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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 25728 ***
+
+
+
+
+
+DESERT CONQUEST
+
+Or
+
+Precious Waters
+
+by
+
+A. M. CHISHOLM
+
+Author of The Boss of Wind River, Etc.
+
+Illustrated by Clarence Rowe
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "I'LL MAKE THIS ONE QUIET!" SNAPPED SHEILA, FOR THE HARD
+PACE HAD TOLD ON HER TEMPER THROUGH HER BRUISES]
+
+
+
+New York
+Grosset & Dunlap
+Publishers
+
+Copyright, 1913, by
+Doubleday, Page & Company
+All rights reserved, including that of
+translation into foreign languages,
+including the Scandinavian
+
+Copyright, 1912, 1913, by Street & Smith, Publishers
+
+
+
+
+DESERT CONQUEST
+
+or
+
+PRECIOUS WATERS
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Miss Nita Hess flattened a snub nose against the Pullman window, and
+stared at the expressionless face of the plains with an avidity to be
+explained only by the fact that her acquaintance with them up to then
+had been principally through the medium of light literature perused
+surreptitiously in a select school for young ladies in the extreme
+East. But her remarks from time to time would have shocked the
+ultra-correct preceptresses of that excellent seat of learning.
+
+"Oh, gee, Clyde," she exclaimed suddenly, "look at the cute little
+deer! Oh, see 'em scoot!"
+
+Her companion glanced from the window, and stifled a yawn. "Antelope,"
+she commented, without interest. "Yes, I see them, Nita," and leaned
+back again, closing her eyes.
+
+In fact, Miss Clyde Burnaby was bored by the journey, and a little--a
+very little--by her fifteen-year-old cousin, daughter of the celebrated
+James C. Hess, of the equally celebrated Hess Railway System. Nita was
+a good little girl, and a nice little girl--in spite of occasional
+lingual lapses--but only a sense of duty to dear old Uncle Jim had
+induced Clyde to forego her European trip that she might accompany Nita
+to the Pacific coast for the benefit of that young lady's health, which
+Clyde privately considered as sound as the national currency system.
+
+In a democratic moment she had refused Hess' offer of a private car,
+and she now rather regretted it. She had a headache, and the great
+coils of red-gold hair seemed to weigh tons. It would have been a
+relief to have it taken down and brushed by a deft-fingered maid. But
+the maid also had been left behind. And that, she decided, was a
+mistake, also.
+
+Clyde Burnaby was alone in the world. Her father's modest fortune,
+under the able management of his executor, Jim Hess, had expanded
+wonderfully. So far as money was concerned, no reasonable wish of hers
+need remain ungratified. She was accomplished, travelled, and very
+good-looking. She had refused half a dozen offers of hands, hearts,
+and fortunes--the latter equal to her own--and also two titles
+unaccompanied by fortunes, with hearts as doubtful collateral. She
+kept her own bachelor establishment in Chicago, gave to charity with
+discretion, took a quiet part in the social life of her set, dabbled
+in art and literature, had a few good friends, and was generally
+considered a very lucky, amiable, and handsome young woman.
+
+But just then she was bored with the trip and with Nita, whose
+enthusiasms she could not share. The heat of the Pullman seemed
+stifling, the odour of coal unbearable. The land was dead-brown, flat,
+dreary, monotonous. Leaning back with closed eyes, she longed for the
+deck of a liner, the strong, salt breezes, the steady pulse of the
+engines--even for cold rain from a gray sky, sullen, shouldering seas,
+and the whip of spindrift on her cheeks. Beside her Nita prattled
+steadily.
+
+"We're going to stop, Clyde. Here's a station. Look at the yard with
+all the cows in it. I wonder if those men are cowboys. They don't look
+like the pictures. But isn't it funny how those ponies stand with the
+reins hanging down and not tied at all? I wish _my_ pony would stand
+that way. Here come two men on horseback. My, but they're riding fast!
+I wonder if they are trying to catch the train?"
+
+Two blown ponies bore down on the station at a dead run. One of the
+riders jumped off and ran for the office. The other unstrapped a
+bundle, apparently mostly slicker, from his companion's saddle cantle.
+In a moment the first emerged. The energetic Nita had opened the
+window, and Clyde overheard their conversation.
+
+"I'm shy my grip," said the first. "The agent doesn't know where she
+is, and I can't wait. Round up Rosebud soon as you can, and find out
+what's become of it."
+
+The other swore frankly at Rosebud, who appeared to be an individual.
+"I'll bet he's drunk, somewheres. I'll express your war bag when I find
+it."
+
+The engine bell clanged a warning, and the conductor shouted
+cryptically. The two men shook hands.
+
+"So long, Joe," said the younger. "I've had a whale of a time. Come up
+to my country and see me next year. Come any old time. We'll bust
+things wide open for you."
+
+The other grinned widely. "The missus ain't lettin' me range like I
+used to. So long. Keep sober, old-timer. Don't play none with
+strangers. Say, d'you remember the time when we----"
+
+Clyde lost the remainder in the shudder and grind of the trucks as the
+coaches began to move. The two men disappeared from her field of
+vision. Nita closed the window. Once more she leaned back, resigning
+herself to the weariness of the journey.
+
+But a moment afterward the man of the platform appeared at the end of
+the aisle, accompanied by the porter who carried his bundle. Instantly
+he became the cynosure of a battery of disapproving eyes.
+
+For his apparel would have been more in place in the bare colonist cars
+of the first section than in the vestibuled, luxurious rear coaches of
+the second. From the battered and stained old pony hat on his head to
+the disreputable laced boots into which his trousers were shoved, he
+was covered with the gray dust of the plains. Apart from his costume
+and the top dressing of dust, he was tall, cleanly built, and evidently
+as hard as a wire nail. His hair missed red by the merest fraction, and
+his eyes were a clear blue, level and direct. He moved as lightly as a
+prowling animal, and he met the supercilious and disdainful glances of
+his fellow passengers with a half smile of amused comprehension.
+
+The porter, with a deference betokening an unusually large advance tip,
+ushered him to a seat across the aisle from Clyde's. But the stranger,
+catching a glimpse of himself in the panel mirror, stopped suddenly.
+Instantly Clyde's nostrils were assailed by a strong odour of leather
+and horseflesh. She shuddered in spite of herself. It was the last
+straw. As a rule she was not overparticular, but just then she was in
+that state of nerves when little things fretted her. She said to
+herself that a cattle car was the proper place for this young man. As
+he spoke to the porter she listened resentfully, prepared to disapprove
+of anything he might say. Said he:
+
+"Mistuh Washin'ton Jeffe'son Bones, look at me carefully. Do you see
+any dust upon my garments?"
+
+"Yassuh, yassuh," chuckled the porter. "Don't see much else, suh."
+
+"And could you--on a bet of about a dollar--undertake to put me in a
+condition not to damage the seats?"
+
+"Yassuh; sho' could, suh!"
+
+"Go to it, then," said the stranger. "I'm after you."
+
+He did not return for an hour. Then he was noticeably cleaner, and the
+odour of horse was replaced by that of cigars, less objectionable to
+Clyde. As he took his seat he glanced at her frankly, a shade of
+drollery in his eye, as if he were quite aware of her disapproval, and
+was amused by it. She stiffened a trifle, ignoring him utterly. Not by
+a hair's breadth would she encourage this free-and-easy person.
+
+For some hours she had been annoyed by the behaviour of a man several
+seats away. Whenever she had glanced in his direction he had been
+looking at her. Once he had smiled ingratiatingly. Clyde's life had not
+included first-hand experiences of this kind, but she was able to
+classify the man accurately. Still, there had been nothing definite to
+complain of. Now this individual arose and came down the aisle. In his
+hand was a book. He halted by her side.
+
+"Beg pardon," said he. "Would you care to look at this?"
+
+"No, thank you," she replied frigidly.
+
+"It isn't bad," he persisted. "I'll leave it with you."
+
+"Thank you, I don't want it," said Clyde. But nevertheless he dropped
+the volume in her lap, smiling offensively.
+
+"Look it over," said he. "I'll get it later."
+
+Paying no attention to her indignant refusal, he walked down the aisle
+to the smoking compartment. Clyde, a bright spot of anger on either
+cheek, turned to Nita.
+
+"I think I shall speak to the conductor."
+
+"It's because you're so pretty," said Nita, with an air of vast
+experience. "I've had the same thing, almost, happen to me. Back at
+college--in the town, I mean--there was a boy----But perhaps I'd better
+not say anything about it. He was very bold indeed!" She pursed her
+lips primly, but her eyes belied their expression.
+
+"I beg your pardon," said the man across the aisle.
+
+Once more Clyde froze indignantly. Never before had she felt the need
+of an escort in her travels. Never again, she told herself, would she
+travel alone with merely a fifteen-year-old kid for her sole companion.
+She honoured the new offender with a haughty stare. He smiled
+unaffectedly.
+
+"Nothing like that," he disclaimed, as if he had read her thoughts.
+"I'll take that book if you don't want it. He can get it back from me."
+
+He stretched a long arm across, and thanked her as she handed him the
+book mechanically. Forthwith he opened it, and began to read. And he
+was still absorbed in it when the donor returned.
+
+That gentleman paused uncertainly beside Clyde, who was haughtily
+unconscious of his presence.
+
+"Did you--er----" he began.
+
+At that moment the man across the aisle twitched his coat sleeve.
+"Looking for the book you left with me?" he asked casually. "Here it
+is."
+
+The other stared at him in uneasy surprise. "I didn't----"
+
+"Oh, yes, you did," the man across the aisle interrupted. "Anyway, you
+meant to. You'll remember if you think a minute. You didn't leave it
+with that young lady, because you don't know her, and you're not the
+kind of man to butt in where you're not wanted. Now, are you?"
+
+"Of course not," the other replied, with a show of indignation. "I
+don't know----"
+
+"Then that's all right," said the stranger quietly. "Here's your book.
+And there's your seat. And don't make any more mistakes."
+
+The gregarious gentleman accepted this advice and his book meekly.
+Thereafter he avoided even looking in Clyde's direction. To her relief
+the stranger did not presume on the service he had rendered. He
+stretched his long legs upon the opposite seat, leaned back, and gazed
+silently at the roof. The afternoon dragged on. Clyde and Nita went to
+the diner and returned. Afterward the stranger presumably did likewise,
+spending a decent interval in the smoker. Darkness fell, and the
+Limited thundered on westward across the plains to the country of the
+foothills, the mountain ranges, and its goal at the thither end of the
+Pacific slope.
+
+Suddenly, with a scream of air and a grinding of brake shoes, the train
+came to a stop. Clyde looked out. The level, monotonous plains were no
+longer there. The country was rolling, studded with clumps of
+cottonwoods. The moon, close to the full, touched the higher spots with
+silver, intensifying the blackness of the shadows.
+
+Clyde peered ahead to the limit of her restricted area of vision, for
+the lights of a station or a town. There was none. Not even the lighted
+square of a ranch-house window broke the night. Five minutes passed,
+ten, and still the train remained motionless. Suddenly, at the forward
+end of the coach, appeared the porter. Followed the occupants of the
+smoking compartment, each with his hands on the shoulders of the man in
+front of him in impromptu lockstep. Behind them came an apparition
+which caused the passengers, after a first gasp of incredulity, to vent
+their feelings in masculine oaths and little feminine screams of alarm.
+
+This intruder was a large man, powerfully built. His hat was shoved
+back from his forehead, but his face was concealed by a square of dark
+cloth, cut with eyeholes. In his right hand he dandled with easy
+familiarity an exceedingly long-barrelled revolver. His left hand
+rested upon the twin of it, in a holster at his thigh. At his shoulder
+was another man, similarly masked.
+
+"Everybody sit quiet!" the first commanded crisply. "Gents will hook
+their fingers on top of their heads, and keep them there. No call to be
+frightened, ladies, 'long's the men show sense. My partner will pass
+along the contribution bag. No holding out, and no talk. And just
+remember I'll get the first man that makes a move."
+
+Clyde had joined in the gasp of surprise, but she had not screamed.
+Nita was trembling with excitement.
+
+"I wouldn't have missed it for worlds!" the girl whispered. "Oh, Clyde,
+isn't he a duck of a holdup? Will there be shooting? Haven't any of
+these men got any nerve?"
+
+Clyde became aware that the man in the seat opposite was speaking to
+her out of the corner of his mouth, his hands prudently crossed on his
+pate.
+
+"If you have anything of special value--rings, watch, that sort of
+stuff--get rid of it. Put it on the floor if you can, and kick it under
+the seat ahead. Don't cache it in your own seat. Give him what money
+you have--that's what he wants. Tell the kid next you to do the same.
+And don't be nervous. You're as safe as if you were at home."
+
+Clyde wore no rings. The few articles of jewellery she had brought with
+her were already safely concealed beyond the masculine ken of any mere
+train robber. But her watch was suspended around her neck by a thin
+gold chain. The watch could be detached, but the chain itself must be
+lifted over the head; and that would attract attention. To leave the
+chain would be to admit the existence of the watch. Without an
+instant's hesitation she tugged sharply. The frail links broke.
+Lowering the watch to the floor of the car, she shoved it forward with
+her foot.
+
+Meanwhile the second masked man was making swift progress down the
+aisle. In his left hand was a gunny sack, in his right a formidable
+six-shooter. He was a gentleman of humorous turn, and he indulged in
+jocose remarks as he went, which, however, fell on an unappreciative
+audience. Because time pressed he did not attempt to skin each victim
+clean. He took what he could get, and passed on to the next; but he
+took everything in sight, and, moreover, each man was forced to turn
+his pockets inside out. This brought to light several pocket-edition
+firearms, which likewise went into the bag. With infinite humour he
+declared his intention of taking them home to his children. They were
+toys, he explained, with which the darlings could not hurt themselves.
+
+"Thank you, miss," was his acknowledgment of the roll of bills which
+Clyde handed him. "You're sure an example to a lot o' these tinhorn
+sports. I reckon you got some pretty stones cached somewheres too, but
+I won't force your hand, seein's you've acted like a little lady. Just
+get up till I look at the seat. Now, partner"--he turned on the man
+across the aisle--"it's you to sweeten!"
+
+That individual produced a very attenuated roll. "Sorry I can't go to
+the centre any stronger, old-timer. You've got me at the wrong end
+between pay days."
+
+"Huh!" The holdup eyed him suspiciously. "Keep your hands stric'ly away
+from your pockets for a minute." He slapped them in quick succession.
+"No gun," said he, "and that's lucky for both of us, maybe. Business is
+business, partner, but I hate to set an old-timer afoot complete. Keep
+out about ten for smokes and grub."
+
+"Yours truly," responded the other. "When you land in the calaboose for
+this racket I'll keep you in tobacco. What name shall I ask for?"
+
+"If I land there you can ask for a damfool--and I'll answer the first
+time," laughed the holdup over his shoulder. "Next gent! Here's the
+little bag. Lady, keep your weddin' ring. You fat sport, stand up till
+I see what you're sittin' on. Why, was you tryin' to hatch out that
+bunch of money? I'll surely do that incubatin' myself."
+
+He levied tribute swiftly, in spite of his badinage, and the gunny sack
+sagged heavier and heavier. As he reached the end, his companion, who
+had dominated the passengers with his gun, abandoned his position and
+came down the aisle. At the rear door he turned.
+
+"Keep your seats till the train moves," he ordered harshly. "I'm layin'
+for the first man that sticks his head out of this car."
+
+Behind him the coach buzzed like a disturbed hive. Its occupants
+bewailed their losses, vowed vengeance on both holdups and railway.
+Women reproached men with cowardice. Men told each other what they
+would have done if---- But not one attempted to leave his seat.
+
+Nita turned to Clyde with sparkling eyes. "And now I've been in a
+holdup!" she exclaimed. "Won't that be a thing to tell the girls? Were
+you frightened, Clyde? _I_ wasn't."
+
+"I don't think so," Clyde replied. "I'm glad we saved our watches." The
+words recalled the man across the aisle. He was leaning back, listening
+to odd bits of conversation, a smile of amusement on his face. Clyde
+leaned across.
+
+"I want to thank you," she said. "We should never have thought of
+hiding our watches."
+
+He nodded pleasantly. "No, not likely. I hope you didn't lose much
+money. He left me ten dollars. I don't want to be misunderstood, but
+that's very much at your service until you can get more."
+
+"And what shall you do--till pay day?" she asked, obeying a sudden
+mischievous impulse.
+
+"Oh, I'll worry along," he replied. His long arm stretched across, and
+a ten-dollar bill fell in her lap.
+
+"No, no," she said, "I was joking. I have plenty----"
+
+She stopped suddenly. Somewhere toward the head of the train a revolver
+barked, and barked again. Then came a staccato fusillade.
+
+Swiftly the man across the aisle reached for his bundle, tore it open,
+and plucked from it a long-barrelled, flat-handled, venomous automatic
+pistol and a box of cartridges. He slid out the clip, snapped it back,
+and went down the car in long pantherlike bounds, bending half double.
+
+Up forward the shooting, which had ceased, began again. Suddenly there
+broke into it the voice of another weapon, rapid and sustained as the
+roll of an alarm clock. Other guns chimed in. A miniature battle seemed
+to be in progress. And then it died. An occasional shot came from the
+distance. Silence ensued.
+
+Men whose curiosity got the better of prudence left the car and
+returned. The train robbers were gone. It was thought that two or three
+were wounded. It was the express messenger who had started the
+shooting. He had got loose, somehow, in his rifled car, got a gun from
+a drawer, and opened fire. He was shot through the shoulder. A brave
+fellow, that. The company should do something for him. Two others of
+the train crew were hit.
+
+Clyde awaited the return of the man across the aisle. The train began
+to move, gathered way, and thundered on. Still he did not return. The
+porter began to make up the berths. To him she applied for information.
+He knew nothing. The conductor was in equal ignorance. Inquiries
+throughout the train were fruitless. The man of the seat across the
+aisle was not forthcoming. His few belongings, which threw no light on
+his identity, were gathered up to await his appearance. It was
+suggested, to Clyde's indignation, that he was an accomplice of the
+robbers, but in what manner was not clear.
+
+And so Clyde Burnaby went on to the coast with ten dollars which she
+did not in the least need. She neither saw nor heard more of their
+owner; but, though it was unlikely she should meet him again, she kept
+the identical bill. On her return she tucked it away in a drawer in her
+writing desk; and when occasionally she noticed it there it was merely
+to wonder, with some self-reproach, how its owner had fared until the
+next pay day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+In a secluded corner of a certain club billiard room two middle-aged
+gentlemen padded around and around a table, and poked at balls. Both
+appeared bored by the amusement. Their skill was little, and their luck
+was rather less, so that a ball rarely found a pocket. Between strokes
+they carried on a conversation having to do with such light and
+frivolous topics as bond issues, guarantees thereof, sinking funds,
+haulage rates, and legal decisions and pending legislation affecting
+transportation. Or it might be more accurate to say that one
+endeavoured to engage the other in conversation on these esoteric
+matters, at which the other repeatedly shied, evincing a preference for
+those of more general human interest.
+
+Not that he was uninformed on these topics. Quite the reverse. He was a
+rotund, florid little man, with twinkling, humorous eyes, which could
+bore like augers on occasion, and a mouth as firm and close as a steel
+trap. His name was William Bates Rapp, and his specialty was
+corporation law. He was counsel for the Western Airline Railway, and
+just then he was pretending to play billiards with its president,
+Cromwell York.
+
+York, who also was pretending to play billiards with Rapp, was a dogged
+gentleman who was accustomed to take his pound of flesh whenever he
+could not obtain, on some pretext, two pounds. His subordinates said
+that he worked twenty-five hours a day, which gives, if you consider
+it, an advantage of some fifteen days per annum. He was in the grip of
+his business, body and soul. It fascinated him, dominated him more and
+more as the years went on, as his own fortune and his interests
+increased. He was continually reaching out for more territory, and in
+so doing he came in hostile contact with other railway men, also
+gunning for the same game. Occasionally, therefore, they gunned for
+each other. When York was hit he took his medicine; when he hit the
+other fellow he chose as vital a spot as he could. Even as he played
+billiards his mind was elsewhere, which accounted in part for his poor
+success at the game.
+
+"Speaking about Prairie Southern," said he, "we have about decided to
+take it over."
+
+Rapp sighed. "I'm not a perpetual-motion legal machine, York. Won't
+that keep till to-morrow?"
+
+"We pay you a big enough retainer," said York, with the frankness of
+years of intimacy. "What do you suppose we do it for?"
+
+"Principally, I imagine, to keep you out of jail," Rapp retorted, with
+equal frankness. "I've done it so far, but----" He shook his head
+forebodingly. "Well, if you _will_ talk, come and sit down. I'm tired
+of this. Now, then, about Prairie Southern: have they come to the end
+of their rope, or did you pull it in a little for them?"
+
+"I didn't need to," said York. "They have tied themselves up in hard
+knots. We don't particularly want the road; but, as matters stand, we
+can buy it cheaply. Later we might want it, and it would undoubtedly
+cost more. Besides, I don't want Hess to get hold of it as a feeder to
+his lines."
+
+"Jim Hess is a sort of bugbear to you," said Rapp. "You'll keep
+prodding him till he horns you one of these days."
+
+"Two can play at that," York replied grimly.
+
+"There's mighty little play about Jim Hess when he goes on the
+warpath," Rapp commented. "Well, let's get the worst over. There's
+short of three hundred miles of this Prairie Southern, as I understand
+it. It runs somewhere near the foothills. The country doesn't grow
+anything yet. The only reason for its building was a coal-mine boom
+that petered out. Its bonding privilege was one of the most disgraceful
+bits of jobbery ever lobbied through a corrupt little legislature. It
+was a political scandal from its birth. It is burdened with a multitude
+of equities. It never has paid, and likely it never will pay. You know
+these things as well as I do. I'm hanged if I see why you want it."
+
+"If we don't get it some one else will," said York. "I wish you'd look
+into their affairs, and see what sort of a legal bill of health they
+have. I am putting our accountants on their finances."
+
+"All right," said Rapp. "I'll give 'em a bill of health like a
+pest-house record. Their bonded indebtedness is shocking, and they have
+all sorts of litigation pending against them."
+
+"I'll tell you one thing," York said. "They have a large land grant."
+
+"Which they got because the land was worthless."
+
+"Supposed to be worthless," York amended.
+
+Rapp cocked his head like a terrier that suddenly discerns a large and
+promising rat hole. "Come through," he said.
+
+"This land," York explained, "is in the dry belt. It was supposed to be
+worth nothing when the P.S. charter was granted, and so the government
+of that day was generous with it. As a matter of fact, the land is good
+when irrigated; and it can be irrigated--or most of it can."
+
+"How do you know it's any good?"
+
+"There are some first-class ranches down there."
+
+"If that is so, why don't P.S. put the lands on the market? They need
+the money."
+
+"No advertising or selling machinery, and not enough money to put in an
+irrigation system, and no credit. They can't afford to wait."
+
+Rapp considered. "Plenty of water for these lands?"
+
+"That's a question," York admitted. "The main water down that way is a
+river called the Coldstream. The ranchers have their water records,
+which of course take precedence of any we might file. There may be
+enough--I don't know. That will have to be ascertained. But if this
+stuff can be irrigated it can be sold. Our land department will look
+after that."
+
+"Almost any sort of an irrigated gold brick can be sold nowadays," said
+Rapp cynically. "I admit that you have some pretty fair con men in your
+land department."
+
+"We never put anything on the market that wasn't a perfectly legitimate
+proposition," said York, with dignity.
+
+"Depends on what you call 'legitimate,'" said Rapp. "I've read some of
+your land advertising. If you sold shares by means of a prospectus no
+more truthful, you'd do time for it. You know blame well you unload
+your stuff on people who depend on selected photographs and pretty pen
+pictures of annual yields per acre. Of course, any man who buys land
+without seeing it deserves exactly the sort of land he gets. I'm not
+criticising at all--merely pointing out that I know the rudiments of
+the game."
+
+"Help us play it, then," said York. "Dig into Prairie Southern, and see
+what we get for our money."
+
+William Bates Rapp did so. By various complicated and technical
+documents he grafted the moribund Prairie Southern upon the vigorous
+trunk of Western Airline, after which he washed his hands of the
+operation by a carefully worded letter accompanying a huge bill of
+costs, and dismissed the matter from his mind; for it was only one
+transaction among a score of more important ones.
+
+Later, the experts of the Airline descended on the carcass of poor old
+Prairie Southern, to see what had best be done with the meat upon its
+bones, and the result was fairly satisfactory. The traffic was
+inconsiderable, but showed signs of improvement. The land hunger was
+upon the people, frightened by the cry that cheap lands were almost at
+an end. Many were stampeded into buying worthless acres which they did
+not want, in the fear that if they delayed there would be nothing left
+to buy. Fake real-estate schemes--colonies, ten-acre orchard tracts,
+hen farms, orange groves, prune plantations--flourished over the width
+and length of a continent, and promoters reaped a harvest. Land with a
+legitimate basis of value doubled and trebled in price between seasons.
+
+It was a period of inflation, of claim without proof, of discounting
+the future. Men raw from the city bought barren acres on which
+practical farmers had starved, in the expectation of making an easy,
+healthful living. And in this madness the lands of the old Prairie
+Southern grant, at one time supposed to be worthless, justified the
+foresight of Cromwell York by reaching a value in excess of even his
+expectations. For, given water, they were very good lands indeed, and
+Western Airline was prepared to sell them with a water guarantee.
+
+This took time; and it was two years after the acquisition of Prairie
+Southern that York, a trifle grayer and a shade more dictatorial than
+before, was one morning handed a card by his secretary. He frowned at
+it, for the name was strange.
+
+"Who's this Casey Dunne, and what does he want?"
+
+Dunne, it appeared, wished to see him in connection with the Coldstream
+irrigation project, then well under way. He owned property in that
+vicinity; he also represented certain other ranchers.
+
+"Lawyer?" snapped York. The secretary thought not. "Show him in."
+
+When Dunne entered York did not immediately look up from his papers.
+This was for general effect. When he did look he became conscious that
+even as he was measuring so was he being measured.
+
+Casey Dunne carried an atmosphere of outdoors. From the deep tan of his
+neck, against which the white of his collar lay in startling contrast,
+to the slender, sinewy brown hands, he bore token of wind and sun and
+activity in the open. His clothes were new, excellent in fit and
+material; but, though he did not wear them awkwardly, one gathered the
+impression that he was accustomed to easier, more informal garments.
+His manner was entirely self-confident, and betrayed neither awe nor
+embarrassment. Which gave York an unfavourable impression to start
+with.
+
+"Take a chair, Mr. Dunne," he said. "I can give you five minutes or
+ten. Not more. What can I do for you?"
+
+"I may have to ask you to stretch that time limit a little," said
+Dunne, smiling as if York were an old friend. "Let me start at the
+beginning, and then I won't have to go back. I live down on the
+Coldstream, on the line of the old Prairie Southern, which you acquired
+a couple of years ago. With it you got their land grant. Your land
+department, after looking the Coldstream blocks over, decided to
+irrigate and sell these lands; and they undertook a main ditch and a
+system of ditches, and they are selling the lands at the present time."
+
+"I know all this," said York impatiently. "Carrol runs our land
+department, and he deals with these matters. He's the man you want to
+see."
+
+"He referred me to you," said Dunne. "I know this is ancient history,
+but I'm cleaning up as I go along. You will get your water for these
+lands from the Coldstream. I and others own property there, and we get
+our water from the river below your intake. Are you aware that your
+ditch system is capable of carrying, and that the lands you are selling
+with a guarantee of an adequate water supply will require, _almost the
+entire normal flow of the Coldstream_?"
+
+"I have understood from our land department"--York chose his words
+carefully--"that the river contains ample water to irrigate our lands."
+
+"Which, I need scarcely point out, is not an answer to my question,"
+Dunne commented quietly.
+
+"But which," York countered, "is all that I am concerned with, Mr.
+Dunne."
+
+The railway man and the younger, bronzed out-of-doors man eyed each
+other in silence while one might count ten. In the last words the
+railway's policy had been laid down, an issue defined, a challenge
+given.
+
+Casey Dunne's eyes narrowed a little, and his mouth tightened. He spoke
+very quietly, but it was the exercised quiet of self-restraint:
+
+"I had hoped that you would not take that ground, Mr. York. Let me show
+you how this concerns myself and others. Take my own case: I have a
+ranch down there; I have my water record. I have gone on working the
+ranch, making improvements from year to year, and every dollar I could
+scrape up I put into more land. I wasn't speculating. I can gamble with
+any man when I have to; but this wasn't gambling. There was the land,
+and there was the water. The increase of value was merely a question of
+time. Others bought as I bought. We put our money and our years of work
+into lands along the Coldstream. Our whole stake is there. I want you
+to appreciate that--to get our viewpoint--because with us this isn't a
+question of greater or less profit, but a question of existence itself.
+If you take away our water our lands are worthless, and we go broke. I
+can't put it any plainer than that."
+
+"And without water," said York, "the railway's lands are worthless--or
+so I am told. The unfortunate feature, according to what you say, seems
+to be that there is not water enough for you and for us. Therefore each
+must stand upon his legal rights."
+
+"You raise the point," said Dunne. "It is a question of legal and moral
+right against what I think--and I don't want to be offensive--but what
+I think is an attempt to read into a clause of an old charter a meaning
+which it was never intended to carry."
+
+York's eyebrows drew down. "The clause in the Prairie Southern's
+charter to which I presume you refer is perfectly clear. It states that
+the railway company may take from the Coldstream or any other running
+stream 'sufficient water for its own purposes.' Those are the exact
+words of the charter. It saves existing rights, but there were none
+then existing. Therefore the railway's right is first, and all water
+records are subject to it. The charter further empowers the company to
+improve, buy, sell, and deal in land. These, then, are purposes of the
+company, according to its charter, and for these purposes it may
+construct and maintain all necessary works. Could anything be clearer?
+We acquired every right that Prairie Southern possessed. The rights
+were in existence when you bought your land. Therefore I do not think
+you should complain when we exercise them, even though they may affect
+you to some extent."
+
+"I follow your argument," Dunne observed, "but the words 'sufficient
+water for its own purposes' were never intended to mean that the
+railway should take the whole river."
+
+"What do you think they meant?"
+
+"What any sensible man would think. You may take sufficient water to
+run your trains, to fill your tanks, to use in any way in connection
+with your business of transportation, and nobody will object to that;
+but when you undertake to divert a whole river to irrigate lands in
+order to sell them, you go too far. That is the business of a
+real-estate company, and not of a railway company."
+
+Cromwell York, who had obtained the unanimous opinions of three eminent
+corporation counsel upon that very point, smiled tolerantly.
+
+"You are not a lawyer, Mr. Dunne?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Nor am I. But I have had this clause passed upon, and I tell you that
+we are quite within our rights. The charter covers the case completely,
+according to the best legal opinion."
+
+"But nobody thought of irrigation when this charter was granted,"
+objected Dunne. "The land was supposed to be worthless. That was why
+Prairie Southern got such a large land grant. You know that."
+
+"That has nothing to do with the case. Let us stick to the point. What,
+so far, have you to complain of?"
+
+"This," said Dunne shortly. "You have a charter which you say entitles
+you to all the water in the river. You are constructing ditches
+sufficient to carry it all; you are constructing a dam to divert it
+all; and you are selling land to an acreage which, if cultivated, will
+require it all. You admit your intentions. When that dam is built and
+those ditches are filled our ranches must go dry. It spells our ruin.
+We are living on sufferance. And yet you ask us what we have to
+complain of!"
+
+"I need scarcely assure you," said York, "that unless and until we
+require the water it will not be taken."
+
+"Not nearly good enough," Dunne returned. "We can't work and improve
+our ranches with that hanging over us. Such an assurance is of no
+practical value."
+
+"It is all I can give you."
+
+Casey Dunne nodded as one who sees things turning out as he expected.
+"Then naturally we shall be forced to fight you."
+
+"As you like," said York indifferently. "You will lose, that's all. I
+can't do any more for you. It is my duty to my shareholders to increase
+the value of those lands if I can do so legally."
+
+"I wish I could get your viewpoint," said Casey Dunne, and for the
+first time his voice lost a shade of its calm and began to vibrate with
+anger. "I'd like to know just how much it differs from a claim jumper's
+or a burglar's. You know as well as I do that you have no earthly right
+to take that water. You know you are taking advantage of the careless
+wording of an old charter. You know that it means the utter ruin of men
+who went into a God-forsaken land without a dollar, and took a brown,
+parched wilderness by the throat, and fought it to a standstill--men
+who backed their faith in the country with years of toil and privation,
+who made the trails and dug the ditches, and proved the land. And you
+have the colossal nerve to set a little additional dividend on watered
+stock against the homes of those men--old, some of them, now--and the
+rights of their wives and children to the fruits of their work!"
+
+The railway man surveyed him with quiet amusement. To him this
+resembled the vicarious indignation of a very young country lawyer at a
+client's wrongs.
+
+"Are you," he asked, with quiet sarcasm, "one of those who made the
+trails and dug the ditches and endured the privations? If so, they seem
+to have agreed with you."
+
+Casey Dunne's blue eyes narrowed, and his voice fell to a level. He
+leaned forward across the desk with an ugly set to his jaw.
+
+"If you want to know just how strong I'm in on this I'll tell you," he
+snapped. "I'm thirty-four years old. I've made my own living since I
+was fifteen. I've roughed it because I had to, and I've gone low enough
+at times. I've starved and blistered and frozen in places you never
+heard of; and out of it all I got together a little stake. I put that
+into Coldstream land. Do you think I'm going to let you take it without
+a fight? I'm _not_."
+
+York, who never let go himself, drummed on his desk thoughtfully. This
+was a sentiment he understood and appreciated. A fighter, he recognized
+a kindred spirit. Also if this man were influential, as appeared
+likely, among the Coldstream ranchers, it might be well to make terms
+with him.
+
+"You haven't a chance," he said. "I'll be quite frank with you. We have
+the best legal advice, and our position is quite unassailable. Even if
+it were not, we could appeal you into bankruptcy. Still, though I don't
+admit that you have the least claim on us, we might possibly buy in
+your holdings at a fair present price."
+
+"That's freeze-out," Dunne returned bluntly. "You force us to sell, and
+afterward you include our lands in your ditch system, and clean up a
+thousand per cent. It won't do. We proved that country, and we want
+that profit ourselves."
+
+"I'm making the offer to you alone," said York. "I don't care about the
+others. We don't want their land."
+
+"Then why are you trying to make a deal with me?" rasped Casey Dunne.
+"You think I'll go home and tell my neighbours that they have no show
+at all to buck the railway, and the best thing we all can do is to sell
+out for what we can get--and then I keep my mouth shut on the fact that
+I'm getting more than the rest of them."
+
+"Nothing of the sort," snapped York, who did not like to hear his
+thought done into plain English. "My offer was made in good faith, but
+I withdraw it. Keep your land."
+
+"And the devil do me good with it, I suppose!" said Casey Dunne,
+picking up his hat and rising. "Very well, Mr. York. I know now where
+you stand. And here's where we stand: Not one of us will sell an acre
+or a foot. We are going to keep our land, and we are going to keep our
+water--somehow."
+
+"The best advice I can give you is to see a good lawyer," said York.
+
+"I'll take the advice," Dunne replied. "But whether we take the
+lawyer's advice or not is another matter entirely."
+
+"What do you mean by that?" York demanded.
+
+"I mean," said Dunne, who had quite recovered his usual manner, which
+contained a spice of mockery that York found irritating, "that we're
+not very strong on law down where I come from. Some of us have got
+along pretty well with what law we carried around with us. Good
+morning, Mr. York."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+Considerably more than a year after her experience with the train
+robbers, Clyde Burnaby received a dinner invitation from the Wades.
+Kitty Wade was an old friend; her husband, Harrison Wade, was a lawyer
+just coming into prominence. They had an unpretentious home on the
+North Side, and such entertaining as they did was on a modest scale.
+Nevertheless, one met there people worth while, coming people, most of
+them, seldom those who had "arrived" in the French signification of the
+word--young professional and business men, authors, playwrights, and
+politicians in embryo--comparatively unknown as yet, but who, in a few
+months or a few years, might be famous.
+
+"Oh, Clyde," said Kitty Wade, as Clyde, having removed her wraps, was
+arranging her hair before the mirror, "I had planned to have Van Cromer
+take you in to dinner, but at the last moment he couldn't come, and
+Stella Blake couldn't come either. I had a Mr. Casey Dunne for her. And
+so, if you don't mind----"
+
+"Of course not," said Clyde. "But post me a little, Kitty. What has Mr.
+Casey Dunne done, or what is he going to do? What does one talk about
+to him?"
+
+"Crops," replied Mrs. Wade.
+
+Clyde sighed resignedly. "My dear, I don't mind for once, but I never
+could understand the market. May wheat, September options, war and
+rumours of wars, and the effect on prices of the weather sent by divine
+Providence, probabilities of a large or short crop--these be sealed
+mysteries to me."
+
+"But Mr. Dunne isn't a broker," said Mrs. Wade. "He's a farmer."
+
+"A--a _farmer_!" Clyde repeated, in much the same tone she would have
+used if her hostess had informed her that she was to be paired with a
+Zulu.
+
+Mrs. Wade laughed. "Not the 'Old Homestead' kind, dear. It's the fault
+of my Eastern bringing up. I should have said a 'rancher.' He comes
+from somewhere near the Rockies, and I believe he grows wheat and hay
+and cattle and--oh, whatever else ranchers grow."
+
+"Oh!" said Clyde doubtfully. "And is he excessively Western? Does he
+exude the 'God's-own-country' and 'land-of-opportunity' line of
+conversation? Will he try to sell me land? And how old is he?"
+
+"I have never seen him," Mrs. Wade replied. "He did Harrison a good
+turn once--gave him some information about lands or something. Harry
+assures me that he doesn't wear big revolvers or spurs, or eat with his
+knife--in fact, he is quite presentable. But if you like I'll give you
+some one else."
+
+"Oh, no," said Clyde. "Mr. Dunne will do very well. I think I shall
+prefer him to a broker."
+
+"So good of you, dear," smiled Kitty Wade. "Shall we go down? I think
+the others will be arriving."
+
+Clyde endeavoured to construct an advance portrait of Casey Dunne, but
+without much success. Unconsciously she was influenced by the
+characters of alleged Western drama, as flamboyant and nearly as
+accurate as the Southerners of "Uncle Tom's Cabin." She was genuinely
+surprised when she found him to be a rather good-looking young man in
+irreproachable evening clothes.
+
+At that moment dinner was announced. He offered his arm without
+hesitation. Clyde intercepted a glance from her hostess, brimming with
+laughter. She laughed back with relief. She had rather dreaded the
+experience of a dinner companion who would be guilty of all manner of
+solecisms. Clearly her fears had been groundless. Save in the matter of
+tan, which was rather becoming, Wade's Western friend differed in no
+outward detail from the other men in the room.
+
+When they were seated came the embarrassing moment--when it became
+necessary to find a conversational topic of common acquaintance. But
+this passed easily. From the table decorations Clyde turned deftly to
+flowers in general, to trees, to outdoor things. Casey Dunne laughed
+gently.
+
+"You are trying to talk of things I am expected to know about, aren't
+you, Miss Burnaby?"
+
+She evaded the charge, laughing also. "What _shall_ we talk about, Mr.
+Dunne? You shall choose for both of us."
+
+"No, I won't do that. Talk of whatever interests you. I'll follow your
+lead if I can."
+
+She took him at his word, finding that his acquaintance with current
+literature and topics of the day was rather more intimate than her own.
+He seemed to have ideas and opinions formed by his own thought, not
+mere repetitions of reviews or newspaper comment.
+
+As she glanced at his profile from time to time she became aware of an
+odd familiarity. He resembled some one she had seen before, but the
+identity eluded her. Their conversation gradually took a more personal
+form. Dunne told a story, and told it well. He spoke casually of the
+West, but instituted no comparisons.
+
+"You are really an exception," Clyde told him. "The average Westerner
+is such a superior mortal. He looks down on the East, and when he comes
+among Easterners he condescends."
+
+"It's a relief to have some one admit that Chicago is in the East," he
+laughed. "No, I don't brag about the West. It's a good country, and it
+will be better when we have approximated more to Eastern conditions. We
+are undeveloped as yet. In twenty years----"
+
+"Ah, there it is!" she interrupted. "Scratch a Russian, and find a
+Tartar. And I took you for an exception!"
+
+He laughed. "I plead guilty. The microbe is in the air. We all have it.
+Can you blame us? Do you know the West?"
+
+"Only what I have seen from the train. I have told you of every one
+here. In return tell me about yourself. Mrs. Wade says that you are a
+rancher."
+
+"Yes, I have a good little ranch in the dry belt, within sight of the
+mountains."
+
+"The dry belt?" she queried.
+
+"Yes. We call that part of the country which has little or no rain the
+'dry belt.' Formerly, for that reason, it was supposed to be useless.
+But since irrigation has been discovered--you see, it's really a recent
+discovery with us in America, whatever it is with other peoples--we
+dry-belt ranchers are in a better position than any others. For we are
+able to give the land moisture whenever it needs it. Whereas others
+have to depend on the uncertainties of rainfall. About once in five
+years their crops are ruined by drought. But we are able to water our
+fields as the city man waters his lawn."
+
+"So that you are certain of a good crop every year."
+
+"No, not certain. We have merely eliminated one cause of failure. We
+are still at the tender mercies of hot winds, hail, and frosts late and
+early."
+
+These things were but names to her. They called up no concrete visions
+of the baking, siroccolike winds that curdled the grain in the milk,
+the hail that threshed it and beat it flat, of the late frosts that
+nipped the tender green shoots in spring, and the early ones in fall
+that soured the kernels before the complete ripening. But she saw that
+to him they typified enemies, real, deadly, ever threatening,
+impossible, so far, to guard against.
+
+Dimly she began to perceive that while certain forces of nature made
+always for growth, still others, equally powerful, made for
+destruction. Between the warring forces stood the Man of the Soil,
+puny, insignificant, matching his own hardly won and his forefather's
+harder-won knowledge against the elements; bending some to his
+advantage, minimizing the effects of others, openly defying those he
+could neither control nor avoid. And she partly realized his triumph in
+having vanquished one of these inimical forces, one of his most dreaded
+enemies, Drought.
+
+"You like the life?"
+
+"Yes, I like it. It's idyllic, compared with some phases of existence
+that I have experienced."
+
+"You have had varied experiences?"
+
+"'Varied!' Yes, I suppose you may call them that."
+
+"Won't you tell me about them?"
+
+"There isn't much to tell, and that little not very entertaining. You
+see, Miss Burnaby, if my youthful mouth was ever acquainted with a
+silver spoon it was snatched away at a tender age."
+
+"I beg your pardon," said Clyde quickly. "I'm afraid my request was
+impertinent."
+
+"Not at all. I went West when I was a kid, and I've seen quite a bit of
+country. Then, when I had money enough, I put it into land, and went to
+ranching. That's all there is to it."
+
+She was quite certain, somehow, that there was a great deal more to it.
+She fell to studying his hands. The fingers were long and slender, but
+flat, sinewy, and powerful. They seemed to express tenacity of purpose,
+a grip of whatever they undertook. Once more she looked at his profile,
+and again she was struck by an elusive familiarity.
+
+"You remind me of somebody--of something," she said. "I can't place
+it."
+
+"Indeed!" he responded. "Now, I hope the unplaced recollection is not
+unpleasant."
+
+"It's not definite enough. But it is there. It's not so much when you
+face me--it's the side view. I've never met you before, of course."
+
+"Of course not," he agreed, but his eyes laughed at her.
+
+"Have I?" she exclaimed. "Surely not! I'm not forgetful, as a rule."
+
+"I was wondering," he said, "if you would remember me. I knew you at
+once, but I can't claim the honour of having been presented before
+to-night. Our acquaintance, if I may call it that, was very informal."
+
+"But when--where?" she demanded. "I don't recall----"
+
+"Well, it's not surprising," he admitted. "I was dressed differently.
+Naturally you wouldn't expect to see me in these." He glanced down at
+his evening clothes. "The fact is, I sat across the aisle from you in
+the car when----"
+
+"Oh!" she cried. "Now I know. When the train was held up. Why, of
+course it _was_ you. I'm so glad to meet you again. I've always wanted
+to thank you for relieving me of the attentions of that--that----"
+
+"That fresh guy," he supplied gravely.
+
+"Thank you! That 'fresh guy,'" she smiled. "But for you I should have
+lost my watch. And then you lent me ten dollars."
+
+"Well, you see, they got all your cash."
+
+"I don't know whatever made me take it. I have it still. I didn't need
+it. I had a book of travellers' checks and credits at the coast. I
+intended to give it back to you at once. I hope it didn't
+inconvenience----"
+
+She stopped, conscious that her estimate of the finances of the man in
+the train had probably been mistaken.
+
+"Not a bit," he replied. "I had a small roll stowed away."
+
+"But what became of you?" she asked. "You didn't come back. I asked the
+conductor and the porters--everybody. What happened?"
+
+"Why, the explanation is very simple, though I'm not proud of it. When
+I heard the shooting up in front I thought it was up to me to help the
+train boys, and I went out with the best intentions. The holdups were
+backing off, burning a lot of powder but doing no harm, and I guessed
+that their horses were in a bluff about five hundred yards from the
+track. Of course, once they got in the saddle they would make a
+get-away, so far as we were concerned, and I thought if I could beat
+them to the horses and turn the animals loose we would practically have
+them rounded up. That's what I tried to do. But as I was running I
+tripped, and went headfirst into a stump or a stone. Anyway, it knocked
+me out, and when I emerged from dreamland the train was moving, and I
+couldn't catch it. So I just tramped the ties to the next station. And
+there I had a job explaining that I wasn't a holdup myself. It didn't
+strike those boneheads that no sane holdup would come walking along the
+track a few hours after a robbery."
+
+Clyde was disappointed at the baldness of his narration. Almost any man
+would have made some effort at description. Dunne had made none
+whatever. He had confined himself to the barest of bare facts.
+
+"You make a poor raconteur, Mr. Dunne."
+
+"Really, that's all there was to it," he replied. "'We fit and they
+fit; and they ran and we ran'--or at least I did till I tripped."
+
+Mrs. Wade rose.
+
+"After you have had your cigar we will continue our conversation, if
+you care to," said Clyde.
+
+"Just what I was going to ask. I hope Wade's cigars are small."
+
+When the ladies had gone, Harrison Wade drew his chair beside Dunne's.
+
+"I've been thinking over that matter of yours, Casey, and the more I
+think it over the less I like it. That charter, backed by Airline money
+and influence, will be a hard thing to get over. I hate to discourage
+you, but the best advice I can give to you and your neighbours is to
+put a fair price on your holdings, and offer them to the railway _en
+bloc_."
+
+"But we don't want to sell, Wade. Couldn't you get an injunction or
+something, and tie up their operations?"
+
+"No, I'm afraid not. You can't bring an action until you have something
+to found it on--that is to say, some wrong to complain of--some actual
+interference with your rights to water. And you can't get an injunction
+unless you can show that your rights are beyond question. It's a
+toss-up whether that charter takes precedence or not. I'm speaking
+frankly to you. With an ordinary client I'd throw a professional front
+of profound knowledge, but as it is I own up that it's a complicated
+question, depending almost entirely on the court. And courts are just
+as uncertain as other human institutions."
+
+Casey Dunne frowned through the spreading fog of cigar smoke. "I'm
+quite aware of it, Wade. But here it is: We don't want to sell. Even if
+they gave us a fair present price, we would be losers, for land out
+there is going to double in value in the next couple of years. And what
+they intend to do is simply to freeze us out and force us to sell at
+dry-land prices. Therefore, we've _got_ to fight. Go ahead and try for
+an injunction. If that is refused, bring an action as soon as you can.
+And meanwhile we'll hang on to our water somehow."
+
+"Don't do anything to prejudice your case in the courts," Wade warned.
+
+"According to you York will do that, anyway," said Dunne. "No, Wade,
+that's flat, final, whatever. We won't let go till we have to. We won't
+be skinned out of the profit we are entitled to by foresight and hard
+work. Speaking for myself, I've put my whole stack on this bet, and
+with a straight deal it's a sure winner. And if the deal's going to be
+crooked I'll break up the game any way that comes handy."
+
+"Go to it, my friend," said the lawyer. "It's your affair. I've told
+you what I think, and I'll not add to it. I hope you have water when I
+come out this summer to make you that long-promised visitation." He
+changed the subject abruptly. "You and Clyde Burnaby seemed to be
+getting on swimmingly."
+
+"Clyde--is that her name?" said Dunne. "Seems like a nice girl."
+
+"She's all of that. You know who she is, of course?"
+
+"Not a bit. Just her name."
+
+"Niece of old Jim Hess, with a fortune of her own."
+
+"Pretty_ lucky_," Dunne commented.
+
+"Pretty _and_ lucky," said his host. "Old York hates Hess like poison,
+a sentiment which Hess returns, according to rumour. I don't suppose
+you've told Clyde Burnaby your troubles?"
+
+Dunne stared at him. "Of course not! What do you take me for?"
+
+"That's all right, my son; don't swell up so. Why don't you tell her?"
+
+"Why the deuce should I? Do you think I go yawping my business affairs
+to every female I meet?"
+
+"Well, Clyde Burnaby's good stuff," said Wade. "She has a level head.
+If it comes up that way, Casey, tell her all about it. She'll
+sympathize with you."
+
+"I'm not looking for sympathy."
+
+"And she might give you some good advice."
+
+"Rats!" Casey Dunne commented, inelegantly but forcibly, and Wade said
+no more.
+
+Dunne was glad when the cigars were ended. He found Clyde Burnaby at
+the piano, barely touching the keys. A faint melody seemed to flow from
+her finger's tips.
+
+"Do you sing, Mr. Dunne?"
+
+"Only very confidentially. When I was riding for a cow outfit I used to
+sing at night, when the cattle were bedded down. Sort of tradition of
+the business that it kept 'em quiet. They didn't seem to mind my voice.
+And that's really the most encouragement I ever got."
+
+Mrs. Wade asked Clyde to play. She complied at once, without
+hesitation. They applauded her. Afterward one of the men sang, to her
+accompaniment. Then she and Dunne drifted together once more.
+
+"I liked your playing," he said, "but not what you played. It had no
+tune."
+
+"It was Beethoven!"
+
+"All the same, it had no tune. I like the old songs--the ones I can
+follow in my mind with the words I know."
+
+"Why, so do I," she admitted; "but, my Philistine friend, I was
+expected to play the other kind."
+
+"I understand that. But I like to hear what is low grade enough for me
+to appreciate. I don't get much music at home."
+
+"Tell me about your ranch. I'd like to know what you do and how you
+live. To begin with, beggin' yer honour's pardon in advance, is there a
+Mrs. Dunne?"
+
+"No such luck," he replied. He sketched the ranch routine briefly. She
+was interested, asking many questions. The evening wore away. The
+guests began to depart. But Clyde had arranged to stay the night with
+the Wades.
+
+"By the way," she said, "I still have your ten-dollar bill. I will send
+it to you."
+
+"Don't do that. Keep it."
+
+"I couldn't."
+
+"Of course you can. You may pay me interest if you like."
+
+"At what per cent?"
+
+"Current rates in my country--eight."
+
+"Very well," she laughed. "It's a bargain. But where is your security?"
+
+He considered gravely. "Certainly I should have something. I will be
+satisfied with that rose you are wearing."
+
+Clyde coloured slightly, glancing at him swiftly.
+
+"Kitty," she called to Mrs. Wade, "I want you as a witness. Mr. Dunne
+has made me a loan. His security is this rose--and nothing more. Please
+witness that I give it to him."
+
+And later that night Kitty Wade said to her lord:
+
+"For a rancher, Harry, your Casey Dunne has class. I never knew Clyde
+Burnaby to give a flower to any man before."
+
+"And you see a case of love at first sight," said Wade, scornfully and
+sleepily. "Pshaw, Kitty, you're barking at a knot. Casey's a fine chap,
+but Lord! she's got too much money for him. Suppose she did give him a
+rose! Didn't she call you over to chaperon the transaction? That puts
+the sentimental theory out of business."
+
+"And that's all a lawyer knows!" said his wife. "Why, you old silly,
+don't you see that she couldn't have given it to him any other
+way--with all those people in the room? Clyde Burnaby can think about
+as fast as anybody I know."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+Casey Dunne pulled a fretful buckskin to a halt as he topped a rise and
+looked down on Talapus Ranch. It lay before him, the thousand-odd acres
+of it, lush and green beneath the sloping, afternoon sun, an oasis in a
+setting of brown, baked earth and short, dry grasses which seldom felt
+the magic of the rains. The ranch was owned by Donald McCrae, a pioneer
+of the district, and it was the show place of the country. It was
+Exhibit A to incomers, a witness to the results of irrigation. The
+broad, fat acres were almost level. There was no waste land, no
+coulées, no barren hills to discount its value. Every foot of it could
+be irrigated, and most of it was actually irrigated and cultivated.
+
+Dunne's eye followed the lines of the ditches, marked by margins of
+green willows. They cut through the fields of wheat, of oats, of
+alfalfa, timothy, and red clover. They were the main arteries. From
+them branched veins supplying the fields with the water that gave them
+life--the water without which the land was waste and barren; but with
+which it bore marvellously with the stored fertility of fallow
+centuries. Away at one end of the ranch, sheltered to north and west by
+low hills, was the ranch house itself, surrounded by young orchards,
+the stables, the corrals, the granaries, the cattle sheds, tool and
+implement houses. At that distance, in the clear, dry air, they looked
+like toys, miniatures, sharply defined in angle and shadow. So, too,
+the stock grazing in the fields were of lilliputian dimensions.
+
+From where he sat in the saddle Dunne could see the Coldstream,
+scarcely more than a large creek, dignified in that land of dryness by
+the name of river, whose source was in the great green glaciers and
+everlasting snows of the hills. Its banks were green with willow and
+cottonwood. It was a treasure stream of untold value. With it the land
+prospered; without it the land and the men who peopled the land must
+fail.
+
+"And that ranch, and others like it," Dunne muttered through his teeth,
+"must go dry and back to brown prairie unless the owners sell out to
+that old holdup, York, at his own price. Well, Mr. York----You yellow
+devil!"
+
+The last words did not refer to Cromwell York. For, without provocation
+or preliminaries, the buckskin's head had dived between his legs, his
+back arched like an indignant cat's, and with a vicious squeal he began
+to pitch.
+
+Dunne drew his quirt and let him have it. The brown, plaited leather
+played like lightning on quarters, flanks, cached head, and flattened
+ears.
+
+"No work, and a bellyful of oats three times a day!" he gritted.
+"Forgotten who's your boss, hey? I'll show you, you hammer-headed,
+saffron-hided----"
+
+"Stay with him, Casey!"
+
+Dunne turned his head, and shut his teeth upon forthcoming references
+to his steed's pedigree. A girl, brown, lean, aquiline of feature, sat
+astride a big slashing bay, and watched the contest with amusement.
+Dunne's face, red from exertion, deepened in colour; for some of his
+remarks, though exceedingly apposite, had not been intended for
+feminine ears. He answered, between pitches, in the vernacular:
+
+"You bet I will, Sheila! Go to it, old son! Bump to glory if you like!"
+
+But as suddenly as he had begun the buckskin desisted. He heaved a
+sigh, stood still, and turned a mildly inquiring, backward eye on his
+rider. It was as if he had said: "What! Still there? You surprise me!"
+
+Sheila McCrae laughed. "He's passing it off as a joke, Casey."
+
+"He nearly got me, the old sinner," said Dunne. "Now he'll be good till
+next time. You miserable, imitation bad horse, some day I'll manhandle
+you."
+
+"Shiner knows you won't," the girl commented.
+
+"He knows you're fond of him. You'll quirt him when he pitches, and
+then give him an extra feed."
+
+"Well, maybe," Casey admitted shamelessly. "I like the old hyena. I've
+frazzled out leather on his hide that cost more than he did, but I
+never went after him right. He certainly can drift when he has to.
+What's the news, Sheila? All well at the ranch?"
+
+She nodded, running a keen eye over his face. "All well. But you're the
+news bureau, Casey."
+
+"Am I?" he said. "Well, then, I haven't a piece of good news in my
+saddlebags--not one."
+
+"I knew it," she said. "Well, it can't be helped, Casey. There will be
+some way out. Let's go on to the ranch. Supper will be ready. Most of
+the men won't come till afterward. I won't be at your council of war,
+but I want you to let me know just what you decide on."
+
+"Of course," he replied. "You've got a better head than most men,
+Sheila. I don't know what we will do--haven't a notion. It looks as
+though we were up against a tough proposition."
+
+His dejection was apparent, and, womanlike, she tried to cheer him.
+Some way would be found. The action of the railway was so high-handed
+and unjust that it could not succeed. But though she spoke cheerfully,
+her keen eyes were troubled, and her face was clouded as they rode up
+to the ranch.
+
+They found Donald McCrae at the stables. He was a dark-faced giant of a
+man, and for all his years carried himself as straight as a young pine.
+All his life had been spent on the frontier. He had seen it move
+westward, and had moved with it from the Great Lakes across the Great
+Plains. He had seen it vanish, as the wild pigeon and the buffalo had
+gone--mysteriously, in a season, almost. Wheat fields, etched in green
+and gold, lay where he had made his lonely camps; orchards nestled by
+little lakes and in mountain valleys where he had trapped the beaver;
+strings of brass-bound, vestibuled coaches whirled where he had ridden
+his pony with the pack train shuffling behind. And here, on the
+Coldstream, he had made his last stand, taken up land, and turned, when
+past his prime, to the quiet life of a rancher.
+
+"Light down, light down, Casey!" he called. "Put your cayuse in the
+stable. Give me Beaver Boy, Sheila. Go up to the house and fix us some
+whiskey with a chip of ice in it, like a good girl. Stir up the Chink
+as you go through, and make him rustle supper in a hurry. We'll be
+right in." He took his daughter's horse, and in the stable turned to
+Dunne.
+
+"Well?" he demanded tersely.
+
+"Nothing," Casey replied. "They stand their hand."
+
+"I was afraid of it," said McCrae. "And they outhold us, Casey."
+
+"Yes. Too much money."
+
+"Will they buy us?"
+
+"No. York offered to buy me. I was to be a decoy for the rest, I think.
+I refused. Now he will freeze us out."
+
+"Will he?" said McCrae heavily. "Will he? Maybe so. And maybe----" He
+did not complete the sentence, but stood at the door, scowling at the
+fair fields. "Twenty years back, Casey--yes, ten, even--if a man jumped
+my staking I'd have known what to do. We own this water. What's the
+difference? Can't the law help us? Do we have to help ourselves?"
+
+"It may come to that," Casey replied. "Yes, it's pretty nearly come to
+that, McCrae. I saw a lawyer--one of the best in the business. He says
+the odds are against us. They will appeal and appeal--carry it up to
+the highest court. Meanwhile our land will be dry likely. We're out on
+a limb. If we hang on they shoot, and if we drop off they skin us."
+
+"I guess that's so," said McCrae. "It's a bad fix any way you look at
+it. There's the ranch. That ain't so much, far's I'm concerned. I've
+been broke before, and I can rustle for myself for years yet. But
+there's my wife and Sheila and Alec. It's theirs. I worked for them.
+It's all I've got to leave them. You see, Casey, I can't stand to lose
+it."
+
+"I know," said Casey sympathetically. "It's a hard position. Look here,
+Donald, if you wish it I'll vote for breaking our pool, and each man
+doing the best he can for himself."
+
+"No, I didn't mean that," said McCrae. "The railway wouldn't give us a
+fair price, and nobody else would buy with this hanging over. I'll
+stick. But you, now, it's some different with you. You're young, you
+ain't married. It's your stake, of course, but then you've got time
+left you to get another. They offered to buy you out. I don't know but
+you'd best take their offer. That'll give you something to start on.
+None of us will think the less of you for it."
+
+"The agreement was that we were to fight this to a finish. If we sold
+out the railway was to buy all or none. If you can stay with that I
+can."
+
+"But then, you see, Casey----"
+
+"I see, Donald. You know me better than that."
+
+McCrae slapped him on the shoulder with a huge hand, and his voice took
+on the Gaelic accent of his childhood learned from his father, that
+McCrae who had in his time ruled a thousand miles of wilderness for the
+great fur company.
+
+"I do know ye, boy, and it is proud I will be of it. There's Sheila at
+the door, callin' us. A toss of liquor and a bite--it will put the
+heart in us again. We must cheer up for the women, lad."
+
+But in spite of this resolution supper was not a merry meal. Talk was
+spasmodic, interrupted by long silences. Mrs. McCrae--slight, gentle,
+motherly, with wavy silver hair--was plainly worried. Her husband
+brooded unconsciously over his plate. Sheila and Casey, conversing on
+topics which neither was thinking about, blundered ridiculously. And
+the son of the house, Alec McCrae, a wiry, hawk-faced young man of
+twenty-two, strongly resembling his sister, was almost silent.
+
+Soon after supper the ranchers who had banded together for mutual
+protection began to arrive by saddle and buckboard. Men of all ages,
+they comprised a dozen descents and nationalities, the Celtic and
+Anglo-Saxon strains predominating.
+
+There was Oscar Swanson, heavy, slow-moving, blond as Harold Haarfagar,
+a veritable Scandinavian colossus; Wyndham, clean-bred, clean-built, an
+English gentleman to his fingers' tips; old Ike James, whose tongue
+carried the idiom and soft-slurring drawl of his native South; Eugéne
+Brulé, three parts Quebec French and one part Cree; Carter, O'Gara,
+Bullen, Westwick, and half a dozen others.
+
+One and all they were wind-and-sun tanned, steady of eye, mostly quiet
+and brief of speech. Life was a serious business with them just then.
+Their ranches were their all. They had given hostages to competence. Up
+to a year ago they had believed themselves lucky, independent, on the
+way to modest fortune. Then came alarming rumours; next, construction
+of works confirming the rumours. Now they were come to hear the worst
+or best from the lips of their envoy, Casey Dunne.
+
+They listened as he gave details of his interviews with York and Wade,
+lips grimly wrapped around cigars and pipe stems, troubled eyes
+straining through the blue smoke at the speaker.
+
+"And you couldn't get an injunction?" said Wyndham.
+
+"No. The judge said that the mere fact of building a dam did not show
+an intention to interfere with anybody's rights."
+
+"Didn't--eh?" snapped Carter, at high tension. "Then I'd like to know
+what would show it!"
+
+"So would I," said Dunne. "Anyway, what the judge said went. The long
+and short of it is that we can't go to law till they actually take our
+water. Wade advises us to sell out if we can get a fair price. And
+that's all I have to report, gentlemen."
+
+"A fair price!" exclaimed Carter. "That's all right to talk about--but
+who'll give us one? The railway won't buy--it's cheaper to freeze us
+out. Nobody else will. And, if it comes to that, what is a fair price?
+Land is boosting everywhere. If we sold now we'd just be robbing
+ourselves."
+
+"S'pose they starts to rustle our water and we go to law," said old
+James, "does this here lawsuit tangle up things so's't we get plenty of
+water till the case is tried?"
+
+"I'm afraid not," Casey replied. "That's the worst of it. Wade seemed
+to think that once they got the water they could keep it until the case
+was settled by the last court of appeal. And that would put us out of
+business."
+
+"It's sure a mean jack pot," said James. "It looks like they have it on
+us every way. The prospects for our emergin' winners ain't cheerin'
+none, but, gents, speakin' for myself alone, I wouldn't sell at no
+price. I'm aimin' to live where I be till you-alls beds me down for
+keeps. I reckon I'll stay with the game while I got a chaw and a
+ca'tridge left. I may be froze out, but dog-gone my ol' hide if I'll be
+bluffed out. This here ain't none different from claim jumpin'. I own
+my water, and I'm goin' to keep on havin' it. And the man that shets it
+off will be mighty apt to see how they irrigate them green fields 'way
+over yander 'cross the River Jordan."
+
+His words were like fire in dry straw.
+
+"That's right, Uncle Ike!" cried Carter.
+
+"By George I'm with you myself!" cried Wyndham.
+
+"_Moi aussi!_" exclaimed Brulé. "By damn, yes!"
+
+"Yes, let 'em try it!" cried young Alec McCrae, his eyes gleaming like
+those of a fierce young hawk that sights its first quarry. "Let 'em try
+it!" he repeated ominously, nodding to himself.
+
+But on the excitement of the others Donald McCrae's words fell like an
+icy douche: "Men, this is plain foolishness. Alec, let me hear no more
+of it from you. James, you should know better. We can't enforce claim
+law here. The old days are gone."
+
+"I ain't gone yet, nor you ain't," old James replied, his eyes gleaming
+balefully through slitted lids. "I give it out now that I don't set
+quiet and see my ditches go dry. Long's the law won't help us--and the
+law never gave no action in the West nohow--I'm goin' to help myself. I
+ain't raisin' the long yell for partners, neither!"
+
+"You can't bring back the old days," McCrae repeated. "I stand to lose
+as much as any man here, but shooting one or two men who are doing what
+they are paid to do won't help us. You all know that."
+
+"That's so," Casey admitted. "That's the last thing we can afford to
+do."
+
+"Well, maybe you boys are right," said the old man reluctantly. "Maybe
+I ain't up to date. But what you goin' to do? You got to do somethin'."
+
+"Yes," said Wyndham. "They are getting ahead with their work. It won't
+be long till that dam is finished. Then they'll take the water from us,
+that's certain."
+
+But here Big Oscar received an inspiration. He had been listening
+carefully, casting mildly inquiring blue eyes on the speakers. He was a
+good listener, was Oscar, and he seldom spoke. His mental engine, so
+far as could be judged by its verbal expression, turned over stiffly.
+Apparently it had never been run enough to be smoothed down--at least
+in English. But his contribution to the debate at this juncture was
+noteworthy. Said he:
+
+"Say, Ay tenk Ay blow dat dam, easy!"
+
+They stared at him for a moment, while the suggestion took root. It was
+obvious that if the dam were destroyed the water would remain theirs
+until it was rebuilt. True, its destruction would be a lawless act,
+amounting to a declaration of war; but war on them had already been
+declared. They would be merely striking the first blow, and here was
+the logical spot to strike.
+
+"Good boy, Oscar," said Carter. "I believe that's the answer."
+
+"What do you think, McCrae?" asked Wyndham.
+
+"I'm against violence in any form," said McCrae slowly. "But they are
+forcing it on us. They want to steal our ranches. It amounts to that.
+This is the only thing we can do, and when we do it we'll do it right."
+
+A round of applause greeted his concluding words. Old Ike James
+whispered to his neighbour:
+
+"This here Highland Scotch stock is sure a funny proposition. What they
+start with a pra'ar they're mighty apt to end with a gun. Ol' Donald's
+a sure-'nough wolf when he gets goin'."
+
+"And you, Dunne?" asked Wyndham.
+
+"I'm in. I guess it's a case. Oscar, you have a great head. When shall
+we start the fireworks, and who's to start 'em?"
+
+Oscar, flattered by the compliment and the unusual attention, picked up
+his hat. "Ay ban good powder man. Ay tenk Ay start him now when Ay gat
+some powder," said he. He smiled at them serenely. "Mebbe if t'ree,
+four you faller come by me you svear Ay ban home all night?" he
+suggested ingenuously.
+
+But there was an objection to the immediate execution of the plan. They
+were just then getting all the water they needed. The farther ahead
+they could set the date of the destruction of the dam while retaining
+the water, the farther off would be the date when it could be rebuilt,
+as they had no doubt it would be. Thus they might tide through the hot,
+dry summer. Whereas, if it were blown up now it might be repaired and
+their water taken when they needed it most.
+
+Just then it seemed wise to pursue a policy of masterly inactivity. But
+the mere fact of having settled on a course of action cleared the air,
+cheered them. In place of a despondent lethargy there was a nervous
+tension, as before a battle. They laughed and joked amid the bobbing
+stable lanterns as they harnessed and saddled; and they rode away from
+Talapus Ranch one and all in better spirits than they had come.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+No one has ever satisfactorily explained the rapidity with which news
+travels in sparsely settled communities. But the fact remains
+undisputed. Also the further fact that its accuracy is in inverse ratio
+to its rapidity, which does not need so much explanation. The men who
+had been at Talapus said nothing of the meeting, nothing of the purpose
+of it. And yet the gathering was speedily known from one end of the
+country to the other in conjunction with startling rumours, none of
+them authentic or traceable, but all disquieting. The report gained
+currency that the ranchers contemplated nothing less than an armed
+attack on the ditch and dam construction camps, for the purpose of
+running the workmen out of the country.
+
+This came to the ears of Sleeman, who was the local sales agent of the
+railway's land department; and Sleeman passed it on to his chief, who
+thought it of sufficient importance to put up to York, seeing that that
+gentleman was responsible for the conception of the department's policy
+in this instance.
+
+York, while not attaching much importance to the story, thought of the
+remarks of Casey Dunne. It was just possible that the ranchers might
+perpetrate some hostile act. It happened, too, that at this time the
+engineer in charge of the Coldstream irrigation project took sick,
+necessitating the appointment of a new man. And it further happened
+that another engineer in the railway's employ, named Farwell, had got
+through with a difficult piece of tunnelling, and was ready for fresh
+work.
+
+"I'll send Farwell down there," said York, speaking to Carrol, who was
+the head of his land department.
+
+Now, Farwell was altogether too good a man to waste on a little,
+puttering job like this. He had seen service in half a dozen countries,
+always with credit to himself, and he was in line for big promotion.
+But against his undoubted ability and the fact that he was a tremendous
+driver, who spared no one, not even himself, was the further fact that
+he was harsh, domineering, impatient, lacking tact or diplomacy. He was
+a fighter by instinct. He preferred to break through than to go around.
+He antagonized rather than conciliated. But in the event of real
+trouble he was there with the genuine, hall-marked goods, as he had
+shown on several occasions when a hard man had been needed. The land
+department, however, had it's own staff, and Carrol did not like the
+importation of an outsider.
+
+"No need to send Farwell," said he. "We can look after it ourselves."
+
+"Farwell's the best man we can have there if anything goes wrong," said
+York positively. "He'll bring these ranchers to time. I'll send him."
+
+Farwell descended on the Coldstream country in a bitter temper, for the
+job was far beneath his professional dignity as he looked at it, and he
+knew that in the meantime others would get better work to which he
+considered himself entitled. Indeed, he had come within an ace of
+resigning, and had insisted, as a condition, on a definite promise of
+something very good in the immediate future.
+
+When he stepped off the train at the little Coldstream station he was
+already prejudiced against the country, its inhabitants, and its
+future; and what he saw as the train rumbled away into the distance did
+not tend to improve his temper.
+
+Coldstream itself for years had amounted to little more than a
+post-office address. From the time of its building in the days of a
+boom which had no foundation, and therefore no permanence, it had
+retrogressed steadily. Now it was picking up. But although times were
+beginning to improve, it still bore many of the earmarks of an
+abandoned camp. The struggle for life during the lean years was more
+apparent in outward sign than was the present convalescence. Most of
+the houses were now occupied, but almost all were unpainted, stained
+gray and brown by wind and sun and snow, forlorn and hideous things of
+loosened boards and flapping ends of tarred sheeting.
+
+Although it was only spring, the road which wound from nowhere between
+the unsightly shacks was ankle deep in dust. The day was unseasonably
+warm, the air still. The dust lay on the young leaves of the occasional
+clumps of cottonwoods, and seemed to impregnate the air so that it was
+perceptible to the nostrils--a warm, dry, midsummer smell, elusive, but
+pervasive. The whole land swam and shimmered in hot sunshine. The
+unpainted buildings danced in it, blurring with the heat waves. Save
+for the occasional green of cottonwoods, the land lay in the brown
+nakedness of a dry spring, wearying the eye with its sameness.
+
+Farwell swore to himself at the prospect, feeling his grievance against
+his employers and the world at large become more acute. He considered
+himself ill-used, slighted, and he registered a mental vow to rush his
+work and be quit of the accursed place at the earliest possible moment.
+
+The individual who seemed to combine the functions of station agent and
+baggage hustler approached, wheeling a truck. He was a small man,
+gray-headed, with a wrinkled, wizened face, and eyes of faded blue. To
+him the engineer addressed himself.
+
+"I'm Farwell," said he.
+
+The agent halted the truck, smiled in friendly fashion, swung around,
+and presented his left ear cupped in his left hand. At the same time a
+strange, pungent odour assailed Farwell's nostrils.
+
+"What did yez say?" he asked. "Onforch'nately me right a-cowstick organ
+is temp'rar'ly to the bad from shootin' a po-o-olecat. The gun busted
+on me, and I massacreed the marauder wid an ax. Did iver ye disthroy a
+skunk wid an ax? Then don't. Avoid mixin' it wid the od'riferous
+animals. Faix, I've buried me clothes--it was a new nightshirt, a
+flannel wan that I had on--and scrubbed meself wid kerosene and
+whale-oil soap that I keep f'r the dog, and I'm no bed of vi'lets yet.
+I can see ye wrinkle yer nose, and I don't blame yez. I'll move to the
+down-wind side of yez. Ye see, it was like this: The t'ief iv the
+wurruld was in me chicken house----"
+
+"I said I was Farwell," that gentleman interrupted.
+
+"Farrel, is ut?" said the station agent. "I knowed a Farrel thirty
+years gone. W'u'd he be yer father, now? His people come from Munster,
+if I mind right. Ye do not favour him, but maybe ye take after yer
+mother. Still, I'm thinkin' ye can't be his son, on account of yer age;
+though he turned Mormon, and I heerd----"
+
+"I said Farwell, not Farrel," the engineer interpolated. "Richard K.
+Farwell." He thought it all the introduction necessary.
+
+The station agent extended a welcoming hand. "Me own name is C. P.
+Quilty," said he, "the initials indicatin' Cornelius Patrick, and I'm
+glad to know ye. There's mighty few drummers stops off here now, but
+trade's bound to pick up, wid the land boom an' all." A sidelong glance
+at the perfecto clenched between Farwell's teeth. "W'u'd seegyars be
+yer line, now? I'm a judge of a seegyar meself, though the bum smokes
+they do be makin' nowadays has dhruv me to the pipe. No offense to you,
+Mr. Farrel, for no doubt ye carry a better line nor most. If ye like
+I'll introduce ye to Bob Shiller, that keeps the hotel----"
+
+"Look here," snapped Farwell, at the end of his patience, "I'm Farwell,
+the engineer come down to take charge of this irrigation job. I want to
+know if there are any telegrams for me, and where the devil the camp
+is, and how I get to it. And that's about all I want to know, except
+whether I can get a bath at this hotel of Shiller's."
+
+And Cornelius Patrick Quilty shook hands with him again.
+
+"To think iv me takin' ye fur a drummer, now!" he exclaimed in
+self-reproach. "Sure, I've often heard of yez. I live over beyant, in
+the shack wid the picket fince on wan side iv ut. The other sides
+blowed down in a dust storm a year gone, and I will erect them some day
+when I have time. But ye can't miss me place, more be token half the
+front iv the house was painted wanst. They say the paint was stole, but
+no matter. Bein' both officials iv the comp'ny, Mr. Farrel, we will
+have much to talk over. No doubt ye have been referred to me for
+details iv the disturbin' rumours. Well, it's this wa-ay: I am in the
+service iv the comp'ny, and I dhraw me pay wid regularity, praise be,
+so that I w'u'd not for a moment think of questionin' the wisdom iv the
+policy iv me superiors----"
+
+"That's right--don't!" snapped Farwell. "Now, get me those telegrams,
+if there are any, and tell me what I want to know."
+
+A hurt look crept into Mr. Quilty's eyes of faded blue.
+
+"I regret that I have no messages for ye, _sor_," said he. "The
+comp'ny's land agent, Mr. Sleeman, will take ye wherever ye want to go
+in his autymobile. Ye will see his sign as ye go uptown. But, speakin'
+as man to man, Mr. Farwell, and havin' the interests of thim that pays
+me to heart, I w'u'd venture on a little advice."
+
+"Well, what is it?" asked Farwell.
+
+"It's this," said Quilty. "The men hereabouts--the ranchers--is sore.
+Don't make them sorer. Duty is duty, and must be done, iv coorse. But
+do ut as aisy as ye can." He broke off, eying two riders who were
+approaching the station.
+
+"Who are those people?" asked Farwell.
+
+"The man is Misther Casey Dunne, and the young leddy is Miss Sheila
+McCrae," Quilty informed him.
+
+"I've heard of Dunne," said Farwell, who had done so from York. "Who's
+the McCrae girl? Is she one of the same bunch?"
+
+"_Miss_ McCrae is a _leddy_," said Quilty, with quiet dignity. "And
+Casey Dunne is--is a dom good friend of mine."
+
+The riders drew up at the platform, and Casey Dunne hailed the agent.
+"Hallo, Corney! Any freight for Talapus or Chakchak?" The last was the
+name of his own ranch, and in the Chinook jargon signified an eagle.
+
+"Freight for both iv yez," Quilty replied. "But sure ye won't be takin'
+it on the cayuses. Howdy, Miss Sheila! Will ye 'light and try the
+comp'ny's ice wather wid a shot iv a limon, or shall I bring ye a
+pitcher?"
+
+"I'll 'light, Mr. Quilty, thank you," said Sheila. She swung down from
+Beaver Boy, letting the lines trail, and Dunne dropped off Shiner.
+
+Quilty introduced the engineer punctiliously. Farwell raised his hat,
+and bowed to the girl, but did not offer his hand to Casey Dunne.
+
+"I've heard of you--from York," he said meaningly.
+
+"I've heard that Mr. York has a wonderful memory for faces and names,"
+said Casey. "Quite flattering to be remembered by him. I've only met
+him once."
+
+"He remembers you very well," Farwell returned dryly.
+
+Sheila McCrae stood by, watching them, hearing the rasp of steel
+beneath the apparently casual words. And unconsciously she measured the
+men, one against the other.
+
+Farwell was slightly the taller and much the heavier. He created the
+impression of force, of dominance. The heavy, square chin, the wide,
+firm mouth, the black, truculent eyes beneath heavy brows, all marked
+the master, if not the tyrant. His body was thick and muscular, and he
+stood solidly, confident of himself, of his position, a man to command.
+
+Casey Dunne was lighter, leaner, more finely drawn. Lacking the
+impression of pure force, of sheer power, he seemed to express the
+capacity for larger endurance, of better staying qualities, of greater
+tensile strength. He was cast in another mould, a weapon of a different
+pattern. Farwell might be compared to a battle-axe; Dunne to a rapier.
+
+And being of the battle-axe type Farwell saw no reason to mince matters
+with Dunne, whom he looked upon as a leader of the alleged trouble
+makers, and therefore directly responsible for his, Farwell's, presence
+in that confounded desert.
+
+"No," he said, "York doesn't forget much. And he hears quite a lot,
+too. I've come down to finish this dam, and complete the irrigation
+ditches, and I'm going to rush the job."
+
+"It's pretty well along, I hear," Dunne commented. "You'll be putting
+the finishing touches to it pretty soon. Quite a nice piece of work,
+that. You want to be careful of the sidehill ditches, though. They
+wash, sometimes."
+
+Farwell was taken aback. There was no hint of insincerity in the
+other's tone. It was impersonal, as if he were not at all concerned.
+
+"I'll be careful enough," he returned. He would have liked to tell
+Dunne that he was also prepared to take care of any trouble that might
+arise, but on second thought he decided to wait for a better opening.
+"I'll be plenty careful of a good many things," he added significantly.
+
+"Nothing like it," Dunne rejoined. "Water finds the weak spots every
+time. Well, good morning, Mr. Farwell. Glad to see you at my ranch any
+time. Ask anybody where it is."
+
+Farwell stared after him for a moment, a little puzzled and by no means
+satisfied with himself. He had come openly contemptuous of the
+ranchers, thinking of them as rough, unlettered farmers who must
+necessarily stand in awe of him. But here was a different type. "Pretty
+smooth proposition, that Dunne," he growled to himself. "'Water finds
+the weak spots,' hey! Now, I wonder what he meant by that?"
+
+He picked up his grip, and walked up into the town, finding the
+company's office without difficulty, and introduced himself to Sleeman,
+the sales agent, whom he had never met.
+
+Mr. Sleeman possessed a shrewd eye, and a face indicative of an ability
+to play a very good game. He was in his shirt sleeves for greater
+comfort, and he smoked particularly strong plug tobacco in a brier
+pipe.
+
+"What's in these yarns, anyhow?" Farwell asked, when they had got down
+to business.
+
+"Ask me something easier," Sleeman replied. "I gave headquarters all I
+heard. If I were you I'd keep my eyes open."
+
+"I'll do that," said Farwell. "These fellows always do a lot of
+talking, and let it go at that."
+
+"Not here," said Sleeman. "The men who will be affected aren't doing
+any talking at all. That looks bad to me. They are just standing pat
+and saying nothing. But you can bet they are doing some thinking.
+Mighty bad lot to run up against if they start anything--old-timers,
+ex-punchers, prospectors, freighters, and fur men, with a sprinkling of
+straight farmers. The worst of it is that these rumours are hurting us
+already, and they'll hurt us worse."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Landlookers hear them, and shy off. No man wants to buy into a feud
+with his neighbours--to buy land with water that somebody else thinks
+he ought to have. Before I can make a showing in actual sales this
+thing has got to be settled."
+
+"Huh!" said Farwell. "Well, I'll finish the job, and turn the water
+down the ditches, and that's all I have to do. I met one of these
+fellows at the station--Dunne, his name is."
+
+"Oh, you met Casey Dunne. And what do you think of him?"
+
+"Don't like him; he's too smooth. Looked me square in the eye, and told
+me to be careful with sidehill ditches, and so on, just as if it didn't
+affect him at all. Too innocent for me. I had a notion to tell him he
+wasn't fooling me a little bit."
+
+"H'm!" said Sleeman. "Well, I give Casey credit for being a good man.
+He has a big stake here--owns a lot of land besides his ranch. It's
+make or break with him."
+
+"Then I'm sorry for him. He had a girl with him--McCrae her name is.
+Who's she?"
+
+"Her father owns Talapus Ranch. It's the biggest and best here. Good
+people, the McCraes."
+
+"And I suppose Dunne's going to marry her? Is that it?"
+
+"I never heard so. But if he is I don't blame him; she's all right,
+that girl."
+
+Farwell grunted. He had rather liked Sheila's looks, but, being a man
+of violent prejudices, and disliking Dunne instinctively, he found it
+easy to dislike his friends. "I'll tell you what I'm going to do," he
+announced. "I'm going to put it up to these fellows straight the first
+chance I get that we don't care a hang for anything they may do. If
+they want trouble they can come a-running."
+
+"Well," Sleeman commented, "of course, I'm here to sell land. The
+company is my boss, and naturally I back its play. But my personal
+opinion is that it would have been better to have bought those fellows
+out, even at fancy prices, than to ride over them roughshod. They're
+sore now, and you can't wonder at it. If I were you I'd go easy--just
+as easy as I could."
+
+"Nonsense!" snorted Farwell. "That's what that old fool of a mick down
+at the station told me. How the devil does the company happen to have
+such an old fossil on the job?"
+
+"Quilty's a left-over from construction days. He's been here ever since
+steel was laid. They say he averted a bad smash once by sheer nerve or
+pure Irish luck. Anyway, he has a sort of guarantee of his job for
+life. Not a bad old boy when you get to know him."
+
+"He ought to be fired, and a younger man put in his place," said
+Farwell. "He talks too much. Good Lord! He's like an endless record!"
+
+"Pshaw! What do you care?" said Sleeman. "He's better than a talking
+machine in this place. Well, come over to the hotel, and afterward I'll
+run you out to the camp."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+Sheila McCrae and Beaver Boy and Casey Dunne and Shiner drifted through
+the golden afternoon just ahead of a dust cloud of their own making.
+Sheila rode astride, in the manner of a country where side saddles are
+almost unknown. Her stiff-brimmed pony hat was pushed back because of
+the heat. Sometimes she rode with it in her hand, careless of the dust
+which powdered her masses of dark, neatly coiled hair. The action
+revealed her keen, cleanly cut features, so strongly resembling her
+brother's. But the resemblance was softened by femininity; for young
+McCrae's visage was masculine and hawklike, and under excitement
+fierce, even predatory; while his sister's, apart from sex, was more
+refined, more thoughtful, with a grave sweetness underlying the
+firmness.
+
+The two were unusually silent as the horses kicked off mile after mile.
+Sheila roused herself first, and looked at her companion. Because his
+hat was pulled low she could see but little of his face save the mouth
+and chin; but the former was compressed and the latter thrust out at a
+decidedly aggressive angle.
+
+"A penny for them, Casey!"
+
+"Take 'em free," he returned. "I was wondering whether we had any
+chance to beat this game, and I can't see it. The bank roll against us
+is too big. It will get our little pile in the end, just as sure as
+fate."
+
+"Well, you can't help that, can you?" she commented sharply. "What do
+you want to do--lie down and quit? You wouldn't do that. Brace up!"
+
+"That's the talk," he acknowledged. "That's what I need now and then.
+Perhaps I get a pessimistic view when I'm trying for an impartial one."
+
+"What do you think of this Farwell person?"
+
+"Farwell represents the railway in more ways than one. He takes what he
+wants--if he's strong enough. He's some bully--and so is the railway.
+But he isn't a bluff--and neither is the railway. He's had
+experience--plenty of it--and, on a guess, I should say that he is sent
+down here to take care of any trouble that may start. He is hostile
+already. You can see it."
+
+"Yes." And after a moment's silence she asked: "What is going to start,
+Casey?"
+
+"I don't know exactly."
+
+"Of course you know. Dad won't say a word, and Sandy makes wise remarks
+about girls who try to butt into men's affairs. I'm left out, and it's
+the first time _that_ has ever happened to me. Nice, isn't it?"
+
+"No, it's confoundedly annoying. All the same, Sheila, they're quite
+right."
+
+"But why? I'm no silly kid--no chattering, gossipy young lady. I have
+as much interest in the ranch as Sandy. I know as much about it and the
+work of it as he does, and I do my share of it. Even Mr. Dunne has
+occasionally honoured me by asking for my opinion. And now I'm left out
+like a child. It isn't fair."
+
+"From that angle it looks rather raw," he acknowledged. "Still, it's
+better that you shouldn't know. In that case you can't be forced to
+give evidence against your own people and your friends."
+
+She glanced at him, a little startled. "What rot, Casey!"
+
+"Not a bit of it. Anything we can do must be against the law. Suspicion
+will be directed at us from the outset. You must see that."
+
+"Yes, I see it," she assented thoughtfully. "Very well, I'll be good to
+the extent of not asking questions. But you can't expect me to be deaf
+and blind."
+
+"Of course not," he assented and began to talk of the ranch work. She
+listened, making occasional shrewd comments, offering suggestions which
+showed that she understood such matters thoroughly.
+
+"Why shouldn't we ride around by Chakchak?" she asked. "I haven't seen
+it for a month, and there's plenty of day left. And then I can go on to
+Talapus by myself."
+
+"Trying to shake me?"
+
+"No. But why should you trail along with me? I've ridden all over the
+country alone. I do it every day."
+
+"Hush, Sheila! Let me tell you a secret. I ride with you because I like
+to."
+
+"Oh, blarney! That's what it is to have a mick ancestry. I suppose I'll
+have to own up that if I didn't like you to ride with me I wouldn't let
+you do it."
+
+Casey grinned. Their mutual liking was genuine and so far
+unsentimental. They were of the same breed--the breed of the
+pioneer--and their hearts held the same seldom-voiced but deeply rooted
+love for the same things; the great, sun-washed spaces winnowed by the
+clean winds, the rosy dawns, violet dusks and nights when the earth
+scents hung heavy, almost palpable, clinging to the nostrils, the
+living things of fur and feather bright of eye and wary of habit. But
+most of all unconsciously they loved and cherished the feeling of room,
+of space in which to live and breathe and turn freely.
+
+"The present time being inopportune, and Shiner's temper too uncertain
+for a further avowal of my sentiments," he said, "I suggest that we
+turn off here and hit a few high spots for Chakchak. Stir up that
+slothful cayuse of yours. Maybe there's a lope left in him somewhere.
+See if you can comb it out with a quirt."
+
+"I like your nerve!" she exclaimed. "Beaver Boy can run the heart out
+of that old buzzard-head of yours and come in dry-haired. Come on, or
+take my dust!"
+
+The hoofbeats drummed dull thunder from the brown earth, and the dust
+cloud behind drew out and lengthened with the speed of their going.
+Side by side they swept through the silent land, breasting small rises,
+swooping down slopes, breathing their horses whenever they came to
+heavier ascents.
+
+Sometimes as they rode knee touched knee. It gave Casey Dunne a strange
+but comfortable feeling of comradeship. He looked at the woman beside
+him, appreciating her firm, easy seat in the stock saddle, her
+management of Beaver Boy, now eager to prove his prowess against the
+buckskin's. He noted the rich colour lying beneath the tan of the
+smooth cheeks, the rounded brown throat, the poise of the lithe, pliant
+body and the watchful tension of the strong arms and shoulders as the
+big bay fought hard for his head and a brief freedom to use his full
+strength and speed in one mad heartbreaking burst. But most of all he
+noted and was attracted by the level, direct, fearless stare beneath
+the slightly drawn brows into the distances.
+
+A brown girl in a brown land! It came to Casey Dunne, who was
+imaginative within the strict seclusion of his inner self, that she
+typified their land, the West, in youth, in fearlessness, in
+potentialities yet lying fallow, unawakened, in fruitfulness to come.
+What of the vagrant touch of the woman, the gold of the day, the clean,
+dry air and the glory of motion, the chord of romance within him
+vibrated and began to sing.
+
+It invested her momentarily with a new quality, a new personality. She
+was no longer the Sheila McCrae he had known so well. She was the
+Spirit of the Land, a part of it--she was Sheila of the West; and her
+heritage was plain and mountain, gleaming lake and rushing river, its
+miles numbered by thousands, its acres by millions--a land for a new
+nation.
+
+How many Sheilas, he wondered--young, strong, clean of blood, straight
+of limb--had ridden since the beginning of time into the new lands, and
+borne their part in peopling them. Fifty years before, her prototypes
+had ridden beside the line of crawling, creaking prairie schooners
+across the great plains toward the setting sun; little more than fifty
+years before that they had ridden down through the notches of the blue
+Alleghenies into the promised land of Kain-tuck-ee, the Dark and Bloody
+Ground, beside buckskin-clad, deckard-armed frontiersmen. Perhaps,
+centuries before that, her ancestresses had ridden with burly,
+skin-clad warriors out of the great forests of northern Europe down to
+the pleasant weaker south. But surely she was the peer of any of
+them--this woman riding knee to knee with him, the sloping sun in her
+clear, brown eyes, and the warm, sweet winds kissing her cheeks!
+
+And so Casey Dunne dreamed as he rode--dreamed as he had not dreamed
+waking since the days when, a little boy, he had lain on warm sands
+beside a blue inland sea on summer's afternoons and watched the patched
+sails of the stone hookers, and the wheeling, gray lake gulls, and
+heard the water hiss and ripple to the long, white beaches. And, as he
+dreamed, a part of boyhood's joy in mere life awoke in him again.
+
+Chakchak Ranch came into view. Its cultivated area smaller than that of
+Talapus, it was nevertheless as scrupulously cared for. The one might
+have served as model for the other. Here, also, were the straight lines
+of the ditches, the squares of grain fields beginning to show green,
+the young orchards, the sleek, contented stock, the corrals, and
+outbuildings.
+
+But, as became the residence of a bachelor, the ranch-house itself was
+less pretentious. It was a small bungalow, with wide verandas which
+increased its apparent size. There Casey lived with Tom McHale, his
+right-hand man and foreman. The hired men, varying in number
+constantly, occupied other quarters.
+
+Casey would have helped Sheila to alight, but she swung down,
+stretching her limbs frankly after the hard ride.
+
+"That's _going_," she said. "Beaver Boy was a brute to hold; he wanted
+to race Shiner. He nearly got away from me once. My wrists are actually
+lame." She drew off her long buckskin gauntlets, flexing her wrists
+cautiously, straightening her fingers, prolonging the luxury of
+relaxing the cramped sinews.
+
+"Let us now eat, drink, and be merry," said Casey, "for
+to-morrow--well, never mind that. But what would you like? Coffee, tea,
+claret lemonade? Tell me what you want."
+
+"Too hot for tea. I'd like a dust eraser--a cold drink about a yard
+long."
+
+"Hey, you, Feng!" Casey cried, to a white-aproned, grinning Chinaman,
+"you catch two ice drink quick--_hiyu_ ice, you savvy! Catch claret
+wine, catch cracker, catch cake. Missy _hiyu_ dry, _hiyu_ hungry. Get a
+hustle on you, now!"
+
+Feng, understanding perfectly the curious mixture of pidgin and
+Chinook, vanished soft-footed. They entered the living room of the
+bungalow.
+
+"Stretch out and be comfy while he's rustling it," said Casey,
+indicating a couch. He himself fell into a huge wicker chair, flung his
+hat carelessly at the table, and reached for a cigar box.
+
+Sheila dropped on the couch with a satisfied sigh, stretching her arms
+above her head, her hands clasped, every muscle of her relaxing. The
+comparative coolness, the quiet, the soft cushions were good after a
+day in the saddle. Down there on the Coldstream the strict proprieties
+did not trouble them. If any one had suggested to Sheila McCrae that
+she was imprudent in visiting a bachelor's ranch unchaperoned, she
+would have been both amazed and indignant. And it would have been
+unsafe to hint at such a thing to Casey Dunne. Indeed, the desirability
+of a chaperon never occurred to either of them; which was, after all,
+the best guarantee of the superfluity of that mark of an advanced
+civilization.
+
+But in a moment Sheila was on her feet, arranging, straightening.
+"You're awfully untidy, Casey!" she said.
+
+Indeed her comment was justified. The long table in the centre of the
+room was a litter of newspapers, magazines, old letters, pipes, and
+tobacco. Odd tools--a hammer, a file, a wrench, and a brad awl--mingled
+with them. On top of the medley lay a heavy revolver, with the cylinder
+swung out and empty, a box of cartridges, a dirty rag, and an oil can.
+In one corner stood half a dozen rifles and shotguns. From a set of
+antlers on the wall depended a case of binoculars, a lariat, and a pair
+of muddy boots. The last roused Sheila's indignation.
+
+"Whatever do you hang up boots in your sitting room for?" she demanded.
+
+"Why, you see," he explained, "they were wet, and I hung 'em up to dry.
+I guess I forgot 'em. It's not the right place, that's a fact." He
+rose, took down the offending footgear, and tossed them through the
+open door into the next room. They thumped on the floor, and Sheila was
+not placated.
+
+"That's just as bad. Why, they were covered with dried mud, and now
+it's all over the floor. You're shockingly careless. Don't you know
+that that makes work?"
+
+"For Feng, you mean. That's what I pay him for--only he doesn't do it."
+
+But she shook her head, brushing the excuse aside as trifling,
+unsatisfactory. "It's a bad habit. I pity your wife, Casey."
+
+"Poor thing!"
+
+"When you get one, I mean."
+
+"Time enough to sympathize then. Now, Sheila, if it's all the same to
+you, don't muss that table up. I know where to find everything the way
+it is."
+
+"Muss it up! I like that!" she responded. "Why, of all the old _junk_!
+Haven't you got a tool house? And it's an inch deep in dust." She
+extended her fingers in proof. "That dirty rag! And a gun and
+cartridges there for any one to pick up! You ought to be ashamed of
+yourself. Don't you know better than that? Don't you know you shouldn't
+leave firearms and ammunition together? It's as bad as leaving them
+loaded, almost."
+
+"That's Tom's gun. Sail into him."
+
+"You shouldn't allow it."
+
+"Allow it! I never touch another man's gun. Nobody comes in here but
+Feng, and he doesn't matter. What's a Chink more or less?"
+
+"But it's the _principle_. And what's this--down here? Why, Casey,
+it's--it's a _hen!_"
+
+It was a hen. In a space between two piles of newspapers, flanked by a
+cigar box, squatted a white fowl, very intent upon her own affairs.
+
+"Shoo!" said Sheila. But the bird merely cocked a bright eye at her,
+and uttered a little warning, throaty sound. Casey laughed.
+
+"That's Fluffy, and she's a lady friend of mine. Poor old Fluff, poor
+old girl! Don't scare her, Sheila. Can't you see she's busy?"
+
+"Casey Dunne, do you mean to tell me that you allow a hen to lay in
+your sitting room, on your _table?_"
+
+"Of course--when she's a nice little chicken like Fluffy. Why not? She
+doesn't do any harm."
+
+"I never heard of such a thing. The place for hens is in the chicken
+run. Casey, you're simply _awful!_ Your wife--oh, heavens, what a life
+she'll have!"
+
+"Nobody could help liking Fluff," he replied. "She's really good
+company. I wish I could talk her talk. She has a fine line of
+conversation if I could only savvy it."
+
+Sheila sat down with a hopeless gesture. Fond of all living things as
+she was, she could not understand the tolerance that allowed a hen the
+run of the house. To her a hen was a hen, nothing more. She could name
+and pet a horse or a dog or any quadruped. But a hen! She could not
+understand.
+
+But Feng entered with the two "ice drink"--a tray containing long
+glasses, tinkling ice, claret, lemons, cake, and biscuits. He set the
+tray upon the table. As he did so his hand came in contact with Fluffy.
+With a rasping cry of indignation she pecked him.
+
+"Hyah!" cried Feng, startled, and reached for her impulsively.
+
+Fluffy bounded from her nest, and fled shrieking for the door. Her
+fluttering wings brushed the contents of the tray. The long glasses and
+bottle capsized, rolled to the floor, and smashed, the crash of glass
+mingling with her clamour.
+
+"What foh?" yelled Feng, in a fury. "Jim Kli, dam chickum spoiley icey
+dlink. _Hiyu_ no good--all same son of a gun! S'pose me catch him, ling
+him neck!" And he darted after the hen, on vengeance bent.
+
+But Casey caught him by the collar. "Never mind, Feng. That chicken all
+same my _tillikum_, you savvy. _Hiyu_ good chicken; lay _hiyu_ egg. You
+catch more ice drink!"
+
+And when the angry Celestial had gone he lay back in his chair, and
+laughed till he was weak. Sheila laughed, too, at first half-heartedly,
+then more heartily, and finally, as she reconstructed Feng's expression,
+in sheer abandonment of merriment, until she wiped her eyes and gasped
+for breath.
+
+"Oh--oh!" she protested weakly; "my side hurts. I haven't had such a
+laugh for ages. Oh, Casey, that chicken all same my friend now, too.
+It's coming to her. That Chink--how mad he was! But what a mess! And
+claret stains so. Your rug----"
+
+She rose, impelled by her housewifely instincts to do what she could,
+and, glancing through the door, she saw a man standing by the veranda
+steps.
+
+This was Tom McHale, Casey's friend and foreman. He was lean with the
+flat-bellied leanness that comes of years of hard riding, and a but
+partially subdued devil of recklessness lurked in his steady hazel
+eyes. He was a wizard with animals, and he derived a large part of his
+nourishment from Virginia leaf. He and Sheila were the best of friends.
+
+"Howdy, Miss Sheila!" he greeted her. "I sure thought there was
+hostiles in the house. What you doin' to that there Chink? He's cussin'
+scand'lous. Casey been up to some of his devilment?"
+
+"Come in and join us, Tom," said Casey. "Feng had a run-in with Fluff.
+Result, one bottle of claret and two glasses gone to glory."
+
+"Also one Chink on the warpath," McHale added. "If I was in the
+insurance business I wouldn't write no policy on that there hen. She's
+surely due to be soup flavourin'. She ain't got no more show than if
+the Oriental was a coon. He's talkin' now 'bout goin' back to China."
+
+"He always does when he gets a grouch. I wish I could get a white man."
+
+"A white man that _can_ cook hates to stay sober long enough to build a
+bannock," said McHale. "Chink grub has one flavour, but it comes
+reg'lar, there's that about it."
+
+Feng entered with fresh supplies, and they drank luxuriously, tinkling
+the ice in the glasses, prolonging the satisfaction of thirst. McHale
+went about his business. Sheila picked up her hat and gloves, declaring
+that she must be going. Casey insisted on accompanying her. He shifted
+his saddle to Dolly, a pet little gray mare; not because Shiner was
+tired, but because there was a hard ride in store for him on the
+morrow.
+
+They rode into Talapus in time for supper. Afterward Casey and McCrae
+discussed the coming of Farwell, and its significance.
+
+"I pumped Corney Quilty a little," said Casey. "This Farwell is a
+slap-up man, and they'd never waste him on this little job without some
+good reason. I'm told he's bad medicine. Unpleasant devil, he seems. I
+wonder if they've got wise at all? If they have it will be mighty
+interesting for us."
+
+"I'll chance it," said McCrae. "Anyway, we'll all be in it."
+
+"That's a comforting thought," said Dunne. As he rode home that night
+he went over the ranchers one by one; and he was quite sure that each
+was trustworthy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+Farwell took charge of his construction camps, and immediately began to
+infuse some of his own energy into his subordinates.
+
+But as a beginning he rode over the works, blue prints in hand, thus
+getting to know the contour of the country, and the actual location and
+run of the main canal and branch ditches, constructed and projected.
+With this knowledge safely filed away in his head, he proceeded to
+verify the calculations of others; for he had once had the bitter
+experience of endeavouring to complete work which had been based on the
+erroneous calculations of another man. He had been blamed for that,
+because it had been necessary to find a scapegoat for the fruitless
+expenditure of many thousands. So, having had his lesson, he was ever
+after extremely careful to check all calculations, regardless of the
+labour involved.
+
+These things occupied him closely for some weeks. He saw scarcely
+anybody but his own men, nor did he wish to see anybody else. He
+intended to finish the job, and get out at something better. Therefore
+he plugged away day and night, and, so far as he could, forced others
+to do the same.
+
+But the current of his routine was changed by so small a thing as a
+wire nail. He was returning from an inspection of his ditches, when his
+horse pulled up dead lame. Farwell, dismounting, found the nail
+imbedded to the head in the animal's hoof; and he could not withdraw
+it, though he broke his knife blade in repeated attempts. He swore
+angrily, not because it meant temporary inconvenience to himself, but
+because he sympathized with his horse; and, looping the reins over his
+arm, began to walk, the animal limping after him.
+
+Half an hour of this slow progress brought him in sight of Talapus
+Ranch. It had been pointed out to him before; but it was with
+considerable reluctance that he decided, for his mount's sake, to turn
+into the trail to the house.
+
+Sheila was on the veranda, and Farwell raised his hat.
+
+"Miss McCrae, I think. You may remember me--Farwell. I'm sorry to
+trouble you, but my horse has picked up a nail. If I could borrow a
+pair of pliers or shoeing pincers----"
+
+"Of course. Father is at the stable. I'll show you."
+
+Donald McCrae, just in from a day of irrigating, shook hands, and took
+the horse's hoof between his knees with the certainty of a farrier.
+
+"Right bang to the head," he observed, as he tried for a grip. "I'll
+have it in a minute. Hold him, now! Steady, boy! There you are!"
+
+With a twist and an outward wrench he held up the nail between the tips
+of the pincers. He released the hoof, but the horse held it clear of
+the ground.
+
+"Sore," said McCrae. "A nasty brute of a piece of wire, too. That's a
+mighty lame cayuse. You won't ride him for a week--maybe two."
+
+"He'll have to take me to camp, or I'll have to take him."
+
+"And that might lame him for two months. Leave him here. I'll poultice
+the foot if it needs it. You stay and have supper. Afterward we'll
+drive you over."
+
+Farwell demurred, surprised. He considered all the ranchers to be
+leagued against the railway, and in that he was not far wrong. In his
+mind it followed as a corollary that they were also hostile to him, as
+he was hostile to them.
+
+"Thanks! It's very good of you, but, under the circumstances--you
+understand what I mean."
+
+"You needn't feel that way," McCrae returned. "When this country was
+just country, and no more, a white man was always welcome to my fire,
+my blankets, and my grub, when I had it. It's no different now, at
+Talapus. You're welcome to what we have--while we have it. There's no
+quarrel between us that I know of."
+
+"No, of course not," said Farwell, not quite at his ease. If McCrae
+chose to put it on that footing he could not reasonably object. "Well,
+thanks very much. I'll be glad to accept your offer."
+
+An excellent meal put him in better humour. By nature he was a hard
+man, who took life seriously, engrossed in his profession. He led a
+nomadic existence, moved continually from one piece of work to another,
+his temporary habitations ranging from modern hotels to dog tents and
+shacks. In all the world there was no spot that he could call home; and
+there was no one who cared a button whether he came or went. His
+glimpses of other men's homes were rare and fleeting, and he was apt to
+thank Heaven that he was not thus tied down.
+
+But the atmosphere of the ranch appealed to him. Its people were not
+silly folk, babbling of trivial things which he neither understood nor
+cared to understand. Mrs. McCrae, as he mentally appraised her, was a
+sensible woman. In her husband--big, quiet, self-contained--he
+recognized a man as hard as himself. Young McCrae, silent, too grim of
+mouth for his years, was the makings of another hard man. But it was at
+Sheila that he looked the most, and at her if not to her his
+conversation was directed.
+
+So much for the simple magic of a white dress. When he had seen her
+with Dunne, in a dusty riding costume, he had not been especially
+attracted. He had not thought of her since. Now, she seemed a different
+person. He liked her level, direct glance, her low, clear voice, the
+quiet certainty of each movement of her brown hands. Farwell, though
+his acquaintance with the species was slight, recognized the hall mark.
+Unmistakably the girl was a lady.
+
+Sheila, listening, felt that her estimate of Farwell needed revision.
+He was a bigger man than she had thought, stronger, and therefore a
+more formidable opponent. It seemed to her monstrous, incongruous, that
+he should be sitting there as a guest and yet be carrying out a project
+which would ruin them. But since he was a guest he had the rights of a
+guest.
+
+Afterward she found herself alone with him on the veranda. Her father
+and brother had gone to the stables, and her mother was indoors
+planning the next day's housework.
+
+"You smoke, Mr. Farwell?" she said. "I'll get you some cigars."
+
+"I have some in my pocket, thanks."
+
+"No. Talapus cigars at Talapus. That's the rule."
+
+"If you insist on it." He lit a cigar, finding to his relief that it
+was very good indeed. "Well, Miss McCrae, I must say your hospitality
+goes the full limit. I'm rather overwhelmed by it."
+
+"What nonsense! Supper, a cigar--that's not very burdensome surely."
+
+"It's the way things are, of course," he explained. "I'm not blind. I
+know what you were thinking about--what you are thinking now."
+
+"I doubt it, Mr. Farwell."
+
+"Yes, I do. You are wondering how I have the nerve to eat your food and
+smoke your tobacco when I'm here on this irrigation job."
+
+It was her thought stripped naked. She made a little gesture, scarcely
+deprecatory. Why protest when he had guessed so exactly?
+
+"I'm glad you don't feel called on to lie politely," said Farwell. "I'm
+pretty outspoken myself. I don't blame you at all. I merely want to
+point out that if I weren't on this job some one else would be. You see
+that. I'm just earning my living."
+
+She was silent. He went on:
+
+"I'm not apologizing, you understand, and I'm not saying anything about
+the rights of the ranchers or of my employers, one or the other. I
+don't care about either. I'm just concerned with my own business."
+
+"That is to say, the railway's," Sheila commented.
+
+"I'm trying to point out that I'm a hired man, with no personal
+interest. But of course I'll do what I'm paid to do--and more. I never
+saw the time I didn't give full value for every dollar of my pay."
+
+"I don't question it," said Sheila.
+
+"You think I'm talking too much about myself," he said quickly. "That's
+so. I'm sorry. You people have treated me well, no matter what you
+thought, and I appreciate it. I've enjoyed the evening very much. I
+wonder"--he hesitated for a moment--"I wonder if you'd mind my riding
+over here once in a while?"
+
+"Of course not--if you care to come," Sheila replied. Intuitively she
+divined that she had interested him, and she guessed by his manner that
+it was not his custom to be interested in young women. Apart from the
+ranchers' grievance against the corporation he represented, she had no
+reason for refusal. She rather liked his downrightness. Casey Dunne had
+said that he was a bit of a bully, but not a bluff. His extreme
+frankness, while it amused her, seemed genuine.
+
+"Thank you!" he said. "I don't flatter myself that you want me
+particularly, and I'm quite satisfied with the bare permission. I'm not
+entertaining or pleasant, and I know it. I've been busy all my life. No
+time for--for--well, no time for anything but work. But this little job
+isn't going to keep me more than half busy. I've done all the hard work
+of it now."
+
+"I didn't know it was so nearly finished."
+
+"I mean I've been over the ground and over the figures, and I know all
+that is to be done. Now it's merely a question of bossing a gang. A
+foreman could do that."
+
+Sheila could find no fault with the last statement. Obviously it was a
+fact. But the tone more than the words was self-assertive, even
+arrogant. She was unreasonably annoyed.
+
+"Naturally you consider yourself above foreman's work," she commented,
+with faint sarcasm.
+
+"I don't consider myself above any work when it's up to me to do it or
+see it left undone," he replied. "I've held a riveter and driven spikes
+and shimmed up ties before now. But a concern that pays a first-class
+man to do third-class work is robbing itself. This is the last time
+I'll do it. That's how I feel about it."
+
+Sheila was not accustomed to hear a man blow his own horn so frankly.
+The best men of her acquaintance--her father, Casey Dunne, Tom McHale,
+and others--seldom talked of themselves, never bragged, never mentioned
+their proficiency in anything. She had been brought up to regard a
+boaster and a bluff as synonymous. To her an egotist was also a bluff.
+His bad taste repelled her. And yet he did not seem to stress the
+announcement.
+
+"A first-class man should not waste his time," she observed, but to
+save her life she could not keep her tone free from sarcasm. He took up
+her meaning with extraordinary quickness.
+
+"You think I might have let somebody else say that? Pshaw! I'm not
+mock-modest. I _am_ a good man, and I'm paid accordingly. I want you
+to know it. I don't want you to take me for a poor devil of a line
+runner."
+
+"What on earth does it matter what I take you for?" said Sheila. "I
+don't care whether you have a hundred or a thousand a month. What
+difference does it make to me?"
+
+"None--but it makes a whole lot to me," said Farwell. "I'm interested
+in my profession. I want to get to the top of it. I'm halfway up, and
+time counts. And then to be sent down here on this rotten job! Pah! it
+makes me sick."
+
+"I'm glad to hear you admit that it's rotten," said Sheila. "It's
+outrageous--a straight steal."
+
+He stared at her a moment, laughed, and shook his head.
+
+"You don't understand me. It's rotten from my standpoint--too trivial
+to waste time on."
+
+"It's rotten from our standpoint. Can't you get away from your supreme
+self for a moment? Can't you appreciate what it means to us?"
+
+"I know exactly what it means, but I can't help it. You know--but you
+can't help it. What are you going to do, anyway?"
+
+"I don't know," she admitted, thinking of her conversation with Casey
+Dunne.
+
+"You're sure you don't? We heard rumours--I may as well tell you--that
+the ranchers were prepared to make trouble for us."
+
+"Then you've heard more than I have."
+
+He eyed her a moment in silence. She returned his glance unwaveringly.
+
+"I'm glad to know it," he said at length. "I don't want a row. Now, you
+people here--on this ranch--why don't you sell and get out?"
+
+She thought it brutally put. "In the first place, we don't want to sell
+out. And in the next place who would buy?"
+
+"That's so," he said. "I guess you wouldn't find many buyers. Still, if
+you got the chance----"
+
+Whatever he was about to say was lost in a clamour of wheels and hoofs.
+Donald McCrae appeared in a buckboard drawn by a light team which he
+was holding with difficulty. He pulled them to a momentary halt.
+
+"Now, if you're ready, Mr. Farwell. Jump in quick. These little devils
+won't stand. They haven't had any work for a week. All set? G'lang,
+boys!"
+
+They started with a rear and a furious rush that flung Farwell back
+against the seat. In two hundred yards McCrae had them steadied,
+hitting a gait that fairly ate up the miles.
+
+Farwell sat silent, chewing an unlighted cigar, turning a new idea over
+and over in his mind. This idea was to arrange for the purchase of
+Talapus Ranch by the railway's land department. None knew better than
+he that the taking of their water would mean absolute ruin to the
+McCraes, as it did to others. For the others he cared nothing. But he
+told himself that he owed something to the McCraes. They had treated
+him decently, like a white man. He was under a certain obligation, and
+here was a chance to return it many thousandfold. Also it would show
+the McCrae girl that he was no common employee, but a man of influence.
+He thought he had pull enough. Yes, when he came to think about it, it
+was a shame that people like the McCraes should lose everything. Nobody
+but the railway would buy their ranch, under the circumstances. But the
+railway could do so, and likely make a profit. That would be fair to
+everybody.
+
+Once Farwell came to a conclusion he was prompt to act. He said,
+without preliminary:
+
+"McCrae, what do you want for that ranch of yours?"
+
+"It's not for sale now," McCrae replied.
+
+"Everything's for sale at some price," Farwell commented. "What's a
+fair figure for it? I don't mean what you'll take--but what's it
+worth?"
+
+McCrae considered.
+
+"There's a thousand acres, and all good. There's no better land in the
+world. Then there's the buildings and fencing and stock and implements.
+Hard to say, nowadays. Why, raw land in little patches is selling at
+fancy figures. I should say as it stands--stocked and all--it's worth a
+hundred and fifty thousand of any man's money."
+
+"If I can find a buyer at that figure will you take it?"
+
+"No I'm not selling."
+
+"Now, look here," said Farwell, "you say your place is worth one
+hundred and fifty thousand. That's with plenty of water for irrigation.
+Say it is. But what's it worth without water?"
+
+"Without water," said McCrae slowly, "the land itself is worth about
+one dollar an acre. Twenty-five thousand would be an outside price for
+a crazy man to pay for Talapus."
+
+"Exactly," said Farwell. "McCrae, you'd better let me try to find you a
+purchaser. For, if you hang on, just as sure as God made little red
+apples you'll be praying to Him to send you a crazy man."
+
+McCrae was silent for a long minute, his eyes fixed on his horses'
+ears. "This is the first time," he said, "that it's been put up to me
+straight. I knew, of course--we all knew--but nobody had the nerve to
+come here and tell us so."
+
+"Well, I have the nerve," said Farwell. "But I'm not saying it the way
+you think I am. I'm not talking as an official; I'm talking as a
+friend--as I'd like a man to talk to me if I were in your fix. I'm
+trying to get you to stand from under. Here's the situation, as plainly
+as I can put it: If you can't get water you will be forced to sell, and
+the best you can get is grazing-land prices. You know that. On the
+other hand, if you will sell now I think I can get you the price you
+named. Understand, I'm not doing this for a commission. I don't want
+one, and I wouldn't take one. I think the railway would buy on my
+recommendation if I put it strongly enough; and I'd do that for you
+people because--oh, well, just because I would. Now, there it is,
+McCrae, and it's up to you."
+
+McCrae eased his team. His big shoulders seemed to droop, as if a heavy
+weight had been laid upon them. He fought his temptation in the
+darkness.
+
+"No," he said at last, "I won't sell. But I'm obliged to you all the
+same. If the railway would buy us all out----"
+
+"No!" snapped Farwell. "So that's why you won't sell. You think your
+friends will hold out, too. You've got a sort of a pool. It won't do
+you any good. The rest of them haven't the sand. I'll bet there isn't
+another man who would turn down such an offer as I've made to you. It
+will be each man for himself pretty soon."
+
+"You're wrong," said McCrae. "We'll stay with each other. Casey Dunne
+had an offer from York. He didn't take it."
+
+"Dunne is a fool!" rasped Farwell. Never guarded in speech, his
+instinctive hostility flared into hot words. "He won't get the chance
+again. He's one man we _won't_ buy."
+
+"I'm another," McCrae retorted swiftly. "Look here, Mr. Farwell, I was
+in this country when its only crop was buffalo hides and bad Indians.
+Land!--you couldn't give it away. I can show you a town with hotels and
+banks and paved streets and electric lights--a fine little town.
+Twenty-odd years ago I was offered the section that town now stands on,
+for a team and a two weeks' grubstake for a man and his wife. They
+wanted to get out, and they couldn't. I gave 'em the grub, and told 'em
+it was worth the price of it to me not to own the land. Yes, sir--and I
+meant it. I was that shortsighted. So were others. We thought the
+country would never fill up, just as we thought the buffalo would never
+be killed out, and we kept on drifting. When I woke up, the cheap lands
+were about gone. And then, ten years late, I made my grab for a piece
+of what was left. I hiked for this country that I knew ahead of
+everybody, and I picked out the best bunch of stuff there was in it,
+and I sat down to wait for the rush to catch up to me. Now it's caught
+me and the rest of us who came in early. And now you people tell me
+I've got to move off my reservation, and go away somewhere and begin
+again. I won't do it--I tell you I won't! And, what's more, don't you
+crowd me too hard--me and the rest of the boys--or there'll be hell
+a-popping right here. Now, you mind what I'm telling you."
+
+He spoke deliberately, evenly, without raising his voice. His manner,
+even more than his words, expressed fixed determination. Farwell lifted
+his eyebrows, and puckered his lips in a silent whistle. His diplomacy
+was turning out badly, and he repressed an inclination to retort.
+
+"Well, I'm sorry," he said. "I hoped we could fix this up. Think it
+over, anyway."
+
+"I've done my thinking."
+
+"But, man, you're on the wrong side of the fence, and you know it. The
+railway is too strong for you. What's the sense of bucking it?"
+
+"Not much, maybe. I guess you mean well, and I take it friendly, but
+this ain't a question of sense."
+
+"Of what, then?"
+
+"Of a man's right to keep what he's worked for, and to live on the land
+he owns." McCrae replied. "That's the way I look at it."
+
+It was the old question once more--older than the country, older than
+the _Mayflower_, older than the Great Charter wrested from John the
+King----the eternal battle between the common man and class or
+privilege. Here, in the new country, in place of the divine right of
+kings and the hereditary power of nobles, was substituted the might of
+money, the power of the corporate body, itself a creation of law,
+overriding the power which created it.
+
+"Well, it's your funeral," said Farwell. "I can't help my job, just
+remember that. And of course I've got to earn my pay."
+
+"Sure," said McCrae; "sure, I understand."
+
+They were at the camp. Farwell jumped out inviting McCrae to put his
+team up and come to his quarters. McCrae refused. It was late; he must
+be getting back.
+
+"Just as you say," said Farwell. "I'm coming over to your ranch now and
+then, if you don't mind."
+
+"Come along," said McCrae. "Latchstring's always out. You, Jeff; you,
+Dinny! G'lang, boys!"
+
+The buckboard leaped to the sudden plunge of the little road team.
+Farwell stood for a moment listening to the diminishing drum roll of
+hoofs, whir of spokes, and clank of axles in their boxes.
+
+"The blamed fool!" he thought. "Well, I gave him his chance. But it's
+going to be hard on his folks." He shook his head. "Yes, it will be
+pretty hard on his wife and the girl--what do they call her? Sheila.
+Nice name that--odd! Sheila!" He repeated the name aloud.
+
+"Hello, did you speak to me?" said the voice of his assistant, Keeler,
+in the darkness.
+
+"No!" snapped Farwell, with unnecessary curtness; "I didn't."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+At the end of a week Farwell told Keeler that he was going to ride over
+to Talapus. He added unnecessarily that he wanted to see how his horse
+was getting on. Whereat his assistant, who had very good ears, grinned
+internally, though outwardly he kept a decorous face. He did not expect
+his chief back till late.
+
+But Farwell returned early, and spent a busy half hour in blowing up
+everybody from Keeler down. On this occasion he had not seen Sheila at
+all. She and Casey Dunne, so Mrs. McCrae informed him, were at the
+latter's ranch. Mr. Dunne, it appeared, was buying some house
+furnishings, and wanted Sheila's advice. Farwell took an abrupt
+departure, declining a hospitable invitation. He barely looked at the
+lame horse.
+
+For another week he sulked in a poisonous temper. He was done with
+Talapus. He thought that McCrae girl had some sense, but if she was
+going traipsing all over the country with Dunne, why, that let him out.
+Maybe she was going to marry Dunne. It looked like it. Anyway, it was
+none of his business. But the end of it was that he went to Talapus
+again.
+
+This time he found Sheila alone. The elder McCraes were gone to
+Coldstream in the buckboard. Young Alec was somewhere on the ditch.
+Sheila, flanked by clothesbasket and workbasket, sat on the veranda
+mending his shirts. The occupation was thoroughly unromantic, little
+calculated to appeal to the imagination. Nevertheless, it appealed to
+Farwell.
+
+Largely because it is the perverse nature of man to believe that the
+Fates have set him in the wrong groove, Farwell, like many others whose
+lives have been spent in exclusively masculine surroundings, believed
+his tastes to be domestic. Not that he had ever pushed this belief
+beyond the theoretical stage; nor would he have exchanged places with
+any of his confrères who had taken wives. But he railed inwardly at the
+intense masculinity of his life, for the same reason that the sailorman
+curses the sea and the plainsman the plains. Just as the tragedian is
+certain in his inmost soul that his proper rôle is light comedy, while
+the popular comedian is equally positive that he should be starring in
+the legitimate; so Farwell, harsh, dominant, impatient, brutal on
+occasion, a typical lone male of his species, knowing little of and
+caring less for the softer side of life, cherished a firm belief that
+his proper place was the exact centre of a family circle.
+
+Although he had never seen a home that he cared beans about--including
+the one of his childhood--the singing of "Home, Sweet Home" invariably
+left him pensive for half an hour. Theoretically--heretofore always
+strictly theoretically--he possessed a strong _dulce domum_ impulse.
+And so the spectacle of Sheila mending her brother's shirts was one of
+which he thoroughly approved. It gave him a feeling of intimacy, as
+though he had been admitted to the performance of a domestic rite.
+
+Sheila picked up a second shirt, inspected it critically, and frowned.
+"Now, isn't that a wreck?" she observed. "Sandy's awfully hard on his
+shirts." She nipped a thread recklessly between her teeth, shot the end
+deftly through the needle's eye, and sighed. "Oh, well, I suppose I
+must just do the best I can with the thing."
+
+"Your brother is lucky," said Farwell. "My things get thrown away. No
+one to look after them when they begin to go."
+
+"That's very wasteful," she reproved him. "Why don't you send them
+somewhere?"
+
+"Where, for instance?"
+
+"Oh, anywhere. I don't know. There must be women in every town who
+would like to earn a little money."
+
+"Well, I haven't time to hunt for them. If you know any one around here
+who would undertake the job, I could give her quite a bit of work. So
+could the others."
+
+"You don't mean me, do you?" laughed Sheila. "Sandy gives me all I can
+handle."
+
+"Of course I never thought of such a thing," said Farwell seriously.
+"Did it sound like that?"
+
+"No, I am joking. I think you take things seriously, Mr. Farwell."
+
+"I suppose so," he admitted. "Yes, I guess I do. I can't help it. I'm
+no joker; no time for that. Jokers don't get anywhere. Never saw one
+that did. It's the fellow who keeps thinking about his job and banging
+away at it who gets there."
+
+"The inference being that I won't get anywhere."
+
+Farwell, puzzled momentarily, endeavoured to remember what he had said.
+
+"I guess I made another break. I wasn't thinking of you. Women don't
+have to get anywhere. Men do--that is, men who count. I've seen a lot
+of fellows in my own profession--smart, clever chaps--but, instead of
+buckling down to work, they were eternally running about having a good
+time. And what did any of them ever amount to? Not that!" He snapped
+his fingers contemptuously.
+
+"But wasn't that the fault of the men themselves? I mean that, apart
+from their liking for a good time, perhaps they hadn't the other
+qualities to make them successful."
+
+"Yes, they had," said Farwell positively. "Didn't I say they were
+clever? It wasn't lack of that--it was their confounded fooling around.
+Almost every man gets one chance to make good. If he's ready for it
+when it comes, he's made. If he isn't--well, he isn't. That was the way
+with these fellows. When they should have been digging into the
+ground-work of their profession they weren't. And so, when good things
+were given them, they fell down hard. They lost money for other people,
+and that doesn't do. Now they're down and out--lucky to get a job with
+a level and one rodman to boss. There's no sympathy coming to them. It
+was their own fault."
+
+He spoke positively, with finality, beating the heel of his clenched
+fist against his knee to emphasize his words. Evidently he spoke out of
+the faith that was in him. Not a line of his face suggested humour or
+whimsicality. Not a twinkle of the eye relieved its hardness. He was
+grave, dour, purposeful, matter-of-fact. He took himself, his life, and
+the things of life with exceeding seriousness.
+
+Sheila regarded him thoughtfully. Somehow she was reminded of her
+father. There was the same gravity, marching hand in hand with tenacity
+of purpose, fixity of ideas; the same grim scorn of the tonic wine of
+jest and laughter. But in the elder man these were mellowed and
+softened. In Farwell, in the strength of his prime, they were in full
+tide, accentuated.
+
+"Every man should have a good chance, and be ready for it," she
+replied; "but some men never get it."
+
+"Yes, they do; yes, they do," he asseverated. "They get it, all right.
+Only some of them don't know it when it comes; and others are ashamed
+to own up that they've missed it. We all get it, I tell you, sooner or
+later."
+
+"It may come too late to some."
+
+"No, no, it comes in time if a man is wide awake. It's about the only
+square deal creation gives him. And it's about all creation owes him.
+It's right up to them then. If he's asleep, it's his own fault. I don't
+say it doesn't happen more than once; but it does happen once."
+
+Plainly he was in deep earnest. He had no tolerance of failure, no
+excuse for it. According to his theory, every man at some time was
+master of his fate.
+
+"Have you had your chance?" she asked.
+
+"Not the big chance that I want. I've done some good work, here and
+there. But the big thing is coming to me. I feel it. And I'm in shape
+to handle it, too. When I do that, I'll quit working for other people.
+I'll work for myself. Yes, by George! they can come to me."
+
+Sheila laughed at him. His absolute cocksureness was too ridiculous.
+But in spite of herself she was impressed by the sincerity of his
+belief in himself. And she realized that opportunity was apt to knock
+at the door of a man who believed in his own capacity for success and
+let others know it.
+
+"I probably make you tired," said Farwell. "You asked me, and I told
+you. I'm not worrying about _my_ future. Now, let's talk about yours.
+You were away when I was here last week."
+
+"Yes, I was over at Chakchak."
+
+"That's Dunne's ranch. Your mother said you were helping him choose
+some things from a mail-order catalogue."
+
+"Furniture, linen, dishes, and a lot of other things." There was no
+embarrassment in her tone.
+
+"Oh!" said Farwell; and as he uttered the word it resembled a growl.
+"Well, when is it to be?"
+
+"When is what to be?"
+
+"Why, the wedding, of course."
+
+"What wedding?" She laid down her work and stared at him. Then she
+laughed, though the colour surged to her cheeks. "Oh, I see. You think
+I was choosing these things for Mr. Dunne's prospective bride?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"Not a bit of course--unless Casey has deceived me shamefully. Can't a
+man furnish his house better without having a wedding in view?"
+
+"He can, but usually he doesn't. That's my experience."
+
+"I wasn't aware that you were married."
+
+"Married?" cried Farwell. "Me? I'm not. I'm glad of it. I have enough
+to worry me now. I----" He came to an abrupt stop. "Oh, well, laugh
+away," he added. "I'll tell you what I thought. I thought you were
+going to marry Dunne."
+
+Sheila's laughter closed suddenly. "You haven't the least right to
+think that or say it," she said coldly. "It's strange if I can't help a
+friend choose a few house furnishings without impertinent comment."
+
+"Oh, come!" said Farwell. "I didn't mean to be impertinent, Miss
+McCrae. I know I'm too outspoken. I'm always putting my foot in it."
+
+"Very well," said Sheila. "I think you said you wanted to speak to me
+of my future?"
+
+"Yes. I spoke to your father about selling the ranch. He refused
+point-blank. What can we do about it?"
+
+She shrugged her shoulders. "'We?' If he told you he won't sell, he
+won't. I didn't know you had spoken to him."
+
+"Couldn't you persuade him?"
+
+"I wouldn't try. I don't want Talapus sold. What right have you to hold
+us up? That's what it amounts to."
+
+"There's a woman for you!" cried Farwell to the world at large. "Hold
+you up? Great Scott, that's just what I'm not doing! I offered him the
+value he put on the ranch himself, not a holdup price. I mean I offered
+to get it for him. I want you to put it up to him, and get your mother
+to help you. You ought to have some say in this. He ought to think of
+you a little."
+
+"It's his ranch," Sheila returned loyally. "He knows what he's doing.
+When a man has made up his mind, women shouldn't make things harder for
+him by whining."
+
+"That's right enough, too," said Farwell, whose masculinity was in
+thorough accord with the last sentiment. "But he is just the same as
+throwing away a hundred thousand dollars. I don't want to see it. I
+know what he's up against. I want him to get out while he can break
+even."
+
+"What about the rest of the ranchers?"
+
+"I don't care a hang for the rest of the ranchers."
+
+"And why do you make a distinction in our favour?"
+
+Farwell was not prepared with an answer, even to himself. Her bluntness
+was disconcerting. "I don't know," he replied. "It doesn't matter. The
+main thing is to make your father get out of the way of the tree, for
+it's going to fall right where he's standing. He can't dodge once it
+starts. And what hits him hits you."
+
+"Then I won't dodge, either," she declared bravely. "He's right not to
+sell. I wouldn't if I were in his place."
+
+Farwell slid back in his chair and bit his cigar savagely.
+
+"I never saw such a family!" he exclaimed. "You've got nerve a-plenty,
+but mighty poor judgment. Get it clear now, what's going to happen.
+You'll have enough water for domestic purposes and stock, but none for
+the ranch. Then it won't be worth a dollar an acre. Same way with the
+rest. And now let me tell you another thing: Just as soon as the water
+is turned off, every rancher will fall all over himself to sell. That's
+what your father doesn't believe. He'll see when it's too late. It's
+rank folly."
+
+"It's our own folly, Mr. Farwell!"
+
+"You mean it's none of my business. Well, I make it my business. I butt
+in on this. I'll put it right up to him. I'll shove the money right
+under his nose. If he turns it down I'm done. I'll quit. And if you
+don't do your best to make him take it, you won't be dealing fairly
+with him, your mother, or yourself."
+
+Sheila stared at him, quite unused to such a tone. He, an utter
+stranger, was arrogating to himself the position of friend to the
+family, presuming to criticise her father's wisdom, to tell her what
+she should do and should not do. But withal she was impressed by his
+earnestness. His advice, she could not believe, was entirely
+disinterested. At the same time, inconsistently, she was angry.
+
+"Well," she said. "I must say you _are_ 'butting in.' You--you--oh, you
+don't lack nerve, Mr. Farwell!"
+
+"Don't worry about my nerve," he retorted grimly. "You'll have other
+troubles. For Heaven's sake have some sense. Will you do as I tell you,
+or won't you?" He leaned forward, tapping the arm of her chair with
+tense fingers.
+
+"No," she answered positively, "I won't."
+
+Young McCrae came around the corner of the house. He was hatless,
+coatless, muddy from his work in the ditches. A pair of faded blue
+overalls were belted to his lean middle by a buckskin thong, and his
+feet were incased in wet moccasins. He came noiselessly but swiftly,
+not of purpose, but from habit, with a soft, springy step; and he was
+level with them before they were aware of him. He came to an abrupt
+halt, his eyes on Farwell, every muscle tensing. For an instant he
+resembled a young tiger about to spring.
+
+"Oh, Sandy," cried his sister, "what a mess! For goodness sake don't
+come up here with those muddy moccasins."
+
+"Just as you say," drawled young McCrae. "I thought you might want me.
+Anything I can do for you, sis? Want anything carried in--or _thrown
+out?_" He accented the last words.
+
+Farwell, who had read danger signals in men's eyes before, saw the
+flare of enmity in the young man's, and raised his shoulders in a faint
+shrug. He smiled to himself in amusement.
+
+"No, there's nothing, thanks," said Sheila, quite unconscious of the
+hidden meaning of his words. "Better get cleaned up for supper."
+
+McCrae swung on silently, with his rapid, noiseless step. Farwell
+turned to Sheila.
+
+"Do this for me, Miss McCrae," he pleaded. "Give me a fair chance with
+your father if you won't help me with him. Don't tell your brother of
+what I'm trying to do. If you do that, his influence will be the other
+way."
+
+"If my father has made up his mind, none of us can change it," said
+Sheila. "But I'll give you a fair field. I won't tell Sandy."
+
+Farwell, in spite of previous virtuous resolutions, remained for
+supper. The elder McCraes had not returned. The young people had the
+meal to themselves; and Sheila and Farwell had the conversation to
+themselves, for Sandy paid strict and confined attention to his food,
+and did not utter half a dozen words. Immediately afterward he
+vanished; but, when Farwell went to the stable for his horse, he found
+the young man saddling a rangy, speedy-looking black.
+
+"Guess I'll ride with you a piece," he announced.
+
+"All right," Farwell replied carelessly. He did not desire company; but
+if it was forced on him he could not help it.
+
+The light was failing as they rode from the ranch house. The green
+fields lay sombre in the creeping dusk. Nighthawks in search of food
+darted in erratic flight, uttering their peculiar booming notes.
+Running water murmured coolly in the ditch that flanked the road.
+Cattle, full of repletion, stood in contented lethargy by the watering
+place, ruminating, switching listlessly at the evening flies which
+scarcely annoyed them. The vivid opalescent lights of the western sky
+grew fainter, faded. Simultaneously the zenith shaded from turquoise to
+sapphire. In the northeast, low over the plains, gleaming silver
+against the dark velvet background of the heavens, lay the first star.
+
+But Farwell paid no attention to these things. Instead, he was thinking
+of Sheila McCrae--reconstructing her pose as she bade him good-bye, the
+direct, level gaze of her dark eyes, the contour of her face, the
+cloudy masses of her brown hair. He was unconsciously engaged in the
+perilous, artistic work of drawing for his sole and exclusive use a
+mental "portrait of a lady"; and, after the manner of man attracted by
+woman, he idealized the picture of his creation. By virtue of this
+absorbing occupation, he quite forgot the presence of the brother of
+the woman. But a mile beyond the ranch young McCrae pulled up.
+
+"I turn off here," he said.
+
+"That so? Good night," said Farwell.
+
+"There's something I came to tell you," McCrae pursued. "I'm not making
+any grand-stand play about it; but you'd better be a lot more careful
+when you're talking to my sister. Understand?"
+
+"No, I don't," said Farwell. "I never said anything to Miss McCrae that
+her father and mother mightn't hear."
+
+"Oh, _that!_" said young Sandy, and spat in disgust. "No, I guess you
+didn't--and you hadn't better. But you told her to do something--fairly
+ordered her. I heard you, and I heard her tell you she wouldn't.
+Perhaps you'll tell me what it was?"
+
+"Perhaps I won't."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because I don't want to, mostly," said Farwell impatiently. "Also
+because it's none of your business. Your sister and I understand each
+other. Our conversation didn't concern you--directly, anyway."
+
+"I'll let it go at that on your say-so," Sandy returned, with
+surprising calmness. "I'm not crowding trouble with you, but get this
+clear: You know why you're hanging around the ranch, and I don't. All
+the same, if you are up to any monkey business, you'll settle it with
+me."
+
+Farwell's temper, never reliable, rose at once.
+
+"Quite a Wild West kid, aren't you?" he observed, with sarcasm. "You
+make me tired. It's a good thing for you your people are decent." He
+crowded his horse close to the other. "Now, look here, young fellow, I
+won't stand for any fool boy's talk. You're old enough to know better.
+Cut it out with me after this, do you hear?"
+
+"Where are you coming with that cayuse?" demanded young McCrae, and
+suddenly raked a rowelled heel behind the animal's shoulder.
+
+Ensued five strenuous minutes for Farwell, wherein he sought to soothe
+his mount's wounded feelings. When at last the quadruped condescended
+to allow his four hoofs to remain on the ground simultaneously for more
+than a fraction of a second, young McCrae was gone; and Farwell,
+somewhat shaken, and profane with what breath was left him, had nothing
+for it but to resume his homeward way.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+The astute Mr. Sleeman's prediction to Farwell--namely, that the
+attitude of the ranchers would affect land sales--proved correct.
+Naturally, owing to a perfect advertising machinery, a number of sales
+were made to people at distant points, who bought for speculation
+merely. But these, though well enough in their way, were not entirely
+satisfactory. The company needed actual settlers--men who would go upon
+the lands and improve them--to furnish object lessons from the ground
+itself to personally conducted, prospective buyers, who in turn should
+do the same, and ultimately provide the Prairie Southern branch of
+Western Airline with a paying traffic in freight and humanity.
+
+But prospective buyers proved annoyingly inquisitive. After looking at
+the company's holdings, they naturally wished to see for themselves
+what the country was good for; and the obvious way to find out was to
+visit the established ranches.
+
+Sleeman could not prevent it--nor appear to wish to prevent it. In
+fact, he had to acquiesce cheerfully and take them himself. That was
+better than letting them go alone. But the very air seemed to carry
+rumours. In vain he assured them that there was no fear of trouble,
+that in any event the company would protect them; in vain he showed
+them the big canal and beautiful system of ditches, and pointed with
+much enthusiasm to the armour-belted, double-riveted clause in the sale
+contracts, guaranteeing to the lucky buyer the delivery of so many
+miner's inches or cubic feet of water every day in the year.
+
+"It's like this," said one prospective buyer: "They ain't enough water
+for the whole country, and you're certainly aimin' to cinch some of the
+men that's here already so tight they can't breathe. If I buy water
+they're gettin' now, they're mighty apt to be sore on me. Dunno's I
+blame them, either. I like to stand well with my neighbours. Your
+land's all right, but I can't see where we deal."
+
+And the attitude of this individual was fairly representative.
+Landlookers came, saw; but, instead of remaining to conquer the soil,
+the majority of them went elsewhere.
+
+This was hard on Sleeman. He was a good salesman, and he had a good
+proposition; but he was handicapped by conditions not of his creating
+and beyond his control. And he knew quite well that, while a
+corporation may not give an employee any credit whatever for
+satisfactory results, it invariably saddles him with the discredit of
+unsatisfactory ones.
+
+He foresaw that sooner or later--and very probably sooner--he would be
+asked to explain why he was not making sales. And he came to the
+conclusion that, as something was sure to start, he might as well start
+it himself.
+
+His cogitations crystallized in the form of a letter to his chief, the
+head of the land department, wherein he told the bald and shining truth
+without even a mental reservation. And he intimated tactfully that if
+the department had another man whom they considered better fitted to
+deal with the unfortunate local conditions, he, Sleeman, would be
+charmed to assist him, or to go elsewhere in their service, if that
+seemed best to their aggregate wisdom. He worded his part of this
+letter very carefully, for he had seen as good men as himself
+incontinently fired merely because they could not deny themselves the
+luxury of a petulant phrase.
+
+His letter bore fruit; for Carrol, the mighty head of the land
+department, came down to see things for himself.
+
+Carrol, however, suffered from a species of myopia not uncommon among
+gentlemen who have for a long time represented large interests. He had
+so come to look upon Western Airline as an irresistible force, that the
+concept of an immovable body was quite beyond him. He had nothing but
+contempt for any person or set of persons--corporations with equal
+capital always excepted--rash enough to oppose any of its plans.
+
+"Now, see here," he said at a conference with Sleeman and Farwell. "We
+can't afford to have our sales blocked this way. Our ditches will carry
+water now, and the dam itself is nearly completed. Open up the ditches
+and take all the water you can. Then we'll see whether there is
+anything in these yarns."
+
+"But if we take water before we need it, we simply stiffen their hand,"
+Sleeman objected. "We give them legitimate grounds to kick."
+
+"They'll kick, anyway," said Carrol. "We need water to grow grass--if
+anybody should ask you. The sooner we take it the sooner we shall be
+able to acquire these ranches. Once the men see what they're up against
+they'll ask us to buy, which we'll do on our own terms. That's the
+programme. What do you think, Farwell?"
+
+"You're the doctor," Farwell replied.
+
+"You don't anticipate any trouble?"
+
+"Not a bit," said Farwell contemptuously. "They'll howl, of course. Let
+'em. In a month they'll eat out of your hand."
+
+"Quite so," said Carrol; "that's how I look at it."
+
+"There's one man, though," said Farwell, "whom I'd like to see get a
+fair price. That's McCrae, who owns Talapus Ranch. It's the biggest and
+best in the country."
+
+"Will he sell now?"
+
+"He might."
+
+"What has he got, and what does he want for it?"
+
+Farwell told him.
+
+"What is it worth, Sleeman?" And at his agent's appraisal, Carrol
+looked shocked and grieved. "Why, good Lord! Farwell," he said, "he
+wants almost what his ranch is worth."
+
+"Funny that he should, isn't it?" sneered Farwell, who stood in no awe
+of Carrol. "Well, and that's what I want him to get."
+
+"Can't do it," said Carrol decisively. "No money in it. Show me how I
+could make a profit."
+
+"Cut it up into little chunks and sell it to those marks back East,"
+Farwell replied. "I don't have to tell you your business. Make another
+Sentinel of it if you like."
+
+The reference was to the town site of Sentinel, a half section of
+prairie which had been bought for three thousand dollars and sold as
+town lots on paper at a couple of hundred thousand to confiding,
+distant investors. It was still prairie, and apt to remain so. Carrol
+had engineered the deal, and he would have blushed if he had not
+forgotten how. As it was, he smiled sourly.
+
+"I wish I could. Is this McCrae a friend of yours?"
+
+"Put it that way," Farwell replied, frowning at the quizzical
+expression of Sleeman's eye. "He doesn't want to sell, but I want him
+to have the chance of refusing real money. He may take it, or he may
+not. Anyway, I make it as a personal request."
+
+Carrol eyed him for a moment. He knew Farwell's reputation for
+uncompromising hostility to any one who thwarted his plans,
+accidentally or otherwise. Also Farwell was a good man. He was bound to
+rise. Some day, he, Carrol, might require his help and he kept a sharp
+eye on possibilities of that nature. So he said:
+
+"It isn't business, but to oblige _you_, Farwell--all right, I'll take
+the chance that he won't accept. But it's sudden death, mind. No
+dickering. He accepts, or he doesn't. If not, he'll get just dry-belt
+prices with the rest when they surrender."
+
+And so a few days afterward Farwell, armed with a check representing
+one hundred and fifty thousand dollars of lawful money, procured
+because he considered it likely to have a good moral effect, sought
+Talapus Ranch and Donald McCrae. And McCrae, as he feared, turned the
+offer down.
+
+Farwell had calculated on producing the check at the proper
+psychological moment, in practically stampeding him. The trouble was
+that the psychological moment failed to arrive. McCrae showed no
+symptoms of vacillation. The issue was never in doubt.
+
+"I told you before," he said, "I don't want to sell, and I won't sell."
+
+"It's a hundred and fifty thousand cold cash--your own value," urged
+Farwell. "At 6 per cent. it's nine thousand a year from now to eternity
+for you and your wife and children. If you refuse, the best you can
+hope for is dry-land prices. It's your only salvation, I tell you."
+
+"My word is passed," said McCrae. "Even if it wasn't, I wouldn't be
+harried off the little bit of earth that's mine. It's good of you to
+take this trouble--I judge you had trouble--but it's not a bit of use."
+
+"Look here," said Farwell. "Will you talk it over with your
+family--your wife and daughter particularly? It's due to them."
+
+"I will not," McCrae refused, with patriarchal scorn. "_I_ am the
+family. I speak for all."
+
+"The old mule!" thought Farwell. Aloud he said: "I want to tell you
+that in a few days you'll lose half your water. The rest will go when
+the dam is finished. This is final--the last offer, your last chance.
+I've done every blessed thing I could for you. Right now is when you
+make or break yourself and your wife and children."
+
+"That's my affair," said McCrae. "I tell you no, and no." He plucked
+the oblong paper from Farwell's unresisting fingers. "A lot of money,
+aren't you?" he apostrophized it. "More than I've ever seen before, or
+will see again, like enough." Suddenly he tore the check in half, and
+again and again, cast the fragments in the air, and blew through them.
+"And there goes your check, Mr. Farwell!"
+
+"And there goes your ranch with it," Farwell commented bitterly. "One
+is worth just about as much as the other now."
+
+"I'm not so sure about that," said McCrae.
+
+"I'm sure enough for both of us," Farwell responded.
+
+With a perfunctory good-bye, he swung into the saddle, leaving McCrae,
+a sombre figure, leaning against the slip bars of the corral. He had
+anticipated this outcome; but, nevertheless, he was disappointed,
+vaguely apprehensive. In vain he told himself that it was nothing to
+him. The sense of failure persisted. Once he half turned in his saddle,
+looking backward, and he caught, or fancied he caught, the flutter of
+white against the shade of the veranda of the distant ranch house. That
+must be Sheila McCrae.
+
+For the first time he realized that his concern was for her alone, that
+he did not care a hoot for the rest of the family. All this bother he
+had been to, all his efforts with old McCrae, his practical holdup of
+Carrol, even--he owned it to himself frankly--his failure to push the
+construction work as fast as he might had been for her and because of
+her. And what was the answer?
+
+"Surely," said Farwell, straightening himself in the saddle, "surely to
+blazes I'm not getting fond of the girl!"
+
+As became a decent, respectable, contented bachelor, he shied from the
+idea. It was absolutely ridiculous, unheard-of. The girl was all right,
+sensible, good-looking. She suited him as well as any woman he had ever
+met; but that, after all, was not saying much. He liked her--he made
+that concession candidly--but as for anything more--nothing to it!
+
+But the idea, once born, refused to be disposed of thus summarily; it
+persisted. He found himself recalling trivial things, all pertaining to
+Sheila--tricks of manner, of speech, intonations, movements of the
+hands, body, and lips--these avalanched themselves upon him, swamping
+connected, reasonable thought.
+
+"What cursed nonsense!" said Farwell angrily to himself. "I don't care
+a hang about her, of course. I'm dead sure she doesn't care for me.
+Anyway, I don't want to get married--yet. I'm not in shape to marry.
+Why, what the devil would _I_ do with a wife? Where'd I put her?"
+
+A wife! Huh! Instantly he was a prey to misgivings. He recalled
+shudderingly brother engineers whose wives dragged about with them,
+living on the edge of construction camps under canvas in summer, in
+rough-boarded, tar-papered shacks in the winter; or perhaps in
+half-furnished cottages in some nearby jerk-water town.
+
+He had pitied the men, fought shy of the women. Most of them had put
+the best face upon their lives, rejoicing in the occasional streaks of
+fat, eating the lean uncomplainingly. They led a migratory existence,
+moved arbitrarily, like pawns, at the will of eminent and elderly
+gentlemen a thousand or so miles away, whom they did not know and who
+did not know them. Continually, as their temporary habitations began to
+take on the semblance of homes, they were transferred, from mountains
+to plains, from the far north to the tropics. Their few household goods
+bore the scars of many movings--by rail, by steamer, by freight wagon,
+and even by pack train.
+
+And there were those whose responsibilities forced them to abandon life
+at the front. These set up establishments in the new, cheap residential
+districts of cities. There the wives kept camp; thither, at long
+intervals, the husbands took journeys ranging from hundreds of miles to
+thousands. True, there were those who had attained eminence. These
+lived properly in well-appointed houses in eligible localities; and
+their subordinates kept the work in hand during their frequent
+home-goings. But the ruck--the rank and file--had to take such marital
+happiness as came their way on the quick-lunch system.
+
+Now Farwell was a bachelor, rooted and confirmed. He had always shunned
+married men's quarters. When his day's work was done, he foregathered
+with other lone males, talking shop half the night in a blue haze of
+tobacco around a red-hot stove or stretched in comfortable undress in
+front of a tent. This was his life as he had lived it for years; as he
+had hoped to live it until he attained fame and became a consulting
+engineer, a man who passed on the work of other men.
+
+His theory of his own capacity for domesticity, though sincere, was
+strictly academic. He had no more idea of putting it into practice than
+he had of proving in his own person, before his proper time, the
+doctrine of eternal life.
+
+Now, into the familiar sum of existence, which he knew from divisor to
+quotient, was suddenly shot a new factor--a woman. He experienced a new
+sensation, vague, unaccountable, restless, like the first uneasy throbs
+that precede a toothache. He lit a cigar; but, though he drew in the
+smoke hungrily, it did not satisfy. He felt a vacancy, a want, a
+longing.
+
+He became aware of a dust cloud approaching. Ahead of it loped a big,
+clean-limbed buckskin. In the straight, wiry figure in the saddle he
+recognized Casey Dunne. Dunne pulled up and nodded.
+
+"Fine day, Mr. Farwell."
+
+"Yes," said Farwell briefly.
+
+"Work coming on all right?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"That's good," Dunne commented, with every appearance of lively
+satisfaction. "Been to Talapus? See anything of Miss McCrae there?"
+
+"She's at home, I believe," said Farwell stiffly.
+
+"Thanks. Come around and see me some time. Morning." He lifted the
+buckskin into a lope again.
+
+Farwell looking after him, experienced a second new
+sensation--jealousy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+Casey Dunne, busily engaged in strengthening a working harness with
+rivets, looked up as a shadow fell across the morning sunlight. The
+shadow belonged to Tom McHale.
+
+McHale, like Dunne himself, had seen rough times. Older than his
+employer, he had wandered up and down the West in the good old days of
+cheap land and no barbed wire, engaged in the congenial, youthful
+occupation of seeing as much country as he could. In the process, he
+had turned his hand to almost everything which had fresh air as a
+collateral, from riding for a cattle outfit to killing meat for railway
+camps. He and Dunne had come into the Coldstream country at nearly the
+same time; but Dunne had some money and McHale none at all. Dunne
+bought land and hired McHale. They worked side by side to make the
+ranch. McHale bought forty acres from Dunne and worked out the price,
+bought more, and was still working it out. But apart from financial
+matters they were fast friends, and either would have trusted the other
+with anything he possessed.
+
+"Say," said McHale, "there's something wrong. Our ditches ain't runnin'
+more'n half full."
+
+Casey put down the hammer. "Maybe the ditch is plugged somewhere."
+
+"She may be, but it ain't likely. I've followed her quite a piece. So I
+come to get me a cayuse to go the rest of the way."
+
+"I'll go with you," said Casey, throwing the harness on a peg.
+
+In five minutes they were loping easily along the ditch, with sharp
+eyes for possible obstructions. As McHale had said, it was running not
+half full, and seemed to be falling. The strong, deep, gurgling note of
+a full head of water was gone. Instead was a mere babble.
+
+So far as they could see, the flow was unhindered by obstacles; there
+was no break in the banks. Even around the treacherous sidehill there
+was no more than the usual seepage. And so at last they rode down to
+the Coldstream itself, to the intake of the ditch, a rude wing dam of
+logs, brush, and sand bags, which, nevertheless, had served them
+excellently heretofore.
+
+"I'm an Injun," McHale, ejaculated, "if the whole durn creek ain't
+lowered!" Because he came from a land of real rivers, he invariably
+referred to the Coldstream thus slightingly.
+
+But unmistakably it had fallen. Half the dam appeared above the
+surface, slimy, weed-grown, darkly water-soaked. Naturally, with the
+falling of the water, the ditch had partially failed.
+
+The two men looked at each other. The same thought was present in the
+mind of each. It was barely possible that a land or rock slide
+somewhere high upstream had dammed or diverted the current; but it was
+most improbable. The cause was nearer to seek, the agency extremely
+human.
+
+McHale bit into fresh consolation and spat in the direction of the
+inadequate dam.
+
+"I reckon they've started in on us," he observed.
+
+"Looks like it," Casey agreed.
+
+"We need water now the worst way. I was figurin' on shootin' a big head
+on to the clover, and after that on to the oats. They sure need it.
+What's runnin' now ain't no use to us. We got to have more."
+
+"No doubt about that, Tom," said Casey. "We'll ride up to their
+infernal dam and see just what's doing."
+
+"Good enough!" cried McHale, his eyes lighting up. "But say, Casey,
+them ditch-and-dam boys ain't no meek-and-lowly outfit. Some of 'em is
+plumb hard-faced. How'd it be if I scattered back to the ranch first. I
+ain't packed a gun steady since I got to be a hayseed, but----"
+
+"What do you want of a gun? We're just going to look at things and have
+a talk with Farwell."
+
+"You never know when you'll need a gun," McHale asserted, as an
+incontrovertible general proposition.
+
+"You won't need it this time. Come along."
+
+It was almost midday when they came in sight of the construction camp
+beside the dam. To their surprise, a barbed wire fence had been thrown
+around it, enclosing an area of some twenty acres. On the trail, a
+space had been left for a gate, but it had not yet been hung. Beside it
+stood a post bearing a notice board, and, sitting with his back against
+the post, a man rested, smoking. As they came up, he rose and sauntered
+into the trail between the gate-posts.
+
+"Hey you, hold on there!" he said.
+
+Dunne and McHale pulled up.
+
+"Look a-here, friend," said the latter, "do you think you're one of
+them never-sag gates, or a mountain, or what? You want to see a doctor
+about them delusions. They'll sure get you into trouble some day."
+
+"That'll be all right about me," the big guardian of the gate returned.
+"Just read that notice. This is private property."
+
+They read it. It was of the "no-admittance" variety, and forbade
+entrance to all individuals not in the company's employ.
+
+"We've got business here, and we're going in," said Casey, and began to
+walk his horse forward.
+
+The man caught the bridle with one hand. The other he thrust into his
+pocket.
+
+"You get back now," he ordered, "or you'll walk home."
+
+Dunne stopped instantly. His companion's hand made one lightninglike
+motion, and perforce came up empty.
+
+"And this," said Mr. McHale mournfully--"this was the time I didn't
+need a gun!"
+
+"Well, you don't need it, do you?" said Casey. "Observe, the gentleman
+still keeps his sawed-off yeggman's delight in his pocket. Pull it,
+friend, pull it! Don't scorch the cloth by pressing the trigger where
+it is. Steady, Shiner, while the gentleman shoots you!"
+
+The guardian smiled sardonically. "Amuse yourselves, boys, but don't
+crowd in on me."
+
+"Just as you say," replied Casey. "By the way, you needn't tire your
+arm holding my horse. He'll stand. Besides, I don't like it."
+
+The man released the bridle and stepped back. "Make this easy for me,
+boys, I don't want trouble, but I got my instructions."
+
+"Now, you listen here," said McHale. "Lemme tell you something: It's
+just hell's tender mercy on you I ain't got a gun. If I'd 'a' had it,
+you'd been beef by the trail right now."
+
+"There's always two chances to be the beef," the other returned,
+unmoved. "Go fill your hand before you talk to me."
+
+McHale grinned at him. "I like you better than I did, partner. Next
+time you won't have no kick on what I hold."
+
+"We want to see Farwell," said Casey.
+
+"Why couldn't you say that before?" the guardian returned. "I'll take a
+chance on you. Go in."
+
+They found Farwell at his quarters before a table covered with prints
+and tracings.
+
+"What can I do for you?" he asked curtly.
+
+"My ditch has gone half dry," Casey replied. "I observe, too, that the
+river is lower than usual; which, of course, accounts for the ditch. It
+occurred to me that perhaps you might account for the river."
+
+"We have begun to take water for our lands," Farwell told him.
+"Possibly that has something to do with it."
+
+"I shouldn't wonder," Casey agreed dryly. "Why are you taking water
+now?"
+
+"That," said Farwell deliberately, "is entirely our own affair."
+
+"It affects us. You can't possibly use the water, because your lands
+are not cultivated."
+
+"The water benefits the land," Farwell rejoined coldly. "It shows
+intending purchasers that we are actually delivering a sufficient
+quantity of water. Our use of it is legitimate."
+
+"It's a low-down, _cultus_ trick, if you ask me!" McHale interjected
+forcefully.
+
+"I didn't ask you," snapped Farwell; "but I'll tell you what I'll do.
+You make another remark like that, and I'll fire you out through that
+door."
+
+McHale ignored Casey's significant glance.
+
+"That door there?" he asked innocently. "That big, wide door leadin'
+right outside into all that fresh air? You don't mean that one?"
+
+"That's the one," Farwell returned angrily.
+
+"Well, well, well!" said McHale, in mock wonder. "You don't say? And it
+looks just like a common, ordinary door, too. Do you reckon you got
+time right now to show me how it works?"
+
+"Quit it, Tom," said Casey. "Farwell, I want to get right down to case
+cards. This is a raw deal. I ask you not to take water that you can't
+use."
+
+"Not to mince matters with you, Dunne," Farwell returned, "I may as
+well say that we intend to take as much as we like and when we like.
+There's plenty of water left in the river. It's merely a question of
+building your dams to catch it."
+
+"Will you say that there will be plenty when your big dam is finished?"
+
+Farwell lifted his big shoulders in a shrug which coupled utter
+indifference with an implication that the future was in the hands of
+Providence.
+
+"Good Lord, Dunne, there's no use talking about that!" said he. "We
+will take what water we want. You get what is left. Is that plain?"
+
+"Yes," said Casey quietly. "I won't bother you any more."
+
+"But I will," said McHale. "I'll just bother you to make good that
+bluff of yours about firin' me out of here. Why, you durn,
+low-flung----"
+
+"Quit it!" Casey interrupted. "Stay where you are, Farwell, I'm not
+going to have a scrap. Tom, you come with me."
+
+"Oh, well, just as you say, Casey," grumbled McHale. "I ain't hostile,
+special. Only I don't want him to run no blazers on me. He----"
+
+But Casey got him outside and administered a vitriolic lecture that had
+some effect.
+
+"I'm sorry, Casey," McHale acknowledged, contritely. "I s'pose I ought
+to known better. But that gent with the gun and Farwell between them
+got me goin'. Honest, I never hunted trouble in my life. It just
+naturally tracks up on me when I'm lyin' all quiet in camp. Course, it
+has to be took care of when it comes."
+
+"There'll be enough to keep you busy," said Casey grimly. And
+apparently in instant fulfilment of the prophecy came the short,
+decisive bark of a six-shooter. By the sound, the shot had been fired
+outside the camp, in the direction of the gate.
+
+"It's that cuss that held us up!" snarled McHale, and swore viciously.
+
+Both men went up into their saddles as if catapulted from the earth.
+McHale yelled as he hit the leather--a wild, ear-splitting screech, the
+old trouble cry of his kind in days gone by--and both horses leaped
+frantically into motion, accomplishing the feat peculiar to cow and
+polo ponies of attaining their maximum speed in three jumps. They
+surged around the medley of tents and shacks, and came into the open
+neck and neck, running like singed cats.
+
+A few hundred yards away, where the new sign-board stood beside the
+trail a horse struggled to rise, heaved its fore quarters up, and
+crashed down again, kicking in agony, raising a cloud of dust. Facing
+it, bending slightly forward, stood a man, holding a gun in his right
+hand.
+
+Suddenly out of the dust cloud staggered a second, who rushed at the
+first, head down, extended fingers wildly clutching, and as he came he
+bellowed hoarsely the wild-bull cry of the fighting male, crazed with
+pain or anger. The gun in the hand of the first man flashed up and cut
+down; and, as it hung for an instant at the level, the report rapped
+through the still air. But the other, apparently unhurt, charged into
+him, and both went down together.
+
+[Illustration: AS HE CAME HE BELLOWED HOARSELY THE WILD-BULL CRY OF THE
+FIGHTING MALE, CRAZED WITH PAIN OR ANGER]
+
+"It's big Oscar!" cried McHale. "That feller downed his horse. Holy
+catamounts! Look at them mix it! And here's the whole camp a-boilin'
+after us! Casey, did I hear you say this was the day I didn't need a
+gun?"
+
+Before they could pull up they almost ran over the fighting men. The
+two were locked in ferocious grips. The big guardian of the gate was
+fighting for his life, silently, with clenched teeth, every cord and
+muscle and vein standing out with the heartbreaking strain put upon
+them.
+
+For the big Swede was the stronger man. Ordinarily mild and
+sweet-tempered, he was now a wild beast. Foam blew from his mouth and
+flecked his soft, golden beard, and he rumbled and snarled, beast-like,
+in his throat. He made no attempt to strike or to avoid the blows which
+beat against his face; but with one arm around his enemy's neck, the
+hand gripping the nearer side of the jaw, and the other hand pushing at
+it, he strove to break his neck. Little by little he twisted it.
+Gradually the chin pointed to the shoulder, almost past it. It seemed
+that with the fraction of an inch more the vertebral column must crack
+like a stick of candy. But the hand on the jaw slipped, and the chin,
+released, shot back again, to be tucked desperately down against the
+breastbone.
+
+"Get in here and pull Oscar off!" cried Casey as he leaped from his
+horse.
+
+"Not in a thousand years," McHale responded. "He can kill him. Let him
+do it. Serve the cuss right."
+
+"You cursed fool!" snarled Casey. "That gang will be here in half a
+holy minute. They'll pound Oscar to death if he's fighting then. Here,
+you crazy Swede, let go! Let go, I say! It's me--Casey Dunne!"
+
+But Oscar was past reason. Once more he had got the palm of his hand
+beneath that stubborn chin and was lifting it from its shelter. As he
+put forth his huge strength, he roared out a torrent of Scandinavian
+oaths, interspersed with the more hardy varieties of Anglo-Saxon
+epithets.
+
+"Catch hold of him," Casey ordered. "Jam your arm into his windpipe
+while I break his grip." As he spoke, he kicked the big Swede sharply
+on the left biceps. For an instant that mighty arm was paralyzed. Casey
+grasped his wrists and dragged them loose, while McHale, his forearm
+across the huge, bull-like throat, heaved back.
+
+Oscar came apart from his victim slowly and reluctantly, as a deeply
+rooted stump yields to the pull of a purchase.
+
+"He kel my Olga! He kel my Olga!" he vociferated. "He shoot her yust
+like she ban von vulf! By the yumpin' Yudas, you let me go!"
+
+"Keep quiet, keep quiet, I tell you!" cried Casey. "You can get him
+later. See this bunch coming? They'll kill you with their shovels in
+half a minute."
+
+The rush of men was almost upon them. They carried the tools which were
+in their hands the moment the shots were fired--mixing shovels, hoes,
+axes, pinch bars, and odd bits of wood and iron caught up on the
+impulse of the instant. Behind, straining every muscle to reach the
+front, ran Farwell.
+
+Meanwhile Oscar's opponent had risen unsteadily to his feet. His eyes
+searched the ground, and he made a sudden dive. But McHale was before
+him.
+
+He swooped on the revolver half buried in the dust, and whirled on the
+first comers, holding the weapon jammed tightly in front of his right
+hip.
+
+"Don't crowd in on us with them shovels and things," he advised grimly.
+"There's lots of room right where you are."
+
+The rush stopped abruptly. An ugly, short-barrelled gun in the hand of
+a man who bore all the earmarks of a hip shot was not to be treated
+lightly. There were rough and tough men in the crowd who were quite
+ready for trouble; but their readiness did not extend to rushing a
+gunman unless an urgent necessity existed.
+
+Farwell broke through them, breathless from a sprint at top speed. He
+paid no attention whatever to McHale's weapon.
+
+"What's the matter here?" he demanded. "You, Lewis, speak up!"
+
+"This batty Swede tried to ride over me," Lewis replied. "I give him
+fair warnin', and then I downed his horse. When he hits the dirt he
+goes on the prod. These fellers pulled him off of me. That one's got my
+gun."
+
+"You bet I have!" McHale interjected. "You tried to plug Oscar. I seen
+you cut down on him at about ten feet--and miss. Looks like you ain't
+got the nerve to hit anything that's _comin'_ for you. You sorter
+confines your slaughter to harmless cayuses and such."
+
+"Guess again," said Lewis, unmoved. "I thought I could stand the Swede
+off, that's why. I shot two foot high on purpose."
+
+"You kel my Olga!" shouted Oscar. "Yust wait, you faller. Ay gat my
+goose gun, and Ay blow you all to hal! By Yudas, Ay gat skvare kvick!"
+
+"This is crowding things," said Casey. "Mr. Farwell, you really must
+not plant gunmen by the trails with instructions to shoot our horses."
+
+"Nobody has any such instructions," said Farwell. "This man tried to
+ride Lewis down, and he protected himself. I'm sorry it occurred, but
+we are not to blame."
+
+"Without arguing that point," said Casey, "I warn you that we won't
+stand this sort of thing."
+
+"If you fellows will keep off our lands there will be no trouble,"
+Farwell responded. "We don't want you, and we won't have you. If you
+come on business, of course, that's different. Otherwise keep away.
+Also we don't want your stock grazing on our property."
+
+"We may as well have an understanding while we're about it," said
+Casey. "The next man who pulls a gun on me--this Lewis, or anybody
+else--will have to beat me to the shooting. If you don't want your
+lands used as part of the range, fence them off. Don't interfere with a
+single head of my stock, either. And, if I were in your place, I'd
+offer this man about two hundred dollars for his mare, and throw in an
+apology."
+
+"But you're not in my place," snapped Farwell. "Nobody is going to pull
+a gun on you if you behave yourself. If this man puts in a claim for
+his horse, I'll consider it, but I won't promise anything." He turned
+to his men. "You get back to work, the lot of you." Without further
+words, he strode off to the camp.
+
+Lewis stepped up to McHale. "I'll take my gun if you're through with
+it."
+
+McHale handed him the weapon.
+
+"I don't reckon she's accurate at much over ten yards," he observed.
+"If I was you, I'd fix myself with a good belt gun. It ain't unlikely I
+packs one myself after this, and we might meet up."
+
+"Organize yourself the way you want to," said Lewis carelessly,
+slipping the weapon in his pocket. "And if you're a friend of that big
+Swede, tell him not to look for me too hard. I don't want to hurt him;
+but I ain't taking chances on no goose guns." He nodded and marched off
+after the others.
+
+The three men, left alone, stood in silence for a moment. Then Oscar,
+with a rumbling curse, began to strip saddle and bridle from his dead
+pet mare, the tears running down his cheeks.
+
+"And now what?" asked McHale.
+
+"Now," Casey replied, "I guess we've got to make good."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+Some two miles distant from the construction camp at the dam, a little
+cavalcade moved slowly through the darkness of a moonless, cloudy
+night. A southeast wind was blowing, but it was a drying wind, with no
+promise of rain. It had blown for days steadily, until it had sucked
+every vestige of moisture from the top earth, leaving it merely powdery
+dust. Because of it, too, no dew had fallen; the nights were as dry as
+the days.
+
+In the grain fields, the continued blast had stripped the surface soil
+away from the young plants, wrenching and twisting them, desiccating
+their roots, which, still too feeble to reach what dampness lay lower
+down, sucked ineffectually at the dry breast of the earth. The plants
+they could not feed took on the pale-green hue of starvation. There,
+among the young grain, the stronger gusts lifted dust clouds acres in
+extent. Low down along the surface, the soil sifted and shifted
+continually, piling in windrows in spots, burying the young plants,
+leaving others bare. Odd little devils of whirlwinds, marked by
+columnar pillars of dust, danced deviously across the fields and along
+the trails. From the standpoint of a disinterested person, the
+ceaseless wind would have been unpleasant in its monotony; but from
+the viewpoint of a rancher it was deadly in its persistence.
+
+The moving figures were so strung out that it appeared almost as though
+they were riding in the same direction fortuitously, without relation
+to each other. First came two horsemen; then, at an interval of five
+hundred yards, came a buckboard, with two men and a led horse. In the
+rear, five hundred yards back, were two more riders.
+
+This order, however, was not the result of accident, but of
+calculation. The buckboard held Oscar and the elder McCrae. Also it
+contained a quantity of dynamite. Naturally, it was drawn, not by
+McCrae's eager road team, but by a pair of less ambition. And the
+riders, front and rear, were in the nature of pickets; for, though it
+was unlikely that any one would be met at that time of night, it was
+just as well to take no chances.
+
+The riders in the lead were Casey Dunne and Tom McHale. Each had a
+rifle beneath his leg. In addition, McHale wore two old, ivory-handled
+Colts at his belt, and Dunne's single holster held a long automatic,
+almost powerful as a rifle. They rode slowly, seldom faster than a
+walk, peering ahead watchfully, their ears tuned to catch the slightest
+suspicious sound.
+
+"This here is like old times," said McHale. "Durn me if I hadn't about
+forgotten the feel of a gun under my leg. I wish we could have our
+photos took now. We sure look plenty warlike."
+
+"I don't want any photo," said Casey. "If I can get home without
+meeting any one, it will suit me down to the ground. I wish we hadn't
+brought these guns. It's safer every way."
+
+"It's safer for some people," McHale commented. "S'pose we struck hard
+luck to-night and got backed into a corner or followed up too close--how'd
+we look without guns? 'Course, I'd take awful long chances before I
+shot _at_ anybody; but all the same a Winchester helps out a retirin'
+disposition a whole lot."
+
+"No doubt about that. But the devil of packing a gun is the temptation
+to use it before you really have to. That accounts for a lot of
+trouble. Why, even in the old days, a man who didn't pack a gun was
+safe, unless he tracked up with some mighty mean specimen of a killer.
+And those dirty killers usually didn't last long."
+
+"That's so in one way," McHale admitted, "but I look at it different.
+If nobody but the killers had packed guns they'd have run the whole
+show. Some of them gents killed for the fun of it, like a mink in a
+chicken coop. The mean sort'd pick out some harmless, helpless party,
+and stomp up and down, r'arin' and cussin' till they got up a big mad.
+The chances was about even they'd shoot. Usual they didn't try them
+plays on men that wore their artillery in plain sight."
+
+"Well, we haven't any killers now, anyway," said Dunne. "This is about
+as far as it's safe to go with the horses. We'll wait till the others
+come up."
+
+In a few minutes, the faint straining of leather, creak of springs, and
+subdued clank of axles came to them. The buckboard loomed out of the
+darkness, and halted suddenly.
+
+"That you, boys?" McCrae's voice asked.
+
+"Yes. We won't take the horses any farther. If that watchman is on the
+dam to-night he might hear something. We can pack the powder the rest
+of the way ourselves."
+
+The rear riders, young Sandy McCrae and Wyndham, arrived. Then a
+dispute arose. No one wished to remain with the horses. Casey Dunne
+settled it.
+
+"There's only one man going to plant powder and cut fuses, and that's
+Oscar," said he. "If we all go messing around with it in the dark, half
+the shots won't fire, and we may have an accident. Outside of that
+there's nothing to do except take care of the watchman if he's there;
+and he's sure to be. Wyndham, you're not cut out for that sort of work.
+You will stay with the ponies. Now, McCrae, you'd better turn around
+and drive home."
+
+McCrae pulled the team around. "Good luck, boys," said he quietly, and
+was gone. The spare horse which had been tied to the buckboard remained
+for Oscar.
+
+The Swede proceeded to load himself with dynamite, placing it around
+his legs in the high socks he wore, in the breast of his shirt, and in
+his pockets. This was the overflow from a gunny sack in which he
+carried the rest. He resembled a perambulating mine.
+
+"Ay ban ready now," he announced.
+
+"I say, Oscar, don't trip," said Wyndham facetiously.
+
+"Nor interfere," McHale added. "Plant them number twelves of yours
+plumb wide apart, Oscar, and don't try to scratch your ankle with your
+boot."
+
+Oscar grinned at them, his big, white teeth shining in the darkness. He
+attempted the repartee of his adopted country.
+
+"You faller tenk you mek big yoke--vat!" said he. "You go to hal,
+please."
+
+"Sure--if you bump anything hard," McHale retorted.
+
+"Come on, come on!" said Casey impatiently.
+
+Wyndham remained with the horses. He was to allow the others half an
+hour, and then bring the animals down nearer the dam, so that no time
+should be lost in getting away. His companions vanished in the
+darkness.
+
+Young McCrae took the lead. In the moccasins he affected he trod
+noiselessly, making no more sound than a prowling, nocturnal animal.
+Casey Dunne followed, almost as light-footed. Behind him Oscar clumped
+along, planting his heavy boots solidly at every step. McHale brought
+up the rear. Soon they struck an old cattle trail which wound down a
+short coulée and brought them to the bank of the river immediately
+below the dam. McCrae halted.
+
+"There she is," he announced.
+
+Across the river lay the huddled, black shapes of the camp buildings,
+with here and there a pallid spot which marked a tent. Not a light was
+visible there. Evidently the camp slept, and that was as it should be.
+But nearer at hand, beside the bank of the river where the bulk of the
+dam reared itself, a solitary light gleamed.
+
+"That's the watchman," McCrae whispered. "We're in luck, boys. He's on
+this side."
+
+"Say, Ay sneak up on dat faller," Oscar proposed. "Ay mek von
+yump--so!--and Ay gat him in de neck." He uttered a horrible sound,
+suggestive of death by strangulation.
+
+"Shut up!" hissed young McCrae fiercely. "_Keep_ him quiet, Tom!"
+
+"Shut up, Oscar!" growled McHale. "Don't you savvy nothing? You and me
+ain't in on this. Stand right still now, and don't breathe no harder
+than you have to. Go to it, boys!"
+
+If young McCrae had been a prowling animal before, he was now the ghost
+of one. Casey Dunne, behind him, endeavoured to copy his noiseless
+method of progress. Gradually they drew near the light.
+
+They could discern the figure of the watchman beside it. He was sitting
+on a stick of timber, smoking. McCrae drew from his pocket a long
+canvas bag, of about the dimensions of a small bologna sausage, and
+weighed it in his hand. They crept nearer and nearer. They were not
+more than ten feet away. The guardian of the dam laid his pipe on the
+timber, rose to his feet, and stretched his arms high above his head in
+a huge, satisfying yawn.
+
+At that instant McCrae sprang like a lynx on a fawn. The sandbag
+whistled as it cut down between the upstretched arms, and the watchman
+dropped as if hit by lightning.
+
+"That was an awful crack, Sandy," said Casey reprovingly. He flashed
+the lantern at the face, and slipped his fingers to the wrist. To his
+relief, the pulse was strong.
+
+"I had to get through his hat, hadn't I?" said McCrae. "I wasn't taking
+any chances. He's got a head like a bull. Come on, let's fix him up."
+
+The watchman came out of their hands trussed up like a fowl for
+roasting, securely gagged, with a gunny sack drawn over his head and
+tied at the waist. They lifted him between them and bore him away from
+the dam to what they considered a safe distance.
+
+"'Watchman, tell us of the night,'" chuckled Casey. "He's all right, by
+the way he kicks, and nothing can hit him away out there. They'll see
+him first thing in the morning. Hustle up Oscar, now. This is where he
+gets action."
+
+Oscar, when he came up, got to work at once. Because the planting of
+shots by different men would have been both unsatisfactory and
+dangerous he worked alone. The others lay flat in the gloom, watching
+the lantern which he had appropriated flitting here and there along the
+structure.
+
+"Oscar's some powder man, you bet," McHale observed. "He don't look
+like he had the savvy, but he'll cut them fuses so's the shots'll come
+mighty near together. Blamed if I know why a Swede takes to powder.
+Seems to come natural to 'em, like pawin' snow to a cayuse."
+
+The light blinked and disappeared as Oscar descended. Followed a long
+interval of silent waiting. Then across in the camp a dog began to
+bark, at first uncertainly, with what was almost a note of
+interrogation, and then, as the wind brought confirmation of suspicion
+to his nostrils, with savage vigour. By the sound, he was apparently
+approaching the dam.
+
+Some sleeper, awakened by the noise, yelled a profane command to the
+animal, which had no effect. It merely awakened another, who cursed the
+first sleepily.
+
+"Hey, Kelly," he called, "hit that dog with a rock!" A pause. "Hey,
+Kelly, wake up, there!"
+
+"I guess we've got Kelly," Casey whispered to Sandy. He called out
+hoarsely: "He'll quit in a minute! G'wan to sleep. You don't know your
+own luck."
+
+But the dog continued to bark, jumping up and down frantically. A light
+appeared in a window of one of the shacks.
+
+"Blazes!" muttered McHale, "somebody's getting up."
+
+A low whistle came from behind them. It was significant of the tension
+of the moment that both McHale and McCrae jumped. But Dunne was cooler.
+
+"That's only Wyndham with the horses," he said.
+
+Suddenly a long aperture of light appeared in the dark wall of the
+shack. For a moment it was partially obscured by a figure, and then it
+vanished utterly. The door had closed. The light from the window
+remained.
+
+"Somebody's come out," said McHale. "That's about where Farwell's shack
+is. What's keepin' Oscar? He's had time enough. Maybe I'd better go
+across and hold up this feller? We don't want----"
+
+The lantern bobbed into view once more. Oscar was coming at last, but
+he was taking his time about it. Had he placed the powder? Had he fired
+the fuses? Or had something gone wrong at the last moment? They asked
+themselves these questions impatiently. It would be just like him to
+have forgotten his matches. It might not occur to him to use the
+lantern flame. In that case----
+
+"Come on, hurry up there!" McCrae called softly.
+
+Oscar clambered up beside them. "Ay tal you somet'ing----" he began.
+But the dog yelped suddenly. A sharp voice cut across to them:
+
+"Kelly! What the devil's going on here? What are you about? Who's that
+with you?"
+
+"Farwell!" Dunne whispered. "Did you light the fuses, Oscar?"
+
+"Sure t'ing," Oscar replied. Proud of the phrase, he repeated it. "She
+ban light, all right."
+
+"When'll she fire? Quick, now?"
+
+"Mebbe fema minute. We ban haf lots of time to gat out of har. Say,
+Kessy, what faller----"
+
+An oath cracked in the darkness like a rifle shot.
+
+"You, Kelly, answer me! Come across here at once!" He paused for a
+moment. "By thunder! Kelly, I'll come over there and----"
+
+Casey Dunne did not hear the conclusion of the sentence. His mind was
+working swiftly. For, if Farwell tried to come across, he would
+probably be killed by the coming explosions; and that must be prevented
+at any cost. The destruction of the dam was justifiable, even
+necessary. But homicide with it would never do. To shoot in
+self-defence or to protect his rights was one thing; to allow a man to
+be killed by a blast was quite another. But just how to prevent it was
+the question.
+
+"Come along, Casey," McHale urged. "We ain't got too much time."
+
+"Time or not, we can't have Farwell hurt. You go. I'll be after you in
+a minute."
+
+"If you stay we all stay," said McHale. "Let him take his chance. Come
+on!"
+
+"Git, I tell you," Casey insisted. "I've got to keep him where he is
+till the first shot goes." He called out: "All right, Mr. Farwell. You
+don't need to come. I'll be there."
+
+"That's not Kelly's voice," snapped Farwell. "What deviltry's going on
+here?"
+
+By his voice, Casey guessed that he was advancing. He dropped the
+pretence as useless. "Get back, there!" he ordered sharply, but
+endeavouring to disguise his natural voice. "Get back to your shack,
+you, or I'll drill you!"
+
+Farwell's response came with surprising promptness in the form of a
+revolver bullet that sang just above Casey's head. By the momentary
+flash of the weapon his big figure was just discernible standing bent
+forward, legs wide apart, tense and watchful.
+
+As Casey's hand dropped to his automatic, McHale clutched his wrist.
+"Don't shoot!" he whispered.
+
+"I'm not going to hit him," Casey replied. "I'm just going to make him
+stay where he is."
+
+"Let me," said McHale, and fired as he spoke. Farwell's revolver
+answered. They emptied the guns in the darkness; but as one shot high
+by accident and the other low by design, no damage ensued.
+
+The camp, aroused by the shooting, buzzed like a hornet's nest. Lights
+appeared everywhere. Dark figures streamed out of doorways and thrown
+tent flaps; and, once outside, stood in helpless uncertainty.
+
+"Coom, coom!" cried Oscar. "Ve gat out of har!" They rose and ran in
+the dark.
+
+A mighty roar drowned the echoes of the pistol shots, as the bass
+bellow of his sire might dominate the feeble bleatings of a new-born
+calf. A vivid flash split the night. In the momentary illumination
+details were limned sharply--the buildings, the groups of men on one
+side, the running figures on the other. And poised, stationary, as it
+seemed, in mid-air, above the instant eruption, hung a mushroom cloud
+of smoke and dust, specked with fragments of riven wood and shattered
+concrete. Through the succeeding contrasted blackness the débris
+thudded upon the earth. With scarcely an interval followed a second
+shot, a third, a fourth. The air became alive with hurtling masses
+raining from the heavens.
+
+The four dynamiters reached Wyndham, who, cursing in his excitement,
+was straining every muscle and a comprehensive vocabulary in an effort
+to hold the frightened horses.
+
+Casey, McHale, and Sandy seized their nigh stirrups, shot them at their
+left toes, gripped saddle horns, and went up in an instant. Oscar, less
+expert, fumbled for a hold with his toe, hopping on his right leg as
+his horse sidled and backed.
+
+"Stand still, Ay tal you!" he gritted. "By Yudas, Ay club hal from you
+purty kvick!"
+
+Young McCrae wheeled his horse on the off side and gripped the
+headstall by the bit. "Up you go!" he cried, and Oscar fell into the
+saddle, the horn striking him amidships and momentarily checking a
+torrent of oaths. "Hang on, now!" McCrae ordered and let go.
+
+They shot away with a wild plunge and a scurry of panicky hoofs. The
+going was rough, but luck was with them. They surged up the coulée,
+emerging on the higher bench land by the trail.
+
+"Look here, Tom," said Dunne, "what did you want to do the shooting for
+back there? Afraid I'd get rattled and hit somebody?"
+
+McHale grinned in the darkness. "Not hardly. Mostly, Casey, you _mamook
+tumtum_ a heap--you look ahead and savvy plenty. You're foolish--the
+way an old dog fox is. But onct in a while you overlook a bet. You're
+too plumb modern and up to date."
+
+"What's that got to do with it?"
+
+"A lot. I don't know no other man hereabouts that packs a forty-four
+automatic. See, now?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why, Casey," said McHale, "I'm surprised at you! It's clear as gin.
+Them guns spits out the empty shells right where you stand. Farwell
+finds 'em, and he goes lookin' for a gun to fit 'em. You've got it.
+There ain't no other gun hereabouts that takes forty-four automatic
+ammunition. Now, my old gun don't leave no trail of ca'tridges to
+follow unless I breaks her open. So I just naturally horned in and
+played the hand myself."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+When daylight fully disclosed the wreck, and also his night watchman
+lying helpless out of harm's way, Farwell was in a savage temper. Never
+before, in all his career, had anything like that been put over on him.
+And the knowledge that he had been sent there for the express purpose
+of preventing anything of the kind did not improve matters. He hated to
+put the news on the wire--to admit to headquarters that the ranchers
+apparently had caught him napping. But, having dispatched his telegram,
+he set his energies to finding some clew to the perpetrators of the
+outrage.
+
+He drew a large and hopeless blank in Kelly, the watchman. Mr. Kelly's
+films ran smoothly up to a certain point, after which they were not
+even a blur. The Stygian darkness of his hiatus refused to lift by
+questioning. He had neither seen nor heard anything suspicious or out
+of the ordinary. About one o'clock in the morning he had laid down his
+pipe to rest his long-suffering tongue. Immediately afterward, so far
+as his recollection went, he found himself tied up, half smothered,
+with aching jaws and a dull pain in his head.
+
+Farwell metaphorically bade this unsatisfactory witness stand aside,
+and proceeded to investigate the gunny sack, the rope that had tied
+him, and the rag and stick that had gagged him. Whatever information
+these might have given to M. Lecoq, S. Holmes, or W. Burns, they
+yielded none to Farwell, who next inspected the ground. Here, also, he
+found nothing. There were footmarks in plenty, but he could not read
+them. Though in the first flare of the explosion he had glimpsed three
+or four running figures, his eyes had been too dazzled to receive an
+accurate impression.
+
+"Maybe an Australian nigger or a Mohave trailer could work this out,"
+he said in disgust to his assistant, Keeler. "I can't."
+
+"Well, say," said young Keeler, "talking about Indians--how about old
+Simon over there? Might try him."
+
+He pointed. Just above the dam an Indian sat on a pinto pony, gazing
+stolidly at the wreck. His hair streaked with gray, was braided, and
+fell below his shoulders on either side. His costume was that of
+ordinary civilization, save for a pair of new, tight moccasins. Having
+apparently all the time there was, he had been a frequent spectator of
+operations, squatting by the hour watching the work. Occasionally his
+interest had been rewarded by a meal or a plug of tobacco. These things
+he had accepted without comment and without thanks. His taciturnity and
+gravity seemed primeval.
+
+"Huh! That old beat!" said Farwell contemptuously. "Every Indian can't
+trail. However, _we_ can't, that's sure. Maybe he can make a bluff
+at it. Go and get him."
+
+Keeler brought up old Simon, and Farwell endeavoured to explain what
+was wanted in language which he considered suited to the comprehension
+of a representative of the original North American race. He had a
+smattering of Chinook,[1] and for the rest he depended on gestures and
+a loud voice, having the idea that every man can understand English if
+it be spoken loudly enough.
+
+      [1] AUTHOR'S NOTE.--Chinook, the trade jargon of the Pacific
+      coast, is similar in origin to the pidgin English of China. It is
+      composite, its root words being taken from various tribal
+      vocabularies and from the French and English languages. The
+      spelling conforms to the pronunciation; and the latter in most
+      cases is merely the Indian rendering of French and English word
+      sounds. It is, in fact, an Indian Volapuk, used extensively by
+      the tribes of Oregon, Washington, British Columbia, and Alaska.
+      The number of words is comparatively small, probably not
+      exceeding nine hundred. Therefore each has various meanings,
+      rendered by shades of pronunciation or by combination with other
+      words. Thus the word "_mamook_," signifying to do, to make, to
+      perform, or anything denoting action, begins some two hundred
+      phrases, for each of which there is one equivalent English word.
+      Its nearest parallel is the French verb "_faire_," and its use is
+      much the same. It is impossible in this space to attempt a
+      vocabulary. "_Halo_" is the general negative. Throughout I have
+      endeavoured to supply the meaning by the context.
+
+"Simon," said he, "last night bad man come and _mamook_ raise heap
+hell. Him blow up dam. You savvy 'dam,' hey?"
+
+"Ah-ha!" Simon grunted proudly. "Me _kumtuks_. Me _kumtuks_ hell. Me
+_kumtuks_ dam. Dam good, dam bad; godam----"
+
+"No, no!" rasped Farwell. "_Halo_ cuss word--no bad word--no. D-a-m,
+'dam.' Oh, Lord, the alphabet's wasted on him, of course. What's Siwash
+for dam, Keeler?"
+
+"Search me," said Keeler; "but 'pence' is Chinook for fence, and
+'chuck' means water. Try him with that." And Farwell tried again.
+
+"Now, see, Simon! Last night _hiyu cultus_ man come. Bring dynamite--_hiyu
+skookum_ powder. Put um in dam--in _chuck pence_. Set um off. _Mamook
+poo!_--all same shoot. Bang! Whoosh! Up she go!" He waved his hand at
+the wreck. "You _kumtuks_ that?"
+
+Simon nodded, understanding.
+
+"_Mamook_ bang," said he; "_mamook_ bust!"
+
+"Right," Farwell agreed. "_Cultus_ man come at night. Dark. Black. No
+see um." He made a footprint in the earth, pointed at it, and then to
+Simon, and waved a hand at the horizon generally. "You find trail,
+follow, catch um. Hey, can you do that, Simon? And I'll bet," he added
+to Keeler, "the infernal old blockhead doesn't understand a word I've
+said."
+
+But Simon's reply indicated not only comprehension, but a tolerable
+acquaintance with modern business methods. Said he:
+
+"How moch you give?"
+
+Keeler grinned. "I think he gets you," he commented.
+
+"I guess he does," Farwell admitted. "How much you want?"
+
+"Hundred dolla'!" Simon answered promptly.
+
+"Like blazes!" snapped Farwell. "You blasted, copper-hided old Shylock,
+I'll give you five!"
+
+Simon held out his hand. The gesture was unmistakable.
+
+"And they say an Indian doesn't know enough to vote!" said Farwell. He
+laid a five-dollar bill in the smoky palm. "Now get busy and earn it."
+
+Simon inspected the ground carefully. Finally he took a course straight
+away from the dam.
+
+"That's about where those fellows ran," said Farwell. "Maybe the old
+rascal can trail, after all."
+
+Simon came to a halt at a spot cut up by hoofs. He bent down, examining
+the tracks carefully. Farwell, doing likewise, caught sight of a single
+moccasin track plainly outlined. It lay, long and straight-footed, deep
+in the soft soil; and where the big toe had pressed there was the mark
+of a sewn-in patch.
+
+"Here, look here!" he cried. "One of 'em was wearing moccasins, and
+patched moccasins at that."
+
+"Sure enough," said Keeler.
+
+"Here, Simon, look at this," said the engineer. "You see um? One
+_cultus_ man wear moccasin. Was he white man or Indian?"
+
+Simon surveyed the track gravely, knelt, and examined it minutely.
+"Mebbyso Injun," he said.
+
+"Mebbyso white man," Farwell objected. "What makes you think it's an
+Indian?"
+
+"Oleman moccasin, him," Simon replied oracularly. "White man throw him
+away; Injun keep him, mend him--_mamook tipshin klaska_."
+
+"Something in that, too," Farwell agreed. "It's a straight foot--no
+swing-in to the toe. Still, I don't know. I've seen white men like
+that. I wonder----" He broke off abruptly, shaking his head.
+
+Simon gave a correct imitation of mounting a horse. "Him _klatawa_," he
+announced. "Him Injun."
+
+"Got on his horse and pulled out, hey?" said Farwell. "Yes, of course,
+that's what he did. That's why the track is pressed in so deep. That's
+all right. Simon, how many men stop last night?"
+
+"Four, five cayuse stop," Simon answered. "Mebbyso four, five, man
+stop."
+
+"Well, four or five cayuses must have left a trail of some kind. You
+find it. Follow--catchum. Find where they live--their _illahee_, where
+they hang out. You get that?"
+
+Simon nodded and went to his horse. Farwell frowned at the lone
+moccasin track, and, lifting his eyes, beheld Simon in the act of
+mounting. Contrary to the custom of white men, the old Indian did so
+from the off side. Farwell swore suddenly.
+
+"What?" Keeler asked.
+
+"Hey, Simon!" said Farwell. "This man with oleman moccasin--him make
+track getting on cayuse? Him stand so to get on cayuse. You sure of
+that?"
+
+Simon nodded. "Ah-ha!" he agreed.
+
+"Then he's a white man," Farwell exclaimed. "This is the track of a
+right foot, made while he was standing reaching for the stirrup with
+the left. An Indian always gets on his horse from the wrong side, and
+puts his right foot in the stirrup first."
+
+"So he does," said Keeler.
+
+"So this fellow is a white man," Farwell concluded triumphantly. "We
+want a white man with a patched moccasin. You _kumtuks_, Simon? Injun
+mount so. White man so--left foot up, right foot down. White man's
+moccasin, Simon."
+
+"Huh!" Simon grunted gravely. "Mebbyso white man; mebbyso _sitkum
+Siwash_."
+
+"Half-breed nothing!" Farwell declared. "Straight white, I tell you.
+Now get ahead on the trail."
+
+But whatever Simon's skill as a trailer, it availed little. In half a
+mile the hoofprints merged with many others in a beaten track, and so
+were lost. Simon halted.
+
+"_Halo mamook!_" said he, signifying that he had done his possible. The
+fact was so self-evident that Farwell could not gainsay it.
+
+"That's an easy five for you," he grumbled. "We might as well get back,
+Keeler. I never took any stock in that old buck, anyway. He's a gold
+brick, like all the rest of them."
+
+But Simon, when they had gone, kept along the beaten track. And shortly
+he came to where McCrae had turned the buckboard around. Simon, after
+examining the tracks, took pains to efface them entirely; after which
+he ambled on, his usually grave countenance illumined by a grin.
+
+Following the road, peering narrowly at either side, he finally came in
+sight of Talapus Ranch. Halting, he surveyed the fields.
+
+The ditches of Talapus were once more running rap-full; and Donald
+McCrae, his son, and half a dozen men were busy with shovels and hoes
+turning the water down among the young grain in marks already prepared
+which followed the natural slope of the land; taking care that the
+little rivulets should be of sufficient strength to run the length of
+the field, but not so strong as to wash out the soil; adjusting the
+flow to a nicety with miniature dams of sods and stones.
+
+Old Simon rode slowly along the ditch until he came to where Sandy
+McCrae was working.
+
+"Hello, Simon!" said the latter carelessly. "How you makin' it this
+morning? You keeping _skookum?_"
+
+"Ah-ha!" Simon responded gutturally. "_Skookum_, you?"
+
+"You bet," Sandy replied. "_Hiyu skookum_ me." He leaned on his shovel
+for a moment, stretching his young, sinewy body, grinning at the
+Indian. The latter dismounted, and, stooping down, touched the young
+man's worn footgear.
+
+"_Mamook huyhuy_ moccasin," said he.
+
+"Swap moccasins?" Sandy repeated. "What for? Yours are new. _Chee_
+moccasin, you; oleman moccasin, me. What are you getting at? That's
+fool talk."
+
+But Simon insisted. "_Mamook huyhuy_," said he. "_Halo mitlite oleman_
+moccasin."
+
+"Why shouldn't I wear my old moccasins?" asked Sandy.
+
+Simon lifted McCrae's right foot and placed his finger on a patch
+beneath the ball of the great toe. His features expanded in a knowing
+grin. Sandy McCrae's face suddenly became grave and his mouth grim. His
+voice, when he spoke, was hard and metallic.
+
+"Quit this sign business and spit it out of you," he ordered. "_Mamook
+kumtuks!_ Tell me what you mean!"
+
+Simon condescended to a measure of English which he knew well enough,
+but which he usually disdained on general principles. He pointed back
+whence he had come.
+
+"_Tenas_ sun (early morning) me stop along camp. Boss _tyee_ man
+goodandam mad. Him say _cultus_ man _mamook_ raise _hiyu_ hell. Catch
+_hiyu skookum_ powder--bang! Whoosh! Upshego!" He mimicked Farwell's
+words and gestures to a nicety. "Him say, s'pose me catch _cultus_ man
+me catch _kwimnum_ dolla'." He exhibited the five-dollar bill, grinning
+once more. "Good! Me _nanitch_ 'round me find trail. Boss _tyee_ man
+see track of oleman moccasin." He pointed to Sandy's right foot.
+
+Young McCrae, his face black as the heart of a storm cloud, said
+nothing; but his eyes glinted dangerously. The Indian continued:
+
+"Me _klatawa kimta_ on trail. _Tyee_ man him come, too. Bimeby come to
+_hiyu_ trail, all same road. Me lose trail. Me tell _tyee_ man '_halo
+mamook_.'" He grinned broadly. "Him _klatawa_ back _yaka illahee_. Me
+come along alone. See where _chik-chik_ wagon turn around. All right.
+Me come tell you _mamook huyhuy_ moccasin."
+
+It was very plain to Sandy now. The old Indian had recognized the track
+of his moccasin at the dam; had followed the trail to the travelled
+road where he had deliberately quit; and had come on to warn him to get
+rid of the incriminating moccasins which were even then on his feet.
+The suggestion of exchange was merely polite diplomacy.
+
+"Simon," he said slowly, "blamed if you ain't a white Injun!"
+
+Simon acknowledged the compliment characteristically. He produced a
+pipe and examined the empty bowl with interest.
+
+"_Halo_ smokin', me!" he observed gravely.
+
+Sandy nodded and handed him a large plug. The Indian filled his pipe
+and put the tobacco in his pocket.
+
+"You my _tillikum,_" he announced. "When you _tenas_ boy I like you,
+you like me. Good, _Konaway_ McCrae (every McCrae) my _tillikum_." He
+made a large gesture of generous inclusion, paused for an instant, and
+shot a keen glance at his friend. "Cas-ee Dunne my _tillikum,_ too."
+
+"Sure," said Sandy gravely. "We're all friends of yours, Simon."
+
+Simon nodded and considered.
+
+"All rancher my _tillikum_," he continued after an interval. "Ah-ha!
+Good! S'pose some time me _mamook_ sick, me feel all same oleman--no
+more grub stop, no more smokin' stop--mebbyso all rancher _potlatch_
+grub, _potlatch_ smokin', send doctin', send med'cin'? You _kumtuks?_"
+
+He formulated this general scheme of pension and old-age insurance
+gravely. With five dollars in hand and a future provided for by
+grateful ranchers, he would be able to worship the _Saghalie Tyee_
+at the mission with a good heart.
+
+"You don't want much," Sandy commented. "I guess we'd chip in, though,
+if you got up against the iron any time. Sure. S'pose you _mamook_
+sick, all rancher _mamook_ help, give you _muckamuck_ and smokin',
+stake you to doctor and dope; s'pose you go _mimoluse_, bury you in
+style."
+
+Simon nodded, well pleased. A fine funeral thrown in for good measure
+suited his ideas perfectly. It was no more than his due for this
+evidence of friendship. So much for the future. Now for the present. He
+surveyed the five-dollar bill and chuckled.
+
+"_Tyee_ man _hyas_ damfool!" said he. He cast a shrewd eye at the sun,
+which stood near the meridian. "_Sitkum sun!_" he announced.
+
+"Noon--and that means you're hungry," said Sandy. "I never saw you when
+you weren't. Go on up to the house, and say I sent you. _Muckamuck mika
+sick yakwahtin._ Eat till your belly goes back on you, if you want to."
+
+Simon grinned again; but he pointed to Sandy's feet.
+
+"You _mamook hyuhuy_ moccasin dam quick!" he warned once more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+Casey Dunne crossed from the Coldstream Supply Company's store--which
+was also the post office--to Bob Shiller's hotel. His pockets bulged
+with mail, for it was his first visit to town since the destruction of
+the dam a week before, and there was an accumulation of letters,
+newspapers, and periodicals. Ever since then he had been irrigating,
+throwing upon his thirsty fields every drop of water he could get.
+
+As he came upon the veranda, he saw Shiller in conversation with a
+stranger.
+
+"Oh, Casey," said Shiller, "I want you to shake hands with Mr. Glass.
+Mr. Glass--Mr. Dunne. Mr. Glass," the genial Bob went on, "has some
+notion of locating here if he can get a place to suit him. He likes the
+land, and he likes the climate; but the recent--the events--er--the way
+things shape at present has a _leetle_ undecided him. Anything Mr.
+Dunne tells you, Mr. Glass, will be straight. He has land to burn, and
+one of our best ranches. Yes. I'll just leave you to talk it over
+together." And so saying, he executed a masterly retreat.
+
+Glass was a mild, colourless, middle-aged man, attired in worn
+hand-me-down garments. His blue eyes, clear and direct enough, seemed
+to hold a little of the pathetic apprehension and appeal of a lost
+puppy. He hesitated when he spoke, repeatedly qualifying his
+statements. His was the awkwardness of the man who, having spent his
+life in familiar surroundings in some small community, suddenly finds
+himself in new places among strangers. And, lacking adaptability, is
+constrained and ill at ease.
+
+"You see, Mr. Dunne, it's this way with me," he began. And, appearing
+to remember something suddenly, he asked: "Hadn't we better have a
+drink?"
+
+"Not unless you need it in your business," said Casey. "Sit down and
+smoke a cigar with me and tell me your trouble."
+
+"Well, I'd just as soon," said Glass, plainly relieved. "I don't drink
+much myself. My wife don't like it. It's a bad example for the
+children. But I thought that out here, maybe from what I'd heard----"
+
+"Current Western fiction!" Casey laughed. "No, we don't drink every
+time we shake hands. Couldn't stand it. Well, what can I do for you?"
+
+And thereupon Mr. Glass unbosomed himself ramblingly, with much detail,
+which included a sketch of his life and family history. Casey saw that
+Shiller had unloaded a bore on him.
+
+Glass, it appeared, hailed from Maine, from the vicinity of one of the
+"obscots" or "coggins." He had followed various callings--carpenter,
+market gardener, and grocer--with indifferent success; but he had
+succeeded in accumulating a few thousand dollars. His eldest girl was
+not well. Consumption ran in her mother's family. The doctor had
+ordered a dryer climate, a higher altitude. For some years Glass had
+been thinking of migrating westward; but he had stuck in the narrow
+groove, lacking the initiative to pull up stakes and see for himself
+the land in which others had prospered. This sickness had decided
+him--and here he was.
+
+He liked the climate, which he was sure would be just the thing for his
+daughter; and he liked the land. But here was the point--and it was the
+point which was worrying Sleeman grayheaded. There was trouble between
+the ranchers and the land company. Not that it was for him to say who
+was right or wrong. But there _was_ trouble. Now, he was a man of small
+means, and he was forced to put all his eggs in one basket. Which was
+to say, that if he bought land, and subsequently was unable to get
+water for it, he would be ruined. Also he had heard that the ranchers
+were unfriendly to those who bought land from the company.
+
+"And I'm a man that has kept out of trouble all my life, Mr. Dunne," he
+concluded plaintively. "I'm on good terms with everybody at home, and I
+wouldn't want, right at the start-off, as you might say, to have
+anybody think I was trying to take water away from him. And yet I like
+the country. I thought maybe you could advise me what to do. It seems
+like a lot of gall asking you, too; you having land for sale and me
+thinking of buying the company's. But, then, I saw their advertising.
+It was only right I should go to them, wasn't it?"
+
+"Of course," said Casey. "I haven't any land for sale now. I'm holding
+what I have. But as to advising you, it's a difficult thing. Here's the
+situation: The amount of the total water supply is limited. The railway
+claims the right to take it all, if it likes. We claim enough to
+irrigate our properties. Right there we lock horns. There is a lawsuit
+just starting; but the Lord only knows which way it will be settled, or
+when. And now you know as much about it as I do."
+
+"It don't look good," said Glass, shaking his head. "No, sir, it don't
+look good to me. And here's another thing. They tell me that there was
+trouble out here a ways the other night. I mean with the company's dam.
+Of course, I don't know anything about it myself; it's just what I've
+heard. I hope you don't mind me speakin' of it."
+
+"Not in the least. Well, what about it, Mr. Glass?"
+
+"It was a turrible risky thing to do--to blow up a dam," said Glass.
+"It'd be against the law, wouldn't it? Of course, I don't say it was.
+It might not be. I don't claim to know, and likely whoever done it had
+reasons. All the same, I wouldn't choose to be mixed up in doin's like
+that."
+
+"Good thing to keep out of," Casey agreed.
+
+"I wouldn't want anything of mine to be blown up."
+
+"But who would blow up anything of yours?"
+
+"I don't say anybody'd do it, of course," Glass protested hastily.
+"Only, you see, men that'd blow up a dam are--I mean, if I bought land
+off of the company and started in to use water and farm, they might
+blame me. I wouldn't want to get my neighbours down on me, Mr. Dunne."
+
+"Does that mean you think that some of your prospective neighbours blew
+up the dam?"
+
+"No, no," Glass disclaimed, in a flurry. "I don't know who did it, of
+course. I'm not saying anybody did. Only somebody must of. That's just
+common sense. You'll admit that yourself."
+
+"Why, yes, that's a pretty safe conclusion," Casey agreed. "I don't
+think you need worry about that, though. The only point is whether the
+company will be able to keep an agreement to supply you with water. I
+can't tell you whether they will or not. If you buy you take a chance.
+If you bought from me, you'd take almost the same chance."
+
+"I don't know what to do," said Glass, picking nervously at his
+white-metal watch chain. "It's hard to tell--there's so many things to
+be considered. I can't afford to lose money. This irrigation's new to
+me. I never saw it working. Would you mind if I came out to your farm
+and sort of looked around? I could learn a lot that way. Maybe if you
+had time, you could explain what I didn't understand? But, then, I
+wouldn't want to trouble you."
+
+But Casey Dunne was already tired of Glass, of his timidity, his
+indecision, his self-effacement, his continual air of apology for
+existence.
+
+"Come any time," he said. "Glad to see you. Sorry I can't do any more
+for you; but you'll have to decide for yourself."
+
+"Yes, I know," Glass agreed dismally. "I'll look around first. I'm
+obliged to you. You--you're sure you won't have a drink? No. Well, I
+guess I'll go in and write a letter to my wife. I write to her twice a
+week. I'll see you later, maybe."
+
+Casey nodded, glad to be rid of him. He put his feet on the rail and
+proceeded to go through his correspondence, which, though bulky, was
+not especially important.
+
+"The mails would be a whole lot lighter if it wasn't for fake oil and
+cement propositions and special offers of the world's best authors," he
+grumbled. "Promoters and publishers seem to consider the small post
+office the natural breeding ground for suckers. Maybe they're right,
+too. Hello! Here's something different."
+
+It was a large, square, white envelope, perfectly plain, but of
+aristocratic finish and thickness.
+
+"Wedding--for the drinks!" growled Casey. "Not so different, after
+all." He ripped it open ruthlessly with his thumb. "Here's where I get
+set back a few dollars starting another domestic plant. Blamed if it's
+any better than--hello!"
+
+It was not a wedding announcement. Instead, it was a check. The amount
+thereof was the surprising sum of eighty cents, exchange added; and the
+signature, firm, square, clear-cut as lettering, was "_Clyde Burnaby_."
+
+"Now what the devil?" Casey exclaimed, and jerked out the accompanying
+letter.
+
+It was merely a short, friendly note. Miss Burnaby inclosed her check
+for one year's interest, at 8 per cent. on the loan from Mr. Dunne. She
+referred to the Wades. Gave an item or two of unimportant personal
+news. Hoped that his ranch was flourishing, and that he was well: and
+was his very cordially.
+
+In feminine fashion followed a postscript:
+
+    Kitty Wade tells me that you are having trouble with some company
+    which is taking water that you need for your ranch. I hope it isn't
+    serious trouble, though she hinted as much. Do you care to tell me
+    about it?
+
+Casey Dunne sat for some minutes, the check and letter across his
+knees, while he gazed unblinkingly through the hot sunshine. It was
+some time since he had given Clyde Burnaby more than an occasional
+thought; his immediate affairs had been too pressing. Now the vision of
+her, as he had seen her last, rose before his eyes, and he found it a
+pleasant recollection. He, whose life since childhood had been passed
+in the outposts and beyond them, treasured the memories of the few
+occasions when chance had permitted him to sit with his own kind, to
+talk to them, to live as he would have lived had not fate forced him to
+hoe his own row, and chosen for him a row in the new lands.
+
+Of the women he had met in these rare incursions he could recall none
+who pleased him as well as Clyde Burnaby. Her interest in his affairs
+pleased him also. He recalled her as she had sat across the aisle in
+the Pullman, her absolute frigidity to the advances of the would-be
+Lothario, her haughty stare when she had suspected him of like intent,
+her perfect composure during the holdup. Little things like that showed
+the stuff a girl was made of. Nothing foolish or nervous or hysterical
+about her. And then, subsequently, when he had met her on her own
+ground, she had endeavoured to put him at his ease. Funny that, but he
+appreciated it, nevertheless. And she could talk. She didn't giggle and
+ask inane questions. Nor did she treat him as some sort of a natural
+curiosity, who might be expected to do something shocking but
+entertaining at any moment. She was sensible as--well--as sensible as
+Sheila McCrae herself.
+
+And that, Casey reflected, was by way of being a high compliment; for
+Sheila had more sense than most men. He would take her opinion on any
+subject as well worth consideration. She and Clyde Burnaby were two
+young women very much above the ordinary run--in his opinion, at least.
+
+Idly he wondered if chance would ever bring them together. Unlikely.
+Because he had nothing else to do at the moment, he amused himself by a
+process of transposition, of transmigration. He imagined Clyde Burnaby
+in Sheila's place, riding Beaver Boy over the brown swells, along the
+narrow trails and abrupt rises of the foothills, raising several
+hundred chickens, helping with the housework, the mending--all the
+daily feminine chores that fell to the lot of a rancher's womenkind.
+Would she be as good a friend to him as Sheila had been? And he fancied
+Sheila in her place--tailor-mades and evening gowns instead of riding
+skirts, Paris instead of pony hats, with nothing in particular to do
+but have a good time and spend money. Make good? Of course she would.
+She was clean-cut, thoroughbred, smart as a whip. Perhaps she wasn't
+quite as good-looking as Miss Burnaby; but, after all, that was largely
+a matter of taste. She was a different style.
+
+He looked at the check lying on his knee, and laughed at the idea of
+interest on ten dollars. He had forgotten all about that conceit, but
+she had not. He would frame the check--yes, that was what he would do.
+In time there would be quite a bunch of them--that is, if she
+remembered to send them. Well, anyway, he would have to acknowledge it,
+and he might as well do it at once.
+
+He went indoors and began to write. He had intended but a brief note,
+but in construction it lengthened. With him letter writing was never an
+effort. He wrote as easily as he talked, colloquially, without any
+attempt at style or set phrase. Soon he found himself tersely
+describing the water situation, forecasting the probabilities. As these
+were not too cheering, he frowned and added an optimistic sentence or
+two for general effect. He concluded with a hope that she would some
+time honour his country with a visit, when his ranch and all it
+contained--including its owner--would be entirely at her service.
+
+On his way to post the letter he passed Glass, still struggling with
+his own composition. That poor devil! A perfect type of incompetent. He
+was too slow and timid for the West--too old to learn the lessons of
+self-reliance and adaptability of a new land. However, that was his own
+affair. If he would work he could make a living, and that was all that
+he or those like him could make anywhere.
+
+Dunne strolled down to the station to mail his letter in the box there;
+and, as he turned the corner of the building, he came full upon Farwell
+and another burly individual in conversation with Quilty, the station
+agent.
+
+"Tell them to start a tracer from the other end after those car
+numbers," Farwell was commanding; "and you start one from here. I've
+got to have them right away; work's at a standstill. Those cursed
+fatheads in the freight department don't know enough to shovel ballast.
+Get after them with a sharp stick."
+
+"I'll do me best for ye," Quilty promised; "but freight on this line
+comes whin ut comes."
+
+"It will come when I want it, or somebody will lose a job," said
+Farwell. "I'm not the ordinary consignee, and you can tell them that,
+too."
+
+"I'll do that same," said Quilty; "but I misdoubt if a cyar wheel turns
+the faster for ut. I mind back in eighty-five--or maybe 'twas
+eighty-three ut was--whin O'Brien--'Flapjack' O'Brien they called him
+then, though he's climbed high enough since--well, whin O'Brien was a
+plain, iveryday, thievin' conthractor, and a dom bad wan at that, he
+had a nephew named Burke that married a Finnegan--or maybe ut was
+Finucane--whose father pulled ould Sivinty-six, a wood-burnin'
+monsthrosity iv an ingin' that be th' grace iv God an' a full sand box
+might be good for a 3-per-cent grade anny dry day in summer but a
+Friday. Annyways, as I started to tell ye, Danny Powers fired for
+Finnegan or Finucane, whichever ut was, and him and this Burke----"
+
+But Farwell cursed Powers and Burke. "You burn the wires getting those
+cars for me!" he ordered. "What the devil do I care for all those
+construction-days micks? You talk too much. Get busy!" With which he
+turned and walked away with his companion.
+
+"Pleasant gentleman, Corney!" Casey ventured.
+
+The little station agent winked. "Th' black dog is on him sure enough,"
+he observed. "Since his dam was blowed up, he has th' civil word for
+nobody. Listen, now, Casey. Somebody will pay for that night's work."
+
+"I don't quite get you, Corney."
+
+"Oh, divil th' fear iv yez not gettin' me. I'm not speakin' now in me
+official capacity; for praise God this dam is outside th' duties iv me
+jurisdiction. I'm tellin' ye as a friend."
+
+"I know, Corney; but tell me a little plainer."
+
+"Plainer is ut? Yez are a man grown. Do yez think yez can crim'nally
+an' wid conthributory vi'lence aforethought dynymite me employers'
+property, an' no comeback at all? Have sinse!"
+
+"Hold on," said Casey. "Go slow, Corney." But Mr. Quilty dismissed this
+preliminary objection with a wave of his hand.
+
+"Thim's figgers iv speech. I assume yez are innocent until yez are
+caught. Faix, it's not me'd give th' hot tip iv a warnin' to a
+crim'nal. But whisper now! Th' comp'ny is for siftin' this outrageous
+outrage to th' bottom, an' then liftin' th' bottom to look under it.
+Havin' put its hand to th' plow, it will l'ave no stone unturned to
+probe th' mysthry. Ye seen that felly wid Farwell. He's th' railway
+detective!"
+
+"Meaning that they're out to round up somebody, eh?" said Casey. "All
+right, Corney; let 'em go to it."
+
+"In me official capacity," said Mr. Quilty, looking him sternly in the
+eye, "I hope th' dirty blagyards is caught red-handed and soaked hard
+for th' shameless and di'bolical atrocity they have perpetuated. For
+such abandoned miscreants hangin' is too dom ladylike a punishment. I
+want yez to understand me official sintimints in me official capacity
+clearly. Yez may quote me exact words if ye feel so disposed."
+
+"In your official capacity," said Casey, "your official sentiments do
+you great credit."
+
+"I'm glad ye think so," said Mr. Quilty; "for in me private capacity,
+speakin' widout prejudice to me salary and as a true son iv dear, ould,
+dirty Dublin to a friend, me private sintimints is these: Th' man that
+invinted dynymite should have a set iv goold medals th' size iv a
+compound's dhrivers. But if iver ye mintion me private sintimints to a
+soul, I'll have yer life!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+Farwell was by nature obstinate; he was also resourceful, and
+accustomed to carrying out his instructions by hook or by crook. That
+was one reason why he was such a valuable man. He accomplished his ends
+or his employers' ends after some fashion. Therefore, when the almost
+completed dam was destroyed, he recognized merely a temporary, if
+expensive, setback. The company could afford to pay for any number of
+dams; but, in order to push their sales, and, as a first step toward
+acquiring other properties at a minimum figure, they wanted the water
+on their lands at once. Very well, they should have it.
+
+Though the dam was practically wrecked, the main canal was intact. Its
+intake was just above the dam, solidly built of masonry, with sluice
+gates to control the volume of water. Without the dam it carried a
+comparatively small stream. With the dam, and the consequent raising of
+the water level, it would roar full from wall to wall, a river in
+itself.
+
+Just at its lower lip Farwell began to drive piles at an angle
+upstream. He sank brush with hundreds of bags of sand, made cribwork
+filled with whatever rubbish came to his hand, and soon he had the
+makings of a temporary dam, rude, but effective. It would serve three
+purposes: It would fill the company's ditches; it would practically
+empty the ranchers'; and it would render the rebuilding of the
+permanent dam easier. Farwell was quite satisfied with himself.
+
+Meanwhile, he found time to ride over to Talapus occasionally. His
+footing there was anomalous, and he felt it. On the one hand he wished
+the McCraes well and had done all he could for them; on the other he
+was ruthlessly carrying out a project which would ruin them. Under
+these circumstances he looked for no more than tolerance. He now owned
+frankly to himself that he was in love with Sheila. He had made little
+progress with his wooing, nor did he expect to make more just then. His
+blunt assertiveness covered a natural shyness where women were
+concerned, and he had about as much idea of the fine points of the game
+as a logger has of cabinet-making. Still, he was drawn to her by a
+desire which he was unable to resist. He had a profound belief in
+himself and in his capacity for material success; he considered himself
+an eligible match for any girl, and he relied on Sheila's good sense to
+realize what he had taken pains to make plain--that while his loyalty
+to his employers forced him to carry out their instructions, his
+sympathies were with her and her family. Of this he had given
+indubitable proof. He had no intention of dropping out of sight, of
+discontinuing his visits, so long as they were tolerated, of leaving
+the field clear to another, perhaps to Dunne. With her he bore a white
+flag always, insisting that between them there was friendly truce.
+
+He was of the opinion that the McCraes, father and son, had no hand in
+the dynamiting; though he conceded that they could make an excellent
+guess at the perpetrators. But Farwell thought he could do that
+himself; he fixed the responsibility on Casey Dunne.
+
+The McCraes did not mention the dam, but Farwell had no hesitation in
+broaching the subject. He predicted speedy and exemplary punishment for
+the guilty.
+
+Donald McCrae listened gravely, his face expressionless. Sandy wore a
+faint, ironic smile which irritated Farwell.
+
+"You don't think so?" asked the engineer pointedly.
+
+"You're doing the talking--I'm not," said Sandy.
+
+Farwell reddened angrily. There was more in the tone than in the words.
+It implied that talk was Farwell's long suit. Farwell disliked Sandy
+extremely, but with a self-control which he rarely exercised, forbore
+to retort. Hot-tempered as he was, he realized that he could not
+declare his belief in the guilt of any person without some evidence.
+His smouldering eye measured Sandy, taking him in from head to foot,
+and rested on the smoky golden tan of a pair of new moccasins which he
+wore.
+
+Now, Sandy had acquired the moccasin habit in childhood and retained
+it. It was rarely that he wore boots around the ranch. Farwell, looking
+at the new moccasins, which were handsomely embroidered with silk
+thread, noted the straight inner line of the foot, from toe to heel. It
+was like the foot of an aborigine; undeformed, undeflected from
+nature's lines by fashionable footgear. By suggestion the moccasin
+track at the dam occurred to him. He recalled its straight inner line.
+McCrae's moccasined foot would make just such a track. Was it possible
+that he, at least, was one of the dynamiters?
+
+Not only possible, Farwell decided, after a moment's reflection, but
+probable. The elder man he exonerated mentally. The son, young,
+hostile, possessing unlimited nerve, was just the man for such an
+enterprise. And if he were concerned in it, and the fact were
+ascertained what a devil of a mess it would make!
+
+For a moment he was tempted to test his suspicion by some pointed
+allusion, but thought better of it. And shortly after the two men
+withdrew, leaving him with Sheila.
+
+"This is a nasty business," said Farwell, after a long pause, reverting
+to the former topic. "I wouldn't like it--no matter what turns up--to
+make any difference between us."
+
+"There isn't much difference to make," she reminded him.
+
+"No, I suppose not," he admitted, slightly disconcerted. "We're merely
+acquaintances. Only"--he hesitated--"only I thought--perhaps--we might
+be friends."
+
+Which was going very strong--for Farwell. He said it awkwardly,
+stiffly, because he was quite unaccustomed to such phrase. Sheila
+smiled to herself in the growing darkness.
+
+"Well, friends if you like. But then we are of different camps--hostile
+camps."
+
+"But I'm not hostile," said Farwell. "That's nonsense. Business is
+business, but outside of that it cuts no ice with me."
+
+"Doesn't it?"
+
+"Not with me," he declared stoutly. "Not a bit. You didn't blow up the
+dam. Even if you had----"
+
+"Even if I had----"
+
+"I wouldn't care," Farwell blurted. "Thank the Lord I'm not
+narrow-minded."
+
+Sheila laughed. Her estimate of Farwell did not credit him with
+wideness of outlook. But her reply was prevented by the _thud-thud_ of
+rapid hoofs. A horse and rider loomed through the dark.
+
+"Hello, Sheila!" the rider called.
+
+"Why, Casey, this is luck!" she exclaimed. Farwell scowled at the
+evident pleasure in her voice. "Light down. Better put your horse in
+the stable."
+
+"That you, McCrae?" said Dunne, peering at the glow of Farwell's cigar.
+"I want to see you about----"
+
+"It's Mr. Farwell," Sheila interjected quickly.
+
+A pause. Casey's voice, smooth, polite, broke it.
+
+"I didn't recognize you, Mr. Farwell. How are you?" He dismounted,
+dropped his reins, and came upon the veranda. "Lovely night, isn't it?
+Well, and how is everything going with you?"
+
+"I'm fairly busy," Farwell replied grimly, "thanks to the actions of
+some persons who imagine themselves unknown."
+
+Casey Dunne lit a cigar and held the match in his hand till the flame
+touched his fingers. He spoke through the ensuing greater darkness:
+
+"I heard that your dam wasn't holding very well."
+
+"Not very well," Farwell agreed, struggling with his temper. "Perhaps
+you _heard_ that it was dynamited?"
+
+"I think I've heard most of the rumours," Dunne responded calmly.
+
+"I have no doubt of that," Farwell observed with meaning.
+
+"Great country for rumours," Casey went on. "Somebody always knows your
+inmost thoughts. Your intentions are known by others before you know
+them yourself. You are no exception, Mr. Farwell. The mind readers are
+busy with you. No action you might take would surprise them. They are
+quite ready for anything."
+
+"I may surprise these wise people yet," said Farwell. "I suppose they
+counted on depriving our lands of water by destroying our dam?"
+
+"That's certainly an original way of putting it," said Casey. "Well?"
+
+"Well, they didn't foresee that, though our permanent work is wrecked,
+and will take time to rebuild, we would put in a temporary wing of
+logs, brush, and sand which would give us a partial supply."
+
+"No, they didn't foresee that, likely," Casey admitted. "This wing dam
+of yours is quite an idea. By the way, I'm not getting enough water
+now, myself. Couldn't you get along with less than you are taking?"
+
+"No," Farwell returned shortly.
+
+"These wise people thought you could or would," said Casey, and,
+turning to Sheila, asked for her father. A few minutes afterward he
+strode off in search of him.
+
+Farwell endeavoured to pick up the broken thread of conversation with
+Sheila. But this proved difficult. She was preoccupied; and he himself
+found Dunne's concluding words sticking in his memory. Did they hide a
+sinister meaning? He disliked Dunne heartily, and he was jealous of him
+besides, without having any definite cause; but he no longer underrated
+him.
+
+On his way to camp he turned the problem over and over in his mind, but
+could make nothing of it, unless the words foreshadowed an attempt on
+the temporary dam. But there seemed to be little chance for the success
+of such an undertaking. Big acetylenes flared all night by the
+makeshift structure, and two men with shotguns watched by it. The whole
+camp was under almost martial law.
+
+Farwell walked down to the river before he retired, to find the
+watchman very wide awake and a torrent booming through the stone-faced
+canal intake, to be distributed through a network of ditches upon the
+company's lands miles away. Farwell, satisfied, instructed the watchmen
+to keep a bright lookout, and turned in.
+
+Once in the night he awoke with the impression that he had heard
+thunder, but as the stars were shining he put it down to a dream and
+went to sleep again. In the morning one of the watchmen reported a
+distant sound resembling a blast, but he had no idea where it was.
+Farwell attached no importance to it.
+
+But in the middle of the morning his ditch foreman, Bergin, rode in
+angry and profane. And his report caused similar manifestations in
+Farwell.
+
+The main canal and larger ditches had been blown up in half a dozen
+places, usually where they wound around sidehills, and the released
+water had wrought hideous damage to the banks, causing landslides,
+washing thousands of tons of soil away, making it necessary to alter
+the ditch line altogether or put in fluming where the damage had
+occurred.
+
+Nor was this all. Some three miles from the camp the main canal crossed
+a deep coulée. To get the water across, a trestle had been erected and
+a flume laid on it. The fluming was the largest size, patent-metal
+stuff, half round, joined with rods, riveted and clinched. To carry the
+volume of water there were three rows of this laid side by side,
+cemented into the main canal at the ends. It had been a beautiful and
+expensive job; and it reproduced finely in advertising matter. It was
+now a wreck.
+
+Farwell rode out with Bergin to the scene of devastation. Now trestle
+and fluming lay in bent, rent, and riven ruin at the bottom of the
+coulée. The canal vomited its contents indecently down the nearest
+bank. A muddy river flowed down the coulée's bed. And the peculiarly
+bitter part of the whole affair was that the water, following the
+course of the coulée, ran back into the river again, whence it was
+available for use by the ranchers. It was as if the river had never
+been dammed. What water was diverted by the temporary dam got back to
+the river by way of the canal and coulée, somewhat muddied, but equally
+wet, and just as good as ever for irrigation purposes.
+
+Bergin cursed afresh, but Farwell's anger was too bitter and deep for
+mere profanity. He sat in his saddle scowling at the wreck.
+
+Once more it had been put over on him. He thought he had taken every
+possible precaution. Of course, ditches might be cut at any time; short
+of a constant patrol there was no way of preventing that. But this
+coulée was a thing which any man with eyes in his head and a brain back
+of them might have seen and thought of. And he had allowed this costly
+bit of fluming to lie open to destruction when it was the very key to
+the situation, so far as the ranchers were concerned!
+
+His instructions had been to take the water to bring them to a properly
+humble frame of mind. It was part of his job to protect his employers'
+property; that was what he was there for. He had taken ordinary
+precautions, too, so far as the dam was concerned. But he had entirely
+overlooked the fact, as obvious as that water runs downhill, that if
+his canal were cut at the coulée its contents must flow back into the
+river. Everything was now set back. With this second outrage land sales
+would stop altogether. It was a sickening jolt. He thought of the
+questions he would have to answer. He would be asked why he hadn't done
+this. It would be no answer to point out that he had done that. People
+were always so cursed wise after the event!
+
+And then he remembered Casey Dunne's words. Dunne had said that he was
+not getting enough water, had asked for more, had practically given him
+warning. Now every rancher's ditches were running full, and all he had
+to show for his work was a horrible mass of wreckage.
+
+Farwell had disliked Dunne at first sight; now he hated him. He would
+have liked to come to actual grips with him, to break that lean, wiry
+body with his own tremendous strength, to bruise and batter that
+quietly mocking face with his great fists.
+
+But the worst of it all was that he had nothing to go on. There was not
+a shred of evidence to connect Dunne with the destruction of the dam
+and flume. The detective sent down by the company had looked wise but
+had found out nothing. The only thing in the nature of a clew was a
+moccasin track, and that led to young McCrae, whom, for Sheila's sake,
+he did not wish to involve. He felt that through no fault of his own he
+had made a mess of everything. The ranchers had won every round. As
+Africa had been the grave of countless military reputations, so Farwell
+saw his own repute interred along the Coldstream.
+
+Something had to be done. He was tired of taking unavailing
+precautions, of sitting passively waiting for attacks. In the nature of
+things it was impossible to guard adequately works extending over miles
+of uninhabited country. Guerilla warfare could not be met by regular
+tactics.
+
+As he scowled down at the muddy torrent an idea began to germinate in
+his mind. The main thing was to crush these ranchers, to bring them to
+their knees. After that all would be easy, there would be an end of
+difficulties. The engineering problems were the least. He had a free
+hand; he was backed by an enormous corporation which would go the
+limit. He resolved to fight fire with fire--to give the ranchers a dose
+of their own medicine.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+When Clyde Burnaby entered Wade's office, that busy lawyer was much
+surprised. "I thought you had gone away," he said as they shook hands.
+"It beats me how any young woman with the price of an elsewhere can
+stay in this town in summer."
+
+Clyde laughed as she sat down. She looked deliciously cool, though the
+mercury was in the nineties, and the dusty cañonlike streets were like
+ovens. "I was on the point of going," she admitted, "but I don't know
+where to go. I came for some information on another point, Mr. Wade."
+
+"Yes?" said Wade interrogatively. "We carry a very complete stock of
+information here." He waved a hand at the formidable rows of half-calf
+and circuit bindings in his bookcase. "What particular shade, model, or
+style may I show you? Something seasonable and yet durable? Here is a
+very attractive and well-bound ten-pound creation covering most of the
+common or garden varieties of contract, including breach of promise to
+marry. Nice summer reading. Or, perhaps----"
+
+"Now _do_ you think any sensible man would break such a promise to me?"
+she laughed.
+
+"You know the answer already," Wade replied. "You are a very
+good-looking young woman--almost as good-looking as Kitty."
+
+"Model husband," Clyde commented approvingly. "Kitty is a darling. But
+to come to the point, Mr. Wade, I want some information about Mr.
+Dunne."
+
+"Casey Dunne?" inquired Wade, with a slight lift of his brows. "What
+has he been doing? What do you want to know about him?"
+
+"I want to know about his business affairs--or perhaps I should say his
+business troubles."
+
+"Why?" Wade asked bluntly, eying her with curiosity.
+
+Clyde's colour heightened a little but she met his gaze directly. "I
+had a letter from him," she replied, "in which, among other things, he
+referred to his troubles with the railway company that owns land in his
+district--troubles about water. It seems to be a serious matter."
+
+"How did he happen to write you about it?" asked Wade. "Do you
+correspond? I beg your pardon. It's none of my business, but Casey
+isn't given to telling his troubles."
+
+"I think," said Clyde, "I had better tell you how I first met Mr.
+Dunne." She did so, considerably to Wade's surprise.
+
+"That's just like Casey all through," he commented. "Close as a clam.
+Never told me about meeting you before. And so he lent you ten dollars!
+You!" He chuckled at the idea. "Well, later he may have a use for that
+same ten."
+
+"You really mean that? If money would help him now----"
+
+"It isn't necessary just yet. I'll tell you how matters stand." He did
+so with brevity and lucidity. "The situation now is that the government
+leaves the right to water to be determined by the courts. The court
+won't sit till some time in September. So there you are. Meanwhile the
+company is trying to take the water and the ranchers are trying to
+prevent them. So far nobody has been hurt, but I'm afraid, with the
+bitterness which is sure to develop, there may be serious trouble at
+any time."
+
+"Mr. Dunne and his friends have not funds for a long legal fight?"
+
+"No. Casey himself is land poor--that is, he has put every dollar he
+could rake together into land. He will either go broke or make a
+killing. The others have good ranches, but no money. And they can't
+raise any on their land, for nobody would lend under these conditions.
+Their very existence is involved."
+
+"I have plenty of money," said Clyde. "More than I know what to do
+with; more than I can ever spend, living as I do. I will give you a
+check now for whatever sum you require to take this case to the very
+highest court."
+
+"That's a very generous offer," said Wade, "but I can't accept it. It's
+not merely a case of lack of the sinews of war. It's a case of a huge
+corporation against a few individuals with as little influence as they
+have money. You might put up law costs to an enormous extent uselessly.
+You see, you would be bucking Western Airline. Your respected uncle
+might do that, but you can't."
+
+Clyde's smooth forehead wrinkled thoughtfully. But she merely said: "If
+I can do anything--with money or in any other way--for Mr. Dunne and
+his friends, I'm ready to do it."
+
+"I don't know what you can do just now," said Wade. "I'm going on a
+vacation for a few weeks. Most of it I intend to spend out in that part
+of the country. When I return I'll know more about it."
+
+"Is Kitty going, too?" Clyde asked.
+
+"She wants to, but I don't like the idea. It's a little rough there.
+I'd prefer her to go where she'd be more comfortable."
+
+"She wouldn't enjoy it alone."
+
+"Suppose you keep her company," Wade suggested. "She'd be delighted."
+
+"Suppose," said Clyde, "we both keep you company?"
+
+"Eh!" said Wade.
+
+"Well, why not? We're both sick of dressed-up summer resorts. I want to
+see this country of Mr. Dunne's. We can rough it if we have to. We'll
+have a camp or take a house--we'll get along somehow."
+
+"Oh, nonsense!" Wade objected. "You wouldn't like it. It's as hot as
+perdition in the daytime. You'd be sick of it."
+
+"If we don't like it we can leave. If Kitty will go and doesn't object
+to me, will you take us both?"
+
+"You'll both go if you want to, whether I say 'no' or not," said Wade.
+"Is this a put-up job? Have you fixed it with Kitty?"
+
+"Not yet," said Clyde, her eyes twinkling, "but I'm going to."
+
+From Wade's office Clyde went straight to the headquarters of the Hess
+System, finding its chief in the act of leaving.
+
+Jim Hess was big, carelessly dressed, kindly faced, and the gray of his
+close-clipped moustache was yellowed by smoke. He sat down and motioned
+his niece to a seat, his hand mechanically searching for a cigar.
+
+"Well, young lady, what's the trouble?" he asked.
+
+"I want about fifteen minutes of your time, Uncle Jim."
+
+"Easy," Hess commented. As a rule he was sparing of words. "I was
+afraid you wanted to borrow money." Nevertheless he eyed her shrewdly.
+She was a great favourite of his, and he devoted much more time to her
+affairs than she suspected.
+
+Beginning at the beginning, she told him of Casey Dunne, her meeting
+with him, the water trouble, and the attitude of the Western Airline.
+Her memory was good and her understanding excellent. Therefore she was
+able to state the case clearly.
+
+"This Dunne and his friends," Hess commented, "seem to me to be up
+against it."
+
+"I thought that you might be able to do something to help them."
+
+"What?"
+
+"I didn't know. But you are a railway man. You may have some influence
+with Mr. York or his directors. Perhaps you might bring influence to
+bear."
+
+Hess smiled grimly. "Old Nick has more influence with York than I have.
+He crosses the street when he sees me. I like him about as much as he
+likes me. He's boss of his own show--his directors cut no ice. Anyway,
+it's none of my business. I've no excuse for butting in." Her face
+showed her disappointment. "I'm sorry," said Hess. "I'd do anything I
+could for you, little girl, or for any one who ever did you a good
+turn. But you see how it is. I can't ask favours of York and his crowd.
+If I did they'd only refuse."
+
+"Of course not--if it's that way," Clyde acknowledged. "I didn't know.
+I thought you might be able to do something or suggest something."
+
+Hess was silent, smoking meditatively, drawing aimless lines on a
+blotter. "Got much money loose?" he asked suddenly.
+
+"Plenty," Clyde replied. "Why?"
+
+"Well," said Hess slowly, "just at present Western Air looks to me like
+good buying."
+
+"Does it? I'll buy a little, if you say so."
+
+"Don't say I said so; don't mention my name. Tell your brokers to buy
+quietly at the market just as much as you can stand. Tell 'em to buy
+till you countermand their instructions. I'll let you know when to do
+that. Tell 'em to buy at the present market. If the price breaks keep
+on buying. And if you go away anywhere let me know where a wire will
+get you."
+
+"Thanks, Uncle Jim," said Clyde. "You think Western Air is a good
+investment, then?"
+
+"I didn't say that--I said it was good buying," said Hess. "It's not
+high now. Some day"--he hesitated--"some day it ought to be worth as
+much as Hess System--as much as one of our own stocks."
+
+With this prophecy, which he appeared to regret, Jim Hess patted his
+niece on the shoulder, told her not to worry about other people's
+troubles, and departed to keep his engagement.
+
+Clyde immediately rang up Mrs. Wade, and, finding her at home,
+proceeded there at once, to "fix" matters; a thing by no means hard to
+accomplish, for Kitty Wade found the prospect of a lonesome vacation
+very unattractive, and was a willing conspirator.
+
+"We'll just _make_ Harrison take us," she declared. "We'll have all
+sorts of a good time, too, riding and driving and fishing and whatever
+else they do. Won't it be a relief not to have to dress up? And I'll be
+an ideal chaperon, dear, upon my word."
+
+"Oh, my liking for Mr. Dunne hasn't reached that stage," laughed Clyde,
+flushing a little, but too wise to pretend density. She had ever found
+that the best defence against such badinage lay in frankness. "But
+don't leave me alone with him, Kitty. It might end with his endowing me
+with his name and worldly goods. 'Mrs. Casey Dunne!' Euphonious, don't
+you think? I wonder if I should like to hear myself announced in that
+way?"
+
+Kitty Wade glanced at her narrowly. Clyde's face expressed nothing but
+laughing amusement.
+
+"Harrison has a high opinion of him," she said. "I believe his father
+was supposed to be wealthy until after his death, when Mr. Dunne was a
+boy. And he is very presentable. I think he deserves a great deal of
+credit."
+
+"So do I," Clyde agreed heartily. "I told Mr. Wade that I was prepared
+to furnish whatever money was needed for this lawsuit of Mr. Dunne's."
+
+"You did!" exclaimed Mrs. Wade. "Why, Clyde whatever for? How does it
+concern you?"
+
+And Clyde told her for the first time of her first meeting with Casey
+Dunne.
+
+"And you never told me!" Kitty Wade commented, as her husband had done.
+"It's a real romance in real life. But I think you are the most
+generous girl I ever heard of. If you were in love with him, of course
+that would explain it. Aren't you, now--a little?"
+
+"I'm not in love with him, Kitty--honestly I'm not," Clyde responded.
+"I don't know whether I shall ever be or not. He did me a service which
+I would like to repay. I have more money than I know what to do with.
+If money would help him over a rough place it was up to me. At least,
+that's how I looked at it. And as for going out to his country--why, I
+want to, that's all. I want to see the country which produces that sort
+of man. He's different from the others, somehow. I don't think he cares
+whether I have money or not. He wasn't going to recall himself to me
+till I practically recognized him. I know I'm good-looking and I know
+he knows it, but I don't think he cares. And he'd never have written me
+in this world or told me a thing about it himself if I hadn't written
+him first and asked him to."
+
+"Why, Clyde!" Kitty Wade exclaimed in amazement.
+
+"That's exactly what I did," Clyde asseverated. "If I were in love with
+him that would be the last thing I'd own up to, wouldn't it? Heavens
+above! Kitty, I know it's unmaidenly by all the old standards. You're
+married; you have your husband and your home and your interests. I have
+none of these things. You can't realize how utterly purposeless and
+idle and empty my life is. Just killing time. That was well enough a
+few years ago, and I enjoyed it. But now I'm as old as you are. I want
+something different from the daily and yearly round of sameness. If I
+were a man I'd work sixteen hours a day. If I had any special talent
+I'd cultivate it. But I haven't. I'm just an ordinary rich girl, in
+danger of physical and mental stagnation--in danger of marrying some
+equally rich man whom I don't love, in order to provide myself with new
+interests."
+
+"Casey Dunne is a new interest, I suppose," said Kitty Wade dryly.
+
+"I wish you wouldn't, Kitty," said Clyde.
+
+"Then I won't," said Kitty Wade, "for I think you believe what you say.
+Which," she added to herself, "is more than I do, young lady."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+On all the ranches along the Coldstream there was water in plenty. The
+ditches ran brimful. In the fields the soil was dark with grateful
+moisture; the roots of the grain drank deep, fed full on the stored
+fertility of ages magically released by the water, and shot suddenly
+from small, frail plants, apparently lying thinly in the drills, into
+crowding, lusty growths, vigorous, strong-stemmed, robust, throwing
+millions of green pennants to the warm winds. Down the length of the
+fields at narrow intervals trickled little streams like liquid silver
+wires strung against a background of living emerald. Pullulation was
+forced, swift, marvellous; one could almost hear the grain grow.
+
+Though everything pointed to a bumper crop, this depended on a
+continued water supply, and the ranchers took full advantage of the
+present, for none could tell how long the conditions would endure. As
+soon as one piece of land had sufficient moisture the water was shifted
+elsewhere; they allowed no overflow, no waste. This meant long hours,
+continuous, if not arduous work.
+
+Naturally each ranch's main ditch was the heart of its water supply.
+From these, smaller ditches carried the supply to the different fields.
+These represented the arteries. The small streams trickling down the
+long irrigation marks through the grain and root crops might be likened
+to veins. To supply these it was necessary to tap the arteries every
+few yards; and the adjustment of these outlets, as ditches always lower
+during the heat of the day when suction and evaporation are the
+greatest and rise in the cooler hours of the night, was a matter of
+some skill and difficulty.
+
+Dunne and his entire force worked overtime, taking all they could get
+while they could get it. Glass, the timorous would-be investor, paid
+him several visits. The first time Casey himself showed him over the
+ranch, explaining the theory and practice of irrigation, telling him
+what crops could be grown, what could not be grown, and what might
+perhaps be grown but as yet had not been proven. Glass absorbed this
+information like a sponge. Once more he recited his doubts and fears,
+going over the same ground with wearying detail. Casey, on the second
+visit, handed him over to Tom McHale, who listened pityingly.
+
+"This here Glass sure needs a guardian or a nursemaid or something," he
+told Casey afterward. "He don't seem to know which way to string his
+chips. He makes me that tired I sorter suggests maybe he'd better pray
+about it; and he says he's done that, too, but don't seem to git no
+straight answer. So I tells him if the Lord don't know I surely don't.
+And then he says he'll ask his wife. His wife! Whatever do you think of
+that? I quit him right there!"
+
+But Glass wandered from ranch to ranch, a harmless bore, relating his
+perplexities to people too busy to listen. Finally he announced that he
+had bought land and sent for his family. And on the strength of this
+began his rounds again, eager for agricultural information.
+
+At this time Casey received a letter from Wade giving the date of his
+long-promised visit to Coldstream. He added that his wife and Miss
+Burnaby would accompany him. They would stay, he said, in town, at the
+hotel. Immediately Casey went into committee with Tom McHale.
+
+"Wade was coming here," he said. "The ladies complicate matters, but
+we'll have to do the best we can. It's the house that worries me. It's
+not furnished the way I'd like to have it. And then it's small. I guess
+we'll have to move out, Tom."
+
+"Sure," McHale agreed at once. "We can bed down anywheres. I'll rig up
+a couple of bunks in the new tool house. We're pretty well along with
+the water. I can 'tend to that while you show 'em the country."
+
+Straightway Casey commanded Feng, his Chinaman, to clean and scrub,
+much to that Celestial's disgust.
+
+"What foh?" he demanded. "Housee plenty clean. Las spling me _hiyu_
+sclub, _hiyu_ wash, _hiyu_ sweep undeh bed. All light now."
+
+"All right for man; no good for woman," Casey explained. "Two lady come
+stop, Feng."
+
+"Ho!" said Feng, adjusting his mind to a new situation. "You and Tom
+mally him?"
+
+"No," Casey responded. "One married already. Ladies all same my
+friends, Feng."
+
+"No good." Feng announced with certainty. "Woman fliend no good. All
+time makee too much wo'k. All time kick at glub. Mebbyso want blekfust
+in bed. Mebbyso bling baby. Neveh give Chinaboy a dolla'. No good.
+S'pose you bling woman fliend me quit. Me go back to China."
+
+"If you quit me now, one dead China boy stop," Casey threatened. He
+added craftily: "This lady _tyee_ lady. All same mandarin's daughter.
+_Hiyu_ rich!"
+
+"Ho!" said Feng thoughtfully. "_Hiyu_ lich, eh? All light. Me clean
+housee."
+
+But, though he had won this diplomatic victory, Casey was not
+satisfied. Finally he took his perplexities to Sheila, enlisting her
+aid in problems of decoration and the like.
+
+"Where does this Miss Burnaby come in?" she asked. "Who is she?"
+
+Casey told her, and she frowned dubiously.
+
+"Seems to me you butted into real society when you went outside, Casey.
+If she has all that money she's apt to be pernickity. I hate fussy
+women. Is she pretty?"
+
+"Why--yes, I think so," he admitted. "Oh, yes, she's pretty--no doubt
+about that. But I don't think she's fussy. You'll like her, Sheila. She
+doesn't scare or rattle easily. In some ways she reminds me of you."
+
+"Thank you. And how do you know she doesn't scare or rattle?"
+
+He evaded the question. "I don't think she would."
+
+"Why didn't you ever mention her before?"
+
+"Never thought of it. I hadn't the least notion that Mrs. Wade was
+coming, let alone Miss Burnaby. You see, it puts me up against it. I'll
+be ever so much obliged if you'll help me out."
+
+"I'll come over and arrange things in the rooms, of course," Sheila
+acquiesced.
+
+And so, when Casey awaited the coming of the train which bore his
+guests, it was with the knowledge that his rough-and-tumble, quarters
+had been made as presentable as possible.
+
+Wade and his party descended, attended by an obsequious porter laden
+with bags, and in a moment Casey was shaking hands.
+
+"And so this is your country!" said Mrs. Wade eying her surroundings
+rather dubiously. In her heart she was appalled at the prospect of
+passing several weeks in such a place.
+
+"Well, some of it isn't mine," he laughed. "I wish it were. This is
+only the makings, Mrs. Wade. Wait a few years. Now, here's what we do.
+We have dinner at the hotel. Afterward we drive out to the ranch where
+you are all to stay."
+
+Wade and his wife protested. They couldn't think of it. Clyde said
+nothing. Casey appealed to her.
+
+"What do you say Miss Burnaby? Will you brave the discomforts of a
+shack in the dry belt?"
+
+"I'm in the hands of my friends," she laughed.
+
+"That includes me," said Casey. "Everything's fixed for you. This is my
+stamping ground, and I'm boss. What I say goes." He introduced Mr.
+Quilty, who was hovering in the background, and chuckled as that
+garrulous gentleman proceeded to unwind an apparently endless welcome.
+
+"I like him," Clyde whispered.
+
+"Pure gold," said Casey, and created a diversion. He helped Quilty
+deposit the bags in the station.
+
+"Thon's a fine gyurrl," said the latter, with a jerk of his thumb
+toward the platform."
+
+"Right," Casey replied.
+
+"Oh, trust a quiet devil like yourself to pick wan out," said the
+little station agent. "I was the same meself, whin I was more younger
+nor what I am now. I fell dead in love with a fine, big gyurrl be th'
+name iv--iv--dom'd if I don't forget the name iv her, onless it was
+Mary or Josephine--no, thim came afther. What th' divil are ye laughin'
+at? Annyways, me an' this gyurrl that I loved that I forget the name
+iv, was strollin' wan night be moonlight, d'ye see me, now? And we come
+to where there was a stump risin' maybe two fut clear iv th'
+ground--ye'll wonder what th' stump had to do wid ut, but listen--and I
+stopped and put me arrm around her waist--or tried to; for a fine
+circumferenshus waist she had. Faix, a wan-arrmed man'd've been up
+against it intirely wid her--and I sez to her, 'Lena'--that was her
+name, Lena, I remimber now, and she was a Swede--'Lena,' I sez, 'luk at
+the moon!' 'Ay see him,' she sez. 'Turn yer sweet face a little more to
+the southeast,' I sez, that bein' to'rd the stump I mintioned before;
+an' when I had her at the right angle I made a lep up on the stump and
+kissed her. Faix, and the same was a forced play, me bein' the height I
+am, and her over six fut. 'I love yez,' I sez; 'say yez love me!'"
+
+"Well, what did she say?" asked Casey, as Mr. Quilty paused for breath.
+
+"She concealed her feelin's," Mr. Quilty replied sadly. "She said, 'Ay
+tenk ve go home now. Ay don't vant no feller vat have to mek love med a
+step-ladder!' And afther that, mind ye, what does she do but take up
+wid another little divil wid no legs at all, havin' lost them under a
+shuntin' ingin. But his artfulness is such that he gets extra-long
+imitation wans, like stilts, to do his coortin' on. An', though he
+looks like a cross bechune a sparrow and a crane and has to carry an
+oil can when he walks or else creak like a stable door in Janooary, she
+marries him and keeps him in luxury be takin' in washin' for the camps.
+And so, ye see, though I had stood on wan stump to kiss her, ivery time
+he done the likes he had to stand on _two_!"
+
+"Corney," said Casey gravely, "you are an awful liar."
+
+"I will not be insulted by yez," Mr. Quilty retorted with equal
+gravity. "I will consider the soorce from which ut comes. G'wan out of
+here, before I do yez injury."
+
+Immediately after dinner Casey brought up his road team, two wiry,
+slashing chestnuts. The Wades occupied the rear seat. Clyde sat beside
+Casey. The horses started with a rush that brought a gasp from Mrs.
+Wade. Clyde involuntarily caught the seat rail.
+
+"It's all right," Casey assured them. "A little fresh, that's all. They
+know they're going home. It's their way of saying they're glad. You,
+Dick--you, Doc! Behave, behave!" He had them in hand, checking their
+impatience to an easy jog, holding them fretting against the bit. "I'll
+let them out in a mile or two. Do you know horses, Miss Burnaby?"
+
+"A very little. I ride and drive; but I like quiet animals."
+
+"Oh, these are quiet." He smiled back at Mrs. Wade.
+
+"Are they?" that lady commented. "Then I don't want to drive behind
+wild ones."
+
+A light wind was in their faces, blowing the dust backward. The town
+vanished suddenly, lost behind swells of brown grasses. The road wound
+tortuously onward, skirting little groves of cottonwoods, swinging
+along gulches, sometimes plunging down them and ascending in long
+grades on the thither side.
+
+Clyde drank in the sweet, thin air eagerly. The city and her everyday
+life seemed far behind. Heretofore her holidays had been passed in
+places where pleasure was a business. This was to be different. She
+would not look for amusement; she would let it come to her. She felt
+that she was entering a world of which she knew little, peopled by
+those whose outlook was strange. It seemed, somehow, that this journey
+was to be fateful--that she had placed herself in the grip of
+circumstances which moved her without volition. Where and how, she
+wondered vaguely, would it end?
+
+She glanced at Dunne's profile, shaded by the hat brim tilted over his
+eyes against the sun; at his buckskin-gloved hands holding the reins
+against the steady pull of the big chestnuts; downward over the
+dashboard at their hoofs falling with the forceful impact of hammers
+and yet rising with the light springiness of an athlete's foot,
+throwing the miles behind them scornfully. And she was dreamily
+content.
+
+"You're going to like it," said Dunne suddenly.
+
+"Am I?" she smiled. "How do you know? How did you know?"
+
+"It's largely a guess. I was nervous at first."
+
+"And now?"
+
+"No. This is a plain, dusty trail, the grass is so dry it's almost
+dead, the scenery is conspicuously absent, the smell of leather and
+horseflesh isn't especially pleasant--and yet you are not noticing
+these things. The bigness and the newness of the land have got you,
+Miss Burnaby. You don't know it and you can't put it into words--I
+can't myself--but the feeling is there. You are one of us at heart."
+
+"Of 'us'?"
+
+"The people of the new lands--the pioneers, if you choose, the modern
+colonists, the trail blazers."
+
+"I wonder." The idea was new. She considered it gravely. "My parents
+were city folks; I have lived in the city all my life. And yet I think
+I have the feeling you speak of. Only I can't put it into words
+either."
+
+"If you could you would be the most famous person in the world. The
+song is there, waiting the singer. It has always been there, waiting,
+and the singer has never come. We who hear it in our hearts have no
+voices. Now and then some genius strikes the chord by accident, almost,
+and loses it. I don't think any one will ever find it completely. But
+if some one should! Heavens! What a grand harmony it would be."
+
+She glanced at him curiously. He was not looking at her. His eyes were
+on a little cloud, a white island in a sapphire sea. He seemed to be
+paying no attention whatever to the road, to his surroundings. But as
+one of the chestnuts stumbled over a loose stone he lifted him
+instantly with the reins and administered a sharp word of reproof and a
+light cut of the whip.
+
+"He didn't mean to stumble," said Clyde.
+
+"He should have meant not to. A horse that isn't tired and is paying
+attention to business should never stumble on a road. It's the slouchy
+horse that breaks his kind owner's neck some day. Now I'm going to let
+them out."
+
+So far as Clyde could observe, he did absolutely nothing. But
+immediately, as though some subtle current had passed from his hands
+along the lines, the horses' heads came up, their ears pricked forward,
+their stride quickened and lengthened, and the measured beat of their
+hoofs became a quickstep. The horses themselves seemed to exult in the
+change of pace, filling their great lungs through widened nostrils and
+expelling the air noisily, shaking their heads, proud of themselves and
+their work.
+
+Mrs. Wade laid a nervous hand on her husband's arm as the light wagon
+rattled down a descent. But Clyde sat quietly, her lips slightly
+parted, her eyes shining as the warm wind poured past in a torrent
+plucking at vagrant strands of her coppery golden hair.
+
+"Fifteen miles an hour," said Casey. "Like it?"
+
+"It's better than fifty in a car," she replied.
+
+"The difference between God-made and man-made horsepower. Some people
+can't appreciate it."
+
+"I can. It isn't the end--the pace alone. It's the means to the end."
+
+"Plus the love of human flesh and blood for other flesh and blood.
+You've got it. I won't keep them at this. Too warm."
+
+It was late afternoon when Chakchak came into view. It appeared
+suddenly as they swung around the corner of a butte, lying below them,
+the emerald of its fields drenched with the gold of the sloping sun.
+
+"My kingdom!" said Casey. "Welcome to it!"
+
+Clyde was surprised, in a measure disappointed. She had pictured it
+differently. With her the word "ranch" had connoted large prairie
+areas, bald landscapes, herds of cattle, lonely horsemen, buildings
+more or less ugly, unrelieved by any special surroundings. Here were
+green fields, trees, water, painted barns, and a neat little house of
+the bungalow type.
+
+"Why," she exclaimed, "it's a farm!"
+
+"Thank you," he responded; "that's what we're trying to make it. Only
+out here we call them 'ranches.' Slightly more picturesque term,
+glorified by fiction, calculated to appeal to the imagination. Gives
+the impression of a free, breezy life in which the horse does all the
+work. Invaluable in selling land. But in strict confidence I may say
+that work on a farm in the East and on a ranch in the West are
+twins--you can't tell t'other from which."
+
+McHale appeared as they drove up, to relieve Casey of the horses. He
+was freshly shaven, and dressed with unusual care. Feng, in white
+jacket and apron, grinned from his quarters, appraising the "_hiyu_
+lich gal," with an eye to possible dollars.
+
+"Now, this house," Casey explained, as they entered, "belongs to you
+three. It's yours to have, hold, and occupy for your sole use and
+benefit while you are here. Is that sufficiently legal, Wade? The
+Chinaman is yours, too. He takes his orders from you. Mrs. Wade, your
+room is there. Miss Burnaby, that one is intended for you. But if you
+like to change about, do so, by all means."
+
+"And which is your room?" Wade asked.
+
+"I'm bunking in one of the other buildings."
+
+"What? We're putting you out of your own house!" Wade exclaimed. "That
+won't do, Casey, really it won't. We won't let you."
+
+"Of course not," his wife concurred.
+
+"Indeed we won't," said Clyde.
+
+But Casey was firm. He explained that he came and went at all hours,
+rose early, had to be where he could confer with McHale. He insisted on
+his fictions, and ended by half convincing them.
+
+Clyde, entering the room he had pointed out as hers, was struck by its
+absolute cleanness and daintiness. The curtains were tastefully draped,
+tied with ribbon; there were scarfs on dresser and stand, pin-cushion
+and pins, little trays for trifles. The bed was made with hospital
+neatness.
+
+A moment afterward Kitty Wade entered, looking around.
+
+"Yours, too," she said. "No mere bachelor ever did these things, Clyde.
+The Chinaman is out of the question. It is to find the woman."
+
+"We'll ask Mr. Dunne," said Clyde.
+
+But it was not till after dinner that Kitty Wade did so.
+
+"Miss McCrae was kind enough to fix up the rooms for you," Casey
+replied.
+
+"Who is Miss McCrae?"
+
+Casey pulled a handful of photographs from a drawer, and shuffled them.
+He handed one to Mrs. Wade.
+
+"That's Sheila McCrae. I'll drive you over to Talapus, her father's
+place, one of these days."
+
+Clyde, moved by an interest which she could not understand, bent over
+Kitty Wade's shoulder. The picture was an enlarged snapshot, but a
+splendid likeness. Sheila was standing, one hand by her side holding
+her riding hat, the other, half raised to her hair, as if to arrange it
+when the shutter had opened. Her dark, keen face with its touch of
+wistfulness looked full at them.
+
+"What a nice-looking girl!" Kitty Wade exclaimed. "Don't you think so,
+Clyde?"
+
+Clyde agreed perfunctorily. But, looking into the steady, fearless eyes
+of the pictured girl, she felt a vague, incomprehensible hostility.
+Kitty Wade glanced at her quickly, detecting the strained note. Clyde
+felt the glance, and inwardly resented it. Kitty Wade's eyes were
+altogether too observant.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+When Clyde awoke next morning she lay for some time in dreamy content.
+She was deliciously rested. The cold, clear, early morning air pouring
+in through the open window beneath the partially drawn blind was like
+an invigorating draught. Outside, beyond the shade of the veranda, she
+could see sunlight. Somewhere a horse whinnied. In the house she could
+hear an occasional rattle of dishes. She rose and dressed, humming a
+song. She felt strangely happy, as though she had attained a
+long-sought goal. Life that morning seemed to take on a new meaning to
+her; to be sweeter and cleaner, good in itself, a thing to rejoice in.
+The very air she breathed seemed charged with the indistinguishable
+odours of growing things, as it might strike the unspoiled, sensitive
+nostrils of a child. She felt a child's joy in merely being.
+
+"How well you are looking, Clyde," said Kitty Wade, as she entered the
+breakfast room.
+
+"Positively blooming," said Wade.
+
+"Positively bloomin' hungry," laughed Clyde. "I haven't had such an
+appetite since I left boarding school."
+
+"God save all here!" said Casey, from the door. "How did you sleep? No
+need to ask you ladies, and it doesn't matter about Wade. Hey, you,
+Feng! You catch breakfast quick!"
+
+During the meal they made plans for the day. In the morning Casey was
+going to shift the water to his oats; in the afternoon he would drive
+them over to Talapus. They would have supper there, and return by
+moonlight. Meanwhile they were to consider the place theirs, to go
+where and do what they liked.
+
+"I'll help you," Wade offered.
+
+"We'll all help you," said Clyde.
+
+"I can rig Wade out for irrigating," Casey replied, "but not you
+ladies. It's too muddy a job for you."
+
+"But I should like to see how it is done," said Clyde.
+
+She had her way, and accompanied them to the field, watching the
+turning of the water down the rows, the careful adjustment of its flow,
+and the progress of the streams. In spite of her care she became wet
+and muddy--and enjoyed herself the more.
+
+"I told you so," said Casey. "No sympathy, Miss Burnaby."
+
+"I don't want it. I'm enjoying myself. I'd like to play in the water,
+to sail sticks down the ditch, and pretend that they were boats."
+
+"Shocking!" he laughed. "But I'd like to play with you."
+
+"Nice pair of kids you are," Wade commented. He was perspiring from
+unaccustomed exertion. "'Pon my soul, though, I feel the same. To think
+of me messing away my life in a tenth-story office worrying about other
+people's business and quarrels! What do you keep in this air, Casey?
+Old Ponce de Leon's Fountain of Youth?"
+
+"I keep some very fair Scotch in a cupboard at the house," Casey
+responded. "The water is all right now. Suppose we adjourn."
+
+"I'll go you once," said Wade.
+
+"Where do I come in?" Clyde asked. "I'm thirsty, too."
+
+"Feng shall produce Chakchak fizzes for both of us."
+
+They trooped into the house, thirsty, hungry, and laughing, and Kitty
+Wade exclaimed at Clyde's dress.
+
+"Thank Heaven I didn't go!" she cried. "Mr. Dunne, you should get a
+commission from her dressmaker."
+
+"Oh, this will wash. And I'm so beautifully hungry and thirsty."
+
+"Thirsty! With all that water?" said Kitty Wade.
+
+"What's water got to do with real thirst?" her husband demanded. "Come
+on, Casey; don't muzzle the ox, you know. Produce that Wonderful Remedy
+from the Land o' Cakes. It was oats we were irrigating, wasn't it? Very
+appropriate. Here's to Oats--oatmeal, rolled oats, wild oats, and Titus
+Oates. 'Tak' a wee bit drappie----'"
+
+"Whatever has got into you?" his wife demanded.
+
+"I feel like a pup off a chain," Wade admitted.
+
+After dinner Clyde went to her room to prepare for the drive to
+Talapus. She inspected her limited wardrobe thoughtfully, finally
+selecting the plainest and most unpretentious attire in her possession;
+so that when she took a last look in the mirror she saw a girl wearing
+a panama hat, a white shirtwaist, and a tweed golf skirt. Kitty Wade,
+rather more elaborately costumed, eyed her critically.
+
+"Oh, bother!" she said. "This isn't fair. You make me feel all dressed
+up, but it's too much trouble to change."
+
+"I looked at it the other way--it was too much trouble to dress up,"
+Clyde replied. "I don't suppose one needs to, out here. I'm going to
+be comfy, anyway."
+
+Kitty Wade forebore comment, but she smiled wisely to herself. Inwardly
+she reflected that simplicity of dress was Clyde's long suit. With her
+hair, complexion, and figure the less fussiness there was to distract
+the eye the better. And Mrs. Wade was inclined to attribute to the
+fortunate owner of these things a perfect knowledge of this fact.
+
+Mrs. Wade had the front seat, beside Casey, while Clyde sat with Wade.
+Clyde experienced a distinct feeling of disappointment. Wade was a good
+companion and a good friend, _but_--and the "but" was a big one.
+
+She found herself listening to Casey's voice, watching the set of his
+shoulders, noting the deep, living bronze of his skin. From time to
+time he turned, including them in the conversation, pointing out things
+of interest to Wade. But nevertheless she did not enjoy the drive.
+
+"I sent word that we were coming," said Casey, as they sighted the
+ranch. "That was in the interests of the ladies mostly."
+
+"Of course," Wade agreed. "Women always like people to find them all
+togged up, as if they never did a day's work in their lives. I catch it
+from Kitty if I bring any one home with me without due notice. If women
+only knew how much better they look in ordinary clothes!"
+
+Kitty Wade, turning her head to retort, surprised a quiet, enigmatic
+smile on Clyde's face. Their eyes met, and keen question and defiant
+answer leaped across the glance. Kitty Wade let the retort remain
+unspoken, and contemplated the nigh chestnut's ears, for her husband's
+last words had given her a clew.
+
+"Oh, Clyde Burnaby, Clyde Burnaby!" she said to herself with a little
+shake of the head. "Now I know. What a deep finesse! You think
+that this McCrae girl will put on her best country-maid--or
+country-made--finery; and you, in your studied simplicity, will show
+the better by contrast--to the masculine eye, at least. I give you full
+credit, my dear. Not one woman in a thousand would have thought of it.
+_I_ shouldn't, and I know men better than you do. But why did you do
+it? Are you _jealous_ of a girl you've never seen? And does that mean
+you care--seriously care--for our pleasant but likely impecunious Mr.
+Dunne?"
+
+She was still puzzling over this problem when they drove up to the
+house. Donald McCrae and his wife welcomed them, and he and Casey took
+the team to the stable. But as the others reached the welcome shade of
+the veranda Sheila emerged from the house and came forward. At sight of
+her Kitty Wade smiled to herself.
+
+For Sheila had not donned finery. She was clad in simple white,
+unrelieved by any touch of colour. Not a ring adorned her slim, brown
+hands. Her masses of glistening, brown hair were dressed low on her
+head, giving an effect almost girlish, softening the keenness of her
+face. She was as composed, as dignified, as essentially ladylike as
+Clyde herself.
+
+Clyde thanked her gracefully for the arrangement of their rooms. It was
+very good of her to take such trouble for strangers.
+
+"Oh, but I'm afraid I did that for Casey, and not for the strangers,"
+laughed Sheila. "I hope old Feng didn't undo my work. He thought I was
+butting in. Anyway, Casey would have seen that you were comfortable,
+though some of his ideas of domestic arrangements are masculine, to say
+the least of them." She told the story of the hen, and set them
+laughing.
+
+Later Casey, having stabled the horses, came up with McCrae. "Well,
+Sheila, what's the good word?" he asked. "What yarns have you been
+telling Miss Burnaby?"
+
+"I was telling her of your poultry system."
+
+"Miss McCrae has been suggesting all sorts of things for our
+amusement," said Clyde; "from a dance to riding lessons."
+
+"I didn't say a word about lessons," Sheila protested.
+
+"But I need them," Clyde admitted. "I never pretend to know what I
+don't know."
+
+"Sheila can give most men lessons," said Casey. "The only objection I
+have is that I intended to instruct you myself."
+
+Clyde laughed. "Which offer shall I accept?"
+
+"Casey's," said Sheila promptly. "I won't be selfish. Besides,
+educational statistics prove that we women imbibe knowledge faster from
+men than from each other."
+
+Clyde darted a swift glance at her. But Sheila's face told nothing. If
+the words were intended to bear an added meaning she did not show it.
+
+"Statistics are good for something, at last," said Casey.
+
+"Give her Dolly," said Sheila. "Don't let her coax you into letting her
+try that old brute, Shiner. He's almost an outlaw."
+
+"Love me, love my horse!"
+
+The quotation seemed careless. Sheila's face told Clyde nothing.
+
+"'Like master, like horse' is more appropriate," said Sheila.
+
+"Oh, I'm not an outlaw--yet," he said, with just the slightest pause
+before the word.
+
+Slight though it was, Clyde noticed it; noticed, too, the instant
+shadow on Sheila's face, the quick contraction of her dark brows, the
+momentary silence, transient but utter. It was as if the chill and
+gloom of night had suddenly struck the summer's noonday.
+
+But in a moment the conversation was resumed, and became general. Sandy
+McCrae joined them, silent as usual, but evidently attracted by Clyde.
+Presently Sheila took Casey to diagnose the case of a favourite, sick
+collie.
+
+"My heavens, Casey, did you see the kid?" she asked. "I never knew him
+to look twice at a girl before."
+
+"Every boy has to start some time," he laughed. "She's well worth
+looking at."
+
+"That's so. Yes, she's very pretty, Casey."
+
+"I'm glad you like her."
+
+It was on the tip of her tongue to disclaim, but she checked herself.
+"She's different from what I expected. No airs. And she _looks_
+sensible. Is she?"
+
+"I think so."
+
+"Yes, I think so, too. She dresses very simply. I was prepared to be
+reduced to a condition of helpless feminine envy by her clothes. As it
+is, I feel quite of the same clay."
+
+"You don't need to envy anybody's clothes. That white dress looks good
+to me. I never saw you looking better."
+
+The rich blood crept up under her tanned cheeks. Such compliments were
+rare in her life. Casey himself seldom paid them. Frank friendship was
+very well; but now and then, womanlike, she longed for such current
+coin of courtesy.
+
+"Really, Casey?"
+
+"Of course," he assured her. "You know how to wear clothes. And you
+know you look particularly well in white. I've told you so before."
+
+"Once."
+
+"Half a dozen times."
+
+"No--once. I remember it very well, because you don't often notice what
+I have on. Perhaps that's lucky, too."
+
+"If it's you in the clothes, that's good enough."
+
+"That's just the trouble. You accept me as part of the everyday
+scenery. I might wear a blanket, for all you'd care."
+
+"I've seen some mighty becoming blanket costumes."
+
+"I'm not a _klootch_," she flashed. "I'm a white woman, and when I wear
+a becoming dress I like somebody to tell me so."
+
+"And didn't I just tell you?"
+
+"So you did--and I'll put a ring around the date. It's the first time
+you've condescended to pay me a compliment in a year. You men are the
+limit. You take it as a matter of course that a girl should be neat and
+spick and span. If she wasn't you'd notice it soon enough. It's easy
+for a girl like this Miss Burnaby. I don't suppose she ever did a day's
+work or anything useful in her life. She orders her clothes from the
+best places, and gets them fitted and sent home, and that's all there
+is to it. But how about me? I've got a hundred things to attend to
+every day. I've got to make my own clothes, or take a long chance on a
+mail-order house. That's why, when I do get anything that looks
+passable, I like it to be noticed."
+
+"That's so," he admitted. "That's natural. I never thought of it,
+Sheila, and that's the truth. Why didn't you tell me before?"
+
+"Oh, heavens! Casey, I'm sorry I did now. Why do men have to be _told_?
+I don't get taken this way often. Women and dogs have to be thankful
+for small mercies. Only a dog can shove a cold, wet nose into his
+master's hand and get a pat and a kind word; but a woman----"
+
+She broke off, colouring furiously. The red tide surged over cheeks and
+brow to the roots of her hair. For the first time, with him, she was
+afraid of being misunderstood.
+
+But Casey's perceptions, fairly acute where men and affairs were
+concerned, quite failed to grasp the situation. He saw only that
+Sheila, ordinarily sensible and dependable, had flown off the handle
+over something, and he metaphorically threw up his hands helplessly at
+the vagaries of women.
+
+"Well, well, now, never mind," he said, in blundering consolation. "You
+look well in anything. I've often noticed, but I didn't think you cared
+for compliments. Anyway"--he grasped eagerly at something safe--"anyway,
+you can't beat that white dress."
+
+She turned to him again, once more the everyday Sheila.
+
+"All right, old boy, we'll let it go at that. Forget it. And now I'll
+tell you something: I wore this white dress--absolutely the plainest
+thing I have--because I didn't want to come into a finery contest with
+Miss Burnaby. And now let's look at the old dog. I'm afraid he'll have
+to be shot."
+
+Farwell put in an appearance after supper. It was plain that the big
+engineer had not expected to find other guests; also that their
+presence embarrassed him. Quite unused to dissembling his feelings, he
+took no pains to hide his dislike for Dunne. Casey, on the other hand,
+was polite, suave, quiet, wearing the mocking smile that invariably
+exasperated the engineer.
+
+"You and Mr. Farwell are not friends," Clyde ventured on the way home.
+
+"He doesn't think much of me," Casey admitted. "I rub him the wrong
+way."
+
+"As you were doing to-night."
+
+"Was I?"
+
+"You know you were. Is there a private quarrel between you, apart from
+the water matter?"
+
+"Not exactly. But it would come to that if we saw much of each other."
+
+"Then I hope you won't. It's embarrassing to others."
+
+"I'm awfully sorry. It was very bad form, of course. But somehow I
+couldn't help it."
+
+"Never mind. The McCraes are affected by this water trouble, aren't
+they?"
+
+"As much as I am. You are surprised that Farwell goes there. I have
+never mentioned it to them, nor they to me. It's none of my business."
+
+"Nor of mine."
+
+"I didn't mean that."
+
+"I know you didn't. Still, I think I could guess why Mr. Farwell goes
+to Talapus."
+
+"So could I," said Casey dryly, and the subject dropped.
+
+But Kitty Wade came to Clyde's room for a chat before retiring. "Those
+McCraes," she said, "are very nice. Mr. McCrae is one of the real
+pioneers. He told us some of the most interesting things. How did you
+like Miss McCrae?"
+
+"I think she's a very nice, sensible girl. Good-looking, too."
+
+"H'm!" said Kitty Wade. "Yes, I think she is. Dresses nicely and
+simply. No imitation fine things. Shows the correct instinct. You and
+she might have been having a plain-clothes competition."
+
+Clyde did not respond. Kitty Wade resumed, after a brief pause: "I'll
+tell you one thing, Clyde; this man Farwell is in love with her."
+
+"I could see that, Kitty."
+
+"And she doesn't care for him."
+
+"I thought that, too."
+
+"I wonder," Kitty Wade went on, "if there is anything between her and
+Mr. Dunne? Do you suppose he and Mr. Farwell are jealous of each other?
+They were like two dogs with one bone."
+
+Clyde yawned. "Oh, mercy, Kitty," she said wearily, "ask me something
+easier. I wouldn't blame either of them. She seems to be a thoroughly
+nice girl."
+
+Kitty Wade on her way to her room nodded wisely. "You don't fool me a
+little bit, Clyde," she said to herself. "This Sheila McCrae is
+probably just as nice as you are, and you own up to it like a little
+lady. But all the same you hate each other; and, what's more, you both
+know it."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+Clyde lay stretched at length in sweet, odorous hay. There was no
+reason why she should not have taken the hammock in the shade of the
+veranda that morning, save that she wanted to be alone. Therefore she
+had taken a book and wandered forth. Behind the corrals she had come
+upon a haystack, cut halfway down and halfway across, and on impulse
+she had climbed up a short ladder and lain down. Her hands clasped
+behind her head, her book forgotten, she stared up into the blue sky,
+and dreamed daydreams. And then she went to sleep.
+
+She was aroused by the sound of hammering. Peeping over the edge of the
+stack, she recognized Tom McHale. McHale was putting a strand of wire
+around the stack, and as she looked he began to sing a ballad of the
+old frontier. Clyde had never heard "Sam Bass," and she listened to
+McHale's damaged tenor.
+
+    "Sam was born in Indianner, it was his native home,
+    And at the age of seventeen young Sam began to roam;
+    And first he went to Texas, a cowboy for to be--
+    He robs the stage at----"
+
+He stopped abruptly, and Clyde saw two mounted men approaching. They
+bore down on McHale, who lifted his coat from a rail, and put it on. To
+Clyde's amazement the action revealed a worn leather holster strapped
+to the inner side of the garment, and from it protruded the ivory butt
+of a six-shooter. McHale was apparently unarmed; in reality a weapon
+lay within instant reach of his hand.
+
+The two horsemen were roughly dressed. Each wore a gun openly at his
+belt. One was large, sandy-haired, gray-eyed. The other was dark,
+quick, restless, shooting odd, darting glances from a pair of sinister
+black eyes.
+
+"Is your name Dunne?" asked the first roughly.
+
+"Dunne?" queried McHale, as if the name were strange to him. "Did you
+say Dunne, or Doane?"
+
+"I said Dunne."
+
+"Oh," McHale responded. "Lemme think. No, I guess not. I never used
+that name that I remember of. No, partner, my name ain't Dunne."
+
+"We want Dunne. Where'll we find him?"
+
+"Why, now," said McHale, "that's a right hard question. You might find
+him one place, and then again you mightn't. I reckon I wouldn't be
+misleading you none if I was to tell you you'd find him wherever he's
+at."
+
+"You workin' for him?" the dark man put in quickly.
+
+"I was, a minute ago. Now I got a job with an inquiry office. Anything
+else I can tell you?"
+
+"No," said the dark man. "But you can tell Dunne that up to a minute
+ago he had a ---- ---- fool workin' for him!"
+
+Dead silence while a watch could tick off ten seconds. Clyde scarcely
+breathed. At different times in her life she had heard noisy quarrels
+in city streets, quarrels big with oath and threat. This was different.
+She experienced a sensation as though, even in the bright sunshine
+beneath the blue, unflecked summer sky where all was instinct with
+growth and health and life, she were watching a deathbed.
+
+The two strangers sat motionless, their eyes on McHale, their right
+hands resting quietly by their waists. McHale stood equally still,
+facing them, his eyes narrowed down to slits, his left hand holding the
+lapel of his coat, his right hand, a half-smoked cigarette between the
+first and second fingers, on a level with his chin. He expelled a thin
+stream of smoke from his lungs, and spoke:
+
+"I reckon you can tell him yourself. Here he come now."
+
+The eyes of the first man never shifted. The other instantly looked
+over his shoulder. McHale laughed.
+
+"You're an old-timer," he said to the gray-eyed man; "but him"--he
+jerked a contemptuous thumb at the second--"it's a wonder to me he ever
+growed up. Don't you do it no more, friend. Don't you never take your
+eyes off a man you've called a ---- ---- fool, or maybe the next thing
+they beholds is the Promised Land!"
+
+But his words had not been intended as a ruse. Casey was riding over on
+his little gray mare to see who the strangers were, and what they
+wanted.
+
+"This man tells me you're Dunne," said the gray-eyed man.
+
+"That's correct," Casey admitted.
+
+"My name is Dade; his name is Cross." He indicated his companion by a
+sidewise nod. "We've bought land from this here irrigation outfit. So
+have half a dozen other men, friends of ours. Now we can't get water."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, the company puts it up that some of you fellows is to blame.
+You've cut the ditches so they won't carry. We've come to tell you that
+this has got to stop."
+
+"That's kind of you, anyway," Casey observed quietly. He and Dade eyed
+each other appraisingly.
+
+"What I want to make plumb clear," said the latter, "is that this don't
+go no more. It's no good. You'll leave the ditches alone, or else----"
+
+"Or else?" Casey suggested.
+
+"Or else we'll make you," said Dade grimly. "We want water, and we'll
+have it."
+
+"I wonder," said Casey, "if you are trying to hang a nice little bluff
+on me, Mr. Dade? Suppose, for instance, you have no land, and don't
+need any water."
+
+"I can show you my deed."
+
+"That's quite possible. All right, Mr. Dade. Is there anything more you
+want to say?"
+
+"I reckon that's all," said Dade. "If you'll say that the ditches will
+be let alone there'll be no trouble; if not, there will be."
+
+"What kind of trouble, Mr. Dade?"
+
+"You'll see when it comes."
+
+"Very well," said Casey. "Now, listen to me, Mr. Dade. You and your
+friend there and your whole outfit can go plumb. Get that? Every ranch
+here has water, and we're going to keep it. How we keep it is our own
+business. If you've bought land you may look to the company for water,
+and not to us. If you haven't bought land--if you're hired to come here
+to start something--why, let it start!"
+
+He and Dade looked straight into each other's eyes in the silence that
+followed. Cross made a sudden movement.
+
+"Be careful, partner!" McHale warned him in hard tones.
+
+Once more Clyde, an involuntary listener, felt the presence of a
+crisis, the chill of fate impending. But, as before, it passed.
+
+"You're barking up the wrong tree," said Dade. "Nothing starts--now.
+Better remember what I told you. Come on, Sam, we'll get going."
+
+Clyde heard the trample of hoofs dying in the distance, and then
+McHale's voice:
+
+"You run the bluff, but you took an awful chance. That there Cross come
+mighty close to making a break."
+
+"Nervous kind?"
+
+"Yep. He's apt to be too blamed soon. T'other one, Dade, is cold-drawn.
+I judge he's bad. Ever hear of him?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Nor me," said McHale; "but he has the earmarks."
+
+Casey's reply was lost as they turned away. Clyde waited until they
+were out of sight, and then descended. The morning adventure had given
+her food for thought. Until then she had been deceived by the smooth
+current of life at Chakchak. It had seemed an idyllic, carefree
+existence. Although she had known of the trouble, it had seemed far in
+the background; it was a skeleton which had not obtruded itself. Now,
+by accident, she had surprised it stalking abroad in the glare of day.
+
+That afternoon she and Casey rode together. He was in his usual
+spirits, laughing, joking, full of whimsical good humour. But back of
+it she thought she detected a preoccupation. Occasionally he would be
+silent and his eyes would narrow as if he were working out some
+problem.
+
+Far up beneath the shoulder of a butte a little spring of delicious
+water bubbled from the gravelly soil, trickled a few hundred yards, and
+disappeared. It was hidden by willow and cottonwood, draped with
+greenery, an oasis. Here they dismounted, drank the sweet spring water,
+watered the horses, and rested. Clyde sat down, leaning against a
+convenient tree. Casey stretched himself against another, his hands
+clasped behind his head, a long, thin cigar clenched between his teeth.
+
+Through the fragrant smoke he eyed his companion in lazy content,
+noting how the mottled sunlight, filtering through the leaves, touched
+her glorious hair to living, coppery gold.
+
+"Did you ever have your picture painted?" he asked suddenly.
+
+"Why, no," she replied. "Whatever made you think of that?"
+
+"Your hair and the sunlight on it. If I were a painter I should like to
+paint you now--and keep the picture."
+
+"The first compliment you have ever paid me," she laughed, pleased
+nevertheless. "I shall remember it."
+
+"And that's a compliment to me," he responded. "Funny what we recollect
+and what we don't. There doesn't seem to be any rule for it. But I
+think I shall always remember just how you look at this moment."
+
+"That's very nice."
+
+"I wonder if I may ask you something without offending you?"
+
+"I don't think you would ask anything that should offend me."
+
+"Thanks! It's this: I want to make things pleasant for you all. I've
+been wondering in my own mind why you came here. You won't
+misunderstand me. But why?"
+
+"Have you forgotten your invitation?"
+
+"No. But its acceptance was an unexpected piece of luck. There isn't
+much here to amuse you. What's the real reason?"
+
+She looked full at him, and then dropped her eyes; her fingers plucked
+blades of grass and cast them aside.
+
+"I don't think I know the answer," she replied at last. "For one thing,
+I thought I might help you--if you'd let me."
+
+"Help me! How?"
+
+"With money. You and the others."
+
+"Good Lord!" he ejaculated. "Whatever put that in your head?"
+
+"The only letter you ever wrote me. I could read between the lines.
+Afterward Mr. Wade told me more. But he wouldn't take what I offered."
+
+"I should say not--if you offered money. He was right."
+
+"Do you mean that you wouldn't let me help you if you needed money?"
+
+"Certainly I wouldn't."
+
+"Because I'm a woman, I suppose."
+
+"Partly. But I wouldn't let any one throw money away on what is apt to
+be a losing game."
+
+"You think it that?"
+
+"Size it up for yourself. You talked with Wade. Didn't he tell you so?"
+
+"Practically, yes."
+
+"Then you see! It wouldn't do at all."
+
+"But it's my money. I can afford to lose it. I'll not have a pleasure
+or a luxury the less. And this is my pleasure. Would you refuse me this
+one thing? You lent _me_ money!"
+
+"Ten dollars--pshaw! This is different. I'm more grateful than I can
+tell you. But there's no necessity--just yet, anyway."
+
+"Then I won't consider it a definite refusal. That was one reason why I
+came. And then I wanted to see your country. I wanted something new. I
+can't explain it very well. I had to come; something made me."
+
+She flushed, but the eyes that met his inquiring gaze were entirely
+steady.
+
+"Something made me. If the Wades had not been coming I should have come
+alone. I'm frank with you, you see."
+
+"Yes, I understand the feeling," Casey said. "I have had it myself.
+I've had to get out of old surroundings sometimes. And I've always
+gone. Sometimes it has turned out well; sometimes not."
+
+"We shall see how this turns out," she said, with a nod and a little
+laugh. "I've a feeling that I shall bring you luck."
+
+"I believe you will," he agreed. "We'll say so, anyway. Just now I
+wouldn't trade places with any man on earth."
+
+[Illustration: "JUST NOW I WOULDN'T TRADE PLACES WITH ANY MAN ON
+EARTH"]
+
+She laughed in pure pleasure, bending toward him. "I appropriate that
+to myself. Don't dare to explain it. Do you come here often?"
+
+"Not very often. That maze of coulée and butte you see is a good cattle
+range. I come this way looking for strays. The last time I was here
+Sheila McCrae was with me."
+
+Suddenly, for Clyde, the sunlight lost its golden charm. In an altered
+tone she said:
+
+"Indeed!" And she added deliberately: "I don't think I ever met a nicer
+girl than Miss McCrae."
+
+"No nicer anywhere," he agreed heartily. "Well, perhaps we'd better be
+moving. We have a long ride yet."
+
+Their way led by devious cattle trails along the coulées, over ridges,
+into other coulées. Clyde lost all idea of direction, but her companion
+was never at a loss, and finally they emerged upon a broad,
+well-travelled trail. Then Clyde, after much inward debate, told Casey
+of her presence that morning at the interview with Dade and Cross.
+
+"Well, they're quite a pair," said Casey. "They came to run some sort
+of a bluff, but concluded not to push it to a show-down. They'll make
+trouble for us, I suppose. They're simply hired men, and that's their
+job."
+
+"What kind of trouble?"
+
+"I wish I knew," he replied, shaking his head.
+
+"Is it all worth while?" she asked. "I haven't asked a question about
+the blown-up dam and the cut ditches. I'm not going to. But where will
+it end? You admit that there may be violence--even bloodshed. Why not
+avoid it?"
+
+"How?"
+
+"By letting the courts settle it."
+
+"If we could have our water till then, that's what we'd do. As it
+is--well, I'm afraid we can't afford to."
+
+"I've already offered----"
+
+"I know, I know," he interrupted; "but that's out of the question."
+
+That evening dragged. There were long silences. Nobody seemed inclined
+to talk. Wade went to sleep in his chair, his cigar dropping from his
+relaxing fingers. He grumbled when his wife woke him.
+
+"I'm dead sleepy. I'm going to bed. I'm too sleepy to care whether it's
+polite or not; I'm all in."
+
+"So am I," said Kitty, yawning frankly. "I shall follow my lord and
+master."
+
+"And I my amiable chaperon," said Clyde.
+
+"I'm afraid all I have to follow is an example," said Casey. He came
+close to her in the moonlight. "Perhaps I seemed ungrateful this
+afternoon. I didn't mean to be. I can't tell you how much I appreciated
+your offer, your generosity; none the less because I can't possibly
+accept it."
+
+"It is nothing," she said. "It is not even generosity. Real generosity
+must cost something in renunciation."
+
+"No," he replied; "the cost has little to do with it. It is the spirit
+of the offer that counts. Don't belittle it."
+
+"It cost me something to make the offer," she said impulsively. "The
+money would have been the least part of it."
+
+"I don't think I understand."
+
+"I'm glad you don't; and I can't explain now. Some day, perhaps. And
+now--good night."
+
+He took her hand and looked down into her eyes. He could feel the hand
+tremble slightly, but the eyes were steady. Darkened by the moonlight
+they seemed unfathomable pools, deep, mysterious, holding something
+which he could almost but not quite discern. In the pale light her face
+lost colour. It was idealized, purified, the face of a dream. Her
+marvellous crown of hair shone strand by strand as of twisted gold; it
+shimmered with halolike glory. Her slightly parted lips, vivid against
+the white of the face, seemed to invite him.
+
+He bent forward, and plucked himself angrily back from the temptation.
+She released her hand.
+
+"Good night," she said softly.
+
+"Good night," he responded, hesitated, and turned away to his own
+quarters.
+
+But as Clyde sought her room she seemed to walk on air. She trembled in
+every fibre of her strong, young body, but her blood sang in her veins.
+The woman within her called aloud triumphantly. It was long before she
+slept, and when she did so her slumber was a procession of dreams.
+
+She awoke somewhere in the night, with a strange sound in her ears, a
+detonation distant but thunderous. She rose, went to the window, and
+peered out.
+
+As she stood, she commanded a view of Casey Dunne's quarters. The door
+opened, and two men emerged, running for the stables. It seemed not a
+minute till two horses were led out, ready saddled. The two men went up
+instantly. They tore past her window in a flurry of hoofs. She
+recognized Casey Dunne and McHale. Neither was completely dressed. But
+around the waist of each was a holster-weighted belt, and across each
+saddle was slanted a rifle. Because of these warlike manifestations
+Clyde slept no more that night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+As the night air vibrated with the first explosion Casey Dunne and
+McHale leaped from their beds, and rushed for the door, opened it, and
+stood listening. There they heard another and another.
+
+"Dynamite!" cried McHale, reaching for his clothes. "I'll bet it's our
+dam. Jump into some pants, Casey. There's just a chance to get a sight
+of somebody."
+
+They threw on clothes with furious haste, caught up weapons, and raced
+for the stables. Their haste communicated itself to their horses, which
+bolted before the riders were firm in the saddles. Casey, as they tore
+past the house, thought he caught a glimpse of white at Clyde's window;
+but just then he had his hands full with Shiner, who was expressing his
+disapproval of such unseemly hours by an endeavour to accomplish a
+blind runaway.
+
+Halfway to the river they came upon the first evidence of dynamite in
+the form of a bit of wrecked fluming. Water poured down a sidehill from
+a mass of shattered boards and broken, displaced timbers. They scarcely
+paused to view the ruin, but rode for the dam. There was no dam. Where
+it had been, remained only a few forlorn and twisted posts between
+which the muddied water whispered softly. The work had been very
+complete. McHale swore into the night.
+
+"Our own medicine! Well, watch us take it. We ain't like boys that
+can't build a little thing like a dam. Which way do you reckon them
+fellers went?"
+
+"Try the old ford," said Casey. "It's all chance, anyway."
+
+A mile downstream they came to the ford, where the river for a brief
+distance had broadened and shallowed. Fresh tracks of one horse led
+down to the water's edge. On the other side, where they emerged, they
+were still filled with muddy water.
+
+"That's the cuss that blowed the flume," said McHale. "He's met up with
+another one or two here. They've gone on downstream, but we sure can't
+trail them in this light. What do we do?"
+
+"Ride ahead and trust to luck," said Casey. "It's all we can do."
+
+"I guess that's so," McHale agreed. "But if we run up on 'em----"
+
+He paused abruptly. Out of the distance came the unmistakable sound of
+a blast, closely followed by a second.
+
+"Another dam!" Casey exclaimed. "That's Oscar's, or Wyndham's. Our own
+medicine, sure enough!"
+
+"If I can put a gunsight on to one of them fellers I'll fix him so's he
+won't hold medicine nohow," said McHale savagely. "No use followin' the
+river. They'll quit it now, and strike for somewheres. Let's take a
+chance and hike out sorter southeast. It's as good as any other way."
+
+They struck southeast at a steady jog, angling away from the river. The
+night was absolutely cloudless; the moon, near the full, bathed the
+landscape in a flood of white light which threw objects into startling
+relief, but intensified the shadows. Beneath it the land slumbered in a
+silence broken only by the soft drumming of hoofs. But for an
+occasional small band of cattle lying quietly on the slopes, it seemed
+devoid of life.
+
+They rode in silence, but with eyes and ears keenly alert. At the top
+of each rise they paused to search the surrounding country. Now and
+then they drew up to listen. But their watchfulness availed nothing.
+
+"Looks like we're out o'luck," McHale observed finally.
+
+"Looks that way," Casey admitted. "All the same, we'll keep going."
+
+"If we happen across 'em," McHale continued, "I s'pose we round 'em
+up?"
+
+"Of course. But they may take some rounding."
+
+"Sure! Only I'll tell you, Casey, I'm awful tired of having it put all
+over me by fellers that ain't got no license to. Some of these gents
+that allow they're hard citizens ain't so dog-goned much. I s'pose they
+figure on us peaceable farmers bein' bluffed out by a hard face and a
+hostile talk. That's an awful bad bet for 'em to make."
+
+They were approaching a region of broken ground, carved and ridged with
+coulées and low hills, worthless save for range purposes. There Casey
+decided that he would turn back. At best it was like looking for the
+proverbial needle in a haystack. Chance only could serve them. Suddenly
+McHale checked his horse.
+
+"Listen!" he said sharply.
+
+They were riding by the base of a low hill. At one side the ground
+sloped away in a shallow depression which marked the head of a coulée.
+As they sat listening intently the stillness was broken by a hollow,
+muffled sound, the unmistakable trampling of hoofs. Faint at first, it
+increased in volume. Plainly, horses were coming up the draw.
+
+Four horsemen came into view. They were riding carelessly, slouching in
+their saddles. One struck a match to light a pipe. The flame of it
+showed for an instant above his cupped hands. At a hundred yards they
+perceived the waiting horsemen, and halted abruptly.
+
+"You there!" Casey hailed. "We want to talk to you!"
+
+A vicious oath came as answer, distinct in the stillness. Then: "You
+get back and mind your own business!"
+
+McHale's rifle action clicked and clashed as he levered a cartridge
+from magazine to chamber. "Up with your hands, the bunch of you," he
+ordered, "or----"
+
+[Illustration: SO QUICK WAS HIS PIVOTING MOTION THAT CASEY WAS ALMOST
+UNSEATED]
+
+The remainder was lost in the bark of a gun as one of the other party
+fired. McHale's horse jumped as though stung, just as he pulled the
+trigger, bumping into Shiner. Immediately that uncertain quadruped
+wheeled and kicked at him. So quick was his pivoting motion that Casey
+was almost unseated. He saved himself, but lost his rifle, which fell
+to the ground. With a furious curse and a jerk of the bit he wheeled
+Shiner around, drawing his automatic belt gun.
+
+But the four strangers had taken advantage of the incident to turn and
+plunge back into the coulée. They were almost out of sight. Casey's gun
+spat a continuous jet of flame across the night, the rapid reports
+blending into a roll of sound. McHale, cursing his unsteady horse,
+fired again and again. But the strangers, apparently unhurt, swept out
+of sight.
+
+Casey leaped to the ground, secured his rifle, and was back in the
+saddle again in an instant. They sailed into the shallow head of the
+coulée at a dead run, Casey struggling to refill the clip of his
+automatic, McHale cursing his horse and himself because he had used the
+rifle instead of his six-shooter.
+
+At its head the coulée was merely a slight depression. Farther on it
+broadened and deepened. Down the middle of its length ran a sinuous
+grove of cottonwoods. On either side its flanks were bare, white with
+clay and alkali, rising to steep banks of yellow earth, bald and
+bleached in the moonlight.
+
+Through this natural theatre thundered pursuers and pursued. The latter
+had secured a good lead. The windings of the coulée hid them from view.
+
+Suddenly Casey became aware that there was no one ahead--that he and
+McHale were riding madly, to no purpose. At the same moment the latter
+made the like discovery. Their horses' hoofs slid and cut grooves in
+the earth as the riders dragged them to a halt. Usually considerate, in
+the excitement of the moment they used the brutal methods of the
+"buster."
+
+"They've doubled back on us!" cried McHale. "Cut through them
+cottonwoods somewheres and let us go by a-hellin'. Fooled us, by glory,
+like we was a pair of hide-an'-go-seek kids. Yes--there they go now!
+Look up by the top past that cut bank!" He lifted his rifle as he
+spoke.
+
+High up at the coulée's rim, some hundreds of yards away, figures
+moved. At that distance, even in the brilliant moonlight, details were
+lost. The eye could discern black spots merely; but it seemed that the
+men had dismounted for the ascent, and were helping the horses to
+scramble upward.
+
+McHale fired, shoved down the lever, drew it home, and fired again.
+Since the light did not serve to show the dust puffs of the bullets, he
+could not tell whether he was shooting high or low. The main thing was
+that he did not hit. Casey chimed in. The bluffs and banks echoed to
+the reports of the high-powered rifles; but the figures gained the rim
+and vanished. Immediately afterward a tongue of flame leaped from the
+spot where they were last seen, and a bullet sang in close proximity to
+Casey's head. They wheeled into the shelter of the trees, where the
+shadows effectually concealed their whereabout. At short intervals
+bullets searched for their position. McHale bit large consolation and
+spat in disgust.
+
+"I reckon it's a get-away," he said. "I ain't fool enough to go up that
+bank while they're there. And by the time we'd get around they'd be a
+couple of miles 'most anywheres."
+
+"We've got ourselves to blame," said Casey.
+
+"Well, that first shot burned up this cayuse of mine," McHale grumbled.
+"How could I shoot, with him jumpin' around? And that blasted,
+yeller-hided buzzard head of yours, he don't know no better'n to whale
+into him with both heels. It wouldn't happen again, not in a million
+years."
+
+"It doesn't need to," said Casey sourly. "We found our meat, and we
+couldn't stop it."
+
+"The laugh is on us," McHale admitted. "For the powder we burned we
+sure ought to have a scalp or two to show. Still, moonlight shootin' is
+chance shootin', and when a cussed mean cayuse is sashayin' round if a
+man hits anything but scenery he's lucky!"
+
+"I thought that old-timer, Dade, was doing the talking."
+
+"Sure he was. And I'll bet it was his _tillikum_, Cross, that took the
+first crack at us. Didn't waste no time. He's some soon, that feller. I
+s'pose they got a camp, somewheres. No use tryin' to find it. We can't
+prove that they used the powder on our dams. Well, what say if we point
+out for home? Daylight's breakin' now."
+
+A pale light was spreading in the east, underneath the stars that
+rimmed the horizon. Objects became more visible. As they rode
+unmolested from the coulée the pale light began to flush faintly. Rosy
+shafts shot upward, and the stars vanished. Here and there birds began
+to twitter. An old grouse scuttled away, wings a-trail, as if mortally
+hurt, to distract attention from her young brood hidden in the short
+grass. A huge owl sailed ghostlike on silent wings, homeward bound from
+midnight foray. A coyote yipped shrill protest against the day. Away to
+the west, where the mountains loomed grandly, bright lights lay on
+peaks still white with the remnants of winter snows. Suddenly, driving
+the shadows before it, the sun seemed to leap above the rim of the
+world.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+During the next twelve hours there was much riding from ranch to ranch.
+Of all the small dams constructed and maintained by the ranchers for
+irrigation purposes but one remained; and that one was Donald McCrae's.
+
+McCrae himself considered this an invidious distinction. He would have
+preferred to suffer with his neighbours. He did not know why his
+structure had been spared, and he lent men and teams to others,
+labouring hard himself in the task of rebuilding.
+
+The temper of the ranchers was at the breaking point. Naturally the
+blame fell on Farwell; he was the villain of the piece. He had expected
+unpopularity, but he had no idea of the depth of it. The black looks he
+met did not disturb him in the least; nor, to do him justice, would he
+have been seriously alarmed if he had known that more than one man was
+quite ready to pick a deadly quarrel with him. For some time he had not
+seen Sheila McCrae, but he found himself thinking of her constantly.
+And so, one evening he rode over to Talapus.
+
+Somewhat to his relief, neither McCrae nor Sandy was visible. Mrs.
+McCrae was calmly civil. Her manner gave no hint that he was unwelcome.
+Sheila, she told him, had gone for a walk somewhere along the ditch.
+
+"Oh," said Farwell, with elaborate carelessness, "then I think I'll
+just stroll along and meet her."
+
+At the end of ten minutes' walk he came upon the girl. She was sitting,
+her chin propped on her hands, beside the stream where a little
+bordering grove of willows had sprung up. The deep murmur of the
+running water muffled his footsteps so that she neither saw nor heard
+him till he was at her side.
+
+"Good evening," he said.
+
+She turned her head slowly, without start or exclamation.
+
+"I did not expect to see you, Mr. Farwell."
+
+"I thought I'd run over," he said awkwardly. "I intended to come
+before."
+
+She allowed a long minute of silence to lie between them. "And why have
+you come now?" she asked.
+
+"Why?" Farwell repeated the word. "Why? I wanted to see you. Why
+shouldn't I come?"
+
+"You ought to know why. It's one thing to do your work; but it's quite
+another to blow up our dams!"
+
+"Why do you think I did that?"
+
+"Because I have ordinary common sense. I don't suppose you did it with
+your own hand. But you've brought in a bunch of toughs and gunmen to
+overawe us and do your dirty work. It will lead to serious trouble."
+
+"I can handle trouble," said Farwell grimly. "Has anybody meddled with
+your dam?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then I don't see what you have to complain of. I don't admit anything.
+But when you get indignant at blowing up dams you ought to remember
+what happened to ours."
+
+"Oh, as for that"--she shrugged her shoulders. "We had to have water.
+Nobody blamed you before. But these dams that did you no harm--that's
+different."
+
+"But you _have_ water. Your own dam is all right," he insisted.
+
+"Yes. And do you know what people are saying? They say that the reason
+is because we have some sort of an understanding with you. They
+say----" She stopped abruptly.
+
+"What else do they say?"
+
+"Other things. I've told you enough."
+
+"What do you care?"
+
+"Well, I do care. This is the only house you come to. Your visits must
+end now."
+
+"End?" Farwell echoed. "I guess not. Not unless you absolutely forbid
+me to come. And then I don't know. I'd find it pretty hard."
+
+"Nonsense!"
+
+"I tell you I would," he protested. "You don't know."
+
+"Bosh! We're not so fascinating as that."
+
+Now Farwell was of the battle-axe type. He was accustomed to take what
+he wanted, to smash through opposition. He looked at the girl facing
+him in the fading light, and a great desire swelled within him. Her
+words gave the needed spur to his courage, and he went to the point as
+he would have gone in to quell a riot in a camp.
+
+"'We,'" he said. "Who's talking of 'we'? I'm not. I come to see _you_.
+You ought to know that. Of course you know it. I didn't think I'd ever
+fall in love, but I _have_. You might as well know it now. I don't know
+whether you think anything of me or not; it would be just my luck if
+you didn't. Anyway, that's how I feel, and I'm not going to give up
+seeing you just because some people have set a crazy yarn going."
+
+The words boiled out of him like steam from a hot spring. He scowled at
+her ferociously, his eyes hot and angry. It would have been difficult
+to imagine a more unloverlike attitude. And yet she had no doubt of his
+sincerity. She would have been less than woman if she had not suspected
+his feelings before. But she had not expected this outbreak.
+
+"I'm sorry you said that," she told him quietly. "It's quite
+impossible. I can tell you now what I couldn't tell you before. People
+say that I have promised to marry you in exchange for your promise that
+we shall have water for the ranch."
+
+"If you'll tell me the name of a man who utters an infernal lie like
+that I'll wring his neck," he growled.
+
+"I believe you would. But what good would it do? You can't fight
+rumours and gossip in that way. That's the trouble with you--you depend
+on force alone. Can't you see the position this puts us in--puts _me_
+in? You can't come here any more."
+
+"I don't see that at all," he objected. "I'll blow up your dam myself
+if you think it will help, but as for not seeing you--why, it's out of
+the question. I've got to see you. I'm going to see you. I can't help
+it. I tell you I think of you all the time. Why, hang it, Sheila, I
+think of you when I ought to be thinking of my work."
+
+She would have laughed if she had not seen that he was in deadly
+earnest. His work was a fetish, all-absorbing, demanding and receiving
+the tribute of his entire attention and energy. That thought of a woman
+should come between him and it was proof positive of devotion
+extraordinary.
+
+"You must not do that," she said, gently.
+
+"But I can't help it," he reiterated. "It's new to me, this. I can't
+concentrate on my work. I keep thinking of you. If that isn't being in
+love, what in thunder is? I'm talking to you as straight as I'd talk to
+a man. I believe I love you as much as any woman was ever loved. You
+don't know much about me, but I'm considered a good man in my
+profession. From a material point of view I'm all right."
+
+"If I cared for you that would be the last thing I'd think of."
+
+"Why can't you care for me?" he demanded. "I don't expect much. We'd
+get along."
+
+"No," she said decidedly. "No. It's impossible. We're comparatively
+strangers. I think you're going to be a big man some day. I rather
+admire you in some ways. But that is all."
+
+"Well, anyway, I'm not going to quit," he announced doggedly. "I never
+gave up anything yet. You talk as if it didn't matter! Maybe it doesn't
+to you, but it does to me. You don't know how much I care. I can't tell
+you, either. This talk isn't my line. Look here, though. About ten
+years ago, down in the desert of the Southwest, my horse broke his leg,
+and I was set afoot. I nearly died of thirst before I got out. All
+those blistering days, while I stumbled along in that baking hell, I
+kept thinking of a cool spring we had on our place when I was a boy. It
+bubbled up in moss at the foot of a big cedar, and I used to lie flat
+and drink till I couldn't hold any more. It was the sweetest water in
+the world. All those days I tortured myself by thinking of it. I'd have
+given my soul, if I have one, to satisfy my thirst at that spring. And
+that's how I feel about you. I want your love as I wanted that water."
+
+"I'm very sorry," she said. "It's out of the question."
+
+"But why?" he demanded. "Give me a chance. I'm not a monster. Or do you
+mean that you care for somebody else? Is that it? Do you care anything
+for that Dunne? A fellow that's in love with another woman!"
+
+Even in the dying light he could see the dark flush that surged over
+cheek and brow. She rose to the full height of her lithe figure, facing
+him.
+
+"No, I don't!" she flamed. "But if I did what business would it be of
+yours? Casey Dunne is my friend--a gentleman--which is more than you
+seem to be, Mr. Farwell."
+
+She took a step toward him in her indignation. Suddenly, with a sweep
+of his arm, he clipped her to him, kissing her on forehead and cheek.
+She struck him in the face with her clenched fist driven by muscles as
+hard as an athlete's.
+
+"You great brute!" she panted.
+
+With the blow and the words, Farwell's moment of madness passed. He
+held her from him at arm's length.
+
+"A brute!" he said. "You're right. I didn't know it before. Now, I do.
+How can I put myself right with you?"
+
+"Let me go!" she cried.
+
+As he released her she heard the quick pad of running feet. Out of the
+dusk behind her bounded young Sandy McCrae. He came like a young wolf
+to its first kill, his lips lifted in a snarl. In his right hand lay a
+long-barrelled, black Colt's.
+
+"Sheila!" he cried. "What's the matter? Who's this? What in--ah!"
+
+The gun leaped up. Instinctively she threw out her hand, striking it as
+he pulled the trigger. A thin stream of flame blazed almost into
+Farwell's face, and the sharp report split the evening silence into
+fragments. Something like a questing finger of death ran through his
+hair, and his hat twitched from his head, to flutter down softly ten
+feet away. But he was unhurt.
+
+Sheila locked both arms around her brother's, dragging it down.
+
+"No, no, no!" she cried. "I tell you no, Sandy! Don't shoot again. It's
+a mistake."
+
+He wrenched furiously to free his hand. "Mistake!" he shouted. "He was
+holding you! I saw him. I heard you. Let go. I'll blow his heart out!"
+
+But she clung to his arm. "It's a mistake, Sandy, I tell you! Can't you
+understand me? Don't use that gun. I won't let you. Give it to me!"
+
+He ceased his attempts to free his arm. "All right, Sheila. I won't
+shoot--this time. You, Farwell, what have you got to say for yourself?"
+
+"Mighty little," Farwell replied. "I asked your sister to marry me, and
+she refused. I kissed her against her will. That's all--and plenty. If
+you want my opinion, I think I ought to be shot."
+
+Sandy glared at him, taken aback by this frank admission.
+
+"If she hadn't jolted my hand you sure would have been," he said
+grimly. "You're mighty lucky to be alive right now. After this if I see
+you----"
+
+"Shut up, Sandy!" Sheila interrupted authoritatively, with sisterly
+directness. "I'm quite able to look after my own affairs. Mr. Farwell
+is sorry. You be white enough to let it go that way."
+
+"It's up to you, if you want it," Sandy replied. "If you can stand for
+a thing like that once I can. But not twice."
+
+"There won't be any twice. Shall we go to the house, Mr. Farwell?"
+
+Farwell, amazed, fell into step with her. He had expected to be
+overwhelmed with reproaches, to face a storm of feminine anger. Still,
+he could not think that she was palliating his offence; and he was
+quite aware that she had saved his life. Young McCrae, in offended
+dignity, stalked in front.
+
+"I want you to know," said Farwell, "that I'm utterly ashamed of
+myself. To prove it I'm going to do the best I can. I'm going to wire
+in my resignation, and I'm going away."
+
+"Don't."
+
+"What?" he exclaimed incredulously.
+
+"Don't. You are sorry, and that's the main thing. We won't mention it
+again. And neither will Sandy. But for a while you must not come here."
+
+"I'll do anything," he said. "I think you are the best girl on earth."
+
+Sheila did not reply; but she did not reprove him.
+
+Mrs. McCrae, looking somewhat anxious, met them at the house.
+
+"I heard a shot," she said. "Was it you, Sandy?"
+
+"Yes," her son replied.
+
+"What did you shoot at?"
+
+The young man glanced at Farwell from the corner of his eye.
+
+"A skunk," he replied. "I missed him."
+
+Sheila bit her lip angrily. Farwell took his medicine in silence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+A week sufficed to put the ranchers' ditches and dams in condition to
+take care of water; but at the end of that time there was little water
+to take care of. It was being diverted into the company's ditch system.
+Their ditches were running full, emptying upon lands on which scarcely
+a pretence of cultivation was being made, while the actual farmers,
+just when they needed it most, had barely sufficient water for their
+domestic purposes, for stock, and for their small gardens. There was
+none for the main crops in the fields.
+
+Naturally the crops suffered, the grain most of all. A series of hot,
+dry winds came. With water they would have done little or no damage;
+without it the leaves curled, shrivelled, and turned pale, starving for
+lack of moisture. And the peculiarly galling feature of it was that the
+water which would have meant so much was practically running to waste.
+
+In spite of these troubles Casey managed to devote time to his guests.
+His projected excursion to the foothills was abandoned, but he and
+Clyde rode almost daily. He had reserved his little gray mare, Dolly,
+for her use, and she was becoming, if not expert, at least confident in
+the saddle.
+
+She grew to love the long evenings, the soft twilights, the warm, sweet
+scent of the grasses, and the great stillness broken only by an
+occasional word and the beat of willing hoofs. On these evening rides
+she allowed her imagination to run riot. It pleased her to pretend that
+she and Casey were the only inhabitants of the land--an Eve and Adam of
+the West, pioneers of a remote civilization. All day she looked forward
+to this hour or two; at night, in her bed, she lived them over,
+recreating each mile, each word, each little thing--how the great owl
+had sailed ghostly across their path, the gray shape of a coyote fading
+into the dusk, the young broods of grouse hiding in the grass.
+
+Occasionally she undertook to analyze her feelings toward Casey Dunne,
+but the result was indefinite. She enjoyed his companionship, looked
+forward to it, remembered his words, his tricks of manner and speech.
+But these things, she told herself, were not conclusive.
+
+His sentiments she had no means of judging. He was forever doing little
+things to please her; but then he did as much for others. At times he
+was confidential; but he seldom talked of himself, his confidences
+taking the form of allowing her to share his private viewpoint,
+revealing to some extent his mental processes. But he had never said
+one word which indicated more than friendship. Clyde saw little of
+Sheila McCrae. The latter had ridden over once or twice to see, as she
+said, how Casey was treating them. On these occasions Clyde experienced
+a recurrence of latent hostility. Sheila took no pains whatever with
+her appearance. She came in a worn riding costume, plain, serviceable,
+workmanlike; and she talked water and crops and stock with Casey and
+McHale, avoiding more feminine topics. If there was any understanding
+between her and Casey it did not appear to Clyde. But it was this
+unreasoning hostility more than anything else which made Clyde doubt
+herself. Was it, she wondered, in reality jealousy?
+
+She put the thought from her indignantly, but it refused to be
+banished. She even catalogued her attractions, comparing them with the
+other girl's. The balance was in her favour; but in the end she felt
+ashamed of herself. Why should she do this? She found no satisfactory
+reply.
+
+After a week of the water famine she saw a change in her host. He was
+more silent, thoughtful. Often when they rode together he had nothing
+to say, staring at the horizon with narrowed eyes.
+
+"Do you ever tell anybody your troubles?" she asked abruptly one
+evening. They were riding slowly homeward, and the silence had been
+especially marked.
+
+"Not very often," Casey replied. "People I've met have usually had
+enough of their own. They didn't want to hear mine."
+
+"Well, I haven't many troubles, and I'd like to share yours, if I may.
+I suppose it's this water question."
+
+"Why, yes," he admitted. "It's getting to be a mighty hard thing to
+swallow--and look pleasant."
+
+"I know." She nodded sympathetically. "You feel helpless."
+
+"Not that exactly. The difficulty is to know just what to do--whether
+to do anything or not. The boys are very hostile. It wouldn't take much
+to start them."
+
+"In what direction?"
+
+"In any that would give action. They'd like nothing better than open
+war."
+
+She exclaimed at the words. "Surely there's no possibility of that?"
+
+"More than a possibility," he returned gravely. "Water is a necessity
+to us. The people who have taken it do not require it. They have
+established what is practically an armed camp. Also they have brought
+in a number of hard citizens--what are known as 'gunmen'--to overawe
+us. These patrol their ditch system, and warn us to keep away from it.
+It is guarded at every important point. Not satisfied with this, some
+of these fellows have been apparently looking for trouble in town and
+elsewhere. One of these fine days they will get it."
+
+He shook his head forebodingly. They topped a rise as he spoke. Below
+them lay the line of the company's main canal. As they rode down to it
+a man on a horse seemed to appear from nowhere in particular, and came
+toward them. As he drew nearer Casey recognized the man Cross.
+
+Cross raised his hat in acknowledgment of Clyde's presence. But his
+words to Casey were very much to the point.
+
+"You got notice to keep off this property," said he.
+
+"Well?" said Casey.
+
+"Do it," said Cross. "Hike--meanin' _you_, understand, and not the
+lady. She's plumb welcome to ride where she likes. I savvy your game,
+Dunne. You ain't got nerve enough to ride out here alone, and you bring
+a woman with you to play safe."
+
+Casey paled with anger beneath his tan. "Mr. Cross," he said quietly,
+"that goes--because the lady is with me. But I rather think one of us
+will stay in this country a long time."
+
+"Cheap bluff," Cross sneered. "You ain't goin' to prospect round these
+ditches, linin' them up for powder. Come here alone, and I'll make you
+eat the sights off of my gun."
+
+Casey laughed softly--with him most dangerous of signs.
+
+"Mr. Cross, you really amuse me. I won't argue the point just now.
+Later, perhaps. Good evening."
+
+Clyde had listened in amazement. Once more she had experienced the
+sensation of standing on the brink of tragedy. Once more it had failed
+to occur.
+
+"And that's one of the gunmen," said Casey. "That's what we have been
+putting up with. I think it will have to stop."
+
+"Don't get into any trouble," she begged. "Promise me you won't. What
+do you care what men like that say?"
+
+"I'm partly human," he replied grimly. "I can stand as much as most
+men, but there are some things I won't stand. I'm not going to climb a
+tree for any man. However, I won't crowd things with Cross, though I
+know plenty of men that would, on that provocation. I'm all for peace
+and a quiet life. You won't think I'm afraid, I hope."
+
+"Certainly not," she said indignantly. "You don't give me much of your
+confidence, but I know you better than to think such a thing. I wish
+you would tell me more of what is going on. Let me be your friend, and
+not merely your guest. Talk to me as you would to--Miss McCrae."
+
+It was the first time she had spoken to him of Sheila. It was her
+challenge. She would be on the same footing.
+
+"Sheila's different," he replied. "Sheila's one of us. I've known her
+for years. She's a good deal like a sister."
+
+"Oh," she said, "a _sister_?"
+
+To have saved her immortal soul she could not have kept the note of
+sceptical interrogation from the word. He laughed.
+
+"Yes, a sister. Why, great Scott! you didn't think I was in love with
+her, did you, just because I call her by her first name? I think
+everything of her, but not in that way. She's a thousand times too good
+for me. Besides, she knows me too well. That's usually fatal to
+sentiment. That's why no man is a hero to his wife."
+
+"How do you know he isn't? Kitty Wade simply worships her husband."
+
+"Maybe. But I'll bet his pedestal isn't nearly so high as it was before
+they were married. When you marry, Miss Burnaby"--he smiled at her
+frankly--"you will occupy the pedestal yourself."
+
+"Doesn't your rule work both ways?" she laughed.
+
+"I won't admit it--to you, anyway."
+
+"Why not--to me?"
+
+"Because Wade tells me no man can be forced to incriminate himself," he
+replied.
+
+Clyde glanced at him swiftly, flushing in the dusk. But she did not
+press for an explanation. She was satisfied. She was no longer jealous
+of Sheila McCrae.
+
+When they arrived at the ranch Dunne took the horses to the stables.
+Clyde, entering the house, found Wade alone, deep in newspapers, the
+accumulation of a week which he had just received. There was a package
+of letters for Clyde.
+
+"Look here, Clyde," said the lawyer. "Here's a funny thing." He held a
+newspaper open at the market page. "This Western Airline stock is as
+jumpy as a fever chart. For a while it went down and down and down,
+away below what I should think to be its intrinsic value. There was a
+rumour of a passed dividend. Nothing definite--merely a rumour. Then
+came another rumour of an application for a charter for a competing
+line. Both these stories seem to have brought out considerable stock.
+There was heavy selling. Likely the traders went short. I'll bet some
+of them were nipped, too, for the market went up without warning--yes,
+by George! bounced like a rubber ball."
+
+Clyde looked up from a letter which enclosed a formal-looking
+statement. "What would send it up?"
+
+"Buyers in excess of sellers--in other words, demand in excess of
+supply," Wade responded. "That's on the face of it. Probably not half a
+dozen men know the inside. Orders may have been issued to support the
+stock--that is, to buy all offered in order to keep the price from
+declining farther. It's hard to say, at this distance. It's possible
+that the depressing rumours may have originated with the very men who
+are now supporting the stock."
+
+"Why should they do that?"
+
+"To buy more cheaply shares which would be offered in consequence. It's
+funny, though," he continued, opening another paper. "Now, here's a
+later date--let's see--yes, here we are. The market opened five points
+higher than it closed on the preceding day, and it closed ten points
+above that opening. Holy Moses! do you know what that means?"
+
+"Demand in excess of supply."
+
+"Demand! Supply!" Wade echoed contemptuously. "Economics be hanged! It
+means a fight for Western Air. It means that somebody is willing to pay
+a fancy price for shares. Why? Because a few shares one way or the
+other mean the ownership of the road, the dictation of its policy.
+There's no other explanation. I wonder who----"
+
+"Look at this," said Clyde. She handed him a telegram. He read:
+
+    Sell nothing whatever until you hear from me. Instruct Bradley &
+    Gauss.
+
+    JIM.
+
+Wade's lips puckered in a noiseless whistle. He did not need to be told
+that "Jim" was Clyde's uncle, wily old Jim Hess, of the Hess System. It
+was he who was out gunning for York and Western Air, and he had the
+reputation of getting what he went after. What his tactics had been
+Wade could only surmise. But the antics of the stock were proof that he
+was in earnest.
+
+"Well," he queried, "what do you know about this, young lady? Have you
+been holding out on me?"
+
+"I haven't much information," she replied. "Bradley & Gauss are my
+brokers. They have been buying Western Air for me as it was offered.
+There's their statement. Uncle Jim told me to buy it--said that it
+ought to be worth as much as Hess System some day."
+
+"Heavens! What a tip!" Wade exclaimed. "This will be good news for
+Casey."
+
+"I don't want him to know."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Well, he--he--that is, he might be disappointed. Uncle Jim may not get
+control. If he does he'll treat everybody fairly, of course. I don't
+want to raise false hopes."
+
+"Considerate of you," said Wade, "not to say ingenious."
+
+She flushed angrily for a moment, and then laughed.
+
+"It's all the reason you'll get. Be a good friend, do. Promise! Also
+you are to say nothing to Kitty."
+
+"Afraid of being jollied?"
+
+"Mr. Wade, you are impertinent!" But her eyes laughed at him.
+
+"I'll keep your dark secret," said Wade. "It will be a joke on Kitty!"
+
+And so Casey Dunne was left in ignorance.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+Tom McHale ambled into Coldstream one afternoon, and dropped his pony's
+reins behind the station. Thence he clanked his spurs into Mr. Quilty's
+sanctum. That gentleman, nodding somnolently above a blackened clay
+pipe, rolled an appraising eye at him.
+
+"Fwhere in Hiven's name is the maskyrade at?" he queried sourly. "An'
+do yez riprisint Wild Bill Hickox--rest his sowl--or th' 'Pache
+Kid--th' divil burn him!"
+
+Tom glanced down at his ancient regalia of worn leather chaps, spurs,
+and the old forty-one that sagged from his right hip, and grinned.
+
+"Guns is coming into style again out our way," he replied. "All the
+best families wears 'em. There's so many of these here durn hobos and
+railway men and Irish and other low characters----"
+
+"Th' nerve of yez!" snorted Mr. Quilty. "And the name iv yez
+'McHale!'--as Irish, be hivins, as Con iv th' Hundred Battles!"
+
+McHale chuckled to himself, having succeeded in his purpose of getting
+Mr. Quilty going.
+
+"Irish? Not on your life!" he denied gravely. "What put that notion in
+your head? The McHales is high-grade Scotch. Always was. They come from
+Loch Lomond or Commarashindhu or them parts. Annie Laurie married a
+McHale. Of course we're Scotch. You can tell by the Mac. The only
+McHale that ever was in Ireland went there to civilize it."
+
+"To civ'lize Ireland!" Mr. Quilty cried in derision. "Hear till him!
+And Ireland the owldest civ'lization in the wurruld, barrin' none, and
+the best! Faix, we was givin' lessons in it to all mankind whin th' dom
+raggety-britched tattherdemalions iv Scotchmen hadn't th' dacincy to
+wear kilts, even, but wint about bare to th' four winds iv hivin, a
+barbarious race lower nor a Digger Injun, a scandal to God, man, and
+faymales black and white."
+
+"Well, maybe you're right about them old times, Corney," admitted
+McHale, with an innocent face. "I meant a little later than that. This
+here McHale was with William the Conqueror at the Battle of the
+Boyne----"
+
+Mr. Quilty spat at the mention of this historic event.
+
+"Bad scran till him, then!" he exclaimed. "Yez do be a high-grade liar,
+and ign'rant as well. Willyum th' Conq'ror was Irish on his mother's
+side, an' he bate th' heads off iv th' bloody Sassenach, an' soaked
+their king wan in th' eye wid a bow 'n' arry at a fight I disremimber
+th' name of, back a thousand years before Willyum th' Dutchman--may his
+sowl get its needin's!--come out iv his swamps. I tell yez th' McHales
+come from Galway. In th' good owld days they hanged thim be th' dozen
+to th' glor iv God an' th' greater safety iv all live stock. An th'
+pity is they didn't make a cleaner job iv ut."
+
+McHale, who was enjoying himself hugely, sifted tobacco into paper.
+
+"I won't say you ain't right, Corney," he observed mildly. "I always
+understood we was Scotch, but I ain't noways bigoted about it. That
+hangin' business seems to point to us bein' Irish. Did you ever notice
+how many Irishmen is hanged? Of course, there's lots ain't that ought
+to be, but the general average is sure high."
+
+"I hope to glory ye boost it wan higher yerself," Quilty retorted.
+"Small loss 'tw'u'd be to anny wan. A divil iv a desp'rado yez are, wid
+yer gun an' all! I'm a good mind to swipe yez over th' nut wid me
+lanthern an' take ut away from yez!"
+
+McHale drew the weapon gently, and spun it on his finger, checking the
+revolutions six times with startling suddenness. Mr. Quilty watched him
+sourly.
+
+"Play thricks!" he commented. "Spin a gun! Huh! Why don't yez get a job
+wid a dhrama that shows the West as it used to wasn't? I knowed wan iv
+thim gun twirlers wanst. He was a burrd pluggin' tomatty cans an'
+such--a fair wonder he was. But wan day he starts to make a pinwheel iv
+his finger forninst a stranger he mistakes fer a tindherfut, an' he
+gets th' face iv him blowed in be a derringer from that same stranger's
+coat pocket."
+
+"Sure," McHale agreed. "It was comin' to him. He should have stuck to
+tomatter cans. Them plays is plumb safe."
+
+"They's no safe play wid a gun," Mr. Quilty declared oracularly. "I'm
+an owlder man nor ye, an' I worked me way West wid railway
+construction. I knowed th' owld-time gunmen--the wans they tell stories
+of. Where are they now? Dead, ivery mother's son iv thim, an' most iv
+thim got it from a gun. No matther how quick a man is, if he kapes at
+ut long enough he meets up wid some felly that bates him till
+it--wanst. And wanst is enough.
+
+"Plenty," McHale agreed. "Sure. The system is not to meet that sport. I
+don't figure he lives in these parts."
+
+Mr. Quilty blinked at him for a moment, and lowered his voice. "See,
+now, b'y," said he, "I'm strong for mindin' me own business, but a
+wink's as good as a nod to a blind horse. Nobody's been hurted
+hereabouts yet, but keep at ut and some wan will be. I don't want ut to
+be you or Casey. Go aisy, like a good la-ad."
+
+"I'm easy as a fox-trot," said McHale. "So's Casey. We ain't crowdin'
+nothin'. Only we're some tired of havin' a hot iron held to our hides.
+We sorter hate to smell our own hair singein'. We ain't on the prod,
+but we don't aim to be run off our own range, and that goes as it
+lies."
+
+He rose, flipping his cigarette through the open window, and inquired
+for freight. They were expecting a binder and a mower. These had not
+arrived. McHale looked at the date of his bill of lading, and stated
+his opinion of the railway.
+
+"Be ashamed, bawlin' out me employers in me prisince," said Mr. Quilty.
+"G'wan out o' here, before I take a shotgun to yez."
+
+"Come up and have a drink," McHale invited.
+
+"Agin' the rules whin on duty," Quilty refused. "An' I do be on duty
+whiniver I'm awake. 'Tis prohibition the comp'ny has on me, no less."
+
+McHale rode up the straggling street to Shiller's hotel, and
+dismounted. Bob Shiller in shirt sleeves sat on the veranda.
+
+"They's a right smart o' dust to-day, Bob," said McHale. "S'pose we
+sorter sprinkle it some."
+
+"We'll go into one of the back rooms, where it's cooler," proposed
+Shiller.
+
+"Oh, I'd just as soon go to the bar," said McHale. "Might be some of
+the boys there. I like to lean up against the wood."
+
+"Well----" Shiller began, and stopped uncertainly.
+
+"Well--what?" McHale demanded.
+
+"Just as well you don't go into the bar right now," Shiller explained.
+"You had a sort of a run-in with a feller named Cross, hadn't you--you
+or Casey? He's in there with a couple of his friends--hard-lookin'
+nuts. He's some tanked, and shootin' off his mouth. We'll have Billy
+bring us what we want where it's cooler."
+
+McHale kicked a post meditatively three times.
+
+"There's mighty little style about me, Bob," he said. "I'm democratic a
+lot. Havin' drinks sent up to a private room looks to me a heap like
+throwin' on dog."
+
+"I asked you," said Shiller. "It's my house. The drinks are on me."
+
+"I spoke of the dust," McHale reminded him. "That makes it my drinks.
+And then I done asked a man to meet me in the bar. I wouldn't like to
+keep him waitin'."
+
+"I don't want trouble here," said Shiller positively. "I ask you in a
+friendly way not to make it."
+
+"Well, I ain't makin' it, am I?" said McHale. "That's all right about
+not wantin' trouble, but I got other things to think of. This here
+Cross and Dade and that bunch don't run the country. Mighty funny if I
+have to drink in a back room for them gents. Next thing you'll want me
+to climb a tree. I'm allowin' to stop my thirst facin' a mirror with
+one foot on a rail. I'll do it that way, or you and me won't be friends
+no more."
+
+"Go to it, then," said Shiller. "You always was a bullhead."
+
+McHale grinned, hitched his holster forward a trifle, and walked toward
+the bar. As he entered he took a swift survey of its half dozen
+occupants.
+
+Three of them were regulars, citizens of Coldstream. The others were
+strangers, and each of them wore a gun down his thigh. They were of the
+type known as "hard-faced." Cross, a glass in his right hand, was
+standing facing the door. As it pushed open he turned his head and
+stared at McHale, whom he did not immediately recognize.
+
+"Come on, friend," said he; "get in on this."
+
+"Sure," said McHale promptly. "A little number nine, Billy. Here's a
+ho!" He set his glass down, and faced Cross. "Come again, boys. What'll
+you take with me?"
+
+But Cross swore suddenly. "Well!" he exclaimed. "Look at what blowed in
+off of one of them dry-ranch layouts!"
+
+McHale smiled blandly, pushing a bottle in his direction.
+
+"Beats all how some things drift about all over the country," he
+observed. "Tumbleweeds and such. They go rollin' along mighty gay till
+they bump into a wire fence somewheres."
+
+"It's sure a wonder to me your boss lets you stray this far off," said
+Cross, with sarcasm. "He needs a man to look after him the worst way.
+He don't seem to have no sand. I met up with him along our ditch a
+while back, and I told him to hike. You bet he did. Only that he'd a
+girl with him I'd have run him clean back to his reservation."
+
+"You want to get a movin'-picture layout," McHale suggested. "That'd
+make a right good show--_you_ runnin' Casey. You used to work for one
+of them outfits, didn't you?"
+
+"No. What makes you think I did?"
+
+"Your face looked sorter familiar to me," McHale replied. "Studyin' on
+it, it seems like I'd seen it in one of them picture shows down in
+Cheyenne. Right good show, too. It showed a bunch of boys after a hoss
+thief. He got away."
+
+"Haw-haw!" laughed one of the regulars, and suddenly froze to silence.
+Billy, behind the bar, stood as if petrified, towel in hand. Cross's
+face, flushed with liquor, blackened in a ferocious scowl.
+
+"You ---- ---- ----!" he roared. "What do you mean by that?"
+
+"Mean?" asked McHale innocently. "Why, I was tellin' you about a show I
+seen. What's wrong with that?"
+
+"You called me a horse thief!" cried Cross.
+
+"Who? Me?" said McHale. "Why, no, Mr. Cross, you ain't no hoss thief. I
+know different. If anybody says you are, you just send him right along
+to me. No, sir; I know you ain't. There's two good reasons against it."
+
+Cross glared at him, his fingers beginning to twitch.
+
+"Let's hear them," he said. "If they ain't good you go out of that door
+feet first."
+
+"They're plumb good--best you ever heard," McHale affirmed. "Now,
+listen. Here's how I know you ain't no hoss thief: For one thing, you
+got too much mouth; and for another you ain't got the nerve!"
+
+Out of the dead silence came Shiller's voice from the door:
+
+"I'll fill the first man that makes a move plumb full of buckshot. If
+there's any shootin' in here, I'm doin' it myself." He held a pump gun
+at his shoulder, the muzzle dominating the group. "You, Tom," he
+continued, "you said you wouldn't make trouble."
+
+"Am I makin' it?" asked McHale.
+
+"Are you makin' it?" Shiller repeated. "Oh, no, you ain't. You're a
+gentle, meek-and-mild pilgrim, you are. I ain't goin' to hold this gun
+all day, neither. You better hit the high spots. I'll give you time to
+get on your cayuse and drift. At the end of two minutes this man goes
+out of that door, and I ain't responsible for what happens. I'm sure
+sorry, Tom, to treat you like this, but I got my house to consider."
+
+"That's all right, Bob," said McHale. "Looks like you hold the ace.
+I'll step. Far's I'm concerned you needn't keep them gents two minutes
+nor one." He turned to the door.
+
+"I'm lookin' for you, McHale," said Cross.
+
+"Come a-runnin'," said McHale. "Bring your friends."
+
+He walked into the middle of the road, turned, and waited. His action
+attracted little attention. Coldstream was indoors, somnolent with the
+afternoon heat. Across the street the proprietor of the general store
+commented lazily to a friend:
+
+"What's Tom McHale doin'?"
+
+"Some fool joke. He's full of them. I reckon he wants us to ask him."
+
+McHale called to them: "Boys, if I was you I'd move out of line of me
+and Bob's door."
+
+"What did I tell you?" the wise one commented. "You bet I don't bite.
+I----"
+
+Out of the door of Shiller's surged Cross, gun in hand. Uncertain where
+to find McHale, he glared about. Then, as he saw him standing in the
+middle of the road, the weapon seemed to leap to a level.
+Simultaneously McHale shot from the hip.
+
+Bang! Bang! Bang!
+
+Pale-pink flashes stabbed the afternoon light. Coldstream echoed to the
+fusillade. Its inhabitants ran to doors and windows, streaming into the
+streets. One of the store windows suddenly starred. Long lines, like
+cracks in thin ice, appeared in it, radiating from a common centre. The
+proprietor and his friend, electrified, ducked and sprang for shelter.
+A woman screamed in fright.
+
+Suddenly Cross staggered, turning halfway around. The deadly rage in
+his face changed to blank wonder. His pistol arm sagged. Then he
+collapsed gently, not as a tree falls, but as an overweighted sapling
+bends, swaying backward until, overbalanced, he thudded limply on the
+ground.
+
+McHale, half crouched like a fighting animal awaiting an attack, peered
+with burning eyes over the hot muzzle of his gun at the prostrate
+figure. Swiftly he swung out the cylinder of the weapon, ejected the
+empty shells, refilled the chambers, and snapped it shut. Shiller's
+door opened. McHale covered it instantly, but it was Shiller himself.
+
+"So you done it, did you?" he said.
+
+"Sure," said McHale. "He comes a-shootin', and I gets him. Likewise I
+gets them two _tillikums_ of his if they want it that way."
+
+"Billy's keepin' them quiet with the pump gun," Shiller informed him.
+"You better get out o' town. I'll clean up your mess, darn you! Git
+quick. Them fellers expects some more in."
+
+McHale nodded. "I ain't organized to stand off a whole posse with one
+gun. So long, Bob. I'm plumb sorry I mixed you into this. They won't
+like you much now."
+
+"They don't need to," said Shiller. "Want any money? Want another gun?
+I got a handy little three-ought-three carbine."
+
+"No. I'll get my own outfit. I may have to lie out for a spell. Well,
+I'll be movin'."
+
+He mounted swiftly. Men crowding up to the scene of the affray stopped
+suddenly. Few of them had seen the like before. They shrank back, awed,
+from the killer. He rode down the street, gun in hand, casting swift
+glances right and left, ready for any attempt to stop him. There was
+none. He vanished in the swells of brown grasses, riding at an easy
+lope, as unhurried as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+
+Tom McHale reached Chakchak, stabled his horse, made a hasty toilet,
+and attacked a belated supper. While he was eating with hearty appetite
+Casey and Wade strolled in.
+
+"Did that freight come?" asked Casey.
+
+"Nope," said McHale. "I got a tracer started after her."
+
+"Anything doing in town?"
+
+"Why, I reckon there was a _leetle_ excitement there for a few
+minutes," said McHale. "Sort of an argument in front of Bob Shiller's."
+
+Casey, from his knowledge of McHale, came to attention at once. "Well?"
+he asked abruptly.
+
+"Well, it was me and this here Cross," McHale explained. "I downed
+him."
+
+"In the argument?" laughed Wade, who did not comprehend. But Casey
+asked quickly: "Gun?"
+
+McHale nodded.
+
+"You did! How'd it happen? Is he dead?"
+
+"I miss once, but three times I'm pretty near centre," McHale replied.
+"Course, I didn't wait to hold no inquest, but if he ain't forded
+Jordan's tide by now he's plumb lucky; also tough. Only thing makes me
+doubt it is the way he goes down. He don't come ahead on his face the
+way a man does when he's plugged for keeps; but he sorter sags
+backward, so he may have a chance. Still, I reckon she's a slim one."
+
+Casey got the full story with half a dozen brief questions.
+
+"Clear case of self-defence, isn't it, Wade?"
+
+"Looks that way, if the evidence corroborates what he says," the lawyer
+replied. "Are you sure he shot first, Tom?"
+
+"Better put it he meant to shoot first," McHale responded. "Naturally,
+I ain't standin' round waitin' for no sightin' shots. It comes close to
+an even break."
+
+"That's good enough," Wade declared. "If his actions left no doubt of
+his hostile purpose in your mind you were justified in protecting
+yourself."
+
+"They sure didn't," said McHale. "He's out to down me, and I know it.
+There ain't no Alphonse and Gaston stuff when he comes boilin' out,
+pullin' his gun. I just sail in to get action while I got the chance."
+
+"Exactly," said Wade. "Well, Tom, you'll be arrested, of course. If
+Cross isn't dead, likely you can get bail. If he is, I'm afraid you'll
+have to remain in custody till the trial. I'll defend you myself, if
+you'll let me. Or maybe it would be better to get a man whose practice
+is more on the criminal side. I'll get the best there is for you."
+
+"I'm obliged," said McHale. "I'll stand a trial all right, but I ain't
+figurin' on bein' arrested for a while."
+
+"Nonsense!" said Wade. "You don't mean to resist arrest? That's
+foolish."
+
+"Oh, I dunno," said McHale. "Depends on how you look at it. I ain't
+goin' to resist to speak of; I'm just lyin' low for a spell. I reckon
+I'll pack old Baldy with a little outfit, Casey. 'Bout two days from
+now you'll find him out by Sunk Springs if you ride that way."
+
+"I don't get the idea."
+
+"It's this way," McHale explained. "This Cross is one of a bad bunch.
+They'll be out for my scalp. They don't want no law in this. I been
+hearin' 'bout Cross and this old-timer, Dade. They're great tillikums,
+and Dade is the old he-coon of the bunch. I ain't takin' a chance on
+some little tin-starred deputy standin' them off. Furthermore, I figure
+it ain't unlikely they'll come after me some time to-night. If it was
+just you and me, Casey, we could stand the hand, and whatever hangin'
+there was would come off in the smoke. But with women on the place it
+wouldn't be right. So I'll just point out for a little campin' spot
+somewheres, and save everybody trouble. If any of these here sheriffs
+or deputies gets nosin' around, you tell 'em how it is. I'll come in
+when the signs is right, and not before. Tell them not to go huntin'
+me, neither, but to go ahead and get everything set for a proper trial.
+I'll send word when I'll be in."
+
+Wade chuckled. "They can't arrange a trial without somebody to try,
+Tom."
+
+"They'll have to make a stagger at it, or wait," McHale responded
+seriously.
+
+It was dusk when he headed westward, old Baldy, lightly packed,
+trotting meekly at the tail of his saddle horse.
+
+Casey, coming back from a final word with him, met Clyde strolling
+toward the young orchard. He fell into step.
+
+"Nice evening."
+
+She regarded him quizzically. "I won't ask a single question. You
+needn't be afraid."
+
+"Did you think I meant to head off your natural curiosity? Not a bit of
+it. You want to know where Tom is going at this time of night, and
+why?"
+
+"Of course I do. But I won't ask."
+
+"You may just as well know now as later." He told her what had
+happened, omitting to mention McHale's real reason for leaving the
+ranch. Even in the darkness he could see the trouble in her eyes.
+
+"You really mean it?" she questioned. "You mean that he has killed a
+man?"
+
+"Either that or shot him up pretty badly."
+
+"I can scarcely believe it. I like McHale; he's droll, humorous, so
+cheerful, so easy-going. I can't think of him as a murderer."
+
+"Nonsense!" said Casey. "No murder about it. It was a fair gun
+fight--an even break. This fellow came at Tom, shooting. He had to
+protect himself."
+
+"He could have avoided it. He had time to get on his horse and ride
+away. But he waited."
+
+"He did right," said Casey. "This man would have shot him on sight. It
+was best to settle it then and there."
+
+"That may be so," she admitted, "but life is a sacred thing to me."
+
+"No doubt Tom considered his own life tolerably sacred," he responded.
+"As an abstract proposition life may be sacred. Practically it's about
+the cheapest thing on earth. It persists and repeats and increases in
+spite of war, pestilence, and famine. The principal value of the
+individual life is its service to other life. Cross wasn't much good.
+That old Holstein over there in the corral, with her long and
+honourable record of milk production and thoroughbred calves, is of
+more real benefit to the world. You see, it was Tom or Cross. One had
+to go. I'm mighty glad it was Cross."
+
+"Oh, if you put it that way----"
+
+"That's the way to put it. Of course, we aren't sure that he's more
+than shot up a little. Still, knowing what Tom can do with a gun, I'm
+inclined to think that Cross is all same good Indian."
+
+For some moments they walked in silence. It was rapidly becoming dark.
+A heavy bank of cloud, blue-black in the waning light, was slowly
+climbing into the northwestern sky, partially obscuring the last tints
+of the sunset. The wind had ceased. The air was hot, oppressive, laden
+with the scents of dry earth. Sounds carried far in the stillness. The
+stamp of a horse in a stall, the low, throaty notes of a cow nuzzling
+her calf, the far-off evening wail of a coyote--all seemed strangely
+near at hand, borne by some telephonic quality in the atmosphere.
+
+"How still it is!" said Clyde. "One can almost feel the darkness
+descending."
+
+"Electrical storm coming, I fancy. No such luck as rain."
+
+"I don't suppose it affects you," she remarked, "but out here when
+night comes I feel lonely. And yet that's scarcely the right word. It's
+more a sense of apprehension, a realization of my own unimportance. The
+country is so vast--so empty--that I feel dwarfed by it. I believe I'm
+afraid of the big, lonely land when the darkness lies on it. Of course,
+you'll laugh at me."
+
+"No," he assured her. "I know the feeling very well. I've had it
+myself, not here, but up where the rivers run into the Polar Sea. The
+vastness oppressed. I wanted the company of men and to see the things
+man had made. I was awed by the world lying just as it came from the
+hand of God. The wilderness seemed to press in on me. That's what
+drives men mad sometimes. It isn't the solitude or the loneliness
+exactly. It's the constant pressure of forces that can be felt but not
+described."
+
+"I think I understand."
+
+"The ordinary person wouldn't. There are no words to express some
+things."
+
+"I'm glad of it; I don't want the things I feel the most cheapened by
+words."
+
+"Something in that," he agreed. "Words are poor things when one really
+_feels_. Providence seems to have arranged that we should be more or
+less tongue-tied when we feel the most."
+
+"Is that the case?"
+
+"I think so--with men, at any rate. It's especially so with most of us
+in affairs of love and death."
+
+"But some men make love very well, you know," she smiled.
+
+"I defer to your experience," he laughed back.
+
+"Oh, my experience!" She made a wry face. "And what do you know of my
+experience?"
+
+"Less than nothing. But from some slight observation of my fellow men I
+am aware that a very pretty and wealthy girl is in a position to
+collect experience of that kind faster than she can catalogue it."
+
+"Perhaps she doesn't want to do either."
+
+"Referring further to my fellow man, I beg to say that her wishes cut
+very little ice. She will get the experience whether she wants it or
+not."
+
+"Accurate observer! Are you trying to flatter me?"
+
+"As how?"
+
+"Do you think me pretty?"
+
+"Even in the darkness----"
+
+"Be serious. Do you?"
+
+"Why, of course I do. I never saw a prettier girl in my life."
+
+"Cross your heart?"
+
+"Honest Injun--wish I may die!"
+
+"Oh, well," said Clyde, "that's something. That's satisfactory. I'm
+glad to extract something of a complimentary nature at last. You were
+far better when I met you at the Wades'. You did pay me a compliment,
+and you asked me for a rose. Please, sir, _do_ you remember asking a
+poor girl for a rose?"
+
+"I have it still."
+
+"Truly?" A little throb of pleasure shot through her and crept into her
+voice. "And you never told me!"
+
+"I was to keep it as security. That was the bargain."
+
+"But how much nicer it would be to say that you kept it because I gave
+it to you. Are you aware that I made an exception in your favour by
+doing so?"
+
+"I thought so at the time," said Casey. "I expected a refusal. However,
+I took a chance."
+
+"And won. Are you sure that you have the rose still? And where among
+your treasures do you keep it?"
+
+He hesitated.
+
+"You don't know where it is! That's just like a man. For shame!"
+
+"You're wrong," Casey said quietly. "I keep it with some little things
+that belonged to my mother."
+
+She put out her hand impulsively. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "I--I beg your
+pardon!"
+
+His strong fingers closed on hers. She did not withdraw her hand. He
+leaned forward to look into her upraised eyes in the growing darkness.
+
+"That seemed the proper place to keep it. I value your friendship very
+much--too much to presume on it. We are at opposite ends of the
+world--I'm quite aware of that. When this little holiday of yours is
+over you'll go back to your everyday life and surroundings, and I don't
+want you to take with you one regret or unpleasant memory."
+
+"I don't know what I shall take," she replied gravely. "But I'm not at
+all sure that I shall go back."
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"Suppose," she said, "suppose that you were a moderately rich man, in
+good health, young, without business or profession, without any special
+talent; and that your friends--your social circle--were very much like
+yourself. Suppose that your life was spent in clubs, country houses,
+travel--that you had nothing on earth to do but amuse yourself, nothing
+to look forward to but repetitions of the same amusement. What would
+become of you?"
+
+"To be perfectly truthful," he replied, "I should probably go to the
+devil."
+
+"The correct answer," said Clyde gravely. "_I_ am going to the devil.
+Oh, I'm strictly conventional. I mean that I'm stagnating
+utterly--mentally, morally, and physically. I'm degenerating. My life
+is a feminine replica of the one I suggested to you. I'm wearied to
+death of it--of killing time aimlessly, of playing at literature, at
+charity, at uplifting people who don't want to be uplifted. And there's
+nothing different ahead. Must I play at living until I die?"
+
+"But you will marry," he predicted. "You will meet the right man. That
+will make a difference."
+
+"Perhaps I have met him."
+
+"Then I wish you great happiness."
+
+"And perhaps he doesn't care for me--in that way."
+
+"The right man would. You're not hard to fall in love with, Clyde."
+
+"Am I not--Casey?" She smiled up at him through the dark, a little
+tremor in her voice. She felt his fingers tighten on hers like bands of
+steel, crushing them together, and she was conscious of a strange joy
+in the pain of it.
+
+"You know you are not!" he said tensely. "I could----" He broke off
+abruptly.
+
+"Then why don't you?" she murmured softly.
+
+"Why not?" he exclaimed. "I'd look pretty, wouldn't I, a busted land
+speculator, falling in love with you! I've some sense of the fitness of
+things. But when you look at me like that----"
+
+He stooped swiftly and kissed her, drawing her to him almost fiercely.
+"Oh, girl!" he said, "why did you tempt me? I've forgotten what was due
+you as my guest. I've forgotten all that I've been remembering so
+carefully for weeks. Now it's over. Some day the right man will tell
+you how he loves you."
+
+"I am waiting," she whispered, "for the 'right man' to tell me now!"
+
+"Why," he exclaimed incredulously, "you don't mean----"
+
+"But I do mean," she replied. "Oh, Casey, boy, didn't you know?
+Couldn't you guess? Must I do all the love-making myself?"
+
+The answer to this question was in the nature of an unqualified
+negative, and extended over half an hour. But Casey retained many of
+his scruples. He could not, he insisted, live on her money. If he went
+broke, as seemed likely, he must have time to get a fresh stake. Clyde
+waived this point, having some faith in Jim Hess. Of this, however, she
+said nothing to him.
+
+"We had better go," she said at last. "It is quite dark. Kitty will
+wonder where we are."
+
+"Shall you tell her? Better."
+
+"Not to-night, anyway. She--you see----"
+
+"She'd jolly you, you mean. Of course. But We may as well have it
+over."
+
+"Not to-night," Clyde repeated. She was uncomfortably conscious of her
+confidences to Kitty Wade, made without much thought.
+
+They approached the house from the rear, passing by the kitchen, whence
+issued the sound of voices.
+
+"Let's take a peep at Feng's company?" Casey suggested.
+
+The kitchen was built apart from the house, but attached to it by a
+covered way. Standing in the outer darkness, they could look in through
+the open window without risk of being seen, and were close enough to
+overhear every word.
+
+Feng was resting from the labours of the day, sitting smoking on the
+kitchen table. Facing him, a pipe between his wrinkled lips, sat old
+Simon. His face was expressionless, but his eyes, black, watchful, were
+curiously alert.
+
+"What foh you come, Injun?" Feng demanded. "Wantee glub? Injun all time
+_hiyu_ eat, all same hobo tlamp. S'pose you hungly me catch some
+_muckamuck_. Catch piecee blead, catch col' loast beef--loast
+_moosmoos_!"
+
+"You catchum," Simon agreed. "Casey--where him stop?"
+
+"Casey!" Feng's features expanded in a grin. "Him stop along gal--_tenas
+klootchman_, you savvy. Go walkee along gal. P'laps, bimeby, two, tlee
+hou', him come back."
+
+Simon grunted gutturally. "Ya-as," he drawled.
+
+"_Hiyu_ lich gal," Feng proceeded. "Have _hiyu_ dolla'. You bet. She
+one _hiyu_ dam' plitty gal, savvy?"
+
+"Hush!" Clyde whispered, as Casey would have put an end to this risky
+eavesdropping. "I didn't think that Feng had such good taste. I'm
+getting compliments from everybody to-night. I'm really flattered. I
+want to hear some more."
+
+"Better not," he advised apprehensively.
+
+"But I want to."
+
+"Ya-as," Simon drawled again. "_Hyas kloshe tenas klootchman_--ah-ha.
+What name you callum?"
+
+"Missee Clyde Bullaby," Feng replied, making a manful attempt at
+Clyde's surname, which was quite beyond his lingual attainments.
+
+"Clyde!" Simon repeated, in accents of incredulity. "Me savvy 'Clyde.'
+Him big man-horse _hyas skookum_ man-horse. Him _mammook_ plow,
+_mammook_ haul wagon!"
+
+"You _hyas_ damfool Injun!" said his host politely. "Missee Clyde
+Chlistian gal's name, catchum in Chlistian Bible; all same Swede Annie,
+all same Spokane Sue, all same Po'tland Lily."
+
+Simon digested this information with preternatural gravity. "Ya-as,"
+said he. "Casey like Clyde?"
+
+"Clyde likee Casey," Feng responded knowingly. "Casey call um woman
+fliend. Lats! All same big Melican bluff, makee me sick. Bimeby some
+time she makee mally him. Bimeby baby stop. Then me quit. Me go back to
+China."
+
+The prophet's last words blurred in Clyde's ringing ears. The friendly
+darkness hid her flaming cheeks. Why, oh why, had she listened? She
+was not even shocked by Casey's muttered curse. She felt his hand on
+her arm, drawing her gently back into the deeper shadows. In silence
+she followed.
+
+"I'll fire that infernal yellow scoundrel to-morrow," he growled.
+
+"No, no, it was my own fault," she declared. "Absolutely and entirely
+my own. I--I----Oh, don't _look_ at me, please!"
+
+"I won't," he promised, but his voice shook slightly.
+
+"You're laughing!" she accused him tragically.
+
+"Indeed I'm not," he denied; but with the words came an involuntary
+sound strongly resembling a chuckle.
+
+"Shame!" she cried.
+
+"Yes, yes!" he gasped. "I know it. It's too bad. Ha-ha! I really beg
+your pardon. I----Oh, good Lord!"
+
+But Clyde gathered up her skirts and fled, whirling up the veranda
+steps and into the house like a small cyclone, never pausing until a
+locked door lay between her and a ribald, unfeeling world.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+
+It was after midnight when Clyde awoke. She passed from slumber to
+wakefulness instantly, without the usual intervening stages of
+drowsiness.
+
+Outside a gale was blowing, and volleys of rain pattered like spent
+shot on windows and roof. Thunder rumbled ceaselessly. A vivid flash
+rent the outer darkness, illuminating the room, and the succeeding
+crack shook the house. It was a storm, rare in the dry belt, of which
+there were not more than one or two in the year. For Casey's sake she
+hoped that there would be no hail with it. Better continued drought
+than a ruinous bombardment of frozen pellets from the heavens which
+would beat the crops to the ground, utterly destroying them.
+
+As she lay listening she seemed to hear sounds not of the storm, as of
+some one moving on the veranda. Then came a loud, insistent knocking.
+She heard the door of Wade's room open, and a long crack of light
+beneath her own showed that he had lit a lamp.
+
+"Hello! Who's there?" he asked.
+
+The reply was indistinguishable. A violent blow on the door followed
+it. She sprang out of bed, threw on a dressing gown, thrust her feet
+into slippers, opened her door, and peered out.
+
+A single hand lamp on the table showed Wade, clad in pajamas and
+slippers, standing before the door. His attitude expressed uncertainty.
+He glanced back and saw Clyde.
+
+"What is it?" she asked. "Who is there?"
+
+"I don't know," he replied. "There are men out there. They want me to
+open the door. Do you know where there's a gun in the house? I
+haven't----"
+
+The impact of a heavy body cut him short. The lock gave way, and the
+door swung inward. Wade sprang back and caught up a chair. Framed in
+the door, silhouetted against the outer blackness, appeared a man. His
+hat was pulled low over his eyes. A handkerchief cut with eyeholes
+concealed his face. His right hand held a six-shooter, with which he
+covered Wade. Back of him, pressing forward, were other armed men.
+
+"Put that chair down!" he ordered. "Nobody's goin' to hurt you."
+
+"Glad to hear it!" snapped Wade, who was the fortunate owner of
+unlimited sand. "What do you mean by breaking into a house in the
+middle of the night and frightening women? If you want money I've got
+about fifty dollars, and that's all. You're welcome to it if you'll
+clear out."
+
+"Keep it," the intruder returned contemptuously. He stepped into the
+room, followed by four others. "I guess your name is Wade. We don't
+want you. We want McHale."
+
+"Well, I haven't got him," said Wade.
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"What do you want with him?"
+
+"That's none of your business."
+
+"All right. If that's so it's none of my business where he is."
+
+"You'd better make it your business," said the other suggestively.
+
+"Well, I won't," Wade retorted. "He isn't here, and that'll have to do
+you."
+
+"On general principles it don't do to believe a lawyer. Where's Dunne?"
+
+"He isn't here, either."
+
+"I reckon we'll make sure of that." He took a step in the direction of
+Clyde's room. Wade stepped in front of him.
+
+"No, you don't, my friend," said he. "That room belongs to a lady. You
+keep out of it."
+
+The leader stopped. "Well," he said, "I don't want to scare no women;
+but all the same I'm goin' to see the inside of every room in this
+house. S'pose you knock and tell that lady to fix herself up so's she
+won't mind my takin' a look in. I'm goin' to make mighty sure her name
+ain't McHale."
+
+Clyde opened the door, and walked into the room. She was surprised to
+find that she was not in the least frightened. Said she:
+
+"Good evening, gentlemen. Do you think I resemble Mr. McHale?"
+
+"No, ma'am," said the leader; "I don't reckon you favour him much."
+
+Admiration was apparent in his voice. Clyde smiled at him.
+
+"Then perhaps you'll take a look at my room now, and allow me to retire
+again."
+
+"I don't need to look there, ma'am," the man replied. "I'm awful sorry
+we troubled you."
+
+"That's the way to talk," said a quiet voice from the door.
+
+The leader whirled instantly to look into the ominous muzzle of a heavy
+automatic held by Casey Dunne.
+
+"Put that gun down, and your hands up!" snapped Casey. "Quick! No
+nonsense! I'll kill the first man that tries anything."
+
+The quiet had gone from his voice; it bit like acid. Strange, hard
+lights danced in his eyes. The hand that held the gun had not a tremor.
+Clyde, looking at him, saw and recognized in his face the cold
+deadliness which she had once seen in McHale's.
+
+Without an instant's hesitation the leader put his weapon on the table.
+"You win once," he observed.
+
+"That's sensible," Casey commented. "Now, perhaps you'll tell me what
+this means?"
+
+"No objection in the world," the other replied coolly. "We wanted to
+interview McHale."
+
+"Is that so? Well, Tom isn't here to-night Mr. Dade. By the way, unless
+you really like it you needn't wear that transformation scheme across
+your face. Same remark applies to the other gentlemen. I like to know
+my visitors."
+
+Dade laughed, removing the handkerchief. "Take a good look. You may see
+me again."
+
+"Any time you like, Mr. Dade. And what did you want with McHale?"
+
+"Well," Dade answered calmly, "we figured that he'd help us take the
+stretch out of a new rope."
+
+"Nobody else would do?" queried Casey.
+
+"We wanted him."
+
+"I see. And had our mutual friend, Mr. Cross, anything to do with your
+desire? By the way, how _is_ Mr. Cross? Or should I say the late Mr.
+Cross?"
+
+"Not yet," Dade replied. "He's got a chance."
+
+"Then aren't you too previous?"
+
+"McHale laid for him, and plugged him as he came out of Shiller's,"
+Dade declared.
+
+"Cross came out of Shiller's with his gun in his hand to get McHale,"
+said Casey. "McHale was entitled to shoot. It was an even break."
+
+"That's not how I heard it."
+
+"That's what McHale says, and it goes with me."
+
+"It don't go with me," Dade declared. "Me and Cross is partners--has
+been for years. I'm out to get McHale, and you can send him word. I
+reckon he ain't here, or he'd be obvious."
+
+"He'd be mighty obvious," Casey agreed. "I may as well tell you, Mr.
+Dade, that this feud business makes me tired. It's sinful, and, worse
+than that, it's out of date. You take notice, now, that we won't stand
+for it. You've pretty well played out your string here, anyway."
+
+Dade stared at him. "I reckon you'll have to talk a little plainer,
+Dunne."
+
+"Isn't that plain enough? This shooting was square. You let it go as it
+lies. Otherwise we'll clean up your whole bunch."
+
+Dade laughed. "That's sure plain," he admitted. "I like nerve, and
+you've got it a-plenty, but you ain't got me buffaloed at all. You
+heard what I said. It goes."
+
+"Suit yourself," said Casey. "I'll send McHale word. Anything else I
+can do for you to-night?"
+
+"Not a thing," Dade replied. "We'll be going--unless you want us to
+stay. I'm sorry we disturbed the lady, but I sure thought McHale was in
+here."
+
+"She'll forgive you," said Casey. "That part of it's all right. Better
+think over what I said. I mean it."
+
+"So do I," said Dade grimly. "You can send McHale word."
+
+As Casey closed the door and set a chair against it in place of the
+damaged fastenings, Kitty Wade peeped from her room.
+
+"Are the outlaws g-gone?" she asked.
+
+"They have went," her husband replied. "You are saved, m'dear. Your
+little heart may now palpitate in normal palps."
+
+His wife, looking altogether charming and girlish, emerged.
+
+"Well, I _was_ frightened," she admitted. "I'd give worlds to be as
+brave as Clyde."
+
+Clyde, feeling Casey's eyes upon her, flushed and gathered her dressing
+gown closer, conscious for the first time of her attire. "Oh, nonsense,
+Kitty!" she responded. "I was really shaking in my shoes."
+
+"You didn't show it," Casey commented. "There isn't one girl in a
+thousand who would have been as cool."
+
+"I agree with you," said Wade. He put his arm around his wife. "Better
+go back to roost, little girl."
+
+"Not until I hear all about it," said Kitty. "Go and get a bath robe or
+something, like a good boy. Pajamas are very becoming, and all the best
+people wear 'em, but----"
+
+"I beg everybody's pardon!" Wade exclaimed in confusion. "I thought I
+had on my--er--that is, it never struck me that I wasn't clad in
+orthodox garments." He was back in a moment, swathed in a bath robe.
+"Now, Casey, tell us how you happened to make that stage entrance?"
+
+"Not much to tell about it," Casey replied. "I had an old Indian bedded
+down in the hay in the stable, and he saw or heard this outfit riding
+in and woke me up. As a matter of fact, the old boy was just outside
+with a shotgun all the time. We had that much moral support. He came to
+tell me that this outfit meant to get Tom."
+
+"This McHale business is serious," said Wade.
+
+"Very serious. I don't mean so far as Tom is concerned; he can take
+care of himself. But you can see that we can't allow these men to
+bulldoze us. It's McHale now. To-morrow it may be some one else."
+
+"Yes, I see. But what can you do about it? The law----"
+
+"It's outside the law," said Casey. "The law is too slow. We'll make
+our own law. Hello! What's that?"
+
+He jumped to his feet, gun in hand, as the chair set against the door
+scraped back from it. Out of the darkness staggered Sheila McCrae.
+
+Water dripped from her old pony hat and ran in little rivulets from a
+long, yellow slicker. From head to foot she was spattered with mud. Her
+face was pale, drawn, and dirt-smeared, and blood oozed slowly from a
+jagged cut above her left eye. She swayed from side to side as she
+walked.
+
+Kitty Wade cried out; Clyde rose swiftly in quick sympathy. But Casey
+was before her.
+
+"Sheila--girl--what's the matter?" he exclaimed.
+
+She stretched out her arms to him gropingly.
+
+"Where's Tom, Casey? They're after him. Maybe they're after you.
+Father's hurt. Sandy----I can't talk, Casey. I guess--I'm--all in."
+
+He caught her as she fell forward, lifting her in his arms as easily as
+if she had been a child, and laid her on a couch.
+
+"No, no," he said, as Clyde would have put cushions beneath her head.
+"Let her lie flat." He unbuttoned the slicker, and opened her dress
+halfway from throat to waist, stripping it away with ruthless hand. A
+bare shoulder and arm showed bruised and discoloured. "She's been in
+some mix-up--had a fall or something. Wade, get me some whiskey and
+water!" His long fingers closed on her wrist. "She'll be all right in
+five minutes, unless something's broken. Mrs. Wade, get in here and
+loosen her corsets. Give her a chance."
+
+Kitty stooped obediently, and straightened up in amazement.
+"Why--she----"
+
+"Well, how did I know?" snapped Casey. He ran his hand down her side.
+"No ribs broken; arms all right. Good!"
+
+Sheila's long lashes fluttered against her cheeks, she sighed and
+opened her eyes.
+
+"Casey," she said, "never mind me. Look out for yourself. Where's Tom?
+There are men coming to-night. I was afraid----"
+
+"All right, Sheila," he interrupted. "Tom is safe. The men have gone.
+No trouble at all. Just lie quiet till things steady a little. Have a
+drink of this."
+
+Clyde brought water, sponge, and towels. She cleansed Sheila's face and
+hands, and deftly dressed the cut in her forehead.
+
+"You make me feel like a baby," said Sheila. "I never fainted before in
+my life. I didn't think I could faint. I'm all right now. May I sit up,
+please?"
+
+"You may lie up, if you like," Casey replied. "Let me put some pillows
+under you. You've had a bad shake-up, old girl."
+
+"Beaver Boy fell," she explained, "and threw me. I must have struck my
+head. I don't know how I caught him again. I don't remember very
+clearly. I had to hang on to the horn sometimes--dizzy, you know. I
+never had to pull leather before. He was afraid of the lightning, and I
+wasn't strong enough to handle him afterward. The fall took it out of
+me. I just had to let him go. He knew it, and acted mean. I'll show him
+whose horse he is next time."
+
+"You rode on your nerve," said Casey. "Tell us all about it. Tell us
+about your father and Sandy. You were going to say something when you
+keeled over."
+
+The girl's keen face clouded. "Oh, heavens! Casey, my head can't be
+right yet. I'd clean forgotten my own people. There's been nothing but
+trouble in bunches all day. The drivers ran away this morning, smashed
+the rig, threw father out, and broke his leg. This afternoon this man
+Glass, whom we all took for a harmless nuisance, arrested Sandy."
+
+"What?" Casey exclaimed.
+
+"Yes, he did. Glass is a railway detective. He worked quietly, nosing
+around the ranches talking to everybody, while the other detective
+attracted all the attention. Nobody suspected Glass. Who would? Anyway,
+he and another man arrested Sandy for blowing up the dam."
+
+Casey whistled softly, casting a side glance at Wade.
+
+"Where's Sandy now? Where did they take him?"
+
+Sheila laughed, but there was little mirth in it.
+
+"They didn't take him anywhere, but I don't know where he is. I saw him
+with the two men down by the stable. I thought they were talking about
+land. Half an hour afterward he came to the house with his parfleches,
+and asked me to put him up a couple of weeks' grubstake. He had the men
+locked up in the harness room, but he didn't tell me how he had done
+it. He took his pack horse and his blankets and hunting outfit, and
+pulled out. I didn't know what to do. I didn't tell the folks. The
+ranch hands know, but they won't let the men out. And then it must have
+been after ten o'clock when one of our men told me of the shooting. He
+had heard it from somebody on the road. He said that Cross' friends
+were talking of lynching McHale, and perhaps you. I didn't believe it
+at first, but after a while I got nervous. Everybody was asleep, and
+anyway there was nobody I could ask to go; so I came myself."
+
+"And Tom and I will never forget it, Sheila," said Casey. "I don't know
+another girl who could have made it after a fall like that in this
+storm."
+
+"It was perfectly splendid of you!" cried Kitty Wade, with hearty
+admiration.
+
+Clyde, obeying a sudden impulse, leaned forward and kissed the bruised
+forehead. Sheila was unused to such endearments. She had no intimates
+of her own sex; with the women she was courteously distant, repelling
+and rather despising them. She had felt Clyde's instinctive hostility,
+and had returned it. Surprised and touched by her action, the tears
+started to her eyes. Clyde put her arms around the slender, pliant
+waist.
+
+"Come with me, dear, and get some sleep. You're badly shaken up. We'll
+sleep in, in the morning."
+
+"But I have to go back," Sheila objected. "Nobody knows I've gone. I
+have to be back by morning. And then there's Beaver Boy! My heavens! I
+left him standing outside. Oh, I've got to----"
+
+Casey gently pressed her back as she would have risen.
+
+"I'll stable the horse, old girl; and I'll be at Talapus by daylight to
+tell them where you are. Don't you worry, now, about anything--not even
+Sandy. If he's gone back to the hills I'll bet he finds Tom. They'll be
+all right."
+
+"Do you think so, Casey? And will you do that much for me? I'm awfully
+sore and tired. Every bone and muscle of me aches."
+
+"You poor little girl." He raised her in his arms. "Come on, girls, and
+put her to bed. I'll carry her in."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+With the first streaks of dawn Casey and Simon mounted and rode for
+Talapus. But before they had ridden five hundred yards Casey discovered
+an extraordinary thing. In his ears sounded a sustained, musical
+murmur, nothing less than the happy laugh of running water.
+
+"By the Lord Harry!" he ejaculated. "There's water in the ditches."
+
+Simon nodded. "Ya-as. _Hiyu chuck_ stop, all same _skookum chuck_," he
+observed, signifying that there was a full head of it, like a rapid.
+
+The ditches were running to the brim. After the soaking rain of the
+night the water was not immediately needed, but it showed that the
+irrigation company's works no longer controlled the supply. When they
+reached the river they found a swirling, yellow torrent running
+yeasty-topped, speckled with débris.
+
+"S'pose cloud _kokshut_!" Simon observed.
+
+"Cloudburst, eh!" said Casey. "Looks like it. Then either the company's
+dam has gone, or it can't take care of the head."
+
+The former supposition seemed the more likely. Somewhere up in the
+heart of the hills the black storm cloud had broken, and its contents,
+collected by nameless creeks and gulches, had swooped down on the
+Coldstream, raising it bank high, booming down to the lower reaches,
+practically a wall of water, against which only the strongest
+structures might stand. Temporary ones would go out before it, washed
+away like a child's sand castle in a Fundy tide.
+
+Ignoring trails, they struck straight across country. The land had been
+washed clean. Beneath the brown grasses the earth lay dark and moist. A
+hundred fresh, elusive odours struck the nostrils, called forth from
+the soil by the rare moisture, a silent token of its latent fertility.
+On the way there were no houses, no fences, no cleared fields. The land
+lay in the dawn as empty as when the keels of restless white men first
+split the Western ocean; and more lifeless, for the great buffalo herds
+that of old gave the men of the plains and foothills food and raiment
+were gone forever.
+
+The sun was up when they reached Talapus. Mrs. McCrae had just
+discovered her daughter's absence; and her husband was cursing the leg
+that held him helpless. Casey told them the events of the night, and
+Donald McCrae was proud of his daughter, and but little worried about
+his son.
+
+"Show me another girl would have ridden in that storm!" he exclaimed.
+"She's the old stock--the old frontier stock! And Sandy, locking the
+detective in the harness room!" He chuckled. "Go down and let them out,
+Casey, and give them breakfast. A fine pair of children we've got,
+mother."
+
+"Sandy can take care of himself," said Mrs. McCrae practically. "He
+always did, since he could walk, and he took his own ways, asking
+nobody. And Sheila, for a girl, is the same. They take after you,
+Donald, not me. But now, Casey, Mrs. Wade is at Chakchak, isn't she?"
+
+"Mrs. Wade and Miss Burnaby," Casey replied. "It's all right, Mrs.
+McCrae."
+
+"Sheila needs no chaperon," said her father.
+
+"Not with Casey," said her mother. "But there's the gossip, Donald, and
+the dirty tongues. It's not like the old days."
+
+"True enough, maybe," McCrae admitted. And he added, when his wife had
+left the room: "What have they got hold of to arrest the boy, Casey?"
+
+"I don't know," Casey replied. "But we'll face the music, Donald."
+
+When Casey entered the harness room Glass and another man, a stranger,
+lay in one corner on a heap of sacks. Sandy had done a most workmanlike
+job, and he had put a neat finish to it by strapping each man to a
+stanchion with a pair of driving reins.
+
+"Good morning, gentlemen," said Casey.
+
+"Is it?" said Glass, sourly. His old hesitating manner had quite
+vanished.
+
+"Beautiful," Casey replied. "Sun shining, birds singing, crops growing.
+'God's in His heaven; all's well with the world.' Like to take a look
+at it? Or are you too much attached to your present surroundings?"
+
+"You can cut out the funny stuff," said Glass. "I don't ever laugh
+before breakfast."
+
+"Quite right, too," Casey replied. "Just roll over a little till I get
+at those knots. There you are, Mr. Glass. Now your friend here. Don't
+think I know him."
+
+"Jack Pugh, sheriff's officer," said Glass, rising stiffly, with
+considerable difficulty.
+
+"I'll have him in shape to shake hands in a minute," said Casey, as he
+worried at the knots. "And so, Mr. Glass, instead of an innocent
+landlooker you are a real live, mysterious detective. You don't look
+the part. Or perhaps you are still disguised."
+
+"I can stand a josh better now," said Glass. "Maybe I'm not such a live
+proposition as I might be. When two grown men let a kid hogtie them it
+sort of starts them thinking."
+
+"It sure does," Pugh agreed. He was a saturnine gentleman, with a
+humorous eye. "I been wantin' to scratch my nose for eight solid
+hours," he affirmed irrelevantly, rubbing that organ violently with his
+free hand.
+
+"He's some kid," said Glass. "Where is he?"
+
+"I haven't seen him. He left word where to find you."
+
+"Beat it somewhere, I suppose," Glass commented. "He fooled us up in
+great style, I'll say that much. At first he acted about the way you'd
+expect a country kid to act--scared to death. He wanted to change his
+overalls for pants before we took him anywhere. Said they were hanging
+up in here. We fell for it. We came in, and there was a pair of pants
+hanging on a nail. He walked over to them, and the next thing we knew
+he had a gun on us. I hope I know when a man means business--and he
+did. He had half a notion to shoot anyway."
+
+"That's right," Pugh confirmed. "He's one of them kids that makes
+gunmen. No bluff. I know the kind."
+
+"So when he told me to tie Pugh I did it," Glass continued. "Then he
+dropped a loop over me, and that's all there is to tell. The joke's on
+us just now."
+
+"So it is," said Casey. "Whatever made you think that kid had anything
+to do with blowing up the dam?"
+
+"Hadn't he?"
+
+Casey smiled genially. "Why, how should I know, Mr. Glass? I was just
+asking what you were going on."
+
+"I'm not showing my hand. I don't say the kid did it alone."
+
+"And so you thought you'd round him up and sweat some information out
+of him. That was it, wasn't it?"
+
+"You're quite a guesser and you show a whole lot of interest in the
+answer," retorted Glass. "Keep on guessing."
+
+"I don't need to. Come up to the house and have breakfast. And for
+Heaven's sake don't say anything to frighten the kid's mother."
+
+"What do you take us for?" said Glass. "We'll treat the whole thing as
+a joke--to her."
+
+Casey breakfasted with them, and after they had gone sought Simon. The
+old Indian, full to repletion, was squatting on the kitchen steps,
+smoking and blinking sleepily.
+
+"No see um Sandy," he observed. "Where him stop?"
+
+"No more Sandy stop this _illahee_," Casey replied. "Sandy _klatawa
+kopa_ stone _illahee_, all same Tom." Meaning that Sandy had gone in
+the direction of the hills, as had McHale.
+
+"Why him _klatawa_?" Simon asked.
+
+Casey explained, and Simon listened gravely. His receptiveness was
+enormous. Information dropped into him as into a bottomless pit,
+vanishing without splash.
+
+"Sandy _hyas_ young fool," he commented. "Me tell him _mamook huyhuy_
+moccasin. S'pose moccasin stop, _ikt_ man findum, then heltopay.
+Polisman _mamook_ catchum, put um in _skookum_ house, maybeso hang um
+_kopa_ neck."
+
+"What are you talking about, anyway?" Casey demanded. And Simon told
+him of the track of the patched moccasin and of his warning to Sandy.
+
+Casey immediately fitted things together. He knew that Sandy's right
+moccasin was almost invariably worn through at the toe. Before they
+left he had seen him patching them, and because they wore through at
+the same place the patches were of nearly the same shape. So that if
+Glass had found a patched moccasin it was not necessarily the one which
+had made the track. But that would make little difference. Either
+Farwell or his assistant must have told Glass about this track. If he
+had found a pair of Sandy's moccasins to correspond with the footprint
+he had come very near getting Sandy with the goods. But Farwell or
+somebody must have directed Glass's suspicions to Sandy.
+
+However that was, Sandy had made a clean get-away into a region where
+he would be hard to catch. He was familiar with the trails, the passes,
+the little basins and pockets nestling in the hills. He was well
+provisioned and well armed. And the last caused Casey some uneasiness,
+for having once resisted arrest Sandy would be very apt to do so again.
+
+"Simon," he said, "I want you to take papah letter to Tom."
+
+"Where Tom stop?" Simon asked naturally enough.
+
+"Maybe at Sunk Springs," Casey replied. "Maybe not. You try Sunk
+Springs. S'pose no Tom stop there, you _nanitch_ around till you find
+him."
+
+"All right," said Simon. "Me _nanitch_, me find Tom." He considered a
+moment. "_Halo_ grub stop me?"
+
+"I'll tell them to grubstake you here," Casey reassured him. "I'll pay
+you, too, of course."
+
+"You my _tillikum_," said Simon, with great dignity. "Tom my _tillikum_.
+Good! Me like you. How much you pay?"
+
+"Two dollars a day," said Casey promptly.
+
+Simon looked grieved and pained. "You my tillikum," he repeated.
+"S'pose my _tillikum_ work for me, me pay him five dolla'."
+
+But Casey was unmoved by this touching appeal to friendship. "I'll
+remember that if I ever work for you," he replied. "Two dollars and
+grub is plenty. You Siwashes are spoiled by people who don't know any
+better than to pay what you ask. That's all you'll get from me. Your
+time's worth nothing, and your cayuses rustle for themselves."
+
+And Simon accepted this ultimatum with resignation.
+
+"All right," said he. "You my _tillikum_; Tom my _tillikum_. S'pose you
+catch _hiyu_ grubstake."
+
+Having arranged for a message to McHale, it occurred to Casey that he
+should see whether the sudden rise of the river had swept the company's
+temporary dam. Accordingly he rode thither.
+
+The storm had entirely passed, and the sun shone brightly. Great,
+white, billowy, fair-weather clouds rolled up in open order before the
+fresh west wind, and the shadows of them trailed across the face of the
+earth, moving swiftly, sharply defined, sweeping patches of shade
+against the green and gold of a clean-washed, sunny summer world. Off
+to the westward, where the ranges thrust gaunt, gray peaks against the
+sky line, the light shimmered against patches of white, the remnants of
+the last winter's snows. Far away, just to be discerned through a notch
+in the first range, was a vivid point of emerald or jade, the living
+green of a glacier.
+
+It was a day when it was good to be alive, and Casey Dunne, hard,
+clean, in the full power of his manhood, the fresh west wind in his
+face, and a strong, willing horse beneath him, rejoiced in it.
+
+As he rode his thoughts reverted to Clyde Burnaby. Indeed, she had
+never, since the preceding night, been entirely absent from them; but
+because his training had been to do one thing at a time, and think of
+what he was doing to the exclusion of all else, he had unconsciously
+pigeonholed her in the back of his mind. Now she emerged.
+
+"Shiner, m'son," he apostrophized his horse, "if things break right
+you're going to have a missus. What d'ye think of that, hey, you
+yellow-hided old scoundrel? And, by the Great Tyee! you'll eat apples
+and sugar out of her hand, and if you so much as lay back your ears at
+her I'll frale your sinful heart out with a neck yoke. D'ye get that,
+you buzzard-head?"
+
+Shiner in full stride made a swift grab for his rider's left leg, and
+his rider with equal swiftness kicked him joyously in the nose.
+
+"You would, hey? Nice congratulations, you old man-eater. I'll make a
+lady's horse of you if you don't behave; I sure will. And we'll build a
+decent house and break two thousand acres, and keep every foot of it as
+fine and clean as a seed bed, and have it all under ditch, the show
+place of the whole dry belt. You bet we will. We won't sell an acre.
+Fancy prices won't tempt us. We'll keep the whole shootin' match till
+we cash in." His mood changed.
+
+"Cash in! It's funny to think of that, old horse, isn't it? And yet ten
+years from now you'll be no good, and thirty years from now I'll be
+near the end of the deal. And Clyde! Why, Shiner, we can't think of her
+as an old lady, can we? With her smooth cheeks a little withered and
+the suppleness gone from her body, and her eyes dim and her glorious
+hair white. Lord, horse, we mustn't think of it! She'll always be the
+same dear Clyde to us, won't she? 'Sufficient unto the day,' my equine
+trial and friend. Others will come after us, and there will be
+evil-tempered buckskins loping this foothill country and maybe a Casey
+Dunne cursing them when you and I are ranging the happy hunting
+grounds!"
+
+Out of the sunlit distances a horse and rider appeared, rapidly
+approaching. It was Farwell, and, recognizing Dunne, he pulled up.
+
+"In case you don't know it," he said, without preliminary or greeting,
+"I'll tell you that our dam went out with the flood. You didn't need to
+use dynamite this time."
+
+"Providence!" Casey suggested.
+
+Farwell's comment consisted of but one word, which, unless by contrast,
+is not usually associated with providential happenings.
+
+"Call it that if you like," he growled. "We'll get the men responsible
+for it one of these days."
+
+"You made a beginning with young McCrae," Casey reminded him.
+
+"I don't know what you mean."
+
+"Don't you know that Glass tried to arrest him?"
+
+"What?" cried Farwell.
+
+His surprise was too genuine to be feigned. Thereupon Casey told him
+what had occurred in the last few hours both at Talapus and Chakchak.
+
+Farwell listened, biting his lips and frowning. And his first words
+were an inquiry as to Sheila.
+
+"Miss McCrae rode through that storm last night!" he exclaimed. "Good
+Lord! Is she badly hurt?"
+
+"Only shaken up, I think."
+
+"Thank God for that," said Farwell, with evident sincerity. He
+hesitated for a moment. "See here, Dunne, do you mind if I ask you an
+impertinent question?"
+
+"Fire away."
+
+"Are you going to marry her?"
+
+"Certainly not. What put that notion in your head?"
+
+"It got there. You were pretty thick. And if she rode there in that
+storm--unless she thought a lot of you----"
+
+"I'm mighty proud of it. We're good friends--like brother and sister.
+No more. She has the best brand of clean-strain pluck of any girl I
+know."
+
+"So she has," Farwell agreed. "She's a girl in a million. She's----" He
+stopped, reddening.
+
+"By George, Farwell," said Casey, "is it that way with you?"
+
+"She doesn't care a tinker's dam for me," said Farwell bluntly. "That's
+not saying what I think of her. I'm no ladies' man--don't pretend to
+be. Let that go. I suppose I'll be blamed for young McCrae's arrest.
+Well, I didn't know a thing about it. I've tried to give the family a
+good deal--better than the rest of you, anyway. I don't like the boy,
+and he doesn't like me. Pulled a gun on me once--well, never mind that.
+Here, you've been straight with me, and I'll tell you: When the dam was
+blown up we found the track of a patched moccasin in soft earth. Keeler
+took an impression of it, or made a cast or something--I don't know
+just what, but I do know that he photographed it. Since then I've
+noticed young McCrae's foot, and I believe he made the track, though it
+didn't strike me at the time. That was about the only clew we found.
+Mind you, Dunne, I believe you were in it yourself, but I haven't a
+thing to go on. If Glass has found a patched moccasin of McCrae's he's
+pretty near got him to rights. I don't know what he's got, though.
+About Cross and McHale, I don't care a curse which shot the other.
+These men--Cross, Dade, Lewis, and some more--were protecting our
+property. And that's all."
+
+"Not quite all. They blew up our dams."
+
+"Just as man to man," said Farwell, "let me ask you if you expected to
+run a dynamite monopoly?"
+
+"I'm not kicking," said Casey. "I'm merely stating facts. I can take my
+medicine."
+
+"You're a good deal of a man," Farwell acknowledged grudgingly. "I hate
+a squealer. Anyway, it was no part of their job to break into your
+house. See here, Dunne, the last five minutes has got us better
+acquainted than the last two months. I'll fire these fellows to-morrow
+if you'll promise me that our ditches won't be interfered with again."
+
+"As long as we have water there will be no trouble," said Casey. "I'll
+promise nothing more."
+
+"That's good for some weeks, anyway," Farwell predicted. "I guess we'll
+have to fight it out in the end. Still, I'm glad to have had this talk.
+I like you better than I did. And I can tell you there was lots of room
+for it--is yet, for that matter. Good-bye."
+
+Without waiting for a reply, he dug a heel into his horse and swept on.
+Casey watched him go, with a thoughtful smile.
+
+"Odd devil!" he muttered. "Queer combination. I don't like him,
+but--well, he's a fighter, and I believe he's straight. To think of him
+being fond of Sheila! I wonder if he has a chance there? She never
+mentions him now. H'm!" Finding no answer to the question, he wheeled
+Shiner and headed for home.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+
+Just before utter blackness shut down on the land, Sandy McCrae
+dismounted and stripped saddle and pack from his horses. He looked up
+at the sky, shook his head, and, taking a light axe, cut two picket
+pins; after which he staked the horses out in the abundant pasture at
+the bottom of the draw, driving the pins in solidly beyond the
+possibility of pulling. Then he set about making a hasty camp.
+
+Beside him a little spring bubbled out of the bottom of the draw and
+seeped away under tangled roots and fallen brush. A thirst-parched
+stranger might have ridden past twenty times on the bench above without
+suspecting its presence. The faint cattle trail leading to it entered
+the draw a quarter of a mile away, and led along under low but almost
+perpendicular banks.
+
+Sandy's camp preparations were simple, but much more elaborate than if
+the night had been clear. Then he would have made his fire, boiled
+coffee, spread his bed, and gone to sleep beneath the stars; but
+because of the ominous storm cloud he constructed a lean-to by driving
+two forked stakes and joining them with a crosspiece. From these he
+slanted two poles to the ground, and on the poles laid a tarp, lashing
+it in place. The mouth of the lean-to faced away from the cloud bank.
+In addition it had the partial shelter of cottonwoods in full leaf. In
+this lean-to he collected his outfit. Next he made a fire and cooked
+supper. Afterward he smoked, squatting in the mouth of his shelter,
+staring silently at the dying embers, listening to the rising wind
+sighing above him sweeping across the bare grasslands, but scarcely
+fanning the coals in his protected camp.
+
+He felt no loneliness whatever. Solitary camps and the love of them
+were his by right of inheritance. He neither required nor desired
+companionship. Fire, food, tobacco, and solitude satisfied his inmost
+soul. This was the life he loved. The fact that he was a fugitive from
+the law did not trouble him at all; it merely gave an added zest to the
+situation. Just once he chuckled grimly as he recalled the faces of
+Glass and Pugh when he had whirled on them, gun in hand. Glass had
+interpreted his intentions very correctly; he would have shot either or
+both on the slightest provocation. He was of the breed of the wolf,
+accustomed from childhood to deadly weapons, brought up in tradition of
+their use, and, like many outlaws who have bulked large in the history
+of the West, young enough to act on impulse without counting the
+ultimate cost.
+
+As his little fire burned down he stepped out and regarded the darkened
+heavens. A heavy drop of rain struck his face and a flash of lightning
+ripped the black curtain, outlining bare banks, trees, and grazing
+horses for a brief instant. Sandy shrugged his shoulders
+philosophically. His shelter was good enough. He unrolled his bed, and,
+by the simple process of removing moccasins and gun belt, was ready to
+retire. He got into his blankets, taking his gun with him, and rolled
+them around him, leaving his face exposed until the last.
+
+"Now, darn you rain!" he muttered. With which "now-I-lay-me" he drew
+the blanket completely over his head as a protection against
+mosquitoes, and, heedless of the smothering effect of it, which would
+have been unsupportable to a city youth, was asleep in ten seconds.
+
+He slept for, perhaps, an hour. At the end of that time he suddenly
+became wide awake. He could not have told what had aroused him, but he
+was sure something had. He threw back the smothering blanket from his
+head and lay listening.
+
+Overhead the wind threshed the tops of the trees, and roared hollowly
+as it rebounded from the farther side of the gulch. Rain, driven by the
+wind, slashed through the foliage and pattered against his primitive
+shelter. Thunder rolled in an endless fusillade, punctuated by flashes
+of lightning. But Sandy, without considering the matter, was quite sure
+that none of these things had awakened him. In a momentary lull of the
+storm, as he lay with his ear close to the ground, he thought he could
+hear the sound of hoofs coming up the draw, along the hard-beaten
+cattle trail.
+
+It was barely possible that some wandering stock, drifting with the
+storm, were seeking the shelter of it; but it was more likely that
+range stock would have found cover to suit them before dark, and would
+stay in it till morning. Now, there is a difference between the tread
+of ridden and riderless animals, and Sandy thought that he had heard
+the former. Also, they were coming as he had come.
+
+His route led from the settlements back to the hills where there was
+nobody and nothing. There was no road, no trail. Few people went there,
+not even Indians, and they not until the fall hunt, after the first
+snow. Therefore, it was suspicious that, on such a night, a rider or
+riders should be in his vicinity. His mind leaped to the conclusion
+that Glass had been released, had secured the services of somebody who
+knew the country, and had somehow made a good guess at the location of
+his first night's camp, for which they were now searching in the
+darkness, hoping that the remains of his fire would betray him.
+
+As he reached this conclusion, Sandy rolled out of his blankets,
+buckled his belt around his lean waist, slipped on his moccasins, and
+stepped out into the darkness.
+
+Not a red spark showed where his fire had been, and Sandy smiled
+grimly. He would do all the surprising himself. He did not intend to be
+taken. Once more he heard the sound of hoofs, nearer. They seemed to
+approach a few yards, then to stop. He heard the sound of a breath
+blown from a horse's nostrils.
+
+The storm, which had lulled momentarily, began again. The wind hit
+the draw viciously, with spatters of rain. Other sounds were
+indistinguishable. Sandy, crouching low to get any advancing object
+against what sky line there was, made out the shape of a mounted man.
+Horse and man stood like an equestrian statue, barely distinguishable,
+though but a few yards away.
+
+The rider disappeared from the saddle. Sandy heard his feet crashing in
+the low bushes, heard him stumble and swear.
+
+"Ought to be about here," words came faintly to Sandy's ears. "If ever
+I try to find ... on a night like this...."
+
+"Looking for me, sure," thought Sandy. "Maybe it's Glass; maybe it
+isn't. Wonder how many there are. Anyway, I'll fix this one."
+
+Soft-footed as a great cat, he crept toward the voice. The man loomed
+in front of him; his back was turned. Sandy rose soundlessly behind
+him. With a sudden vicious sweep his left arm shot across the
+stranger's left shoulder and around his throat. His right hand shoved
+the muzzle of his gun beneath the man's right ear.
+
+"Don't move or let one yip out of you!" he hissed tensely.
+
+After one convulsive start the stranger stood motionless. "Nary move
+nor yip," he whispered confidentially into the night. "And if that
+gun's a light pull, be mighty careful of the trigger!"
+
+"Talk and talk quiet," said Sandy. "How many are there of you?"
+
+"Be mighty careful of that gun if you're seein' double that way!" the
+stranger admonished again nervously. "Was you expectin' twins or
+somethin'?"
+
+"You alone?"
+
+"Yep."
+
+"What's your name?"
+
+"Smith."
+
+"What you doing here?"
+
+"Lookin' for the spring to camp by."
+
+"Where you heading for?"
+
+"Into the hills, prospectin'."
+
+"Where's Glass?" Sandy asked suddenly.
+
+"Search me. I got nothin' to do with that durn fool."
+
+The tone and the words gave Sandy the surprise of his life. His arm
+dropped away from the stranger's throat, and his gun ceased to threaten
+the base of his skull.
+
+"Tom McHale!" he cried.
+
+"You sound some like a _cultus_ young devil named McCrae," said McHale,
+peering at him in the dark. "Say, what in the flarin' blazes you doin'
+here?"
+
+"Take some yourself," Sandy responded. "Are they after you, too?"
+
+McHale shook his head sadly. "Sonny," said he, "you're too young to be
+havin' them cute little visions of things bein' after you. I reckon
+maybe we're pullin' two ways on one rope. Also, we ain't gettin' no
+drier standin' here chewin' about it. Maybe you got a camp somewheres.
+S'pose you find the latchstring. Then we'll have a talk."
+
+Thus admonished, Sandy led the way to his lean-to, rekindled the fire,
+helped picket McHale's horses, and set the coffee-pot to boil. They
+drank coffee and smoked, going into details of their experiences of the
+preceding day. McHale was amazed to hear of Sandy's arrest by Glass,
+whom he had held in contempt. Sandy was jubilant over the shooting of
+Cross, regretful that he had not had a hand in it.
+
+"You won't be so durn stuck on a gun fight after you've been in one or
+two," said McHale grimly. "Now let's see how she stacks up. I'm goin'
+to hide out for a spell, but if I was you I'd go back and stand the
+racket."
+
+"I guess _not_," said Sandy positively. "I don't want to do time if
+they've got me with the goods. And then some darn lawyer might make me
+give somebody else away by accident. You can't tell. I'll stay out with
+you. Where are you heading for?"
+
+"I was aimin' to hit Bull's Pass, drop over the summit into the valley
+of the Klimminchuck, and camp somewheres. There was two trappers in
+there winter before last, and they told me they built them a right good
+cabin."
+
+"That suits me."
+
+"This will fix us up with water for the next two weeks," said McHale as
+he listened to the rain. "I'll bet Casey's got a grin on him a yard
+wide." He yawned. "Well, kid, we've got all that's comin' to us out of
+this one day. Let's hit them blankets. We better make an early start."
+
+They were up in the early dawn, breakfasted, saddled, and packed, and
+headed for the hills. At noon they reached the foot of the pass. A
+narrow trail, often choked by fallen timber and small landslides, led
+them upward, winding in and out, sometimes near the bottom of an always
+ascending gorge, sometimes forsaking it for broad, flat benches
+parklike with stately trees, sometimes clinging precariously to
+shoulders of bare rock where a slip would have been fatal.
+
+They camped that night near the summit, and next day dropped down into
+a valley, narrow, wooded, picturesque, where the Klimminchuck raced
+southward; and, following its course, camped at the edge of a beaver
+meadow, feasting on trout fresh caught from a deep pool beneath a short
+fall. And in the morning, still following the stream, they came to the
+trappers' cabin, set in a grove of young spruce.
+
+It was built of small logs chinked with moss and clay, and most of the
+chinking had fallen out. Its roof was of poles covered with earth. A
+two-man bunk occupied much of the interior. The remainder was taken up
+by a rough table, a bench, and a rusty wreck of a little sheet-iron
+stove. There was room to get in and stay in, and that was all. And yet
+two men had lived in that pen all winter, and emerged healthy and
+fairly good-tempered in the spring.
+
+The companions peered through the door at the uninviting interior. The
+floor was a litter of rubbish, old clothes in a state of decomposition,
+leaves, bones, and rusty cans and pans. Young McCrae wrinkled an
+outraged nose.
+
+"Pfaugh!" he snorted. "The shack's filthy. We can't use it."
+
+"The smell _is_ some obvious," McHale agreed. "Which bein' so, I reckon
+we build us a wickiup several nose lengths off."
+
+They found a suitable spot, and there they built an elaborate lean-to.
+Having established themselves, they rested, smoked, and slept. In the
+evening they caught trout for supper and breakfast. There was
+absolutely nothing to do unless they created employment for themselves.
+
+At the end of another day Sandy became restless; his capacity for
+loafing was exhausted.
+
+"Let's go get a bear," he proposed.
+
+"Deer's better meat," said McHale; "also easier to get. I won't climb
+after no bear."
+
+Nevertheless, he accompanied Sandy down the valley. They saw no bear;
+but they shot a young buck, and returned to camp with the carcass
+lashed behind Sandy's saddle. Although it was closed season, they
+needed the meat, and game wardens were not likely to intrude.
+
+But when they came in sight of their camp they saw old Simon reclining
+in grandeur on their blankets, smoking.
+
+"The nerve of that buck!" snorted McHale. "Get off of that bed, you old
+copperskin. Think I want to wash them blankets?"
+
+Simon obeyed, but he drew a letter from his pocket.
+
+"Papah," said he. "Casey."
+
+McHale read Casey's warning as to Dade, and whistled softly, passing
+the letter to Sandy.
+
+"So this here Dade makes it a feud, does he?" he said meditatively.
+"All right, he can have it that way. Same time, I'm goin' to keep out
+of trouble long as I can. I'll stay cached mighty close, and I'll run
+like blazes before I'll fight. Simon, how'd you find this camp?"
+
+"Find um easy," said Simon scornfully. He pointed to the carcass of the
+deer. "S'pose you _mamook_ cook um."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+
+In the morning Sheila awoke stiff and sore, but rested. Her strong
+young body, hard and well conditioned by a life in the open and much
+healthy exercise, refused to indulge in the luxury of after effects of
+shock. Looking around, she found that her clothes were gone. But spread
+ready for her was a dainty morning costume, which she knew for Clyde
+Burnaby's. Dressing quickly, she entered the breakfast room.
+
+Clyde, sitting by the window, rose, smiling, as she entered.
+
+"I hope they fit," she said. "How do you feel, Miss McCrae?"
+
+"They fit very well, and I feel first rate," said Sheila. "I'm sore in
+spots, but I'll limber up when I get moving. Where is Mrs. Wade? I
+suppose Casey has gone to Talapus."
+
+"Kitty's busy cleaning your riding clothes," Clyde replied. "Casey has
+gone; I haven't seen him."
+
+It was the first time she had used his given name to a third person. It
+slipped out naturally, and she coloured a trifle, but Sheila did not
+appear to notice. They breakfasted together, and later sat on the
+veranda enjoying the perfect morning after the storm. Naturally, they
+spoke of the events of the preceding day and night. Sheila took a
+practical view.
+
+"It was lucky Tom McHale wasn't here," she said. "Somebody would have
+been hurt. That's what I was afraid of."
+
+"It was very brave of you," said Clyde. "I admire you more than I can
+say. I want you to know it, Miss McCrae."
+
+"Oh, that"--Sheila dismissed the warm praise with a wave of her brown
+hand--"why, it wasn't anything; only a wet ride in the dark. If my
+horse had kept his feet it would have been all right. I simply had to
+come. Don't try to make me think myself a heroine. You'd do the same
+thing yourself for a friend."
+
+"I'm afraid I couldn't. I'm not much of a rider, and I couldn't have
+found my way in the dark."
+
+"Well, that's no credit to me. I've been riding all my life, and I know
+every foot of this country. Of course, I'd do anything for Casey or
+Tom."
+
+"Yes," said Clyde, "they both think a great deal of you, I know."
+
+"No more than I think of them--especially Casey. Some day I suppose
+he'll get married, and then I'll have to call him 'Mr. Dunne.'"
+
+"That won't be necessary."
+
+"Oh, yes, it will. His wife wouldn't stand for 'Casey.'"
+
+"Yes, she will," said Clyde. Sheila turned and looked at her keenly.
+"We are going to be married," Clyde added.
+
+"You don't mean it!" Sheila exclaimed. "Well, you are a lucky girl, if
+you don't mind my saying so. Casey's _white_. I congratulate you with
+all my heart. And he's lucky, too; yes, he is."
+
+"You--you don't mind?" Clyde ventured. She thought it quite possible
+that Sheila might care for Casey, although convinced that he did not
+love her.
+
+"Mind? Why should I mind?"
+
+"You know I thought once"--Clyde hesitated--"you see you were such
+great friends----"
+
+"You thought I might be fond of him? Why, so I am. Not in that way,
+though. I might have been if he had tried to make love to me, but he
+never did. You see, Miss Burnaby----"
+
+"I wish you'd call me Clyde."
+
+"If you'll call me Sheila. You see, Clyde, Casey and I are too much two
+of a kind. We'd never get on. You'll idealize him; I'd call him down.
+He'll talk out of his heart to you; he'd talk irrigation, and crops,
+and horses to me. You'll accept his judgment in most things as final;
+I'd want him to take my opinion instead of his own. Oh, we'd make an
+awful mess of it! And so, my dear, don't you think that I'd want his
+love, even if I could get it. But at that he's the whitest man I know,
+and the best friend I ever had. You're lucky. I don't wonder that he
+fell in love with you, either. I wish to goodness _I_ were as pretty."
+
+"I'm glad," said Clyde, "that you haven't said anything about money.
+Thank you."
+
+"It's not because I didn't think of it," Sheila admitted frankly. "But
+I know it makes no difference to Casey. Fact is, I wonder, knowing him
+as I do, that he hadn't some absurd scruples on that point."
+
+"He had. He says we can't be married if he loses this ranch and the
+other lands."
+
+"Nonsense," said Sheila practically. "He won't stay with that if you
+coax him; he couldn't."
+
+Clyde laughed happily. "That's the nicest compliment I ever had. You're
+absolutely the first person I've told."
+
+"Well, I'm much flattered," said Sheila. "When did it happen?"
+
+"Last night."
+
+"Everything happened last night. Was he--er--convincing in the part?"
+
+But Clyde, laughing and blushing, refused details. Sheila wished to go
+home at once, but Clyde prevailed on her to wait for Casey. It was his
+wish.
+
+"And that settles it from your point of view, of course," said Sheila.
+"Well, I'll wait."
+
+Casey returned at noon. Clyde met him halfway between the stable and
+the house, bareheaded, the fresh wind fluttering her skirts and
+spinning little tendrils of coppery gold across her forehead. He would
+have taken both her hands, but she put them behind her, laughing.
+
+"Not here, sir!"
+
+"It's my ranch and my girl."
+
+"In order of merit?"
+
+"My girl and my ranch, then. But tell me: How is Sheila?"
+
+"Quite well, except for her bruises. What a plucky girl she is, Casey!"
+
+"I should say she is," he agreed heartily. "You must be friends.
+Somehow you never seemed to like her."
+
+"I understand her better now. I've told her about--us."
+
+"Fine! And Kitty Wade?"
+
+"Yes. Come in and face the music yourself."
+
+But Casey got off lightly. They lunched without Wade, who had gone to
+town for mail; but as they were finishing the meal he entered.
+
+"Casey," he cried, "I hope to Heaven I haven't foundered your horse,
+but I have all kinds of news for you!"
+
+Casey's mouth tightened a little. "Let it go, Wade. Maybe it's all for
+the best."
+
+"Part of this is, anyway. Don't look so glum; it's all right, I tell
+you. Now, this was the way of it: When I got my papers at the post
+office I saw that Western Air stock, which had been playing antics
+before, had gone clean crazy. It's been boosted sky high. All sorts of
+rumours, the chief being that the Hess System people were responsible.
+So I wired for the latest. Got a reply that it was impossible to
+confirm rumours. Then, just as I was leaving, in comes a wire for Clyde
+which I herewith produce and put in as Exhibit A, and which, I strongly
+suspect, throws light on the situation. Open it, Clyde, for Heaven's
+sake, and put us out of our misery!"
+
+Clyde tore the envelope with fingers which trembled slightly. She read
+the message and handed it to Casey.
+
+"Aloud?" he asked, and she nodded. He read:
+
+    Sending you power of attorney and proxy to vote shares recently
+    purchased by your brokers. We now control corporation. Advise
+    friends to drop lawsuit. They will get a square deal.
+
+    JIM.
+
+Casey looked up. He did not understand. Wade struck him a violent blow
+on the back.
+
+"Hooray!" he shouted. "It's blamed unprofessional, but I was never so
+glad to discontinue an action in my life. Clyde, you're a darling!" He
+caught her in his arms and whirled her around the room.
+
+"Harrison!" Kitty cried, "have you gone crazy?"
+
+Wade released Clyde, breathless, and sank into a chair.
+
+"Bring me an expensive drink!" he commanded. "This needs celebrating."
+
+"Will somebody tell me what's the matter with him?" Casey asked.
+
+"What!" exclaimed the lawyer. "Don't you see it?"
+
+"Not yet," Casey admitted.
+
+"Why, you old dub," cried Wade, "the wire is from Jim Hess, Clyde's
+uncle. His interests control Western Air. He promises you a square
+deal."
+
+"Eh!" Casey ejaculated, staring at him.
+
+"You blamed idiot!" snapped the lawyer, "why don't you thank Clyde? She
+started the old chief on the warpath after York's scalp."
+
+Casey turned to her. "Tell me he isn't raving mad! Is it so?"
+
+"It's so," she said, "but I----" He interrupted by catching her in his
+arms.
+
+"Here, hold on, old man!" Wade protested. "Gratitude's a fine thing,
+but you're too----"
+
+His wife took him by the arm. "Come on, Harrison, you stupid! You're
+worse than he is. Can't you understand anything?" Sheila's skirts were
+already fluttering through the door.
+
+"Great Scott!" Wade exclaimed, "you don't mean----"
+
+"You--you _bonehead_!" she cried, exasperated, and hustled him outside.
+
+Careless of them, Casey held Clyde, looking down into her eyes.
+"Sweetheart," he said, "you never told me!"
+
+"I was afraid."
+
+"Of raising false hopes?"
+
+"Not that, so much. But you wouldn't let me help you with money. And I
+was afraid that if you knew, you'd consider yourself under an
+obligation and wouldn't--wouldn't----"
+
+"Wouldn't what?"
+
+"Wouldn't be sensible and tell me you loved me," she said softly.
+"You're so funny about such things, Casey. You aren't angry now, are
+you?"
+
+"Angry?" he said. "Dear, I'd put the savings of years into this
+land--years when I'd worked like a very slave to get enough cash
+together to swing some good deal when I should see it. That was my
+stake. And the others! Why, girl, you've saved Talapus to the McCraes,
+and their ranches for the men who made them. We can't repay you; we
+won't try."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+
+"Excuse _me_," said Wade, who had anticipated his entrance by many
+preliminary noises, "excuse me, my dear young friends, and,
+incidentally, accept my sincerest congratulations, felicitations,
+and--er--jubilations. Kindly listen to the following observations.
+Ahem! Far be it from me to horn in where I am as welcome as a wet dog.
+Nothing is farther from my desire than to short circuit two hearts----"
+
+"Come right in, old man," said Casey. "What's the trouble?"
+
+"I want my dinner," said Wade plaintively. "I Paul Revered on a
+shoestring. I Sheridaned without a commissariat. I brought the good
+news to Ghent on an empty tummy. Is thy servant a dog, that he should
+eat with a Chinaman? And I'd do that willingly; but, Casey, you know as
+well as I do that the only thing fit to drink Clyde's health in is in
+this room, and I warn you that if there is much more delay in doing so
+nothing which may occur hereafter will be either lucky or legal. While
+it is possibly true that a dinner of herbs where love is has a
+porterhouse, rare, and hashed brown spuds backed clean off the board, I
+submit, not being in love myself----"
+
+"What's that?" cried Kitty Wade from the door.
+
+"Why, it's a shame!" said Clyde. "He must be starving. It's all Casey's
+fault, too."
+
+"Wouldn't he break away?" asked Wade. "I remember----?"
+
+"Harrison!" cried Kitty, warningly.
+
+"Well, then, do I eat?" he demanded.
+
+"Yes. Anything to keep you quiet. I'll get your dinner myself."
+
+Half an hour later Wade pushed back his chair with a sigh of
+satisfaction, lit a cigar, and joined the others.
+
+"I feel better," he announced. "A child could play with me in
+comparative safety. Now let me tell you what else I discovered. In the
+first place, Cross is dead. I was talking to Shiller. He says that Tom
+wasn't to blame--corroborates his story, in fact, in every material
+particular. So Tom's all right on that score. My advice to him would be
+to come in and have his trial over."
+
+"That isn't what's bothering him so much. It's these friends of
+Cross's. I don't blame him. Some sheriffs are mighty weak-kneed about
+such things."
+
+"Well, I'm told that officers will be after him. Now as to your
+brother, Miss McCrae: Glass and Pugh are starting out to find him as
+soon as they get an outfit. Likely they've got started now."
+
+"But they don't know where he is. That Glass--I should think he'd get
+lost if he left a trail."
+
+"Pugh is different. They may get another man or two."
+
+"I hope they don't find him," said Sheila gravely.
+
+"So do I," Wade concurred. "I don't suppose a prosecution would be
+pushed now; but he resisted an officer, and anyway I wouldn't like to
+see him under arrest."
+
+"You don't understand. Sandy wouldn't submit quietly."
+
+"You think he'd try to bluff them again?"
+
+"He isn't a bluff," said Casey. "The kid is serious-minded. That's the
+trouble. However, I've sent Tom word about Dade. Sandy may be with him;
+and Tom is cool. When Simon comes in we'll know more, and send him out
+again if he knows where the boy is."
+
+Sheila declared that she must be going home. She refused Casey's offer
+to drive her over. She wanted to take the edge off Beaver Boy. His
+actions rankled in her mind. He needed a lesson, and she was going to
+give him one. And she refused absolutely to allow Casey to ride with
+her.
+
+He had her horse saddled, and was giving a final pull at the latigos
+when she came out in her riding clothes.
+
+"Cinch him up tight," she commanded. "Take a good pull at it; he's
+getting too foxy."
+
+Beaver Boy grunted as Casey put his strength on the strap and the broad
+cinch bit into his glossy skin.
+
+"And that's loose a-plenty," said his mistress. "He blows himself up
+like a turkey gobbler. I need a block and tackle to cinch him right."
+She shaded her eyes with her hand. "Somebody coming. I'll wait and see
+who it is."
+
+Much to their surprise, it was none other than Farwell. He rode
+briskly, head up, shoulders back, with the air of a man whose mind is
+made up. But he refused to get off his horse, asking Sheila's
+permission to ride with her.
+
+"I wanted to tell you," he said, "that you'll have water for the summer
+anyway. I've just had a wire from headquarters to shut down, and to
+turn the normal flow of the river back into its old channel." He smiled
+grimly. "They didn't know that the elements had attended to that.
+Thought you'd like to know. Might save you worry. Don't know the
+company's reason, and it's none of my business. I'm paying off the
+whole outfit to-night, including the men we were speaking of. To-morrow
+I'll pull out myself. Glad to do it."
+
+"Sorry to have you go," said Casey.
+
+"You say it all right, but I know better," said Farwell bluntly. "I
+don't want to keep Miss McCrae waiting. Will you shake hands?"
+
+Casey put out his hand. It was caught, thumb crotch to thumb crotch, in
+a grip of steel. He laughed as he threw every ounce of strength into
+his own fingers.
+
+"Good man," said Farwell. "I like a man with a handgrip, and you've got
+it. Any time you're ready, Miss McCrae?"
+
+Sheila went up as lightly as a boy. Beaver Boy was off as she touched
+the saddle. Farwell followed. They melted into the distance, galloping
+side by side, the dust, in spite of the night's rain, puffing up from
+the flying hoofs.
+
+At the end of a mile Beaver Boy's exuberance had not subsided. He
+thrashed out with his heels, and gave a tentative pitch. Farwell, who
+had been riding slightly behind, ranged up alongside.
+
+"I should think you'd get a quiet horse," he said.
+
+"I'll make this one quiet!" snapped Sheila, for she was still sore, and
+the hard pace had told on her temper through her bruises. "He's
+actually beginning to think he can do as he likes with _me_." Beaver
+Boy shied to show his independence, and she slashed him mercilessly
+with the quirt, setting her teeth as he plunged. "You would, would you,
+you brute? I'll show you!"
+
+Farwell, riding in, grabbed for the headstall.
+
+"Get away!" she flamed. "I'll fight this out with him now."
+
+The question of supremacy took five minutes to settle. At the end of
+that time Beaver Boy relapsed ignominiously into servitude, smarting
+from the quirt and dripping sweat. Sheila put all her strength into a
+final cut. The big bay took it meekly with what was almost a sigh and a
+trembling quiver.
+
+Farwell had watched the struggle with anxiety. "You won't have any more
+trouble with him for a while. He's afraid of you now."
+
+"He'd better be. He's been obstinate for months, getting worse all the
+time. He had some notion in his head that he was merely _allowing_ me
+to ride him. He did what he liked for a while last night when I was
+shaken up, and he had to have his lesson. No use letting any one else
+give it to him. He had to be shown that _I_ was able to do it."
+
+"That's so," said Farwell, "that's sense. The idea of you going out in
+the storm last night on that brute. No other girl would have done it.
+It was fine, but it was foolish."
+
+"Nonsense! I'm not afraid of rain or a horse. Could I do anything else?
+It was up to me."
+
+"Maybe. Well, you heard what I told Dunne about the water. That ought
+to be satisfactory to all you people."
+
+"Naturally I'm glad."
+
+"I'm going away," he continued. "Also, I'm chucking up my job. I'm
+sorry I ever took it. It was sheer waste of time. I'm going to work for
+myself now. I hoped I would catch you at Dunne's place. I wanted to say
+good-bye."
+
+"I am sorry you are going."
+
+"That's what Dunne said--and he didn't mean it. Do you?"
+
+"I usually mean what I say."
+
+"Well, I didn't know. I wouldn't blame you if you were glad. I behaved
+like a--well, like a blackguard once."
+
+"We needn't talk about that," said Sheila quietly. "That's over; I
+don't think of it."
+
+"But I do. I'm rough, but I'm not that kind--usually. You let me down
+easy. If I could undo it I would; but I can't."
+
+"No, it can't be undone. Why talk about it?"
+
+"Because I keep thinking about it. I've kept away, as you wanted me
+to--and because I was ashamed of myself. Honestly, I've tried to do the
+best I could for your people--for your father. I tried my best to be a
+friend. And the end of it was that I started gossip, and you told me to
+keep away. That was pretty hard lines. It made me angry. And then I was
+jealous of Dunne."
+
+"He is going to marry Miss Burnaby."
+
+"Lucky devil!" growled Farwell dejectedly. "Things run smooth for
+_him_. I'll bet he doesn't think half as much of her as I do of you."
+
+Sheila smiled for the first time. "You wouldn't tell her that."
+
+"I'd tell it to anybody. It's a fact. Why, look here: I'm a practical
+man; I've no more imagination than a stump. And yet I've lain awake
+nights pretending to myself that you had let me kiss you willingly.
+How's that?"
+
+Sheila laughed softly. "That's certainly going some, Mr. Farwell!"
+
+"Well, it's what I do, anyway. It's about all the consolation I've
+got."
+
+"Is it? Couldn't you get something better than that?"
+
+"I could if you'd give me half a chance," he declared. "You turned me
+down hard and cold. There's a fine show for consolation, isn't there?"
+
+"Perhaps some other girl----?" she suggested demurely.
+
+"No!" Farwell rapped out bluntly. "I don't want any other girl. I don't
+like other girls. They make me tired. I'd rather work than fuss with
+them. It's easier. If I can't have you I don't want anybody."
+
+Sheila laughed again. The colour was high in her cheeks, and a strange
+light was shining in her clear eyes. She shot a glance at him, half
+amused, half serious.
+
+"And if you had me you'd be tired of me in no time. I'm just plain
+girl."
+
+"Plain girl nothing! You're the prettiest----"
+
+"I'm not; I'm not even average."
+
+"And the best and the most sensible and the pluckiest one I ever saw,"
+he pursued, unheeding. "Don't tell me; I know. I've seen whole rafts of
+women. Dolls! Flirts! Gigglers! Fainters! Talking slush and thinking
+slop! Soft, too, like dough. Eating filthy coloured and flavoured
+glucose by the pound. Yah! Not a sane idea, or a sound digestion, or a
+healthy body in the bunch. And as for dress, the average woman piles a
+lot of truck on her like a _klootch_ at a potlatch, and cinches
+herself up in a----"
+
+"Hush!" said Sheila.
+
+"Huh!" said Farwell. "Why shouldn't I call things by their names? I
+never could see----"
+
+"You aren't supposed to see. That's plenty. I won't be lectured on the
+follies of my sex."
+
+"You're different from the others," said Farwell. "That's just it.
+You've got ideas apart from dress and gossip, the same as a man has.
+You're in good hard condition physically. You don't giggle, and titter,
+and make eyes, and expect a man to talk like a da--er--ah--that is, you
+don't expect a lot of silly compliments. I've never seen anybody like
+you. Talk of another girl! Bah! I couldn't stand one in the same house.
+It's you or no one."
+
+"I don't think I'd wear well, Mr. Farwell. You'd get tired of me."
+
+"No, I wouldn't; no, I wouldn't. I know what I'm talking about. I tell
+you, I love you, Sheila. Do you think it's easy to say good-bye and
+leave you? It's the hardest job I ever had. It's--it's--oh, it's hell,
+that's what it is. I used to love work just for the work's sake. But
+now, to think of grubbing away year after year, to get money that I
+can't use, that I don't want--that can't get me what I want! Oh, Lord!
+the hopeless years ahead! What's the good of them? What's the use? I
+wish I'd never seen this place--or you."
+
+His deep voice rose, and fell, and rumbled uncertainly, shaken by
+feeling. He slouched dejectedly in his saddle, looking straight ahead
+as if his eyes beheld the emptiness of the years to come.
+
+"Then why do you say good-bye?" said Sheila.
+
+Farwell started, half turning in the saddle. "Why? Because it's best.
+What's the use of hanging around? I have to take my medicine, don't I?
+I can take it easier away from here."
+
+"I'm not so sure," she said hesitatingly, "that there will be any
+medicine to take."
+
+Farwell's eyes opened wide as he stared at her.
+
+"What do you mean by that? Don't fool with me, Sheila, for Heaven's
+sake. It's too serious a matter."
+
+"Yes, it's serious," she agreed. She faced him frankly, the rich blood
+mounting beneath the tan of her cheeks. "What's the use of beating
+around the bush? When you kissed me I hated you. I struck you. But when
+Sandy came--and afterward--you seemed a good deal of a man. And so--I
+don't know--but it need not be good-bye for good."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+
+In the evening a stranger drove up to Chakchak. He was long and lean,
+and his hair was flecked with gray. His eyes were blue and clear, set
+rather wide apart, holding a calm, disconcerting stare. His clothes
+were much worn, frayed, and dusty. His movements were quiet and
+deliberate, and so was his speech.
+
+"I am lookin'," he said, "for Mr. Dunne."
+
+"That's my name," said Casey.
+
+"Then I'd like a little private talk with you. My name is Dove; I'm
+actin' sheriff of this county while Fuller's sick." Evidently Acting
+Sheriff Dove was a man of direct speech.
+
+"Glad to meet you, sheriff," said Casey. "Come right into my quarters.
+I've guests at the house, and I'm bunking here. Have a cigar, and tell
+me what I can do for you."
+
+The sheriff lit a cigar very deliberately, and carefully pinched out
+the flame of the match with his fingers, surest of signs of one
+accustomed to the plains and woods. He removed the cigar, eyed it with
+approval, replaced it, and turned to his host.
+
+"That's a right good smoke. I come to see you about this killin'. This
+here McHale worked for you, I'm told."
+
+"He's my foreman."
+
+"Where is he now?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"He come back here after the killin', collected up his outfit, got a
+pack horse, and made his get-away?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Told you about it, maybe?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But not where he was goin'?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Still, you can make a tol'able guess."
+
+"I'm not guessing," Casey replied. "That killing was square, sheriff."
+
+"I don't say it wasn't," Dove admitted. "I got nothing to do with that.
+My rule is, when there's a killin', to bring in the man who done it,
+and let the law 'tend to his case."
+
+"Good rule, theoretically."
+
+"And so," Sheriff Dove continued, with calm finality, "I'm out to bring
+in this here McHale."
+
+Casey thereupon gave Tom's reasons for leaving, and expressed his
+opinion that he would come in and give himself up within a short time.
+The sheriff listened, smoking impassively.
+
+"I dunno but what McHale acted pretty sensible," he commented. "He
+needn't worry about my not protectin' him. I've give a prisoner a gun
+and let him help stand off a mob before now. Likewise, I've got lead in
+my system doin' it. However, that ain't the point. I can't wait 'round
+for him to come in. I got to get him. There's been quite a bunch of
+things happenin' down in this country, far as I can hear, that ain't
+none too law-abidin'."
+
+Casey merely smiled genially.
+
+"Mind you, I ain't no busybody," said the sheriff. "I get trouble
+enough in a regular way without huntin' for it. I've been hearin'
+things, but there bein' no complaint I've sat tight. Up to this Cross
+killin' nobody's been hurt. But that's serious and brings me in to take
+a hand. One of my deputies, Jack Pugh, is after a young feller named
+McCrae. There's lots of things don't speak well for respect for the law
+down here. I represent the law, and what hits it hits me."
+
+"I understand. You've been straight with me, sheriff, and I appreciate
+it. I don't know exactly where McHale is, but I think if you found him
+and gave him a straight, decent talk he'd come in without any trouble.
+He doesn't want any. And I think you'll find him somewhere in the
+hills. That's all I can tell you now."
+
+"Him and this young McCrae is tillikums, they tell me," the sheriff
+suggested. "You think maybe they've met up?"
+
+"They may. There's a chance of it."
+
+The sheriff considered. "This McCrae is a leetle mite headstrong, I'm
+told. Sorter apt to act rash."
+
+"I'm afraid so."
+
+The sheriff shook his head regretfully. "I'd ruther deal with a sure
+'nough bad man than with a young feller like that," he observed, "They
+lack judgment, as a rule. I'm told he savvies a gun right well?"
+
+"He's a centre shot and quick," said Casey. "And, remember this,
+sheriff, if you run across him: he doesn't bluff. When he goes after a
+gun he goes after it to shoot with. I tell you this because I don't
+want to see anybody hurt. There's no harm in him, handled right, but
+he's a kid, and you want to make allowances."
+
+"I'm obliged to you, and I'll do it. Jack Pugh and Glass have started
+out after him already. They allow to prospect 'round in the hills till
+they find him. That's what I'll do with McHale."
+
+Casey considered, and suddenly came to a decision.
+
+"Anybody going with you?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Don't you want a deputy?"
+
+"Any time I got to pack a deputy 'round with me to bring in one man
+there'll be a job open," the sheriff returned grimly. "I don't keep no
+corral full of deputies. I got Pugh and another, and they're both busy.
+I allow not to get lost. I've been out by myself before now."
+
+"The reason I ask," said Casey, "is that I'd like to go with you
+myself. The boys might listen to me, and not to you. Mind, I'm not
+offering to guide you to them. You find your own trail. But I'll make
+all the peace talk I can if you do find them. Besides, there's this
+Dade. If he goes after Tom, there will be trouble. It's a feud. I
+declare myself in on it."
+
+"I hate trouble and I love peace," said the sheriff. "No feuds is goin'
+to flourish around where I am. But you come along. You're actin' right.
+I'm glad to have you. Can you start in the mornin'?"
+
+"Make it afternoon; I've things to see to first. How are you fixed for
+a horse?"
+
+"I've got my own hoss back yander in town. I hated to use him till I
+had to. That's why I hired a team."
+
+"I have a pack horse. That's all we'll need. Bring your own outfit.
+I've plenty of grub here."
+
+"That's mighty kind," said the sheriff. "The county will pay for your
+hoss and the grub."
+
+"I don't want pay. This is my shout. I'm doing it for my friends."
+
+"Well, your friends ought to be right obliged. I'll remember it. You
+won't find me makin' things harder. And now I'll pike along back to
+town."
+
+They shook hands and the sheriff climbed back into the sagging
+buckboard and departed. Casey returned to his quarters and began to
+gather an outfit by the only practical method; that is to say, by
+piling everything he wanted in a heap. He was engaged in this
+occupation when Clyde knocked and entered.
+
+"Why, Casey, whatever are you doing?"
+
+He told her, and she approved his plan. She began to examine the heap
+he had thrown together on the table--knife, cartridges, fishhooks and
+line, compass, matches, sweater, poncho--with a girl's interest in such
+masculine possessions. But she exclaimed at the lack of toilet
+articles. Where were his razors, his hairbrushes?
+
+"I'll get along without them."
+
+"My goodness, boy, you'll be scrubby. Aren't you going to take even
+a--a toothbrush?"
+
+"Yes, I'll do that," he laughed. "There, that's enough for to-night.
+Feng will put up grub in the morning. What have you done with Kitty
+Wade and her husband? Hadn't we better look them up? They may be making
+love on the sly."
+
+"Do you need a chaperon so badly?" She slipped her arm in his. "Come
+on, then. They've gone for a walk up the ditch. We'll meet them and
+come back together. Only I want to impress upon you, Casey, that they
+must walk ahead of us--unless it gets very dark, indeed."
+
+"I think I get you," he laughed. "We'll arrange that detail. Kitty Wade
+is a most sympathetic young matron."
+
+They found the Wades, and their evening stroll became an inspection of
+the ranch. The effects of the rain were already visible in the colour
+of the grain. It was darker, more vigorous, sending forth new shoots.
+The grass lands, where the network of roots had retained the earlier
+moisture, were lush and knee deep. Soon it would be ready to cut.
+
+The beauty of the evening held them out of doors. It was good to idle
+in the twilight with the scent of clover in the nostrils, to walk among
+the growing things. It was sweet to exchange confidences, to plan for
+the future as man and woman have from the beginning, painting it
+brightly, draping it in rose and gold, a perfect picture wherein all
+the colours harmonized.
+
+It was the time of dreams. They gazed into the future as children might
+look across an unknown sea, seeing in fancy its stately galleons, its
+tall treasure ships, its white-winged pleasure craft, its wondrous,
+palm-fringed islands, where summer abode always; but they had no eyes
+for leaden skies and sullen shouldering swells spouting on hidden
+reefs, the great, gray bergs fog-hidden in the ship track, the drifting
+derelicts whose hopes were once as fair as their own. For God has
+mercifully arranged that these things shall be hidden from our eyes
+until the proper time.
+
+Even when they reached the house they were not inclined to go indoors.
+They sat in the darkness, in pairs, apart, conversing in low tones, and
+so another hour slipped away. Back of them the house was dark; not a
+lamp was lighted. Only from Feng's kitchen a path of light streamed
+from the door. But as they were about to leave the veranda they heard
+the sound of hoofs approaching.
+
+"Who on earth is coming at this time of night?" Wade asked.
+
+"Sit quiet and we'll see," said Casey. His hand closed on the butt of a
+gun in his pocket, which he now carried constantly.
+
+The hoofs slowed to a walk, and a shadowy horse and rider halted a few
+yards away. In the darkness of the veranda, with the deeper background
+of the building, they were invisible.
+
+"Be th' mortal! but they've all gone to bed," muttered a disgusted
+voice. "An' what do yez know about that? 'Airly to bed an' airly to
+rise,' as the kids' dope books has it. Maybe ut makes a man healthy,
+but all the wealthy wise guys iver I knowed wint on th' well-known
+principle that home was the last place to close up. Faix, a man'll go
+home whin he's in no state f'r anny other place. Whoa! Howld still,
+there's a good harrse, till I see what's best to do. Don't be so
+onaisy. Whoa, darlin'! Bad cess to ye, ye roachbacked Prodestan' baste,
+kape off iv thim flower beds! Have yez no manners at all, at all? Be
+all th' saints in glory I'll larrup th' head off iv yez--or I w'u'd if
+I wasn't afraid ye'd buck me onto the roof. Yez have me crippled
+intirely as ut is."
+
+"Not a word, for your life!" Wade whispered. "That's a star monologue!"
+
+Feng, attracted by the voice, came to the door.
+
+"Hallo! What wanchee?" he demanded.
+
+"The country's overrun wid them yelly divils!" Mr. Quilty muttered.
+"What wanchee? Th' nerve iv him! Ye weathered-ivory monkey face, I've
+business wid yer betters!"
+
+"You keepee hossee off flowah bed," commanded Feng. "What foh you lidee
+him all oveh?"
+
+"Ask th' harrse!" Quilty retorted. "The sight iv yez onsettles him,
+lowgrade baste as he is. Dom a Chinaman dead or alive, annyway!"
+
+"You no good!" retorted Feng. "Me savvy you. You Ilishman, all same
+mick, all same flannel mout', all same bogtlotteh! You bum lailway man!
+You get dlunk, fo'get switch, thlain lun off tlack; you swingee
+lante'n, yellee 'All aboa'd!' you say, 'Jim Kli! what keepee Numbeh
+Eight?' You sellee ticket, knockee down change. No good, lailway man!
+Me savvy you, all light."
+
+"Ye cross iv a limon peel and a case iv jandhers!" cried Mr. Quilty in
+wrath at these aspersions on an honourable calling, "I'm a notion to
+get down an' slug the head off iv yez! Faix, ut's no murder to kill a
+Chinaman, but a bright jewel in me starry crown, ye long-nailed,
+rat-eatin', harrse-haired, pipe-hittin' slave iv th' black pill! I'll
+make yez think I'm a Hip Sing Tong or a runaway freight on th' big
+hill. I'll slaughter yez, mind, if I get off. Do yez know where yez
+will go whin yez die at my hands?"
+
+"Me go to heaven," said Feng, with comfortable conviction.
+
+"Th' ---- ye say!" ejaculated Mr. Quilty, in shocked amazement. "I
+think I see ye there!"
+
+"You no see me," said Feng. "No Ilish lailway man stop in heaven. Me
+catchee heaven all light. Missionally say so."
+
+"Is ut mish-naries they send to waste time on the loikes iv yez?"
+snorted Mr. Quilty. "Hivin! Fine comp'ny ye'd be f'r the holy men and
+blessid saints an' martyrs an' pure, snow-white angels! Why, ye
+idolatrous, stick-burnin', kow-towin', joss-worshippin' pagan son iv a
+mat-sailed junk and a chopstick, they'd slam the pearly gates forninst
+yer face and stick their holy fingers to their blessid noses at yez.
+Hivin! Ye'll never smell ut, nor scuffle yer filthy shoes on th'
+goolden streets. Purgathry! Faix, yer ticket reads straight through,
+wid no stop-off priv'leges whatever. Th' cindher pit f'r yours! Be th'
+Rock iv Cashel, I'll l'arn yez to insult th' heav'nly throng!"
+
+So saying, he dropped ungracefully from his horse and made a rush for
+Feng, who retreated, slammed the screen door, and, from inside,
+threatened the storming party with a formidable butcher knife.
+
+"Whurroo!" shouted Mr. Quilty, dancing on the steps. "Come out, ye
+yelly plague, knife and all, an' l'ave me knock the stuffin' out iv
+yez! Annyways, I'll tell ye what ye are. Ye're a----"
+
+But Casey, fearful of Mr. Quilty's descriptive powers, saw fit to
+interrupt.
+
+"Hello! What's all the row? That you, Corney?"
+
+"Yer owner has saved yer life," Mr. Quilty informed Feng. "Sure ut's
+me, Casey. I'm after l'arnin' this Oriental curse iv the wurruld how to
+talk to his betters." He mounted the steps, peering suspiciously at the
+occupants of the veranda. "Who's these?" he demanded. "I can't see in
+the dark. Miss Burnaby, is ut, an' Misther Wade an' his leddy? I
+believe yez were here all the time!"
+
+"We just came in from the other side," Casey lied manfully.
+
+"Yes, ye did! I can see yez laughin', and I don't blame yez. 'Twas
+funny how scared the Chink was. Well, ut does thim lower races good to
+be bawled out wanst in a while by their superiors."
+
+Casey led the way indoors, and lighted the lamps. He established Mr.
+Quilty in a comfortable chair, with a cigar and a cold drink.
+
+"Th' health and inclinations iv all here," said Mr. Quilty, waving his
+glass gracefully. "I'm glad to see yez all lookin' so well, more
+partic'larly the leddies."
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Quilty," said Clyde.
+
+"It's very nice of you, Mr. Quilty," said Kitty Wade.
+
+"It's not often I have the good forchune to be in leddies' society,"
+Mr. Quilty continued. "Me tongue has lost th' right twist for
+compliments; but, sure, if ut hadn't ut wouldn't begin to do th' pair
+iv yez justice. Oh, divil th' bit iv soodher am I givin' yez. It's two
+pretty women yez are. Well, well, I'm an old felly who's had his day.
+Ye won't mind me. Annyways, wan iv yez has a man, an' th' other is
+spoken for, belike. Now whatever makes Casey, there, blush? I didn't
+think he knowed how. An' Miss Burnaby, too! What'll yez do whin they's
+rice lodged in yer clothes and yer hats, an' white ribbons on yer
+trunks, an' th' waiters grin whin ye go into the diner? Let me tell ye,
+now----"
+
+"Please, please, Mr. Quilty!" Clyde pleaded.
+
+"Have I rung th' bell?" he demanded.
+
+"Bull's-eye," said Wade. "Own up to it, you two. It's obvious."
+
+"Oh, is it?" said Clyde. "Well, if we're half as bad as you and Kitty
+were----"
+
+"Don't mind him; he was in love with me once," said Kitty.
+
+"He is yet," said Clyde.
+
+"Faix, I don't wonder at ut," said Mr. Quilty gallantly.
+
+"Very skilful shift of topic," said Wade. "I admit everything. I guess
+we were bad enough; but you and Casey are the limit."
+
+"But look at th' fine excuse both iv thim has," said Mr. Quilty,
+beaming. "Here's long life an' happiness, an' may yer only troubles
+be--well, well, niver mind th' troubles. There's time enough to think
+iv them whin they come. Which puts me in mind that I do be forgettin'
+what _I_ come for. Ut's about Tom. D'ye know where he's at?"
+
+"Not exactly. Why?"
+
+"Mebbe ye heard that th' water comp'ny is payin' off its men an'
+shuttin' down. Well, then, there's all iv thim hard-faced _tillikums_
+iv Cross, deceased, paid off; an' instid iv gittin' dhrunk like dacint
+Christians, what do they do but outfit thimselves an' start back fer
+th' hills, six iv thim--an' a divil iv a harrd-bunch, savin' th'
+leddies' presence. Wan iv thim made a brag that they'd get Tom. So I
+come out to tell yez, in case ye had word from him. An' they's officers
+out afther that young divil iv a brother iv Miss Sheila's. Somebody
+ought to tell the boys to skin their eyes, if so be they're hangin'
+around."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+
+Casey and Sheriff Dove did not start the next afternoon. A telegram had
+detained the sheriff, and he did not reach Chakchak till night. He
+spent the evening with them, taking a great fancy to Clyde. He even
+blossomed out as a story teller, spinning yarns without embellishment
+and with great clearness. He told of cattle wars, of outlaws, of Indian
+fighters, of strange occurrences, of strange men, primitive of mind and
+of action, who had played their parts in the history of the West. It
+was information at first-hand, rare nowadays, and the listeners found
+the evening too short.
+
+"Blanket time," said the sheriff, looking at his watch. "I ain't a
+young nighthawk no more. If we're to git a good start----"
+
+"We'd like to hear more, sheriff," said Clyde.
+
+"Sho!" said Sheriff Dove, well pleased. "I could keep yarnin' half the
+night to a pretty girl. I ain't too old for that. Maybe when we get
+back we'll have another session."
+
+Outside on the veranda she slipped her arm in his. "Take good care of
+Casey for me, sheriff, please."
+
+"I sure will, little girl," he replied. "Don't you go to worryin', now.
+There's no call to. If it was easier travellin' you might come along,
+for all the trouble there'll be." He smiled down at her in fatherly
+fashion, his great, sinewy arm pressing hers, and the pressure
+reassured her.
+
+"Thank you, sheriff. You--you're a _dear_!"
+
+"Do I git a bid to the weddin'?"
+
+"Of course you do." Clyde blushed and laughed. "Only I don't know just
+when it will be."
+
+"Make it soon," he advised. "Life's short, little girl. Take all the
+happiness you can git. Good night."
+
+They rode westward in the morning before the sun had risen, and camped
+that night in the foothills, having seen nobody. They entered the pass,
+and immediately came upon the trail of horses.
+
+"Looks like there's been some travel," said the sheriff. "This here
+pass used much?"
+
+"Not at this time of year. The Indians use it in the fall. They hunt
+across the range."
+
+"These horses is shod," the sheriff remarked. "I sh'd say there's been
+half a dozen of 'em. Not less. Maybe more. I've knowed men that could
+tell exact."
+
+"Not many of them left now."
+
+"That's so. There ain't much need for trailin' these days. Too many
+telegraph wires."
+
+They held to the pass, as did the hoofprints, eventually dropping down
+into the valley of the Klimminchuck, where they camped for the night
+beside the ford, cooked supper, unrolled their blankets, and lay by the
+fire, smoking.
+
+"This bunch of hosses," the sheriff observed, "seems to have split up
+here. Two or three of 'em crossed over, but the most went down the
+valley. What's down there?"
+
+"Just valley. It's partly open and part heavy timber. There was a pack
+trail cut through once, but it's mostly grown up."
+
+"Nobody lives down there?"
+
+"Not a soul. Now and then somebody traps in winter."
+
+"Um." The sheriff was thoughtful for some moments. "Does McHale know
+the country hereabouts?"
+
+"Fairly well. Better than I do. And McCrae knows it better than he
+does."
+
+"Um." The sheriff became silent again. "When a man goes to hidin' out,"
+he observed after a long pause, "he 'most always hits for the country
+he knows. Seems like it's human nature. I'd do it myself, and so'd you.
+Seems like a man that's wanted is suspicious of strange ground. He
+don't know what's in it, and he's afraid of gettin' cornered. He don't
+know what he's goin' to run up against any mile. It's a mean feelin',
+that. It keeps a man on edge every minute. So he naturally makes for
+the district he's at home in. It's a mistake, but they all make it.
+They figure they can dodge around where they know the trails and
+cut-offs. Consequently it's just a matter of time till they're caught.
+It's like an old buck that won't leave his range. Any man can git him
+that wants to spend a week at it."
+
+"That's so," Casey agreed.
+
+"So when I want a man and don't know where he's gone, I find out what
+place he thinks he knows best," the sheriff continued. "The system wins
+nine times out of ten. Now you say McHale's only out temporary. He's
+got a clear self-defence case, or thinks he has, and he's merely
+side-steppin' trouble. In that case he won't go as far as another man
+might. My _tumtum_ is that he's somewheres down along this valley."
+
+"Good reasoning," Casey admitted.
+
+"The way to see a man down in a hole is to look over the edge," said
+the sheriff; "and the way to find a man in a valley is to get up on a
+hill. They ain't no such thing as a smokeless campfire invented yet,
+though, if a man rustles dry sticks and does his cookin' at noon of a
+bright day, he don't make much smoke. A feller fooled me once that way.
+He didn't take a chance on noon, but done his cookin' at night, down in
+a hole. Only way I got him, the fire burned in under a rock into some
+old roots, and sorter smudged along one mornin' when he was asleep."
+
+Casey glanced up at the bulk of the ranges outlined in blackness
+against the sky. "If you say so, sheriff, we'll climb."
+
+"I hate to," the sheriff admitted. "Couldn't you make a good guess?"
+
+"No. I don't know any more than you do."
+
+"Well," said the sheriff thoughtfully, "we'll try the valley first. We
+may come on some sign. It's bound to take time, anyway. There's a whole
+heap of country here if it was smoothed out and stretched level."
+
+He knocked out his pipe and pulled his blanket around him, for down in
+that deep, watered valley the nights were cold. Casey followed his
+example. In two minutes both men were asleep, with the rush of the
+water and the crunch-crunch of the horses' teeth cropping the grasses
+in their ears.
+
+They breakfasted in the dawn, saddled, and took a course downstream,
+The trail petered out; the hoof marks vanished. They rode with care
+through thick brush, and more easily in open, parklike glades. Grouse
+rose almost under their horses' hoofs, to sit bright-eyed on adjacent
+limbs, watching the travellers. Occasionally deer by twos and threes
+bounded springily away, white flags waving. Once the horses snorted and
+showed a disinclination to proceed, sniffing the air nervously.
+
+"Bear," said Casey.
+
+"Down among them berry bushes, I reckon," said the sheriff.
+
+As he spoke, a black, furry head, short ears, and sharp muzzle rose
+above the tangled bushes. A narrow, red tongue licked out. Cunning
+little eyes regarded them with indignant suspicion.
+
+"Woof!" said the bear. The sound was something between the snort of a
+hog and the first interrogative note of a watchdog, which hears a noise
+that requires explanation.
+
+"Well, sport," said the sheriff, "berryin' good this mornin'?"
+
+But at the sound of the human voice the black head disappeared beneath
+the surface of foliage. There was a momentary swaying of bushes in one
+spot, like the swirl of disturbed water after a fish; but there was
+nothing to mark the line of the beast's flight. For all his bulk he
+melted through the tangle as soundlessly as a spirit.
+
+"Bears is learnin' manners nowadays," the sheriff commented. "Course,
+these here black ones never was much different from pigs. But take
+grizzlies. When I come West with my old people, a little shaver just
+able to set a pony, they was plumb sassy. I never did see such
+biggotty-actin' critters. Britch-loaders hadn't been in so durn long,
+and men didn't go huntin' grizzlies with the little old pea rifle just
+for fun. They was range bosses, and they knowed it. Now it's only once
+in a while you'll find one that wants all the trail."
+
+In the afternoon they came to an abandoned cabin, and dismounted to
+investigate. Casey shook his head at the filthy litter. "Nobody's been
+here," said he.
+
+The sheriff peered narrowly about. "No?" he said. "Well, how about
+that?" He pointed to the ground. "Moccasin track, or part of one. Who
+wears moccasins?"
+
+"McCrae does, most of the time."
+
+"Then he's been here. He couldn't pass without lookin' in."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because four men out of five can't go by an old shack without takin' a
+peep inside. I can't, myself. I judge you can't, either. Do you
+remember ever doin' it?"
+
+"Why, no," Casey admitted, "now you speak of it, I don't. And I do
+remember rubbering into dozens of old wikiups one place and another."
+
+"Sure," said the sheriff. "Human nature again. Anything that's made by
+a man and left behind will draw another man like molasses will a fly. I
+never knew a man yet that wouldn't nose around an old camping spot. Not
+that he expects to find anything, or wants to. He just can't help it.
+McCrae didn't stop here. Where did he go? We might as well look around
+a little."
+
+In the process of looking around, they came on an abandoned camp. By
+the quantity of ashes a number of fires had been burned. There were the
+poles of a lean-to and a bough bed beneath it, and at a little distance
+were other beds of boughs. The ground was trampled, and the grass
+beaten down in the vicinity.
+
+The sheriff nosed among the signs, lifting the boughs of the beds,
+trying the ashes with his finger for heat, making an examination of the
+ground, and wandering off in a circle around the camp, where horses had
+been picketed. Finally he came back to the fireplace, filled his pipe,
+and lay down. Casey, meanwhile, had been forming his own conclusions.
+
+"Well?" he asked.
+
+"Well," said the sheriff, "I reckon you been usin' your eyes, too.
+Let's hear about it."
+
+"It's your hunt."
+
+"So it is. McCrae's met up with McHale. This here is their camp."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"You askin' because you don't know yourself, or because you want me to
+tell you?"
+
+"I think you're right, but I'd like to know how you get at it."
+
+"Well, I ain't no Old Sleuth nor Sherlock Holmes," said the sheriff,
+"but I've lived some years out of doors. I ain't workin' out no chain
+of reasonin'; I'm just usin' my eyes and a bit of savvy. This is how
+she works out:
+
+"McHale and McCrae is both foot-loose, and both know this part of the
+country. They leave about the same time, and chances is they make for
+it. Then they meet. That's easy. Then we find the moccasin track. That
+fits McCrae. Next we find a lean-to with a two-man bough bed. There's
+the hollows where two men lay. That helps prove our first guess. It
+shows that some one was with McCrae, and the only other man hidin' out
+is McHale."
+
+"But there are other bough beds. How do you know they weren't all made
+by one outfit?"
+
+"There's only one lean-to."
+
+"Two men may have been more particular than the others."
+
+"The boughs of them other beds were cut later than this lean-to one."
+
+"But the boughs are all green."
+
+"The ends where they were cut are different. There's more gum on these
+than the others. That shows they were cut before. Then there's more
+needles broken off and sifted through to the ground beneath this bed.
+That shows it's been slept on more. Where would a man get his boughs?
+The nearest trees, of course. Well, there's more gum where the limbs
+were cut on the nearest trees than on them farther away. Then there's
+been a bunch of horses staked out. Why didn't they bell 'em and let 'em
+range? Either because they didn't have no bells, or didn't want to use
+'em. McHale and McCrae would keep their hosses on a rope so's they
+could make a quick get-away if they had to. They wouldn't take a chance
+on their strayin'. Now the grass that's been eaten down by the hosses
+is beginnin' to sprout again in some places, and not in others. Maybe
+that's because the pickets were shifted, but it's more likely that some
+hosses was here before the rest. That's about all. She works out all
+right, don't she?"
+
+"Down to the hock card," Casey admitted. "I saw some of the signs, but
+not all. You filled in the gaps."
+
+"It's a pity if I wouldn't savvy a few things about my own business,"
+said the sheriff. "Some of it's guesswork, but the main features ain't.
+Now, when we go farther, we got to do straight guessin'. Who was this
+bunch that come in here where the two men was already camped? My guess
+is that it was this here Dade and his outfit. But they don't find the
+two here when they come, or there'd sure be sign of it. It looks to me
+like them two boys got to know that somebody was on their back trail,
+and moved camp sudden. But not so durn sudden they had to leave
+anything behind. Question is, where have they went to--the whole
+b'ilin' of 'em?"
+
+"Down the valley. Otherwise we'd have seen some sign."
+
+"I reckon that's so. If Dade works out things the way I have, he knows
+he's close on to McHale. Say he's got four or five men with him. He can
+comb the valley pretty clean. But here's another thing: How long will
+them two boys let themselves be chased?"
+
+"Not very long. It's not safe to crowd either of them."
+
+"If it was me," said the sheriff reflectively, "and a feud party was
+out on my trail, I'd be apt as not to bushwhack 'em some. You bet I
+wouldn't stand on ceremony with such hostiles. If I knowed the country
+I'd cache myself alongside some good open spot, wait till they got into
+the middle of it, and then slam loose. With two men that savvy their
+guns any one that got away would sure have a pull with Providence and
+be workin' it awful hard."
+
+"Sandy would do that in a minute; but I think Tom doesn't want any more
+trouble if he can help it."
+
+"He may get it shoved onto him. Well, seein' we're here, we may as well
+eat. Then we'll move on."
+
+When their meal was over they followed the valley. Sunset found them at
+the edge of thick timber.
+
+"How far does this run?" asked the sheriff.
+
+"I don't know. I was never here before."
+
+"Then we'll camp," said Dove, "and tackle her by daylight."
+
+It was almost dark when Casey, sitting by the fire, suddenly held up
+his hand. "Somebody coming."
+
+The sheriff listened for a moment. "Two horses," he announced. "May be
+Jack Pugh." Nevertheless, the old frontiersman shifted his position so
+that his gun lay ready to his hand.
+
+A moment later two shadowy horsemen appeared, resolving themselves, as
+they approached, into Farwell and old Simon.
+
+"Hello, the camp!" cried the former. "That you, Dunne?"
+
+"Yes. What on earth are you doing here?"
+
+"Same thing as yourself. This old Siwash missed you somehow. He found
+McHale and young McCrae, and, on the way out, he ran into Dade, Lewis,
+and the rest--six in all. When he got to the ranch you were gone, and
+nobody could tell him where. He came over to Talapus to tell them he'd
+seen Sandy. That's where I ran into him. And so, knowing that Sandy was
+with McHale, I got the old man to come back with me. I wanted to be in
+it if help was needed. We picked up your trail--or he did--and here we
+are."
+
+"Well, it's blamed decent of you, Farwell," said Casey. "I didn't know
+that you and Sandy were such friends."
+
+"We're not. The kid doesn't like me. I told you he pulled a gun on me
+once. All the same, it was up to me this time. I'm going to marry
+Sheila."
+
+"The devil you are!" Casey exclaimed.
+
+"You're blamed flattering," said Farwell. "You bet I'm going to marry
+her."
+
+"You're getting one of the finest girls on earth."
+
+"I know that as well as you do," said Farwell. "Then you see how it was
+up to me----"
+
+He broke off suddenly. Rolling softly along the hills, flung back and
+forth across the valley from rock wall to rock wall, repeated and
+magnified a hundred times, came an echo. So distant was it that the
+original sound itself was not heard; merely the reverberations of it
+struck the ear. But unmistakably it was made by a far-off gun. Before
+the echoes had died away others followed, until their resonance
+resembled continuous thunder.
+
+"_Hiyu_ shootum!" said Simon.
+
+"You bet," the sheriff agreed. "I reckon the boys has got tired bein'
+moved on. Or else they been jumped sudden. That shootin's all of six
+miles off. Maybe more. It'll be plumb dark in no time. If there's no
+more shootin' it's settled by now. If there is it's a stand-off. Either
+way we have to wait till it gets light."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+
+"I been thinkin' we might as well move on a ways," said McHale. "Here's
+old Simon drops in on us. Somebody else might. I don't feel right about
+it. I want to git some place, like up in one o' them basins, where
+strangers won't be passin' by every day."
+
+"Well, I'll go you," Sandy agreed; "but there's an old bear that I want
+first. He's got a foot as big as a fiddle; I'll bet he weighs as much
+as a steer."
+
+"What'll you do with a bear? We don't want to go packin' a green hide
+about with us. The horses hate the smell of it."
+
+"Let 'em get used to it, then," Sandy returned. "I'm starting after
+that bear now. Better come along. If I don't get him I'll go
+to-morrow."
+
+But McHale refused to accompany him. He hated climbing. If he could go
+on a horse that would be different. Therefore Sandy set out alone.
+
+He ascended a shoulder of the mountain, working his way upward to where
+he had located the range of the big bear. It was steady climbing, and
+rough as well, but Sandy was in hard, lean condition, with the
+limitless wind and springy muscles of youth. He arrived at his
+objective point, a spot which gave him a clear view of the mountain
+side for a mile on either hand. Somewhere in that area, he had already
+decided, the bear would be feeding. He settled down for a long, careful
+inspection; first with the naked eye, which yielded nothing, and next
+with a pair of binoculars. Sandy, when hunting, possessed unlimited
+patience. He settled himself comfortably, and kept the glasses at work.
+Finally his patience was rewarded. A mile or more up the hillside a
+huge, brown shape shambled into view.
+
+"Lord! he's a big brute," Sandy muttered. "That's a hide worth getting.
+I'll wait till he settles down for keeps."
+
+Apparently the bear had found food to his liking. He was busy with paw
+and tongue beside a rotten log. Sandy mapped out a route in his mind,
+and decided to make a start. It was then noon. As he rose he happened
+to look up the valley.
+
+It lay below him, ashimmer in the summer sun, a panorama of green,
+light and dark of shade, with the silver ribbon of the Klimminchuck
+appearing and disappearing down its length. It was, perhaps, as
+beautiful a mountain valley scene as eye ever beheld; but Sandy McCrae
+would not have looked at it twice save for a thin, gray thread which
+appeared above the treetops some miles away. It became a column,
+ballooned, and then was invisible. But he knew that somebody had just
+started a fire.
+
+He picked out the spot with the glasses. Smoke was plainly visible
+through the powerful lenses. It was close to the river--beside the
+bank, in fact--and he could catch glimpses of one or two horses. But,
+because of the trees, he could see little more.
+
+"Darn the luck," said Sandy. "There's the biggest hide in the whole
+range waiting for me, and somebody has to come butting in. Well,
+there's only one thing to do."
+
+That thing being to get back to camp as fast as possible, Sandy
+proceeded to do it. He went downhill at a pace that would have shaken
+an older and heavier man to pieces; for going downhill is, contrary to
+the popular idea, much harder on the human frame than going up. He
+broke into camp and roused McHale from a state of somnolence and
+tobacco.
+
+"I could 'a' tanned your young hide when you bulled off after that
+bear," said the latter. "Now I seem to see what them salvation scouts
+calls 'the finger of Providence' in the play. In other words, it's
+plumb safe to keep one eye skinned. Do I look like I was scared,
+Sandy?"
+
+"Nah!" said Sandy contemptuously.
+
+"Well, you're going to see me act like I was." He rose swiftly, his
+laziness falling from him now that there was work to do. "Go and fetch
+in them cayuses. I'll break camp."
+
+The horses being on picket caused no delay. When Sandy brought them in,
+McHale had their entire outfit in two heaps, ready to pack. With the
+skill and swiftness of experience they made the packs, threw the
+hitches, drew the lash ropes tight. The result was two compact bundles
+which could not work loose.
+
+"I dunno who our friends are," said McHale, as they rode out of camp,
+"but if it's this here Dade bunch, say, what a surprise they'd have
+give me all by myself. I can just see me gettin' up in time to fall
+down."
+
+"They've got no license to chase us all over," said Sandy. "We don't
+have to stand for it, do we? How'd it be if we held up their camp? Or
+else we could lay for them as they came along, and settle it right
+there."
+
+"Bushwhack 'em?" said McHale. "No, I reckon not. We want to keep out of
+trouble. If we held 'em up what'd we do with them? We couldn't tie 'em
+and leave 'em; and we couldn't pack 'em around. Nothing for it but to
+run like men. The country's big enough for both of us."
+
+Sandy grunted disapproval, but said no more. Personally he would have
+welcomed a fight. He was a marvellously quick and accurate shot with
+either rifle or revolver, and he was ready to make a friend's quarrel
+his own. However, he deferred to McHale's views.
+
+Farther down the Klimminchuck they turned up a nameless tributary
+creek, following its course with difficulty, for the way was choked
+with down timber and slides, until they reached a beautiful little
+basin high up above the valley. There the creek had its source or
+sources; for the drainings of the basin were collected in a little lake
+lying beneath bare cliffs. The water was swarming with trout, so that
+one supply of food was assured.
+
+Beside the lake and the cliffs they made camp. They could not see the
+valley, neither could they be seen thence; but by walking half a mile
+they could look down into it. Sandy, mindful of his disappointment,
+began to prospect for bear.
+
+McHale relapsed once more into a morass of sleep and tobacco. But while
+Sandy was ranging afield he lay on the edge of the basin drowsing and
+watching the valley, for he did not intend to be taken by surprise.
+
+But that was exactly what happened. He had withdrawn from his post of
+observation earlier than usual, and he and Sandy were smoking after
+supper in the fading light, when a little cavalcade rode into the
+basin, preceded by one who walked slowly, studying the ground.
+
+McHale saw them at the same moment that they perceived the camp. He
+leaped to his feet with an oath, snatching up his rifle and a gunny
+sack, which, among other things, contained their cartridges. His belt
+gun he never laid aside.
+
+Sandy also jumped for his gun, slamming the lever down and up as the
+weapon came to his shoulder. He stood fairly in the open, covering the
+foremost man. But McHale caught his arm.
+
+"Come on and get back among them rocks," he cried. "We can't stand 'em
+off here."
+
+Behind them as they ran a sudden yell went up, and a single bullet
+buzzed past like a mad bee. But they reached the shelter of the rocks
+fallen from the cliff at some remote period, and dropped to cover.
+Before them the great slabs formed a natural breastwork; behind them
+rose the sheer cliff, gray and weather-stained. Their backs were amply
+protected; in front they must take care of themselves.
+
+The newcomers dismounted in the concealment of trees. Five minutes
+afterward a man walked leisurely forward. McHale recognized Dade. At
+fifty paces he halted him.
+
+"I wouldn't come no nearer, Dade, if I was you."
+
+"I'm coming a heap closer pretty soon."
+
+"All right; you're expected," McHale retorted. "You call a feud on me,
+do you? Now you listen here: You call it off and call your bunch off,
+or there'll be doin's."
+
+"I'm talkin' to your partner," said Dade. "I s'pose it's young McCrae.
+We got nothing against you, McCrae. You come out o' there, take your
+horse and your dunnage, and git. Nobody'll hurt you."
+
+"Is that so?" sneered Sandy. "Go plumb to blazes, will you?"
+
+"I'll think about it," said Dade coolly.
+
+"You'll do more than think about it if you crowd in here," Sandy
+retorted.
+
+"Nobody wants to crowd you," said Dade. "We're after McHale, and we're
+goin' to get him. Don't you mix up in it. If you do you may get hurt."
+
+"That ain't such bad advice, kid," interrupted McHale. "I'm able for
+'em, I reckon. Better pull your freight like he tells you. This ain't
+your show, nohow, and you've got your folks to think of."
+
+"Do you think I'm a yellow dog, or what?" Sandy snapped back, glaring
+at him. "Quit? I think I see myself. I'll smash this Dade's belt buckle
+right now." He lifted his rifle.
+
+"Hold on," said McHale. "This kid is some obstinate," he called to
+Dade. "His _tumtum_ is that he'll stick. _I_ don't want him in it."
+
+"He's got his chance," said Dade. "It's up to him."
+
+Young McCrae launched a string of epithets at him, the cream of the
+vocabularies of certain mule skinners of his acquaintance. Meanwhile
+his finger itched on the trigger.
+
+"You're a durn poor persuader," said McHale. "The kid will stick. Far's
+I'm concerned, if you want me, come and get me. Don't show your hide no
+more. I'm surely done talkin' to you."
+
+Dade turned and walked away. Sandy covered him.
+
+"Not in the back," said McHale.
+
+Immediately afterward a thirty-thirty struck a rock in front of them,
+glancing off at an angle, wailing away into the distance. Sandy McCrae,
+lying at full length peering along the slim barrel of his weapon,
+pressed the trigger and swore in disappointment.
+
+"Centred a stump," he said. "There it is yet. It looked like somebody."
+
+All was quiet for five minutes. Then a sleet of lead pelted their
+position, patting against the cliff behind them, and splashing upon the
+rocks in front. Splinters and particles of stone, lead, and nickel flew
+everywhere.
+
+"Git down low," McHale advised, hugging a bowlder.
+
+"I am down," said Sandy.
+
+"Then dig a hole." McHale laughed, and then swore as a sharp fragment
+of rock ripped his cheek.
+
+"Hit you?"
+
+"Nope. Rock sliver. I'll bet their guns is gettin' hot. This won't
+last."
+
+The fusillade ceased. McHale shoved his rifle barrel through a crevice.
+
+"Maybe some gent will stick out his head to see how many corpses there
+is of us. This light's gettin' durn bad. I wish I had an ivory
+foresight, 'stead o' this gold bead. I can't see----"
+
+His rifle muzzle leaped in recoil as he spoke. Two hundred yards away a
+man making a rush forward for a closer position winced and half halted.
+Instantly Sandy's rifle lanced the dimming light with a twelve-foot
+shaft of flame. The man straightened, staggered, and threw both arms
+upward as if to shield his face. Sandy fired again as the lever clashed
+back into place. The man fell forward.
+
+"Got him!" cried Sandy exultantly. "Centred him twice, Tom!"
+
+"I reckon you did. That's one out of it." He fired again without
+result. Sandy shot three times rapidly, and swore at the light.
+
+"You're overshootin'," said McHale. "You can't draw the foresight fine
+enough in this light. Hold lower."
+
+"Nothing to hold on," grumbled McCrae. "They're cached close. If one of
+them would only come out to fetch in that dead one I wouldn't do a
+thing to him."
+
+McHale eyed him speculatively. "Seems like your young soul ain't
+swamped by no wave of remorse at killin' a man. Don't make you feel
+shaky nor nothin'?"
+
+Young McCrae smiled grimly. "Not that I can notice. All that lead they
+slung at us scared remorse clean out of my system. I'm lookin' for a
+chance to repeat."
+
+But darkness settled down without that chance, making accurate shooting
+impossible. Objects at fifty yards became indistinct. Only the
+smoky-red reflection of the sunset remained.
+
+"Think they've got enough?" asked Sandy.
+
+"Why, they ain't got started yet. Lucky we had our supper. We can stand
+quite a racket on a full stomach. Might as well smoke, I reckon."
+
+Sandy shivered slightly as the chill of the mountain night air struck
+through his thin clothing. "Wish I'd grabbed a blanket or a coat."
+
+"It'll be a heap worse before mornin'," said McHale.
+
+"You're a cheerful devil!"
+
+"Think of how good the sun'll feel. Maybe something will happen to warm
+us up before then."
+
+A forty-pound stone suddenly crashed down to one side of them, smashing
+in the rocks and bushes with terrific impact. Sandy leaped to his feet,
+his revolver streaming continuous fire at the top of the cliff.
+
+"Git down, you durn fool!" cried McHale.
+
+Sandy dropped just in time. A volley came from in front, and a leaden
+storm howled overhead.
+
+"Talk about luck!" said McHale. "Don't you take a chance like that
+again." He rolled over on his back and put his rifle to his shoulder.
+"If I could only git that cuss up there against the sky line----"
+
+But the top of the cliff was fringed with bushes. Another stone bounded
+down, struck a projection, leaped out, and hit ten feet in front of
+them. McHale fired by guess; but, like most guesswork shooting, without
+result. Another stone struck in front. He moved in closer to the cliff
+and chuckled grimly.
+
+"We're right under a ledge. Them rocks all bounced off it. Mighty lucky
+for us. You feelin' any warmer now?"
+
+"You bet. Summer done come again. I wish I could see to shoot." He
+fired at the flash of a gun, and winced suddenly.
+
+"Burned me that time!"
+
+A glancing bullet had ripped the flesh of his left side along the ribs.
+McHale made a bandage of the handkerchief he wore around his neck.
+
+"You'll sure have a sore side, kid. Keep down tight. Don't take no more
+chances." But a moment afterward he grunted and his rifle clattered
+against the rocks.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"My right arm. Busted above the elbow." He breathed deeply with the
+first pain throbs following the shock, and gritted his teeth. "Ain't
+this hell? I'm out of it for rifle shootin'. Here, come and cut off my
+shirt sleeve and tie her up some. See how much blood she's pumpin'!
+Take a turn above the hole and twist her up tight. Blamed if I want to
+bleed to death. I got a lot of things to see to first."
+
+Sandy examined the wound by the feeble light of matches, which McHale
+held in his left hand, and declared that the arteries were uninjured.
+He cut off a leg of his trousers below the knee, and, with McHale's
+shirt sleeve, organized a bandage, binding it with the thongs of his
+moccasins, swearing steadily below his breath.
+
+McHale leaned back against the rock and demanded his pipe. Sandy filled
+it, and held a match to the load. McHale puffed great smoke clouds into
+the darkness.
+
+"Tobacco's sure a fine anæsthetic. She beats chloroform and tooth
+jerkers' gas. And now, kid, you git!"
+
+"Do what?"
+
+"Make a get-away. Hike. Leak out o' this. You can do it in the dark
+just as easy as a weasel."
+
+"Say," said Sandy, "you didn't get hit alongside the head, too, did
+you?"
+
+"Not yet. This is straight goods. I mean it. There's no use you
+stickin'. There's too many accidents happenin'. Come mornin' maybe you
+don't git a chance."
+
+"Come mornin'," Sandy replied, "when I can see my sights, I'll clean
+the whole bunch out."
+
+"Other people can see sights then. Kid, they got me rounded up. I ain't
+no good except on a horse. If I could make a get-away I would. But I
+can't. You can. There's no sense in both of us bein' wiped out. Also,
+there's your folks. I ain't got any. And, then, I've lived longer than
+you, and I've had a heap more fun. I'm plumb satisfied with the deal.
+If I quit the game now I break better'n even. Shake hands and git out
+o' here while you can."
+
+"Forget it!" snapped Sandy. "Would _you_ quit _me_? Not any. D'ye think
+I could look Casey in the face, or Sheila, or my old dad? Would one of
+_them_ quit _you_? You bet they wouldn't. I'll see this through. Here,
+gimme what rifle cartridges you got, and shut up that line of talk. I
+won't stand for it, and I won't go."
+
+"'Most every family has one blame fool in it," said McHale. "All right,
+durn you, stay. If I could chase you out I'd do it. Reach down and pull
+my belt gun for me. I can shoot left-handed some."
+
+They passed the night miserably, waiting for an attack which did not
+come. The pain of their wounds was added to the discomfort of the cold.
+Dawn found them shivering, numbed, weary-eyed, staring through the
+lifting gloom, their weapons ready. As the light grew they could see
+their own camp, but no one occupied it. Farther off a column of smoke
+rose.
+
+"Cookin' breakfast down in a hole," said McHale. "Playin' it plumb
+safe. They ain't takin' a chance on your shootin'."
+
+"They'd better not," said Sandy. His young face showed grimed and
+pinched in the growing light, but his eyes were hard and clear. "Do you
+s'pose I could sneak over and get a stand on them?"
+
+"I wouldn't try. You bet somebody's keeping cases on these rocks."
+
+Half an hour passed, an hour. The sun struck the basin, mottling its
+green with gold, striking their chilled bodies with grateful warmth.
+
+"Say," asked Sandy, "don't you want a drink of water?"
+
+"Quit foolin'," McHale replied. "I been thinkin' of it for hours. I
+could drink that there lake dry."
+
+Still nothing happened. The waiting began to get on their nerves.
+
+"What d'you s'pose they're framing up?" Sandy asked.
+
+"Don't know. Durn it! I can't do nothin' unless they run in on us,"
+McHale grumbled. "Wisht I could hold a rifle."
+
+"Let 'em try to run in," said Sandy grimly. He had McHale's rifle in
+addition to his own. "They've got to come two hundred yards without
+cover. I'll stop every blamed one of them in one hundred."
+
+Suddenly he lifted his rifle, hesitated, and lay with his cheek to the
+stock, staring along the sights.
+
+"See somethin'?" McHale asked.
+
+"Over there past those jack pines. Man on a horse. He'll come out
+again."
+
+Far off among the trees they saw not one mounted man, but several. They
+could catch glimpses merely. The horsemen appeared to be making for the
+valley, but not by the way in which they had come.
+
+"By thunder!" cried McHale, "it looks like they're pullin' out."
+
+His further remarks were lost in a rolling fire as Sandy unhooked his
+entire magazine at the retreating figures. He caught up McHale's rifle
+and emptied that, too.
+
+"Save some ca'tridges for seed," advised McHale. "What's the use of
+snapshootin' at that range? You can't hit nothin'."
+
+"You never know what luck you'll have," said Sandy. "I couldn't draw a
+sight with them moving in the brush. How many did you count?"
+
+"Five--near as I could make it."
+
+"Say, how'd it be if I went after them?"
+
+"It'd be one durn young fool the less," McHale replied. "You want to
+know when you're well off. Don't stand up yet. There may be some play
+to this that we don't savvy."
+
+"Rats! They've got a bellyful, I tell you. Five's the bunch, ain't
+it?--all but that one we got. I ain't going to stay cached here all
+day. I want some grub."
+
+But McHale persuaded him to wait ten minutes. Then, after exposing a
+hat and a rolled-up coat as decoys without the least result, they
+emerged from their fortress.
+
+"Didn't rustle our hosses," said McHale. "That's luck. I wonder what
+they done with that feller you downed. Let's look at their camp."
+
+Down in the hollow where the besiegers had built their fire they found
+what they sought. It lay covered by a blanket. Sandy stripped the
+covering away.
+
+"Dade, by thunder!" he exclaimed. McHale looked down thoughtfully at
+the dead man.
+
+"I'm sure glad it was him," he observed. "I reckon that settles this
+feud business. That's why them fellers pulled out. It was his war, and
+when he got downed they didn't see no sense carryin' it on."
+
+"Well, they might have buried him, anyway," Sandy grumbled.
+
+"Maybe they figured you'd want to peel off his scalp," said McHale,
+with mild sarcasm. "I'm sure willing to take a little trouble like
+buryin' Dade."
+
+"So'm I," Sandy admitted, replacing the blanket. "I guess we're pretty
+lucky. Come on while I rustle some grub. We want to pull out of here.
+You've got to get to a doctor as soon as you can."
+
+They were eating breakfast when Casey, Farwell, the sheriff, and Simon
+rode into the basin, causing Sandy to snatch up his rifle under the
+impression that their assailants were returning. The four had made the
+best time they could, but had been at a loss to know the exact point
+until Sandy's farewell fusillade.
+
+"You sure missed a heap of fun, Casey," said McHale.
+
+"Well, some of it didn't miss you," said Casey. "I'm blame sorry about
+that arm, Tom. It'll be a tough ride for you."
+
+"I'm able for it, I reckon. I wish you'd run into them fellers."
+
+"Never saw hair nor hide of them. Just as well, maybe. Now, Tom, this
+is Sheriff Dove. He wants you, and I think he wants Sandy. I told him
+that you both had too much sense to make things hard for him."
+
+"Far's I'm concerned I'm his meat," said McHale. "I'd have to come in,
+anyway, now. Sandy was a durn fool ever to hide out. I shouldn't have
+let him. Lucky for me I did, though."
+
+"That's sense," said the sheriff. "You boys will find I'm all right to
+get on with. I haven't heard you say anything, McCrae?"
+
+"I guess I don't need to say anything," said Sandy. "Casey came along
+with you, didn't he? That's good enough for me."
+
+"I'm right obliged to him, too," said Dove. "He's sure saved me a lot
+of trouble. Lemme see that arm of yours, McHale. I savvy a little about
+them things. Anyway, I'll fix up some splints for it till you can get
+hold of a regular medicine man."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII
+
+
+"And so you're going to marry this Casey Dunne," said old Jim Hess. He
+and Clyde sat on the veranda at Chakchak, and they had been discussing
+the ranch, its owner, and the events that had led up to his absence.
+
+"Yes, Uncle Jim, I'm going to marry him."
+
+"Well," said the big railway man, "making allowance for your natural
+partiality, his stock seems to be worth about par. I'll know better
+when I've had a look at him. I tell you one thing, I'm glad he isn't a
+foreigner. I never liked those fellows who tagged about after you. This
+country can produce as good men as you'll find. The others weren't my
+sort. All right in their way, perhaps, but they seemed to go too much
+on family and ancestry. That's good enough, too, but it seems to me
+that the ancestors of some of them must have been a blamed sight better
+men than they were. After all, a girl doesn't marry the ancestor. Dunne
+seems to have hoed his own row. That's what I did. I'm prepared to like
+him. Only I don't want you to make any mistake."
+
+"There's no mistake, Uncle Jim," she said, patting his big hand.
+"Casey's a _man_. You _will_ like him. Look away out there where the
+dust is rising! Aren't those men on horseback? Yes, they are. It must
+be Casey coming home." Her pleasure was apparent in her voice.
+
+The dust cloud resolved itself into four mounted men and three pack
+animals. They moved slowly, at a walk almost, the dust puffing up from
+the hoofs drifting over and enveloping them.
+
+"Which is your Casey Dunne?" asked Hess.
+
+Clyde stared with troubled eyes.
+
+"I--I don't see him. There's Tom McHale, and the sheriff, and Sandy
+McCrae, and the old Indian. Why, Tom McHale has been hurt. His arm is
+in a sling. How slowly they ride! It's--it's like a funeral. Surely
+nothing can have happened. Oh, surely----" She caught her breath
+sharply, her eyes dilating. "Look!" she cried. "The last pack horse!"
+
+The load on the last horse was a shapeless thing, not compact and built
+up like a pack, but hanging low on either side, shrouded by a canvas.
+From under this cover a hand and arm dangled, swinging to and fro with
+each motion of the animal.
+
+Clyde felt a great fear, cold as the clutch of a dead hand itself,
+close on her heart, driving the young blood from her cheeks. "It can't
+be!" she said to herself. "Oh--it _can't_ be."
+
+Hess swore beneath his breath. If it were Casey Dunne lying across that
+pack horse----He put a huge protective arm around Clyde's shoulders, as
+if to shield her from the evil they both feared.
+
+But she slipped from beneath his arm and fled down the steps toward the
+party who would have passed in the direction of the stables without
+halting. The sheriff, seeing her, pulled up. She caught McHale's
+hardened paw in both her hands, searching his eyes for the truth. But
+McHale's face, though weary and lined with pain, and, moreover,
+rendered decidedly unprepossessing by a growth of stubble, contained no
+signs of disaster.
+
+"Where's Casey, Tom?"
+
+"Casey?" McHale replied. "Why, he hiked on ahead to git a medicine man
+to fix up this arm of mine. Arm's done busted. He ought to be here most
+any time now."
+
+To Clyde it was as if the sun had shot through a lowering, ominous
+cloud. She was faint with the joy of relief. "Thank God! Thank God!"
+she murmured.
+
+"You seem to be upset about something, ma'am," said the sheriff gently.
+"Has anything went wrong?"
+
+Hess answered for her. "What have you got on that last pack horse,
+sheriff?"
+
+Jim Dove looked around and muttered an oath. "If that ain't plumb
+careless of me! I thought I had him all covered up. Rope must have
+slipped. That's Jake Betts, holdup and bad man, that's been callin'
+himself Dade around here. There's five hundred reward for him, and to
+collect the money I had to pack him in. I sure didn't allow to scare
+any women by lettin' an arm hang loose. And the little lady thought it
+was Dunne? Dunne's all safe and rugged. We thought he'd be here ahead
+of us."
+
+Hess followed the sheriff to the stable and introduced himself, going
+directly to the point, as was his custom.
+
+"Sheriff," he said, "I've just come, and naturally I don't know all
+that has happened, but there are two or three things I want you to
+know. In the first place, my niece, Miss Burnaby, is going to marry
+this man Dunne. And, in the second place, I'm now running this
+irrigation company and the railway that owns it, and so far as any
+prosecutions are concerned I won't have anything to do with them. Does
+that make any difference to you?"
+
+"Some," said the sheriff. "It lets young McCrae out, I reckon."
+
+"How about McHale?"
+
+"That's a killin'. You got nothin' to do with that. Anyway, he's got a
+good defence."
+
+"I'll sign his bail bond to any amount."
+
+"I reckon there won't be no trouble about that," said the sheriff. "I
+know a man when I see him. McHale's all right. You won't find me makin'
+things hard for anybody around here, Mr. Hess."
+
+In half an hour Casey rode up, bringing with him a man of medicine in
+the person of Doctor Billy Swift. And Billy Swift, whose chronic
+grievance was that Coldstream was altogether too healthy for a
+physician to live in, greeted his patients with enthusiasm and got busy
+at once.
+
+Hess, strolling up from a confidential talk with Sheriff Dove, ran into
+Clyde and Casey snugly ensconced in a corner of the veranda, where
+thick hop vines shaded them from the public gaze.
+
+"Excuse _me_!" said Hess, with little originality, but much
+embarrassment.
+
+"Not at all," Casey replied, under the impression that he was carrying
+off matters very nonchalantly. Clyde laughed at both of them.
+
+"We don't mind you, Uncle Jim, do we, Casey?"
+
+"Look here," said Hess, "if this is the young man who has been raisin'
+Cain around here, and destroying my property before I owned it, suppose
+you introduce me?"
+
+The two men shook hands, gripping hard, measuring each other with their
+eyes. And Clyde was tactful enough to leave them to develop their
+acquaintance alone.
+
+"I want to thank you for your wire to Clyde," said Casey. "You can
+guess what it meant to all of us here."
+
+"I've a fair notion," said Hess. "Of course, I only know what Clyde has
+told me, but I can see that you people have been up against a hard
+proposition. After this I hope you won't have much to kick at. We won't
+take advantage of that clause in the old railway charter--at least not
+enough to interfere with men who are actually using water now. But I
+want you to be satisfied with enough to irrigate, used economically."
+
+"That's all we ever wanted."
+
+"I'm glad to hear it. Now I've fixed up this matter of young McCrae's.
+That's settled. No more trouble about it. As to your man, McHale, I'm
+told that his trial will be a mere matter of form. Wade will look after
+that. Now, about Clyde."
+
+"Yes," said Casey.
+
+"She's her own mistress--you understand that. You have a good property
+here--not as much money as she has, but enough to get along on if she
+hadn't anything. That's all right. I suppose her money's no drawback,
+eh? Don't look mad about it, young man. You're fond of her, of course.
+I understand you made what you've got yourself?"
+
+"Every cent. I've been out for myself since I was about fifteen. This
+is what I've got to show for it."
+
+"And it's a good little stake," said Hess heartily. "I made my own
+pile, too. That's what I like. Now, I'm going to ask you a personal
+question: What sort of life have you behind you? You understand me.
+There must be no comeback where Clyde is concerned. I want a straight
+answer."
+
+"You'll get it. I've always been too busy to be foolish. My habits are
+about average--possibly better than average. I'm absolutely healthy.
+I've not had a day's sickness--bar accidents--since I grew up. There's
+absolutely no reason why I shouldn't marry Clyde."
+
+"That's the boy!" said old Jim Hess, with satisfaction, gripping his
+hand again. "Your stock's par with me, remember, and I want you to
+consider me your friend, even if I am to be a relation by marriage."
+
+Shortly afterward Sheila and Farwell arrived on hard-ridden horses.
+
+"She hustled me right over here," said the latter. "Didn't even give me
+time to shave. I told her McHale and Sandy were all right, but she had
+to come to see for herself."
+
+"Seeing that Sandy has eaten six fried eggs with bacon and bread buns
+to match, I imagine he may be regarded as convalescent," laughed Casey.
+"Tom has the tobacco trust half broken already."
+
+Sandy McCrae squirmed uneasily in his sister's embrace, finding it
+embarrassing.
+
+"That's plenty, that's plenty!" he growled. "You'd think I was a sole
+survivor or something. Say, what are you trying to do--choke me? There,
+you've kissed me three times already. Ouch! Darn it, don't hug me. My
+side's sore. Try that hold on Farwell. He looks as if he wouldn't
+mind."
+
+Casey laughed. Sheila and Farwell reddened. A smothered chuckle from
+McHale showed that he was enjoying himself. He grinned over Sandy's
+shoulder.
+
+"Howdy, Miss Sheila? Brothers don't know their own luck. Wisht I had a
+sister about your size."
+
+"I'll adopt you right now!" she declared, and proceeded to give
+practical proof of it, somewhat to his confusion.
+
+"You're an awful bluff, Tom," she accused him. "Really, I believe
+you're bashful with girls. I never suspected it before."
+
+"It's just want of practice," grinned McHale. "Some day when I have
+time I'm going out to get me a girl like you. There was one down
+at----"
+
+But Clyde's appearance interrupted McHale's reminiscences. She and
+Sheila, arms about each other, strolled away to exchange confidences.
+Casey and Farwell followed.
+
+"We ain't in it," said McHale.
+
+"Well, who wants to be?" said Sandy.
+
+"A few weeks ago," McHale mused, "them two girls warmed up to each
+other about as much as two wet sticks of wood; and them two sports
+would have locked horns at the bat of an eye. Look at 'em now! What
+done it?"
+
+"Does your arm hurt you much?" Sandy asked.
+
+"Sortin' out the hand done it," McHale continued, unheeding. "Each girl
+finds out that the other ain't organizin' to be hostile. And the men
+find out that they're playin' different systems; likewise, that each
+has a good point or two."
+
+"She sure must have been a hard trip for you down from the hills,"
+Sandy commented, with much sarcasm.
+
+"Love," said McHale sentimentally, "is a durn funny thing."
+
+Sandy's disgusted comment consisted of but one word not usually
+associated with the tender passion. "Well, may be--sometimes," McHale
+admitted.
+
+It was a merry party that sat down to the best supper Feng could
+prepare on short notice. Wade was in great form. He outdid himself,
+keeping up a rapid fire of jokes and conversation. The sheriff,
+infected by his example, uncovered a vein of unsuspected humour.
+McHale, who referred to himself as "a temp'rary southpaw," contributed
+his quota. Sandy was silent and dour, as usual. Jim Hess said little,
+but he beamed on everybody, enjoying their happiness.
+
+When Sheila insisted that she must go, Casey saddled Dolly for Clyde
+and Shiner for himself. He rode with Sheila, temporarily relinquishing
+Clyde to Farwell. A couple of hundred yards behind the others, just
+free of their dust, they jogged easily side by side.
+
+"Our rides together are about over, Casey," she said, with a little
+sigh.
+
+"How is that?"
+
+"You know as well as I do. The blessed proprieties are butting in here
+nowadays; and, besides, we both belong to other people. Dick wants to
+be married soon. Of course, I'll have to go where he goes. Thank
+goodness, he hasn't got any people to be my people, and to pass
+judgment on me."
+
+"I'll be sorry to lose you, Sheila; and I think you'll be sorry to go."
+
+"Yes. I'll miss the rolling country, and the hills to the west, and the
+long days outdoors. Oh, heavens, how I'll miss them! And yet it's worth
+while, Casey!"
+
+"I'm awfully glad, for your sake, that you think so much of him, old
+girl. He's a fine chap--when you get to know him. But I'll miss you.
+How long is it since we had our first ride together?"
+
+"Seven years--no, eight. I was riding a bad pinto. Dad traded him
+afterward. You wouldn't let me go home alone. Remember?"
+
+"Of course. Awful brute for a girl to ride!"
+
+"He never set me afoot," she said proudly. "But you'll be leaving here,
+too, Casey."
+
+"I don't think so."
+
+"Oh, yes, you will. Clyde's money----"
+
+"Hang her money! Don't throw that up to me."
+
+"Nonsense! Don't be so touchy. I wish _I_ had it. You'll go where
+there are people and things happening. You'll keep the ranch, but Tom
+will look after it."
+
+"No, no."
+
+"Yes, yes. You won't be idle--you're not that kind--but you'll find
+other interests, and the money may be a stepping-stone. She's a dear
+girl, Casey. Be good to her."
+
+"I couldn't be anything else. You needn't tell me I'm not worthy of
+her; I know it."
+
+"You're worthy of any girl," she said firmly. "Not a bit of hot air,
+either, old boy. I almost fell in love with you myself."
+
+"By George!" he exclaimed, "there were times when I wondered how much I
+thought of you."
+
+She laughed, well pleased. "We know the difference now, don't we? What
+a mistake it would have been! I'm glad we kept these thoughts to
+ourselves--glad we never played at being in love. Now we can talk
+without fear of misunderstanding. Somehow, now, the years here seem
+like a dream to me. Yes, I know they've been busy years, crowded with
+work for both of us; but just now they don't seem real. We seem--I
+seem--to be standing at the boundary of a new life. All that is over
+was just preparation for it--the long days in the sun and the wind, the
+quiet nights beneath the stars, the big, lonely, brown land, and the
+hazy blue of the hills. The girl that lived among them seems like a
+little, dead sister. And yet I love these things. Wherever I go,
+whatever happens to me, I shall think of them always."
+
+"That's absolutely true. They are in your heart--a part of you. I
+understand. The little boy that lay on a lake shore years ago and
+watched the old stone hookers wallowing through the long swells doesn't
+seem to be Casey Dunne. And yet I can smell the wet sand and the clean
+lake breezes now. These are the things that keep our hearts young. You
+were born in the West, Sheila, and I in the East; but the roots of our
+beings fed on the clean things of the earth that mothered us some
+thousands of miles apart, and the taste will never be forgotten. In the
+years to come we will think of the years here as to-night we think of
+our childhood."
+
+She held out her hand. Gauntlet met gauntlet in the hard grip of
+comradeship.
+
+"Good-bye, Casey. It's not likely we'll ever talk of these things
+again. I'm glad you've been a part of my life."
+
+"Good luck to you always, Sheila."
+
+"They've left us behind," she said. "Come on! One last good run,
+Casey!"
+
+Clyde and Farwell, riding decorously at an easy jog trot, heard the
+thunder of hoofs behind them, and turned to see the bay and the
+buckskin sweep past, encouraged by voice and heel.
+
+"She'll kill herself some day," Farwell ejaculated, and he scolded her
+roundly when they rode up to where she and Casey had finally halted
+their blown steeds.
+
+"Listen to him!" cried Sheila, in derision. "As if I didn't savvy a
+horse! All right, my lord, I won't do it again till next time. And now,
+Casey, you and Clyde must not come any farther. It will be dark before
+you get back."
+
+"If you want to be rid of us----" he suggested.
+
+"You've been sorry for yourself for the last hour, and you needn't deny
+it," she retorted.
+
+Clyde and Casey rode slowly homeward through the falling dusk. For the
+first time since his return they were really alone together. She made
+him tell her all that had occurred, down to the minutest detail.
+
+"But now there will be no more trouble of any kind," she predicted.
+
+"Thanks to you."
+
+"Thanks to Uncle Jim."
+
+"Both of you. He's a big man--a nation builder--but if his niece hadn't
+had the good taste to fall in love with me his interest would have been
+less personal. He wouldn't have got around to a little matter like this
+for months. Anyway, we bracket you together. Do you know that some of
+the kids are being taught to pray for you?"
+
+"Not really?"
+
+"Fact. Doctor Swift told me. 'God bless pa, and ma, and Mister Jim
+Hess, and Miss Burnaby.' That's the formula. Swift predicts that the
+next batch of christenings will include a 'Yim Hess' Swanson and a
+'Clyde Burnaby' Brulé. Such is fame! Think you can stand the dizzy
+popularity?"
+
+"Lovely!" cried Clyde. "I'll order silver mugs to-morrow, and start a
+savings account for each baby."
+
+"Go slow!" he laughed. "You'll have 'em all named after you at that
+rate."
+
+"I'll get the mugs and a spoon, anyway. I never was so flattered
+before. I've just begun to _live_ since I came out here. Why, Casey, my
+life was absolutely empty. You can't imagine how lonely and bored I
+was."
+
+"What a shame! We'll see that it doesn't occur again. Which opens an
+interesting question: When are you going to marry me?"
+
+"Why--I hadn't thought. I suppose we should think of it."
+
+"Well, it's usual, under the circumstances."
+
+"Next June? I think I should like to be a June bride."
+
+"See here, young lady," said Casey severely, "what sort of a gold brick
+is this? Are you aware that we are in the fag end of July?"
+
+"It's really not a long engagement. A year soon passes."
+
+"And the years soon pass. I'm not going to be defrauded of a year's
+happiness. I'll stand for any time in September, but not a day later."
+
+"September! But, my dearest boy, that's only a few weeks."
+
+"That's why I said September."
+
+She laughed happily. "Very well, September. But I'll have a thousand
+things to do. I'll have to go back with Uncle Jim."
+
+"What's the use? Stay here. Kitty Wade will stay, too. I'll coax her."
+
+"But I've all sorts of things to buy?"
+
+"Order 'em by mail."
+
+"My trousseau _by mail_!" she exclaimed, in horror. "It would be
+sacrilege."
+
+"Oh, well, suit yourself," said Casey, with a sigh of resignation.
+"Thank the Lord it only happens once."
+
+She laughed. "And then there's our honeymoon to plan. Where shall we
+spend it?"
+
+"It's up to you. Wherever you say."
+
+"You've never been to Europe?"
+
+"No. But I'd rather do my honeymooning where I can ask for what I want
+with some chance of getting it."
+
+"But I speak French, German, and Italian--not fluently, but well enough
+to get along on."
+
+"And I talk United States, Chinook, and some Cree--we ought to get
+along almost anywhere," he laughed. "Let's leave this Europe business
+open. Now here's a really serious question: When our honeymoon is
+over--what?"
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"Where shall we live? I can sell out here, if you like."
+
+"But you wouldn't like?"
+
+"I'd hate to," he admitted.
+
+"I know. So should I. We'll live here, at Chakchak. It shall be our
+home."
+
+"Would you be contented? It's lonely at times. The winters are long.
+You'd miss your friends and your old life."
+
+"I ran away from both. I love your country because it's yours. It shall
+be mine, too. Look!" Away in the distance a tiny point of light
+twinkled. "There are the lights of Chakchak--our home lights, dear!"
+
+Her hand sought his in the darkness, met, and clasped it. A star shot
+in a blazing trail across the velvet blackness of the sky. The first
+breath of the night breeze, cold from the mountain passes, brushed
+their cheeks. Save for the distant light the world was dark, the land
+lonely, silent, devoid of life. The great spaces enfolded them, wrapped
+them in silence as in a vast robe. But the old, sweet song was in their
+hearts as they rode slowly forward--to the Light!
+
+
+
+
+STORIES OF RARE CHARM BY
+
+GENE STRATTON-PORTER
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list
+
+
+LADDIE.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Illustrated by Herman Pfeifer.
+
+This is a bright, cheery tale with the scenes laid in Indiana. The
+story is told by Little Sister, the youngest member of a large family,
+but it is concerned not so much with childish doings as with the love
+affairs of older members of the family. Chief among them is that of
+Laddie, the older brother whom Little Sister adores, and the Princess,
+an English girl who has come to live in the neighborhood and about
+whose family there hangs a mystery. There is a wedding midway in the
+book and a double wedding at the close.
+
+
+THE HARVESTER. Illustrated by W. L. Jacobs.
+
+"The Harvester," David Langston, is a man of the woods and fields, who
+draws his living from the prodigal hand of Mother Nature herself. If
+the book had nothing in it but the splendid figure of this man it would
+be notable. But when the Girl comes to his "Medicine Woods," and the
+Harvester's whole being realizes that this is the highest point of life
+which has come to him--there begins a romance of the rarest idyllic
+quality.
+
+
+FRECKLES. Decorations by E. Stetson Crawford.
+
+Freckles is a nameless waif when the tale opens, but the way in which
+he takes hold of life; the nature friendships he forms in the great
+Limberlost Swamp; the manner in which everyone who meets him succumbs
+to the charm of his engaging personality; and his love-story with "The
+Angel" are full of real sentiment.
+
+
+A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST.
+
+Illustrated by Wladyslaw T. Brenda.
+
+The story of a girl of the Michigan woods; a buoyant, lovable type of
+the self-reliant American. Her philosophy is one of love and kindness
+towards all things; her hope is never dimmed. And by the sheer beauty
+of her soul, and the purity of her vision, she wins from barren and
+unpromising surroundings those rewards of high courage.
+
+
+AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW.
+
+Illustrations in colors by Oliver Kemp.
+
+The scene of this charming love story is laid in Central Indiana. The
+story is one of devoted friendship, and tender self-sacrificing love.
+The novel is brimful of the most beautiful word painting of nature, and
+its pathos and tender sentiment will endear it to all.
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+MYRTLE REED'S NOVELS
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list
+
+LAVENDER AND OLD LACE.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+A charming story of a quaint corner of New England where bygone romance
+finds a modern parallel. The story centers round the coming of love to
+the young people on the staff of a newspaper--and it is one of the
+prettiest, sweetest and quaintest of old fashioned love stories, * * *
+a rare book, exquisite in spirit and conception, full of delicate
+fancy, of tenderness, of delightful humor and spontaneity.
+
+
+A SPINNER IN THE SUN.
+
+Miss Myrtle Reed may always be depended upon to write a story in which
+poetry, charm, tenderness and humor are combined into a clever and
+entertaining book. Her characters are delightful and she always
+displays a quaint humor of expression and a quiet feeling of pathos
+which give a touch of active realism to all her writings. In "A Spinner
+in the Sun" she tells an old-fashioned love story, of a veiled lady who
+lives in solitude and whose features her neighbors have never seen.
+There is a mystery at the heart of the book that throws over it the
+glamour of romance.
+
+
+THE MASTER'S VIOLIN.
+
+A love story in a musical atmosphere. A picturesque, old German
+virtuoso is the reverent possessor of a genuine "Cremona." He consents
+to take for his pupil a handsome youth who proves to have an aptitude
+for technique, but not the soul of an artist. The youth has led the
+happy, careless life of a modern, well-to-do young American and he
+cannot, with his meagre past, express the love, the passion and the
+tragedies of life and all its happy phases as can the master who has
+lived life in all its fulness. But a girl comes into his life--a
+beautiful bit of human driftwood that his aunt had taken into her heart
+and home, and through his passionate love for her, he learns the
+lessons that life has to give--and his soul awakes.
+
+Founded on a fact that all artists realize.
+
+
+_Ask for a complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26TH ST., NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+AMELIA E. BARR'S STORIES
+
+DELIGHTFUL TALES OF OLD NEW YORK
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list.
+
+
+THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON. With Frontispiece.
+
+This exquisite little romance opens in New York City in "the tender
+grace" of a May day long past, when the old Dutch families clustered
+around Bowling Green. It is the beginning of the romance of Katherine,
+a young Dutch girl who has sent, as a love token, to a young English
+officer, the bow of orange ribbon which she has worn for years as a
+sacred emblem on the day of St. Nicholas. After the bow of ribbon
+Katherine's heart soon flies. Unlike her sister, whose heart has found
+a safe resting place among her own people, Katherine's heart must rove
+from home--must know to the utmost all that life holds of both joy and
+sorrow. And so she goes beyond the seas, leaving her parents as
+desolate as were Isaac and Rebecca of old.
+
+
+THE MAID OF MAIDEN LANE; A Love Story. With Illustrations by S. M.
+Arthur.
+
+A sequel to "The Bow of Orange Ribbon." The time is the gracious days
+of Seventeen-hundred and ninety-one, when "The Marseillaise" was sung
+with the American national airs, and the spirit affected commerce,
+politics and conversation. In the midst of this period the romance of
+"The Sweetest Maid in Maiden Lane" unfolds. Its chief charm lies in its
+historic and local color.
+
+
+SHEILA VEDDER. Frontispiece in colors by Harrison Fisher.
+
+A love story set in the Shetland Islands.
+
+Among the simple, homely folk who dwelt there Jan Vedder was raised;
+and to this island came lovely Sheila Jarrow. Jan knew, when first he
+beheld her, that she was the one woman in all the world for him, and to
+the winning of her love he set himself. The long days of summer by the
+sea, the nights under the marvelously soft radiance of Shetland
+moonlight passed in love-making, while with wonderment the man and
+woman, alien in traditions, adjusted themselves to each other. And the
+day came when Jan and Sheila wed, and then a sweeter love story is
+told.
+
+
+TRINITY BELLS. With eight Illustrations by C. M. Relyea.
+
+The story centers around the life of little Katryntje Van Clyffe, who,
+on her return home from a fashionable boarding school, faces poverty
+and heartache. Stout of heart, she does not permit herself to become
+discouraged even at the news of the loss of her father and his ship
+"The Golden Victory." The story of Katryntje's life was interwoven with
+the music of the Trinity Bells which eventually heralded her wedding
+day.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+_Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26TH ST., NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+CHARMING BOOKS FOR GIRLS
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list
+
+
+WHEN PATTY WENT TO COLLEGE, By Jean Webster.
+Illustrated by C. D. Williams.
+
+One of the best stories of life in a girl's college that has ever been
+written. It is bright, whimsical and entertaining, lifelike, laughable
+and thoroughly human.
+
+
+JUST PATTY, By Jean Webster.
+Illustrated by C. M. Relyea.
+
+Patty is full of the joy of living, fun-loving, given to ingenious
+mischief for its own sake, with a disregard for petty convention which
+is an unfailing source of joy to her fellows.
+
+
+THE POOR LITTLE RICH GIRL, By Eleanor Gates.
+With four full page illustrations.
+
+This story relates the experience of one of those unfortunate children
+whose early days are passed in the companionship of a governess, seldom
+seeing either parent, and famishing for natural love and tenderness. A
+charming play as dramatized by the author.
+
+
+REBECCA OF SUNNYBROOK FARM, By Kate Douglas Wiggin.
+
+One of the most beautiful studies of childhood--Rebecca's artistic,
+unusual and quaintly charming qualities stand out midst a circle of
+austere New Englanders. The stage version is making a phenomenal
+dramatic record.
+
+
+NEW CHRONICLES OF REBECCA, By Kate Douglas Wiggin.
+Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.
+
+Additional episodes in the girlhood of this delightful heroine that
+carry Rebecca through various stages to her eighteenth birthday.
+
+
+REBECCA MARY, By Annie Hamilton Donnell.
+Illustrated by Elizabeth Shippen Green.
+
+This author possesses the rare gift of portraying all the grotesque
+little joys and sorrows and scruples of this very small girl with a
+pathos that is peculiarly genuine and appealing.
+
+
+EMMY LOU: Her Book and Heart, By George Madden Martin.
+Illustrated by Charles Louis Hinton.
+
+Emmy Lou is irresistibly lovable, because she is so absolutely real.
+She is just a bewitchingly innocent, huggable little maid. The book is
+wonderfully human.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+_Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26TH ST., NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+TITLES SELECTED FROM
+GROSSET & DUNLAP'S LIST
+
+RE-ISSUES OF THE GREAT LITERARY SUCCESSES OF THE TIME
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list
+
+
+BEN HUR. A Tale of the Christ. By General Lew Wallace.
+
+This famous Religious-Historical Romance with its mighty story,
+brilliant pageantry, thrilling action and deep religious reverence,
+hardly requires an outline. The whole world has placed "Ben-Hur" 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.
+
+
+THE PRINCE OF INDIA. By General Lew Wallace.
+
+A glowing romance of the Byzantine Empire, showing, with vivid
+imagination, the possible forces behind the internal decay of the
+Empire that hastened the fall of Constantinople.
+
+The foreground figure is the person known to all as the Wandering Jew,
+at this time appearing as the Prince of India, with vast stores of
+wealth, and is supposed to have instigated many wars and fomented the
+Crusades.
+
+Mohammed's love for the Princess Irene is beautifully wrought into the
+story, and the book as a whole is a marvelous work both historically
+and romantically.
+
+
+THE FAIR GOD. By General Lew Wallace. A Tale of the Conquest of Mexico.
+With Eight Illustrations by Eric Pape.
+
+All the annals of conquest have nothing more brilliantly daring and
+dramatic than the drama played in Mexico by Cortes. As a dazzling
+picture of Mexico and the Montezumas it leaves nothing to be desired.
+
+The artist has caught with rare enthusiasm the spirit of the Spanish
+conquerors of Mexico, its beauty and glory and romance.
+
+
+TARRY THOU TILL I COME or, Salathiel, the Wandering Jew. By George
+Croly. With twenty illustrations by T. de Thulstrup.
+
+A historical novel, dealing with the momentous events that occurred,
+chiefly in Palestine, from the time of the Crucifixion to the
+destruction of Jerusalem.
+
+The book, as a story, is replete with Oriental charm and richness, and
+the character drawing is marvelous. No other novel ever written has
+portrayed with such vividness the events that convulsed Rome and
+destroyed Jerusalem in the early days of Christianity.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+_Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26TH ST., NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+NOVELS OF SOUTHERN LIFE
+
+By THOMAS DIXON, JR.
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list
+
+
+THE LEOPARD'S SPOTS: A Story of the White Man's Burden, 1865-1900. With
+illustrations by C. D. Williams.
+
+A tale of the South about the dramatic events of Destruction,
+Reconstruction and Upbuilding. The work is able and eloquent and the
+verifiable events of history are followed closely in the development of
+a story full of struggle.
+
+
+THE CLANSMAN. With illustrations by Arthur I. Keller.
+
+While not connected with it in any way, this is a companion volume to
+the author's "epoch-making" story _The Leopard's Spots_. It is a novel
+with a great deal to it, and which very properly is going to interest
+many thousands of readers. * * * It is, first of all, a forceful,
+dramatic, absorbing love story, with a sequence of events so surprising
+that one is prepared for the fact that much of it is founded on actual
+happenings; but Mr. Dixon has, as before, a deeper purpose--he has
+aimed to show that the original formers of the Ku Klux Klan were modern
+knights errant taking the only means at hand to right intolerable
+wrongs.
+
+
+THE TRAITOR. A Story of the Fall of the Invisible Empire. Illustrations
+by C. D. Williams.
+
+The third and last book in this remarkable trilogy of novels relating
+to Southern Reconstruction. It is a thrilling story of love, adventure,
+treason, and the United States Secret Service dealing with the decline
+and fall of the Ku Klux Klan.
+
+
+COMRADES. Illustrations by C. D. Williams.
+
+A novel dealing with the establishment of a Socialistic Colony upon a
+deserted island off the coast of California. The way of disillusionment
+is the course over which Mr. Dixon conducts the reader.
+
+
+THE ONE WOMAN. A Story of Modern Utopia.
+
+A love story and character study of three strong men and two
+fascinating women. In swift, unified, and dramatic action, we see
+Socialism a deadly force, in the hour of the eclipse of Faith,
+destroying the home life and weakening the fiber of Anglo Saxon
+manhood.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+_Ask for a complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26TH ST., NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 25728 ***
\ No newline at end of file