "Come on, Anne. You always said you wanted to
+ride behind some real Western horses. Here they are."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, this is just&mdash;just&mdash;bully!" whispered the stately Anne Marshall.
+"And isn't he a striking figure?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," assented Louise, who was just the least bit uncertain as to the
+outcome of Collie's hasty assembling of untutored harness material. "It
+is just 'bully.' Where in the world did you unearth that word, Anne?"</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">185</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2><h3>A RED EPISODE</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Dr. Marshall's offhand designation of the buckboard as "a team in a
+hurry" was prophetic, even unto the end.</p>
+
+<p>What Boyar could not accomplish in the way of equine gymnastics in
+harness, Apache, Collie's pony, could.</p>
+
+<p>Louise was a little fearful for her guests, yet she had confidence in
+the driver. The Marshalls apparently saw nothing more than a pair of
+very spirited "real Western horses like one reads about, you know,"
+until Dr. Marshall, slowly coming out of a kind of anticipatory haze, as
+Boyar stood on his hind feet and tried to face the buckboard, recognized
+the black horse as Louise's saddle animal. He took a firmer grip on the
+seat and looked at Collie. The young man seemed to be enjoying himself.
+There wasn't a line of worry on his clean-cut face.</p>
+
+<p>"Pretty lively," said the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>Collie, with his foot on the brake and both arms rigid, nodded.
+Moonstone Ca&ntilde;on Trail was not a boulevard. He was not to be lured into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">186</a></span>
+conversation. He was giving his whole mind and all of his magnetism to
+the team.</p>
+
+<p>Boyar and Apache took advantage of every turn, pitch, steep descent, and
+ford to display the demoniacal ingenuity inspired by their outraged
+feelings. They were splendid, obedient saddle-animals. But to be buckled
+and strapped in irritating harness, and hitched to that four-wheeled
+disgrace, a buckboard!...</p>
+
+<p>Anne Marshall chatted happily with Louise, punctuating her lively
+chatter with subdued little cries of delight as some new turn in the
+trail opened on a vista unimaginably beautiful, especially to her
+Eastern eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Young Dr. Marshall, in the front seat with Collie, braced his feet and
+smiled. <i>He</i> had had experience, in an East-Side ambulance, but then
+that had been over level streets. He glanced over the edge of the ca&ntilde;on
+road and his smile faded a little. It faded entirely as the front wheel
+sheared off a generous shovelful of earth from a sharp upright angle of
+the hill as the team took the turn at a gallop. The young physician had
+a sense of humor, which is the next best thing to courage, although he
+had plenty of his kind of courage also. He brushed the earth from his
+lap.</p>
+
+<p>"The road needs widening there, anyway," commented Collie, as though
+apologizing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">187</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I have my&mdash;er&mdash;repair kit with me," said the genial doctor. "I'm a
+surgeon."</p>
+
+<p>Collie nodded, but kept his eyes rigidly on the horses. Evidently this
+immaculate, of the white collar and cuffs and the stylish gray tweeds,
+had "sand."</p>
+
+<p>"They're a little fussy&mdash;but I know 'em," said Collie, as Boyar,
+apparently terror-stricken at a manzanita that he had passed hundreds of
+times, reared, his fore feet pawing space and the traces dangerously
+slack. Louise bit her lower lip and quickly called Anne's attention to a
+spot of vivid color on the hillside. To Dr. Marshall's surprise, Collie
+struck Apache, who was behaving, smartly with the whip. Apache leaped
+forward, bringing Boyar down to his feet again. The doctor would have
+been inclined to strike Boyar for misbehaving. He saw Collie's wisdom
+and smiled. To have punished Boyar when already on his hind feet would
+have been folly.</p>
+
+<p>At the top of the next grade the lathering, restive ponies finally
+settled to a stubborn trot. "Mad clean through," said Collie.</p>
+
+<p>"I should say they were behaving well enough," said the doctor, not as
+much as an opinion as to relieve his tense nerves in speech.</p>
+
+<p>"When a bronc' gets to acting ladylike, then is the time to look out,"
+said Collie. "Boyar and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">188</a></span> Apache have never been in harness before. Seems
+kind of queer to 'em."</p>
+
+<p>"What! Never been&mdash;Why! Huh! For Heaven's sake, don't let Mrs. Marshall
+hear that."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Walter Stone and his wife made the Marshalls feel at home immediately.
+Walter Stone had known Dr. Marshall's father, and he found in the son a
+pleasant living recollection of his old friend. Aunt Eleanor and Louise
+had visited with Anne when they were East. She was Anne Winthrop then,
+and Louise and she had found much in common to enjoy in shopping and
+sightseeing. Their one regret was that Louise would have to return to
+the West before her marriage to the young Dr. Marshall they all admired
+so much. There had been vague promises of coming West after "things were
+settled," as Anne put it. Which was merely another way of saying, "After
+we are married and have become enough used to each other to really enjoy
+a long trip West."</p>
+
+<p>The Marshalls had arrived with three years of happiness behind them, and
+apparently with an &aelig;on or so of happiness to look forward to, for they
+were quiet, unassuming young folks, with plenty of money and no desire
+whatever to make people aware of it.</p>
+
+<p>The host brought cigars and an extra steamer-chair<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">189</a></span> to the wide veranda.
+"It's much cooler out here. We'll smoke while the girls tell each other
+all about it."</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>should</i> like to sit on something solid for a few minutes," said the
+doctor. "It was a most amazing drive."</p>
+
+<p>"We're pretty well used to the ca&ntilde;on," said Stone. "Yet I can see how it
+would strike an Easterner."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed it did, Mr. Stone. There is a thrill in every turn of it, for
+me. I shall dream of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Were you delayed at the station?" queried Stone.</p>
+
+<p>"We wired," said the doctor. "It seems that the telegram was not
+delivered. Miss Lacharme explained that messages have to wait until
+called for, unless money is wired for delivering them."</p>
+
+<p>"That is a fact, Doctor. Splendid system, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am really sorry that we put Miss Lacharme to so much trouble. She had
+to scare up a team on the instant."</p>
+
+<p>"Price, the storekeeper, brought you up, didn't he?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think so. Miss Louise called him 'Collie,' I believe. He'd make
+a splendid army surgeon, that young man! He has nerves like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">190</a></span> tempered
+steel wire, and I never saw such cool strength."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's nothing. Any one could drive Price's horses."</p>
+
+<p>The doctor smiled. "The young man confided to me that their names were
+'Boyar' and 'Apache,' I believe. They both lived up to the last one's
+name."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'll be&mdash;Here, have a fresh cigar! I want to smoke on that.
+Hu-m-m! Did that young pirate drive those saddle-animals&mdash;drive 'em from
+the station to this rancho&mdash;Whew! I congratulate you, Doctor. You'll
+never be killed in a runaway. He's a good horseman, but&mdash;Well, I'll talk
+to <i>him</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me if I ask you not to, Stone. The girls enjoyed it immensely.
+So did I. I believe the driver did. He never once lost his smile."</p>
+
+<p>"Collie is usually pretty level-headed," said Walter Stone. "He must
+have been put to it for horses. Price's team must have been out."</p>
+
+<p>"He's more than level-headed," asserted Dr. Marshall. "He's magnetic. I
+could feel confidence radiating from him like sunshine from a brick
+wall."</p>
+
+<p>"I think he'll amount to something, myself. Everything he tackles he
+tackles earnestly. He doesn't leave loose ends to be picked up by some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">191</a></span>
+one else later. I've had a reason to watch him specially. Three years
+ago he was tramping it with a 'pal.' A boy tramp. Now see what he's
+grown to be."</p>
+
+<p>"A <i>tramp</i>! No!"</p>
+
+<p>"Fact. He's done pretty well for himself since he's been with us. He had
+a hard time of it before that."</p>
+
+<p>"I served my apprenticeship in the slums," said Dr. Marshall. "East-Side
+hospital. I think that I can also appreciate what you have done for
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Doctor,&mdash;but the credit belongs with the boy. Hello! Here
+are our girls again." And Walter Stone and the doctor rose on the
+instant.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I shall call you Uncle Walter," said Anne Marshall, who had not
+met Walter Stone until then.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm unworthy," said the rancher, his eyes twinkling. "And I don't want
+to be relegated to the 'uncle' class so soon."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Thanksawfully</i>," said Louise.</p>
+
+<p>"Jealous, mouse?"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, no. I'm not Mrs. Marshall's husband."</p>
+
+<p>"I have already congratulated the doctor," said Walter Stone, bowing.</p>
+
+<p>"Doctor," said Anne, in her most formal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">192</a></span> manner. "You're antique. Why
+don't you say something bright?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do, every time I call you Anne. I really must go in and brush up a
+bit, as you suggest. You'll excuse me, I'm sure."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed,&mdash;almost with pleasure. And, Doctor, <i>don't</i> wear your
+fountain-pen in your white vest pocket. You're not on duty, now."</p>
+
+<p>In the shadows of the mountain evening they congregated on the veranda
+and chatted about the East, the West, and incidentally about the
+proposed picnic they were to enjoy a few days later, when "boots and
+saddles" would be the order of the day. "And the trails are not bad,
+Anne," said Louise. "When you get used to them, you'll forget all about
+them, but your pony won't. He'll be just as deliberate and anxious about
+your safety, and his, at the end of the week as he was at the
+beginning."</p>
+
+<p>"Imagine! A week of riding about these mountains! How Billy would have
+enjoyed it, Doctor."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. But I believe he is having a pretty good time where he is."</p>
+
+<p>"We wish he could be here, Anne," said Louise. "I've never met your
+brother. He's always been away when I have been East."</p>
+
+<p>"Which has been his misfortune," said Dr. Marshall.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">193</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"He writes such beautiful letters about the desert and his mining
+claim,&mdash;that's his latest fad,&mdash;and says he's much stronger. But I
+believe they all say that&mdash;when they have his trouble, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"From Billy's last letter, I should say he was in pretty fair shape,"
+said the doctor. "He's living outdoors and at a good altitude, somewhere
+on the desert. He's making money. He posts his letters at a town called
+'Dagget,' in this State."</p>
+
+<p>"Up above San Berdoo," said Walter Stone. And he straightway drifted
+into reverie, gazing at the bright end of his cigar until it faded in
+the darkness.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello!" exclaimed Dr. Marshall, leaning forward. "Sounds like the
+exhaust of a pretty heavy car. I didn't imagine any one would drive that
+ca&ntilde;on road after dark."</p>
+
+<p>"Unusual," said Stone, getting to his feet. "Some one in a hurry. I'll
+turn on the porch-light and defy the mosquitoes."</p>
+
+<p>With a leonine roar and a succeeding clatter of empty cylinders, an
+immense racing-car stopped at the gate below. The powerful headlight
+shot a widening pathway through the night. Voices came indistinctly from
+the vicinity of the machine. Before Walter Stone had reached the bottom
+step of the porch, a huge figure appeared from out the shadows. In the
+radiance of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">194</a></span> porch-light stood a wonderfully attired stranger. Frock
+coat, silk hat, patent leathers, striped trousers, and pearl gaiters, a
+white vest, and a noticeable watch-chain adorned the driver of the
+automobile. He stood for a minute, blinking in the light. Then he swept
+his hat from his head with muscular grace. "Excuse me for intrudin'," he
+said. "I seen this glim and headed for it. Is Mr. Walter Stone at
+lee-sure?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm Walter Stone," said the rancher, somewhat mystified.</p>
+
+<p>"My name's Summers, Jack Summers, proprietor of the Rose Girl Mine." And
+Overland Red, erstwhile sheriff of Abilene, cowboy, tramp, prospector,
+gunman, and many other interesting things, proffered a highly engraved
+calling-card. Again he bowed profoundly, his hat in his hand, a white
+carnation in his buttonhole and rapture in his heart. He had seen Louise
+again&mdash;Louise, leaning forward, staring at him incredulously. Wouldn't
+the Rose Girl be surprised? She was.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't say that I quite understand&mdash;" began Stone.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it's the man who borrowed my pony!" exclaimed Louise.</p>
+
+<p>"Correct, Miss. I&mdash;I come to thank you for lendin' me the cayuse that
+time."</p>
+
+<p>Walter Stone simply had to laugh. "Come up and rest after your trip up
+the ca&ntilde;on. Of course,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">195</a></span> you want to see Collie. He told me about your
+finding the claim. Says you have given him a quarter-interest. I'm glad
+you're doing well."</p>
+
+<p>"I took a little run in to Los to get some new tires. The desert eats
+'em up pretty fast. The Guzzuh, she cast her off hind shoe the other
+day. I was scared she'd go lame. Bein' up this way, I thought I'd roll
+up and see Collie."</p>
+
+<p>"The 'Guzzuh'?" queried Stone. "You rode up, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nope. The Guzzuh is me little old racin'-car. I christened her that
+right after I got so as I could climb on to her without her pitchin' me
+off. She's some bronc' she is."</p>
+
+<p>Overland Red, despite his outward regeneration, was Overland Red still,
+only a little more so. His overwhelming apparel accentuated his
+peculiarities, his humorous gestures, his silent self-consciousness. But
+there was something big, forceful, and wholesouled about the man,
+something that attracted despite his incongruities.</p>
+
+<p>Anne Marshall was at once&mdash;as she told Louise later&mdash;"desperately
+interested." Dr. Marshall saw in Overland a new and exceedingly virile
+type. Even gentle Aunt Eleanor received the irrepressible with
+unmistakable welcome. She had heard much of his history from Collie.
+Overland was as irresistible as the morning sun. While endeavoring
+earnestly to "do the genteel,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">196</a></span> as he had assured Winthrop he would when
+he left him to make this visit, Overland had literally taken them by
+storm.</p>
+
+<p>Young Dr. Marshall studied him, racking his memory for a name. Presently
+he turned to his wife. "What was Billy's partner's name&mdash;the miner? I've
+forgotten."</p>
+
+<p>"A Mr. Summers, I believe. Yes, I'm sure. Jack Summers, Billy called him
+in his letters."</p>
+
+<p>"Just a minute," said the doctor, turning to Overland, who sat,
+huge-limbed, smiling, red-visaged, happy. "Pardon me. You said Mr. Jack
+Summers, I believe? Do you happen to know a Mr. Winthrop, Billy
+Winthrop?"</p>
+
+<p>"Me? What, Billy? Billy Winthrop? Say, is this me? I inhaled a whole lot
+of gasoline comin' up that grade, but I ain't feelin' dizzy. Billy
+Winthrop? Why&mdash;" And his exclamation subsided as he asked cautiously,
+"Did you know him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am his sister," said Anne Marshall.</p>
+
+<p>Overland was dumbfounded. "His sister," he muttered. "The one he writ to
+in New York. Huh! Yes, me and Billy's pardners."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he&mdash;is he better?" asked Anne hesitatingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Better! Say, lady, excuse me if I tell you he's gettin' so blame frisky
+that he's got me scared. Why, I left him settin' on a rock eatin'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">197</a></span> a
+sardine san'wich with one hand and shootin' holes in all the tin cans in
+sight with the other. 'So long, Red!' he hollers as I lit out with the
+burro to cross the range. 'So long, and don't let your feet slip.' And
+<i>Pom!</i> goes the .45 that he was jugglin' and another tin can passed
+over. He takes a bite from the san'wich and then, <i>Pom!</i> goes the gun
+again and another tin can bites the dust, jest as free and easy as if he
+wasn't keepin' guard over thirty or forty thousand dollars' worth of
+gold-dust and trouble, and jest as if he ain't got no lungs at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Billy must have changed a little," ventured Dr. Marshall, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"Changed? Excuse me, ladies. But when I first turned my lamps on him in
+Los, I says to myself if there wasn't a fella with one foot in the grave
+and the other on a banana-peel, I was mistook. And listen! He come out
+to the Mojave with me. He jest almost cried to come. I was scared it was
+vi'lets and 'Gather at the River,' without the melodeum, for him. But
+you never see a fella get such a chest! Search me if I knows where he
+got it from, for he wasn't much bigger around in the works than a
+mosquito when I took him up there. And eat! My Gosh, he can eat! And a
+complexion like a Yaqui. And he can sleep longer and harder and louder
+than a corral of gradin' mules on Saturday night!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">198</a></span> 'Course he's slim
+yet, but it's the kind of slim like rawhide that you could hobble a
+elephant with. And, say, he's a pardner on your life! Believe me, and
+I'm listenin' to myself, too."</p>
+
+<p>"His lungs are better, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lungs? He ain't got none. They're belluses&mdash;prime California skirtin'
+leather off the back. Lady, that kid is a wonder."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm awfully glad Billy is better. He <i>must</i> be, judging from what you
+tell me."</p>
+
+<p>"I wisht I'd 'a' had him runnin' the 'Guzzuh' instead of that little
+chicken-breasted chaffer they three-shelled on to me in Los Angeles. I
+hired him because they said I 'd better take him along until I was some
+better acquainted with the machine. The Guzzuh ain't no ordinary
+bronc'."</p>
+
+<p>"The 'Guzzuh'?" queried Dr. Marshall.</p>
+
+<p>"Uhuh. That's what I christened her. She's a racer. She's sixty
+hoss-power, and sometimes I reckon I could handle sixty hosses easier to
+once than I could her. We was lopin' along out in the desert, 'bout
+fifty miles an hour by the leetle clock on the dashboard, when all of a
+sudden she lays back her ears and she bucks. I leans back and keeps her
+head up, but it ain't no use. She gives a jump or two and says
+'<i>Guzzuh!</i>' jest like that, and quits. I climbs out and looked her over.
+She sure was balky. I was glad she said <i>somethin'</i>, if it was only
+'Guzzuh,' instead of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">199</a></span> quittin' on me silent and scornful. Sounded like
+she was apologizin' for stoppin' up like that. I felt of her chest and
+she was pretty much het up. When she cooled off, I started her
+easy&mdash;sort of grazin' along pretendin' we wasn't goin' to lope again.
+When she got her second wind I give her her head, and she let out and
+loped clean into the desert town, without makin' a stumble or castin' a
+shoe. Paid three thousand for her in Los. She is guaranteed to do eighty
+miles on the level, and she does a whole lot of other things that ain't
+jest on the level. She'd climb a back fence if you spoke right to her. A
+sand-storm ain't got nothin' on her when she gets her back up."</p>
+
+<p>"Your car must be unique," suggested Walter Stone.</p>
+
+<p>"Nope. She ain't a 'Yew-neck.' I forget her brand. I ain't had her very
+long. But I can run her now better than that little
+two-dollar-and-a-half excuse they lent me in Los. He loses his nerve
+comin' up the ca&ntilde;on there. You see the Guzzuh got to friskin' round the
+turns on her hind feet. So I gives him a box of candy to keep him quiet
+and takes the reins myself. I got my foot in the wrong stirrup on the
+start&mdash;was chokin' off her wind instead of feedin' her. Then I got my
+foot on the giddap-dingus and we come. The speed-clock's limit is ninety
+miles an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">200</a></span> hour and we busted the speed clock comin' down that last
+grade. But we're here."</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Marshall and Walter Stone gazed at each other. They laughed.
+Overland smiled condescendingly. Anne Marshall had recourse to her
+handkerchief, but Louise did not smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Does Billy ever drive your car?" asked Anne Marshall presently.</p>
+
+<p>"He drives her in the desert and in the hills some. He drove her into a
+sand-hill once clean up to her withers. When he came back,&mdash;he kind of
+went ahead a spell to look over the ground, so he says,&mdash;he apologizes
+to her like a gent. Oh, he likes her more 'n I do. Bruck two
+searchlights at one hundred dollars a glim, but that's nothin'. Oh, yes,
+Billy's got good nerve."</p>
+
+<p>Overland shifted his foot to his other knee and leaned back luxuriously,
+puffing fluently at his cigar.</p>
+
+<p>"Billy did get to feelin' kind of down, a spell back. He had a argument
+with a Gophertown gent about our claim. I wasn't there at the time, but
+when I come back, I tied up Billy's leg&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Goodness! His leg?" exclaimed Anne.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am. The Gophertown gent snuck up and tried to stick Billy up
+when Billy was readin' po'try&mdash;some of mine. Billy didn't scare so easy.
+He reaches for his gun. Anyhow, the Gophertown gent's bullet hit a rock,
+and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">201</a></span> shied up and stung Billy in the leg. Billy never misses a tin can
+now'days, and the gent was bigger than a can. We never seen nothin' of
+him again."</p>
+
+<p>"Gracious, it's perfectly awful!" cried Anne.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, lady. That's what Billy said. He said he didn't object to gettin'
+shot at, but he did object to gettin' hit, especially when he was
+readin' po'try. Said it kind of bruck his strand of thought. That guy
+was no gent."</p>
+
+<p>Walter Stone again glanced at Dr. Marshall. Aunt Eleanor rose, bidding
+the men good-night. Louise and Mrs. Marshall followed somewhat
+reluctantly. Stone disappeared to return with cigars, whiskey and
+seltzer, which he placed at Overland's elbow. "My friend Dr. Marshall is
+an Easterner," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Overland waved a comprehending hand, lit another cigar, and settled
+back. "Now I can take the hobbles off and talk nacheral. When you gents
+want me to stop, just say 'Guzzuh.'"</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">202</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2><h3>"TO CUT MY TRAIL LIKE THAT!"</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Overland Red was concluding his last yarn, a most amazing account of
+"The night the Plancher boys shot up Abilene."</p>
+
+<p>It was exactly two o'clock by Dr. Marshall's watch.</p>
+
+<p>"Both my guns was choked up with burnt powder. I reached down and
+borrowed two guns off a gent what wasn't usin' his jest then. Next day I
+was elected sheriff unanimous. They was seven of us left standin'. That
+was back in '98." Overland yawned and stood up.</p>
+
+<p>"The boys are all asleep now," said Walter Stone. "We have plenty of
+room here. You'll not object to taking one of the guest-rooms as you
+find it, I'm sure."</p>
+
+<p>"For better or for worse, as the pote says." And Overland grinned. "But
+I got to put that little chaffer to roost somewhere."</p>
+
+<p>"That's so."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go wake him up." And Overland strode to the racing-car. The
+"chaffer" had departed for parts unknown.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">203</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I guess he was scared at that last grade," said Overland, returning to
+the house. "He's gone. He must 'a' been scared, to beat it back down the
+road afoot."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps he has gone to the stables," said Stone. "Well, we'll take care
+of you here. You can see Collie in the morning."</p>
+
+<p>Overland, closing the door of the spacious, cool guest-room, glanced
+about curiously. What was it made the place seem so different from even
+the most expensive hotel suites? The furniture was very plain. The
+decorations were soft-toned and simple. "It's&mdash;it's because the Rose
+Girl lives here, I guess," he soliloquized. "Now this kind of a roost
+would jest suit Billy, but it makes me feel like walkin' on eggs. This
+here grazin' is too good for me."</p>
+
+<p>He undressed slowly, folding his unaccustomed garments with great care.
+He placed his automatic pistol on the chair by the bed. Then he crept
+beneath the sheets, forgetting to turn out the light. "Huh! Gettin'
+absent-minded like the old perfessor what picked up a hairbrush instead
+of a lookin'-glass to see if he needed shavin'. He was dum' near scared
+to death to see how his beard was growin'." And Overland chuckled as he
+turned out the lights.</p>
+
+<p>He could not go to sleep at once. He missed the desert night&mdash;the spaces
+and the stars. "I left<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">204</a></span> here in a hurry once," he muttered. "'Bout three
+years ago. Then I was kiddin' Collie about wearin' silk pejammies. Now I
+got 'em&mdash;got 'em on, by thunder! Don't know as I feel any heftier in the
+intellec'. And I can't show 'em to nobody. What's the good of havin' 'em
+if nobody knows it? But I can hang 'em on the bedpost in the mornin',
+careless like, jest like I was raised to it. Them pejammies cost four
+dollars a leg. Some class...." And he drifted to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>After breakfast Dr. Marshall, who had taken a fancy to Overland,
+strolled with him over to the bunk-house. Most of the men were on the
+range. Collie was assembling bits and bridles, saddles, cinchas, and
+spurs, to complete an equipment for the proposed camping trip in the
+hills. He was astounded at Overland's appearance. However, he had
+absorbed Western ideals rapidly. He was sincerely glad, overjoyed, to
+see his old friend, but he showed little of it in voice and manner. He
+shook hands with a brief, "How, Red!" and went on with his work.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Marshall, after expressing interest in the equipment, excused
+himself and wandered over to the corrals, where he admired the horses.</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you get 'em?" queried Collie, adjusting the length of a pair
+of stirrup-leathers.</p>
+
+<p>"These?" And Overland spread his coat-tails<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">205</a></span> and ruffled. "Why, out of
+the old Mojave. Dug 'em up with a little pick and shovel."</p>
+
+<p>"You said in your letter you found the claim."</p>
+
+<p>"Uhuh. Almost fell over it before I did, though. We never found the
+other things, by the track. New ties. No mark. Say, that Billy Winthrop
+I writ about is the brother of them folks stayin' here! What do you
+think!"</p>
+
+<p>"Wish I was out there with you fellows," said Collie.</p>
+
+<p>"You're doin' pretty good right here, kiddo. The boss don't think you're
+the worst that ever came acrost, and I expect the ladies can put up with
+havin' you on the same ranch by the way they talk. Got a hoss of your
+own yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nope. I got my eye on one, though. Say, Red, this is the best place to
+work. The boss is fine. I'm getting forty a month now, and savin' it.
+The boys are all right, too. Brand Williams, the foreman&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Brand who?"</p>
+
+<p>"Williams. He came from Wyoming."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, this here's gettin' like a story and not like real livin'. Why, I
+knowed old Brand in Mex. in the old days when a hoss and a gun was about
+all a guy needed to set up housekeepin'. We was pals. So he's foreman
+here, eh? Well, you follow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">206</a></span> his trail close about cattle or hosses and
+you'll win out."</p>
+
+<p>"I been doing that," said Collie. "The other day he told me to keep my
+eye on one of the boys. Silent Saunders, he's called. Kind of funny. I
+don't know anything about Saunders."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you bank on it. Stack 'em up chin-high on it, Collie, if Brand
+says that. He knows some-thin' or he would never talk. Brand is a
+particular friend of yours?"</p>
+
+<p>"You bet!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, tie to him. What he says is better than fine gold as the pote
+says. I reckon coarse gold suits me better, outside of po'try. How does
+the Saunders insec' wear his clothes?"</p>
+
+<p>"He's kind of lame in one arm and&mdash;here he comes now. You can see for
+yourself. The one on that pinto."</p>
+
+<p>As Saunders rode past the two men, he turned in his saddle. Despite
+Overland's finery he recognized him at once.</p>
+
+<p>Overland's gaze never left the other's hands. "Mornin'," said Overland,
+nodding. "Ain't you grazin' pretty far this side of Gophertown?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who the hell are you talkin' to?" Saunders asked venomously, and his
+eyes narrowed.</p>
+
+<p>Overland grinned, and carelessly shifted the lapel of his coat from
+beneath which peeped the butt of his automatic pistol. Collie felt his
+scalp<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">207</a></span> tightening. There was something tense and suggestive in the air.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm talkin' to a fella that ought to know better than to get sassy to
+me," said Overland, "or to cut my trail like that."</p>
+
+<p>Saunders rode on.</p>
+
+<p>"Seen him before?" asked Collie.</p>
+
+<p>"Yep. Twice&mdash;over the end of a gun. He come visitin' me and Billy at a
+water-hole out in the dry spot. We got to exchangin' opinions. Two of
+mine he ain't forgot, I guess."</p>
+
+<p>"Saunders is branded above the elbows on both arms," said Collie. "He's
+been shot up pretty bad."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't tell! Wonder how that happened. Mebby he was practicin' the
+double roll and got careless. Now, I wonder!"</p>
+
+<p>"He's one of the 'bunch'?" said Collie, suddenly awake to the situation.
+"Come on over to the bunk-house where we can talk, Red. I'll introduce
+you regular to Silent."</p>
+
+<p>"All right. Here, you walk on the other side. I'm left-handed when I
+shake with him."</p>
+
+<p>But Saunders was not at the bunk-house. Instead he had ridden on down to
+the gate and out upon the Moonstone Trail. He had become acquainted with
+Deputy Tenlow. He would make things interesting for the man who had
+"winged" him out in the desert.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">208</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I smell somethin' burnin'," said Overland significantly. "The Saunders
+man has got somethin' up his sleeve. He didn't turn his pony into the
+corral, did he?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"All right. Now, about them papers and your part of this here claim ..."</p>
+
+<p>For an hour they talked about the claim, Winthrop, Collie's prospects,
+and their favorite topic, the Rose Girl. They were speaking of her when
+she appeared at the bunk-house door.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-morning, Mr. Summers. Mrs. Marshall wished to know if you would
+tell her more about her brother&mdash;when you have visited with Collie. She
+was afraid you might leave without her seeing you again."</p>
+
+<p>"I was thinkin' about that myself," replied Overland. "Yes, Miss, I'll
+be right over direct."</p>
+
+<p>Louise nodded, smiled, and was gone.</p>
+
+<p>"Say, Red, you better go quick, in the machine," said Collie, fearful
+that Saunders was up to mischief.</p>
+
+<p>"Grand idea, that," said Overland, calmly brushing his hat. "But Tenlow
+and Saunders&mdash;that you're thinkin' about&mdash;ain't neither of 'em goin' to
+ride up too close to me again. They are goin' to lay for me down the
+ca&ntilde;on. They'll string a riata across the road and hold up the car,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">209</a></span> most
+likely. They know I can't get out of here any other road."</p>
+
+<p>"Then what will you do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Me? Why, me and the Guzzuh'll go down the trail jest as slow and easy
+as a baby-buggy pushed by a girl that's waitin' in the park for her
+beau."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll ditch the machine and get all broke up," ventured Collie.</p>
+
+<p>"I am havin' too good a time to last, I know, seein' the Rose Girl again
+and you and visitin' the folks up to the house. Well, if it's my turn, I
+ain't kickin'. Sorry Brand ain't here. I'd like to see him. Here's a
+little old map I drawed of the hills, and how to get to the claim in
+case I get detained for speedin'. Get Brand, if anything happens. He's a
+steady old boat and he'll tell you what to do."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Red, you don't think&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not when it hurts me dome," interrupted Overland. "I got a hunch I'll
+see you again before long. So long, Chico. I got to shine some of the
+rust off my talk and entertain the ladies. You might get into my class,
+too, some day, if you knowed anything except hoss-wrastlin' and
+cow-punchin'," he added affectionately.</p>
+
+<p>And Overland departed, sublimely content and not in the least disturbed
+by future possibilities. "He's the great kid!" he kept repeating<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">210</a></span> to
+himself. "He's the same kid&mdash;solid clean through.... Good-morning,
+ladies. Now about Billy&mdash;er&mdash;Mr. Winthrop; why, as I was say-in' last
+night.... No, thanks, I'll set facin' the road. Sun? Why, lady, I'm
+sun-cured, myself."</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">211</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2><h3>THE LED HORSE</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Anne Marshall had stepped from the porch to the living-room. Overland
+Red was alone with Louise.</p>
+
+<p>Facing her quickly, his easy banter gone, his blue eyes intense,
+untroubled, magnetic, he drew a deep breath. "They're waiting for me
+down the ca&ntilde;on, about now," he said, and his tone explained his speech.</p>
+
+<p>Louise frowned slightly, studying his face. "That is unfortunate, just
+now," she said slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"Or most any time&mdash;for the other fella," responded Overland cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>The girl gazed at the toe of her slipper. "I know you didn't speak
+because you were afraid. What do you intend?"</p>
+
+<p>"If I ain't oversteppin' the rules in invitin' you&mdash;why, I was goin' to
+say, 'Miss Lacharme, wouldn't you like to take a little buggy-ride in
+the Guzzuh, nice and slow. She's awful easy ridin' if you don't rein her
+too strong.'"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," said Louise pensively. "Your car can only hold two?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">212</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn't run away and leave Mrs. Marshall. Of course, you would go
+on&mdash;after&mdash;after we were in the valley. How could I get back?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's so!" exclaimed Overland, with some subtlety, pretending he had
+not thought of that contingency. "'Course Collie could ride down ahead
+with a spare hoss. You see the sheriff gent and Saunders&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Saunders? Our man Saunders?"</p>
+
+<p>"Uhuh. Me and him ain't friends exactly. I figure he's rode down to tell
+the Tenlow man that I'm up here."</p>
+
+<p>"You are sure?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Miss. I don't make no mistakes about him."</p>
+
+<p>"Then one of our men has gone to get the deputy to arrest you, and you
+are our guest."</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks, Miss, for sayin' that. It's worth gettin' pinched to be <i>your</i>
+guest."</p>
+
+<p>"I did intend to ride down for the mail. Boyar needs exercising."</p>
+
+<p>"So does the Guzzuh, Miss. It's queer how she acts when she ain't been
+worked every day."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe Anne would care to come, in the machine. I'll ask her."
+And Louise stepped to the living-room.</p>
+
+<p>Collie, who had been watching anxiously from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">213</a></span> the corrals, came across
+the yard to the veranda. He was dressed for riding, and he had a gun on
+his hip. Overland scowled. "You little idiot," he said, "when your Uncle
+Jack's brains get ossified, just give the sad news to the press. You're
+jest itchin' to get in a muss and get plugged. I ain't. I figure to ride
+down the Moonstone Trail, steerin' the Guzzuh with one hand and smellin'
+a bunch of roses in the other. Watch my smoke. Now, beat it!"</p>
+
+<p>Louise, coming blithely from the living-room, nodded to Overland. Her
+pensiveness had departed. Her cheeks were flushed. "Oh, Collie! Saddle
+Boyar&mdash;" she began, but Overland coughed disapprovingly. He did not wish
+Tenlow and Saunders to suspect that the led horse was for Louise.</p>
+
+<p>"Or&mdash;no. Saddle Sarko," said Louise, at once aware of Overland's plan.
+"And have him at the foot of the hill for me as soon as you can."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Miss Louise." And Collie departed for the corrals wonderingly.
+Overland was too much for him.</p>
+
+<p>They had luncheon and allowed Collie two hours to arrive at the valley
+level with the led pony. After luncheon Louise appeared in riding-skirt
+and boots. "Mr. Summers is going to take me for a ride in his new car,"
+she said. "Don't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">214</a></span> worry, aunty. He is going to drive slowly. He finds
+that he has to leave unexpectedly."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry you are going without seeing Mr. Stone and Dr. Marshall
+again," said Aunt Eleanor. "You'll be careful, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"So am I, ma'am.&mdash;Yes, I'll run slow."</p>
+
+<p>"But how will you come back?" queried Anne.</p>
+
+<p>"Collie has gone ahead with a spare pony. Good-bye, aunty."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't thank you enough for all that you have done for Billy. I am so
+glad he's well and strong again. We never could manage him. Good-bye,
+and tell Billy he <i>must</i> come over and see us right away."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll drive carefully?" queried Aunt Eleanor again.</p>
+
+<p>"Jest like I was goin' to get pinched," said Overland, bowing.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>As Collie rode down the last pitch, leading the restive Sarko, Dick
+Tenlow stepped from the brush. "'Morning, Collie. Out for a little
+pasear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Shouldn't wonder, Dick."</p>
+
+<p>"Horses are lookin' good. Feed good on the hills yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pretty good."</p>
+
+<p>"I hear you got company up to the Moonstone."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">215</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yep. Eastern folks, doctor and his wife." And Collie looked the deputy
+hard in the eye.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that was their machine I heard coughin' up the ca&ntilde;on last night,
+eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't ask them about that," replied Collie.</p>
+
+<p>"You're improvin' since you first come into these hills," said Tenlow,
+with some sarcasm.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm holdin' down a better job than I did then," said Collie
+good-naturedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I ain't. I'm holdin' the same job, which you will recollect. It
+ain't much of a job, but it's good to requisition that cayuse you're
+leadin'."</p>
+
+<p>"What you kiddin' about?"</p>
+
+<p>"Straight goods," said Tenlow, reaching for Sarko's reins. "Just hand
+over your end of that tie-rope."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess not, Dick. You're on the wrong trail. What do you think I am?"</p>
+
+<p>"Same as I always thought."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you want to change your opinion of me," said Collie, relinquishing
+the tie-rope. "I ain't breaking the law, but you are going to hear more
+about this."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll risk that. You can ride right along, pronto."</p>
+
+<p>"And you keep Sarko? I guess not! I'll stick."</p>
+
+<p>"You can't throw no bluff this morning," said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">216</a></span> Tenlow, irritated by the
+youth's persistence. "I guess you know what I mean."</p>
+
+<p>"You got the horse, but I don't leave here without him," said Collie
+stubbornly. And there was an underlying assurance about Collie's
+attitude that perplexed the deputy, who was satisfied that the led horse
+was for Overland Red's use.</p>
+
+<p>Saunders, hiding back in the brush, cursed Tenlow's stupidity. To have
+let Collie go on and have followed him under cover would have been the
+only sensible plan. Rapidly approximating the outcome of this muddle,
+Saunders untied his pony and rode back toward the ranch, taking an
+unused and densely covered bridle-trail.</p>
+
+<p>From up in the ca&ntilde;on came the thunder of the racing-car. Far above them
+Tenlow and Collie could see it creeping round a turn in the road. It
+disappeared in a dip, to reappear almost instantly, gliding swiftly down
+the long slant toward the valley. The staccato drumming of the exhaust
+echoed along the hillside. Overland's silk hat shone bravely in the sun.
+Beside the outlaw was the figure of a woman. Tenlow foresaw
+complications and muttered profanely.</p>
+
+<p>Down the next ditch rolled the car, rocking to the unevenness of the
+mountain road. Overland opened the throttle, the machine shot forward,
+and in a few seconds drew up abreast of the deputy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">217</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Thank you so much, Mr. Summers," said Louise, stepping from the car.
+"How are you, Mr. Tenlow."</p>
+
+<p>"How'do, Miss Lacharme."</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, Mr. Summers. I enjoyed the ride very much."</p>
+
+<p>"Just a minute&mdash;" began the deputy.</p>
+
+<p>"Where's my pony, Collie? He didn't get away, did he?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am. Mr. Tenlow 'requisitioned' him. Thought I'd wait till you
+came along so I could explain."</p>
+
+<p>"Requisitioned my pony! What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's this way, Miss Lacharme. That man there in the machine is wanted.
+He&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What has that to do with my pony, please?"</p>
+
+<p>"I guess you know who he is. I figured he was layin' to get away on that
+pony."</p>
+
+<p>"You want to go back to school, pardner, and learn to figure correct,"
+said Overland, his foot on the accelerator pedal of the throbbing car.
+"One minus one is nothin'."</p>
+
+<p>"Hold on there!" cried Tenlow, striding forward. Louise stood between
+the deputy and the car.</p>
+
+<p>"My horse, please," she said quietly. As she spoke the car roared,
+jumped forward, and shot down the smooth grade of the valley road.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">218</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Now, Mr. Tenlow, I wish you would explain this to me. And then to Uncle
+Walter. I sent one of our men with a horse. He was to wait for me here.
+What right have you to interfere with him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I guess I got as much right as you have to interfere with me," said
+Tenlow sullenly.</p>
+
+<p>"Hold on there!" cried Collie, jumping forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Collie, I'll talk with him."</p>
+
+<p>"Take my horse, Miss Louise," said Collie, flushing.</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed. I'll ride Sarko."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll get him," said Collie.</p>
+
+<p>"No. Mr. Tenlow will get him, I am sure."</p>
+
+<p>"A woman can make any deal look smooth&mdash;if she is interested," said
+Tenlow, turning toward the brush. He came out leading the pony.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you. Collie, you may get the mail, please."</p>
+
+<p>Collie stood watching her as she rode away. Then with much deliberation
+he tied his own pony Apache to a clump of greasewood. He unbuckled his
+belt and flung it, with gun and holster, to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," he said, his face blazing white with suppressed anger. "I'm going
+to make you eat that speech about any woman making things look
+smooth&mdash;<i>if she's interested</i>."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">219</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You go on home or I'll break you in two," said Tenlow.</p>
+
+<p>Collie's reply was a flail-like blow between Tenlow's eyes. The deputy
+staggered, gritted his teeth, and flung himself at the younger man. The
+fight was unequal from the beginning. Apache snorted and circled as the
+bushes crashed and crackled.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later, Tenlow strode from the brush leading his pony. He
+wiped the blood and sweat from his face and spat viciously.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Louise, riding homeward slowly, heard a horse coming behind her. She
+reined Sarko and waited. Collie saw no way out of it, so he rode up,
+grinning from a bruised and battered face.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Collie!"</p>
+
+<p>The young man grinned again. His lips were swollen and one eye was
+nearly closed.</p>
+
+<p>Dismounting, Louise stepped to the ford. "Oh, I'm sorry!" she cried.
+"Your face is terribly bruised. And your eye&mdash;" She could not help
+smiling at Collie's ludicrous appearance.</p>
+
+<p>"I took a fall," he mumbled blandly. "Apache here is tricky at times."</p>
+
+<p>Louise's gaze was direct and reproachful. "Here, let me bathe your face.
+Stoop down, like that. You don't look so badly, now that the dirt is
+off. Surely you didn't fall on your <i>eye</i>?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">220</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Collie tried to laugh, but the effort was not very successful.</p>
+
+<p>Tenderly she bathed his bruised face. Her nearness, her touch, made him
+forget the pain. Suddenly he seized her hand and kissed it, leaving a
+stain of blood where his lips had touched. She was thrilled with a
+mingled feeling of pride and shame&mdash;pride in that he had fought because
+of her, as she knew well enough, and shame at the brutality of the
+affair which she understood as clearly as though she had witnessed it.
+She was too honest to make herself believe she was not flattered, in a
+way, but she made Collie think otherwise.</p>
+
+<p>He evaded her direct questioning stubbornly. Finally she asked whether
+Mr. Tenlow "had taken a fall," or not.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure he did!" replied Collie. "A couple or three years ago&mdash;tryin' to
+outride Overland Red. Don't you remember?"</p>
+
+<p>"Collie, you're a regular hypocrite."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"And you look&mdash;frightful."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"You're not a bit ashamed."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am, I am."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't say 'Yes, ma'am' all the time. You don't seem to be ashamed. Why
+should you be, though. Because you were fighting?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">221</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No, Miss Louise. Because I got licked."</p>
+
+<p>Louise mounted Sarko and rode beside Collie silently. Presently she
+touched his arm. "But did you?" she asked, her eyes grave and her tone
+conveying a subtle question above the mere letter.</p>
+
+<p>"No! By thunder!" he exclaimed. "Not in a hundred years!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, get some raw meat from the cook. I'll give your explanation to
+Dr. and Mrs. Marshall, for you will have to be ready for the trip
+to-morrow. You will have to think of a better explanation for the boys."</p>
+
+<p>While riding homeward, Louise dropped her glove. Collie was afoot
+instantly and picked it up. "Can I keep it?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>The girl looked curiously at him for a moment. "No, I think not,
+Collie," she said gently.</p>
+
+<p>Collie rode up to the corrals that afternoon whistling as blithely as he
+could considering his injuries. He continued to whistle as he unsaddled
+Apache.</p>
+
+<p>At the bunk-house Brand Williams looked at him once, and bent double
+with silent laughter. The boys badgered him unmercifully. "Fell off a
+hoss!&mdash;Go tell that to the chink!&mdash;Who stepped on your face, kid?&mdash;Been
+ridin' on your map, eh?&mdash;Where <i>was</i> the wreck?&mdash;Who sewed up your
+eye?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">222</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"S-s-h-h, fellas," said Miguel, grinning. "If you make all that noise,
+how you going to hear the tune he is whistling, hey?"</p>
+
+<p>Collie glanced at Saunders, who had said nothing. "Got anything to offer
+on the subject, Silent?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Nope. I take mine out in thinkin'."</p>
+
+<p>"You're going to have a chance to do a whole lot more of it before
+long," said Collie; and he said it with a suggestiveness that did not
+escape the taciturn foreman, Brand Williams.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">223</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2><h3>BORROWED PLUMES</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>"He speaks of a pretty round sum," said Walter Stone, returning the
+letter that Collie had asked him to read. "I don't know but that the
+land you speak of is a good investment. You were thinking of raising
+stock&mdash;horses?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir. The Oro people are making good at it. The land north of you
+is good grazing-land and good water. Of course, I got to wait for a
+while. Red says in the letter that my share of the claim so far is five
+thousand. That wouldn't go far on that piece of land, but I've saved
+some, too."</p>
+
+<p>"You might make a payment to hold the land," said Stone.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't like that way. I want to buy it all at once."</p>
+
+<p>Walter Stone smiled. Collie was ambitious, and rather inexperienced. "So
+you think you will leave us and go to mining until you have made enough
+more to buy it outright?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir. I don't want you to think I ain't satisfied here. I like it
+here."</p>
+
+<p>"I know you do, Collie. Well, think it over.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">224</a></span> Prospecting is gambling.
+It is sometimes magnificent gambling. Miss Lacharme's father was a
+prospector. We have never heard from him since he went out on the
+desert. But that has nothing to do with it. If I didn't believe you'd
+make a first-rate citizen, I shouldn't hesitate a minute about your
+going. I'd rather see you ranching it. We need solid men here in
+California. There are so many remittance-men, invalids, idlers,
+speculators, and unbalanced enthusiasts that do more harm than good,
+that we need a few <i>new</i> landmarks. We need a few new cornerstones and
+keystones to stiffen the structure that is building so fast. I realize
+that we must build from the ground up&mdash;not hang out tents from the
+trees. That day is past."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a big thing&mdash;to be stuck on California more than getting rich,"
+said Collie.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. The State of California is a bank&mdash;a new bank. The more depositors
+we have, the stronger we shall be&mdash;provided our depositors have faith in
+us. We have their good will now. We need solid, two-handed men who can
+take hold and prove that investment in our State is profitable."</p>
+
+<p>"You bet!" exclaimed Collie, catching some of the older man's
+enthusiasm. Then he added with less enthusiasm: "But how about such
+things as the Jap ranchers dumping carloads of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">225</a></span> onions in the rivers and
+melons in the ocean, by the ton, and every one cut so it can't be used
+by poor folks? If Eastern people got on to that they would shy off
+pretty quick."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the rancher, frowning. "It's true enough that such things do
+happen. I've known of boatloads of fish being dumped back in the ocean
+because the middlemen wouldn't give the fishermen a living price. In
+western Canada thousands of bushels of grain have been burned on the
+ground because the Eastern market was down and the railroads would not
+make a rate that would allow a profit to the farmer. Such things are not
+local to California. California is in the limelight just now and such
+things are naturally prominent."</p>
+
+<p>"It looks awful bad for good fruit and vegetables and fish to be thrown
+away when folks have to pay ten cents for a loaf of bread no bigger than
+a watch-charm," said Collie.</p>
+
+<p>"It is bad. Crookedness in real estate transactions is bad. We don't
+want to waste our time, however, in feeling worried about it. What we
+want to do is to show the other fellow that <i>our</i> work is successful and
+straight."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir. A fellow has got to believe in something. I guess believing
+in his own State is the best."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. Now, about your leaving us. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">226</a></span> had rather you would stay
+until the Marshalls go. Louise and Mrs. Stone depend on you so much."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure I will! You see, Red don't say to come, in his letter, but he sent
+the check for three hundred if I did want to come. There's no hurry."</p>
+
+<p>"All right. Hello, Louise! Dinner waiting?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Uncle Walter. How are you, Collie?" And Louise nodded to him.
+"What are you two hatching? You seem so serious."</p>
+
+<p>"Plans for the ultimate glory of the State," said Stone.</p>
+
+<p>"Ultimate?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. We've been going beneath the surface of things a little. Collie
+expects to go even deeper, so he tells me."</p>
+
+<p>Collie walked slowly toward the bunk-house. Halfway there he took
+Overland's check from the letter and studied it. He put it back into his
+pocket. As he passed the corrals, Apache nickered in a friendly way.
+"Haven't got a thing for you," said Collie. "Not a bite. We're not goin'
+to town to-day. To-morrow, maybe, for there'll be doings at the Oro
+Rancho and we'll be there&mdash;we'll be there!"</p>
+
+<p>With a run and a spring the young man leaped the gate and trotted into
+the bunk-house.</p>
+
+<p>Brand Williams was solemnly shaving. He turned a lathered face toward
+Collie whose abrupt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">227</a></span> entrance had all but caused the foreman to
+sacrifice his left ear. "Well," he drawled, "who is dead?"</p>
+
+<p>"You mean, Who is alive? I guess. Say, Brand, what do you think that
+Yuma horse over at the Oro is worth?"</p>
+
+<p>"That dam' outlaw? Ain't worth the trouble of mentioning."</p>
+
+<p>"But, oh, Brand, she's built right! I tell you! Short-coupled, and them
+legs and withers! They ain't a pony in the valley can touch her. And
+only three years old!"</p>
+
+<p>"Nor a man neither," said Williams.</p>
+
+<p>"She's been scared to death because the fellows was scared of her and
+started in wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"So'll the man be that tries to ride her. Say, I seen that
+copper-colored, china-eyed, she-son of a Kansas cyclone put Bull O'Toole
+so far to the bad once that his return ticket expired long before he got
+back. I tell you, kid, she's <i>outlaw</i>. She's got the disposition of a
+Comanche with a streak of lightnin' on a drunk throwed in. You keep off
+that hoss!"</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe," said Collie. "But I notice you put me to breakin' about all the
+stock on this ranch that you can't handle yourself."</p>
+
+<p>Which was true. Williams shaved and perspired in silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's see," he said presently, emerging from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">228</a></span> the wash-basin. "When's
+that barbecue comin' off?"</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow. As if you didn't know!"</p>
+
+<p>"Sunday, eh? Well, you might as well get killed on a Sunday as any other
+day. I suppose your askin' about that hoss means you are thinkin' of
+ridin' her, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was thinkin' of it. They are putting her up as a chance for the man
+that can. She has put three of their boys to the bad. Matt Gleason, the
+Oro foreman, says he'll give her to any Moonstoner that can stay on her
+two minutes."</p>
+
+<p>"He said 'Moonstoner' particular?" queried Williams.</p>
+
+<p>"He did. To me. I was over tryin' to buy her."</p>
+
+<p>"You're plumb loco. So he said any <i>Moonstoner</i> eh? Any Moonstoner. By
+crip, I've a notion&mdash;Let's see, there's Miguel&mdash;he's too swift. Billy
+Dime might make it if he didn't get too much red-eye in him first. Bud
+ain't steady enough&mdash;and it wouldn't look right if I was the only rider
+here to take a chance. I dunno."</p>
+
+<p>"What you gaspin' about?" queried Collie.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothin', kid. You can get hosses ready for all the ladies for to-morrow
+mornin' at six sharp. Sabe? I got orders to send you over with 'em.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">229</a></span>
+Mebby you're some proud now, eh? Well, don't fall off Apache pertendin'
+you're so polite you can't spit."</p>
+
+<p>"What you sore about, Brand?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was thinkin' what a slashin' string of riders we got. Here a little
+old ranch like the Oro says they'll give a hoss to any Moonstoner what
+kin stay on him for two minutes. It's plumb sickenin'. Kids! Jest kids,
+on this ranch."</p>
+
+<p>"That so? Say, Brand, you ain't got rid of so much English talk at once
+since I been here. You ought to talk more. You keep too quiet. Talking
+sociable will help to take the wrinkles out of your neck."</p>
+
+<p>"You talk so much you'll never live to get any."</p>
+
+<p>"Say, Brand."</p>
+
+<p>"Uhuh."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you lend me the Chola spurs and that swell quirt old Miguel
+plaited for you, and your Mexican bridle, just for to-morrow?"</p>
+
+<p>"So that's what you been lovin' up to me for, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lovin' up to you, you darned old&mdash;darned old&mdash;<i>dude</i>, you."</p>
+
+<p>"Hold on! You said it! Take the spurs! Take the quirt! Take the bridle!
+Take the hat and gloves with the silk roses on! Anybody that's got nerve
+enough to call <i>me</i> a <i>dude</i> can take<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">230</a></span> anything I got. Say, you don't
+want to borrow a pair of <i>pants</i>, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>Honors were about even when Collie left the bunk-house, his arms laden
+with the foreman's finery. He colored to his hair as he saw Louise
+coming toward him. He fumbled at the gate, opened it, and stood aside
+for her to pass. As she smiled and thanked him, he heard his name
+called.</p>
+
+<p>"Hey!" shouted Williams, coming suddenly from the bunk-house. "Hey,
+Collie! You went away without them pants! I'll lend 'em to you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Collie, his face flaming, strode down the trail, the blood drumming in
+his ears.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">231</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2><h3>THE YUMA COLT</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>The Oro Rancho sent out word that the fiftieth year of its existence
+would be celebrated with an old-fashioned Spanish barbecue. The
+invitation was general, including every one within a radius of fifty
+miles.</p>
+
+<p>Added to the natural interest in good things to eat and drink was that
+of witnessing the pony races. Each rancher would bring, casually, almost
+accidentally, as it were, one pony that represented its owner's idea of
+speed and quality. No set programme offered, which made the races all
+the more interesting in that they were genuine.</p>
+
+<p>The Oro Ranch had long ago established and proudly maintained a
+reputation for breeding the best saddle-and work-stock in Southern
+California. In fact, the ranch survived the competition of the
+automobile chiefly because it was the only important stock-raising ranch
+in the southland.</p>
+
+<p>Good feeling went even so far as to include the sheep-ranchers of the
+old Spanish Grant, by special invitation.</p>
+
+<p>It was the delight and pride of native Californians<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">232</a></span> to ride their best
+saddle-horses on such occasions. True, motor-cars came from the city and
+from the farthest homes, but locally saddle-horses of all sizes and
+kinds were in evidence. Sleek bays with "Kentucky" written in every
+rippling muscle, single-footed in beside heavy mountain ponies, well
+boned, broad of knee, strong of flank, and docile; lean mustangs of the
+valley, short-coupled buckskins with the endurance of live rawhide;
+Mexican pintos, restless and gay in carved leather, and silver
+trappings; scrawny stolid cayuses that looked half-starved, but that
+could out-eat and out-last many a better-built horse; they all came, and
+their riders were immediately made welcome.</p>
+
+<p>Under the trees, along the corrals and fences, in and around the
+stables, stood the ponies, heads tossing, bits jingling, stamping,
+thoroughly alive to the importance of the festive occasion, and filling
+the eye with an unforgettable picture&mdash;a living vignette of the old days
+of the range and riata.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Stone, Mrs. Marshall, Louise, Dr. Marshall, and Walter Stone were
+among the earlier arrivals. A half-dozen men sprang to take their horses
+as they rode up, but Collie gathered the bridle-reins and led the ponies
+to the shade of the pepper trees. Then he wandered over to the corrals.
+His eyes glowed as he watched the sleek<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">233</a></span> ponies dodging, wheeling,
+circling like a battalion, and led by a smooth-coated, copper-hued mare,
+young, lithe, straight-limbed, and as beautifully rounded as a Grecian
+bronze. He moistened his lips as he watched her. He pushed back his hat,
+felt for tobacco and papers, and rolled a cigarette. This was the
+renowned "Yuma colt," the outlaw. He wanted her. She was a horse in a
+thousand.</p>
+
+<p>In some strange way he was conscious that Louise stood beside him,
+before he turned and raised his sombrero.</p>
+
+<p>"More beautiful than strong men or beautiful women," said Louise.</p>
+
+<p>"That's so, Miss Louise. Because they just live natural and act natural.
+And that copper-colored mare,&mdash;she's only a colt yet,&mdash;there's a horse a
+man would be willing to work seven years for like the man in the Bible
+did for his wife."</p>
+
+<p>Louise smiled. "Would you work seven years for her?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I would, if I had to," he said enthusiastically.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, because you really love horses, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Better than anything else. Of course, there are mean ones. But a real
+good horse comes close to making an ordinary man feel ashamed of
+himself. Why, see what a horse will do! He will go<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">234</a></span> anywhere&mdash;work all
+day and all night if he has to&mdash;run till he breaks his heart to save a
+fellow's life, and always be a friend. A horse never acts like eight
+hours was his day's work. He is willing at any time and all the
+time&mdash;and self-respectin' and clean. I reckon a knowin' horse just plumb
+loves a man that is good to him."</p>
+
+<p>Louise, her gray eyes wide and pensive, gazed at the young cowboy. "How
+old is the colt?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"They say three years. But she's older than that in brains. She is
+leading older horses than her."</p>
+
+<p>"Then if you worked seven years for her, she would be ten years old
+before you owned her."</p>
+
+<p>"You caught me there. I didn't think of that."</p>
+
+<p>"Uncle Walter says she is outlaw. I believe she could be tamed. Boyar
+was pretty wild before he was broken to ride."</p>
+
+<p>"If you want that pony, Miss Louise, she's yours. I guess I could break
+her."</p>
+
+<p>"They won't sell her. No, I was only romancing. Isn't she beautiful! She
+seems to be almost listening to us. What a head and what a quick,
+intelligent eye! Oh, you wonderful horse!" And laughing, Louise threw a
+kiss to the Yuma colt. "I must go. I came over to see the horses before
+the crowd arrived."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">235</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Collie stood hat in hand watching Louise as she strolled toward the
+ranch-house. He saw her stop and pat Boyar.</p>
+
+<p>"I kind of wish I was a horse myself," he said whimsically. "Either the
+black or the outlaw. She treats them both fine."</p>
+
+<p>Brand Williams, Bud Light, Parson Long, Billy Dime, and Miguel rode up,
+talking, joking, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"Fall to the kid!" said Miguel, indicating Collie. "I guess I'm scalded
+if he ain't nailed to the fence. He's just eating his head off thinking
+about the Yuma horse he dassent ride. No? Eh, Collie?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, Miguel. Nope. I'm taking lessons in tendin' to my own
+business&mdash;like them." And Collie nodded toward the horses.</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't he purty?" said Billy Dime. "All fussed up and walkin' round like
+a new rooster introducin' hisself to a set of strange hens. Oh, pshaw!"</p>
+
+<p>"And you're making a noise like one of the hens trying to get the notice
+of the new rooster, I guess."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, seem' I got the notice, come on over and I'll show you where they
+keep the ice&mdash;with things on it," said Billy Dime.</p>
+
+<p>The Moonstone riders dismounted, slapped the dust from their shirts and
+trousers, and ambled over toward the refreshments.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">236</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The little group, happy, talkative, pledged each other and the Moonstone
+Ranch generously.</p>
+
+<p>Brand Williams, close to Collie, nudged him. "If you are thinkin' of
+takin' a fall out of the outlaw cayuse, don't hit this stuff much," he
+said. And Collie nodded.</p>
+
+<p>The Moonstoners would one and all back Boyar for a place in the finals
+of the pony races, despite the Mexican "outfit" that already mingled
+with them making bets on their favorite pinto.</p>
+
+<p>"Who's ridin' Boyar?" queried Bud Light.</p>
+
+<p>"In the races? Why, Miguel here," said Williams, slapping the Mexican on
+the shoulder. "He don't weigh much, but he's some glue-on-a-sliver when
+it comes to racin' tricks. The other Mexicans are after our pesos this
+time. Last year we skinned 'em so bad with Boyar takin' first that some
+of 'em had to wait till dark to go home."</p>
+
+<p>Collie, listening, felt his heart pump faster. He turned away for an
+instant that his fellows might not see the disappointment in his face.
+He had hoped to ride Boyar to victory.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Louise could get more out of Boyar in a race than even Miguel
+here," said Billy Dime.</p>
+
+<p>"I dunno," said Williams. "She give me orders that Miguel was to ride
+Boyar if they was any racin'."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">237</a></span></p>
+
+<p>So Louise herself had chosen Miguel to ride the pony. Collie grew
+unreasonably jealous. Once more and again he pledged the Moonstone
+Rancho in a brimming cup. Then he wandered over to the Mexican ponies,
+inspecting them casually.</p>
+
+<p>A Mexican youth, handsome, dark, smiling, offered to bet with him on the
+result of the races. Collie declined, but gained his point. He learned
+the Mexican's choice for first place, a lean, wiry buckskin with a goat
+head and a wicked eye, but with wonderful flanks and withers. Collie
+meditated. As a result he placed something like fifty dollars in bets
+with various ranchers, naming the Mexican horse for first place. Word
+went round that the Moonstone Kid was betting against his own horse.</p>
+
+<p>Later Brand Williams accosted him. "What you fell up against?" he asked
+sternly. "What made you jar yourself loose like that?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's horses with me to-day&mdash;not home-sweet-home, Brand. Bet you a pair
+of specs&mdash;and you need 'em&mdash;to a bag of peanuts that the Chola cayuse
+runs first."</p>
+
+<p>"Your brains is afloat, son. You better cut out the booze."</p>
+
+<p>Unexpectedly Collie encountered Louise as he went to look after his own
+horses.</p>
+
+<p>"I hear that you intend to ride the outlaw Yuma. Is it so?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">238</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Collie nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"I had rather you didn't," said Louise.</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" asked Collie, tactlessly.</p>
+
+<p>Louise did not answer, and Collie strode off feeling angry with himself
+and more than ever determined to risk breaking his neck to win the
+outlaw.</p>
+
+<p>Boyar, the Moonstone pony, ran second in the finals. The buckskin of the
+Mexicans won first place. Collie collected his winnings indifferently.
+He grew ashamed of himself, realizing that a foolish and unwarrantable
+jealousy had led him into a species of disloyalty. He was a Moonstone
+rider. He had bet against the Moonstone pony, and <i>her</i> pony. He was
+about to ask one of the other boys to see to the horses when a tumult in
+the corrals drew his attention. He strolled over to the crowd, finding a
+place for himself on the corral bars.</p>
+
+<p>Mat Gleason, superintendent of the Oro Ranch, loafed, his back against a
+post. Two men with ropes were following the roan pony round the corral.
+Presently a riata flipped out and fell. Inch by inch the outlaw was
+worked to the snubbing-post. One of the Oro riders seized the pony's ear
+in his teeth and, flinging his legs round her neck, hung, weighing her
+head down. There was the flash of teeth, a grunting tug at the cinchas,
+a cloud of dust, and Jasper Lane, foreman of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">239</a></span> Oro outfit, was in the
+saddle. The cloud of dust, following the roan pony, grew denser. Above
+the dun cloud a sombrero swung to and fro fanning the outlaw's ears.
+Jasper Lane had essayed to ride the Yuma colt once before. His broken
+shoulder had set nicely, in fact, better than Bull O'Toole's leg which
+had been broken when the outlaw fell on him. Billy Squires, a young
+Montana puncher working for the Oro people, still carried his arm in a
+sling. All in all, the assembled company, as Brand Williams mildly put
+it, "were beginning to take notice of that copper-colored she-son of a
+cyclone."</p>
+
+<p>Jasper Lane plied spurs and quirt. The visiting cowmen shrilled their
+delight. The pony was broncho from the end of her long, switching tail
+to the tip of her pink muzzle.</p>
+
+<p>Following a quick tattoo of hoofs on the baked earth came a flash like
+the trout's leap for the fly&mdash;a curving plunge&mdash;the sound as of a
+breaking willow branch, and then palpitating silence.</p>
+
+<p>The dun cloud of dust settled, disclosing the foam-flecked,
+sweat-blackened colt, oddly beautiful in her poised immobility. Near her
+lay Jasper Lane, face downward. The pony sniffed at his crumpled
+sombrero.</p>
+
+<p>"That horse is plumb gentle," said Collie. "Look at her!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">240</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Crazy with the heat," commented Billy Dime, jerking his thumb toward
+Collie.</p>
+
+<p>Tall, slim, slow of movement, Collie slipped from the corral bars and
+secured the dangling reins. Across the utter silence came the whistle of
+a viewless hawk. The cowmen awakened from their momentary apathy. Two of
+them carried Jasper Lane toward the ranch-house. Some one laughed.</p>
+
+<p>Gleason, the superintendent, gazed at the outlaw pony and fingered his
+belt. "That's the fourth!" he said slowly and distinctly. "She ain't
+worth it."</p>
+
+<p>"The fourth Oro rider," said a voice. "You ain't countin' any Moonstone
+riders."</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't seen any to count," retorted Gleason, and there was a general
+laugh.</p>
+
+<p>Strangely enough, the outlaw pony followed Collie quietly as he led her
+toward Gleason, "The boys say there's a bet up that nobody can stick on
+her two minutes. She's the bet. Is that right?" said Collie.</p>
+
+<p>"What you goin' to do?" queried Gleason, and some of the Oro boys
+laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know yet," said Collie. "Maybe I'll take her back to the
+Moonstone with me."</p>
+
+<p>Miguel of the Moonstone removed his sombrero and gravely passed it.
+"Flowers for the Collie kid," he said solemnly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">241</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Collie, grave, alert, a little white beneath his tan, called for
+Williams to hold the pony. Then the younger man, talking to her
+meanwhile, slipped off the bridle and adjusted a hackamore in its place.
+He tightened the cinchas. The men had ceased joking. Evidently the kid
+meant business. Next he removed his spurs and flung them, with his
+quirt, in a corner.</p>
+
+<p>"Just defending yourself, eh, Yuma girl?" he said. "They cut all the
+sense out of you with a horse-killin' bit and rip you with the spurs,
+and expect you to behave."</p>
+
+<p>"He'll be teachin' her to say her prayers next," observed Bud Light.
+"He's gettin' a spell on her now."</p>
+
+<p>"He'll need all <i>his</i> for himself," said Pars Long.</p>
+
+<p>The pony, still nervously resenting the memory of the mouth-crushing
+spade-bit, and the tearing rowels, flinched and sidled away as Collie
+tried to mount. Her glossy ears were flattened and the rims of her eyes
+showed white.</p>
+
+<p>"Jump!" whispered Williams. "And don't rough her. Mebby you'll win out."</p>
+
+<p>And even as Collie's hand touched the saddle-horn, Williams sprang back
+and climbed the corral bars.</p>
+
+<p>With a leap the Moonstone rider was in the saddle. The pony shook her
+head as he reined<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">242</a></span> her round toward the corral gate. The men stared.
+Gleason swore. Billy Dime began to croon a range ditty about "Picking
+little Posies on the Golden Shore." The roan's sleek, sweating sides
+quivered.</p>
+
+<p>"Here's where she goes to it," said Williams.</p>
+
+<p>"Whoop! Let 'er buck!" shouted the crowd.</p>
+
+<p>Rebellion swelled in the pony's rippling muscles. She waited, fore feet
+braced, for the first sting of the quirt, the first rip of the spurs, to
+turn herself into a hellish thing of plunging destruction.</p>
+
+<p>Collie, leaning forward, patted her neck. "Come on, sis. Come on, Yuma
+girl. You're just a little hummingbird. You ain't a real horse."</p>
+
+<p>With a leap the pony reared. Still there came no sting of spur or quirt.
+She dropped to her feet. Collie had cleverly consumed a minute of the
+allotted time.</p>
+
+<p>"One minute!" called Williams, holding the watch.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, that ain't ridin'," grumbled an Oro man.</p>
+
+<p>"See you later," said Williams, and several of his companions looked at
+him strangely. The foreman's eyes were fixed on the watch.</p>
+
+<p>Collie had also heard, and he dug his unspurred heels into the pony's
+sides. She leaped straight<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">243</a></span> for the corral gate and freedom. With a
+patter of hoofs, stiff-legged, she jolted toward the plain. The men
+dropped from the bars and ran toward the gate, all, except Williams, who
+turned, blinking in the sun, his watch in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>A few short jumps, a fish-like swirl sideways, and still Collie held his
+seat. He eased the hackamore a little. He was breathing hard. The horse
+took up the slack with a vicious plunge, head downward. The boy's face
+grew white. He felt something warm trickling down his mouth and chin. He
+threw back his head and gripped with his knees.</p>
+
+<p>"They're off!" halloed a puncher.</p>
+
+<p>"Only one of 'em&mdash;so far," said Williams. "One minute and thirty
+seconds."</p>
+
+<p>Then, like a bolt of copper light, the pony shot forward at a run.</p>
+
+<p>On the ranch-house veranda sat Walter Stone conversing with his host,
+where several girls, bright-faced and gowned in cool white, were talking
+and laughing.</p>
+
+<p>The pony headed straight for the veranda. The laughing group jumped to
+their feet. Collie, using both hands, swung the hackamore across the
+outlaw's neck and tugged.</p>
+
+<p>She stopped with a jolt that all but unseated him. Walter Stone rose.
+"It's one of my boys," he said. And he noticed that a little stream of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">244</a></span>
+red was trickling from Collie's mouth and nostrils.</p>
+
+<p>His head was snapped back and then forward at every plunge. Still he
+gripped the saddle with rigid knees. The outlaw bucked again, and flung
+herself viciously sideways, turning completely round. Collie pitched
+drunkenly as the horse came down again and again. His eyes were blurred
+and his brain grew numb. Faintly he heard Brand Williams cry, "Two
+minutes! Moonstone wins!" Then came a cheer. His gripping knees relaxed.
+He reeled and all around him the air grew streaked with slivers of
+piercing fire. He pitched headforemost at the feet of the group on the
+veranda.</p>
+
+<p>In a flash Louise Lacharme was beside him, kneeling and supporting his
+head. "Water!" she cried, wiping his face with her handkerchief.</p>
+
+<p>Boot-heels gritted on the parched earth and spurs jingled as the men
+came running.</p>
+
+<p>The pony, with hackamore dangling, raced across the plain toward the
+hills.</p>
+
+<p>"This'll do jest as well," said Williams, pouring a mouthful of whiskey
+between Collie's lips. Then the taciturn foreman lifted the youth to his
+feet. Collie dragged along, stepping shakily. "Dam' little fool!" said
+Williams affectionately. "You ain't satisfied to get killed where you
+belong, but you got to go and splatter yourself all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">245</a></span> over the front yard
+in front of the ladies. You with your bloody nose and your face shot
+plumb full of gravel. If you knowed how you looked when she piled you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I know how she looked," said Collie. "That's good enough for me. Did I
+make it?"</p>
+
+<p>"The bronc' is yours," said Williams. "Bud and Miguel just rode out
+after her."</p>
+
+<p>Then Williams did an unaccountable thing. He hunted among the crowd till
+he found the man who had said, "Why, that ain't ridin'." He asked the
+man quietly if he had made such a remark. The other replied that he had.
+Then Williams promptly knocked him down, with all the wiry strength of
+his six feet of bone and muscle. "Take that home and look at it," he
+remarked, walking away.</p>
+
+<p>Through the dusk of the evening the Moonstone boys jingled homeward, the
+horses climbing the trail briskly. Two of them worked the outlaw up the
+hill, each with a rope on her and each exceedingly busy. Collie was too
+stiff and sore to help them.</p>
+
+<p>Miguel, hilarious in that he had ridden Boyar to second place, and so
+upheld the Moonstone honor, sang many strange and wonderful songs and
+baited Collie between-whiles. Proud of their companion's conquest of the
+outlaw colt, the Moonstone boys made light of it proportionately.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">246</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Did you see him reclinin' on that Yuma grasshopper," said Bud Light,
+"and pertendin' he was ridin' a hoss?"</p>
+
+<p>"And then," added Billy Dime, "he gets so het up and proud that he rides
+right over to the ladies, and 'flop' he goes like swattin' a frog with a
+shingle. He rides about five rods on the cayuse and then five more on
+his map. Collie's sure tough. How's your mug, kid?"</p>
+
+<p>"It never felt so bad as yours looks naturally," responded Collie,
+puffing at a cigarette with swollen lips. "But I ain't jealous."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, ain't you?" queried Williams, who had ridden silently beside him.
+"Well, now, I was plumb mistook! I kind of thought you was."</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">247</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2><h3>SILENT SAUNDERS SPEAKS</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Collie kept a vigilant eye on Silent Saunders. The other,
+somewhat sullenly but efficiently, attended to his work. Collie's
+vigilance was rewarded unexpectedly and rather disagreeably.</p>
+
+<p>One day, as he stood stroking Black Boyar's neck, he happened to glance
+across the yard. Saunders was saddling one of the horses in the corral.
+Louise, astride Boyar, spoke to Collie of some detail of the ranch work,
+purposely prolonging the conversation. Something of the Collie of the
+Oro barbecue had vanished. In its stead was an inexplicable but positive
+quality of masterfulness, apparent in poise and manner.</p>
+
+<p>Louise, because she knew him so well, was puzzled and curious. She could
+not account for the change. She was frankly interested in him in spite
+of, or perhaps because of, his early misfortunes. Instinctively she felt
+that he had gained a moral confidence in himself. His physical
+excellence and ability had always been manifest. This morning, his
+grave, dark eyes, upturned to her face as he caressed Boyar, were
+disconcertingly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">248</a></span> straightforward. He seemed to be drinking his fill of
+her beauty. His quick smile, still boyish, and altogether irresistible,
+flashed as she spoke humorously of his conquest of the outlaw colt Yuma.</p>
+
+<p>"I learned more&mdash;ridin' that cayuse for two minutes&mdash;than I ever expect
+to learn again in that time."</p>
+
+<p>Remembering that she had been first to reach him when he was thrown, the
+fresh bloom of her cheeks deepened. Her eyelids drooped for an instant.
+"One can learn a great deal quickly, sometimes," she said. Then added,
+for he had smiled again,&mdash;"About horses."</p>
+
+<p>"And folks." He spoke quietly and lifted her gauntleted hand, touching
+it lightly with his lips. So swift, so unexpected had been his homage
+that she did not realize it until it was irrevocably paid.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Collie!"</p>
+
+<p>"Because you wasn't ashamed to help a guy in front of the others."</p>
+
+<p>"Please don't say 'guy.' And why should I be ashamed to help any of our
+boys?" she said, laughing. She had quite recovered herself.</p>
+
+<p>"'Course you wouldn't be. But this is a kind of 'good-bye,' too. I was
+going to ask you to mail this letter to Overland Red. I told him in it
+that I was coming."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">249</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"We are sorry that you are leaving," said Louise. "Uncle Walter said you
+had spoken to him."</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't the money. I could wait. But I don't feel like taking all that
+money and not doing anything for it. I guess Red needs me, too. Brand
+says I'm a fool to quit here now. Mebby I am. I like it here; the work
+and everything."</p>
+
+<p>Saunders, watching them, saw Collie give Louise a letter. He saw her
+tuck it in her waist and rein Boyar round toward the gate.</p>
+
+<p>As Collie came toward the corrals he noticed that Saunders had saddled
+the pinto Rally. He was a little surprised. Rally was Walter Stone's
+favorite saddle-horse and used by none but him. He knew his employer was
+absent. Perhaps Saunders had instructions to bring Rally to the station.</p>
+
+<p>Collie paid no further attention to Saunders until the latter came from
+his quarters with a coat and a blanket-roll which he tied to the saddle.
+Then Collie became interested. He left the road and climbed the hill
+back of the corrals. He watched Saunders astride the pinto as he opened
+the gate and spurred through without closing it. That was a little
+unusual.</p>
+
+<p>"I feel almost like taking a cayuse and following him," muttered Collie.
+"But, no. What for, anyway?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">250</a></span></p>
+
+<p>On a rise far below was Black Boyar, loping along easily. Collie saw him
+stop and turn into the Old Meadow Trail. He watched for Saunders to
+appear on the road below the ranch. Presently out from the shoulder of a
+hill leaped Rally. Saunders was plying quirt and spur. The pinto was
+doing his best.</p>
+
+<p>"Something's wrong. I'll just take a chance." And Collie ran to the
+corral and roped the Yuma colt. He saddled her, led her a few steps that
+she might become used to the feel of the cinchas, and then mounted. He
+turned the pony up the hill and sat watching the pinto on the road
+below. He saw Saunders draw rein and dismount, apparently searching the
+road for something. Then he saw him mount quickly and disappear on the
+Old Meadow Trail.</p>
+
+<p>Collie whirled the pony round and down the hill. Through the gateway he
+thundered. The steel-sinewed flanks stiffened and relaxed rhythmically
+as the hillside flew past. The Yuma colt, half-wild, ran with great
+leaps that ate into space. They swept through the first ford. A thin
+sheet of water spread on either side of them. The outlaw fought the curb
+all the way up the hill beyond. Pebbles clattered from her hoofs and
+spun skyward as she raced along the level of the hilltop.</p>
+
+<p>Down the next grade the pony swung, taking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">251</a></span> the turns with short leaps.
+On the crest Collie checked her. The road beyond, clear to the valley,
+was empty.</p>
+
+<p>He examined the tracks entering the Old Meadow Trail. He had not been
+mistaken. Saunders had ridden in. Mounting, Collie spurred through the
+greasewood, trusting to the pony's natural activity and sure-footedness.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Louise, sitting on the dream-rock in the old meadow, gazed out across
+the valley. Black Boyar stood near with trailing bridle-reins.</p>
+
+<p>Despite herself the girl kept recalling Collie's face as he had talked
+with her at the ranch. Admiration she had known before and many
+times&mdash;adoration never, until that morning.</p>
+
+<p>For a long time she dreamed. The shadows of the greasewood lengthened.
+The air grew cooler. Louise ended her soliloquy by saying aloud: "He's a
+nice boy, though. I do hope he will keep as he is."</p>
+
+<p>Boyar, lifting his head, nickered and was answered by Rally, entering
+the meadow. Silent Saunders rode up hurriedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Saunders,&mdash;what is it? That's Rally! Were you going to meet Uncle
+Walter?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Miss. I'm in a hurry. Just hand over that letter that young Collie
+give to you at the ranch. I want it. I mean business."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">252</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You want the letter? What do you mean? What right have you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No right. Only I want it. I don't want to make trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"You! A Western man, and speak that way to a woman! Saunders, I'm
+ashamed to think you ever worked for us."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I know you got nerve. But I'm in a hurry. Hand it over. Then you
+can call me anything you like."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall not hand it over."</p>
+
+<p>"All right. I got to have it."</p>
+
+<p>The girl, her gray eyes blazing with indignation, backed away as he
+strode toward her. "You'd dare, would you?" And as Saunders laughed she
+cut him across the face with her quirt.</p>
+
+<p>His face, streaked with the red welt of the rawhide, grew white as he
+controlled his anger. He leaped at her and had his hands on her when she
+struck him again with all her strength. He staggered back, his hand to
+his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>A wild rush of hoofs, a shock, a crash, and he was beneath the plunging
+feet of the Yuma colt. The pony flashed past, her head jerking up.
+Louise saw Collie leap to the ground and come running back.</p>
+
+<p>Saunders, rolling to his side, reached for his holster, when he saw that
+in Collie's hand which precluded further argument.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">253</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Don't get up!" said Collie quietly. "I never killed a man&mdash;but I'm
+going to, quick, if you lift a finger."</p>
+
+<p>Saunders kept still. Collie stepped round behind him. "Now, get up,
+slow," he commanded.</p>
+
+<p>When Saunders was on his feet, Collie reached forward and secured his
+gun.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll send your check to the store," said Louise, addressing Saunders.
+"I shall tell Mr. Stone that I discharged you. I don't believe I had
+better tell the men about this."</p>
+
+<p>"Beat it, Saunders," said Collie, laughing. "You are leaving here afoot,
+which suits me fine. Red would be plumb happy to know it."</p>
+
+<p>"Red's goin' to walk into my lead some of these days."</p>
+
+<p>"That's some day. This is to-day," said Collie.</p>
+
+<p>Saunders, turning, gazed covetously at the pinto Rally. Collie saw, and
+smiled. "I missed twice. The third trick is goin' to be mine. Don't you
+forget that, Mister Kid," said Saunders.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you here yet?" said Collie; and he was not a little gratified to
+notice that Saunders limped as he struck off down the trail.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">254</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2><h3>"LIKE SUNSHINE"</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Louise drew off her gauntlets and tossed them on the rock. Collie saw
+the print of Saunders's fingers on her wrist and forearm. "I ought to
+'a' made him kneel down and ask you to let him live!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I was afraid&mdash;at first. Then I was just angry. It was sickening to see
+the marks grow red and swell on his face. I hit him as hard as I could,
+but I'm not sorry."</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry?" growled Collie. "He takes your brand with him. He didn't get
+the letter. I got to thank you a whole lot for that."</p>
+
+<p>"But how did he know I had it? What did he want with the letter?"</p>
+
+<p>"He saw me give it to you. He's one of the bunch, the Mojave bunch
+that's been trailing Red all over the country. When Red disappeared up
+in those desert hills, I reckon Saunders must have got hold of a paper
+and read about the get-away here at the Moonstone. He just naturally
+came over here and got a job to see if he couldn't trace Red."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">255</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You are thinking of joining Mr. Summers at the claim?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. The Eastern folks are gone now. I hate to go. But I got to get
+busy and make some money. A fellow hasn't much of a show without money
+these days."</p>
+
+<p>Louise was silent. She sat gazing across the valley.</p>
+
+<p>Collie approached her hesitatingly. "I just got to say it&mdash;after all
+that's happened. Seems that I could, now."</p>
+
+<p>Louise paled and flushed. "Oh, Collie!" she cried entreatingly. "We have
+been such good friends. Please don't spoil it all!"</p>
+
+<p>"I know I am a fool," he said, "or I was going to be. But please to take
+Boyar and go. I'll bring Rally. I was wrong to think you would listen a
+little."</p>
+
+<p>But Louise remained sitting upon the rock as though she had not heard
+him. Slowly he stepped toward her, his spurs jingling musically. He
+caught up one of her gloves and turned it over and over in his fingers
+with a kind of clumsy reverence. "It's mighty little&mdash;and there's the
+shape of your hand in it, just like it bends when you hold the reins. It
+seems like a thing almost too good for me to touch, because it means
+<i>you</i>. I know you won't laugh at me, either."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">256</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Louise turned toward him. "No. I understand," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Here was where Red and I first saw you to know who you was. I used to
+hate folks that wore good clothes. I thought they was all the same, you
+and all that kind. But, no, it ain't so. You looked back once, when you
+were riding away from the jail that time. I was going to look for Red
+and not go to work at the Moonstone. I saw you look back. That settled
+it. I was proud to think you cared even anything for a tramp. I was
+mighty lonesome then. Since, I got to thinking I'd be somebody some day.
+But I can see where I stand. I'm a puncher, working for the Moonstone.
+You kind of liked me because I had hard luck when I was a kid. But that
+made me <i>love</i> you. It ain't wrong, I guess, to love something you can't
+ever reach up to. It ain't wrong to keep on loving, only it's awful
+lonesome not to ever tell you about it."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry, Collie," said Louise gently.</p>
+
+<p>"Please don't you be sorry. Why, I'm glad! Maybe you don't think it is
+the best thing in the world to love a girl. I ain't asking anything but
+to just go on loving you. Seems like a man wants the girl he loves to
+know it, even if that is just all. You said I love horses. I do. But
+loving you started me loving horses. Red said once that I was just
+living like what I thought you wanted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">257</a></span> me to be. Red's wise when he
+takes his time to it. But now I'm living the way I think I want to. I
+won't ask you to say you care. I guess you don't&mdash;that way. But if I
+ever get rich&mdash;then&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Collie, you must not think I am different from any other girl. I'm just
+as selfish and stubborn as I can be. I almost feel ashamed to have you
+think of me as you do. Let's be sensible about it. You know I like you.
+I'm glad you care&mdash;for&mdash;what you think I am."</p>
+
+<p>"That's it. You are always so kind to a fellow that it makes me feel
+mean to speak like I have. You listened&mdash;and I am pretty glad of that."</p>
+
+<p>He turned and caught Boyar's bridle. Mounting he caught up Yuma and
+Rally. Slowly Collie and the girl rode the trail to the level of the
+summit. Slowly they dropped down the descent into Moonstone Ca&ntilde;on. The
+letter, Overland Red, Silent Saunders, were forgotten. Side by side
+plodded the pony Yuma and Black Boyar. Rally followed. The trees on the
+western edge of the ca&ntilde;on threw long, shadowy bars of dusk across the
+road. Quail called from the hillside. Other quail answered plaintively
+from a distance. Alternate warmth and coolness swam in the air and
+touched the riders' faces.</p>
+
+<p>At a bend in the road the ponies crowded together. Collie's hand
+accidentally brushed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">258</a></span> against the girl's and she drew away. He glanced
+up quickly. She was gazing straight ahead at the distant peaks. He felt
+strangely pleased that she had drawn away from him when his hand touched
+hers. Some instinct told him that their old friendship had given place
+to something else&mdash;something as yet too vague to describe. She was not
+angry with him, he knew. Her face was troubled. He gazed at her as they
+rode and his heart yearned for her tenderly. Life had suddenly assumed a
+tensity that silenced them. The little lizards of the stones scurried
+away from either side of the road. One after another, with sprightly
+steps, a covey of mountain quail crossed the road before them, leaving
+little starlike tracks in the dust. Though homeward bound the ponies
+plodded with lowered heads. Moonstone Ca&ntilde;on, always wonderful in its
+wild, rugged beauty, seemed as a place of dreams, only real as it echoed
+the tread of the ponies. The ca&ntilde;on stream chattered, murmured, quarreled
+round a rock-strewn bend, laughed at itself, and passed, singing a
+cool-voiced melody.</p>
+
+<p>They rode through a vale of enchantment, only known to Youth and Love.
+Her gray eyes were misty and troubled. His eyes were heavy with
+unuttered longing. His heart pounded until it almost choked him. He bit
+his lips that he might keep silent.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">259</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The glint of the slanting sunlight on her hair, the turn of her wrist as
+she held the reins, her apparent unconsciousness of all outward things
+enthralled him. A spell hung round him like a mist, blinding and
+baffling all clearer thought. And because Louise knew his heart, knew
+that his homage was not of books, but of his very self, she lingered in
+the dream whose thread she might have snapped with a word, a gesture.</p>
+
+<p>Generously the girl blamed herself that she had been the one to cause
+him sorrow. She could not give herself to him, be his wife as she knew
+he wished her to be. Yet she liked him more than she cared to admit. He
+had fought for her once and taken his punishment with a grin. She felt
+joy in his homage, and yet she felt humility. In what way, she asked
+herself, was she better, cleaner of heart, kinder or cleverer than
+Collie? Why should people make distinctions as to birth, or breeding, or
+wealth, when character and physical excellence meant so much more?</p>
+
+<p>"Collie!" she whispered, and the touch of her fingers on his arm was as
+the touch of fire,&mdash;"Collie!"</p>
+
+<p>She drew one of her little gray gauntlets from her belt. "Here," she
+said, and the word was a caress.</p>
+
+<p>But he put the proffered token away from him with a trembling hand.
+"Don't!" he cried. "I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">260</a></span> tried not to want you! I did try! This
+morning&mdash;before I told you&mdash;I could have knelt and prayed to your glove.
+But now, Louise, Louise Lacharme, I can't. That glove would burn me and
+drive me wild to come back to you."</p>
+
+<p>"To come back to you ...?" The words sung themselves through her
+consciousness. "Come back to you...." He was going away. "You care so
+much?" she asked. There was a new light in her eyes. Her face was almost
+colorless. So she had looked when Saunders threatened her. She swayed in
+the saddle. Collie's arm was about her. She raised one arm and flung it
+round his neck, drawing his face down to her trembling lips. Then she
+drew away, her face burning.</p>
+
+<p>Across the end of the ca&ntilde;on a vagrant sunbeam ran like a bridge of fa&euml;ry
+gold. It pelted the gray wall with a million particles of mellow fire.
+It flickered, flashed anew, and faded. The ponies drew apart. The colt
+Yuma grew restless.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye," murmured Louise.</p>
+
+<p>"Like the sunshine," he said, pointing to the cliff.</p>
+
+<p>"It is gone," she whispered, shivering a little as the shadows drew
+down.</p>
+
+<p>"It will shine again," he said, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>Without a word she touched Black Boyar with the spurs. A stone clattered
+down as he leaped forward, and she was gone.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">261</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Collie curbed the colt Yuma, who would have followed. "No, little
+hummingbird," he said whimsically. "We aren't so used to heaven that we
+can ride out of it quite so fast."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Next morning, with blanket and slicker rolled behind his saddle, he rode
+down the Moonstone Ca&ntilde;on Trail. At the foot of the range he turned
+eastward, a new world before him. The far hills, hiding the desert
+beyond, bulked large and mysterious.</p>
+
+<p>Louise had not been present when he bade good-bye to his Moonstone
+friends.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">262</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2><h3>IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>The afternoon of the third day out from the Moonstone Ranch, Collie
+picketed the roan pony Yuma near a water-hole in the desert. He spread
+his saddle-blankets, rolled a cigarette, and smoked. Presently he rose
+and took some food from a saddle-pocket.</p>
+
+<p>The pony, unused to the desert, fretted and sniffed at the sagebrush
+with evident disgust. Collie had given her water, but there was no
+grazing.</p>
+
+<p>After he had eaten he studied the rough map that Overland had given him.
+There, to the south, was the desert town. He had passed that, as
+directed, skirting it widely. There to the east were the hills.
+Somewhere behind them was the hidden ca&ntilde;on and Overland Red.</p>
+
+<p>Stiff and tired from his long ride, he stretched himself for a short
+rest. He dozed. Something touched his foot. It was the riata with which
+he had picketed the pony. He meant to travel again that night. He would
+sleep a little while. The horse, circling the picket, would be sure to
+awaken him again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">263</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He slept heavily. The Yuma colt stood with rounded nostrils sniffing the
+night air. The pony faced in the direction of the distant town. She knew
+that another horse and rider were coming toward her through the
+darkness. They were far off, but coming.</p>
+
+<p>For a long time she stood stamping impatiently at intervals. Finally she
+grew restive. The oncoming horse had stopped. That other animal, the
+man, had dismounted and was coming toward her on foot. She could not see
+through the starlit blanket of night, but she knew.</p>
+
+<p>The man-thing drew a little nearer. The pony swerved as if about to run,
+but hesitated, ears flattened, curious, half-belligerent.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>That afternoon Silent Saunders, riding along the border of the desert
+town, had seen a strange horse and rider far out&mdash;away from the road and
+evidently heading for the water-hole. Saunders rode into town, borrowed
+a pair of field-glasses, and rode out again. He at once recognized the
+roan pony as the Oro outlaw, but the rider? He was not so sure. He would
+investigate.</p>
+
+<p>The fact that he saw no glimmer of fire as he now approached the
+water-hole made him doubly cautious. Nearer, he crouched behind a bush.
+He threw a pebble at the pony. She circled the picket, awakening Collie,
+who spoke to her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">264</a></span> sleepily. Saunders crept back toward his horse. He
+knew <i>that</i> voice. He would track the young rider to the range and
+beyond&mdash;to the gold. He rode back to town through the night, entered the
+saloon, and beckoned to a belated lounger.</p>
+
+<p>Shivering in the morning starlight, Collie arose and saddled the pony.
+He rode in the general direction of the range. The blurred shadow of the
+foothills seemed stationary. His horse was not moving forward&mdash;simply
+walking a gigantic treadmill of black space that revolved beneath him.
+The hills drew no nearer than did the constellations above them.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the shadows of the hills pushed back. Almost instantly he faced
+the quick rise of the range. Out of the silence came the slithering step
+of some one walking in the sand. The darkness seemed to expand.</p>
+
+<p>Overland Red stood before him, silent, alert, anxious. "You, Chico?" he
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure. Hello, Red."</p>
+
+<p>"Anybody see you come across yesterday?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not that I know of. I kept away from the town."</p>
+
+<p>"Your hoss shod?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. All around. Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothin'. I'm sufferin' glad to see you again. When we get on top of the
+hills, you take the left trail and keep on down. You can't miss the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">265</a></span>
+ca&ntilde;on. I'll leave you here. I got to stay here a spell to see that
+nothin' else comes up but the sun this mornin'."</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Red. Your pardner down there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yep. Whistle when you get up to the meadow in the ca&ntilde;on. Billy'll be
+lookin' for you."</p>
+
+<p>"Any trouble lately?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nope. But Billy's got a hunch, though. He says he feels it in the air."</p>
+
+<p>At the crest Collie rode on down the winding trail, or rather way, for
+no regular trail existed. At the foot of the range he turned to the
+right and entered the narrow ca&ntilde;on, following the stream until he came
+to the meadow, where he picketed the pony.</p>
+
+<p>He continued on up the ca&ntilde;on on foot. When he arrived at the camp,
+Overland was there waiting. Winthrop and he greeted Collie cordially.
+"Short cut," explained Overland, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.
+"No hoss trail, though. Too steep."</p>
+
+<p>Faint dawn lights were shifting along the ca&ntilde;on walls as they had
+breakfast. As the morning sunlight spread to their camp Collie's natural
+curiosity in regard to Overland's pardner was satisfied. He saw a
+straight, slender figure, in flannel shirt and khaki. The gray eyes were
+peculiarly keen and humorous. Winthrop was not a little like his sister
+Anne in poise and coloring. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">266</a></span> hands were nervously slender and
+aristocratic, albeit roughened and scarred by toil. There was a
+suggestion of dash and go about Winthrop that appealed to Collie. Even
+in repose the Easterner seemed to be alert. Undoubtedly he would make a
+good companion in any circumstance.</p>
+
+<p>"There's spare blankets in the tent. Roll in for a snooze, Collie. Billy
+and me'll pack your saddle and stuff up here later."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess I will. You might sponge Yuma's back a little, Red. She's
+brought me close to two hundred miles in the last three days."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure, Bo! I'll brush her teeth and manicure her toe-nails if you say
+the word. I guess that hoss has kind of made a hit with you."</p>
+
+<p>Collie yawned. "Mebby. But it isn't in it with the hit she'll make with
+you if you try to take up her feet. She's half-sister to a shot of
+dynamite. I'm only telling you so she won't kick your fool head off."</p>
+
+<p>"You talk like most a full-size man," said Overland.</p>
+
+<p>Down at the meadow, Overland looked at the colt and shook his head. "He
+is correct," he said succinctly. "That hoss don't welcome handlin' worth
+a bean."</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop's silence rather stirred Overland's sensitive pride in his
+horsemanship. "'Course I broke and rode hundreds like her, down in Mex.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">267</a></span>
+But then I was paid for doin' it. It was my business then. Now, minin'
+and educatin' Collie is my business, and a busted neck wouldn't help
+any."</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop realized for the first time that Overland's supreme interest in
+life was Collie's welfare. Heretofore the paternal note had not been
+evident. Winthrop had imagined them chums, friends, tramps together.
+They were more than that. Overland considered Collie an adopted son.</p>
+
+<p>The Easterner glanced at Overland's broad shoulders stooped beneath the
+weight of the heavy stock saddle. Something in the man's humorous
+simplicity, his entire willingness to serve those whom he liked and his
+stiff indifference to all others, appealed to Winthrop. So this flotsam
+of the range, this erstwhile tramp, this paradox of coarseness and
+sentiment, had an object in life? A laudable object: that of serving
+with his sincerest effort the boy friend he had picked up on the desert,
+a castaway.</p>
+
+<p>As they toiled up the stream toward the camp, Winthrop recalled their
+former chats by the night-fire. Now he began to see the drift of
+Overland's then frequent references to Collie. And there was a
+girl,&mdash;mentioned by Overland almost reverently,&mdash;the Rose Girl, Louise
+Lacharme, of whom Anne Marshall had written much in eulogy to him. And
+Winthrop himself?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">268</a></span></p>
+
+<p>His swift introspection left him aware that of them all he alone seemed
+to lack a definite aim. Making money&mdash;mining&mdash;was still to him a game,
+interesting and healthful, but play. To Overland it was life. Winthrop
+saw himself as he was. His improved health scoffed at the idea of
+becoming sentimental about it. He laughed, and Overland, turning,
+regarded him with bushy, interrogative brows.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing," said Winthrop.</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't you feelin' good lately, Billy?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm all right."</p>
+
+<p>"Glad of that. It's good to forget you got such a thing as health if you
+want to keep it. If you get to lookin' for it, like as not you'll find
+it's gone."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm looking for something entirely different. Something you
+have&mdash;something that I never possessed."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know anything I got that you haven't 'less it's that new
+Stetson I got in Los. You can have her, Billy, and welcome. Your lid
+<i>is</i> gettin' on the bum."</p>
+
+<p>"Not that," laughed Winthrop. "Something you keep under it."</p>
+
+<p>"'T ain't me hair. I'm plumb sure of that."</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Mebby you're jealous of some of me highbrow ideas?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">269</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Add an 'l' and you have it."</p>
+
+<p>"I-d-e-a-l-s. Oh, ideals, eh? Never owned none except that little
+electric do-diddle-um of the Guzzuh what makes the spark to keep the
+machinery goin'. That's called the 'Ideal.'"</p>
+
+<p>"The spark to keep the machinery going&mdash;that's it," said Winthrop.</p>
+
+<p>At the camp he prepared to make his trip to the Moonstone Ranch. He read
+his sister's letter over and over again. Finally he sauntered up the
+ca&ntilde;on to where Overland was at work. "I'll lend a hand," he said, in
+answer to Overland's questioning face. "I don't believe I'll go before
+to-morrow night. It is hardly right to leave the minute my new pardner
+arrives. I want to talk with him."</p>
+
+<p>Overland nodded. "Guess you're right. It won't hurt to keep in the
+shadow of the hills for a day or two. Can't tell who might 'a' spotted
+Collie ridin' out this way."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>That afternoon, toward evening, Collie arose, refreshed, and eager to
+inspect the claim. He could hear the faint click of pick and shovel up
+the ca&ntilde;on. He stretched himself, drank from the stream, and sauntered
+toward the meadow. He would see to his pony first.</p>
+
+<p>He found the horse had been picketed afresh by Overland when he had come
+for the saddle.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">270</a></span> He was returning toward camp when he heard a slight
+noise behind him&mdash;the noise a man's boot makes stepping on a pebble that
+turns beneath his weight.</p>
+
+<p>Collie wheeled quickly, saw nothing unusual, and turned again toward the
+camp. Then he hesitated. He would look down the ca&ntilde;on. He realized that
+he was unarmed. Then he grew ashamed of his hesitancy. He picked his way
+down the stream. A buzzard circled far above the cliffs. The air hummed
+with invisible bees in the rank wild clover. He peered past the next
+bend. A short distance below stood a riderless horse. The bridle was
+trailing. For an instant Collie did not realize the significance of the
+animal waiting patiently for its rider. Then, like the flash of a
+speeding film, he saw it all&mdash;his pony's tracks up the ca&ntilde;on&mdash;the rider
+who had undoubtedly seen him crossing to the water-hole, and who had
+waited until daylight to follow the tracks; who had dismounted, and was
+probably in ambush watching him. He summoned all his reserve courage.
+Turning away, he remarked, distinctly, naturally, casually, "Thought I
+heard something. Must have been the water."</p>
+
+<p>He walked slowly back to the notch in the ca&ntilde;on walls. Stepping through
+it, he continued on up the stream. A few paces beyond the notch, and a
+face appeared in the cleft rock, watching<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">271</a></span> him. The watcher seemed in
+doubt. Collie's action had been natural enough. Had he seen the horse?
+The hidden face grew crafty. The eyes grew cold. The watcher tapped the
+side of the cliff with his revolver butt. The noise was slight, but in
+that place of sensitive echoes, loud enough to be heard a long way up
+the ca&ntilde;on. Then it was that Collie made a courageous but terrible
+mistake. He heard the sound, and seemed to realize that it was made
+intentionally&mdash;to attract his attention. Yet he was not sure. He kept
+on, ignoring the sound. Had he not suspected some one was in the ca&ntilde;on,
+to have glanced back would have been the most natural thing in the
+world. The watcher realized this. He knew that the other had heard
+him&mdash;suspected his presence, and was making a daring bluff.</p>
+
+<p>"Got to stop that," muttered the watcher, and he raised his hand.</p>
+
+<p>The imprisoned report rolled and re&euml;choed like mountain thunder. Collie
+threw up his arms and lurched forward.</p>
+
+<p>Below in the ca&ntilde;on clattered the hoofs of the speeding horse. The rider,
+still holding his six-gun, muzzle up, glanced back. "I didn't care
+partic'lar about gettin' <i>him</i>, but gettin' the kid hits the red-head
+between the eyes. I guess I'm about even now." And Silent Saunders
+holstered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">272</a></span> his gun, swung out of the ca&ntilde;on, and spurred down the
+mountain, not toward the desert town, but toward Gophertown, some thirty
+miles to the north. He had found the claim. The desert town folk he had
+used to good advantage. They had paid his expenses while he trailed
+Overland and Collie. They had even guaranteed him protection from the
+law&mdash;such as it was on the Mojave. He had every reason to be grateful to
+them, but he was just a step or two above them in criminal artistry. He
+had been a "killer." Like the lone wolf that calls the pack to the hunt,
+he turned instinctively to Gophertown, a settlement in the hills not
+unknown to a few of the authorities, but unmolested by them. The
+atmosphere of Gophertown was not conducive to long life.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">273</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2><h3>SPECIAL</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Overland, leaning on his shovel, drew his sleeve across his forehead.
+"Reckon I'll go down and wake Collie. He'll sleep his head off and feel
+worse 'n thunder."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go," said Winthrop, throwing aside a pan of dirt with a fine
+disregard of its eventual value. "I want some tobacco, anyway."</p>
+
+<p>"Fetch a couple of sticks of dynamite along, Billy. I'll put in one more
+shot for to-night."</p>
+
+<p>A distant, reverberating report caused the two men to jerk into
+attitudes of tense surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"What the hell!" exclaimed Overland, running toward the tent. "That
+wasn't the kid. Collie's only packin' a automatic, and here it is."</p>
+
+<p>He stopped in the tent-door, grabbed up the gun and belt, and ran down
+the ca&ntilde;on, Winthrop following breathlessly. Near the notch he paused,
+motioning Winthrop to one side. "Mebby it was to draw us on. You keep
+there, Billy. I'll poke ahead."</p>
+
+<p>But Overland did not go far. He almost stumbled over the prone figure of
+Collie. With a cry he tore his handkerchief from his throat and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">274</a></span> plugged
+the wound. "Clean through," he said, getting to his feet. "Get the
+whiskey."</p>
+
+<p>"Shan't I help you carry him?" queried Winthrop.</p>
+
+<p>Overland shook his head. "Get the whiskey and get a fire goin'. I'll
+bring him."</p>
+
+<p>"Will he&mdash;live?" asked Winthrop, hesitating.</p>
+
+<p>"I reckon not, Billy. He was plugged from behind&mdash;close&mdash;and clean
+through. Here's the slug."</p>
+
+<p>Then Overland picked up the limp form. So this was the end of all his
+planning and his toil? He cursed himself for having urged Collie to come
+to the desert. He strode carefully, bent with the weight of that
+shattered body. He felt that he had lost more than the visible Collie;
+that he had lost the inspiration, the ideal, the grip on hope that had
+held him toward the goal of good endeavor. His old-time recklessness
+swept down upon him like the tides, submerging his better self. Yet he
+held steadily to one idea. He would do all that he could to save
+Collie's life. Failing in that ... there would be a red reckoning. After
+that he would not care what came.</p>
+
+<p>Already he had planned to send Winthrop, in his big car, for a doctor.
+The car was at the desert town, where a liveryman accepted a royal
+monthly toll in advance to care for it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">275</a></span></p>
+
+<p>At the tent Overland laid Collie on the blankets, bathed and bandaged
+the wound, and watched his low pulse quicken to the stimulant that he
+gave him in small doses.</p>
+
+<p>"It's the shock as much as the wound," said Overland. "He got it close,
+and from behind&mdash;<i>from behind</i> do you hear?"</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop, startled by the other's intensity, stammered: "What shall I
+do? What shall I do?"</p>
+
+<p>Overland bit his nails and scowled. "You will ride to town. Collie's
+hoss is here. Take the Guzzuh and burn the road for Los and get a
+doctor. Not a pill doctor, but a knife man. Bring the car clean back
+here to the range. To hell with the chances."</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop slipped into his coat and filled a canteen.</p>
+
+<p>"If that horse throws me&mdash;" he began.</p>
+
+<p>"You got to ride. You <i>got</i> to, understand? I dassent leave him."</p>
+
+<p>Down in the meadow Overland saddled the pony Yuma. He mounted and she
+had her "spell" of bucking. "Now, take her and ride," said Overland.
+"After you hit the level, let her out and hang on. If any one tries to
+stick you up this time&mdash;why, jest nacherally <i>plug</i> 'em. Sabe?"</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop nodded.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">276</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Two hours later a wild-eyed, sweating pony tore through the desert town
+at a run. Her rider slid to the ground as the liveryman grabbed the
+pony's bridle.</p>
+
+<p>"Take&mdash;care&mdash;of her," gasped Winthrop. "I want&mdash;the machine."</p>
+
+<p>"Anybody hurt?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Who did that?"</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop stood with mouth open and eyes staring. The tires of the big
+machine were flat.</p>
+
+<p>"I dunno. I watched her every day. I sleep here nights. Las' Sunday I
+was over to Daggett."</p>
+
+<p>"And left no one in charge?"</p>
+
+<p>"The boy was here."</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;the job is done. Take care of the horse. I'll be back in a
+minute."</p>
+
+<p>At the station Winthrop wired for a special car and engine. He gave his
+check for the amount necessary and went back to the stable. He was
+working at the damaged tires when the agent appeared. "Special's at the
+Junction now. Be here in five minutes."</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop climbed to the engine-cab. "I'll give you ten dollars for every
+minute you cut from the regular passenger schedule," he said.</p>
+
+<p>The engineer nodded. "Get back on the plush and hang on," was his brief
+acknowledgment.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>It was dark when the surgeon, drying his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">277</a></span> hands, came from the ca&ntilde;on
+stream to the tent. "That's about all I can do now," he said, slipping
+into his coat.</p>
+
+<p>Overland, who was sitting on a box beside the tent, stood up and
+stretched himself. "Is he goin' to make it?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't say. He is young, in good condition, and strong. If you will
+get me some blankets, I'll turn in. Call me in about two hours."</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">278</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2><h3>THE RIDERS</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Several days passed before the surgeon would express a definite opinion.</p>
+
+<p>Collie lay, hollow-cheeked and ghastly, in the dim interior of the tent.
+His eyes were wide and fixed. Overland came in. Collie recognized him
+and tried to smile. Overland backed out of the tent and strode away
+growling. The tears were running down his unshaven cheeks. He did not
+return until later in the day. Then he asked the surgeon that
+oft-repeated question.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see how he can recover," said the surgeon quietly. "Of course
+there's a slim chance. Don't build on it, though."</p>
+
+<p>"If there's a chance, I reckon he will freeze to it," said Overland.
+"From what he was ramblin' about when he was off his head, I reckon he's
+got somethin' more to live for than just himself."</p>
+
+<p>"Has he any relatives?" queried the surgeon.</p>
+
+<p>"Nope. Except me. But he was expectin' to have, I guess. And I tell you
+what, Doc, she's worth gettin' shot up for."</p>
+
+<p>"Too bad! Too bad," muttered the surgeon.</p>
+
+<p>"What's too bad, eh?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">279</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The other shook his head. "If there is any one that he would care to
+see, or that would care to see him, you had better write at once."</p>
+
+<p>Overland was stunned. The doctor's word had been given at last, and it
+was not a word of hope.</p>
+
+<p>Overland Red bowed to the doctor's opinion, but his heart was
+unconquerable. He wrote a long letter to his old-time friend, Brand
+Williams, of the Moonstone Ranch. The letter was curiously worded. It
+did not mention Louise Lacharme, nor Mrs. Stone, nor the rancher. It
+was, in the main, about Mexico and the "old days"; no hint of Collie's
+accident was in the page until the very end. The letter concluded with
+"But you needn't think you owe me anything for that. I was glad to put
+him to the hush because we was pals them days. Collie was shot by
+Saunders. The doctor says he will die most likely. He was shot in the
+back. It would go bad with Saunders if the Moonstone boys ever heard of
+this."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The letter dispatched by Winthrop, Overland Red took courage. He felt
+that he himself was holding Collie's life from sinking. His huge
+optimism would not admit that his friend <i>could</i> die.</p>
+
+<p>He was leaning back against a rock near the notch and gazing at the
+slanting moonlight that spread across the somber canyon walls. A week
+had gone since he mailed his letter to Brand Williams,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">280</a></span> of the
+Moonstone, and Collie was still alive. Overland shifted his position,
+standing beside him the Winchester that had lain across his knees, and
+pulling his sombrero over his eyes. The notch made an excellent
+background for an object over the sights of a rifle, even at night, so
+long as the moon shone. Gophertown riders would never venture that far
+up the ca&ntilde;on with horses. They would tether their ponies at the entrance
+and come afoot and under cover. Still, they would have to pass the notch
+in any event.</p>
+
+<p>Thus it was that when, some few minutes later, Overland heard the faint
+jingle of rein-chains, he grinned. It was celestial music to him.</p>
+
+<p>The sound came again, nearer the notch, and clearer. He remained
+motionless gazing at the shadowy opening.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly a shaft of moonlight drew down toward the notch, silvering its
+ragged edges. Lower the light slid until it revealed the opening and in
+it the figure of a horseman. In the white light Overland could see the
+quirt dangling from the other's wrist. The horseman's wide belt
+glittered.</p>
+
+<p>"Brand!" called Overland Red softly. The opposite wall took up the name
+hesitatingly and tossed it back.</p>
+
+<p>"Brand!" whispered the echoes that drifted to the darkened corners of
+the cliff and were lost in voiceless murmurings.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">281</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Brand your own stock," came the answer, low and distinct.</p>
+
+<p>Overland laughed. It was their old-time pun upon the foreman's name. He
+got to his feet and approached. "It does me good," he said, extending
+his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"How is Collie?" asked Williams, dismounting.</p>
+
+<p>Overland heaved great sigh. "He's floatin' somewhere between here and
+the far shore. Mebby he's tryin' to pull through. The doc says the kid
+don't seem to care whether he does or not. Did&mdash;the little Rose
+Girl&mdash;tell you anything to&mdash;to say to him?"</p>
+
+<p>"When I was leavin' she come out to the gate," said Williams. "She
+didn't say much. She only hands me this, and kind of whispered, 'Give
+him this. He will understand.'"</p>
+
+<p>And Williams drew a small gray gauntlet from his shirt. Overland took
+the glove and tucked it in his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>"Anything doing?" asked Williams.</p>
+
+<p>"Nope. They're overdue to jump us if shootin' Collie was any sign."</p>
+
+<p>"Like old times," said Williams.</p>
+
+<p>"Like old times," echoed Overland. "No trouble findin' your way across?"</p>
+
+<p>"Easy. Followed them automobile tracks clear to the range. We fed up at
+the town. The boys gets kind of restless&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">282</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Boys? Ain't you alone?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hell, no!" replied Williams disgustedly. "I wish I was! I got four
+pigeon-toed, bow-legged, bat-eared Moonstoners down in that meadow, just
+itchin' mad to cut loose. And they ain't sayin' a word, which is
+suspicious. Worryin' across the old dry spot the last three days has
+kind of het 'em up. And then hearin' about Collie...."</p>
+
+<p>"How'd you come to have so much comp'ny?" queried Overland.</p>
+
+<p>"I was plumb fool enough to read that letter of yours to 'em. They all
+like Collie first-rate. Better than I calculated on. The boss talked
+turkey to 'em, but he had to let 'em come. He did everything he could to
+hold 'em, knowin' what was in the wind."</p>
+
+<p>"And they quit?"</p>
+
+<p>"Quit? Every red-eyed bat of 'em. Bud and Pars and Billy and Miguel.
+Told the boss they quit, because me bein' foreman they would do as I
+says, but if they quit I wasn't their foreman any longer, and they would
+do as they dum please. They had the nerve to tell me that I could come
+along if I was wishful."</p>
+
+<p>"Kind of bad for Stone, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"The Price boys are holdin' down the ranch. You see, Jack, it hit us
+kind of hard, Collie ridin' away one mornin', and next thing your
+letter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">283</a></span> that he was down and pretty nigh out. The boys didn't just like
+that."</p>
+
+<p>Overland nodded. "Well, Brand, I guess I'll step down and look 'em
+over."</p>
+
+<p>"Only one thing, Jack. I feel kind of responsible for them boys, even if
+I ain't their foreman just now. Don't you go to spielin' to 'em and get
+'em thinkin' foolish. They're about ready to shoot up a town, if
+necessary."</p>
+
+<p>"Been hittin' the booze any?"</p>
+
+<p>"Some. But not bad."</p>
+
+<p>"All right. I don't want to say only 'How!' and thank 'em for Collie. If
+I say more than three words after that, you can have my hat."</p>
+
+<p>"It don't take three words, sometimes," said Williams, somewhat
+ambiguously.</p>
+
+<p>"Leave it to me," said Overland, still more ambiguously.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Ringed round their little fire in the meadow sat or lay the Moonstone
+riders. While crossing the desert Williams had sketched a few of the red
+episodes in Overland's early career. These pleased the riders mightily.
+They were anxious to meet Red Jack Summers. When Williams did introduce
+him, they were rather silent, asking after Collie in monosyllables. They
+seemed strangely reticent.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">284</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Both Williams and Overland felt an inexplicable tensity in the
+situation.</p>
+
+<p>Miguel, the young Mexican vaquero, broke silence. "How long you call it
+to this Gophertown place, I think?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thirty miles," said Overland.</p>
+
+<p>"Walkin' backwards&mdash;like Miguel's talk," said Billy Dime.</p>
+
+<p>"That's easy," said Bud Light.</p>
+
+<p>"What's easy?" questioned Williams.</p>
+
+<p>"Walkin' backwards," replied the facetious Bud.</p>
+
+<p>"If you don't step on your neck," said Pars Long.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm gettin' cold feet," asserted Bud Light after a silence.</p>
+
+<p>"That disease is ketchin'," said Billy Dime.</p>
+
+<p>"I know it. I been sleepin' next to you," retorted Bud.</p>
+
+<p>Brand Williams glanced across the fire at Overland, who smiled
+inscrutably. The undercurrent was unfathomable to Williams, though he
+guessed its main drift.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Pars Long glanced at the foreman. "Brand," he said quietly, "we
+expect you didn't read all of that letter from your friend here. You
+said Collie was shot. You didn't say how, which ain't natural. We been
+talkin' about it. Where was he hit?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">285</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Overland saw his chance and grasped it with both hands. "In the back,"
+he said slowly, and with great intensity.</p>
+
+<p>Followed a silence in which the stamping of the tethered horses and the
+whisper of the fire were the only sounds.</p>
+
+<p>Presently Miguel ran his fingers through his glossy black hair. "In the
+back!" he exclaimed. "And you needn't to tell that he was run away,
+neither."</p>
+
+<p>"In the back?" echoed Billy Dime.</p>
+
+<p>Overland and Williams exchanged glances. "You done it now," said
+Williams.</p>
+
+<p>"'Cordin' to agreement," said Overland.</p>
+
+<p>"Make it a wireless," said Billy Dime. "We ain't listenin', anyhow."</p>
+
+<p>"Only thirty miles. What do you say, Brand?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothin'."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>As</i> usual," ejaculated Dime.</p>
+
+<p>"I say about three to-morrow morning," ventured Pars Long. "Light will
+be good about nine. We can do the thirty by nine. A fella would be able
+to ride round town then without fallin' over anything."</p>
+
+<p>"What you fellas gettin' at?" queried Williams.</p>
+
+<p>"Gophertown," replied Dime. "You want to come along?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">286</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Is it settled?" asked the foreman.</p>
+
+<p>The group nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, boys, it would 'a' been <i>my</i> way of evenin' up for a pal."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you're comin', too?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think I'm packin' these here two guns and this belt jest to
+reduce my shape?" queried Williams in a rather hurt tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Whoop-ee for Brand!" they chorused, and the tethered ponies shied and
+circled.</p>
+
+<p>"I never rode out <i>lookin'</i> for trouble," said Williams. "And I never
+shied from lookin' <i>at</i> it when it come my way."</p>
+
+<p>"Who said anything about trouble?" queried Billy Dime innocently. "I'm
+<i>dry</i>. I want a <i>drink</i>. I'm goin' over to Gophertown to get it. I'll
+treat the bunch."</p>
+
+<p>"Which bunch?"</p>
+
+<p>"Any and all&mdash;come stand up and down it."</p>
+
+<p>"We'll be there when you call our numbers, sister. You comin'?" asked
+Pars Long, nodding toward Overland.</p>
+
+<p>"Me? Nope.... I'm goin'. I'm goin' to ask you boys to kindly allow me
+the privilege of gettin' my drink first and by my lonesome. There will
+be a gent there with sore eyes. He got sore eyes waitin' and watchin'
+for me to call. I expect to cure him of his eye trouble. After that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">287</a></span> you
+will be as welcome as Mary's little lamb&mdash;fried."</p>
+
+<p>"Bur-rie me not on the lo-o-ne prai-ree," sang Bud Light.</p>
+
+<p>"Not while you got the fastest hoss in the outfit," said Williams.</p>
+
+<p>"Collie's hoss is here," said Overland. "I'm ridin' her this trip. I
+kind of like the idea of usin' his hoss on this here errand of mercy."</p>
+
+<p>"Three&mdash;to-morrow mornin'!" called Billy Dime, as Overland disappeared
+in the shadows.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Brand Williams, the taciturn, the silent, stepped from the fire and
+strode across the meadow. He paused opposite the Yuma colt and gazed at
+her in the moonlight. He jerked up his chin and laughed noiselessly.
+"Two-gun Jack Summers on that red Yuma hoss, ridin' into Gophertown with
+both hands filled and lookin' for trouble.... God! He was bad enough
+when he was dodgin' trouble. Well, I'm glad I'm livin' to see it. I was
+commencin' to think they wasn't any more <i>men</i> left in the country. I'm
+forty-seven year old. To-morrow I'll be twenty again ... or nothin'."</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">288</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2><h3>GOPHERTOWN</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Some towns "nestle" on the plain. Others, more aspiring, "roost" in the
+hills. Gophertown squatted on the desert at the very edge of a range of
+barren foothills. Its principal street was not much more than a
+bridle-trail that led past eleven ramshackle cabins, derelicts of the
+old mining days when Gophertown knew gold.</p>
+
+<p>The population of Gophertown was of an itinerant order. This was not
+always due to internecine disputes. Frequently a citizen became overbold
+and visited his old haunts instead of remaining safely, even if
+monotonously, at home. Train robbery was a sure passport to Gophertown's
+protection. Man-killing lent an added distinction to an applicant for
+hurried admission. Cattle-and horse-thieving were mere industries not to
+be confounded with these higher professions.</p>
+
+<p>Overland Red had once wintered in Gophertown. Immediately previous to
+his arrival in Gophertown he had been obliged to maintain, in an
+unofficial capacity, his former prestige as sheriff of Abilene. The town
+of Abilene had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">289</a></span> sympathized with him heartily, but had advised him to
+absent himself indefinitely and within the hour.</p>
+
+<p>The general store and saloon of the old mining camp still stood at the
+corner of the town facing the desert. A bleached and faded sign once
+read, "Palace Emporium." The letters now seemed to be shrinking from
+public gaze&mdash;vanishing into the wood as though ashamed of themselves.
+The wording of the sign had been frequently and indifferently
+punctuated. Each succeeding marksman had exploded his own theory, and
+passed on.</p>
+
+<p>Liquor was still to be obtained at the general store. Provisions were
+occasionally teamed in and were made up of peculiarly conglomerate lots.
+There were no women in Gophertown. There was little local gossip. There
+was no regular watch kept on the outlands. Gophertown felt secure in
+itself. Each man was his own argus. He was expected to know his enemies
+by instinct. He was expected, as a usual thing, to settle his disputes
+single-handed.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Silent Saunders was in the general store and saloon. He was disgusted in
+that he had been unable to induce the citizens to ride out with him and
+clean up Overland Red's claim. Overland had once been of them, even if
+briefly. He had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">290</a></span> been popular, especially as he was then the quickest
+man with a gun they had ever honored with their patronage. Also, the
+Gophertown folk had recently received a warning letter from the
+superintendent of a transcontinental railroad. They were not interested
+in Saunders's proposal.</p>
+
+<p>Saunders, coming from the saloon, was not a little surprised to see a
+band of horsemen far out on the desert. He felt that their presence in
+his vicinity had something to do with himself. He counted the horses.
+There were six of them. He knew instantly that the riders were cowmen,
+although he could not distinguish one from another. He beckoned to the
+saloon-keeper.</p>
+
+<p>"We could 'a' stopped that," he said, pointing toward the desert.</p>
+
+<p>"Big bunch. One&mdash;two&mdash;three&mdash;six of 'em. <i>Big</i> bunch to come visitin'
+here."</p>
+
+<p>Saunders gestured toward the ca&ntilde;on behind Gophertown.</p>
+
+<p>The saloon-keeper shook his head. "Don't think most of our boys will be
+back this week. Brandin' that bunch of new stock. Takes time to do it
+right."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, here comes Parks and Santa F&eacute; Smith," said Saunders. "That makes
+four of us."</p>
+
+<p>"Mebby&mdash;and mebby not," said the saloon-keeper. "That depends. Depends
+on the party that's callin' and who they're callin' <i>on</i>."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">291</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"There's Sago&mdash;just ridin' the ledge trail. That's five."</p>
+
+<p>"'Lige and Joe Kennedy are up at the corrals," said the saloon-keeper.
+"They would hate to miss anything like this."</p>
+
+<p>"Mebby they won't, if that bunch gets past us," said Saunders.</p>
+
+<p>"Seen the time when you could handle them alone, didn't you, Si?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and I can now."</p>
+
+<p>"Nix, Si. Your gun arms ain't what they was sence Overland Red winged
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"How in hell do you know he did?"</p>
+
+<p>"I could tell you more. But come on in and have one on the house. If I
+was you, I'd set with my back to the door and be taking a drink. Red
+Summers never shot a man in the back yet. If he's playin' for <i>you</i>,
+why, that gives you a chance to pull a gun."</p>
+
+<p>"How about you?" queried Saunders.</p>
+
+<p>"Me? None of my business. I'm here to push the booze."</p>
+
+<p>"And you'll do your collectin' with a gun, or go broke, if it's Red
+Summers and his friends."</p>
+
+<p>"Tryin' to scare me because you are?" asked the bartender.</p>
+
+<p>"Red helped Kennedy out of a mix once. Kennedy is his friend."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">292</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But Joe ain't here. What's gettin' into you? How do you know it is Red,
+anyway? You act queer."</p>
+
+<p>"I got a hunch," said Saunders.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you want to go into action quick, for when a gunman gets a hunch
+that he knows who is trailin' him, it's a bad sign."</p>
+
+<p>Saunders drummed on the table with his fingers. The drink of liquor had
+restored his nerve. Perhaps the riders were not coming to visit him,
+after all. He rose and stepped to the door. The oncoming horses were
+near enough for him to distinguish the roan outlaw Yuma&mdash;Collie's horse.
+Her rider's figure was only too familiar. Saunders fingered his belt.
+Unbuckling it, he stepped back into the barroom and laid the
+two-holstered guns and the belt on the table.</p>
+
+<p>Parks, from up in the ca&ntilde;on, rode up, tied his pony, and strolled to the
+bar, nodding to Saunders. Following him came Santa F&eacute; Smith, a
+bow-legged individual in sweater and blue jeans. He nodded to Saunders.
+Presently Sago, the Inyo County outlaw, came in, wheezing and
+perspiring. Saunders stepped to the bar and called for "one all around."</p>
+
+<p>As they drank two more ponies clattered up and 'Lige and Joe Kennedy
+joined the group at the bar. "Hutch and Simpson are comin' afoot," said
+Joe Kennedy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">293</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That leaves Wagner and the Chink to hear from," said the saloon-keeper.</p>
+
+<p>"Wagner's sick. I don't know where the Chink is. Everybody seems to 'a'
+got up in time for dinner, this mornin', eh?" And big Joe Kennedy
+laughed. "This here bar is right popular jest now."</p>
+
+<p>"Goin' to be more popular," said the saloon-keeper.</p>
+
+<p>"That so?" exclaimed several, facetiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Ask Saunders there," said the saloon-keeper.</p>
+
+<p>"Friends of yours, Silent?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Friends of mine."</p>
+
+<p>"Whole six of 'em, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Whole six of 'em."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we won't butt in. We'll give you lots of room."</p>
+
+<p>Saunders said nothing. He paid for the liquor, and, stepping to the
+table, sat with his back to the doorway. In front of him lay his guns,
+placed handily, but with studied carelessness. He leaned naturally on
+one elbow, as though half asleep. His hat was tilted over his brows.</p>
+
+<p>From outside came the jingle of spurs and rein-chains and the distant
+sound of voices. Saunders began leisurely to roll a cigarette. He laid a
+few matches on the table. Several of the men at the bar grinned
+knowingly.</p>
+
+<p>Then came the gritting of heels on the hardpacked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">294</a></span> trail and Overland
+Red stood in the doorway. "Mornin', gents&mdash;and Saunders," he said,
+glancing at the figure seated back toward him.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, Red!" exclaimed Joe Kennedy. "Out early, ain't you. Have a
+drink."</p>
+
+<p>"Not out too early. Hello, Lusk!"</p>
+
+<p>"How, Red," said the saloon-keeper.</p>
+
+<p>"Where's your friends. Ask 'em in," said Kennedy.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I ask 'em in, Saunders?" queried Overland, his voice edged with a
+double meaning.</p>
+
+<p>"Not on my account," said Saunders over his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"All right. Let's have a drink, boys."</p>
+
+<p>Even "Go-Light" Sago, the vilest of the Gophertown crew, admired
+Overland's coolness in turning his back on Saunders and facing the bar.</p>
+
+<p>For a second Saunders's fingers twitched. He glanced up.</p>
+
+<p>Joe Kennedy was looking at him over his glass of whiskey. "Ain't you
+drinkin', Silent?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"With some folks," said Saunders.</p>
+
+<p>Overland whirled round. "Have a drink with me, then."</p>
+
+<p>Saunders laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you don't smoke either, while I'm here," said Overland, his hand
+on his hip.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">295</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that's so! When you try to pull that old bluff of a match-game on
+me, wait till I'm a hundred and four years old, Silent. That gun-trick
+died of old age. Think up a new one."</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't you talkin' a little loud for polite sassiety?" questioned Sago,
+addressing Overland.</p>
+
+<p>"Seein' you're the only one that thinks so, I reckon not," said
+Overland.</p>
+
+<p>"Then," said Sago, moving slightly from the bar, "Saunders smokes."</p>
+
+<p>It was an open declaration of war. Sago, the Inyo County outlaw, sided
+with Saunders.</p>
+
+<p>According to the ethics of gunmen, Saunders was not armed. He was not
+"packing iron." His weapons lay on the table within reach, but he knew
+Overland would not precipitate matters by shooting him down where he
+sat. He glanced at Sago. The other winked.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I smoke," said Saunders, and reached for a match. He shot from the
+hip, swinging his guns sideways. The stutter of Overland's automatics
+mingled with the roar of Saunders's heavy Colts.</p>
+
+<p>Sago, jumping clear, pulled his gun. Kennedy clutched his arm. Saunders
+slid from his chair, coughed horribly, and wilted to the floor. Overland
+backed toward the door, both guns leveled.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">296</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Sago, jerking his arm free, threw two shots at Overland, who replied
+with a rippling tattoo of the automatics. The Inyo County outlaw sank to
+his hands and knees. Then Overland leaped through the doorway. The
+Moonstone riders spurred toward the saloon, thinking that the quarrel
+had provoked too many guns. Overland tried to stop them, but they were
+hot for fight.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a clean up!" yelled Parks, running out of the saloon and mounting
+his horse. "You framed it, you red-headed son&mdash;" He got no further.
+Brand Williams, thundering down at the head of the Moonstone riders,
+threw a level shot that cut through Parks, who wavered, but managed to
+wheel his horse and fire at Overland Red. Then the outlaw slid from the
+saddle clawing at it as he fell.</p>
+
+<p>The Gophertown men poured from the saloon, and, seizing their ponies,
+circled round to the back of the building, firing as they retreated.</p>
+
+<p>Miguel spurred his big pinto in among them and emptied his gun. He rode
+out at a lope, reloading. The front of his flannel shirt was shot away,
+but he was not aware of it.</p>
+
+<p>Billy Dime coolly sat his horse and "drew fine" at each shot, till a
+leaden slug drilled his gun-arm. He swore profusely, and wisely spurred
+out of range.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">297</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I got one!" cried Miguel, swinging shut the cylinder of his gun. "I go
+get another one."</p>
+
+<p>"Give 'em my com-pli-ments," said Dime, winding a handkerchief round his
+arm and knotting it with one hand and his teeth.</p>
+
+<p>Williams, keeping under cover, fired slowly and with great precision.
+Overland Red, utterly unable to manage the Yuma colt under fire, rode up
+to Williams. "Let's call it off, Brand. I got my man. They was no need
+of the rest of it. How did it start, anyhow?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's about what the kid said when he let go the wagon on top of the
+hill. I counted five Gophers down. Billy's hit, and Miguel's goin' to
+be, the dam' little fool. Look at him!"</p>
+
+<p>The Gophertown men were drawing away toward the ca&ntilde;on. They turned
+occasionally to throw a shot at Miguel and Pars Long, who followed them.</p>
+
+<p>Bud Light sat his horse, gazing solemnly at the stump of his gun-finger.
+His shirt was spattered with blood.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Williams raised a shrill call. The Moonstone boys wheeled their
+ponies and rode toward him. Williams pointed up the ca&ntilde;on. Down it rode
+a group of men who seemed to be undecided in their movements. They would
+spur forward and then check and circle, apparently waiting for their
+friends to come up to them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">298</a></span> "It's the rest of the Gophertown outfit. We
+might as well beat it," said Williams. "This here thing's gettin' too
+popular all to once."</p>
+
+<p>"Did that guy get you?" asked Williams, nodding to Overland.</p>
+
+<p>"Not what you'd notice," replied Overland. "We'll take a drink on the
+house. She ain't so tidy as she was."</p>
+
+<p>"Neither is the guy behind the bar," said Bud Light, pointing with the
+stub of his finger to Lusk's face. The saloon-keeper had been hit between
+the eyes by a chance bullet.</p>
+
+<p>"He's where he belongs," said Williams. "So is this one." And Williams
+touched Saunders's body with his boot. "Let's drink and vamoose."</p>
+
+<p>"Here's to the kid!" cried Overland, strangely white and shaky.</p>
+
+<p>"Here's hoping!" chorused the Moonstone riders.</p>
+
+<div class='figcenter' style='width: 400px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="illus-013" id="illus-013"></a>
+<img src='images/img313.jpg' alt='IT&#39;S A CLEAN-UP' title='' width = '400' height = '621'/><br />
+<span class='caption'>IT'S A CLEAN-UP</span>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">299</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIX</h2><h3>TOLL</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>None of the Moonstone boys had supposed that Overland Red was hit. He
+rode joyfully and even began a poem to the occasion. Williams was first
+to notice that Overland's speech was growing thick and that his free
+hand clasped the saddle-horn.</p>
+
+<p>The others, riding a little to the rear, burst suddenly into boisterous
+laughter. "What you think, Brand?" called Pars Long. "Bud's jest been
+countin' his fingers and he says there is one missin'. He ain't sure
+yet, but he's countin' hard. He has to skip when he comes to number one
+on his right mitt. Says he can't get started to count, that way."</p>
+
+<p>"Some lucky it ain't his head," replied Williams.</p>
+
+<p>"His head? Bud would never miss that. But his pore little ole finger,
+layin' calm and cold back there. A very sad business, brethren."</p>
+
+<p>"I paid twelve sweaty plunks for her in Los and look at her!" cried Pars
+Long, doffing his sombrero. The high crown was literally shot to pieces.
+"I guess I am some wise guy. You fellas<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">300</a></span> kidded me about sportin' an
+extra high lid. Come on, Chico, they're laughin' at us!"</p>
+
+<p>"If they'd 'a' shot the crown off clean down to your ears, you'd never
+noticed it," grumbled Billy Dime.</p>
+
+<p>"Mebby I am a flat-headed chicken, Billy, but I got both wings yet,"
+retorted Long.</p>
+
+<p>Billy Dime looked down at the blood-soaked sleeve of his right arm. "The
+fella that did it is eatin' grass now," he muttered.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, what's the matter with Miguel? Discovered any bullets nestin' in
+your manly buzzum, Miguel?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think no. But I lose something," replied Miguel, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"That so?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did have the tobacco and papers here," he said, and he put his hand
+on his chest. "Now I look and the pocket and some of the shirt is not
+there&mdash;and my tobacco is gone, and the little papers."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that all? Sad. I thought you'd lost a railroad or a steamship or
+something. Cheer up! Things might be better."</p>
+
+<p>"I think I like to smoke," said Miguel, quite seriously. "I will ride
+back and get some tobacco and some more papers."</p>
+
+<p>"That ain't all you'll get. Here, smoke up. You look fine in that
+peek-a-boo shirt. Never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">301</a></span> knowed you had such a good shape. What size
+gloves do you wear, pet?" And Pars Long passed tobacco and papers to
+Miguel, who rolled a cigarette and smoked contentedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Billy, you look sick," said Bud Light.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no! I want to go to a dance, right away. Whoa!"</p>
+
+<p>They drew rein. Williams, dismounting, was bending over his companion
+Overland, who had suddenly slipped from the saddle.</p>
+
+<p>"Where's he punctured?" queried Bud Light.</p>
+
+<p>Williams examined the prostrate man. "Kind of low down, and in the side.
+'T ain't bad, but it's bad enough. Got any whiskey?"</p>
+
+<p>"You bet! I got a pocket-gun here. Swiped it in the saloon." And Pars
+Long handed a flask to Williams.</p>
+
+<p>The riders, standing round the fallen man, watched Williams as he bound
+up the wound, which was bleeding slowly. The whiskey partially revived
+Overland. He managed finally to cling to the saddle, supported by
+Williams.</p>
+
+<p>"She's thirty hot miles to camp. Red won't last out," said Long.</p>
+
+<p>"I say he does," said Bud Light. "Did you see them puckers in his hide?
+I counted seven. He ain't made to be stopped by a gun."</p>
+
+<p>"Mebby he ain't stopped, but he's slowed up considerable. Did you see
+the two guys he got?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">302</a></span> Saunders was pretty nigh cut in two and the other
+one by the bar had four holes in him. I counted 'em, to quit thinkin' of
+my arm. Them automatics is fierce!"</p>
+
+<p>"He would never 'a' got out if he'd been packin' a regular old six-gun,"
+said Bud Light. "<i>Both</i> them guys were throwin' lead at him."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know? You wasn't there."</p>
+
+<p>"Easy. He went in to get Saunders. He gets him. The other one takes a
+hand. He got <i>him</i>. <i>We</i> didn't do any shootin' inside."</p>
+
+<p>"Guess that's right. But how about the barkeep?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he just got in the way. He was drilled between the lamps. In a mix
+like that who's goin' to take time to draw fine?"</p>
+
+<p>"Did you see Brand lift the Gophertown guy out of his saddle&mdash;the one
+that was shootin' at Red in front of the joint? Brand threw a forty-five
+into him, and comin' on the jump, too. The Gopher humped up like he'd
+been horned by the Santa F&eacute; Limited. Now what's the dope?"</p>
+
+<p>Overland Red had again fallen from his horse. Williams beckoned to Long.
+"Take the Yuma colt, Pars, and fan it for the ca&ntilde;on. Send the doc back,
+and you stay with that young Winthrop and look after Collie. Your hoss
+is quieter for Red, anyway. Tell the doc to bring his tools<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">303</a></span> along. I
+reckon we'll camp over there near the hills till to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Who was it got me?" questioned Overland as he was revived a second
+time.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," replied Williams. "The only distinguishin' brand on him
+was one I put there. It ain't worryin' him now."</p>
+
+<p>"Like old times," said Overland, trying to smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Like old times," echoed Williams.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess it was Parks," murmured Overland. "He had plenty of chance. I
+wasn't after him."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Slowly the group of horsemen rode across the desert. The afternoon sun
+made queer shadows of them and their mounts. Billy Dime rode bent
+forward. His face was white and beaded with sweat. Overland, on Long's
+pony, was supported by Miguel and Brand Williams. Pars Long had
+disappeared in the shadows of the range.</p>
+
+<p>Billy Dime's eyes grew strangely bright. He laughed, gazing at the
+foreman's back. "The whole damn fuss was wrong, <i>wrong</i>, I tell you! We
+had no <i>business</i> shootin' up that town."</p>
+
+<p>"But it was considerable pleasure," said Bud Light. "You're off your
+bean, Billy. I guess you forget what they did to Collie."</p>
+
+<p>Billy Dime leered. The fever from his wound<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">304</a></span> was working through his
+blood. "Don't pertend to me, Bud Light, that you come on this little
+pasear on account of <i>Collie</i>. It was <i>her</i> eyes that said to go. You
+know that. She never said words, but her <i>eyes</i> said to go&mdash;and to kill!
+Do you get that? That's what a woman can do to a man, without sayin' a
+word. And what did Collie ever do for me? Look at that arm. <i>Look</i> at
+it! What did Collie ever do for me to get shot up this way?" And Billy
+Dime began to weep. "I killed two of 'em&mdash;two of 'em. I saw 'em drop. I
+was drawin' fine&mdash;<i>fine</i>, I tell you, and I couldn't miss."</p>
+
+<p>Bud Light rode forward to Williams. "Billy's gone off his crust. He's
+ravin' back there, Brand."</p>
+
+<p>Williams drew Long's flask from his saddle-pocket. "Give him a shot of
+this. Take some yourself. Miguel and I don't need any. Hold on&mdash;I'll
+give Red a shot first. When it gets to workin', you yip and ride for the
+hills. We'll all ride&mdash;<i>ride</i>, you understand? It'll be a dry camp, and
+a hard flash, but we'll make it."</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">305</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXX</h2><h3>TWO ROSES</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>One morning, some three weeks after the invasion of Gophertown, Bud
+Light, Billy Dime, and Brand Williams appeared at the Moonstone Ranch
+office.</p>
+
+<p>Quite casually they had dismounted, and jingling up had asked for Walter
+Stone. Upon his appearance the younger men applied individually for
+their old places. The room smelled of cigarette smoke and antiseptics.
+Quite as though nothing unusual had happened the rancher reinstated
+them.</p>
+
+<p>"Have a good time, boys?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir. Very good time. Better than we expected," replied Billy Dime.
+Bud Light nodded.</p>
+
+<p>Stone looked hard at Billy Dime's bandaged arm. "Miguel and Parson Long
+have a good time also?"</p>
+
+<p>"Stayed to help Overland Red work the claim. Overland Red got hurt a
+little, doin' somethin'. He's all right now."</p>
+
+<p>"None of the Moonstone boys were injured?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nope. Not a one of us," replied Dime blandly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">306</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Walter Stone's eyes twinkled, but he did not smile. "We will call it a
+vacation this time, with pay. Tell Williams to step in here, please."
+And the rancher dismissed his embarrassed and happy punchers with a
+gesture.</p>
+
+<p>The interview with Williams was not so brief. "The boys came out of it
+all right?" asked Stone, shaking hands with his old foreman.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"How did you manage that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't. They did."</p>
+
+<p>"Any one&mdash;er&mdash;of the other side have an accident?"</p>
+
+<p>"Saunders&mdash;and six gents got hurt pretty bad."</p>
+
+<p>"Whew! Our boys were lucky."</p>
+
+<p>"It was nothin' but luck that they ain't all back there now&mdash;on the
+sand. You see, the Gophertown outfit are all what you'd call good with a
+gun, but it was kind of a surprise, the spreadin' of the thing from
+Red's little private deal to a six-hand game. We sure was lucky."</p>
+
+<p>"And Collie?"</p>
+
+<p>Williams shook his head. "I don't know. We thought he had crossed over.
+Seems he took a new holt. The doc and Winthrop brung him to Los in the
+automobile. He's at the hospital. But they say he don't pick up any
+since he come there."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">307</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"All right, Brand. I think that is all."</p>
+
+<p>"How about my name goin' back on the books?" asked Williams.</p>
+
+<p>"It hasn't been off the books. You know, Louise attends to the
+time-sheet."</p>
+
+<p>Williams nodded. "I expect Miguel and Parson Long will be sniffin'
+around lookin' for a job before long. They agreed to stay with Red till
+he got on his feet again. But they told him they would go just as soon
+as he was all right, for you couldn't run your ranch without 'em."</p>
+
+<p>Walter Stone smiled broadly. "You're foreman, Brand."</p>
+
+<p>"They was fightin' just as much for the name of the old Moonstone as for
+Collie, or for fun," said Williams.</p>
+
+<p>"I know it. But I don't believe in such methods. That sort of thing is
+about done with," said Stone.</p>
+
+<p>"I was readin' about the old days in the Panamint, not long ago," said
+Williams, gazing at a corner of the office. "I&mdash;they was a list of names
+of the ranchers that cleaned up the rustlers over there, back in '86. It
+was interestin'&mdash;some of them names."</p>
+
+<p>Walter Stone coughed and turned in his chair. He gazed out of the
+window. Finally he faced Williams again. "We had to do it," he said,
+smiling.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">308</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Williams nodded. They understood each other.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The Marshalls, delighted with Los Angeles, had taken apartments in the
+city. Dr. Marshall, at the urgent request of Walter Stone, had called at
+the hospital to see Collie. The wound had healed slowly. Collie gained
+no strength. He seemed indifferent as to whether he recovered or not.
+Dr. Marshall, consulting with the surgeon, agreed that the young man's
+recovery was still doubtful. His vitality was extremely low. His usual
+optimism had stagnated.</p>
+
+<p>Later, when Walter Stone, Mrs. Stone, and Louise visited the hospital,
+Collie had smiled wanly and said but little, thanking them for their
+visit with a word.</p>
+
+<p>Louise returned home, heartsick and haunted by Collie's eyes that had
+seemed so listless, so indifferent, so weary. She had hoped to cheer
+him. His indifference affected her more than his actual physical
+condition, which seemed to be the cause of it. Louise recognized in
+herself a species of selfishness in feeling as she did. Like most folk
+of superabundant health she was unable to realize the possibilities of
+sickness. She longed for his companionship. She had not dared to ask
+herself whether or not she loved him. She was glad that he should love
+her&mdash;and yet she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">309</a></span> was not altogether happy. She had sent him her token,
+the little gray riding-gauntlet. He had in no way acknowledged it.</p>
+
+<p>The sentiment incident to Collie's almost fatal misfortune did not blind
+her in the least. She told herself frankly that she missed him. At the
+ranch he had been with her much. From her he had gleaned of books and
+people. The actual advantage to him was not in the quantity of knowledge
+he had gained, but in the quality and direction suggested by her
+attitude toward all things. The advantage to her in his companionship
+had been the joy of giving, of shaping his thought, of seeing him slowly
+and unconsciously differentiate himself&mdash;stand apart from his fellows as
+something she had helped to create. This much of him she possessed
+through conscious effort.</p>
+
+<p>Then to have seen him in the hospital, helpless, seemingly beyond any
+noticeable influence of her presence, stirred in her a kind of maternal
+jealousy. Straightway she visited Anne Marshall, who kissed her, held
+her at arms' length, saw the soft rose glow in her face, and spoke to
+the point, albeit in parables. Dr. Marshall had been very poor&mdash;a doctor
+in the slums&mdash;just before <i>they</i> were married. People had <i>said</i> things
+and had <i>looked</i> things, which was even worse. They subtly intimated
+that the doctor was marrying her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">310</a></span> for her money. She was the happiest
+woman in the world. She thought Collie was the manliest and most
+striking figure she had ever seen.</p>
+
+<p>To all of which Louise listened quietly, blushing a little. "And he is
+wealthy," concluded Anne. "For so young a man, he is wealthy. The Rose
+Girl Mining Company, Incorporated, my dear, pays well. Collie is one of
+the three largest stockholders. You see, Billy and Overland Red have
+decided to turn the claim into a corporation."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you contradict your&mdash;your theory a little, Anne?" asked Louise.</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed! It doesn't matter in the least who has the money, so long
+as the man is the right one."</p>
+
+<p>And Louise was silent, and a bit happier.</p>
+
+<p>The little parcel that came to the hospital, directed to Collie, was
+from Overland. It was accompanied by a vividly worded note and a small,
+stained, and wrinkled glove, at once familiar.</p>
+
+<p>Overland's note explained the delay in forwarding the glove. "It's some
+mussed up," he wrote, "because I had it in my shirt when I was hit. I
+was some mussed up likewise, or I would not 'a' forgot it so long. The
+little Rose Girl sent it to you by Brand when she thinks you was going
+to cross over on the last sunset limited.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">311</a></span> And I am feeling Fine,
+thanks. Do not rite to me if it gives you cramps.&mdash;Youres verry
+fathefuly, Jack."</p>
+
+<p>Collie turned the gauntlet over in his trembling fingers. His eyes
+glowed. He called the nurse, telling her he was hungry.</p>
+
+<p>Anne Marshall's visits were always refreshing. Well-gowned, cool,
+fragrant, she came, next afternoon, to Collie's bedside.</p>
+
+<p>"You <i>must</i> get well," she said, smiling. "The doctor will be terribly
+disappointed if you don't. Isn't that coldly encouraging? What a thing
+to say!"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to disappoint anybody," said Collie.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you will if you don't get better right away, sir! I wish I could
+do something to help. I can only sympathize and encourage the doctor."</p>
+
+<p>"I know he's doing a whole lot for me. I think mebby you could help&mdash;a
+little&mdash;if you wanted to."</p>
+
+<p>"Gracious! As though I didn't! Why didn't you tell me sooner?"</p>
+
+<p>"It only came yesterday," said Collie, tremulously drawing the gauntlet
+from beneath his pillow.</p>
+
+<p>Anne Marshall gazed at the soiled and wrinkled glove with unenlightened
+eyes. Then her quick smile flashed. "Oh! Now I know! So that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">312</a></span> is the
+talisman? Came yesterday? No wonder you seem brighter."</p>
+
+<p>Collie's answering smile was irresistible. "It isn't just the glove&mdash;but
+would you&mdash;I mean, if you was like me&mdash;without being educated or
+anything&mdash;" He hesitated, breathing deeply.</p>
+
+<p>But Anne Marshall understood him instantly, and answered his shyly
+questioning eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, I should. If I had half your chance, I shouldn't waste a minute
+in claiming the mate to that glove. One glove is of absolutely no use,
+you know."</p>
+
+<p>"This one was&mdash;pretty much," sighed Collie. "I was feeling like letting
+go inside and not trying to&mdash;to stay any longer, just before it came."</p>
+
+<p>"S-s-s-h! Don't even think of that. Some one called on me a few days
+ago. You are a very fortunate young man."</p>
+
+<p>Anne Marshall's ambiguity was not altogether displeasing to Collie, in
+that it was not altogether unintelligible.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>William Stanley Winthrop, sojourning briefly but fashionably in Los
+Angeles, appeared at the hospital in immaculate outing flannels. It was
+several weeks after his sister's last visit there. Winthrop took the
+convalescent Collie to the Moonstone Rancho in his car.</p>
+
+<p>Bud Light and Billy Dime accidentally met<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">313</a></span> the car in the valley and
+accompanied it vigorously through Moonstone Ca&ntilde;on.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Eleanor and Walter Stone were at the gate. Collie was helped to the
+house and immediately taken to the guest-room. He was much fatigued with
+the journey. The question in his eyes was answered by Aunt Eleanor.
+"Louise rode over to the north range to-day. She should be back now."</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop scarce needed an introduction. He was Anne Marshall's brother.
+That was sufficient for the host and hostess. He was made welcome&mdash;as he
+was wherever he went. He had heard a great deal, from his sister, of the
+Stones, and their beautiful niece, Louise Lacharme. He was enthusiastic
+about the Moonstone Ca&ntilde;on. He grew even more enthusiastic after meeting
+Louise.</p>
+
+<p>She came riding her black pony Boyar down the afternoon hillside&mdash;a
+picture that he never forgot. Her gray sombrero hung on the saddle-horn.
+Her gloves were tucked in her belt. She had loosened the neck of her
+blouse and rolled back her sleeves, at the spring above, to bathe her
+face and arms in the chill overflow. Her hair shone with a soft golden
+radiance that was ethereal in the flicker of afternoon sunlight through
+the live-oaks. From her golden head to the tip of her small riding-boot
+she was a harmony of vigor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">314</a></span> and grace, of exquisite coloring and
+infinite charm.</p>
+
+<p>Her naturalness of manner, her direct simplicity, was almost, if not
+quite, her greatest attraction, and a quality which Winthrop fully
+appreciated.</p>
+
+<p>"I have been quite curious about you, Mr. Winthrop," she said. "You are
+quite like Anne. I adore Anne. Shall we turn Boyar into the corral?"</p>
+
+<p>If William Stanley Winthrop had had any idea of making an impression, he
+forgot it. The impression Louise was unconsciously making straightway
+absorbed his attention.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed! Turn him into the corral&mdash;turn him into <i>anything</i>, Miss
+Lacharme. You have the magic. Make another admirer of him."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Mr. Winthrop. But Boyar could hardly be improved."</p>
+
+<p>"You trained him, didn't you?" queried Winthrop.</p>
+
+<p>Louise laughed. "Yes. But he was well-bred to begin with."</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop ejaculated a mental "Ouch!" Simplicity did not necessarily mean
+stupidity.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you enjoy mining&mdash;the real work&mdash;out there in the desert, Mr.
+Winthrop?"</p>
+
+<p>"I could enjoy anything in company with Overland."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">315</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Of course. Do you think people who have lots of money are apt to be
+cynical?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Not more so than people without money. But what splendid animals!" he
+exclaimed as they approached the corral.</p>
+
+<p>"Uncle Walter and I are very fond of them," she said, turning Boyar into
+the inclosure.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know, Miss Lacharme, I like horses and dogs and cats, and I just
+revel in burros. But animals don't seem to like me. They're rather
+indifferent to me. I wonder if it is a matter of health, or magnetism,
+or something of that sort?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no! But it is difficult to explain. Even if you are very fond of
+animals it doesn't follow that they will like you. That seems rather
+cold, doesn't it? It's almost unfair."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, if one considers it seriously."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop gazed at her for a second before replying. "I see I must tell
+you the truth," he said lightly. "You compel it. It <i>does</i> hurt me to
+have anything or any one that I care for indifferent to me. Perhaps it's
+because I realize that I am giving affection and selfishly want 'value
+returned,' so to speak. Pardon me for becoming serious."</p>
+
+<p>"Surely! But I thank you, too. See Boyar roll! He's happy. No, he
+doesn't roll because<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">316</a></span> his back itches. You see, he's sweaty where the
+saddle covered him. Before he rolled, you noticed that he deliberately
+found a dusty spot. The dust dries the sweat and he doesn't take cold.
+That's the real explanation."</p>
+
+<p>"I knew it couldn't be through happiness at leaving you," said Winthrop.</p>
+
+<p>"If you are determined to keep it up," said Louise mischievously, "all
+right. But be careful, sir! I enjoy it. It's been dull&mdash;dreadfully dull
+since Anne and the doctor left. May I have your knife?"</p>
+
+<p>A belated crimson Colombe rose nodded beneath the guest-room window.
+Louise cut the stem and pinned the flower in the lapel of Winthrop's
+white flannel coat. He gazed at her intent on her task.</p>
+
+<p>"There!" she said, with a light touch of her supple fingers. "That will
+do." And slowly her gray eyes lifted to his.</p>
+
+<p>The color flooded to his face. His eyes became momentarily brilliant. He
+drew a deep breath. "You told me to be careful. I shall be," he said,
+bowing slightly. "Please say something. Your silent attack was a little
+too&mdash;too successful."</p>
+
+<p>"Truce?" she queried, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"Never!" replied Winthrop. "Even as our rather mutual and distinctly
+illustrious friend<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">317</a></span> Overland says, 'Not till me wires are all down and
+me lights are out.'"</p>
+
+<p>Collie, standing at the open French window just above them, drew back.
+Quite naturally, being a young man in love, he misinterpreted all that
+he had seen and heard. Louise had been away the day he was expected to
+return to the ranch. She had come back. She was seemingly satisfied with
+Winthrop's society. She was even more than satisfied; she was flirting
+with him. An unreasonable, bucolic jealousy, partly due to his
+condition, overcame Collie's usual serenity. His invalidism magnified
+the whole affair to absurd proportions.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps it was the intensity of his gaze that caused Louise to glance
+up. His expression startled her. His eyes were burning. His face was
+unnaturally white. He met her glance, but gave no sign of recognition&mdash;a
+rudeness that he regretted even while he manifested it.</p>
+
+<p>Louise turned away proudly, calling Winthrop's attention to a huge
+garden-seat beneath the live-oaks. "We have dinner out there quite
+often," she said, her eyes glowing. "Would you care to rest a while
+after your ride?"</p>
+
+<p>"'A jug of wine&mdash;a loaf of bread&mdash;'" he quoted.</p>
+
+<p>"But it isn't a wilderness. And dinner won't be ready for an hour yet.
+Don't you think a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">318</a></span> wilderness would have been utterly stupid with his
+'thou' beside him singing everlastingly? Now please don't say, 'It would
+depend on the <i>thou</i>.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you sing, Miss Lacharme?"</p>
+
+<p>"A little."</p>
+
+<p>"Please, then,&mdash;a little. Then I'll answer your question."</p>
+
+<p>"I had rather not, just now."</p>
+
+<p>"My answer would be the same in either case. This is living, after the
+desert and its loneliness. I discovered one thing out there,
+however,&mdash;myself. It was a surprise. My 'way-back ancestors must have
+been pirates."</p>
+
+<p>"Mine&mdash;grew roses&mdash;in southern France."</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad they eventually came to America," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you so fond of candy, Mr. Winthrop?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Neither am I."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad they came, just the same. I simply can't help it."</p>
+
+<p>"Overland&mdash;Mr. Summers&mdash;doesn't take life very seriously, does he?"
+asked Louise.</p>
+
+<p>"Not as seriously as life has taken him, at odd times."</p>
+
+<p>"You brought Collie in your car, didn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"He's much better?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">319</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes. But he's pretty shaky yet. He's a little queer, in fact. As we
+came up the ca&ntilde;on he asked me to stop the car by the cliff, near this
+end,&mdash;that place where the sunlight comes through a kind of notch in the
+west. I thought he was tired of the motion of the car, so we stopped and
+he lay back looking at the cliff. Pretty soon the sun shot a long ray
+past us and it fairly splattered gold on the ca&ntilde;on wall. Then the shaft
+of sunlight went out. 'It will shine again,' he said, as if I didn't
+know that. Collie's a pretty sick man."</p>
+
+<p>Later Winthrop and Louise joined the others at the veranda. Louise
+excused herself. She searched a long time before she found another rose.
+This time it was a Colombe bud, full, red, and beautiful. She stepped to
+Collie's window. "Boy!" she called softly.</p>
+
+<p>White and trembling, he stood in the long window looking down at her.
+"I'm glad you are home again," she said.</p>
+
+<p>He nodded, and glanced away.</p>
+
+<p>"Boy!" she called again. "Catch." And she tossed the rose. He caught it
+and pressed it to his lips.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">320</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXXI</h2><h3>NIGHT</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Evening, placidly content with the warm silence, departed lingeringly.
+Belated insects still buzzed in the wayside foliage. A bee, overtaken in
+his busy pilfering by the obliterating dusk, hung on a nodding mountain
+flower, unfearful above the ca&ntilde;on's emptiness. An occasional bird
+ventured a boldly questioning note that lingered unfinished in the
+silence of indecision. Across the road hopped a young rabbit, a little
+rounded shadow that melted into the blur of the sage. A cold white fire,
+spreading behind the purple-edged ranges, enriched their somber panoply
+with illusive enchantments, ever changing as the dim effulgence drifted
+from peak to peak. Shadows grew luminous and were gone. In their stead
+wooded valleys and wide ca&ntilde;ons unfolded to the magic of the moon. There
+was no world but night and imagination.</p>
+
+<p>With many rustlings the quail huddled in the live-oaks, complaining
+querulously until the darkness silenced them.</p>
+
+<p>The warm, acrid fragrance of the hills was drawn intermittently across
+the cooler level of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">321</a></span> the shadowy road. A little owl, softly reiterating
+his cadences of rue, made loneliness as a thing tangible, a thing
+groping in the dusk with velvet hands.</p>
+
+<p>Then came that hush of rest, that pause of preparation, as though night
+hesitated to awaken her countless myrmidons. With the lisping of
+invisible leaves the Great Master's music-book unfolded. That low,
+orchestral "F"&mdash;the dominant note of all nature's melodies&mdash;sounded in
+timorous unison&mdash;an experimental murmuring. Repeated in higher octaves,
+it swelled to shrill confidence, then a hundred, then myriad invisibles
+chanted to their beloved night or gossiped of the mystery of stars.</p>
+
+<p>Then Night crept from the deep, cool ca&ntilde;ons to the starlit peaks and
+knelt with her sister hill-folk, Silence and Solitude; knelt, listening
+with bowed head to that ancient antiphony of thankfulness and praise;
+then rose and faced the western sea.</p>
+
+<p>Boyar, the black pony, shook his head with a silvery jingling of
+rein-chains. His sleek flanks glistened in the moonlight. Louise curbed
+him gently with hand and voice as he stepped through the wide gateway of
+the ranch.</p>
+
+<p>He paced lightly across the first shallow ford. Then the narrowing walls
+of the ca&ntilde;on echoed his clean-cut steps&mdash;a patter of phantom hoof-beats<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">322</a></span>
+following him, stride for stride. Down the long, ever-winding road they
+swung.</p>
+
+<p>Louise, impelled to dreams by the languorous warm night and Boyar's easy
+stride up the steep, touched his neck with the rein and turned him into
+the Old Meadow Trail.</p>
+
+<p>The tall, slender stems of the yucca and infrequent clumps of dwarfed
+cacti cast clear-edged shadows on the bare, moonlit ground. Boyar,
+sniffing, suddenly swung up and pivoted, his fore feet hanging over
+sheer black emptiness. Louise leaned forward, reining him round. Even
+before his fore feet touched the trail again, she heard the sibilant
+<i>bur-r-ing</i> of the cold, uncoiling thing as it slid down the blind
+shadows of the hillside.</p>
+
+<p>"I shan't believe in omens," she murmured.</p>
+
+<p>She reassured the trembling Boyar, who fretted sideways and snorted as
+he passed the spot where the snake had been coiled in the trail.</p>
+
+<p>At the edge of the Old Meadow the girl dismounted, allowing Boyar to
+graze at will.</p>
+
+<p>She climbed to the low rounded rock, her erstwhile throne of dreams,
+where she sat with knees gathered to her in her clasped hands. The pony
+paused in his grazing to lift his head and look at her with gently
+wondering eyes.</p>
+
+<p>The utter solitude of the place, far above the viewless valley, allowed
+her thought a horizon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">323</a></span> impossible at the Moonstone Rancho. Alone she
+faced the grave question of making an unalterable choice. Collie had
+asked her to marry him. She had evaded direct reply to his direct
+question. She knew of no good reason why she should marry him. She knew
+of no better reason why she should not. She thought she was content with
+being loved. She was, for the moment.</p>
+
+<p>The Old Meadow, that had once before revealed a sprightly and ragged
+romance, slumbered in the southern night; slumbered to awaken to the
+hushed tread of men and strange whisperings.</p>
+
+<p>Down in the valley the coyotes called dismally, with that infinite
+shrill sadness of wild things that hunger, and in their wailing pulsed
+the eternal and unanswerable "Why?" challenging the peaceful stars.
+Something in their questioning cry impelled Louise to lift her hands to
+the night. "What is it? What is it up there&mdash;behind everything&mdash;that
+never, never answers?"</p>
+
+<p>The moon was lost somewhere behind the ragged peaks. The night grew
+deeper. The Old Meadow, shadowed by the range above it, grew dark,
+impenetrable, a place without boundary or breadth or depth.</p>
+
+<p>"Got a match, kid?"</p>
+
+<p>Louise raised her head. Some one was afoot on the Old Meadow Trail. She
+could hear the whisper<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">324</a></span> of dried grasses against the boots of the men as
+another voice replied, "Sure! Here you are." And Louise knew that Collie
+was one of the men.</p>
+
+<p>About to call, she hesitated, strangely curious as to who the other man
+might be, and why Collie and he should foregather in the Old Meadow, at
+night.</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind," mumbled the first speaker; "I thought I wanted to smoke,
+but I don't. I want to talk first&mdash;about the Rose Girl."</p>
+
+<p>Louise tried to call out, but she was interrupted by Overland's voice.
+The two men had stopped at the lower side of the great rock. She could
+hear them plainly, although she could not see them.</p>
+
+<p>"Collie&mdash;we're busted. We're done, Chico. I ain't said nothin' to Billy
+yet. He's got money, anyway. This here only hits you and me."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean, Red?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean that the Rose Girl Mining Company, Incorporated, Jack Summers,
+President and General Manager, don't belong to us and never did. We been
+sellin' stock that ain't ours and never was."</p>
+
+<p>"How's that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was goin' to write. But I ain't no hand to write about business.
+Writin' po'try is bad enough. You recollec' them papers and that dust
+Billy tried to find, out there by the track?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">325</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I found it all. Since the company is workin' the claim now and I
+didn't have so much to do, I got to thinkin' of them papers. I went out
+there, paced her off down the track, guessed at about where it was, and
+found 'em."</p>
+
+<p>"Found them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir. There was that little bag almost atop of the sand, account of
+wind and rain. Then there was a record of the claim, our claim. It's
+been filed on before. We made a mistake and filed on the wrong section.
+When me and Billy went to file, I noticed the clerk said something about
+havin' neighbors on the claim next, but I was scared of answerin' too
+many questions, so I give him some cigars and beat it."</p>
+
+<p>"Who owns our claim, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's the queer part of it. You know the guy we give the water to&mdash;the
+one that died out there. <i>He</i> owns the claim, or he did. It belongs by
+rights to his girl now. His name was Andr&eacute; Lacharme."</p>
+
+<p>"Lacharme!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Louise's pa. Recollect your boss tellin' us as how the Rose Girl's
+daddy was missin' out in the Mojave? Then they was a letter&mdash;old and
+'most wore out&mdash;from Walter Stone himself. It was to him&mdash;her
+pa&mdash;tellin' him about the little Louise baby and askin' him to come to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">326</a></span>
+the Moonstone and take a job and quit prospectin'. That's where we
+stand."</p>
+
+<p>Louise, breathless, listened and could not believe that she was real,
+that this was not a dream. Andr&eacute; Lacharme! Her father!</p>
+
+<p>"I seen a lawyer about it," resumed Overland. "He said it was plain
+enough that the claim belonged to the dead prospector or his girl, now.
+You see, we worked the claim and kep' up the work accordin' to law. What
+we made ain't ours, but I'm mighty glad it's hers. 'Course, we earned
+what dust we dug, all right. Now I'm leavin' it up to you. Do we tell
+her or do we say nothin', and go on gettin' rich?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you put it up to me?" asked Collie.</p>
+
+<p>"Because, kid, you got the most to lose. Your chance is about gone with
+the Rose Girl if you let go the gold. Sabe? The little Rose Girl is
+wise. She don't give two cents for money&mdash;but she ain't foolish enough
+to marry a puncher that's workin' for wages on her uncle's ranch. And
+when she gets all me and Billy made and your share, she'll be rich. That
+won't be no time for you to go courtin' <i>her</i>. It ain't that you ain't
+good enough for any girl. But now'days things is different. You got to
+have money."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think Louise would take the money?" asked Collie.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">327</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. But that ain't it. We either give it up&mdash;or we don't.
+What do you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why&mdash;to tell Louise, of course. I meant that right along. You ought to
+know that."</p>
+
+<p>"You givin' it up because you had some fuss with her, or anything like
+that?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Red. I say tell her, because it's square. Did she stop to ask
+questions when I was in trouble? No. She went to work to help me, quick.
+I guess we care more for her than a whole carload of gold."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I guess. Once I wouldn't 'a' stopped to worry about whose gold it
+was. But knowin' the Rose Girl,&mdash;knowin' what she <i>is</i>,&mdash;why, it's
+makin' me soft in me morals."</p>
+
+<p>"What do we do now, Red?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm goin' to beat it. Back to the dusty for mine."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't have to do that, Red."</p>
+
+<p>"That's just why I'm a-doin' it. I like to do what I like."</p>
+
+<p>"Quitting now seems like saying, 'I'm whipped,'" said Collie. "Quitting
+after giving up our money to her looks like we were sore&mdash;even if we do
+it and smile. She would feel bad, Red. She'd think she drove us off."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I reckon not. She'll see that I always been a good daddy to you and
+put you right in this case. It was all right when you had a chance.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">328</a></span> It
+ain't now. It ain't fair to her, neither, because she's like to stick to
+any promises she might 'a' made you."</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you ask Stone for a job?" said Collie.</p>
+
+<p>"What? Me? After bein' President of the Rose Girl Mining Company,
+in&mdash;Say! They's no halfway house for me. It's all or nothin'. Why, I
+don't even own the Guzzuh. Could you stand it to see her every day, and
+you just a puncher workin' for the Moonstone. She would smile and treat
+you <i>fine</i>, and you'd be eatin' your own heart out for her."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I couldn't," said Collie slowly. "Red, I guess you're right."</p>
+
+<p>Collie's perspective was distorted through sudden disappointment. The
+old life of the road ... the vague to-morrows of indolence ... the
+sprightly companionship of Overland Red, inventive, eloquent....</p>
+
+<p>"Red, if I come with you, it's because I can't stand seeing her&mdash;after
+everything that has happened. It is square to her, too, I guess."</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't askin' you, Collie, but there's nothin' like ramblin' to make
+you forget. It's got hard work beat to a mush, because when you're
+ramblin' you're 'most always hungry. Listen! Love is when you ain't
+satisfied. So is a empty stomach. A fella's got to eat. Do you get
+that?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">329</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes. But, Red, you said you loved a woman once. You didn't forget."</p>
+
+<p>"No, kid. I didn't. Once I didn't do nothin' else but remember. I got
+over that. It's only accidental to circumstances pertainin' to the fact
+that I remember now. You never seen <i>me</i> cry in my soup, did you?"</p>
+
+<p>"But you're different."</p>
+
+<p>"That's the blat every yearlin' makes till he grows up and finds out
+he's a cow jest like his ma. I ain't different inside. And bleedin'
+inside is dangerouser than bleedin' outside. Listen! Remember the little
+fire beside the track, when we was 'way up in the big hills? Remember
+the curve, like a snake unwindin' where she run round the hill, and
+nothin' beyond but space and the sun drippin' red in the ocean? Remember
+the chicken we swiped and et that night? And then the smokes and lookin'
+up at the stars? Remember that? Listen!</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"It's beat it, bo, while your feet are mates,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And we'll see the whole United States.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a smoke and a pal and a fire at night,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And up again in the mornin' bright,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With nothin' but road and sky in sight</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And nothin' to do but go.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Then, beat it, bo, while the walkin' 's good;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the birds on the wires is sawin' wood.</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">330</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">If to-day ain't the finest for you and me,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There's always to-morrow, that's goin' to be.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the day after that is a-comin'. See!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And nothin' to do but go.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"I'm the ramblin' son with the nervous feet,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That never was made for a steady beat.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I had many a job for a little spell;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I been on the bum, and I've hit it swell.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But there's only one road to Fare-ye-well,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And nothin' to do but go."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"With nothing to do but go," whispered Collie. "Red, we've always been
+friends?"</p>
+
+<p>"You bet your return ticket!"</p>
+
+<p>"And we are always going to be," said Collie. "I guess that settles it.
+I&mdash;I wish Saunders&mdash;had&mdash;finished me."</p>
+
+<p>Louise, numb from sitting still so long, moved slightly.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?" exclaimed Collie.</p>
+
+<p>"Jest some of your little old ideas changin' cars," replied Overland.
+"You'll get used to it."</p>
+
+<p>"No; I heard something."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll be seein' things next. Got a match? I'm jest dyin' for a smoke.
+Remember when she give us the makin's and you got hot at me?"</p>
+
+<p>Overland cupped the flame in his hands and lighted his cigarette. The
+soft glow of the match spread in the windless air, penetrating the
+darkness. For an instant, a breath, Overland saw a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">331</a></span> startled face gazing
+down at him; the white face of the Rose Girl!</p>
+
+<p>"Great Snakes!" he cried, stepping back as the flame expired.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter, Red?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothin'. I was just thinkin'. I burned my mitt. Come on, Collie.
+Brand'll find a bunk for me to-night, I reckon. We'll tell the boss and
+the Rose Girl all about it to-morrow."</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">332</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXXII</h2><h3>MORNING</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Something's goin' to happen," stated Brand Williams.</p>
+
+<p>"How's that?" queried Bud Light.</p>
+
+<p>"See them two bosses&mdash;the Yuma colt and Boyar&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Uhuh."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Boyar's been standin' there since daylight, saddled. Nobody rides
+him but Miss Louise."</p>
+
+<p>"It's mighty early, but I don't see nothin' strange about the rest of
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a minute, Bud. Did you see Collie this mornin'? Was he all fixed
+up with his hair jest <i>so</i>, and his bandanna jest <i>so</i>, and his new
+sombrero and his silver spurs, and them new chaps, lookin' mighty
+important? He saddles Yuma and ties her over there. While he was eatin',
+the Boyar hoss trails his bridle over to where Yuma is tied. There they
+stand visitin' like two old soldiers on crutches instead of two mighty
+quick-actin' cayuses. Now that Yuma hoss has kicked the fancy linin' out
+of every cayuse that dast come nigh her. They 're <i>all</i> scared of her.
+She's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">333</a></span> makin' an exception this mornin'. She's plumb friendly with
+Boyar. That signifies! Hosses can see farther in the dark than folks."</p>
+
+<p>"Signifies what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, after all the talk I jest wasted on you, it signifies that you're
+too thick-headed, Buddy, to waste any more on. I can learn you to
+<i>spell</i> if you wanta take lessons."</p>
+
+<p>"You're dreamin', Brand. Wake up! As to spellin'&mdash;I'm spellin' right now
+while the fo'man is entertainin' me."</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks for callin' my attention to it. You can take your hoss and ride
+over to the Three Oaks. There's some fence down, over at the North
+Spring. I ain't dreamin' about that."</p>
+
+<p>Bud Light departed, swearing to himself. He disliked mending fence.
+Williams knew it. The cheerful Bud, "Reckoned he ought to 'a' known
+better than to try to ride the old man into the fence. Next time he
+would listen&mdash;and mebby learn something."</p>
+
+<p>Louise, drawing on her gauntlets, came down the broad steps of the
+ranch-house. The November air was crisp with the tang of early morning.</p>
+
+<p>She was puzzled at finding Boyar and Yuma together. She noticed Boyar
+had trailed his bridle across the yard&mdash;an unusual thing for him to do,
+considering his training. Louise spoke<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">334</a></span> to the Yuma colt, who sniffed at
+her gloved hand. The girl wondered why Collie had saddled Yuma. He
+usually rode one of the ranch horses to work. She wanted to talk with
+him&mdash;to reason with him; for her knowledge of the previous night's
+disclosures worried and distressed her. She thought Collie's half
+promise to Overland Red to turn to their old life had been too easily
+made. Her pride in him was touched. She was hurt, and not a little
+angry. She saw the flaw in his ultimate decision to sacrifice himself
+and his prospects through a too stringent and quixotic interpretation of
+his duty. To go back to the old life again&mdash;a tramp!</p>
+
+<p>But Collie was not to be seen. However, Louise never hesitated long.
+Deliberately she untied the Yuma colt and swung into the saddle. Black
+Boyar seemed to realize something unusual in her preference. He fretted
+as the roan pony leaped sideways toward the gate.</p>
+
+<p>Louise knew that Collie would follow her. She was riding his pony, the
+Yuma colt, and he would be fearful for the rider's safety.</p>
+
+<p>Collie, coming from the bunk-house, glanced up and saw Black Boyar
+standing alone where his own pony had stood. This was not an invitation;
+this was daring him to follow.</p>
+
+<p>He rode into the ca&ntilde;on, half conscious of Yuma's tracks ahead of him. He
+rode past the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">335</a></span> tracks as they swerved toward a grassy level near the
+stream.</p>
+
+<p>"Collie!"</p>
+
+<p>Louise stood beside the sweating Yuma, patting the pony's neck. Collie
+raised his sombrero formally.</p>
+
+<p>Louise was bareheaded. The clear morning sunlight enhanced her rich
+coloring. Against the misty gray of the ca&ntilde;on wall, her head in profile,
+as she stood beside the horse, was as delicately beautiful as that
+vision that imagination knows full well but may seldom realize.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"Collie, don't! Say anything but that. You look awfully glum. Surely not
+because I took Yuma."</p>
+
+<p>"No. Only I was afraid for you."</p>
+
+<p>"So you followed at break-neck speed to rescue the timorous, the
+despairing, and-so-forth?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't joke like that this morning."</p>
+
+<p>"Why? I'm here, safe enough. Had breakfast?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I wanted to see you about something, Louise."</p>
+
+<p>"All right. But you are so unnaturally tall and severe and judicial
+sitting there on Boyar. You look almost funereal. Please get down. Roll
+a cigarette and act natural. I'm not going to scold you, sir."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">336</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I wish you would."</p>
+
+<p>"Why? What have you been doing that makes you look so ashamed of
+yourself. Tell me!"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know I was."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't act naturally. Is there something about me that is different?
+Is that it?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I wish you was different, sometimes."</p>
+
+<p>"You do?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," he said gently. "I don't wish you were different. I want to
+remember you like you are."</p>
+
+<p>"To <i>remember</i> me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he whispered, "to remember you."</p>
+
+<p>He seemed to see regret, astonishment, questioning, gentle reproof, even
+a hint of amusement in her eyes. But her expression changed instantly.
+"I think you have something to remember me by; something you asked me
+for once, long ago. I sent it to you. You have never spoken of
+it&mdash;acknowledged it. I can't quite forgive that."</p>
+
+<p>"Your glove. I know. I got it here." And he touched his breast. "I
+thought you would understand."</p>
+
+<p>"I do. But, Collie, a girl always likes to be told that she is
+understood, even when she knows it."</p>
+
+<p>"I was going to write about getting your glove, at the hospital. I guess
+I was too tired."</p>
+
+<p>"At the hospital?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">337</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Red sent it to me. Brand gave it to him to give to me&mdash;that time."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" And Louise felt like retracting a little; but sweetly perverse,
+she obeyed sheer instinct. "Collie, do you realize that I have already
+asked you to dismount? Shall I have to ask you again? Do you realize
+that I am standing while you are sitting your horse?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am begging your pardon, Louise."</p>
+
+<p>The girl nodded brightly, smiling as she noticed the little scar on his
+chin&mdash;a wound that she had made him blush for when she had admonished
+him for fighting with Dick Tenlow.</p>
+
+<p>She watched the rise and fall of the muscles of his arm, beneath his
+flannel shirt, as he lighted his cigarette. How broad-chested and strong
+and wholesome he seemed in the morning sunlight! There was an untamed
+grace about his movements, his gestures, which, together with his
+absolute unconsciousness of self, pleased and attracted her.</p>
+
+<p>"Yuma is a little wild, but she is a fine saddle-pony. I'm really
+jealous for Boyar's prestige."</p>
+
+<p>"I was afraid for you to ride her," said Collie.</p>
+
+<p>"She behaves beautifully."</p>
+
+<p>"Would you take her as a kind of present from me?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Give Yuma to me? I thought you loved her?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">338</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I do. That's why I want you to have her."</p>
+
+<p>"He would give you away," said Louise, stroking Yuma's neck. "Give you
+away just as you're learning to trust him and perhaps even like him a
+little&mdash;and he says he loves you! Let's run away from him, Hummingbird!"</p>
+
+<p>"I think I could stand it if you would just be mean once," said Collie.</p>
+
+<p>"Stand what, Collie?"</p>
+
+<p>He had been watching her shapely hand and supple, rounded wrist as she
+stroked the pony's neck. Swiftly she turned from the horse and faced
+him. "What, Collie?" There was laughter in her eyes, a laughter that
+challenged more than his serious mood. Her lips were smiling. Her chin
+was tilted provokingly.</p>
+
+<p>His eyes grew wide with unspoken love, unuttered longing. He delighted
+in the delicious curve of her cheek, and of her arm resting on the
+saddle. Her poise had an inexplicable suggestion of royal courage, as
+though she were battling for more than her lips could utter. In her
+absence he had adored her. Now he forgot all that he had meant to tell
+her in the sensuous delight of her mere presence. But even that was not
+enough. He dropped the pony's reins and strode toward her. Louise paled
+even as he drew near, but he saw nothing but her eyes and her lips, lips
+that curved wistfully, provoking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">339</a></span> tenderness and love. For an instant
+Louise held her heart aloof.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me just worship you&mdash;a little while&mdash;a little while," he whispered.</p>
+
+<p>"Only a little while?" she breathed; and the soft rose glowed in her
+cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"Just forever," he said.</p>
+
+<p>And Louise Lacharme, more beautiful than the morning, Louise, his most
+gracious se&ntilde;orita, his Madonna of the Rose, lifted her arms to him. Her
+lips quivered like a child's, tremulous with longing to tell him
+silently, as his lips found hers, all that her heart was giving and all
+the wealth of love it yet should give.</p>
+
+<p>Gently his hands clasped her golden head. His whole being thrilled as he
+touched her hair, her cheeks, her lips. "Oh, Collie! Collie! Love me
+always," she whispered. And she drew him down to her breast and caressed
+his cheek, sighing and murmuring little endearments and sweet, broken
+words of love.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Moonstone Ca&ntilde;on, coldly beautiful, echoed the hoof-beats of the ponies
+as they walked homeward.</p>
+
+<p>Louise turned in the saddle. "Collie," she said with an indescribable
+gesture of appeal, "you will always take care of me, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"My Rose Girl! Why do you say that?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">340</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I was thinking of my father."</p>
+
+<p>Louise saw his lips stiffen and his chin lift. "Louise, I had no right,
+just now,&mdash;I haven't any right&mdash;I'm poor. The claim wasn't ours."</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't mean that," she said, smiling wistfully. "But you will always
+care for me, won't you? I don't care one bit about the claim. It has
+made trouble and sorrow enough. I can't remember my father. I can hardly
+think of him as my father. But it is horrible to think of his dying for
+water because he cared so much for gold."</p>
+
+<p>"But how did you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know," she answered gravely. "And I know that you are a very, very
+foolish boy, not to trust your friends more than you do. Did you suppose
+you would be happier or better in leaving Moonstone Rancho? Did you
+suppose I would be happier? Collie, you have so much to learn."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess that's so," he sighed. Then his eyes brightened with his
+old-time mischief. "Couldn't you begin now to teach me a little&mdash;like
+back there in the ca&ntilde;on?"</p>
+
+<p>And being of a decisive habit of mind, he rode close to Louise and
+claimed immediate and delicious instruction.</p>
+
+<p>"But how <i>did</i> you know?" he asked again&mdash;"about the claim and your
+father and me?"</p>
+
+<p>"A secret that I share with Overland," she replied.</p>
+
+<div class='figcenter' style='width: 400px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="illus-014" id="illus-014"></a>
+<img src='images/img356.jpg' alt='CAN&#39;T I HAVE ANOTHER ONE, ROSE GIRL?' title='' width = '400' height = '618'/><br />
+<span class='caption'>CAN'T I HAVE ANOTHER ONE, ROSE GIRL?</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">341</a></span>"So he told you! When? Not last night. He was asleep when I came away
+this morning."</p>
+
+<p>"So he is here, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Louise, you're joking. Didn't Red talk to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"And you know all about it already?" He looked at her curiously for a
+moment. "Did you know that I said I was going to leave the Moonstone?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"For the same reason that I can't now&mdash;you. Red and Billy Winthrop and I
+don't own a cent's worth of the claim now. I don't even own what's in
+the bank. All I got is Yuma."</p>
+
+<p>"You gave Yuma to me, Collie."</p>
+
+<p>"I sure did. I haven't even her. But I've got you. Oh, Louise! I can't
+believe it. I could just shout. Can't I have another one, Rose Girl?"</p>
+
+<p>"Must I teach you not to ask?" said Louise.</p>
+
+<p>Collie took her other meaning as she made a little mouth at him. "Not
+after this," he said, and gave apt proof that he meant it.</p>
+
+<p>"More than a whole carload of gold?" she asked, gazing at him.</p>
+
+<p>"You know <i>that</i>, too?"</p>
+
+<p>"Collie?"</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Promise that you won't speak to any one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">342</a></span> about the claim, or the
+desert, or my father until I say you may."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I promise."</p>
+
+<p>"Nor about ourselves, until I tell you to."</p>
+
+<p>"Never&mdash;if it will make you happy."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Overland Red, sitting on a boulder beside the road, stooped and gathered
+up a handful of pebbles. Then, for lack of other interest, he invented a
+game of ancient and honorable origin. "She loves me," he said tossing
+away a pebble. "She loves me not." And up spun another pebble. So he
+continued until the pebbles were gone. "She loves me not," he muttered
+lugubriously. Then his face brightened. "Of course she don't. She loves
+<i>him</i>. That's what I was tryin' to get at, anyway."</p>
+
+<p>He fumbled at a huge bunch of little red flowers called "Hummingbird's
+Trumpets." He arranged the hastily constructed bouquet to suit him. Then
+he laid it on the rock.</p>
+
+<p>"Accordin' to the latest book on good table-manners, or 'How to Be Happy
+Though Dressed Up,' this here bouquet is the proper thing. They'll think
+I'm some wiz' when I step out and present these here hummin'birds'
+bugles. Huh! I seen the two bosses gone, and I gets wise direct. But I
+got to brace up. Wonder what she'll think about me&mdash;after hearin' what I
+said last night<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">343</a></span> at the Old Meadow? Gee! I wonder what I did say? Did I
+cuss much? I forget. H-m-m. Good-mornin', folks! I&mdash;er&mdash;This here&mdash;Them
+hummin'birds' bugles&mdash;flowers&mdash;Happy day&mdash;Collie, what's wrong with you?
+What you laughin' at?"</p>
+
+<p>"You, of course. Where did you get the posies?"</p>
+
+<p>"Picked 'em along the Golden Shore. Just got back."</p>
+
+<p>"You do look scared, Red."</p>
+
+<p>"Seein' you're gettin' personal&mdash;<i>you</i> needn't to think because <i>you</i>
+just been there that I never will."</p>
+
+<p>"Say, Overland&mdash;I&mdash;we&mdash;" began Collie.</p>
+
+<p>"I knowed it! I won't say a word to nobody."</p>
+
+<p>Collie glanced at Louise. She nodded. Then she gave Overland her hand.
+He seized it and stood looking into her sweet gray eyes. "Little Rose
+Girl," he said quietly, "you always was the best and kindest and
+beautifullest we ever knowed. It ain't the first time you give your hand
+to help them that ain't fit to touch it. If there <i>is</i> any Golden Shore,
+I guess me and Collie will be there just because we knowed you down here
+and couldn't stay around, nohow, where you wasn't. And, believe me, if
+he don't treat you from now on like you was a plumb angel, I'll&mdash;I'll
+ride him off the big range and into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">344</a></span> space quicker'n shootin' stars!
+These here flowers is for you&mdash;not for that long-legged grasshopper
+ridin' your hoss there. I should think Boyar would be plumb ashamed."</p>
+
+<p>"Then Collie can walk," said Louise promptly. "Collie, will you please
+let Mr. Summers take Boyar? I want to talk with the President of&mdash;of my
+mine a little while."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't faint, Chico," said Overland, swinging into the saddle. "I always
+was the 'cute little gopher with the ladies. You watch <i>us</i> ride up this
+trail if you want to see a pair that <i>can</i> ride."</p>
+
+<p>Collie shook his fist at the grinning Overland, who had turned as he
+rode away. "You want to learn to act quick when a lady asks you," called
+Overland. "You didn't get off this hoss any too spry."</p>
+
+<p>Then Collie stooped and picked up a little red flower that had dropped
+from the boisterous one's offering.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">345</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2><h3>A SPEECH</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>The Marshalls and Billy Winthrop came in their car. The ride through the
+ca&ntilde;on had been pleasant. They were talking about Overland. They had been
+discussing the rearrangement of a great many things since the news of
+Louise's heritage had become known.</p>
+
+<p>"You had better close the muffler, Billy. You are frightening that
+pony!"</p>
+
+<p>"That's the Yuma colt," said Winthrop. "Overland is riding her."</p>
+
+<p>"Overland?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. He's coming to meet us."</p>
+
+<p>Plunging through the crackling greasewood at the side of the road, the
+Yuma colt leaped toward the car. In broad sombrero, blue silk
+neckerchief, blue flannel shirt, and silver-studded leather chaps, was a
+strangely familiar figure. The great silver spurs rang musically as the
+pony reared. The figure gave easily to the wild plunging of the horse,
+yet was as firm as iron in the saddle.</p>
+
+<p>Anne drew a deep breath. It was not the grotesque, frock-coated Overland
+of a recent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">346</a></span> visit, nor was it the ragged, unkempt vision Louise had
+conjured up for her in relating the Old Meadow story. In fact, it was
+not Overland Red at all, but Jack Summers, the range-rider of the old
+red Abilene days. He was clean-shaven, vigorous, splendidly strong, and
+confident. In the saddle, bedecked in his showy trappings, surrounded by
+his friends, Jack Summers had found his youth again, and the past was as
+a closed book, for the nonce.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm the boss's envy extraordinary," said Overland, by way of greeting.
+"Walt said something else, too, about bein' a potentiary, but I reckon
+<i>that</i> was a joke."</p>
+
+<p>"Good-morning! Don't get down! Glad to see you again!"</p>
+
+<p>But Overland was in the road, hat in hand, and Yuma's bridle-reins over
+one arm.</p>
+
+<p>"'Mornin', Billy! 'Mornin', Doctor! You run right up to the house. I left
+the gate open."</p>
+
+<p>Then Overland rode back, following them. Later he reappeared, minus
+spurs and chaps, but still clad in the garb of the range-rider. He was
+as proud and happy as a boy. He seemed to have dropped ten years from
+his shoulders. And he was strangely unlike his old boisterous self
+withal.</p>
+
+<p>The noon sun crept through the moon-vine. Out on the wide veranda was
+the long table.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">347</a></span> They were a happy group at luncheon there. Even the
+taciturn Brand Williams had been persuaded to come. His native
+picturesqueness was rather effaced by a black, characterless suit of
+"store clothes."</p>
+
+<p>Walter Stone, at the conclusion of the luncheon, asked Overland to make
+a speech. Nothing daunted, Overland rose briskly.</p>
+
+<p>"I expect you're lookin' for me to fall off the roof of the cannery into
+the tomato-vat and make a large red splash. Not me. I got somethin' to
+say. Now the difference in droppin' a egg on the kitchen floor and
+breakin' it calm-like, in a saucer, ain't only the muss on the floor.
+You save the egg. Just recent I come nigh to losin' my whole basket. You
+all know who saved 'em. Not namin' any names, the same person, by jest
+bein' herself, and kind to everybody, put me wise to the fact that money
+and clothes ain't all that goes to make a man. And, at the same time,
+speakin' kind of orthodoxical, money and clothes has a whole lot to do
+with makin' a man. I just got hep to that idea recent.</p>
+
+<p>"Speakin' of clothes leads me to remark that I got a new outfit up at
+the bunk-house. It's a automobilein' outfit. Billy says it's the correc'
+thing. He helped me pick it out. Which leads Billy into this here thing,
+too. He said to break the news gentle, and not scare anybody to death<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">348</a></span>
+and not get 'em to thinkin' that somebody was hurt or anything like
+that, so I'm breakin' it to you easy. Me and Billy is goin' away. We're
+goin' in the Guzzuh&mdash;'God save the mush,' as the pote says. We are the
+Overland Red Towerist and Observation Company, Unlimited. We are goin'</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"'Round the world and back again;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Heel and toe in sun and rain'&mdash;</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>as another pote says. Only we ride. I ain't got nothin' to say about
+gettin' married, or happy days, or any of that ordinary kind of stuff. I
+want to drink the health of my friends. I got so many and such good ones
+that I dassent to incriminate any particular one; so I say, lookin' at
+your faces like roses and lilies and&mdash;and faces, I say,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"'Here's to California, the darling of the West,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A blessin' on those livin' here&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And God help all the rest.'"</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>Overland sat down amid applause. He located his tobacco and papers,
+rolled a cigarette with one hand, and gazed across the hills. Glancing
+up, he saw Louise looking at him. He smiled. "I was settin' on a crazy
+bronc' holdin' his head up so he couldn't go to buckin'&mdash;outside a
+little old adobe down in Yuma, Arizona, then. Did you ever drift away
+like that, just from some little old trick to make you dream?"</p>
+
+<p>At a nod from Aunt Eleanor they all rose.</p>
+
+<p>Louise stepped from her end of the table to where Overland stood gazing
+out across the hills. She touched him lightly on the arm. He turned and
+looked at her unseeingly. His eyes were filled with the dreams of his
+youth, dreams that had not come true ... and yet.... He gazed down into
+her face. His expression changed. His eyes grew misty with happiness. He
+realized how many friends he had and how loyal and excellent they were.
+And of all that he had gained his greatest treasure was his love for
+Louise&mdash;for Louise Lacharme, the little Rose Girl of his dreams. That
+love lay buried deep in his rugged heart. She would never know of it. No
+one should ever know&mdash;not even Collie.</p>
+
+<p>Louise, in an ecstasy of affection and pity that she could not
+understand, suddenly flung her arms around Overland's neck and kissed
+him full on the lips.</p>
+
+<p>More than he had ever dared to dream had come true.</p>
+
+<p>THE END</p>
+
+<p>GROSSET &amp; DUNLAP'S DRAMATIZED NOVELS</p>
+
+<p>THE KIND THAT ARE MAKING THEATRICAL HISTORY</p>
+
+<p>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset &amp; Dunlap's list</p>
+
+<p>WITHIN THE LAW. By Bayard Veiller &amp; Marvin Dana. Illustrated by Wm.
+Charles Cooke.</p>
+
+<p>This is a novelization of the immensely successful play which ran for
+two years in New York and Chicago.</p>
+
+<p>The plot of this powerful novel is of a young woman's revenge directed
+against her employer who allowed her to be sent to prison for three
+years on a charge of theft, of which she was innocent.</p>
+
+<p>WHAT HAPPENED TO MARY. By Robert Carlton Brown. Illustrated with scenes
+from the play.</p>
+
+<p>This is a narrative of a young and innocent country girl who is suddenly
+thrown into the very heart of New York, "the land of her dreams," where
+she is exposed to all sorts of temptations and dangers.</p>
+
+<p>The story of Mary is being told in moving pictures and played in
+theatres all over the world.</p>
+
+<p>THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM. By David Belasco. Illustrated by John Rae.</p>
+
+<p>This is a novelization of the popular play in which David Warfield, as
+Old Peter Grimm, scored such a remarkable success.</p>
+
+<p>The story is spectacular and extremely pathetic but withal, powerful,
+both as a book and as a play.</p>
+
+<p>THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. By Robert Hichens.</p>
+
+<p>This novel is an intense, glowing epic of the great desert, sunlit
+barbaric, with its marvelous atmosphere of vastness and loneliness.</p>
+
+<p>It is a book of rapturous beauty, vivid in word painting. The play has
+been staged with magnificent cast and gorgeous properties.</p>
+
+<p>BEN HUR. A Tale of the Christ. By General Lew Wallace.</p>
+
+<p>The whole world has placed this famous Religious-Historical Romance on a
+height of pre-eminence which no other novel of its time has reached. The
+clashing of rivalry and the deepest human passions, the perfect
+reproduction of brilliant Roman life, and the tense, fierce atmosphere
+of the arena have kept their deep fascination. A tremendous dramatic
+success.</p>
+
+<p>BOUGHT AND PAID FOR. By George Broadhurst and Arthur Hornblow.
+Illustrated with scenes from the play.</p>
+
+<p>A stupendous arraignment of modern marriage which has created an
+interest on the stage that is almost unparalleled. The scenes are laid
+in New York, and deal with conditions among both the rich and poor.</p>
+
+<p>The interest of the story turns on the day-by day developments which
+show the young wife the price she has paid.</p>
+
+<p><b><i>Ask for complete free list of G. &amp; D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction</i></b></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grosset</span> &amp; <span class="smcap">Dunlap</span>, 526 <span class="smcap">West</span> 26th <span class="smcap">St., New York</span></p>
+
+<p>STORIES OF WESTERN LIFE</p>
+
+<p><b>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset &amp; Dunlap's list</b></p>
+
+<p>RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE, By Zane Grey.</p>
+
+<p>Illustrated by Douglas Duer.</p>
+
+<p>In this picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago, we are
+permitted to see the unscrupulous methods employed by the invisible hand
+of the Mormon Church to break the will of those refusing to conform to
+its rule.</p>
+
+<p>FRIAR TUCK, By Robert Alexander Wason.</p>
+
+<p>Illustrated by Stanley L. Wood.</p>
+
+<p>Happy Hawkins tells us, in his humorous way, how Friar Tuck lived among
+the Cowboys, how he adjusted their quarrels and love affairs and how he
+fought with them and for them when occasion required.</p>
+
+<p>THE SKY PILOT, By Ralph Connor.</p>
+
+<p>Illustrated by Louis Rhead.</p>
+
+<p>There is no novel, dealing with the rough existence of cowboys, so
+charming in the telling, abounding as it does with the freshest and the
+truest pathos.</p>
+
+<p>THE EMIGRANT TRAIL By Geraldine Bonner.</p>
+
+<p>Colored frontispiece by John Rae.</p>
+
+<p>The book relates the adventures of a party on its overland pilgrimage,
+and the birth and growth of the absorbing love of two strong men for a
+charming heroine.</p>
+
+<p>THE BOSS OF WIND RIVER, By A. M. Chisholm.</p>
+
+<p>Illustrated by Frank Tenney Johnson.</p>
+
+<p>This is a strong, virile novel with the lumber industry for its central
+theme and a love story full of interest as a sort of subplot.</p>
+
+<p>A PRAIRIE COURTSHIP. By Harold Bindloss.</p>
+
+<p>A story of Canadian prairies in which the hero is stirred, through the
+influence of his love for a woman, to settle down to the heroic business
+of pioneer farming.</p>
+
+<p>JOYCE OF THE NORTH WOODS, By Harriet T. Comstock.</p>
+
+<p>Illustrated by John Cassel.</p>
+
+<p>A story of the deep woods that shows the power of love at work among its
+primitive dwellers. It is a tensely moving study of the human heart and
+its aspirations that unfolds itself through thrilling situations and
+dramatic developments.</p>
+
+<p><b><i>Ask for</i> a <i>complete free list of G. &amp; D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction</i></b></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grosset</span> &amp; <span class="smcap">Dunlap</span>, 526 <span class="smcap">West</span> 26th <span class="smcap">St., New York</span></p>
+
+<p>TITLES SELECTED FROM GROSSET &amp; DUNLAP'S LIST</p>
+
+<p><b>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset &amp; Dunlap's list</b></p>
+
+<p>THE SIEGE OF THE SEVEN SUITORS. By Meredith Nicholson. Illustrated by C.
+Coles Phillips and Reginald Birch.</p>
+
+<p>Seven suitors vie with each other for the love of a beautiful girl, and
+she subjects them to a test that is full of mystery, magic and sheer
+amusement.</p>
+
+<p>THE MAGNET. By Henry C. Rowland. Illustrated by Clarence F. Underwood.</p>
+
+<p>The story of a remarkable courtship involving three pretty girls on a
+yacht, a poet-lover in pursuit, and a mix-up in the names of the girls.</p>
+
+<p>THE TURN OF THE ROAD. By Eugenia Brooks Frothingham.</p>
+
+<p>A beautiful young opera singer chooses professional success instead of
+love, but comes to a place in life where the call of the heart is
+stronger than worldly success.</p>
+
+<p>SCOTTIE AND HIS LADY. By Margaret Morse. Illustrated by Harold M. Brett.</p>
+
+<p>A young girl whose affections have been blighted is presented with a
+Scotch Collie to divert her mind, and the roving adventures of her pet
+lead the young mistress into another romance.</p>
+
+<p>SHEILA VEDDER. By Amelia E. Barr. Frontispiece by Harrison Fisher.</p>
+
+<p>A very beautiful romance of the Shetland Islands, with a handsome,
+strong willed hero and a lovely girl of Gaelic blood as heroine. A
+sequel to "Jan Vedder's Wife."</p>
+
+<p>JOHN WARD. PREACHER. By Margaret Deland.</p>
+
+<p>The first big success of this much loved American novelist. It is a
+powerful portrayal of a young clergyman's attempt to win his beautiful
+wife to his own narrow creed.</p>
+
+<p>THE TRAIL OF NINETY-EIGHT. By Robert W. Service. Illustrated by Maynard
+Dixon.</p>
+
+<p>One of the best stories of "Vagabondia" ever written, and one of the
+most accurate and picturesque of the stampede of gold seekers to the
+Yukon. The love story embedded in the narrative is strikingly original.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ask for complete free list of G. &amp; D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grosset</span> &amp; <span class="smcap">Dunlap</span>, 526 <span class="smcap">West</span> 26th <span class="smcap">St., New York</span></p>
+
+<p>KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN'S STORIES OF PURE DELIGHT</p>
+
+<p>Full of originality and humor, kindliness and cheer</p>
+
+<p>THE OLD PEABODY PEW. Large Octavo. Decorative text pages, printed in two
+colors. Illustrations by Alice Barber Stephens.</p>
+
+<p>One of the prettiest romances that has ever come from this author's pen
+is made to bloom on Christmas Eve in the sweet freshness of an old New
+England meeting house.</p>
+
+<p>PENELOPE'S PROGRESS. Attractive cover design in colors.</p>
+
+<p>Scotland is the background for the merry doings of three very clever and
+original American girls. Their adventures in adjusting themselves to the
+Scot and his land are full of humor.</p>
+
+<p>PENELOPE'S IRISH EXPERIENCES. Uniform in style with "Penelope's
+Progress."</p>
+
+<p>The trio of clever girls who rambled over Scotland cross the border to
+the Emerald Isle, and again they sharpen their wits against new
+conditions, and revel in the land of laughter and wit.</p>
+
+<p>REBECCA OF SUNNYBROOK FARM.</p>
+
+<p>One of the most beautiful studies of childhood&mdash;Rebecca's artistic,
+unusual and quaintly charming qualities stand cut midst a circle of
+austere New Englanders. The stage version is making a phenomenal
+dramatic record.</p>
+
+<p>NEW CHRONICLES OF REBECCA. With illustrations by F. C. Yohn.</p>
+
+<p>Some more quaintly amusing chronicles that carry Rebecca through various
+stages to her eighteenth birthday.</p>
+
+<p>ROSE O' THE RIVER. With illustrations by George Wright.</p>
+
+<p>The simple story of Rose, a country girl and Stephen a sturdy young
+farmer. The girl's fancy for a city man interrupts their love and merges
+the story into an emotional strain where the reader follows the events
+with rapt attention.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grosset</span> &amp; <span class="smcap">Dunlap</span>, 526 <span class="smcap">West</span> 26th <span class="smcap">St., New York</span></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Overland Red, by Henry Herbert Knibbs
+
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+
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@@ -0,0 +1,9887 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Overland Red, by Henry Herbert Knibbs
+
+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: Overland Red
+       A Romance of the Moonstone Canon Trail
+
+Author: Henry Herbert Knibbs
+
+Illustrator: Anton Fischer
+
+Release Date: November 11, 2006 [EBook #19763]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OVERLAND RED ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: (page 123) OVERLAND LIMITED!]
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+OVERLAND RED
+
+A ROMANCE OF THE MOONSTONE CANON TRAIL
+
+WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY ANTON FISCHER
+
+NEW YORK
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
+
+ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+To I. J. K.
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+CONTENTS
+
+          THE ROAD                                             xi
+       I. THE PROSPECTOR                                        3
+      II. WATER                                                10
+     III. RAGGED ROMANCE                                       14
+      IV. "ANY ROAD, AT ANY TIME, FOR ANYWHERE"                25
+       V. "CAN HE RIDE?"                                       39
+      VI. ADVOCATE EXTRAORDINARY                               48
+     VII. THE GIRL WHO GLANCED BACK                            60
+    VIII. THE TEST                                             72
+      IX. A CELESTIAL ENTERPRISE                               88
+       X. "PERFECTLY HARMLESS LITTLE OLE TENDERFOOT"           98
+      XI. DESERT LAW                                          110
+     XII. "FOOL'S LUCK"                                       125
+    XIII. THE RETURN                                          132
+     XIV. "CALL IT THE 'ROSE GIRL'"                           141
+      XV. SILENT SAUNDERS                                     157
+     XVI. BLUNDER                                             163
+    XVII. GUESTS                                              177
+   XVIII. A RED EPISODE                                       185
+     XIX. "TO CUT MY TRAIL LIKE THAT"                         202
+      XX. THE LED HORSE                                       211
+     XXI. BORROWED PLUMES                                     223
+    XXII. THE YUMA COLT                                       231
+   XXIII. SILENT SAUNDERS SPEAKS                              247
+    XXIV. "LIKE SUNSHINE"                                     254
+     XXV. IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS                          262
+    XXVI. SPECIAL                                             273
+   XXVII. THE RIDERS                                          278
+  XXVIII. GOPHERTOWN                                          288
+    XXIX. TOLL                                                299
+     XXX. TWO ROSES                                           305
+    XXXI. NIGHT                                               320
+   XXXII. MORNING                                             332
+  XXXIII. A SPEECH                                            345
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+OVERLAND LIMITED! (page 123)                         Frontispiece
+THE GIRL'S LEVEL GRAY EYES STUDIED THE TRAMP'S FACE            16
+"IT'S A CLEAN-UP"                                             296
+"CAN'T I HAVE ANOTHER ONE, ROSE GIRL?"                        340
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+
+
+
+The Road
+
+
+Through the San Fernando Valley, toward the hills of Calabasas runs that
+old road, El Camino Real of the early Mission days.
+
+And now replicas of old Mission bells, each suspended in solitary
+dignity from a rusted iron rod, mark intervals along the dusty way, once
+a narrow trail worn by the patient feet of that gentle and great padre,
+Junipero Serra,--a trail from the San Gabriel Valley to the shores of
+Monterey. A narrow trail then, but, even then, to him it was broad in
+its potential significance of the dawn of Grace upon the mountain shores
+of Heaven's lost garden, California.
+
+Not far from one iron-posted bell in the valley, El Camino Real falters,
+to find, eventually, a lazy way round the low foothills, as though
+reluctant to lift its winding length over the sharp pitch of the Canajo
+Pass, beyond.
+
+Near this lone bell another road, an offspring of old El Camino Real,
+runs quickly from its gray and patient sire. Branching south in hurried
+turns and multiple windings it climbs the rolling hills, ever dodging
+the rude-piled masses of rock, with scattered brush between, but forever
+aspiring courageously through the mountain sage and sunshine toward its
+ultimate green rest in the shadowy hills.
+
+In the sweet sage is the drone of bees, like the hum of a far city. The
+thinning, acrid air is tinged with the faint fragrance of sunburnt
+shrubs and grasses.
+
+With the sinuous avoidings of a baffled snake the road turns and turns
+upon itself until its earlier promise of high adventuring seems
+doubtful. As often as not it climbs a semi-barren dun stretch of
+sunbaked earth dotted with stubby cacti--passes these dwarfed
+grotesques, and attempts the narrowing crest of the canon-wall, to swing
+abruptly back to the cacti again, gaining but little in its upward
+trend.
+
+Impatient, it finally plunges dizzily round a sharp, outstanding angle
+of rock and down into the unexpected enchantment of Moonstone Canon.
+Here the gaunt cliffs rise to great wild gardens, draped with soft rose
+and poignant red amid drowsy undertones of gray and green and gold. Dots
+of vivid colors flame and fade and pass to ledges of dank, vineclad rock
+and drifts of shale, as the road climbs again.
+
+At the next turn are the indistinct voices of water, commingling in a
+monotone--and the road ceases to be, as the cool silver of a mountain
+stream cuts through it, with seemingly inconsequential meanderings, but
+with the soft arrogance of a power too great to be denied. And the
+indistinct voices, left behind, fade to unimaginable sounds as the
+stream patters down its gravelly course, contented beyond measure with
+its own adventuring.
+
+Patiently the road takes up its way, moving in easier sweeps through a
+widening valley, but forever climbing.
+
+Again and again, fetlock deep across it runs the stream, gently
+persistent and forever murmuring its happy soliloquies.
+
+Here and there the road passes quickly through a blot of shade,--a group
+of wide-spreading live-oaks,--and reappears, gray-white and hot in the
+sun.
+
+And then, its high ambition fulfilled, the road recovers from its last
+climbing sweep round the base of a shouldering hill and runs straight
+and smooth to its ultimate green rest in the shade of the sycamores.
+Beyond these two huge-limbed warders of the mountain ranch gate, there
+is a flower-bordered _way_, but it is the road no longer.
+
+The mountain ranch takes its name from the canon below. It is the
+Moonstone Ranch, the home of Louise, whose ancestors, the Lacharmes,
+grew roses in old France.
+
+Among the many riders to and from the ranch, there is one, a great,
+two-fisted, high-complexioned man, whose genial presence is ever
+welcome. He answers to many names. To the youngsters he is "Uncle
+Jack,"--usually with an exclamation. To some of the older folk he is
+"Mr. Summers," or "Jack." Again, the foreman of the Moonstone Ranch
+seldom calls him anything more dignified than "Red." Louise does
+sometimes call him--quite affectionately--"Overland."
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+
+
+
+OVERLAND RED
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE PROSPECTOR
+
+
+For five years he had journeyed back and forth between the little desert
+station on the Mojave and the range to the north. The townspeople paid
+scant attention to him. He was simply another "desert rat" obsessed with
+the idea that gold was to be found in those northern hills. He bought
+supplies and paid grudgingly. No one knew his name.
+
+The prospector was much younger than he appeared to be. The desert sun
+had dried his sinews and warped his shoulders. The desert wind had
+scrawled thin lines of age upon his face. The desert solitude had
+stooped him with its awesome burden of brooding silence.
+
+Slowly his mind had been squeezed dry of all human interest save the
+recurrent memory of a child's face--that, and the poignant memory of the
+child's mother. For ten years he had been trying to forget. The last
+five years on the desert had dimmed the woman's visioned face as the
+child came more often between him and the memory of the mother, in his
+dreams.
+
+Then there were voices, the voices of strange spirits that winged
+through the dusk of the outlands and hovered round his fire at night.
+
+One voice, soft, insistent, ravished his imagination with visions of
+illimitable power and peace and rest. "Gold! Lost gold!" it would
+whisper as he sat by the meager flame. Then he would tremble and draw
+nearer the warmth. "Where?" he would ask, tempting the darkness as a
+child, fearfully certain of a reply.
+
+Then another voice, cadenced like the soft rush of waves up the sand,
+would murmur, "Somewhere away! Somewhere away! Somewhere away!" And in
+the indefiniteness of that answer he found an inexplicable joy. The
+vagueness of "Somewhere away" was as vast with pregnant possibilities as
+his desert. His was the eternity of hope, boundless and splendid in its
+extravagant promises. Drunk with the wine of dreams, he knew himself to
+be a monarch, a monarch uncrowned and unattended, yet always with his
+feet upon the wide threshold of his kingdom.
+
+Then would come the biting chill of night, the manifold rays of stars
+and silence, silence reft of winds, yet alive with the tense immobility
+of the crouching beast, waiting ... waiting....
+
+The desert, impassively withering him to the shell of a man, or wracking
+him terribly in heat or in storm and cold, still cajoled him day and
+night with promises, whispered, vague and intoxicating as the perfume of
+a woman's hair.
+
+Finally the desert flung wide the secret portals of her treasure-house
+and gave royally like a courtesan of kings.
+
+The man, his dream all but fulfilled, found the taste of awakening
+bitter on his lips. He counted his years of toil and cursed as he viewed
+his shrunken hands, claw-like, scarred, crippled.
+
+He felt the weight of his years and dreaded their accumulated burdens.
+He realized that the dream was all--its fulfillment nothing. He knew
+himself to be a thing to be pointed at; yet he longed for the sound of
+human voices, for the touch of human hands, for the living sweetness of
+his child's face. The sirens of the invisible night no longer whispered
+to him. He was utterly alone. He had entered his kingdom. Viewed from
+afar it had seemed a vast pleasure-dome of infinite enchantment. He
+found Success, as it ever shall be, a veritable desert, grudging man
+foothold, yet luring him from one aspiration to another, only to consume
+his years in dust.
+
+A narrow canon held his secret. He had wandered into it, panned a little
+black sand, and found color. Finally he discovered the fountainhead of
+the hoarded yellow particles that spell Power. There in the fastness of
+those steep, purgatorial walls was the hermitage of the two
+voices--voices that no longer whispered of hope, but left him in the
+utter loneliness of possession and its birthright, Fear.
+
+He cried aloud for the companionship of men--and glanced fearfully round
+lest man had heard him call.
+
+He again journeyed to the town beside the railroad, bought supplies and
+vanished, a ragged wraith, on the horizon.
+
+Back in the canon he set about his labors, finding a numbing solace in
+toil.
+
+But at night he would think of the child's face. He had said to those
+with whom he had left the child that he would return with a fortune.
+They knew he went away to forget. They did not expect him to return.
+That had been ten years ago. He had written twice. Then he had drifted,
+always promising the inner voice that urged him that he would find gold
+for her, his child, that she might ever think kindly of him. So he tried
+to buy himself--with promises. Once he had been a man of his hands, a
+man who stood straight and faced the sun. Now the people of the desert
+town eyed him askance. He heard them say he was mad--that the desert had
+"got him." They were wrong. The desert and its secret was his--a sullen
+paramour, but _his_ nevertheless. Had she not given him of her very
+heart?
+
+He viewed his shrunken body, knew that he stooped and shuffled, realized
+that he had paid the inevitable, the inexorable price for the secret.
+His wine of dreams had evaporated.... He sifted the coarse gold between
+his fingers, letting it fall back into the pan. Was it for _this_ that
+he had wasted his soul?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the desert town men began to notice the regularity of his comings and
+goings. Two or three of them foregathered in the saloon and commented on
+it.
+
+"He packed some dynamite last trip," asserted one.
+
+There was a silence. The round clock behind the bar ticked loudly,
+ominously.
+
+"Then he's struck it at last," said another.
+
+"Mebby," commented the first speaker.
+
+The third man nodded. Then came silence again and the absolute ticking
+of the clock. Presently from outside in the white heat of the road came
+the rush of hoofs and an abrupt stop. A spurred and booted rider, his
+swarthy face gray with dust, strode in, nodded to the group and called
+for whiskey.
+
+"Which way did he go, Saunders?" asked one.
+
+"North, as usual," said the rider.
+
+"Let's set down," suggested the third man.
+
+They shuffled to a table. The bartender brought glasses and a bottle.
+Then, uninvited, he pulled up a chair and sat with them. The rider
+looked at him pointedly.
+
+"Oh, I'm in on this," asserted the bartender. "Daugherty is the
+Wells-Fargo man here. He won't talk to nobody but me--about _business_."
+
+"What's that got to do with it?" queried the rider.
+
+"Just what you'd notice, Saunders. Listen! The rat left a bag of dust in
+the Company's safe last trip. Daugherty says its worth mebby five
+hundred. He says the rat's goin' to bring in some more. Do I come in?"
+
+"You're on," said the rider. "Now, see here, boys, we got to find out if
+he's filed on it yet, and what his name is, and then--"
+
+"Mebby we'd better find out _where_ it is first," suggested one.
+
+"And then jump him?" queried the rider over his glass.
+
+"And then jump him," chorused the group. "He's out there alone. It's
+easy." And each poured himself a drink, for which, strangely enough, no
+one offered to pay, and for which the bartender evidently forgot to
+collect.
+
+Meanwhile the prospector toiled through the drought of that summer
+hoarding the little yellow flakes that he washed from the gravel in the
+canon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+WATER
+
+
+All round him for miles each way the water-holes had gone dry. The
+little canon stream still wound down its shaded course, disappearing in
+a patch of sand at the canon's mouth, so the prospector felt secure.
+None had ridden out to look for him through that furnace of burning sand
+that stretched between the hills and the desert town.
+
+The stream dwindled slowly, imperceptibly.
+
+One morning the prospector noticed it, and immediately explored the
+creek clear to its source--a spurt of water springing from the roof of a
+grotto in the cliff. Such a supply, evidently from the rocky heart of
+the range itself, would be inexhaustible.
+
+A week later he awoke to find the creek-bed dry save in a few
+depressions among the rocks. He again visited the grotto. The place was
+damp and cool, glistening with beads of moisture, but the flow from the
+roof-crevice had ceased. Still he thought there must be plenty of water
+beneath the rocks of the stream-bed. He would dig for it.
+
+Another week, and he became uneasy. The stream had disappeared as though
+poured into a colossal crevice. A few feet below the gravel he struck
+solid rock. He tried dynamite unsuccessfully. Then he hoarded the
+drippings from the grotto crevice till he had filled his canteen.
+Carefully he stowed his gold in a chamois pouch and prepared to leave
+the canon. His burro had strayed during the week of drought--was
+probably dead beside some dry water-hole.
+
+The prospector set out to cross the range in the light of the stars.
+
+Fearful that he might be seen, panic warped his reasoning. He planned to
+journey south along the foothills, until opposite the desert town and
+then cross over to it. If he approached from such a direction, no one
+would guess his original starting-place. He knew of an unfailing
+water-hole two days' journey from the canon. This water-hole was far out
+of his way, but his canteen supply would more than last till he reached
+it.
+
+Then Fate, the fate that had dogged his every step since first he
+ventured into the solitudes, closed up and crept at his heels. He became
+more morose and strangely fearful. His vision, refined by the wasting of
+his body, created shadows that lay about his feet like stagnant pools,
+shadows where no shadows should be.
+
+Ominous was his fall as he crossed an arroyo. The canteen, slung over
+his shoulder, struck a sharp point of rock that started one of the
+seams. The leak was infinitesimal. The felt cover of the canteen
+absorbed the drip, which evaporated. When he arrived at the water-hole,
+_that_ was dry. His canteen felt strangely light. He could not remember
+having used so much water. He changed his plan. He struck straight from
+the hills toward the railroad. He knew that eventually he would, as he
+journeyed west, cross it, perhaps near a water-tank.
+
+Toward the blinding afternoon of that day he saw strange lakes and pools
+spread out upon the distant sand and inverted mountain ranges stretching
+to the horizon.
+
+Fate crept closer to his heels, waiting with the dumb patience of the
+desert to claim the struggling, impotent puppet whose little day was all
+but spent.
+
+He stumbled across the blazing bars of steel that marked the railroad.
+His empty canteen clattered on the ties as he fell. He got to his knees
+and dragged himself from the track. He laughed, for he had thwarted Fate
+this once; he would not be run over by the train. He lay limp, wasted,
+scarcely breathing.
+
+Serenely Fate crouched near him, patient, impassive....
+
+He heard a man speak and another answer. He felt an arm beneath his
+head, and water.... Water!
+
+He drank, and all at once his strength flamed up. It was not water they
+gave him; it was merely the taste of it--a mockery. He wanted more ...
+all!
+
+He lurched to his feet, struggling with a bearded giant that held him
+from his desire--to drink until he could drink no more--to die drinking
+the water they had taken from him even as they gave it. He fought
+blindly. Fate, disdaining further patience, arose and flung itself about
+his feet. He stumbled. A flash wiped all things from his vision and the
+long night came swiftly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+RAGGED ROMANCE
+
+
+At the wide gate of the mountain ranch stood the girl. Her black
+saddle-pony Boyar fretted to be away. Glancing back through the
+cavernous shade of the live-oaks, the girl hesitated before opening the
+gate. A little breeze, wayfaring through Moonstone Canon and on up to
+the mountain ranch, touched the girl's cheek and she breathed deeply of
+its cool fragrance.
+
+The wide gate swung open, and Louise Lacharme, curbing Black Boyar, rode
+out of the shadows into the hot light of the morning, singing as she
+rode.
+
+Against the soft gray of the canon wall flamed a crimson flower like a
+pomegranate bud. Across the road ran the cool mountain stream. Away and
+away toward the empty sky the ragged edges of the cliffs were etched
+sharply upon the blue.
+
+The road ran swiftly round the eastern wall of the canon. Louise, as
+fragrantly bright as morning sunshine on golden flowers, laughed as the
+pony's lithe bound tore the silver of the ford to swirling beads and
+blade-like flashes.
+
+On the rise beyond, the girl drew rein at the beginning of the Old
+Meadow Trail, a hidden trail that led to a mountain meadow of ripe
+grasses, groups of trees, and the enchantment of seclusion.
+
+The pony shouldered through the breast-high greasewood and picked his
+steps along the edge of the hill. The twigs and branches lisped and
+clattered against the carved leather tapaderos that hooded the stirrups.
+The warm sun awoke the wild fragrance of sage and mountain soil. Little
+lizards of the stones raced from Black Boyar's tread, becoming rigid on
+the sides of rocks, clinging at odd angles with heads slanted, like
+delicate Orient carvings in dull brass.
+
+The girl's eyes, the color of sea-water in the sun, were leveled toward
+the distant hills across the San Fernando Valley. From her fingers
+dangled the long bridle-reins. Her lips were gently parted. Her gaze was
+the gaze of one who dreams in the daylight. And close in the hidden
+meadow crouched Romance, Romance ragged, unkempt, jocular....
+
+Boyar first scented the wood-smoke. Louise noticed his forward-standing
+ears and his fidgeting. Immediately before her was the low rounded rock,
+a throne of dreams that she had graced before. From down the slope and
+almost hidden by the bulk of the rock, a little wand of smoke stood up
+in the windless air, to break at last into tiny shreds and curls of
+nothingness.
+
+"It can't be much of a fire yet!" exclaimed Louise, forever watchful, as
+are all the hill-folk, for that dread, ungovernable red monster of
+destruction, a mountain fire. "It can't be much of a fire _yet_."
+
+The pony Boyar, delicately scenting something more than wood-smoke,
+snorted and swerved. Louise dismounted and stepped hurriedly round the
+shoulder of the rock. A bristle-bearded face confronted her. "No, it
+ain't much of a fire yet, but our hired girl she joined a movin'-picture
+outfit, so us two he-things are doin' the best we can chasin' a
+breakfast." And the tramp, Overland Red, ragged, unkempt, jocular, rose
+from his knees beside a tiny blaze. He pulled a bleak flop of felt from
+his tangled hair in an over-accentuated bow of welcome.
+
+"We offer you the freedom of the city, ma'am. Welcome to our midst, and
+kindly excuse appearances this morning. Our trunks got delayed in New
+York."
+
+Unsmilingly the girl's level gray eyes studied the tramp's face. Then
+her glance swept him swiftly from bared head to rundown heel. "I was
+just making up my mind whether I'd stay and talk with you, or ask you to
+put out your fire and go somewhere else. But I think you are all right.
+Please put on your hat."
+
+[Illustration: THE GIRL'S LEVEL GRAY EYES STUDIED THE TRAMP'S FACE]
+
+Overland Red's self-assurance shrunk a little. The girl's eyes were
+direct and fearless, yet not altogether unfriendly. He thought that deep
+within them dwelt a smile.
+
+"You got my map all right," he said, a trifle more respectfully.
+"'Course we'll douse the fire when we duck out of here. But what do you
+think of Collie here, my pal? Is he all right?"
+
+"Oh, he's only a boy," said Louise, glancing casually at the youth
+crouched above the fire.
+
+The boy, a slim lad of sixteen or thereabout, flushed beneath the
+battered brim of his black felt hat. He watched the tomato-can
+coffee-pot intently. Louise could not see his face.
+
+"Yes, Miss. _I'm_ all right and so is he." And a humorous wistfulness
+crept into the tramp's eyes. "He's what you might call a changeling."
+
+"Changeling?"
+
+"Uhuh! Always changin' around from place to place--when you're young.
+Ain't that it?"
+
+"Oh! And when you are older?" she queried, smiling.
+
+Overland Red frowned. "Oh, then you're just a tramp, a Willie, a Bo, a
+Hobo."
+
+He saw the girl's eyes harden a little. He spoke quickly, and, she
+imagined, truthfully. "I worked ten years for one outfit once, without
+a change. And I never knowed what it was to do a day's work out of the
+saddle. You know what that means."
+
+"Cattle? Mexico?"
+
+Overland Red grinned. "Say! You was born in California, wasn't you?"
+
+"Yes, of course."
+
+"'Cause Mexico has been about the only place a puncher could work that
+long without doin' day labor on foot half the year. Yes, I been there.
+'Course, now, I'm doin' high finance, and givin' advice to the young,
+and livin' on my income. And say, when it comes to real brain work, I'm
+the Most Exhausted Baked High Potentate, but I wouldn't do no mineral
+labor for nobody. If I can't work in the saddle, I don't work--that's
+all."
+
+"Mineral labor? What, mining?" asked Louise.
+
+"No, not mining. Jest mineral labor like Japs, or section-hands, or
+coachmen with bugs on their hats. Ain't the papers always speakin' of
+that kind as minerals?"
+
+"Don't you mean menials?"
+
+"Well, yes. It's all the same, anyway. I never do no hair-splittin' on
+words. Bein' a pote myself, it ain't necessary."
+
+"A--a poet! Really?"
+
+"Really and truly, and carry one and add five. I've roped a lot of
+po'try in my time, Miss. Say, are we campin' on your land?"
+
+"No. This is government land, from here to our line up above--the
+Moonstone Rancho."
+
+"The Moonstone Rancho?" queried Overland Red, breaking a twig and
+feeding the fire.
+
+"Yes. It's named after the canon. But don't let me keep you from
+breakfast."
+
+"Breakfast, eh? That's right! I almost forgot it, talkin' to you.
+Collie's got the coffee to boilin'. No, _you_ ain't keepin' us from our
+breakfast any that you'd notice. It would take a whole reg'ment of
+Rurales to keep us from a breakfast if we seen one runnin' around loose
+without its pa or ma."
+
+Louise Lacharme did not smile. This was too real. Here was adventure
+with no raconteur's glamour, no bookish gloss. Here was Romance. Romance
+unshaven, illiterate, with its coat off making coffee in a
+smoke-blackened tomato-can, but Romance nevertheless. That this romance
+should touch her life, Louise had not the faintest dream. She was
+alone ... but, pshaw! Boyar was grazing near, and besides, she was not
+really afraid of the men. She thought she rather liked them, or, more
+particularly, the boisterous one who had said his name was Overland Red.
+
+The tramp gazed at her a moment before he lifted the tomato-can from the
+embers. "We know you won't join us, but we're goin' to give you the
+invite just the same. And we mean it. Ma'am, if you'll be so kind as to
+draw up your chair, us gents'll eat."
+
+"Thank you!" said Louise, and Overland's face brightened at the
+good-fellowship in her voice. "Thank you both, but I've had breakfast."
+
+She gazed at the solitary, bubbling, tomato-can coffee-pot of
+"second-edition" coffee. There was nothing else to grace the board, or
+rather rock. "I'll be right back," she said. "I'll just take off Boyar's
+bridle. Here, Boy!" she called. "You'll be able to eat better."
+
+And she ran to the pony. From a saddle-pocket she took her own lunch of
+sandwiches and ripe olives wrapped in oiled paper. She delayed her
+return to loosen the forward cincha of the saddle and to find the little
+stock of cigarette-papers and tobacco that she carried for any chance
+rider of the Moonstone who might be without them.
+
+Collie, the boy tramp, glanced up at Overland Red. "I guess she's gone,"
+he said regretfully.
+
+"You're nutty, Collie. She ain't the kind to sneak off after sayin'
+she's comin' back. I know a hoss and a real woman when I see 'em. I was
+raised in the West, myself."
+
+The boy Collie was young, sensitive, and he had not been "raised in the
+West." He frowned. "Yes, you was raised in the West, and what you got to
+show for it?"
+
+"Well, hear the kid!" exclaimed Overland. "Out of the mouth of babes and
+saplings! What have I got to show? What have I--! Wha--? Oh, you go
+chase a snake! I know a good hoss and a good woman when I see 'em, and I
+seen both together this morning."
+
+"But what do _she_ want with us bos?" asked the boy.
+
+"S-s-h-h! Why, she's interested in me romantic past, of course. Ain't I
+the 'cute little gopher when it comes to the ladies? Fan me, Collie, and
+slow music and a beer for one. I'm some lady's-man, sister!"
+
+"You're a bo, the same as me," said the boy.
+
+"S-s-h-h! For the love of Pete, don't you handle that word 'bo' so
+careless. It's loaded. It has a jarrin' effect on ears
+unattenuated--er--meanin' ears that ain't keyed up to it, as the pote
+says. She's comin' back. Fold your napkin. Don't look so blame hungry!
+Ain't you got any style?"
+
+"She's the prettiest girl I ever seen," said the boy, hastily swallowing
+his share of the hot, insipid coffee.
+
+"Pretty?" whispered Overland, as Louise approached. "She's thoroughbred.
+Did you see them eyes? Afraid of nothin', and smilin' at what might dast
+to scare her. Not foolish, either. She's wise. And she's kind and
+laughin', and not ashamed to talk to us. That's thoroughbred."
+
+Round the rock came Louise, the neat package of sandwiches in one hand.
+In the other was the tobacco and cigarette-papers. "I'm going to have my
+luncheon," she said. "If you won't object, I'll take a sandwich. There,
+I have mine. The rest are for you."
+
+"We had our breakfast," said Overland quickly, "when you was talkin' to
+your pony."
+
+Louise glanced at the empty tomato-can. "Well, I'll excuse you for not
+waiting for me, but I shall not excuse you from having luncheon with me.
+I made these sandwiches myself. Have one. They're really good."
+
+"Oh!" groaned Overland, grimacing. "If I could curry up my language
+smooth, like that, I--I guess I'd get deaf listenin' to myself talk. You
+said that speech like takin' two turns round the bandstand tryin' to
+catch yourself, and then climbin' a post and steppin' on your own
+shoulders so you could see the parade down the street. Do you get that?"
+And he sighed heavily. "Say! These here sandwiches is great!"
+
+"Will you have one?" asked Louise, gracefully proffering the olives.
+
+"Seein' it's you. Thanks. I always take two. The second one for a chaser
+to kill the taste of the first. It's the only way to eat 'em--if you
+know where to stop. They do taste like somethin' you done and are sorry
+for afterwards, don't they?"
+
+"Were you ever sorry for anything?" asked the boy, feeling a little
+piqued that he had been left out of the conversation.
+
+"I was raised in the West, myself," growled the tramp, scowling. "But
+that's a good pony you got, Miss. That your saddle too?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You rope any?"
+
+"A little. How did you know?"
+
+"Rawhide cover to the saddle-horn is wore with a rope," said Overland,
+helping himself to a second sandwich.
+
+Then the tramp and the girl, oblivious to everything else, discussed
+rawhide riatas as compared with the regular three-strand stock rope, or
+lariat,--center-fire, three quarter, and double rigs, swell forks and
+old Visalia trees, spade bits and "U" curbs,--neither willing, even
+lightly, to admit the other's superiority of chosen rig.
+
+The boy Collie listened intently and a trifle jealously. Overland Red
+and the girl had found a common ground of interest that excluded him
+utterly. The boy itched for an excuse to make the girl speak to him,
+even look at him.
+
+The sandwiches gone, Louise proffered Overland tobacco and papers.
+Actual tears stood in the ex-cowboy's eyes. "Smoke! Me?" he exclaimed.
+"I was dyin' for it. I'd do time for you!"
+
+Then in that boyish spirit that never quite leaves the range-rider,
+Overland Red took the tobacco and papers and cleverly rolled a cigarette
+with one hand. In the other he held his battered felt hat. His eyes had
+a far-away look as he reached forward and lighted his cigarette at the
+fire. "I was settin' on a crazy bronc', holdin' his head up so he
+couldn't go to buckin'--outside a little old adobe down in Yuma,
+Arizona, then," he explained, glancing at the girl. "Did you ever drift
+away complete, like that, jest from some little old trick to make you
+dream?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+"ANY ROAD, AT ANY TIME, FOR ANYWHERE"
+
+
+The boy Collie took the empty tomato-can and went for water with which
+to put out the fire.
+
+Louise and Overland Red gazed silently at the youthful figure crossing
+the meadow. The same thought was in both their hearts--that the boy's
+chance in life was still ahead of him. Something of this was in the
+girl's level gray eyes as she asked, "Why did you come up here, so far
+from the town and the railroad?"
+
+"We generally don't," replied Overland Red. "We ain't broke. Collie's
+got some money. We got out of grub from comin' up here. We come up to
+see the scenery. I ain't kiddin'; we sure did! 'Course, speakin' in
+general, a free lunch looks better to me any day than the Yosemite--but
+that's because I need the lunch. You got to be fed up to it to enjoy
+scenery. Now, on the road we're lookin' at lots of it every day, but we
+ain't seein' much. But give me a good feed and turn me loose in the Big
+Show Pasture where the Bridal Veil is weepin' jealous of the Cathedral
+Spires, and the Big Trees is too big to be jealous of anything, where
+Adam would 'a' felt old the day he was born--jest take off my hobbles
+and turn me out to graze _there_, and _feed_, and say, lady, I scorn the
+idea of doin' _any_thing but decomposin' my feelin's and smokin' and
+writin' po'try. I been there! There's where I writ the song called 'Beat
+It, Bo.' Mebby you heard of it."
+
+"No, I should like to hear it."
+
+The fire steamed and spluttered as Collie extinguished it. Overland Red
+handed the tobacco and papers to him.
+
+"About comin' up this here trail?" he resumed as the boy stretched
+beside them on the warm earth. "Well, Miss, it was four years ago that I
+picked up Collie here at Albuquerque. His pa died sudden and left the
+kid to find out what a hard map this ole world is. We been across, from
+Frisco to New York, twice since then, and from Seattle to San Diego on
+the side, and 'most everywhere in California, it bein' my native State
+and the best of the lot. You see, Collie, he's gettin' what you might
+call a liberated education, full of big ideas--no dinky stuff. Yes, I
+picked him up at Albuquerque, a half-starved, skinny little cuss that
+was cryin' and beggin' me to get him out of there."
+
+"Albuquerque?" queried Louise.
+
+"Uhuh. Later, comin' acrost the Mojave, we got thrun off a freight by
+mistake for a couple of sewin'-machines that we was ridin' with to
+Barstow, so the tickets on the crates said. That was near Daggett, by a
+water-tank. It was hotter than settin' on a stove in Death Valley at 12
+o'clock Sunday noon. We beat it for the next town, afoot. Collie
+commenced to give out. He was pretty tender and not strong. I lugged him
+some and he walked some. He was talkin' of green grass and cucumbers in
+the ice-box and ice-cream and home and the Maumee River, and a whole lot
+of things you can't find in the desert. Well, I got him to his feet next
+mornin'. We had some trouble, and was detained a spell in Barstow after
+that. They couldn't prove nothin', so they let us go. Then Collie got to
+talkin' again about a California road that wiggled up a hill and through
+a canon, and had one of these here ole Mission bells where it lit off
+for the sky-ranch. Funny, for he was never in California then. Mebby it
+was the old post-card he got at Albuquerque. You see his pa bought it
+for him 'cause he wanted it. He was only a kid then. Collie, he says
+it's the only thing his pa ever did buy for him, and so he kept it till
+it was about wore out from lookin' at it. But considerin' how his pa
+acted, I guess that was about all Collie needed to remember him by.
+Anyhow, he dreamed of that road, and told me so much about it that I
+got to lookin' for it too. I knowed of the old El Camino Real and the
+bells, so we kept our eye peeled for that particular dream road, kind of
+for fun. We found her yesterday."
+
+"What, this? The road to our ranch?"
+
+"Uhuh. Collie, he said so the minute we got in that canon, Moonstone
+Canon, you said. We're restin' up and enjoyin' the scenery. We need the
+rest, for only last week we resigned from doin' a stunt in a
+movin'-picture outfit. They wanted somebody to do native sons. We said
+we didn't have them kind of clothes, but the foreman of the outfit says
+we'd do fine jest as we was. It was fierce--and, believe me, lady, I
+been through some! I been through some!
+
+"They was two others in checker clothes and dip-lid caps, and they
+_wasn't_ native sons. They acted like sons of--I'd hate to tell you
+what, Miss--to the chief dollie in the show. They stole her beau and
+tied him to the S. P. tracks; kind of loose, though. She didn't seem to
+care. She jest stood around chewin' gum and rollin' her lamps at the
+head guy. Then the movin'-picture express, which was a retired
+switch-engine hooked onto a Swede observation car, backs down on
+Adolphus, and we was to rush up like--pretty fast, and save his life.
+
+"She was a sassy little chicken with blond feathers and a three-quarter
+rig skirt. She had a regular strawberry-ice-cream-soda complexion, and
+her eyes looked like a couple of glass alleys with electric lights in
+'em. I wondered if she took 'em out at night to go to sleep or only
+switched off the current. Anyhow, up she rides in a big reddish kind of
+automobile and twists her hands round her wrists and looks up the track
+and down the track and sees us and says, 'Oh, w'ich way has he went?
+W'ich way did Disgustus Adolphus beat it to?' And chewin' gum right on
+top of that, too. It was tough on us, Miss, but we needed the money.
+
+"'Bout the eighteenth time she comes coughin' up in that old one-lung
+machine,--to get her expression right, so the boss kept hollerin',--why,
+I gets sick and tired. If there's anything _doin_', why, I'm game, but
+such monkeyin'! There was that picture-machine idiot workin' the crank
+as if he was shellin' a thicket-full of Injuns with a Gatling, and his
+fool cap turned round with the lid down the back of his neck, and me and
+Collie, the only sensible-actin' ones of the lot, because we was actin'
+natural, jest restin'. I got sick and tired. The next time up coughs
+that crippled-up automobile with the mumps on its front tire, and she
+says, 'Where, oh, where has he went?' I ups and says, 'Crazy, Miss, and
+can you blame him?'
+
+"She didn't see no joke in that, so the boss he fired us. He wasn't
+goin' to pay us at that, but I picks up the little picture-machine box
+and I swings her up over the track kind of suggestive like. 'One!' said
+I. 'Do we get our money?'
+
+"'Drop that machine!' says he, rushin' up to me.
+
+"'I'm a-goin' to,' says I, 'good and hard. Think again, while I count.
+Do we get our money?'
+
+"'You get pinched!' says he.
+
+"'Two,' says I, and I swings the box up by the legs.
+
+"'Hole on!' yells the boss. 'Pay the mutt, Jimmy, and, for Gord sake,
+get that machine before he ruins the best reel we made yet!'
+
+"We got paid."
+
+"But the bell and Moonstone Canon?" questioned Louise, glancing back at
+Boyar grazing down the meadow.
+
+"Sure! Well, we flopped near here that night--"
+
+"Flopped?"
+
+"Uhuh. Let's see, you ain't hep to that, are you? Why, we crawled to the
+hay, hit the feathers, pounded our ear--er--went to bed! That's what it
+used to be. Well, in the morning, me and Collie got some sardines and
+crackers to the store and a little coffee. It was goin' over there that
+we seen the bell and the road and the whole works. I got kind of
+interested myself in that canon. I never saw so many moonstones layin'
+right on top the gravel, and I been in Mex., too. We liked it and we
+stayed over last night, expectin' to be gone by now."
+
+"And when you leave here?" queried Louise.
+
+"Same old thing," replied Overland cheerfully. "I know the ropes. Collie
+works by spells. Oh, we're livin', and that's all you need to do in
+California."
+
+"And that is all--now that you have found the road?"
+
+"Oh, the road is like all of them dreams," said Overland. "Such things
+are good for keepin' people interested in somethin' till it's done,
+that's all. It was fun at first, lookin' up every arroyo and slit in the
+hills, till we found it. Same as them marriages on the desert, after
+that."
+
+"Marriages?"
+
+"Uhuh. Seein' water what ain't there, like."
+
+"Oh, mirages!" And Louise laughed joyfully.
+
+"I don't see no joke," said Overland, aggrieved.
+
+"I really beg your pardon."
+
+"That's all right, Miss. But what would you call it?"
+
+"Oh, an illusion, a mirage, something that seems to be, but that is
+not."
+
+"I don't see where it's got anything on marriages, then, do you? But I
+ain't generally peppermistic. I believe in folks and things, although
+I'm old enough to know better."
+
+"I'm glad you believe in folks," said Louise. "So do I."
+
+"It's account of bein' a pote, I guess," sighed the tramp. "'Course I
+ain't a professional. They got to have a license. I never took out one,
+not havin' the money. Anyway, if I did have enough money for a regular
+license, I'd start a saloon and live respectable."
+
+"Won't you quote something?" And the girl smiled bewitchingly. "Boyar
+and I must go soon. It's getting hot."
+
+"I'm mighty sorry you're goin', Miss. You're real California stock.
+Knowed it the minute I set eyes on you. Besides, you passed us the
+smokes."
+
+"Red, you shut up!"
+
+Overland turned a blue, astonished eye on Collie. "Why, kiddo, what's
+bitin' _you_?"
+
+"Because the lady give us the makings don't say _she_ smokes, does it?"
+
+Overland grunted. "Because you're foolish with the heat, don't say I am,
+does it? Them sandwiches has gone to your head, Chico. Who said she did
+smoke?"
+
+Louise, grave-eyed, watched the two men, Overland sullen and scowling,
+Collie fierce and flaming.
+
+"We ain't used to--to real ladies," apologized Overland. "We could do
+better if we practiced up."
+
+"Of course!" said Louise, smiling. "But the poetry."
+
+"U-m-m, yes. The po'try. What'll I give her, Collie?"
+
+"I don't care," replied the boy. "You might try 'Casey Jones.' It's
+better'n anything _you_ ever wrote."
+
+"That? I guess not! That ain't her style. I mean one of my
+_own_--somethin' _good_."
+
+"Oh, I don't know. 'Toledo Blake,'" mumbled Collie.
+
+"Nope! But I guess the 'Grand Old Privilege' will do for a starter."
+
+"Oh, good!" And Louise clapped her hands. "The title is splendid. Is the
+poem original?"
+
+The tramp bowed a trifle haughtily. "Original? Me life's work, lady."
+And he awkwardly essayed to button a buttonless coat, coughed, waved his
+half-consumed cigarette toward the skies, and began:--
+
+  "Folks say we got no morals--that they all fell in the soup;
+  And no conscience--so the would-be goodies say;
+  And I guess our good intentions _did_ jest up and flew the coop,
+  While we stood around and watched 'em fade away.
+
+  "But there's one thing that we're lovin' more than money, grub, or booze,
+  Or even decent folks that speaks us fair;
+  And that's the Grand Old Privilege to chuck our luck and choose,
+  _Any_ road at _any_ time for _any_ where."
+
+And Overland, his hand above his heart, bowed effusively.
+
+"I like 'would-be goodies,'" said Louise. "Sounds just like a mussy,
+sticky cookie that's too sweet. And 'Any road at any time for any
+where--' I think that is real."
+
+Overland puffed his chest and cleared his throat. "I can't help it,
+Miss. Born that way. Cut my first tooth on a book of pomes ma got for a
+premium with Mustang Liniment."
+
+"Well, thank you." And Louise nodded gayly. "Keep the tobacco and papers
+to remember me by. I must go."
+
+"We don't need them to remember you by," said Overland gallantly. Then
+the smile suddenly left his face.
+
+Down the Old Meadow Trail, unseen by the girl and the boy, rode a single
+horseman, and something at his hip glinted in the sun. Overland's hand
+went to his own hip. Then he shrugged his shoulders, and slowly
+recovered himself. "What's the use?" he muttered.
+
+But there was that in his tone which brought Collie's head up. The lad
+pushed back his battered felt hat and ran his fingers through his wavy
+black hair, perplexedly. "What's the matter, Red? What's the matter?"
+
+"Nothin'. Jest thinkin'." Yet the tramp's eyes narrowed as he glanced
+furtively past the girl to where Boyar, the black pony, grazed in the
+meadow.
+
+Louise, puzzled by something familiar in the boy's upturned, questioning
+face, raised one gauntleted hand to her lips. "Why, you're the boy I
+saw, out on the desert, two years ago. Weren't you lying by a water-tank
+when our train stopped and a man was kneeling beside you pouring water
+on your face? Aren't you that boy?"
+
+"Yes!" exclaimed Collie, getting to his feet. "Red told me about _you_,
+too."
+
+"Yes, it's her," muttered Overland, nodding to himself.
+
+"And you chucked a rose out of the window to us?" said the boy.
+"Overland said _she_ did."
+
+"Yes. It's her, the Rose-Lady Girl," said Overland. "Some of the folks
+in the train laughed when I picked up the rose. I remember. Some one
+else says, 'They're only tramps.' I recollect that, too."
+
+"But those men were arrested at Barstow, for murder, Uncle Walter said."
+
+Again Overland Red nodded. "They was, Miss. But they couldn't prove
+nothin', so they let us go."
+
+"We always was goin' to say thanks to the girl with the rose if we ever
+seen her," said the boy Collie. "We ain't had such a lot of roses give
+to us."
+
+"So we says it now," said Overland quickly. "Or mebby we wouldn't never
+have another chance." Then he slowly rolled another cigarette.
+
+Just then the black pony Boyar nickered. He recognized a friend entering
+the meadow.
+
+Overland lighted his cigarette. As he straightened up, Louise was
+surprised to see him thrust both hands above his head while he continued
+smoking placidly. "Excuse me, Miss," he said, turning the cigarette
+round with his lips; "but the gent behind you with the gun has got the
+drop on me. I guess he's waitin' for you to step out of range."
+
+Louise turned swiftly. Dick Tenlow, deputy sheriff, nodded good-morning
+to her, but kept his gun trained on the tramp.
+
+"Just step out from behind that rock," said Tenlow, addressing
+Overland.
+
+"Don't know as I will," replied the tramp. "You're no gentleman; you
+didn't say 'please.'"
+
+"Come on! No bluff like that goes here," said the deputy.
+
+"Can't you see I ain't finished smokin' yet?" queried Overland.
+
+"Come on! Step along!"
+
+"No way to address a gent, you Johnny. Say, I'll tell you _now_ before
+you fall down and shoot yourself. Do you think you got me because you
+rode up while I was talkin' to a lady, and butted into polite
+conversation like a drunk Swede at a dance? Say, you think I'd 'a' ever
+let you got this far if there hadn't been a lady present? Why, you
+little nickle-plated, rubber-eared policeman, I was doin' the double
+roll with a pair of Colts .45's when you was learnin' the taste of
+milk!"
+
+"That'll be about all for _you_," said the sheriff, grinning.
+
+"No, it ain't. You ain't takin' me serious, and there's where you're
+makin' your mistake. I'm touchy about some things, Mr. Pussy-foot. I
+could 'a' got you three times while you was ridin' down that trail, and
+I wouldn't 'a' had to stop talkin' to do it. And you with that little
+old gun out before you even seen me!"
+
+"Why didn't you, then?" asked Tenlow, restraining his anger; for Louise,
+in spite of herself, had smiled at Overland's somewhat picturesque
+resentment. "Why didn't you, then?"
+
+"Huh!" snorted Overland scornfully. "Do you suppose I'd start anything
+with a _lady_ around? That ain't my style. You're a kid. You'll get hurt
+some day."
+
+Deputy Tenlow scowled. He was a big man, slow of tongue, ordinarily
+genial, and proverbially stupid. He knew the tramp was endeavoring to
+anger him. The deputy turned to Louise. "Sorry, Miss Lacharme, but I got
+to take him."
+
+"There's really nothing to hinder, is there?" Louise asked sweetly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+"CAN HE RIDE?"
+
+
+The tramp glanced up, addressing the deputy. "Yes, even now there is
+something to hinder, if I was to get busy." Then he coolly dropped his
+arms and leaned against the rock with one leg crossed before the other
+in a manner sometimes supposed to reflect social ease and elegance. "But
+I'm game to take what's comin'. If you'll just stick me up and extract
+the .38 automatic I'm packin' on my hip,--and, believe me, she's a bad
+Gat. when she's in action,--why, I'll feel lots better. The little gun
+might get to shootin' by herself, and then somebody would get hurt sure.
+You see, I'm givin' you all the chance you want to take me without
+gettin' mussed up. I'm nervous about firearms, anyhow."
+
+Deputy Dick Tenlow advanced and secured the gun.
+
+"Now," said Overland Red, heaving a sigh; "now, I ain't ashamed to look
+a gun in the face. You see, Miss," he added, turning to address the
+girl, "I was sheriff of Abilene once, in the ole red-eye, rumpus days. I
+have planted some citizens in my time. You see, I kind of owe the ones
+I did plant a silent apology for lettin' this here chicken-rancher get
+me so easy."
+
+"You talk big," said Tenlow, laughing. "Who was you when you was sheriff
+of Abilene, eh?"
+
+"Jack Summers, sometimes called Red Jack Summers," replied Overland
+quietly, and he looked the deputy in the eye.
+
+"Jack Summers!"
+
+Overland nodded. "Take it or leave it. You'll find out some day. And now
+you got some excuse for packin' a gun round these here peaceful hills
+and valleys the rest of your life. You took Jack Summers, and there
+ain't goin' to be a funeral."
+
+Something about the tramp's manner inclined the deputy to believe that
+he had spoken truth. "All right," said Tenlow; "just step ahead. Don't
+try the brush or I'll drop you."
+
+"'Course you would," said Overland, stepping ahead of the deputy's pony.
+"But the bunch you're takin' orders from don't want me dead; they want
+me alive. I ain't no good all shot up. You ought to know that."
+
+"I know there's a thousand dollars reward for you. I need the money."
+
+Overland Red grinned. "It's against me morals to bet--with kids. But
+I'll put up that little automatic you frisked off me, against the
+thousand you expect to get, that you don't even get a long-range smell
+of that money. Are you on?"
+
+Tenlow motioned the other to step ahead.
+
+"I'm bettin' my little gun to a thousand dollars less than nothin'.
+Ain't you game? I'm givin' you the long end."
+
+"Never mind," growled Tenlow. "You can talk later."
+
+The boy Collie, recovering from his surprise at the arrest, stepped up
+to the sheriff. "Where do I come in?" he asked. "You can't pinch Red
+without me. I was with him that time the guy croaked out on the Mojave.
+Red didn't kill him. They let us go once. What you doin' pinchin' us
+again? How do _you_ know--"
+
+"Hold on, Collie; don't get careless," said Overland. "He don't know
+nothin'. He's followin' orders. The game's up."
+
+Louise whistled Boyar to her and bridled him. The little group ahead
+seemed to be waiting for her. She led the pony toward the trail. "Did he
+do it?" she asked as she caught up with Collie.
+
+"No," he muttered. "Red's the squarest pal on earth. Red tried to save
+the guy--out there on the desert. Gave him all the water we had, pretty
+near. He dassent to give him all, for because he was afraid it would
+kill him. The guy fell and hit his head on the rail. Red said he was
+dyin' on his feet, anyway. Then Red lugged me clean to that tank where
+you seen us from the train. I was all in. I guess Red saved my life. He
+didn't tell you that."
+
+"Is he--was he really a cowboy? Can he ride?" asked Louise.
+
+"Can he ride? Say, I seen him ride Cyclone once and get first money for
+ridin' the worst buckin' bronc' at the rodeo, over to Tucson. Well, I
+guess!"
+
+"Boyar, my pony, is the fastest pony in the hills," said Louise
+pensively.
+
+"What you givin' us?" said the boy, glancing at her sharply.
+
+"Nothing. I was merely imagining something."
+
+"Red's square," asserted the boy.
+
+"Sheriff Tenlow is a splendid shot," murmured Louise, with apparent
+irrelevance.
+
+They had crossed the meadow. Ahead of the sheriff walked Overland, his
+slouch gone, his head carried high. Collie noted this unusual alertness
+of poise and wondered.
+
+"Don't try the brush," cautioned Tenlow, also aware of Overland's
+alertness.
+
+"When I leave here, I'll ride. Sabe?" And Overland stepped briskly to
+the trail, turning his back squarely on the alert and puzzled sheriff.
+
+"He's been raised in these hills," muttered the tramp. "He knows the
+trails. I don't. But--I'd like to show that little Rose-Lady Girl some
+real ridin' once. She's a sport. I'd ride into hell and rake out the
+fire for her.... I hate to--to do it--but I guess I got to."
+
+"Step up there," said Tenlow. "What you talkin' about, anyhow?"
+
+"Angels," replied Overland. "I see 'em once in a while." And he glanced
+back. He saw Collie talking to the girl, who stood by her pony, the
+reins dangling lightly from her outstretched hand.
+
+"Snake!" screamed Overland Red, leaping backward and flinging up his
+arms, directly in the face of the deputy's pony. The horse reared.
+Overland, crouching, sprang under its belly, striking it as he went.
+Again the pony reared, nearly throwing the deputy.
+
+"Overland Limited!" shouted the tramp, dashing toward Boyar. With a
+spring he was in the saddle and had slipped the quirt from the
+saddle-horn to his wrist. He would need that quirt, as he had no spurs.
+
+Round swung Tenlow, cursing. Black Boyar shot across the meadow, the
+quirt falling at each jump. The tramp glanced back. Tenlow's right hand
+went up and his gun roared once, twice....
+
+The boy Collie, white and gasping, threw himself in front of Tenlow's
+horse. The deputy spurred the pony over him and swept down the meadow.
+
+Louise, angered in that the boy had snatched Boyar's reins from her as
+Overland shouted, relented as she saw the instant bravery in the lad's
+endeavor to stop Tenlow's horse. She stooped over him. He rose stiffly.
+
+"Oh! I thought you were hurt!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Nope! I guess not. I was scared, I guess. Let's watch 'em, Miss!" And
+forgetful of his bruised and shaken body, he limped to the edge of the
+meadow, followed by Louise. "There they go!" he cried. "Red's 'way
+ahead. The sheriff gent can't shoot again--he's too busy ridin'."
+
+"Boyar! Boyar! Good horse! Good horse!" cried the girl as the black pony
+flashed across the steep slope of the ragged mountain side like a winged
+thing. "Boyar! Boy!"
+
+She shivered as the loose shale, ploughed by the pony's flying hoofs,
+slithered down the slope at every plunge.
+
+"Can he ride?" shouted Collie, wild tears of joy in his eyes.
+
+Suddenly Overland, glancing back, saw Tenlow stop and raise his arm. The
+tramp cowboy swung Black Boyar half-round, and driving his unspurred
+heels into the pony's ribs, put him straight down the terrific slope of
+the mountain at a run.
+
+Tenlow's gun cracked. A spray of dust rose instantly ahead of Boyar.
+
+"Look! Look!" cried Louise. The deputy, angered out of his usual
+judgment, spurred his horse directly down the footless shale that the
+tramp had ridden across diagonally. "Look! He can't--The horse--! Oh!"
+she groaned as Tenlow's pony stumbled and all but pitched headlong. "The
+other man--knew better than that--" she gasped, turning to the boy. "He
+waited--till he struck rock and brush before he turned Boyar."
+
+"Can he ride?" shouted Collie, grinning. But the grin died to a gasp. A
+burst of shale and dust shot up from the hillside. They saw the flash of
+the cinchas on the belly of Tenlow's horse as the dauntless pony
+stumbled and dove headlong down the slope, rolling over and over, to
+stop finally--a patch of brown, shapeless, quivering.
+
+Below, Overland Red had curbed Boyar and was gazing up at a spot of
+black on the hillside--Dick Tenlow, motionless, silent. His sombrero lay
+several yards down the slope.
+
+"Oh! The horse!" cried Louise, chokingly, with her hand to her breast.
+
+As for Dick Tenlow, lying halfway down the hillside, stunned and
+shattered, she had but a secondary sympathy. He had sacrificed a gallant
+and willing beast to his anger. The tramp, riding a strange pony over
+desperately perilous and unfamiliar ground, had used judgment. "Your
+friend is a man!" she said, turning to the boy. "But Dick Tenlow is
+hurt--perhaps killed. He went under the horse when it fell."
+
+"I guess it's up to us to see if the sheriff gent is done for, at that,"
+said the boy. "Mebby we can do something."
+
+"You'll get arrested, now," said the girl. "If Dick Tenlow is alive,
+you'll have to go for help. If he isn't...."
+
+"I'll go, all right. I ain't afraid. I didn't do anything. I guess I'll
+stick around till Red shows up again, anyhow."
+
+"You're a stranger here. I should go as soon as you have sent help,"
+said the girl.
+
+"Mebby I better. I'll help get him up the hill and in the shade. Then
+I'll beat it for the doc. If I don't come back after that," he said
+slowly, flushing, "it ain't because I'm scared of anything I done."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Far down in the valley Boyar's sweating sides glistened in the sun. An
+arm was raised in a gesture of farewell as the tramp swung the pony
+toward the town. Much to her surprise, Louise found herself waving a
+vigorous adieu to the distant figure.
+
+The tramp Overland, realizing that the deputy was badly injured, told
+the first person he met about the accident, advising him to get help at
+once for the deputy. Then he turned the pony toward the foothills. In a
+clump of greasewood he dismounted, and, leaving the reins hanging to the
+saddle-horn, struck Black Boyar on the flank. The horse leaped toward
+the Moonstone Trail. The tramp disappeared in the brush.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+ADVOCATE EXTRAORDINARY
+
+
+Louise Lacharme, more beautiful than roses, strolled across the
+vine-shadowed porch of the big ranch-house and sat on the porch rail
+opposite her uncle. His clear blue eyes twinkled approval as he gazed at
+her.
+
+Walter Stone was fifty, but the fifty of the hard-riding optimist of the
+great outdoors. The smooth tan of his cheeks contrasted oddly with the
+silver of his close-cropped hair. He appeared as a young man prematurely
+gray.
+
+"How is Boyar?" he asked, smiling a little as Louise, sitting sideways
+on the porch-rail, swung her foot back and forth quickly.
+
+"Oh, Boy is all right. The tramp turned him loose in the valley. Boy
+came home."
+
+"It was a clever bit of riding, to get the best of Tenlow on his own
+range. Was Dick very badly hurt?" queried Walter Stone.
+
+"Yes, his collar-bone was broken and he was crushed and terribly
+bruised. His horse was killed. When I was down, day before yesterday,
+the doctor said Dick would be all right in time."
+
+"How about this boy, the tramp boy they arrested?"
+
+"Oh," said Louise, "that was a shame! He stayed and helped the doctor
+put Dick in the buggy and rode with him to town. Mr. Tenlow was
+unconscious, and the boy had to go to hold him. Then the boy explained
+it all at the store, and they arrested him anyway, as a suspicious
+character. I should have let him go. When Mr. Tenlow became conscious
+and they told him they had the boy, he said to keep him in the
+calaboose; that that was where he belonged."
+
+"And you want me to see what I can do for this boy?"
+
+"I didn't say so." And Louise tilted her chin.
+
+"Now, sweetheart, don't quibble. It isn't like you."
+
+The gray silk-clad ankle flashed back and forth. "Really, Uncle Walter,
+you could have done something for the boy without making me say that I
+wanted you to. You're always doing something nice--helping people that
+are in trouble. You don't usually have to be asked."
+
+"Perhaps I like to be asked--by--Louise."
+
+"You're just flattering me, I know! But uncle, if you had seen the boy
+jump in front of Mr. Tenlow's horse when Dick shot at the tramp,--and
+afterwards when the boy helped me with Dick and stuck right to him clear
+to his house,--why, you couldn't help but admire him. Then they
+arrested him--for what? It's a shame! I told him to run when I saw the
+doctor's buggy coming."
+
+"Yes, Louise; the boy may be brave and likable enough, but how are we to
+know what he really is? I don't like to take the risk. I don't like to
+meddle in such affairs."
+
+"Uncle Walter! Risk! And the risks you used to take when you were a
+young man. Oh, Aunty Eleanor has told me all about your riding bronchos
+and the Panamint--and lots of things. I won't tell you all, for you'd be
+flattered to pieces, and I want you in one whole lump to-day."
+
+"Only for to-day, Louise?"
+
+"Oh, maybe for to-morrow, and to-morrow and to-morrow. But, uncle, only
+last week you said at breakfast that the present system of arrest and
+imprisonment was all wrong. That was because they arrested that editor
+who was a friend of yours. But now, when you have a chance to prove that
+you were in earnest, you don't seem a bit interested."
+
+"Did I really say all that, sweetness?"
+
+"Now _you_ are quibbling. And does 'sweetness,' mean me, or what you
+said at breakfast? Because you said 'the whole damn system'; and there
+were two ladies at the table. Of course, that was before breakfast.
+After breakfast you picked a rose for aunty, and kissed me."
+
+Walter Stone laughed heartily. "But I do take a great deal of interest
+in anything that interests you."
+
+Louise slipped lithely from the porch-rail and swung up on the broad arm
+of his chair, snuggling against him impetuously. "I know you do, uncle.
+I just love you! I'll stop teasing."
+
+"I surrender. I'm a pretty fair soldier at long range, but this"--and
+his arm went round her affectionately--"this is utter defeat. I strike
+my colors. Then, you always give in so gracefully."
+
+"To you, perhaps, Uncle Walter. But I haven't given in this time. I'm
+just as interested as ever."
+
+"And you think they are the men we saw out on the Mojave by the
+water-tank?"
+
+"Oh, I know it! They remembered the rose. They spoke of it right away,
+before I did."
+
+"Yes, Louise. And you remember, too, that they were arrested at
+Barstow--for murder, the conductor said?"
+
+"That's just it! The boy Collie says the tramp Overland Red didn't kill
+the man. He was trying to save him and gave him water. If you could only
+hear what the boy says about it--"
+
+"I don't suppose it would do any harm," said the rancher. "I dislike to
+use my influence. You know, I practically control Dick Tenlow's place at
+the elections."
+
+"That's just why he should be willing to let the boy go," said Louise
+quickly.
+
+"No, sweetheart. That's just why I shouldn't ask Dick to do anything of
+the kind. But I see I'm in for it. You have already interested your Aunt
+Eleanor. She spoke to me about the boy last night."
+
+"Aunty Eleanor is a dear. I didn't really ask her to speak to you."
+
+"No," he said, laughing. "Of course not. You're too clever for that. You
+simply sow your poppy-seed and leave it alone. The poppies come up fast
+enough."
+
+Louise laughed softly. "You're pretending to criticize and you're really
+flattering,--deliberately,--aren't you, Uncle Walter?"
+
+"Flattering? And you?"
+
+"Because Aunt Eleanor said you could be simply irresistible when you
+wanted to be. I think so, too. Especially when you are on a horse."
+
+"Naturally. I always did feel more confident in the saddle. I could, if
+need arose, ride away like the chap in Bobby Burns's verse, you
+remember--
+
+  "He gave his bridle-rein a shake,
+  And turned him on the shore,
+  With, 'Farewell, forever more, my dear,
+  Farewell, forever more.'"
+
+"But you didn't, uncle. Aunty said she used to be almost afraid that
+you'd ride away with her, like Lochinvar."
+
+"Yes." And Walter Stone sighed deeply.
+
+"Oh, Uncle Walter! That sounded full of regrets and things."
+
+"It was. It is. I'm fifty."
+
+"It isn't fifty. It's a lack of exercise. And you wouldn't be half so
+fine-looking if you were fat. I _always_ sigh when I don't know what to
+do. Then I just saddle Boy and ride. And I'll _never_ let myself get
+fat."
+
+"A vow is a vow--at sixteen."
+
+"Now I _know_ you need exercise. You're getting reminiscent, and that's
+a sign of torpid liver."
+
+Walter Stone laughed till the tears came. "Exercise!" he exclaimed. "Ah!
+I begin to divine a subtle method in your doctrine of health. Ah, ha! I
+look well on a horse! I need exercise! It's a very satisfactory ride
+from here to town and back. Incidentally, Louise, I smell a rat. I used
+to be able to hold my own."
+
+"It isn't my fault if you don't now," said Louise, snuggling in his
+arm.
+
+"That's unworthy of you!" he growled, his arm tightening round her slim
+young figure. "Tell me, sweetheart; how is it that you can be so
+thoroughly practical and so unfathomably romantic in the same breath?
+You have deliberately shattered me to bits that you might mould me
+nearer to your heart's desire. And your heart's desire, just now, is to
+help an unknown, a tramp, out of jail."
+
+Louise pouted. "You say 'just now' as though my heart's desires weren't
+very serious matters as a rule. You _know_ you wouldn't be half so happy
+if I didn't tease you for something at least once a week. I remember
+once I didn't ask you for anything for a whole week, and you went and
+asked Aunty Eleanor if I were ill. Besides, the boy _needs_ help,
+whether he did anything wrong or not. Can't you understand?"
+
+"That's utopian, Louise, but it isn't generally practicable."
+
+"Then make it individually practicable, uncle--just this time. Pshaw! I
+don't believe you're half-trying to argue. Why, when Boyar bucked you
+off that time and ran into the barb-wire, then _he_ didn't need
+doctoring for that awful cut on his shoulder, because he had done
+wrong."
+
+"That is no parallel, Louise. Boyar didn't know any better. And this boy
+is not sick or injured."
+
+"How do you know that? He's down in that terribly hot, smelly jail. If
+he did get sick, who would know it?"
+
+"And Boyar isn't a human being. He can't reason."
+
+"Oh, Uncle Walter! I thought you knew horses better than that. Boyar can
+reason much better than most people."
+
+"The proof being that he prefers you to any one else?"
+
+"No," replied Louise, smiling mischievously. "That isn't Boyar's
+_reason_; it's his affection. That's different."
+
+"Yes, quite different," said Walter Stone. "Is this boy good-looking?"
+And the rancher fumbled in his pocket for a cigar.
+
+Louise slipped from the arm of his chair and stood opposite him, her
+lips pouted teasingly, the young face glowing with mischief and fun. "Am
+I?" she asked, curtsying and twinkling. "'Cause if you're going to ride
+down to the valley to see the boy just because Beautiful asked you,
+Beautiful will go alone. But if you come because _I_ want you,"--and
+Louise smiled bewitchingly,--"why, Beautiful will come too, and sing for
+you--perhaps."
+
+"My heart, my service, and my future are at your feet, Senorita Louisa,
+my mouse. Are your eyes gray or green this morning?"
+
+"Both," replied Louise quickly. "Green for spunk and gray for love.
+That's what Aunty Eleanor says."
+
+"Come a little nearer. Let me see. No, they are quite gray now."
+
+"'Cause why?" she cooed, and stooping, kissed him with warm, careless
+affection. "You always ask me about my eyes when you want me to kiss
+you. Of course, when you want to kiss _me_, why, you just come and take
+'em."
+
+"My esteemed privilege, sweetheart. I am your caballero."
+
+"Did Aunty Eleanor?" said Louise.
+
+But Walter Stone rose and straightened his shoulders. "That will do,
+mouse. I can't have any jealousy between my sweethearts."
+
+"Never! And, Uncle Walter, do you want to ride Major or Rally? Rally and
+Boyar get along better together. I'll saddle Boy in a jiffy."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+To ride some ten miles in the blazing sun of midsummer requires a kind
+of anticipatory fortitude, at fifty, especially when one's own vine and
+fig tree is cool and fragrant, embowered in blue flowers and graced by,
+let us say, Louise. And a cigar is always at its best when half-smoked.
+But when Louise came blithely leading the two saddle-ponies, Black Boyar
+and the big pinto Rally, Walter Stone shook an odd twenty years from
+his broad shoulders and swung into the saddle briskly.
+
+From the shade of the great sycamore warders of the wide gate, he waved
+a gauntleted salute to Aunt Eleanor, who stood on the porch, drawing a
+leaf of the graceful moon-vine through her slender fingers. She nodded a
+smiling farewell.
+
+Louise and her uncle rode as two lovers, their ponies close together.
+The girl swayed to Boyar's quick, swinging walk. Walter Stone sat the
+strong, tireless Rally with solid ease.
+
+The girl, laughing happily at her triumph, leaned toward her escort
+teasingly, singing fragments of old Spanish love-songs, or talking with
+eager lips and sparkling eyes. Of a sudden she would assume a
+demureness, utterly bewitching in its veiled and perfect mimicry. Quite
+seriously he would set about to overcome this delightful mood of hers
+with extravagant vows of lifelong love and servitude, as though he were
+in truth her chosen caballero and she his Senorita of the Rose.
+
+And as they played at love-making, hidden graces of the girl's sweet
+nature unfolded to him, and deep in his heart he wondered, and found
+life good, and Youth still unspoiled by the years, and Louise a
+veritable enchantress of infinite moods, each one adorable.
+Golden-haired, gray-eyed, quick with sympathy, sweetly subtle and subtly
+sweet was Louise.... And one must worship Youth and Beauty and Love,
+even with their passing bitter on one's lips.
+
+But to Walter Stone no such bitterness had come, this soldierly, wise
+caballero escorting his adorable senorita on an errand of mercy. His was
+the heart of Youth, eternal and undaunted Youth. And Beauty was hers, of
+the spirit as well as of the flesh. And Love....
+
+"Why, Louise! There are tears on your lashes, my colleen!"
+
+"But I am singing, uncle." And she smiled through her tears.
+
+"Sweetheart?"
+
+"Yes, Uncle Walter?"
+
+"What is it? Tell me."
+
+"I wish I could. I don't know. I think I'm getting to be grown up--just
+like a woman. It--it makes me--think of lots of things. Let's ride." And
+her silver spurs flashed.
+
+Boyar, taken quite by surprise, grunted as he leaped down the Moonstone
+Trail. He resented this undeserved punishment by plunging sideways
+across the road. Again came the flash of the silver spurs, and Walter
+Stone heard Louise disciplining the pony.
+
+"Just a woman. Just like a woman," murmured the rancher. "Now, Boyar,
+and some others of us, will never quite understand what that means." And
+with rein and voice he lifted the pinto Rally to a lope.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE GIRL WHO GLANCED BACK
+
+
+At the crossroads in the valley stood the local jail, or "coop," as it
+was more descriptively called. Unpainted, isolated, its solitary
+ugliness lacked even the squalid dignity commonly associated with the
+word "jail." The sun pelted down upon its bleached, unshaded roof and
+sides. The burning air ran over its warped shingles like a kind of
+colorless fire.
+
+The boy Collie, half-dreaming in the suffocating heat of the place,
+started to his feet as the door swung open. He had heard horses coming.
+They had stopped. He could hardly realize that the sunlight was swimming
+through the close dusk of the place. But the girl of Moonstone Canon,
+reining Boyar round, was real, and she smiled and nodded a greeting.
+
+"This is Mr. Stone, my uncle," she said. "He wants to talk with you."
+
+With a glance that noted each unlovely detail of the place, the broken
+iron bed, the cracked pitcher, and the unspeakable blankets, Louise
+touched her pony and was gone.
+
+Collie rubbed his eyes, blinking in the sun as he stood gazing after
+her.
+
+Walter Stone, standing near the doorway, noted the lad's clear, healthy
+skin, his well-shaped head with its tumble of wavy black hair, and the
+luminous dark eyes. He felt an instant sympathy for the boy, a sympathy
+that he masked with a business-like brusqueness. "Well, young man?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Come outside. It's vile in there."
+
+Stone led his pony to the north side of the "coop."
+
+Collie followed.
+
+Away to the west he saw the hazy peaks. A lake of burning air pulsed
+above the flat, hot floor of the valley. Over there lay the hills and
+the shade and the road.... Somewhere beyond was Overland, his friend,
+penniless, hunted, hungry....
+
+"She brung you?" queried the boy.
+
+"Yes. I have seen Tenlow, the sheriff. He is willing to let you go at my
+request. What do you intend doing, now that you are free?"
+
+"I don' know. Find Red, I guess."
+
+Walter Stone nodded. "What then?"
+
+"Oh, stick it out with Red. They'll be after him sure now. Red's my
+pal."
+
+"What has he done to get the police after him?"
+
+"Nothin'. It's the bunch."
+
+"The bunch?"
+
+"Uhuh. Them guys out on the Mojave. But say, are you workin' me to get
+next to Red and get him pinched again?"
+
+"No. You don't have to answer me. This man Red is nothing to me, one way
+or the other. He took Miss Lacharme's pony, but she has overlooked that.
+I thought, perhaps, you might care to explain your position. Perhaps you
+had rather not. You may go now if you wish."
+
+"Is that straight?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+For several tense seconds the lad gazed at his questioner. Finally his
+gaze shifted to the hills. "I guess you're straight," he said presently.
+"I guess she wouldn't have you for a relation if you wasn't straight."
+
+The elder man laughed. "That's right--she wouldn't, young man."
+
+"How's the sheriff guy?" asked the boy.
+
+"He's getting along well enough. What made you ask?"
+
+"Oh, nothin'. I hate to see any guy get hurt."
+
+"I'm glad to hear you say that. I begin to think you are a bigger man
+than he is."
+
+"Me?" And Collie flushed, misunderstanding the other's drift. "I guess
+you're kiddin'."
+
+"No, I mean it. Mr. Tenlow still seemed pretty hot about your share in
+this--er--enterprise. You seem to have no hard feelings against him."
+
+"Huh! He shouldn't to be sore at _me_. I didn't spur no horse onto him
+and ride him down like a dog. I guess Red would 'a' killed him if he'd
+seen it. Say, nobody got Red, did they?"
+
+"I haven't heard of it. How did this man Red come to pick you up? You're
+pretty young to be tramping."
+
+"Cross your heart you ain't tryin' to queer Red? You ain't tryin' to put
+the Injun sign on us, are you?"
+
+"No. I have heard all about the Mojave affair--the prospector that died
+on the track--and the arrest of Overland Red at Barstow. You told my
+niece that this Overland Red was 'square.' How did you come to be mixed
+up in it?"
+
+"I guess I'll have to tell you the whole thing, straight. Red always
+said that to tell the truth was just as good as lyin', because nobody
+would believe us, anyway. And if a fella gets caught tellin' the truth,
+why, he's that much to the good."
+
+"Well, I shall try and believe you this time," said Stone. "Miss
+Lacharme thinks you're honest."
+
+"A guy couldn't lie to her!" said the boy.
+
+"Then just consider me her representative," said Stone, smiling.
+
+Collie squatted in the meager shade of the "coop."
+
+Walter Stone, dropping the pony's reins, came and sat beside the lad.
+There was something in the older man's presence, an unspoken assurance
+of comradeship and sincerity that annulled the boy's tendency to
+reticence about himself. He began hesitatingly, "My dad was a drinkin'
+man. Ma died, and he got worse at it. I was a kid and didn't care, for
+he never done nothin' to me. We lived back East, over a pawnbroker's on
+Main Street. One day pa come home with a timetable. He sat up 'most all
+night readin' it. Every time I woke up, he was readin' it and talkin' to
+himself. That was after ma died.
+
+"In the mornin', when I was gettin' dressed, he come over and says to
+take the needle he had and stick it through the timetable anywhere. I
+was scared he was goin' to have the jimmies. But I took the needle--it
+had black thread in it--and stuck it through the timetable. He opened
+the page and laughed awful loud and queer. Albuquerque was where the
+needle went in. He couldn't say the name right, but he kept lookin' at
+it.
+
+"Then he went out and was gone all day and all night. When he come back
+he showed me a whole wad of money. I says, 'Where did you get it?' He
+got mad and tells me to shut up.
+
+"That day we got on a train. I says, 'Where are we goin'?' and he says
+to never mind, and did I want some peanuts.
+
+"We kept ridin' and ridin' in the same car, and eatin' bananas and
+san'wiches and sleepin' settin' up at nights. I was just about sick when
+we come to Albuquerque. You see, that was where the needle went through
+the timetable, and dad said we would get off there. He got awful drunk
+that night.
+
+"Next day he said he was goin' to quit liquor and make a fresh start. I
+knowed he wouldn't, 'cause he always said that next mornin'. But I guess
+he tried to quit. I don't know.
+
+"One night he didn't come back to the room where we was stayin' upstairs
+over the saloon. They found him 'way down the track next day, all cut to
+pieces by the train."
+
+The boy paused, reached forward, and plucked a withered stem of grass
+which he wound round and round his finger.
+
+Walter Stone sat looking across the valley.
+
+"I guess his money was all gone," resumed the boy. "Anyhow, 'bout a year
+after, Overland Red comes along. He comes to the saloon where I was
+stayin',--they give me a job cleanin' out every day,--and he got to
+talkin' a lot of stuff about scenery and livin' the simple life, and all
+that guff. The bartender got to jawin' with him, and I laughed, and the
+bartender hits me a lick side the head. Red, he hits the bartender a
+lick side of _his_ head--and the bartender don't get up right away.
+'I'll learn him to hit kids,' said Red. 'If you learn him to hit 'em as
+hard as that,' I says to Red, 'then it will be all off with me the next
+time.'
+
+"Does he hit you very often?' said Red.
+
+"Whenever he feels like it,' I told him.
+
+"Red laughed and said to come on. I was sick of there, so I run away
+with Red. We tried it on a freight and got put off. Red had some water
+in a canteen he swiped. It was lucky for us he did. We kept walkin' and
+goin' nights, and mebby ridin' on freights in the daytime if we could.
+One day, a long time after that, we was crossin' the desert again. We
+got put off a freight that time, too. We was walkin' along when we found
+a guy layin' beside the track. Red said he wasn't dead, but was dyin'.
+We give him some water. Then he kind of come to and wanted to drink it
+all. Red said, 'No.' Then the guy got kind of crazy. He got up and
+grabbed Red. I was scared.
+
+"Red, he passed me the canteen and told me to keep it away from the guy
+because more water would kill him. Then the guy went for Red. 'He's
+dyin' on his feet,' said Red. 'It's his last flash.' And he tried to
+hold the guy quiet, talkin' decent to him all the time. They was
+staggerin' around when the guy tripped backwards over the rail. His head
+hit on the other rail and Red fell on top of him. Anyway, the guy was
+dead."
+
+Walter Stone shifted his position, turning to gaze at the boy's white
+face. "Yes--go on," he said quietly.
+
+"Red was for searchin' the guy, but I says to come on before we got
+caught. Red, he laughed kind of queer, and asked me, 'Caught at what?'
+Then I said, 'I dunno,' but I was scared.
+
+"Anyway, he went through the dead guy's clothes and found some papers
+and old letters and a little leather bag with a whole lot of gold-dust
+in it. Red said mebby five hundred dollars!"
+
+"Gold-dust?"
+
+"Uhuh! Then Red _was_ scared. He buried the bag and the papers 'way out
+in the sand and made a mark on the ties to find it by."
+
+"Did you find out the dead man's name?" asked Stone, glancing curiously
+at the boy.
+
+"Nope. We just beat it for the next station. I was feelin' sick. I give
+out, and Red, he lugged me to the next water-tank. He was pourin' water
+on me when the Limited come along and stopped, and _she_ throwed the
+rose to us. Red told me about it after. You wouldn't go back on a pal
+like that, would you?"
+
+"No, I don't know that I should."
+
+"That's me!" said the boy. "Then they went to work and pinched us at
+Barstow. Said we killed the guy because his head was smashed in where he
+hit the rails. They tried to make Red say that he robbed the guy after
+killin' him. But Red told everything, except he didn't tell about the
+letters and the gold-dust. They tried to make me say it, but I dassent.
+I knowed they would fix Red sure if I did, and he told me not to tell
+about the gold if they did pinch us."
+
+"They let you go--after the police examination. Then how is it that the
+authorities are after you again?"
+
+"It's the bunch," replied the boy. "Them guys out there knowed the dead
+guy had a mine or a ledge or somethin' where he got the gold. Nobody was
+wise to where. They told at the jail how he used to come in once in a
+while and send his dust to Los Angeles by the express company. All them
+guys like the sheriff and the station agent and all the people in that
+town are workin' tryin' to find out where the gold come from. They think
+because Red and me is tramps that they can make us tell and arrest us
+whenever they like. But even Red don't know, unless it's in the papers
+he hid in the sand."
+
+"That sounds like a pretty straight story," said Stone. "So you intend
+to stick to this man Red?"
+
+"Sure! Would you quit him now, when they're after him worst?"
+
+"They will get him finally."
+
+"Mebby. But Red's pretty slick at a getaway. If they do pinch him again,
+that's where I come in. I'm the only witness and the only friend he's
+got."
+
+"Of course. But don't you see, my boy, that your way of living is so
+much against you that you couldn't really help him? A man's naked word
+is worth just what his friends and neighbors will allow him for it, and
+no more."
+
+"But ain't a guy got no rights in this country?"
+
+"Certainly he has. But he has to prove that he is entitled to them, by
+his way of living."
+
+"Then he's got to go to church, and work, and live decent, or he don't
+get a square deal, hey?"
+
+"But why shouldn't he do that much?"
+
+Collie did not answer. Instead, he inspected his questioner critically
+from head to foot. "I guess you're right," he said finally. "I've heard
+folks talk like that before, but I never took no stock. They kind of
+said it because they knowed it. I guess you say it because you mean it."
+
+"Of course I do," said Stone heartily. "Well, here comes my niece with
+the mail. See! Over there is El Camino Real, running north. My ranch is
+up _there_, in the hills. My foreman's name is Williams. If you should
+ask him for work, I believe he might give you something to do. I heard
+him say he needed a man, not long ago."
+
+Walter Stone cinched up the saddle and mounted his pony. The boy's eyes
+shone as he gazed at the strong, soldierly figure. Ah, to look like
+that, and ride a horse like that!
+
+Boyar, the black pony, clattered up and stopped. "Hello, folks!" said
+Louise, purposely including the boy in her greeting.
+
+Collie flushed happily. Then a bitterness grew in his heart as he
+thought of his friend Overland, hunted from town to town by the same law
+that protected these people--an unjust law that they observed and
+fostered.
+
+"Well?" said Stone.
+
+Collie's gaze was on the ground. "I don' know," he muttered. "I don'
+know."
+
+"Well, good luck to you!" And the ponies swung into that philosophical
+lope of the Western horse who knows his journey's length.
+
+The figures of the riders grew smaller. Still the boy stood in the road,
+watching them. Undecided, he gazed. Then came an answer to his stubborn
+self-questioning. Louise glanced back--glanced back for an instant in
+mute sympathy with his loneliness.
+
+Slowly the boy turned and entered the jail. He folded his coat over his
+arm, stepped outside, and closed the door.
+
+Before him stretched the hot gray level of El Camino Real, the road to
+the beyond. From it branched a narrower road, reaching up into the
+southern hills,--on, up to the mysterious Moonstone Canon with its
+singing stream and its gracious shade. Somewhere beyond, higher, and in
+the shadowy fastness of the great ranges lay the Moonstone Ranch ... her
+home.
+
+"I guess, steppin' up smart, I'll be there just about in time for
+supper," said the boy. And whistling cheerily, he set his feet toward
+the south and the Moonstone Trail.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE TEST
+
+
+After a week of weeding in the vegetable garden, Collie was put to work
+repairing fence. There were many miles of it, inclosing some twenty
+thousand acres of grazing-land, and the cross-fencing of the oat,
+alfalfa, fruit, and vegetable acreage. The fence was forever in need of
+repair. The heavy winter rains, torrential in the mountains, often
+washed away entire hillsides, leaving a dozen or so staggering posts
+held together by the wires, tangled and sagging. Cattle frequently
+pulled loosened posts from the earth by kneeling under the wire and
+working through, oblivious to the barbs. Again, "stock gone a little
+loco" would often charge straight through the rigid and ripping wire
+barriers as though their strands were of thread. Posts would split in
+the sun, and staples would drop out, leaving sagging spaces which cattle
+never failed to find and take advantage of. Trees uprooted by the rain
+and wind would often fall across the fence.
+
+Altogether, the maintaining of a serviceable fence-line on a
+well-ordered ranch necessitates eternal vigilance.
+
+The Moonstone Rancho was well ordered under the direct supervision of
+Walter Stone's foreman, "Brand" Williams. Williams was a Wyoming cowman
+of the old school; taciturn, lean, sinewy.
+
+Some ten years before, Williams, seeking employment, had ridden over the
+range with Stone. Returning, the cowman remarked disconsolately, "I like
+your stock, and I'll tie to you. But, say, it's only playin' at ranchin'
+on twenty thousand fenced. I was raised in Wyoming."
+
+"All right," Stone had replied. "Play hard and we'll get along
+first-rate."
+
+Every inch of Brand Williams's six feet was steeped in the astringent of
+experience. He played hard and prospered, as did his employer.
+
+Collie stood awaiting the foreman's instructions.
+
+"Ever mend fence?" asked Williams.
+
+"Nope."
+
+"Good. Then you can learn right. Go rope a cayuse--get some staples and
+that leetle axe in my office, and go to it. There's plenty fence."
+
+The "Go rope a cayuse" momentarily staggered the boy, but he went
+silently to the corral, secured a riata, and by puzzling the playful
+ponies by his amateur tactics he finally entangled "Baldy," a
+white-faced cow-pony of peaceful mien but uncertain disposition.
+
+Williams, watching the performance, lazily rolled a straw-paper
+cigarette.
+
+Snubbed to the post, bridled and saddled awkwardly, Baldy gave no
+outward sign of his malignant inward intent of getting rid of the lad
+the minute he mounted.
+
+Williams slowly drew a match across his sleeve from elbow to wrist,
+ending with a flame that was extremely convenient to his cigarette. He
+wasted no effort at anything. He was a man who never met a yawn halfway,
+but only gave in to it when actually obliged to. Collie climbed into the
+saddle and started for the corral gate. He arrived there far ahead of
+the horse. He got to his feet and brushed his knees. The pony was
+humping round the corral with marvelous agility for so old a horse.
+
+"He never did like a left-handed man," said Williams gravely. "Next time
+get on him from the _other_ side, and see if he don't behave. Hold on;
+don't be in a hurry. Let him throw a few more jumps, then he'll quit for
+to-day most likely. And say, son, if he does take to buckin' with you
+again, don't choke that saddle to death hangin' on to the horn. Set up
+straight, lean a little back, and clinch your knees. You'll get piled,
+anyhow, but you might as well start right."
+
+The boy approached the horse again, secured the dangling reins, and
+again mounted. Baldy was as demure as a spinster in church. He actually
+looked pious.
+
+Collie urged the pony toward the gate. Baldy reared.
+
+"A spade bit ain't made to pull teeth with, although you can," said
+Williams. "Baldy's old, but his teeth are all good yet. Just easy now.
+Ride in your saddle, not on your reins. That's it! And say, kid, I would
+'a' got them staples and that axe before crawlin' the hoss, eh?"
+
+Collie flushed. He dismounted and walked to the foreman's office. When
+he returned to the corral, the horse was gone. Williams still sat on the
+corral bars smoking and gazing earnestly at nothing.
+
+Round the corner of the stable Collie saw the pony, his nose peacefully
+submerged in the water-trough, but his eye wide and vigilant. The boy
+ran toward him. Baldy snorted and, wheeling, ran back into the corral,
+circled it with an expression which said plainly, "Let us play a little
+game of tag, in which, my young friend, you shall always be 'It.'"
+
+Again Collie tried to rope the pony.
+
+"Want any help?" asked Williams, as he slid from the corral bars to the
+ground.
+
+"Nope." And Collie disentangled his legs from an amazing contortion of
+the riata and tried to whirl the loop as he had seen the cowmen whirl
+it.
+
+"Hold on, son!" said Williams. "You mean right, but don't go to rope him
+with the saddle on. If you looped that horn, he, like as not, would yank
+you clean to Calabasas before you got your feet out of that mess of rope
+you're standin' in. Anyway, you ain't goin' to Calabasas; you're due up
+the other way."
+
+Collie was learning things rapidly, and, better still, he was learning
+in a way that would cause him to remember.
+
+Williams spoke sharply to the pony. Baldy stopped and eyed the foreman
+with vapid inquisitiveness. "Now, son, I got three things to tell you,"
+and the foreman gathered up the reins. "First--keep on keepin' your
+mouth shut and tendin' to business. It pays. Second--always drop your
+reins over a hoss's head when you get off, whether he's trained that way
+or not. And last--always figure a hoss thinks he knows more than you do.
+Sometimes he does. Sometimes he don't. Then he won't fool you so
+frequent, for you'll be watchin' him. I wouldn't 'a' said that much,
+only you're a tenderfoot from the East, I hear. If you was a tenderfoot
+from the West, you would 'a' had to take your own medicine."
+
+Collie's shoulder was lame from his fall and was becoming stiff, but he
+grinned cheerfully, and said nothing, which pleased Williams.
+
+The foreman leveled his slow, keen eyes at him for a minute. "You'll
+find a spring under the live-oaks by the third cross-fence north. Reckon
+you'll get there about noon. Keep your eye peeled for fire. I thought I
+seen somebody up there as I come across from the corral early this
+mornin'. We come close to burnin' out here once, account of a hobo's
+fire. Understand, if you ketch anybody cantelopin' around _a-foot_, you
+just ride 'em off the range pronto. That's all."
+
+As Collie rode away through the morning sunshine, Williams loafed across
+the corral, roped and saddled a white-eyed pinto, and, spurring up a
+narrow canon west of the ranch buildings, disappeared round a turn of
+the shady trail. As the foreman rode, he alternately talked to the pony
+and himself.
+
+"Tramp, eh?" he said, addressing the pony. "What do you say, Sarko?
+Nothin', eh? Same as me.... Overland Red's kid pal, eh? Huh! I knowed
+Jack Summers, Red Jack Summers, down in Sonora in '83. Mexico was some
+open country then. Jack was a white pardner, too. Went to the bad,
+account of that Chola girl that he was courtin' goin' wrong.... Funny
+how the boss come to pick up that kid. Thinks there's somethin' in him.
+O' course they is. But what? Eh, Sarko, what? You say nothin', same as
+me.... Here, you! That's a lizard, you fool hoss. Never seen one before,
+so you're try in' to catch it by jumpin' through your bridle after it,
+eh? Never seen one before, oh, no! Don't like that, eh? Well, you quit,
+and I will. Exactly. It's me, and my ole Spanish spurs. I'm
+listenin'.... Nothin' to say?... Uhuh! I reckon little Louise had
+somethin' to do with gettin' the kid the job. Well, if _she_ likes him,
+I got to. Guess I'd love a snake if she said to. Yes, I'm listenin' to
+myself ..." And the taciturn foreman's hard, weathered face wrinkled in
+a smile. "I'm listenin' ... None of the boys know Red's camped up by the
+spring. I do. Red used to be a damn white Injun in the old days. I'll
+give the kid a chance to put him wise for old times. And I'll find out
+if the kid means business or not ... which is some help to know how to
+handle him later."
+
+Williams picketed his pony in the meadow above the third cross-fence.
+Loafing down the slope toward the spring, he noticed the faint smoke of
+a fire. Farther down the line fence, he could see Collie in the
+distance, riding slowly toward the three live-oaks. The foreman found a
+convenient seat on a ledge, rolled another of his eternal cigarettes,
+and watched the boy approach from below.
+
+Collie had already dismounted three times that morning; twice to mend
+fence, and once more involuntarily. He determined, with a mighty vow to
+the bow-legged god of all horseflesh, to learn to stay on a broncho or
+die learning.
+
+The boy had a native fondness for animals, and he had already thought of
+buying a pony with his first few months' wages. But the vision of his
+erstwhile companion Overland, perhaps imprisoned and hopeless in the
+grip of the "bunch," annulled that desire. He would save every cent for
+that emergency.
+
+Arrived at the spring, both boy and horse drank gratefully, for the day
+was hot. Then Collie noticed the thin smoke coming through the trees and
+strode toward it.
+
+"It ain't much of a fire yet," said Overland. "Our hired girl--" and he
+grinned through a two-weeks' tangle of red beard. "Oh, but ain't he the
+'cute little workin'-man with his little ole hoss and his garments of
+toil."
+
+"Oh, Red!" exclaimed the boy.
+
+"Me sure! I been hidin' in my whiskers so long I didn't know if you'd
+know me."
+
+"I been thinking about you every day."
+
+"Uhuh. So have I. I reckon some others has, too. Say, what you been
+doin' lately, studyin' law or learnin' the piano? I been lookin' for
+you for a week. It's the first day I seen you out on the range."
+
+"I was working in the garden first. Then they put me at this, this
+mornin'."
+
+"Uhuh. Well, Col, that there getaway of mine is in all the papers.
+'Tramp Cowboy Steals Horse and Escapes.' Say, did she yip about my
+borrowin' the cayuse?"
+
+"She was mad at first. But your fancy ridin' kind of made her forget. I
+told her you was square, Red."
+
+"Huh! I guess she could tell that herself."
+
+"But, Red, I'm not kidding. I told her uncle about the bunch and the guy
+on the desert."
+
+"Did he believe it?"
+
+"I guess so. He ain't said much. But he gives me the chance to make
+good. He must have believed somethin'."
+
+"Well, stick to it, Collie. You never was cut out for a genuine towerist
+like me, anyhow. It ain't in your blood."
+
+"What you goin' to do now, Red?"
+
+"Me? Listen! There's gold out there, somewhere. I'm broke now. I need
+some dough. I got ideas. Ten dollars does it. I get a new set of clothes
+and get shaved and me hair trimmed close. Then I commence me good work
+in Main Street, in Los. Down on North Main is where I catch the gent
+from the East who will fall for anything that wears a Stetson and some
+outdoors complexion. I tell all about my ledge in the Mojave and get
+staked to go out and prospect. It's bein' done every day--it and the
+other fella."
+
+"But, Red--"
+
+"Hold on, kid. I ain't goin' to bunk nobody. This here's square. I need
+financin'--a burro and a grubstake and me for the big dry spot. Ship the
+outfit to the desert town, and then hit it along the rails to where we
+hid it. If the papers we hid is any good, me to locate the ledge.
+Anyhow, there's a good five hundred in the poke, and that's better than
+a kick in the pants."
+
+"You'll get pinched sure, Red."
+
+"Nix, kiddo. Not out there. Money talks. 'Course it ain't makin' any
+distressin' sounds around here jest now, but, say, got the makin's?"
+
+"I ain't smoked since I been here, Red."
+
+"Excuse me, Miss Collie. What denomination did you say?"
+
+"Straight, Red. I'm savin' my money."
+
+"What do they pay you for settin' on that cayuse?"
+
+"Fifteen a month, and board, and the horse to ride."
+
+"Don't mention the hoss, pal. Jest make motions with your hands when you
+mean him. Talkin' is apt to wake him up."
+
+"He pitched me twice."
+
+"Just havin' bad dreams, that's all," said Overland, grinning. "Fifteen
+a month and found ain't bad for a bum, is it?"
+
+"Cut that out, Red. I ain't no bum."
+
+"Ex-cuse me. There I gone and laminated your feelin's again. Why in hell
+don't you blush, or drop your little ole lace handkerchief, or fix your
+back hair, so I can remember I'm talkin' to a lady? It ain't manners,
+this here impersonatin' you're a boy like that."
+
+"Quit your kiddin', Red. Mebby you think it was easy to cut out the old
+stuff, and everybody on the ranch on to what I used to be. I was cryin'
+the first night. I was lonesome for you."
+
+Overland's eyelids flickered. He grinned. "Uhuh! I could hear you clean
+over in the Simi Valley. I was thinkin' of comin' right back, only--"
+
+"Oh, if you think I'm lyin to you--"
+
+Overland thrust up a soiled palm. "Nix; you never did yet. How much coin
+can you rustle?"
+
+"I got that eight-and-a-half I had when we was pinched. It's down to the
+bunk-house."
+
+"Well, bring it up here to-morrow mornin'. And, say, swipe a sogun for
+me. I near froze last night."
+
+Collie's brows drew together. "I'll bring the money, sure! but I can't
+swipe no blanket, even for you. The boss thinks I'm square, and so does
+she. I'll bring tobacco and papers. Got any grub?"
+
+"Well, some. I ain't exactly livin' on sagebrush and scenery yet. I been
+trainin' some chickens to do the Texas Tommy. Every one that learns to
+do it in one lesson gets presented with a large hot fryin'-pan.
+Surprisin' how them chickens is fond of dancin'. I reckon I learned six
+of 'em since I seen you last. But don't forget the eight rollers and
+four bits. I need ten, but eight-fifty will do. I'll have to leave out
+the silk pejammies and the rosewater this trip. But kickie pants is good
+enough for me to sleep in. How's that sheriff gent?"
+
+"Busted his collar-bone and killed his horse."
+
+"I'm sad for the hoss. How do you like livin' decent?"
+
+"Fine, Red! I wish you would--"
+
+"Hold on, Collie, not me! I'm gettin' too old, too plumb old and
+disgusted with this vale of steers to change and tie down to short
+grass. Now you're near enough to the age of that little Louise girl to
+make life interestin'."
+
+"Who said anything about her?"
+
+"Whoa, Chico! Back up. You're steppin' on your bridle. Don't go 'way
+mad. Why, I said somethin' about her, that's who. You got any idea of
+hobblin' my talk?"
+
+"No. But--"
+
+"Oh, you can't flim your ole pal, nohow. You're just commencin' life on
+what that little Louise lady thinks you ought to be. And you will be it
+some day, if you keep straight. So will I."
+
+"You?" Collie was unable to associate a reconstructive idea with
+Overland's mode of life.
+
+"Say! Just as if I never knowed a good woman. Say, I could actooly give
+up smokin' for her, if I had to hire some guy to do it for me. That's
+what I think of her. When I get me plush rags and the dizzy lid, I'll
+call around in me private caboose and take you both for a little ride."
+
+For a moment the boy gazed away to where the silver of the Southern
+Pacific rails glinted in the valley. Overland Red's presence brought
+back poignantly the long, lazy days of loafing and the wide, starry
+nights of wayside fire, tobacco, and talk. There was a charm in the free
+life of the road--that long gray road that never ended--never ended in
+the quiet shade of a mountain ranch or in the rose-bordered pathway to a
+valley cottage. The long gray road held out no promise of rest for worn
+and aged folk. After all, its only freedom was the freedom of eternal
+wandering ... until one could adventure no longer ... and then? Better
+to tread the harder path of duty.
+
+The boy's black eyes were lifted pleadingly. "Red," he said
+hesitatingly. "Red, I got to tell you to camp the other side of that
+line fence till I come to-morrow."
+
+Overland understood instantly that the lad was but following general
+instructions. He loved the boy, and so, perversely, worked upon his
+feelings. "Oh, the _other_ side? Ex-cuse me, chief, for intrudin' on
+this here resavation. Sorry I'm crowdin' you so."
+
+"Now, Red, wait--"
+
+"Wait? What, for you to insult your ole pal again by tellin' him he
+might drink all the water in this here spring, mebby, or inflooence the
+morals of the cattle, or steal the wire off the fence? Huh! I thought I
+was your _pal_?"
+
+"Oh, Red, quit kiddin'. Don't you see I got orders? I got orders."
+
+"You're gettin' civilized fast, all right. The first thing civilization
+does is to projooce hobos and bums. Then she turns up her nose because
+hobos and bums ain't civilized. Did you ever see a ma cat get mad
+because one of her kittens was born with sore eyes? I guess not. Cats
+has got sense. Now, what if I don't indignify myself to the extent of
+crawlin' under that line fence?"
+
+"'Course I'll bring you the coin in the mornin'. But if you don't go
+now, why, I got to quit this job. I got to play square to him."
+
+"So it's orders or me, eh?"
+
+"Yes, Red, and I want to use you right, and be square, too."
+
+Overland Red's beard hid the quiver of his lips as he asked huskily:
+"And you would be comin' back on the road with your ole pal again? You
+would give up the job and the chance of a smile from that little
+Rose-Lady Girl and flew the coop with me again if I said the word?"
+
+"Sure I would. You come first and the job comes second; but--but I want
+to keep the job."
+
+Overland's keen blue eyes filled with instant emotion. "Oh, you go chase
+a snake up your sleeve. Do you think I'd bust your chances of makin'
+good here? Do you reckon I'd let a line fence stand between me and you,
+speakin' poetical? Say, I'll go camp in that sheriff gent's front yard
+if it'll do any good to you, or before I'll see you in bad with the
+little Rose Girl!"
+
+"Please, Red; I mean it."
+
+"So do I. I'll fade quicker than spit on a hot stove. Don't forget
+to-morrow mornin'. Some day I'll put you hep to how to ride. You better
+get to your fence job."
+
+Brand Williams watched the man and the boy as they walked along the
+line-fence trail together. Collie leading the pony, the man talking and
+gesticulating earnestly. Finally they shook hands. The tramp crawled
+under the fence. The boy mounted Baldy and rode away.
+
+Williams, catching up his own horse, spurred quickly across the ridge
+above the spring that the boy might not see him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+A CELESTIAL ENTERPRISE
+
+
+Broad avenues of feathery pepper trees, long driveways between shadowy
+rows of the soldierly eucalyptus, wide lawns and gigantic palms of the
+southern isles, weaving pampas grass, gay as the plumes of romance,
+jasmine, orange-bloom, and roses everywhere. Over all is the eternal
+sunshine and noon breeze of the sea, graciously cooling. Roundabout is a
+girdle of far hills.
+
+Some old Spanish padre named it "Nuestra Senora Reina de Los Angeles,"
+making melody that still lures with its ancient charm. A city for
+angels, verily. A city of angels? Verily; some fallen, indeed, for there
+is much nefarious trafficking in real estate, but all in all the
+majority of souls in Los Angeles are celestial bound, treading upon
+sunbeams in their pilgrimage.
+
+The plaza, round which the new town roars from dawn to dusk, is still
+haunted by a crumbling old adobe, while near it droop dusty pepper trees
+that seem to whisper to each other endlessly--"Manana! Manana!" Whisper
+as did those swarthy vaqueros and the young, lithe, low-voiced
+senoritas who strolled across the plaza in the dusk of by-gone days.
+"Manana! Manana!--To-morrow! To-morrow!"
+
+And the to-morrows have come and gone as did those Spanish lovers,
+riding up through the sunshine on their silver-bitted pinto ponies and
+riding out at dusk with tinkling spur-chains into that long to-morrow
+that has shrouded the ancient plaza in listless dreams. Mexicans in
+black sombreros and blue overalls still prowl from cantina to cantina,
+but the gay vaquero and his senorita are no more.
+
+Overland Red, a harsh note in the somnolence of the place, stepped
+buoyantly across the square. And here, if ever, Overland was at home.
+
+A swarthy, fat Mexican shaved him while a lean old rurale of Overland's
+earlier acquaintance obligingly accepted some pesos with which to drink
+the senor's health, and other pesos with which to purchase certain
+clothing for the senor.
+
+The retired rurale drove a relentless bargain with a countryman,
+returning with certain picturesque garments that Overland donned in the
+back room of the little circus-blue barber shop.
+
+The tramp had worthily determined to hold wise and remunerative converse
+with the first Easterner that "looked good to him." He would make
+half-truths do double duty. He needed money to purchase a burro, packs,
+canteen, pick, shovel, dynamite, and provisions. He intended to repay
+the investor by money-order from some desert town as soon as he found
+the hidden gold. This unusual and worthy intention lent Overland added
+assurance, and he needed it. Fortune, goddess evanishing and coy, was
+with him for once. If he could but dodge the plain-clothes men long
+enough to outfit and get away....
+
+The "Mojave Bar," on North Main Street of the City of Angels was all but
+empty. Upon it the lassitude of early afternoon lay heavily. The
+spider-legged music-racks of the Mexican string orchestra, the empty
+platform chairs, the deserted side-tables along the pictured wall, the
+huge cactus scrawled over with pin-etched initials,--all the impedimenta
+of the saloon seemed to slumber.
+
+The white-coated proprietor, with elbows on the bar, gazed listlessly at
+a Remington night-scene--a desert nocturne with a shadowy adobe against
+the blue-black night, a glimmer of lamplight through a doorway, and in
+the golden pathway a pony and rider and the red flash of pistol shots.
+
+Opposite the bartender, at a table against the wall, sat a young man,
+clad in cool gray. He smoked a cigarette, and occasionally sipped from a
+tall glass. He was slender, clean-cut, high-colored, an undeniable
+patrician. In his mild gray eyes, deep down, gleamed a latent humor, an
+interior twinkling not apparent to the multitude.
+
+Sweeney Orcutt, the saloon-keeper, noticed this reserve characteristic
+now for the first time, as the young man turned toward him. Sweeney was
+a retired plain-clothes man with a record, and a bank account. It was
+said that he knew every crook from Los Angeles to New York. Be it added,
+to his credit, that he kept his own counsel--attending to his own
+business on both sides of the bar.
+
+"Do they ever do those things now?" queried the young man, nodding
+toward the picture.
+
+Sweeney Orcutt smiled a thin-lipped smile. "Not much. Sometimes in Texas
+or Mexico. I seen the day when they did."
+
+The young man lazily crossed his legs. "Nice and cool here," he remarked
+presently.
+
+"Been in town long?" asked Sweeney.
+
+"No, only a few days."
+
+"I was goin' to say there's a good show over on Spring
+Street--movin'-pictures of the best ridin' and buckin' and ropin' I seen
+yet."
+
+"Yes? Is there any one in town who is not working for the movies?"
+
+Again Sweeney Orcutt smiled his thin-lipped smile. "Yes, I guess there
+is. I might scare up one or two I used to know who is workin' the
+transients, which ain't exactly workin' _for_ the movies."
+
+"I should like to meet some character who is really doing something in
+earnest; that is, some cowboy, miner, prospector, teamster,--one of
+those twenty-mule-team kind, you know,--or any such chap. Why, even the
+real estate men that have been up to my hotel seem to be acting a part.
+One expects every minute to see one of them pull a gun and hold up a
+fellow. No doubt they mean business."
+
+"Bank on that," said Orcutt dryly.
+
+"You see," continued the young man, "I have too much time on my hands
+just now. The doctors tell me to rest, and I've been doing nothing else
+all my life. It's pretty monotonous. I've tried to get interested in
+some of the chaps on North Main Street, and around the plaza. I've
+offered to buy them drinks and all that, but they seem to shy off. I
+suppose they think I'm a detective or something of that kind."
+
+"More like, a newspaper man after a story. Hello, there! Now, what's
+doin'?"
+
+Outside near the curb a crowd had collected. A traffic officer was
+talking to the driver of an automobile. As Sweeney Orcutt strolled
+toward the doorway, Overland Red, clean-shaven, clothed in new corduroys
+and high lace boots, and a sombrero aslant on his stiff red hair, dove
+into the saloon and called for a "bucket of suds."
+
+"Close--shave--Red--" whispered Orcutt.
+
+"Had me Orcutt, likewise," replied the tramp. "Say, Sweeney, stall off
+the Dick out there. I think he piped me as I blew in, but I ain't sure.
+He'll be pokin' in here in a minute. If he sees me talkin',--to the guy
+there, for instance,--and you give him a steer, he won't look too close.
+Sabe?" And Overland drank, observing the Easterner at the table over the
+top of his glass.
+
+"They got that guy Overland Red mugged in every station from here to
+Chicago," whispered Orcutt. "Paper says he put it over a desert rat up
+near Barstow. Did you hear about it?"
+
+"Some," replied Overland sententiously.
+
+"And did you hear about his last get-away on one of the Moonstone Rancho
+ponies? Some class to that!"
+
+"I read somethin' about it," replied Overland.
+
+"Well, Red, if you won't tumble, all I got to say is, beat it. You're
+worth a thousand bucks to any fly-cop that nips you in this town. I'm
+handin' you a little dope that you can slide out on and not get stuck."
+
+"Thanks, Sweeney. Well, I'll ring you up from Kalamazoo."
+
+"Kalamazoo? In them clothes?"
+
+"Sure. There's a law against travelin' naked in some States. Where you
+been grazin' lately?"
+
+"In the bull-pasture; and say, Red, it's gettin' warm there, for some."
+
+"Well, I guess I'll beat it," said Overland.
+
+"Take a slant at the door first."
+
+Overland turned leisurely. In the doorway stood the traffic officer. He
+glanced from Orcutt to the two men near the table. "Hello, Sweeney!" he
+called, glancing a second time at Overland.
+
+"Hello!" answered Sweeney, strolling to the end of the bar. "Somebody
+speedin'?"
+
+"Yes. Say, who's the guy, the big one?"
+
+"Him? Oh, that's Billy Sample, the fella that does the desert stuff for
+the General Film Company. The kid is his pardner who acts the
+tenderfoot. They 're waitin' for the machine now to take 'em out to
+Glendale. Got some stunt to pull off this afternoon, so Billy was
+tellin' me. They're about half-stewed now. They make me sick."
+
+"Thought I saw the big guy out on the street a minute ago," said the
+officer, hesitating. "There's a card out for a fella that looks like
+him. I guess--"
+
+"He thought it was his machine comin'," said Orcutt. "He run out to see.
+It's a wonder how them movie actors can make up to look like most
+anybody. Why, I been in your line of business, as you know, and I been
+fooled lots of times. Makes a fella feel like he don't know where he's
+at with the town full of them movin'-picture actors."
+
+"Well, so long, Sweeney." And the traffic officer, a little afraid of
+being laughed at by the famous ex-officer, Sweeney Orcutt, departed,
+just a thousand dollars poorer than he might have been had he had the
+courage of his convictions.
+
+Overland and Orcutt exchanged glances. Orcutt's glance rested meaningly,
+for an instant, on the Easterner at the table. Overland grinned. Orcutt
+spoke to the young Easterner, who immediately rose to his feet and
+bowed.
+
+"You was lookin' for somebody that's the real thing, you said. This
+here's my friend Jack Summers. He used to be sheriff of Abilene once. He
+ain't workin' for a movin'-picture outfit and he won't borrow your
+watch. Mebby he has a little business deal to put up to you and mebby
+not. Take my word for it, he's straight."
+
+"I'm William Winthrop, back East. 'Billy' will do here. I'm a
+tenderfoot, but I'm not exactly a fool. I observed the delicacy with
+which you engineered the recent exodus of the policeman. I'm
+interested."
+
+"Sounds like plush to me," said Overland. "I got a little time--not
+much. You're correct about the cop. I got a pretty good thing out in
+the Mojave--gold--"
+
+Winthrop laughed. "You aren't losing any time, are you?"
+
+"You wouldn't neither if you was in my boots," said Overland, grinning
+cheerfully.
+
+"Oh, Red's all right," said Orcutt. "What'll you gents have?"
+
+"Seein' I'm all right, Sweeney, I'll take five dollars in small change.
+I need the coin for entertainin' purposes, I'll pay you in the mornin'."
+
+"You got me that time," said Orcutt. "Here's the coin."
+
+"Shall we sit down here?" asked Winthrop, indicating one of the tables.
+
+"Sure! Now this ain't no frame-up. No, I'll set where I can watch
+Sweeney. He's like to steal his own cash-register if you don't watch
+him." And Winthrop noticed that his companion faced the door. He also
+noticed, as the man's coat brushed against a chair as he sat down, that
+that same coat covered a shiny black shoulder holster in which gleamed
+the worn butt of an automatic pistol.
+
+"My real name is Jack Summers," began Overland Red. "Some folks took to
+callin' me 'Overland Red,' seein' as I been some towerist in my time."
+
+"Great!" murmured the Easterner. "'Overland Red!' That name has me
+hypnotized."
+
+"You was sayin'?" queried Overland.
+
+"Beg your pardon. Nothing worth while. I haven't been so happy for a
+year. Let me explain. I have a little money, pretty well invested. I
+also have lungs, I believe. The doctors don't quite agree about that,
+however. The last one gave me six months to live. That was a year ago. I
+owe him an apology and six months. I'm not afraid, exactly, and I'm
+certainly not glad. But I want to forget it. That's all. Go ahead about
+that desert and the gold. I'm listening."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+"PERFECTLY HARMLESS LITTLE OLE TENDERFOOT"
+
+
+William Stanley Winthrop woke next morning with a vague impression of
+having lost something. He gazed indolently at the sunlight filtering
+through the curtains of his sleeping-room. Beyond the archway to the
+adjoining room of his suite, a ray of sunshine lay like living gold upon
+the soft, rich-hued fabric of the carpet.
+
+"Gold!" he murmured. "Mojave Desert! Overland Red! Lost gold! No, it
+isn't the two hundred dollars I invested in the rascal's story, for it
+was worth the money. I never spent four happier hours in my life, at
+fifty dollars an hour. The best of it is he actually made me believe
+him. I think he believed himself."
+
+Winthrop sat up in bed, yawning. "I think black coffee will be about
+all, this morning," he murmured, as he dressed leisurely.
+
+He was tying a fastidiously correct bow on his tan oxford when he
+happened to glance out of the window. It was early, altogether too
+early, he reflected, to appear in the breakfast-room of the hotel.
+Winthrop's indefinite soliloquy melted into the rapt silence of
+imagination. Below on the smooth black pavement pattered two laden
+burros. On their packs hung dusty, weatherworn canteens, a pick and
+shovel, and a rifle in its soiled and frayed scabbard. The sturdy,
+shaggy burros followed a little, lean old man, whose flop-brimmed hat,
+faded shirt, and battered boots told a tale of the outlands, whispered
+of sun-swept immensities, of sage and cacti, sand and silence. Winthrop
+drew a long breath. Such an adventurer was the Overland Red he had
+talked with the evening previous. The tramp had mentioned a town far out
+on the desert. Winthrop sauntered down to the deserted office and
+secured a timetable.
+
+When the east-bound express left Los Angeles the following morning,
+Winthrop was aboard, uncomfortably installed in the private drawing-room
+of a sleeper. He had cheerfully paid the double fare that he might have
+the entire space to himself, and he needed it. Around him, on the floor,
+in the seats, in the racks, and on the hooks were innumerable packages,
+bags, and bundles.
+
+"Very eccentric. He must be rich," whispered the wife of a dry-goods
+merchant from Keokuk, as her husband pushed her ahead of him past the
+door of the drawing-room.
+
+"Just plain hog!" said the dry-goods merchant. "A man that'll pay
+double fare to have the whole earth to himself when other folks has to
+be packed into a berth and suffocate! The conductor said he paid double
+to Chicago to get that compartment, and he's only goin' out in the
+desert a little ways. I'd 'a' took it myself."
+
+"Well, we could hardly afford it, anyway," said the woman pleasantly.
+"We've had such a good time I don't mind sleeping in a berth, Hiram."
+
+They crowded on and finally found their seats.
+
+Winthrop smiled to himself. He liked the woman's voice.
+
+He lighted a cigarette and gazed wistfully, even despairingly, at the
+"outfit" which surrounded him. He sighed. "Awful accumulation of
+plunder. Wonder what I'll do with it?"
+
+As the train climbed the grade beyond San Bernardino, he grew restless.
+Flinging down his cigarette, he began unwrapping his belongings. Out
+came blankets, extra clothing, a rifle, canteens of several patterns,
+two pack-saddles, a coil of rope, a pair of high lace boots,--hobnailed,
+heavy, and unserviceable,--a pocket compass, a hunting-knife, a patent
+filter, two halters, two galvanized pails, a small, compact, silk tent,
+an axe, a fishing-rod, a rubber cup, a box of cigars, a bottle of
+brandy, several neckerchiefs, a cartridge-belt, a Colts revolver of
+large and aggressive caliber, cartridges, a prospector's pick, a shovel,
+a medicine-case, a new safety razor, a looking-glass, a clinic
+thermometer, and a copy of "Robinson Crusoe."
+
+He pondered over the agglomeration of articles pensively. "He was a good
+salesman," he said, smiling. "I'll be either a juggler or a strong man
+before I'm through with these things. I think I'll begin now and
+re-pack. I'll make one glorious bundle of it. That's the ticket!"
+
+Winthrop went to work, whistling cheerfully. He spread the blanket and
+rearranged his possessions, finally rolling them up into an uncertain
+bundle which he roped with the weird skill of the amateur packer. He
+tried to lift the bundle to the opposite seat. He decided to leave it on
+the floor.
+
+Over the grade and on the level of the desert the train gathered speed.
+The shimmering spaces revolved slowly, to meet the rushing track ahead.
+Hour after hour sat Winthrop, reading and occasionally glancing out
+across the desert. His was the wildest of wild-goose chases. A stranger
+had told him of a mysterious ledge of gold somewhere out on the desert,
+and the stranger had named a desert town--the town toward which Winthrop
+was journeying. Would the eccentric Overland Red be there? Winthrop
+hoped so. He wanted to believe that this Ulysses of the outlands had
+spoken truth. He imagined vividly Overland Red's surprise when one
+William Stanley Winthrop, late of New York, should appear, equipped to
+the chin and eager to participate in the hunt for the lost gold. Then
+again, the prospector might not care to be burdened with the
+companionship of a tenderfoot. Still, the uncertainty of his welcome
+lent zest to Winthrop's enterprise. He closed the door of his
+drawing-room and wound through a mahogany maze toward the dining-car.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Next morning, as the train slowed down for the desert town, Winthrop was
+in the vestibule, peering out anxiously. It did not occur to him that
+Overland Red knew nothing of his coming, or that the other would be
+waiting on the station platform if he did. The tramp had not the
+faintest desire to make himself conspicuous. Some of Winthrop's
+enthusiasm had evaporated during the hot night in the sleeper.
+
+"Thank you very much," called the lady from Keokuk, Iowa.
+
+"Don't mention it," said Winthrop, disembarking behind the porter with
+his "plunder." Then, as the Pullman slid away, Winthrop deliberately and
+gracefully threw a kiss to the dry-goods merchant's wife. "Nice little
+woman," he reflected. "Too nice to associate with that grampus. Well, I
+hope they'll enjoy the rest of the trip in the drawing-room. I'm glad I
+was able to arrange it."
+
+He watched the train crawl down the track. He wondered how long he would
+be able to distinguish the pattern of the brasswork on the observation
+car-rail.
+
+Out of the empty distance came the _click_, _clink_, _clank_ of hammers
+and shovels as the section-men, a mile down the track, stepped into work
+behind the train.
+
+"Prospectin'?" queried a lank individual, slouching up to Winthrop.
+
+"A little," said Winthrop. "It's pretty dry work."
+
+"Uhuh. It's goin' to be hot about noon."
+
+"I suppose so. Will you kindly give me a hand with this monstrosity,"
+said Winthrop, indicating the pack. "The agent seems to be busy."
+
+"Sure! She ain't roped very tight."
+
+Which proved to be true. The bundle, with a kind of animate
+indifference, slowly sagged, opened, and things began to trickle from it
+in its journey across the platform. Among the things was the bottle of
+brandy. The lank individual picked this up tenderly and set it to one
+side. Winthrop noticed his solicitude, and smiled.
+
+"We can rope 'em up again," said the lank one, suddenly becoming
+enthusiastic. "My name's Jim Hicks. I'm constable here."
+
+"I see. Well, I'm William Winthrop, from Los Angeles. I'm a naturalist.
+Will you accept a cigar?"
+
+"Thanks. You want to pack this here bottle, too?"
+
+"Not right away. Whew! It is getting hot."
+
+"Goin' up to the hotel?" queried the constable.
+
+Winthrop glanced along the street. The hotel did not look inviting. "I
+don't know. I'd like to get in the shade somewhere."
+
+"There's old Fernando's 'dobe down the track under them pepper trees.
+He's a friend of mine. He ain't to home to-day. Mebby you'd like to set
+down there and wait for your friend."
+
+"My friend?"
+
+"Why, ain't you waitin' for anybody? You ain't goin' to tackle that
+bug-huntin' trip alone, be you? It's dangerous out there for a
+tenderfoot. Now I have took folks out, and brought 'em back all
+right,--gone as far as them hills over there, and that's a good jag from
+here,--and I only charge four dollars a day and grub."
+
+"I thought you said you were constable?"
+
+"So I be. Takin' parties across the desert is on the side. How far you
+figurin' on goin'?"
+
+"I haven't made up my mind yet. Say we go down as far as the adobe you
+spoke about, as a beginning. Perhaps we can arrange terms."
+
+"I'm on, pard," said the constable.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Under the pepper trees shading Fernando's adobe sat Winthrop and the
+constable. The brandy-bottle was half empty and a box of cigars was open
+beside it on the bench. The afternoon shadows were lengthening. The
+constable had been discursive, voluminous, in his entertaining. Time was
+as nothing. He borrowed generously of to-morrow and even the next day.
+He became suddenly quite fond of this quiet, gentlemanly chap opposite
+him, who said little, but seemed to be a prince of good fellows.
+
+"'S this way," said the constable, leaning forward and waving his cigar.
+"You're fren' of mine--sure thing. 'S af'ernoon now, but I was plumb
+fooled this mornin'. Y' know i's af'ernoon now. Thought you was the guy
+I'm lookin' for. H'overlan' Red--bum--tram'. Wire from Loshangeles to
+upperan' him if he shows up here. See?"
+
+"You're not quite clear to me," replied Winthrop. "But never mind about
+apprehending any one. Let's talk about this glorious prospect of sand,
+silence, and solitude. I feel like a fallen angel. Never mind about
+arresting anybody. Life is too short. Let's talk of roses."
+
+"Roshes! Huh!" sniggered the constable. "You're kin' of sof, ain't you?
+Roshes nothin'! I'm goin' talk 'bout business. It's business, my
+business to talk 'bout it, see? 'T ain't your business. You c'n lissen,
+an' when I get through, then you c'n talk roshes."
+
+"But what is your business?" asked Winthrop, with an indifference that
+he did not feel.
+
+"S-s-s-h-h! I'm cons'able. Tha's on the quiet. Thousand dollars rewar'
+f'r th' appr'enshun of 'Verlan' Red. Thought you was him--hic--hee!
+hee!"
+
+"Please don't laugh like that. It hurts my feelings," said Winthrop. "It
+is bad enough to be taken for a--er--tramp."
+
+"Nobody's feelin's--pologishe. '_Course_ you ain' him! You're jus' a
+li'l' ole ten'erfoot--perfec'ly harmless li'l' ole ten'erfoot."
+
+"Thanks. May I ask you to have another?"
+
+"Nope. 'Nough's 'nough. 'S time f'r dinner."
+
+"Nearly. Well, if you flatly refuse to drink my health, I'll have to
+drink it alone, and that's rather egotistical, isn't it?"
+
+"Never. B' Gosh! You're sport. Funny li'l' ole ten'erfoot--perf'ly
+harmless. Sure, I'll drink all th' health you got, 'n then go
+home--dinner."
+
+"One will be sufficient, I think," said Winthrop.
+
+"Sufficen' wha'?" And the constable leered cunningly.
+
+"To drown all pangs. Well, here's pleasant dreams."
+
+Far down the line came the faint thrill of wheels and the distant,
+clear-cut blast of a locomotive. The local freight from Los Angeles was
+whistling for the "block."
+
+Winthrop glanced at his watch, then at the constable. "What train is
+that?" asked the Easterner.
+
+The constable's eyelids drooped, then opened languidly. "Railro' train,
+'f course." And he slid forward to his elbow and thence to the bench.
+Presently he snored.
+
+Winthrop strolled toward the approaching train. "Pretty stiff session,"
+he commented. "Now if happy chance should bring Overland Red on this
+freight, with his burro and outfit; I'll have one reason to offer for
+wanting to go with him. I've probably saved him some annoyance,
+indirectly, but rather effectively, I think."
+
+The great oil-burning locomotive roared in, casting heat-waves that
+smelled of steam, iron, and mechanical energy. The hot air sickened
+Winthrop.
+
+A car was cut out and shunted to a siding. Then the engine, pausing to
+drink a gargantuan draught at the tank, simmered away in the dusk,
+clanking across the switch-points. A figure leaped from the freight-car
+to the ground. Then out came a burro and several bundles. The figure
+strode to the station and filled two canteens. Winthrop walked toward
+the burro. When he of the burro and canteens returned, he found Winthrop
+stroking the little animal's nose.
+
+"What the--! How the--! Who lost you out here?" asked Overland.
+
+Winthrop spoke rapidly and to the point. "Express this morning. Lonesome
+again. Thought I'd make a change. My outfit is over at the station.
+Don't say 'No' before you hear me. You're going to need me--tenderfeet
+and all."
+
+"But you can't--"
+
+"Wait. The local constable has a wire from the Los Angeles police to
+look out for you. Perhaps you got this far because you're traveling in a
+freight-car. No doubt all the passenger trains have been watched all
+along the line. The constable has been my--er--my guest since morning.
+He is asleep now. I had to do it. He told me, after either the sixth or
+seventh glass, I forget which, that he was looking for you. Come on over
+to the station and inspect my outfit, please. I think we had better
+vanish."
+
+Overland breathed once, deeply. "Lead me to it!" he exclaimed. "You got
+my number. I guess you're some lame chicken, eh? No? I'll never call you
+a tenderfoot as long as I live. Shake!"
+
+The inspection of the outfit was brief. "Take the Colts and the
+cartridges, and the blankets and the rope. T' hell with the rest."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+DESERT LAW
+
+
+Away out in the night of stars and silence plodded the patient burro,
+and beside him shuffled Overland Red and Billy Winthrop.
+
+"We'll fool 'em," said Overland. "Keep joggin'. We'll be over the range
+before mornin'. Then let 'em find us."
+
+Winthrop, staggering along, felt his moral stamina crumbling within him.
+"I don't know--about that. Perhaps I'll be a drag to the expedition. I'm
+pretty tired."
+
+Overland, experienced in the remorse that follows liquor on an empty
+stomach, swore vigorously and picturesquely. "You'll stick! Do you
+suppose I'd shake you now after you overcomin' a genuine nickel-plated
+desert constable? Nix. That ain't my style. You believed me when I said
+I was comin' to this particular town. It's worth somethin' to have a
+fella around that believes a fella once in a while. But what I want to
+know is, why you done up the constable so offhand like, not knowin'
+whether I'd show up here or not?"
+
+"Why?" And Winthrop smiled wanly. "Because I'm a perfectly harmless
+little old tenderfoot." And his voice caught as he tried to laugh.
+
+An hour of plodding through the dusk, two hours, and they were at a
+water-hole near the northern hills. Overland unroped one of the packs,
+made a fire, and presently had some hot coffee for his companion, who
+was pretty well used up. Nature was taking inexorable toll for his
+conquest of the constable.
+
+"You take it easy and don't worry," said Overland.
+
+Winthrop raised on his elbow and gazed at the tiny fire. "Tiger, tiger
+burning bright!" he quoted.
+
+"This here coffee'll fix you right," responded Overland Red, grinning.
+"Didn't know I was a pote, did you? Now if I was a doc, I'd give you a
+shot in the arm that would put you to sleep. Seein' I ain't, it's coffee
+for yours."
+
+"Do you think they will follow us?" Winthrop asked presently.
+
+"As sure as snakes," said Overland. "And this here water-hole is the
+first place they'll strike for. They'll wait till mornin' to find our
+trail."
+
+"When they do find it?"
+
+"I'll show 'em a Mexican trick with a hole in it. You go to sleep,
+pardner."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The moon rolled down to the rim of the world. The infinitesimal
+mountain peaks rose slowly along the lower edge of the flat silver
+shield, black and growing bolder in outline and size as they blotted
+half, three quarters, finally all of the burnished radiance. Then along
+the edge of the far range ran an instant delicate light, a light that
+melted into space and was gone, leaving a palpitating glory of myriad
+summer stars.
+
+The little fire died down. The barren outland wastes slumbered in the
+charitable dusk of night.
+
+Overland, cross-legged on his blanket, smoked moodily. His thoughts
+drifted out on the tide of silence to Moonstone Canon and Collie and the
+Rose Girl, Louise Lacharme. For them he planned impossibly. Of them he
+dreamed absurd dreams.
+
+Out of the flotsam of his pondering came memories of other nights such
+as this, desert nights on the border ranges of old Mexico--that lost
+world of his adventurous youth. Mingled with his waking dreams were the
+sounds of many familiar names--Sonora, Trevino, Nueva Laredo, Nava, San
+Jose, Las Cruces, Nogales, Yuma, San Antonio,--each a burning ember of
+memory that glowed and faded while the music of silver strings and
+singing girls pulsed rhythmically in the stillness--to break at last
+into the querulous wailing of a lone coyote. Winthrop stirred restlessly
+and muttered.
+
+All at once the tramp realized that this easygoing young Easterner,
+wealthy, unused to hardship, delicate of health, had his battle to
+fight, as well. "I've knowed 'em to get over it," reflected Overland.
+"She's high and dry up here on the desert, and I reckon to go where it's
+higher. He's game, but he's desp'rate. He's tryin' to dodge the verdict,
+which can't be did. Well, if excitement will help any, I guess he's
+ridin' the right range. If he's got to pass over, he might as well go
+quick. Mebby he's the best kind of a pal for this deal, after all."
+
+Overland looked across at the muffled form. "Pardner!" he called.
+Winthrop did not answer.
+
+"Well, it saves explainin'," muttered the tramp, and he rose quietly. He
+gathered the few camp-utensils together, rolled his blankets, brushed
+sand over the embers of the fire, and groped stealthily toward the
+burro. He roped the pack, glancing back toward the water-hole
+occasionally. Winthrop slept heavily.
+
+"Guess I'll go back and get that gun," muttered Overland. "I might need
+two; anyway, he might wake up and plug his old friend the constable
+before he knowed it. I ain't givin' a whoop for the constable, but I
+don't want to see the kid get in wrong."
+
+Then Overland, wily and resourceful in border tactics, led the burro
+round the camp in a wide circle, from which he branched toward the hills
+to the north. For two hours he journeyed across the starlit emptiness.
+Arriving at a narrow canon in the foothills, he picketed the burro. Then
+he sat down. Why not continue with his pack and provisions? He could
+camp in the fastness of the mountain country and explore it alone. He
+would run less risk of capture. Winthrop was not strong. The Easterner
+meant well enough, but this was the desert.
+
+The blue of the eastern horizon grew shallower, changing to a cold thin
+gray which warmed slowly to the straw color of tempering steel. The
+tramp, watching the sky, shook his clenched fist at the dawn. "You, up
+there!" he growled. "You didn't give me a square deal when I was down
+and out that time--in Sonora. I had to crawl to it alone. But I'll show
+you that I'm bigger than you. I'm goin' back to the tenderfoot and see
+him through if I swing pole-high for it."
+
+It was light when the tramp had arrived at the water-hole. He crept
+behind a sharp dip in the hummocks. The crest of his hiding-place was
+covered with brush. It was a natural rifle-pit affording him seclusion
+and shelter.
+
+With the sun came the faint thud of hoofs as two riders came warily up
+to the water-hole. One dismounted and stooped over Winthrop. The other
+sat his horse, silent, vigilant, saturnine.
+
+"Say, where's your pal, that there Overland Red guy?" asked the
+constable, shaking Winthrop awake and glaring at him with a bleared and
+baleful eye.
+
+The man on the horse frowned, considering, in the light of his
+experience as a successful and still living two-gun man, that such
+tactics were rather crude.
+
+The Easterner sat up, coughed and blinked in the dawn. "Where is what?
+Why, good-morning! You're up early." And his eye swept the empty camp.
+So Overland Red had deserted him, after all. He might have expected as
+much. "I haven't any 'pal,' as you can see. I'm out here studying insect
+life, as I told you I would be, yesterday. You needn't shake me any
+more. I'm awake. I can't say that I'm exactly pleased with my first
+specimen."
+
+"Oh! I'm a specimen, am I? I'm a insect, hey? Well, you're crooked, and
+you just talk up quick or the calaboose for yours!"
+
+"No. I beg your pardon--but, no. You are in no condition, this morning,
+to talk with a gentleman. However, you are my guest. Have a cigar?"
+
+The horseman's eyes twinkled. He admired the young Easterner's
+coolness. Not so the constable.
+
+"See here, you swindlin' tin-horn shell-shover, you cough up where
+Overland Red is or there'll be somethin' doin'. You doped that booze
+yesterday, but you can't throw no bluff like that to-day."
+
+"I did what? Please talk slowly."
+
+"You doped that booze you--"
+
+Much to the constable's surprise he found himself sitting on Winthrop's
+blankets and one of his eyes felt as though some one had begun to stitch
+it up quickly with coarse thread.
+
+Winthrop, smiling serenely, nodded. "Sorry to have to do it. I know I
+don't look like that kind, and I'm not, but I happen to know how."
+
+The constable got to his feet.
+
+"I didn't doctor the brandy, as you intimated," said Winthrop. "And you
+needn't finger that belt of yours. I haven't a gun with me, and I
+believe it is not the thing for one man to use a gun on another when
+the--er--victim happens to be unarmed."
+
+The horseman, who had courage, admired Winthrop's attitude. He rode
+between them. "Cut it out, Hicks," he said. "You're actin' locoed. Guess
+you're carryin' your load yet. I'll talk to the kid. We 're losing time.
+See here, stranger...."
+
+Overland, watching and listening from his hiding-place, grinned as the
+constable sullenly mounted his horse.
+
+Winthrop politely but firmly declined to acknowledge that he had had a
+companion. Overland was pleased and the riders were baffled by the young
+man's subtle evasion of answering them directly.
+
+"Size of it is, you're stung," said the man who had questioned Winthrop
+last. "He's lit out, now he's done you."
+
+To this the Easterner made no reply.
+
+The horsemen rode away, following the circle of burro tracks toward the
+hills. Winthrop watched them, wondering what had become of his
+companion. He could hardly believe that the tramp had deserted him, yet
+the evidence was pretty plain. Even his revolver was gone, and his belt
+and cartridges. Winthrop yawned. He was hungry. There was no food. But
+there was water. He walked toward the water-hole.
+
+"Stand still--and listen," said a voice.
+
+Winthrop jumped back, startled and trembling. The voice seemed to come
+from the water-hole at his feet.
+
+"Over here--this way," the voice said.
+
+Winthrop smiled. If it were a disembodied spirit talking, it was no
+other than the spirit of Overland Red. The accent was unmistakable. The
+Easterner glanced round and observed a peculiar something behind the
+brush edging the rise beyond the water-hole.
+
+"It's me," said Overland, still concealed. "Thought I quit you, eh? Are
+them fellas out of sight yet?"
+
+"No. They're still in sight. They are too far to see anything, though."
+
+"And you can see them all right, son? That don't figure out correct."
+
+Winthrop laughed. "That's so. Where's the burro?"
+
+"He's hid--right in plain sight up a little arroyo."
+
+"Won't they find him, and confiscate him and the things?"
+
+"Not on your life! 'T ain't exactly healthy, even for constables, to go
+round confiscatin' outfits they don't know who's connected with. They
+can't say for sure that burro and stuff is mine. They'll look it over
+and leave it right there."
+
+"But why did you come all the way back here?" asked Winthrop.
+
+"Seein' they's lots of time, I'll explain. If I had kep' on goin', they
+would 'a' trailed me, and mebby got a crack at me in them hills. They
+are two to one, and they could get me at night. Now they'll either give
+it up, or spot my back tracks and find me here. That's all."
+
+"Perhaps that won't be all," ventured Winthrop, walking toward the ridge
+where Overland lay concealed.
+
+The tramp grinned up at him. "Mebby not, pardner. You was tellin'
+Sweeney Orcutt back in Los Angeles that you wanted to get up against the
+real thing. I reckon you bought the right ticket this trip."
+
+"Will they--will there be any shooting?" asked the Easterner.
+
+"Not if I can help it," replied Overland. "I borrowed your gun on the
+chance of it. 'Course, if they get sassy, why, they's no tellin' what
+will happen. I'm mighty touchy about some things. But listen! I'm actin'
+as your travelin' insurance agent, pro temperly, as the pote says, which
+means keepin' your temper. If they do spot me, and get foolish enough to
+think that I got time to listen to any arguments against my rights as a
+free and unbranded citizen of the big range, why, you drop and roll
+behind the first sand-hill that is a foot high. After the smoke blows
+away, I'll be dee-lighted to accept your congratulations."
+
+"I guess you mean business," said Winthrop, becoming serious. "I'm game,
+but isn't there any other way out of it?"
+
+"Not for me, son. What chance would I have with the whole desert town to
+swear against me? They're after the gold, and they reckon to scare me
+into tellin' where it is. I'm after that same gold, and I don't reckon
+to be bluffed off by a couple of pikers like them."
+
+"The dark one, the man on the bay horse, seemed to be a pretty
+capable-looking individual," said Winthrop.
+
+"Glad you noticed that. You're improvin'. He is a capable gent. He's a
+old two-gun man. Did you see how he had his guns tied down low so they
+would pull quick. Nothin' fancy about him, but he's good leather. The
+other one don't count."
+
+"What shall I do when they come back?"
+
+"You jest go to studyin' bugs or rattlesnakes or tarantulas or
+somethin'. Make a bluff at it. If they ask you anything, answer 'em nice
+and polite, _and so I can hear_. A whole pile depends on my keepin' up
+with the talk. I'll figure from what they say, or don't say."
+
+"They seem to be turning. They've stopped. One of them is down on the
+ground looking at something. Now he's up again. They're riding back,"
+said Winthrop.
+
+"They cut my back trail," said Overland, snuggling down behind the
+brush. "You go and set down by the water-hole and find a bug to study."
+
+"Are you going to fight?"
+
+"Not if it can be helped. Otherwise--till me wires are down and me lamps
+are out. She's desert law out here. They seems to be some chance for a
+argument about who's goin' to be judge. I'm out for the job myself. I
+reckon to throw about fifteen votes--they's six in your gun and nine in
+the automatic. The election is like to be interestin' and close."
+
+"I wish I could help," said the Easterner.
+
+"You can--by keepin' your nerve," replied Overland. Then he rolled a
+cigarette and lay smoking and gazing at the sky. Winthrop watched the
+approaching horsemen. Presently he got up and sauntered to the
+water-hole.
+
+The tramp lay curled like a snake behind the mound. He drew Winthrop's
+gun from its holster and inspected it, shaking his head as he slid it
+back again. "She's new and will pull stiff. That means she'll throw to
+the right. Well, I got the little Gat. to open up the show with."
+
+William Stanley Winthrop, despite his resolution, found that his hands
+trembled and that his heart beat chokingly. He wanted to shout, to run
+out toward the horsemen, to do anything rather than sit stupidly silent
+by the water-hole.
+
+The two riders loped up. The constable dismounted. "Nothin' doin'," he
+said, stooping to drink.
+
+"No. Nothing doing," echoed the man on horseback.
+
+"That," muttered Overland Red, squirming a little higher behind the
+bushes, "was intended for me. I know that tone. It means there's a hell
+of a lot doin'. Well, I'm good and ready." And he lifted both of his
+red, hairy hands to the edge of the hole and both his hands were
+"filled."
+
+About then the man on the pony began to ride out from the water-hole in
+a wide circle. The constable came from the spring. Overland noticed that
+he kept Winthrop between himself and the sage on the ridge. "That
+settles it," Overland swiftly concluded. "They're on. I'm right sad to
+have to do it."
+
+The heavy, space-blunted report of the circling horseman's gun--and
+Overland calmly spat out the sand that flitted across his lips. The
+rider had ventured a shot and had ridden behind a ridge instantly.
+
+Winthrop exclaimed at these strange tactics.
+
+"He seen a jack run in there," explained the constable, leering.
+
+"This here's gettin' interestin'," mumbled Overland as the constable
+unholstered his gun and sauntered toward the ridge. "I got to get the
+gent on the cayuse. The other one don't count."
+
+The rider had appeared from behind the ridge. Slowly Overland raised
+his right hand. Then the old fighting soul of Jack Summers, sheriff of
+Abilene, rebelled. "No! Dam' if I'll ambush any white man." And he
+leaped to his feet. "Overland Limited!" he shouted, and with his
+battle-cry came the quick tattoo of shots. The horseman wavered, doubled
+up, and pitched forward to the sand.
+
+Overland Red dropped and rolled to one side as the constable's gun
+boomed ineffectually. The tramp lay still.
+
+A clatter of empty stirrups, the swish of a horse galloping past, and
+silence.
+
+Slowly the constable approached Overland's prostrate figure. "Time's up
+for you!" he said, covering the tramp with his gun.
+
+"Water!" groaned Overland.
+
+"Water, eh? Well, crawl to it, you rat!"
+
+Winthrop, his heart thumping wildly, followed the constable. So this was
+desert law? No word of warning or inquiry, but a hail of shots, a
+riderless horse,--two men stretched upon the sand and the burning sun
+swinging in a cloudless circle above the desolate silence.
+
+"You seem to kind of recognize your friend now," sneered the constable.
+
+That was too much for Winthrop's overstrung nerves. His pulses roared in
+his ears. With a leap he seized the constable's gun and twisted at it
+with both hands. There was an explosion, and Winthrop grinned savagely,
+still struggling. With insane strength he finally tore the gun from the
+other's grasp. "You're the only coward in this affair," he gasped, as he
+levelled the gun at the constable. That officer, reading danger in
+Winthrop's eye, discreetly threw up his hands.
+
+"Good!" exclaimed Overland, sitting up suddenly. "That was risky, but it
+worked out all right. I had a better plan. You go set down, Billy. I'll
+see this gent safe toward home."
+
+Winthrop laughed hysterically. "Why, you--you--you're a joke!" he cried.
+"I thought--"
+
+"So did the little man with the pie-pan pinned on his shirt," said
+Overland. "You keep his gun. I got to see how bad the other gent's hit."
+
+An hour later the constable of the desert town led his pony toward the
+railroad. On the pony was his companion, with both arms bandaged. He
+leaned forward brokenly, swaying and cursing. "I'll--get him, if it
+takes--a thousand years," he muttered.
+
+"I reckon it'll take all of that," growled the constable. "You can have
+all you want of his game, Saunders,--I'm through."
+
+Out by the water-hole, Overland turned to Winthrop. "I'm glad you
+enjoyed the performance," he said, grinning. "We've opened the pot and
+the best man rakes her down. She's desert law from now to the finish."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+"FOOL'S LUCK"
+
+
+Gaunt, unshaven, weary, Winthrop rested on the crest of the northern
+range. Overland, looking for water, toiled on down the slope with the
+little burro. Winthrop rose stiffly and shuffled down the rocks. Near
+the foot of the range he saw the burro just disappearing round a bend in
+a canon. When he came up with Overland, the tramp had a fire going and
+had pitched the tent. The canon opened out to a level green meadow,
+through which ran a small stream. They had come a long day's journey
+from the water-hole on the other side of the range. They were safe from
+ordinary pursuit. That evening beside the fire, Overland Red told again
+the story of the dead prospector, the gold, and the buried papers. In
+his troubled slumbers the Easterner dreamed of pacing along the track
+counting the ties, and eventually digging in the sand, digging until his
+very soul ached with the futility of his labor. Waking, he never lost
+faith in the certainty of finding the place. He now knew the tramp well
+enough to appreciate that the other had not risked his own life and
+nearly killed one of his pursuers through sheer bravado, or fear, or
+personal hatred. Something more potent was beneath the tramp's
+motives--some incentive that was almost a religion. So far, Winthrop was
+correct. He erred, however, in supposing Overland to be obsessed with a
+mania for gold for its own sake. The erstwhile sheriff of Abilene had
+dreamed a dream about an adopted waif and a beautiful young girl. The
+dream was big. Its fulfillment would require much money. There was more
+of the poet in Overland Red than his best friend had ever imagined.
+
+Three days they rested in the wild seclusion of the canon. The silence,
+the solemnity of the place, fascinated Winthrop. The tiny stream, cold
+and clear, the vegetation, in a region otherwise barren-gray and
+burning,--the arid Mojave with its blistering heat, the trees, the
+painted rocks,--ochre, copper, bronze, red, gray, and dim lilac in the
+distances,--the gracious shade, the little burro, half ludicrous, half
+pathetic in its stolid acceptance of circumstances,--all had a charm for
+him that soothed and satisfied his restlessness.
+
+Meanwhile the indefatigable Overland spun yarn after yarn of the road
+and range, and rolled innumerable cigarettes with one hand, much to
+Winthrop's amusement.
+
+The third morning Winthrop had awakened feeling so completely refreshed
+that he begged Overland to allow him to make an attempt to find the
+hidden papers and the little bag of gold. Overland demurred at first,
+fearing that the Easterner would become lost or stricken with the heat.
+Throughout the day Winthrop argued stubbornly that he ran no risk of
+capture, while Overland did. He asserted that he could easily find the
+water-hole, which was no difficult task, and from there he could go by
+compass straight out to the tracks. Overland had told him that somewhere
+near a little culvert beneath the track was the marked tie indicating
+the hiding-place of the dead prospector's things. It would mean a
+journey of a day and a night, traveling pretty continuously.
+
+Finally Overland agreed to Winthrop's plan to make the attempt the
+following day.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the foot of the range Overland gave his companion a canteen and a
+piece of gunnysack wrapped round some hardtack and jerked beef.
+
+"Don't I need my gun this time?" queried Winthrop.
+
+"Nope, Billy. 'Cause why? You don't generally kill a little gopher or a
+little owl that's settin' up tendin' to his business, because you ain't
+scared of them. But you will go off of the trail to kill a rattler, a
+side-winder, because he's able to kill you if he takes a notion.
+Correct. Now a tenderfoot totin' a gun is dangerouser than any rattler
+that ever hugged hisself to sleep in the sun--and most fellas travelin'
+the desert knows it. Why, I'm plumb scared of a gun-totin' tenderfoot,
+myself. Not havin' a gun will be your best recommend, generally
+speakin'. Stick to the bugs, Billy; stick to the bugs."
+
+"Well, you ought to know."
+
+"I got seven puckers in my hide to prove what I say. Six of 'em were put
+there by plumb amachoors in the gun line; fellas I never took pains to
+draw on quick, never suspectin' nothin'. The other, number seven, was
+put there by a gent that meant business. He died of a kind of lead
+poisonin' right immediate."
+
+They shook hands, the battered, sunburned adventurer, rough-bearded,
+broad-chested, genial with robust health, and the slender, almost
+delicately fashioned Easterner, who had forgotten that there were such
+things as lungs, or doctors,--for the time being.
+
+"Say, Billy, you need a shave," commented Overland, as the other turned
+to begin his journey across the desert.
+
+Winthrop grinned. "You need--er--decapitating," he retorted, glancing
+back. Then he faced the south and strode away.
+
+Overland, ascending the range, paused halfway up. "Decap-itating," he
+muttered. "Huh! That's a new one on me. De-cap--Let's see! Somethin' to
+do with a fella's hat, I reckon. It's easy to run a word down and hole
+it if you got brains. Mebby Billy meant for me to get a new one. Well,
+the constable's friend only put one hole in her--she's a pretty good hat
+yet."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Overland found his slow way back to the hidden canon. He felt a little
+lonely as he thought of Collie. He gave the burro some scraps of camp
+bread, knowing that the little animal would not stray so long as he was
+fed, even a little, each day.
+
+It was while he was scouring the fry-pan that he noticed the black sand
+across the stream. Leisurely he rose and scooped a panful of the sand
+and gravel and began washing it, more as a pastime than with an idea of
+finding gold. Slowly he oscillated the whispering sand, slopping the
+water out until he had panned the lot. He spread his bandanna on a
+smooth rock and gently emptied the residue of the washing on it.
+"Color--but thin," he said. "Let's try her again."
+
+He moved farther upstream--this time with one of his regular pans. He
+became absorbed in his experiment. He washed panful after panful,
+slowly, carefully, collectedly. Suddenly he stood up, swore softly, and
+flung the half-washed dirt of the last pan on the rocks. "I'm a nut!"
+he exclaimed. "This livin' in civilization has been puttin' my intellec'
+to the bad. Too much Eastern sassiety." And with this inexplicable
+self-arraignment he stooped at the tent-door, buckled on his gun, and
+started upstream. He glanced from side to side of the steep and
+narrowing walls as he advanced slowly. He passed places where the stream
+disappeared in the sand to find some subterranean channel and reappear
+below again. Rounding an angle of the cliff, he dropped to his knees and
+examined some tiny parallel scratches on a rounded rock--the marks made
+by a boot-heel that had slipped. For an hour he toiled over the rocks on
+up the diminishing stream. "Gettin' thin," he muttered, gazing at the
+silver thread of water rippling over the pebbles. A few feet ahead the
+cliffs met at the bottom in a sharp-edged "V," not over a foot apart in
+the stream-bed, but widening above. Overland scrambled through. On the
+other side of the opening he straightened up, breathing hard. His hand
+crept to his hip. On a sandy level a few yards ahead of him stood a
+ragged and faded canvas tent, its flap wavering idly in a breath of
+wind. In front of the tent was the rain-washed charcoal of an old fire.
+A rusted pan, a pick, and the worn stub of a shovel lay near the stream.
+A box marked "Dynamite" was half-filled with odds and ends of empty
+tins, cooking-utensils, and among the things was a glass fruit-jar half
+filled with matches.
+
+Slowly Overland's hand dropped to his side. He stepped forward, stooped,
+and peered into the tent. "Thought so," he said laughing queerly. Save
+for a pair of old quilts and an old corduroy coat, the place was empty.
+
+"Fool's luck," muttered Overland. "Wonder the Gophertown outfit didn't
+find him and fix him. But come to think of it, they ain't so anxious to
+cross over to this side of the range and get too clost to a real town,
+and get run in or shot up. Fool's luck," he reiterated, coolly rolling a
+cigarette and gazing about with a critical eye. "They's another trail
+into this canon that the prospector knowed. I got to find it. Billy'll
+be some interested."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE RETURN
+
+
+Overland Red lay concealed in an arroyo at the foot of the range. He
+could overlook the desert without being seen. It was the afternoon of
+the day following Winthrop's departure.
+
+Since discovering the dead prospector's camp and all that it meant, the
+tramp was doubly vigilant. He tried to believe that his anxiety was for
+his own safety rather than for Winthrop's. He finally gave up that idea,
+grumbling something about becoming "plumb soft in his feelin's since he
+took to associatin' with sassiety folks." However, had Winthrop been of
+the West and seasoned in its more rugged ways, Overland would have
+thought little of the young man's share in recent events. While he knew
+that Winthrop looked upon their venture as nothing more than a rather
+keenly exciting game, Overland realized also that the Easterner had
+played the game royally. Perhaps the fact that Winthrop's health was not
+of the best appealed to some hidden sentiment in the tramp's peculiar
+nature. In any event, Overland Red found himself strangely solicitous
+for his companion's return.
+
+Far in the south a speck moved, almost imperceptibly. The tramp's keen
+eyes told him that this was no horseman. He rolled a cigarette and lay
+back in the shade of a boulder. "He's a couple of points off his course,
+but he can't miss the range," he reflected.
+
+Desiring to assure himself that no horseman followed Winthrop, Overland
+Red made no sign that might help the other to find the trail over the
+range. The rim of Winthrop's hat became distinguishable; then the white
+lacing of his boots. Nearer, Overland saw that his face was drawn and
+set with lines of fatigue.
+
+No riders appeared on the horizon. Overland stepped out from behind the
+rock. "Well, how did you make it?" he called.
+
+Winthrop came forward wearily "No luck at all."
+
+"Couldn't find it, eh?"
+
+"I counted every tie between the tank and that little ditch under the
+track. The entire stretch has been relaid with new ties."
+
+Overland whistled. Then he grinned. "You had a good healthy walk,
+anyhow," he observed.
+
+"It doesn't seem to worry you much," said Winthrop.
+
+"Nope. Now you're back, it don't. I reckon you done your dam'dest as
+the song says. Angels can do no less. Buck up, Billy! You 're limper'n a
+second-hand porous-plaster. Here, take a shot at this. That will stiffen
+your knees some. Did you meet up with anybody?"
+
+"Not a soul. I thought I should freeze last night, though. I didn't
+imagine the desert could get so cold."
+
+"Livin' out here on the old dry spot will either kill you or cure you.
+That's one reason I let you go look for them things. The harder you hit
+the trail, and can stand it, the quicker you'll get built up." Then
+Overland, realizing that his companion was worse than tired, that he was
+dispirited, became as wily as the proverbial serpent. His method,
+however, could hardly be compared with the dove's conciliatory cooing.
+"You sure are a bum scout," he began.
+
+Winthrop flushed, but was silent.
+
+"Bet a banana you didn't even leave the track and look for it."
+
+"No, I didn't. Where could I have begun?"
+
+Overland ignored the question. "I'm hungrier than a gorilla. Just send a
+wireless to them feet of your'n. We got some climbin' to do afore dark."
+
+"I'd just as soon camp here. Go up to-morrow," said Winthrop.
+
+"So'd I if it wasn't for bein' scared some of the hills would mosey off
+before I got back." And Overland set a brisk pace up the mountain,
+talking as he climbed. Winthrop could do nothing but listen. He was
+breathless.
+
+"Or that canon," continued Overland. "She might not be there if we
+stayed away all night. Besides, I'm scared to leave _it_ alone by
+itself."
+
+"Leave what?" gasped Winthrop.
+
+"It. The find I made while you was out surveyin' the Santa Fe. I was
+feared you'd get nervous prosecution if I told you all to once, so I
+breaks it easy like."
+
+"What was it?"
+
+"Nothin' but a tent in the canon we're campin' in. But, Billy, when you
+find a tent and some minin' tools and other signs of trouble 'way up
+some lonesome old slot in the hills, you want to get ready for a
+surprise. Mebby it'll be nothin' but some old clothes and bones. Mebby
+it'll be them and somethin' else. I didn't find the bones, but I found
+the somethin' else, coarse, and fair dribblin' thick in the dirt. It's
+there and rich, Billy, rich!"
+
+Overland Red turned and paused as Winthrop leaned against a rock.
+
+"It's the--the real thing?" queried the Easterner.
+
+"The real thing, pardner. Now what do you think of that for highbrow
+stuff?"
+
+"Meaning that you stumbled on the secret?"
+
+"If you want to say it that way, yes. Just like fallin' into a sewer and
+findin' a gold watch where you lit."
+
+"Then it's all true? We've found the gold? You really believed we
+should, and for that matter, so did I. I can't say why. I rather felt
+that we should."
+
+"I guess I'm some class when it comes to findin' the incubator that
+hatches them little yella babies with the come-and-find-me eyes."
+
+Winthrop straightened his tired shoulders. "You seem to think that
+you're pretty clever," he said, laughing. "But in the elegant and
+expressive diction of the late--the late Overland Red Summers, 'I think
+you're a bum scout.'" And they shook hands, laughing as they turned to
+climb the trail.
+
+Near the crest, Overland again paused. "Say, Billy, you said the 'late'
+Overland Red Summers. You took particular noise to make me hear that
+word 'late.' Have you got any objections to explainin' that there idea?
+I been examinin' the works of that word 'late,' and it don't tick right
+to me. 'Late' means 'planted,' don't it?"
+
+"Sometimes. It may also mean behind time. Do you remember that I said, a
+day or two ago, that I shouldn't be surprised if the lost gold were in
+the very canon where we camped? I claim precedence of divination,
+auto-suggestion, and right of eminent domain. I shall not waive my
+prerogative."
+
+"I never owned one," said Overland. "But afore I'll let you come any
+style over me, I'll have one made with a silk linin' and di'monds in the
+buttons, jest as soon as the claim gets to payin' good. Say, pardner,
+it's _free_ gold, and _coarse_. I wisht Collie was here--the little
+cuss."
+
+"Collie?"
+
+"Uhuh. The kid I was tellin' you about, that I adopted back in
+Albuquerque. He's got a share in this here deal, by rights. He invested
+his eight rollers and four bits in the chances of my findin' the stuff.
+It was all the coin he had at the time. You see, I was campin' up on the
+Moonstone for a change of air, and Collie and me had a meetin' of the
+board of dissectors. The board votes unanimous to invest the paid-in
+capital in a suit of new jeans for the president, which was me. I got
+'em on now. You see, I had to be dollied up to look the part so I could
+catch a come-on and get me grubstake."
+
+"I see," said Winthrop, his gray eyes twinkling. "And I was the
+come-on?"
+
+"Well," said Overland, scratching his head, "mebby you _was_, but you
+ain't no more. If she pans out anything like I expect, you'll be
+standin' up so clost to bein' rich that if she was a bronc' you'd get
+kicked sure."
+
+They rested for a few minutes, both gazing down on the evening desert.
+The reflected light, strong and clear, drew abrupt, keen-edged contrasts
+between the black, triangular shadows of the peaks and the gray of the
+range. Something elusive, awesome, unreal was in the air about them. The
+rugged mountain-side with its chaos of riven boulders, its forest of
+splintered rocky spires, silver cold in the twilight, its impassive bulk
+looming so large, yet a mere segment in the circling range, was as a
+day-dream of some ancient Valhalla, clothed in the mystic glory of
+ever-changing light, and crowned with slumbering clouds.
+
+Winthrop sighed as he again faced the range. Overland heard and smiled.
+"You said it all," he muttered. "You said it all then."
+
+"You're something of a poet, aren't you?" queried Winthrop.
+
+"You bet! I'm some artist, too. A lady I was figurin' on acceptin' a
+invite to dinner with, once,--one of them rich kind that always wants to
+get their money's worth out of anything they do for a poor
+guy,--happened to come out on the back steps where I was holdin' kind of
+a coroner's request over a lettuce san'wich. 'My man,' she says, 'I have
+always been interested to know if you--er--tramps ever think of
+anything else but food and lodging and loafing. Nothing personal, I
+assure you. Merely a general interest in social conditions which you
+seem so well fitted to explode from experience. For instance, now, what
+are your favorite colors?'
+
+"I couldn't see what that had to do with it, and I got kind of mad. A
+lettuce san'wich ain't encouragin' to confidence, so I up and says,
+'What are me favorite colors, lady? Well, speakin' from experience, they
+is _ham_ and _eggs_.'
+
+"She took a tumble to herself and sent me out some of the best--and a
+bottle of Red Cross beer with it."
+
+On up the slope they toiled, Winthrop half-forgetting his weariness in
+thinking of Overland's sprightly experiences with what he termed "the
+hard ole map--this here world."
+
+At the summit they paused again to rest.
+
+"That was the time," began Overland, "when I writ that there pome called
+'Heart Throbs of a Hobo.' Listen!"
+
+  "Oh, my stummick is jest akein'
+   For a little bite of bacon,
+   A slice of bread, a little mug of brew.
+   I'm tired of seein' scenery,
+   Jest lead me to a beanery,
+   Where there's something more than only air to chew."
+
+"The last line sounds like a sneeze," said Winthrop, laughing.
+
+"Speakin' of sneeze," said Overland, "makes me think you ain't coughed
+so much lately, Billy."
+
+"I had a pretty bad time yesterday morning," replied Winthrop.
+
+"Well, you'll get cured and stay cured, up here," said Overland, hugely
+optimistic.
+
+"Of course," rejoined Winthrop, smiling. "It's such hard work to breathe
+up here that I have to keep alive to attend to it."
+
+"That's her! Them little old bellowsus of your'n 'll get exercise--not
+pumpin' off the effects of booze an' cigarettes, neither, but from
+pumpin' in clean thin air with a edge to it. Them little old germs will
+all get dizzy and lose their holt."
+
+"That's getting rather deep into personalities," said Winthrop. "But I
+think you're correct. I could eat a whole side of bacon, raw."
+
+And he followed Overland silently across the range and down into the
+cool depths of the hidden canon, where the tramp, ever watchful of the
+younger man's health, slipped from his coat and made Winthrop put it on,
+despite the latter's protest that he was hot and sweating.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+"CALL IT THE 'ROSE GIRL'"
+
+
+"What are you going to do with those things?" asked Winthrop. "Not burn
+them?"
+
+"Yep; every strap and tie-string," replied Overland, gathering together
+the dead prospector's few effects. "Cause why? Well, Billy, if this
+claim ain't filed on,--and I reckon it ain't,--why, we files on her as
+the original locators. Nobody gets wise to anything and it saves the
+chance of gettin' jumped. The bunch over there would make it interestin'
+for us if they knowed we was goin' to file on it. They'd put up a fight
+by law, and mebby one not by law. Sabe?"
+
+"I think so. Going to burn that little--er--cradle arrangement, too?"
+
+"Yep. Sorry, 'cause it's wood, and wood is wood here. That little rocker
+is a cradle all right for rockin' them yella babies in and then out. The
+hand that rocks that cradle hard enough rules the world, as the pote
+says."
+
+"So this is how gold is mined?" queried Winthrop, examining the crude
+rocker and the few rusted tools.
+
+"One way. Pan, cradle, or sluice for free gold. They's about four other
+ways. This here's our way."
+
+"Is it a rich claim?"
+
+"Tolerable. I panned some up the branch. She runs about two dollars a
+pan."
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+Overland smiled as he poked a smouldering corner of blanket into the
+fire. "It is and it ain't. I reckon you could pan fifty pans a day.
+That's a hundred dollars. Then I could do that much and the cookin',
+too. That's another hundred. Two hundred dollars a day ain't bad wages
+for two guys. It ought to keep us in grub and postage stamps and some
+chewin'-gum once in a while."
+
+"Two hundred a day!" And Winthrop whistled. "That doesn't seem much in
+New York--on the street, but out here--right out of the ground. Why,
+that's twelve hundred a week."
+
+"Nope--not exactly. She's a rich one, and bein' so rich at the start
+she'll peter out fast, I take it. I know these here kind. When we come
+to the end of the canon we're at the end, that's all. Besides, she's so
+rich we won't work six days every week. If she was half as good, mebby
+we would. You never done much fancy pick-handle exercise, did you?"
+
+"No, but I'm going to. This beats signing checks all to pieces."
+
+"Never got cramps that way myself," grunted Overland. "But I have from
+swingin' a pick. Your back'll be so blame stiff in about three days that
+you'll wish you never seen a pan or a shovel. Then you'll get over the
+fever and settle down sensible. Three of us could do a heap better than
+two. I wish Collie was on the job."
+
+"I'm willing," said Winthrop.
+
+"'Course you are, but you get your half of this as agreed. Collie's
+share comes out of my half. I'm playin' this hand over the table, in
+plain sight."
+
+Winthrop glanced quickly at Overland's inscrutable face. "Suppose I
+should tell you that my income, each week, is about equal to what we
+expect to get from this claim?"
+
+"Makes no difference," growled Overland. "It wasn't your money that
+stood off the constable--and later out in the desert. It was _you_.
+They's some places left on this old map yet where a man is jest what his
+two fists and his head is worth. This here Mojave is one of 'em. Are you
+squeak to that?"
+
+"I understand," said Winthrop.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They worked steadily until evening. They staked out their respective and
+adjoining claims, dropped the rusted tools in a bottomless crevice, and
+removed the last shred and vestige of a previous occupancy.
+
+"This here's been too easy," said Overland, as he sliced bacon for the
+evening meal. "When things comes as easy as this, you want to watch out
+for a change in the weather. We ain't through with the bunch yet."
+
+The Easterner, making the evening fire, nodded. "How are we to get
+provisions?" he asked.
+
+"First, I was thinkin' of packin' 'em in from Gophertown, over yonder.
+She's about thirty miles from here, across the alkali. 'T aint a regular
+town, but they got grub. But if we got to comin' in regular, they'd
+smell gold quicker than bees findin' orange-blossoms. They got my
+number, likewise."
+
+"How's that?"
+
+"They know I been standin' out on the edge ever since I had a little
+fuss with some folks over at Yuma, quite a spell ago."
+
+"Won't you tell me about it?"
+
+"Sure! They was three parties interested--me and another gent and a
+hoss. I guess the hoss is still alive."
+
+Winthrop laughed. "That's a pretty brief epic," he said.
+
+"Uhuh. It was. But I reckon we got to hit the breeze out of here right
+soon. Here, le' me take that fry-pan a minute. It's this way. Me and
+you's located this claim. Now we go and file. But first we got to get
+some dough. I got a scheme. I'm thinkin' of gettin' a dude
+outfit--long-tailed coat and checker pants and a elevated lid with a
+shine to it. Then you and me to the State House and file on this here
+claim. You stay right in them kickie clothes and that puncher hat. We
+file, see? The gents supportin' the bars and store corners will be so
+interested in seein' me do you for your pile that they'll forget to
+remember who I am, like I would be in me natural jeans. They'll size me
+for a phoney promoter excavatin' your pocketbook. It's a chance--but we
+got to take it."
+
+"That's all very weird and wonderful," said Winthrop, "and not so very
+flattering to me, but I am game. I'll furnish the expense money."
+
+After the evening meal they drew nearer the fire and smoked in the chill
+silence. The flames threw strange dancing shadows on the opposite cliff.
+
+Winthrop, mindful of Overland's advice, slipped on his coat as the night
+deepened. "About your adopting a disguise," he began; "I should think
+you would look well enough clean-shaven and dressed in some stylish,
+rough tweed. You have fine shoulders and--"
+
+"Hold on, Billy! I'm a livin' statoo, I know. But listen! I got to go
+the limit to look the part. You can't iron the hoof-marks of hell and
+Texas out of my mug in a hundred years. The old desert and the border
+towns and the bottle burned 'em in to stay. Them kind of looks don't go
+with business clothes. I got to look fly--jest like I didn't know no
+better."
+
+"Perhaps you are right. You seem to make a go of everything you tackle."
+
+"Yep! Some things I made go so fast I ain't caught up with 'em yet. You
+know I used to wonder if a fella's face would ever come smooth again in
+heaven. That was a spell ago. I ain't been worryin' about it none
+lately."
+
+"How old are you?"
+
+"Me? I'm huggin' thirty-five clost. But not so clost I can't hear
+thirty-six lopin' up right smart."
+
+"Only thirty-five!" exclaimed Winthrop. Then quickly, "Oh, I beg your
+pardon."
+
+"That's nothin'", said Overland genially. "It ain't the 'thirty-five'
+that makes me feel sore--it's the 'only.' You said it all then. But
+believe me, pardner, the thirty-five have been all red chips."
+
+"Well, you have _lived_," sighed Winthrop.
+
+"And come clost to forgettin' to, once or twice. Anyhow,--speakin' of
+heaven,--I'd jest as soon take my chances with this here mug of mine,
+what shows I earned all I got, as with one of them there dead-fish faces
+I seen on some guys that never done nothin' better or worse than get up
+for breakfast."
+
+Winthrop smiled. "Yes. And you believe in a heaven, then?"
+
+"From mornin' till night. And then more than ever. Not your kind of a
+heaven, or mebby any other guy's. But as sure as you're goin' to crease
+them new boots by settin' too clost to the fire, there's somethin' up
+there windin' up the works regular and seein' that she ticks right, and
+once in a while chuckin' out old wheels and puttin' in new ones. Jest
+take a look at them stars! Do you reckon they're runnin' right on time
+and not jumpin' the track and dodgin' each other that slick--jest
+because they was throwed out of a star-factory promiscus like a shovel
+of gravel? No, sir! Each one is doin' its stunt because the other one
+is--same as folks. Sure, there's somethin' runnin the big works; but
+whether me or you is goin' to get a look-in,--goin' to be let in on
+it,--why, that's different."
+
+Winthrop drew back from the fire and crossed his legs. He leaned
+forward, gazing at the flames. From the viewless distance came the howl
+of coyotes.
+
+"They're tryin' to figure it out--same as us," said Overland, poking a
+half-burned root into the fire. "And they're gettin' about as far along
+at it, too. Like most folks does in a crowd--jest howlin' all together.
+Mebby it sounds good to 'em. I don' know."
+
+"I'm somewhat of a scoffer, I think," said Winthrop presently.
+
+"Most lungers is," was Overland's cheerful comment. "They're sore on
+their luck. They ain't really sore at the big works. They only think so.
+I've knowed lots of 'em that way."
+
+"To-night,--here in this canon,--with the stars and the desert so near,
+you almost persuade me that there is something."
+
+"Hold on, Billy! You're grazin' on the wrong side of the range if you
+think I'm preachin'. My God! I hate preachin' worse than I could hate
+hell if I thought they was one. My little old ideas is mine. I roped 'em
+and branded 'em and I'm breakin' 'em in to ride to suit me. I ain't
+askin' nobody to risk gettin' throwed ridin' any of my stock. Sabe?"
+
+"But a chap may peek through the fence and watch, mayn't he?"
+
+"Sure! Mebby you're breakin' some stock of your own like that. If you
+are, any little old rig I got is yours."
+
+"Thank you. And I'm not joking. Perhaps I'll get the right grip on
+things later. I've been used to town and the pace. I've always had
+money, but I never felt really clean, inside and out, until now. I
+never before burned my bridges and went it under my own flag."
+
+Overland nodded sagely. "Uhuh. It's the air. Your feelin' clean and
+religious-like is nacheral up here. Don't worry if it feels queer to you
+at first--you'll get used to it. Why, I quit cussin', myself, when
+everything seems so dum' quiet. Sounds like the whole works had stopped
+to listen to a fella. Swearin' ain't so hefty then. Sort of outdoor
+stage fright, I reckon. Say, do you believe preachin' ever did much
+good?"
+
+"Sometimes I've thought it did."
+
+"I seen a case once," began Overland reminiscently. "It was Toledo
+Blake. He was a kind of bum middleweight scrapper when he was workin' at
+it. When he wasn't trainin' he was a kind of locoed heavyweight--stewed
+most of the time. It was one winter night in Toledo. Me and him went
+into one of them 'Come-In-Stranger' rescue joints. 'Course, they was
+singin' hymns and prayin' in there, but it was warmer than outside, so
+we stayed.
+
+"After a while up jumps the foreman of that gospel outfit. His foretop
+was long, and he wore it over one ear like a hoss's when the wind is
+blowin'.
+
+"He commenced wrong, I guess. He points down the room to where me and
+Toledo was settin', and he hollers, 'Go to the ant, you slugger!
+Consider her game and get hep to it,' or somethin' similar.
+
+"That word 'slugger' kind of jarred Toledo. He jumps up kind of mad.
+'Mebby I am a slugger, and mebby I ain't, but you needn't to get
+personal about it. Anyhow, I ain't got no aunt.'
+
+"'The text,' says the hoss-faced guy on the platform, 'the text, my
+brother, is semaphorical.'
+
+"Toledo couldn't understand that, so I whispers, 'Set down, you mutt!
+Semaphore is a sign ain't it? Well, he's givin' you the sign talk. Set
+down and listen.'
+
+"Toledo, he hadn't had a drink for a week, and he was naturally feelin'
+kind of ugly. 'All right,' he growls at the preacher guy. 'All right. I
+pass.'
+
+"'Ah, my brother!' says the hoss-faced guy. 'I see the spirits is at
+work.' That kind of got Toledo's goat.
+
+"'Your dope is _bum_,' says Toledo. 'I ain't had a drink for a week.
+First you tell a fella to go see his aunt, when she's been planted for
+ten years. Then--'
+
+"'Listen, brother!' says the preacher guy. 'I referred to ants--little,
+industrious critters that are examples of thrift to the idle, the
+indignant, the--'
+
+"'Hold on!' says Toledo. 'Do you mean red ants or black ants?' And I
+seen that a spark had touched Toledo's brainbox and that he was
+wrastlin' with somethin' that felt like thinkin'.
+
+"'Either, my brother,' says the hoss-faced guy, smilin' clear up to his
+back teeth.
+
+"'Well, you're drawin' your dope from the wrong can,' says Toledo,
+shufflin' for the door. 'Because,' says he, turnin' in the doorway,
+'because, how in hell is a fella goin' to find any ants with two feet of
+snow on the ground?'
+
+"And then Toledo and me went out. It was a mighty cold night."
+
+Overland Red rolled a cigarette, pausing in his narrative to see whether
+Winthrop, who sat with bowed head, was asleep or not.
+
+Winthrop glanced up. "I'm awake," he said, smiling. "Very much awake. I
+can see it all--you two, down on your luck, and the snow freezing and
+melting on the bottoms of your trousers. And the stuffy little rescue
+mission with a few weary faces and many empty chairs; the 'preacher
+guy,' as you call him, earnest, and ignorant, and altogether wrong in
+trying to reason with Toledo Blake's empty stomach."
+
+"That's it!" concurred Overland. "A empty stomach is a plumb
+unreasonable thing. But the preacher guy done some good, at that. He set
+Toledo Blake to thinkin' which was somethin' new and original for
+Toledo.
+
+"It was nex' spring Toledo and me was travelin' out this way, inspectin'
+the road-bed of the Santa Fe, when we runs onto a big red-ant's nest in
+the sand alongside of the track. Toledo, he squats down and looks. The
+first thing he sees was a leetle pa ant grab up a piece of crust twice
+his size and commence sweatin' and puffin' to drag it home to the kids.
+
+"'The leetle cuss!' says Toledo. 'He's some strong on the lift!' And
+Toledo, he takes the piece of crust from the pa ant and sticks it at the
+top of the hole, thinkin' to help the pa ant along. But the pa ant, he
+hustles right up and grabs the crust and waves her around his head a
+couple of times to show how strong he is, and then starts back to where
+he found the crust. Down he plumps it--gives it a h'ist or two and then
+grabs it up. He waves it around in his mitts and wobbles off toward the
+hole again. Independent? Well, mostly!
+
+"Toledo, he said nothin', but his eyes was pokin' out of his head tryin'
+to think. You never see a man sweat so tryin' to get both hands onto a
+idea at once. His dome was kind of flat, but he could handle one idea,
+in single harness, at a time.
+
+"Anyhow, the next town we strikes, Toledo, he quits me and gets a sort
+of chambermaid's job tidyin' up around a little old boiler-factory and
+machine-shop; pilin' scrap-iron and pig-iron and little things like
+that. And he stuck, too.
+
+"A couple of years after that I was beatin' it on a rattler goin' west,
+and I drops off at that town. About the first thing I seen was Toledo
+comin' down the street. Alongside of him was a woman carry in' a kid in
+her arms, and another one grazin' along close behind. And Toledo had a
+loaf of bread under his arm.
+
+"'This here is Mrs. Blake,' says Toledo, kind of nervous.
+
+"'I am glad she is,' says I. 'Toledo, you're doin' well. Don't know
+nothin' about the leetle colt in the blanket, but the yearlin' is built
+right. He's got good hocks and first-class action.'
+
+"Mrs. Toledo, she kind of sniffed superior, but said nothin'. You know
+that kind of sayin' nothin' which is waitin' for you to move on.
+
+"'Won't you come up to the shack and have grub?' says Toledo, hopin' I'd
+say 'No.'
+
+"'Nope,' says I. 'Obliged jest the same. I see you got hep to the ant
+all right.'
+
+"'I'll let you know I'm nobody's aunt!' says Mrs. Toledo, yankin' the
+yearlin' off his hoofs and settin' him down again. For a fact, she thunk
+I was alludin' to her.
+
+"'Of course not, madam,' says I, polite, and liftin' me lid. 'And I
+judge somebody's in luck at that.'
+
+"I guess it was her not used to bein' spoke and acted polite to that got
+her goat. Mebby she smelt somethin' sarcastic. I dunno. Anyhow, she was
+a longhorn with a bad eye. 'Go on, you chicken-lifter!' she says.
+
+"Bein' no hand to sass a lady, I said nothin' more to _her_. But I hands
+Toledo a jolt for bein' ashamed of his old pal.
+
+"'Well, so long,' says I, kind of offhand and easy. 'So long. I'll tell
+Lucy when I see her that you was run over by a freight and killed. Then
+she can take out them papers and marry Mike Brannigan that's been
+waitin' in the hopes you'd pass over. You remember Mike, the cop on
+Cherry Street. You oughta. He's pinched you often enough. 'Course you
+do. Well, so long. Little Johnny was lookin' fine the last I seen of
+him. He's gettin' more like his pa every day. But I got to beat it.'"
+
+Overland Red leaned back and puffed a great cloud of smoke from a fresh
+cigarette.
+
+"Who was Lucy?" asked Winthrop.
+
+"Search me!" replied Overland. "They wasn't any Lucy or nobody like
+that. But I'd like to 'a' stayed to hear Toledo explain that to Mrs.
+Toledo, though. She was a hard map to talk to."
+
+"I suppose there's a moral attached to that, or, more properly, embodied
+in that story. But it is good enough in itself without disemboweling it
+for the moral."
+
+"You can't always go by ants, neither," said Overland.
+
+Winthrop nodded. His eyes were filled with the awe of great distances
+and innumerable stars. "Gold!" he whispered presently, as one whispers
+in dreams. "Gold! Everywhere! In the sun--in the starlight--in the
+flowers--in the flame. In wine, in a girl's hair.... Gold! Mystery....
+Power ... and as impotent as Fate." Winthrop's head lifted suddenly.
+"What shall we call the mine?" he asked.
+
+Overland Red started, as though struck from ambush. "How did you guess?"
+he queried.
+
+"Guess what?"
+
+"That I was thinkin' about the claim?"
+
+"I didn't guess it. I was dreaming. Suddenly I asked a question,
+without knowing that I was speaking."
+
+"Mebby I was bearin' down so hard on the same idea that you kind of felt
+the strain."
+
+"Possibly. That's not unusual. What _shall_ we call it?"
+
+"Wha--I was thinkin' of callin' it the 'Rose Girl' after a girl Collie
+and me knows up Moonstone Canon way."
+
+"It's rather a good name," said Winthrop. "Is the girl pretty?"
+
+"Pretty? Gosh! That ain't the word. Her real name is Louise Lacharme,
+and, believe me, Billy, she's all that her name sounds like, and then
+some."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+SILENT SAUNDERS
+
+
+One after another, in the course of the two years following Collie's
+arrival, the old riders of the Moonstone Rancho drifted away. There
+remained but Brand Williams the foreman, Collie, and the sturdy,
+hard-riding Miguel, a young Spanish vaquero who was devoted to but two
+things in life, his splendid pinto pony, and the Moonstone Ranch.
+
+The others had been lured to the new oil-fields up north--to the
+excitement of Goldfield, or to Mexico City, where even more excitement
+promised. In their stead came new men--Bud Light, Parson Long, Billy
+Dime, and one Silent Saunders.
+
+Louise became acquainted with the new men while riding with her uncle.
+She was his constant companion in the hills. One by one the new arrivals
+became devoted to her. Her sincere interest in the ranch work pleased
+them, and naturally, for it was their work. Walter Stone was also
+pleased with his niece's interest in the detail of the ranch work. She
+was as a daughter to him. Some day the property would be hers.
+
+Fully conscious, from within herself, of her dependence upon her uncle,
+Louise managed to be of inestimable service. She performed her
+self-allotted tasks without ostentation. She had that rare quality of
+stimulating enthusiasm among the men--enthusiasm for their work and
+pride in giving faithful and energetic service--pride in accomplishing a
+little more each day than was asked or expected of them. Louise's youth,
+her beauty, her sincerity, and, above all, her absolute simplicity of
+manner commanded admiration and respect among the hard-riding Moonstone
+boys. She was, to them, a "lady," yet a lady they could understand. Hers
+was a gentle tyranny. A request from her was deemed a great compliment
+by its recipient.
+
+All of them, with the exception of Collie, openly praised her
+horsemanship, her quiet daring, her uniform kindness. Her beauty had
+ceased to be commented upon. It was accepted by them as one accepts the
+fragrant beauty of a rose, naturally, silently, gratefully.
+
+Collie had gained in height and breadth of shoulder. He no longer needed
+instruction in managing broncho stock. He loved the life of the hills;
+the cool, invigorating mornings, the keen wind of the noon peaks, the
+placidity of the evening as the stars multiplied in the peaceful sky.
+
+He became that rare quantity among cowmen, a rider who handled and
+mastered unbroken horses without brutality. This counted heavily for him
+both with Louise and Walter Stone. Men new to the range laughed at his
+method of "gentling" horses. Later their laughter stilled to envious
+desire. Lacking his invariable patience, his consistent magnetism, they
+finally resumed their old methods, and earned dominance by sheer
+strength of arm--"main strength and awkwardness," as Williams put it.
+
+"It's easy--for him," commented Brand Williams, discussing Collie's
+almost uncanny quelling of a vicious, unbitted mustang. "It's easy. You
+fellas expect a boss to buck and bite and kick and buffalo you
+generally. _He_ don't. He don't expect anything like that, and he don't
+let 'em learn how."
+
+"Can you work it that way?" asked Billy Dime.
+
+"Nope. I learned the other way and the bosses knows it. I always had to
+sweat. He's born to it natural, like a good cow-pony is."
+
+And Collie looked upon his work as a game--a game that had to be played
+hard and well, but a game, nevertheless. Incidentally he thought often
+of Overland Red. He had searched the papers diligently for a year,
+before he received the first letter from Overland. The news it contained
+set Collie to thinking seriously of leaving the Moonstone Rancho and
+joining his old companion in this new venture of gold-digging which, as
+Overland took pains to explain, was "paying big." But there was
+Louise.... They were great friends. They had even ridden to town
+together and attended the little white church in the eucalyptus
+grove.... He thought of their ride homeward late that Sunday
+afternoon....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Once and once only had Overland's name been mentioned in the bunk-house.
+Saunders, discussing horses and riders in general, listened to Collie's
+account of Overland's escape from the deputy, Tenlow. Then he spoke
+slightingly of the feat, claiming that any man who had ever ridden range
+could do as much, with the right pony.
+
+Brand Williams tried to change the subject, for shrewd reasons of his
+own, but Collie flamed up instantly. "I got a little saved up," he said;
+"mebby eight hundred. She's yours if you dast to walk a horse, comin' or
+goin', over that drift that Red took on the jump. Are you game?"
+
+"I'm not on the bet," replied Saunders. "So Overland Red is a friend of
+yours, eh?"
+
+"Overland Red could ride where you dassent to walk and drag a halter,"
+asserted Collie. Then he relapsed to silence, a little ashamed in that
+he had been trapped into showing temper.
+
+Williams the taciturn astonished the bunk-house by adding: "The kid is
+right. Red could outride most men. I was his pal once, down in Sonora.
+There ain't a better two-gun artist livin'." And the lean foreman looked
+pointedly at Saunders.
+
+Saunders smiled evilly. He had reason to believe that Williams had
+spoken the truth.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A few weeks later, Williams, returning unexpectedly to the bunk-house,
+found Saunders changing his shirt preparatory to a ride to town. The
+rest of the boys were already on their way to the Oro Rancho across the
+valley. Williams saw two puckered scars, each above the elbow on
+Saunders's bared arms.
+
+"That was dam' good shootin'," said the foreman, indicating the other's
+scarred arms.
+
+"Fair," said Saunders gruffly.
+
+"Takes a gun-artist to put a man out of business that way and not finish
+him," said Williams, smiling.
+
+"Cholo mix-up," said Saunders.
+
+"And shootin' from the ground, at that," continued Williams. "And at a
+fella on a horse. Easy to see that, for the both holes are slantin' up.
+The shootin' was done from below."
+
+Saunders flushed. He was about to speak when Williams interrupted him.
+"Makes me think of some of Overland Red's--that is, old Red Jack
+Summers's fancy work. I don' know why," he drawled, and turning he left
+the bunk-house.
+
+Collie, returning from a visit to the Oro Rancho that evening, was met
+by Williams. The latter was on foot.
+
+"Drop into my shack after dark," said the foreman. Then he stepped back
+into the bushes as the other men rode up.
+
+The foreman's interview with Collie that evening was brief. It left a
+lot to the imagination. "You said too much about Overland Red the other
+night, when you was talkin' to Silent Saunders," said Williams. "He's
+tryin' to find out somethin'. I don't know what he's after. Keep your
+eye peeled and your teeth on the bit. That's all."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+BLUNDER
+
+
+"Oh, he's built all right, and he comes of good stock," said Brand
+Williams, nodding toward a bay colt that stood steaming in the sun.
+
+It had rained the night before--an unexpected shower and the last of the
+winter rains. Now that the snow had left the hills, the young stock,
+some thirty-odd year-old colts had been turned into the north range.
+Collie and Williams had ridden over to look at the colts; Williams as a
+matter of duty, Collie because he was interested and liked Williams's
+society.
+
+The colt, shaking itself, turned and nipped at its shoulder and switched
+its tail.
+
+"He's stayed fat, too," continued Williams. "But look at him! He's
+bitin' and switchin' because he's wet. Thinks it's fly-time a'ready.
+He's jest a four-legged horse-hide blunder. I know his kind."
+
+Collie, dismounting and unbuttoning his slicker, rolled it and tied it
+to the saddle. "I guess you're right, Brand. Last week I was over this
+way. He had his head through the corral bars at the bottom and he
+couldn't get loose. He was happy, though. He must have been there quite
+a spell, for he ate about half a bale of hay. I got him loose and he
+tried his darndest to kick my head off."
+
+"Uhuh," grunted the foreman. "Reckon it's the last rain we'll get this
+year. Now would you look at that! He's the limit!"
+
+The colt, sniffing curiously at a crotch in the live-oak against which
+he had been rubbing, had stepped into the low fork of the tree. Perhaps
+he had some vague notion to rub both his sides at once as an economy of
+effort. His front feet had slipped on the wet ground. He went down,
+wedged fast. He struggled and kicked. He nickered plaintively, and
+rolled his terror-stricken eyes toward the cowmen in wild appeal.
+
+"And like all of his kind, hoss and human," said Williams, dismounting,
+"he's askin' for help in a voice that sounds like it was our fault that
+he's in trouble. He's the limit!"
+
+With much labor they finally released the colt, who expressed prompt
+gratitude by launching a swift and vicious kick at Collie.
+
+"He's feeling good enough," said that youth, coolly picking up his hat
+that had dropped as he dodged.
+
+"Yes. All he needs is a couple of punchers and a hoss-doctor and a
+policeman to ride round with him and keep him out of trouble. He's no
+account; never will be," growled Williams.
+
+"I don't know, Brand. He's a mighty likely-looking and interesting
+specimen. He's different. I kind of like him."
+
+"Well, I don't. I ain't got time. He's always goin' to manufacture
+trouble, when he don't come by it natural. He's got a kind eye, but no
+brains behind it."
+
+They mounted and rode up the hill, looking for breaks in the fences and
+counting the colts, some of whom, luxuriously lazy in the heat of the
+sun, stood with lowered heads, drowsing. Others, scattered about the
+hillsides and in the arroyos, grazed nippingly at the sparse
+bunch-grass, moving quickly from clump to clump.
+
+The "blunder" colt seemed to find his own imbecilities sufficiently
+entertaining, for he grazed alone.
+
+The foreman's inspection terminated with the repairing of a break in the
+fence inclosing the spring-hole, a small area of bog-land dotted with
+hummocks of lush grass. Between the hummocks was a slimy, black ooze
+that covered the bones of more than one unfortunate animal. The heavy,
+ripe grass lent an appearance of stability, of solidity, to the
+treacherous footing.
+
+Williams and Collie reinforced the sagging posts with props of fallen
+limbs and stones carried from the trail below. They piled brush where
+the wire had parted, filling the opening with an almost impassable
+barrier of twisted branches. Until the last rain, the spring-hole fence
+had appeared solid--but one night of rain in the California hills can
+work unimaginable changes in trail, stream-bed, or fence line.
+
+"Get after that fence first thing in the morning," said Williams as he
+unsaddled the pinto that afternoon. "I noticed the blunder colt followed
+us up to the spring. If there's any way of gettin' bogged, he'll find
+it, or invent a new way for himself."
+
+The blunder colt's mischief-making amounted to absolute genius. There
+was much of the enterprising puppy in his nature and in his methods. The
+impulse which seemed to direct the extremely uneven tenor of his way
+would have resolved itself orally into: "Do it--and then see what
+happens!" He was not vicious, but brainlessly joyful in his mischief.
+
+As the foreman and Collie disappeared beyond the crest of the hill, the
+colt, who had watched them with absurdly stupid intensity, lowered his
+head and nibbled indifferently at the grass along the edge of the
+spring-hole fence. He approached the break and sniffed at the props and
+network of branches. This was interesting! And a very carelessly
+constructed piece of fence, indeed! He would investigate. The blunder
+colt was never too hungry to cease grazing and turn toward adventure.
+
+He nosed one of the props. He leaned against it heavily, deliberately,
+and rubbed himself. Verily "His eye had all the seeming of a demon's
+that is dreaming"--of unalloyed mischief.
+
+The prop creaked, finally became loosened, and fell. The colt sprang
+back awkwardly, snorting in indignant surprise. "The very idea!" he
+would have said, even as he would have chewed gum and have worn a
+perpetual tear in his trousers had he been human.
+
+With stiff stealthiness he approached the break again, pretending a
+hesitancy that he enjoyed immensely. He reached under the lower wire,
+neck outstretched, and nibbled at a bunch of ripe grass. There was
+plenty of grass within easier reach, but he wanted the unattainable. A
+barb caught in his mane. He jerked his head up. The barb pricked his
+neck. He jerked harder. Another prop became loosened. Then he strode
+away, this time with calm indifference. He pretended to graze, but his
+eye roved back to the break. His attitude expressed a sly
+alertness--something of the quiet vigilance a grazing horse betrays when
+one approaches with a bridle. He drew nearer the fence again. With head
+over the top wire he gazed longingly at the clumps of grass on the
+hummocks scattered over the muck of the overflow. His shoulder needed
+scratching. With drooping head, eyes half-closed, and lower lip pendant,
+he rubbed against the loosened post. The post sagged and wobbled.
+Whether it was deliberate intent, or just natural "horse" predominating
+his actions, it would be difficult to determine. Finally the post gave
+way and fell. The colt drew back and contemplated the opening with a
+vacuous eye. It was not interesting now. No, indeed! He wandered away.
+
+But in the dusk of that evening, when a chill dew sparkled along the
+edges of the bog, he came, a clumsy shadow and grazed among the
+hummocks. Slowly he worked toward the treachery of black ooze that shone
+in the starlight. He sank to his fetlocks. He drew his feet up one after
+another, still progressing toward the centre of the bog, and sinking
+deeper at each step. He became stricken with fear as he sank to his
+hocks. He plunged and snorted. The bog held him with a soft, detaining
+grip--and drew him slowly down. He nickered, and finally screamed in
+absolute terror. Up to his heaving belly the black mud crept. He flung
+himself sideways. Exhausted, he lay with neck and head outstretched.
+Again he struggled, his eyes wild and protruding with the blood pressure
+of his straining. Then the chill of night crept over him. He became
+quiet--shivered a little, and nickered faintly.
+
+In the willows a little owl called pensively.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The morning light, streaming across the hills, spread like raw gold over
+the bog. Collie whistled as he rode down the trail, and beat his gloved
+hands to keep warm. He heard a plaintive whinny and a bubbling gasp. He
+leaped from his pony, the coiled riata in his hand as he touched the
+ground.
+
+The blunder colt, neck outstretched, was still above the ooze. His eyes
+were bloodshot, as their white rims showed. His nose quivered and
+twisted with his quick, irregular breathing.
+
+It was a "two-man job," but Collie knew that the colt would probably be
+gone before he could ride back and return with help. He swung the riata,
+then hesitated. To noose the colt's neck would only result in strangling
+it when he pulled. He found a branch large enough to stiffen the brush
+near the break. Swiftly he built a shaky footing and crept out toward
+the colt. By shoving the riata under the colt's belly with a forked
+stick, and fishing the loose end up on the other side, he managed to get
+a loop round the animal's hind quarters. He mounted his own horse and
+took a turn of the riata round the saddle-horn.
+
+His pony set its feet and leaned to the work. Slowly the colt was drawn
+to solid ground.
+
+He was a pitiful object as he lay panting and shivering, plastered with
+mud and black slime, and almost dead from shock and chill. Collie spread
+his slicker over him and rode up the hill at a trot. The blunder colt
+raised its head a little, then dropped it and lay motionless.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Collie and Billy Dime returned with gunnysacks and an old blanket,
+the sun had warmed the air. The mud on the colt's side and neck had
+begun to dry.
+
+Billy Dime commented briefly. "He's a goner. He's froze clean to his
+heart. Why didn't you leave him where he was?"
+
+Collie spread the gunnysacks on a level beneath a live-oak, beneath
+which they dragged the colt and covered him with the blanket. They gave
+him whiskey with water that they heated at a little fire of brush. The
+colt lifted its head, endeavoring spasmodically to get to its feet.
+
+"He's wearin' hisself out. He ain't got much farther to go," said Billy
+Dime, mounting and turning his pony. "Come on, kid. If he's alive
+to-morrow mornin'--good enough."
+
+"I think I'll stay awhile," said Collie. "Brand says he isn't worth
+saving, but--I kind of like the cuss. He's different."
+
+"Correct, nurse, he is. You can telephone me if the patient shows signs
+of bitin' you. Keep tabs on his pulse--give him his whiskey regular, but
+don't by no means allow him to set up in bed and smoke. I'll call again
+nex' year. So long, sweetness."
+
+"You go plump!" laughed Collie.
+
+And Billy Dime rode over the hill singing a dolefully cheerful ditty
+about burying some one on the "lo-o-ne prairee." To him a horse was
+merely something useful, so long as it could go. When it couldn't go, he
+got another that could.
+
+Collie replenished the smoking fire, scraped some of the mud from the
+colt's thick, winter coat, and heated a half-dozen large stones.
+
+His brother cowmen would have laughed at these "tender ministrations,"
+and Collie himself smiled as he recalled Billy Dime's parting
+directions.
+
+Collie placed the heated stones round the shivering animal, re-dried the
+blanket at the fire, and covered the pitifully weak and panting
+creature. The colt's restless lifting of its head he overcame by sitting
+near it and stroking its muzzle with a soothing hand.
+
+Time and again he rose to re-heat the stones and replenish the fire. The
+colt's breathing became less irregular. He gave it more of the hot
+whiskey and water.
+
+Then he mended the fence. He had brought an axe with him and a supply of
+staples.
+
+Toward mid-afternoon he became hungry and solaced himself with a
+cigarette.
+
+Again the blunder colt became restless, showing a desire to rise, but
+for lack of strength the desire ended with a swaying and tossing of its
+head.
+
+Evening came quickly. The air grew bitingly chill. Collie wished that
+one of the boys would bring him something to eat. The foreman surely
+knew where he was. Collie could imagine the boys joking about him over
+their evening "chuck."
+
+With the darkness he drew on his slicker and squatted by the fire. He
+fell asleep. He awoke shivering, to find the embers dull. The stars were
+intensely brilliant and large.
+
+Once during the evening he made up his mind to return to the
+ranch-house, but a stubborn determination to save the colt, despite the
+ridicule he knew he would elicit, held him to his task. Should he leave,
+the colt might become chilled again and die. Then he _would_ be open to
+ridicule. Collie reasoned that he must finish the task as he had begun
+it--thoroughly.
+
+Again he heated the stones, warmed the blanket, and gave "Blunder," as
+he now called him affectionately, some hot whiskey. Then he built a
+larger fire, wrapped himself in his saddle-blankets, and, with feet to
+the blaze, slept. His own pony grazed at large, dragging a rope.
+
+Habit brought Collie awake early. The fire had gone out. He was stiff
+with cold. Arising, he glanced at the heap beneath the blanket ringed
+with stones. "Time to eat!" he cried lustily, and whipped the blanket
+from the mud-encrusted Blunder. The colt raised its head, struggled, put
+out one stiff fore leg, and then the other. Collie grabbed the animal's
+tail and heaved. Blunder humped himself--and was on his feet, wobbling,
+dizzy-eyed, scandalously "mussed up"--but alive!
+
+"Whoop-ee!" shouted Collie as the colt staggered a pace or two trying
+his questionable strength. "Gee! But I'm hungry!"
+
+The Blunder, a mere caricature of a horse in pose and outward seeming,
+gazed at his rescuer with stupid eyes. He had not the faintest idea what
+all the joy was about, but something deep in his horse nature told him
+that the boisterous youth was his friend. Timidly he approached Collie,
+wagged his head up and down experimentally, as if trying his neck
+hinges, and reached out and nuzzled the young man's hand, nipping
+playfully at his fingers.
+
+Collie was dumbfounded. "He's thankin' me--the little cuss! Why, you
+rubber-kneed, water-eyed mud turtle you! I didn't know you had that
+much sense."
+
+The youth did not hear the regular beat of hoofs as Williams loped up,
+until the colt, stilt-legged, emitted a weak nicker. Collie turned.
+
+Williams smiled grimly. "Knew you'd stick," he said.
+
+He gazed at the revived colt, the circle of stones, and the blanket. He
+made no comment.
+
+Collie caught up his pony and mounted. As they rode over the hill
+together, Williams, turning in the saddle, laughed and pointed down
+toward the arroyo.
+
+The blunder colt, apparently overjoyed to be alive, had ambled awkwardly
+up to one of his mates who stood stolidly waiting for the sun to warm
+him. The other colt, unused to the Blunder's society and perhaps
+unfavorably impressed by his dissipated appearance, received this
+friendly overture with a pair of punishing hoofs. Blunder staggered and
+fell, but scrambled to his feet again, astonished, indignant, highly
+offended.
+
+"If you was to drive that blunder colt up to horse-heaven and he knew it
+_was_ horse-heaven, you'd have to turn him around and back him in. Then
+I reckon he'd bust the corral tryin' to get out again."
+
+Collie grinned. "Well, I wouldn't this morning--if there was anything
+to eat there, even hay."
+
+"Well, you don't get your breakfast at the chuck-house _this_ morning,"
+said Williams gruffly.
+
+"I don't, eh? Since when?"
+
+Williams again turned in his saddle, observing Collie for a minute
+before he spoke. "I see you're smilin', so I'll tell you. Since when?
+Well, since about two hours ago, when Miss Louise come steppin' over to
+the bunk-house and asks where you are. Billy Dime ups and tells her you
+was sick-nursin' the blunder colt. She didn't smile, but turned to me
+and asked me. I told her about what was doin'. I seen she had it in for
+somebody. It was me. 'Brand,' she says, quiet-like, 'is it customary on
+the Moonstone for lunch or dinner to be taken to the men that are
+staying out from camp?'
+
+"'Yes, ma'am,' says I.
+
+"And the plumb hell of it was," continued Williams, "she didn't say
+another word. I wisht she had. I feel like a little less than nothin'
+shot full of holes this lovely mornin'."
+
+Collie rode on silently.
+
+"Why don't you say somethin'?" queried Williams.
+
+"I was waiting for the rest of it," said Collie.
+
+Williams laughed. "I guess you ain't such a fool, at that, with your
+nussin' stock and settin' up nights with 'em. Miss Louise says to tell
+you to come right up to the house,--the _house_, you understand,--and
+get your breakfast with them. They said they was goin' to wait for you.
+I guess that ain't throwin' it into the rest of us some. Keep it up,
+Collie kid, keep it up, and you'll be payin' us all wages some day."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+GUESTS
+
+
+A month had passed since the rescue of the blunder colt. The air was
+warm and clear, the sky intensely blue. Moonstone Canon grew fragrant
+with budding flowers. The little lizards came from their winter crevices
+and clung to the sun-warmed stones. A covey of young quail fluttered
+along the hillside under the stately surveillance of the mother bird.
+Wild cats prowled boldly on the southern slopes. Cotton-tails huddled
+beneath the greasewood brush and nibbled at the grasses. The canon
+stream ran clear again now that the storm-washed silt had settled. On
+the peaks the high winds were cold and cutting, but on the slopes and in
+the valleys the earth was moist and warm.
+
+Louise, humming a song, rode slowly along the Moonstone Canon Trail. At
+the "double turn" in the canon, where dwelt Echo and her myrmidons,
+Louise rode more slowly.
+
+  "Dreaming Fance, the cobbler's son, took his tools and laces,
+  Wrought her shoes of scarlet dye, shoes as pale as snow.
+  They shall lead her wild-rose feet all the faery paces,
+  Danced along the road of love, the road such feet should go."
+
+She sang slowly, pausing after each line that the echoes might not blur.
+
+"Danced along ... along ... the road ... of love, the road ... of
+love ... of love," sang the echoes.
+
+Louise smiled dreamily. Then the clatter of Boyar's shod hoofs rang and
+reechoed, finally to hush in the gravel of the ford beyond.
+
+Why Louise thought of Collie just then, it would be difficult to
+imagine. Still, she had, ever since his night's vigil with the blunder
+colt, caught herself noting little details associated with him and his
+work. He brushed his teeth. Not all of the other men did. He did not
+chew tobacco. Despite his lack of early training, he was naturally neat.
+He disliked filth instinctively. His bits, spurs, and trappings shone.
+He had learned to shoe his string of ponies--an art that is fast
+becoming lost among present-day cowmen. With little comment but faithful
+zeal he copied Brand Williams. This, of course, flattered the taciturn
+cowman, who unobtrusively arranged Collie's work so that it might bring
+the younger man before the notice of Walter Stone, and incidentally
+Louise. Of course, Louise was not aware of this.
+
+The girl no longer sang as she rode, but dreamed, with unseeing eyes on
+the trail ahead--dreamed such dreams as one may put aside easily until,
+perchance, the dream converges toward reality which cannot be so lightly
+put aside.
+
+Brand Williams had his own ideas of romance; ideas pretty well submerged
+in the deeps of hardy experience, but existing, nevertheless, and as
+immovable as the bed of the sea. He badgered Collie whenever he chanced
+to have seen him with the Rose Girl, and smiling inwardly at the young
+man's indignation, he would straightway arrange that Collie should ride
+to town, for, say, a few pounds of staples wanted in a hurry, when he
+knew that the buckboard would be going to town on the morrow, and also
+that there were plenty of staples in the storeroom.
+
+Something of the kind was afoot, or rather a-saddle, as Louise rode down
+the Moonstone Trail, for beyond the turn and the rippling ford she saw a
+lithe, blue-shirted figure that she knew.
+
+Louise would not have admitted even to herself that she urged Boyar.
+Nevertheless the reins tightened and slackened gently. Boyar swung into
+his easy lope. It pleased the girl that Collie, turning in his saddle at
+the sound of hoofs, waved a salute, but did not check his horse. He had
+never presumed on her frank friendship and "taken things for granted."
+He kept his place always. He was polite, a little reticent, and very
+much in love with Louise. Louise did not pretend to herself that she
+was not aware of it. She was all the more pleased that Collie should act
+so admirably. She had loaned him books, some of which he had read
+faithfully and intelligently. In secret he had kissed her name written
+on the flyleaf of each of them. He really rather adored Louise than
+loved her, and he builded well, for his adoration (unintimate as
+adoration must ever be until perchance it touches earth and is
+translated into love) was of that blithe and inspiriting quality that
+lifts a man above his natural self and shapes the lips to song and the
+heart to unselfish service. He knew himself to be good-looking and not
+altogether a barbarian. No morbid hopelessness clouded his broad
+horizon. He knew himself and cherished his strength and his optimism. He
+ate slowly, which is no insignificant item on the credit side of the big
+book of Success.
+
+Collie lifted his broad-brimmed hat as Louise rode up. His face was
+flushed. His lips were smiling, but his dark eyes were steady and grave.
+
+"'Morning, Collie! Boyar is just bound to lope. He never can bear to have
+a horse ahead of him."
+
+"He don't have to, very often," said Collie.
+
+"Of course, there are Kentucky saddle-horses that could beat him. But
+they are not cow-ponies."
+
+"No. And they couldn't beat him if they had to do his work in the
+hills. About a week of the trails would kill a thoroughbred."
+
+"Boyar is very conceited, aren't you, Boy?" And she patted the sleek
+arch of his neck.
+
+"I don't blame him," said Collie, his eyes twinkling.
+
+"Going all the way to town?" asked Louise.
+
+"Yes. Brand wants some things from the store."
+
+"I'm going to the station. We expect a telegram from some friends. Maybe
+they'll be there themselves. I hope not, though. They said they were
+coming to-morrow, but would telegraph if they started sooner. We would
+have to get Price's team and buckboard--and I'd be ashamed to ride
+behind his horses, especially with my--my friend from the East."
+
+"Boyar and this here buckskin colt would make a pretty fair team,"
+ventured Collie, smiling to himself.
+
+"To drive? Heavens, Collie, no! They've neither of them been in
+harness."
+
+"I was just imagining," said Collie.
+
+"Of course!" exclaimed Louise, laughing. "I understand. Why, I must be
+late. There's the train for the north just leaving the station. I
+expected to be there in case the Marshalls did come to-day. But they
+said they'd telegraph."
+
+"I can see three folks on the platform," said Collie. "One is the
+agent; see his cap shine? Then there's a man and a woman."
+
+"If it's Anne, she'll never forgive me. She's so--formal about things.
+It can't be the Marshalls, though."
+
+"We can ride," suggested Collie. And the two ponies leaped forward. A
+little trail of dust followed them across the valley.
+
+At the station Louise found her guests, young Dr. Marshall and his wife;
+also the telegram announcing the day they would arrive.
+
+"I'm sorry," began Louise; but the Marshalls silenced her with hearty
+"Oh, pshaws!" and "No matters!" with an incidental hug from Anne.
+
+"Why, you have changed so, Anne!" exclaimed Louise. "What _have_ you
+been doing? You used to be so terribly formal, and now you're actually
+hugging me in public!"
+
+"The 'public' has just departed, Miss Lacharme, with your pony, I
+believe. He rides well--the tall dark chap that came with you."
+
+"Oh, Collie. He's gone for the buckboard, of course. Stupid of me not to
+drive down. We really didn't expect you until to-morrow, but you'll
+forgive us all, won't you? You can see now how telegrams are handled at
+these stations."
+
+Anne Marshall, a brown-eyed, rather stately and pleasingly slender girl,
+smiled and shook her head. "I don't know. I may, if you will promise to
+introduce me to that fascinating young cowboy that rode away with your
+horse. I used to dream of such men."
+
+Young Dr. Marshall coughed. The girls laughed.
+
+"Oh, Collie?" said Louise. "Of course, you will meet him. He's our
+right-hand man. Uncle Walter says he couldn't get along without him and
+Aunty Eleanor just thinks he is perfect."
+
+"And Louise?" queried Anne Marshall.
+
+"Same," said Louise non-committally. "I don't see why he took Boyar with
+him to the store, though."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Marshalls and Louise paced slowly up and down the station platform,
+chatting about the East and Louise's last visit there, before Anne was
+married. Presently they were interrupted by a wild clatter of hoofs and
+the grind and screech of a hastily applied brake. The borrowed
+buckboard, strong, light, two-seated, and built for service, had arrived
+dramatically. Collie leaned back, the reins wrapped round his wrists,
+and his foot pressing the brake home. In the harness stood, or rather
+gyrated, Boyar and Collie's own pony Apache. It is enough to say that
+neither of them had ever been in harness before. The ponies were trying
+to get rid of the appended vehicle through any possible means. Louise
+gasped.
+
+"Price's team is out--over to the Oro Ranch. I knew you wanted a team in
+a hurry--" said Collie.
+
+"It looks quite like a team in a hurry," commented Dr. Marshall. "Your
+man is a good driver?"
+
+"Splendid!" said Louise. "Come on, Anne. You always said you wanted to
+ride behind some real Western horses. Here they are."
+
+"Why, this is just--just--bully!" whispered the stately Anne Marshall.
+"And isn't he a striking figure?"
+
+"Yes," assented Louise, who was just the least bit uncertain as to the
+outcome of Collie's hasty assembling of untutored harness material. "It
+is just 'bully.' Where in the world did you unearth that word, Anne?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+A RED EPISODE
+
+
+Dr. Marshall's offhand designation of the buckboard as "a team in a
+hurry" was prophetic, even unto the end.
+
+What Boyar could not accomplish in the way of equine gymnastics in
+harness, Apache, Collie's pony, could.
+
+Louise was a little fearful for her guests, yet she had confidence in
+the driver. The Marshalls apparently saw nothing more than a pair of
+very spirited "real Western horses like one reads about, you know,"
+until Dr. Marshall, slowly coming out of a kind of anticipatory haze, as
+Boyar stood on his hind feet and tried to face the buckboard, recognized
+the black horse as Louise's saddle animal. He took a firmer grip on the
+seat and looked at Collie. The young man seemed to be enjoying himself.
+There wasn't a line of worry on his clean-cut face.
+
+"Pretty lively," said the doctor.
+
+Collie, with his foot on the brake and both arms rigid, nodded.
+Moonstone Canon Trail was not a boulevard. He was not to be lured into
+conversation. He was giving his whole mind and all of his magnetism to
+the team.
+
+Boyar and Apache took advantage of every turn, pitch, steep descent, and
+ford to display the demoniacal ingenuity inspired by their outraged
+feelings. They were splendid, obedient saddle-animals. But to be buckled
+and strapped in irritating harness, and hitched to that four-wheeled
+disgrace, a buckboard!...
+
+Anne Marshall chatted happily with Louise, punctuating her lively
+chatter with subdued little cries of delight as some new turn in the
+trail opened on a vista unimaginably beautiful, especially to her
+Eastern eyes.
+
+Young Dr. Marshall, in the front seat with Collie, braced his feet and
+smiled. _He_ had had experience, in an East-Side ambulance, but then
+that had been over level streets. He glanced over the edge of the canon
+road and his smile faded a little. It faded entirely as the front wheel
+sheared off a generous shovelful of earth from a sharp upright angle of
+the hill as the team took the turn at a gallop. The young physician had
+a sense of humor, which is the next best thing to courage, although he
+had plenty of his kind of courage also. He brushed the earth from his
+lap.
+
+"The road needs widening there, anyway," commented Collie, as though
+apologizing.
+
+"I have my--er--repair kit with me," said the genial doctor. "I'm a
+surgeon."
+
+Collie nodded, but kept his eyes rigidly on the horses. Evidently this
+immaculate, of the white collar and cuffs and the stylish gray tweeds,
+had "sand."
+
+"They're a little fussy--but I know 'em," said Collie, as Boyar,
+apparently terror-stricken at a manzanita that he had passed hundreds of
+times, reared, his fore feet pawing space and the traces dangerously
+slack. Louise bit her lower lip and quickly called Anne's attention to a
+spot of vivid color on the hillside. To Dr. Marshall's surprise, Collie
+struck Apache, who was behaving, smartly with the whip. Apache leaped
+forward, bringing Boyar down to his feet again. The doctor would have
+been inclined to strike Boyar for misbehaving. He saw Collie's wisdom
+and smiled. To have punished Boyar when already on his hind feet would
+have been folly.
+
+At the top of the next grade the lathering, restive ponies finally
+settled to a stubborn trot. "Mad clean through," said Collie.
+
+"I should say they were behaving well enough," said the doctor, not as
+much as an opinion as to relieve his tense nerves in speech.
+
+"When a bronc' gets to acting ladylike, then is the time to look out,"
+said Collie. "Boyar and Apache have never been in harness before. Seems
+kind of queer to 'em."
+
+"What! Never been--Why! Huh! For Heaven's sake, don't let Mrs. Marshall
+hear that."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Walter Stone and his wife made the Marshalls feel at home immediately.
+Walter Stone had known Dr. Marshall's father, and he found in the son a
+pleasant living recollection of his old friend. Aunt Eleanor and Louise
+had visited with Anne when they were East. She was Anne Winthrop then,
+and Louise and she had found much in common to enjoy in shopping and
+sightseeing. Their one regret was that Louise would have to return to
+the West before her marriage to the young Dr. Marshall they all admired
+so much. There had been vague promises of coming West after "things were
+settled," as Anne put it. Which was merely another way of saying, "After
+we are married and have become enough used to each other to really enjoy
+a long trip West."
+
+The Marshalls had arrived with three years of happiness behind them, and
+apparently with an aeon or so of happiness to look forward to, for they
+were quiet, unassuming young folks, with plenty of money and no desire
+whatever to make people aware of it.
+
+The host brought cigars and an extra steamer-chair to the wide veranda.
+"It's much cooler out here. We'll smoke while the girls tell each other
+all about it."
+
+"I _should_ like to sit on something solid for a few minutes," said the
+doctor. "It was a most amazing drive."
+
+"We're pretty well used to the canon," said Stone. "Yet I can see how it
+would strike an Easterner."
+
+"Indeed it did, Mr. Stone. There is a thrill in every turn of it, for
+me. I shall dream of it."
+
+"Were you delayed at the station?" queried Stone.
+
+"We wired," said the doctor. "It seems that the telegram was not
+delivered. Miss Lacharme explained that messages have to wait until
+called for, unless money is wired for delivering them."
+
+"That is a fact, Doctor. Splendid system, isn't it?"
+
+"I am really sorry that we put Miss Lacharme to so much trouble. She had
+to scare up a team on the instant."
+
+"Price, the storekeeper, brought you up, didn't he?"
+
+"I don't think so. Miss Louise called him 'Collie,' I believe. He'd make
+a splendid army surgeon, that young man! He has nerves like tempered
+steel wire, and I never saw such cool strength."
+
+"Oh, that's nothing. Any one could drive Price's horses."
+
+The doctor smiled. "The young man confided to me that their names were
+'Boyar' and 'Apache,' I believe. They both lived up to the last one's
+name."
+
+"Well, I'll be--Here, have a fresh cigar! I want to smoke on that.
+Hu-m-m! Did that young pirate drive those saddle-animals--drive 'em from
+the station to this rancho--Whew! I congratulate you, Doctor. You'll
+never be killed in a runaway. He's a good horseman, but--Well, I'll talk
+to _him_."
+
+"Pardon me if I ask you not to, Stone. The girls enjoyed it immensely.
+So did I. I believe the driver did. He never once lost his smile."
+
+"Collie is usually pretty level-headed," said Walter Stone. "He must
+have been put to it for horses. Price's team must have been out."
+
+"He's more than level-headed," asserted Dr. Marshall. "He's magnetic. I
+could feel confidence radiating from him like sunshine from a brick
+wall."
+
+"I think he'll amount to something, myself. Everything he tackles he
+tackles earnestly. He doesn't leave loose ends to be picked up by some
+one else later. I've had a reason to watch him specially. Three years
+ago he was tramping it with a 'pal.' A boy tramp. Now see what he's
+grown to be."
+
+"A _tramp_! No!"
+
+"Fact. He's done pretty well for himself since he's been with us. He had
+a hard time of it before that."
+
+"I served my apprenticeship in the slums," said Dr. Marshall. "East-Side
+hospital. I think that I can also appreciate what you have done for
+him."
+
+"Thank you, Doctor,--but the credit belongs with the boy. Hello! Here
+are our girls again." And Walter Stone and the doctor rose on the
+instant.
+
+"I think I shall call you Uncle Walter," said Anne Marshall, who had not
+met Walter Stone until then.
+
+"I'm unworthy," said the rancher, his eyes twinkling. "And I don't want
+to be relegated to the 'uncle' class so soon."
+
+"_Thanksawfully_," said Louise.
+
+"Jealous, mouse?"
+
+"Indeed, no. I'm not Mrs. Marshall's husband."
+
+"I have already congratulated the doctor," said Walter Stone, bowing.
+
+"Doctor," said Anne, in her most formal manner. "You're antique. Why
+don't you say something bright?"
+
+"I do, every time I call you Anne. I really must go in and brush up a
+bit, as you suggest. You'll excuse me, I'm sure."
+
+"Yes, indeed,--almost with pleasure. And, Doctor, _don't_ wear your
+fountain-pen in your white vest pocket. You're not on duty, now."
+
+In the shadows of the mountain evening they congregated on the veranda
+and chatted about the East, the West, and incidentally about the
+proposed picnic they were to enjoy a few days later, when "boots and
+saddles" would be the order of the day. "And the trails are not bad,
+Anne," said Louise. "When you get used to them, you'll forget all about
+them, but your pony won't. He'll be just as deliberate and anxious about
+your safety, and his, at the end of the week as he was at the
+beginning."
+
+"Imagine! A week of riding about these mountains! How Billy would have
+enjoyed it, Doctor."
+
+"Yes. But I believe he is having a pretty good time where he is."
+
+"We wish he could be here, Anne," said Louise. "I've never met your
+brother. He's always been away when I have been East."
+
+"Which has been his misfortune," said Dr. Marshall.
+
+"He writes such beautiful letters about the desert and his mining
+claim,--that's his latest fad,--and says he's much stronger. But I
+believe they all say that--when they have his trouble, you know."
+
+"From Billy's last letter, I should say he was in pretty fair shape,"
+said the doctor. "He's living outdoors and at a good altitude, somewhere
+on the desert. He's making money. He posts his letters at a town called
+'Dagget,' in this State."
+
+"Up above San Berdoo," said Walter Stone. And he straightway drifted
+into reverie, gazing at the bright end of his cigar until it faded in
+the darkness.
+
+"Hello!" exclaimed Dr. Marshall, leaning forward. "Sounds like the
+exhaust of a pretty heavy car. I didn't imagine any one would drive that
+canon road after dark."
+
+"Unusual," said Stone, getting to his feet. "Some one in a hurry. I'll
+turn on the porch-light and defy the mosquitoes."
+
+With a leonine roar and a succeeding clatter of empty cylinders, an
+immense racing-car stopped at the gate below. The powerful headlight
+shot a widening pathway through the night. Voices came indistinctly from
+the vicinity of the machine. Before Walter Stone had reached the bottom
+step of the porch, a huge figure appeared from out the shadows. In the
+radiance of the porch-light stood a wonderfully attired stranger. Frock
+coat, silk hat, patent leathers, striped trousers, and pearl gaiters, a
+white vest, and a noticeable watch-chain adorned the driver of the
+automobile. He stood for a minute, blinking in the light. Then he swept
+his hat from his head with muscular grace. "Excuse me for intrudin'," he
+said. "I seen this glim and headed for it. Is Mr. Walter Stone at
+lee-sure?"
+
+"I'm Walter Stone," said the rancher, somewhat mystified.
+
+"My name's Summers, Jack Summers, proprietor of the Rose Girl Mine." And
+Overland Red, erstwhile sheriff of Abilene, cowboy, tramp, prospector,
+gunman, and many other interesting things, proffered a highly engraved
+calling-card. Again he bowed profoundly, his hat in his hand, a white
+carnation in his buttonhole and rapture in his heart. He had seen Louise
+again--Louise, leaning forward, staring at him incredulously. Wouldn't
+the Rose Girl be surprised? She was.
+
+"I can't say that I quite understand--" began Stone.
+
+"Why, it's the man who borrowed my pony!" exclaimed Louise.
+
+"Correct, Miss. I--I come to thank you for lendin' me the cayuse that
+time."
+
+Walter Stone simply had to laugh. "Come up and rest after your trip up
+the canon. Of course, you want to see Collie. He told me about your
+finding the claim. Says you have given him a quarter-interest. I'm glad
+you're doing well."
+
+"I took a little run in to Los to get some new tires. The desert eats
+'em up pretty fast. The Guzzuh, she cast her off hind shoe the other
+day. I was scared she'd go lame. Bein' up this way, I thought I'd roll
+up and see Collie."
+
+"The 'Guzzuh'?" queried Stone. "You rode up, then?"
+
+"Nope. The Guzzuh is me little old racin'-car. I christened her that
+right after I got so as I could climb on to her without her pitchin' me
+off. She's some bronc' she is."
+
+Overland Red, despite his outward regeneration, was Overland Red still,
+only a little more so. His overwhelming apparel accentuated his
+peculiarities, his humorous gestures, his silent self-consciousness. But
+there was something big, forceful, and wholesouled about the man,
+something that attracted despite his incongruities.
+
+Anne Marshall was at once--as she told Louise later--"desperately
+interested." Dr. Marshall saw in Overland a new and exceedingly virile
+type. Even gentle Aunt Eleanor received the irrepressible with
+unmistakable welcome. She had heard much of his history from Collie.
+Overland was as irresistible as the morning sun. While endeavoring
+earnestly to "do the genteel," as he had assured Winthrop he would when
+he left him to make this visit, Overland had literally taken them by
+storm.
+
+Young Dr. Marshall studied him, racking his memory for a name. Presently
+he turned to his wife. "What was Billy's partner's name--the miner? I've
+forgotten."
+
+"A Mr. Summers, I believe. Yes, I'm sure. Jack Summers, Billy called him
+in his letters."
+
+"Just a minute," said the doctor, turning to Overland, who sat,
+huge-limbed, smiling, red-visaged, happy. "Pardon me. You said Mr. Jack
+Summers, I believe? Do you happen to know a Mr. Winthrop, Billy
+Winthrop?"
+
+"Me? What, Billy? Billy Winthrop? Say, is this me? I inhaled a whole lot
+of gasoline comin' up that grade, but I ain't feelin' dizzy. Billy
+Winthrop? Why--" And his exclamation subsided as he asked cautiously,
+"Did you know him?"
+
+"I am his sister," said Anne Marshall.
+
+Overland was dumbfounded. "His sister," he muttered. "The one he writ to
+in New York. Huh! Yes, me and Billy's pardners."
+
+"Is he--is he better?" asked Anne hesitatingly.
+
+"Better! Say, lady, excuse me if I tell you he's gettin' so blame frisky
+that he's got me scared. Why, I left him settin' on a rock eatin' a
+sardine san'wich with one hand and shootin' holes in all the tin cans in
+sight with the other. 'So long, Red!' he hollers as I lit out with the
+burro to cross the range. 'So long, and don't let your feet slip.' And
+_Pom!_ goes the .45 that he was jugglin' and another tin can passed
+over. He takes a bite from the san'wich and then, _Pom!_ goes the gun
+again and another tin can bites the dust, jest as free and easy as if he
+wasn't keepin' guard over thirty or forty thousand dollars' worth of
+gold-dust and trouble, and jest as if he ain't got no lungs at all."
+
+"Billy must have changed a little," ventured Dr. Marshall, smiling.
+
+"Changed? Excuse me, ladies. But when I first turned my lamps on him in
+Los, I says to myself if there wasn't a fella with one foot in the grave
+and the other on a banana-peel, I was mistook. And listen! He come out
+to the Mojave with me. He jest almost cried to come. I was scared it was
+vi'lets and 'Gather at the River,' without the melodeum, for him. But
+you never see a fella get such a chest! Search me if I knows where he
+got it from, for he wasn't much bigger around in the works than a
+mosquito when I took him up there. And eat! My Gosh, he can eat! And a
+complexion like a Yaqui. And he can sleep longer and harder and louder
+than a corral of gradin' mules on Saturday night! 'Course he's slim
+yet, but it's the kind of slim like rawhide that you could hobble a
+elephant with. And, say, he's a pardner on your life! Believe me, and
+I'm listenin' to myself, too."
+
+"His lungs are better, then?"
+
+"Lungs? He ain't got none. They're belluses--prime California skirtin'
+leather off the back. Lady, that kid is a wonder."
+
+"I'm awfully glad Billy is better. He _must_ be, judging from what you
+tell me."
+
+"I wisht I'd 'a' had him runnin' the 'Guzzuh' instead of that little
+chicken-breasted chaffer they three-shelled on to me in Los Angeles. I
+hired him because they said I 'd better take him along until I was some
+better acquainted with the machine. The Guzzuh ain't no ordinary
+bronc'."
+
+"The 'Guzzuh'?" queried Dr. Marshall.
+
+"Uhuh. That's what I christened her. She's a racer. She's sixty
+hoss-power, and sometimes I reckon I could handle sixty hosses easier to
+once than I could her. We was lopin' along out in the desert, 'bout
+fifty miles an hour by the leetle clock on the dashboard, when all of a
+sudden she lays back her ears and she bucks. I leans back and keeps her
+head up, but it ain't no use. She gives a jump or two and says
+'_Guzzuh!_' jest like that, and quits. I climbs out and looked her over.
+She sure was balky. I was glad she said _somethin'_, if it was only
+'Guzzuh,' instead of quittin' on me silent and scornful. Sounded like
+she was apologizin' for stoppin' up like that. I felt of her chest and
+she was pretty much het up. When she cooled off, I started her
+easy--sort of grazin' along pretendin' we wasn't goin' to lope again.
+When she got her second wind I give her her head, and she let out and
+loped clean into the desert town, without makin' a stumble or castin' a
+shoe. Paid three thousand for her in Los. She is guaranteed to do eighty
+miles on the level, and she does a whole lot of other things that ain't
+jest on the level. She'd climb a back fence if you spoke right to her. A
+sand-storm ain't got nothin' on her when she gets her back up."
+
+"Your car must be unique," suggested Walter Stone.
+
+"Nope. She ain't a 'Yew-neck.' I forget her brand. I ain't had her very
+long. But I can run her now better than that little
+two-dollar-and-a-half excuse they lent me in Los. He loses his nerve
+comin' up the canon there. You see the Guzzuh got to friskin' round the
+turns on her hind feet. So I gives him a box of candy to keep him quiet
+and takes the reins myself. I got my foot in the wrong stirrup on the
+start--was chokin' off her wind instead of feedin' her. Then I got my
+foot on the giddap-dingus and we come. The speed-clock's limit is ninety
+miles an hour and we busted the speed clock comin' down that last
+grade. But we're here."
+
+Dr. Marshall and Walter Stone gazed at each other. They laughed.
+Overland smiled condescendingly. Anne Marshall had recourse to her
+handkerchief, but Louise did not smile.
+
+"Does Billy ever drive your car?" asked Anne Marshall presently.
+
+"He drives her in the desert and in the hills some. He drove her into a
+sand-hill once clean up to her withers. When he came back,--he kind of
+went ahead a spell to look over the ground, so he says,--he apologizes
+to her like a gent. Oh, he likes her more 'n I do. Bruck two
+searchlights at one hundred dollars a glim, but that's nothin'. Oh, yes,
+Billy's got good nerve."
+
+Overland shifted his foot to his other knee and leaned back luxuriously,
+puffing fluently at his cigar.
+
+"Billy did get to feelin' kind of down, a spell back. He had a argument
+with a Gophertown gent about our claim. I wasn't there at the time, but
+when I come back, I tied up Billy's leg--"
+
+"Goodness! His leg?" exclaimed Anne.
+
+"Yes, ma'am. The Gophertown gent snuck up and tried to stick Billy up
+when Billy was readin' po'try--some of mine. Billy didn't scare so easy.
+He reaches for his gun. Anyhow, the Gophertown gent's bullet hit a rock,
+and shied up and stung Billy in the leg. Billy never misses a tin can
+now'days, and the gent was bigger than a can. We never seen nothin' of
+him again."
+
+"Gracious, it's perfectly awful!" cried Anne.
+
+"Yes, lady. That's what Billy said. He said he didn't object to gettin'
+shot at, but he did object to gettin' hit, especially when he was
+readin' po'try. Said it kind of bruck his strand of thought. That guy
+was no gent."
+
+Walter Stone again glanced at Dr. Marshall. Aunt Eleanor rose, bidding
+the men good-night. Louise and Mrs. Marshall followed somewhat
+reluctantly. Stone disappeared to return with cigars, whiskey and
+seltzer, which he placed at Overland's elbow. "My friend Dr. Marshall is
+an Easterner," he said.
+
+Overland waved a comprehending hand, lit another cigar, and settled
+back. "Now I can take the hobbles off and talk nacheral. When you gents
+want me to stop, just say 'Guzzuh.'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+"TO CUT MY TRAIL LIKE THAT!"
+
+
+Overland Red was concluding his last yarn, a most amazing account of
+"The night the Plancher boys shot up Abilene."
+
+It was exactly two o'clock by Dr. Marshall's watch.
+
+"Both my guns was choked up with burnt powder. I reached down and
+borrowed two guns off a gent what wasn't usin' his jest then. Next day I
+was elected sheriff unanimous. They was seven of us left standin'. That
+was back in '98." Overland yawned and stood up.
+
+"The boys are all asleep now," said Walter Stone. "We have plenty of
+room here. You'll not object to taking one of the guest-rooms as you
+find it, I'm sure."
+
+"For better or for worse, as the pote says." And Overland grinned. "But
+I got to put that little chaffer to roost somewhere."
+
+"That's so."
+
+"I'll go wake him up." And Overland strode to the racing-car. The
+"chaffer" had departed for parts unknown.
+
+"I guess he was scared at that last grade," said Overland, returning to
+the house. "He's gone. He must 'a' been scared, to beat it back down the
+road afoot."
+
+"Perhaps he has gone to the stables," said Stone. "Well, we'll take care
+of you here. You can see Collie in the morning."
+
+Overland, closing the door of the spacious, cool guest-room, glanced
+about curiously. What was it made the place seem so different from even
+the most expensive hotel suites? The furniture was very plain. The
+decorations were soft-toned and simple. "It's--it's because the Rose
+Girl lives here, I guess," he soliloquized. "Now this kind of a roost
+would jest suit Billy, but it makes me feel like walkin' on eggs. This
+here grazin' is too good for me."
+
+He undressed slowly, folding his unaccustomed garments with great care.
+He placed his automatic pistol on the chair by the bed. Then he crept
+beneath the sheets, forgetting to turn out the light. "Huh! Gettin'
+absent-minded like the old perfessor what picked up a hairbrush instead
+of a lookin'-glass to see if he needed shavin'. He was dum' near scared
+to death to see how his beard was growin'." And Overland chuckled as he
+turned out the lights.
+
+He could not go to sleep at once. He missed the desert night--the spaces
+and the stars. "I left here in a hurry once," he muttered. "'Bout three
+years ago. Then I was kiddin' Collie about wearin' silk pejammies. Now I
+got 'em--got 'em on, by thunder! Don't know as I feel any heftier in the
+intellec'. And I can't show 'em to nobody. What's the good of havin' 'em
+if nobody knows it? But I can hang 'em on the bedpost in the mornin',
+careless like, jest like I was raised to it. Them pejammies cost four
+dollars a leg. Some class...." And he drifted to sleep.
+
+After breakfast Dr. Marshall, who had taken a fancy to Overland,
+strolled with him over to the bunk-house. Most of the men were on the
+range. Collie was assembling bits and bridles, saddles, cinchas, and
+spurs, to complete an equipment for the proposed camping trip in the
+hills. He was astounded at Overland's appearance. However, he had
+absorbed Western ideals rapidly. He was sincerely glad, overjoyed, to
+see his old friend, but he showed little of it in voice and manner. He
+shook hands with a brief, "How, Red!" and went on with his work.
+
+Dr. Marshall, after expressing interest in the equipment, excused
+himself and wandered over to the corrals, where he admired the horses.
+
+"Where did you get 'em?" queried Collie, adjusting the length of a pair
+of stirrup-leathers.
+
+"These?" And Overland spread his coat-tails and ruffled. "Why, out of
+the old Mojave. Dug 'em up with a little pick and shovel."
+
+"You said in your letter you found the claim."
+
+"Uhuh. Almost fell over it before I did, though. We never found the
+other things, by the track. New ties. No mark. Say, that Billy Winthrop
+I writ about is the brother of them folks stayin' here! What do you
+think!"
+
+"Wish I was out there with you fellows," said Collie.
+
+"You're doin' pretty good right here, kiddo. The boss don't think you're
+the worst that ever came acrost, and I expect the ladies can put up with
+havin' you on the same ranch by the way they talk. Got a hoss of your
+own yet?"
+
+"Nope. I got my eye on one, though. Say, Red, this is the best place to
+work. The boss is fine. I'm getting forty a month now, and savin' it.
+The boys are all right, too. Brand Williams, the foreman--"
+
+"Brand who?"
+
+"Williams. He came from Wyoming."
+
+"Well, this here's gettin' like a story and not like real livin'. Why, I
+knowed old Brand in Mex. in the old days when a hoss and a gun was about
+all a guy needed to set up housekeepin'. We was pals. So he's foreman
+here, eh? Well, you follow his trail close about cattle or hosses and
+you'll win out."
+
+"I been doing that," said Collie. "The other day he told me to keep my
+eye on one of the boys. Silent Saunders, he's called. Kind of funny. I
+don't know anything about Saunders."
+
+"Well, you bank on it. Stack 'em up chin-high on it, Collie, if Brand
+says that. He knows some-thin' or he would never talk. Brand is a
+particular friend of yours?"
+
+"You bet!"
+
+"Well, tie to him. What he says is better than fine gold as the pote
+says. I reckon coarse gold suits me better, outside of po'try. How does
+the Saunders insec' wear his clothes?"
+
+"He's kind of lame in one arm and--here he comes now. You can see for
+yourself. The one on that pinto."
+
+As Saunders rode past the two men, he turned in his saddle. Despite
+Overland's finery he recognized him at once.
+
+Overland's gaze never left the other's hands. "Mornin'," said Overland,
+nodding. "Ain't you grazin' pretty far this side of Gophertown?"
+
+"Who the hell are you talkin' to?" Saunders asked venomously, and his
+eyes narrowed.
+
+Overland grinned, and carelessly shifted the lapel of his coat from
+beneath which peeped the butt of his automatic pistol. Collie felt his
+scalp tightening. There was something tense and suggestive in the air.
+
+"I'm talkin' to a fella that ought to know better than to get sassy to
+me," said Overland, "or to cut my trail like that."
+
+Saunders rode on.
+
+"Seen him before?" asked Collie.
+
+"Yep. Twice--over the end of a gun. He come visitin' me and Billy at a
+water-hole out in the dry spot. We got to exchangin' opinions. Two of
+mine he ain't forgot, I guess."
+
+"Saunders is branded above the elbows on both arms," said Collie. "He's
+been shot up pretty bad."
+
+"You don't tell! Wonder how that happened. Mebby he was practicin' the
+double roll and got careless. Now, I wonder!"
+
+"He's one of the 'bunch'?" said Collie, suddenly awake to the situation.
+"Come on over to the bunk-house where we can talk, Red. I'll introduce
+you regular to Silent."
+
+"All right. Here, you walk on the other side. I'm left-handed when I
+shake with him."
+
+But Saunders was not at the bunk-house. Instead he had ridden on down to
+the gate and out upon the Moonstone Trail. He had become acquainted with
+Deputy Tenlow. He would make things interesting for the man who had
+"winged" him out in the desert.
+
+"I smell somethin' burnin'," said Overland significantly. "The Saunders
+man has got somethin' up his sleeve. He didn't turn his pony into the
+corral, did he?"
+
+"No."
+
+"All right. Now, about them papers and your part of this here claim ..."
+
+For an hour they talked about the claim, Winthrop, Collie's prospects,
+and their favorite topic, the Rose Girl. They were speaking of her when
+she appeared at the bunk-house door.
+
+"Good-morning, Mr. Summers. Mrs. Marshall wished to know if you would
+tell her more about her brother--when you have visited with Collie. She
+was afraid you might leave without her seeing you again."
+
+"I was thinkin' about that myself," replied Overland. "Yes, Miss, I'll
+be right over direct."
+
+Louise nodded, smiled, and was gone.
+
+"Say, Red, you better go quick, in the machine," said Collie, fearful
+that Saunders was up to mischief.
+
+"Grand idea, that," said Overland, calmly brushing his hat. "But Tenlow
+and Saunders--that you're thinkin' about--ain't neither of 'em goin' to
+ride up too close to me again. They are goin' to lay for me down the
+canon. They'll string a riata across the road and hold up the car, most
+likely. They know I can't get out of here any other road."
+
+"Then what will you do?"
+
+"Me? Why, me and the Guzzuh'll go down the trail jest as slow and easy
+as a baby-buggy pushed by a girl that's waitin' in the park for her
+beau."
+
+"You'll ditch the machine and get all broke up," ventured Collie.
+
+"I am havin' too good a time to last, I know, seein' the Rose Girl again
+and you and visitin' the folks up to the house. Well, if it's my turn, I
+ain't kickin'. Sorry Brand ain't here. I'd like to see him. Here's a
+little old map I drawed of the hills, and how to get to the claim in
+case I get detained for speedin'. Get Brand, if anything happens. He's a
+steady old boat and he'll tell you what to do."
+
+"But, Red, you don't think--?"
+
+"Not when it hurts me dome," interrupted Overland. "I got a hunch I'll
+see you again before long. So long, Chico. I got to shine some of the
+rust off my talk and entertain the ladies. You might get into my class,
+too, some day, if you knowed anything except hoss-wrastlin' and
+cow-punchin'," he added affectionately.
+
+And Overland departed, sublimely content and not in the least disturbed
+by future possibilities. "He's the great kid!" he kept repeating to
+himself. "He's the same kid--solid clean through.... Good-morning,
+ladies. Now about Billy--er--Mr. Winthrop; why, as I was say-in' last
+night.... No, thanks, I'll set facin' the road. Sun? Why, lady, I'm
+sun-cured, myself."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+THE LED HORSE
+
+
+Anne Marshall had stepped from the porch to the living-room. Overland
+Red was alone with Louise.
+
+Facing her quickly, his easy banter gone, his blue eyes intense,
+untroubled, magnetic, he drew a deep breath. "They're waiting for me
+down the canon, about now," he said, and his tone explained his speech.
+
+Louise frowned slightly, studying his face. "That is unfortunate, just
+now," she said slowly.
+
+"Or most any time--for the other fella," responded Overland cheerfully.
+
+The girl gazed at the toe of her slipper. "I know you didn't speak
+because you were afraid. What do you intend?"
+
+"If I ain't oversteppin' the rules in invitin' you--why, I was goin' to
+say, 'Miss Lacharme, wouldn't you like to take a little buggy-ride in
+the Guzzuh, nice and slow. She's awful easy ridin' if you don't rein her
+too strong.'"
+
+"I don't know," said Louise pensively. "Your car can only hold two?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"I couldn't run away and leave Mrs. Marshall. Of course, you would go
+on--after--after we were in the valley. How could I get back?"
+
+"That's so!" exclaimed Overland, with some subtlety, pretending he had
+not thought of that contingency. "'Course Collie could ride down ahead
+with a spare hoss. You see the sheriff gent and Saunders--"
+
+"Saunders? Our man Saunders?"
+
+"Uhuh. Me and him ain't friends exactly. I figure he's rode down to tell
+the Tenlow man that I'm up here."
+
+"You are sure?"
+
+"Yes, Miss. I don't make no mistakes about him."
+
+"Then one of our men has gone to get the deputy to arrest you, and you
+are our guest."
+
+"Thanks, Miss, for sayin' that. It's worth gettin' pinched to be _your_
+guest."
+
+"I did intend to ride down for the mail. Boyar needs exercising."
+
+"So does the Guzzuh, Miss. It's queer how she acts when she ain't been
+worked every day."
+
+"I don't believe Anne would care to come, in the machine. I'll ask her."
+And Louise stepped to the living-room.
+
+Collie, who had been watching anxiously from the corrals, came across
+the yard to the veranda. He was dressed for riding, and he had a gun on
+his hip. Overland scowled. "You little idiot," he said, "when your Uncle
+Jack's brains get ossified, just give the sad news to the press. You're
+jest itchin' to get in a muss and get plugged. I ain't. I figure to ride
+down the Moonstone Trail, steerin' the Guzzuh with one hand and smellin'
+a bunch of roses in the other. Watch my smoke. Now, beat it!"
+
+Louise, coming blithely from the living-room, nodded to Overland. Her
+pensiveness had departed. Her cheeks were flushed. "Oh, Collie! Saddle
+Boyar--" she began, but Overland coughed disapprovingly. He did not wish
+Tenlow and Saunders to suspect that the led horse was for Louise.
+
+"Or--no. Saddle Sarko," said Louise, at once aware of Overland's plan.
+"And have him at the foot of the hill for me as soon as you can."
+
+"Yes, Miss Louise." And Collie departed for the corrals wonderingly.
+Overland was too much for him.
+
+They had luncheon and allowed Collie two hours to arrive at the valley
+level with the led pony. After luncheon Louise appeared in riding-skirt
+and boots. "Mr. Summers is going to take me for a ride in his new car,"
+she said. "Don't worry, aunty. He is going to drive slowly. He finds
+that he has to leave unexpectedly."
+
+"I'm sorry you are going without seeing Mr. Stone and Dr. Marshall
+again," said Aunt Eleanor. "You'll be careful, won't you?"
+
+"So am I, ma'am.--Yes, I'll run slow."
+
+"But how will you come back?" queried Anne.
+
+"Collie has gone ahead with a spare pony. Good-bye, aunty."
+
+"I can't thank you enough for all that you have done for Billy. I am so
+glad he's well and strong again. We never could manage him. Good-bye,
+and tell Billy he _must_ come over and see us right away."
+
+"You'll drive carefully?" queried Aunt Eleanor again.
+
+"Jest like I was goin' to get pinched," said Overland, bowing.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As Collie rode down the last pitch, leading the restive Sarko, Dick
+Tenlow stepped from the brush. "'Morning, Collie. Out for a little
+pasear?"
+
+"Shouldn't wonder, Dick."
+
+"Horses are lookin' good. Feed good on the hills yet?"
+
+"Pretty good."
+
+"I hear you got company up to the Moonstone."
+
+"Yep. Eastern folks, doctor and his wife." And Collie looked the deputy
+hard in the eye.
+
+"Oh, that was their machine I heard coughin' up the canon last night,
+eh?"
+
+"I didn't ask them about that," replied Collie.
+
+"You're improvin' since you first come into these hills," said Tenlow,
+with some sarcasm.
+
+"I'm holdin' down a better job than I did then," said Collie
+good-naturedly.
+
+"Well, I ain't. I'm holdin' the same job, which you will recollect. It
+ain't much of a job, but it's good to requisition that cayuse you're
+leadin'."
+
+"What you kiddin' about?"
+
+"Straight goods," said Tenlow, reaching for Sarko's reins. "Just hand
+over your end of that tie-rope."
+
+"I guess not, Dick. You're on the wrong trail. What do you think I am?"
+
+"Same as I always thought."
+
+"Then you want to change your opinion of me," said Collie, relinquishing
+the tie-rope. "I ain't breaking the law, but you are going to hear more
+about this."
+
+"I'll risk that. You can ride right along, pronto."
+
+"And you keep Sarko? I guess not! I'll stick."
+
+"You can't throw no bluff this morning," said Tenlow, irritated by the
+youth's persistence. "I guess you know what I mean."
+
+"You got the horse, but I don't leave here without him," said Collie
+stubbornly. And there was an underlying assurance about Collie's
+attitude that perplexed the deputy, who was satisfied that the led horse
+was for Overland Red's use.
+
+Saunders, hiding back in the brush, cursed Tenlow's stupidity. To have
+let Collie go on and have followed him under cover would have been the
+only sensible plan. Rapidly approximating the outcome of this muddle,
+Saunders untied his pony and rode back toward the ranch, taking an
+unused and densely covered bridle-trail.
+
+From up in the canon came the thunder of the racing-car. Far above them
+Tenlow and Collie could see it creeping round a turn in the road. It
+disappeared in a dip, to reappear almost instantly, gliding swiftly down
+the long slant toward the valley. The staccato drumming of the exhaust
+echoed along the hillside. Overland's silk hat shone bravely in the sun.
+Beside the outlaw was the figure of a woman. Tenlow foresaw
+complications and muttered profanely.
+
+Down the next ditch rolled the car, rocking to the unevenness of the
+mountain road. Overland opened the throttle, the machine shot forward,
+and in a few seconds drew up abreast of the deputy.
+
+"Thank you so much, Mr. Summers," said Louise, stepping from the car.
+"How are you, Mr. Tenlow."
+
+"How'do, Miss Lacharme."
+
+"Good-bye, Mr. Summers. I enjoyed the ride very much."
+
+"Just a minute--" began the deputy.
+
+"Where's my pony, Collie? He didn't get away, did he?"
+
+"No, ma'am. Mr. Tenlow 'requisitioned' him. Thought I'd wait till you
+came along so I could explain."
+
+"Requisitioned my pony! What do you mean?"
+
+"It's this way, Miss Lacharme. That man there in the machine is wanted.
+He--"
+
+"What has that to do with my pony, please?"
+
+"I guess you know who he is. I figured he was layin' to get away on that
+pony."
+
+"You want to go back to school, pardner, and learn to figure correct,"
+said Overland, his foot on the accelerator pedal of the throbbing car.
+"One minus one is nothin'."
+
+"Hold on there!" cried Tenlow, striding forward. Louise stood between
+the deputy and the car.
+
+"My horse, please," she said quietly. As she spoke the car roared,
+jumped forward, and shot down the smooth grade of the valley road.
+
+"Now, Mr. Tenlow, I wish you would explain this to me. And then to Uncle
+Walter. I sent one of our men with a horse. He was to wait for me here.
+What right have you to interfere with him?"
+
+"I guess I got as much right as you have to interfere with me," said
+Tenlow sullenly.
+
+"Hold on there!" cried Collie, jumping forward.
+
+"Collie, I'll talk with him."
+
+"Take my horse, Miss Louise," said Collie, flushing.
+
+"No, indeed. I'll ride Sarko."
+
+"I'll get him," said Collie.
+
+"No. Mr. Tenlow will get him, I am sure."
+
+"A woman can make any deal look smooth--if she is interested," said
+Tenlow, turning toward the brush. He came out leading the pony.
+
+"Thank you. Collie, you may get the mail, please."
+
+Collie stood watching her as she rode away. Then with much deliberation
+he tied his own pony Apache to a clump of greasewood. He unbuckled his
+belt and flung it, with gun and holster, to the ground.
+
+"Now," he said, his face blazing white with suppressed anger. "I'm going
+to make you eat that speech about any woman making things look
+smooth--_if she's interested_."
+
+"You go on home or I'll break you in two," said Tenlow.
+
+Collie's reply was a flail-like blow between Tenlow's eyes. The deputy
+staggered, gritted his teeth, and flung himself at the younger man. The
+fight was unequal from the beginning. Apache snorted and circled as the
+bushes crashed and crackled.
+
+A few minutes later, Tenlow strode from the brush leading his pony. He
+wiped the blood and sweat from his face and spat viciously.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Louise, riding homeward slowly, heard a horse coming behind her. She
+reined Sarko and waited. Collie saw no way out of it, so he rode up,
+grinning from a bruised and battered face.
+
+"Why, Collie!"
+
+The young man grinned again. His lips were swollen and one eye was
+nearly closed.
+
+Dismounting, Louise stepped to the ford. "Oh, I'm sorry!" she cried.
+"Your face is terribly bruised. And your eye--" She could not help
+smiling at Collie's ludicrous appearance.
+
+"I took a fall," he mumbled blandly. "Apache here is tricky at times."
+
+Louise's gaze was direct and reproachful. "Here, let me bathe your face.
+Stoop down, like that. You don't look so badly, now that the dirt is
+off. Surely you didn't fall on your _eye_?"
+
+Collie tried to laugh, but the effort was not very successful.
+
+Tenderly she bathed his bruised face. Her nearness, her touch, made him
+forget the pain. Suddenly he seized her hand and kissed it, leaving a
+stain of blood where his lips had touched. She was thrilled with a
+mingled feeling of pride and shame--pride in that he had fought because
+of her, as she knew well enough, and shame at the brutality of the
+affair which she understood as clearly as though she had witnessed it.
+She was too honest to make herself believe she was not flattered, in a
+way, but she made Collie think otherwise.
+
+He evaded her direct questioning stubbornly. Finally she asked whether
+Mr. Tenlow "had taken a fall," or not.
+
+"Sure he did!" replied Collie. "A couple or three years ago--tryin' to
+outride Overland Red. Don't you remember?"
+
+"Collie, you're a regular hypocrite."
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"And you look--frightful."
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"You're not a bit ashamed."
+
+"Yes, ma'am, I am."
+
+"Don't say 'Yes, ma'am' all the time. You don't seem to be ashamed. Why
+should you be, though. Because you were fighting?"
+
+"No, Miss Louise. Because I got licked."
+
+Louise mounted Sarko and rode beside Collie silently. Presently she
+touched his arm. "But did you?" she asked, her eyes grave and her tone
+conveying a subtle question above the mere letter.
+
+"No! By thunder!" he exclaimed. "Not in a hundred years!"
+
+"Well, get some raw meat from the cook. I'll give your explanation to
+Dr. and Mrs. Marshall, for you will have to be ready for the trip
+to-morrow. You will have to think of a better explanation for the boys."
+
+While riding homeward, Louise dropped her glove. Collie was afoot
+instantly and picked it up. "Can I keep it?" he said.
+
+The girl looked curiously at him for a moment. "No, I think not,
+Collie," she said gently.
+
+Collie rode up to the corrals that afternoon whistling as blithely as he
+could considering his injuries. He continued to whistle as he unsaddled
+Apache.
+
+At the bunk-house Brand Williams looked at him once, and bent double
+with silent laughter. The boys badgered him unmercifully. "Fell off a
+hoss!--Go tell that to the chink!--Who stepped on your face, kid?--Been
+ridin' on your map, eh?--Where _was_ the wreck?--Who sewed up your
+eye?"
+
+"S-s-h-h, fellas," said Miguel, grinning. "If you make all that noise,
+how you going to hear the tune he is whistling, hey?"
+
+Collie glanced at Saunders, who had said nothing. "Got anything to offer
+on the subject, Silent?" he asked.
+
+"Nope. I take mine out in thinkin'."
+
+"You're going to have a chance to do a whole lot more of it before
+long," said Collie; and he said it with a suggestiveness that did not
+escape the taciturn foreman, Brand Williams.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+BORROWED PLUMES
+
+
+"He speaks of a pretty round sum," said Walter Stone, returning the
+letter that Collie had asked him to read. "I don't know but that the
+land you speak of is a good investment. You were thinking of raising
+stock--horses?"
+
+"Yes, sir. The Oro people are making good at it. The land north of you
+is good grazing-land and good water. Of course, I got to wait for a
+while. Red says in the letter that my share of the claim so far is five
+thousand. That wouldn't go far on that piece of land, but I've saved
+some, too."
+
+"You might make a payment to hold the land," said Stone.
+
+"I don't like that way. I want to buy it all at once."
+
+Walter Stone smiled. Collie was ambitious, and rather inexperienced. "So
+you think you will leave us and go to mining until you have made enough
+more to buy it outright?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I don't want you to think I ain't satisfied here. I like it
+here."
+
+"I know you do, Collie. Well, think it over. Prospecting is gambling.
+It is sometimes magnificent gambling. Miss Lacharme's father was a
+prospector. We have never heard from him since he went out on the
+desert. But that has nothing to do with it. If I didn't believe you'd
+make a first-rate citizen, I shouldn't hesitate a minute about your
+going. I'd rather see you ranching it. We need solid men here in
+California. There are so many remittance-men, invalids, idlers,
+speculators, and unbalanced enthusiasts that do more harm than good,
+that we need a few _new_ landmarks. We need a few new cornerstones and
+keystones to stiffen the structure that is building so fast. I realize
+that we must build from the ground up--not hang out tents from the
+trees. That day is past."
+
+"It's a big thing--to be stuck on California more than getting rich,"
+said Collie.
+
+"Yes. The State of California is a bank--a new bank. The more depositors
+we have, the stronger we shall be--provided our depositors have faith in
+us. We have their good will now. We need solid, two-handed men who can
+take hold and prove that investment in our State is profitable."
+
+"You bet!" exclaimed Collie, catching some of the older man's
+enthusiasm. Then he added with less enthusiasm: "But how about such
+things as the Jap ranchers dumping carloads of onions in the rivers and
+melons in the ocean, by the ton, and every one cut so it can't be used
+by poor folks? If Eastern people got on to that they would shy off
+pretty quick."
+
+"Yes," said the rancher, frowning. "It's true enough that such things do
+happen. I've known of boatloads of fish being dumped back in the ocean
+because the middlemen wouldn't give the fishermen a living price. In
+western Canada thousands of bushels of grain have been burned on the
+ground because the Eastern market was down and the railroads would not
+make a rate that would allow a profit to the farmer. Such things are not
+local to California. California is in the limelight just now and such
+things are naturally prominent."
+
+"It looks awful bad for good fruit and vegetables and fish to be thrown
+away when folks have to pay ten cents for a loaf of bread no bigger than
+a watch-charm," said Collie.
+
+"It is bad. Crookedness in real estate transactions is bad. We don't
+want to waste our time, however, in feeling worried about it. What we
+want to do is to show the other fellow that _our_ work is successful and
+straight."
+
+"Yes, sir. A fellow has got to believe in something. I guess believing
+in his own State is the best."
+
+"Of course. Now, about your leaving us. I had rather you would stay
+until the Marshalls go. Louise and Mrs. Stone depend on you so much."
+
+"Sure I will! You see, Red don't say to come, in his letter, but he sent
+the check for three hundred if I did want to come. There's no hurry."
+
+"All right. Hello, Louise! Dinner waiting?"
+
+"Yes, Uncle Walter. How are you, Collie?" And Louise nodded to him.
+"What are you two hatching? You seem so serious."
+
+"Plans for the ultimate glory of the State," said Stone.
+
+"Ultimate?"
+
+"Yes. We've been going beneath the surface of things a little. Collie
+expects to go even deeper, so he tells me."
+
+Collie walked slowly toward the bunk-house. Halfway there he took
+Overland's check from the letter and studied it. He put it back into his
+pocket. As he passed the corrals, Apache nickered in a friendly way.
+"Haven't got a thing for you," said Collie. "Not a bite. We're not goin'
+to town to-day. To-morrow, maybe, for there'll be doings at the Oro
+Rancho and we'll be there--we'll be there!"
+
+With a run and a spring the young man leaped the gate and trotted into
+the bunk-house.
+
+Brand Williams was solemnly shaving. He turned a lathered face toward
+Collie whose abrupt entrance had all but caused the foreman to
+sacrifice his left ear. "Well," he drawled, "who is dead?"
+
+"You mean, Who is alive? I guess. Say, Brand, what do you think that
+Yuma horse over at the Oro is worth?"
+
+"That dam' outlaw? Ain't worth the trouble of mentioning."
+
+"But, oh, Brand, she's built right! I tell you! Short-coupled, and them
+legs and withers! They ain't a pony in the valley can touch her. And
+only three years old!"
+
+"Nor a man neither," said Williams.
+
+"She's been scared to death because the fellows was scared of her and
+started in wrong."
+
+"So'll the man be that tries to ride her. Say, I seen that
+copper-colored, china-eyed, she-son of a Kansas cyclone put Bull O'Toole
+so far to the bad once that his return ticket expired long before he got
+back. I tell you, kid, she's _outlaw_. She's got the disposition of a
+Comanche with a streak of lightnin' on a drunk throwed in. You keep off
+that hoss!"
+
+"Maybe," said Collie. "But I notice you put me to breakin' about all the
+stock on this ranch that you can't handle yourself."
+
+Which was true. Williams shaved and perspired in silence.
+
+"Let's see," he said presently, emerging from the wash-basin. "When's
+that barbecue comin' off?"
+
+"To-morrow. As if you didn't know!"
+
+"Sunday, eh? Well, you might as well get killed on a Sunday as any other
+day. I suppose your askin' about that hoss means you are thinkin' of
+ridin' her, eh?"
+
+"I was thinkin' of it. They are putting her up as a chance for the man
+that can. She has put three of their boys to the bad. Matt Gleason, the
+Oro foreman, says he'll give her to any Moonstoner that can stay on her
+two minutes."
+
+"He said 'Moonstoner' particular?" queried Williams.
+
+"He did. To me. I was over tryin' to buy her."
+
+"You're plumb loco. So he said any _Moonstoner_ eh? Any Moonstoner. By
+crip, I've a notion--Let's see, there's Miguel--he's too swift. Billy
+Dime might make it if he didn't get too much red-eye in him first. Bud
+ain't steady enough--and it wouldn't look right if I was the only rider
+here to take a chance. I dunno."
+
+"What you gaspin' about?" queried Collie.
+
+"Nothin', kid. You can get hosses ready for all the ladies for to-morrow
+mornin' at six sharp. Sabe? I got orders to send you over with 'em.
+Mebby you're some proud now, eh? Well, don't fall off Apache pertendin'
+you're so polite you can't spit."
+
+"What you sore about, Brand?"
+
+"I was thinkin' what a slashin' string of riders we got. Here a little
+old ranch like the Oro says they'll give a hoss to any Moonstoner what
+kin stay on him for two minutes. It's plumb sickenin'. Kids! Jest kids,
+on this ranch."
+
+"That so? Say, Brand, you ain't got rid of so much English talk at once
+since I been here. You ought to talk more. You keep too quiet. Talking
+sociable will help to take the wrinkles out of your neck."
+
+"You talk so much you'll never live to get any."
+
+"Say, Brand."
+
+"Uhuh."
+
+"Will you lend me the Chola spurs and that swell quirt old Miguel
+plaited for you, and your Mexican bridle, just for to-morrow?"
+
+"So that's what you been lovin' up to me for, eh?"
+
+"Lovin' up to you, you darned old--darned old--_dude_, you."
+
+"Hold on! You said it! Take the spurs! Take the quirt! Take the bridle!
+Take the hat and gloves with the silk roses on! Anybody that's got nerve
+enough to call _me_ a _dude_ can take anything I got. Say, you don't
+want to borrow a pair of _pants_, do you?"
+
+Honors were about even when Collie left the bunk-house, his arms laden
+with the foreman's finery. He colored to his hair as he saw Louise
+coming toward him. He fumbled at the gate, opened it, and stood aside
+for her to pass. As she smiled and thanked him, he heard his name
+called.
+
+"Hey!" shouted Williams, coming suddenly from the bunk-house. "Hey,
+Collie! You went away without them pants! I'll lend 'em to you--"
+
+Collie, his face flaming, strode down the trail, the blood drumming in
+his ears.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+THE YUMA COLT
+
+
+The Oro Rancho sent out word that the fiftieth year of its existence
+would be celebrated with an old-fashioned Spanish barbecue. The
+invitation was general, including every one within a radius of fifty
+miles.
+
+Added to the natural interest in good things to eat and drink was that
+of witnessing the pony races. Each rancher would bring, casually, almost
+accidentally, as it were, one pony that represented its owner's idea of
+speed and quality. No set programme offered, which made the races all
+the more interesting in that they were genuine.
+
+The Oro Ranch had long ago established and proudly maintained a
+reputation for breeding the best saddle-and work-stock in Southern
+California. In fact, the ranch survived the competition of the
+automobile chiefly because it was the only important stock-raising ranch
+in the southland.
+
+Good feeling went even so far as to include the sheep-ranchers of the
+old Spanish Grant, by special invitation.
+
+It was the delight and pride of native Californians to ride their best
+saddle-horses on such occasions. True, motor-cars came from the city and
+from the farthest homes, but locally saddle-horses of all sizes and
+kinds were in evidence. Sleek bays with "Kentucky" written in every
+rippling muscle, single-footed in beside heavy mountain ponies, well
+boned, broad of knee, strong of flank, and docile; lean mustangs of the
+valley, short-coupled buckskins with the endurance of live rawhide;
+Mexican pintos, restless and gay in carved leather, and silver
+trappings; scrawny stolid cayuses that looked half-starved, but that
+could out-eat and out-last many a better-built horse; they all came, and
+their riders were immediately made welcome.
+
+Under the trees, along the corrals and fences, in and around the
+stables, stood the ponies, heads tossing, bits jingling, stamping,
+thoroughly alive to the importance of the festive occasion, and filling
+the eye with an unforgettable picture--a living vignette of the old days
+of the range and riata.
+
+Mrs. Stone, Mrs. Marshall, Louise, Dr. Marshall, and Walter Stone were
+among the earlier arrivals. A half-dozen men sprang to take their horses
+as they rode up, but Collie gathered the bridle-reins and led the ponies
+to the shade of the pepper trees. Then he wandered over to the corrals.
+His eyes glowed as he watched the sleek ponies dodging, wheeling,
+circling like a battalion, and led by a smooth-coated, copper-hued mare,
+young, lithe, straight-limbed, and as beautifully rounded as a Grecian
+bronze. He moistened his lips as he watched her. He pushed back his hat,
+felt for tobacco and papers, and rolled a cigarette. This was the
+renowned "Yuma colt," the outlaw. He wanted her. She was a horse in a
+thousand.
+
+In some strange way he was conscious that Louise stood beside him,
+before he turned and raised his sombrero.
+
+"More beautiful than strong men or beautiful women," said Louise.
+
+"That's so, Miss Louise. Because they just live natural and act natural.
+And that copper-colored mare,--she's only a colt yet,--there's a horse a
+man would be willing to work seven years for like the man in the Bible
+did for his wife."
+
+Louise smiled. "Would you work seven years for her?" she asked.
+
+"I would, if I had to," he said enthusiastically.
+
+"Of course, because you really love horses, don't you?"
+
+"Better than anything else. Of course, there are mean ones. But a real
+good horse comes close to making an ordinary man feel ashamed of
+himself. Why, see what a horse will do! He will go anywhere--work all
+day and all night if he has to--run till he breaks his heart to save a
+fellow's life, and always be a friend. A horse never acts like eight
+hours was his day's work. He is willing at any time and all the
+time--and self-respectin' and clean. I reckon a knowin' horse just plumb
+loves a man that is good to him."
+
+Louise, her gray eyes wide and pensive, gazed at the young cowboy. "How
+old is the colt?" she asked.
+
+"They say three years. But she's older than that in brains. She is
+leading older horses than her."
+
+"Then if you worked seven years for her, she would be ten years old
+before you owned her."
+
+"You caught me there. I didn't think of that."
+
+"Uncle Walter says she is outlaw. I believe she could be tamed. Boyar
+was pretty wild before he was broken to ride."
+
+"If you want that pony, Miss Louise, she's yours. I guess I could break
+her."
+
+"They won't sell her. No, I was only romancing. Isn't she beautiful! She
+seems to be almost listening to us. What a head and what a quick,
+intelligent eye! Oh, you wonderful horse!" And laughing, Louise threw a
+kiss to the Yuma colt. "I must go. I came over to see the horses before
+the crowd arrived."
+
+Collie stood hat in hand watching Louise as she strolled toward the
+ranch-house. He saw her stop and pat Boyar.
+
+"I kind of wish I was a horse myself," he said whimsically. "Either the
+black or the outlaw. She treats them both fine."
+
+Brand Williams, Bud Light, Parson Long, Billy Dime, and Miguel rode up,
+talking, joking, laughing.
+
+"Fall to the kid!" said Miguel, indicating Collie. "I guess I'm scalded
+if he ain't nailed to the fence. He's just eating his head off thinking
+about the Yuma horse he dassent ride. No? Eh, Collie?"
+
+"Hello, Miguel. Nope. I'm taking lessons in tendin' to my own
+business--like them." And Collie nodded toward the horses.
+
+"Ain't he purty?" said Billy Dime. "All fussed up and walkin' round like
+a new rooster introducin' hisself to a set of strange hens. Oh, pshaw!"
+
+"And you're making a noise like one of the hens trying to get the notice
+of the new rooster, I guess."
+
+"Well, seem' I got the notice, come on over and I'll show you where they
+keep the ice--with things on it," said Billy Dime.
+
+The Moonstone riders dismounted, slapped the dust from their shirts and
+trousers, and ambled over toward the refreshments.
+
+The little group, happy, talkative, pledged each other and the Moonstone
+Ranch generously.
+
+Brand Williams, close to Collie, nudged him. "If you are thinkin' of
+takin' a fall out of the outlaw cayuse, don't hit this stuff much," he
+said. And Collie nodded.
+
+The Moonstoners would one and all back Boyar for a place in the finals
+of the pony races, despite the Mexican "outfit" that already mingled
+with them making bets on their favorite pinto.
+
+"Who's ridin' Boyar?" queried Bud Light.
+
+"In the races? Why, Miguel here," said Williams, slapping the Mexican on
+the shoulder. "He don't weigh much, but he's some glue-on-a-sliver when
+it comes to racin' tricks. The other Mexicans are after our pesos this
+time. Last year we skinned 'em so bad with Boyar takin' first that some
+of 'em had to wait till dark to go home."
+
+Collie, listening, felt his heart pump faster. He turned away for an
+instant that his fellows might not see the disappointment in his face.
+He had hoped to ride Boyar to victory.
+
+"Miss Louise could get more out of Boyar in a race than even Miguel
+here," said Billy Dime.
+
+"I dunno," said Williams. "She give me orders that Miguel was to ride
+Boyar if they was any racin'."
+
+So Louise herself had chosen Miguel to ride the pony. Collie grew
+unreasonably jealous. Once more and again he pledged the Moonstone
+Rancho in a brimming cup. Then he wandered over to the Mexican ponies,
+inspecting them casually.
+
+A Mexican youth, handsome, dark, smiling, offered to bet with him on the
+result of the races. Collie declined, but gained his point. He learned
+the Mexican's choice for first place, a lean, wiry buckskin with a goat
+head and a wicked eye, but with wonderful flanks and withers. Collie
+meditated. As a result he placed something like fifty dollars in bets
+with various ranchers, naming the Mexican horse for first place. Word
+went round that the Moonstone Kid was betting against his own horse.
+
+Later Brand Williams accosted him. "What you fell up against?" he asked
+sternly. "What made you jar yourself loose like that?"
+
+"It's horses with me to-day--not home-sweet-home, Brand. Bet you a pair
+of specs--and you need 'em--to a bag of peanuts that the Chola cayuse
+runs first."
+
+"Your brains is afloat, son. You better cut out the booze."
+
+Unexpectedly Collie encountered Louise as he went to look after his own
+horses.
+
+"I hear that you intend to ride the outlaw Yuma. Is it so?"
+
+Collie nodded.
+
+"I had rather you didn't," said Louise.
+
+"Why?" asked Collie, tactlessly.
+
+Louise did not answer, and Collie strode off feeling angry with himself
+and more than ever determined to risk breaking his neck to win the
+outlaw.
+
+Boyar, the Moonstone pony, ran second in the finals. The buckskin of the
+Mexicans won first place. Collie collected his winnings indifferently.
+He grew ashamed of himself, realizing that a foolish and unwarrantable
+jealousy had led him into a species of disloyalty. He was a Moonstone
+rider. He had bet against the Moonstone pony, and _her_ pony. He was
+about to ask one of the other boys to see to the horses when a tumult in
+the corrals drew his attention. He strolled over to the crowd, finding a
+place for himself on the corral bars.
+
+Mat Gleason, superintendent of the Oro Ranch, loafed, his back against a
+post. Two men with ropes were following the roan pony round the corral.
+Presently a riata flipped out and fell. Inch by inch the outlaw was
+worked to the snubbing-post. One of the Oro riders seized the pony's ear
+in his teeth and, flinging his legs round her neck, hung, weighing her
+head down. There was the flash of teeth, a grunting tug at the cinchas,
+a cloud of dust, and Jasper Lane, foreman of the Oro outfit, was in the
+saddle. The cloud of dust, following the roan pony, grew denser. Above
+the dun cloud a sombrero swung to and fro fanning the outlaw's ears.
+Jasper Lane had essayed to ride the Yuma colt once before. His broken
+shoulder had set nicely, in fact, better than Bull O'Toole's leg which
+had been broken when the outlaw fell on him. Billy Squires, a young
+Montana puncher working for the Oro people, still carried his arm in a
+sling. All in all, the assembled company, as Brand Williams mildly put
+it, "were beginning to take notice of that copper-colored she-son of a
+cyclone."
+
+Jasper Lane plied spurs and quirt. The visiting cowmen shrilled their
+delight. The pony was broncho from the end of her long, switching tail
+to the tip of her pink muzzle.
+
+Following a quick tattoo of hoofs on the baked earth came a flash like
+the trout's leap for the fly--a curving plunge--the sound as of a
+breaking willow branch, and then palpitating silence.
+
+The dun cloud of dust settled, disclosing the foam-flecked,
+sweat-blackened colt, oddly beautiful in her poised immobility. Near her
+lay Jasper Lane, face downward. The pony sniffed at his crumpled
+sombrero.
+
+"That horse is plumb gentle," said Collie. "Look at her!"
+
+"Crazy with the heat," commented Billy Dime, jerking his thumb toward
+Collie.
+
+Tall, slim, slow of movement, Collie slipped from the corral bars and
+secured the dangling reins. Across the utter silence came the whistle of
+a viewless hawk. The cowmen awakened from their momentary apathy. Two of
+them carried Jasper Lane toward the ranch-house. Some one laughed.
+
+Gleason, the superintendent, gazed at the outlaw pony and fingered his
+belt. "That's the fourth!" he said slowly and distinctly. "She ain't
+worth it."
+
+"The fourth Oro rider," said a voice. "You ain't countin' any Moonstone
+riders."
+
+"Ain't seen any to count," retorted Gleason, and there was a general
+laugh.
+
+Strangely enough, the outlaw pony followed Collie quietly as he led her
+toward Gleason, "The boys say there's a bet up that nobody can stick on
+her two minutes. She's the bet. Is that right?" said Collie.
+
+"What you goin' to do?" queried Gleason, and some of the Oro boys
+laughed.
+
+"I don't know yet," said Collie. "Maybe I'll take her back to the
+Moonstone with me."
+
+Miguel of the Moonstone removed his sombrero and gravely passed it.
+"Flowers for the Collie kid," he said solemnly.
+
+Collie, grave, alert, a little white beneath his tan, called for
+Williams to hold the pony. Then the younger man, talking to her
+meanwhile, slipped off the bridle and adjusted a hackamore in its place.
+He tightened the cinchas. The men had ceased joking. Evidently the kid
+meant business. Next he removed his spurs and flung them, with his
+quirt, in a corner.
+
+"Just defending yourself, eh, Yuma girl?" he said. "They cut all the
+sense out of you with a horse-killin' bit and rip you with the spurs,
+and expect you to behave."
+
+"He'll be teachin' her to say her prayers next," observed Bud Light.
+"He's gettin' a spell on her now."
+
+"He'll need all _his_ for himself," said Pars Long.
+
+The pony, still nervously resenting the memory of the mouth-crushing
+spade-bit, and the tearing rowels, flinched and sidled away as Collie
+tried to mount. Her glossy ears were flattened and the rims of her eyes
+showed white.
+
+"Jump!" whispered Williams. "And don't rough her. Mebby you'll win out."
+
+And even as Collie's hand touched the saddle-horn, Williams sprang back
+and climbed the corral bars.
+
+With a leap the Moonstone rider was in the saddle. The pony shook her
+head as he reined her round toward the corral gate. The men stared.
+Gleason swore. Billy Dime began to croon a range ditty about "Picking
+little Posies on the Golden Shore." The roan's sleek, sweating sides
+quivered.
+
+"Here's where she goes to it," said Williams.
+
+"Whoop! Let 'er buck!" shouted the crowd.
+
+Rebellion swelled in the pony's rippling muscles. She waited, fore feet
+braced, for the first sting of the quirt, the first rip of the spurs, to
+turn herself into a hellish thing of plunging destruction.
+
+Collie, leaning forward, patted her neck. "Come on, sis. Come on, Yuma
+girl. You're just a little hummingbird. You ain't a real horse."
+
+With a leap the pony reared. Still there came no sting of spur or quirt.
+She dropped to her feet. Collie had cleverly consumed a minute of the
+allotted time.
+
+"One minute!" called Williams, holding the watch.
+
+"Why, that ain't ridin'," grumbled an Oro man.
+
+"See you later," said Williams, and several of his companions looked at
+him strangely. The foreman's eyes were fixed on the watch.
+
+Collie had also heard, and he dug his unspurred heels into the pony's
+sides. She leaped straight for the corral gate and freedom. With a
+patter of hoofs, stiff-legged, she jolted toward the plain. The men
+dropped from the bars and ran toward the gate, all, except Williams, who
+turned, blinking in the sun, his watch in his hand.
+
+A few short jumps, a fish-like swirl sideways, and still Collie held his
+seat. He eased the hackamore a little. He was breathing hard. The horse
+took up the slack with a vicious plunge, head downward. The boy's face
+grew white. He felt something warm trickling down his mouth and chin. He
+threw back his head and gripped with his knees.
+
+"They're off!" halloed a puncher.
+
+"Only one of 'em--so far," said Williams. "One minute and thirty
+seconds."
+
+Then, like a bolt of copper light, the pony shot forward at a run.
+
+On the ranch-house veranda sat Walter Stone conversing with his host,
+where several girls, bright-faced and gowned in cool white, were talking
+and laughing.
+
+The pony headed straight for the veranda. The laughing group jumped to
+their feet. Collie, using both hands, swung the hackamore across the
+outlaw's neck and tugged.
+
+She stopped with a jolt that all but unseated him. Walter Stone rose.
+"It's one of my boys," he said. And he noticed that a little stream of
+red was trickling from Collie's mouth and nostrils.
+
+His head was snapped back and then forward at every plunge. Still he
+gripped the saddle with rigid knees. The outlaw bucked again, and flung
+herself viciously sideways, turning completely round. Collie pitched
+drunkenly as the horse came down again and again. His eyes were blurred
+and his brain grew numb. Faintly he heard Brand Williams cry, "Two
+minutes! Moonstone wins!" Then came a cheer. His gripping knees relaxed.
+He reeled and all around him the air grew streaked with slivers of
+piercing fire. He pitched headforemost at the feet of the group on the
+veranda.
+
+In a flash Louise Lacharme was beside him, kneeling and supporting his
+head. "Water!" she cried, wiping his face with her handkerchief.
+
+Boot-heels gritted on the parched earth and spurs jingled as the men
+came running.
+
+The pony, with hackamore dangling, raced across the plain toward the
+hills.
+
+"This'll do jest as well," said Williams, pouring a mouthful of whiskey
+between Collie's lips. Then the taciturn foreman lifted the youth to his
+feet. Collie dragged along, stepping shakily. "Dam' little fool!" said
+Williams affectionately. "You ain't satisfied to get killed where you
+belong, but you got to go and splatter yourself all over the front yard
+in front of the ladies. You with your bloody nose and your face shot
+plumb full of gravel. If you knowed how you looked when she piled you--"
+
+"I know how she looked," said Collie. "That's good enough for me. Did I
+make it?"
+
+"The bronc' is yours," said Williams. "Bud and Miguel just rode out
+after her."
+
+Then Williams did an unaccountable thing. He hunted among the crowd till
+he found the man who had said, "Why, that ain't ridin'." He asked the
+man quietly if he had made such a remark. The other replied that he had.
+Then Williams promptly knocked him down, with all the wiry strength of
+his six feet of bone and muscle. "Take that home and look at it," he
+remarked, walking away.
+
+Through the dusk of the evening the Moonstone boys jingled homeward, the
+horses climbing the trail briskly. Two of them worked the outlaw up the
+hill, each with a rope on her and each exceedingly busy. Collie was too
+stiff and sore to help them.
+
+Miguel, hilarious in that he had ridden Boyar to second place, and so
+upheld the Moonstone honor, sang many strange and wonderful songs and
+baited Collie between-whiles. Proud of their companion's conquest of the
+outlaw colt, the Moonstone boys made light of it proportionately.
+
+"Did you see him reclinin' on that Yuma grasshopper," said Bud Light,
+"and pertendin' he was ridin' a hoss?"
+
+"And then," added Billy Dime, "he gets so het up and proud that he rides
+right over to the ladies, and 'flop' he goes like swattin' a frog with a
+shingle. He rides about five rods on the cayuse and then five more on
+his map. Collie's sure tough. How's your mug, kid?"
+
+"It never felt so bad as yours looks naturally," responded Collie,
+puffing at a cigarette with swollen lips. "But I ain't jealous."
+
+"Now, ain't you?" queried Williams, who had ridden silently beside him.
+"Well, now, I was plumb mistook! I kind of thought you was."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+SILENT SAUNDERS SPEAKS
+
+
+Meanwhile Collie kept a vigilant eye on Silent Saunders. The other,
+somewhat sullenly but efficiently, attended to his work. Collie's
+vigilance was rewarded unexpectedly and rather disagreeably.
+
+One day, as he stood stroking Black Boyar's neck, he happened to glance
+across the yard. Saunders was saddling one of the horses in the corral.
+Louise, astride Boyar, spoke to Collie of some detail of the ranch work,
+purposely prolonging the conversation. Something of the Collie of the
+Oro barbecue had vanished. In its stead was an inexplicable but positive
+quality of masterfulness, apparent in poise and manner.
+
+Louise, because she knew him so well, was puzzled and curious. She could
+not account for the change. She was frankly interested in him in spite
+of, or perhaps because of, his early misfortunes. Instinctively she felt
+that he had gained a moral confidence in himself. His physical
+excellence and ability had always been manifest. This morning, his
+grave, dark eyes, upturned to her face as he caressed Boyar, were
+disconcertingly straightforward. He seemed to be drinking his fill of
+her beauty. His quick smile, still boyish, and altogether irresistible,
+flashed as she spoke humorously of his conquest of the outlaw colt Yuma.
+
+"I learned more--ridin' that cayuse for two minutes--than I ever expect
+to learn again in that time."
+
+Remembering that she had been first to reach him when he was thrown, the
+fresh bloom of her cheeks deepened. Her eyelids drooped for an instant.
+"One can learn a great deal quickly, sometimes," she said. Then added,
+for he had smiled again,--"About horses."
+
+"And folks." He spoke quietly and lifted her gauntleted hand, touching
+it lightly with his lips. So swift, so unexpected had been his homage
+that she did not realize it until it was irrevocably paid.
+
+"Why, Collie!"
+
+"Because you wasn't ashamed to help a guy in front of the others."
+
+"Please don't say 'guy.' And why should I be ashamed to help any of our
+boys?" she said, laughing. She had quite recovered herself.
+
+"'Course you wouldn't be. But this is a kind of 'good-bye,' too. I was
+going to ask you to mail this letter to Overland Red. I told him in it
+that I was coming."
+
+"We are sorry that you are leaving," said Louise. "Uncle Walter said you
+had spoken to him."
+
+"It isn't the money. I could wait. But I don't feel like taking all that
+money and not doing anything for it. I guess Red needs me, too. Brand
+says I'm a fool to quit here now. Mebby I am. I like it here; the work
+and everything."
+
+Saunders, watching them, saw Collie give Louise a letter. He saw her
+tuck it in her waist and rein Boyar round toward the gate.
+
+As Collie came toward the corrals he noticed that Saunders had saddled
+the pinto Rally. He was a little surprised. Rally was Walter Stone's
+favorite saddle-horse and used by none but him. He knew his employer was
+absent. Perhaps Saunders had instructions to bring Rally to the station.
+
+Collie paid no further attention to Saunders until the latter came from
+his quarters with a coat and a blanket-roll which he tied to the saddle.
+Then Collie became interested. He left the road and climbed the hill
+back of the corrals. He watched Saunders astride the pinto as he opened
+the gate and spurred through without closing it. That was a little
+unusual.
+
+"I feel almost like taking a cayuse and following him," muttered Collie.
+"But, no. What for, anyway?"
+
+On a rise far below was Black Boyar, loping along easily. Collie saw him
+stop and turn into the Old Meadow Trail. He watched for Saunders to
+appear on the road below the ranch. Presently out from the shoulder of a
+hill leaped Rally. Saunders was plying quirt and spur. The pinto was
+doing his best.
+
+"Something's wrong. I'll just take a chance." And Collie ran to the
+corral and roped the Yuma colt. He saddled her, led her a few steps that
+she might become used to the feel of the cinchas, and then mounted. He
+turned the pony up the hill and sat watching the pinto on the road
+below. He saw Saunders draw rein and dismount, apparently searching the
+road for something. Then he saw him mount quickly and disappear on the
+Old Meadow Trail.
+
+Collie whirled the pony round and down the hill. Through the gateway he
+thundered. The steel-sinewed flanks stiffened and relaxed rhythmically
+as the hillside flew past. The Yuma colt, half-wild, ran with great
+leaps that ate into space. They swept through the first ford. A thin
+sheet of water spread on either side of them. The outlaw fought the curb
+all the way up the hill beyond. Pebbles clattered from her hoofs and
+spun skyward as she raced along the level of the hilltop.
+
+Down the next grade the pony swung, taking the turns with short leaps.
+On the crest Collie checked her. The road beyond, clear to the valley,
+was empty.
+
+He examined the tracks entering the Old Meadow Trail. He had not been
+mistaken. Saunders had ridden in. Mounting, Collie spurred through the
+greasewood, trusting to the pony's natural activity and sure-footedness.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Louise, sitting on the dream-rock in the old meadow, gazed out across
+the valley. Black Boyar stood near with trailing bridle-reins.
+
+Despite herself the girl kept recalling Collie's face as he had talked
+with her at the ranch. Admiration she had known before and many
+times--adoration never, until that morning.
+
+For a long time she dreamed. The shadows of the greasewood lengthened.
+The air grew cooler. Louise ended her soliloquy by saying aloud: "He's a
+nice boy, though. I do hope he will keep as he is."
+
+Boyar, lifting his head, nickered and was answered by Rally, entering
+the meadow. Silent Saunders rode up hurriedly.
+
+"Why, Saunders,--what is it? That's Rally! Were you going to meet Uncle
+Walter?"
+
+"No, Miss. I'm in a hurry. Just hand over that letter that young Collie
+give to you at the ranch. I want it. I mean business."
+
+"You want the letter? What do you mean? What right have you--"
+
+"No right. Only I want it. I don't want to make trouble."
+
+"You! A Western man, and speak that way to a woman! Saunders, I'm
+ashamed to think you ever worked for us."
+
+"Oh, I know you got nerve. But I'm in a hurry. Hand it over. Then you
+can call me anything you like."
+
+"I shall not hand it over."
+
+"All right. I got to have it."
+
+The girl, her gray eyes blazing with indignation, backed away as he
+strode toward her. "You'd dare, would you?" And as Saunders laughed she
+cut him across the face with her quirt.
+
+His face, streaked with the red welt of the rawhide, grew white as he
+controlled his anger. He leaped at her and had his hands on her when she
+struck him again with all her strength. He staggered back, his hand to
+his eyes.
+
+A wild rush of hoofs, a shock, a crash, and he was beneath the plunging
+feet of the Yuma colt. The pony flashed past, her head jerking up.
+Louise saw Collie leap to the ground and come running back.
+
+Saunders, rolling to his side, reached for his holster, when he saw that
+in Collie's hand which precluded further argument.
+
+"Don't get up!" said Collie quietly. "I never killed a man--but I'm
+going to, quick, if you lift a finger."
+
+Saunders kept still. Collie stepped round behind him. "Now, get up,
+slow," he commanded.
+
+When Saunders was on his feet, Collie reached forward and secured his
+gun.
+
+"I'll send your check to the store," said Louise, addressing Saunders.
+"I shall tell Mr. Stone that I discharged you. I don't believe I had
+better tell the men about this."
+
+"Beat it, Saunders," said Collie, laughing. "You are leaving here afoot,
+which suits me fine. Red would be plumb happy to know it."
+
+"Red's goin' to walk into my lead some of these days."
+
+"That's some day. This is to-day," said Collie.
+
+Saunders, turning, gazed covetously at the pinto Rally. Collie saw, and
+smiled. "I missed twice. The third trick is goin' to be mine. Don't you
+forget that, Mister Kid," said Saunders.
+
+"Oh, you here yet?" said Collie; and he was not a little gratified to
+notice that Saunders limped as he struck off down the trail.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+"LIKE SUNSHINE"
+
+
+Louise drew off her gauntlets and tossed them on the rock. Collie saw
+the print of Saunders's fingers on her wrist and forearm. "I ought to
+'a' made him kneel down and ask you to let him live!" he said.
+
+"I was afraid--at first. Then I was just angry. It was sickening to see
+the marks grow red and swell on his face. I hit him as hard as I could,
+but I'm not sorry."
+
+"Sorry?" growled Collie. "He takes your brand with him. He didn't get
+the letter. I got to thank you a whole lot for that."
+
+"But how did he know I had it? What did he want with the letter?"
+
+"He saw me give it to you. He's one of the bunch, the Mojave bunch
+that's been trailing Red all over the country. When Red disappeared up
+in those desert hills, I reckon Saunders must have got hold of a paper
+and read about the get-away here at the Moonstone. He just naturally
+came over here and got a job to see if he couldn't trace Red."
+
+"You are thinking of joining Mr. Summers at the claim?"
+
+"Yes. The Eastern folks are gone now. I hate to go. But I got to get
+busy and make some money. A fellow hasn't much of a show without money
+these days."
+
+Louise was silent. She sat gazing across the valley.
+
+Collie approached her hesitatingly. "I just got to say it--after all
+that's happened. Seems that I could, now."
+
+Louise paled and flushed. "Oh, Collie!" she cried entreatingly. "We have
+been such good friends. Please don't spoil it all!"
+
+"I know I am a fool," he said, "or I was going to be. But please to take
+Boyar and go. I'll bring Rally. I was wrong to think you would listen a
+little."
+
+But Louise remained sitting upon the rock as though she had not heard
+him. Slowly he stepped toward her, his spurs jingling musically. He
+caught up one of her gloves and turned it over and over in his fingers
+with a kind of clumsy reverence. "It's mighty little--and there's the
+shape of your hand in it, just like it bends when you hold the reins. It
+seems like a thing almost too good for me to touch, because it means
+_you_. I know you won't laugh at me, either."
+
+Louise turned toward him. "No. I understand," she said.
+
+"Here was where Red and I first saw you to know who you was. I used to
+hate folks that wore good clothes. I thought they was all the same, you
+and all that kind. But, no, it ain't so. You looked back once, when you
+were riding away from the jail that time. I was going to look for Red
+and not go to work at the Moonstone. I saw you look back. That settled
+it. I was proud to think you cared even anything for a tramp. I was
+mighty lonesome then. Since, I got to thinking I'd be somebody some day.
+But I can see where I stand. I'm a puncher, working for the Moonstone.
+You kind of liked me because I had hard luck when I was a kid. But that
+made me _love_ you. It ain't wrong, I guess, to love something you can't
+ever reach up to. It ain't wrong to keep on loving, only it's awful
+lonesome not to ever tell you about it."
+
+"I'm sorry, Collie," said Louise gently.
+
+"Please don't you be sorry. Why, I'm glad! Maybe you don't think it is
+the best thing in the world to love a girl. I ain't asking anything but
+to just go on loving you. Seems like a man wants the girl he loves to
+know it, even if that is just all. You said I love horses. I do. But
+loving you started me loving horses. Red said once that I was just
+living like what I thought you wanted me to be. Red's wise when he
+takes his time to it. But now I'm living the way I think I want to. I
+won't ask you to say you care. I guess you don't--that way. But if I
+ever get rich--then--"
+
+"Collie, you must not think I am different from any other girl. I'm just
+as selfish and stubborn as I can be. I almost feel ashamed to have you
+think of me as you do. Let's be sensible about it. You know I like you.
+I'm glad you care--for--what you think I am."
+
+"That's it. You are always so kind to a fellow that it makes me feel
+mean to speak like I have. You listened--and I am pretty glad of that."
+
+He turned and caught Boyar's bridle. Mounting he caught up Yuma and
+Rally. Slowly Collie and the girl rode the trail to the level of the
+summit. Slowly they dropped down the descent into Moonstone Canon. The
+letter, Overland Red, Silent Saunders, were forgotten. Side by side
+plodded the pony Yuma and Black Boyar. Rally followed. The trees on the
+western edge of the canon threw long, shadowy bars of dusk across the
+road. Quail called from the hillside. Other quail answered plaintively
+from a distance. Alternate warmth and coolness swam in the air and
+touched the riders' faces.
+
+At a bend in the road the ponies crowded together. Collie's hand
+accidentally brushed against the girl's and she drew away. He glanced
+up quickly. She was gazing straight ahead at the distant peaks. He felt
+strangely pleased that she had drawn away from him when his hand touched
+hers. Some instinct told him that their old friendship had given place
+to something else--something as yet too vague to describe. She was not
+angry with him, he knew. Her face was troubled. He gazed at her as they
+rode and his heart yearned for her tenderly. Life had suddenly assumed a
+tensity that silenced them. The little lizards of the stones scurried
+away from either side of the road. One after another, with sprightly
+steps, a covey of mountain quail crossed the road before them, leaving
+little starlike tracks in the dust. Though homeward bound the ponies
+plodded with lowered heads. Moonstone Canon, always wonderful in its
+wild, rugged beauty, seemed as a place of dreams, only real as it echoed
+the tread of the ponies. The canon stream chattered, murmured, quarreled
+round a rock-strewn bend, laughed at itself, and passed, singing a
+cool-voiced melody.
+
+They rode through a vale of enchantment, only known to Youth and Love.
+Her gray eyes were misty and troubled. His eyes were heavy with
+unuttered longing. His heart pounded until it almost choked him. He bit
+his lips that he might keep silent.
+
+The glint of the slanting sunlight on her hair, the turn of her wrist as
+she held the reins, her apparent unconsciousness of all outward things
+enthralled him. A spell hung round him like a mist, blinding and
+baffling all clearer thought. And because Louise knew his heart, knew
+that his homage was not of books, but of his very self, she lingered in
+the dream whose thread she might have snapped with a word, a gesture.
+
+Generously the girl blamed herself that she had been the one to cause
+him sorrow. She could not give herself to him, be his wife as she knew
+he wished her to be. Yet she liked him more than she cared to admit. He
+had fought for her once and taken his punishment with a grin. She felt
+joy in his homage, and yet she felt humility. In what way, she asked
+herself, was she better, cleaner of heart, kinder or cleverer than
+Collie? Why should people make distinctions as to birth, or breeding, or
+wealth, when character and physical excellence meant so much more?
+
+"Collie!" she whispered, and the touch of her fingers on his arm was as
+the touch of fire,--"Collie!"
+
+She drew one of her little gray gauntlets from her belt. "Here," she
+said, and the word was a caress.
+
+But he put the proffered token away from him with a trembling hand.
+"Don't!" he cried. "I tried not to want you! I did try! This
+morning--before I told you--I could have knelt and prayed to your glove.
+But now, Louise, Louise Lacharme, I can't. That glove would burn me and
+drive me wild to come back to you."
+
+"To come back to you ...?" The words sung themselves through her
+consciousness. "Come back to you...." He was going away. "You care so
+much?" she asked. There was a new light in her eyes. Her face was almost
+colorless. So she had looked when Saunders threatened her. She swayed in
+the saddle. Collie's arm was about her. She raised one arm and flung it
+round his neck, drawing his face down to her trembling lips. Then she
+drew away, her face burning.
+
+Across the end of the canon a vagrant sunbeam ran like a bridge of faery
+gold. It pelted the gray wall with a million particles of mellow fire.
+It flickered, flashed anew, and faded. The ponies drew apart. The colt
+Yuma grew restless.
+
+"Good-bye," murmured Louise.
+
+"Like the sunshine," he said, pointing to the cliff.
+
+"It is gone," she whispered, shivering a little as the shadows drew
+down.
+
+"It will shine again," he said, smiling.
+
+Without a word she touched Black Boyar with the spurs. A stone clattered
+down as he leaped forward, and she was gone.
+
+Collie curbed the colt Yuma, who would have followed. "No, little
+hummingbird," he said whimsically. "We aren't so used to heaven that we
+can ride out of it quite so fast."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Next morning, with blanket and slicker rolled behind his saddle, he rode
+down the Moonstone Canon Trail. At the foot of the range he turned
+eastward, a new world before him. The far hills, hiding the desert
+beyond, bulked large and mysterious.
+
+Louise had not been present when he bade good-bye to his Moonstone
+friends.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS
+
+
+The afternoon of the third day out from the Moonstone Ranch, Collie
+picketed the roan pony Yuma near a water-hole in the desert. He spread
+his saddle-blankets, rolled a cigarette, and smoked. Presently he rose
+and took some food from a saddle-pocket.
+
+The pony, unused to the desert, fretted and sniffed at the sagebrush
+with evident disgust. Collie had given her water, but there was no
+grazing.
+
+After he had eaten he studied the rough map that Overland had given him.
+There, to the south, was the desert town. He had passed that, as
+directed, skirting it widely. There to the east were the hills.
+Somewhere behind them was the hidden canon and Overland Red.
+
+Stiff and tired from his long ride, he stretched himself for a short
+rest. He dozed. Something touched his foot. It was the riata with which
+he had picketed the pony. He meant to travel again that night. He would
+sleep a little while. The horse, circling the picket, would be sure to
+awaken him again.
+
+He slept heavily. The Yuma colt stood with rounded nostrils sniffing the
+night air. The pony faced in the direction of the distant town. She knew
+that another horse and rider were coming toward her through the
+darkness. They were far off, but coming.
+
+For a long time she stood stamping impatiently at intervals. Finally she
+grew restive. The oncoming horse had stopped. That other animal, the
+man, had dismounted and was coming toward her on foot. She could not see
+through the starlit blanket of night, but she knew.
+
+The man-thing drew a little nearer. The pony swerved as if about to run,
+but hesitated, ears flattened, curious, half-belligerent.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+That afternoon Silent Saunders, riding along the border of the desert
+town, had seen a strange horse and rider far out--away from the road and
+evidently heading for the water-hole. Saunders rode into town, borrowed
+a pair of field-glasses, and rode out again. He at once recognized the
+roan pony as the Oro outlaw, but the rider? He was not so sure. He would
+investigate.
+
+The fact that he saw no glimmer of fire as he now approached the
+water-hole made him doubly cautious. Nearer, he crouched behind a bush.
+He threw a pebble at the pony. She circled the picket, awakening Collie,
+who spoke to her sleepily. Saunders crept back toward his horse. He
+knew _that_ voice. He would track the young rider to the range and
+beyond--to the gold. He rode back to town through the night, entered the
+saloon, and beckoned to a belated lounger.
+
+Shivering in the morning starlight, Collie arose and saddled the pony.
+He rode in the general direction of the range. The blurred shadow of the
+foothills seemed stationary. His horse was not moving forward--simply
+walking a gigantic treadmill of black space that revolved beneath him.
+The hills drew no nearer than did the constellations above them.
+
+Suddenly the shadows of the hills pushed back. Almost instantly he faced
+the quick rise of the range. Out of the silence came the slithering step
+of some one walking in the sand. The darkness seemed to expand.
+
+Overland Red stood before him, silent, alert, anxious. "You, Chico?" he
+asked.
+
+"Sure. Hello, Red."
+
+"Anybody see you come across yesterday?"
+
+"Not that I know of. I kept away from the town."
+
+"Your hoss shod?"
+
+"Yes. All around. Why?"
+
+"Nothin'. I'm sufferin' glad to see you again. When we get on top of the
+hills, you take the left trail and keep on down. You can't miss the
+canon. I'll leave you here. I got to stay here a spell to see that
+nothin' else comes up but the sun this mornin'."
+
+"All right, Red. Your pardner down there?"
+
+"Yep. Whistle when you get up to the meadow in the canon. Billy'll be
+lookin' for you."
+
+"Any trouble lately?"
+
+"Nope. But Billy's got a hunch, though. He says he feels it in the air."
+
+At the crest Collie rode on down the winding trail, or rather way, for
+no regular trail existed. At the foot of the range he turned to the
+right and entered the narrow canon, following the stream until he came
+to the meadow, where he picketed the pony.
+
+He continued on up the canon on foot. When he arrived at the camp,
+Overland was there waiting. Winthrop and he greeted Collie cordially.
+"Short cut," explained Overland, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.
+"No hoss trail, though. Too steep."
+
+Faint dawn lights were shifting along the canon walls as they had
+breakfast. As the morning sunlight spread to their camp Collie's natural
+curiosity in regard to Overland's pardner was satisfied. He saw a
+straight, slender figure, in flannel shirt and khaki. The gray eyes were
+peculiarly keen and humorous. Winthrop was not a little like his sister
+Anne in poise and coloring. The hands were nervously slender and
+aristocratic, albeit roughened and scarred by toil. There was a
+suggestion of dash and go about Winthrop that appealed to Collie. Even
+in repose the Easterner seemed to be alert. Undoubtedly he would make a
+good companion in any circumstance.
+
+"There's spare blankets in the tent. Roll in for a snooze, Collie. Billy
+and me'll pack your saddle and stuff up here later."
+
+"I guess I will. You might sponge Yuma's back a little, Red. She's
+brought me close to two hundred miles in the last three days."
+
+"Sure, Bo! I'll brush her teeth and manicure her toe-nails if you say
+the word. I guess that hoss has kind of made a hit with you."
+
+Collie yawned. "Mebby. But it isn't in it with the hit she'll make with
+you if you try to take up her feet. She's half-sister to a shot of
+dynamite. I'm only telling you so she won't kick your fool head off."
+
+"You talk like most a full-size man," said Overland.
+
+Down at the meadow, Overland looked at the colt and shook his head. "He
+is correct," he said succinctly. "That hoss don't welcome handlin' worth
+a bean."
+
+Winthrop's silence rather stirred Overland's sensitive pride in his
+horsemanship. "'Course I broke and rode hundreds like her, down in Mex.
+But then I was paid for doin' it. It was my business then. Now, minin'
+and educatin' Collie is my business, and a busted neck wouldn't help
+any."
+
+Winthrop realized for the first time that Overland's supreme interest in
+life was Collie's welfare. Heretofore the paternal note had not been
+evident. Winthrop had imagined them chums, friends, tramps together.
+They were more than that. Overland considered Collie an adopted son.
+
+The Easterner glanced at Overland's broad shoulders stooped beneath the
+weight of the heavy stock saddle. Something in the man's humorous
+simplicity, his entire willingness to serve those whom he liked and his
+stiff indifference to all others, appealed to Winthrop. So this flotsam
+of the range, this erstwhile tramp, this paradox of coarseness and
+sentiment, had an object in life? A laudable object: that of serving
+with his sincerest effort the boy friend he had picked up on the desert,
+a castaway.
+
+As they toiled up the stream toward the camp, Winthrop recalled their
+former chats by the night-fire. Now he began to see the drift of
+Overland's then frequent references to Collie. And there was a
+girl,--mentioned by Overland almost reverently,--the Rose Girl, Louise
+Lacharme, of whom Anne Marshall had written much in eulogy to him. And
+Winthrop himself?
+
+His swift introspection left him aware that of them all he alone seemed
+to lack a definite aim. Making money--mining--was still to him a game,
+interesting and healthful, but play. To Overland it was life. Winthrop
+saw himself as he was. His improved health scoffed at the idea of
+becoming sentimental about it. He laughed, and Overland, turning,
+regarded him with bushy, interrogative brows.
+
+"Nothing," said Winthrop.
+
+"Ain't you feelin' good lately, Billy?"
+
+"I'm all right."
+
+"Glad of that. It's good to forget you got such a thing as health if you
+want to keep it. If you get to lookin' for it, like as not you'll find
+it's gone."
+
+"I'm looking for something entirely different. Something you
+have--something that I never possessed."
+
+"I don't know anything I got that you haven't 'less it's that new
+Stetson I got in Los. You can have her, Billy, and welcome. Your lid
+_is_ gettin' on the bum."
+
+"Not that," laughed Winthrop. "Something you keep under it."
+
+"'T ain't me hair. I'm plumb sure of that."
+
+"No."
+
+"Mebby you're jealous of some of me highbrow ideas?"
+
+"Add an 'l' and you have it."
+
+"I-d-e-a-l-s. Oh, ideals, eh? Never owned none except that little
+electric do-diddle-um of the Guzzuh what makes the spark to keep the
+machinery goin'. That's called the 'Ideal.'"
+
+"The spark to keep the machinery going--that's it," said Winthrop.
+
+At the camp he prepared to make his trip to the Moonstone Ranch. He read
+his sister's letter over and over again. Finally he sauntered up the
+canon to where Overland was at work. "I'll lend a hand," he said, in
+answer to Overland's questioning face. "I don't believe I'll go before
+to-morrow night. It is hardly right to leave the minute my new pardner
+arrives. I want to talk with him."
+
+Overland nodded. "Guess you're right. It won't hurt to keep in the
+shadow of the hills for a day or two. Can't tell who might 'a' spotted
+Collie ridin' out this way."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+That afternoon, toward evening, Collie arose, refreshed, and eager to
+inspect the claim. He could hear the faint click of pick and shovel up
+the canon. He stretched himself, drank from the stream, and sauntered
+toward the meadow. He would see to his pony first.
+
+He found the horse had been picketed afresh by Overland when he had come
+for the saddle. He was returning toward camp when he heard a slight
+noise behind him--the noise a man's boot makes stepping on a pebble that
+turns beneath his weight.
+
+Collie wheeled quickly, saw nothing unusual, and turned again toward the
+camp. Then he hesitated. He would look down the canon. He realized that
+he was unarmed. Then he grew ashamed of his hesitancy. He picked his way
+down the stream. A buzzard circled far above the cliffs. The air hummed
+with invisible bees in the rank wild clover. He peered past the next
+bend. A short distance below stood a riderless horse. The bridle was
+trailing. For an instant Collie did not realize the significance of the
+animal waiting patiently for its rider. Then, like the flash of a
+speeding film, he saw it all--his pony's tracks up the canon--the rider
+who had undoubtedly seen him crossing to the water-hole, and who had
+waited until daylight to follow the tracks; who had dismounted, and was
+probably in ambush watching him. He summoned all his reserve courage.
+Turning away, he remarked, distinctly, naturally, casually, "Thought I
+heard something. Must have been the water."
+
+He walked slowly back to the notch in the canon walls. Stepping through
+it, he continued on up the stream. A few paces beyond the notch, and a
+face appeared in the cleft rock, watching him. The watcher seemed in
+doubt. Collie's action had been natural enough. Had he seen the horse?
+The hidden face grew crafty. The eyes grew cold. The watcher tapped the
+side of the cliff with his revolver butt. The noise was slight, but in
+that place of sensitive echoes, loud enough to be heard a long way up
+the canon. Then it was that Collie made a courageous but terrible
+mistake. He heard the sound, and seemed to realize that it was made
+intentionally--to attract his attention. Yet he was not sure. He kept
+on, ignoring the sound. Had he not suspected some one was in the canon,
+to have glanced back would have been the most natural thing in the
+world. The watcher realized this. He knew that the other had heard
+him--suspected his presence, and was making a daring bluff.
+
+"Got to stop that," muttered the watcher, and he raised his hand.
+
+The imprisoned report rolled and reechoed like mountain thunder. Collie
+threw up his arms and lurched forward.
+
+Below in the canon clattered the hoofs of the speeding horse. The rider,
+still holding his six-gun, muzzle up, glanced back. "I didn't care
+partic'lar about gettin' _him_, but gettin' the kid hits the red-head
+between the eyes. I guess I'm about even now." And Silent Saunders
+holstered his gun, swung out of the canon, and spurred down the
+mountain, not toward the desert town, but toward Gophertown, some thirty
+miles to the north. He had found the claim. The desert town folk he had
+used to good advantage. They had paid his expenses while he trailed
+Overland and Collie. They had even guaranteed him protection from the
+law--such as it was on the Mojave. He had every reason to be grateful to
+them, but he was just a step or two above them in criminal artistry. He
+had been a "killer." Like the lone wolf that calls the pack to the hunt,
+he turned instinctively to Gophertown, a settlement in the hills not
+unknown to a few of the authorities, but unmolested by them. The
+atmosphere of Gophertown was not conducive to long life.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+SPECIAL
+
+
+Overland, leaning on his shovel, drew his sleeve across his forehead.
+"Reckon I'll go down and wake Collie. He'll sleep his head off and feel
+worse 'n thunder."
+
+"I'll go," said Winthrop, throwing aside a pan of dirt with a fine
+disregard of its eventual value. "I want some tobacco, anyway."
+
+"Fetch a couple of sticks of dynamite along, Billy. I'll put in one more
+shot for to-night."
+
+A distant, reverberating report caused the two men to jerk into
+attitudes of tense surprise.
+
+"What the hell!" exclaimed Overland, running toward the tent. "That
+wasn't the kid. Collie's only packin' a automatic, and here it is."
+
+He stopped in the tent-door, grabbed up the gun and belt, and ran down
+the canon, Winthrop following breathlessly. Near the notch he paused,
+motioning Winthrop to one side. "Mebby it was to draw us on. You keep
+there, Billy. I'll poke ahead."
+
+But Overland did not go far. He almost stumbled over the prone figure of
+Collie. With a cry he tore his handkerchief from his throat and plugged
+the wound. "Clean through," he said, getting to his feet. "Get the
+whiskey."
+
+"Shan't I help you carry him?" queried Winthrop.
+
+Overland shook his head. "Get the whiskey and get a fire goin'. I'll
+bring him."
+
+"Will he--live?" asked Winthrop, hesitating.
+
+"I reckon not, Billy. He was plugged from behind--close--and clean
+through. Here's the slug."
+
+Then Overland picked up the limp form. So this was the end of all his
+planning and his toil? He cursed himself for having urged Collie to come
+to the desert. He strode carefully, bent with the weight of that
+shattered body. He felt that he had lost more than the visible Collie;
+that he had lost the inspiration, the ideal, the grip on hope that had
+held him toward the goal of good endeavor. His old-time recklessness
+swept down upon him like the tides, submerging his better self. Yet he
+held steadily to one idea. He would do all that he could to save
+Collie's life. Failing in that ... there would be a red reckoning. After
+that he would not care what came.
+
+Already he had planned to send Winthrop, in his big car, for a doctor.
+The car was at the desert town, where a liveryman accepted a royal
+monthly toll in advance to care for it.
+
+At the tent Overland laid Collie on the blankets, bathed and bandaged
+the wound, and watched his low pulse quicken to the stimulant that he
+gave him in small doses.
+
+"It's the shock as much as the wound," said Overland. "He got it close,
+and from behind--_from behind_ do you hear?"
+
+Winthrop, startled by the other's intensity, stammered: "What shall I
+do? What shall I do?"
+
+Overland bit his nails and scowled. "You will ride to town. Collie's
+hoss is here. Take the Guzzuh and burn the road for Los and get a
+doctor. Not a pill doctor, but a knife man. Bring the car clean back
+here to the range. To hell with the chances."
+
+Winthrop slipped into his coat and filled a canteen.
+
+"If that horse throws me--" he began.
+
+"You got to ride. You _got_ to, understand? I dassent leave him."
+
+Down in the meadow Overland saddled the pony Yuma. He mounted and she
+had her "spell" of bucking. "Now, take her and ride," said Overland.
+"After you hit the level, let her out and hang on. If any one tries to
+stick you up this time--why, jest nacherally _plug_ 'em. Sabe?"
+
+Winthrop nodded.
+
+Two hours later a wild-eyed, sweating pony tore through the desert town
+at a run. Her rider slid to the ground as the liveryman grabbed the
+pony's bridle.
+
+"Take--care--of her," gasped Winthrop. "I want--the machine."
+
+"Anybody hurt?"
+
+"Yes. Who did that?"
+
+Winthrop stood with mouth open and eyes staring. The tires of the big
+machine were flat.
+
+"I dunno. I watched her every day. I sleep here nights. Las' Sunday I
+was over to Daggett."
+
+"And left no one in charge?"
+
+"The boy was here."
+
+"Well--the job is done. Take care of the horse. I'll be back in a
+minute."
+
+At the station Winthrop wired for a special car and engine. He gave his
+check for the amount necessary and went back to the stable. He was
+working at the damaged tires when the agent appeared. "Special's at the
+Junction now. Be here in five minutes."
+
+Winthrop climbed to the engine-cab. "I'll give you ten dollars for every
+minute you cut from the regular passenger schedule," he said.
+
+The engineer nodded. "Get back on the plush and hang on," was his brief
+acknowledgment.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was dark when the surgeon, drying his hands, came from the canon
+stream to the tent. "That's about all I can do now," he said, slipping
+into his coat.
+
+Overland, who was sitting on a box beside the tent, stood up and
+stretched himself. "Is he goin' to make it?" he asked.
+
+"I can't say. He is young, in good condition, and strong. If you will
+get me some blankets, I'll turn in. Call me in about two hours."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+THE RIDERS
+
+
+Several days passed before the surgeon would express a definite opinion.
+
+Collie lay, hollow-cheeked and ghastly, in the dim interior of the tent.
+His eyes were wide and fixed. Overland came in. Collie recognized him
+and tried to smile. Overland backed out of the tent and strode away
+growling. The tears were running down his unshaven cheeks. He did not
+return until later in the day. Then he asked the surgeon that
+oft-repeated question.
+
+"I don't see how he can recover," said the surgeon quietly. "Of course
+there's a slim chance. Don't build on it, though."
+
+"If there's a chance, I reckon he will freeze to it," said Overland.
+"From what he was ramblin' about when he was off his head, I reckon he's
+got somethin' more to live for than just himself."
+
+"Has he any relatives?" queried the surgeon.
+
+"Nope. Except me. But he was expectin' to have, I guess. And I tell you
+what, Doc, she's worth gettin' shot up for."
+
+"Too bad! Too bad," muttered the surgeon.
+
+"What's too bad, eh?"
+
+The other shook his head. "If there is any one that he would care to
+see, or that would care to see him, you had better write at once."
+
+Overland was stunned. The doctor's word had been given at last, and it
+was not a word of hope.
+
+Overland Red bowed to the doctor's opinion, but his heart was
+unconquerable. He wrote a long letter to his old-time friend, Brand
+Williams, of the Moonstone Ranch. The letter was curiously worded. It
+did not mention Louise Lacharme, nor Mrs. Stone, nor the rancher. It
+was, in the main, about Mexico and the "old days"; no hint of Collie's
+accident was in the page until the very end. The letter concluded with
+"But you needn't think you owe me anything for that. I was glad to put
+him to the hush because we was pals them days. Collie was shot by
+Saunders. The doctor says he will die most likely. He was shot in the
+back. It would go bad with Saunders if the Moonstone boys ever heard of
+this."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The letter dispatched by Winthrop, Overland Red took courage. He felt
+that he himself was holding Collie's life from sinking. His huge
+optimism would not admit that his friend _could_ die.
+
+He was leaning back against a rock near the notch and gazing at the
+slanting moonlight that spread across the somber canyon walls. A week
+had gone since he mailed his letter to Brand Williams, of the
+Moonstone, and Collie was still alive. Overland shifted his position,
+standing beside him the Winchester that had lain across his knees, and
+pulling his sombrero over his eyes. The notch made an excellent
+background for an object over the sights of a rifle, even at night, so
+long as the moon shone. Gophertown riders would never venture that far
+up the canon with horses. They would tether their ponies at the entrance
+and come afoot and under cover. Still, they would have to pass the notch
+in any event.
+
+Thus it was that when, some few minutes later, Overland heard the faint
+jingle of rein-chains, he grinned. It was celestial music to him.
+
+The sound came again, nearer the notch, and clearer. He remained
+motionless gazing at the shadowy opening.
+
+Slowly a shaft of moonlight drew down toward the notch, silvering its
+ragged edges. Lower the light slid until it revealed the opening and in
+it the figure of a horseman. In the white light Overland could see the
+quirt dangling from the other's wrist. The horseman's wide belt
+glittered.
+
+"Brand!" called Overland Red softly. The opposite wall took up the name
+hesitatingly and tossed it back.
+
+"Brand!" whispered the echoes that drifted to the darkened corners of
+the cliff and were lost in voiceless murmurings.
+
+"Brand your own stock," came the answer, low and distinct.
+
+Overland laughed. It was their old-time pun upon the foreman's name. He
+got to his feet and approached. "It does me good," he said, extending
+his hand.
+
+"How is Collie?" asked Williams, dismounting.
+
+Overland heaved great sigh. "He's floatin' somewhere between here and
+the far shore. Mebby he's tryin' to pull through. The doc says the kid
+don't seem to care whether he does or not. Did--the little Rose
+Girl--tell you anything to--to say to him?"
+
+"When I was leavin' she come out to the gate," said Williams. "She
+didn't say much. She only hands me this, and kind of whispered, 'Give
+him this. He will understand.'"
+
+And Williams drew a small gray gauntlet from his shirt. Overland took
+the glove and tucked it in his pocket.
+
+"Anything doing?" asked Williams.
+
+"Nope. They're overdue to jump us if shootin' Collie was any sign."
+
+"Like old times," said Williams.
+
+"Like old times," echoed Overland. "No trouble findin' your way across?"
+
+"Easy. Followed them automobile tracks clear to the range. We fed up at
+the town. The boys gets kind of restless--"
+
+"Boys? Ain't you alone?"
+
+"Hell, no!" replied Williams disgustedly. "I wish I was! I got four
+pigeon-toed, bow-legged, bat-eared Moonstoners down in that meadow, just
+itchin' mad to cut loose. And they ain't sayin' a word, which is
+suspicious. Worryin' across the old dry spot the last three days has
+kind of het 'em up. And then hearin' about Collie...."
+
+"How'd you come to have so much comp'ny?" queried Overland.
+
+"I was plumb fool enough to read that letter of yours to 'em. They all
+like Collie first-rate. Better than I calculated on. The boss talked
+turkey to 'em, but he had to let 'em come. He did everything he could to
+hold 'em, knowin' what was in the wind."
+
+"And they quit?"
+
+"Quit? Every red-eyed bat of 'em. Bud and Pars and Billy and Miguel.
+Told the boss they quit, because me bein' foreman they would do as I
+says, but if they quit I wasn't their foreman any longer, and they would
+do as they dum please. They had the nerve to tell me that I could come
+along if I was wishful."
+
+"Kind of bad for Stone, eh?"
+
+"The Price boys are holdin' down the ranch. You see, Jack, it hit us
+kind of hard, Collie ridin' away one mornin', and next thing your
+letter that he was down and pretty nigh out. The boys didn't just like
+that."
+
+Overland nodded. "Well, Brand, I guess I'll step down and look 'em
+over."
+
+"Only one thing, Jack. I feel kind of responsible for them boys, even if
+I ain't their foreman just now. Don't you go to spielin' to 'em and get
+'em thinkin' foolish. They're about ready to shoot up a town, if
+necessary."
+
+"Been hittin' the booze any?"
+
+"Some. But not bad."
+
+"All right. I don't want to say only 'How!' and thank 'em for Collie. If
+I say more than three words after that, you can have my hat."
+
+"It don't take three words, sometimes," said Williams, somewhat
+ambiguously.
+
+"Leave it to me," said Overland, still more ambiguously.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ringed round their little fire in the meadow sat or lay the Moonstone
+riders. While crossing the desert Williams had sketched a few of the red
+episodes in Overland's early career. These pleased the riders mightily.
+They were anxious to meet Red Jack Summers. When Williams did introduce
+him, they were rather silent, asking after Collie in monosyllables. They
+seemed strangely reticent.
+
+Both Williams and Overland felt an inexplicable tensity in the
+situation.
+
+Miguel, the young Mexican vaquero, broke silence. "How long you call it
+to this Gophertown place, I think?"
+
+"Thirty miles," said Overland.
+
+"Walkin' backwards--like Miguel's talk," said Billy Dime.
+
+"That's easy," said Bud Light.
+
+"What's easy?" questioned Williams.
+
+"Walkin' backwards," replied the facetious Bud.
+
+"If you don't step on your neck," said Pars Long.
+
+"I'm gettin' cold feet," asserted Bud Light after a silence.
+
+"That disease is ketchin'," said Billy Dime.
+
+"I know it. I been sleepin' next to you," retorted Bud.
+
+Brand Williams glanced across the fire at Overland, who smiled
+inscrutably. The undercurrent was unfathomable to Williams, though he
+guessed its main drift.
+
+Suddenly Pars Long glanced at the foreman. "Brand," he said quietly, "we
+expect you didn't read all of that letter from your friend here. You
+said Collie was shot. You didn't say how, which ain't natural. We been
+talkin' about it. Where was he hit?"
+
+Overland saw his chance and grasped it with both hands. "In the back,"
+he said slowly, and with great intensity.
+
+Followed a silence in which the stamping of the tethered horses and the
+whisper of the fire were the only sounds.
+
+Presently Miguel ran his fingers through his glossy black hair. "In the
+back!" he exclaimed. "And you needn't to tell that he was run away,
+neither."
+
+"In the back?" echoed Billy Dime.
+
+Overland and Williams exchanged glances. "You done it now," said
+Williams.
+
+"'Cordin' to agreement," said Overland.
+
+"Make it a wireless," said Billy Dime. "We ain't listenin', anyhow."
+
+"Only thirty miles. What do you say, Brand?"
+
+"Nothin'."
+
+"_As_ usual," ejaculated Dime.
+
+"I say about three to-morrow morning," ventured Pars Long. "Light will
+be good about nine. We can do the thirty by nine. A fella would be able
+to ride round town then without fallin' over anything."
+
+"What you fellas gettin' at?" queried Williams.
+
+"Gophertown," replied Dime. "You want to come along?"
+
+"Is it settled?" asked the foreman.
+
+The group nodded.
+
+"Well, boys, it would 'a' been _my_ way of evenin' up for a pal."
+
+"Then you're comin', too?"
+
+"Do you think I'm packin' these here two guns and this belt jest to
+reduce my shape?" queried Williams in a rather hurt tone.
+
+"Whoop-ee for Brand!" they chorused, and the tethered ponies shied and
+circled.
+
+"I never rode out _lookin'_ for trouble," said Williams. "And I never
+shied from lookin' _at_ it when it come my way."
+
+"Who said anything about trouble?" queried Billy Dime innocently. "I'm
+_dry_. I want a _drink_. I'm goin' over to Gophertown to get it. I'll
+treat the bunch."
+
+"Which bunch?"
+
+"Any and all--come stand up and down it."
+
+"We'll be there when you call our numbers, sister. You comin'?" asked
+Pars Long, nodding toward Overland.
+
+"Me? Nope.... I'm goin'. I'm goin' to ask you boys to kindly allow me
+the privilege of gettin' my drink first and by my lonesome. There will
+be a gent there with sore eyes. He got sore eyes waitin' and watchin'
+for me to call. I expect to cure him of his eye trouble. After that you
+will be as welcome as Mary's little lamb--fried."
+
+"Bur-rie me not on the lo-o-ne prai-ree," sang Bud Light.
+
+"Not while you got the fastest hoss in the outfit," said Williams.
+
+"Collie's hoss is here," said Overland. "I'm ridin' her this trip. I
+kind of like the idea of usin' his hoss on this here errand of mercy."
+
+"Three--to-morrow mornin'!" called Billy Dime, as Overland disappeared
+in the shadows.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brand Williams, the taciturn, the silent, stepped from the fire and
+strode across the meadow. He paused opposite the Yuma colt and gazed at
+her in the moonlight. He jerked up his chin and laughed noiselessly.
+"Two-gun Jack Summers on that red Yuma hoss, ridin' into Gophertown with
+both hands filled and lookin' for trouble.... God! He was bad enough
+when he was dodgin' trouble. Well, I'm glad I'm livin' to see it. I was
+commencin' to think they wasn't any more _men_ left in the country. I'm
+forty-seven year old. To-morrow I'll be twenty again ... or nothin'."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+GOPHERTOWN
+
+
+Some towns "nestle" on the plain. Others, more aspiring, "roost" in the
+hills. Gophertown squatted on the desert at the very edge of a range of
+barren foothills. Its principal street was not much more than a
+bridle-trail that led past eleven ramshackle cabins, derelicts of the
+old mining days when Gophertown knew gold.
+
+The population of Gophertown was of an itinerant order. This was not
+always due to internecine disputes. Frequently a citizen became overbold
+and visited his old haunts instead of remaining safely, even if
+monotonously, at home. Train robbery was a sure passport to Gophertown's
+protection. Man-killing lent an added distinction to an applicant for
+hurried admission. Cattle-and horse-thieving were mere industries not to
+be confounded with these higher professions.
+
+Overland Red had once wintered in Gophertown. Immediately previous to
+his arrival in Gophertown he had been obliged to maintain, in an
+unofficial capacity, his former prestige as sheriff of Abilene. The town
+of Abilene had sympathized with him heartily, but had advised him to
+absent himself indefinitely and within the hour.
+
+The general store and saloon of the old mining camp still stood at the
+corner of the town facing the desert. A bleached and faded sign once
+read, "Palace Emporium." The letters now seemed to be shrinking from
+public gaze--vanishing into the wood as though ashamed of themselves.
+The wording of the sign had been frequently and indifferently
+punctuated. Each succeeding marksman had exploded his own theory, and
+passed on.
+
+Liquor was still to be obtained at the general store. Provisions were
+occasionally teamed in and were made up of peculiarly conglomerate lots.
+There were no women in Gophertown. There was little local gossip. There
+was no regular watch kept on the outlands. Gophertown felt secure in
+itself. Each man was his own argus. He was expected to know his enemies
+by instinct. He was expected, as a usual thing, to settle his disputes
+single-handed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Silent Saunders was in the general store and saloon. He was disgusted in
+that he had been unable to induce the citizens to ride out with him and
+clean up Overland Red's claim. Overland had once been of them, even if
+briefly. He had been popular, especially as he was then the quickest
+man with a gun they had ever honored with their patronage. Also, the
+Gophertown folk had recently received a warning letter from the
+superintendent of a transcontinental railroad. They were not interested
+in Saunders's proposal.
+
+Saunders, coming from the saloon, was not a little surprised to see a
+band of horsemen far out on the desert. He felt that their presence in
+his vicinity had something to do with himself. He counted the horses.
+There were six of them. He knew instantly that the riders were cowmen,
+although he could not distinguish one from another. He beckoned to the
+saloon-keeper.
+
+"We could 'a' stopped that," he said, pointing toward the desert.
+
+"Big bunch. One--two--three--six of 'em. _Big_ bunch to come visitin'
+here."
+
+Saunders gestured toward the canon behind Gophertown.
+
+The saloon-keeper shook his head. "Don't think most of our boys will be
+back this week. Brandin' that bunch of new stock. Takes time to do it
+right."
+
+"Well, here comes Parks and Santa Fe Smith," said Saunders. "That makes
+four of us."
+
+"Mebby--and mebby not," said the saloon-keeper. "That depends. Depends
+on the party that's callin' and who they're callin' _on_."
+
+"There's Sago--just ridin' the ledge trail. That's five."
+
+"'Lige and Joe Kennedy are up at the corrals," said the saloon-keeper.
+"They would hate to miss anything like this."
+
+"Mebby they won't, if that bunch gets past us," said Saunders.
+
+"Seen the time when you could handle them alone, didn't you, Si?"
+
+"Yes, and I can now."
+
+"Nix, Si. Your gun arms ain't what they was sence Overland Red winged
+you."
+
+"How in hell do you know he did?"
+
+"I could tell you more. But come on in and have one on the house. If I
+was you, I'd set with my back to the door and be taking a drink. Red
+Summers never shot a man in the back yet. If he's playin' for _you_,
+why, that gives you a chance to pull a gun."
+
+"How about you?" queried Saunders.
+
+"Me? None of my business. I'm here to push the booze."
+
+"And you'll do your collectin' with a gun, or go broke, if it's Red
+Summers and his friends."
+
+"Tryin' to scare me because you are?" asked the bartender.
+
+"Red helped Kennedy out of a mix once. Kennedy is his friend."
+
+"But Joe ain't here. What's gettin' into you? How do you know it is Red,
+anyway? You act queer."
+
+"I got a hunch," said Saunders.
+
+"Then you want to go into action quick, for when a gunman gets a hunch
+that he knows who is trailin' him, it's a bad sign."
+
+Saunders drummed on the table with his fingers. The drink of liquor had
+restored his nerve. Perhaps the riders were not coming to visit him,
+after all. He rose and stepped to the door. The oncoming horses were
+near enough for him to distinguish the roan outlaw Yuma--Collie's horse.
+Her rider's figure was only too familiar. Saunders fingered his belt.
+Unbuckling it, he stepped back into the barroom and laid the
+two-holstered guns and the belt on the table.
+
+Parks, from up in the canon, rode up, tied his pony, and strolled to the
+bar, nodding to Saunders. Following him came Santa Fe Smith, a
+bow-legged individual in sweater and blue jeans. He nodded to Saunders.
+Presently Sago, the Inyo County outlaw, came in, wheezing and
+perspiring. Saunders stepped to the bar and called for "one all around."
+
+As they drank two more ponies clattered up and 'Lige and Joe Kennedy
+joined the group at the bar. "Hutch and Simpson are comin' afoot," said
+Joe Kennedy.
+
+"That leaves Wagner and the Chink to hear from," said the saloon-keeper.
+
+"Wagner's sick. I don't know where the Chink is. Everybody seems to 'a'
+got up in time for dinner, this mornin', eh?" And big Joe Kennedy
+laughed. "This here bar is right popular jest now."
+
+"Goin' to be more popular," said the saloon-keeper.
+
+"That so?" exclaimed several, facetiously.
+
+"Ask Saunders there," said the saloon-keeper.
+
+"Friends of yours, Silent?"
+
+"Yes. Friends of mine."
+
+"Whole six of 'em, eh?"
+
+"Whole six of 'em."
+
+"Well, we won't butt in. We'll give you lots of room."
+
+Saunders said nothing. He paid for the liquor, and, stepping to the
+table, sat with his back to the doorway. In front of him lay his guns,
+placed handily, but with studied carelessness. He leaned naturally on
+one elbow, as though half asleep. His hat was tilted over his brows.
+
+From outside came the jingle of spurs and rein-chains and the distant
+sound of voices. Saunders began leisurely to roll a cigarette. He laid a
+few matches on the table. Several of the men at the bar grinned
+knowingly.
+
+Then came the gritting of heels on the hardpacked trail and Overland
+Red stood in the doorway. "Mornin', gents--and Saunders," he said,
+glancing at the figure seated back toward him.
+
+"Hello, Red!" exclaimed Joe Kennedy. "Out early, ain't you. Have a
+drink."
+
+"Not out too early. Hello, Lusk!"
+
+"How, Red," said the saloon-keeper.
+
+"Where's your friends. Ask 'em in," said Kennedy.
+
+"Shall I ask 'em in, Saunders?" queried Overland, his voice edged with a
+double meaning.
+
+"Not on my account," said Saunders over his shoulder.
+
+"All right. Let's have a drink, boys."
+
+Even "Go-Light" Sago, the vilest of the Gophertown crew, admired
+Overland's coolness in turning his back on Saunders and facing the bar.
+
+For a second Saunders's fingers twitched. He glanced up.
+
+Joe Kennedy was looking at him over his glass of whiskey. "Ain't you
+drinkin', Silent?" he asked.
+
+"With some folks," said Saunders.
+
+Overland whirled round. "Have a drink with me, then."
+
+Saunders laughed.
+
+"Then you don't smoke either, while I'm here," said Overland, his hand
+on his hip.
+
+"That so?"
+
+"Yes, that's so! When you try to pull that old bluff of a match-game on
+me, wait till I'm a hundred and four years old, Silent. That gun-trick
+died of old age. Think up a new one."
+
+"Ain't you talkin' a little loud for polite sassiety?" questioned Sago,
+addressing Overland.
+
+"Seein' you're the only one that thinks so, I reckon not," said
+Overland.
+
+"Then," said Sago, moving slightly from the bar, "Saunders smokes."
+
+It was an open declaration of war. Sago, the Inyo County outlaw, sided
+with Saunders.
+
+According to the ethics of gunmen, Saunders was not armed. He was not
+"packing iron." His weapons lay on the table within reach, but he knew
+Overland would not precipitate matters by shooting him down where he
+sat. He glanced at Sago. The other winked.
+
+"Then I smoke," said Saunders, and reached for a match. He shot from the
+hip, swinging his guns sideways. The stutter of Overland's automatics
+mingled with the roar of Saunders's heavy Colts.
+
+Sago, jumping clear, pulled his gun. Kennedy clutched his arm. Saunders
+slid from his chair, coughed horribly, and wilted to the floor. Overland
+backed toward the door, both guns leveled.
+
+Sago, jerking his arm free, threw two shots at Overland, who replied
+with a rippling tattoo of the automatics. The Inyo County outlaw sank to
+his hands and knees. Then Overland leaped through the doorway. The
+Moonstone riders spurred toward the saloon, thinking that the quarrel
+had provoked too many guns. Overland tried to stop them, but they were
+hot for fight.
+
+"It's a clean up!" yelled Parks, running out of the saloon and mounting
+his horse. "You framed it, you red-headed son--" He got no further.
+Brand Williams, thundering down at the head of the Moonstone riders,
+threw a level shot that cut through Parks, who wavered, but managed to
+wheel his horse and fire at Overland Red. Then the outlaw slid from the
+saddle clawing at it as he fell.
+
+The Gophertown men poured from the saloon, and, seizing their ponies,
+circled round to the back of the building, firing as they retreated.
+
+Miguel spurred his big pinto in among them and emptied his gun. He rode
+out at a lope, reloading. The front of his flannel shirt was shot away,
+but he was not aware of it.
+
+Billy Dime coolly sat his horse and "drew fine" at each shot, till a
+leaden slug drilled his gun-arm. He swore profusely, and wisely spurred
+out of range.
+
+"I got one!" cried Miguel, swinging shut the cylinder of his gun. "I go
+get another one."
+
+"Give 'em my com-pli-ments," said Dime, winding a handkerchief round his
+arm and knotting it with one hand and his teeth.
+
+Williams, keeping under cover, fired slowly and with great precision.
+Overland Red, utterly unable to manage the Yuma colt under fire, rode up
+to Williams. "Let's call it off, Brand. I got my man. They was no need
+of the rest of it. How did it start, anyhow?"
+
+"That's about what the kid said when he let go the wagon on top of the
+hill. I counted five Gophers down. Billy's hit, and Miguel's goin' to
+be, the dam' little fool. Look at him!"
+
+The Gophertown men were drawing away toward the canon. They turned
+occasionally to throw a shot at Miguel and Pars Long, who followed them.
+
+Bud Light sat his horse, gazing solemnly at the stump of his gun-finger.
+His shirt was spattered with blood.
+
+Suddenly Williams raised a shrill call. The Moonstone boys wheeled their
+ponies and rode toward him. Williams pointed up the canon. Down it rode
+a group of men who seemed to be undecided in their movements. They would
+spur forward and then check and circle, apparently waiting for their
+friends to come up to them. "It's the rest of the Gophertown outfit. We
+might as well beat it," said Williams. "This here thing's gettin' too
+popular all to once."
+
+"Did that guy get you?" asked Williams, nodding to Overland.
+
+"Not what you'd notice," replied Overland. "We'll take a drink on the
+house. She ain't so tidy as she was."
+
+"Neither is the guy behind the bar," said Bud Light, pointing with the
+stub of his finger to Lusk's face. The saloon-keeper had been hit between
+the eyes by a chance bullet.
+
+"He's where he belongs," said Williams. "So is this one." And Williams
+touched Saunders's body with his boot. "Let's drink and vamoose."
+
+"Here's to the kid!" cried Overland, strangely white and shaky.
+
+"Here's hoping!" chorused the Moonstone riders.
+
+[Illustration: IT'S A CLEAN-UP]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+TOLL
+
+
+None of the Moonstone boys had supposed that Overland Red was hit. He
+rode joyfully and even began a poem to the occasion. Williams was first
+to notice that Overland's speech was growing thick and that his free
+hand clasped the saddle-horn.
+
+The others, riding a little to the rear, burst suddenly into boisterous
+laughter. "What you think, Brand?" called Pars Long. "Bud's jest been
+countin' his fingers and he says there is one missin'. He ain't sure
+yet, but he's countin' hard. He has to skip when he comes to number one
+on his right mitt. Says he can't get started to count, that way."
+
+"Some lucky it ain't his head," replied Williams.
+
+"His head? Bud would never miss that. But his pore little ole finger,
+layin' calm and cold back there. A very sad business, brethren."
+
+"I paid twelve sweaty plunks for her in Los and look at her!" cried Pars
+Long, doffing his sombrero. The high crown was literally shot to pieces.
+"I guess I am some wise guy. You fellas kidded me about sportin' an
+extra high lid. Come on, Chico, they're laughin' at us!"
+
+"If they'd 'a' shot the crown off clean down to your ears, you'd never
+noticed it," grumbled Billy Dime.
+
+"Mebby I am a flat-headed chicken, Billy, but I got both wings yet,"
+retorted Long.
+
+Billy Dime looked down at the blood-soaked sleeve of his right arm. "The
+fella that did it is eatin' grass now," he muttered.
+
+"Now, what's the matter with Miguel? Discovered any bullets nestin' in
+your manly buzzum, Miguel?"
+
+"I think no. But I lose something," replied Miguel, smiling.
+
+"That so?"
+
+"I did have the tobacco and papers here," he said, and he put his hand
+on his chest. "Now I look and the pocket and some of the shirt is not
+there--and my tobacco is gone, and the little papers."
+
+"Is that all? Sad. I thought you'd lost a railroad or a steamship or
+something. Cheer up! Things might be better."
+
+"I think I like to smoke," said Miguel, quite seriously. "I will ride
+back and get some tobacco and some more papers."
+
+"That ain't all you'll get. Here, smoke up. You look fine in that
+peek-a-boo shirt. Never knowed you had such a good shape. What size
+gloves do you wear, pet?" And Pars Long passed tobacco and papers to
+Miguel, who rolled a cigarette and smoked contentedly.
+
+"Billy, you look sick," said Bud Light.
+
+"Oh, no! I want to go to a dance, right away. Whoa!"
+
+They drew rein. Williams, dismounting, was bending over his companion
+Overland, who had suddenly slipped from the saddle.
+
+"Where's he punctured?" queried Bud Light.
+
+Williams examined the prostrate man. "Kind of low down, and in the side.
+'T ain't bad, but it's bad enough. Got any whiskey?"
+
+"You bet! I got a pocket-gun here. Swiped it in the saloon." And Pars
+Long handed a flask to Williams.
+
+The riders, standing round the fallen man, watched Williams as he bound
+up the wound, which was bleeding slowly. The whiskey partially revived
+Overland. He managed finally to cling to the saddle, supported by
+Williams.
+
+"She's thirty hot miles to camp. Red won't last out," said Long.
+
+"I say he does," said Bud Light. "Did you see them puckers in his hide?
+I counted seven. He ain't made to be stopped by a gun."
+
+"Mebby he ain't stopped, but he's slowed up considerable. Did you see
+the two guys he got? Saunders was pretty nigh cut in two and the other
+one by the bar had four holes in him. I counted 'em, to quit thinkin' of
+my arm. Them automatics is fierce!"
+
+"He would never 'a' got out if he'd been packin' a regular old six-gun,"
+said Bud Light. "_Both_ them guys were throwin' lead at him."
+
+"How do you know? You wasn't there."
+
+"Easy. He went in to get Saunders. He gets him. The other one takes a
+hand. He got _him_. _We_ didn't do any shootin' inside."
+
+"Guess that's right. But how about the barkeep?"
+
+"Oh, he just got in the way. He was drilled between the lamps. In a mix
+like that who's goin' to take time to draw fine?"
+
+"Did you see Brand lift the Gophertown guy out of his saddle--the one
+that was shootin' at Red in front of the joint? Brand threw a forty-five
+into him, and comin' on the jump, too. The Gopher humped up like he'd
+been horned by the Santa Fe Limited. Now what's the dope?"
+
+Overland Red had again fallen from his horse. Williams beckoned to Long.
+"Take the Yuma colt, Pars, and fan it for the canon. Send the doc back,
+and you stay with that young Winthrop and look after Collie. Your hoss
+is quieter for Red, anyway. Tell the doc to bring his tools along. I
+reckon we'll camp over there near the hills till to-morrow."
+
+"Who was it got me?" questioned Overland as he was revived a second
+time.
+
+"I don't know," replied Williams. "The only distinguishin' brand on him
+was one I put there. It ain't worryin' him now."
+
+"Like old times," said Overland, trying to smile.
+
+"Like old times," echoed Williams.
+
+"I guess it was Parks," murmured Overland. "He had plenty of chance. I
+wasn't after him."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Slowly the group of horsemen rode across the desert. The afternoon sun
+made queer shadows of them and their mounts. Billy Dime rode bent
+forward. His face was white and beaded with sweat. Overland, on Long's
+pony, was supported by Miguel and Brand Williams. Pars Long had
+disappeared in the shadows of the range.
+
+Billy Dime's eyes grew strangely bright. He laughed, gazing at the
+foreman's back. "The whole damn fuss was wrong, _wrong_, I tell you! We
+had no _business_ shootin' up that town."
+
+"But it was considerable pleasure," said Bud Light. "You're off your
+bean, Billy. I guess you forget what they did to Collie."
+
+Billy Dime leered. The fever from his wound was working through his
+blood. "Don't pertend to me, Bud Light, that you come on this little
+pasear on account of _Collie_. It was _her_ eyes that said to go. You
+know that. She never said words, but her _eyes_ said to go--and to kill!
+Do you get that? That's what a woman can do to a man, without sayin' a
+word. And what did Collie ever do for me? Look at that arm. _Look_ at
+it! What did Collie ever do for me to get shot up this way?" And Billy
+Dime began to weep. "I killed two of 'em--two of 'em. I saw 'em drop. I
+was drawin' fine--_fine_, I tell you, and I couldn't miss."
+
+Bud Light rode forward to Williams. "Billy's gone off his crust. He's
+ravin' back there, Brand."
+
+Williams drew Long's flask from his saddle-pocket. "Give him a shot of
+this. Take some yourself. Miguel and I don't need any. Hold on--I'll
+give Red a shot first. When it gets to workin', you yip and ride for the
+hills. We'll all ride--_ride_, you understand? It'll be a dry camp, and
+a hard flash, but we'll make it."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+TWO ROSES
+
+
+One morning, some three weeks after the invasion of Gophertown, Bud
+Light, Billy Dime, and Brand Williams appeared at the Moonstone Ranch
+office.
+
+Quite casually they had dismounted, and jingling up had asked for Walter
+Stone. Upon his appearance the younger men applied individually for
+their old places. The room smelled of cigarette smoke and antiseptics.
+Quite as though nothing unusual had happened the rancher reinstated
+them.
+
+"Have a good time, boys?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, sir. Very good time. Better than we expected," replied Billy Dime.
+Bud Light nodded.
+
+Stone looked hard at Billy Dime's bandaged arm. "Miguel and Parson Long
+have a good time also?"
+
+"Stayed to help Overland Red work the claim. Overland Red got hurt a
+little, doin' somethin'. He's all right now."
+
+"None of the Moonstone boys were injured?"
+
+"Nope. Not a one of us," replied Dime blandly.
+
+Walter Stone's eyes twinkled, but he did not smile. "We will call it a
+vacation this time, with pay. Tell Williams to step in here, please."
+And the rancher dismissed his embarrassed and happy punchers with a
+gesture.
+
+The interview with Williams was not so brief. "The boys came out of it
+all right?" asked Stone, shaking hands with his old foreman.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"How did you manage that?"
+
+"Didn't. They did."
+
+"Any one--er--of the other side have an accident?"
+
+"Saunders--and six gents got hurt pretty bad."
+
+"Whew! Our boys were lucky."
+
+"It was nothin' but luck that they ain't all back there now--on the
+sand. You see, the Gophertown outfit are all what you'd call good with a
+gun, but it was kind of a surprise, the spreadin' of the thing from
+Red's little private deal to a six-hand game. We sure was lucky."
+
+"And Collie?"
+
+Williams shook his head. "I don't know. We thought he had crossed over.
+Seems he took a new holt. The doc and Winthrop brung him to Los in the
+automobile. He's at the hospital. But they say he don't pick up any
+since he come there."
+
+"All right, Brand. I think that is all."
+
+"How about my name goin' back on the books?" asked Williams.
+
+"It hasn't been off the books. You know, Louise attends to the
+time-sheet."
+
+Williams nodded. "I expect Miguel and Parson Long will be sniffin'
+around lookin' for a job before long. They agreed to stay with Red till
+he got on his feet again. But they told him they would go just as soon
+as he was all right, for you couldn't run your ranch without 'em."
+
+Walter Stone smiled broadly. "You're foreman, Brand."
+
+"They was fightin' just as much for the name of the old Moonstone as for
+Collie, or for fun," said Williams.
+
+"I know it. But I don't believe in such methods. That sort of thing is
+about done with," said Stone.
+
+"I was readin' about the old days in the Panamint, not long ago," said
+Williams, gazing at a corner of the office. "I--they was a list of names
+of the ranchers that cleaned up the rustlers over there, back in '86. It
+was interestin'--some of them names."
+
+Walter Stone coughed and turned in his chair. He gazed out of the
+window. Finally he faced Williams again. "We had to do it," he said,
+smiling.
+
+Williams nodded. They understood each other.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Marshalls, delighted with Los Angeles, had taken apartments in the
+city. Dr. Marshall, at the urgent request of Walter Stone, had called at
+the hospital to see Collie. The wound had healed slowly. Collie gained
+no strength. He seemed indifferent as to whether he recovered or not.
+Dr. Marshall, consulting with the surgeon, agreed that the young man's
+recovery was still doubtful. His vitality was extremely low. His usual
+optimism had stagnated.
+
+Later, when Walter Stone, Mrs. Stone, and Louise visited the hospital,
+Collie had smiled wanly and said but little, thanking them for their
+visit with a word.
+
+Louise returned home, heartsick and haunted by Collie's eyes that had
+seemed so listless, so indifferent, so weary. She had hoped to cheer
+him. His indifference affected her more than his actual physical
+condition, which seemed to be the cause of it. Louise recognized in
+herself a species of selfishness in feeling as she did. Like most folk
+of superabundant health she was unable to realize the possibilities of
+sickness. She longed for his companionship. She had not dared to ask
+herself whether or not she loved him. She was glad that he should love
+her--and yet she was not altogether happy. She had sent him her token,
+the little gray riding-gauntlet. He had in no way acknowledged it.
+
+The sentiment incident to Collie's almost fatal misfortune did not blind
+her in the least. She told herself frankly that she missed him. At the
+ranch he had been with her much. From her he had gleaned of books and
+people. The actual advantage to him was not in the quantity of knowledge
+he had gained, but in the quality and direction suggested by her
+attitude toward all things. The advantage to her in his companionship
+had been the joy of giving, of shaping his thought, of seeing him slowly
+and unconsciously differentiate himself--stand apart from his fellows as
+something she had helped to create. This much of him she possessed
+through conscious effort.
+
+Then to have seen him in the hospital, helpless, seemingly beyond any
+noticeable influence of her presence, stirred in her a kind of maternal
+jealousy. Straightway she visited Anne Marshall, who kissed her, held
+her at arms' length, saw the soft rose glow in her face, and spoke to
+the point, albeit in parables. Dr. Marshall had been very poor--a doctor
+in the slums--just before _they_ were married. People had _said_ things
+and had _looked_ things, which was even worse. They subtly intimated
+that the doctor was marrying her for her money. She was the happiest
+woman in the world. She thought Collie was the manliest and most
+striking figure she had ever seen.
+
+To all of which Louise listened quietly, blushing a little. "And he is
+wealthy," concluded Anne. "For so young a man, he is wealthy. The Rose
+Girl Mining Company, Incorporated, my dear, pays well. Collie is one of
+the three largest stockholders. You see, Billy and Overland Red have
+decided to turn the claim into a corporation."
+
+"Don't you contradict your--your theory a little, Anne?" asked Louise.
+
+"No, indeed! It doesn't matter in the least who has the money, so long
+as the man is the right one."
+
+And Louise was silent, and a bit happier.
+
+The little parcel that came to the hospital, directed to Collie, was
+from Overland. It was accompanied by a vividly worded note and a small,
+stained, and wrinkled glove, at once familiar.
+
+Overland's note explained the delay in forwarding the glove. "It's some
+mussed up," he wrote, "because I had it in my shirt when I was hit. I
+was some mussed up likewise, or I would not 'a' forgot it so long. The
+little Rose Girl sent it to you by Brand when she thinks you was going
+to cross over on the last sunset limited. And I am feeling Fine,
+thanks. Do not rite to me if it gives you cramps.--Youres verry
+fathefuly, Jack."
+
+Collie turned the gauntlet over in his trembling fingers. His eyes
+glowed. He called the nurse, telling her he was hungry.
+
+Anne Marshall's visits were always refreshing. Well-gowned, cool,
+fragrant, she came, next afternoon, to Collie's bedside.
+
+"You _must_ get well," she said, smiling. "The doctor will be terribly
+disappointed if you don't. Isn't that coldly encouraging? What a thing
+to say!"
+
+"I don't want to disappoint anybody," said Collie.
+
+"Well, you will if you don't get better right away, sir! I wish I could
+do something to help. I can only sympathize and encourage the doctor."
+
+"I know he's doing a whole lot for me. I think mebby you could help--a
+little--if you wanted to."
+
+"Gracious! As though I didn't! Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
+
+"It only came yesterday," said Collie, tremulously drawing the gauntlet
+from beneath his pillow.
+
+Anne Marshall gazed at the soiled and wrinkled glove with unenlightened
+eyes. Then her quick smile flashed. "Oh! Now I know! So that is the
+talisman? Came yesterday? No wonder you seem brighter."
+
+Collie's answering smile was irresistible. "It isn't just the glove--but
+would you--I mean, if you was like me--without being educated or
+anything--" He hesitated, breathing deeply.
+
+But Anne Marshall understood him instantly, and answered his shyly
+questioning eyes.
+
+"Indeed, I should. If I had half your chance, I shouldn't waste a minute
+in claiming the mate to that glove. One glove is of absolutely no use,
+you know."
+
+"This one was--pretty much," sighed Collie. "I was feeling like letting
+go inside and not trying to--to stay any longer, just before it came."
+
+"S-s-s-h! Don't even think of that. Some one called on me a few days
+ago. You are a very fortunate young man."
+
+Anne Marshall's ambiguity was not altogether displeasing to Collie, in
+that it was not altogether unintelligible.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+William Stanley Winthrop, sojourning briefly but fashionably in Los
+Angeles, appeared at the hospital in immaculate outing flannels. It was
+several weeks after his sister's last visit there. Winthrop took the
+convalescent Collie to the Moonstone Rancho in his car.
+
+Bud Light and Billy Dime accidentally met the car in the valley and
+accompanied it vigorously through Moonstone Canon.
+
+Aunt Eleanor and Walter Stone were at the gate. Collie was helped to the
+house and immediately taken to the guest-room. He was much fatigued with
+the journey. The question in his eyes was answered by Aunt Eleanor.
+"Louise rode over to the north range to-day. She should be back now."
+
+Winthrop scarce needed an introduction. He was Anne Marshall's brother.
+That was sufficient for the host and hostess. He was made welcome--as he
+was wherever he went. He had heard a great deal, from his sister, of the
+Stones, and their beautiful niece, Louise Lacharme. He was enthusiastic
+about the Moonstone Canon. He grew even more enthusiastic after meeting
+Louise.
+
+She came riding her black pony Boyar down the afternoon hillside--a
+picture that he never forgot. Her gray sombrero hung on the saddle-horn.
+Her gloves were tucked in her belt. She had loosened the neck of her
+blouse and rolled back her sleeves, at the spring above, to bathe her
+face and arms in the chill overflow. Her hair shone with a soft golden
+radiance that was ethereal in the flicker of afternoon sunlight through
+the live-oaks. From her golden head to the tip of her small riding-boot
+she was a harmony of vigor and grace, of exquisite coloring and
+infinite charm.
+
+Her naturalness of manner, her direct simplicity, was almost, if not
+quite, her greatest attraction, and a quality which Winthrop fully
+appreciated.
+
+"I have been quite curious about you, Mr. Winthrop," she said. "You are
+quite like Anne. I adore Anne. Shall we turn Boyar into the corral?"
+
+If William Stanley Winthrop had had any idea of making an impression, he
+forgot it. The impression Louise was unconsciously making straightway
+absorbed his attention.
+
+"Yes, indeed! Turn him into the corral--turn him into _anything_, Miss
+Lacharme. You have the magic. Make another admirer of him."
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Winthrop. But Boyar could hardly be improved."
+
+"You trained him, didn't you?" queried Winthrop.
+
+Louise laughed. "Yes. But he was well-bred to begin with."
+
+Winthrop ejaculated a mental "Ouch!" Simplicity did not necessarily mean
+stupidity.
+
+"Do you enjoy mining--the real work--out there in the desert, Mr.
+Winthrop?"
+
+"I could enjoy anything in company with Overland."
+
+"Of course. Do you think people who have lots of money are apt to be
+cynical?" she asked.
+
+"Not more so than people without money. But what splendid animals!" he
+exclaimed as they approached the corral.
+
+"Uncle Walter and I are very fond of them," she said, turning Boyar into
+the inclosure.
+
+"Do you know, Miss Lacharme, I like horses and dogs and cats, and I just
+revel in burros. But animals don't seem to like me. They're rather
+indifferent to me. I wonder if it is a matter of health, or magnetism,
+or something of that sort?"
+
+"Oh, no! But it is difficult to explain. Even if you are very fond of
+animals it doesn't follow that they will like you. That seems rather
+cold, doesn't it? It's almost unfair."
+
+"Yes, if one considers it seriously."
+
+"Don't you?"
+
+Winthrop gazed at her for a second before replying. "I see I must tell
+you the truth," he said lightly. "You compel it. It _does_ hurt me to
+have anything or any one that I care for indifferent to me. Perhaps it's
+because I realize that I am giving affection and selfishly want 'value
+returned,' so to speak. Pardon me for becoming serious."
+
+"Surely! But I thank you, too. See Boyar roll! He's happy. No, he
+doesn't roll because his back itches. You see, he's sweaty where the
+saddle covered him. Before he rolled, you noticed that he deliberately
+found a dusty spot. The dust dries the sweat and he doesn't take cold.
+That's the real explanation."
+
+"I knew it couldn't be through happiness at leaving you," said Winthrop.
+
+"If you are determined to keep it up," said Louise mischievously, "all
+right. But be careful, sir! I enjoy it. It's been dull--dreadfully dull
+since Anne and the doctor left. May I have your knife?"
+
+A belated crimson Colombe rose nodded beneath the guest-room window.
+Louise cut the stem and pinned the flower in the lapel of Winthrop's
+white flannel coat. He gazed at her intent on her task.
+
+"There!" she said, with a light touch of her supple fingers. "That will
+do." And slowly her gray eyes lifted to his.
+
+The color flooded to his face. His eyes became momentarily brilliant. He
+drew a deep breath. "You told me to be careful. I shall be," he said,
+bowing slightly. "Please say something. Your silent attack was a little
+too--too successful."
+
+"Truce?" she queried, laughing.
+
+"Never!" replied Winthrop. "Even as our rather mutual and distinctly
+illustrious friend Overland says, 'Not till me wires are all down and
+me lights are out.'"
+
+Collie, standing at the open French window just above them, drew back.
+Quite naturally, being a young man in love, he misinterpreted all that
+he had seen and heard. Louise had been away the day he was expected to
+return to the ranch. She had come back. She was seemingly satisfied with
+Winthrop's society. She was even more than satisfied; she was flirting
+with him. An unreasonable, bucolic jealousy, partly due to his
+condition, overcame Collie's usual serenity. His invalidism magnified
+the whole affair to absurd proportions.
+
+Perhaps it was the intensity of his gaze that caused Louise to glance
+up. His expression startled her. His eyes were burning. His face was
+unnaturally white. He met her glance, but gave no sign of recognition--a
+rudeness that he regretted even while he manifested it.
+
+Louise turned away proudly, calling Winthrop's attention to a huge
+garden-seat beneath the live-oaks. "We have dinner out there quite
+often," she said, her eyes glowing. "Would you care to rest a while
+after your ride?"
+
+"'A jug of wine--a loaf of bread--'" he quoted.
+
+"But it isn't a wilderness. And dinner won't be ready for an hour yet.
+Don't you think a wilderness would have been utterly stupid with his
+'thou' beside him singing everlastingly? Now please don't say, 'It would
+depend on the _thou_.'"
+
+"Do you sing, Miss Lacharme?"
+
+"A little."
+
+"Please, then,--a little. Then I'll answer your question."
+
+"I had rather not, just now."
+
+"My answer would be the same in either case. This is living, after the
+desert and its loneliness. I discovered one thing out there,
+however,--myself. It was a surprise. My 'way-back ancestors must have
+been pirates."
+
+"Mine--grew roses--in southern France."
+
+"I am glad they eventually came to America," he said.
+
+"Are you so fond of candy, Mr. Winthrop?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Neither am I."
+
+"I'm glad they came, just the same. I simply can't help it."
+
+"Overland--Mr. Summers--doesn't take life very seriously, does he?"
+asked Louise.
+
+"Not as seriously as life has taken him, at odd times."
+
+"You brought Collie in your car, didn't you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"He's much better?"
+
+"Yes. But he's pretty shaky yet. He's a little queer, in fact. As we
+came up the canon he asked me to stop the car by the cliff, near this
+end,--that place where the sunlight comes through a kind of notch in the
+west. I thought he was tired of the motion of the car, so we stopped and
+he lay back looking at the cliff. Pretty soon the sun shot a long ray
+past us and it fairly splattered gold on the canon wall. Then the shaft
+of sunlight went out. 'It will shine again,' he said, as if I didn't
+know that. Collie's a pretty sick man."
+
+Later Winthrop and Louise joined the others at the veranda. Louise
+excused herself. She searched a long time before she found another rose.
+This time it was a Colombe bud, full, red, and beautiful. She stepped to
+Collie's window. "Boy!" she called softly.
+
+White and trembling, he stood in the long window looking down at her.
+"I'm glad you are home again," she said.
+
+He nodded, and glanced away.
+
+"Boy!" she called again. "Catch." And she tossed the rose. He caught it
+and pressed it to his lips.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+NIGHT
+
+
+Evening, placidly content with the warm silence, departed lingeringly.
+Belated insects still buzzed in the wayside foliage. A bee, overtaken in
+his busy pilfering by the obliterating dusk, hung on a nodding mountain
+flower, unfearful above the canon's emptiness. An occasional bird
+ventured a boldly questioning note that lingered unfinished in the
+silence of indecision. Across the road hopped a young rabbit, a little
+rounded shadow that melted into the blur of the sage. A cold white fire,
+spreading behind the purple-edged ranges, enriched their somber panoply
+with illusive enchantments, ever changing as the dim effulgence drifted
+from peak to peak. Shadows grew luminous and were gone. In their stead
+wooded valleys and wide canons unfolded to the magic of the moon. There
+was no world but night and imagination.
+
+With many rustlings the quail huddled in the live-oaks, complaining
+querulously until the darkness silenced them.
+
+The warm, acrid fragrance of the hills was drawn intermittently across
+the cooler level of the shadowy road. A little owl, softly reiterating
+his cadences of rue, made loneliness as a thing tangible, a thing
+groping in the dusk with velvet hands.
+
+Then came that hush of rest, that pause of preparation, as though night
+hesitated to awaken her countless myrmidons. With the lisping of
+invisible leaves the Great Master's music-book unfolded. That low,
+orchestral "F"--the dominant note of all nature's melodies--sounded in
+timorous unison--an experimental murmuring. Repeated in higher octaves,
+it swelled to shrill confidence, then a hundred, then myriad invisibles
+chanted to their beloved night or gossiped of the mystery of stars.
+
+Then Night crept from the deep, cool canons to the starlit peaks and
+knelt with her sister hill-folk, Silence and Solitude; knelt, listening
+with bowed head to that ancient antiphony of thankfulness and praise;
+then rose and faced the western sea.
+
+Boyar, the black pony, shook his head with a silvery jingling of
+rein-chains. His sleek flanks glistened in the moonlight. Louise curbed
+him gently with hand and voice as he stepped through the wide gateway of
+the ranch.
+
+He paced lightly across the first shallow ford. Then the narrowing walls
+of the canon echoed his clean-cut steps--a patter of phantom hoof-beats
+following him, stride for stride. Down the long, ever-winding road they
+swung.
+
+Louise, impelled to dreams by the languorous warm night and Boyar's easy
+stride up the steep, touched his neck with the rein and turned him into
+the Old Meadow Trail.
+
+The tall, slender stems of the yucca and infrequent clumps of dwarfed
+cacti cast clear-edged shadows on the bare, moonlit ground. Boyar,
+sniffing, suddenly swung up and pivoted, his fore feet hanging over
+sheer black emptiness. Louise leaned forward, reining him round. Even
+before his fore feet touched the trail again, she heard the sibilant
+_bur-r-ing_ of the cold, uncoiling thing as it slid down the blind
+shadows of the hillside.
+
+"I shan't believe in omens," she murmured.
+
+She reassured the trembling Boyar, who fretted sideways and snorted as
+he passed the spot where the snake had been coiled in the trail.
+
+At the edge of the Old Meadow the girl dismounted, allowing Boyar to
+graze at will.
+
+She climbed to the low rounded rock, her erstwhile throne of dreams,
+where she sat with knees gathered to her in her clasped hands. The pony
+paused in his grazing to lift his head and look at her with gently
+wondering eyes.
+
+The utter solitude of the place, far above the viewless valley, allowed
+her thought a horizon impossible at the Moonstone Rancho. Alone she
+faced the grave question of making an unalterable choice. Collie had
+asked her to marry him. She had evaded direct reply to his direct
+question. She knew of no good reason why she should marry him. She knew
+of no better reason why she should not. She thought she was content with
+being loved. She was, for the moment.
+
+The Old Meadow, that had once before revealed a sprightly and ragged
+romance, slumbered in the southern night; slumbered to awaken to the
+hushed tread of men and strange whisperings.
+
+Down in the valley the coyotes called dismally, with that infinite
+shrill sadness of wild things that hunger, and in their wailing pulsed
+the eternal and unanswerable "Why?" challenging the peaceful stars.
+Something in their questioning cry impelled Louise to lift her hands to
+the night. "What is it? What is it up there--behind everything--that
+never, never answers?"
+
+The moon was lost somewhere behind the ragged peaks. The night grew
+deeper. The Old Meadow, shadowed by the range above it, grew dark,
+impenetrable, a place without boundary or breadth or depth.
+
+"Got a match, kid?"
+
+Louise raised her head. Some one was afoot on the Old Meadow Trail. She
+could hear the whisper of dried grasses against the boots of the men as
+another voice replied, "Sure! Here you are." And Louise knew that Collie
+was one of the men.
+
+About to call, she hesitated, strangely curious as to who the other man
+might be, and why Collie and he should foregather in the Old Meadow, at
+night.
+
+"Never mind," mumbled the first speaker; "I thought I wanted to smoke,
+but I don't. I want to talk first--about the Rose Girl."
+
+Louise tried to call out, but she was interrupted by Overland's voice.
+The two men had stopped at the lower side of the great rock. She could
+hear them plainly, although she could not see them.
+
+"Collie--we're busted. We're done, Chico. I ain't said nothin' to Billy
+yet. He's got money, anyway. This here only hits you and me."
+
+"What do you mean, Red?"
+
+"I mean that the Rose Girl Mining Company, Incorporated, Jack Summers,
+President and General Manager, don't belong to us and never did. We been
+sellin' stock that ain't ours and never was."
+
+"How's that?"
+
+"I was goin' to write. But I ain't no hand to write about business.
+Writin' po'try is bad enough. You recollec' them papers and that dust
+Billy tried to find, out there by the track?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, I found it all. Since the company is workin' the claim now and I
+didn't have so much to do, I got to thinkin' of them papers. I went out
+there, paced her off down the track, guessed at about where it was, and
+found 'em."
+
+"Found them?"
+
+"Yes, sir. There was that little bag almost atop of the sand, account of
+wind and rain. Then there was a record of the claim, our claim. It's
+been filed on before. We made a mistake and filed on the wrong section.
+When me and Billy went to file, I noticed the clerk said something about
+havin' neighbors on the claim next, but I was scared of answerin' too
+many questions, so I give him some cigars and beat it."
+
+"Who owns our claim, then?"
+
+"That's the queer part of it. You know the guy we give the water to--the
+one that died out there. _He_ owns the claim, or he did. It belongs by
+rights to his girl now. His name was Andre Lacharme."
+
+"Lacharme!"
+
+"Yes, Louise's pa. Recollect your boss tellin' us as how the Rose Girl's
+daddy was missin' out in the Mojave? Then they was a letter--old and
+'most wore out--from Walter Stone himself. It was to him--her
+pa--tellin' him about the little Louise baby and askin' him to come to
+the Moonstone and take a job and quit prospectin'. That's where we
+stand."
+
+Louise, breathless, listened and could not believe that she was real,
+that this was not a dream. Andre Lacharme! Her father!
+
+"I seen a lawyer about it," resumed Overland. "He said it was plain
+enough that the claim belonged to the dead prospector or his girl, now.
+You see, we worked the claim and kep' up the work accordin' to law. What
+we made ain't ours, but I'm mighty glad it's hers. 'Course, we earned
+what dust we dug, all right. Now I'm leavin' it up to you. Do we tell
+her or do we say nothin', and go on gettin' rich?"
+
+"Why do you put it up to me?" asked Collie.
+
+"Because, kid, you got the most to lose. Your chance is about gone with
+the Rose Girl if you let go the gold. Sabe? The little Rose Girl is
+wise. She don't give two cents for money--but she ain't foolish enough
+to marry a puncher that's workin' for wages on her uncle's ranch. And
+when she gets all me and Billy made and your share, she'll be rich. That
+won't be no time for you to go courtin' _her_. It ain't that you ain't
+good enough for any girl. But now'days things is different. You got to
+have money."
+
+"Do you think Louise would take the money?" asked Collie.
+
+"I don't know. But that ain't it. We either give it up--or we don't.
+What do you say?"
+
+"Why--to tell Louise, of course. I meant that right along. You ought to
+know that."
+
+"You givin' it up because you had some fuss with her, or anything like
+that?"
+
+"No, Red. I say tell her, because it's square. Did she stop to ask
+questions when I was in trouble? No. She went to work to help me, quick.
+I guess we care more for her than a whole carload of gold."
+
+"Well, I guess. Once I wouldn't 'a' stopped to worry about whose gold it
+was. But knowin' the Rose Girl,--knowin' what she _is_,--why, it's
+makin' me soft in me morals."
+
+"What do we do now, Red?"
+
+"I'm goin' to beat it. Back to the dusty for mine."
+
+"You don't have to do that, Red."
+
+"That's just why I'm a-doin' it. I like to do what I like."
+
+"Quitting now seems like saying, 'I'm whipped,'" said Collie. "Quitting
+after giving up our money to her looks like we were sore--even if we do
+it and smile. She would feel bad, Red. She'd think she drove us off."
+
+"No, I reckon not. She'll see that I always been a good daddy to you and
+put you right in this case. It was all right when you had a chance. It
+ain't now. It ain't fair to her, neither, because she's like to stick to
+any promises she might 'a' made you."
+
+"Why don't you ask Stone for a job?" said Collie.
+
+"What? Me? After bein' President of the Rose Girl Mining Company,
+in--Say! They's no halfway house for me. It's all or nothin'. Why, I
+don't even own the Guzzuh. Could you stand it to see her every day, and
+you just a puncher workin' for the Moonstone. She would smile and treat
+you _fine_, and you'd be eatin' your own heart out for her."
+
+"No, I couldn't," said Collie slowly. "Red, I guess you're right."
+
+Collie's perspective was distorted through sudden disappointment. The
+old life of the road ... the vague to-morrows of indolence ... the
+sprightly companionship of Overland Red, inventive, eloquent....
+
+"Red, if I come with you, it's because I can't stand seeing her--after
+everything that has happened. It is square to her, too, I guess."
+
+"I ain't askin' you, Collie, but there's nothin' like ramblin' to make
+you forget. It's got hard work beat to a mush, because when you're
+ramblin' you're 'most always hungry. Listen! Love is when you ain't
+satisfied. So is a empty stomach. A fella's got to eat. Do you get
+that?"
+
+"Yes. But, Red, you said you loved a woman once. You didn't forget."
+
+"No, kid. I didn't. Once I didn't do nothin' else but remember. I got
+over that. It's only accidental to circumstances pertainin' to the fact
+that I remember now. You never seen _me_ cry in my soup, did you?"
+
+"But you're different."
+
+"That's the blat every yearlin' makes till he grows up and finds out
+he's a cow jest like his ma. I ain't different inside. And bleedin'
+inside is dangerouser than bleedin' outside. Listen! Remember the little
+fire beside the track, when we was 'way up in the big hills? Remember
+the curve, like a snake unwindin' where she run round the hill, and
+nothin' beyond but space and the sun drippin' red in the ocean? Remember
+the chicken we swiped and et that night? And then the smokes and lookin'
+up at the stars? Remember that? Listen!
+
+  "It's beat it, bo, while your feet are mates,
+  And we'll see the whole United States.
+  With a smoke and a pal and a fire at night,
+  And up again in the mornin' bright,
+  With nothin' but road and sky in sight
+     And nothin' to do but go.
+
+  "Then, beat it, bo, while the walkin' 's good;
+  And the birds on the wires is sawin' wood.
+  If to-day ain't the finest for you and me,
+  There's always to-morrow, that's goin' to be.
+  And the day after that is a-comin'. See!
+     And nothin' to do but go.
+
+  "I'm the ramblin' son with the nervous feet,
+  That never was made for a steady beat.
+  I had many a job for a little spell;
+  I been on the bum, and I've hit it swell.
+  But there's only one road to Fare-ye-well,
+     And nothin' to do but go."
+
+"With nothing to do but go," whispered Collie. "Red, we've always been
+friends?"
+
+"You bet your return ticket!"
+
+"And we are always going to be," said Collie. "I guess that settles it.
+I--I wish Saunders--had--finished me."
+
+Louise, numb from sitting still so long, moved slightly.
+
+"What's that?" exclaimed Collie.
+
+"Jest some of your little old ideas changin' cars," replied Overland.
+"You'll get used to it."
+
+"No; I heard something."
+
+"You'll be seein' things next. Got a match? I'm jest dyin' for a smoke.
+Remember when she give us the makin's and you got hot at me?"
+
+Overland cupped the flame in his hands and lighted his cigarette. The
+soft glow of the match spread in the windless air, penetrating the
+darkness. For an instant, a breath, Overland saw a startled face gazing
+down at him; the white face of the Rose Girl!
+
+"Great Snakes!" he cried, stepping back as the flame expired.
+
+"What's the matter, Red?"
+
+"Nothin'. I was just thinkin'. I burned my mitt. Come on, Collie.
+Brand'll find a bunk for me to-night, I reckon. We'll tell the boss and
+the Rose Girl all about it to-morrow."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII
+
+MORNING
+
+
+"Something's goin' to happen," stated Brand Williams.
+
+"How's that?" queried Bud Light.
+
+"See them two bosses--the Yuma colt and Boyar--?"
+
+"Uhuh."
+
+"Well, Boyar's been standin' there since daylight, saddled. Nobody rides
+him but Miss Louise."
+
+"It's mighty early, but I don't see nothin' strange about the rest of
+it."
+
+"Wait a minute, Bud. Did you see Collie this mornin'? Was he all fixed
+up with his hair jest _so_, and his bandanna jest _so_, and his new
+sombrero and his silver spurs, and them new chaps, lookin' mighty
+important? He saddles Yuma and ties her over there. While he was eatin',
+the Boyar hoss trails his bridle over to where Yuma is tied. There they
+stand visitin' like two old soldiers on crutches instead of two mighty
+quick-actin' cayuses. Now that Yuma hoss has kicked the fancy linin' out
+of every cayuse that dast come nigh her. They 're _all_ scared of her.
+She's makin' an exception this mornin'. She's plumb friendly with
+Boyar. That signifies! Hosses can see farther in the dark than folks."
+
+"Signifies what?"
+
+"Well, after all the talk I jest wasted on you, it signifies that you're
+too thick-headed, Buddy, to waste any more on. I can learn you to
+_spell_ if you wanta take lessons."
+
+"You're dreamin', Brand. Wake up! As to spellin'--I'm spellin' right now
+while the fo'man is entertainin' me."
+
+"Thanks for callin' my attention to it. You can take your hoss and ride
+over to the Three Oaks. There's some fence down, over at the North
+Spring. I ain't dreamin' about that."
+
+Bud Light departed, swearing to himself. He disliked mending fence.
+Williams knew it. The cheerful Bud, "Reckoned he ought to 'a' known
+better than to try to ride the old man into the fence. Next time he
+would listen--and mebby learn something."
+
+Louise, drawing on her gauntlets, came down the broad steps of the
+ranch-house. The November air was crisp with the tang of early morning.
+
+She was puzzled at finding Boyar and Yuma together. She noticed Boyar
+had trailed his bridle across the yard--an unusual thing for him to do,
+considering his training. Louise spoke to the Yuma colt, who sniffed at
+her gloved hand. The girl wondered why Collie had saddled Yuma. He
+usually rode one of the ranch horses to work. She wanted to talk with
+him--to reason with him; for her knowledge of the previous night's
+disclosures worried and distressed her. She thought Collie's half
+promise to Overland Red to turn to their old life had been too easily
+made. Her pride in him was touched. She was hurt, and not a little
+angry. She saw the flaw in his ultimate decision to sacrifice himself
+and his prospects through a too stringent and quixotic interpretation of
+his duty. To go back to the old life again--a tramp!
+
+But Collie was not to be seen. However, Louise never hesitated long.
+Deliberately she untied the Yuma colt and swung into the saddle. Black
+Boyar seemed to realize something unusual in her preference. He fretted
+as the roan pony leaped sideways toward the gate.
+
+Louise knew that Collie would follow her. She was riding his pony, the
+Yuma colt, and he would be fearful for the rider's safety.
+
+Collie, coming from the bunk-house, glanced up and saw Black Boyar
+standing alone where his own pony had stood. This was not an invitation;
+this was daring him to follow.
+
+He rode into the canon, half conscious of Yuma's tracks ahead of him. He
+rode past the tracks as they swerved toward a grassy level near the
+stream.
+
+"Collie!"
+
+Louise stood beside the sweating Yuma, patting the pony's neck. Collie
+raised his sombrero formally.
+
+Louise was bareheaded. The clear morning sunlight enhanced her rich
+coloring. Against the misty gray of the canon wall, her head in profile,
+as she stood beside the horse, was as delicately beautiful as that
+vision that imagination knows full well but may seldom realize.
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"Collie, don't! Say anything but that. You look awfully glum. Surely not
+because I took Yuma."
+
+"No. Only I was afraid for you."
+
+"So you followed at break-neck speed to rescue the timorous, the
+despairing, and-so-forth?"
+
+"I can't joke like that this morning."
+
+"Why? I'm here, safe enough. Had breakfast?"
+
+"Yes. I wanted to see you about something, Louise."
+
+"All right. But you are so unnaturally tall and severe and judicial
+sitting there on Boyar. You look almost funereal. Please get down. Roll
+a cigarette and act natural. I'm not going to scold you, sir."
+
+"I wish you would."
+
+"Why? What have you been doing that makes you look so ashamed of
+yourself. Tell me!"
+
+"I didn't know I was."
+
+"You don't act naturally. Is there something about me that is different?
+Is that it?"
+
+"No. I wish you was different, sometimes."
+
+"You do?"
+
+"No," he said gently. "I don't wish you were different. I want to
+remember you like you are."
+
+"To _remember_ me?"
+
+"Yes," he whispered, "to remember you."
+
+He seemed to see regret, astonishment, questioning, gentle reproof, even
+a hint of amusement in her eyes. But her expression changed instantly.
+"I think you have something to remember me by; something you asked me
+for once, long ago. I sent it to you. You have never spoken of
+it--acknowledged it. I can't quite forgive that."
+
+"Your glove. I know. I got it here." And he touched his breast. "I
+thought you would understand."
+
+"I do. But, Collie, a girl always likes to be told that she is
+understood, even when she knows it."
+
+"I was going to write about getting your glove, at the hospital. I guess
+I was too tired."
+
+"At the hospital?"
+
+"Yes. Red sent it to me. Brand gave it to him to give to me--that time."
+
+"Oh!" And Louise felt like retracting a little; but sweetly perverse,
+she obeyed sheer instinct. "Collie, do you realize that I have already
+asked you to dismount? Shall I have to ask you again? Do you realize
+that I am standing while you are sitting your horse?"
+
+"I am begging your pardon, Louise."
+
+The girl nodded brightly, smiling as she noticed the little scar on his
+chin--a wound that she had made him blush for when she had admonished
+him for fighting with Dick Tenlow.
+
+She watched the rise and fall of the muscles of his arm, beneath his
+flannel shirt, as he lighted his cigarette. How broad-chested and strong
+and wholesome he seemed in the morning sunlight! There was an untamed
+grace about his movements, his gestures, which, together with his
+absolute unconsciousness of self, pleased and attracted her.
+
+"Yuma is a little wild, but she is a fine saddle-pony. I'm really
+jealous for Boyar's prestige."
+
+"I was afraid for you to ride her," said Collie.
+
+"She behaves beautifully."
+
+"Would you take her as a kind of present from me?" he asked.
+
+"Give Yuma to me? I thought you loved her?"
+
+"I do. That's why I want you to have her."
+
+"He would give you away," said Louise, stroking Yuma's neck. "Give you
+away just as you're learning to trust him and perhaps even like him a
+little--and he says he loves you! Let's run away from him, Hummingbird!"
+
+"I think I could stand it if you would just be mean once," said Collie.
+
+"Stand what, Collie?"
+
+He had been watching her shapely hand and supple, rounded wrist as she
+stroked the pony's neck. Swiftly she turned from the horse and faced
+him. "What, Collie?" There was laughter in her eyes, a laughter that
+challenged more than his serious mood. Her lips were smiling. Her chin
+was tilted provokingly.
+
+His eyes grew wide with unspoken love, unuttered longing. He delighted
+in the delicious curve of her cheek, and of her arm resting on the
+saddle. Her poise had an inexplicable suggestion of royal courage, as
+though she were battling for more than her lips could utter. In her
+absence he had adored her. Now he forgot all that he had meant to tell
+her in the sensuous delight of her mere presence. But even that was not
+enough. He dropped the pony's reins and strode toward her. Louise paled
+even as he drew near, but he saw nothing but her eyes and her lips, lips
+that curved wistfully, provoking tenderness and love. For an instant
+Louise held her heart aloof.
+
+"Let me just worship you--a little while--a little while," he whispered.
+
+"Only a little while?" she breathed; and the soft rose glowed in her
+cheeks.
+
+"Just forever," he said.
+
+And Louise Lacharme, more beautiful than the morning, Louise, his most
+gracious senorita, his Madonna of the Rose, lifted her arms to him. Her
+lips quivered like a child's, tremulous with longing to tell him
+silently, as his lips found hers, all that her heart was giving and all
+the wealth of love it yet should give.
+
+Gently his hands clasped her golden head. His whole being thrilled as he
+touched her hair, her cheeks, her lips. "Oh, Collie! Collie! Love me
+always," she whispered. And she drew him down to her breast and caressed
+his cheek, sighing and murmuring little endearments and sweet, broken
+words of love.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Moonstone Canon, coldly beautiful, echoed the hoof-beats of the ponies
+as they walked homeward.
+
+Louise turned in the saddle. "Collie," she said with an indescribable
+gesture of appeal, "you will always take care of me, won't you?"
+
+"My Rose Girl! Why do you say that?"
+
+"I was thinking of my father."
+
+Louise saw his lips stiffen and his chin lift. "Louise, I had no right,
+just now,--I haven't any right--I'm poor. The claim wasn't ours."
+
+"I didn't mean that," she said, smiling wistfully. "But you will always
+care for me, won't you? I don't care one bit about the claim. It has
+made trouble and sorrow enough. I can't remember my father. I can hardly
+think of him as my father. But it is horrible to think of his dying for
+water because he cared so much for gold."
+
+"But how did you know?"
+
+"I know," she answered gravely. "And I know that you are a very, very
+foolish boy, not to trust your friends more than you do. Did you suppose
+you would be happier or better in leaving Moonstone Rancho? Did you
+suppose I would be happier? Collie, you have so much to learn."
+
+"I guess that's so," he sighed. Then his eyes brightened with his
+old-time mischief. "Couldn't you begin now to teach me a little--like
+back there in the canon?"
+
+And being of a decisive habit of mind, he rode close to Louise and
+claimed immediate and delicious instruction.
+
+"But how _did_ you know?" he asked again--"about the claim and your
+father and me?"
+
+"A secret that I share with Overland," she replied.
+
+[Illustration: CAN'T I HAVE ANOTHER ONE, ROSE GIRL?]
+
+"So he told you! When? Not last night. He was asleep when I came away
+this morning."
+
+"So he is here, then?"
+
+"Louise, you're joking. Didn't Red talk to you?"
+
+"No."
+
+"And you know all about it already?" He looked at her curiously for a
+moment. "Did you know that I said I was going to leave the Moonstone?"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"For the same reason that I can't now--you. Red and Billy Winthrop and I
+don't own a cent's worth of the claim now. I don't even own what's in
+the bank. All I got is Yuma."
+
+"You gave Yuma to me, Collie."
+
+"I sure did. I haven't even her. But I've got you. Oh, Louise! I can't
+believe it. I could just shout. Can't I have another one, Rose Girl?"
+
+"Must I teach you not to ask?" said Louise.
+
+Collie took her other meaning as she made a little mouth at him. "Not
+after this," he said, and gave apt proof that he meant it.
+
+"More than a whole carload of gold?" she asked, gazing at him.
+
+"You know _that_, too?"
+
+"Collie?"
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Promise that you won't speak to any one about the claim, or the
+desert, or my father until I say you may."
+
+"Of course I promise."
+
+"Nor about ourselves, until I tell you to."
+
+"Never--if it will make you happy."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Overland Red, sitting on a boulder beside the road, stooped and gathered
+up a handful of pebbles. Then, for lack of other interest, he invented a
+game of ancient and honorable origin. "She loves me," he said tossing
+away a pebble. "She loves me not." And up spun another pebble. So he
+continued until the pebbles were gone. "She loves me not," he muttered
+lugubriously. Then his face brightened. "Of course she don't. She loves
+_him_. That's what I was tryin' to get at, anyway."
+
+He fumbled at a huge bunch of little red flowers called "Hummingbird's
+Trumpets." He arranged the hastily constructed bouquet to suit him. Then
+he laid it on the rock.
+
+"Accordin' to the latest book on good table-manners, or 'How to Be Happy
+Though Dressed Up,' this here bouquet is the proper thing. They'll think
+I'm some wiz' when I step out and present these here hummin'birds'
+bugles. Huh! I seen the two bosses gone, and I gets wise direct. But I
+got to brace up. Wonder what she'll think about me--after hearin' what I
+said last night at the Old Meadow? Gee! I wonder what I did say? Did I
+cuss much? I forget. H-m-m. Good-mornin', folks! I--er--This here--Them
+hummin'birds' bugles--flowers--Happy day--Collie, what's wrong with you?
+What you laughin' at?"
+
+"You, of course. Where did you get the posies?"
+
+"Picked 'em along the Golden Shore. Just got back."
+
+"You do look scared, Red."
+
+"Seein' you're gettin' personal--_you_ needn't to think because _you_
+just been there that I never will."
+
+"Say, Overland--I--we--" began Collie.
+
+"I knowed it! I won't say a word to nobody."
+
+Collie glanced at Louise. She nodded. Then she gave Overland her hand.
+He seized it and stood looking into her sweet gray eyes. "Little Rose
+Girl," he said quietly, "you always was the best and kindest and
+beautifullest we ever knowed. It ain't the first time you give your hand
+to help them that ain't fit to touch it. If there _is_ any Golden Shore,
+I guess me and Collie will be there just because we knowed you down here
+and couldn't stay around, nohow, where you wasn't. And, believe me, if
+he don't treat you from now on like you was a plumb angel, I'll--I'll
+ride him off the big range and into space quicker'n shootin' stars!
+These here flowers is for you--not for that long-legged grasshopper
+ridin' your hoss there. I should think Boyar would be plumb ashamed."
+
+"Then Collie can walk," said Louise promptly. "Collie, will you please
+let Mr. Summers take Boyar? I want to talk with the President of--of my
+mine a little while."
+
+"Don't faint, Chico," said Overland, swinging into the saddle. "I always
+was the 'cute little gopher with the ladies. You watch _us_ ride up this
+trail if you want to see a pair that _can_ ride."
+
+Collie shook his fist at the grinning Overland, who had turned as he
+rode away. "You want to learn to act quick when a lady asks you," called
+Overland. "You didn't get off this hoss any too spry."
+
+Then Collie stooped and picked up a little red flower that had dropped
+from the boisterous one's offering.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII
+
+A SPEECH
+
+
+The Marshalls and Billy Winthrop came in their car. The ride through the
+canon had been pleasant. They were talking about Overland. They had been
+discussing the rearrangement of a great many things since the news of
+Louise's heritage had become known.
+
+"You had better close the muffler, Billy. You are frightening that
+pony!"
+
+"That's the Yuma colt," said Winthrop. "Overland is riding her."
+
+"Overland?"
+
+"Yes. He's coming to meet us."
+
+Plunging through the crackling greasewood at the side of the road, the
+Yuma colt leaped toward the car. In broad sombrero, blue silk
+neckerchief, blue flannel shirt, and silver-studded leather chaps, was a
+strangely familiar figure. The great silver spurs rang musically as the
+pony reared. The figure gave easily to the wild plunging of the horse,
+yet was as firm as iron in the saddle.
+
+Anne drew a deep breath. It was not the grotesque, frock-coated Overland
+of a recent visit, nor was it the ragged, unkempt vision Louise had
+conjured up for her in relating the Old Meadow story. In fact, it was
+not Overland Red at all, but Jack Summers, the range-rider of the old
+red Abilene days. He was clean-shaven, vigorous, splendidly strong, and
+confident. In the saddle, bedecked in his showy trappings, surrounded by
+his friends, Jack Summers had found his youth again, and the past was as
+a closed book, for the nonce.
+
+"I'm the boss's envy extraordinary," said Overland, by way of greeting.
+"Walt said something else, too, about bein' a potentiary, but I reckon
+_that_ was a joke."
+
+"Good-morning! Don't get down! Glad to see you again!"
+
+But Overland was in the road, hat in hand, and Yuma's bridle-reins over
+one arm.
+
+"'Mornin', Billy! 'Mornin', Doctor! You run right up to the house. I left
+the gate open."
+
+Then Overland rode back, following them. Later he reappeared, minus
+spurs and chaps, but still clad in the garb of the range-rider. He was
+as proud and happy as a boy. He seemed to have dropped ten years from
+his shoulders. And he was strangely unlike his old boisterous self
+withal.
+
+The noon sun crept through the moon-vine. Out on the wide veranda was
+the long table. They were a happy group at luncheon there. Even the
+taciturn Brand Williams had been persuaded to come. His native
+picturesqueness was rather effaced by a black, characterless suit of
+"store clothes."
+
+Walter Stone, at the conclusion of the luncheon, asked Overland to make
+a speech. Nothing daunted, Overland rose briskly.
+
+"I expect you're lookin' for me to fall off the roof of the cannery into
+the tomato-vat and make a large red splash. Not me. I got somethin' to
+say. Now the difference in droppin' a egg on the kitchen floor and
+breakin' it calm-like, in a saucer, ain't only the muss on the floor.
+You save the egg. Just recent I come nigh to losin' my whole basket. You
+all know who saved 'em. Not namin' any names, the same person, by jest
+bein' herself, and kind to everybody, put me wise to the fact that money
+and clothes ain't all that goes to make a man. And, at the same time,
+speakin' kind of orthodoxical, money and clothes has a whole lot to do
+with makin' a man. I just got hep to that idea recent.
+
+"Speakin' of clothes leads me to remark that I got a new outfit up at
+the bunk-house. It's a automobilein' outfit. Billy says it's the correc'
+thing. He helped me pick it out. Which leads Billy into this here thing,
+too. He said to break the news gentle, and not scare anybody to death
+and not get 'em to thinkin' that somebody was hurt or anything like
+that, so I'm breakin' it to you easy. Me and Billy is goin' away. We're
+goin' in the Guzzuh--'God save the mush,' as the pote says. We are the
+Overland Red Towerist and Observation Company, Unlimited. We are goin'
+
+  "'Round the world and back again;
+  Heel and toe in sun and rain'--
+
+as another pote says. Only we ride. I ain't got nothin' to say about
+gettin' married, or happy days, or any of that ordinary kind of stuff. I
+want to drink the health of my friends. I got so many and such good ones
+that I dassent to incriminate any particular one; so I say, lookin' at
+your faces like roses and lilies and--and faces, I say,--
+
+  "'Here's to California, the darling of the West,
+  A blessin' on those livin' here--
+  And God help all the rest.'"
+
+Overland sat down amid applause. He located his tobacco and papers,
+rolled a cigarette with one hand, and gazed across the hills. Glancing
+up, he saw Louise looking at him. He smiled. "I was settin' on a crazy
+bronc' holdin' his head up so he couldn't go to buckin'--outside a
+little old adobe down in Yuma, Arizona, then. Did you ever drift away
+like that, just from some little old trick to make you dream?"
+
+At a nod from Aunt Eleanor they all rose.
+
+Louise stepped from her end of the table to where Overland stood gazing
+out across the hills. She touched him lightly on the arm. He turned and
+looked at her unseeingly. His eyes were filled with the dreams of his
+youth, dreams that had not come true ... and yet.... He gazed down into
+her face. His expression changed. His eyes grew misty with happiness. He
+realized how many friends he had and how loyal and excellent they were.
+And of all that he had gained his greatest treasure was his love for
+Louise--for Louise Lacharme, the little Rose Girl of his dreams. That
+love lay buried deep in his rugged heart. She would never know of it. No
+one should ever know--not even Collie.
+
+Louise, in an ecstasy of affection and pity that she could not
+understand, suddenly flung her arms around Overland's neck and kissed
+him full on the lips.
+
+More than he had ever dared to dream had come true.
+
+THE END
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP'S DRAMATIZED NOVELS
+
+THE KIND THAT ARE MAKING THEATRICAL HISTORY
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list
+
+
+WITHIN THE LAW. By Bayard Veiller & Marvin Dana. Illustrated by Wm.
+Charles Cooke.
+
+This is a novelization of the immensely successful play which ran for
+two years in New York and Chicago.
+
+The plot of this powerful novel is of a young woman's revenge directed
+against her employer who allowed her to be sent to prison for three
+years on a charge of theft, of which she was innocent.
+
+
+WHAT HAPPENED TO MARY. By Robert Carlton Brown. Illustrated with scenes
+from the play.
+
+This is a narrative of a young and innocent country girl who is suddenly
+thrown into the very heart of New York, "the land of her dreams," where
+she is exposed to all sorts of temptations and dangers.
+
+The story of Mary is being told in moving pictures and played in
+theatres all over the world.
+
+
+THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM. By David Belasco. Illustrated by John Rae.
+
+This is a novelization of the popular play in which David Warfield, as
+Old Peter Grimm, scored such a remarkable success.
+
+The story is spectacular and extremely pathetic but withal, powerful,
+both as a book and as a play.
+
+
+THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. By Robert Hichens.
+
+This novel is an intense, glowing epic of the great desert, sunlit
+barbaric, with its marvelous atmosphere of vastness and loneliness.
+
+It is a book of rapturous beauty, vivid in word painting. The play has
+been staged with magnificent cast and gorgeous properties.
+
+
+BEN HUR. A Tale of the Christ. By General Lew Wallace.
+
+The whole world has placed this famous Religious-Historical Romance on a
+height of pre-eminence which no other novel of its time has reached. The
+clashing of rivalry and the deepest human passions, the perfect
+reproduction of brilliant Roman life, and the tense, fierce atmosphere
+of the arena have kept their deep fascination. A tremendous dramatic
+success.
+
+
+BOUGHT AND PAID FOR. By George Broadhurst and Arthur Hornblow.
+Illustrated with scenes from the play.
+
+A stupendous arraignment of modern marriage which has created an
+interest on the stage that is almost unparalleled. The scenes are laid
+in New York, and deal with conditions among both the rich and poor.
+
+The interest of the story turns on the day-by day developments which
+show the young wife the price she has paid.
+
+Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+STORIES OF WESTERN LIFE
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list
+
+
+RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE, By Zane Grey.
+
+Illustrated by Douglas Duer.
+
+In this picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago, we are
+permitted to see the unscrupulous methods employed by the invisible hand
+of the Mormon Church to break the will of those refusing to conform to
+its rule.
+
+
+FRIAR TUCK, By Robert Alexander Wason.
+
+Illustrated by Stanley L. Wood.
+
+Happy Hawkins tells us, in his humorous way, how Friar Tuck lived among
+the Cowboys, how he adjusted their quarrels and love affairs and how he
+fought with them and for them when occasion required.
+
+
+THE SKY PILOT, By Ralph Connor.
+
+Illustrated by Louis Rhead.
+
+There is no novel, dealing with the rough existence of cowboys, so
+charming in the telling, abounding as it does with the freshest and the
+truest pathos.
+
+
+THE EMIGRANT TRAIL By Geraldine Bonner.
+
+Colored frontispiece by John Rae.
+
+The book relates the adventures of a party on its overland pilgrimage,
+and the birth and growth of the absorbing love of two strong men for a
+charming heroine.
+
+
+THE BOSS OF WIND RIVER, By A. M. Chisholm.
+
+Illustrated by Frank Tenney Johnson.
+
+This is a strong, virile novel with the lumber industry for its central
+theme and a love story full of interest as a sort of subplot.
+
+
+A PRAIRIE COURTSHIP. By Harold Bindloss.
+
+A story of Canadian prairies in which the hero is stirred, through the
+influence of his love for a woman, to settle down to the heroic business
+of pioneer farming.
+
+
+JOYCE OF THE NORTH WOODS, By Harriet T. Comstock.
+
+Illustrated by John Cassel.
+
+A story of the deep woods that shows the power of love at work among its
+primitive dwellers. It is a tensely moving study of the human heart and
+its aspirations that unfolds itself through thrilling situations and
+dramatic developments.
+
+Ask for a complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+TITLES SELECTED FROM GROSSET & DUNLAP'S LIST
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list
+
+
+THE SIEGE OF THE SEVEN SUITORS. By Meredith Nicholson. Illustrated by C.
+Coles Phillips and Reginald Birch.
+
+Seven suitors vie with each other for the love of a beautiful girl, and
+she subjects them to a test that is full of mystery, magic and sheer
+amusement.
+
+
+THE MAGNET. By Henry C. Rowland. Illustrated by Clarence F. Underwood.
+
+The story of a remarkable courtship involving three pretty girls on a
+yacht, a poet-lover in pursuit, and a mix-up in the names of the girls.
+
+
+THE TURN OF THE ROAD. By Eugenia Brooks Frothingham.
+
+A beautiful young opera singer chooses professional success instead of
+love, but comes to a place in life where the call of the heart is
+stronger than worldly success.
+
+
+SCOTTIE AND HIS LADY. By Margaret Morse. Illustrated by Harold M. Brett.
+
+A young girl whose affections have been blighted is presented with a
+Scotch Collie to divert her mind, and the roving adventures of her pet
+lead the young mistress into another romance.
+
+
+SHEILA VEDDER. By Amelia E. Barr. Frontispiece by Harrison Fisher.
+
+A very beautiful romance of the Shetland Islands, with a handsome,
+strong willed hero and a lovely girl of Gaelic blood as heroine. A
+sequel to "Jan Vedder's Wife."
+
+
+JOHN WARD. PREACHER. By Margaret Deland.
+
+The first big success of this much loved American novelist. It is a
+powerful portrayal of a young clergyman's attempt to win his beautiful
+wife to his own narrow creed.
+
+
+THE TRAIL OF NINETY-EIGHT. By Robert W. Service. Illustrated by Maynard
+Dixon.
+
+One of the best stories of "Vagabondia" ever written, and one of the
+most accurate and picturesque of the stampede of gold seekers to the
+Yukon. The love story embedded in the narrative is strikingly original.
+
+Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN'S STORIES OF PURE DELIGHT
+
+Full of originality and humor, kindliness and cheer
+
+
+THE OLD PEABODY PEW. Large Octavo. Decorative text pages, printed in two
+colors. Illustrations by Alice Barber Stephens.
+
+One of the prettiest romances that has ever come from this author's pen
+is made to bloom on Christmas Eve in the sweet freshness of an old New
+England meeting house.
+
+
+PENELOPE'S PROGRESS. Attractive cover design in colors.
+
+Scotland is the background for the merry doings of three very clever and
+original American girls. Their adventures in adjusting themselves to the
+Scot and his land are full of humor.
+
+
+PENELOPE'S IRISH EXPERIENCES. Uniform in style with "Penelope's
+Progress."
+
+The trio of clever girls who rambled over Scotland cross the border to
+the Emerald Isle, and again they sharpen their wits against new
+conditions, and revel in the land of laughter and wit.
+
+
+REBECCA OF SUNNYBROOK FARM.
+
+One of the most beautiful studies of childhood--Rebecca's artistic,
+unusual and quaintly charming qualities stand cut midst a circle of
+austere New Englanders. The stage version is making a phenomenal
+dramatic record.
+
+
+NEW CHRONICLES OF REBECCA. With illustrations by F. C. Yohn.
+
+Some more quaintly amusing chronicles that carry Rebecca through various
+stages to her eighteenth birthday.
+
+
+ROSE O' THE RIVER. With illustrations by George Wright.
+
+The simple story of Rose, a country girl and Stephen a sturdy young
+farmer. The girl's fancy for a city man interrupts their love and merges
+the story into an emotional strain where the reader follows the events
+with rapt attention.
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Overland Red, by Henry Herbert Knibbs
+
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