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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/28482-8.txt b/28482-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..da79295 --- /dev/null +++ b/28482-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6694 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sawtooth Ranch, by B. M. Bower + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Sawtooth Ranch + +Author: B. M. Bower + +Release Date: April 2, 2009 [EBook #28482] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SAWTOOTH RANCH *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + +SAWTOOTH RANCH + + +BY + +B. M. BOWER + + + + + + METHUEN & CO. LTD. + 36 ESSEX STREET, W.C. + LONDON + + + + +BY THE SAME AUTHOR + + JEAN OF THE LAZY A + GOOD INDIAN + THE UPHILL CLIMB + THE GRINGOS + THE FLYING U'S LAST STAND + THE PHANTOM HERD + THE HERITAGE OF THE SIOUX + SKYRIDER + + + + +This Book was First Published in Great Britain . . . March 10th, 1921 + +First Issued in this Cheap Form . . . 1922 + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAP. + + I. LITTLE FISH + II. THE ENCHANTMENT OF LONG DISTANCE + III. REALITY IS WEIGHED AND FOUND WANTING + IV. "SHE'S A GOOD GIRL WHEN SHE AIN'T CRAZY" + V. A DEATH "BY ACCIDENT" + VI. LONE ADVISES SILENCE + VII. THE MAN AT WHISPER + VIII. "IT TAKES NERVE JUST TO HANG ON" + IX. THE EVIL EYE OF THE SAWTOOTH + X. ANOTHER SAWTOOTH "ACCIDENT" + XI. SWAN TALKS WITH HIS THOUGHTS + XII. THE QUIRT PARRIES THE FIRST BLOW + XIII. LONE TAKES HIS STAND + XIV. "FRANK'S DEAD" + XV. SWAN TRAILS A COYOTE + XVI. THE SAWTOOTH SHOWS ITS HAND + XVII. YACK DON'T LIE + XVIII. "I THINK AL WOODRUFF'S GOT HER" + XIX. SWAN CALLS FOR HELP + XX. KIDNAPPED + XXI. "OH, I COULD KILL YOU!" + XXII. "YACK, I LICK YOU GOOD IF YOU BARK" + XXIII. "I COULDA LOVED THIS LITTLE GIRL" + XXIV. ANOTHER STORY BEGINS + + + + +SAWTOOTH RANCH + + +CHAPTER I + +LITTLE FISH + +Quirt Creek flowed sluggishly between willows which sagged none too +gracefully across its deeper pools, or languished beside the rocky +stretches that were bone dry from July to October, with a narrow +channel in the centre where what water there was hurried along to the +pools below. For a mile or more, where the land lay fairly level in a +platter-like valley set in the lower hills, the mud that rimmed the +pools was scored deep with the tracks of the "TJ up-and-down" cattle, +as the double monogram of Hunter and Johnson was called. + +A hard brand to work, a cattleman would tell you. Yet the TJ +up-and-down herd never seemed to increase beyond a niggardly three +hundred or so, though the Quirt ranch was older than its lordly +neighbours, the Sawtooth Cattle Company, who numbered their cattle by +tens of thousands and whose riders must have strings of fifteen horses +apiece to keep them going; older too than many a modest ranch that had +flourished awhile and had finished as line-camps of the Sawtooth when +the Sawtooth bought ranch and brand for a lump sum that looked big to +the rancher, who immediately departed to make himself a new home +elsewhere: older than others which had somehow gone to pieces when the +rancher died or went to the penitentiary under the stigma of a long +sentence as a cattle thief. There were many such, for the Sawtooth, +powerful and stern against outlawry, tolerated no pilfering from their +thousands. + +The less you have, the more careful you are of your possessions. +Hunter and Johnson owned exactly a section and a half of land, and for +a mile and a half Quirt Creek was fenced upon either side. They hired +two men, cut what hay they could from a field which they irrigated, fed +their cattle through the cold weather, watched them zealously through +the summer, and managed to ship enough beef each fall to pay their +grocery bill and their men's wages and have a balance sufficient to buy +what clothes they needed, and perhaps pay a doctor if one of them fell +ill. Which frequently happened, since Brit was becoming a prey to +rheumatism that sometimes kept him in bed, and Frank occasionally +indulged himself in a gallon or so of bad whisky and suffered +afterwards from a badly deranged digestion. + +Their house was a two-room log cabin, built when logs were easier to +get than lumber. That the cabin contained two rooms was the result of +circumstances rather than design. Brit had hauled from the +mountain-side logs long and logs short, and it had seemed a shame to +cut the long ones any shorter. Later, when the outside world had crept +a little closer to their wilderness--as, go where you will, the outside +world has a way of doing--he had built a lean-to shed against the cabin +from what lumber there was left after building a cowshed against the +log-barn. + +In the early days, Brit had had a wife and two children, but the wife +could not endure the loneliness of the ranch nor the inconvenience of +living in a two-room log cabin. She was continually worrying over +rattlesnakes and diphtheria and pneumonia, and begging Brit to sell out +and live in town. She had married him because he was a cowboy, and +because he was a nimble dancer and rode gallantly with silver-shanked +spurs ajingle on his heels and a snake-skin band around his hat, and +because a ranch away out on Quirt Creek had sounded exactly like a +story in a book. + +Adventures, picturesqueness, even romance, are recognised and +appreciated only at a distance. Mrs Hunter lost the perspective of +romance and adventure, and shed tears because there was sufficient +mineral in the water to yellow her week's washing, and for various +other causes which she had never foreseen and to which she refused to +resign herself. + +Came a time when she delivered a shrill-voiced, tear-blurred ultimatum +to Brit. Either he must sell out and move to town, or she would take +the children and leave him. Of towns Brit knew nothing except the +post-office, saloon, cheap restaurant side,--and a barber shop where a +fellow could get a shave and hair-cut before he went to see his girl. +Brit could not imagine himself actually _living_, day after day, in a +town. Three or four days had always been his limit. It was in a +restaurant that he had first met his wife. He had stayed three days +when he had meant to finish his business in one, because there was an +awfully nice girl waiting on table in the Palace, and because there was +going to be a dance on Saturday night, and he wanted his acquaintance +with her to develop to the point where he might ask her to go with him, +and be reasonably certain of a favourable answer. + +Brit would not sell his ranch. In this Frank Johnson, old-time friend +and neighbour, who had taken all the land the government would allow +one man to hold, and whose lines joined Brit's, profanely upheld him. +They had planned to run cattle together, had their brand already +recorded, and had scraped together enough money to buy a dozen young +cows. Luckily, Brit had "proven up" on his homestead, so that when the +irate Mrs Hunter deserted him she did not jeopardise his right to the +land. + +Brit was philosophical, thinking that a year or so of town life would +be a cure. If he missed the children, he was free from tears and +nagging complaints, so that his content balanced his loneliness. Frank +proved up and came down to live with him, and the partnership began to +wear into permanency. Share and share alike, they lived and worked and +wrangled together like brothers. + +For months Brit's wife was too angry and spiteful to write. Then she +wrote acrimoniously, reminding Brit of his duty to his children. Royal +was old enough for school and needed clothes. She was slaving for them +as she had never thought to slave when Brit promised to honour and +protect her, but the fact remained that he was their father even if he +did not act like one. She needed at least ten dollars. + +Brit showed the letter to Frank, and the two talked it over solemnly +while they sat on inverted feed buckets beside the stable, facing the +unearthly beauty of a cloud-piled Idaho sunset. They did not feel that +they could afford to sell a cow, and two-year-old steers were out of +the question. They decided to sell an unbroken colt that a cow-puncher +fancied. In a week Brit wrote a brief, matter-of-fact letter to Minnie +and enclosed a much-worn ten-dollar bank-note. With the two dollars +and a half which remained of his share of the sale, Brit sent to a +mail-order house for a mackinaw coat, and felt cheated afterwards +because the coat was not "wind and waterproof" as advertised in the +catalogue. + +More months passed, and Brit received, by registered mail, a notice +that he was being sued for divorce on the ground of non-support. He +felt hurt, because, as he pointed out to Frank, he was perfectly +willing to support Minnie and the kids if they came back where he could +have a chance. He wrote this painstakingly to the lawyer and received +no reply. Later he learned from Minnie that she had freed herself from +him, and that she was keeping boarders and asking no odds of him. + +To come at once to the end of Brit's matrimonial affairs, he heard from +the children once in a year, perhaps, after they were old enough to +write. He did not send them money, because he seemed never to have any +money to send, and because they did not ask for any. Dumbly he sensed, +as their handwriting and their spelling improved, that his children +were growing up. But when he thought of them they seemed remote, +prattling youngsters whom Minnie was for ever worrying over and who +seemed to have been always under the heels of his horse, or under the +wheels of his wagon, or playing with the pitchfork, or wandering off +into the sage while he and their distracted mother searched for them. +For a long while--how many years Brit could not remember--they had been +living in Los Angeles. Prospering, too, Brit understood. The girl, +Lorraine--Minnie had wanted fancy names for the kids, and Brit +apologised whenever he spoke of them, which was seldom--Lorraine had +written that "Mamma has an apartment house." That had sounded +prosperous, even at the beginning. And as the years passed and their +address remained the same, Brit became fixed in the belief that Casa +Grande was all that its name implied, and perhaps more. Minnie must be +getting rich. She had a picture of the place on the stationery which +Lorraine used when she wrote him. There were two palm trees in front, +with bay windows behind them, and pillars. Brit used to study these +magnificences and thank God that Minnie was doing so well. He never +could have given her a home like that. Brit sometimes added that he +had never been cut out for a married man, anyway. + +Old-timers forgot that Brit had ever been married, and late comers +never heard of it. To all intents the owners of the Quirt outfit were +old bachelors who kept pretty much to themselves, went to town only +when they needed supplies, rode old, narrow-fork saddles and grinned +scornfully at "swell-forks" and "buckin'-rolls," and listened to all +the range gossip without adding so much as an opinion. They never +talked politics nor told which candidates received their two votes. +They kept the same two men season after season,--leathery old range +hands with eyes that saw whatever came within their field of vision, +and with the gift of silence, which is rare. + +If you know anything at all about cattlemen, you will know that the +Quirt was a poor man's ranch, when I tell you that Hunter and Johnson +milked three cows and made butter, fed a few pigs on the skim milk and +the alfalfa stalks which the saddle horses and the cows disdained to +eat, kept a flock of chickens, and sold what butter, eggs and pork they +did not need for themselves. Cattlemen seldom do that. More often +they buy milk in small tin cans, butter in "squares," and do without +eggs. + +Four of a kind were the men of the TJ up-and-down, and even Bill +Warfield--president and general manager of the Sawtooth Cattle Company, +and of the Federal Reclamation Company and several other companies, +State senator and general benefactor of the Sawtooth country--even the +great Bill Warfield lifted his hat to the owners of the Quirt when he +met them, and spoke of them as "the finest specimens of our old, +fast-vanishing type of range men." Senator Warfield himself +represented the modern type of range man and was proud of his +progressiveness. Never a scheme for the country's development was +hatched but you would find Senator Warfield closely allied with it, his +voice the deciding one when policies and progress were being discussed. + +As to the Sawtooth, forty thousand acres comprised their holdings under +patents, deeds and long-time leases from the government. Another +twenty thousand acres they had access to through the grace of the +owners, and there was forest-reserve grazing besides, which the +Sawtooth could have if it chose to pay the nominal rental sum. The +Quirt ranch, was almost surrounded by Sawtooth land of one sort or +another, though there was scant grazing in the early spring on the +sagebrush wilderness to the south. This needed Quirt Creek for +accessible water, and Quirt Creek, save where it ran through cut-bank +hills, was fenced within the section and a half of the TJ up-and-down. + +So there they were, small fish making shift to live precariously with +other small fish in a pool where big fish swam lazily. If one small +fish now and then disappeared with mysterious abruptness, the other +small fish would perhaps scurry here and there for a time, but few +would leave the pool for the safe shallows beyond. + +This is a tale of the little fishes. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE ENCHANTMENT OF LONG DISTANCE + +Lorraine Hunter always maintained that she was a Western girl. If she +reached the point of furnishing details she would tell you that she had +ridden horses from the time that she could walk, and that her father +was a cattle-king of Idaho, whose cattle fed upon a thousand hills. +When she was twelve she told her playmates exciting tales about +rattlesnakes. When she was fifteen she sat breathless in the movies +and watched picturesque horsemen careering up and down and around the +thousand hills, and believed in her heart that half the Western +pictures were taken on or near her father's ranch. She seemed to +remember certain landmarks, and would point them out to her companions +and whisper a desultory lecture on the cattle industry as illustrated +by the picture. She was much inclined to criticism of the costuming +and the acting. + +At eighteen she knew definitely that she hated the very name Casa +Grande. She hated the narrow, half-lighted hallway with its "tree" +where no one ever hung a hat, and the seat beneath where no one ever +sat down. She hated the row of key-and-mail boxes on the wall, with +the bell buttons above each apartment number. She hated the jangling +of the hall telephone, the scurrying to answer, the prodding of +whichever bell button would summon the tenant asked for by the caller. +She hated the meek little Filipino boy who swept that ugly hall every +morning. She hated the scrubby palms in front. She hated the pillars +where the paint was peeling badly. She hated the conflicting odours +that seeped into the atmosphere at certain hours of the day. She hated +the three old maids on the third floor and the frowsy woman on the +first, who sat on the front steps in her soiled breakfast cap and +bungalow apron. She hated the nervous tenant who occupied the +apartment just over her mother's three-room-and-bath, and pounded with +a broom handle on the floor when Lorraine practised overtime on +chromatic scales. + +At eighteen Lorraine managed somehow to obtain work in a Western +picture, and being unusually pretty she so far distinguished herself +that she was given a small part in the next production. Her glorious +duty it was to ride madly through the little cow-town "set" to the +post-office where the sheriff's posse lounged conspicuously, and there +pull her horse to an abrupt stand and point quite excitedly to the +distant hills. Also she danced quite close to the camera in the +"Typical Cowboy Dance" which was a feature of this particular +production. + +Lorraine thereby earned enough money to buy her fall suit and coat and +cheap furs, and learned to ride a horse at a gallop and to dance what +passed in pictures as a "square dance." + +At nineteen years of age Lorraine Hunter, daughter of old Brit Hunter +of the TJ up-and-down, became a real "range-bred girl" with a real +Stetson hat of her own, a green corduroy riding skirt, gray flannel +shirt, brilliant neckerchief, boots and spurs. A third picture gave +her further practice in riding a real horse,--albeit an extremely +docile animal called Mouse with good reason. She became known on the +lot as a real cattle-king's daughter, though she did not know the name +of her father's brand and in all her life had seen no herd larger than +the thirty head of tame cattle which were chased past the camera again +and again to make them look like ten thousand, and which were so +thoroughly "camera broke" that they stopped when they were out of the +scene, turned and were ready to repeat the performance _ad lib_. + +Had she lived her life on the Quirt ranch she would have known a great +deal more about horseback riding and cattle and range dances. She +would have known a great deal less about the romance of the West, +however, and she would probably never have seen a sheriff's posse +riding twenty strong and bunched like bird-shot when it leaves the +muzzle of the gun. Indeed, I am very sure she would not. Killings +such as her father heard of with his lips drawn tight and the cords +standing out on the sides of his skinny neck she would have considered +the grim tragedies they were, without once thinking of the "picture +value" of the crime. + +As it was, her West was filled with men who died suddenly in gobs of +red paint and girls who rode loose-haired and panting with hand held +over the heart, hurrying for doctors, and cowboys and parsons and such. +She had seen many a man whip pistol from holster and dare a mob with +lips drawn back in a wolfish grin over his white, even teeth, and +kidnappings were the inevitable accompaniment of youth and beauty. + +Lorraine learned rapidly. In three years she thrilled to more +blood-curdling adventure than all the Bad Men in all the West could +have furnished had they lived to be old and worked hard at being bad +all their lives. For in that third year she worked her way +enthusiastically through a sixteen-episode movie serial called "The +Terror of the Range." She was past mistress of romance by that time. +She knew her West. + +It was just after the "Terror of the Range" was finished that a great +revulsion in the management of this particular company stopped +production with a stunning completeness that left actors and actresses +feeling very much as if the studio roof had fallen upon them. +Lorraine's West vanished. The little cow-town "set" was being torn +down to make room for something else quite different. The cowboys +appeared in tailored suits and drifted away. Lorraine went home to the +Casa Grande, hating it more than ever she had hated it in her life. + +Some one up-stairs was frying liver and onions, which was in flagrant +defiance of the Rule Four which mentioned cabbage, onions and fried +fish as undesirable foodstuffs. Outside, the palm leaves were dripping +in the night fog that had swept soggily in from the ocean. Her mother +was trying to collect a gas bill from the dressmaker down the hall, who +protested shrilly that she distinctly remembered having paid that gas +bill once and had no intention of paying it twice. + +Lorraine opened the door marked LANDLADY, and closed it with a slam +intended to remind her mother that bickerings in the hall were less +desirable than the odour of fried onions. She had often spoken to her +mother about the vulgarity of arguing in public with the tenants, but +her mother never seemed to see things as Lorraine saw them. + +In the apartment sat a man who had been too frequent a visitor, as +Lorraine judged him. He was an oldish man with the lines of failure in +his face and on his lean form the sprightly clothing of youth. He had +been a reporter,--was still, he maintained. But Lorraine suspected +shrewdly that he scarcely made a living for himself, and that he was +home-hunting in more ways than one when he came to visit her mother. + +The affair had progressed appreciably in her absence, it would appear. +He greeted her with a fatherly "Hello, kiddie," and would have kissed +her had Lorraine not evaded him skilfully. + +Her mother came in then and complained intimately to the man, and +declared that the dressmaker would have to pay that bill or have her +gas turned off. He offered sympathy, assistance in the turning off of +the gas, and a kiss which was perfectly audible to Lorraine in the next +room. The affair had indeed progressed! + +"L'raine, d'you know you've got a new papa?" her mother called out in +the peculiar, chirpy tone she used when she was exuberantly happy. "I +knew you'd be surprised!" + +"I am," Lorraine agreed, pulling aside the cheap green portières and +looked in upon the two. Her tone was unenthusiastic. "A superfluous +gift of doubtful value. I do not feel the need of a papa, thank you. +If you want him for a husband, mother, that is entirely your own +affair. I hope you'll be very happy." + +"The kid don't want a papa; husbands are what means the most in her +young life," chuckled the groom, restraining his bride when she would +have risen from his knee. + +"I hope you'll both be very happy indeed," said Lorraine gravely. "Now +you won't mind, mother, when I tell you that I am going to dad's ranch +in Idaho. I really meant it for a vacation, but since you won't be +alone, I may stay with dad permanently. I'm leaving to-morrow or the +next day--just as soon as I can pack my trunk and get a Pullman berth." + +She did not wait to see the relief in her mother's face contradicting +the expostulations on her lips. She went out to the telephone in the +hall, remembered suddenly that her business would be overheard by half +the tenants, and decided to use the public telephone in a hotel farther +down the street. Her decision to go to her dad had been born with the +words on her lips. But it was a lusty, full-voiced young decision, and +it was growing at an amazing rate. + +Of course she would go to her dad in Idaho! She was astonished that +the idea had never before crystallised into action. Why should she +feed her imagination upon a mimic West, when the great, glorious real +West was there? What if her dad had not written a word for more than a +year? He must be alive; they would surely have heard of his death, for +she and Royal were his sole heirs, and his partner would have their +address. + +She walked fast and arrived at the telephone booth so breathless that +she was compelled to wait a few minutes before she could call her +number. She inquired about trains and rates to Echo, Idaho! + +Echo, Idaho! While she waited for the information clerk to look it up +the very words conjured visions of wide horizons and clean winds and +high adventure. If she pictured Echo, Idaho, as being a replica of the +"set" used in the movie serial, can you wonder? If she saw herself, +the beloved queen of her father's cowboys, dashing into Echo, Idaho, on +a crimply-maned broncho that pirouetted gaily before the post-office +while handsome young men in chaps and spurs and "big four" Stetsons +watched her yearningly, she was merely living mentally the only West +that she knew. + +From that beatific vision Lorraine floated into others more entrancing. +All the hairbreadth escapes of the heroine of the movie serial were +hers, adapted by her native logic to fit within the bounds of +possibility,--though I must admit they bulged here and there and +threatened to overlap and to encroach upon the impossible. Over the +hills where her father's vast herds grazed, sleek and wild and +long-horned and prone to stampede, galloped the Lorraine of Lorraine's +dreams, on horses sure-footed and swift. With her galloped strong men +whose faces limned the features of her favourite Western "lead." + +That for all her three years of intermittent intimacy with a +disillusioning world of mimicry, her dreams were pure romance, proved +that Lorraine had still the unclouded innocence of her girlhood +unspoiled. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +REALITY IS WEIGHED AND FOUND WANTING + +Still dreaming her dreams, still featuring herself as the star of many +adventures, Lorraine followed the brakeman out of the dusty day coach +and down the car steps to the platform of the place called Echo, Idaho. +I can only guess at what she expected to find there in the person of a +cattle-king father, but whatever it was she did not find it. No +father, of any type whatever, came forward to claim her. In spite of +her "Western" experience she looked about her for a taxi, or at least a +streetcar. Even in the wilds of Western melodrama one could hear the +clang of street-car gongs warning careless autoists off the track. + +After the train had hooted and gone on around an absolutely +uninteresting low hill of yellow barrenness dotted with stunted sage, +it was the silence that first impressed Lorraine disagreeably. Echo, +Idaho, was a very poor imitation of all the Western sets she had ever +seen. True, it had the straggling row of square-fronted, one-story +buildings, with hitch rails, but the signs painted across the fronts +were absolutely common. Any director she had ever obeyed would have +sent for his assistant director and would have used language which a +lady must not listen to. Behind the store and the post-office and the +blacksmith shop, on the brow of the low hill around whose point the +train had disappeared, were houses with bay windows and porches +absolutely out of keeping with the West. So far as Lorraine could see, +there was not a log cabin in the whole place. + +The hitch rails were empty, and there was not a cowboy in sight. +Before the post-office a terribly grimy touring car stood with its +running-boards loaded with canvas-covered suitcases. Three goggled, +sunburned women in ugly khaki suits were disconsolately drinking soda +water from bottles without straws, and a goggled, red-faced, +angry-looking man was jerking impatiently at the hood of the machine. +Lorraine and her suitcase apparently excited no interest whatever in +Echo, Idaho. + +The station agent was carrying two boxes of oranges and a crate of +California cabbages in out of the sun, and a limp individual in blue +gingham shirt and dirty overalls had shouldered the mail sack and was +making his way across the dusty, rut-scored street to the post-office. + +Two questions and two brief answers convinced her that the station +agent did not know Britton Hunter,--which was strange, unless this +happened to be a very new agent. Lorraine left him to his cabbages and +followed the man with the mail sack. + +At the post-office the anaemic clerk came forward, eyeing her with +admiring curiosity. Lorraine had seen anaemic young men all her life, +and the last three years had made her perfectly familiar with that look +in a young man's eyes. She met it with impatient disfavour founded +chiefly upon the young man's need of a decent hair-cut, a less flowery +tie and a tailored suit. When he confessed that he did not know Mr +Britton Hunter by sight he ceased to exist so far as Lorraine was +concerned. She decided that he also was new to the place and therefore +perfectly useless to her. + +The postmaster himself--Lorraine was cheered by his spectacles, his +shirt sleeves, and his chin whiskers, which made him look the part--was +better informed. He, too, eyed her curiously when she said "My father, +Mr Britton Hunter," but he made no comment on the relationship. He +gave her a telegram and a letter from the General Delivery. The +telegram, she suspected, was the one she had sent to her dad announcing +the date of her arrival. The postmaster advised her to get a "livery +rig" and drive out to the ranch, since it might be a week or two before +any one came in from the Quirt. Lorraine thanked him graciously and +departed for the livery stable. + +The man in charge there chewed tobacco meditatively and told her that +his teams were all out. If she was a mind to wait over a day or two, +he said, he might maybe be able to make the trip. Lorraine took a long +look at the structure which he indicated as the hotel. + +"I think I'll walk," she said calmly. + +"_Walk?_" The stableman stopped chewing and stared at her. "It's some +consider'ble of a walk. It's all of eighteen mile--I dunno but twenty, +time y'get to the house." + +"I have frequently walked twenty-five or thirty miles. I am a member +of the Sierra Club in Los Angeles. We seldom take hikes of less than +twenty miles. If you will kindly tell me which road I must take----" + +"There she is," the man stated flatly, and pointed across the railroad +track to where a sandy road drew a yellowish line through the sage, +evidently making for the hills showing hazily violet in the distance. +Those hills formed the only break in the monotonous gray landscape, and +Lorraine was glad that her journey would take her close to them. + +"Thank you so much," she said coldly and returned to the station. In +the small lavatory of the depot waiting room she exchanged her slippers +for a pair of moderately low-heeled shoes which she had at the last +minute of packing tucked into her suitcase, put a few extra articles +into her rather smart travelling bag, left the suitcase in the +telegraph office and started. Not another question would she ask of +Echo, Idaho, which was flatter and more insipid than the drinking water +in the tin "cooler" in the waiting room. The station agent stood with +his hands on his hips and watched her cross the track and start down +the road, pardonably astonished to see a young woman walk down a road +that led only to the hills twenty miles away, carrying her luggage +exactly as if her trip was a matter of a block or two at most. + +The bag was rather heavy and as she went on it became heavier. She +meant to carry it slung across her shoulder on a stick as soon as she +was well away from the prying eyes of Echo's inhabitants. Later, if +she felt tired, she could easily hide it behind a bush along the road +and send one of her father's cowboys after it. The road was very dusty +and carried the wind-blown traces of automobile tires. Some one would +surely overtake her and give her a ride before she walked very far. + +For the first half hour she believed that she was walking on level +ground, but when she looked back there was no sign of any town behind +her. Echo had disappeared as completely as if it had been swallowed. +Even the unseemly bay-windowed houses on the hill had gone under. She +walked for another half hour and saw only the gray sage stretching all +around her. The hills looked farther away than when she started. +Still, that beaten road must lead somewhere. Two hours later she began +to wonder why this particular road should be so unending and so empty. +Never in her life before had she walked for two hours without seeming +to get anywhere, or without seeing any living human. + +Both shoulders were sore from the weight of the bag on the stick, but +the sagebushes looked so exactly alike that she feared she could not +describe the particular spot where the cowboys would find her bag, +wherefore she carried it still. She was beginning to change hands very +often when the wind came. + +Just where or how that wind sprang up she did not know. Suddenly it +was whooping across the sage and flinging up clouds of dust from the +road. To Lorraine, softened by years of southern California weather, +it seemed to blow straight off an ice field, it was so cold. + +After an interminable time which measured three hours on her watch, she +came to an abrupt descent into a creek bed, down the middle of which +the creek itself was flowing swiftly. Here the road forked, a rough, +little-used trail keeping on up the creek, the better travelled road +crossing and climbing the farther bank. Lorraine scarcely hesitated +before she chose the main trail which crossed the creek. + +From the creek the trail she followed kept climbing until Lorraine +wondered if there would ever be a top. The wind whipped her narrow +skirts and impeded her, tugged at her hat, tingled her nose and watered +her eyes. But she kept on doggedly, disgustedly, the West, which she +had seen through the glamour of swift-blooded Romance, sinking lower +and lower in her estimation. Nothing but jack rabbits and little, +twittery birds moved through the sage, though she watched hungrily for +horsemen. + +Quite suddenly the gray landscape glowed with a palpitating radiance, +unreal, beautiful beyond expression. She stopped, turned to face the +west and stared awestruck at one of those flaming sunsets which makes +the desert land seem but a gateway into the ineffable glory beyond the +earth. That the high-piled, gorgeous cloud-bank presaged a +thunderstorm she never guessed; and that a thunderstorm may be a +deadly, terrifying peril she never had quite believed. Her mother had +told of people being struck by lightning, but Lorraine could not +associate lightning with death, especially in the West, where men +usually died by shooting, lynching, or by pitching over a cliff. + +The wind hushed as suddenly as it had whooped. Warned by the twinkling +lights far behind her--lights which must be the small part at last +visible of Echo, Idaho--Lorraine went on. She had been walking +steadily for four hours, and she must surely have come nearly twenty +miles. If she ever reached the top of the hill, she believed that she +would see her father's ranch just beyond. + +The afterglow had deepened to dusk when she came at last to the highest +point of that long grade. Far ahead loomed a cluster of square, black +objects which must be the ranch buildings of the Quirt, and Lorraine's +spirits lightened a little. What a surprise her father and all his +cowboys would have when she walked in upon them! It was almost worth +the walk, she told herself hearteningly. She hoped that dad had a good +cook. He would wear a flour-sack apron, naturally, and would be tall +and lean, or else very fat. He would be a comedy character, but she +hoped he would not be the grouchy kind, which, though very funny when +he rampages around on the screen, might be rather uncomfortable to meet +when one is tired and hungry and out of sorts. But of course the +crankiest of comedy cooks would be decently civil to _her_. Men always +were, except directors who are paid for their incivility. + +A hollow into which she walked in complete darkness and in silence, +save the gurgling of another stream, hid from sight the shadowy +semblance of houses and barns and sheds. Their disappearance slumped +her spirits again, for without them she was no more than a solitary +speck in the vast loneliness. Their actual nearness could not comfort +her. She was seized with a reasonless, panicky fear that by the time +she crossed the stream and climbed the hill beyond they would no longer +be there where she had seen them. She was lifting her skirts to wade +the creek when the click of hoofs striking against rocks sent her +scurrying to cover in a senseless fear. + +"I learned this act from the jack rabbits," she rallied herself +shakily, when she was safely hidden behind a sagebush whose pungency +made her horribly afraid that she might sneeze, which would be too +ridiculous. + +"Some of dad's cowboys, probably, but still they _may_ be bandits." + +If they were bandits they could scarcely be out banditting, for the two +horsemen were talking in ordinary, conversational tones as they rode +leisurely down to the ford. When they passed Lorraine, the horse +nearest her shied against the other and was sworn at parenthetically +for a fool. Against the skyline Lorraine saw the rider's form bulk +squatty and ungraceful, reminding her of an actor whom she knew and did +not like. It was that resemblance perhaps which held her quiet instead +of following her first impulse to speak to them and ask them to carry +her to the house. + +The horses stopped with their forefeet in the water and drooped heads +to drink thirstily. The riders continued their conversation. + +"--and as I says time and again, they ain't big enough to fight the +outfit, and the quicker they git out the less lead they'll carry under +their hides when they do go. What they want to try an' hang on for, +beats me. Why, it's like setting into a poker game with a five-cent +piece! They ain't got my sympathy. I ain't got any use for a damn +fool, no way yuh look at it." + +"Well, there's the TJ--they been here a long while, and they ain't +packin' any lead, and they ain't getting out." + +"Well, say, lemme tell yuh something. The TJ'll git theirs and git it +right. Drink all night, would yuh?" He swore long and fluently at his +horse, spurred him through the shallows, and the two rode on up the +hill, their voices still mingled in desultory argument, with now and +then an oath rising clearly above the jumble of words. + +They may have been law-abiding citizens riding home, to families that +were waiting supper for them, but Lorraine crept out from behind her +sagebush, sneezing and thanking her imitation of the jack rabbits. +Whoever they were, she was not sorry she had let them ride on. They +might be her father's men, and they might have been very polite and +chivalrous to her. But their voices and their manner of speaking had +been rough; and it is one thing, Lorraine reflected, to mingle with +made-up villains--even to be waylaid and kidnapped and tied to trees +and threatened with death--but it is quite different to accost +rough-speaking men in the dark when you know they are not being rough +to suit the director of the scene. + +She was so absorbed in trying to construct a range of war or something +equally thrilling from the scrap of conversation she had heard that she +reached the hilltop in what seemed a very few minutes of climbing. The +sky was becoming overcast. Already the stars to the west were blotted +out, and the absolute stillness of the atmosphere frightened her more +than the big, dark wilderness itself. It seemed to her exactly as +though the earth was holding its breath and waiting for something +terrible to happen. The vague bulk of buildings was still some +distance ahead, and when a rumble like the deepest notes of a pipe +organ began to fill all the air, Lorraine thrust her grip under a bush +and began to run, her soggy shoes squashing unpleasantly on the rough +places in the road. + +Lorraine had seen many stage storms and had thrilled ecstatically to +the mimic lightning, knowing just how it was made. But when that huge +blackness behind and to the left of her began to open and show a +terrible brilliance within, and to close abruptly, leaving the world +ink black, she was terrified. She wanted to hide as she had hidden +from those two men; but from that stupendous monster, a real +thunderstorm, sagebrush formed no protection whatever. She must reach +the substantial shelter of buildings, the comforting presence of men +and women. + +She ran, and as she ran she wept aloud like a child and called for her +father. The deep rumble grew louder, nearer. The revealed brilliance +became swift sword-thrusts of blinding light that seemed to stab deep +the earth. Lorraine ran awkwardly, her hands over her ears, crying out +at each lightning flash, her voice drowned in the thunder that followed +it close. Then, as she neared the sombre group of buildings, the +clouds above them split with a terrific, rending crash, and the whole +place stood pitilessly revealed to her, as if a spotlight had been +turned on. Lorraine stood aghast. The buildings were not buildings at +all. They were rocks, great, black, forbidding boulders standing there +on a narrow ridge, having a diabolic likeness to houses. + +The human mind is wonderfully resilient, but readjustment comes slowly +after a shock. Dumbly, refusing to admit the significance of what she +had seen, Lorraine went forward. Not until she had reached and had +touched the first grotesque caricature of habitation did she wholly +grasp the fact that she was lost, and that shelter might be miles away. +She stood and looked at the orderly group of boulders as the lightning +intermittently revealed them. She saw where the road ran on, between +two square-faced rocks. She would have to follow the road, for after +all it must lead _somewhere_,--to her father's ranch, probably. She +wondered irrelevantly why her mother had never mentioned these queer +rocks, and she wondered vaguely if any of them had caves or ledges +where she could be safe from the lightning. + +She was on the point of stepping out into the road again when a +horseman rode into sight between the two rocks. In the same instant of +his appearance she heard the unmistakable crack of a gun, saw the rider +jerk backward in the saddle, throw up one hand--and then the darkness +dropped between them. + +Lorraine crouched behind a juniper bush close against the rock and +waited. The next flash came within a half-minute. It showed a man at +the horse's head, holding it by the bridle. The horse was rearing. +Lorraine tried to scream that the man on the ground would be trampled, +but something went wrong with her voice, so that she could only whisper. + +When the light came again the man who had been shot was not altogether +on the ground. The other, working swiftly, had thrust the injured +man's foot through the stirrup. Lorraine saw him stand back and lift +his quirt to slash the horse across the rump. Even through the crash +of thunder Lorraine heard the horse go past her down the hill, +galloping furiously. When she could see again she glimpsed him +running, while something bounced along on the ground beside him. + +She saw the other man, with a dry branch in his hand, dragging it +across the road where it ran between the two rocks. Then Lorraine +Hunter, hardened to the sight of crimes committed for picture values +only, realised sickeningly that she had just looked upon a real +murder,--the cold-blooded killing of a man. She felt very sick. Queer +little red sparks squirmed and danced before her eyes. She crumpled +down quietly behind the jumper bush and did not know when the rain +came, though it drenched her in the first two or three minutes of +downpour. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +"SHE'S A GOOD GIRL WHEN SHE AIN'T CRAZY" + +When the sun has been up just long enough to take the before-dawn chill +from the air without having swallowed all the diamonds that spangle +bush and twig and grass-blade after a night's soaking rain, it is good +to ride over the hills of Idaho and feel oneself a king,--and never +mind the crown and the sceptre. Lone Morgan, riding early to the +Sawtooth to see the foreman about getting a man for a few days to help +replace a bridge carried fifty yards downstream by a local cloudburst, +would not have changed places with a millionaire. The horse he rode +was the horse he loved, the horse he talked to like a pal when they +were by themselves. The ridge gave him a wide outlook to the four +corners of the earth. Far to the north the Sawtooth range showed blue, +the nearer mountains pansy purple where the pine trees stood, the +foothills shaded delicately where canyons swept down to the gray plain. +To the south was the sagebrush, a soft, gray-green carpet under the +sun. The sky was blue, the clouds were handfuls of clean cotton +floating lazily. Of the night's storm remained no trace save slippery +mud when his horse struck a patch of clay, which was not often, and the +packed sand still wet and soggy from the beating rain. + +Rock City showed black and inhospitable even in the sunlight. The rock +walls rose sheer, the roofs slanted rakishly, the signs scratched on +the rock by facetious riders were pointless and inane. Lone picked his +way through the crooked defile that was marked MAIN STREET on the +corner of the first huge boulder and came abruptly into the road. Here +he turned north and shook his horse into a trot. + +A hundred yards or so down the slope beyond Rock City he pulled up +short with a "What the hell!" that did not sound profane, but merely +amazed. In the sodden road were the unmistakable footprints of a +woman. Lone did not hesitate in naming the sex, for the wet sand held +the imprint cleanly, daintily. Too shapely for a boy, too small for +any one but a child or a woman with little feet, and with the point at +the toes proclaiming the fashion of the towns, Lone guessed at once +that she was a town girl, a stranger, probably,--and that she had +passed since the rain; which meant since daylight. + +He swung his horse and rode back, wondering where she could have spent +the night. Halfway through Rock City the footprints ended abruptly, +and Lone turned back, riding down the trail at a lope. She couldn't +have gone far, he reasoned, and if she had been out all night in the +rain, with no better shelter than Rock City afforded, she would need +help,--"and lots of it, and pretty darn quick," he added to John Doe, +which was the ambiguous name of his horse. + +Half a mile farther on he overtook her. Rather, he sighted her in the +trail, saw her duck in amongst the rocks and scattered brush of a small +ravine, and spurred after her. It was precarious footing for his horse +when he left the road, but John Doe was accustomed to that. He jumped +boulders, shied around buckthorn, crashed through sagebrush and so +brought the girl to bay against a wet bank, where she stood shivering. +The terror in her face and her wide eyes would have made her famous in +the movies. It made Lone afraid she was crazy. + +Lone swung off and went up to her guardedly, not knowing just what an +insane woman might do when cornered. "There, now, I'm not going to +hurt yuh at all," he soothed. "I guess maybe you're lost. What made +you run away from me when you saw me coming?" + +Lorraine continued to stare at him. + +"I'm going to the ranch, and if you'd like a ride, I'll lend you my +horse. He'll be gentle if I lead him. It's a right smart walk from +here." Lone smiled, meaning to reassure her. + +"Are you the man I saw shoot that man and then fasten him to the +stirrup of the saddle so the horse dragged him down the road? If you +are, I--I----" + +"No--oh, no, I'm not the man," Lone said gently. "I just now came from +home. Better let me take you in to the ranch." + +"I was going to the ranch--did you see him shoot that man and make the +horse drag him--_make_ the horse--he _slashed_ that horse with the +quirt--and he went tearing down the road dragging--it--it +was--_horrible_!" + +"Yes--yes, don't worry about it. We'll fix him. You come and get on +John Doe and let me take you to the ranch. Come on--you're wet as a +ducked pup." + +"That man was just riding along--I saw him when it lightened. And he +shot him--oh, can't you _do_ something?" + +"Yes, yes, they're after him right now. Here. Just put your foot in +the stirrup--I'll help you up. Why, you're soaked!" Perseveringly +Lone urged her to the horse. "You're soaking wet!" he exclaimed again. + +"It rained," she muttered confusedly. "I thought it was the ranch--but +they were rocks. Just rocks. Did you _see_ him shoot that man? +Why--why it shouldn't be allowed! He ought to be arrested right +away--I'd have called a policeman but--isn't thunder and lightning just +perfectly _awful_? And that horse--going down the road dragging----" + +"You'd better get some one to double for me in this scene," she said +irrelevantly. "I--I don't know this horse, and if he starts running +the boys might not catch him in time. It isn't safe, is it?" + +"It's safe," said Lone pityingly. "You won't be dragged. You just get +on and ride. I'll lead him. John Doe's gentle as a dog." + +"Just straight riding?" Lorraine considered the matter gravely. +"Wel-ll--but I saw a man dragged, once. He'd been shot first. It--it +was awful!" + +"I'll bet it was. How'd you come to be walking so far?" + +Lorraine looked at him suspiciously. Lone thought her eyes were the +most wonderful eyes--and the most terrible--that he had ever seen. +Almond-shaped they were, the irises a clear, dark gray, the eyeballs +blue-white like a healthy baby's. That was the wonder of them. But +their glassy shine made them terrible. Her lids lifted in a sudden +stare. + +"You're not the man, are you? I--I think he was taller than you. And +his hat was brown. He's a brute--a _beast_! To shoot a man just +riding along---- It rained," she added plaintively. "My bag is back +there somewhere under a bush. I think I could find the bush--it was +where a rabbit was sitting--but he's probably gone by this time. A +rabbit," she told him impressively, "wouldn't sit out in the rain all +night, would he? He'd get wet. And a rabbit would feel horrid when he +was wet--such thick fur he never _would_ get dried out. Where do they +go when it rains? They have holes in the ground, don't they?" + +"Yes. Sure, they do. I'll show you one, down the road here a little +piece. Come on--it ain't far." + +To see a rabbit hole in the ground, Lorraine consented to mount and +ride while Lone walked beside her, agreeing with everything she said +that needed agreement. When she had gone a few rods, however, she +began to call him Charlie and to criticise the direction of the +picture. They should not, she declared, mix murders and thunderstorms +in the same scene. While the storm effect was perfectly _wonderful_, +she thought it rather detracted from the killing. She did not believe +in lumping big stuff together like that. Why not have the killing done +by moonlight, and use the storm when the murderer was getting away, or +something like that? And as for taking them out on location and making +all those storm scenes without telling them in advance so that they +could have dry clothes afterwards, she thought it a perfect outrage! +If it were not for spoiling the picture, she would quit, she asserted +indignantly. She thought the director had better go back to driving a +laundry wagon, which was probably where he came from. + +Lone agreed with her, even though he did not know what she was talking +about. He walked as fast as he could, but even so he could not travel +the six miles to the ranch very quickly. He could see that the girl +was burning up with fever, and he could hear her voice growing +husky,--could hear, too, the painful labouring of her breath. When she +was not mumbling incoherent nonsense she was laughing hoarsely at the +plight she was in, and after that she would hold both hands to her +chest and moan in a way that made Lone grind his teeth. + +When he lifted her off his horse at the foreman's cottage she was +whispering things no one could understand. Three cowpunchers came +running and hindered him a good deal in carrying her into the house, +and the foreman's wife ran excitedly from one room to the other, asking +questions and demanding that some one do something "for pity's sake, +she may be dying for all you know, while you stand there gawping like +fool-hens." + +"She was out all night in the rain--got lost, somehow. She said she +was coming here, so I brought her on. She's down with a cold, Mrs +Hawkins. Better take off them wet clothes and put hot blankets around +her. And a poultice or something on her chest, I reckon." Lone turned +to the door, stopped to roll a cigarette, and watched Mrs Hawkins +hurrying to Lorraine with a whisky toddy the cook had mixed for her. + +"A sweat's awful good for a cold like she's got," he volunteered +practically. "She's out of her head--or she was when I found her. But +I reckon that's mostly scare, from being lost all night. Give her a +good sweat, why don't you?" He reached the doorstep and then turned +back to add, "She left a grip back somewhere along the road. I'll go +hunt it up, I reckon." + +He mounted John Doe and rode down to the corral, where two or three +riders were killing time on various pretexts while they waited for +details of Lone's adventure. Delirious young women of the silk +stocking class did not arrive at the Sawtooth every morning, and it was +rumoured already amongst the men that she was some looker, which +naturally whetted their interest in her. + +"I'll bet it's one of Bob's girls, come trailin' him up. Mebby another +of them heart-ballum cases of Bob's," hazarded Pop Bridgers, who read +nothing unless it was printed on pink paper, and who refused to believe +that any good could come out of a city. "Ain't that right, Loney? +Hain't she a heart-ballum girl of Bob's?" + +From the saddle Lone stared down impassively at Pop and Pop's +companions. "I don't know a thing about her," he stated emphatically. +"She said she was coming to the ranch, and she was scared of the +thunder and lightning. That's every word of sense I could get outa +her. She ain't altogether ignorant--she knows how to climb on a horse, +anyway, and she kicked about having to ride sideways on account of her +skirts. She was plumb out of her head, and talked wild, but she +handled her reins like a rider. And she never mentioned Bob, nor +anybody else excepting some fellow she called Charlie. She thought I +was him, but she only talked to me friendly. She didn't pull any love +talk at all." + +"Charlie?" Pop ruminated over a fresh quid of tobacco. "Charlie! +Mebby Bob, he stakes himself to a different name now and then. There +ain't any Charlie, except Charlie Werner; she wouldn't mean him, do yuh +s'pose?" + +"Charlie Werner? Hunh! Say, Pop, she ain't no squaw--is she, Loney?" +Sid Sterling remonstrated. + +"If I can read brands," Lone testified, "she's no girl of Bob's. She's +a good, honest girl when she ain't crazy." + +"And no good, honest girl who is not crazy could possibly be a girl of +mine! Is that the idea, Lone?" + +Lone turned unhurriedly and looked at young Bob Warfield standing in +the stable door with his hands in his trousers pockets and his pipe in +his mouth. + +"That ain't the argument. Pop, here, was wondering if she was another +heart-ballum girl of yours," Lone grinned unabashed. "I don't know +such a hell of a lot about heart-balm ladies, Bob. I ain't a +millionaire. I'm just making a guess at their brand--and it ain't the +brand this little lady carries." + +Bob removed one hand from his pocket and cuddled the bowl of his pipe. +"If she's a woman, she's a heart-balmer if she gets the chance. They +all are, down deep in their tricky hearts. There isn't a woman on +earth that won't sell a man's soul out of his body if she happens to +think it's worth her while--and she can get away with it. But don't +for any sake call her _my_ heart-balmer." + +"That was Pop," drawled Lone. "It don't strike me as being any subject +for you fellows to make remarks about, anyway," he advised Pop firmly. +"She's a right nice little girl, and she's pretty darn sick." He +touched John Doe with the spurs and rode away, stopping at the +foreman's gate to finish his business with Hawkins. He was a +conscientious young man, and since he had charge of Elk Spring camp, he +set its interests above his own, which was more than some of the +Sawtooth men would have done in his place. + +Having reported the damage to the bridge and made his suggestions about +the repairs, he touched up John Doe again and loped away on a purely +personal matter, which had to do with finding the bag which the girl +had told him was under a bush where a rabbit had been sitting. + +If she had not been so very sick, Lone would have laughed at her naïve +method of identifying the spot. But he was too sorry for her to be +amused at the vagaries of her sick brain. He did not believe anything +she had said, except that she had been coming to the ranch and had left +her bag under a bush beside the road. It should not be difficult to +find it, if he followed the road and watched closely the bushes on +either side. + +Until he reached the place where he had first sighted her, Lone rode +swiftly, anxious to be through with the business and go his way. But +when he came upon her footprints again, he pulled up and held John Doe +to a walk, scanning each bush and boulder as he passed. + +It seemed probable that she had left the grip at Rock City where she +must have spent the night. She had spoken of being deceived into +thinking the place was the Sawtooth ranch until she had come into it +and found it "just rocks." Then, he reasoned, the storm had broken, +and her fright had held her there. When daylight came she had either +forgotten the bag or had left it deliberately. + +At Rock City, then, Lone stopped to examine the base of every rock, +even riding around those nearest the road. The girl, he guessed +shrewdly, had not wandered off the main highway, else she would not +have been able to find it again. Rock City was confusing unless one +was perfectly familiar with its curious, winding lanes. + +It was when he was riding slowly around the boulder marked "Palace +Hotel, Rates Reasnible," that he came upon the place where a horse had +stood, on the side best sheltered from the storm. Deep hoof marks +closely overlapping, an overturned stone here and there gave proof +enough, and the rain-beaten soil that blurred the hoofprints farthest +from the rock told him more. Lone backed away, dismounted, and, +stepping carefully, went close. He could see no reason why a horse +should have stood there with his head toward the road ten feet away, +unless his rider was waiting for something--or some one. There were +other boulders near which offered more shelter from rain. + +Next the rock he discovered a boot track, evidently made when the rider +dismounted. He thought of the wild statement of the girl about seeing +some one shoot a man and wondered briefly if there could be a basis of +truth in what she said. But the road showed no sign of a struggle, +though there were, here and there, hoofprints half washed out with the +rain. + +Lone went back to his horse and rode on, still looking for the bag. +His search was thorough and, being a keen-eyed young man, he discovered +the place where Lorraine had crouched down by a rock. She must have +stayed there all night, for the scuffed soil was dry where her body had +rested, and her purse, caught in the juniper bush close by, was sodden +with rain. + +"The poor little kid!" he muttered, and with a sudden impulse he turned +and looked toward the rock behind which the horse had stood. Help had +been that close, and she had not known it, unless---- + +"If anything happened there last night, she could have seen it from +here," he decided, and immediately put the thought away from him. + +"But nothing happened," he added, "unless maybe she saw him ride out +and go on down the road. She was out of her head and just imagined +things." + +He slipped the soaked purse into his coat pocket, remounted and rode on +slowly, looking for the grip and half-believing she had not been +carrying one, but had dreamed it just as she had dreamed that a man had +been shot. + +He rode past the bag without seeing it, for Lorraine had thrust it far +back under a stocky bush whose scraggly branches nearly touched the +ground. So he came at last to the creek, swollen with the night's +storm so that it was swift and dangerous. Lone was turning back when +John Doe threw up his head, stared up the creek for a moment and +whinnied shrilly. Lone stood in the stirrups and looked. + +A blaze-faced horse was standing a short rifle-shot away, bridled and +with an empty saddle. Whether he was tied or not Lone, could not tell +at that distance, but he knew the horse by its banged forelock and its +white face and sorrel ears, and he knew the owner of the horse. He +rode toward it slowly. + +"Whoa, you rattle-headed fool," he admonished, when the horse snorted +and backed a step or two as he approached. He saw the bridle-reins +dangling, broken, where the horse had stepped on them in running. +"Broke loose and run off again," he said, as he took down his rope and +widened the loop. "I'll bet Thurman would sell you for a bent nickel, +this morning." + +The horse squatted and jumped when he cast the loop, and then stood +quivering and snorting while Lone dismounted and started toward him. +Ten steps from the horse Lone stopped short, staring. For down in the +bushes on the farther side half lay, half hung the limp form of a man. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +A DEATH "BY ACCIDENT" + +Lone Morgan was a Virginian by birth, though few of his acquaintances +knew it. + +Lone never talked of himself except as his personal history touched a +common interest with his fellows. But until he was seventeen he had +lived very close to the centre of one of the deadliest feuds of the +Blue Ridge. That he had been neutral was merely an accident of birth, +perhaps. And that he had not become involved in the quarrel that raged +among his neighbours was the direct result of a genius for holding his +tongue. He had attended the funerals of men shot down in their own +dooryards, he had witnessed the trials of the killers. He had grown up +with the settled conviction that other men's quarrels did not concern +him so long as he was not directly involved, and that what did not +concern him he had no right to discuss. If he stood aside and let +violence stalk by unhindered, he was merely doing what he had been +taught to do from the time he could walk. "Mind your own business and +let other folks do the same," had been the family slogan in Lone's +home. There had been nothing in Lone's later life to convince him that +minding his own business was not a very good habit. It had grown to be +second nature,--and it had made him a good man for the Sawtooth Cattle +Company to have on its pay roll. + +Just now Lone was stirred beyond his usual depth of emotion, and it was +not altogether the sight of Fred Thurman's battered body that unnerved +him. He wanted to believe that Thurman's death was purely an +accident,--the accident it appeared. But Lorraine and the telltale +hoofprints by the rock compelled him to believe that it was not an +accident. He knew that if he examined carefully enough Fred Thurman's +body he would find the mark of a bullet. He was tempted to look, and +yet he did not want to know. It was no business of his; it would be +foolish to let it become his business. + +"He's too dead to care now how it happened--and it would only stir up +trouble," he finally decided and turned his eyes away. + +He pulled the twisted foot from the stirrup, left the body where it +lay, and led the blaze-faced horse to a tree and tied it securely. He +took off his coat and spread it over the head and shoulders of the dead +man, weighted the edges with rocks and rode away. + +Halfway up the hill he left the road and took a narrow trail through +the sage, a short-cut that would save him a couple of miles. + +The trail crossed the ridge half a mile beyond Rock City, dipping into +the lower end of the small gulch where he had overtaken the girl. The +place recalled with fresh vividness her first words to him: "Are _you_ +the man I saw shoot that other man and fasten his foot in the stirrup?" +Lone shivered and threw away the cigarette he had just lighted. + +"My God, that girl mustn't tell that to any one else!" he exclaimed +apprehensively. "No matter who she is or what she is, she mustn't tell +that!" + +"Hello! Who you talking to? I heard somebody talking----" The bushes +parted above a low, rocky ledge and a face peered out, smiling +good-humouredly. Lone started a little and pulled up. + +"Oh, hello, Swan. I was just telling this horse of mine all I was +going to do to him. Say, you're a chancey bird, Swan, yelling from the +brush like that. Some folks woulda taken a shot at you." + +"Then they'd hit me, sure," Swan observed, letting himself down into +the trail. He, too, was wet from his hat crown to his shoes, that +squelched when he landed lightly on his toes. "Anybody would be +ashamed to shoot at a mark so large as I am. I'd say they're poor +shooters." And he added irrelevantly, as he held up a grayish pelt, "I +got that coyote I been chasing for two weeks. He was sure smart. He +had me guessing. But I made him guess some, maybe. He guessed wrong +this time." + +Lone's eyes narrowed while he looked Swan over. "You must have been +out all night," he said. "You're crazier about hunting than I am." + +"Wet bushes," Swan corrected carelessly. "I been tramping since +daylight. It's my work to hunt, like it's your work to ride." He had +swung into the trail ahead of John Doe and was walking with long +strides,--the tallest, straightest, limberest young Swede in all the +country. He had the bluest eyes, the readiest smile, the healthiest +colour, the sunniest hair and disposition the Sawtooth country had seen +for many a day. He had homesteaded an eighty-acre claim on the south +side of Bear Top and had by that means gained possession of two living +springs and the only accessible portion of Wilder Creek where it +crossed the meadow called Skyline before it plunged into a gulch too +narrow for cattle to water with any safety. + +The Sawtooth Cattle Company had for years "covered" that eighty-acre +patch of government land, never dreaming that any one would ever file +on it. Swan Vjolmar was there and had his log cabin roofed and ready +for the door and windows before the Sawtooth discovered his presence. +Now, nearly a year afterwards, he was accepted in a tolerant, +half-friendly spirit. He had not objected to the Sawtooth cattle which +still watered at Skyline Meadow. He was a "Government hunter" and he +had killed many coyotes and lynx and even a mountain lion or two. Lone +wondered sometimes what the Sawtooth meant to do about the Swede, but +so far the Sawtooth seemed inclined to do nothing at all, evidently +thinking his war on animal pests more than atoned for his effrontery in +taking Skyline as a homestead. When he had proven up on his claim they +would probably buy him out and have the water still. + +"Well, what do you know?" Swan turned his head to inquire abruptly. +"You're pretty quiet." + +Lone roused himself. "Fred Thurman's been dragged to death by that +damned flighty horse of his," he said. "I found him in the brush this +side of Granite Creek. Had his foot caught in the stirrup. I thought +I'd best leave him there till the coroner can view him." + +Swan stopped short in the trail and turned facing Lone. "Last night my +dog Yack whines to go out. He went and sat in a place where he looks +down on the walley, and he howled for half an hour. I said then that +somebody in the walley has died. That dog is something queer about it. +He knows things." + +"I'm going to the Sawtooth," Lone told him. "I can telephone to the +coroner from there. Anybody at Thurman's place, do you know?" + +Swan shook his head and started again down the winding, steep trail. +"I don't hunt over that way for maybe a week. That's too bad he's +killed. I like Fred Thurman. He's a fine man, you bet." + +"He was," said Lone soberly. "It's a damn shame he had to go--like +that." + +Swan glanced back at him, studied Lone's face for an instant and turned +into a tributary gully where a stream trickled down over the water-worn +rocks. "Here I leave you," he volunteered, as Lone came abreast of +him. "A coyote's crossed up there, and I maybe find his tracks. I +could go do chores for Fred Thurman if nobody's there. Should I do +that? What you say, Lone?" + +"You might drift around by there if it ain't too much out of your way, +and see if he's got a man on the ranch," Lone suggested. "But you +better not touch anything in the house, Swan. The coroner'll likely +appoint somebody to look around and see if he's got any folks to send +his stuff to. Just feed any stock that's kept up, if nobody's there." + +"All right," Swan agreed readily. "I'll do that, Lone. Good-bye." + +Lone nodded and watched him climb the steep slope of the gulch on the +side toward Thurman's ranch. Swan climbed swiftly, seeming to take no +thought of where he put his feet, yet never once slipping or slowing. +In two minutes he was out of sight, and Lone rode on moodily, trying +not to think of Fred Thurman, trying to shut from his mind the things +that wild-eyed, hoarse-voiced girl had told him. + +"Lone, you mind your own business," he advised himself once. "You +don't know anything that's going to do any one any good, and what you +don't know there's no good guessing. But that girl--she mustn't talk +like that!" + +Of Swan he scarcely gave a thought after the Swede had disappeared, yet +Swan was worth a thought or two, even from a man who was bent on +minding his own business. Swan had no sooner climbed the gulch toward +Thurman's claim than he proceeded to descend rather carefully to the +bottom again, walk along on the rocks for some distance and climb to +the ridge whose farther slope led down to Granite Creek. He did not +follow the trail, but struck straight across an outcropping ledge, +descended to Granite Creek and strode along next the hill where the +soil was gravelly and barren. When he had gone some distance, he sat +down and took from under his coat two huge, crudely made moccasins of +coyote skin. These he pulled on over his shoes, tied them around his +ankles and went on, still keeping close under the hill. + +He reached the place where Fred Thurman lay, stood well away from the +body and studied every detail closely. Then, stepping carefully on +trampled brush and rocks, he approached and cautiously lifted Lone's +coat. It was not a pretty sight, but Swan's interest held him there +for perhaps ten minutes, his eyes leaving the body only when the +blaze-faced horse moved. Then Swan would look up quickly at the horse, +seem reassured when he saw that the animal was not watching anything at +a distance, and return, to his curious task. Finally he drew the coat +back over the head and shoulders, placed each stone exactly as he had +found it and went up to the horse, examining the saddle rather closely. +After that he retreated as carefully as he had approached. When he had +gone half a mile or so upstream he found a place where he could wash +his hands without wetting his moccasins, returned to the rocky hillside +and took off the clumsy footgear and stowed them away under his coat. +Then with long strides that covered the ground as fast as a horse could +do without loping, Swan headed as straight as might be for the Thurman +ranch. + +About noon Swan approached the crowd of men and a few women who stood +at a little distance and whispered together, with their faces averted +from the body around which the men stood grouped. The news had spread +as such news will, even in a country so sparsely settled as the +Sawtooth. Swan counted forty men,--he did not bother with the women. +Fred Thurman had been known to every one of them. Some one had spread +a piece of canvas over the corpse, and Swan did not go very near. The +blaze-faced horse had been led farther away and tied to a cottonwood, +where some one had thrown down a bundle of hay. The Sawtooth country +was rather punctilious in its duty toward the law, and it was generally +believed that the coroner would want to see the horse that had caused +the tragedy. + +Half an hour after Swan arrived, the coroner came in a machine, and +with him came the sheriff. The coroner, an important little man, +examined the body, the horse and the saddle, and there was the usual +formula of swearing in a jury. The inquest was rather short, since +there was only one witness to testify, and Lone merely told how he had +discovered the horse there by the creek, and that the body had not been +moved from where he found it. + +Swan went over to where Lone, anxious to get away from the place, was +untying his horse after the jury had officially named the death an +accident. + +"I guess those horses could be turned loose," he began without prelude. +"What you think, Lone? I been to Thurman's ranch, and I don't find +anybody. Some horses in a corral, and pigs in a pen, and chickens. I +guess Thurman was living alone. Should I tell the coroner that?" + +"I dunno," Lone replied shortly. "You might speak to the sheriff. I +reckon he's the man to take charge of things." + +"It's bad business, getting killed," Swan said vaguely. "It makes me +feel damn sorry when I go to that ranch. There's the horses waiting +for breakfast--and Thurman, he's dead over here and can't feed his pigs +and his chickens. It's a white cat over there that comes to meet me +and rubs my leg and purrs like it's lonesome. That's a nice ranch he's +got, too. Now what becomes of that ranch? What you think, Lone?" + +"Hell, how should I know?" Lone scowled at him from the saddle and +rode away, leaving Swan standing there staring after him. He turned +away to find the sheriff and almost collided with Brit Hunter, who was +glancing speculatively from him to Lone Morgan. Swan stopped and put +out his hand to shake. + +"Lone says I should tell the sheriff I could look after Fred Thurman's +ranch. What you think, Mr Hunter?" + +"Good idea, I guess. Somebody'll have to. They can't----" He checked +himself. "You got a horse? I'll ride over with yuh, maybe." + +"I got legs," Swan returned laconically. "They don't get scared, Mr +Hunter, and maybe kill me sometime. You could tell the sheriff I'm +government hunter and honest man, and I take good care of things. You +could do that, please?" + +"Sure," said Brit and rode over to where the sheriff was standing. + +The sheriff listened, nodded, beckoned to Swan. "The court'll have to +settle up the estate and find his heirs, if he's got any. But you look +after things--what's your name? Vjolmar--how yuh spell it? I'll swear +you in as a deputy. Good Lord, you're a husky son-of-a-gun!" The +sheriff's eyes went up to Swan's hat crown, descended to his shoulders +and lingered there admiringly for a moment, travelled down his flat, +hard-muscled body and his straight legs. "I'll bet you could put up +some fight, if you had to," he commented. + +Swan grinned good-humouredly, glanced conscience-stricken at the +covered figure on the ground and straightened his face decorously. + +"I could lick you good," he admitted in a stage whisper. "I'm a +son-off-a-gun all right--only I don't never get mad at somebody." + +Brit Hunter smiled at that, it was so like Swan Vjolmar. But when they +were halfway to Thurman's ranch--Brit on horseback and Swan striding +easily along beside him, leading the blaze-faced horse, he glanced down +at Swan's face and wondered if Swan had not lied a little. + +"What's on your mind, Swan?" he asked abruptly. + +Swan started and looked up at him, glanced at the empty hills on either +side, and stopped still in the trail. + +"Mr Hunter, you been longer in the country than I have been. You seen +some good riding, I bet. Maybe you see some men ride backwards on a +horse?" + +Brit looked at him uncomprehendingly. "Backwards?" + +Swan led up the blaze-faced horse and pointed to the right stirrup. +"Spurs would scratch like that if you jerk your foot, maybe. You're a +good rider, Mr Hunter, you can tell. That's a right stirrup, ain't it? +Fred Thurman, he's got his left foot twist around, all broke from +jerking in his stirrup. Left foot in right stirrup----" He pushed +back his hat and rumpled his yellow hair, looking up into Brit's face +inquiringly. "Left foot in right stirrup is riding backwards. That's +a damn good rider to ride like that--what you think, Mr Hunter?" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +LONE ADVISES SILENCE + +Twice in the next week Lone found an excuse for riding over to the +Sawtooth. During his first visit, the foreman's wife told him that the +young lady was still too sick to talk much. The second time he went, +Pop Bridgers spied him first and cackled over his coming to see the +girl. Lone grinned and dissembled as best he could, knowing that Pop +Bridgers fed his imagination upon denials and argument and remonstrance +and was likely to build gossip that might spread beyond the Sawtooth. +Wherefore he did not go near the foreman's house that day, but +contented himself with gathering from Pop's talk that the girl was +still there. + +After that he rode here and there, wherever he would be likely to meet +a Sawtooth rider, and so at last he came upon Al Woodruff loping along +the crest of Juniper Ridge. Al at first displayed no intention of +stopping, but pulled up when he saw John Doe slowing down +significantly. Lone would have preferred a chat with some one else, +for this was a sharp-eyed, sharp-tongued man; but Al Woodruff stayed at +the ranch and would know all the news, and even though he might give it +an ill-natured twist, Lone would at least know what was going on. Al +hailed him with a laughing epithet. + +"Say, you sure enough played hell all around, bringin' Brit Hunter's +girl to the Sawtooth!" he began, chuckling as if he had some secret +joke. "Where'd you pick her up, Lone? She claims you found her at +Rock City. That right?" + +"No, it ain't right," Lone denied promptly, his dark eyes meeting Al's +glance steadily. "I found her in that gulch away this side. She was +in amongst the rocks where she was trying to keep outa the rain. Brit +Hunter's girl, is she? She told me she was going to the Sawtooth. +She'd have made it, too, if it hadn't been for the storm. She got as +far as the gulch, and the lightning scared her from going any farther." +He offered Al his tobacco sack and fumbled for a match. "I never knew +Brit Hunter had a girl." + +"Nor me," Al said and sifted tobacco into a cigarette paper. "Bob, he +drove her over there yesterday. Took him close to all day to make the +trip--and Bob, he claims to hate women!" + +"So would I, if I'd got stung for fifty thousand. She ain't that kind. +She's a nice girl, far as I could tell. She got well, all right, did +she?" + +"Yeah--only she was still coughing some when she left the ranch. She +like to of had pneumonia, I guess. Queer how she claimed she spent the +night in Rock City, ain't it?" + +"No," Lone answered judicially, "I don't know as it's so queer. She +never realised how far she'd walked, I reckon. She was plumb crazy +when I found her. You couldn't take any stock in what she said. Say, +you didn't see that bay I was halter-breaking, did yuh, Al? He jumped +the fence and got away on me, day before yesterday. I'd like to catch +him up again. He'll make a good horse." + +Al had not seen the bay, and the talk tapered off desultorily to a +final "So-long, see yuh later." Lone rode on, careful not to look +back. So she was Brit Hunter's girl! Lone whistled softly to himself +while he studied this new angle of the problem,--for a problem he was +beginning to consider it. She was Brit Hunter's girl, and she had told +them at the Sawtooth that she had spent the night at Rock City. He +wondered how much else she had told; how much she remembered of what +she had told him. + +He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a round leather purse +with a chain handle. It was soiled and shrunken with its wetting, and +the clasp had flecks of rust upon it. What it contained Lone did not +know. Virginia had taught him that a man must not be curious about the +personal belongings of a woman. Now he turned the purse over, tried to +rub out the stiffness of the leather, and smiled a little as he dropped +it back into his pocket. + +"I've got my calling card," he said softly to John Doe. "I reckon I +had the right hunch when I didn't turn it over to Mrs Hawkins. I'll +ask her again about that grip she said she hid under a bush. I never +heard about any of the boys finding it." + +His thoughts returned to Al Woodruff and stopped there. Determined +still to attend strictly to his own affairs, his thoughts persisted in +playing truant and in straying to a subject he much preferred not to +think of at all. Why should Al Woodruff be interested in the exact +spot where Brit Hunter's daughter had spent the night of the storm? +Why should Lone instinctively discount her statement and lie +whole-heartedly about it? + +"Now if Al catches me up in that, he'll think I know a lot I don't +know, or else----" He halted his thoughts there, for that, too, was a +forbidden subject. + +Forbidden subjects are like other forbidden things: they have a way of +making themselves very conspicuous. Lone was heading for the Quirt +ranch by the most direct route, fearing, perhaps, that if he waited he +would lose his nerve and would not go at all. Yet it was important +that he should go; he must return the girl's purse! + +The most direct route to the Quirt took him down Juniper Ridge and +across Granite Creek near the Thurman ranch. Indeed, if he followed +the trail up Granite Creek and across the hilly country to Quirt Creek, +he must pass within fifty yards of the Thurman cabin. Lone's time was +limited, yet he took the direct route rather reluctantly. He did not +want to be reminded too sharply of Fred Thurman as a man who had lived +his life in his own way and had died so horribly. + +"Well, he didn't have it coming to him--but it's done and over with +now, so it's no use thinking about it," he reflected, when the roofs of +the Thurman ranch buildings began to show now and then through the thin +ranks of the cottonwoods along the creek. + +But his face sobered as he rode along. It seemed to him that the +sleepy little meadows, the quiet murmuring of the creek, even the soft +rustling of the cottonwood leaves breathed a new loneliness, an +emptiness where the man who had called this place home, who had clung +to it in the face of opposition that was growing into open warfare, had +lived and left life suddenly--unwarrantably, Lone knew in his heart. +It might be of no use to think about it, but the vivid memory of Fred +Thurman was with him when he rode up the trail to the stable and the +small corrals. He had to think, whether he would or no. + +At the corral he came unexpectedly in sight of the Swede, who grinned a +guileless welcome and came toward him, so that Lone could not ride on +unless he would advertise his dislike of the place. John Doe, plainly +glad to find an excuse to stop, slowed and came to where Swan waited by +the gate. + +"By golly, this is lonesome here," Swan complained, heaving a great +sigh. "That judge don't get busy pretty quick, I'm maybe jumping my +job. Lone, what you think? You believe in ghosts?" + +"Naw. What's on your chest, Swan?" Lone slipped sidewise in the +saddle, resting his muscles. "You been seeing things?" + +"No--I don't be seeing things, Lone. But sometimes I been--like I +_feel_ something." He stared at Lone questioningly. "What you think, +Lone, if you be sitting down eating your supper, maybe, and you feel +something say words in your brain? Like you know something talks to +you and then quits." + +Lone gave Swan a long, measuring look, and Swan laughed uneasily. + +"That sounds crazy. But it's true, what something tells me in my +brain. I go and look, and by golly, it's there just like the words +tell me." + +Lone straightened in the saddle. "You better come clean, Swan, and +tell the whole thing. What was it? Don't talk in circles. What words +did you feel--in your brain?" In spite of himself, Lone felt as he had +when the girl had talked to him and called him Charlie. + +Swan closed the gate behind him with steady hands. His lips were +pressed firmly together, as if he had definitely made up his mind to +something. Lone was impressed somehow with Swan's perfect control of +his speech, his thoughts, his actions. But he was puzzled rather than +anything else, and when Swan turned, facing him, Lone's bewilderment +did not lessen. + +"I'll tell you. It's when I'm sitting down to eat my supper. I'm just +reaching out my hand like this, to get my coffee. And something says +in my head, 'It's a lie. I don't ride backwards. Go look at my +saddle. There's blood----' And that's all. It's like the words go +far away so I can't hear any more. So I eat my supper, and then I get +the lantern and I go look. You come with me, Lone. I'll show you." + +Without a word Lone dismounted and followed Swan into a small shed +beside the stable, where a worn stock saddle hung suspended from a +cross-piece, a rawhide string looped over the horn. Lone did not ask +whose saddle it was, nor did Swan name the owner. There was no need. + +Swan took the saddle and swung it around so that the right side was +toward them. It was what is called a full-stamped saddle, with the +popular wild-rose design on skirts and cantle. Much hard use and +occasional oilings had darkened the leather to a rich, red brown, +marred with old scars and scratches and the stains of many storms. + +"Blood is hard to find when it's raining all night," Swan observed, +speaking low as one does in the presence of death. "But if somebody is +bleeding and falls off a horse slow, and catches hold of things and +tries like hell to hang on----" He lifted the small flap that covered +the cinch ring and revealed a reddish, flaked stain. Phlegmatically he +wetted his finger tip on his tongue, rubbed the stain and held up his +finger for Lone to see. "That's a damn funny place for blood, when a +man is dragging on the ground," he commented dryly. "And something +else is damn funny, Lone." + +He lifted the wooden stirrup and touched with his finger the rowel +marks. "That is on the front part," he said. "I could swear in court +that Fred's left foot was twisted--that's damn funny, Lone. I don't +see men ride backwards, much." + +Lone turned on him and struck the stirrup from his hand. "I think you +better forget it," he said fiercely. "He's dead--it can't help him any +to----" He stopped and pulled himself together. "Swan, you take a +fool's advice and don't tell anybody else about feeling words talk in +your head. They'll have you in the bug-house at Black-foot, sure as +you live." He looked at the saddle, hesitated, looked again at Swan, +who was watching him. "That blood most likely got there when Fred was +packing a deer in from the hills. And marks on them old oxbow stirrups +don't mean a damn thing but the need of a new pair, maybe." He forced +a laugh and stepped outside the shed. "Just shows you, Swan, that +imagination and being alone all the time can raise Cain with a fellow. +You want to watch yourself." + +Swan followed him out, closing the door carefully behind him. "By +golly, I'm watching out now," he assented thoughtfully. "You don't +tell anybody, Lone." + +"No, I won't tell anybody--and I'd advise you not to," Lone repeated +grimly. "Just keep those thoughts outa your head, Swan. They're bad +medicine." + +He mounted John Doe and rode away, his eyes downcast, his quirt +slapping absently the weeds along the trail. It was not his business, +and yet---- Lone shook himself together and put John Doe into a lope. +He had warned Swan, and he could do no more. + +Halfway to the Quirt he met Lorraine riding along the trail. She would +have passed him with no sign of recognition, but Lone lifted his hat +and stopped. Lorraine looked at him, rode on a few steps and turned. +"Did you wish to speak about something?" she asked impersonally. + +Lone felt the flush in his cheeks, which angered him to the point of +speaking curtly. "Yes. I found your purse where you dropped it that +night you were lost. I was bringing it over to you. My name's Morgan. +I'm the man that found you and took you in to the ranch." + +"Oh." Lorraine looked at him steadily. "You're the one they call +Loney?" + +"When they're feeling good toward me. I'm Lone Morgan. I went back to +find your grip--you said you left it under a bush, but the world's +plumb full of bushes. I found your purse, though." + +"Thank you so much. I must have been an awful nuisance, but I was so +scared--and things were terribly mixed in my mind. I didn't even have +sense enough to tell you what ranch I was trying to find, did I? So +you took me to the wrong one, and I was a week there before I found it +out. And then they were perfectly lovely about it and brought +me--home." She turned the purse over and over in her hands, looking at +it without much interest. She seemed in no hurry to ride on, which +gave Lone courage. + +"There's something I'd like to say," he began, groping for words that +would make his meaning plain without telling too much. "I hope you +won't mind my telling you. You were kinda out of your head when I +found you, and you said something about seeing a man shot and----" + +"Oh!" Lorraine looked up at him, looked through him, he thought, with +those brilliant eyes of hers. "Then I did tell----" + +"I just wanted to say," Lone interrupted her, "that I knew all the time +it was just a nightmare. I never mentioned it to anybody, and you'll +forget all about it, I hope. You didn't tell any one else, did you?" + +He looked up at her again and found her studying him curiously. +"You're not the man I saw," she said, as if sue were satisfying herself +on that point. "I've wondered since--but I was sure, too, that I had +seen it. Why mustn't I tell any one?" + +Lone did not reply at once. The girl's eyes were disconcertingly +direct, her voice and her manner disturbed him with their judicial +calmness, so at variance with the wildness he remembered. + +"Well, it's hard to explain," he said at last. "You're strange to this +country, and you don't know all the ins and outs of--things. It +wouldn't do any good to you or anybody else, and it might do a lot of +harm." His eyes flicked her face with a wistful glance. "You don't +know me--I really haven't got any right to ask or expect you to trust +me. But I wish you would, to the extent of forgetting that you saw--or +thought you saw--anything that night in Rock City." + +Lorraine shivered and covered her eyes swiftly with one hand. His +words had brought back too sharply that scene. But she shook off the +emotion and faced him again. + +"I saw a man murdered," she cried. "I wasn't sure afterwards; +sometimes I thought I had dreamed it. But I was sure I saw it. I saw +the horse go by, running--and you want me to keep still about that? +What harm could it do to tell? Perhaps it's true--perhaps I did see it +all. I might think you were trying to cover up something--only, you're +not the man I saw--or thought I saw." + +"No, of course I'm not. You dreamed the whole thing, and the way you +talked to me was so wild, folks would say you're crazy if they heard +you tell it. You're a stranger here, Miss Hunter, and--your father is +not as popular in this country as he might be. He's got enemies that +would be glad of the chance to stir up trouble for him. You--just +dreamed all that. I'm asking you to forget a bad dream, that's all, +and not go telling it to other folks." + +For some time Lorraine did not answer. The horses conversed with +sundry nose-rubbings, nibbled idly at convenient brush tips, and +wondered no doubt why their riders were so silent. Lone tried to think +of some stronger argument, some appeal that would reach the girl +without frightening her or causing her to distrust him. But he did not +know what more he could say without telling her what must not be told. + +"Just how would it make trouble for my father?" Lorraine asked at last. +"I can't believe you'd ask me to help cover up a crime, but it seems +hard to believe that a nightmare would cause any great commotion. And +why is my father unpopular?" + +"Well, you don't know this country," Lone parried inexpertly. "It's +all right in some ways, and in some ways it could be a lot improved. +Folks haven't got much to talk about. They go around gabbling their +heads off about every little thing, and adding onto it until you can't +recognise your own remarks after they've peddled for a week. You've +maybe seen places like that." + +"Oh, yes." Lorraine's eyes lighted with a smile. "Take a movie +studio, for instance." + +"Yes. Well, you being a stranger, you would get all the worst of it. +I just thought I'd tell you; I'd hate to see you misunderstood by folks +around here. I--I feel kinda responsible for you; I'm the one that +found you." + +Lorraine's eyes twinkled. "Well, I'm glad to know one person in the +country who doesn't gabble his head off. You haven't answered any of +my questions, and you've made me feel as if you'd found a dangerous, +wild woman that morning. It isn't very flattering, but I think you're +honest, anyway." + +Lone smiled for the first time, and she found his smile pleasant. "I'm +no angel," he disclaimed modestly, "and most folks think I could be +improved on a whole lot. But I'm honest in one way. I'm thinking +about what's best for you, this time." + +"I'm terribly grateful," Lorraine laughed. "I shall take great care +not to go all around the country telling people my dreams. I can see +that it wouldn't make me awfully popular." Then she sobered. "Mr +Morgan, that was a _horrible_ kind of--nightmare. Why, even last night +I woke up shivering, just imagining it all over again." + +"It was sure horrible the way you talked about it," Lone assured her. +"It's because you were sick, I reckon. I wish you'd tell me as close +as you can where you left that grip of yours. You said it was under a +bush where a rabbit was sitting. I'd like to find the grip--but I'm +afraid that rabbit has done moved!" + +"Oh, Mr Warfield and I found it, thank you. The rabbit had moved, but +I sort of remembered how the road had looked along there, and we hunted +until we discovered the place. Dad has driven in after my other +luggage to-day--and I believe I must be getting home. I was only out +for a little ride." + +She thanked him again for the trouble he had taken and rode away. Lone +turned off the trail and, picking his way around rough outcroppings of +rock, and across unexpected little gullies, headed straight for the +ford across Granite Creek and home. Brit Hunter's girl, he was +thinking, was even nicer than he had pictured her. And that she could +believe in the nightmare was a vast relief. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE MAN AT WHISPER + +Brit Hunter finished washing the breakfast dishes and put a stick of +wood into the broken old cook-stove that had served him and Frank for +fifteen years and was feeling its age. Lorraine's breakfast was in the +oven, keeping warm. Brit looked in, tested the heat with his gnarled +hand to make sure that the sour-dough biscuits would not be dried to +crusts, and closed the door upon them and the bacon and fried potatoes. +Frank Johnson had the horses saddled and it was time to go, yet Brit +lingered, uneasily conscious that his habitation was lacking in many +things which a beautiful young woman might consider absolute +necessities. He had seen in Lorraine's eyes, as they glanced here and +there about the grimy walls, a certain disparagement of her +surroundings. The look had made him wince, though he could not quite +decide what it was that displeased her. Maybe she wanted lace +curtains, or something. + +He set the four chairs in a row against the wall, swept up the bits of +bark and ashes beside the stove, made sure that the water bucket was +standing full on its bench beside the door, sent another critical +glance around the room, and tip-toed over to the dish cupboard and let +down the flowered calico curtain that had been looped up over a nail +for convenience. The sun sent a bright, wide bar of yellow light +across the room to rest on the shelf behind the stove where stood the +salt can, the soda, the teapot, a box of matches and two pepper cans, +one empty and the other full. Brit always meant to throw out that +empty pepper can and always neglected to do so. Just now he remembered +picking up the empty one and shaking it over the potatoes futilely and +then changing it for the full one. But he did not take it away; in the +wilderness one learns to save useless things in the faint hope that +some day they may become useful. The shelves were cluttered with fit +companions to that empty pepper can. Brit thought that he would have +"cleaned out" had he known that Lorraine was coming. Since she was +here, it scarcely seemed worth while. + +He walked on his boot-toes to the door of the second room of the cabin, +listened there for a minute, heard no sound and took a tablet and +pencil off another shelf littered with useless things. The note which +he wrote painstakingly, lest she might think him lacking in education, +he laid upon the table beside Lorraine's plate; then went out, closing +the door behind him as quietly as a squeaking door can be made to close. + +Lorraine, in the other room, heard the squeak and sat up. Her wrist +watch, on the chair beside her bed, said that it was fifteen minutes +past six, which she considered an unearthly hour for rising. She +pulled up the covers and tried to sleep again. The day would be long +enough, at best. There was nothing to do, unless she took that queer +old horse with withers like the breastbone of a lean Christmas turkey +and hips that reminded her of the little roofs over dormer windows, and +went for a ride. And if she did that, there was nowhere to go and +nothing to do when she arrived there. + +In a very few days Lorraine had exhausted the sights of Quirt Creek and +vicinity. If she rode south she would eventually come to the top of a +hill whence she could look down upon further stretches of barrenness. +If she rode east she would come eventually to the road along which she +had walked from Echo, Idaho. Lorraine had had enough of that road. If +she went north she would--well, she would not meet Mr Lone Morgan +again, for she had tried it twice, and had turned back because there +seemed no end to the trail twisting through the sage and rocks. West +she had not gone, but she had no doubt that it would be the same dreary +monotony of dull gray landscape. + +Monotony of landscape was one thing which Lorraine could not endure, +unless it had a foreground of riders hurtling here and there, and of +perspiring men around a camera tripod. At the Sawtooth ranch, after +she was able to be up, she had seen cowboys, but they had lacked the +dash and the picturesque costuming of the West she knew. They were +mostly commonplace young men, jogging past the house on horseback, or +loitering down by the corrals. They had offered absolutely no interest +or "colour" to the place, and the owner's son, Bob Warfield, had driven +her over to the Quirt in a Ford and had seemed exactly like any other +big, good-looking young man who thought well of himself. Lorraine was +not susceptible to mere good looks, three years with the "movies" +having disillusioned her quite thoroughly. Too many young men of Bob +Warfield's general type had attempted to make love to her--lightly and +not too well--for Lorraine to be greatly impressed. + +She yawned, looked at her watch again, found that she had spent exactly +six minutes in meditating upon her immediate surroundings, and fell to +wondering why it was that the real West was so terribly commonplace. +Why, yesterday she had been brought to such a pass of sheer loneliness +that she had actually been driven to reading an old horse-doctor book! +She had learned the symptoms of epizoötic--whatever that was--and +poll-evil and stringhalt, and had gone from that to making a shopping +tour through a Montgomery-Ward catalogue. There was nothing else in +the house to read, except a half-dozen old copies of the _Boise News_. + +There was nothing to do, nothing lo see, no one to talk to. Her dad +and the big, heavy-set man whom he called Frank, seemed uncomfortably +aware of their deficiencies and were pitiably anxious to make her feel +welcome--and failed. They called her "Raine." The other two men did +not call her anything at all. They were both sandy-complexioned and +they both chewed tobacco quite noticeably, and when they sat down in +their shirt sleeves to eat, Lorraine had seen irregular humps in their +hip pockets which must be six-guns; though why they should carry them +in their pockets instead of in holster belts buckled properly around +their bodies and sagging savagely down at one side and swinging +ferociously when they walked, Lorraine could not imagine. They did not +wear chaps, either, and their spurs were just spurs, without so much as +a silver concho anywhere. Cowboys in overalls and blue gingham shirts +and faded old coats whose lapels lay in wrinkles and whose pockets were +torn down at the corners! If Lorraine had not been positive that this +was actually a cattle ranch in Idaho, she never would have believed +that they were anything but day labourers. + +"It's a comedy part for the cattle-queen's daughter," she admitted, +putting out a hand to stroke the lean, gray cat that jumped upon her +bed from the open window. "Ket, it's a _scream_! I'll take my West +before the camera, thank you; or I would, if I hadn't jumped right into +the middle of this trick West before I knew what I was doing. Ket, +what do you do to pass away the time? I don't see how you can have the +nerve to live in an empty space like this and purr!" + +She got up then, looked into the kitchen and saw the paper on the +table. This was new and vaguely promised some sort of break in the +deadly monotony which she saw stretching endlessly before her. +Carrying the nameless cat in her arms, Lorraine went in her bare feet +across the grimy, bare floor to the table and picked up the note. It +read simply: + + +"Your brekfast is in the oven we wont be back till dark maby. Dont +leave the ranch today. Yr loveing father." + + +Lorraine hugged the cat so violently that she choked off a purr in the +middle. "'Don't leave the ranch to-day!' Ket, I believe it's going to +be dangerous or something, after all." + +She dressed quickly and went outside into the sunlight, the cat at her +heels, the thrill of that one command filling the gray monotone of the +hills with wonderful possibilities of adventure. Her father had made +no objection before when she went for a ride. He had merely instructed +her to keep to the trails, and if she didn't know the way home, to let +the reins lie loose on Yellowjacket's neck and he would bring her to +the gate. + +Yellowjacket's instinct for direction had not been working that day, +however. Lorraine had no sooner left the ranch out of sight behind her +than she pretended that she was lost. Yellowjacket had thereupon +walked a few rods farther and stopped, patiently indifferent to the +location of his oats box. Lorraine had waited until his head began to +droop lower and lower, and his switching at flies had become purely +automatic. Yellowjacket was going to sleep without making any effort +to find the way home. But since Lorraine had not told her father +anything about it, his injunction could not have anything to do with +the unreliability of the horse. + +"Now," she said to the cat, "if three or four bandits would appear on +the ridge, over there, and come tearing down into the immediate +foreground, jump the gate and surround the house, I'd know this was the +real thing. They'd want to make me tell where dad kept his gold or +whatever it was they wanted, and they'd have me tied to a chair--and +then, cut to Lone Morgan (that's a perfectly _wonderful_ name for the +lead!) hearing shots and coming on a dead run to the rescue." She +picked up the cat and walked slowly down the hard-trodden path to the +stable. "But there aren't any bandits, and dad hasn't any gold or +anything else worth stealing--Ket, if dad isn't a miser, he's _poor_! +And Lone Morgan is merely ashamed of the way I talked to him, and +afraid I'll queer myself with the neighbours. No Western lead that _I_ +ever saw would act like that. Why, he didn't even want to ride home +with me, that day. + +"And Bob Warfield and his Ford are incidents of the past, and not one +soul at the Sawtooth seems to give a darn whether I'm in the country or +out of it. Soon as they found out where I belonged, they brought me +over here and dropped me and forgot all about me. And that, I suppose, +is what they call in fiction the Western spirit! + +"Dad looked exactly as if he'd opened the door to a book agent when I +came. He--he _tolerates_ my presence, Ket! And Frank Johnson's pipe +smells to high heaven, and I hate him in the house and 'the +boys'--hmhm! The _boys_--Ket, it would be terribly funny, if I didn't +have to stay here." + +She had reached the corral and stood balancing the cat on a warped top +rail, staring disconsolately at Yellowjacket, who stood in a far corner +switching at flies and shamelessly displaying all the angularity of his +bones under a yellowish hide with roughened hair that was shedding +dreadfully, as Lorraine had discovered to her dismay when she removed +her green corduroy skirt after riding him. Yellowjacket's lower lip +sagged with senility or lack of spirit, Lorraine could not tell which. + +"You look like the frontispiece in that horse-doctor book," she +remarked, eyeing him with disfavour. "I can't say that comedy hide +you've got improves your appearance. You'd be better peeled, I +believe." + +She heard a chuckle behind her and turned quickly, palm up to shield +her eyes from the straight, bright rays of the sun. Now here was a +live man, after all, with his hat tilted down over his forehead, a +cigarette in one hand and his reins in the other, looking at her and +smiling. + +"Why don't you peel him, just on a chance?" His smile broadened to a +grin, but when Lorraine continued to look at him with a neutral +expression in her eyes, he threw away his cigarette and abandoned with +it his free-and-easy manner. + +"You're Miss Hunter, aren't you? I rode over to see your father. +Thought I'd find him somewhere around the corral, maybe." + +"You won't, because he's gone for the day. No, I don't know where." + +"I--see. Is Mr Johnson anywhere about?" + +"No, I don't believe anyone is anywhere about. They were all gone when +I got up, a little while ago." Then, remembering that she did not know +this man, and that she was a long way from neighbours, she added, "If +you'll leave a message I can tell dad when he comes home." + +"No-o--I'll ride over to-morrow or next day. I'm the man at Whisper. +You can tell him I called, and that I'll call again." + +Still he did not go, and Lorraine waited. Some instinct warned her +that the man had not yet stated his real reason for coming, and she +wondered a little what it could be. He seemed to be watching her +covertly, yet she failed to catch any telltale admiration for her in +his scrutiny. She decided that his forehead was too narrow to please +her, and that his eyes were too close together, and that the lines +around his mouth were cruel lines and gave the lie to his smile, which +was pleasant enough if you just looked at the smile and paid no +attention to anything else in his face. + +"You had quite an experience getting out here, they tell me," he +observed carelessly; too carelessly, thought Lorraine, who was well +schooled in the circumlocutions of delinquent tenants, agents of +various sorts and those who crave small gossip of their neighbours. +"Heard you were lost up in Rock City all night." + +Lorraine looked up at him, startled. "I caught a terrible cold," she +said, laughing nervously. "I'm not used to the climate," she added +guardedly. + +The man fumbled in his pocket and produced smoking material. "Do you +mind if I smoke?" he asked perfunctorily. + +"Why, no. It doesn't concern me in the slightest degree." Why, she +thought confusedly, must she always be reminded of that horrible place +of rocks? What was it to this man where she had been lost? + +"You must of got there about the time the storm broke," the man +hazarded after a silence. "It's sure a bad place in a thunderstorm. +Them rocks draw lightning. Pretty bad, wasn't it?" + +"Lightning is always bad, isn't it?" Lorraine tried to hold her voice +steady. "I don't know much about it. We don't have thunderstorms to +amount to anything, in Los Angeles. It sometimes does thunder there in +the winter, but it is very mild." + +With hands that trembled she picked the cat off the rail and started +toward the house. "I'll tell dad what you said," she told him, +glancing back over her shoulder. When she saw that he had turned his +horse and was frankly following her to the house, her heart jumped +wildly into her throat--judging by the feel of it. + +"I'm plumb out of matches. I wonder if you can let me have some," he +said, still speaking too carelessly to reassure her. "So you stuck it +out in Rock City all through that storm! That's more than what I'd +want to do." + +She did not answer that, but once on the door-step Lorraine turned and +faced him. Quite suddenly it came to her--the knowledge of why she did +not like this man. She stared at him, her eyes wide and bright. + +"Your hat's brown!" she exclaimed unguardedly. "I--I saw a man with a +brown hat----" + +He laughed suddenly. "If you stay around here long you'll see a good +many," he said, taking off his hat and turning it on his hand before +her. "This here hat I traded for yesterday. I had a gray one, but it +didn't suit me. Too narrow in the brim. Brown hats are getting to be +the style. If I can borrow half a dozen matches, Miss Hunter, I'll be +going." + +Lorraine looked at him again doubtfully and went after the matches. He +thanked her, smiling down at her quizzically. "A man can get along +without lots of things, but he's plumb lost without matches. You've +maybe saved my life, Miss Hunter, if you only knew it." + +She watched him as he rode away, opening the gate and letting himself +through without dismounting. He disappeared finally around a small +spur of the hill, and Lorraine found her knees trembling under her. + +"Ket, you're an awful fool," she exclaimed fiercely. "Why did you let +me give myself away to that man? I--I believe he _was_ the man. And +if I really did see him, it wasn't my imagination at all. He saw me +there, perhaps. Ket, I'm scared! I'm not going to stay on this ranch +all alone. I'm going to saddle the family skeleton, and I'm going to +ride till dark. There's something queer about that man from Whisper. +I'm afraid of him." + +After awhile, when she had finished her breakfast and was putting up a +lunch, Lorraine picked up the nameless gray cat and holding its head +between her slim fingers, looked at it steadily. "Ket, you're the +humanest thing I've seen since I left home," she said wistfully. "I +_hate_ a country where horrible things happen under the surface and the +top is just gray and quiet and so dull it makes you want to scream. +Lone Morgan lied to me. He lied--he lied!" She hugged the cat +impulsively and rubbed her cheek absently against it, so that it began +purring immediately. + +"Ket--I'm afraid of that man at Whisper!" she breathed miserably +against its fur. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +"IT TAKES NERVE JUST TO HANG ON" + +Brit was smoking his pipe after supper and staring at nothing, though +his face was turned toward the closed door. Lorraine had washed the +dishes and was tidying the room and looking at her father now and then +in a troubled, questioning way of which Brit was quite oblivious. + +"Dad," she said abruptly, "who is the man at Whisper?" + +Brit turned his eyes slowly to her face as if he had not grasped her +meaning and was waiting for her to repeat the question. It was evident +that his thoughts had pulled away from something that meant a good deal +to him. + +"Why?" + +"A man came this morning, and said he was the man at Whisper, and that +he would come again to see you." + +Brit took his pipe from his mouth, looked at it and crowded down the +tobacco with a forefinger. "He seen me ride away from the ranch, this +morning," he said. "He was coming down the Whisper trail as I was +taking the fork over to Sugar Spring, Frank and me. What did he say he +wanted to see me about?" + +"He didn't say. He asked for you and Frank." Lorraine sat down and +folded her arms on the oilcloth-covered table. "Dad, what _is_ +Whisper?" + +"Whisper's a camp up against a cliff, over west of here. It belongs to +the Sawtooth. Is that all he said? Just that he wanted to see me?" + +"He--talked a little," Lorraine admitted, her eyebrows pulled down. +"If he saw you leave, I shouldn't think he'd come here and ask for you." + +"He knowed I was gone," Brit stated briefly. + +With a finger nail Lorraine traced the ugly, brown pattern on the +oilcloth. It was not easy to talk to this silent man who was her +father, but she had done a great deal of thinking during that long, +empty day, and she had reached the point where she was afraid not to +speak. + +"Dad!" + +"What do you want, Raine?" + +"Dad, was--has any one around here died, lately?" + +"Died? Nobody but Fred Thurman, over here on Granite. He was drug +with a horse and killed." + +Lorraine caught her breath, saw Brit looking at her curiously and moved +closer to him. She wanted to be near somebody just then, and after +all, Brit was her father, and his silence was not the inertia of a dull +mind, she knew. He seemed bottled-up, somehow, and bitter. She caught +his hand and held it, feeling its roughness between her two soft palms. + +"Dad, I've got to tell you. I feel trapped, somehow. Did his horse +have a white face, dad?" + +"Yes, he's a blaze-faced roan. Why?" Brit moved uncomfortably, but he +did not take his hand away from her. "What do you know about it, +Raine?" + +"I saw a man shoot Fred Thurman and push his foot through the stirrup. +And, dad, I believe it was that man at Whisper. The one I saw had on a +brown hat, and this man wears a brown hat--and I was advised not to +tell any one I had been at that place they call Rock City, when the +storm came. Dad, would an innocent man--one that didn't have anything +to do with a crime--would he try to cover it up afterwards?" + +Brit's hand shook when he removed the pipe from his mouth and laid it +on the table. His face had turned gray while Lorraine watched him +fearfully. He laid his hand on her shoulder, pressing down hard--and +at last his eyes met her big, searching ones. + +"If he wanted to live--in this country--he'd have to. Leastways, he'd +have to keep his mouth shut," he said grimly. + +"And he'd try to shut the mouths of others----" + +"If he cared anything about them, he would. You ain't told anybody +what you saw, have yuh?" + +Lorraine hid her face against his arm. "Just Lone Morgan, and he +thought I was crazy and imagined it. That was in the morning, when he +found me. And he--he wanted me to go on thinking it was just a +nightmare--that I'd imagined the whole thing. And I did, for awhile. +But this man at Whisper tried to find out where I was that night----" + +Brit pulled abruptly away from her, got up and opened the door. He +stood there for a time, looking out into the gloom of early nightfall. +He seemed to be listening, Lorraine thought. When he came back to her +his voice was lower, his manner intangibly furtive. + +"You didn't tell him anything, did you?" he asked, as if there had been +no pause in their talk. + +"No--I made him believe I wasn't there. Or I tried to. And dad! As I +was going to cross that creek just before you come to Rock City, two +men came along on horseback, and I hid before they saw me. They +stopped to water their horses, and they were talking. They said +something about the TJ had been here a long time, but they would get +theirs, and it was like sitting into a poker game with a nickel. They +said the little ones aren't big enough to fight the Sawtooth, and +they'd carry lead under their hides if they didn't leave. Dad, isn't +your brand the TJ? That's what it looks like on Yellowjacket." + +Brit did not answer, and when Lorraine was sure that he did not mean to +do so, she asked another question. "Dad, why didn't you want me to +leave the ranch to-day? I was nervous after that man was here, and I +did go." + +"I didn't want you riding around the country unless I knew where you +went," Brit said. "My brand is the TJ up-and-down. We never call it +just the TJ." + +"Oh," said Lorraine, relieved. "They weren't talking about you, then. +But dad--it's horrible! We simply _can't_ let that murder go and not +do anything. Because I know that man was shot. I heard the shot +fired, and I saw him start to fall off his horse. And the next flash +of lightning I saw----" + +"Look here, Raine. I don't want you talking about what you saw. I +don't want you _thinkin'_ about it. What's the use? Thurman's dead +and buried. The cor'ner come and held an inquest, and the jury agreed +it was an accident. I was on the jury. The sheriff's took charge of +his property. You couldn't prove what you saw, even if you was to +try." He looked at her very much as Lone Morgan had looked at her. +His next words were very nearly what Lone Morgan had said, Lorraine +remembered. "You don't know this country like I know it. Folks live +in it mainly because they don't go around blatting everything they see +and hear and think." + +"You have laws, don't you, dad? You spoke about the sheriff----" + +"The sheriff!" Brit laughed harshly. "Yes, we got a sheriff, and we +got a jail, and a judge--all the makin's of law. But we ain't got one +thing that goes with it, and that's justice. You'd best make up your +mind like the cor'ner's jury done, that Fred Thurman was drug to death +by his horse. That's all that'll ever be proved, and if you can't +prove nothing else you better keep your mouth shut." + +Lorraine sprang up and stood facing her father, every nerve taut with +protest. "You don't mean to tell me, dad, that you and Frank Johnson +and Lone Morgan and--everybody in the country are _cowards_, do you?" + +Brit looked at her patiently. "No," he said in the tone of +acknowledged defeat, "we ain't cowards, Raine. A man ain't a coward +when he stands with his hands over his head. Most generally it's +because some one's got the drop on 'im." + +Lorraine would not accept that. "You think so, because you don't +fight," she cried hotly. "No one is holding a gun at your head. Dad! +I thought Westerners never quit. It's fight to the finish, always. +Why, I've seen one man fight a whole outfit and win. He couldn't be +beaten because he wouldn't give up. Why----" + +Brit gave her a tolerant glance. "Where'd you see all that, Raine?" +He moved to the table, picked up his pipe and knocked out the ashes on +the stove hearth. His movements were those of an aging man--yet Brit +Hunter was not old, as age is reckoned. + +"Well--in stories--but it was reasonable and logical and possible, just +the same. If you use your brains you can outwit them, and if you have +any nerve----" + +Brit made a sound somewhat like a snort. "These days, when politics is +played by the big fellows, and the law is used to make money for 'em, +it takes nerve just to hang on," he said. "Nobody but a dang fool +would fight." Slow anger grew within him. He turned upon Lorraine +almost fiercely. "D'yuh think me and Frank could fight the Sawtooth +and get anything out of it but a coffin apiece, maybe?" he demanded +harshly. "Don't the Sawtooth _own_ this country? Warfield's got the +sheriff in his pocket, and the cor'ner, and the judge, and the stock +inspector--he's _Senator_ Warfield, and what he wants he gets. He gets +through the law that you was talking about a little while ago. What +you goin' to do about it? If I had the money and the land and the +political pull he's got, mebby I'd have me sheriff and a judge, too. + +"Fred Thurman tried to fight the Sawtooth over a water right he owned +and they wanted. They had the case runnin' in court till they like to +of took the last dollar he had. He got bull-headed. That water right +meant the hull ranch--everything he owned. You can't run a ranch +without water. And when he'd took the case up and up till it got to +the Supreme Court, and he stood some show of winnin' out--he had an +accident. He was drug to death by his horse." + +Brit stooped and opened the stove door, seeking a live coal; found none +and turned again to Lorraine, shaking his pipe at her for emphasis. + +"We try to prove Fred was murdered, and what's the result? Something +happens: to me, mebby, or Frank, or both of us. And you can't say, +'Here, I know the Sawtooth had a hand in that.' You got to _prove_ it! +And when you've proved it," he added bitterly, "you got to have +officers that'll carry out the law instead of using it to hog-tie yuh." + +His futile, dull anger surged up again. "You call us cowards because +we don't git up on our hind legs and fight the Sawtooth. A lot you +know about courage! You've read stories, and you've saw moving +pictures, and you think that's the West--that's the way they do it. +One man hold off a hunderd with his gun--and on the other hand, a +hunderd men, mebby, ridin' hell-whoopin' after one. You think that's +it--that's the way they do it. Hunh!" He lifted the lid of the stove, +spat into it as if he were spitting in the face of an enemy, and turned +again to Lorraine. + +"What you seen--what you say you seen--that was done at night when +there wasn't no audience. All the fighting the Sawtooth does is done +under cover. _You_ won't see none of it--they ain't such fools. And +what us small fellers do, we do it quiet, too. We ain't ridin' up and +down the trail, flourishin' our six-shooters and yellin' to the +Sawtooth to come on and we'll clean 'em up!" + +"But you're fighting just the same, aren't you, dad? You're not +letting them----" + +"We're makin' out to live here--and we've been doin' it for twenty-five +year," Brit told her, with a certain grim dignity. "We've still got a +few head uh stock left--enough to live on. Playin' poker with a +nickel, mebby--but we manage to ante, every hand so fur." His mind +returned to the grisly thing Lorraine had seen. + +"We can't run down the man that got Fred Thurman, supposin' he was +killed, as you say. That's what the law is paid to do. If Lone Morgan +told you not to talk about it, he told you right. He was talking for +your own good. What about Al--the man from Whisper? You didn't tell +_him_, did you?" + +His tone, the suppressed violence of his manner, frightened Lorraine. +She moved farther away from him. + +"I didn't tell him anything. He was curious but--I only said I knew +him because he was wearing a brown hat, and the man that shot Mr +Thurman had a brown hat. I didn't say all that. I just mentioned the +hat. And he said there were lots of brown hats in the country. He +said he had traded for that one, just yesterday. He said his own hat +was gray." + +Brit stared at her, his jaw sagging a little, his eyes growing vacant +with the thoughts he hid deep in his mind. He slumped down into his +chair and leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees, his fingers +clasped loosely. After a little he tilted his head and looked up at +her. + +"You better go to bed," he told Her stolidly. "And if you're going to +live at the Quirt, Raine, you'll have to learn to keep your mouth shut. +I ain't blaming you--but you told too much to Al Woodruff. Don't talk +to him no more, if he comes here when I'm gone." He put out a hand, +beckoning her to him, sorry for his harshness. Lorraine went to him +and knelt beside him, slipping an arm around his neck while she hid her +face on his shoulder. + +"I won't be a nuisance, dad--really, I won't," she said. "I--I can +shoot a gun. I never shot one with bullets in, but I could. And I +learned to do lots of things when I was working in that play West I +thought was real. It isn't like I thought. There's no picture stuff +in the real West, I guess; they don't do things that way. But--what I +want you to know is that if they're fighting you they'll have to fight +me, too. + +"I don't mean movie stuff, honestly I don't. I'm in this thing now, +and you'll have to count me, same as you count Jim and Sorry. Won't +you please feel that I'm one more in the game, dad, and not just +another responsibility? I'll herd cattle, or do whatever there is to +do. And I'll keep my mouth shut, too. I can't stay here, day after +day, doing nothing but sweep and dust two rooms and fry potatoes and +bacon for you at night. Dad, I'll go _crazy_ if you don't let me into +your life! + +"Dad, if you knew the stunts I've done in the last three years! It was +make-believe West, but I learned things just the same." She kissed him +on the unshaven cheek nearest her--and thought of the kisses she had +breathed upon the cheeks of story fathers with due care for the make-up +on her lips. Just because this was real, she kissed him again with the +frank vigour of a child. + +"Dad," she said wheedlingly, "I think you might scare up something that +I can really ride. Yellowjacket is safe, but--but you have real live +horses on the ranch, haven't you? You must not go judging me by the +palms and the bay windows of the Casa Grande. That's where I've slept, +the last few years when I wasn't off on location--but it's just as +sensible to think I don't know anything else, as it would be for me to +think you can't do anything but skim milk and fry bacon and make +sour-dough bread, just because I've seen you do it!" + +Brit laughed and patted her awkwardly on the back. "If you was a boy, +I'd set you up as a lawyer," he said with an attempt at playfulness. +"I kinda thought you could ride. I seen how you piled onto old +Yellowjacket and the way you held your reins. It runs in the blood, I +guess. I'll see what I can do in the way of a horse. Ole Yellowjacket +used to be a real rim-rider, but he's gitting old; gitting old--same as +me." + +"You're not! You're just letting yourself _feel_ old. And am I one of +the outfit, dad?" + +"I guess so--only there ain't going to be any of this hell-whoopin' +stuff, Raine. You can't travel these trails at a long lope with yore +hair flyin' out behind and--and all that damn foolishness. I've saw +'em in the movin' pitchers----" + +Lorraine blushed, and was thankful that her dad had not watched her +work in that serial. For that matter, she hoped that Lone Morgan would +never stray into a movie where any of her pictures were being shown. + +"I'm serious, dad. I don't want to make a show of myself. But if +you'll feel that I can be a help instead of a handicap, that's what I +want. And if it comes to fighting----" + +Brit pushed her from him impatiently. "There yuh go--fight--fight--and +I told yuh there ain't any fighting going on. Nothing more'n a fight +to hang on and make a living. That means straight, hard work and +mindin' your own business. If you want to help at that----" + +"I do," said Raine quietly, getting to her feet. Her legacy of +stubbornness set her lips firmly together. "That's exactly what I +mean. Good night, dad." + +Brit answered her non-committally, apparently sunk already in his own +musings. But his lips drew in to suppress a smile when he saw, from +the corner of his eyes, that Lorraine was winding the alarm on the +cheap kitchen clock, and that she set the hand carefully and took the +clock with her to bed. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE EVIL EYE OF THE SAWTOOTH + +Oppression is a growth that flourishes best in the soil of opportunity. +It seldom springs into full power at once. The Sawtooth Cattle Company +had begun much as its neighbours had begun: with a tract of land, +cattle, and the ambition for prospering. Senator Warfield had then +been plain Bill Warfield, manager of the outfit, who rode with his men +and saw how his herds increased,--saw too how they might increase +faster under certain conditions. At the outset he was not perhaps, +more unscrupulous than some of his neighbours. True, if a homesteader +left his claim for a longer time than the law allowed him, Bill +Warfield would choose one of his own men to file a contest on that +claim. The man's wages would be paid. Witnesses were never lacking to +swear to the improvements he had made, and after the patent had been +granted the homesteader (for the contestant always won in that country) +the Sawtooth would pay him for the land. Frequently a Sawtooth man +would file upon land before any other man had claimed it. Sometimes a +Sawtooth man would purchase a relinquishment from some poor devil of a +claim-holder who seemed always to have bad luck, and so became +discouraged and ready to sell. An intelligent man like Bill Warfield +could acquire much land in this manner, give him time enough. + +In much the same manner his herds increased. He bought out small +ranchers who were crowded to the selling point in one way or another. +They would find themselves fenced off from water, the Sawtooth having +acquired the water rights to creek or spring. Or they would be hemmed +in with fenced fields and would find it next to impossible to make use +of the law which gave them the right to "condemn" a road through. They +would not be openly assailed,--Bill Warfield was an intelligent man. A +dozen brands were recorded in the name of the Sawtooth Cattle Company, +and if a small rancher found his calf crop shorter than it should be, +he might think as he pleased, but he would have no tangible proof that +his calves wore a Sawtooth brand. + +Inevitably it became necessary now and then to stop a mouth that was +ready to speak unwelcome truths. But if a Sawtooth man were known to +have committed violence, the Sawtooth itself was the first to put the +sheriff on his trail. If the man successfully dodged the sheriff and +made his way to parts unknown, the Sawtooth could shrug its shoulders +and wash its hands of him. + +Then whispers were heard that the Sawtooth had on its pay roll men who +were paid to kill and to leave no trace. So many heedless ones crossed +the Sawtooth's path to riches! Fred Thurman had been one; a +"bull-headed cuss" who had the temerity to fight back when the Sawtooth +calmly laid claim to the first water rights to Granite Creek, having +bought it, they said, with the placer claim of an old miner who had +prospected along the headwaters of Granite at the base of Bear Top. + +By that time the Sawtooth had grown to a power no poor man could hope +to defeat. Bill Warfield was Senator Warfield, and Senator Warfield +was a power in the political world that immediately surrounded him. +Since his neighbouring ranchmen had not been able to prevent his steady +climbing to the position he now held, they had small hope of pulling +him down. Brit was right. They did well to hang on and continue +living in that country. + +At open killing, one that would attract the attention of the outside +world might be avenged. The man who committed the crime might be +punished,--if public opinion were sufficiently massed against him. In +that case Senator Warfield would cry loudest for justice. But it would +take a stronger man than the country held to raise the question of Fred +Thurman's death and take even the first steps toward proving it a +murder. + +"It ain't that they can do anything, Mr Warfield," the man from Whisper +said guardedly, urging his horse close to the machine that stood in the +trail from Echo. It was broad day--a sun-scorched day to boot--and +Senator Warfield perspired behind the wheel of his car. "It's the talk +they may get started." + +"What have they said? The girl was at the ranch for several days. She +didn't talk there, or Hawkins would have told me." + +"She was sick. I saw her the other day at the Quirt, and she more'n +half recognised me. Hell! How'd _I_ know she was in there among them +rocks? Everybody that was apt to be riding through was accounted for, +and I knew there wasn't any one coming horseback or with a rig. My +hearing's pretty good." + +Warfield moved the spark lever up and down on the wheel while he +thought. "Well," he said carefully at last, "if you're falling down in +your work, what are you whining about it to me for? What do you want?" + +Al moistened his lips with his tongue. "I want to know how far I can +go. It's been hands off the Quirt, up to now. And the Quirt's +beginning to think it can get away with most anything. They've throwed +a fence across the pass through from Sugar Spring to Whisper. That +sends us away around by Three Creek. You can't trail stock across +Granite Ridge, nor them lava ledges. If it's going to be hands off, I +want to know it. There's other places I'd rather live in, if the +Quirt's going to raise talk about Fred Thurman." + +Senator Warfield pulled at his collar and tie as if they choked him. +"The Quirt has made no trouble," he said. "Of course, if they begin +throwing fences across our stock trails and peddling gossip, that is +another story. I expect you to protect our interests, of course. And +I have never made a practice of dictating to you. In this case"--he +sent a sharp glance at Al--"it seems to me your interests are involved +more than ours. As to Fred Thurman, I don't know anything about it. I +was not here when he died, and I have never seen this girl of Brit's +who seems to worry you. She doesn't interest me, one way or the other." + +"She seems to interest Bob a whole lot," Al said maliciously. "He rode +over to see her yesterday. She wasn't home, though." + +Senator Warfield seemed unmoved by this bit of news, wherefore Al +returned to the main issue. + +"Do I get a free hand, or don't I?" he insisted. "They can't be let +peddle talk--not if I stay around here." + +Senator Warfield considered the matter. + +"The girl's got the only line on me," Al went on. "The inquest was as +clean as I ever saw. Everything all straight--and then, here she comes +up----" + +"If you know how to stop a woman's mouth, Al, you can make a million a +month telling other men." Senator Warfield smiled at him. Then he +leaned across the front seat and added impressively, "Bear one thing in +mind, Al. The Sawtooth cannot permit itself to become involved in any +scandal, nor in any killing cases. We're just at the most crucial +point with our reclamation project, over here on the flat. The +legislature is willing to make an appropriation for the building of the +canal, and in two or three months at the latest we should begin selling +agricultural tracts to the public. The State will also throw open the +land it had withdrawn from settlement, pending the floating of this +canal project. More than ever the integrity of the Sawtooth Cattle +Company must be preserved, since it has come out openly as a backer of +the irrigation company. Nothing--_nothing_ must be permitted to stand +in the way." + +He removed his thin driving cap and wiped his perspiring forehead. +"I'm sorry this all happened--as it has turned out," he said, with real +regret in his tone. "But since it did happen, I must rely upon you +to--to--er----" + +"I guess I understand," Al grinned sardonically. "I just wanted you to +know how things is building up. The Quirt's kinda overreached itself. +I didn't want you comin' back on me for trying to keep their feet outa +the trough. I want you to know things is pretty damn ticklish right +now, and it's going to take careful steppin'." + +"Well, don't let your foot slip, Al," Senator Warfield warned him. +"The Sawtooth would hate to lose you; you're a good man." + +"Oh, I get yuh," Al retorted. "My foot ain't going to slip---- If it +did, the Sawtooth would be the first to pile onto my back!" The last +sentence was not meant for the senator's ears. Al had backed his +horse, and Senator Warfield was stepping on the starter. But it would +not have mattered greatly if he had heard, for this was a point quite +thoroughly understood by them both. + +The Warfield car went on, lurching over the inequalities of the narrow +road. Al shook his horse into a shambling trot, picking his way +carelessly through the scattered sage. + +His horse travelled easily, now and then lifting a foot high to avoid +rock or exposed root, or swerving sharply around obstacles too high to +step over. Al very seldom travelled along the beaten trails, though +there was nothing to deter him now save an inherent tendency toward +secretiveness of his motives, destinations and whereabouts. If the +country was open, you would see Al Woodruff riding at some distance +from the trail--or you would not see him at all, if there were gullies +in which he could conceal himself. He was always "line-riding," or +hunting stray stock--horses, usually--or striking across to some +line-camp of the Sawtooth on business which he was perfectly willing to +state. + +But you will long ago have guessed that he was the evil eye of the +Sawtooth Company. He took no orders save such general ones as Senator +Warfield had just given him. He gave none. Whatever he did he did +alone, and he took no man into his confidence. It is more than +probable that Senator Warfield would never have known to a certainty +that Al was responsible for Thurman's death, if Al had not been worried +over the Quirt's possible knowledge of the crime and anxious to know +just how far his power might go. + +Ostensibly he was in charge of the camp at Whisper, a place far enough +off the beaten trails to free him from chance visitors. The Sawtooth +kept many such camps occupied by men whose duty it was to look after +the Sawtooth cattle that grazed near; to see that stock did not "bog +down" in the tricky sand of the adjacent water holes and die before +help came, and to fend off any encroachments of the smaller cattle +owners--though these were growing fewer year by year, thanks to the +weeding-out policy of the Sawtooth and the cunning activities of such +as Al Woodruff. + +It may sound strange to say that the Sawtooth country had not had a +real "killing" for years, though accidental deaths had been rather +frequent. One man, for instance, had fallen over a ledge and broken +his neck, presumably while drunk. Another had bought a few sticks of +dynamite to open up a spring on his ranch, and at the inquest which +followed the jury had returned a verdict of "death caused by being +blown up by the accidental discharge of dynamite." A sheepman was +struck by lightning, according to the coroner, and his widow had been +glad to sell ranch and sheep very cheaply to the Sawtooth and return to +her relatives in Montana. The Sawtooth had shipped the sheep within a +month and turned the ranch into another line-camp. + +You will see that Senator Warfield had every reason to be sincere when +he called Al Woodruff a good man; good for the Sawtooth interests, that +means. You will also see that Brit Hunter had reasons for believing +that the business of ranching in the Sawtooth country might be classed +as extra hazardous, and for saying that it took nerve just to hang on. + +That is why Al rode oblivious to his surroundings, meditating no doubt +upon the best means of preserving the integrity of the Sawtooth and at +the same time soothing effectively the ticklishness of the situation of +which he had complained. It was his business to find the best means. +It was for just such work that the Sawtooth paid him--secretly, to be +sure--better wages than the foreman, Hawkins, received. Al was +conscientious and did his best to earn his wages; not because he +particularly loved killing and spying as a sport, but because the +Sawtooth had bought his loyalty for a price, and so long as he felt +that he was getting a square deal from them, he would turn his hand +against any man that stood in their way. He was a Sawtooth man, and he +fought the enemies of the Sawtooth as matter-of-factly as a soldier +will fight for his country. To his unimaginative mind there was +sufficient justification in that attitude. As for the ease with which +he planned to kill and cover his killing under the semblance of +accident, he would have said, if you could make him speak of it, that +he was not squeamish. They'd all have to die some day, anyway. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +ANOTHER SAWTOOTH "ACCIDENT" + +Frank Johnson rose from the breakfast table, shaved a splinter off the +edge of the water bench for a toothpick and sharpened it carefully +while he looked at Brit. + +"You goin' after them posts, or shall I?" he inquired glumly, which, by +the way, was his normal tone. "Jim and Sorry oughta git the post holes +all dug to-day. One erf us better take a look through that young stock +in the lower field, too, and see if there's any more sign uh blackleg. +Which you ruther do?" + +Brit tilted his chair backward so that he could reach the coffeepot on +the stove hearth. "I'll haul down the posts," he decided carelessly. +"They're easy loaded, and I guess my back's as good as yourn." + +"All you got to do is skid 'em down off'n the bank onto the wagon," +Frank said. "I wisht you'd go on up where we cut them last ones and +git my sweater, Brit. I musta left it hanging on a bush right close to +where I was workin'." + +Brit's grunt signified assent, and Frank went out. Jim and Sorry, the +two unpicturesque cowboys of whom Lorraine had complained to the cat, +had already departed with pick and shovel to their unromantic task of +digging post holes. Each carried a most unattractive lunch tied in a +flour sack behind the cantle of his saddle. Lorraine had done her +conscientious best, but with lumpy, sourdough bread, cold bacon and +currant jelly of that kind which is packed in wooden kegs, one can't do +much with a cold lunch. Lorraine wondered how much worse it would look +after it had been tied on the saddle for half a day; wondered too what +those two silent ones got out of life--what they looked forward to, +what was their final goal. For that matter she frequently wondered +what there was in life for any of them, shut into that deadly monotony +of sagebrush and rocks interspersed with little, grassy meadows where +the cattle fed listlessly. + +Even the sinister undercurrent of antagonism against the Quirt could +not whip her emotions into feeling that she was doing anything more +than live the restricted, sordid little life of a poorly equipped +ranch. She had ridden once with Frank Johnson to look through a bunch +of cattle, but it had been nothing more than a hot, thirsty, dull ride, +with a wind that blew her hat off in spite of pins and tied veil, and +with a companion who spoke only when he was spoken to and then as +briefly as possible. + +Her father would not talk again as he had talked that night. She had +tried to make him tell her more about the Sawtooth and had gotten +nothing out of him. The man from Whisper, whom Brit had spoken of as +Al, had not returned. Nor had the promised saddle horse materialised. +The boys were too busy to run in any horses, her father had told her +shortly when she reminded him of his promise. When the fence was done, +maybe he could rustle her another horse--and then he had added that he +didn't see what ailed Yellowjacket, for all the riding she was likely +to do. + +"Straight hard work and minding your own business," her father had +said, and it seemed to Lorraine after three or four days of it that he +had summed up the life of a cattleman's daughter in a masterly manner +which ought to be recorded among Famous Sayings like "War is hell" and +"Don't give up the ship." + +On this particular morning Lorraine's spirits were at their lowest ebb. +If it were not for the new stepfather, she would return to the Casa +Grande, she told herself disgustedly. And if it were not for the +belief among all her acquaintances that she was queening it over the +cattle-king's vast domain, she would return and find work again in +motion pictures. But she could not bring herself to the point of +facing the curiosity and the petty gossip of the studios. She would be +expected to explain satisfactorily why she had left the real West for +the mimic West of Hollywood. She did not acknowledge to herself that +she also could not face the admission of failure to carry out what she +had begun. + +She had told her dad that she wanted to fight with him, even though +"fighting" in this case meant washing the coarse clothing of her father +and Frank, scrubbing the rough, warped boards of the cabin floor, and +frying ranch-cured bacon for every meal, and in making butter to sell, +and counting the eggs every night and being careful to use only the +cracked ones for cooking. + +She hated every detail of this crude housekeeping, from the chipped +enamel dishpan to the broom that was all one-sided, and the pillow +slips which were nothing more nor less than sugar sacks. She hated it +even more than she had hated the Casa Grande and her mother's frowsy +mentality. But because she could see that she made life a little more +comfortable for her dad, because she felt that he needed her, she would +stay and assure herself over and over that she was staying merely +because she was too proud to go back to the old life and own the West a +failure. + +She was sweeping the doorstep with the one-sided broom when Brit drove +out through the gate and up the trail which she knew led eventually to +Sugar Spring. The horses, sleek in their new hair and skittish with +the change from hay to new grass, danced over the rough ground so that +the running gear of the wagon, with its looped log-chain, which would +later do duty as a brake on the long grade down from timber line on the +side of Spirit Canyon, rattled and banged over the rocks with the +clatter that could be heard for half a mile. Lorraine looked after her +father enviously. If she were a boy she would be riding on that sack +of hay tied to the "hounds" for a seat. But, being a girl, it had +never occurred to Brit that she might like to go--might even be useful +to him on the trip. + +"I suppose if I told dad I could drive that team as well as he can, +he'd just look at me and think I was crazy," she thought resentfully +and gave the broom a spiteful fling toward a presumptuous hen that had +approached too closely. "If I'd asked him to let me go along he'd have +made some excuse--oh, I'm beginning to know dad! He thinks a woman's +place is in the house--preferably the kitchen. And here I've thought +all my life that cowgirls did nothing but ride around and warn people +about stage holdups and everything! I'd just like to know how a girl +would ever have a chance to know what was going on in the country, +unless she heard the men talking while she poured their coffee. Only +this bunch don't talk at all. They just gobble and go." + +She went in then and shut the door with a slam. Up on the ridge Al +Woodruff lowered his small binocular and eased away from the spot where +he had been crouching behind a bush. Every one on the Quirt ranch was +accounted for. As well as if he had sat at their breakfast table Al +knew where each man's work would take him that day. As for the girl, +she was safe at the ranch for the day, probably. If she did take a +ride later on, it would probably be up the ridge between the Quirt and +Thurman's ranch, and sit for an hour or so just looking. That ride was +beginning to be a habit of hers, Al observed, so that he considered her +accounted for also. + +He made his way along the side hill to where his horse was tied to a +bush, mounted and rode away with his mind pretty much at ease. Much +more at ease than it would have been had he read what was in Lorraine's +mind when she slammed that door. + +Up above Sugar Spring was timber. By applying to the nearest Forest +Supervisor a certain amount could be had for ranch improvements upon +paying a small sum for the "stumpage." The Quirt had permission to cut +posts for their new fence which Al Woodruff had reported to his boss. + +As he drove up the trail, which was in places barely passable for a +wagon, Brit was thinking of that fence. The Sawtooth would object to +it, he knew, since it cut off one of their stock trails and sent them +around through rougher country. Just what form their objection would +take, Brit did not know. Deep in his intrepid soul he hoped that the +Sawtooth would at last show its hand openly. He had liked Fred +Thurman, and what Lorraine had told him went much deeper than she knew. +He wanted to bring them into the open where he could fight with some +show of winning. + +"I'll git Bill Warfield yet--and git him right," was the gist of his +musings. "He's bound to show his head, give him time enough. Him and +his killers can't always keep under cover. Let 'em come at me about +that fence! It's on my land--the Quirt's got a right to fence every +foot of land that belong to 'em." + +All the way over the ridge and across the flat and up the steep, narrow +road along the edge of Spirit Canyon, Brit dwelt upon the probable +moves of the Sawtooth. They would wait, he thought, until the fence +was completed and they had made a trail around through the lava rocks. +They would not risk any move at present; they would wait and tacitly +accept the fence, or pretend to accept it, as a natural inconvenience. +But Brit did not deceive himself that they would remain passive. That +it had been "hands off the Quirt" he did not know, but attributed the +Quirt's immunity to careful habits and the fact that they had never +come to the point where their interests actually clashed with the +Sawtooth. + +It never occurred to him therefore that he was slated for an accident +that day if the details could be conveniently arranged. + +It was a long trail to Sugar Spring, and from there up Spirit Canyon +the climb was so tedious and steep that Brit took a full hour for the +trip, resting the team often because they were soft from the new grass +diet and sweated easily. They lost none of their spirit, however, and +when the road was steepest nagged at each other with head-shakings and +bared teeth, and ducked against each other in pretended fright at every +unusual rock or bush. + +At the top he was forced to drive a full half mile beyond the piled +posts to a flat large enough to turn around. All this took time, +especially since Caroline, the brown mare, would rather travel ten +miles straight ahead than go backward ten feet. Brit was obliged to +"take it out of her" with the rein ends and his full repertoire of +opprobrious epithets before he could cramp the wagon and head them down +the trail again. + +At the post pile he unhitched the team for safety's sake and tied them +to trees, where he fed them a little grain in nose bags. He was +absorbed now in his work and thought no more about the Sawtooth. He +fastened the log chain to the rear wheels to brake the wagon on the +long grade down the canyon, loaded the wagon with posts, bound them +fast with a lighter chain he had brought for the purpose, ate his own +lunch and decided that, since he had made fair time and would arrive +home too early to do the chores and too late to start any other job, he +would cruise farther up the mountain side and see what was the prospect +of getting out logs enough for an addition to the cabin. + +Now that Raine was going to live with him, two rooms were not enough. +Brit wanted to make her as happy as he could, in his limited fashion. +He had for some days been planning a "settin' room and bedroom" for +her. She would be having beaux after awhile when she got acquainted, +he supposed. He could not deny her the privilege; she was young and +she was, in Brit's opinion, the best looking girl he had ever seen, not +even excepting Minnie, her mother. But he hoped she wouldn't go off +and get married the first thing she did,--and one good way to prevent +that, he reasoned, was to make her comfortable with him. He had +noticed how pleased she was that their cabin was of logs. She had even +remarked that she could not understand how a rancher would ever want to +build a board shack if there was any timber to be had. Well, timber +was to be had, and she should have her log house, though the hauling +was not going to be any sunshine, in Brit's opinion. With his axe he +walked through the timber, craning upward for straight tree trunks and +lightly blazing the ones he would want, the occasional axe strokes +sounding distinctly in the quiet air. + +Lorraine heard them as she rode old Yellowjacket puffing up the grade, +following the wagon marks, and knew that she was nearing the end of her +journey,--for which Yellowjacket, she supposed, would be thankful. She +had started not more than an hour later than her father, but the team +had trotted along more briskly than her poor old nag would travel, so +that she did not overtake her dad as she had hoped. + +She was topping the last climb when she saw the team tied to the trees, +and at the same moment she caught a glimpse of a man who crawled out +from under the load of posts and climbed the slope farther on. She was +on the point of calling out to him, thinking that he was her dad, when +he disappeared into the brush. At the same moment she heard the stroke +of an axe over to the right of where the man was climbing. + +She was riding past the team when Caroline humped her back and kicked +viciously at Yellowjacket, who plunged straight down off the trail +without waiting to see whether Caroline's aim was exact. He slid into +a juniper thicket and sat down looking very perplexed and very +permanently placed there. Lorraine stepped off on the uphill side of +him, thanked her lucky stars she had not broken a leg, and tried to +reassure Yellowjacket and to persuade him that no real harm had been +done him. Straightway she discovered that Yellowjacket had a mind of +his own and that a pessimistic mind. He refused to scramble back into +the trail, preferring to sit where he was, or since Lorraine made that +too uncomfortable, to stand where he had been sitting. Yellowjacket, I +may explain, owned a Roman nose, a pendulous lower lip and drooping +eyelids. Those who know horses will understand. + +By the time Lorraine had bullied and cajoled him into making a somewhat +circuitous route to the road, where he finally appeared some distance +above the point of his descent, Brit was there, hitching the team to +the wagon. + +"What yuh doing up there?" he wanted to know, looking up with some +astonishment. + +Lorraine furnished him with details and her opinion of both Caroline +and Yellowjacket. "I simply refuse to ride this comedy animal another +mile," she declared with some heat. "I'll drive the team and you can +ride him home, or he can be tied on behind the wagon." + +"He won't lead," Brit objected. "Yeller's all right if you make up +your mind to a few failin's. You go ahead and ride him home. You sure +can't drive this team." + +"I can!" Lorraine contended. "I've driven four horses--I guess I can +drive two, all right." + +"Well, you ain't going to," Brit stated with a flat finality that +abruptly ended the argument. + +Lorraine had never before been really angry with her father. She +struck Yellowjacket with her quirt and sent him sidling past the wagon +and the tricky Caroline, too stubborn to answer her dad when he called +after her that she had better ride behind the load. She went on, +making Yellowjacket trot when he did not want to trot down hill. + +Behind her she heard the chuck-chuck of the loaded wagon. Far ahead +she heard some one whistling a high, sweet melody which had the queer, +minor strains of some old folk song. For just a few bars she heard it, +and then it was stilled, and the road dipping steeply before her seemed +very lonely, its emptiness cooling her brief anger to a depression that +had held her too often in its grip since that terrible night of the +storm. For the first time she looked back at her father lurching along +on the load and at the team looking so funny with the collars pushed up +on their necks with the weight of the load behind. + +With a quick impulse of penitence she waved her hand to Brit, who waved +back at her. Then she went on, feeling a bit less alone in the world. +After all, he was her dad, and his life had been hard. If he failed to +understand her and her mental hunger for real companionship, perhaps +she also failed to understand him. + +They had left the timber line now and had come to the lip of the canyon +itself. Lorraine looked down its steep, rock-roughened sides and +thought how her old director would have raved over its possibilities in +the way of "stunts." Yellowjacket, she noticed, kept circumspectly to +the centre of the trail and eyed the canyon with frank disfavour. + +She did not know at just what moment she became aware of trouble behind +her. It may have been Yellowjacket, turning his head sidewise and +abruptly quickening his pace that warned her. It may have been the +difference in the sound of the wagon and the impact of the horses' +hoofs on the rock trail. She turned and saw that something had gone +wrong. They were coming down upon her at a sharp trot, stepping high, +the wagon tongue thrust up between their heads as they tried to hold +back the load. + +Brit yelled to her then to get out of the way, and his voice was harsh +and insistent. Lorraine looked at the steep bank to the right, knew +instinctively that Yellowjacket would never have time to climb it +before the team was upon them, and urged him to a lope. She glanced +back again, saw that the team was not running away, that they were +trying to hold the wagon, and that it was gaining momentum in spite of +them. + +"Jump, dad!" she called and got no answer. Brit was sitting braced +with his feet far apart, holding and guiding the team. "He won't +jump--he wouldn't jump--any more than I would," she chattered to +herself, sick with fear for him, while she lashed her own horse to keep +out of their way. + +The next she knew, the team was running, their eyeballs staring, their +front feet flung high as they lunged panic-stricken down the trail. +The load was rocking along behind them. Brit was still braced and +clinging to the reins. + +Panic seized Yellowjacket. He, too, went lunging down that trail, his +head thrown from side to side that he might watch the thing that +menaced him, heedless of the fact that danger might lie ahead of him +also. Lorraine knew that he was running senselessly, that he might +leave the trail at any bend and go rolling into the canyon. + +A sense of unreality seized her. It could not be deadly earnest, she +thought. It was so exactly like some movie thrill, planned carefully +in advance, rehearsed perhaps under the critical eye of the director, +and done now with the camera man turning calmly the little crank and +counting the number of film feet the scene would take. A little +farther and she would be out of the scene, and men stationed ahead +would ride up and stop her horse for her and tell her how well she had +"put it over." + +She looked over her shoulder and saw them still coming. It was real. +It was terribly real, the way that team was fleeing down the grade. +She had never seen anything like that before, never seen horses so +frantically trying to run from the swaying load behind them. Always, +she had been accustomed to moderation in the pace and a slowed camera +to speed up the action on the screen. Yellowjacket, too--she had never +ridden at that terrific speed down hill. Twice she lost a stirrup and +grabbed the saddle horn to save herself from going over his head. + +They neared a sharp turn, and it took all her strength to pull her +horse to the inside and save him from plunging off down the canyon's +side. The nose of the hill hid for a moment her dad, and in that +moment she heard a crash and knew what had happened. But she could not +stop; Yellowjacket had his ears laid back flat on his senseless head, +and the bit clamped tight in his teeth. + +She heard the crash repeated in diminuendo farther down in the canyon. +There was no longer the rattle of the wagon coming down the trail, the +sharp staccato of pounding hoofs. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +SWAN TALKS WITH HIS THOUGHTS + +Lorraine, following instinct rather than thought, pulled Yellowjacket +into the first opening that presented itself. This was a narrow, +rather precipitous gully that seamed the slope just beyond the bend. +The bushes there whipped her head and shoulders cruelly as the horse +forged in among them, but they trapped him effectually where the gully +narrowed to a point. He stopped perforce, and Lorraine was out of the +saddle and running down to the trail before she quite realised what she +was doing. + +At the bend she looked down, saw the marks where the wagon had gone +over, scraping rocks and bushes from its path. Fence posts were strewn +at all angles down the incline, and far down a horse was standing with +part of the harness on him and with his head drooping dispiritedly. +Her father she could not see, nor the other horse, nor the wagon. A +clump of young trees hid the lower declivity. Lorraine did not stop to +think of what she would find down there. Sliding, running, she +followed the traces of the wreck to where the horse was standing. It +was Caroline, looking very dejected but apparently unhurt, save for +skinned patches here and there where she had rolled over rocks. + +A little farther, just beyond the point of the grove which they seemed +to have missed altogether, lay the other horse and what was left of the +wagon. Brit she did not see at all. She searched the bushes, looked +under the wagon, and called and called. + +A full-voiced shout answered her from farther up the canyon, and she +ran stumbling toward the sound, too agonised to shed tears or to think +very clearly. It was not her father's voice; she knew that beyond all +doubt. It was no voice that she had ever heard before. It had a clear +resonance that once heard would not have been easily forgotten. When +she saw them finally, her father was being propped up in a half-sitting +position, and the strange man was holding something to his lips. + +"Just a little water. I carry me a bottle of water always in my +pocket," said Swan, glancing up at her when she had reached them. "It +sometimes makes a man's head think better when he has been hurt, if he +can drink a little water or something." + +Brit swallowed and turned his face away from the tilted bottle. "I +jumped--but I didn't jump quick enough," he muttered thickly. "The +chain pulled loose. Where's the horses, Raine?" + +"They're all right. Caroline's standing over there. Are you hurt +much, dad?" It was a futile question, because Brit was already going +off into unconsciousness. + +"He's hurt pretty bad," Swan declared honestly; looking up at her with +his eyes grown serious. "I was across the walley and I saw him coming +down the road like rolling rocks down a hill. I came quick. Now we +make stretcher, I think, and carry him home. I could take him on my +back, but that is hurting him too much." He looked at her--through +her, it seemed to Lorraine. In spite of her fear, in spite of her +grief, she felt that Swan was reading her very soul, and she backed +away from him. + +"I could help your father very much," he said soberly, "but I should +tell you a secret if I do that. I should maybe ask that you tell a lie +if somebody asks questions. Could you do that, Miss?" + +"Lie?" Lorraine laughed uncertainly. "I'd _kill!_--if that would help +dad." + +Swan was folding his coat very carefully and placing it under Brit's +head. "My mother I love like that," he said, without looking up. "My +mother I love so well that I talk with my thoughts to her sometimes. +You believe people can talk with their thoughts?" + +"I don't know--what's that got to do with helping dad?" Lorraine knelt +beside Brit and began stroking his forehead softly, as is the soothing +way of women with their sick. + +"I could send my thought to my mother. I could say to her that a man +is hurt and that a doctor must come very quickly to the Quirt ranch. I +could do that, Miss, but I should not like it if people knew that I did +it. They would maybe say that I am crazy. They would laugh at me, and +it is not right to laugh at those things." + +"I'm not laughing. If you can do it, for heaven's sake go ahead! I +don't believe it, but I won't tell any one, if that's what you want." + +"If some neighbours should ask, 'How did that doctor come so +quick?'----" + +"I'd rather lie and say I sent for him, than say that you or any one +else sent a telepathic message. That would sound more like a lie than +a lie would. How are we going to make a stretcher? We've got to get +him home, somehow----" + +"At my cabin is blankets," Swan told her briskly. "I can climb the +hill--it is up there. In a little while I will come back." + +He started off without waiting to see what Lorraine would have to say +about it, and with some misgivings she watched him run down to the +canyon's bottom and go forging up the opposite side with a most amazing +speed and certainty. In travel pictures she had seen mountain sheep +climb like that, and she likened him now to one of them. It seemed a +shame that he was a bit crazy, she thought; and immediately she +recalled his perfect assurance when he told her of sending thought +messages to his mother. She had heard of such things, she had even +read a little on the subject, but it had never seemed to her a +practical means of communicating. Calling a doctor, for instance, +seemed to Lorraine rather far-fetched an application of what was at +best but a debatable theory. + +Considering the distance, he was back in a surprisingly short time with +two blankets, a couple of light poles and a flask of brandy. He seemed +as fresh and unwinded as if he had gone no farther than the grove, and +he wore, more than ever, his air of cheerful assurance. + +"The doctor will be there," he remarked, just as if it were the +simplest thing in the world. "We can carry him to Fred Thurman's. +There I can get horses and a wagon, and you will not have to carry so +far. And when we get to your ranch the doctor will be there, I think. +He is starting now. We will hurry. I will fix it so you need not +carry much. It is just to make it steady for me." + +While he talked he was working on the stretcher. He had a rope, and he +was knotting it in a long loop to the poles. Lorraine wondered why, +until he had lifted her father and placed him on the stretcher and +placed the loop over his head and under one arm, as a ploughman holds +the reins, so that his hands may be free. + +"If you will carry the front," said Swan politely, "it will not be +heavy for you like this. But you will help me keep it steady." + +Lorraine was past discussing anything. She obeyed him silently, +lifting the end of the stretcher and leading the way down to the +canyon's bottom, where Swan assured her they could walk quite easily +and would save many detours which the road above must take. At the +bottom Swan stopped her so that he might shorten the rope and take more +of the weight on his shoulders. She protested half-heartedly, but Swan +only laughed. + +"I am strong like a mule," he said. "You should see me wrestle with +somebody. Clear over my head--I can carry a man in my hands. This is +so you can walk fast. Three miles straight down we come to Thurman's +ranch, where I get the horses. It's funny how hills make a road far +around. Just three miles--that's all. I have walked many times." + +Lorraine did not answer him. She felt that he was talking merely to +keep her from worrying, and she was fairly sick with anxiety and did +not hear half of what he was saying. She was nervously careful about +choosing her steps so that she would not stumble and jolt her father. +She did not believe that he was wholly unconscious, for she had seen +his eyelids tighten and his lips twitch several times, when she waiting +for Swan. He had seemed to be in pain and to be trying to hide the +fact from her. She felt that Swan knew it, else he would have talked +of her dad, would at least have tried to reassure her. But it is +difficult to speak of a person who hears what you are saying, and Swan +was talking of everything, it seemed to her, except the man they were +carrying. + +She wondered if it were really true that Swan had sent a call through +space for a doctor; straightway she would call herself crazy for even +considering for a moment its possibility. If he could do that--but of +course he couldn't. He must just imagine it. + +Many times Swan had her lower the stretcher to the ground, and would +make a great show of rubbing his arms and easing his shoulder muscles. +Whenever Lorraine looked full into his face he would grin at her as +though nothing was wrong, and when they came to a clear-running stream +he emptied the water bottle, dipped up a little fresh water, added +brandy, and lifted Brit's head very gently and gave him a drink. Brit +opened his eyes and looked at Swan, and from him to Lorraine, but he +did not say anything. He still had that tightened look around his +mouth which spelled pain. + +"Pretty quick now we get you fixed up good," Swan told him cheerfully. +"One mile more is all, and we get the horses and I make a good bed for +you." He looked a signal, and Lorraine once more took up the stretcher. + +Another mile seemed a long way, light though Swan had made the load for +her. She thought once that he must have some clairvoyant power, +because whenever she felt as if her arms were breaking, Swan would tell +her to stop a minute. + +"How do you know a doctor will come?" she asked Swan suddenly, when +they were resting with the Thurman ranch in view half a mile below them. + +Swan did not look at her directly, as had been his custom. She saw a +darker shade of red creep up into his cheeks. "My mother says she +would send a doctor quick," he replied hesitatingly. "You will see. +It is because--your father he is not like other men in this country. +Your father is a good man. That is why a doctor comes." + +Lorraine looked at him strangely and stooped again to her burden. She +did not speak again until they were passing the Thurman fence where it +ran up into the mouth of the canyon. A few horses were grazing there, +the sun striking their sides with the sheen of satin. They stared +curiously at the little procession, snorted and started to run, heads +and tails held high. But one wheeled suddenly and came galloping +toward them, stopped when he was quite close, ducked and went +thundering past to the head of the field. Lorraine gave a sharp little +scream and set down the stretcher with a lurch, staring after the horse +wide-eyed, her face white. + +"They do it for play," Swan said reassuringly. "They don't hurt you. +The fence is between, and they don't hurt you anyway." + +"That horse with the white face--I saw it--and when the man struck it +with his quirt it went past me, running like that and +dragging--_oh-h!_" She leaned against the bluff side, her face covered +with her two palms. + +Swan glanced down at Brit, saw that his eyes were closed, ducked his +head from under the looped rope and went to Lorraine. + +"The man that struck that horse--do you know that man?" he asked, all +the good nature gone from his voice. + +"No--I don't know--I saw him twice, by the lightning flashes. He +shot--and then I saw him----" She stopped abruptly, stood for a minute +longer with her eyes covered, then dropped her hands limply to her +sides. But when the horse came circling back with a great flourish, +she shivered and her hands closed into the fists of a fighter. + +"Are you a Sawtooth man?" she demanded suddenly, looking up at Swan +defiantly. "It was a nightmare. I--I dreamed once about a horse--like +that." + +Swan's wide-open eyes softened a little. "The Sawtooth calls me that +damn Swede on Bear Top," he explained. "I took a homestead up there +and some day they will want to buy my place or they will want to make a +fight with me to get the water. Could you know that man again?" + +"Raine!" Brit's voice held a warning, and Lorraine shivered again as +she turned toward him. "Raine, you----" + +He closed his eyes again, and she could get no further speech from him. +But she thought she understood. He did not want her to talk about Fred +Thurman. She went to her end of the stretcher and waited there while +Swan put the rope over his head. They went on, Lorraine walking with +her head averted, trying not to see the blaze-faced roan, trying to +shut out the memory of him dashing past her with his terrible burden, +that night. + +Swan did not speak of the matter again. With Lorraine's assistance he +carried Brit into Thurman's cabin, laid him, stretcher and all, on the +bed and hurried out to catch and harness the team of work horses. +Lorraine waited beside her father, helpless and miserable. There was +nothing to do but wait, yet waiting seemed to her the one thing she +could not do. + +"Raine!" Brit's voice was very weak, but Lorraine jumped as though a +trumpet had bellowed suddenly in her ear. "Swan--he's all right. But +don't go telling--all yuh know and some besides. He ain't--Sawtooth, +but--he might let out----" + +"I know. I won't, dad. It was that horse----" + +Brit turned his face to the wall as if no more was to be said on the +subject. Lorraine wandered around the cabin, which was no larger than +her father's place. The rooms were scrupulously clean--neater than the +Quirt, she observed guiltily. Not one article, however small and +unimportant, seemed to be out of its place, and the floors of both +rooms were scrubbed whiter than any floors she had ever seen. Swan's +housekeeping qualities made her ashamed of her own imperfections; and +when, thinking that Swan must be hungry and that the least she could do +was to set out food for him, she opened the cupboard, she had a swift, +embarrassed vision of her own culinary imperfections. She could cook +better food than her dad had been content to eat and to set before +others, but Swan's bread was a triumph in sour dough. Biscuits tall +and light as bread can be she found, covered neatly with a cloth. +Prunes stewed so that there was not one single wrinkle in +them--Lorraine could scarcely believe they were prunes until she tasted +them. She was investigating a pot of beans when Swan came in. + +"Food I am thinking of, Miss," he grinned at her. "We shall hurry, but +it is not good to go hungry. Milk is outside in a cupboard. It is +quicker than to make coffee." + +"It will be dark before we can get him home," said Lorraine uneasily. +"And by the time a doctor can get out there----" + +"A doctor will be there, I think. You don't believe, but that is no +difference to his coming just the same." + +He brought the milk, poured off the creamy top into a pitcher, stirred +it, and quietly insisted that she drink two glasses. Lorraine observed +that Swan himself ate very little, bolting down a biscuit in great +mouthfuls while he carried a mattress and blankets out to spread in the +wagon. It was like his pretence of weariness on the long carry down +the canyon, she thought. It was for her more than for himself that he +was thinking. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE QUIRT PARRIES THE FIRST BLOW + +A car with dimmed lights stood in front of the Quirt cabin when Swan +drove around the last low ridge and down to the gate. The rattle of +the wagon must have been heard, for the door opened suddenly and Frank +stood revealed in the yellow light of the kerosene lamp on the table +within. Behind Frank, Lorraine saw Jim and Sorry standing in their +shirt sleeves looking out into the dark. Another, shorter figure she +glimpsed as Frank and the two men stepped out and came striding hastily +toward them. Lorraine jumped out and ran to meet them, hoping and +fearing that her hope was foolish. That car might easily be only Bob +Warfield on some errand of no importance. Still, she hoped. + +"That you, Raine? Where's Brit? What's all this about Brit being +hurt? A doctor from Shoshone----" + +"A _doctor_? Oh, did a doctor come, then? Oh, help Swan carry dad in! +I'm--oh, I'm afraid he's awfully injured!" + +"Yes-s--but how'n hell did a doctor know about it?" Sorry, the silent, +blurted unexpectedly. + +"Oh,--never mind--but get dad in. I'll----" She ran past them without +finishing her sentence and burst incoherently into the presence of an +extremely calm little man with gray whiskers and dust on the shoulder +of his coat. These details, I may add, formed the sum of Lorraine's +first impression of him. + +"Well! Well!" he remonstrated with a professional briskness, when she +nearly bowled him over. "We seem to be in something of a hurry! Is +this the patient I was sent to examine?" + +"No!" Lorraine flashed impatiently over her shoulder as she rushed +into her own room and began turning down the covers. "It's dad, of +course--and you'd better get your coat off and get ready to go to work, +because I expect he's just one mass of broken bones!" + +The doctor smiled behind his whiskers and returned to the doorway to +direct the carrying in of his patient. His sharp eyes went immediately +to Brit's face, pallid under the leathery tan, his fingers went to +Brit's hairy, corded wrist. The doctor smiled no more that evening. + +"No, he is not a mass of broken bones, I am happy to say," he reported +gravely to Lorraine afterwards. "He has a sufficient number, however. +The left scapula is fractured, likewise the clavicle, and there is a +compound fracture of the femur. There is some injury to the head, the +exact extent of which I cannot as yet determine. He should be removed +to a hospital, unless you are prepared to have a nurse here for some +time, or to assume the burden of a long and tedious illness." He +looked at her thoughtfully. "The journey to Shoshone would be a +considerable strain on the patient in his present condition. He has a +splendid amount of constitutional vitality, or he would scarcely have +survived his injuries so long without medical attendance. Can you tell +me just how the accident occurred?" + +"Excuse me, doctor--and Miss," Swan diffidently interrupted. "I could +ask you to take a look on my shoulder, if you please. If you are done +setting bones in Mr Hunter. I have a great pain on my shoulder from +carrying so long." + +"You never mentioned it!" Lorraine reproached him quickly. "Of course +it must be looked after right away. And then, Doctor, I'd like to talk +to you, if you don't mind." She watched them retreat to the bunk-house +together. Swan's big form towering above the doctor's slighter figure. +Swan was talking earnestly, the mumble of his voice reaching Lorraine +without the enunciation of any particular word to give a clue to what +he was saying. But it struck her that his voice did not sound quite +natural; not so Swedish, not so careful. + +Frank came tiptoeing out of the room where Brit lay bandaged and +unconscious and stood close to Lorraine, looking down at her solemnly. + +"How'n 'ell did he git here--the doctor?" he demanded, making a great +effort to hold his voice down to a whisper, and forgetting now and +then. "How'd _he_ know Brit rolled off'n the grade? Us here, _we_ +never knowed it, and I was tryin' to send him back when you came. He +said somebody telephoned there was a man hurt in a runaway. There +ain't a telephone closer'n the Sawtooth, and that there's a good twenty +mile and more from where Brit was hurt. It's damn funny." + +"Yes, it is," Lorraine admitted uncomfortably. "I don't know any more +than you do about it." + +"Well, how'n 'ell did it happen? Brit, he oughta know enough to +rough-lock down that hill. An' that team ain't a runaway team. _I_ +never had no trouble with 'em--they're good at holdin' a load. They'll +set down an' slide but what they'll hold 'er. What become of the +horses?" + +"Why--they're over there yet. We forgot all about the horses, I think. +Caroline was standing up, all right. The other horse may be killed. I +don't know--it was lying down. And Yellowjacket was up that little +gully just this side of the wreck, when I left him. They did try to +hold the load, Frank. Something must have happened to the brake. I +saw dad crawling out from under the wagon just before I got to where +the load was standing. Or some one did. I think it was dad. But +Caroline kicked my horse down off the road, and, I only saw him a +minute--but it _must_ have been dad. And then, a little way down the +hill, something went wrong." + +Frank seemed trying to reconstruct the accident from Lorraine's +description. "He'd no business to start down if his rough-lock wasn't +all right," he said. "It ain't like him. Brit's careful about them +things--little men most always are. I don't see how 'n 'ell it worked +loose. It's a damn queer layout all around; and this here doctor +gitting here ahead of you folks, that there is the queerest. What's he +say about Brit? Think he'll pull through?" + +The doctor himself, coming up just then, answered the question. Of +course the patient would pull through! What were doctors for? As to +his reason for coming, he referred them to Mr Vjolmar, whom he thought +could better explain the matter. + +The three of them waited,--five of them, since Jim and Sorry had come +up, anxious to hear the doctor's opinion and anything else pertaining +to the affair. Swan was coming slowly from the bunk-house, buttoning +his coat. He seemed to feel that they were waiting for him and to know +why. His manner was diffident, deprecating even. + +"We may as well go in out of the mosquitoes," the doctor suggested. +"And I wish you would tell these people what you told me, young man. +Don't be afraid to speak frankly; it is rather amazing but not at all +impossible, as I can testify. In fact," he added dryly, "my presence +here ought to settle any doubt of that. Just tell them, young man, +about your mother." + +Swan was the last to enter the kitchen, and he stood leaning against +the closed door, turning his old hat round and round, his eyes going +swiftly from face to face. They were watching him, and Swan blushed a +deep red while he told them about his mother in Boise, and how he could +talk to her with his thoughts. He explained laboriously how the +thoughts from her came like his mother speaking in his head, and that +his thoughts reached her in the same way. He said that since he was a +little boy they could talk together with their thoughts, but people +laughed and some called them crazy, so that now he did not like to have +somebody know that he could do it. + +"But Brit Hunter's hurt bad, so a doctor must come quick, or I think he +maybe will die. It takes too long to ride a horse to Echo from this +ranch, so I call on my mother, and I tell my mother a doctor must come +quick to this ranch. So my mother sends a telephone to this doctor in +Shoshone, and he comes. That is all. But I would not like it if +everybody maybe finds it out that I do that, and makes talk about it." + +He looked straight at Jim and Sorry, and those two unprepossessing ones +looked at each other and at Swan and at the doctor and at each other +again, and headed for the door. But Swan was leaning against it, and +his eyes were on them. "I would like it if you say somebody rides to +get the doctor," he hinted quietly. + +Sorry looked at Jim. "I rode like hell," he stated heavily. "I leave +it to Jim." + +"You shore'n hell did!" Jim agreed, and Swan removed his big form from +the door. + +"You boys goin' over t' Spirit Canyon?" Frank wanted to know. + +"Yeah," said Sorry, answering for them both, and they went out, giving +Swan a sidelong look of utter bafflement as they passed him. Talking +by the thought route from Spirit Canyon to Boise City was evidently a +bit too much for even their phlegmatic souls to contemplate with +perfect calm. + +"They'll keep it to theirselves, whether they believe it or not," Frank +assured Swan in his laboured whisper. "It don't go down with me. I +ain't supe'stitious enough fer that." + +"The doctor he comes, don't he?" Swan retorted. "I shall go back now +and milk the cows and do chores." + +"But if your shoulder is lame, Swan, how can you?" Lorraine asked in +her unexpected fashion. + +Swan swallowed and looked helplessly at the doctor, who stood smoothing +his chin. "The muscle strain is not serious," he said calmly. "A +little gentle exercise will prevent further trouble, I think." +Whereupon he turned abruptly to the door of the other room, glanced in +at Brit and beckoned Lorraine with an upraised finger. + +"You have had a hard time of it yourself, young lady," he told her. +"You needn't worry about Swan. He is not suffering appreciably. I +shall mix you a very unpleasant dose of medicine, and then I want you +to go to bed and sleep. I shall stay with your father to-night; not +that it is necessary, but because I prefer daylight for the trip back +to town. So there is no reason why you should sit up and wear yourself +out. You will have plenty of time to do that while your father's bones +mend." + +He proceeded to mix the unpleasant dose, which Lorraine swallowed and +straightway forgot, in the muddle of thoughts that whirled confusingly +in her brain. Little things distressed her oddly, while her father's +desperate state left her numb. She lay down on the cot in the farther +corner of the kitchen where her father had slept just last night--it +seemed so long ago!--and almost immediately, as her senses recorded it, +bright sunlight was shining into the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +LONE TAKES HIS STAND + +Lone Morgan, over at Elk Spring camp, was just sitting down to eat his +midday meal when some one shouted outside. Lone stiffened in his +chair, felt under his coat, and then got up with some deliberation and +looked out of the window before he went to the door. All this was a +matter of habit, bred of Lone's youth in the feud country, and had +nothing whatever to do with his conscience. + +"Hello!" he called, standing in the doorway and grinning a welcome to +Swan, who stood with one arm resting on the board gate. "She's on the +table--come on in." + +"I don't know if you're home with the door shut like that," Swan +explained, coming up to the cabin. "I chased a coyote from Rock City +to here, and by golly, he's going yet! I'll get him sometime, maybe. +He's smart, but you can beat anything with thinking if you don't stop +thinking. Always the other feller stops sometimes, and then you get +him. You believe that?" + +"It most generally works out that way," Lone admitted, getting another +plate and cup from the cupboard, which was merely a box nailed with its +bottom to the wall, and a flour sack tacked across the front for a +curtain. "Even a coyote slips up now and then, I reckon." + +Swan sat down, smoothing his tousled yellow hair with both hands as he +did so. "By golly, my shoulder is sore yet from carrying Brit Hunter," +he remarked carelessly, flexing his muscles and grimacing a little. + +Lone was pouring the coffee, and he ran Swan's cup over before he +noticed what he was doing. Swan looked up at him and looked away +again, reaching for a cloth to wipe the spilled coffee from the table. + +"How was that?" Lone asked, turning away to the stove. "What-all +happened to Brit Hunter?" + +Swan, with his plate filled and his coffee well sweetened, proceeded to +relate with much detail the story of Brit's misfortune. "By golly, I +don't see how he don't get killed," he finished, helping himself to +another biscuit. "By _golly_, I don't. Falling into Spirit Canyon is +like getting dragged by a horse. It should kill a man. What you +think, Lone?" + +"It didn't, you say." Lone's eyes were turned to his coffee cup. + +"It don't kill Brit Hunter--not yet. I think maybe he dies with all +his bones broke, like that. By golly, that shows you what could happen +if a man don't think. Brit should look at that chain on his wheel +before he starts down that road." + +"Oh. His brake didn't hold, eh?" + +"I look at that wagon," Swan answered carefully. "It is something +funny about that chain. I worked hauling logs in the mountains, once. +It is something damn funny about that chain, the way it's fixed." + +Lone did not ask him for particulars, as perhaps Swan expected. He did +not speak at all for awhile, but presently pushed back his plate as if +his appetite were gone. + +"It's like Fred Thurman," Swan continued moralising. "If Fred don't +ride backwards, I bet he don't get killed--like that." + +"Where's Brit now?" Lone asked, getting up and putting on his hat. "At +the ranch?" + +"Or heaven, maybe," Swan responded sententiously. "But my dog Yack, he +don't howl yet. I guess Brit's at the ranch." + +"Sorry I'm busy to-day," said Lone, opening the door. "You stay as +long as you like, Swan. I've got some riding to do." + +"I'll wash the dishes, and then I maybe will think quicker than that +coyote. I'm after him, by golly, till I get him." + +Lone muttered something and went out. Within five minutes Swan, +hearing hoofbeats, looked out through a crack in the door and saw Lone +riding at a gallop along the trail to Rock City. "Good bait. He +swallows the hook," he commented to himself, and his good-natured grin +was not brightening his face while he washed the dishes and tidied the +cabin. + +With Lone rode bitterness of soul and a sick fear that had nothing to +do with his own destiny. How long ago Brit had been hurled into the +canyon Lone did not know; he had not asked. But he judged that it must +have been very recently. Swan had not told him of anything but the +runaway, and of helping to carry Brit home--and of the "damn funny +thing about the chain"--the rough-lock, he must have meant. Too well +Lone understood the sinister meaning that probably lay behind that +phrase. + +"They've started on the Quirt now," he told himself with foreboding. +"She's been telling her father----" + +Lone fell into bitter argument with himself. Just how far was it +justifiable to mind his own business? And if he did not mind it, what +possible chance had he against a power so ruthless and so cunning? An +accident to a man driving a loaded wagon down the Spirit Canyon grade +had a diabolic plausibility that no man in the country could question. +Brit, he reasoned, could not have known before he started that his +rough-lock had been tampered with, else he would have fixed it. +Neither was Brit the man to forget the brake on his load. If Brit +lived, he might talk as much as he pleased, but he could never prove +that his accident had been deliberately staged with murderous intent. + +Lone lifted his head and looked away across the empty miles of sageland +to the quiet blue of the mountains beyond. Peace--the peace of +untroubled wilderness--brooded over the land. Far in the distance, +against the rim of rugged hills, was an irregular splotch of brown +which was the headquarters of the Sawtooth. Lone turned his wrist to +the right, and John Doe, obeying the rein signal, left the trail and +began picking his way stiff-legged down the steep slope of the ridge, +heading directly toward the home ranch. + +John Doe was streaked with sweat and his flanks were palpitating with +fatigue when Lone rode up to the corral and dismounted. Pop Bridgers +saw him and came bow-legging eagerly forward with gossip titillating on +his meddlesome tongue, but Lone stalked by him with only a surly nod. +Bob Warfield he saw at a distance and gave no sign of recognition. He +met Hawkins coming down from his house and stopped in the trail. + +"Have you got time to go back to the office and fix up my time, +Hawkins?" he asked without prelude. "I'm quitting to-day." + +Hawkins stared and named the Biblical place of torment. "What yuh +quittin' for, Lone?" he added incredulously. "All you boys got a raise +last month; ain't that good enough?" + +"Plenty good enough, so long as I work for the outfit." + +"Well, what's wrong? You've been with us five years, Lone, and it's +suited you all right so far----" + +Lone looked at him. "Say, I never set out to marry the Sawtooth," he +stated calmly. "And if I have married you-all by accident, you can get +a bill of divorce for desertion. This ain't the first time a man ever +quit yuh, is it, Hawkins?" + +"No--and there ain't a man on the pay roll we can't do without," +Hawkins retorted, his neck stiffening with resentment. "It's a kinda +rusty trick, though, Lone, quittin' without notice and leaving a camp +empty." + +"Elk Spring won't run away," Lone assured him without emotion. "She's +been left alone a week or two at a time during roundups. I don't +reckon the outfit'll bust up before you get a man down there." + +The foreman looked at him curiously, for this was not like Lone, whose +tone had always been soft and friendly, and whose manner had no hint of +brusqueness. There was a light, too, in Lone's eyes that had not been +there before. But Hawkins would not question him further. If Lone +Morgan or any other man wanted to quit, that was his +privilege,--providing, of course, that his leaving was not likely to +menace the peace and security of the Sawtooth. Lone had made it a +point to mind his own business, always. He had never asked questions, +he had never surmised or gossiped. So Hawkins gave him a check for his +wages and let him go with no more than a foreman's natural reluctance +to lose a trustworthy man. + +By hard riding along short cuts, Lone reached the Quirt ranch and +dropped reins at the doorstep, not much past mid-afternoon. + +"I rode over to see if there's anything I can do," he said, when +Lorraine opened the door to him. He did not like to ask about her +father, fearing that the news would be bad. + +"Why, thank you for coming." Lorraine stepped back, tacitly inviting +him to enter. "Dad knows us to-day, but of course he's terribly hurt +and can't talk much. We do need some one to go to town for things. +Frank helps me with dad, and Jim and Sorry are trying to keep things +going on the ranch. And Swan does what he can, of course, but----" + +"I just thought you maybe needed somebody right bad," said Lone +quietly, meaning a great deal more than Lorraine dreamed that he meant. +"I'm not doing anything at all, right now, so I can just as well help +out as not. I can go to town right away, if I can borrow a horse. +John Doe, he's pretty tired. I been pushing him right through--not +knowing there was a town trip ahead of him." + +Lorraine found her eyes going misty. He was so quiet, and so +reassuring in his quiet. Half her burden seemed to slip from her +shoulders while she looked at him. She turned away, groping for the +door latch. + +"You may see dad, if you like, while I get the list of things the +doctor ordered. He left only a little while ago, and I was waiting for +one of the boys to come back so I could send him to town." + +It was on Lone's tongue to ask why the doctor had not taken in the +order himself and instructed some one to bring out the things; but he +remembered how very busy with its own affairs was Echo and decided that +the doctor was wise. + +He tiptoed in to the bed and saw a sallow face covered with stubbly +gray whiskers and framed with white bandages. Brit opened his eyes and +moved his thin lips in some kind of greeting, and Lone sat down on the +edge of a chair, feeling as miserably guilty as if he himself had +brought the old man to this pass. It seemed to him that Brit must know +more of the accident than Swan had told, and the thought did not add to +his comfort. He waited until Brit opened his eyes again, and then he +leaned forward, holding Brit's wandering glance with his own intent +gaze. + +"I ain't working now," he said, lowering his voice so that Lorraine +could not hear. "So I'm going to stay here and help see you through +with this. I've quit the Sawtooth." + +Brit's eyes cleared and studied Lone's face. "D'ye know--anything?" + +"No, I don't." Lone's face hardened a little. "But I wanted you to +know that I'm--with the Quirt, now." + +"Frank hire yuh?" + +"No. I ain't hired at all. I'm just--_with_ yuh." + +"We--need yuh," said Brit grimly, looking Lone straight in the eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +"FRANK'S DEAD" + +"Frank come yet?" The peevish impatience of an invalid whose horizon +has narrowed to his own personal welfare and wants was in Brit's voice. +Two weeks he had been sick, and his temper had not sweetened with the +pain of his broken bones and the enforced idleness. Brit was the type +of man who is never quiet unless he is asleep or too ill to get out of +bed. + +Lorraine came to the doorway and looked in at him. Two weeks had set +their mark on her also. She seemed older, quieter in her ways; there +were shadows in her eyes and a new seriousness in the set of her mouth. +She had had her burdens, and she had borne them with more patience than +many an older woman would have done, but what she thought of those +burdens she did not say. + +"No, dad--but I thought I heard a wagon a little while ago. He must be +coming," she said. + +"Where's Lone at?" Brit moved restlessly on the pillow and twisted his +face at the pain. + +"Lone isn't back, either." + +"He ain't? Where'd he go?" + +Lorraine came to the bedside and, lifting Brit's head carefully, +arranged the pillow as she knew he liked it. "I don't know where he +went," she said dully. "He rode off just after dinner. Do you want +your supper now? Or would you rather wait until Frank brings the +fruit?" + +"I'd ruther wait--if Frank don't take all night," Brit grumbled. "I +hope he ain't connected up with that Echo booze. If he has----" + +"Oh, no, dad! Don't borrow trouble. Frank was anxious to get home as +soon as he could. He'll be coming any minute, now. I'll go listen for +the wagon." + +"No use listenin'. You couldn't hear it in that sand--not till he gits +to the gate. I don't see where Lone goes to, all the time. Where's +Jim and Sorry, then?" + +"Oh, they've had their supper and gone to the bunk-house. Do you want +them?" + +"No! What'd I want 'em fur? Not to look at, that's sure. I want to +know how things is going on this ranch. And from all I can make out, +they ain't goin' at all," Brit fretted. "What was you 'n' Lone talkin' +so long about, out in the kitchen last night? Seems to me you 'n' him +have got a lot to say to each other, Raine." + +"Why, nothing in particular. We were just--talking. We're all human +beings, dad; we have to talk sometimes. There's nothing else to do." + +"Well, I caught something about the Sawtooth. I don't want you talking +to Lone or anybody else about that outfit, Raine. I told yuh so once. +He's all right--I ain't saying anything against Lone--but the less you +have to say the more you'll have to be thankful fur, mebby." + +"I was wondering if Swan could have gotten word somehow to the Sawtooth +and had them telephone out that you were hurt. And Lone was drawing a +map of the trails and showing me how far it was from the canyon to the +Sawtooth ranch. And he was asking me just how it happened that the +brake didn't hold, and I said it must have been all right, because I +saw you come out from under the wagon just before you hitched up. I +thought you were fixing the chain on them." + +"Huh?" Brit lifted his head off the pillow and let it drop back again, +because of the pain in his shoulder. "You never seen me crawl out from +under no wagon. I come straight down the hill to the team." + +"Well, I saw some one. He went up into the brush. I thought it was +you." Lorraine turned in the doorway and stood looking at him +perplexedly. "We shouldn't be talking about it, dad--the doctor said +we mustn't. But are you _sure_ it wasn't you? Because I certainly saw +a man crawl out from under the wagon and start up the hill. Then the +horses acted up, and I couldn't see him after Yellowjacket jumped off +the road." + +Brit lay staring up at the ceiling, apparently unheeding her +explanation. Lorraine watched him for a minute and returned to the +kitchen door, peering out and listening for Frank to come from Echo +with supplies and the mail and, more important just now, fresh fruit +for her father. + +"I think he's coming, dad," she called in to her father. "I just heard +something down by the gate." + +She could save a few minutes, she thought, by running down to the +corral where Frank would probably stop and unload the few sacks of +grain he was bringing, before he drove up to the house. Frank was very +methodical in a fussy, purposeless way, she had observed. Twice he had +driven to Echo since her father had been hurt, and each time he had +stopped at the corral on his way to the house. So she closed the +screen door behind her, careful that it should not slam, and ran down +the path in the heavy dusk wherein crickets were rasping a strident +chorus. + +"Oh! It's you, is it, Lone?" she exclaimed, when she neared the vague +figure of a man unsaddling a horse. "You didn't see Frank coming +anywhere, did you? Dad won't have his supper until Frank comes with +the things I sent for. He's late." + +Lone was lifting the saddle off the back of John Doe, which he had +bought from the Sawtooth because he was fond of the horse. He +hesitated and replaced the saddle, pulling the blanket straight under +it. + +"I saw him coming an hour ago," he said. "I was back up on the ridge, +and I saw a team turn into the Quirt trail from the ford. It couldn't +be anybody but Frank. I'll ride out and meet him." + +He was mounted and gone before she realised that he was ready. She +heard the sharp staccato of John Doe's hoofbeats and wondered why Lone +had not waited for another word from her. It was as if she had told +him that Frank was in some terrible danger,--yet she had merely +complained that he was late. The bunk-house door opened, and Sorry +came out on the doorstep, stood there a minute and came slowly to meet +her as she retraced her steps to the house. + +"Where'd Lone go so sudden?" he asked, when she came close to him in +the dusk. "That was him, wasn't it?" + +Lorraine stopped and stood looking at him without speaking. A vague +terror had seized her. She wanted to scream, and yet she could think +of nothing to scream over. It was Lone's haste, she told herself +impatiently. Her nerves were ragged from nursing her dad and from +worrying over things she must not talk about,--that forbidden subject +which never left her mind for long. + +"Wasn't that him?" Sorry repeated uneasily. "What took him off again +in such a rush?" + +"Oh, I don't know! He said Frank should have been here long ago. He +went to look for him. Sorry," she cried suddenly, "what _is_ the +matter with this place? I feel as if something horrible was just ready +to jump out at us all. I--I want my back against something solid, all +the time, so that nothing can creep up behind. Nothing," she added +desperately, "could happen to Frank between here and the turn-off at +the ford, could it? Lone saw him turn into our trail over an hour ago, +he said." + +Sorry, his fingers thrust into his overalls pockets, his thumbs hooked +over the waistband, spat into the sand beside the path. "Well, he +started off with a cracked doubletree," he said slowly. "He mighta +busted 'er pullin' through that sand hollow. She was wired up pretty +good, though, and there was more wire in the rig. I don't know of +anything else that'd be liable to happen, unless----" + +"Unless what?" Lorraine prompted sharply. "There's too much that isn't +talked about, on this ranch. What else could happen?" + +Sorry edged away from her. "Well--I dunno as anything would be liable +to happen," he said uncomfortably. "'Tain't likely him 'n' Brit'd both +have accidents--not right hand-runnin'." + +"_Accidents?_" Lorraine felt her throat squeeze together. "Sorry, you +don't mean--Sawtooth accidents?" she blurted. + +She surprised a grunt out of Sorry, who looked over his shoulder as if +he feared eavesdroppers. "Where'd you git that idee?" he demanded. "I +dunno what you mean. Ain't that yore dad callin' yuh?" + +Lorraine ignored the hint. "You _do_ know what I mean. Why did you +say they wouldn't both be likely to have accidents hand-running? And +why don't you _do_ something? Why does everyone just keep still and +let things happen, and not say a word? If there's any chance of Frank +having an--an _accident_, I should think you'd be out looking after +him, and not standing there with your hands in your pockets just +waiting to see if he shows up or if he doesn't show up. You're all +just like these rabbits out in the sage. You'll hide under a bush and +wait until you're almost stepped on before you so much as wiggle an +ear! I'm getting good and tired of this meek business!" + +"We-ell," Sorry drawled amiably as she went past him, "playin' +rabbit-under-a-bush mebby don't look purty, but it's dern good life +insurance." + +"A coward's policy," Lorraine taunted him over her shoulder, and went +to see what her father wanted. When he, too, wanted to know why Lone +had come and gone again in such a hurry, Lorraine felt all the courage +go out of her at once. Their very uneasiness seemed to prove that +there was more than enough cause for it. Yet, when she forced herself +to stop and think, it was all about nothing. Frank had driven to Echo +and had not returned exactly on time, though a dozen things might have +detained him. + +She was listening at the door when Swan appeared unexpectedly before +her, having walked over from the Thurman ranch after doing the chores. +To him she observed that Frank was an hour late, and Swan, whistling +softly to Jack--Lorraine was surprised to hear how closely the call +resembled the chirp of a bird--strode away without so much as a +pretence at excuse. Lorraine stared after him wide-eyed, wondering and +yet not daring to wonder. + +Her father called to her fretfully, and she went in to him again and +told him what Sorry had said about the cracked doubletree, and +persuaded him to let her bring his supper at once, and to have the +fruit later when Frank arrived. Brit did not say much, but she sensed +his uneasiness, and her own increased in proportion. Later she saw two +tiny, glowing points down by the corral and knew that Sorry and Jim +were down there, waiting and listening, ready to do whatever was needed +of them; although what that would be she could not even conjecture. + +She made her father comfortable, chattered aimlessly to combat her +understanding of his moody silence, and listened and waited and tried +her pitiful best not to think that anything could be wrong. The +subdued chuckling of the wagon in the sand outside the gate startled +her with its unmistakable reality after so many false impressions that +she heard it. + +"Frank's coming, dad," she announced relievedly, "and I'll go and get +the mail and the fruit." + +She ran down the path again, almost light-hearted in her relief from +that vague terror which had held her for the past hour. From the +corral Sorry and Jim came walking up the path to meet the wagon which +was making straight for the bunkhouse instead of going first to the +stable. One man rode on the seat, driving the team which walked +slowly, oddly, reminding Lorraine of a funeral procession. Beside the +wagon rode Lone, his head drooped a little in the starlight. It was +not until the team stopped before the bunk-house that Lorraine knew +what it was that gave her that strange, creepy feeling of disaster. It +was not Frank Johnson, but Swan Vjolmar who climbed limberly down from +the seat without speaking and turned toward the back of the wagon. + +"Why, where's Frank?" she asked, going up to where Lone was dismounting +in silence. + +"He's there--in the wagon. We picked him up back here about +three-quarters of a mile or so." + +"What's the matter? Is he drunk?" This was Sorry who came up to Swan +and stood ready to lend a hand. + +"He's so drunk he falls out of wagon down the road, but he don't have +whisky smell by his face," was Swan's ambiguous reply. + +"He's not hurt, is he?" Lorraine pressed close, and felt a hand on her +arm pulling her gently away. + +"He's hurt," Lone said, just behind her. "We'll take him into the +bunk-house and bring him to. Run along to the house and don't +worry--and don't say anything to your dad, either. There's no need to +bother him about it. We'll look after Frank." + +Already Swan and Sorry and Jim were lifting Frank's limp form from the +rear of the wagon. It sagged in their arms like a dead thing, and +Lorraine stepped back shuddering as they passed her. A minute later +she followed them inside, where Jim was lighting the lamp with shaking +fingers. By the glow of the match Lorraine saw how sober Jim looked, +how his chin was trembling under the drooping, sandy moustache. She +stared at him, hating to read the emotion in his heavy face that she +had always thought so utterly void of feeling. + +"It isn't--he isn't----" she began, and turned upon Swan, who was +beside the bunk, looking down at Frank's upturned face. "Swan, if it's +serious enough for a doctor, can't you send another thought message to +your mother?" she asked. "He looks--oh, Lone! He isn't _dead_, is he?" + +Swan turned his head and stared down at her, and from her face his +glance went sharply to Lone's downcast face. He looked again at +Lorraine. + +"To-night I can't talk with my mind," Swan told her bluntly. "Not +always I can do that. I could ask Lone how can a man be drunk so he +falls off the wagon when no whisky smell is on his breath." + +"Breath? Hell! There ain't no breath to smell," Sorry exclaimed as +unexpectedly as his speeches usually were. "If he's breathin' I can't +tell it on him." + +"He's got to be breathing!" Lone declared with a suppressed fierceness +that made them all look at him. "I found a half bottle of whisky in +his pocket--but Swan's right. There wasn't a smell of it on his +breath--I tell you now, boys, that he was lying in the sand between two +sagebrushes, on his face. And there is where he got the blow--_behind +his ear_. It's one of them accidents that you've got to figure out for +yourself." + +"Oh, do something!" Lorraine cried distractedly. "Never mind now how +it happened, or whether he was drunk or not--bring him to his senses +first, and let him explain. If there's whisky, wouldn't that help if +he swallowed some now? And there's medicine for dad's bruises in the +house. I'll get it. And Swan! Won't you _please_ talk to your mother +and tell her we need the doctor?" + +Swan drew back. "I can't," he said shortly. "Better you send to Echo +for telegraph. And if you have medicine, it should be on his head +quick." + +Lone was standing with his fingers pressed on Frank's wrist. He looked +up, hesitated, drew out his knife and opened the small blade. He moved +so that his back was to Lorraine, and still holding the wrist he made a +small, clean cut in the flesh. The three others stooped, stared with +tightened lips at the bloodless incision, straightened and looked at +one another dumbly. + +"I'd like to lie to you," Lone told Lorraine, speaking over his +shoulder. "But I won't. You're too game and too square. Go and stay +with your dad, but don't let him know--get him to sleep. We don't need +that medicine, nor a doctor either. Frank's dead. I reckon he was +dead when he hit the ground." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +SWAN TRAILS A COYOTE + +At daybreak Swan was striding toward the place where Frank Johnson had +been found. Lone, his face moody, his eyes clouded with thought, rode +beside him, while Jack trotted loose-jointedly at Swan's heels. Swan +had his rifle, and Lone's six-shooter showed now and then under his +coat when the wind flipped back a corner. Neither had spoken since +they left the ranch, where Jim was wandering dismally here and there, +trying to do the chores when his heart was heavy with a sense of +personal loss and grim foreboding. None save Brit had slept during the +night--and Brit had slept only because Lorraine had prudently given him +a full dose of the sedative left by the doctor for that very purpose. +Sorry had gone to Echo to send a telegram to the coroner, and he was +likely to return now at any time. Wherefore Swan and Lone were going +to look over the ground before others had trampled out what evidence +there might be in the shape of footprints. + +They reached the spot where the team had stopped of its own accord in +crossing a little, green meadow, and had gone to feeding. Lone pulled +up and half turned in the saddle, looking at Swan questioningly. + +"Is that dog of yours any good at trailing?" he asked abruptly. "I've +got a theory that somebody was in that wagon with Frank, and drove on a +ways before he jumped out. I believe if you'd put that dog on the +trail----" + +"If I put that dog on the trail he stays on the trail all day, maybe," +Swan averred with some pride. "By golly, he follows a coyote till he +drops." + +"Well, it's a coyote we're after now," said Lone. "A sheep-killer that +has made his last killin'. Right here's where I rode up and caught the +team, last night. We better take a look along here for tracks." + +Swan stared at him curiously, but he did not speak, and the two went on +more slowly, their glances roving here and there along the trail edge, +looking for footprints. Once the dog Jack swung off the trail into the +brush, and Swan followed him while Lone stopped and awaited the result. +Swan came back presently, with Jack sulking at his heels. + +"Yack, he take up the trail of a coyote," Swan explained, "but it's got +the four legs, and Yack, he don't understand me when I don't follow. +He thinks I'm crazy this morning." + +"I reckon the team came on toward home after the fellow jumped out," +Lone observed. "He'd plan that way, seems to me. I know I would." + +"I guess that's right. I don't have experience in killing somebody," +Swan returned blandly, and Lone was too preoccupied to wonder at the +unaccustomed sarcasm. + +A little farther along Swan swooped down upon a blue dotted +handkerchief of the kind which men find so useful where laundries are +but a name. Again Lone stopped and bent to examine it as Swan spread +it out in his hands. A few tiny grains of sandstone rattled out, and +in the centre was a small blood spot. Swan looked up straight into +Lone's dark, brooding eyes. + +"By golly, Lone, you would do that, too, if you kill somebody," he +began in a new tone,--the tone which Lorraine had heard indistinctly in +the bunkhouse when Swan was talking to the doctor. "Do you think I'm a +damn fool, just because I'm a Swede? You are smart--you think out +every little thing. But you make a big mistake if you don't think some +one else may be using his brain, too. This handkerchief I have seen +you pull from your pocket too many times. And it had a rock in it last +night, and the blood shows that it was used to hit Frank behind the +ear. You think it all out--but maybe I've been thinking too. Now +you're under arrest. Just stay on your horse--he can't run faster than +a bullet, and I don't miss coyotes when I shoot them on the run." + +"The hell you say!" Lone stared at him. "Where's your authority, Swan?" + +Swan lifted the rifle to a comfortable, firing position, the muzzle +pointing straight at Lone's chest. With his left hand he turned back +his coat and disclosed a badge pinned to the lining. + +"I'm a United States Marshal, that's all; a government hunter," he +stated. "I'm hot on the trail of coyotes--all kinds. Throw that +six-shooter over there in the brush, will you?" + +"I hate to get the barrel all sanded up," Lone objected mildly. "You +can pack it, can't you?" He grinned a little as he handed out the gun, +muzzle toward himself. "You're playing safe, Swan, but if that dog of +yours is any good, you'll have a change of heart pretty quick. Isn't +that a man's track, just beside that flat rock? Put the dog on, why +don't you?" + +"Yack is on already," Swan pointed out. "Ride ahead of me, Lone." + +With a shrug of his shoulders Lone obeyed, following the dog as it +trotted through the brush on the trail of a man's footprints which Swan +had shown it. A man might have had some trouble in keeping to the +trail, but Jack trotted easily along and never once seemed at fault. +In a very few minutes he stopped in a rocky depression where a horse +had been tied, and waited for Swan, wagging his tail and showing his +teeth in a panting smile. The man he had trailed had mounted and +ridden toward the ridge to the west. Swan examined the tracks, and +Lone sat on his horse watching him. + +Jack picked up the trail where the horseman had walked away toward the +road, and Swan followed him, motioning Lone to ride ahead. + +"You could tell me about this, I think, but I can find out for myself," +he observed, glancing at Lone briefly. + +"Sure, you can find out, if you use your eyes and do a little +thinking," Lone replied. "I hope you do lay the evidence on the right +doorstep." + +"I will," Swan promised, looking ahead to where Jack was nosing his way +through the sagebrush. + +They brought up at the edge of the road nearly a quarter of a mile +nearer Echo than the place where Frank's body had been found. They saw +where the man had climbed into the wagon, and followed to where they +had found Frank beside the road, lying just as he had pitched forward +from the wagon seat. + +"I think," said Swan quietly, "we will go now and find out where that +horse went last night." + +"A good idea," Lone agreed. "Do you see how it was done, Swan? When +he saw the team coming, away back toward Echo, he rode down into that +wash and tied his horse. He was walking when Frank overtook him, I +reckon--maybe claiming his horse had broke away from him. He had a +rock in his handkerchief. Frank stopped and gave him a lift, and he +used the rock first chance he got. Then I reckon he stuck the whisky +bottle in Frank's pocket and heaved him out. He dropped the +handkerchief out of his hip pocket when he jumped out of the rig. It's +right simple, and if folks didn't get to wondering about it, it'd be +safe as any killing can be. As safe," he added meaningly, "as dragging +Fred Thurman, or unhooking Brit's chain-lock before he started down the +canyon with his load of posts." + +Swan did not answer, but turned back to where the horse had been left +tied and took up the trail from there. As before, the dog trotted +along, Lone riding close behind him and Swan striding after. They did +not really need the dog, for the hoofprints were easily followed for +the greater part of the way. + +They had gone perhaps four miles when Lone turned, resting a hand on +the cantle of his saddle while he looked back at Swan. "You see where +he was headed for, don't yuh, Swan?" he asked, his tone as friendly as +though he was not under arrest as a murderer. "If he didn't go to +Whisper, I'll eat my hat." + +"You're the man to know," Swan retorted grimly. And then, because +Lone's horse had slowed in a long climb over a ridge, he came up even +with a stirrup. "Lone, I hate to do it. I'd like you, if you don't +kill for a living. But for that I could shoot you quick as a coyote. +You're smart--but not smart enough. You gave yourself away when I +showed you Fred's saddle. After that I knew who was the Sawtooth +killer that I came here to find." + +"You thought you knew," Lone corrected calmly. + +"You don't have to lie," Swan informed mm bluntly. "You don't have to +tell anything. I find out for myself if I make mistake." + +"Go to it," Lone advised him coldly. "It don't make a darn bit of +difference to me whether I ride in front of you or behind. I'm so glad +you're here on the job, Swan, that I'm plumb willing to be tied hand +and foot if it'll help you any." + +"When a man's too damn willing to be my prisoner," Swan observed +seriously, "he gets tied, all right. Put out your hands, Lone. You +look good to me with bracelets on, when you talk so willing to go to +jail for murder." + +He had slipped the rifle butt to the ground, and before Lone quite +realised what he was doing Swan had a short, wicked-looking automatic +pistol in one hand and a pair of handcuffs in the other. Lone flushed, +but there was nothing to do but hold out his hands. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE SAWTOOTH SHOWS ITS HAND + +In her fictitious West Lorraine had long since come to look upon +violence as a synonym for picturesqueness; murder and mystery were +inevitably an accompaniment of chaps and spurs. But when a man she had +cooked breakfast for, had talked with just a few hours ago, lay dead in +the bunk-house, she forgot that it was merely an expected incident of +Western life. She lay in her bed shaking with nervous dread, and the +shrill rasping of the crickets and tree-toads was unendurable. + +After the first shock had passed a deep, fighting rage filled her, made +her long for day so that she might fight back somehow. Who was the +Sawtooth Company, that they could sweep human beings from their path so +ruthlessly and never be called to account? Not once did she doubt that +this was the doing of the Sawtooth, another carefully planned +"accident" calculated to rid the country of another man who in some +fashion had become inimical to their interests. + +From Lone she had learned a good deal about the new irrigation project +which lay very close to the Sawtooth's heart. She could see how the +Quirt ranch, with its water rights and its big, fertile meadows and its +fences and silent disapprobation of the Sawtooth's methods, might be +looked upon as an obstacle which they would be glad to remove. + +That her father had been sent down that grade with a brake deliberately +made useless was a horrible thought which she could not put from her +mind. She had thought and thought until it seemed to her that she knew +exactly how and why the killer's plans had gone awry. She was certain +that she and Swan had prevented him from climbing down into the canyon +and making sure that her dad did not live to tell what mischance had +overtaken him. He had probably been watching while she and Swan made +that stretcher and carried her dad away out of his reach. He would not +shoot _her_,--he would not dare. Nor would he dare come to the cabin +and finish the job he had begun. But he had managed to kill +Frank--poor old Frank, who would never grumble and argue over little +things again. + +There was nothing picturesque, nothing adventurous about it. It was +just straight, heart-breaking tragedy, that had its sordid side too. +Her dad was a querulous sick man absorbed by his sufferings and not yet +out of danger, if she read the doctor's face aright. Jim and Sorry had +taken orders all their life, and they would not be able to handle the +ranch work alone; yet how else would it be done? There was +Lone,--instinctively she turned her thoughts to him for comfort. Lone +would stay and help, and somehow it would be managed. + +But to think that these things could be done without fear of +retribution. Jim and Sorry, Swan and Lone had not attempted to hide +their belief that the Sawtooth was responsible for Frank's death, yet +not one of them had hinted at the possibility of calling the sheriff, +or placing the blame where it belonged. They seemed browbeaten into +the belief that it would be useless to fight back. They seemed to look +upon the doings of the Sawtooth as an act of Providence, like being +struck by lightning or freezing to death, as men sometimes did in that +country. + +To Lorraine that passive submission was the most intolerable part, the +one thing she could not, would not endure. Had she lived all of her +life on the Quirt, she probably would never have thought of fighting +back and would have accepted conditions just as her dad seemed to +accept them. But her mimic West had taught her that women sometimes +dared where the men had hesitated. It never occurred to her that she +should submit to the inevitable just because the men appeared to do so. + +Wherefore it was a new Lorraine who rose at daybreak and silently +cooked breakfast for the men, learned from Jim that Sorry was not back +from Echo, and that Swan and Lone had gone down to the place where +Frank had been found. She poured Jim's coffee and went on her tiptoes +to see if her father still slept. She dreaded his awakening and the +moment when she must tell him about Frank, and she had an unreasonable +hope that the news might be kept from him until the doctor came again. + +Brit was awake, and the look in his eyes frightened Lorraine so that +she stopped in the middle of the room, staring at him fascinated. + +"Well," he said flatly, "who is it this time? Lone, or--Frank?" + +"Why--who is what?" Lorraine parried awkwardly. "I don't---" + +"Did they git Frank, las' night?" Brit's eyes seemed to bore into her +soul, searching pitilessly for the truth. "Don't lie to me, Raine--it +ain't going to help any. Was it Frank or Lone? They's a dead man laid +out on this ranch. Who is it?" + +"F-frank," Lorraine stammered, backing away from him. "H-how did you +know?" + +"How did it happen?" Brit's eyes were terrible. + +Lorraine shuddered while she told him. + +"Rabbits in a trap," Brit muttered, staring at the low ceiling. "Can't +prove nothing--couldn't convict anybody if we could prove it. Bill +Warfield's got this county under his thumb. Rabbits in a trap. Raine, +you better pack up and go home to your mother. There's goin' to be +hell a-poppin' if I live to git outa this bed." + +Lorraine stooped over him, and her eyes were almost as terrible as were +Brit's. "Let it pop. We aren't quitters, are we, dad? I'm going to +stay with you." Then she saw tears spilling over Brit's eyelids and +left the room hurriedly, fighting back a storm of weeping. She herself +could not mourn for Frank with any sense of great personal loss, but it +was different with her dad. He and Frank had lived together for so +many years that his loyal heart ached with grief for that surly, +faithful old partner of his. + +But Lorraine's fighting blood was up, and she could not waste time in +weeping. She drank a cup of coffee, went out and called Jim, and told +him that she was going to take a ride, and that she wanted a decent +horse. + +"You can take mine," Jim offered. "He's gentle and easy-gaited. I'll +go saddle up. When do you want to go?" + +"Right now, as soon as I'm ready. I'll fix dad's breakfast, and you +can look after him until Lone and Swan come back. One of them will +stay with him then. I may be gone for three or four hours. I'll go +crazy if I stay here any longer." + +Jim eyed her while he bit off a chew of tobacco. "It'd be a good thing +if you had some neighbour woman come in and stay with yuh," he said +slowly. "But there ain't any I can think of that'd be much force. You +take Snake and ride around close and forget things for awhile." He +hesitated, his hand moving slowly back to his pocket. "If yuh feel +like you want a gun----" + +Lorraine laughed bitterly. "You don't think any accident would happen +to _me_, do you?" + +"Well, no--er I wouldn't advise yuh to go ridin'," Jim said +thoughtfully. "This here gun's kinda techy, anyway, unless you're used +to a quick trigger. Yuh might be safer without than with it." + +By the time she was ready, Jim was tying his horse, Snake, to the +corral. Lorraine walked slowly past the bunk-house with her face +turned from it and her thoughts dwelling terrifiedly upon what lay +within. Once she was past she began running, as if she were trying to +outrun her thoughts, Jim watched her gravely, untied Snake and stood at +his head while she mounted, then walked ahead of her to the gate and +opened it for her. + +"Yore nerves are sure shot to hell," he blurted sympathetically as she +rode past him. "I guess you need a ride, all right. Snake's plumb +safe, so yuh got no call to worry about him. Take it easy, Raine, on +the worrying. That's about the worst thing you can do." + +Lorraine gave him a grateful glance and a faint attempt at a smile, and +rode up the trail she always took,--the trail where she had met Lone +that day when he returned her purse, the trail that led to Fred +Thurman's ranch and to Sugar Spring and, if you took a certain turn at +a certain place, to Granite Ridge and beyond. + +Up on the ridge nearest the house Al Woodruff shifted his position so +that he could watch her go. He had been watching Lone and Swan and the +dog, trailing certain tracks through the sagebrush down below, and when +Lorraine rode away from the Quirt they were in the wagon road, fussing +around the place where Frank had been found. + +"They can't pin nothing on _me_," Al tried to comfort himself. "If +that damn girl would keep her mouth shut I could stand a trial, even. +They ain't got any evidence whatever, unless she saw me at Rock City +that night." He turned and looked again toward the two men down on the +road and tilted his mouth down at the corners in a sour grin. + +"Go to it and be damned to you!" he muttered. "You haven't got the +dope, and you can't git it, either. Trail that horse if you want +to--I'd like to see yuh amuse yourselves that way!" + +He turned again to stare after Lorraine, meditating deeply. If she had +only been a man, he would have known exactly how to still her tongue, +but he had never before been called upon to deal with the problem of +keeping a woman quiet. He saw that she was taking the trail toward +Fred Thurman's, and that she was riding swiftly, as if she had some +errand in that direction, something urgent. Al was very adept at +reading men's moods and intentions from small details in their +behaviour. He had seen Lorraine start on several leisurely, +purposeless rides, and her changed manner held a significance which he +did not attempt to belittle. + +He led his horse down the side of the ridge opposite the road and the +house, mounted there and rode away after Lorraine, keeping parallel +with the trail but never using it, as was his habit. He made no +attempt to overtake her, and not once did Lorraine glimpse him or +suspect that she was being followed. Al knew well the art of +concealing his movements and his proximity from the inquisitive eyes of +another man's saddle horse, and Snake had no more suspicion than his +rider that they were not altogether alone that morning. + +Lorraine sent him over the trail at a pace which Jim had long since +reserved for emergencies. But Snake appeared perfectly able and +willing to hold it and never stumbled or slowed unexpectedly as did +Yellowjacket, wherefore Lorraine rode faster than she would have done +had she known more about horses. + +Still, Snake held his own better than even Jim would have believed, and +carried Lorraine up over Granite Ridge and down into the Sawtooth flat +almost as quickly as Lorraine expected him to do. She came up to the +Sawtooth ranch-houses with Snake in a lather of sweat and with her own +determination unweakened to carry the war into the camp of her enemy. +It was, she firmly believed, what should have been done long ago; what +would have curbed effectually the arrogant powers of the Sawtooth. + +She glanced at the foreman's cottage only to make sure that Hawkins was +nowhere in sight there, and rode on toward the corrals, intercepting +Hawkins and a large, well-groomed, smooth-faced man whom she knew at +once must be Senator Warfield himself. Unconsciously Lorraine mentally +fitted herself into a dramatic movie "scene" and plunged straight into +the subject. + +"There has been," she said tensely, "another Sawtooth accident. It +worked better than the last one, when my father was sent over the grade +into Spirit Canyon. Frank Johnson is _dead_. I am here to discover +what you are going to do about it?" Her eyes were flashing, her chest +was rising and falling rapidly when she had finished. She looked +straight into Senator Warfield's face, her own full in the sunlight, so +that, had there been a camera "shooting" the scene, her expression +would have been fully revealed--though she did not realise all that. + +Senator Warfield looked her over calmly (just as a director would have +wished him to do) and turned to Hawkins. "Who is this girl?" he asked. +"Is she the one who came here temporarily--deranged?" + +"She's the girl," Hawkins affirmed, his eyes everywhere but on +Lorraine's face. "Brit Hunter's daughter--they say." + +"They _say_? I _am_ his daughter! How dare you take that tone, Mr +Hawkins? My home is at the Quirt. When you strike at the Quirt you +strike at me. When you strike at me I am going to strike back. Since +I came here two men have been killed and my father has been nearly +killed. He may die yet--I don't know what effect this shock will have +upon him. But I know that Frank is dead, and that it's up to me now to +see that justice is done. You--you cowards! You will kill a man for +the sake of a few dollars, but you kill in the dark. You cover your +murders under the pretence of accidents. I want to tell you this: Of +all the men you have murdered, Frank Johnson will be avenged. You are +going to answer for that. I shall see that you do answer for it! +There is justice in this country, there _must_ be. I'm going to demand +that justice shall be measured out to you. I----" + +"Was she violent, before?" Senator Warfield asked Hawkins in an +undertone which Lorraine heard distinctly. "You're a deputy, Hawkins. +If this keeps on, I'm afraid you will have to take her in and have her +committed for insanity. It's a shame, poor thing. At her age it is +pitiful. Look how she has ridden that horse! Another mile would have +finished him." + +"Do you mean to say you think I'm crazy? What an idea! It seems to +me, Senator Warfield, that you are crazy yourself, to imagine that you +can go on killing people and thinking you will never have to pay the +penalty. You will pay. There is law in this land, even if----" + +"This is pathetic," said Senator Warfield, still speaking to Hawkins. +"Her father--if he is her father--is sick and not able to take care of +her. We'll have to assume the responsibility ourselves, I'm afraid, +Hawkins. She may harm herself, or----" + +Lorraine turned white. She had never seen just such a situation arise +in a screen story, but she knew what danger might lie in being accused +of insanity. While Warfield was speaking, she had a swift vision of +the evidence they could bring against her; how she had arrived there +delirious after having walked out from Echo,--why, they would call even +that a symptom of insanity! Lone had warned her of what people would +say if she told any one of what she saw in Rock City, perhaps really +believing that she had imagined it all. Lone might even think that she +had some mental twist! Her world was reeling around her. + +She whirled Snake on his hind feet, struck him sharply with the quirt +and was galloping back over the trail past the Hawkins house before +Senator Warfield had finished advising Hawkins. She saw Mrs Hawkins +standing in the door, staring at her, but she did not stop. They would +take her to the asylum; she felt that the Sawtooth had the power, that +she had played directly into their hands, and that they would be as +ruthless in dealing with her as they had been with the nesters whom +they had killed. She knew it, she had read it in the inscrutable, +level look of Senator Warfield, in the half cringing, wholly +subservient manner of Hawkins when he listened to his master. + +"They're fiends!" she cried aloud once, while she urged Snake up the +slope of Granite Ridge. "I believe they'd kill me if they were sure +they could get away with it. But they could frame an insanity charge +and put me--my God, what fiends they are!" + +At the Sawtooth, Senator Warfield was talking with Mrs Hawkins while +her husband saddled two horses. Mrs Hawkins lived within her four +walls and called that her "spere," and spoke of her husband as "he." +You know the type of woman. That Senator Warfield was anything less +than a godlike man who stood very high on the ladder of Fame, she would +never believe. So she related garrulously certain incoherent, aimless +utterances of Lorraine's, and cried a little, and thought it was +perfectly awful that a sweet, pretty girl like that should be crazy. +She would have made an ideal witness against Lorraine, her very +sympathy carrying conviction of Lorraine's need of it. That she did +not convince Senator Warfield of Lorraine's mental derangement was a +mere detail. Senator Warfield had reasons for knowing that Lorraine +was merely afflicted with a dangerous amount of knowledge and was using +it without discretion. + +"You mustn't let her run loose and maybe kill herself or somebody +else!" Mrs Hawkins exclaimed. "Oh, Senator, it's awful to think of! +When she went past the house I knew the poor thing wasn't right----" + +"We'll overtake her," Senator Warfield assured her comfortingly. "She +can't go very far on that horse. She'd ridden him half to death, +getting here. He won't hold out--he can't. She came here, I suppose, +because she had been here before. A sanitorium may be able to restore +her to a normal condition. I can't believe it's anything more than +some nervous disorder. Now don't worry, my good woman. Just have a +room ready, so that she will be comfortable here until we can get her +to a sanitorium. It isn't hopeless, I assure you--but I'm mighty glad +I happened to be here so that I can take charge of the case. Now here +comes Hawkins. We'll bring her back--don't you worry." + +"Well, take her away as quick as you can, Senator. I'm scared of crazy +people. His brother went crazy in our house and----" + +"Yes, yes--we'll take care of her. Poor girl, I wish that I had been +here when she first came," said the senator, as he went to meet +Hawkins, who was riding up from the corrals leading two horses--one for +Lorraine, which shows what was his opinion of Snake. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +YACK DON'T LIE + +For a time the trail seemed to lead toward Whisper. Then it turned +away and seemed about to end abruptly on a flat outcropping of rock two +miles from Whisper camp. Lone frowned and stared at the ground, and +Swan spoke sharply to Jack, who was nosing back and forth, at fault if +ever a dog was. But presently he took up the scent and led them down a +barren slope and into grassy ground where a bunch of horses grazed +contentedly. Jack singled out one and ran toward it silently, as he +had done all his trailing that morning. The horse looked up, stared +and went galloping down the little valley, stampeding the others with +him. + +"That's about where I thought we'd wind up--in a saddle bunch," Lone +observed disgustedly. "If I had the evidence you're carrying in your +pocket, Swan, I'd put that darn dog on the scent of the man, not the +horse." + +"The man I've got," Swan retorted. "I don't have to trail him." + +"Well, now, you _think_ you've got him. Here's good, level ground--I +couldn't get outa sight in less than ten minutes, afoot. Let me walk +out a ways, and you see if that handkerchief's mine. Oh, search me all +you want to, first," he added, when he read the suspicion in Swan's +eyes. "Make yourself safe as yuh please, but give me a fair show. +You've made up your mind I'm the killer, and you've been fitting the +evidence to me--or trying to." + +"It fits," Swan pointed out dryly. + +"You see if it does. The dog'll tell you all about it in about two +minutes if you give him a chance." + +Swan looked at him. "Yack don't lie. By golly, I raised that dog to +trail, and he _trails_, you bet! He's cocker spaniel and bloodhound, +and he knows things, that dog. All right, Lone, you walk over to that +black rock and set down. If you think you frame something, maybe, I +pack a dead man to the Quirt again." + +"You can, for all me," Lone replied quietly. "I'd about as soon go +that way as the way I am now." + +Swan watched him until he was seated on the rock as directed, his +manacled hands resting on his knees, his face turned toward the horses. +Then Swan took the blue handkerchief from his pocket, called Jack to +him and muttered something in Swedish while the dog sniffed at the +cloth. "Find him, Yack," said Swan, standing straight again. + +Jack went sniffing obediently in wide circles, crossing unconcernedly +Lone's footprints while he trotted back and forth. He hesitated once +on the trail of the horse he had followed, stopped and looked at Swan +inquiringly, and whined. Swan whistled the dog to him with a peculiar, +birdlike note and called to Lone. + +"You come back, Lone, and let Yack take a damn good smell of you. By +golly, if that dog lies to me this time, I lick him good!" + +Lone came back, grinning a little. "All right, now maybe you'll listen +to reason. I ain't the kind to tell all I know and some besides, Swan. +I've been a Sawtooth man, and a fellow kinda hates to throw down his +outfit deliberate. But they're going' too strong for any white man to +stand for. I quit them when they tried to get Brit Hunter. I don't +know so much, Swan, but I'm pretty good at guessing. So if you'll come +with me to Whisper, your dog may show yuh who owns that handkerchief. +If he don't, then I'm making a mistake, and I'd like to be set right." + +"Somebody rode that horse," Swan meditated aloud. "Yack don't make a +mistake like that, and I don't think I'm blind. Where's the man that +was on the horse? What you think, Lone?" + +"_Me_? I think there was another horse somewhere close to that +outcropping, tied to a bush, maybe. I think the man you're after +changed horses there, just on a chance that somebody might trail him +from the road. You put your dog on the trail of that one particular +horse, and he showed yuh where it was feeding with the bunch. It looks +to me like it was turned loose, back there, and come on alone. Your +man went to Whisper; I'll bank money on that. Anyway, your dog'll know +if he's been there." + +Swan thought it over, his eyes moving here and there to every hint of +movement between the skyline and himself. Suddenly he turned to Lone, +his face flushing with honest shame. + +"Loney, take a damn Swede and give him something he believes, and you +could pull his teeth before you pull that notion from his thick head. +You acted funny, that day Fred Thurman was killed, and you gave +yourself away at the stable when I showed you that saddle. So I think +you're the killer, and I keep on thinking that, and I've been trying to +catch you with evidence. I'm a Swede, all right! Square head. Built +of wood two inches thick. Loney, you kick me good. You don't have +time to ride over here, get some other horse and ride back to the Quirt +after Frank was killed. You got there before I did, last night. We +know Frank was dead not much more than one hour when we get him to the +bunk-house. Yack, he gives you a good alibi." + +"I sure am glad we took the time to trail that horse, then," Lone +remarked, while Swan was removing the handcuffs. "You're all right, +Swan. Nothing like sticking to an idea till you know it's wrong. Now, +let's stick to mine for awhile. Let's go on to Whisper. It ain't far." + +They returned to the rocky hillside where the trail had been covered, +and searched here and there for the tracks of another horse; found the +trail and followed it easily enough to Whisper. Swan put Jack once +more on the scent of the handkerchief, and if actions meant anything, +Jack proved conclusively that he found the Whisper camp reeking with +the scent. + +But that was all,--since Al was at that moment trailing Lorraine toward +the Sawtooth. + +"We may as well eat," Swan suggested. "We'll get him, by golly, but we +don't have to starve ourselves." + +"He wouldn't know we're after him," Lone agreed. "He'll stick around +so as not to raise suspicion. And he might come back, most any time. +If he does, we'll say I'm out with you after coyotes, and we stopped +here for a meal. That's good enough to satisfy him--till you get the +drop on him. But I want to tell yuh, Swan, you can't take Al Woodruff +as easy as you took me. And you couldn't have taken me so easy if I'd +been the man you wanted. Al would kill you as easy as you kill +coyotes. Give him a reason, and you won't need to give him a chance +along with it. He'll find the chance himself." + +Because they thought it likely that Al would soon return, they did not +hurry. They were hungry, and they cooked enough food for four men and +ate it leisurely. Jim was at the ranch, Sorry had undoubtedly returned +before now, and the coroner would probably not arrive before noon, at +the earliest. + +Swan wanted to take Al Woodruff back with him in irons. He wanted to +confront the coroner with the evidence he had found and the testimony +which Lone could give. There had been too many killings already, he +asserted in his naïve way; the sooner Al Woodruff was locked up, the +safer the country would be. + +He discussed with Lone the possibility of making Al talk,--the chance +of his implicating the Sawtooth. Lone did not hope for much and said +so. + +"If Al was a talker he wouldn't be holding the job he's got," Lone +argued. "Don't get the wrong idea again, Swan. Yuh may pin this on to +Al, but that won't let the Sawtooth in. The Sawtooth's too slick for +that. They'd be more likely to make up a lynching party right in the +outfit and hang Al as an example than they would try to shield him. +He's played a lone hand, Swan, right from the start, unless I'm badly +mistaken. The Sawtooth's paid him for playing it, that's all." + +"Warfield, he's the man I want," Swan confided. "It's for more than +killing these men. It goes into politics, Loney, and it goes deep. +He's bad for the government. Getting Warfield for having men killed is +getting Warfield without telling secrets of politics. Warfield, he's a +smart man, by golly. He knows some one is after him in politics, but +he don't know some one is after him at home. So the big Swede has got +to be smart enough to get the evidence against him for killing." + +"Well, I wish yuh luck, Swan, but I can't say you're going at it right. +Al won't talk, I tell yuh." + +Swan did not believe that. He waited another hour and made a mental +inventory of everything in camp while he waited. Then, chiefly because +Lone's impatience finally influenced him, he set out to see where Al +had gone. + +According to Jack, Al had gone to the corral. From there they put Jack +on the freshest hoof-prints leaving the place, and were led here and +there in an apparently aimless journey to nowhere until, after Jack had +been at fault in another rock patch, the trail took them straight away +to the ridge overlooking the Quirt ranch. The two men looked at one +another. + +"That's like Al," Lone commented dryly. "Coyotes are foolish alongside +him, and you'll find it out. I'll bet he's been watching this place +since daybreak." + +"Where he goes, Yack will follow," Swan grinned cheerfully. "And I +follow Yack. We'll get him, Lone. That dog, he never quits till I say +quit." + +"You better go down and get a horse, then," Lone advised. "They're all +gentle. Al's mounted, remember. He's maybe gone to the Sawtooth, and +that's farther than you can walk." + +"I can walk all day and all night, when I need to go like that. I can +take short cuts that a horse can't take. I think I shall go on my own +legs." + +"Well, I'm going down to the house first. I know them two men riding +down to the gate. I want to see what the boss and Hawkins have got to +say about this last 'accident.' Better come on down, Swan. You might +pick up something. They're heading for the ranch, all right. Going to +make a play at being neighbourly, I reckon." + +"You bet I want to see Warfield," Swan assented rather eagerly and +called Jack, who had nosed around the spot where Al had waited so long +and was now trotting along the ridge on the next lap of Al's journey. + +They reached the gate in time to meet Warfield and Hawkins face to +face. Hawkins gave Lone a quick, questioning look and nodded +carelessly to Swan. Warfield, having a delicate errand to perform and +knowing how much depended upon first impressions, pulled up eagerly +when he recognised Lone. + +"Has the girl arrived safely, Lone?" he asked anxiously. + +"What girl?" Lone looked at him non-committally. + +"Miss--ah--Hunter. Have you been away all the forenoon? The girl came +to the ranch in such a condition that I was afraid she might do herself +or some one else an injury. Has she been unbalanced for long?" + +"If you mean Lorraine Hunter, she was all right last time I saw her, +and that was last night." Lone's eyes narrowed a little as he watched +the two. "You say she went to the Sawtooth?" + +"She came pelting over there crazier than when you brought her in," +Hawkins broke in gruffly. "She ain't safe going around alone like +that." + +Senator Warfield glanced at him impatiently. "Is there any truth in +her declaring that Frank Johnson is dead? She seemed to have had a +shock of some kind. She was raving crazy, and in her rambling talk she +said something about Frank Johnson having died last night." + +Lone glanced back as he led the way through the gate which Swan was +holding open. "He didn't die--he got killed last night," he corrected. + +"Killed! And how did that happen? It was impossible to get two +coherent sentences out of the girl." Senator Warfield rode through +just behind Lone and reined close, lowering his voice. "No use in +letting this get out," he said confidentially. "It may be that the +girl's dementia is some curable nervous disorder, and you know what an +injustice it would be if it became noised around that the girl is +crazy. How much English does that Swede know?" + +"Not any more than he needs to get along on," Lone answered, +instinctively on guard. "He's all right--just a good-natured kinda +cuss that wouldn't harm anybody." + +He glanced uneasily at the house, hoping that Lorraine was safe inside, +yet fearing that she would not be safe anywhere. Sane or insane, she +was in danger if Senator Warfield considered her of sufficient +importance to bring him out on horseback to the Quirt ranch. Lone knew +how seldom the owner of the Sawtooth rode on horseback since he had +high-powered cars to carry him in soft comfort. + +"I'll go see if she's home," Lone explained, and reined John Doe toward +the house. + +"I'll go with you," Senator Warfield offered suavely and kept +alongside. "Frank Johnson was killed, you say? How did it happen?" + +"Fell off his wagon and broke his neck," Lone told him laconically. +"Brit's pretty sick yet; I don't guess you'd better go inside. There's +been a lot of excitement already for the old man. He only sees folks +he's used to having around." + +With that he dismounted and went into the house, leaving Senator +Warfield without an excuse for following. Swan and Hawkins came up and +waited with him, and Jim opened the door of the bunkhouse and looked +out at them without showing enough interest to come forward and speak +to them. + +In a few minutes Lone returned, to find Senator Warfield trying to +glean information from Swan, who seemed willing enough to give it if +only he could find enough English words to form a complete sentence. +Swan, then, had availed himself of Lone's belittlement of him and was +living down to it. But Lone gave him scant attention just then. + +"She hasn't come back. Brit's worked himself up into a fever, and I +didn't dare tell him she wasn't with me. I said she's all tired out +and sick and wanted to stay up by the spring awhile, where it's cool. +I said she was with me, and the sun was too much for her, and she sent +him word that Jim would take care of him awhile longer. So you better +move down this way, or he'll hear us talking and want to know what's +up." + +"You're sure she isn't here?" Senator Warfield's voice held suspicion. + +"You can ask Jim, over here. He's been on hand right along. And if +you can't take his word for it, you can go look in the shack--but in +that case Brit's liable to take a shot at yuh, Senator. He's on the +warpath right, and he's got his gun right handy." + +"It is not necessary to search the cabin," Senator Warfield answered +stiffly. "Unless she is in a stupor we'd have heard her yelling long +ago. The girl was a raving maniac when she appeared at the Sawtooth. +It's for her good that I'm thinking." + +Jim stepped out of the doorway and came slowly toward them, eyeing the +two from the Sawtooth curiously while he chewed tobacco. His hands +rested on his hips, his thumbs hooked inside his overalls; a gawky pose +that fitted well his colourless personality,--and left his right hand +close to his six-shooter. + +"Cor'ner comin'?" he asked, nodding at the two who were almost +strangers to him. "Sorry, he got back two hours ago, and he said the +cor'ner would be right out. But he ain't showed up yet." + +Senator Warfield said that he felt sure the coroner would be prompt and +then questioned Jim artfully about "Miss Hunter." + +"Raine? She went fer a ride. I loaned her my horse, and she ain't +back yet. I told her to take a good long ride and settle her nerves. +She acted kinda edgy." + +Senator Warfield and his foreman exchanged glances for which Lone could +have killed them. + +"You noticed, then, that she was not quite--herself?" Senator Warfield +used his friendly, confidential tone on Jim. + +"We-ell--yes, I did. I thought a ride would do her good, mebby. She's +been sticking here on the job purty close. And Frank getting killed +kinda--upset her, I guess." + +"That's it--that's what I was saying. Disordered nerves, which rest +and proper medical care will soon remedy." He looked at Lone. "Her +horse was worn out when she reached the ranch. Does she know this +country well? She started this way, and she should have been here some +time ago. We thought it best to ride after her, but there was some +delay in getting started. Hawkins' horse broke away and gave us some +trouble catching him, so the girl had quite a start. But with her +horse fagged as it was, we had no idea that we would fail to get even a +sight of her. She may have wandered off on some other trail, in which +case her life as well as her reason is in danger." + +Lone did not answer at once. It had occurred to him that Senator +Warfield knew where Lorraine was at that minute, and that he might be +showing this concern for the effect it would have on his hearers. He +looked at him speculatively. + +"Do you think we ought to get out and hunt for her?" he asked. + +"I certainly think some one ought to. We can't let her wander around +the country in that condition. If she is not here, she is somewhere in +the hills, and she should be found." + +"She sure ain't here," Jim asserted convincingly. "I been watching for +the last two hours, expecting every minute she'd show up. I'd a been +kinda oneasy, myself, but Snake's dead gentle, and she's a purty fair +rider fer a girl." + +"Then we'll have to find her. Lone, can you come and help?" + +"The Swede and me'll both help," Lone volunteered. "Jim and Sorry can +wait here for the coroner. We ought to find her without any trouble, +much. Swan, I'll get you that tobacco first and see if Brit needs +anything." + +He started to the house, and Swan followed him aimlessly, his long +strides bringing him close to Lone before they reached the door. + +"What do you make of this new play?" Lone muttered cautiously when he +saw Swan's shadow move close to his own. + +"By golly, it's something funny about it. You stick with them, Loney, +and find out. I'm taking Al's trail with Yack. You fix it." And he +added whimsically, "Not so much tobacco, Lone. I don't eat it or smoke +it ever in my life." + +His voice was very Swedish, which was fortunate, because Senator +Warfield appeared softly behind him and went into the house. Swan was +startled, but he hadn't much time to worry over the possibility of +having been overheard. Brit's voice rose in a furious denunciation of +Bill Warfield, punctuated by two shots and followed almost immediately +by the senator. + +"My God, the whole family's crazy!" Warfield exclaimed, when he had +reached the safety of the open air. "You're right, Lone. I thought +I'd be neighbourly enough to ask what I could do for him, and he tried +to kill me!" + +Lone merely grunted and gave Swan the tobacco. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +"I THINK AL WOODRUFF'S GOT HER" + +There was no opportunity for further conference. Senator Warfield +showed no especial interest in Swan, and the Swede was permitted +without comment to take his dog and strike off up the ridge. Jim and +Sorry were sent to look after Brit, who was still shouting vain threats +against the Sawtooth, and the three men rode away together. Warfield +did not suggest separating, though Lone expected him to do so, since +one man on a trail was as good as three in a search of this kind. + +He was still inclined to doubt the whole story. He did not believe +that Lorraine had been to the Sawtooth, or that she had raved about +anything. She had probably gone off by herself to cry and to worry +over her troubles,--hurt, too, perhaps, because Lone had left the ranch +that morning without a word with her first. He believed the story of +her being insane had been carefully planned, and that Warfield had +perhaps ridden over in the hope that they would find her alone; though +with Frank dead on the ranch that would be unlikely. But to offset +that, Lone's reason told him that Warfield had probably not known that +Frank was dead. That had been news to him--or had it? He tried to +remember whether Warfield had mentioned it first and could not. Too +many disturbing emotions had held him lately; Lone was beginning to +feel the need of a long, quiet pondering over his problems. He did not +feel sure of anything except the fact that the Quirt was like a +drowning man struggling vainly against the whirlpool that is sucking +him slowly under. + +One thing he knew, and that was his determination to stay with these +two of the Sawtooth until he had some definite information; until he +saw Lorraine or knew that she was safe from them. Like a weight +pressing harder and harder until one is crushed beneath it, their talk +of Lorraine's insanity forced fear into his soul. They could do just +what they had talked of doing. He himself had placed that weapon in +their hands when he took her to the Sawtooth delirious and told of +wilder words and actions. Hawkins and his wife would swear away her +sanity if they were told to do it, and there were witnesses in plenty +who had heard him call her crazy that first morning. + +They could do it; they could have her committed to an asylum, or at +least to a sanitorium. He did not underestimate the influence of +Senator Warfield. And what could the Quirt do to prevent the outrage? +Frank Johnson was dead; Brit was out of the fight for the time being; +Jim and Sorry were the doggedly faithful sort who must have a leader +before they can be counted upon to do much. + +Swan,--Lone lifted his head and glanced toward the ridge when he +thought of Swan. There, indeed, he might hope for help. But Swan was +out here, away from reinforcements. He was trailing Al Woodruff, and +when he found him,--that might be the end of Swan. If not, Warfield +could hurry Lorraine away before Swan could act in the matter. A +whimsical thought of Swan's telepathic miracle crossed his mind and was +dismissed as an unseemly bit of foolery in a matter so grave as +Lorraine's safety. And yet--the doctor had received a message that he +was wanted at the Quirt, and he had arrived before his patient. There +was no getting around that, however impossible it might be. No one +could have foreseen Brit's accident; no one save the man who had +prepared it for him, and he would be the last person to call for help. + +"We followed the girl's horse-tracks almost to Thurman's place and lost +the trail there." Warfield turned in the saddle to look at Lone riding +behind him. "We made no particular effort to trace her from there, +because we were sure she would come on home. I'm going back that far, +and we'll pick up the trail, unless we find her at the ranch. She may +have hidden herself away. You can't," he added, "be sure of anything +where a demented person is concerned. They never act according to +logic or reason, and it is impossible to make any deductions as to +their probable movements." + +Lone nodded, not daring to trust his tongue with speech just then. If +he were to protect Lorraine later on, he knew that he must not defend +her now. + +"Hawkins told me she had some sort of hallucination that she had seen a +man killed at Rock City, when she was wandering around in that storm," +Warfield went on in a careless, gossipy tone. "Just what was that +about, Lone? You're the one who found her and took her in to the +ranch, I believe. She somehow mixed her delusion up with Fred Thurman, +didn't she?" + +Lone made a swift decision. He was afraid to appear to hesitate, so he +laughed his quiet little chuckle while he scrambled mentally for a +plausible lie. + +"I don't know as she done that, quite," he drawled humorously. "She +was out of her head, all right, and talking wild, but I laid it to her +being sick and scared. She said a man was shot, and that she saw it +happen. And right on top of that she said she didn't think they ought +to stage a murder and a thunderstorm in the same scene, and thought +they ought to save the thunder and lightning for the murderer to make +his get-a-way by. She used to work for the moving pictures, and she +was going on about some wild-west picture she thought she was acting a +part in. + +"Afterwards I told her what she'd been saying, and she seemed to kinda +remember it, like a bad dream she'd had. She told me she thought the +villain in one of the plays she acted in had pulled off a stage murder +in them rocks. We figured it out together that the first crack of +thunder had sounded like shooting, and that's what started her off. +She hadn't ever been in a real thunderstorm before, and she's scared of +them. I know that one we had the other day like to of scared her into +hysterics. I laughed at her and joshed her out of it." + +"Didn't she ever say anything about Fred Thurman, then?" Warfield +persisted. + +"Not to me, she didn't. Fred was dragged that night, and if she heard +about a man being killed during that same storm, she might have said +something about it. She might have wondered if that was what she saw. +I don't know. She's pretty sensible--when she ain't crazy." + +Warfield turned his horse, as if by accident, so that he was brought +face to face with Lone. His eyes searched Lone's face pitilessly. + +"Lone, you know how ugly a story can grow if it's left alone. Do _you_ +believe that girl actually saw a man shot? Or do you think she was +crazy?" + +Lone met Warfield's eyes fairly. "I think she was plumb out of her +head," he answered. And he added with just the right degree of +hesitation: "I don't think she's what you'd call right crazy, Mr +Warfield. Lots of folks go outa their heads and talk crazy when they +get a touch of fever, and they get over it again." + +"Let's have a fair understanding," Warfield insisted. "Do you think I +am justified in the course I am taking, or don't you?" + +"Hunting her up? Sure, I do! If you and Hawkins rode on home, I'd +keep on hunting till I located her. If she's been raving around like +you say, she's in no shape to be riding these hills alone. She's got +to be taken care of." + +Warfield gave him another sharp scrutiny and rode on. "I always prefer +to deal in the open with everyone," he averred. "It may not be my +affair, strictly speaking. The Quirt and the Sawtooth aren't very +intimate. But the Quirt's having trouble enough to warrant any one in +lending a hand; and common humanity demands that I take charge of the +girl until she is herself again." + +"I don't know as any one would question that," Lone assented and ground +his teeth afterwards because he must yield even the appearance of +approval. He knew that Warfield must feel himself in rather a +desperate position, else he would never trouble to make his motives so +clear to one of his men. Indeed, Warfield had protested his +unselfishness in the matter too much and too often to have deceived the +dullest man who owned the slightest suspicion of him. Lone could have +smiled at the sight of Senator Warfield betraying himself so, had +smiling been possible to him then. + +He dropped behind the two at the first rough bit of trail and felt +stealthily to test the hanging of his six-shooter, which he might need +in a hurry. Those two men would never lay their hands on Lorraine +Hunter while he lived to prevent it. He did not swear it to himself; +he had no need. + +They rode on to Fred Thurman's ranch, dismounted at Warfield's +suggestion--which amounted to a command--and began a careful search of +the premises. If Warfield had felt any doubt of Lone's loyalty he +appeared to have dismissed it from his mind, for he sent Lone to the +stable to search there, while he and Hawkins went into the house. Lone +guessed that the two felt the need of a private conference after their +visit to the Quirt, but he could see no way to slip unobserved to the +house and eavesdrop, so he looked perfunctorily through all the sheds +and around the depleted haystacks,--wherever a person could find a +hiding place. He was letting himself down through the manhole in the +stable loft when Swan's voice, lowered almost to a whisper, startled +him. + +"What the hell!" Lone ejaculated under his breath. "I thought you were +on another trail!" + +"That trail leads here, Lone. Did you find Raine yet?" + +"Not a sign of her. Swan, I don't know what to make of it. I did +think them two were stalling. I thought they either hadn't seen her at +all, or had got hold of her and were trying to square themselves on the +insanity dodge. But if they know where she is, they're acting damn +queer, Swan. They _want_ her. They haven't got her yet." + +"They're in the house," Swan reassured Lone. "I heard them walking. +You don't think they've got her there, Lone?" + +"If they have," gritted Lone, "they made the biggest blunder of their +lives bringing me over here. No, I could see they wanted to get off +alone and hold a powwow. They expected she'd be at the Quirt." + +"I think Al Woodruff, he's maybe got her, then," Swan declared, after +studying the matter briefly. "All the way he follows the trail over +here, Lone. I could see you sometimes in the trail. He was keeping +hid from the trail--I think because Raine was riding along, this +morning, and he's following. The tracks are that old." + +"They said they had trailed Raine this far, coming from the Sawtooth," +Lone told him worriedly. "What do you think Al would want----" + +"Don't she see him shoot Fred Thurman? By golly, I'm scared for that +girl, Loney!" + +Lone stared at him. "He wouldn't dare!" + +"A coward is a brave man when you scare him bad enough," Swan stated +flatly. "I'm careful always when I corner a coward." + +"Al ain't a coward. You've got him wrong." + +"Maybe, but he kills like a coward would kill, and he's scared he will +be caught. Warfield, he's scared, too. You watch him, Lone. + +"Now I tell you what I do. Yack, he picks up the trail from here to +where you can follow easy. We know two places where he didn't go with +her, and from here is two more trails he could take. But one goes to +the main road, and he don't take that one, I bet you. I think he takes +that girl up Spirit Canyon, maybe. It's woods and wild country in a +few miles, and plenty of places to hide, and good chances for getting +out over the top of the divide. + +"I'm going to my cabin, and you don't say anything when I leave. +Warfield, he don't want the damn Swede hanging around. So you go with +them, Loney. This is to what you call a showdown." + +"We'll want the dog," Lone told him, but Swan shook his head. Hawkins +and Warfield had come from the house and were approaching the stable. +Swan looked at Lone, and Lone went forward to meet them. + +"The Swede followed along on the ridge, and he didn't see anything," he +volunteered, before Warfield could question him. "We might put his dog +on the trail and see which way she went from here." + +Warfield thought that a good idea. He was so sure that Lorraine must +be somewhere within a mile or two of the place that he seemed to think +the search was practically over when Jack, nosing out the trail of Al +Woodruff, went trotting toward Spirit Canyon. + +"Took the wrong turn after she left the corrals here," Warfield +commented relievedly. "She wouldn't get far, up this way." + +"There's the track of two horses," Hawkins said abruptly. "That there +is the girl's horse, all right--there's a hind shoe missing. We saw +where her horse had cast a shoe, coming over Juniper Ridge. But +there's another horse track." + +Lone bit his lip. It was the other horse that Jack had been trailing +so long. "There was a loose horse hanging around Thurman's place," he +said casually. "It's him, tagging along, I reckon." + +"Oh," said Hawkins. "That accounts for it." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +SWAN CALLS FOR HELP + +Past the field where the horses were grazing and up the canyon on the +side toward Skyline Meadow, that lay on a shoulder of Bear Top, the dog +nosed unfalteringly along the trail. Now and then he was balked when +the hoofprints led him to the bank of Granite Creek, but not for long. +Jack appeared to understand why his trailing was interrupted and +sniffed the bank until he picked up the scent again. + +"Wonder if she changed off and rode that loose horse," Hawkins said +once, when the tracks were plain in the soft soil of the creek bank. +"She might, and lead that horse she was on." + +"She wouldn't know enough. She's a city girl," Lone replied, his heart +heavy with fear for Lorraine. + +"Well, she ain't far off then," Hawkins comforted himself. "Her horse +acted about played out when she hit the ranch. She had him wet from +his ears to his tail, and he was breathin' like that Ford at the ranch. +If that's a sample of her riding, she ain't far off." + +"Crazy--to ride up here. Keep your eyes open, boys. We must find her, +whatever we do." Warfield gazed apprehensively at the rugged steeps on +either hand and at the timber line above them. "From here on she +couldn't turn back without meeting us--if I remember this country +correctly. Could she, Hawkins?" + +"Not unless she turned off, up here a mile or two, into that gulch that +heads into Skyline," said Hawkins. "There's a stock trail part way +down from the top where it swings off from the divide to Wilder Creek." + +Swan, walking just behind Hawkins, moved up a pace. + +"I could go on Skyline with Yack, and I could come down by those +trail," he suggested diffidently, Swedishly, yet with a certain +compelling confidence. "What you think?" + +"I think that's a damned good idea for a square head," Hawkins told +him, and repeated it to Warfield, who was riding ahead. + +"Why, yes. We don't need the dog, or the man either. Go up to the +head of the gulch and keep your eyes open, Swan. We'll meet you up +here. You know the girl, don't you?" + +"Yas, Ay know her pretty good," grinned Swan. + +"Well, don't frighten her. Don't let her see that you think anything +is wrong--and don't say anything about us. We made the mistake of +discussing her condition within her hearing, and it is possible that +she understood enough of what we were saying to take alarm. You +understand? Don't tell girl she's crazy." He tapped his head to make +his meaning plainer. "Don't tell girl we're looking for her. You +understand?" + +"Yas, Ay know English pretty good. Ay don't tell too moch." His +cheerful smile brought a faint response from Senator Warfield. At Lone +he did not look at all. "I go quick. I'm good climber like a sheep," +he boasted, and whistling to Jack, he began working his way up a rough, +brush-scattered ledge to the slope above. + +Lone watched him miserably, wishing that Swan was not quite so matter +of fact in his man-chasing. If Al Woodruff, for some reason which Lone +could not fathom, had taken Lorraine and forced her to go with him into +the wilderness, Warfield and Hawkins would be his allies the moment +they came up with him. Lone was no coward, but neither was he a fool. +Hawkins had never distinguished himself as a fighter, but Lone had +gleaned here and there a great deal of information about Senator +Warfield in the old days when he had been plain Bill. When Lorraine +and Al were overtaken, then Lone would need to show the stuff that was +in him. He only hoped he would have time, and that luck would be with +him. + +"If they get me, it'll be all off with her," he worried, as he followed +the two up the canyon. "Swan would have been a help. But he thinks +more of catching Al than he does of helping Raine." + +He looked up and saw that already Swan was halfway up the canyon's +steep side, making his way through the brush with more speed than Lone +could have shown on foot in the open, unless he ran. The sight +heartened Lone a little. Swan might have some plan of his own,--an +ambush, possibly. If he would only keep along within rifle shot and +remain hidden, he would show real brains, Lone thought. But Swan, when +Lone looked up again, was climbing straight away from the little +searching party; and even though he seemed tireless on foot, he could +not perform miracles. + +Swan, however, was not troubling himself over what Lone would think, or +even what Warfield was thinking. Contrary to Lone's idea of him, Swan +was tired, and he was thinking a great deal about Lorraine, and very +little about Al Woodruff, except as Al was concerned with Lorraine's +welfare. Swan had made a mistake, and he was humiliated over his +blunder. Al had kept himself so successfully in the background while +Lone's peculiar actions had held his attention, that Swan had never +considered Al Woodruff as the killer. Now he blamed himself for +Frank's death. He had been watching Lone, had been baffled by Lone's +consistent kindness toward the Quirt, by the force of his personality +which held none of the elements of cold-blooded murder. He had +believed that he had the Sawtooth killer under observation, and he had +been watching and waiting for evidence that would impress a grand jury. +And all the while he had let Al Woodruff ride free and unsuspected. + +The one stupid thing, in Swan's opinion, which he had not done was to +let Lone go on holding his tongue. He had forced the issue that +morning. He had wanted to make Lone talk, had hoped for a weakening +and a confession. Instead he had learned a good deal which he should +have known before. + +As he forged up the slope across the ridged lip of the canyon, his one +immediate object was speed. Up the canyon and over the divide on the +west shoulder of Bear Top was a trail to the open country beyond. It +was perfectly passable, as Swan knew; he had packed in by that trail +when he located his homestead on Bear Top. That is why he had his +cabin up and was living in it before the Sawtooth discovered his +presence. + +Al, he believed, was making for Bear Top Pass. Once down the other +side he would find friends to lend him fresh horses. Swan had learned +something of these friends of the Sawtooth, and he could guess pretty +accurately how far some of them would go in their service. Fresh +horses for Al, food--perhaps even a cabin where he could hide Lorraine +away--were to be expected from any one of them, once Al was over the +divide. + +Swan glanced up at the sun, saw that it was dropping to late afternoon +and started in at a long, loose-jointed trot across the mountain meadow +called Skyline. A few pines, with scattered clumps of juniper and fir, +dotted the long, irregular stretch of grassland which formed the +meadow. Range cattle were feeding here and there, so wild they lifted +heads to stare at the man and dog, then came trotting forward, their +curiosity unabated by the fact that they had seen these two before. + +Jack looked up at his master, looked at the cattle and took his place +at Swan's heels. Swan shouted and flung his arms, and the cattle +ducked, turned and galloped awkwardly away. Swan's trot did not +slacken. His rifle swung rhythmically in his right hand, the muzzle +tilted downward. Beads of perspiration on his forehead had merged into +tiny rivulets on his cheeks and dripped off his clean-lined, square +jaw. Still he ran, his breath unlaboured yet coming in whispery +aspirations from his great lungs. + +The full length of Skyline Meadow he ran, jumping the small beginning +of Wilder Creek with one great leap that scarcely interrupted the +beautiful rhythm of his stride. At the far end of the clearing, +snuggled between two great pines that reached high into the blue, his +squatty cabin showed red-brown against the precipitous shoulder of Bear +Top peak, covered thick with brush and scraggy timber whipped +incessantly by the wind that blew over the mountain's crest. + +At the door Swan stopped and examined the crude fastening of the door; +made himself certain, by private marks of his own, that none had +entered in his absence, and went in with a great sigh of satisfaction. +It was still broad daylight, though the sun's rays slanted in through +the window; but Swan lighted a lantern that hung on a nail behind the +door, carried it across the neat little room, and set it down on the +floor beside the usual pioneer cupboard made simply of clean boxes +nailed bottom against the wall. Swan had furnished a few extra frills +to his cupboard, for the ends of the boxes were fastened to hewn slabs +standing upright and just clearing the floor. Near the upper shelf a +row of nails held Swan's coffee cups,--four of them, thick and white, +such as cheap restaurants use. + +Swan hooked a finger over the nail that held a cracked cup and glanced +over his shoulder at Jack, sitting in the doorway with his keen nose to +the world. + +"You watch out now, Yack. I shall talk to my mother with my thoughts," +he said, drawing a hand across his forehead and speaking in breathless +gasps. "You watch." + +For answer Jack thumped his tail on the dirt floor and sniffed the +breeze, taking in his overlapping tongue while he did so. He licked +his lips, looked over his shoulder at Swan, and draped his pink tongue +down over his lower jaw again. + +"All right, now I talk," said Swan and pulled upon the nail in his +fingers. + +The cupboard swung toward him bodily, end slabs and all. He picked up +the lantern, stepped over the log sill and pulled the cupboard door +into place again. + +Inside the dugout Swan set the lantern on a table, dropped wearily upon +a rough bench before it and looked at the jars beside him, lifted his +hand and opened a compact, but thoroughly efficient field wireless +"set." His right fingers dropped to the key, and the whining drone of +the wireless rose higher and higher as he tuned up. He reached for his +receivers, ducked his head and adjusted them with one hand, and sent a +call spitting tiny blue sparks from the key under his fingers. + +He waited, repeating the call. His blue eyes clouded with anxiety and +he fumbled the adjustments, coaxing the current into perfect action +before he called again. Answer came, and Swan bent over the table, +listening, his eyes fixed vacantly upon the opposite wall of the +dugout. Then, his fingers flexing delicately, swiftly, he sent the +message that told how completely his big heart matched the big body: + + +"Send doctor and trained nurse to Quirt ranch at once. Send men to +Bear Top Pass, intercept man with young woman, or come to rescue if he +don't cross. Have three men here with evidence to convict if we can +save the girl who is valuable witness. Girl being abducted in fear of +what she can tell. They plan to charge her with insanity. Urgent. +Hurry. Come ready to fight. + +"S. V." + + +Swan had a code, but codes require a little time in the composition of +a message, and time was the one thing he could not waste. He heard the +gist of the message repeated to him, told the man at the other station +that lives were at stake, and threw off the current. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +KIDNAPPED + +Lorraine had once had a nasty fall from riding down hill at a gallop. +She remembered that accident and permitted Snake to descend Granite +Ridge at a walk, which was fortunate, since it gave the horse a chance +to recover a little from the strain of the terrific pace at which she +had ridden him that morning. At first it had been fighting fury that +had impelled her to hurry; now it was fear that drove her homeward +where Lone was, and Swan, and that stolid, faithful Jim. She felt that +Senator Warfield would never dare to carry out his covert threat, once +she reached home. Nevertheless, the threat haunted her, made her +glance often over her shoulder. + +At the Thurman ranch, which she was passing with a sickening memory of +the night when she and Swan had carried her father there, Al Woodruff +rode out suddenly from behind the stable and blocked trail, his +six-shooter in his hand, his face stony with determination. Lorraine +afterwards decided that he must have seen or heard her coming down the +ridge and had waited for her there. He smiled with his lips when she +pulled up Snake with a startled look. + +"You're in such a hurry this morning that I thought the only way to get +a chance to talk to you was to hold you up," he said, in much the same +tone he had used that day at the ranch. + +"I don't see why you want to talk to me," Lorraine retorted, not in the +least frightened at the gun, which was too much like her movie West to +impress her much. But her eyes widened at the look in his face, and +she tried to edge away from him without seeming to do so. + +Al stopped her by the simple method of reaching out his left hand and +catching Snake by the cheek-piece of the bridle. "You don't have to +see why," he said. "I've been thinking a lot about you lately. I've +made up my mind that I've got to have you with me--always. This is +kinda sudden, maybe, but that's the way the game runs, sometimes. Now, +I want to tell yuh one or two things that's for your own good. One is +that I'll have my way, or die getting it. Don't be scared; I won't +hurt you. But if you try to break away, I'll shoot you, that's all. +I'm going to marry you, see, first. Then I'll make love to you +afterwards. I ain't asking you if you'll marry me. You're going to do +it, or I'll kill you." + +Lorraine gazed at him fascinated, too astonished to attempt any move +toward escape. Al's hand slipped from the bridle down to the reins, +and still holding Snake, still holding the gun muzzle toward her, still +looking her straight in the eyes, he threw his right leg over the +cantle of his saddle and stepped off his horse. + +"Put your other hand on the saddle horn," he directed. "I ain't going +to hurt you if you're good." + +He twitched his neckerchief off--Lorraine saw that it was untied, and +that he must have planned all this--and with it tied her wrists to the +saddle horn. She gave Snake a kick in the ribs, but Al checked the +horse's first start and Snake was too tired to dispute a command to +stand still. Al put up his gun, pulled a hunting knife from a little +scabbard in his boot, sliced two pairs of saddle strings from +Lorraine's saddle, calmly caught and held her foot when she tried to +kick him, pushed the foot back into the stirrup and tied it there with +one of the leather strings. Just as if he were engaged in an everyday +proceeding, he walked around Snake and tied Lorraine's right foot; +then, to prevent her from foolishly throwing herself from the horse and +getting hurt, he tied the stirrups together under the horse's belly. + +"Now, if you'll be a good girl, I'll untie your hands," he said, +glancing up into her face. He freed her hands, and Lorraine +immediately slapped him in the face and reached for his gun. But Al +was too quick for her. He stepped back, picked up Snake's reins and +mounted his own horse. He looked back at her appraisingly, saw her +glare of hatred and grinned at it, while he touched his horse with the +spurs and rode away, leading Snake behind him. + +Lorraine said nothing until Al, riding at a lope, passed the field at +the mouth of Spirit Canyon where the blaze-faced roan still fed with +the others. They were feeding along the creek quite close to the +fence, and the roan walked toward them. The sight of it stirred +Lorraine out of her dumb horror. + +"You killed Fred Thurman! I saw you," she cried suddenly. + +"Well, you ain't going to holler it all over the country," Al flung +back at her over his shoulder. "When you're married to me, you'll come +mighty close to keeping your mouth shut about it." + +"I'll never marry you! You--you fiend! Do you think I'd marry a +cold-blooded murderer like you?" + +Al turned in the saddle and looked at her intently. "If I'm all that," +he told her coolly, "you can figure out about what'll happen to you if +you _don't_ marry me. If you saw what I done to Fred Thurman, what do +you reckon I'd do to _you_?" He looked at her for a minute, shrugged +his shoulders and rode on, crossing the creek and taking a trail which +Lorraine did know. Much of the time they travelled in the water, +though it slowed their space. Where the trail was rocky, they took it +and made better time. + +Snake lagged a little on the upgrades, but he was well trained to lead +and gave little trouble. Lorraine thought longingly of Yellowjacket +and his stubbornness and tried to devise some way of escape. She could +not believe that fate would permit Al Woodruff to carry out such a +plan. Lone would overtake them, perhaps,--and then she remembered that +Lone would have no means of knowing which way she had gone. If Hawkins +and Senator Warfield came after them, her plight would be worse than +ever. Still, she decided that she must risk that danger and give Lone +a clue. + +She dropped a glove beside the trail, where it lay in plain sight of +any one following them. But presently Al looked over his shoulder, saw +that one of her hands was bare, and tied Snake's reins to his saddle +and his own horse to a bush. Then he went back down the trail until he +found the glove. He put it into his pocket, came silently up to +Lorraine and pulled off her other glove. Without a word he took her +wrists in a firm clasp, tied them together again to the saddle horn, +pulled off her tie, her hat, the pins from her hair. + +"I guess you don't know me yet," he remarked dryly, when he had +confiscated every small article which she could let fall as she rode. +"I was trying to treat yuh white, but you don't seem to appreciate it. +Now you can ride hobbled, young lady." + +"Oh, I could _kill_ you!" Lorraine whispered between set teeth. + +"You mean you'd like to. Well, I ain't going to give you a chance." +His eyes rested on her face with a new expression; an awakening desire +for her, an admiration for the spirit that would not let her weep and +plead with him. + +"Say! you ain't going to be a bit hard to marry," he observed, his eyes +lighting with what was probably his nearest approach to tenderness. "I +kinda wish you liked me, now I've got you." + +He shook her arm and laughed when she turned her face away from him, +then remounted his horse, Snake moved reluctantly when Al started on. +Lorraine felt hope slipping from her. With her hands tied, she could +do nothing at all save sit there and ride wherever Al Woodruff chose to +lead her horse. He seemed to be making for the head of Spirit Canyon, +on the side toward Bear Top. + +As they climbed higher, she could catch glimpses of the road down which +her father had driven almost to his death. She studied Al's back as he +rode before her and wondered if he could really be cold-blooded enough +to kill without compunction whoever he was told to kill, whether he had +any personal quarrel with his victim or not. Certainly he had had no +quarrel with her father, or with Frank. + +It was long past noon, and she was terribly hungry and very thirsty, +but she would not tell Al her wants if she starved. She tried to guess +at his plans and at his motive for taking her away like this. He had +no camping outfit, a bulkily rolled slicker forming his only burden. +He could not, then, be planning to take her much farther into the +wilderness; yet if he did not hide her away, how could he expect to +keep her? His motive for marrying her was rather mystifying. He did +not seem sufficiently in love with her to warrant an abduction, and he +was too cool for such a headlong action, unless driven by necessity. +She wondered what he was thinking about as he rode. Not about her, she +guessed, except when some bad place in the trail made it necessary for +him to stop, tie Snake to the nearest bush, lead his own horse past the +obstruction and come back after her. Several times this was necessary. +Once he took the time to examine the thongs on her ankles, apparently +wishing to make sure that she was not uncomfortable. Once he looked up +into her sullenly distressed face and said, "Tired?" in a humanly +sympathetic tone that made her blink back the tears. She shook her +head and would not look at him. Al regarded her in silence for a +minute, led Snake to his own horse, mounted and rode on. + +He was a murderer; he had undoubtedly killed many men. He would kill +her if she attempted to escape--"and he could not catch me," Lorraine +was just enough to add. Yet she felt baffled; cheated of the full +horror of being kidnapped. + +She had no knowledge of a bad man who was human in spots without being +repentant. For love of a girl, she had been taught to believe, the +worst outlaw would weep over his past misdeeds, straighten his +shoulders, look to heaven for help and become a self-sacrificing hero +for whom audiences might be counted upon to shed furtive tears. + +Al Woodruff, however, did not love her. His eyes had once or twice +softened to friendliness, but love was not there. Neither was +repentance there. He seemed quite satisfied with himself, quite ready +to commit further crimes for sake of his own safety or desire. He was +hard, she decided, but he was not unnecessarily harsh; cruel, without +being wantonly brutal. He was, in short, the strangest man she had +ever seen. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +"OH, I COULD KILL YOU!" + +Before sundown they reached the timber-land on Bear Top. The horses +slipped on the pine needles when Al left the trail and rode up a gentle +incline where the trees grew large and there was little underbrush. It +was very beautiful, with the slanting sun-rays painting broad yellow +bars across the gloom of the forest. In a little while they reached +the crest of that slope, and Lorraine, looking back, could only guess +at where the trail wound on among the trees lower down. + +Birds called companionably from the high branches above them. A +nesting grouse flew chuttering out from under a juniper bush, alighted +a short distance away and went limping and dragging one wing before +them, cheeping piteously. + +While Lorraine was wondering if the poor thing had hurt a leg in +lighting, Al clipped its head off neatly with a bullet from his +six-shooter, though Lorraine had not seen him pull the gun and did not +know he meant to shoot. The bird's mate whirred up and away through +the trees, and Lorraine was glad that it had escaped. + +Al slid the gun back into his holster, leaned from his saddle and +picked up the dead grouse as unconcernedly as he would have dismounted, +pulled his knife from his boot and drew the bird neatly, flinging the +crop and entrails from him. + +"Them juniper berries tastes the meat if you don't clean 'em out right +away," he remarked casually to Lorraine, as he wiped the knife on his +trousers and thrust it back into the boot-scabbard before he tied the +grouse to the saddle by its blue, scaley little feet. + +When he was ready to go on, Snake refused to budge. Tough as he was, +he had at last reached the limit of his energy and ambition. Al yanked +hard on the bridle reins, then rode back and struck him sharply with +his quirt before Snake would rouse himself enough to move forward. He +went stiffly, reluctantly, pulling back until his head was held +straight out before him. Al dragged him so for a rod or two, lost +patience and returned to whip him forward again. + +"What a brute you are!" Lorraine exclaimed indignantly. "Can't you see +how tired he is?" + +Al glanced at her from under his eyebrows. "He's all in, but he's got +to make it," he said. "I've been that way myself--and made it. What I +can do, a horse can do. Come on, you yella-livered bonehead!" + +Snake went on, urged now and then by Al's quirt. Every blow made +Lorraine wince, and she made the wincing perfectly apparent to Al, in +the hope that he would take some notice of it and give her a chance to +tell him what she thought of him without opening the conversation +herself. + +But Al did not say anything. When the time came--as even Lorraine saw +that it must--when Snake refused to attempt a steep slope, Al still +said nothing. He untied her ankles from the stirrups and her hands +from the saddle horn, carried her in his arms to his own horse and +compelled her to mount. Then he retied her exactly as she had been +tied on Snake. + +"Skinner knows this trail," he told Lorraine. "And I'm behind yuh with +a gun. Don't forget that, Miss Spitfire. You let Skinner go to suit +himself--and if he goes wrong, you pay, because it'll be you reining +him wrong. Get along there, Skinner!" + +Skinner got along in a businesslike way that told why Al Woodruff had +chosen to ride him on this trip. He seemed to be a perfectly +dependable saddle horse for a bandit to own. He wound in and out among +the trees and boulders, stepping carefully over fallen logs; he thrust +his nose out straight and laid back his ears and pushed his way through +thickets of young pines; he went circumspectly along the edge of a deep +gulch, climbed over a ridge and worked his way down the precipitous +slope on the farther side, made his way around a thick clump of spruces +and stopped in a little, grassy glade no bigger than a city lot, but +with a spring gurgling somewhere near. Then he swung his head around +and looked over his shoulder inquiringly at Al, who was coming behind, +leading Snake. + +Lorraine looked at him also, but Al did not say anything to her or to +the horse. He let them stand there and wait while he unsaddled Snake, +put a drag rope on him and led him to the best grazing. Then, coming +back, he very matter-of-factly untied Lorraine and helped her off the +horse. Lorraine was all prepared to fight, but she did not quite know +how to struggle with a man who did not take hold of her or touch her, +except to steady her in dismounting. Unconsciously she waited for a +cue, and the cue was not given. + +Al's mind seemed intent upon making Skinner comfortable. Still, he +kept an eye on Lorraine, and he did not turn his back to her. Lorraine +looked over to where Snake, too exhausted to eat, stood with drooping +head and all four legs braced like sticks under him. It flashed across +her mind that not even her old director would order her to make a run +for that horse and try to get away on him. Snake looked as if he would +never move from that position until he toppled over. + +Al pulled the bridle off Skinner, gave him a half-affectionate slap on +the rump, and watched him go off, switching his tail and nosing the +ground for a likeable place to roll. Al's glance went on to Snake, and +from him to Lorraine. + +"You sure do know how to ride hell out of a horse," he remarked. "Now +he'll be stiff and sore to-morrow--and we've got quite a ride to make." + +His tone of disapproval sent a guilty feeling through Lorraine, until +she remembered that a slow horse might save her from this man who was +all bad,--except, perhaps, just on the surface which was not altogether +repellent. She looked around at the tiny basin set like a saucer among +the pines. Already the dusk was painting deep shadows in the woods +across the opening, and turning the sky a darker blue. Skinner rolled +over twice, got up and shook himself with a satisfied snort and went +away to feed. She might, if she were patient, run to the horse when +Al's back was turned, she thought. Once in the woods she might have +some chance of eluding him, and perhaps Skinner would show as much +wisdom going as he had in coming, and take her down to the sageland. + +But Skinner walked to the farther edge of the meadow before he stopped, +and Al Woodruff never turned his back to a foe. An owl hooted +unexpectedly, and Lorraine edged closer to her captor, who was +gathering dead branches one by one and throwing them toward a certain +spot which he had evidently selected for a campfire. He looked at her +keenly, even suspiciously, and pointed with the stick in his left hand. + +"You might go over there by the saddle and set down till I get a fire +going," he said. "Don't go wandering around aimless, like a hen +turkey, watching a chance to duck into the brush. There's bear in +there and lion and lynx, and I'd hate to see you chawed. They never +clean their toe-nails, and blood poison generally sets in where they +leave a scratch. Go and set down." + +Lorraine did not know how much of his talk was truth, but she went and +sat down by his saddle and began braiding her hair in two tight braids +like a squaw. If she did get a chance to run, she thought, she did not +want her hair flying loose to catch on bushes and briars. She had once +fled through a brush patch in Griffith Park with her hair flowing +loose, and she had not liked the experience, though it had looked very +nice on the screen. + +Before she had finished the braiding, Al came over to the saddle and +untied his slicker roll and the grouse. + +"Come on over to the fire," he said. "I'll learn yuh a trick or two +about camp cooking. If I'm goin' to keep yuh with me, you might just +as well learn how to cook. We'll be on the trail the biggest part of +our time, I expect." + +He took her by the arm, just as any man might have done, and led her to +the fire that was beginning to crackle cheerfully. He set her down on +the side where the smoke would be least likely to blow her way and +proceeded to dress the grouse, stripping off skin and feathers +together. He unrolled the slicker and laid out a piece of bacon, a +package of coffee, a small coffeepot, bannock and salt. The coffeepot +and the grouse he took in one hand--his left, Lorraine observed--and +started toward the spring which she could hear gurgling in the shadows +amongst the trees. + +Lorraine watched him sidelong. He seemed to take it for granted now +that she would stay where she was. The woods were dark, the firelight +and the warmth enticed her. The sight of the supper preparations made +her hungrier than she had ever been in her life before. When one has +breakfasted on one cup of coffee at dawn and has ridden all day with +nothing to eat, running away from food, even though that food is in the +hands of one's captor, requires courage. Lorraine was terribly tempted +to stay, at least until she had eaten. But Al might not give her +another chance like this. She crept on her knees to the slicker and +seized one piece of bannock, crawled out of the firelight stealthily, +then sprang to her feet and began running straight across the meadow +toward Skinner. + +Twenty yards she covered when a bullet sang over her head. Lorraine +ducked, stumbled and fell head-first over a hummock, not quite sure +that she had not been shot. + +"Thought maybe I could trust yuh to play square," Al said disgustedly, +pulling her to her feet, the gun still smoking in his hands. "You +little fool, what do you think you'd do in these hills alone? You sure +enough belittle me, if you think you'd have a chance in a million of +getting away from me!" + +She fought him, then, with a great, inner relief that the situation was +at last swinging around to a normal kidnapping. Still, Al Woodruff +seemed unable to play his part realistically. He failed to fill her +with fear and repulsion. She had to think back, to remember that he +had killed men, in order to realise her own danger. Now, for instance, +he merely forced her back to the campfire, pulled the saddle strings +from his pocket and tied her feet together, using a complicated knot +which he told her she might work on all she darn pleased, for all he +cared. Then he went calmly to work cooking their supper. + +This was simple. He divided the grouse so that one part had the meaty +breast and legs, and the other the back and wings. The meaty part he +larded neatly with strips of bacon, using his hunting knife,--which +Lorraine watched fascinatedly, wondering if it had ever taken the life +of a man. He skewered the meat on a green, forked stick and gave it to +her to broil for herself over the hottest coals of the fire, while he +made the coffee and prepared his own portion of the grouse. + +Lorraine was hungry. She broiled the grouse carefully and ate it, with +the exception of one leg, which she surprised herself by offering to +Al, who was picking the bones of his own share down to the last shred +of meat. She drank a cup of coffee, black, and returned the cup to the +killer, who unconcernedly drank from it without any previous rinsing. +She ate bannock with her meat and secretly thought what an adventure it +would be if only it were not real,--if only she were not threatened +with a forced marriage to this man. The primitive camp appealed to +her; she who had prided herself upon being an outdoor girl saw how she +had always played at being primitive. This was real. She would have +loved it if only the man opposite were Lone, or Swan, or some one else +whom she knew and trusted. + +She watched the firelight dancing on Al's sombre face, softening its +hardness, making it almost wistful when he gazed thoughtfully into the +coals. She thrilled when she saw how watchful he was, how he lifted +his head and listened to every little night sound. She was afraid of +him as she feared the lightning; she feared his pitiless attitude +toward human life. She would find some way to outwit him when it came +to the point of marrying him, she thought. She would escape him if she +could without too great a risk of being shot. She felt absolutely +certain that he would shoot her with as little compunction as he would +marry her by force,--and it seemed to Lorraine that he would not +greatly care which he did. + +"I guess you're tired," Al said suddenly, rousing himself from deep +study and looking at her imperturbably. "I'll fix yuh so you can +sleep--and that's about all yuh can do." + +He went over to his saddle, took the blanket and unfolded it until +Lorraine saw that it was a full-size bed blanket of heavy gray wool. +The man's ingenuity seemed endless. Without seeming to have any extra +luggage, he had nevertheless carried a very efficient camp outfit with +him. He took his hunting knife, went to the spruce grove and cut many +small, green branches, returning with all he could hold in his arms. +She watched him lay them tips up for a mattress, and was secretly glad +that she knew this much at least of camp comfort. He spread the +blanket over them and then, without a word, came over to her and untied +her feet. + +"Go and lay down on the blanket," he commanded. + +"I'll do nothing of the kind!" Lorraine set her mouth stubbornly. + +"Well, then I'll have to lay you down," said Al, lifting her to her +feet. "If you get balky, I'm liable to get rough." + +Lorraine drew away from him as far as she could and looked at him for a +full minute. Al stared back into her eyes. "Oh, I could _kill_ you!" +cried Lorraine for the second time that day and threw herself down on +the bed, sobbing like an angry child. + +Al said nothing. The man's capacity for keeping still was amazing. He +knelt beside her, folded the blanket over her from the two sides, and +tied the corners around her neck snugly, the knot at the back. In the +same way he tied her ankles. Lorraine found herself in a sleeping bag +from which she had small hope of extricating herself. He took his +coat, folded it compactly and pushed it under her head for a pillow; +then he brought her own saddle blanket and spread it over her for extra +warmth. + +"Now stop your bawling and go to sleep," he advised her calmly. "You +ain't hurt, and you ain't going to be as long as you gentle down and +behave yourself." + +She saw him draw the slicker over his shoulders and move back where the +shadows were deep and she could not see him. She heard some animal +squall in the woods behind them. She looked up at the stars,--millions +of them, and brighter than she had ever seen them before. Insensibly +she quieted, watching the stars, listening to the night noises, +catching now and then a whiff of smoke from Al Woodruff's cigarette. +Before she knew that she was sleepy, she slept. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +"YACK, I LICK YOU GOOD IF YOU BARK" + +Swan cooked himself a hasty meal while he studied the various +possibilities of the case and waited for further word from +headquarters. He wanted to be sure that help had started and to be +able to estimate within an hour or two the probable time of its +arrival, before he left the wireless. Jack he fed and left on watch +outside the cabin, so that he could without risk keep open the door to +the dugout. + +His instrument was not a large one, and the dugout door was thick,--as +a precaution against discovery if he should be called when some visitor +chanced to be in the cabin. Not often did a man ride that way, though +occasionally some one stopped for a meal if he knew that the cabin was +there and had ever tasted Swan's sour-dough biscuits. His aerial was +cleverly camouflaged between the two pine trees, and he had no fear of +discovery there; Jack was a faithful guardian and would give warning if +any one approached the place. Swan could therefore give his whole +attention to the business at hand. + +He was not yet supplied with evidence enough to warrant arresting +Warfield and Hawkins, but he hoped to get it when the real crisis came. +They could not have known of Al Woodruff's intentions towards Lorraine, +else they would have kept themselves in the background and would not +have risked the failure of their own plan. + +On the other hand, Al must have been wholly ignorant of Warfield's +scheme to try and prove Lorraine crazy. It looked to Swan very much +like a muddling of the Sawtooth affairs through over-anxiety to avoid +trouble. They were afraid of what Lorraine knew. They wanted to +eliminate her, and they had made the blunder of working independently +to that end. + +Lone's anxiety he did not even consider. He believed that Lone would +be equal to any immediate emergency and would do whatever the +circumstances seemed to require of him. Warfield counted him a +Sawtooth man. Al Woodruff, if the four men met unexpectedly, would +also take it for granted that he was one of them. They would probably +talk to Lone without reserve,--Swan counted on that. Whereas, if he +were present, they would be on their guard, at least. + +Swan's plan was to wait at the cabin until he knew that deputies were +headed toward the Pass. Then, with Jack, it would be a simple matter +to follow Warfield to where he overtook Al,--supposing he did overtake +him. If he did not, then Swan meant to be present when the meeting +occurred. The dog would trail Al anywhere, since the scent would be +less than twenty-four hours old. Swan would locate Warfield and lead +him straight to Al Woodruff, and then make his arrests. But he wanted +to have the deputies there. + +At dusk he got his call. He learned that four picked men had started +for the Pass, and that they would reach the divide by daybreak. Others +were on their way to intercept Al Woodruff if he crossed before then. + +It was all that Swan could have hoped for,--more than he had dared to +expect on such short notice. He notified the operator that he would +not be there to receive anything else, until he returned to report that +he had got his men. + +"Don't count your chickens till they're hatched," came facetiously out +of the blue. + +"By golly, I can hear them holler in the shell," Swan sent back, +grinning to himself as he rattled the key. "That irrigation graft is +killed now. You tell the boss Swan says so. He's right. The way to +catch a fox is to watch his den." + +He switched off the current, closed the case and went out, making sure +that the cupboard-camouflaged door looked perfectly innocent on the +outside. With a bannock stuffed into one pocket, a chunk of bacon in +the other, he left the cabin and swung off again in that long, tireless +stride of his, Jack following contentedly at his heels. + +At the farther end of Skyline Meadow he stopped, took a tough leather +leash from his pocket and fastened it to Jack's collar. + +"We don't go running to paw nobody's stomach and say, 'Wow-wow! Here +we are back again!'" he told the dog, pulling its ears affectionately. +"Maybe we get shot or something like that. We trail, and we keep our +mouth still, Yack. One bark, and I lick you good!" + +Jack flashed out a pink tongue and licked his master's chin to show how +little he was worried over the threat, and went racing along at the end +of the leash, taking Swan's trail and his own back to where they had +climbed out of the canyon. + +At the bottom Swan spoke to the dog in an undertone, and Jack +obediently started up the canyon on the trail of the five horses who +had passed that way since noon. It was starlight now, and Swan did not +hurry. He was taking it for granted that Warfield and Hawkins would +stop when it became too dark to follow the hoofprints, and without Jack +to show them the way they would perforce remain where they were until +daybreak. + +They would do that, he reasoned, if they were sincere in wanting to +overtake Lorraine and in their ignorance that they were also following +Al Woodruff. And try as he would, he could not see the object of so +foolish a plan as this abduction carried out in collusion with two men +of unknown sentiments in the party. They had shown no suspicion of +Al's part in the affair, and Swan grinned when he thought of the mutual +surprise when they met. + +He was not disappointed. They reached timber line, following the +seldom used trail that wound over the divide to Bear Top Pass and so, +by a difficult route which he did not believe Al would attempt after +dark, to the country beyond the mountain. Where dark overtook them, +they stopped in a sheltered nook to wait, just as Swan had expected +they would. They were close to the trail, where no one could pass +without their knowledge. + +In the belief that it was only Lorraine they were following, and that +she would be frightened and would come to the cheer of a campfire, they +had a fine, inviting blaze. Swan made his way as close as he dared, +without being discovered, and sat down to wait. He could see nothing +of the men until Lone appeared and fed the flames more wood, and sat +down where the light shone on his face. Swan grinned again. Warfield +had probably decided that Lorraine would be less afraid of Lone than of +them and had ordered him into the firelight as a sort of decoy. And +Lone, knowing that Al Woodruff might be within shooting distance, was +probably much more uncomfortable than he looked. + +He sat with his legs crossed in true range fashion and stared into the +fire while he smoked. He was a fair mark for an enemy who might be +lurking out there in the dark, but he gave no sign that he realised the +danger of his position. Neither did he wear any air of expectancy. +Warfield and Hawkins might wait and listen and hope that Lorraine, +wide-eyed and weary, would steal up to the warmth of the fire; but not +Lone. + +Swan, sitting on a rotting log, became uneasy at the fine target which +Lone made by the fire, and drew Al Woodruff's blue bandanna from his +pocket. He held it to Jack's nose and whispered, "You find him, +Yack--and I lick you good if you bark." Jack sniffed, dropped his nose +to the ground and began tugging at the leash. Swan got up and, moving +stealthily, followed the dog. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +"I COULDA LOVED THIS LITTLE GIRL" + +A chill wind that hurried over Bear Top ahead of the dawn brought Swan +and Jack clattering up the trail that dipped into Spirit Canyon. +Warfield rose stiffly from the one-sided warmth of the fire and walked +a few paces to meet him, shrugging his wide shoulders at the cold and +rubbing his thigh muscles that protested against movement. Much riding +upon upholstered cushions had not helped Senator Warfield to retain the +tough muscles of hard-riding Bill Warfield. The Senator was +saddle-sore as well as hungry, and his temper showed in his blood-shot +eyes. He would have quarrelled with his best-loved woman that morning, +and he began on Swan. + +Why hadn't he come back down the gulch yesterday and helped track the +girl, as he was told to do? (The senator had quite unpleasant opinions +of Swedes, and crazy women, and dogs that were never around when they +were wanted, and he expressed them fluently.) + +Swan explained with a great deal of labour that he had not thought he +was wanted, and that he had to sleep on his claim sometimes or the law +would take it from him, maybe. Also he virtuously pointed out that he +had come with Yack before daylight to the canyon to see if they had +found Miss Hunter and gone home, or if they were still hunting for her. + +"If you like to find that jong lady, I put Yack on the trail quick," he +offered placatingly. "I bet you Yack finds her in one-half an hour." + +With much unnecessary language, Senator Warfield told him to get to +work, and the three tightened cinches, mounted their horses and +prepared to follow Swan's lead. Swan watched his chance and gave Lone +a chunk of bannock as a substitute for breakfast, and Lone, I may add, +dropped behind his companions and ate every crumb of it, in spite of +his worry over Lorraine. + +Indeed, Swan eased that worry too, when they were climbing the pine +slope where Al had killed the grouse. Lone had forged ahead on John +Doe, and Swan stopped suddenly, pointing to the spot where a few bloody +feathers and a boot-print showed. The other evidence Jack had eaten in +the night. + +"Raine's all right, Lone. Got men coming. Keep your gun handy," he +murmured and turned away as the others rode up, eager for whatever news +Swan had to offer. + +"Something killed a bird," Swan explained politely, planting one of his +own big feet over the track, which did not in the least resemble +Lorraine's. "Yack! you find that jong lady quick!" + +From there on Swan walked carefully, putting his foot wherever a print +of Al's boot was visible. Since he was much bigger than Al, with a +correspondingly longer stride, his gait puzzled Lone until he saw just +what Swan was doing. Then his eyes lightened with amused appreciation +of the Swede's cunning. + +"We ought to have some hot drink, or whisky when we find that girl," +Hawkins muttered unexpectedly, riding up beside Lone as they crossed an +open space. "She'll be half-dead with cold--if we find her alive." + +Before Lone could answer, Swan looked back at the two and raised his +hand for them to stop. + +"Better if you leave the horses here," he suggested. "From Yack I know +we get close pretty quick. That jong lady's horse maybe smells these +horse and makes a noise, and crazy folks run from noise." + +Without objection the three dismounted and tied their horses securely +to trees. Then, with Swan and Jack leading the way, they climbed over +the ridge and descended into the hollow by way of the ledge which +Skinner had negotiated so carefully the night before. Without the dog +they never would have guessed that any one had passed this way, but as +it was they made good progress and reached the nearest edge of the +spruce thicket just as the sun was making ready to push up over the +skyline. + +Jack stopped and looked up at his master inquiringly, lifting his lip +at the sides and showing his teeth. But he made no sound; nor did +Swan, when he dropped his fingers to the dog's head and patted him +approvingly. + +They heard a horse sneeze, beyond the spruce grove, and Warfield +stepped forward authoritatively, waving Swan back. This, his manner +said plainly, was first and foremost his affair, and from now on he +would take charge of the situation. At his heels went Hawkins, and +Swan sent an oblique glance of satisfaction toward Lone, who answered +it with his half-smile. Swan himself could not have planned the +approach more to his liking. + +The smell of bacon cooking watered their mouths and made Warfield and +Hawkins look at one another inquiringly. Crazy young women would +hardly be expected to carry a camping outfit. But Swan and Lone were +treading close on their heels, and their own curiosity pulled them +forward. They went carefully around the thicket, guided by the pungent +odour of burning pine wood, and halted so abruptly that Swan and Lone +bumped into them from behind. A man had risen up from the campfire and +faced them, his hands rising slowly, palms outward. + +"Warfield, by----!" Al blurted in his outraged astonishment. "Trailing +me with a bunch, are yuh? I knew you'd double-cross your own +father--but I never thought you had it in you to do it in the open. +Damn yuh, what d'yuh want that you expect to get?" + +Warfield stared at him, slack-jawed. He glanced furtively behind him +at Swan, and found that guileless youth ready to poke him in the back +with the muzzle of a gun. Lone, he observed, had another. He looked +back at Al, whose eyes were ablaze with resentment. With an effort he +smiled his disarming, senatorial smile, but Al's next words froze it on +his face. + +"I think I know the play you're making, but it won't get you anything, +Bill Warfield. You think I slipped up--and you told me not to let my +foot slip; said you'd hate to lose me. Well, you're the one that +slipped, you damned, rotten coward. I was watching out for leaks. I +stopped two, and this one----" + +He glanced down at Lorraine, who sat beside the fire, a blanket tied +tightly around her waist and her ankles, so that, while comfortably +free, she could make no move to escape. + +"I was fixing to stop _her_ from telling all she knew," he added +harshly. "By to-night I'd have had her married to me, you damned fool. +And here you've blocked everything for me, afraid I was falling down on +my job! + +"Now folks, lemme just tell you a few little things. I know my +limit--you've got me dead to rights. I ain't complaining about that; a +man in my game expects to get his, some day. But I ain't going to let +the man go that paid me my wages and a bonus of five hundred dollars +for every man I killed that he wanted outa the way. + +"Hawkins knows that's a fact. He's foreman of the Sawtooth, and he +knows the agreement. I've got to say for Hawkins that aside from +stealing cattle off the nesters and helping make evidence against some +that's in jail, Hawkins never done any dirty work. He didn't have to. +They paid _me_ for that end of the business. + +"I killed Fred Thurman--this girl, here, saw me shoot him. And it was +when I told Warfield I was afraid she might set folks talking that he +began to get cold feet. Up to then everything was lovely, but Warfield +began to crawfish a little. We figured--_we_ figured, emphasise the +_we_, folks,--that the Quirt would have to be put outa business. We +knew if the girl told Brit and Frank, they'd maybe get the nerve to try +and pin something on us. We've stole 'em blind for years, and they +wouldn't cry if we got hung. Besides, they was friendly with Fred. + +"The girl and the Swede got in the way when I tried to bump Brit off. +I'd have gone into the canyon and finished him with a rock, but they +beat me to it. The girl herself I couldn't get at very well and make +it look accidental--and anyway, I never did kill a woman, and I'd hate +it like hell. I figured if her dad got killed, she'd leave. + +"And let me tell you, folks, Warfield raised hell with me because Brit +Hunter wasn't killed when he pitched over the grade. He held out on me +for that job--so I'm collecting five hundred dollars' worth of fun +right now. He did say he'd pay me after Brit was dead, but it looks +like he's going to pull through, so I ain't counting much on getting my +money outa Warfield. + +"Frank I got, and made a clean job of it. And yesterday morning the +girl played into my hands. She rode over to the Sawtooth, and I got +her at Thurman's place, on her way home, and figured I'd marry her and +take a chance on keeping her quiet afterwards. I'd have been down the +Pass in another two hours and heading for the nearest county seat. +She'd have married me, too. She knows I'd have killed her if she +didn't--which I would. I've been square with her--she'll tell you +that. I told her, when I took her, just what I was going to do with +her. So that's all straight. She's been scared, I guess, but she +ain't gone hungry, and she ain't suffered, except in her mind. I don't +fight women, and I'll say right now, to her and to you, that I've got +all the respect in the world for this little girl, and if I'd married +her I'd have been as good to her as I know how, and as she'd let me be. + +"Now I want to tell you folks a few more things about Bill Warfield. +If you want to stop the damnest steal in the country, tie a can onto +that irrigation scheme of his. He's out to hold up the State for all +he can get, and bleed the poor devils of farmers white, that buys land +under that canal. It may look good, but it ain't good--not by a damn +sight. + +"Yuh know what he's figuring on doing? Get water in the canal, sell +land under a contract that lets him out if the ditch breaks, or +something so he _can't_ supply water at any time. And when them poor +suckers gets their crops all in, and at the point where they've got to +have water or lose out, something'll happen to the supply. Folks, I +_know_! I'm a reliable man, and I've rode with a rope around my neck +for over five years, and Warfield offered me the same old five hundred +every time I monkeyed with the water supply as ordered. He'd have done +it slick; don't worry none about that. The biggest band of thieves he +could get together is that company. So if you folks have got any +sense, you'll bust it up right now. + +"Bill Warfield, what I've got to say to you won't take long. You +thought you'd make a grand-stand play with the law, and at the same +time put me outa the way. You figured I'd resist arrest, and you'd +have a chance to shoot me down. I know your rotten mind better than +you do. You wanted to bump me off, but you wanted to do it in a way +that'd put you in right with the public. Killing me for kidnapping +this girl would sound damn romantic in the newspapers, and it wouldn't +have a thing to do with Thurman or Frank Johnson, or any of the rest +that I've sent over the trail for you. + +"Right now you're figuring how you'll get around this bawling-out I'm +giving you. There's nobody to take down what I say, and I'm just a +mean, ornery outlaw and killer, talking for spite. With your pull you +expect to get this smoothed over and hushed up, and have me at a +hanging bee, and everything all right for Bill! Well----" + +His eyes left Warfield's face and went beyond the staring group. His +face darkened, a sneer twisted his lips. + +"Who're them others?" he cried harshly. "Was you afraid four wouldn't +be enough to take me?" + +The four turned heads to look. Bill Warfield never looked back, for +Al's gun spoke, and Warfield sagged at the knees and the shoulders, and +he slumped to the ground at the instant when Al's gun spoke again. + +"That's for you, Lone Morgan," Al cried, as he fired again. "She +talked about you in her sleep last night. She called you Loney, and +she wanted you to come and get her. I was going to kill you first +chance I got. I coulda loved this little girl. I--could----" + +He was down, bleeding and coughing and trying to talk. Swan had shot +him, and two of the deputies who had been there through half of Al's +bitter talk. Lorraine, unable to get up and run, too sturdy of soul to +faint, had rolled over and away from him, her lips held tightly +together, her eyes wide with horror. Al crawled after her, his eyes +pleading. + +"Little Spitfire--I shot your Loney--but I'd have been good to you, +girl. I watched yuh all night--and I couldn't help loving yuh. +I--couldn't----" That was all. Within three feet of her, his face +toward her and his eyes agonising to meet hers, he died. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +ANOTHER STORY BEGINS + +This chapter is very much like a preface: it is not absolutely +necessary, although many persons will read it and a few will be glad +that it was written. + +The story itself is ended. To go on would be to begin another story; +to tell of the building up of the Quirt outfit, with Lone and Lone's +savings playing a very important part, and with Brit a semi-invalided, +retired stockman who smoked his pipe and told the young couple what +they should do and how they should do it. + +Frank he mourned for and seldom mentioned. The Sawtooth, under the +management of a greatly chastened young Bob Warfield, was slowly +winning its way back to the respect of its neighbours. + +For certain personal reasons there was no real neighbourliness between +the Quirt and the Sawtooth. There could not be, so long as Brit's +memory remained clear, and Bob was every day reminded of the crimes his +father had paid a man to commit. Moreover, Southerners are jealous of +their women,--it is their especial prerogative. And Lone suspected +that, given the opportunity, Bob Warfield would have fallen in love +with Lorraine. Indeed, he suspected that any man in the country would +have done that. Al Woodruff had, and he was noted for his indifference +to women and his implacable hardness toward men. + +But you are not to accuse Lone of being a jealous husband. He was not, +and I am merely pointing out the fact that he might have been, had he +been given any cause. + +Oh, by the way, Swan "proved up" as soon as possible on his homestead +and sold out to the Quirt. Lone managed to buy the Thurman ranch also, +and the TJ up-and-down is on its feet again as a cattle ranch. Sorry +and Jim will ride for the Quirt, I suppose, as long as they can crawl +into a saddle, but there are younger men now to ride the Skyline Meadow +range. + +Some one asked about Yellowjacket, having, I suppose, a sneaking regard +for his infirmities. He hasn't been peeled yet--or he hadn't, the last +I heard of him. Lone and Lorraine told me they were trying to save him +for the "Little Feller" to practise on when he is able to sit up +without a cushion behind his back, and to hold something besides a +rubber rattle. And--oh, do you know how Lone is teaching the Little +Feller to sit up on the floor? He took a horse collar and scrubbed it +until he nearly wore out the leather. Then he brought it to the cabin, +put it on the floor and set the Little Feller inside it. + +They sent me a snap-shot of the event, but it is not very good. The +film was under-exposed, and nothing was to be seen of the Little Feller +except a hazy spot which I judged was a hand, holding a black object I +guessed was the ridgy, rubber rattle with the whistle gone out of the +end,--down the Little Feller's throat, they are afraid. And there was +his smile, and a glimpse of his eyes. + +Aren't you envious as sin, and glad they're so happy? + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sawtooth Ranch, by B. M. 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M. Bower +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: small } + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: small ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sawtooth Ranch, by B. M. Bower + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Sawtooth Ranch + +Author: B. M. Bower + +Release Date: April 2, 2009 [EBook #28482] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SAWTOOTH RANCH *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +SAWTOOTH RANCH +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +B. M. BOWER +</H2> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +METHUEN & CO. LTD.<BR> +36 ESSEX STREET, W.C.<BR> +LONDON +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3> +BY THE SAME AUTHOR +</H3> + +<H4> +JEAN OF THE LAZY A<BR> +GOOD INDIAN<BR> +THE UPHILL CLIMB<BR> +THE GRINGOS<BR> +THE FLYING U'S LAST STAND<BR> +THE PHANTOM HERD<BR> +THE HERITAGE OF THE SIOUX<BR> +SKYRIDER<BR> +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +This Book was First Published in Great Britain … March 10th, 1921 +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +First Issued in this Cheap Form … 1922 +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">CHAP.</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">LITTLE FISH</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">THE ENCHANTMENT OF LONG DISTANCE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">REALITY IS WEIGHED AND FOUND WANTING</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">"SHE'S A GOOD GIRL WHEN SHE AIN'T CRAZY"</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">A DEATH "BY ACCIDENT"</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">LONE ADVISES SILENCE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">THE MAN AT WHISPER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">"IT TAKES NERVE JUST TO HANG ON"</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">THE EVIL EYE OF THE SAWTOOTH</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">ANOTHER SAWTOOTH "ACCIDENT"</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">SWAN TALKS WITH HIS THOUGHTS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">THE QUIRT PARRIES THE FIRST BLOW</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">LONE TAKES HIS STAND</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">"FRANK'S DEAD"</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">SWAN TRAILS A COYOTE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">THE SAWTOOTH SHOWS ITS HAND</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">YACK DON'T LIE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">"I THINK AL WOODRUFF'S GOT HER"</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">SWAN CALLS FOR HELP</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">KIDNAPPED</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap21">"OH, I COULD KILL YOU!"</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap22">"YACK, I LICK YOU GOOD IF YOU BARK"</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap23">"I COULDA LOVED THIS LITTLE GIRL"</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap24">ANOTHER STORY BEGINS</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +SAWTOOTH RANCH +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +LITTLE FISH +</H4> + +<P> +Quirt Creek flowed sluggishly between willows which sagged none too +gracefully across its deeper pools, or languished beside the rocky +stretches that were bone dry from July to October, with a narrow +channel in the centre where what water there was hurried along to the +pools below. For a mile or more, where the land lay fairly level in a +platter-like valley set in the lower hills, the mud that rimmed the +pools was scored deep with the tracks of the "TJ up-and-down" cattle, +as the double monogram of Hunter and Johnson was called. +</P> + +<P> +A hard brand to work, a cattleman would tell you. Yet the TJ +up-and-down herd never seemed to increase beyond a niggardly three +hundred or so, though the Quirt ranch was older than its lordly +neighbours, the Sawtooth Cattle Company, who numbered their cattle by +tens of thousands and whose riders must have strings of fifteen horses +apiece to keep them going; older too than many a modest ranch that had +flourished awhile and had finished as line-camps of the Sawtooth when +the Sawtooth bought ranch and brand for a lump sum that looked big to +the rancher, who immediately departed to make himself a new home +elsewhere: older than others which had somehow gone to pieces when the +rancher died or went to the penitentiary under the stigma of a long +sentence as a cattle thief. There were many such, for the Sawtooth, +powerful and stern against outlawry, tolerated no pilfering from their +thousands. +</P> + +<P> +The less you have, the more careful you are of your possessions. +Hunter and Johnson owned exactly a section and a half of land, and for +a mile and a half Quirt Creek was fenced upon either side. They hired +two men, cut what hay they could from a field which they irrigated, fed +their cattle through the cold weather, watched them zealously through +the summer, and managed to ship enough beef each fall to pay their +grocery bill and their men's wages and have a balance sufficient to buy +what clothes they needed, and perhaps pay a doctor if one of them fell +ill. Which frequently happened, since Brit was becoming a prey to +rheumatism that sometimes kept him in bed, and Frank occasionally +indulged himself in a gallon or so of bad whisky and suffered +afterwards from a badly deranged digestion. +</P> + +<P> +Their house was a two-room log cabin, built when logs were easier to +get than lumber. That the cabin contained two rooms was the result of +circumstances rather than design. Brit had hauled from the +mountain-side logs long and logs short, and it had seemed a shame to +cut the long ones any shorter. Later, when the outside world had crept +a little closer to their wilderness—as, go where you will, the outside +world has a way of doing—he had built a lean-to shed against the cabin +from what lumber there was left after building a cowshed against the +log-barn. +</P> + +<P> +In the early days, Brit had had a wife and two children, but the wife +could not endure the loneliness of the ranch nor the inconvenience of +living in a two-room log cabin. She was continually worrying over +rattlesnakes and diphtheria and pneumonia, and begging Brit to sell out +and live in town. She had married him because he was a cowboy, and +because he was a nimble dancer and rode gallantly with silver-shanked +spurs ajingle on his heels and a snake-skin band around his hat, and +because a ranch away out on Quirt Creek had sounded exactly like a +story in a book. +</P> + +<P> +Adventures, picturesqueness, even romance, are recognised and +appreciated only at a distance. Mrs Hunter lost the perspective of +romance and adventure, and shed tears because there was sufficient +mineral in the water to yellow her week's washing, and for various +other causes which she had never foreseen and to which she refused to +resign herself. +</P> + +<P> +Came a time when she delivered a shrill-voiced, tear-blurred ultimatum +to Brit. Either he must sell out and move to town, or she would take +the children and leave him. Of towns Brit knew nothing except the +post-office, saloon, cheap restaurant side,—and a barber shop where a +fellow could get a shave and hair-cut before he went to see his girl. +Brit could not imagine himself actually <I>living</I>, day after day, in a +town. Three or four days had always been his limit. It was in a +restaurant that he had first met his wife. He had stayed three days +when he had meant to finish his business in one, because there was an +awfully nice girl waiting on table in the Palace, and because there was +going to be a dance on Saturday night, and he wanted his acquaintance +with her to develop to the point where he might ask her to go with him, +and be reasonably certain of a favourable answer. +</P> + +<P> +Brit would not sell his ranch. In this Frank Johnson, old-time friend +and neighbour, who had taken all the land the government would allow +one man to hold, and whose lines joined Brit's, profanely upheld him. +They had planned to run cattle together, had their brand already +recorded, and had scraped together enough money to buy a dozen young +cows. Luckily, Brit had "proven up" on his homestead, so that when the +irate Mrs Hunter deserted him she did not jeopardise his right to the +land. +</P> + +<P> +Brit was philosophical, thinking that a year or so of town life would +be a cure. If he missed the children, he was free from tears and +nagging complaints, so that his content balanced his loneliness. Frank +proved up and came down to live with him, and the partnership began to +wear into permanency. Share and share alike, they lived and worked and +wrangled together like brothers. +</P> + +<P> +For months Brit's wife was too angry and spiteful to write. Then she +wrote acrimoniously, reminding Brit of his duty to his children. Royal +was old enough for school and needed clothes. She was slaving for them +as she had never thought to slave when Brit promised to honour and +protect her, but the fact remained that he was their father even if he +did not act like one. She needed at least ten dollars. +</P> + +<P> +Brit showed the letter to Frank, and the two talked it over solemnly +while they sat on inverted feed buckets beside the stable, facing the +unearthly beauty of a cloud-piled Idaho sunset. They did not feel that +they could afford to sell a cow, and two-year-old steers were out of +the question. They decided to sell an unbroken colt that a cow-puncher +fancied. In a week Brit wrote a brief, matter-of-fact letter to Minnie +and enclosed a much-worn ten-dollar bank-note. With the two dollars +and a half which remained of his share of the sale, Brit sent to a +mail-order house for a mackinaw coat, and felt cheated afterwards +because the coat was not "wind and waterproof" as advertised in the +catalogue. +</P> + +<P> +More months passed, and Brit received, by registered mail, a notice +that he was being sued for divorce on the ground of non-support. He +felt hurt, because, as he pointed out to Frank, he was perfectly +willing to support Minnie and the kids if they came back where he could +have a chance. He wrote this painstakingly to the lawyer and received +no reply. Later he learned from Minnie that she had freed herself from +him, and that she was keeping boarders and asking no odds of him. +</P> + +<P> +To come at once to the end of Brit's matrimonial affairs, he heard from +the children once in a year, perhaps, after they were old enough to +write. He did not send them money, because he seemed never to have any +money to send, and because they did not ask for any. Dumbly he sensed, +as their handwriting and their spelling improved, that his children +were growing up. But when he thought of them they seemed remote, +prattling youngsters whom Minnie was for ever worrying over and who +seemed to have been always under the heels of his horse, or under the +wheels of his wagon, or playing with the pitchfork, or wandering off +into the sage while he and their distracted mother searched for them. +For a long while—how many years Brit could not remember—they had been +living in Los Angeles. Prospering, too, Brit understood. The girl, +Lorraine—Minnie had wanted fancy names for the kids, and Brit +apologised whenever he spoke of them, which was seldom—Lorraine had +written that "Mamma has an apartment house." That had sounded +prosperous, even at the beginning. And as the years passed and their +address remained the same, Brit became fixed in the belief that Casa +Grande was all that its name implied, and perhaps more. Minnie must be +getting rich. She had a picture of the place on the stationery which +Lorraine used when she wrote him. There were two palm trees in front, +with bay windows behind them, and pillars. Brit used to study these +magnificences and thank God that Minnie was doing so well. He never +could have given her a home like that. Brit sometimes added that he +had never been cut out for a married man, anyway. +</P> + +<P> +Old-timers forgot that Brit had ever been married, and late comers +never heard of it. To all intents the owners of the Quirt outfit were +old bachelors who kept pretty much to themselves, went to town only +when they needed supplies, rode old, narrow-fork saddles and grinned +scornfully at "swell-forks" and "buckin'-rolls," and listened to all +the range gossip without adding so much as an opinion. They never +talked politics nor told which candidates received their two votes. +They kept the same two men season after season,—leathery old range +hands with eyes that saw whatever came within their field of vision, +and with the gift of silence, which is rare. +</P> + +<P> +If you know anything at all about cattlemen, you will know that the +Quirt was a poor man's ranch, when I tell you that Hunter and Johnson +milked three cows and made butter, fed a few pigs on the skim milk and +the alfalfa stalks which the saddle horses and the cows disdained to +eat, kept a flock of chickens, and sold what butter, eggs and pork they +did not need for themselves. Cattlemen seldom do that. More often +they buy milk in small tin cans, butter in "squares," and do without +eggs. +</P> + +<P> +Four of a kind were the men of the TJ up-and-down, and even Bill +Warfield—president and general manager of the Sawtooth Cattle Company, +and of the Federal Reclamation Company and several other companies, +State senator and general benefactor of the Sawtooth country—even the +great Bill Warfield lifted his hat to the owners of the Quirt when he +met them, and spoke of them as "the finest specimens of our old, +fast-vanishing type of range men." Senator Warfield himself +represented the modern type of range man and was proud of his +progressiveness. Never a scheme for the country's development was +hatched but you would find Senator Warfield closely allied with it, his +voice the deciding one when policies and progress were being discussed. +</P> + +<P> +As to the Sawtooth, forty thousand acres comprised their holdings under +patents, deeds and long-time leases from the government. Another +twenty thousand acres they had access to through the grace of the +owners, and there was forest-reserve grazing besides, which the +Sawtooth could have if it chose to pay the nominal rental sum. The +Quirt ranch, was almost surrounded by Sawtooth land of one sort or +another, though there was scant grazing in the early spring on the +sagebrush wilderness to the south. This needed Quirt Creek for +accessible water, and Quirt Creek, save where it ran through cut-bank +hills, was fenced within the section and a half of the TJ up-and-down. +</P> + +<P> +So there they were, small fish making shift to live precariously with +other small fish in a pool where big fish swam lazily. If one small +fish now and then disappeared with mysterious abruptness, the other +small fish would perhaps scurry here and there for a time, but few +would leave the pool for the safe shallows beyond. +</P> + +<P> +This is a tale of the little fishes. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE ENCHANTMENT OF LONG DISTANCE +</H4> + +<P> +Lorraine Hunter always maintained that she was a Western girl. If she +reached the point of furnishing details she would tell you that she had +ridden horses from the time that she could walk, and that her father +was a cattle-king of Idaho, whose cattle fed upon a thousand hills. +When she was twelve she told her playmates exciting tales about +rattlesnakes. When she was fifteen she sat breathless in the movies +and watched picturesque horsemen careering up and down and around the +thousand hills, and believed in her heart that half the Western +pictures were taken on or near her father's ranch. She seemed to +remember certain landmarks, and would point them out to her companions +and whisper a desultory lecture on the cattle industry as illustrated +by the picture. She was much inclined to criticism of the costuming +and the acting. +</P> + +<P> +At eighteen she knew definitely that she hated the very name Casa +Grande. She hated the narrow, half-lighted hallway with its "tree" +where no one ever hung a hat, and the seat beneath where no one ever +sat down. She hated the row of key-and-mail boxes on the wall, with +the bell buttons above each apartment number. She hated the jangling +of the hall telephone, the scurrying to answer, the prodding of +whichever bell button would summon the tenant asked for by the caller. +She hated the meek little Filipino boy who swept that ugly hall every +morning. She hated the scrubby palms in front. She hated the pillars +where the paint was peeling badly. She hated the conflicting odours +that seeped into the atmosphere at certain hours of the day. She hated +the three old maids on the third floor and the frowsy woman on the +first, who sat on the front steps in her soiled breakfast cap and +bungalow apron. She hated the nervous tenant who occupied the +apartment just over her mother's three-room-and-bath, and pounded with +a broom handle on the floor when Lorraine practised overtime on +chromatic scales. +</P> + +<P> +At eighteen Lorraine managed somehow to obtain work in a Western +picture, and being unusually pretty she so far distinguished herself +that she was given a small part in the next production. Her glorious +duty it was to ride madly through the little cow-town "set" to the +post-office where the sheriff's posse lounged conspicuously, and there +pull her horse to an abrupt stand and point quite excitedly to the +distant hills. Also she danced quite close to the camera in the +"Typical Cowboy Dance" which was a feature of this particular +production. +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine thereby earned enough money to buy her fall suit and coat and +cheap furs, and learned to ride a horse at a gallop and to dance what +passed in pictures as a "square dance." +</P> + +<P> +At nineteen years of age Lorraine Hunter, daughter of old Brit Hunter +of the TJ up-and-down, became a real "range-bred girl" with a real +Stetson hat of her own, a green corduroy riding skirt, gray flannel +shirt, brilliant neckerchief, boots and spurs. A third picture gave +her further practice in riding a real horse,—albeit an extremely +docile animal called Mouse with good reason. She became known on the +lot as a real cattle-king's daughter, though she did not know the name +of her father's brand and in all her life had seen no herd larger than +the thirty head of tame cattle which were chased past the camera again +and again to make them look like ten thousand, and which were so +thoroughly "camera broke" that they stopped when they were out of the +scene, turned and were ready to repeat the performance <I>ad lib</I>. +</P> + +<P> +Had she lived her life on the Quirt ranch she would have known a great +deal more about horseback riding and cattle and range dances. She +would have known a great deal less about the romance of the West, +however, and she would probably never have seen a sheriff's posse +riding twenty strong and bunched like bird-shot when it leaves the +muzzle of the gun. Indeed, I am very sure she would not. Killings +such as her father heard of with his lips drawn tight and the cords +standing out on the sides of his skinny neck she would have considered +the grim tragedies they were, without once thinking of the "picture +value" of the crime. +</P> + +<P> +As it was, her West was filled with men who died suddenly in gobs of +red paint and girls who rode loose-haired and panting with hand held +over the heart, hurrying for doctors, and cowboys and parsons and such. +She had seen many a man whip pistol from holster and dare a mob with +lips drawn back in a wolfish grin over his white, even teeth, and +kidnappings were the inevitable accompaniment of youth and beauty. +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine learned rapidly. In three years she thrilled to more +blood-curdling adventure than all the Bad Men in all the West could +have furnished had they lived to be old and worked hard at being bad +all their lives. For in that third year she worked her way +enthusiastically through a sixteen-episode movie serial called "The +Terror of the Range." She was past mistress of romance by that time. +She knew her West. +</P> + +<P> +It was just after the "Terror of the Range" was finished that a great +revulsion in the management of this particular company stopped +production with a stunning completeness that left actors and actresses +feeling very much as if the studio roof had fallen upon them. +Lorraine's West vanished. The little cow-town "set" was being torn +down to make room for something else quite different. The cowboys +appeared in tailored suits and drifted away. Lorraine went home to the +Casa Grande, hating it more than ever she had hated it in her life. +</P> + +<P> +Some one up-stairs was frying liver and onions, which was in flagrant +defiance of the Rule Four which mentioned cabbage, onions and fried +fish as undesirable foodstuffs. Outside, the palm leaves were dripping +in the night fog that had swept soggily in from the ocean. Her mother +was trying to collect a gas bill from the dressmaker down the hall, who +protested shrilly that she distinctly remembered having paid that gas +bill once and had no intention of paying it twice. +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine opened the door marked LANDLADY, and closed it with a slam +intended to remind her mother that bickerings in the hall were less +desirable than the odour of fried onions. She had often spoken to her +mother about the vulgarity of arguing in public with the tenants, but +her mother never seemed to see things as Lorraine saw them. +</P> + +<P> +In the apartment sat a man who had been too frequent a visitor, as +Lorraine judged him. He was an oldish man with the lines of failure in +his face and on his lean form the sprightly clothing of youth. He had +been a reporter,—was still, he maintained. But Lorraine suspected +shrewdly that he scarcely made a living for himself, and that he was +home-hunting in more ways than one when he came to visit her mother. +</P> + +<P> +The affair had progressed appreciably in her absence, it would appear. +He greeted her with a fatherly "Hello, kiddie," and would have kissed +her had Lorraine not evaded him skilfully. +</P> + +<P> +Her mother came in then and complained intimately to the man, and +declared that the dressmaker would have to pay that bill or have her +gas turned off. He offered sympathy, assistance in the turning off of +the gas, and a kiss which was perfectly audible to Lorraine in the next +room. The affair had indeed progressed! +</P> + +<P> +"L'raine, d'you know you've got a new papa?" her mother called out in +the peculiar, chirpy tone she used when she was exuberantly happy. "I +knew you'd be surprised!" +</P> + +<P> +"I am," Lorraine agreed, pulling aside the cheap green portières and +looked in upon the two. Her tone was unenthusiastic. "A superfluous +gift of doubtful value. I do not feel the need of a papa, thank you. +If you want him for a husband, mother, that is entirely your own +affair. I hope you'll be very happy." +</P> + +<P> +"The kid don't want a papa; husbands are what means the most in her +young life," chuckled the groom, restraining his bride when she would +have risen from his knee. +</P> + +<P> +"I hope you'll both be very happy indeed," said Lorraine gravely. "Now +you won't mind, mother, when I tell you that I am going to dad's ranch +in Idaho. I really meant it for a vacation, but since you won't be +alone, I may stay with dad permanently. I'm leaving to-morrow or the +next day—just as soon as I can pack my trunk and get a Pullman berth." +</P> + +<P> +She did not wait to see the relief in her mother's face contradicting +the expostulations on her lips. She went out to the telephone in the +hall, remembered suddenly that her business would be overheard by half +the tenants, and decided to use the public telephone in a hotel farther +down the street. Her decision to go to her dad had been born with the +words on her lips. But it was a lusty, full-voiced young decision, and +it was growing at an amazing rate. +</P> + +<P> +Of course she would go to her dad in Idaho! She was astonished that +the idea had never before crystallised into action. Why should she +feed her imagination upon a mimic West, when the great, glorious real +West was there? What if her dad had not written a word for more than a +year? He must be alive; they would surely have heard of his death, for +she and Royal were his sole heirs, and his partner would have their +address. +</P> + +<P> +She walked fast and arrived at the telephone booth so breathless that +she was compelled to wait a few minutes before she could call her +number. She inquired about trains and rates to Echo, Idaho! +</P> + +<P> +Echo, Idaho! While she waited for the information clerk to look it up +the very words conjured visions of wide horizons and clean winds and +high adventure. If she pictured Echo, Idaho, as being a replica of the +"set" used in the movie serial, can you wonder? If she saw herself, +the beloved queen of her father's cowboys, dashing into Echo, Idaho, on +a crimply-maned broncho that pirouetted gaily before the post-office +while handsome young men in chaps and spurs and "big four" Stetsons +watched her yearningly, she was merely living mentally the only West +that she knew. +</P> + +<P> +From that beatific vision Lorraine floated into others more entrancing. +All the hairbreadth escapes of the heroine of the movie serial were +hers, adapted by her native logic to fit within the bounds of +possibility,—though I must admit they bulged here and there and +threatened to overlap and to encroach upon the impossible. Over the +hills where her father's vast herds grazed, sleek and wild and +long-horned and prone to stampede, galloped the Lorraine of Lorraine's +dreams, on horses sure-footed and swift. With her galloped strong men +whose faces limned the features of her favourite Western "lead." +</P> + +<P> +That for all her three years of intermittent intimacy with a +disillusioning world of mimicry, her dreams were pure romance, proved +that Lorraine had still the unclouded innocence of her girlhood +unspoiled. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +REALITY IS WEIGHED AND FOUND WANTING +</H4> + +<P> +Still dreaming her dreams, still featuring herself as the star of many +adventures, Lorraine followed the brakeman out of the dusty day coach +and down the car steps to the platform of the place called Echo, Idaho. +I can only guess at what she expected to find there in the person of a +cattle-king father, but whatever it was she did not find it. No +father, of any type whatever, came forward to claim her. In spite of +her "Western" experience she looked about her for a taxi, or at least a +streetcar. Even in the wilds of Western melodrama one could hear the +clang of street-car gongs warning careless autoists off the track. +</P> + +<P> +After the train had hooted and gone on around an absolutely +uninteresting low hill of yellow barrenness dotted with stunted sage, +it was the silence that first impressed Lorraine disagreeably. Echo, +Idaho, was a very poor imitation of all the Western sets she had ever +seen. True, it had the straggling row of square-fronted, one-story +buildings, with hitch rails, but the signs painted across the fronts +were absolutely common. Any director she had ever obeyed would have +sent for his assistant director and would have used language which a +lady must not listen to. Behind the store and the post-office and the +blacksmith shop, on the brow of the low hill around whose point the +train had disappeared, were houses with bay windows and porches +absolutely out of keeping with the West. So far as Lorraine could see, +there was not a log cabin in the whole place. +</P> + +<P> +The hitch rails were empty, and there was not a cowboy in sight. +Before the post-office a terribly grimy touring car stood with its +running-boards loaded with canvas-covered suitcases. Three goggled, +sunburned women in ugly khaki suits were disconsolately drinking soda +water from bottles without straws, and a goggled, red-faced, +angry-looking man was jerking impatiently at the hood of the machine. +Lorraine and her suitcase apparently excited no interest whatever in +Echo, Idaho. +</P> + +<P> +The station agent was carrying two boxes of oranges and a crate of +California cabbages in out of the sun, and a limp individual in blue +gingham shirt and dirty overalls had shouldered the mail sack and was +making his way across the dusty, rut-scored street to the post-office. +</P> + +<P> +Two questions and two brief answers convinced her that the station +agent did not know Britton Hunter,—which was strange, unless this +happened to be a very new agent. Lorraine left him to his cabbages and +followed the man with the mail sack. +</P> + +<P> +At the post-office the anaemic clerk came forward, eyeing her with +admiring curiosity. Lorraine had seen anaemic young men all her life, +and the last three years had made her perfectly familiar with that look +in a young man's eyes. She met it with impatient disfavour founded +chiefly upon the young man's need of a decent hair-cut, a less flowery +tie and a tailored suit. When he confessed that he did not know Mr +Britton Hunter by sight he ceased to exist so far as Lorraine was +concerned. She decided that he also was new to the place and therefore +perfectly useless to her. +</P> + +<P> +The postmaster himself—Lorraine was cheered by his spectacles, his +shirt sleeves, and his chin whiskers, which made him look the part—was +better informed. He, too, eyed her curiously when she said "My father, +Mr Britton Hunter," but he made no comment on the relationship. He +gave her a telegram and a letter from the General Delivery. The +telegram, she suspected, was the one she had sent to her dad announcing +the date of her arrival. The postmaster advised her to get a "livery +rig" and drive out to the ranch, since it might be a week or two before +any one came in from the Quirt. Lorraine thanked him graciously and +departed for the livery stable. +</P> + +<P> +The man in charge there chewed tobacco meditatively and told her that +his teams were all out. If she was a mind to wait over a day or two, +he said, he might maybe be able to make the trip. Lorraine took a long +look at the structure which he indicated as the hotel. +</P> + +<P> +"I think I'll walk," she said calmly. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Walk?</I>" The stableman stopped chewing and stared at her. "It's some +consider'ble of a walk. It's all of eighteen mile—I dunno but twenty, +time y'get to the house." +</P> + +<P> +"I have frequently walked twenty-five or thirty miles. I am a member +of the Sierra Club in Los Angeles. We seldom take hikes of less than +twenty miles. If you will kindly tell me which road I must take——" +</P> + +<P> +"There she is," the man stated flatly, and pointed across the railroad +track to where a sandy road drew a yellowish line through the sage, +evidently making for the hills showing hazily violet in the distance. +Those hills formed the only break in the monotonous gray landscape, and +Lorraine was glad that her journey would take her close to them. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you so much," she said coldly and returned to the station. In +the small lavatory of the depot waiting room she exchanged her slippers +for a pair of moderately low-heeled shoes which she had at the last +minute of packing tucked into her suitcase, put a few extra articles +into her rather smart travelling bag, left the suitcase in the +telegraph office and started. Not another question would she ask of +Echo, Idaho, which was flatter and more insipid than the drinking water +in the tin "cooler" in the waiting room. The station agent stood with +his hands on his hips and watched her cross the track and start down +the road, pardonably astonished to see a young woman walk down a road +that led only to the hills twenty miles away, carrying her luggage +exactly as if her trip was a matter of a block or two at most. +</P> + +<P> +The bag was rather heavy and as she went on it became heavier. She +meant to carry it slung across her shoulder on a stick as soon as she +was well away from the prying eyes of Echo's inhabitants. Later, if +she felt tired, she could easily hide it behind a bush along the road +and send one of her father's cowboys after it. The road was very dusty +and carried the wind-blown traces of automobile tires. Some one would +surely overtake her and give her a ride before she walked very far. +</P> + +<P> +For the first half hour she believed that she was walking on level +ground, but when she looked back there was no sign of any town behind +her. Echo had disappeared as completely as if it had been swallowed. +Even the unseemly bay-windowed houses on the hill had gone under. She +walked for another half hour and saw only the gray sage stretching all +around her. The hills looked farther away than when she started. +Still, that beaten road must lead somewhere. Two hours later she began +to wonder why this particular road should be so unending and so empty. +Never in her life before had she walked for two hours without seeming +to get anywhere, or without seeing any living human. +</P> + +<P> +Both shoulders were sore from the weight of the bag on the stick, but +the sagebushes looked so exactly alike that she feared she could not +describe the particular spot where the cowboys would find her bag, +wherefore she carried it still. She was beginning to change hands very +often when the wind came. +</P> + +<P> +Just where or how that wind sprang up she did not know. Suddenly it +was whooping across the sage and flinging up clouds of dust from the +road. To Lorraine, softened by years of southern California weather, +it seemed to blow straight off an ice field, it was so cold. +</P> + +<P> +After an interminable time which measured three hours on her watch, she +came to an abrupt descent into a creek bed, down the middle of which +the creek itself was flowing swiftly. Here the road forked, a rough, +little-used trail keeping on up the creek, the better travelled road +crossing and climbing the farther bank. Lorraine scarcely hesitated +before she chose the main trail which crossed the creek. +</P> + +<P> +From the creek the trail she followed kept climbing until Lorraine +wondered if there would ever be a top. The wind whipped her narrow +skirts and impeded her, tugged at her hat, tingled her nose and watered +her eyes. But she kept on doggedly, disgustedly, the West, which she +had seen through the glamour of swift-blooded Romance, sinking lower +and lower in her estimation. Nothing but jack rabbits and little, +twittery birds moved through the sage, though she watched hungrily for +horsemen. +</P> + +<P> +Quite suddenly the gray landscape glowed with a palpitating radiance, +unreal, beautiful beyond expression. She stopped, turned to face the +west and stared awestruck at one of those flaming sunsets which makes +the desert land seem but a gateway into the ineffable glory beyond the +earth. That the high-piled, gorgeous cloud-bank presaged a +thunderstorm she never guessed; and that a thunderstorm may be a +deadly, terrifying peril she never had quite believed. Her mother had +told of people being struck by lightning, but Lorraine could not +associate lightning with death, especially in the West, where men +usually died by shooting, lynching, or by pitching over a cliff. +</P> + +<P> +The wind hushed as suddenly as it had whooped. Warned by the twinkling +lights far behind her—lights which must be the small part at last +visible of Echo, Idaho—Lorraine went on. She had been walking +steadily for four hours, and she must surely have come nearly twenty +miles. If she ever reached the top of the hill, she believed that she +would see her father's ranch just beyond. +</P> + +<P> +The afterglow had deepened to dusk when she came at last to the highest +point of that long grade. Far ahead loomed a cluster of square, black +objects which must be the ranch buildings of the Quirt, and Lorraine's +spirits lightened a little. What a surprise her father and all his +cowboys would have when she walked in upon them! It was almost worth +the walk, she told herself hearteningly. She hoped that dad had a good +cook. He would wear a flour-sack apron, naturally, and would be tall +and lean, or else very fat. He would be a comedy character, but she +hoped he would not be the grouchy kind, which, though very funny when +he rampages around on the screen, might be rather uncomfortable to meet +when one is tired and hungry and out of sorts. But of course the +crankiest of comedy cooks would be decently civil to <I>her</I>. Men always +were, except directors who are paid for their incivility. +</P> + +<P> +A hollow into which she walked in complete darkness and in silence, +save the gurgling of another stream, hid from sight the shadowy +semblance of houses and barns and sheds. Their disappearance slumped +her spirits again, for without them she was no more than a solitary +speck in the vast loneliness. Their actual nearness could not comfort +her. She was seized with a reasonless, panicky fear that by the time +she crossed the stream and climbed the hill beyond they would no longer +be there where she had seen them. She was lifting her skirts to wade +the creek when the click of hoofs striking against rocks sent her +scurrying to cover in a senseless fear. +</P> + +<P> +"I learned this act from the jack rabbits," she rallied herself +shakily, when she was safely hidden behind a sagebush whose pungency +made her horribly afraid that she might sneeze, which would be too +ridiculous. +</P> + +<P> +"Some of dad's cowboys, probably, but still they <I>may</I> be bandits." +</P> + +<P> +If they were bandits they could scarcely be out banditting, for the two +horsemen were talking in ordinary, conversational tones as they rode +leisurely down to the ford. When they passed Lorraine, the horse +nearest her shied against the other and was sworn at parenthetically +for a fool. Against the skyline Lorraine saw the rider's form bulk +squatty and ungraceful, reminding her of an actor whom she knew and did +not like. It was that resemblance perhaps which held her quiet instead +of following her first impulse to speak to them and ask them to carry +her to the house. +</P> + +<P> +The horses stopped with their forefeet in the water and drooped heads +to drink thirstily. The riders continued their conversation. +</P> + +<P> +"—and as I says time and again, they ain't big enough to fight the +outfit, and the quicker they git out the less lead they'll carry under +their hides when they do go. What they want to try an' hang on for, +beats me. Why, it's like setting into a poker game with a five-cent +piece! They ain't got my sympathy. I ain't got any use for a damn +fool, no way yuh look at it." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, there's the TJ—they been here a long while, and they ain't +packin' any lead, and they ain't getting out." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, say, lemme tell yuh something. The TJ'll git theirs and git it +right. Drink all night, would yuh?" He swore long and fluently at his +horse, spurred him through the shallows, and the two rode on up the +hill, their voices still mingled in desultory argument, with now and +then an oath rising clearly above the jumble of words. +</P> + +<P> +They may have been law-abiding citizens riding home, to families that +were waiting supper for them, but Lorraine crept out from behind her +sagebush, sneezing and thanking her imitation of the jack rabbits. +Whoever they were, she was not sorry she had let them ride on. They +might be her father's men, and they might have been very polite and +chivalrous to her. But their voices and their manner of speaking had +been rough; and it is one thing, Lorraine reflected, to mingle with +made-up villains—even to be waylaid and kidnapped and tied to trees +and threatened with death—but it is quite different to accost +rough-speaking men in the dark when you know they are not being rough +to suit the director of the scene. +</P> + +<P> +She was so absorbed in trying to construct a range of war or something +equally thrilling from the scrap of conversation she had heard that she +reached the hilltop in what seemed a very few minutes of climbing. The +sky was becoming overcast. Already the stars to the west were blotted +out, and the absolute stillness of the atmosphere frightened her more +than the big, dark wilderness itself. It seemed to her exactly as +though the earth was holding its breath and waiting for something +terrible to happen. The vague bulk of buildings was still some +distance ahead, and when a rumble like the deepest notes of a pipe +organ began to fill all the air, Lorraine thrust her grip under a bush +and began to run, her soggy shoes squashing unpleasantly on the rough +places in the road. +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine had seen many stage storms and had thrilled ecstatically to +the mimic lightning, knowing just how it was made. But when that huge +blackness behind and to the left of her began to open and show a +terrible brilliance within, and to close abruptly, leaving the world +ink black, she was terrified. She wanted to hide as she had hidden +from those two men; but from that stupendous monster, a real +thunderstorm, sagebrush formed no protection whatever. She must reach +the substantial shelter of buildings, the comforting presence of men +and women. +</P> + +<P> +She ran, and as she ran she wept aloud like a child and called for her +father. The deep rumble grew louder, nearer. The revealed brilliance +became swift sword-thrusts of blinding light that seemed to stab deep +the earth. Lorraine ran awkwardly, her hands over her ears, crying out +at each lightning flash, her voice drowned in the thunder that followed +it close. Then, as she neared the sombre group of buildings, the +clouds above them split with a terrific, rending crash, and the whole +place stood pitilessly revealed to her, as if a spotlight had been +turned on. Lorraine stood aghast. The buildings were not buildings at +all. They were rocks, great, black, forbidding boulders standing there +on a narrow ridge, having a diabolic likeness to houses. +</P> + +<P> +The human mind is wonderfully resilient, but readjustment comes slowly +after a shock. Dumbly, refusing to admit the significance of what she +had seen, Lorraine went forward. Not until she had reached and had +touched the first grotesque caricature of habitation did she wholly +grasp the fact that she was lost, and that shelter might be miles away. +She stood and looked at the orderly group of boulders as the lightning +intermittently revealed them. She saw where the road ran on, between +two square-faced rocks. She would have to follow the road, for after +all it must lead <I>somewhere</I>,—to her father's ranch, probably. She +wondered irrelevantly why her mother had never mentioned these queer +rocks, and she wondered vaguely if any of them had caves or ledges +where she could be safe from the lightning. +</P> + +<P> +She was on the point of stepping out into the road again when a +horseman rode into sight between the two rocks. In the same instant of +his appearance she heard the unmistakable crack of a gun, saw the rider +jerk backward in the saddle, throw up one hand—and then the darkness +dropped between them. +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine crouched behind a juniper bush close against the rock and +waited. The next flash came within a half-minute. It showed a man at +the horse's head, holding it by the bridle. The horse was rearing. +Lorraine tried to scream that the man on the ground would be trampled, +but something went wrong with her voice, so that she could only whisper. +</P> + +<P> +When the light came again the man who had been shot was not altogether +on the ground. The other, working swiftly, had thrust the injured +man's foot through the stirrup. Lorraine saw him stand back and lift +his quirt to slash the horse across the rump. Even through the crash +of thunder Lorraine heard the horse go past her down the hill, +galloping furiously. When she could see again she glimpsed him +running, while something bounced along on the ground beside him. +</P> + +<P> +She saw the other man, with a dry branch in his hand, dragging it +across the road where it ran between the two rocks. Then Lorraine +Hunter, hardened to the sight of crimes committed for picture values +only, realised sickeningly that she had just looked upon a real +murder,—the cold-blooded killing of a man. She felt very sick. Queer +little red sparks squirmed and danced before her eyes. She crumpled +down quietly behind the jumper bush and did not know when the rain +came, though it drenched her in the first two or three minutes of +downpour. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +"SHE'S A GOOD GIRL WHEN SHE AIN'T CRAZY" +</H4> + +<P> +When the sun has been up just long enough to take the before-dawn chill +from the air without having swallowed all the diamonds that spangle +bush and twig and grass-blade after a night's soaking rain, it is good +to ride over the hills of Idaho and feel oneself a king,—and never +mind the crown and the sceptre. Lone Morgan, riding early to the +Sawtooth to see the foreman about getting a man for a few days to help +replace a bridge carried fifty yards downstream by a local cloudburst, +would not have changed places with a millionaire. The horse he rode +was the horse he loved, the horse he talked to like a pal when they +were by themselves. The ridge gave him a wide outlook to the four +corners of the earth. Far to the north the Sawtooth range showed blue, +the nearer mountains pansy purple where the pine trees stood, the +foothills shaded delicately where canyons swept down to the gray plain. +To the south was the sagebrush, a soft, gray-green carpet under the +sun. The sky was blue, the clouds were handfuls of clean cotton +floating lazily. Of the night's storm remained no trace save slippery +mud when his horse struck a patch of clay, which was not often, and the +packed sand still wet and soggy from the beating rain. +</P> + +<P> +Rock City showed black and inhospitable even in the sunlight. The rock +walls rose sheer, the roofs slanted rakishly, the signs scratched on +the rock by facetious riders were pointless and inane. Lone picked his +way through the crooked defile that was marked MAIN STREET on the +corner of the first huge boulder and came abruptly into the road. Here +he turned north and shook his horse into a trot. +</P> + +<P> +A hundred yards or so down the slope beyond Rock City he pulled up +short with a "What the hell!" that did not sound profane, but merely +amazed. In the sodden road were the unmistakable footprints of a +woman. Lone did not hesitate in naming the sex, for the wet sand held +the imprint cleanly, daintily. Too shapely for a boy, too small for +any one but a child or a woman with little feet, and with the point at +the toes proclaiming the fashion of the towns, Lone guessed at once +that she was a town girl, a stranger, probably,—and that she had +passed since the rain; which meant since daylight. +</P> + +<P> +He swung his horse and rode back, wondering where she could have spent +the night. Halfway through Rock City the footprints ended abruptly, +and Lone turned back, riding down the trail at a lope. She couldn't +have gone far, he reasoned, and if she had been out all night in the +rain, with no better shelter than Rock City afforded, she would need +help,—"and lots of it, and pretty darn quick," he added to John Doe, +which was the ambiguous name of his horse. +</P> + +<P> +Half a mile farther on he overtook her. Rather, he sighted her in the +trail, saw her duck in amongst the rocks and scattered brush of a small +ravine, and spurred after her. It was precarious footing for his horse +when he left the road, but John Doe was accustomed to that. He jumped +boulders, shied around buckthorn, crashed through sagebrush and so +brought the girl to bay against a wet bank, where she stood shivering. +The terror in her face and her wide eyes would have made her famous in +the movies. It made Lone afraid she was crazy. +</P> + +<P> +Lone swung off and went up to her guardedly, not knowing just what an +insane woman might do when cornered. "There, now, I'm not going to +hurt yuh at all," he soothed. "I guess maybe you're lost. What made +you run away from me when you saw me coming?" +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine continued to stare at him. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to the ranch, and if you'd like a ride, I'll lend you my +horse. He'll be gentle if I lead him. It's a right smart walk from +here." Lone smiled, meaning to reassure her. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you the man I saw shoot that man and then fasten him to the +stirrup of the saddle so the horse dragged him down the road? If you +are, I—I——" +</P> + +<P> +"No—oh, no, I'm not the man," Lone said gently. "I just now came from +home. Better let me take you in to the ranch." +</P> + +<P> +"I was going to the ranch—did you see him shoot that man and make the +horse drag him—<I>make</I> the horse—he <I>slashed</I> that horse with the +quirt—and he went tearing down the road dragging—it—it +was—<I>horrible</I>!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—yes, don't worry about it. We'll fix him. You come and get on +John Doe and let me take you to the ranch. Come on—you're wet as a +ducked pup." +</P> + +<P> +"That man was just riding along—I saw him when it lightened. And he +shot him—oh, can't you <I>do</I> something?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes, they're after him right now. Here. Just put your foot in +the stirrup—I'll help you up. Why, you're soaked!" Perseveringly +Lone urged her to the horse. "You're soaking wet!" he exclaimed again. +</P> + +<P> +"It rained," she muttered confusedly. "I thought it was the ranch—but +they were rocks. Just rocks. Did you <I>see</I> him shoot that man? +Why—why it shouldn't be allowed! He ought to be arrested right +away—I'd have called a policeman but—isn't thunder and lightning just +perfectly <I>awful</I>? And that horse—going down the road dragging——" +</P> + +<P> +"You'd better get some one to double for me in this scene," she said +irrelevantly. "I—I don't know this horse, and if he starts running +the boys might not catch him in time. It isn't safe, is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's safe," said Lone pityingly. "You won't be dragged. You just get +on and ride. I'll lead him. John Doe's gentle as a dog." +</P> + +<P> +"Just straight riding?" Lorraine considered the matter gravely. +"Wel-ll—but I saw a man dragged, once. He'd been shot first. It—it +was awful!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll bet it was. How'd you come to be walking so far?" +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine looked at him suspiciously. Lone thought her eyes were the +most wonderful eyes—and the most terrible—that he had ever seen. +Almond-shaped they were, the irises a clear, dark gray, the eyeballs +blue-white like a healthy baby's. That was the wonder of them. But +their glassy shine made them terrible. Her lids lifted in a sudden +stare. +</P> + +<P> +"You're not the man, are you? I—I think he was taller than you. And +his hat was brown. He's a brute—a <I>beast</I>! To shoot a man just +riding along—— It rained," she added plaintively. "My bag is back +there somewhere under a bush. I think I could find the bush—it was +where a rabbit was sitting—but he's probably gone by this time. A +rabbit," she told him impressively, "wouldn't sit out in the rain all +night, would he? He'd get wet. And a rabbit would feel horrid when he +was wet—such thick fur he never <I>would</I> get dried out. Where do they +go when it rains? They have holes in the ground, don't they?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. Sure, they do. I'll show you one, down the road here a little +piece. Come on—it ain't far." +</P> + +<P> +To see a rabbit hole in the ground, Lorraine consented to mount and +ride while Lone walked beside her, agreeing with everything she said +that needed agreement. When she had gone a few rods, however, she +began to call him Charlie and to criticise the direction of the +picture. They should not, she declared, mix murders and thunderstorms +in the same scene. While the storm effect was perfectly <I>wonderful</I>, +she thought it rather detracted from the killing. She did not believe +in lumping big stuff together like that. Why not have the killing done +by moonlight, and use the storm when the murderer was getting away, or +something like that? And as for taking them out on location and making +all those storm scenes without telling them in advance so that they +could have dry clothes afterwards, she thought it a perfect outrage! +If it were not for spoiling the picture, she would quit, she asserted +indignantly. She thought the director had better go back to driving a +laundry wagon, which was probably where he came from. +</P> + +<P> +Lone agreed with her, even though he did not know what she was talking +about. He walked as fast as he could, but even so he could not travel +the six miles to the ranch very quickly. He could see that the girl +was burning up with fever, and he could hear her voice growing +husky,—could hear, too, the painful labouring of her breath. When she +was not mumbling incoherent nonsense she was laughing hoarsely at the +plight she was in, and after that she would hold both hands to her +chest and moan in a way that made Lone grind his teeth. +</P> + +<P> +When he lifted her off his horse at the foreman's cottage she was +whispering things no one could understand. Three cowpunchers came +running and hindered him a good deal in carrying her into the house, +and the foreman's wife ran excitedly from one room to the other, asking +questions and demanding that some one do something "for pity's sake, +she may be dying for all you know, while you stand there gawping like +fool-hens." +</P> + +<P> +"She was out all night in the rain—got lost, somehow. She said she +was coming here, so I brought her on. She's down with a cold, Mrs +Hawkins. Better take off them wet clothes and put hot blankets around +her. And a poultice or something on her chest, I reckon." Lone turned +to the door, stopped to roll a cigarette, and watched Mrs Hawkins +hurrying to Lorraine with a whisky toddy the cook had mixed for her. +</P> + +<P> +"A sweat's awful good for a cold like she's got," he volunteered +practically. "She's out of her head—or she was when I found her. But +I reckon that's mostly scare, from being lost all night. Give her a +good sweat, why don't you?" He reached the doorstep and then turned +back to add, "She left a grip back somewhere along the road. I'll go +hunt it up, I reckon." +</P> + +<P> +He mounted John Doe and rode down to the corral, where two or three +riders were killing time on various pretexts while they waited for +details of Lone's adventure. Delirious young women of the silk +stocking class did not arrive at the Sawtooth every morning, and it was +rumoured already amongst the men that she was some looker, which +naturally whetted their interest in her. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll bet it's one of Bob's girls, come trailin' him up. Mebby another +of them heart-ballum cases of Bob's," hazarded Pop Bridgers, who read +nothing unless it was printed on pink paper, and who refused to believe +that any good could come out of a city. "Ain't that right, Loney? +Hain't she a heart-ballum girl of Bob's?" +</P> + +<P> +From the saddle Lone stared down impassively at Pop and Pop's +companions. "I don't know a thing about her," he stated emphatically. +"She said she was coming to the ranch, and she was scared of the +thunder and lightning. That's every word of sense I could get outa +her. She ain't altogether ignorant—she knows how to climb on a horse, +anyway, and she kicked about having to ride sideways on account of her +skirts. She was plumb out of her head, and talked wild, but she +handled her reins like a rider. And she never mentioned Bob, nor +anybody else excepting some fellow she called Charlie. She thought I +was him, but she only talked to me friendly. She didn't pull any love +talk at all." +</P> + +<P> +"Charlie?" Pop ruminated over a fresh quid of tobacco. "Charlie! +Mebby Bob, he stakes himself to a different name now and then. There +ain't any Charlie, except Charlie Werner; she wouldn't mean him, do yuh +s'pose?" +</P> + +<P> +"Charlie Werner? Hunh! Say, Pop, she ain't no squaw—is she, Loney?" +Sid Sterling remonstrated. +</P> + +<P> +"If I can read brands," Lone testified, "she's no girl of Bob's. She's +a good, honest girl when she ain't crazy." +</P> + +<P> +"And no good, honest girl who is not crazy could possibly be a girl of +mine! Is that the idea, Lone?" +</P> + +<P> +Lone turned unhurriedly and looked at young Bob Warfield standing in +the stable door with his hands in his trousers pockets and his pipe in +his mouth. +</P> + +<P> +"That ain't the argument. Pop, here, was wondering if she was another +heart-ballum girl of yours," Lone grinned unabashed. "I don't know +such a hell of a lot about heart-balm ladies, Bob. I ain't a +millionaire. I'm just making a guess at their brand—and it ain't the +brand this little lady carries." +</P> + +<P> +Bob removed one hand from his pocket and cuddled the bowl of his pipe. +"If she's a woman, she's a heart-balmer if she gets the chance. They +all are, down deep in their tricky hearts. There isn't a woman on +earth that won't sell a man's soul out of his body if she happens to +think it's worth her while—and she can get away with it. But don't +for any sake call her <I>my</I> heart-balmer." +</P> + +<P> +"That was Pop," drawled Lone. "It don't strike me as being any subject +for you fellows to make remarks about, anyway," he advised Pop firmly. +"She's a right nice little girl, and she's pretty darn sick." He +touched John Doe with the spurs and rode away, stopping at the +foreman's gate to finish his business with Hawkins. He was a +conscientious young man, and since he had charge of Elk Spring camp, he +set its interests above his own, which was more than some of the +Sawtooth men would have done in his place. +</P> + +<P> +Having reported the damage to the bridge and made his suggestions about +the repairs, he touched up John Doe again and loped away on a purely +personal matter, which had to do with finding the bag which the girl +had told him was under a bush where a rabbit had been sitting. +</P> + +<P> +If she had not been so very sick, Lone would have laughed at her naïve +method of identifying the spot. But he was too sorry for her to be +amused at the vagaries of her sick brain. He did not believe anything +she had said, except that she had been coming to the ranch and had left +her bag under a bush beside the road. It should not be difficult to +find it, if he followed the road and watched closely the bushes on +either side. +</P> + +<P> +Until he reached the place where he had first sighted her, Lone rode +swiftly, anxious to be through with the business and go his way. But +when he came upon her footprints again, he pulled up and held John Doe +to a walk, scanning each bush and boulder as he passed. +</P> + +<P> +It seemed probable that she had left the grip at Rock City where she +must have spent the night. She had spoken of being deceived into +thinking the place was the Sawtooth ranch until she had come into it +and found it "just rocks." Then, he reasoned, the storm had broken, +and her fright had held her there. When daylight came she had either +forgotten the bag or had left it deliberately. +</P> + +<P> +At Rock City, then, Lone stopped to examine the base of every rock, +even riding around those nearest the road. The girl, he guessed +shrewdly, had not wandered off the main highway, else she would not +have been able to find it again. Rock City was confusing unless one +was perfectly familiar with its curious, winding lanes. +</P> + +<P> +It was when he was riding slowly around the boulder marked "Palace +Hotel, Rates Reasnible," that he came upon the place where a horse had +stood, on the side best sheltered from the storm. Deep hoof marks +closely overlapping, an overturned stone here and there gave proof +enough, and the rain-beaten soil that blurred the hoofprints farthest +from the rock told him more. Lone backed away, dismounted, and, +stepping carefully, went close. He could see no reason why a horse +should have stood there with his head toward the road ten feet away, +unless his rider was waiting for something—or some one. There were +other boulders near which offered more shelter from rain. +</P> + +<P> +Next the rock he discovered a boot track, evidently made when the rider +dismounted. He thought of the wild statement of the girl about seeing +some one shoot a man and wondered briefly if there could be a basis of +truth in what she said. But the road showed no sign of a struggle, +though there were, here and there, hoofprints half washed out with the +rain. +</P> + +<P> +Lone went back to his horse and rode on, still looking for the bag. +His search was thorough and, being a keen-eyed young man, he discovered +the place where Lorraine had crouched down by a rock. She must have +stayed there all night, for the scuffed soil was dry where her body had +rested, and her purse, caught in the juniper bush close by, was sodden +with rain. +</P> + +<P> +"The poor little kid!" he muttered, and with a sudden impulse he turned +and looked toward the rock behind which the horse had stood. Help had +been that close, and she had not known it, unless—— +</P> + +<P> +"If anything happened there last night, she could have seen it from +here," he decided, and immediately put the thought away from him. +</P> + +<P> +"But nothing happened," he added, "unless maybe she saw him ride out +and go on down the road. She was out of her head and just imagined +things." +</P> + +<P> +He slipped the soaked purse into his coat pocket, remounted and rode on +slowly, looking for the grip and half-believing she had not been +carrying one, but had dreamed it just as she had dreamed that a man had +been shot. +</P> + +<P> +He rode past the bag without seeing it, for Lorraine had thrust it far +back under a stocky bush whose scraggly branches nearly touched the +ground. So he came at last to the creek, swollen with the night's +storm so that it was swift and dangerous. Lone was turning back when +John Doe threw up his head, stared up the creek for a moment and +whinnied shrilly. Lone stood in the stirrups and looked. +</P> + +<P> +A blaze-faced horse was standing a short rifle-shot away, bridled and +with an empty saddle. Whether he was tied or not Lone, could not tell +at that distance, but he knew the horse by its banged forelock and its +white face and sorrel ears, and he knew the owner of the horse. He +rode toward it slowly. +</P> + +<P> +"Whoa, you rattle-headed fool," he admonished, when the horse snorted +and backed a step or two as he approached. He saw the bridle-reins +dangling, broken, where the horse had stepped on them in running. +"Broke loose and run off again," he said, as he took down his rope and +widened the loop. "I'll bet Thurman would sell you for a bent nickel, +this morning." +</P> + +<P> +The horse squatted and jumped when he cast the loop, and then stood +quivering and snorting while Lone dismounted and started toward him. +Ten steps from the horse Lone stopped short, staring. For down in the +bushes on the farther side half lay, half hung the limp form of a man. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A DEATH "BY ACCIDENT" +</H4> + +<P> +Lone Morgan was a Virginian by birth, though few of his acquaintances +knew it. +</P> + +<P> +Lone never talked of himself except as his personal history touched a +common interest with his fellows. But until he was seventeen he had +lived very close to the centre of one of the deadliest feuds of the +Blue Ridge. That he had been neutral was merely an accident of birth, +perhaps. And that he had not become involved in the quarrel that raged +among his neighbours was the direct result of a genius for holding his +tongue. He had attended the funerals of men shot down in their own +dooryards, he had witnessed the trials of the killers. He had grown up +with the settled conviction that other men's quarrels did not concern +him so long as he was not directly involved, and that what did not +concern him he had no right to discuss. If he stood aside and let +violence stalk by unhindered, he was merely doing what he had been +taught to do from the time he could walk. "Mind your own business and +let other folks do the same," had been the family slogan in Lone's +home. There had been nothing in Lone's later life to convince him that +minding his own business was not a very good habit. It had grown to be +second nature,—and it had made him a good man for the Sawtooth Cattle +Company to have on its pay roll. +</P> + +<P> +Just now Lone was stirred beyond his usual depth of emotion, and it was +not altogether the sight of Fred Thurman's battered body that unnerved +him. He wanted to believe that Thurman's death was purely an +accident,—the accident it appeared. But Lorraine and the telltale +hoofprints by the rock compelled him to believe that it was not an +accident. He knew that if he examined carefully enough Fred Thurman's +body he would find the mark of a bullet. He was tempted to look, and +yet he did not want to know. It was no business of his; it would be +foolish to let it become his business. +</P> + +<P> +"He's too dead to care now how it happened—and it would only stir up +trouble," he finally decided and turned his eyes away. +</P> + +<P> +He pulled the twisted foot from the stirrup, left the body where it +lay, and led the blaze-faced horse to a tree and tied it securely. He +took off his coat and spread it over the head and shoulders of the dead +man, weighted the edges with rocks and rode away. +</P> + +<P> +Halfway up the hill he left the road and took a narrow trail through +the sage, a short-cut that would save him a couple of miles. +</P> + +<P> +The trail crossed the ridge half a mile beyond Rock City, dipping into +the lower end of the small gulch where he had overtaken the girl. The +place recalled with fresh vividness her first words to him: "Are <I>you</I> +the man I saw shoot that other man and fasten his foot in the stirrup?" +Lone shivered and threw away the cigarette he had just lighted. +</P> + +<P> +"My God, that girl mustn't tell that to any one else!" he exclaimed +apprehensively. "No matter who she is or what she is, she mustn't tell +that!" +</P> + +<P> +"Hello! Who you talking to? I heard somebody talking——" The bushes +parted above a low, rocky ledge and a face peered out, smiling +good-humouredly. Lone started a little and pulled up. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, hello, Swan. I was just telling this horse of mine all I was +going to do to him. Say, you're a chancey bird, Swan, yelling from the +brush like that. Some folks woulda taken a shot at you." +</P> + +<P> +"Then they'd hit me, sure," Swan observed, letting himself down into +the trail. He, too, was wet from his hat crown to his shoes, that +squelched when he landed lightly on his toes. "Anybody would be +ashamed to shoot at a mark so large as I am. I'd say they're poor +shooters." And he added irrelevantly, as he held up a grayish pelt, "I +got that coyote I been chasing for two weeks. He was sure smart. He +had me guessing. But I made him guess some, maybe. He guessed wrong +this time." +</P> + +<P> +Lone's eyes narrowed while he looked Swan over. "You must have been +out all night," he said. "You're crazier about hunting than I am." +</P> + +<P> +"Wet bushes," Swan corrected carelessly. "I been tramping since +daylight. It's my work to hunt, like it's your work to ride." He had +swung into the trail ahead of John Doe and was walking with long +strides,—the tallest, straightest, limberest young Swede in all the +country. He had the bluest eyes, the readiest smile, the healthiest +colour, the sunniest hair and disposition the Sawtooth country had seen +for many a day. He had homesteaded an eighty-acre claim on the south +side of Bear Top and had by that means gained possession of two living +springs and the only accessible portion of Wilder Creek where it +crossed the meadow called Skyline before it plunged into a gulch too +narrow for cattle to water with any safety. +</P> + +<P> +The Sawtooth Cattle Company had for years "covered" that eighty-acre +patch of government land, never dreaming that any one would ever file +on it. Swan Vjolmar was there and had his log cabin roofed and ready +for the door and windows before the Sawtooth discovered his presence. +Now, nearly a year afterwards, he was accepted in a tolerant, +half-friendly spirit. He had not objected to the Sawtooth cattle which +still watered at Skyline Meadow. He was a "Government hunter" and he +had killed many coyotes and lynx and even a mountain lion or two. Lone +wondered sometimes what the Sawtooth meant to do about the Swede, but +so far the Sawtooth seemed inclined to do nothing at all, evidently +thinking his war on animal pests more than atoned for his effrontery in +taking Skyline as a homestead. When he had proven up on his claim they +would probably buy him out and have the water still. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what do you know?" Swan turned his head to inquire abruptly. +"You're pretty quiet." +</P> + +<P> +Lone roused himself. "Fred Thurman's been dragged to death by that +damned flighty horse of his," he said. "I found him in the brush this +side of Granite Creek. Had his foot caught in the stirrup. I thought +I'd best leave him there till the coroner can view him." +</P> + +<P> +Swan stopped short in the trail and turned facing Lone. "Last night my +dog Yack whines to go out. He went and sat in a place where he looks +down on the walley, and he howled for half an hour. I said then that +somebody in the walley has died. That dog is something queer about it. +He knows things." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to the Sawtooth," Lone told him. "I can telephone to the +coroner from there. Anybody at Thurman's place, do you know?" +</P> + +<P> +Swan shook his head and started again down the winding, steep trail. +"I don't hunt over that way for maybe a week. That's too bad he's +killed. I like Fred Thurman. He's a fine man, you bet." +</P> + +<P> +"He was," said Lone soberly. "It's a damn shame he had to go—like +that." +</P> + +<P> +Swan glanced back at him, studied Lone's face for an instant and turned +into a tributary gully where a stream trickled down over the water-worn +rocks. "Here I leave you," he volunteered, as Lone came abreast of +him. "A coyote's crossed up there, and I maybe find his tracks. I +could go do chores for Fred Thurman if nobody's there. Should I do +that? What you say, Lone?" +</P> + +<P> +"You might drift around by there if it ain't too much out of your way, +and see if he's got a man on the ranch," Lone suggested. "But you +better not touch anything in the house, Swan. The coroner'll likely +appoint somebody to look around and see if he's got any folks to send +his stuff to. Just feed any stock that's kept up, if nobody's there." +</P> + +<P> +"All right," Swan agreed readily. "I'll do that, Lone. Good-bye." +</P> + +<P> +Lone nodded and watched him climb the steep slope of the gulch on the +side toward Thurman's ranch. Swan climbed swiftly, seeming to take no +thought of where he put his feet, yet never once slipping or slowing. +In two minutes he was out of sight, and Lone rode on moodily, trying +not to think of Fred Thurman, trying to shut from his mind the things +that wild-eyed, hoarse-voiced girl had told him. +</P> + +<P> +"Lone, you mind your own business," he advised himself once. "You +don't know anything that's going to do any one any good, and what you +don't know there's no good guessing. But that girl—she mustn't talk +like that!" +</P> + +<P> +Of Swan he scarcely gave a thought after the Swede had disappeared, yet +Swan was worth a thought or two, even from a man who was bent on +minding his own business. Swan had no sooner climbed the gulch toward +Thurman's claim than he proceeded to descend rather carefully to the +bottom again, walk along on the rocks for some distance and climb to +the ridge whose farther slope led down to Granite Creek. He did not +follow the trail, but struck straight across an outcropping ledge, +descended to Granite Creek and strode along next the hill where the +soil was gravelly and barren. When he had gone some distance, he sat +down and took from under his coat two huge, crudely made moccasins of +coyote skin. These he pulled on over his shoes, tied them around his +ankles and went on, still keeping close under the hill. +</P> + +<P> +He reached the place where Fred Thurman lay, stood well away from the +body and studied every detail closely. Then, stepping carefully on +trampled brush and rocks, he approached and cautiously lifted Lone's +coat. It was not a pretty sight, but Swan's interest held him there +for perhaps ten minutes, his eyes leaving the body only when the +blaze-faced horse moved. Then Swan would look up quickly at the horse, +seem reassured when he saw that the animal was not watching anything at +a distance, and return, to his curious task. Finally he drew the coat +back over the head and shoulders, placed each stone exactly as he had +found it and went up to the horse, examining the saddle rather closely. +After that he retreated as carefully as he had approached. When he had +gone half a mile or so upstream he found a place where he could wash +his hands without wetting his moccasins, returned to the rocky hillside +and took off the clumsy footgear and stowed them away under his coat. +Then with long strides that covered the ground as fast as a horse could +do without loping, Swan headed as straight as might be for the Thurman +ranch. +</P> + +<P> +About noon Swan approached the crowd of men and a few women who stood +at a little distance and whispered together, with their faces averted +from the body around which the men stood grouped. The news had spread +as such news will, even in a country so sparsely settled as the +Sawtooth. Swan counted forty men,—he did not bother with the women. +Fred Thurman had been known to every one of them. Some one had spread +a piece of canvas over the corpse, and Swan did not go very near. The +blaze-faced horse had been led farther away and tied to a cottonwood, +where some one had thrown down a bundle of hay. The Sawtooth country +was rather punctilious in its duty toward the law, and it was generally +believed that the coroner would want to see the horse that had caused +the tragedy. +</P> + +<P> +Half an hour after Swan arrived, the coroner came in a machine, and +with him came the sheriff. The coroner, an important little man, +examined the body, the horse and the saddle, and there was the usual +formula of swearing in a jury. The inquest was rather short, since +there was only one witness to testify, and Lone merely told how he had +discovered the horse there by the creek, and that the body had not been +moved from where he found it. +</P> + +<P> +Swan went over to where Lone, anxious to get away from the place, was +untying his horse after the jury had officially named the death an +accident. +</P> + +<P> +"I guess those horses could be turned loose," he began without prelude. +"What you think, Lone? I been to Thurman's ranch, and I don't find +anybody. Some horses in a corral, and pigs in a pen, and chickens. I +guess Thurman was living alone. Should I tell the coroner that?" +</P> + +<P> +"I dunno," Lone replied shortly. "You might speak to the sheriff. I +reckon he's the man to take charge of things." +</P> + +<P> +"It's bad business, getting killed," Swan said vaguely. "It makes me +feel damn sorry when I go to that ranch. There's the horses waiting +for breakfast—and Thurman, he's dead over here and can't feed his pigs +and his chickens. It's a white cat over there that comes to meet me +and rubs my leg and purrs like it's lonesome. That's a nice ranch he's +got, too. Now what becomes of that ranch? What you think, Lone?" +</P> + +<P> +"Hell, how should I know?" Lone scowled at him from the saddle and +rode away, leaving Swan standing there staring after him. He turned +away to find the sheriff and almost collided with Brit Hunter, who was +glancing speculatively from him to Lone Morgan. Swan stopped and put +out his hand to shake. +</P> + +<P> +"Lone says I should tell the sheriff I could look after Fred Thurman's +ranch. What you think, Mr Hunter?" +</P> + +<P> +"Good idea, I guess. Somebody'll have to. They can't——" He checked +himself. "You got a horse? I'll ride over with yuh, maybe." +</P> + +<P> +"I got legs," Swan returned laconically. "They don't get scared, Mr +Hunter, and maybe kill me sometime. You could tell the sheriff I'm +government hunter and honest man, and I take good care of things. You +could do that, please?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," said Brit and rode over to where the sheriff was standing. +</P> + +<P> +The sheriff listened, nodded, beckoned to Swan. "The court'll have to +settle up the estate and find his heirs, if he's got any. But you look +after things—what's your name? Vjolmar—how yuh spell it? I'll swear +you in as a deputy. Good Lord, you're a husky son-of-a-gun!" The +sheriff's eyes went up to Swan's hat crown, descended to his shoulders +and lingered there admiringly for a moment, travelled down his flat, +hard-muscled body and his straight legs. "I'll bet you could put up +some fight, if you had to," he commented. +</P> + +<P> +Swan grinned good-humouredly, glanced conscience-stricken at the +covered figure on the ground and straightened his face decorously. +</P> + +<P> +"I could lick you good," he admitted in a stage whisper. "I'm a +son-off-a-gun all right—only I don't never get mad at somebody." +</P> + +<P> +Brit Hunter smiled at that, it was so like Swan Vjolmar. But when they +were halfway to Thurman's ranch—Brit on horseback and Swan striding +easily along beside him, leading the blaze-faced horse, he glanced down +at Swan's face and wondered if Swan had not lied a little. +</P> + +<P> +"What's on your mind, Swan?" he asked abruptly. +</P> + +<P> +Swan started and looked up at him, glanced at the empty hills on either +side, and stopped still in the trail. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr Hunter, you been longer in the country than I have been. You seen +some good riding, I bet. Maybe you see some men ride backwards on a +horse?" +</P> + +<P> +Brit looked at him uncomprehendingly. "Backwards?" +</P> + +<P> +Swan led up the blaze-faced horse and pointed to the right stirrup. +"Spurs would scratch like that if you jerk your foot, maybe. You're a +good rider, Mr Hunter, you can tell. That's a right stirrup, ain't it? +Fred Thurman, he's got his left foot twist around, all broke from +jerking in his stirrup. Left foot in right stirrup——" He pushed +back his hat and rumpled his yellow hair, looking up into Brit's face +inquiringly. "Left foot in right stirrup is riding backwards. That's +a damn good rider to ride like that—what you think, Mr Hunter?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +LONE ADVISES SILENCE +</H4> + +<P> +Twice in the next week Lone found an excuse for riding over to the +Sawtooth. During his first visit, the foreman's wife told him that the +young lady was still too sick to talk much. The second time he went, +Pop Bridgers spied him first and cackled over his coming to see the +girl. Lone grinned and dissembled as best he could, knowing that Pop +Bridgers fed his imagination upon denials and argument and remonstrance +and was likely to build gossip that might spread beyond the Sawtooth. +Wherefore he did not go near the foreman's house that day, but +contented himself with gathering from Pop's talk that the girl was +still there. +</P> + +<P> +After that he rode here and there, wherever he would be likely to meet +a Sawtooth rider, and so at last he came upon Al Woodruff loping along +the crest of Juniper Ridge. Al at first displayed no intention of +stopping, but pulled up when he saw John Doe slowing down +significantly. Lone would have preferred a chat with some one else, +for this was a sharp-eyed, sharp-tongued man; but Al Woodruff stayed at +the ranch and would know all the news, and even though he might give it +an ill-natured twist, Lone would at least know what was going on. Al +hailed him with a laughing epithet. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, you sure enough played hell all around, bringin' Brit Hunter's +girl to the Sawtooth!" he began, chuckling as if he had some secret +joke. "Where'd you pick her up, Lone? She claims you found her at +Rock City. That right?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, it ain't right," Lone denied promptly, his dark eyes meeting Al's +glance steadily. "I found her in that gulch away this side. She was +in amongst the rocks where she was trying to keep outa the rain. Brit +Hunter's girl, is she? She told me she was going to the Sawtooth. +She'd have made it, too, if it hadn't been for the storm. She got as +far as the gulch, and the lightning scared her from going any farther." +He offered Al his tobacco sack and fumbled for a match. "I never knew +Brit Hunter had a girl." +</P> + +<P> +"Nor me," Al said and sifted tobacco into a cigarette paper. "Bob, he +drove her over there yesterday. Took him close to all day to make the +trip—and Bob, he claims to hate women!" +</P> + +<P> +"So would I, if I'd got stung for fifty thousand. She ain't that kind. +She's a nice girl, far as I could tell. She got well, all right, did +she?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah—only she was still coughing some when she left the ranch. She +like to of had pneumonia, I guess. Queer how she claimed she spent the +night in Rock City, ain't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," Lone answered judicially, "I don't know as it's so queer. She +never realised how far she'd walked, I reckon. She was plumb crazy +when I found her. You couldn't take any stock in what she said. Say, +you didn't see that bay I was halter-breaking, did yuh, Al? He jumped +the fence and got away on me, day before yesterday. I'd like to catch +him up again. He'll make a good horse." +</P> + +<P> +Al had not seen the bay, and the talk tapered off desultorily to a +final "So-long, see yuh later." Lone rode on, careful not to look +back. So she was Brit Hunter's girl! Lone whistled softly to himself +while he studied this new angle of the problem,—for a problem he was +beginning to consider it. She was Brit Hunter's girl, and she had told +them at the Sawtooth that she had spent the night at Rock City. He +wondered how much else she had told; how much she remembered of what +she had told him. +</P> + +<P> +He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a round leather purse +with a chain handle. It was soiled and shrunken with its wetting, and +the clasp had flecks of rust upon it. What it contained Lone did not +know. Virginia had taught him that a man must not be curious about the +personal belongings of a woman. Now he turned the purse over, tried to +rub out the stiffness of the leather, and smiled a little as he dropped +it back into his pocket. +</P> + +<P> +"I've got my calling card," he said softly to John Doe. "I reckon I +had the right hunch when I didn't turn it over to Mrs Hawkins. I'll +ask her again about that grip she said she hid under a bush. I never +heard about any of the boys finding it." +</P> + +<P> +His thoughts returned to Al Woodruff and stopped there. Determined +still to attend strictly to his own affairs, his thoughts persisted in +playing truant and in straying to a subject he much preferred not to +think of at all. Why should Al Woodruff be interested in the exact +spot where Brit Hunter's daughter had spent the night of the storm? +Why should Lone instinctively discount her statement and lie +whole-heartedly about it? +</P> + +<P> +"Now if Al catches me up in that, he'll think I know a lot I don't +know, or else——" He halted his thoughts there, for that, too, was a +forbidden subject. +</P> + +<P> +Forbidden subjects are like other forbidden things: they have a way of +making themselves very conspicuous. Lone was heading for the Quirt +ranch by the most direct route, fearing, perhaps, that if he waited he +would lose his nerve and would not go at all. Yet it was important +that he should go; he must return the girl's purse! +</P> + +<P> +The most direct route to the Quirt took him down Juniper Ridge and +across Granite Creek near the Thurman ranch. Indeed, if he followed +the trail up Granite Creek and across the hilly country to Quirt Creek, +he must pass within fifty yards of the Thurman cabin. Lone's time was +limited, yet he took the direct route rather reluctantly. He did not +want to be reminded too sharply of Fred Thurman as a man who had lived +his life in his own way and had died so horribly. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, he didn't have it coming to him—but it's done and over with +now, so it's no use thinking about it," he reflected, when the roofs of +the Thurman ranch buildings began to show now and then through the thin +ranks of the cottonwoods along the creek. +</P> + +<P> +But his face sobered as he rode along. It seemed to him that the +sleepy little meadows, the quiet murmuring of the creek, even the soft +rustling of the cottonwood leaves breathed a new loneliness, an +emptiness where the man who had called this place home, who had clung +to it in the face of opposition that was growing into open warfare, had +lived and left life suddenly—unwarrantably, Lone knew in his heart. +It might be of no use to think about it, but the vivid memory of Fred +Thurman was with him when he rode up the trail to the stable and the +small corrals. He had to think, whether he would or no. +</P> + +<P> +At the corral he came unexpectedly in sight of the Swede, who grinned a +guileless welcome and came toward him, so that Lone could not ride on +unless he would advertise his dislike of the place. John Doe, plainly +glad to find an excuse to stop, slowed and came to where Swan waited by +the gate. +</P> + +<P> +"By golly, this is lonesome here," Swan complained, heaving a great +sigh. "That judge don't get busy pretty quick, I'm maybe jumping my +job. Lone, what you think? You believe in ghosts?" +</P> + +<P> +"Naw. What's on your chest, Swan?" Lone slipped sidewise in the +saddle, resting his muscles. "You been seeing things?" +</P> + +<P> +"No—I don't be seeing things, Lone. But sometimes I been—like I +<I>feel</I> something." He stared at Lone questioningly. "What you think, +Lone, if you be sitting down eating your supper, maybe, and you feel +something say words in your brain? Like you know something talks to +you and then quits." +</P> + +<P> +Lone gave Swan a long, measuring look, and Swan laughed uneasily. +</P> + +<P> +"That sounds crazy. But it's true, what something tells me in my +brain. I go and look, and by golly, it's there just like the words +tell me." +</P> + +<P> +Lone straightened in the saddle. "You better come clean, Swan, and +tell the whole thing. What was it? Don't talk in circles. What words +did you feel—in your brain?" In spite of himself, Lone felt as he had +when the girl had talked to him and called him Charlie. +</P> + +<P> +Swan closed the gate behind him with steady hands. His lips were +pressed firmly together, as if he had definitely made up his mind to +something. Lone was impressed somehow with Swan's perfect control of +his speech, his thoughts, his actions. But he was puzzled rather than +anything else, and when Swan turned, facing him, Lone's bewilderment +did not lessen. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll tell you. It's when I'm sitting down to eat my supper. I'm just +reaching out my hand like this, to get my coffee. And something says +in my head, 'It's a lie. I don't ride backwards. Go look at my +saddle. There's blood——' And that's all. It's like the words go +far away so I can't hear any more. So I eat my supper, and then I get +the lantern and I go look. You come with me, Lone. I'll show you." +</P> + +<P> +Without a word Lone dismounted and followed Swan into a small shed +beside the stable, where a worn stock saddle hung suspended from a +cross-piece, a rawhide string looped over the horn. Lone did not ask +whose saddle it was, nor did Swan name the owner. There was no need. +</P> + +<P> +Swan took the saddle and swung it around so that the right side was +toward them. It was what is called a full-stamped saddle, with the +popular wild-rose design on skirts and cantle. Much hard use and +occasional oilings had darkened the leather to a rich, red brown, +marred with old scars and scratches and the stains of many storms. +</P> + +<P> +"Blood is hard to find when it's raining all night," Swan observed, +speaking low as one does in the presence of death. "But if somebody is +bleeding and falls off a horse slow, and catches hold of things and +tries like hell to hang on——" He lifted the small flap that covered +the cinch ring and revealed a reddish, flaked stain. Phlegmatically he +wetted his finger tip on his tongue, rubbed the stain and held up his +finger for Lone to see. "That's a damn funny place for blood, when a +man is dragging on the ground," he commented dryly. "And something +else is damn funny, Lone." +</P> + +<P> +He lifted the wooden stirrup and touched with his finger the rowel +marks. "That is on the front part," he said. "I could swear in court +that Fred's left foot was twisted—that's damn funny, Lone. I don't +see men ride backwards, much." +</P> + +<P> +Lone turned on him and struck the stirrup from his hand. "I think you +better forget it," he said fiercely. "He's dead—it can't help him any +to——" He stopped and pulled himself together. "Swan, you take a +fool's advice and don't tell anybody else about feeling words talk in +your head. They'll have you in the bug-house at Black-foot, sure as +you live." He looked at the saddle, hesitated, looked again at Swan, +who was watching him. "That blood most likely got there when Fred was +packing a deer in from the hills. And marks on them old oxbow stirrups +don't mean a damn thing but the need of a new pair, maybe." He forced +a laugh and stepped outside the shed. "Just shows you, Swan, that +imagination and being alone all the time can raise Cain with a fellow. +You want to watch yourself." +</P> + +<P> +Swan followed him out, closing the door carefully behind him. "By +golly, I'm watching out now," he assented thoughtfully. "You don't +tell anybody, Lone." +</P> + +<P> +"No, I won't tell anybody—and I'd advise you not to," Lone repeated +grimly. "Just keep those thoughts outa your head, Swan. They're bad +medicine." +</P> + +<P> +He mounted John Doe and rode away, his eyes downcast, his quirt +slapping absently the weeds along the trail. It was not his business, +and yet—— Lone shook himself together and put John Doe into a lope. +He had warned Swan, and he could do no more. +</P> + +<P> +Halfway to the Quirt he met Lorraine riding along the trail. She would +have passed him with no sign of recognition, but Lone lifted his hat +and stopped. Lorraine looked at him, rode on a few steps and turned. +"Did you wish to speak about something?" she asked impersonally. +</P> + +<P> +Lone felt the flush in his cheeks, which angered him to the point of +speaking curtly. "Yes. I found your purse where you dropped it that +night you were lost. I was bringing it over to you. My name's Morgan. +I'm the man that found you and took you in to the ranch." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh." Lorraine looked at him steadily. "You're the one they call +Loney?" +</P> + +<P> +"When they're feeling good toward me. I'm Lone Morgan. I went back to +find your grip—you said you left it under a bush, but the world's +plumb full of bushes. I found your purse, though." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you so much. I must have been an awful nuisance, but I was so +scared—and things were terribly mixed in my mind. I didn't even have +sense enough to tell you what ranch I was trying to find, did I? So +you took me to the wrong one, and I was a week there before I found it +out. And then they were perfectly lovely about it and brought +me—home." She turned the purse over and over in her hands, looking at +it without much interest. She seemed in no hurry to ride on, which +gave Lone courage. +</P> + +<P> +"There's something I'd like to say," he began, groping for words that +would make his meaning plain without telling too much. "I hope you +won't mind my telling you. You were kinda out of your head when I +found you, and you said something about seeing a man shot and——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" Lorraine looked up at him, looked through him, he thought, with +those brilliant eyes of hers. "Then I did tell——" +</P> + +<P> +"I just wanted to say," Lone interrupted her, "that I knew all the time +it was just a nightmare. I never mentioned it to anybody, and you'll +forget all about it, I hope. You didn't tell any one else, did you?" +</P> + +<P> +He looked up at her again and found her studying him curiously. +"You're not the man I saw," she said, as if sue were satisfying herself +on that point. "I've wondered since—but I was sure, too, that I had +seen it. Why mustn't I tell any one?" +</P> + +<P> +Lone did not reply at once. The girl's eyes were disconcertingly +direct, her voice and her manner disturbed him with their judicial +calmness, so at variance with the wildness he remembered. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, it's hard to explain," he said at last. "You're strange to this +country, and you don't know all the ins and outs of—things. It +wouldn't do any good to you or anybody else, and it might do a lot of +harm." His eyes flicked her face with a wistful glance. "You don't +know me—I really haven't got any right to ask or expect you to trust +me. But I wish you would, to the extent of forgetting that you saw—or +thought you saw—anything that night in Rock City." +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine shivered and covered her eyes swiftly with one hand. His +words had brought back too sharply that scene. But she shook off the +emotion and faced him again. +</P> + +<P> +"I saw a man murdered," she cried. "I wasn't sure afterwards; +sometimes I thought I had dreamed it. But I was sure I saw it. I saw +the horse go by, running—and you want me to keep still about that? +What harm could it do to tell? Perhaps it's true—perhaps I did see it +all. I might think you were trying to cover up something—only, you're +not the man I saw—or thought I saw." +</P> + +<P> +"No, of course I'm not. You dreamed the whole thing, and the way you +talked to me was so wild, folks would say you're crazy if they heard +you tell it. You're a stranger here, Miss Hunter, and—your father is +not as popular in this country as he might be. He's got enemies that +would be glad of the chance to stir up trouble for him. You—just +dreamed all that. I'm asking you to forget a bad dream, that's all, +and not go telling it to other folks." +</P> + +<P> +For some time Lorraine did not answer. The horses conversed with +sundry nose-rubbings, nibbled idly at convenient brush tips, and +wondered no doubt why their riders were so silent. Lone tried to think +of some stronger argument, some appeal that would reach the girl +without frightening her or causing her to distrust him. But he did not +know what more he could say without telling her what must not be told. +</P> + +<P> +"Just how would it make trouble for my father?" Lorraine asked at last. +"I can't believe you'd ask me to help cover up a crime, but it seems +hard to believe that a nightmare would cause any great commotion. And +why is my father unpopular?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you don't know this country," Lone parried inexpertly. "It's +all right in some ways, and in some ways it could be a lot improved. +Folks haven't got much to talk about. They go around gabbling their +heads off about every little thing, and adding onto it until you can't +recognise your own remarks after they've peddled for a week. You've +maybe seen places like that." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes." Lorraine's eyes lighted with a smile. "Take a movie +studio, for instance." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. Well, you being a stranger, you would get all the worst of it. +I just thought I'd tell you; I'd hate to see you misunderstood by folks +around here. I—I feel kinda responsible for you; I'm the one that +found you." +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine's eyes twinkled. "Well, I'm glad to know one person in the +country who doesn't gabble his head off. You haven't answered any of +my questions, and you've made me feel as if you'd found a dangerous, +wild woman that morning. It isn't very flattering, but I think you're +honest, anyway." +</P> + +<P> +Lone smiled for the first time, and she found his smile pleasant. "I'm +no angel," he disclaimed modestly, "and most folks think I could be +improved on a whole lot. But I'm honest in one way. I'm thinking +about what's best for you, this time." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm terribly grateful," Lorraine laughed. "I shall take great care +not to go all around the country telling people my dreams. I can see +that it wouldn't make me awfully popular." Then she sobered. "Mr +Morgan, that was a <I>horrible</I> kind of—nightmare. Why, even last night +I woke up shivering, just imagining it all over again." +</P> + +<P> +"It was sure horrible the way you talked about it," Lone assured her. +"It's because you were sick, I reckon. I wish you'd tell me as close +as you can where you left that grip of yours. You said it was under a +bush where a rabbit was sitting. I'd like to find the grip—but I'm +afraid that rabbit has done moved!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Mr Warfield and I found it, thank you. The rabbit had moved, but +I sort of remembered how the road had looked along there, and we hunted +until we discovered the place. Dad has driven in after my other +luggage to-day—and I believe I must be getting home. I was only out +for a little ride." +</P> + +<P> +She thanked him again for the trouble he had taken and rode away. Lone +turned off the trail and, picking his way around rough outcroppings of +rock, and across unexpected little gullies, headed straight for the +ford across Granite Creek and home. Brit Hunter's girl, he was +thinking, was even nicer than he had pictured her. And that she could +believe in the nightmare was a vast relief. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE MAN AT WHISPER +</H4> + +<P> +Brit Hunter finished washing the breakfast dishes and put a stick of +wood into the broken old cook-stove that had served him and Frank for +fifteen years and was feeling its age. Lorraine's breakfast was in the +oven, keeping warm. Brit looked in, tested the heat with his gnarled +hand to make sure that the sour-dough biscuits would not be dried to +crusts, and closed the door upon them and the bacon and fried potatoes. +Frank Johnson had the horses saddled and it was time to go, yet Brit +lingered, uneasily conscious that his habitation was lacking in many +things which a beautiful young woman might consider absolute +necessities. He had seen in Lorraine's eyes, as they glanced here and +there about the grimy walls, a certain disparagement of her +surroundings. The look had made him wince, though he could not quite +decide what it was that displeased her. Maybe she wanted lace +curtains, or something. +</P> + +<P> +He set the four chairs in a row against the wall, swept up the bits of +bark and ashes beside the stove, made sure that the water bucket was +standing full on its bench beside the door, sent another critical +glance around the room, and tip-toed over to the dish cupboard and let +down the flowered calico curtain that had been looped up over a nail +for convenience. The sun sent a bright, wide bar of yellow light +across the room to rest on the shelf behind the stove where stood the +salt can, the soda, the teapot, a box of matches and two pepper cans, +one empty and the other full. Brit always meant to throw out that +empty pepper can and always neglected to do so. Just now he remembered +picking up the empty one and shaking it over the potatoes futilely and +then changing it for the full one. But he did not take it away; in the +wilderness one learns to save useless things in the faint hope that +some day they may become useful. The shelves were cluttered with fit +companions to that empty pepper can. Brit thought that he would have +"cleaned out" had he known that Lorraine was coming. Since she was +here, it scarcely seemed worth while. +</P> + +<P> +He walked on his boot-toes to the door of the second room of the cabin, +listened there for a minute, heard no sound and took a tablet and +pencil off another shelf littered with useless things. The note which +he wrote painstakingly, lest she might think him lacking in education, +he laid upon the table beside Lorraine's plate; then went out, closing +the door behind him as quietly as a squeaking door can be made to close. +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine, in the other room, heard the squeak and sat up. Her wrist +watch, on the chair beside her bed, said that it was fifteen minutes +past six, which she considered an unearthly hour for rising. She +pulled up the covers and tried to sleep again. The day would be long +enough, at best. There was nothing to do, unless she took that queer +old horse with withers like the breastbone of a lean Christmas turkey +and hips that reminded her of the little roofs over dormer windows, and +went for a ride. And if she did that, there was nowhere to go and +nothing to do when she arrived there. +</P> + +<P> +In a very few days Lorraine had exhausted the sights of Quirt Creek and +vicinity. If she rode south she would eventually come to the top of a +hill whence she could look down upon further stretches of barrenness. +If she rode east she would come eventually to the road along which she +had walked from Echo, Idaho. Lorraine had had enough of that road. If +she went north she would—well, she would not meet Mr Lone Morgan +again, for she had tried it twice, and had turned back because there +seemed no end to the trail twisting through the sage and rocks. West +she had not gone, but she had no doubt that it would be the same dreary +monotony of dull gray landscape. +</P> + +<P> +Monotony of landscape was one thing which Lorraine could not endure, +unless it had a foreground of riders hurtling here and there, and of +perspiring men around a camera tripod. At the Sawtooth ranch, after +she was able to be up, she had seen cowboys, but they had lacked the +dash and the picturesque costuming of the West she knew. They were +mostly commonplace young men, jogging past the house on horseback, or +loitering down by the corrals. They had offered absolutely no interest +or "colour" to the place, and the owner's son, Bob Warfield, had driven +her over to the Quirt in a Ford and had seemed exactly like any other +big, good-looking young man who thought well of himself. Lorraine was +not susceptible to mere good looks, three years with the "movies" +having disillusioned her quite thoroughly. Too many young men of Bob +Warfield's general type had attempted to make love to her—lightly and +not too well—for Lorraine to be greatly impressed. +</P> + +<P> +She yawned, looked at her watch again, found that she had spent exactly +six minutes in meditating upon her immediate surroundings, and fell to +wondering why it was that the real West was so terribly commonplace. +Why, yesterday she had been brought to such a pass of sheer loneliness +that she had actually been driven to reading an old horse-doctor book! +She had learned the symptoms of epizoötic—whatever that was—and +poll-evil and stringhalt, and had gone from that to making a shopping +tour through a Montgomery-Ward catalogue. There was nothing else in +the house to read, except a half-dozen old copies of the <I>Boise News</I>. +</P> + +<P> +There was nothing to do, nothing lo see, no one to talk to. Her dad +and the big, heavy-set man whom he called Frank, seemed uncomfortably +aware of their deficiencies and were pitiably anxious to make her feel +welcome—and failed. They called her "Raine." The other two men did +not call her anything at all. They were both sandy-complexioned and +they both chewed tobacco quite noticeably, and when they sat down in +their shirt sleeves to eat, Lorraine had seen irregular humps in their +hip pockets which must be six-guns; though why they should carry them +in their pockets instead of in holster belts buckled properly around +their bodies and sagging savagely down at one side and swinging +ferociously when they walked, Lorraine could not imagine. They did not +wear chaps, either, and their spurs were just spurs, without so much as +a silver concho anywhere. Cowboys in overalls and blue gingham shirts +and faded old coats whose lapels lay in wrinkles and whose pockets were +torn down at the corners! If Lorraine had not been positive that this +was actually a cattle ranch in Idaho, she never would have believed +that they were anything but day labourers. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a comedy part for the cattle-queen's daughter," she admitted, +putting out a hand to stroke the lean, gray cat that jumped upon her +bed from the open window. "Ket, it's a <I>scream</I>! I'll take my West +before the camera, thank you; or I would, if I hadn't jumped right into +the middle of this trick West before I knew what I was doing. Ket, +what do you do to pass away the time? I don't see how you can have the +nerve to live in an empty space like this and purr!" +</P> + +<P> +She got up then, looked into the kitchen and saw the paper on the +table. This was new and vaguely promised some sort of break in the +deadly monotony which she saw stretching endlessly before her. +Carrying the nameless cat in her arms, Lorraine went in her bare feet +across the grimy, bare floor to the table and picked up the note. It +read simply: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Your brekfast is in the oven we wont be back till dark maby. Dont +leave the ranch today. Yr loveing father." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Lorraine hugged the cat so violently that she choked off a purr in the +middle. "'Don't leave the ranch to-day!' Ket, I believe it's going to +be dangerous or something, after all." +</P> + +<P> +She dressed quickly and went outside into the sunlight, the cat at her +heels, the thrill of that one command filling the gray monotone of the +hills with wonderful possibilities of adventure. Her father had made +no objection before when she went for a ride. He had merely instructed +her to keep to the trails, and if she didn't know the way home, to let +the reins lie loose on Yellowjacket's neck and he would bring her to +the gate. +</P> + +<P> +Yellowjacket's instinct for direction had not been working that day, +however. Lorraine had no sooner left the ranch out of sight behind her +than she pretended that she was lost. Yellowjacket had thereupon +walked a few rods farther and stopped, patiently indifferent to the +location of his oats box. Lorraine had waited until his head began to +droop lower and lower, and his switching at flies had become purely +automatic. Yellowjacket was going to sleep without making any effort +to find the way home. But since Lorraine had not told her father +anything about it, his injunction could not have anything to do with +the unreliability of the horse. +</P> + +<P> +"Now," she said to the cat, "if three or four bandits would appear on +the ridge, over there, and come tearing down into the immediate +foreground, jump the gate and surround the house, I'd know this was the +real thing. They'd want to make me tell where dad kept his gold or +whatever it was they wanted, and they'd have me tied to a chair—and +then, cut to Lone Morgan (that's a perfectly <I>wonderful</I> name for the +lead!) hearing shots and coming on a dead run to the rescue." She +picked up the cat and walked slowly down the hard-trodden path to the +stable. "But there aren't any bandits, and dad hasn't any gold or +anything else worth stealing—Ket, if dad isn't a miser, he's <I>poor</I>! +And Lone Morgan is merely ashamed of the way I talked to him, and +afraid I'll queer myself with the neighbours. No Western lead that <I>I</I> +ever saw would act like that. Why, he didn't even want to ride home +with me, that day. +</P> + +<P> +"And Bob Warfield and his Ford are incidents of the past, and not one +soul at the Sawtooth seems to give a darn whether I'm in the country or +out of it. Soon as they found out where I belonged, they brought me +over here and dropped me and forgot all about me. And that, I suppose, +is what they call in fiction the Western spirit! +</P> + +<P> +"Dad looked exactly as if he'd opened the door to a book agent when I +came. He—he <I>tolerates</I> my presence, Ket! And Frank Johnson's pipe +smells to high heaven, and I hate him in the house and 'the +boys'—hmhm! The <I>boys</I>—Ket, it would be terribly funny, if I didn't +have to stay here." +</P> + +<P> +She had reached the corral and stood balancing the cat on a warped top +rail, staring disconsolately at Yellowjacket, who stood in a far corner +switching at flies and shamelessly displaying all the angularity of his +bones under a yellowish hide with roughened hair that was shedding +dreadfully, as Lorraine had discovered to her dismay when she removed +her green corduroy skirt after riding him. Yellowjacket's lower lip +sagged with senility or lack of spirit, Lorraine could not tell which. +</P> + +<P> +"You look like the frontispiece in that horse-doctor book," she +remarked, eyeing him with disfavour. "I can't say that comedy hide +you've got improves your appearance. You'd be better peeled, I +believe." +</P> + +<P> +She heard a chuckle behind her and turned quickly, palm up to shield +her eyes from the straight, bright rays of the sun. Now here was a +live man, after all, with his hat tilted down over his forehead, a +cigarette in one hand and his reins in the other, looking at her and +smiling. +</P> + +<P> +"Why don't you peel him, just on a chance?" His smile broadened to a +grin, but when Lorraine continued to look at him with a neutral +expression in her eyes, he threw away his cigarette and abandoned with +it his free-and-easy manner. +</P> + +<P> +"You're Miss Hunter, aren't you? I rode over to see your father. +Thought I'd find him somewhere around the corral, maybe." +</P> + +<P> +"You won't, because he's gone for the day. No, I don't know where." +</P> + +<P> +"I—see. Is Mr Johnson anywhere about?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, I don't believe anyone is anywhere about. They were all gone when +I got up, a little while ago." Then, remembering that she did not know +this man, and that she was a long way from neighbours, she added, "If +you'll leave a message I can tell dad when he comes home." +</P> + +<P> +"No-o—I'll ride over to-morrow or next day. I'm the man at Whisper. +You can tell him I called, and that I'll call again." +</P> + +<P> +Still he did not go, and Lorraine waited. Some instinct warned her +that the man had not yet stated his real reason for coming, and she +wondered a little what it could be. He seemed to be watching her +covertly, yet she failed to catch any telltale admiration for her in +his scrutiny. She decided that his forehead was too narrow to please +her, and that his eyes were too close together, and that the lines +around his mouth were cruel lines and gave the lie to his smile, which +was pleasant enough if you just looked at the smile and paid no +attention to anything else in his face. +</P> + +<P> +"You had quite an experience getting out here, they tell me," he +observed carelessly; too carelessly, thought Lorraine, who was well +schooled in the circumlocutions of delinquent tenants, agents of +various sorts and those who crave small gossip of their neighbours. +"Heard you were lost up in Rock City all night." +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine looked up at him, startled. "I caught a terrible cold," she +said, laughing nervously. "I'm not used to the climate," she added +guardedly. +</P> + +<P> +The man fumbled in his pocket and produced smoking material. "Do you +mind if I smoke?" he asked perfunctorily. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, no. It doesn't concern me in the slightest degree." Why, she +thought confusedly, must she always be reminded of that horrible place +of rocks? What was it to this man where she had been lost? +</P> + +<P> +"You must of got there about the time the storm broke," the man +hazarded after a silence. "It's sure a bad place in a thunderstorm. +Them rocks draw lightning. Pretty bad, wasn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Lightning is always bad, isn't it?" Lorraine tried to hold her voice +steady. "I don't know much about it. We don't have thunderstorms to +amount to anything, in Los Angeles. It sometimes does thunder there in +the winter, but it is very mild." +</P> + +<P> +With hands that trembled she picked the cat off the rail and started +toward the house. "I'll tell dad what you said," she told him, +glancing back over her shoulder. When she saw that he had turned his +horse and was frankly following her to the house, her heart jumped +wildly into her throat—judging by the feel of it. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm plumb out of matches. I wonder if you can let me have some," he +said, still speaking too carelessly to reassure her. "So you stuck it +out in Rock City all through that storm! That's more than what I'd +want to do." +</P> + +<P> +She did not answer that, but once on the door-step Lorraine turned and +faced him. Quite suddenly it came to her—the knowledge of why she did +not like this man. She stared at him, her eyes wide and bright. +</P> + +<P> +"Your hat's brown!" she exclaimed unguardedly. "I—I saw a man with a +brown hat——" +</P> + +<P> +He laughed suddenly. "If you stay around here long you'll see a good +many," he said, taking off his hat and turning it on his hand before +her. "This here hat I traded for yesterday. I had a gray one, but it +didn't suit me. Too narrow in the brim. Brown hats are getting to be +the style. If I can borrow half a dozen matches, Miss Hunter, I'll be +going." +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine looked at him again doubtfully and went after the matches. He +thanked her, smiling down at her quizzically. "A man can get along +without lots of things, but he's plumb lost without matches. You've +maybe saved my life, Miss Hunter, if you only knew it." +</P> + +<P> +She watched him as he rode away, opening the gate and letting himself +through without dismounting. He disappeared finally around a small +spur of the hill, and Lorraine found her knees trembling under her. +</P> + +<P> +"Ket, you're an awful fool," she exclaimed fiercely. "Why did you let +me give myself away to that man? I—I believe he <I>was</I> the man. And +if I really did see him, it wasn't my imagination at all. He saw me +there, perhaps. Ket, I'm scared! I'm not going to stay on this ranch +all alone. I'm going to saddle the family skeleton, and I'm going to +ride till dark. There's something queer about that man from Whisper. +I'm afraid of him." +</P> + +<P> +After awhile, when she had finished her breakfast and was putting up a +lunch, Lorraine picked up the nameless gray cat and holding its head +between her slim fingers, looked at it steadily. "Ket, you're the +humanest thing I've seen since I left home," she said wistfully. "I +<I>hate</I> a country where horrible things happen under the surface and the +top is just gray and quiet and so dull it makes you want to scream. +Lone Morgan lied to me. He lied—he lied!" She hugged the cat +impulsively and rubbed her cheek absently against it, so that it began +purring immediately. +</P> + +<P> +"Ket—I'm afraid of that man at Whisper!" she breathed miserably +against its fur. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +"IT TAKES NERVE JUST TO HANG ON" +</H4> + +<P> +Brit was smoking his pipe after supper and staring at nothing, though +his face was turned toward the closed door. Lorraine had washed the +dishes and was tidying the room and looking at her father now and then +in a troubled, questioning way of which Brit was quite oblivious. +</P> + +<P> +"Dad," she said abruptly, "who is the man at Whisper?" +</P> + +<P> +Brit turned his eyes slowly to her face as if he had not grasped her +meaning and was waiting for her to repeat the question. It was evident +that his thoughts had pulled away from something that meant a good deal +to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"A man came this morning, and said he was the man at Whisper, and that +he would come again to see you." +</P> + +<P> +Brit took his pipe from his mouth, looked at it and crowded down the +tobacco with a forefinger. "He seen me ride away from the ranch, this +morning," he said. "He was coming down the Whisper trail as I was +taking the fork over to Sugar Spring, Frank and me. What did he say he +wanted to see me about?" +</P> + +<P> +"He didn't say. He asked for you and Frank." Lorraine sat down and +folded her arms on the oilcloth-covered table. "Dad, what <I>is</I> +Whisper?" +</P> + +<P> +"Whisper's a camp up against a cliff, over west of here. It belongs to +the Sawtooth. Is that all he said? Just that he wanted to see me?" +</P> + +<P> +"He—talked a little," Lorraine admitted, her eyebrows pulled down. +"If he saw you leave, I shouldn't think he'd come here and ask for you." +</P> + +<P> +"He knowed I was gone," Brit stated briefly. +</P> + +<P> +With a finger nail Lorraine traced the ugly, brown pattern on the +oilcloth. It was not easy to talk to this silent man who was her +father, but she had done a great deal of thinking during that long, +empty day, and she had reached the point where she was afraid not to +speak. +</P> + +<P> +"Dad!" +</P> + +<P> +"What do you want, Raine?" +</P> + +<P> +"Dad, was—has any one around here died, lately?" +</P> + +<P> +"Died? Nobody but Fred Thurman, over here on Granite. He was drug +with a horse and killed." +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine caught her breath, saw Brit looking at her curiously and moved +closer to him. She wanted to be near somebody just then, and after +all, Brit was her father, and his silence was not the inertia of a dull +mind, she knew. He seemed bottled-up, somehow, and bitter. She caught +his hand and held it, feeling its roughness between her two soft palms. +</P> + +<P> +"Dad, I've got to tell you. I feel trapped, somehow. Did his horse +have a white face, dad?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, he's a blaze-faced roan. Why?" Brit moved uncomfortably, but he +did not take his hand away from her. "What do you know about it, +Raine?" +</P> + +<P> +"I saw a man shoot Fred Thurman and push his foot through the stirrup. +And, dad, I believe it was that man at Whisper. The one I saw had on a +brown hat, and this man wears a brown hat—and I was advised not to +tell any one I had been at that place they call Rock City, when the +storm came. Dad, would an innocent man—one that didn't have anything +to do with a crime—would he try to cover it up afterwards?" +</P> + +<P> +Brit's hand shook when he removed the pipe from his mouth and laid it +on the table. His face had turned gray while Lorraine watched him +fearfully. He laid his hand on her shoulder, pressing down hard—and +at last his eyes met her big, searching ones. +</P> + +<P> +"If he wanted to live—in this country—he'd have to. Leastways, he'd +have to keep his mouth shut," he said grimly. +</P> + +<P> +"And he'd try to shut the mouths of others——" +</P> + +<P> +"If he cared anything about them, he would. You ain't told anybody +what you saw, have yuh?" +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine hid her face against his arm. "Just Lone Morgan, and he +thought I was crazy and imagined it. That was in the morning, when he +found me. And he—he wanted me to go on thinking it was just a +nightmare—that I'd imagined the whole thing. And I did, for awhile. +But this man at Whisper tried to find out where I was that night——" +</P> + +<P> +Brit pulled abruptly away from her, got up and opened the door. He +stood there for a time, looking out into the gloom of early nightfall. +He seemed to be listening, Lorraine thought. When he came back to her +his voice was lower, his manner intangibly furtive. +</P> + +<P> +"You didn't tell him anything, did you?" he asked, as if there had been +no pause in their talk. +</P> + +<P> +"No—I made him believe I wasn't there. Or I tried to. And dad! As I +was going to cross that creek just before you come to Rock City, two +men came along on horseback, and I hid before they saw me. They +stopped to water their horses, and they were talking. They said +something about the TJ had been here a long time, but they would get +theirs, and it was like sitting into a poker game with a nickel. They +said the little ones aren't big enough to fight the Sawtooth, and +they'd carry lead under their hides if they didn't leave. Dad, isn't +your brand the TJ? That's what it looks like on Yellowjacket." +</P> + +<P> +Brit did not answer, and when Lorraine was sure that he did not mean to +do so, she asked another question. "Dad, why didn't you want me to +leave the ranch to-day? I was nervous after that man was here, and I +did go." +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't want you riding around the country unless I knew where you +went," Brit said. "My brand is the TJ up-and-down. We never call it +just the TJ." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," said Lorraine, relieved. "They weren't talking about you, then. +But dad—it's horrible! We simply <I>can't</I> let that murder go and not +do anything. Because I know that man was shot. I heard the shot +fired, and I saw him start to fall off his horse. And the next flash +of lightning I saw——" +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, Raine. I don't want you talking about what you saw. I +don't want you <I>thinkin'</I> about it. What's the use? Thurman's dead +and buried. The cor'ner come and held an inquest, and the jury agreed +it was an accident. I was on the jury. The sheriff's took charge of +his property. You couldn't prove what you saw, even if you was to +try." He looked at her very much as Lone Morgan had looked at her. +His next words were very nearly what Lone Morgan had said, Lorraine +remembered. "You don't know this country like I know it. Folks live +in it mainly because they don't go around blatting everything they see +and hear and think." +</P> + +<P> +"You have laws, don't you, dad? You spoke about the sheriff——" +</P> + +<P> +"The sheriff!" Brit laughed harshly. "Yes, we got a sheriff, and we +got a jail, and a judge—all the makin's of law. But we ain't got one +thing that goes with it, and that's justice. You'd best make up your +mind like the cor'ner's jury done, that Fred Thurman was drug to death +by his horse. That's all that'll ever be proved, and if you can't +prove nothing else you better keep your mouth shut." +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine sprang up and stood facing her father, every nerve taut with +protest. "You don't mean to tell me, dad, that you and Frank Johnson +and Lone Morgan and—everybody in the country are <I>cowards</I>, do you?" +</P> + +<P> +Brit looked at her patiently. "No," he said in the tone of +acknowledged defeat, "we ain't cowards, Raine. A man ain't a coward +when he stands with his hands over his head. Most generally it's +because some one's got the drop on 'im." +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine would not accept that. "You think so, because you don't +fight," she cried hotly. "No one is holding a gun at your head. Dad! +I thought Westerners never quit. It's fight to the finish, always. +Why, I've seen one man fight a whole outfit and win. He couldn't be +beaten because he wouldn't give up. Why——" +</P> + +<P> +Brit gave her a tolerant glance. "Where'd you see all that, Raine?" +He moved to the table, picked up his pipe and knocked out the ashes on +the stove hearth. His movements were those of an aging man—yet Brit +Hunter was not old, as age is reckoned. +</P> + +<P> +"Well—in stories—but it was reasonable and logical and possible, just +the same. If you use your brains you can outwit them, and if you have +any nerve——" +</P> + +<P> +Brit made a sound somewhat like a snort. "These days, when politics is +played by the big fellows, and the law is used to make money for 'em, +it takes nerve just to hang on," he said. "Nobody but a dang fool +would fight." Slow anger grew within him. He turned upon Lorraine +almost fiercely. "D'yuh think me and Frank could fight the Sawtooth +and get anything out of it but a coffin apiece, maybe?" he demanded +harshly. "Don't the Sawtooth <I>own</I> this country? Warfield's got the +sheriff in his pocket, and the cor'ner, and the judge, and the stock +inspector—he's <I>Senator</I> Warfield, and what he wants he gets. He gets +through the law that you was talking about a little while ago. What +you goin' to do about it? If I had the money and the land and the +political pull he's got, mebby I'd have me sheriff and a judge, too. +</P> + +<P> +"Fred Thurman tried to fight the Sawtooth over a water right he owned +and they wanted. They had the case runnin' in court till they like to +of took the last dollar he had. He got bull-headed. That water right +meant the hull ranch—everything he owned. You can't run a ranch +without water. And when he'd took the case up and up till it got to +the Supreme Court, and he stood some show of winnin' out—he had an +accident. He was drug to death by his horse." +</P> + +<P> +Brit stooped and opened the stove door, seeking a live coal; found none +and turned again to Lorraine, shaking his pipe at her for emphasis. +</P> + +<P> +"We try to prove Fred was murdered, and what's the result? Something +happens: to me, mebby, or Frank, or both of us. And you can't say, +'Here, I know the Sawtooth had a hand in that.' You got to <I>prove</I> it! +And when you've proved it," he added bitterly, "you got to have +officers that'll carry out the law instead of using it to hog-tie yuh." +</P> + +<P> +His futile, dull anger surged up again. "You call us cowards because +we don't git up on our hind legs and fight the Sawtooth. A lot you +know about courage! You've read stories, and you've saw moving +pictures, and you think that's the West—that's the way they do it. +One man hold off a hunderd with his gun—and on the other hand, a +hunderd men, mebby, ridin' hell-whoopin' after one. You think that's +it—that's the way they do it. Hunh!" He lifted the lid of the stove, +spat into it as if he were spitting in the face of an enemy, and turned +again to Lorraine. +</P> + +<P> +"What you seen—what you say you seen—that was done at night when +there wasn't no audience. All the fighting the Sawtooth does is done +under cover. <I>You</I> won't see none of it—they ain't such fools. And +what us small fellers do, we do it quiet, too. We ain't ridin' up and +down the trail, flourishin' our six-shooters and yellin' to the +Sawtooth to come on and we'll clean 'em up!" +</P> + +<P> +"But you're fighting just the same, aren't you, dad? You're not +letting them——" +</P> + +<P> +"We're makin' out to live here—and we've been doin' it for twenty-five +year," Brit told her, with a certain grim dignity. "We've still got a +few head uh stock left—enough to live on. Playin' poker with a +nickel, mebby—but we manage to ante, every hand so fur." His mind +returned to the grisly thing Lorraine had seen. +</P> + +<P> +"We can't run down the man that got Fred Thurman, supposin' he was +killed, as you say. That's what the law is paid to do. If Lone Morgan +told you not to talk about it, he told you right. He was talking for +your own good. What about Al—the man from Whisper? You didn't tell +<I>him</I>, did you?" +</P> + +<P> +His tone, the suppressed violence of his manner, frightened Lorraine. +She moved farther away from him. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't tell him anything. He was curious but—I only said I knew +him because he was wearing a brown hat, and the man that shot Mr +Thurman had a brown hat. I didn't say all that. I just mentioned the +hat. And he said there were lots of brown hats in the country. He +said he had traded for that one, just yesterday. He said his own hat +was gray." +</P> + +<P> +Brit stared at her, his jaw sagging a little, his eyes growing vacant +with the thoughts he hid deep in his mind. He slumped down into his +chair and leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees, his fingers +clasped loosely. After a little he tilted his head and looked up at +her. +</P> + +<P> +"You better go to bed," he told Her stolidly. "And if you're going to +live at the Quirt, Raine, you'll have to learn to keep your mouth shut. +I ain't blaming you—but you told too much to Al Woodruff. Don't talk +to him no more, if he comes here when I'm gone." He put out a hand, +beckoning her to him, sorry for his harshness. Lorraine went to him +and knelt beside him, slipping an arm around his neck while she hid her +face on his shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"I won't be a nuisance, dad—really, I won't," she said. "I—I can +shoot a gun. I never shot one with bullets in, but I could. And I +learned to do lots of things when I was working in that play West I +thought was real. It isn't like I thought. There's no picture stuff +in the real West, I guess; they don't do things that way. But—what I +want you to know is that if they're fighting you they'll have to fight +me, too. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't mean movie stuff, honestly I don't. I'm in this thing now, +and you'll have to count me, same as you count Jim and Sorry. Won't +you please feel that I'm one more in the game, dad, and not just +another responsibility? I'll herd cattle, or do whatever there is to +do. And I'll keep my mouth shut, too. I can't stay here, day after +day, doing nothing but sweep and dust two rooms and fry potatoes and +bacon for you at night. Dad, I'll go <I>crazy</I> if you don't let me into +your life! +</P> + +<P> +"Dad, if you knew the stunts I've done in the last three years! It was +make-believe West, but I learned things just the same." She kissed him +on the unshaven cheek nearest her—and thought of the kisses she had +breathed upon the cheeks of story fathers with due care for the make-up +on her lips. Just because this was real, she kissed him again with the +frank vigour of a child. +</P> + +<P> +"Dad," she said wheedlingly, "I think you might scare up something that +I can really ride. Yellowjacket is safe, but—but you have real live +horses on the ranch, haven't you? You must not go judging me by the +palms and the bay windows of the Casa Grande. That's where I've slept, +the last few years when I wasn't off on location—but it's just as +sensible to think I don't know anything else, as it would be for me to +think you can't do anything but skim milk and fry bacon and make +sour-dough bread, just because I've seen you do it!" +</P> + +<P> +Brit laughed and patted her awkwardly on the back. "If you was a boy, +I'd set you up as a lawyer," he said with an attempt at playfulness. +"I kinda thought you could ride. I seen how you piled onto old +Yellowjacket and the way you held your reins. It runs in the blood, I +guess. I'll see what I can do in the way of a horse. Ole Yellowjacket +used to be a real rim-rider, but he's gitting old; gitting old—same as +me." +</P> + +<P> +"You're not! You're just letting yourself <I>feel</I> old. And am I one of +the outfit, dad?" +</P> + +<P> +"I guess so—only there ain't going to be any of this hell-whoopin' +stuff, Raine. You can't travel these trails at a long lope with yore +hair flyin' out behind and—and all that damn foolishness. I've saw +'em in the movin' pitchers——" +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine blushed, and was thankful that her dad had not watched her +work in that serial. For that matter, she hoped that Lone Morgan would +never stray into a movie where any of her pictures were being shown. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm serious, dad. I don't want to make a show of myself. But if +you'll feel that I can be a help instead of a handicap, that's what I +want. And if it comes to fighting——" +</P> + +<P> +Brit pushed her from him impatiently. "There yuh go—fight—fight—and +I told yuh there ain't any fighting going on. Nothing more'n a fight +to hang on and make a living. That means straight, hard work and +mindin' your own business. If you want to help at that——" +</P> + +<P> +"I do," said Raine quietly, getting to her feet. Her legacy of +stubbornness set her lips firmly together. "That's exactly what I +mean. Good night, dad." +</P> + +<P> +Brit answered her non-committally, apparently sunk already in his own +musings. But his lips drew in to suppress a smile when he saw, from +the corner of his eyes, that Lorraine was winding the alarm on the +cheap kitchen clock, and that she set the hand carefully and took the +clock with her to bed. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE EVIL EYE OF THE SAWTOOTH +</H4> + +<P> +Oppression is a growth that flourishes best in the soil of opportunity. +It seldom springs into full power at once. The Sawtooth Cattle Company +had begun much as its neighbours had begun: with a tract of land, +cattle, and the ambition for prospering. Senator Warfield had then +been plain Bill Warfield, manager of the outfit, who rode with his men +and saw how his herds increased,—saw too how they might increase +faster under certain conditions. At the outset he was not perhaps, +more unscrupulous than some of his neighbours. True, if a homesteader +left his claim for a longer time than the law allowed him, Bill +Warfield would choose one of his own men to file a contest on that +claim. The man's wages would be paid. Witnesses were never lacking to +swear to the improvements he had made, and after the patent had been +granted the homesteader (for the contestant always won in that country) +the Sawtooth would pay him for the land. Frequently a Sawtooth man +would file upon land before any other man had claimed it. Sometimes a +Sawtooth man would purchase a relinquishment from some poor devil of a +claim-holder who seemed always to have bad luck, and so became +discouraged and ready to sell. An intelligent man like Bill Warfield +could acquire much land in this manner, give him time enough. +</P> + +<P> +In much the same manner his herds increased. He bought out small +ranchers who were crowded to the selling point in one way or another. +They would find themselves fenced off from water, the Sawtooth having +acquired the water rights to creek or spring. Or they would be hemmed +in with fenced fields and would find it next to impossible to make use +of the law which gave them the right to "condemn" a road through. They +would not be openly assailed,—Bill Warfield was an intelligent man. A +dozen brands were recorded in the name of the Sawtooth Cattle Company, +and if a small rancher found his calf crop shorter than it should be, +he might think as he pleased, but he would have no tangible proof that +his calves wore a Sawtooth brand. +</P> + +<P> +Inevitably it became necessary now and then to stop a mouth that was +ready to speak unwelcome truths. But if a Sawtooth man were known to +have committed violence, the Sawtooth itself was the first to put the +sheriff on his trail. If the man successfully dodged the sheriff and +made his way to parts unknown, the Sawtooth could shrug its shoulders +and wash its hands of him. +</P> + +<P> +Then whispers were heard that the Sawtooth had on its pay roll men who +were paid to kill and to leave no trace. So many heedless ones crossed +the Sawtooth's path to riches! Fred Thurman had been one; a +"bull-headed cuss" who had the temerity to fight back when the Sawtooth +calmly laid claim to the first water rights to Granite Creek, having +bought it, they said, with the placer claim of an old miner who had +prospected along the headwaters of Granite at the base of Bear Top. +</P> + +<P> +By that time the Sawtooth had grown to a power no poor man could hope +to defeat. Bill Warfield was Senator Warfield, and Senator Warfield +was a power in the political world that immediately surrounded him. +Since his neighbouring ranchmen had not been able to prevent his steady +climbing to the position he now held, they had small hope of pulling +him down. Brit was right. They did well to hang on and continue +living in that country. +</P> + +<P> +At open killing, one that would attract the attention of the outside +world might be avenged. The man who committed the crime might be +punished,—if public opinion were sufficiently massed against him. In +that case Senator Warfield would cry loudest for justice. But it would +take a stronger man than the country held to raise the question of Fred +Thurman's death and take even the first steps toward proving it a +murder. +</P> + +<P> +"It ain't that they can do anything, Mr Warfield," the man from Whisper +said guardedly, urging his horse close to the machine that stood in the +trail from Echo. It was broad day—a sun-scorched day to boot—and +Senator Warfield perspired behind the wheel of his car. "It's the talk +they may get started." +</P> + +<P> +"What have they said? The girl was at the ranch for several days. She +didn't talk there, or Hawkins would have told me." +</P> + +<P> +"She was sick. I saw her the other day at the Quirt, and she more'n +half recognised me. Hell! How'd <I>I</I> know she was in there among them +rocks? Everybody that was apt to be riding through was accounted for, +and I knew there wasn't any one coming horseback or with a rig. My +hearing's pretty good." +</P> + +<P> +Warfield moved the spark lever up and down on the wheel while he +thought. "Well," he said carefully at last, "if you're falling down in +your work, what are you whining about it to me for? What do you want?" +</P> + +<P> +Al moistened his lips with his tongue. "I want to know how far I can +go. It's been hands off the Quirt, up to now. And the Quirt's +beginning to think it can get away with most anything. They've throwed +a fence across the pass through from Sugar Spring to Whisper. That +sends us away around by Three Creek. You can't trail stock across +Granite Ridge, nor them lava ledges. If it's going to be hands off, I +want to know it. There's other places I'd rather live in, if the +Quirt's going to raise talk about Fred Thurman." +</P> + +<P> +Senator Warfield pulled at his collar and tie as if they choked him. +"The Quirt has made no trouble," he said. "Of course, if they begin +throwing fences across our stock trails and peddling gossip, that is +another story. I expect you to protect our interests, of course. And +I have never made a practice of dictating to you. In this case"—he +sent a sharp glance at Al—"it seems to me your interests are involved +more than ours. As to Fred Thurman, I don't know anything about it. I +was not here when he died, and I have never seen this girl of Brit's +who seems to worry you. She doesn't interest me, one way or the other." +</P> + +<P> +"She seems to interest Bob a whole lot," Al said maliciously. "He rode +over to see her yesterday. She wasn't home, though." +</P> + +<P> +Senator Warfield seemed unmoved by this bit of news, wherefore Al +returned to the main issue. +</P> + +<P> +"Do I get a free hand, or don't I?" he insisted. "They can't be let +peddle talk—not if I stay around here." +</P> + +<P> +Senator Warfield considered the matter. +</P> + +<P> +"The girl's got the only line on me," Al went on. "The inquest was as +clean as I ever saw. Everything all straight—and then, here she comes +up——" +</P> + +<P> +"If you know how to stop a woman's mouth, Al, you can make a million a +month telling other men." Senator Warfield smiled at him. Then he +leaned across the front seat and added impressively, "Bear one thing in +mind, Al. The Sawtooth cannot permit itself to become involved in any +scandal, nor in any killing cases. We're just at the most crucial +point with our reclamation project, over here on the flat. The +legislature is willing to make an appropriation for the building of the +canal, and in two or three months at the latest we should begin selling +agricultural tracts to the public. The State will also throw open the +land it had withdrawn from settlement, pending the floating of this +canal project. More than ever the integrity of the Sawtooth Cattle +Company must be preserved, since it has come out openly as a backer of +the irrigation company. Nothing—<I>nothing</I> must be permitted to stand +in the way." +</P> + +<P> +He removed his thin driving cap and wiped his perspiring forehead. +"I'm sorry this all happened—as it has turned out," he said, with real +regret in his tone. "But since it did happen, I must rely upon you +to—to—er——" +</P> + +<P> +"I guess I understand," Al grinned sardonically. "I just wanted you to +know how things is building up. The Quirt's kinda overreached itself. +I didn't want you comin' back on me for trying to keep their feet outa +the trough. I want you to know things is pretty damn ticklish right +now, and it's going to take careful steppin'." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, don't let your foot slip, Al," Senator Warfield warned him. +"The Sawtooth would hate to lose you; you're a good man." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I get yuh," Al retorted. "My foot ain't going to slip—— If it +did, the Sawtooth would be the first to pile onto my back!" The last +sentence was not meant for the senator's ears. Al had backed his +horse, and Senator Warfield was stepping on the starter. But it would +not have mattered greatly if he had heard, for this was a point quite +thoroughly understood by them both. +</P> + +<P> +The Warfield car went on, lurching over the inequalities of the narrow +road. Al shook his horse into a shambling trot, picking his way +carelessly through the scattered sage. +</P> + +<P> +His horse travelled easily, now and then lifting a foot high to avoid +rock or exposed root, or swerving sharply around obstacles too high to +step over. Al very seldom travelled along the beaten trails, though +there was nothing to deter him now save an inherent tendency toward +secretiveness of his motives, destinations and whereabouts. If the +country was open, you would see Al Woodruff riding at some distance +from the trail—or you would not see him at all, if there were gullies +in which he could conceal himself. He was always "line-riding," or +hunting stray stock—horses, usually—or striking across to some +line-camp of the Sawtooth on business which he was perfectly willing to +state. +</P> + +<P> +But you will long ago have guessed that he was the evil eye of the +Sawtooth Company. He took no orders save such general ones as Senator +Warfield had just given him. He gave none. Whatever he did he did +alone, and he took no man into his confidence. It is more than +probable that Senator Warfield would never have known to a certainty +that Al was responsible for Thurman's death, if Al had not been worried +over the Quirt's possible knowledge of the crime and anxious to know +just how far his power might go. +</P> + +<P> +Ostensibly he was in charge of the camp at Whisper, a place far enough +off the beaten trails to free him from chance visitors. The Sawtooth +kept many such camps occupied by men whose duty it was to look after +the Sawtooth cattle that grazed near; to see that stock did not "bog +down" in the tricky sand of the adjacent water holes and die before +help came, and to fend off any encroachments of the smaller cattle +owners—though these were growing fewer year by year, thanks to the +weeding-out policy of the Sawtooth and the cunning activities of such +as Al Woodruff. +</P> + +<P> +It may sound strange to say that the Sawtooth country had not had a +real "killing" for years, though accidental deaths had been rather +frequent. One man, for instance, had fallen over a ledge and broken +his neck, presumably while drunk. Another had bought a few sticks of +dynamite to open up a spring on his ranch, and at the inquest which +followed the jury had returned a verdict of "death caused by being +blown up by the accidental discharge of dynamite." A sheepman was +struck by lightning, according to the coroner, and his widow had been +glad to sell ranch and sheep very cheaply to the Sawtooth and return to +her relatives in Montana. The Sawtooth had shipped the sheep within a +month and turned the ranch into another line-camp. +</P> + +<P> +You will see that Senator Warfield had every reason to be sincere when +he called Al Woodruff a good man; good for the Sawtooth interests, that +means. You will also see that Brit Hunter had reasons for believing +that the business of ranching in the Sawtooth country might be classed +as extra hazardous, and for saying that it took nerve just to hang on. +</P> + +<P> +That is why Al rode oblivious to his surroundings, meditating no doubt +upon the best means of preserving the integrity of the Sawtooth and at +the same time soothing effectively the ticklishness of the situation of +which he had complained. It was his business to find the best means. +It was for just such work that the Sawtooth paid him—secretly, to be +sure—better wages than the foreman, Hawkins, received. Al was +conscientious and did his best to earn his wages; not because he +particularly loved killing and spying as a sport, but because the +Sawtooth had bought his loyalty for a price, and so long as he felt +that he was getting a square deal from them, he would turn his hand +against any man that stood in their way. He was a Sawtooth man, and he +fought the enemies of the Sawtooth as matter-of-factly as a soldier +will fight for his country. To his unimaginative mind there was +sufficient justification in that attitude. As for the ease with which +he planned to kill and cover his killing under the semblance of +accident, he would have said, if you could make him speak of it, that +he was not squeamish. They'd all have to die some day, anyway. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +ANOTHER SAWTOOTH "ACCIDENT" +</H4> + +<P> +Frank Johnson rose from the breakfast table, shaved a splinter off the +edge of the water bench for a toothpick and sharpened it carefully +while he looked at Brit. +</P> + +<P> +"You goin' after them posts, or shall I?" he inquired glumly, which, by +the way, was his normal tone. "Jim and Sorry oughta git the post holes +all dug to-day. One erf us better take a look through that young stock +in the lower field, too, and see if there's any more sign uh blackleg. +Which you ruther do?" +</P> + +<P> +Brit tilted his chair backward so that he could reach the coffeepot on +the stove hearth. "I'll haul down the posts," he decided carelessly. +"They're easy loaded, and I guess my back's as good as yourn." +</P> + +<P> +"All you got to do is skid 'em down off'n the bank onto the wagon," +Frank said. "I wisht you'd go on up where we cut them last ones and +git my sweater, Brit. I musta left it hanging on a bush right close to +where I was workin'." +</P> + +<P> +Brit's grunt signified assent, and Frank went out. Jim and Sorry, the +two unpicturesque cowboys of whom Lorraine had complained to the cat, +had already departed with pick and shovel to their unromantic task of +digging post holes. Each carried a most unattractive lunch tied in a +flour sack behind the cantle of his saddle. Lorraine had done her +conscientious best, but with lumpy, sourdough bread, cold bacon and +currant jelly of that kind which is packed in wooden kegs, one can't do +much with a cold lunch. Lorraine wondered how much worse it would look +after it had been tied on the saddle for half a day; wondered too what +those two silent ones got out of life—what they looked forward to, +what was their final goal. For that matter she frequently wondered +what there was in life for any of them, shut into that deadly monotony +of sagebrush and rocks interspersed with little, grassy meadows where +the cattle fed listlessly. +</P> + +<P> +Even the sinister undercurrent of antagonism against the Quirt could +not whip her emotions into feeling that she was doing anything more +than live the restricted, sordid little life of a poorly equipped +ranch. She had ridden once with Frank Johnson to look through a bunch +of cattle, but it had been nothing more than a hot, thirsty, dull ride, +with a wind that blew her hat off in spite of pins and tied veil, and +with a companion who spoke only when he was spoken to and then as +briefly as possible. +</P> + +<P> +Her father would not talk again as he had talked that night. She had +tried to make him tell her more about the Sawtooth and had gotten +nothing out of him. The man from Whisper, whom Brit had spoken of as +Al, had not returned. Nor had the promised saddle horse materialised. +The boys were too busy to run in any horses, her father had told her +shortly when she reminded him of his promise. When the fence was done, +maybe he could rustle her another horse—and then he had added that he +didn't see what ailed Yellowjacket, for all the riding she was likely +to do. +</P> + +<P> +"Straight hard work and minding your own business," her father had +said, and it seemed to Lorraine after three or four days of it that he +had summed up the life of a cattleman's daughter in a masterly manner +which ought to be recorded among Famous Sayings like "War is hell" and +"Don't give up the ship." +</P> + +<P> +On this particular morning Lorraine's spirits were at their lowest ebb. +If it were not for the new stepfather, she would return to the Casa +Grande, she told herself disgustedly. And if it were not for the +belief among all her acquaintances that she was queening it over the +cattle-king's vast domain, she would return and find work again in +motion pictures. But she could not bring herself to the point of +facing the curiosity and the petty gossip of the studios. She would be +expected to explain satisfactorily why she had left the real West for +the mimic West of Hollywood. She did not acknowledge to herself that +she also could not face the admission of failure to carry out what she +had begun. +</P> + +<P> +She had told her dad that she wanted to fight with him, even though +"fighting" in this case meant washing the coarse clothing of her father +and Frank, scrubbing the rough, warped boards of the cabin floor, and +frying ranch-cured bacon for every meal, and in making butter to sell, +and counting the eggs every night and being careful to use only the +cracked ones for cooking. +</P> + +<P> +She hated every detail of this crude housekeeping, from the chipped +enamel dishpan to the broom that was all one-sided, and the pillow +slips which were nothing more nor less than sugar sacks. She hated it +even more than she had hated the Casa Grande and her mother's frowsy +mentality. But because she could see that she made life a little more +comfortable for her dad, because she felt that he needed her, she would +stay and assure herself over and over that she was staying merely +because she was too proud to go back to the old life and own the West a +failure. +</P> + +<P> +She was sweeping the doorstep with the one-sided broom when Brit drove +out through the gate and up the trail which she knew led eventually to +Sugar Spring. The horses, sleek in their new hair and skittish with +the change from hay to new grass, danced over the rough ground so that +the running gear of the wagon, with its looped log-chain, which would +later do duty as a brake on the long grade down from timber line on the +side of Spirit Canyon, rattled and banged over the rocks with the +clatter that could be heard for half a mile. Lorraine looked after her +father enviously. If she were a boy she would be riding on that sack +of hay tied to the "hounds" for a seat. But, being a girl, it had +never occurred to Brit that she might like to go—might even be useful +to him on the trip. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose if I told dad I could drive that team as well as he can, +he'd just look at me and think I was crazy," she thought resentfully +and gave the broom a spiteful fling toward a presumptuous hen that had +approached too closely. "If I'd asked him to let me go along he'd have +made some excuse—oh, I'm beginning to know dad! He thinks a woman's +place is in the house—preferably the kitchen. And here I've thought +all my life that cowgirls did nothing but ride around and warn people +about stage holdups and everything! I'd just like to know how a girl +would ever have a chance to know what was going on in the country, +unless she heard the men talking while she poured their coffee. Only +this bunch don't talk at all. They just gobble and go." +</P> + +<P> +She went in then and shut the door with a slam. Up on the ridge Al +Woodruff lowered his small binocular and eased away from the spot where +he had been crouching behind a bush. Every one on the Quirt ranch was +accounted for. As well as if he had sat at their breakfast table Al +knew where each man's work would take him that day. As for the girl, +she was safe at the ranch for the day, probably. If she did take a +ride later on, it would probably be up the ridge between the Quirt and +Thurman's ranch, and sit for an hour or so just looking. That ride was +beginning to be a habit of hers, Al observed, so that he considered her +accounted for also. +</P> + +<P> +He made his way along the side hill to where his horse was tied to a +bush, mounted and rode away with his mind pretty much at ease. Much +more at ease than it would have been had he read what was in Lorraine's +mind when she slammed that door. +</P> + +<P> +Up above Sugar Spring was timber. By applying to the nearest Forest +Supervisor a certain amount could be had for ranch improvements upon +paying a small sum for the "stumpage." The Quirt had permission to cut +posts for their new fence which Al Woodruff had reported to his boss. +</P> + +<P> +As he drove up the trail, which was in places barely passable for a +wagon, Brit was thinking of that fence. The Sawtooth would object to +it, he knew, since it cut off one of their stock trails and sent them +around through rougher country. Just what form their objection would +take, Brit did not know. Deep in his intrepid soul he hoped that the +Sawtooth would at last show its hand openly. He had liked Fred +Thurman, and what Lorraine had told him went much deeper than she knew. +He wanted to bring them into the open where he could fight with some +show of winning. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll git Bill Warfield yet—and git him right," was the gist of his +musings. "He's bound to show his head, give him time enough. Him and +his killers can't always keep under cover. Let 'em come at me about +that fence! It's on my land—the Quirt's got a right to fence every +foot of land that belong to 'em." +</P> + +<P> +All the way over the ridge and across the flat and up the steep, narrow +road along the edge of Spirit Canyon, Brit dwelt upon the probable +moves of the Sawtooth. They would wait, he thought, until the fence +was completed and they had made a trail around through the lava rocks. +They would not risk any move at present; they would wait and tacitly +accept the fence, or pretend to accept it, as a natural inconvenience. +But Brit did not deceive himself that they would remain passive. That +it had been "hands off the Quirt" he did not know, but attributed the +Quirt's immunity to careful habits and the fact that they had never +come to the point where their interests actually clashed with the +Sawtooth. +</P> + +<P> +It never occurred to him therefore that he was slated for an accident +that day if the details could be conveniently arranged. +</P> + +<P> +It was a long trail to Sugar Spring, and from there up Spirit Canyon +the climb was so tedious and steep that Brit took a full hour for the +trip, resting the team often because they were soft from the new grass +diet and sweated easily. They lost none of their spirit, however, and +when the road was steepest nagged at each other with head-shakings and +bared teeth, and ducked against each other in pretended fright at every +unusual rock or bush. +</P> + +<P> +At the top he was forced to drive a full half mile beyond the piled +posts to a flat large enough to turn around. All this took time, +especially since Caroline, the brown mare, would rather travel ten +miles straight ahead than go backward ten feet. Brit was obliged to +"take it out of her" with the rein ends and his full repertoire of +opprobrious epithets before he could cramp the wagon and head them down +the trail again. +</P> + +<P> +At the post pile he unhitched the team for safety's sake and tied them +to trees, where he fed them a little grain in nose bags. He was +absorbed now in his work and thought no more about the Sawtooth. He +fastened the log chain to the rear wheels to brake the wagon on the +long grade down the canyon, loaded the wagon with posts, bound them +fast with a lighter chain he had brought for the purpose, ate his own +lunch and decided that, since he had made fair time and would arrive +home too early to do the chores and too late to start any other job, he +would cruise farther up the mountain side and see what was the prospect +of getting out logs enough for an addition to the cabin. +</P> + +<P> +Now that Raine was going to live with him, two rooms were not enough. +Brit wanted to make her as happy as he could, in his limited fashion. +He had for some days been planning a "settin' room and bedroom" for +her. She would be having beaux after awhile when she got acquainted, +he supposed. He could not deny her the privilege; she was young and +she was, in Brit's opinion, the best looking girl he had ever seen, not +even excepting Minnie, her mother. But he hoped she wouldn't go off +and get married the first thing she did,—and one good way to prevent +that, he reasoned, was to make her comfortable with him. He had +noticed how pleased she was that their cabin was of logs. She had even +remarked that she could not understand how a rancher would ever want to +build a board shack if there was any timber to be had. Well, timber +was to be had, and she should have her log house, though the hauling +was not going to be any sunshine, in Brit's opinion. With his axe he +walked through the timber, craning upward for straight tree trunks and +lightly blazing the ones he would want, the occasional axe strokes +sounding distinctly in the quiet air. +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine heard them as she rode old Yellowjacket puffing up the grade, +following the wagon marks, and knew that she was nearing the end of her +journey,—for which Yellowjacket, she supposed, would be thankful. She +had started not more than an hour later than her father, but the team +had trotted along more briskly than her poor old nag would travel, so +that she did not overtake her dad as she had hoped. +</P> + +<P> +She was topping the last climb when she saw the team tied to the trees, +and at the same moment she caught a glimpse of a man who crawled out +from under the load of posts and climbed the slope farther on. She was +on the point of calling out to him, thinking that he was her dad, when +he disappeared into the brush. At the same moment she heard the stroke +of an axe over to the right of where the man was climbing. +</P> + +<P> +She was riding past the team when Caroline humped her back and kicked +viciously at Yellowjacket, who plunged straight down off the trail +without waiting to see whether Caroline's aim was exact. He slid into +a juniper thicket and sat down looking very perplexed and very +permanently placed there. Lorraine stepped off on the uphill side of +him, thanked her lucky stars she had not broken a leg, and tried to +reassure Yellowjacket and to persuade him that no real harm had been +done him. Straightway she discovered that Yellowjacket had a mind of +his own and that a pessimistic mind. He refused to scramble back into +the trail, preferring to sit where he was, or since Lorraine made that +too uncomfortable, to stand where he had been sitting. Yellowjacket, I +may explain, owned a Roman nose, a pendulous lower lip and drooping +eyelids. Those who know horses will understand. +</P> + +<P> +By the time Lorraine had bullied and cajoled him into making a somewhat +circuitous route to the road, where he finally appeared some distance +above the point of his descent, Brit was there, hitching the team to +the wagon. +</P> + +<P> +"What yuh doing up there?" he wanted to know, looking up with some +astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine furnished him with details and her opinion of both Caroline +and Yellowjacket. "I simply refuse to ride this comedy animal another +mile," she declared with some heat. "I'll drive the team and you can +ride him home, or he can be tied on behind the wagon." +</P> + +<P> +"He won't lead," Brit objected. "Yeller's all right if you make up +your mind to a few failin's. You go ahead and ride him home. You sure +can't drive this team." +</P> + +<P> +"I can!" Lorraine contended. "I've driven four horses—I guess I can +drive two, all right." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you ain't going to," Brit stated with a flat finality that +abruptly ended the argument. +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine had never before been really angry with her father. She +struck Yellowjacket with her quirt and sent him sidling past the wagon +and the tricky Caroline, too stubborn to answer her dad when he called +after her that she had better ride behind the load. She went on, +making Yellowjacket trot when he did not want to trot down hill. +</P> + +<P> +Behind her she heard the chuck-chuck of the loaded wagon. Far ahead +she heard some one whistling a high, sweet melody which had the queer, +minor strains of some old folk song. For just a few bars she heard it, +and then it was stilled, and the road dipping steeply before her seemed +very lonely, its emptiness cooling her brief anger to a depression that +had held her too often in its grip since that terrible night of the +storm. For the first time she looked back at her father lurching along +on the load and at the team looking so funny with the collars pushed up +on their necks with the weight of the load behind. +</P> + +<P> +With a quick impulse of penitence she waved her hand to Brit, who waved +back at her. Then she went on, feeling a bit less alone in the world. +After all, he was her dad, and his life had been hard. If he failed to +understand her and her mental hunger for real companionship, perhaps +she also failed to understand him. +</P> + +<P> +They had left the timber line now and had come to the lip of the canyon +itself. Lorraine looked down its steep, rock-roughened sides and +thought how her old director would have raved over its possibilities in +the way of "stunts." Yellowjacket, she noticed, kept circumspectly to +the centre of the trail and eyed the canyon with frank disfavour. +</P> + +<P> +She did not know at just what moment she became aware of trouble behind +her. It may have been Yellowjacket, turning his head sidewise and +abruptly quickening his pace that warned her. It may have been the +difference in the sound of the wagon and the impact of the horses' +hoofs on the rock trail. She turned and saw that something had gone +wrong. They were coming down upon her at a sharp trot, stepping high, +the wagon tongue thrust up between their heads as they tried to hold +back the load. +</P> + +<P> +Brit yelled to her then to get out of the way, and his voice was harsh +and insistent. Lorraine looked at the steep bank to the right, knew +instinctively that Yellowjacket would never have time to climb it +before the team was upon them, and urged him to a lope. She glanced +back again, saw that the team was not running away, that they were +trying to hold the wagon, and that it was gaining momentum in spite of +them. +</P> + +<P> +"Jump, dad!" she called and got no answer. Brit was sitting braced +with his feet far apart, holding and guiding the team. "He won't +jump—he wouldn't jump—any more than I would," she chattered to +herself, sick with fear for him, while she lashed her own horse to keep +out of their way. +</P> + +<P> +The next she knew, the team was running, their eyeballs staring, their +front feet flung high as they lunged panic-stricken down the trail. +The load was rocking along behind them. Brit was still braced and +clinging to the reins. +</P> + +<P> +Panic seized Yellowjacket. He, too, went lunging down that trail, his +head thrown from side to side that he might watch the thing that +menaced him, heedless of the fact that danger might lie ahead of him +also. Lorraine knew that he was running senselessly, that he might +leave the trail at any bend and go rolling into the canyon. +</P> + +<P> +A sense of unreality seized her. It could not be deadly earnest, she +thought. It was so exactly like some movie thrill, planned carefully +in advance, rehearsed perhaps under the critical eye of the director, +and done now with the camera man turning calmly the little crank and +counting the number of film feet the scene would take. A little +farther and she would be out of the scene, and men stationed ahead +would ride up and stop her horse for her and tell her how well she had +"put it over." +</P> + +<P> +She looked over her shoulder and saw them still coming. It was real. +It was terribly real, the way that team was fleeing down the grade. +She had never seen anything like that before, never seen horses so +frantically trying to run from the swaying load behind them. Always, +she had been accustomed to moderation in the pace and a slowed camera +to speed up the action on the screen. Yellowjacket, too—she had never +ridden at that terrific speed down hill. Twice she lost a stirrup and +grabbed the saddle horn to save herself from going over his head. +</P> + +<P> +They neared a sharp turn, and it took all her strength to pull her +horse to the inside and save him from plunging off down the canyon's +side. The nose of the hill hid for a moment her dad, and in that +moment she heard a crash and knew what had happened. But she could not +stop; Yellowjacket had his ears laid back flat on his senseless head, +and the bit clamped tight in his teeth. +</P> + +<P> +She heard the crash repeated in diminuendo farther down in the canyon. +There was no longer the rattle of the wagon coming down the trail, the +sharp staccato of pounding hoofs. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +SWAN TALKS WITH HIS THOUGHTS +</H4> + +<P> +Lorraine, following instinct rather than thought, pulled Yellowjacket +into the first opening that presented itself. This was a narrow, +rather precipitous gully that seamed the slope just beyond the bend. +The bushes there whipped her head and shoulders cruelly as the horse +forged in among them, but they trapped him effectually where the gully +narrowed to a point. He stopped perforce, and Lorraine was out of the +saddle and running down to the trail before she quite realised what she +was doing. +</P> + +<P> +At the bend she looked down, saw the marks where the wagon had gone +over, scraping rocks and bushes from its path. Fence posts were strewn +at all angles down the incline, and far down a horse was standing with +part of the harness on him and with his head drooping dispiritedly. +Her father she could not see, nor the other horse, nor the wagon. A +clump of young trees hid the lower declivity. Lorraine did not stop to +think of what she would find down there. Sliding, running, she +followed the traces of the wreck to where the horse was standing. It +was Caroline, looking very dejected but apparently unhurt, save for +skinned patches here and there where she had rolled over rocks. +</P> + +<P> +A little farther, just beyond the point of the grove which they seemed +to have missed altogether, lay the other horse and what was left of the +wagon. Brit she did not see at all. She searched the bushes, looked +under the wagon, and called and called. +</P> + +<P> +A full-voiced shout answered her from farther up the canyon, and she +ran stumbling toward the sound, too agonised to shed tears or to think +very clearly. It was not her father's voice; she knew that beyond all +doubt. It was no voice that she had ever heard before. It had a clear +resonance that once heard would not have been easily forgotten. When +she saw them finally, her father was being propped up in a half-sitting +position, and the strange man was holding something to his lips. +</P> + +<P> +"Just a little water. I carry me a bottle of water always in my +pocket," said Swan, glancing up at her when she had reached them. "It +sometimes makes a man's head think better when he has been hurt, if he +can drink a little water or something." +</P> + +<P> +Brit swallowed and turned his face away from the tilted bottle. "I +jumped—but I didn't jump quick enough," he muttered thickly. "The +chain pulled loose. Where's the horses, Raine?" +</P> + +<P> +"They're all right. Caroline's standing over there. Are you hurt +much, dad?" It was a futile question, because Brit was already going +off into unconsciousness. +</P> + +<P> +"He's hurt pretty bad," Swan declared honestly; looking up at her with +his eyes grown serious. "I was across the walley and I saw him coming +down the road like rolling rocks down a hill. I came quick. Now we +make stretcher, I think, and carry him home. I could take him on my +back, but that is hurting him too much." He looked at her—through +her, it seemed to Lorraine. In spite of her fear, in spite of her +grief, she felt that Swan was reading her very soul, and she backed +away from him. +</P> + +<P> +"I could help your father very much," he said soberly, "but I should +tell you a secret if I do that. I should maybe ask that you tell a lie +if somebody asks questions. Could you do that, Miss?" +</P> + +<P> +"Lie?" Lorraine laughed uncertainly. "I'd <I>kill!</I>—if that would help +dad." +</P> + +<P> +Swan was folding his coat very carefully and placing it under Brit's +head. "My mother I love like that," he said, without looking up. "My +mother I love so well that I talk with my thoughts to her sometimes. +You believe people can talk with their thoughts?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know—what's that got to do with helping dad?" Lorraine knelt +beside Brit and began stroking his forehead softly, as is the soothing +way of women with their sick. +</P> + +<P> +"I could send my thought to my mother. I could say to her that a man +is hurt and that a doctor must come very quickly to the Quirt ranch. I +could do that, Miss, but I should not like it if people knew that I did +it. They would maybe say that I am crazy. They would laugh at me, and +it is not right to laugh at those things." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not laughing. If you can do it, for heaven's sake go ahead! I +don't believe it, but I won't tell any one, if that's what you want." +</P> + +<P> +"If some neighbours should ask, 'How did that doctor come so +quick?'——" +</P> + +<P> +"I'd rather lie and say I sent for him, than say that you or any one +else sent a telepathic message. That would sound more like a lie than +a lie would. How are we going to make a stretcher? We've got to get +him home, somehow——" +</P> + +<P> +"At my cabin is blankets," Swan told her briskly. "I can climb the +hill—it is up there. In a little while I will come back." +</P> + +<P> +He started off without waiting to see what Lorraine would have to say +about it, and with some misgivings she watched him run down to the +canyon's bottom and go forging up the opposite side with a most amazing +speed and certainty. In travel pictures she had seen mountain sheep +climb like that, and she likened him now to one of them. It seemed a +shame that he was a bit crazy, she thought; and immediately she +recalled his perfect assurance when he told her of sending thought +messages to his mother. She had heard of such things, she had even +read a little on the subject, but it had never seemed to her a +practical means of communicating. Calling a doctor, for instance, +seemed to Lorraine rather far-fetched an application of what was at +best but a debatable theory. +</P> + +<P> +Considering the distance, he was back in a surprisingly short time with +two blankets, a couple of light poles and a flask of brandy. He seemed +as fresh and unwinded as if he had gone no farther than the grove, and +he wore, more than ever, his air of cheerful assurance. +</P> + +<P> +"The doctor will be there," he remarked, just as if it were the +simplest thing in the world. "We can carry him to Fred Thurman's. +There I can get horses and a wagon, and you will not have to carry so +far. And when we get to your ranch the doctor will be there, I think. +He is starting now. We will hurry. I will fix it so you need not +carry much. It is just to make it steady for me." +</P> + +<P> +While he talked he was working on the stretcher. He had a rope, and he +was knotting it in a long loop to the poles. Lorraine wondered why, +until he had lifted her father and placed him on the stretcher and +placed the loop over his head and under one arm, as a ploughman holds +the reins, so that his hands may be free. +</P> + +<P> +"If you will carry the front," said Swan politely, "it will not be +heavy for you like this. But you will help me keep it steady." +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine was past discussing anything. She obeyed him silently, +lifting the end of the stretcher and leading the way down to the +canyon's bottom, where Swan assured her they could walk quite easily +and would save many detours which the road above must take. At the +bottom Swan stopped her so that he might shorten the rope and take more +of the weight on his shoulders. She protested half-heartedly, but Swan +only laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"I am strong like a mule," he said. "You should see me wrestle with +somebody. Clear over my head—I can carry a man in my hands. This is +so you can walk fast. Three miles straight down we come to Thurman's +ranch, where I get the horses. It's funny how hills make a road far +around. Just three miles—that's all. I have walked many times." +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine did not answer him. She felt that he was talking merely to +keep her from worrying, and she was fairly sick with anxiety and did +not hear half of what he was saying. She was nervously careful about +choosing her steps so that she would not stumble and jolt her father. +She did not believe that he was wholly unconscious, for she had seen +his eyelids tighten and his lips twitch several times, when she waiting +for Swan. He had seemed to be in pain and to be trying to hide the +fact from her. She felt that Swan knew it, else he would have talked +of her dad, would at least have tried to reassure her. But it is +difficult to speak of a person who hears what you are saying, and Swan +was talking of everything, it seemed to her, except the man they were +carrying. +</P> + +<P> +She wondered if it were really true that Swan had sent a call through +space for a doctor; straightway she would call herself crazy for even +considering for a moment its possibility. If he could do that—but of +course he couldn't. He must just imagine it. +</P> + +<P> +Many times Swan had her lower the stretcher to the ground, and would +make a great show of rubbing his arms and easing his shoulder muscles. +Whenever Lorraine looked full into his face he would grin at her as +though nothing was wrong, and when they came to a clear-running stream +he emptied the water bottle, dipped up a little fresh water, added +brandy, and lifted Brit's head very gently and gave him a drink. Brit +opened his eyes and looked at Swan, and from him to Lorraine, but he +did not say anything. He still had that tightened look around his +mouth which spelled pain. +</P> + +<P> +"Pretty quick now we get you fixed up good," Swan told him cheerfully. +"One mile more is all, and we get the horses and I make a good bed for +you." He looked a signal, and Lorraine once more took up the stretcher. +</P> + +<P> +Another mile seemed a long way, light though Swan had made the load for +her. She thought once that he must have some clairvoyant power, +because whenever she felt as if her arms were breaking, Swan would tell +her to stop a minute. +</P> + +<P> +"How do you know a doctor will come?" she asked Swan suddenly, when +they were resting with the Thurman ranch in view half a mile below them. +</P> + +<P> +Swan did not look at her directly, as had been his custom. She saw a +darker shade of red creep up into his cheeks. "My mother says she +would send a doctor quick," he replied hesitatingly. "You will see. +It is because—your father he is not like other men in this country. +Your father is a good man. That is why a doctor comes." +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine looked at him strangely and stooped again to her burden. She +did not speak again until they were passing the Thurman fence where it +ran up into the mouth of the canyon. A few horses were grazing there, +the sun striking their sides with the sheen of satin. They stared +curiously at the little procession, snorted and started to run, heads +and tails held high. But one wheeled suddenly and came galloping +toward them, stopped when he was quite close, ducked and went +thundering past to the head of the field. Lorraine gave a sharp little +scream and set down the stretcher with a lurch, staring after the horse +wide-eyed, her face white. +</P> + +<P> +"They do it for play," Swan said reassuringly. "They don't hurt you. +The fence is between, and they don't hurt you anyway." +</P> + +<P> +"That horse with the white face—I saw it—and when the man struck it +with his quirt it went past me, running like that and +dragging—<I>oh-h!</I>" She leaned against the bluff side, her face covered +with her two palms. +</P> + +<P> +Swan glanced down at Brit, saw that his eyes were closed, ducked his +head from under the looped rope and went to Lorraine. +</P> + +<P> +"The man that struck that horse—do you know that man?" he asked, all +the good nature gone from his voice. +</P> + +<P> +"No—I don't know—I saw him twice, by the lightning flashes. He +shot—and then I saw him——" She stopped abruptly, stood for a minute +longer with her eyes covered, then dropped her hands limply to her +sides. But when the horse came circling back with a great flourish, +she shivered and her hands closed into the fists of a fighter. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you a Sawtooth man?" she demanded suddenly, looking up at Swan +defiantly. "It was a nightmare. I—I dreamed once about a horse—like +that." +</P> + +<P> +Swan's wide-open eyes softened a little. "The Sawtooth calls me that +damn Swede on Bear Top," he explained. "I took a homestead up there +and some day they will want to buy my place or they will want to make a +fight with me to get the water. Could you know that man again?" +</P> + +<P> +"Raine!" Brit's voice held a warning, and Lorraine shivered again as +she turned toward him. "Raine, you——" +</P> + +<P> +He closed his eyes again, and she could get no further speech from him. +But she thought she understood. He did not want her to talk about Fred +Thurman. She went to her end of the stretcher and waited there while +Swan put the rope over his head. They went on, Lorraine walking with +her head averted, trying not to see the blaze-faced roan, trying to +shut out the memory of him dashing past her with his terrible burden, +that night. +</P> + +<P> +Swan did not speak of the matter again. With Lorraine's assistance he +carried Brit into Thurman's cabin, laid him, stretcher and all, on the +bed and hurried out to catch and harness the team of work horses. +Lorraine waited beside her father, helpless and miserable. There was +nothing to do but wait, yet waiting seemed to her the one thing she +could not do. +</P> + +<P> +"Raine!" Brit's voice was very weak, but Lorraine jumped as though a +trumpet had bellowed suddenly in her ear. "Swan—he's all right. But +don't go telling—all yuh know and some besides. He ain't—Sawtooth, +but—he might let out——" +</P> + +<P> +"I know. I won't, dad. It was that horse——" +</P> + +<P> +Brit turned his face to the wall as if no more was to be said on the +subject. Lorraine wandered around the cabin, which was no larger than +her father's place. The rooms were scrupulously clean—neater than the +Quirt, she observed guiltily. Not one article, however small and +unimportant, seemed to be out of its place, and the floors of both +rooms were scrubbed whiter than any floors she had ever seen. Swan's +housekeeping qualities made her ashamed of her own imperfections; and +when, thinking that Swan must be hungry and that the least she could do +was to set out food for him, she opened the cupboard, she had a swift, +embarrassed vision of her own culinary imperfections. She could cook +better food than her dad had been content to eat and to set before +others, but Swan's bread was a triumph in sour dough. Biscuits tall +and light as bread can be she found, covered neatly with a cloth. +Prunes stewed so that there was not one single wrinkle in +them—Lorraine could scarcely believe they were prunes until she tasted +them. She was investigating a pot of beans when Swan came in. +</P> + +<P> +"Food I am thinking of, Miss," he grinned at her. "We shall hurry, but +it is not good to go hungry. Milk is outside in a cupboard. It is +quicker than to make coffee." +</P> + +<P> +"It will be dark before we can get him home," said Lorraine uneasily. +"And by the time a doctor can get out there——" +</P> + +<P> +"A doctor will be there, I think. You don't believe, but that is no +difference to his coming just the same." +</P> + +<P> +He brought the milk, poured off the creamy top into a pitcher, stirred +it, and quietly insisted that she drink two glasses. Lorraine observed +that Swan himself ate very little, bolting down a biscuit in great +mouthfuls while he carried a mattress and blankets out to spread in the +wagon. It was like his pretence of weariness on the long carry down +the canyon, she thought. It was for her more than for himself that he +was thinking. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE QUIRT PARRIES THE FIRST BLOW +</H4> + +<P> +A car with dimmed lights stood in front of the Quirt cabin when Swan +drove around the last low ridge and down to the gate. The rattle of +the wagon must have been heard, for the door opened suddenly and Frank +stood revealed in the yellow light of the kerosene lamp on the table +within. Behind Frank, Lorraine saw Jim and Sorry standing in their +shirt sleeves looking out into the dark. Another, shorter figure she +glimpsed as Frank and the two men stepped out and came striding hastily +toward them. Lorraine jumped out and ran to meet them, hoping and +fearing that her hope was foolish. That car might easily be only Bob +Warfield on some errand of no importance. Still, she hoped. +</P> + +<P> +"That you, Raine? Where's Brit? What's all this about Brit being +hurt? A doctor from Shoshone——" +</P> + +<P> +"A <I>doctor</I>? Oh, did a doctor come, then? Oh, help Swan carry dad in! +I'm—oh, I'm afraid he's awfully injured!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes-s—but how'n hell did a doctor know about it?" Sorry, the silent, +blurted unexpectedly. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh,—never mind—but get dad in. I'll——" She ran past them without +finishing her sentence and burst incoherently into the presence of an +extremely calm little man with gray whiskers and dust on the shoulder +of his coat. These details, I may add, formed the sum of Lorraine's +first impression of him. +</P> + +<P> +"Well! Well!" he remonstrated with a professional briskness, when she +nearly bowled him over. "We seem to be in something of a hurry! Is +this the patient I was sent to examine?" +</P> + +<P> +"No!" Lorraine flashed impatiently over her shoulder as she rushed +into her own room and began turning down the covers. "It's dad, of +course—and you'd better get your coat off and get ready to go to work, +because I expect he's just one mass of broken bones!" +</P> + +<P> +The doctor smiled behind his whiskers and returned to the doorway to +direct the carrying in of his patient. His sharp eyes went immediately +to Brit's face, pallid under the leathery tan, his fingers went to +Brit's hairy, corded wrist. The doctor smiled no more that evening. +</P> + +<P> +"No, he is not a mass of broken bones, I am happy to say," he reported +gravely to Lorraine afterwards. "He has a sufficient number, however. +The left scapula is fractured, likewise the clavicle, and there is a +compound fracture of the femur. There is some injury to the head, the +exact extent of which I cannot as yet determine. He should be removed +to a hospital, unless you are prepared to have a nurse here for some +time, or to assume the burden of a long and tedious illness." He +looked at her thoughtfully. "The journey to Shoshone would be a +considerable strain on the patient in his present condition. He has a +splendid amount of constitutional vitality, or he would scarcely have +survived his injuries so long without medical attendance. Can you tell +me just how the accident occurred?" +</P> + +<P> +"Excuse me, doctor—and Miss," Swan diffidently interrupted. "I could +ask you to take a look on my shoulder, if you please. If you are done +setting bones in Mr Hunter. I have a great pain on my shoulder from +carrying so long." +</P> + +<P> +"You never mentioned it!" Lorraine reproached him quickly. "Of course +it must be looked after right away. And then, Doctor, I'd like to talk +to you, if you don't mind." She watched them retreat to the bunk-house +together. Swan's big form towering above the doctor's slighter figure. +Swan was talking earnestly, the mumble of his voice reaching Lorraine +without the enunciation of any particular word to give a clue to what +he was saying. But it struck her that his voice did not sound quite +natural; not so Swedish, not so careful. +</P> + +<P> +Frank came tiptoeing out of the room where Brit lay bandaged and +unconscious and stood close to Lorraine, looking down at her solemnly. +</P> + +<P> +"How'n 'ell did he git here—the doctor?" he demanded, making a great +effort to hold his voice down to a whisper, and forgetting now and +then. "How'd <I>he</I> know Brit rolled off'n the grade? Us here, <I>we</I> +never knowed it, and I was tryin' to send him back when you came. He +said somebody telephoned there was a man hurt in a runaway. There +ain't a telephone closer'n the Sawtooth, and that there's a good twenty +mile and more from where Brit was hurt. It's damn funny." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, it is," Lorraine admitted uncomfortably. "I don't know any more +than you do about it." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, how'n 'ell did it happen? Brit, he oughta know enough to +rough-lock down that hill. An' that team ain't a runaway team. <I>I</I> +never had no trouble with 'em—they're good at holdin' a load. They'll +set down an' slide but what they'll hold 'er. What become of the +horses?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why—they're over there yet. We forgot all about the horses, I think. +Caroline was standing up, all right. The other horse may be killed. I +don't know—it was lying down. And Yellowjacket was up that little +gully just this side of the wreck, when I left him. They did try to +hold the load, Frank. Something must have happened to the brake. I +saw dad crawling out from under the wagon just before I got to where +the load was standing. Or some one did. I think it was dad. But +Caroline kicked my horse down off the road, and, I only saw him a +minute—but it <I>must</I> have been dad. And then, a little way down the +hill, something went wrong." +</P> + +<P> +Frank seemed trying to reconstruct the accident from Lorraine's +description. "He'd no business to start down if his rough-lock wasn't +all right," he said. "It ain't like him. Brit's careful about them +things—little men most always are. I don't see how 'n 'ell it worked +loose. It's a damn queer layout all around; and this here doctor +gitting here ahead of you folks, that there is the queerest. What's he +say about Brit? Think he'll pull through?" +</P> + +<P> +The doctor himself, coming up just then, answered the question. Of +course the patient would pull through! What were doctors for? As to +his reason for coming, he referred them to Mr Vjolmar, whom he thought +could better explain the matter. +</P> + +<P> +The three of them waited,—five of them, since Jim and Sorry had come +up, anxious to hear the doctor's opinion and anything else pertaining +to the affair. Swan was coming slowly from the bunk-house, buttoning +his coat. He seemed to feel that they were waiting for him and to know +why. His manner was diffident, deprecating even. +</P> + +<P> +"We may as well go in out of the mosquitoes," the doctor suggested. +"And I wish you would tell these people what you told me, young man. +Don't be afraid to speak frankly; it is rather amazing but not at all +impossible, as I can testify. In fact," he added dryly, "my presence +here ought to settle any doubt of that. Just tell them, young man, +about your mother." +</P> + +<P> +Swan was the last to enter the kitchen, and he stood leaning against +the closed door, turning his old hat round and round, his eyes going +swiftly from face to face. They were watching him, and Swan blushed a +deep red while he told them about his mother in Boise, and how he could +talk to her with his thoughts. He explained laboriously how the +thoughts from her came like his mother speaking in his head, and that +his thoughts reached her in the same way. He said that since he was a +little boy they could talk together with their thoughts, but people +laughed and some called them crazy, so that now he did not like to have +somebody know that he could do it. +</P> + +<P> +"But Brit Hunter's hurt bad, so a doctor must come quick, or I think he +maybe will die. It takes too long to ride a horse to Echo from this +ranch, so I call on my mother, and I tell my mother a doctor must come +quick to this ranch. So my mother sends a telephone to this doctor in +Shoshone, and he comes. That is all. But I would not like it if +everybody maybe finds it out that I do that, and makes talk about it." +</P> + +<P> +He looked straight at Jim and Sorry, and those two unprepossessing ones +looked at each other and at Swan and at the doctor and at each other +again, and headed for the door. But Swan was leaning against it, and +his eyes were on them. "I would like it if you say somebody rides to +get the doctor," he hinted quietly. +</P> + +<P> +Sorry looked at Jim. "I rode like hell," he stated heavily. "I leave +it to Jim." +</P> + +<P> +"You shore'n hell did!" Jim agreed, and Swan removed his big form from +the door. +</P> + +<P> +"You boys goin' over t' Spirit Canyon?" Frank wanted to know. +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah," said Sorry, answering for them both, and they went out, giving +Swan a sidelong look of utter bafflement as they passed him. Talking +by the thought route from Spirit Canyon to Boise City was evidently a +bit too much for even their phlegmatic souls to contemplate with +perfect calm. +</P> + +<P> +"They'll keep it to theirselves, whether they believe it or not," Frank +assured Swan in his laboured whisper. "It don't go down with me. I +ain't supe'stitious enough fer that." +</P> + +<P> +"The doctor he comes, don't he?" Swan retorted. "I shall go back now +and milk the cows and do chores." +</P> + +<P> +"But if your shoulder is lame, Swan, how can you?" Lorraine asked in +her unexpected fashion. +</P> + +<P> +Swan swallowed and looked helplessly at the doctor, who stood smoothing +his chin. "The muscle strain is not serious," he said calmly. "A +little gentle exercise will prevent further trouble, I think." +Whereupon he turned abruptly to the door of the other room, glanced in +at Brit and beckoned Lorraine with an upraised finger. +</P> + +<P> +"You have had a hard time of it yourself, young lady," he told her. +"You needn't worry about Swan. He is not suffering appreciably. I +shall mix you a very unpleasant dose of medicine, and then I want you +to go to bed and sleep. I shall stay with your father to-night; not +that it is necessary, but because I prefer daylight for the trip back +to town. So there is no reason why you should sit up and wear yourself +out. You will have plenty of time to do that while your father's bones +mend." +</P> + +<P> +He proceeded to mix the unpleasant dose, which Lorraine swallowed and +straightway forgot, in the muddle of thoughts that whirled confusingly +in her brain. Little things distressed her oddly, while her father's +desperate state left her numb. She lay down on the cot in the farther +corner of the kitchen where her father had slept just last night—it +seemed so long ago!—and almost immediately, as her senses recorded it, +bright sunlight was shining into the room. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +LONE TAKES HIS STAND +</H4> + +<P> +Lone Morgan, over at Elk Spring camp, was just sitting down to eat his +midday meal when some one shouted outside. Lone stiffened in his +chair, felt under his coat, and then got up with some deliberation and +looked out of the window before he went to the door. All this was a +matter of habit, bred of Lone's youth in the feud country, and had +nothing whatever to do with his conscience. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello!" he called, standing in the doorway and grinning a welcome to +Swan, who stood with one arm resting on the board gate. "She's on the +table—come on in." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know if you're home with the door shut like that," Swan +explained, coming up to the cabin. "I chased a coyote from Rock City +to here, and by golly, he's going yet! I'll get him sometime, maybe. +He's smart, but you can beat anything with thinking if you don't stop +thinking. Always the other feller stops sometimes, and then you get +him. You believe that?" +</P> + +<P> +"It most generally works out that way," Lone admitted, getting another +plate and cup from the cupboard, which was merely a box nailed with its +bottom to the wall, and a flour sack tacked across the front for a +curtain. "Even a coyote slips up now and then, I reckon." +</P> + +<P> +Swan sat down, smoothing his tousled yellow hair with both hands as he +did so. "By golly, my shoulder is sore yet from carrying Brit Hunter," +he remarked carelessly, flexing his muscles and grimacing a little. +</P> + +<P> +Lone was pouring the coffee, and he ran Swan's cup over before he +noticed what he was doing. Swan looked up at him and looked away +again, reaching for a cloth to wipe the spilled coffee from the table. +</P> + +<P> +"How was that?" Lone asked, turning away to the stove. "What-all +happened to Brit Hunter?" +</P> + +<P> +Swan, with his plate filled and his coffee well sweetened, proceeded to +relate with much detail the story of Brit's misfortune. "By golly, I +don't see how he don't get killed," he finished, helping himself to +another biscuit. "By <I>golly</I>, I don't. Falling into Spirit Canyon is +like getting dragged by a horse. It should kill a man. What you +think, Lone?" +</P> + +<P> +"It didn't, you say." Lone's eyes were turned to his coffee cup. +</P> + +<P> +"It don't kill Brit Hunter—not yet. I think maybe he dies with all +his bones broke, like that. By golly, that shows you what could happen +if a man don't think. Brit should look at that chain on his wheel +before he starts down that road." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh. His brake didn't hold, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"I look at that wagon," Swan answered carefully. "It is something +funny about that chain. I worked hauling logs in the mountains, once. +It is something damn funny about that chain, the way it's fixed." +</P> + +<P> +Lone did not ask him for particulars, as perhaps Swan expected. He did +not speak at all for awhile, but presently pushed back his plate as if +his appetite were gone. +</P> + +<P> +"It's like Fred Thurman," Swan continued moralising. "If Fred don't +ride backwards, I bet he don't get killed—like that." +</P> + +<P> +"Where's Brit now?" Lone asked, getting up and putting on his hat. "At +the ranch?" +</P> + +<P> +"Or heaven, maybe," Swan responded sententiously. "But my dog Yack, he +don't howl yet. I guess Brit's at the ranch." +</P> + +<P> +"Sorry I'm busy to-day," said Lone, opening the door. "You stay as +long as you like, Swan. I've got some riding to do." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll wash the dishes, and then I maybe will think quicker than that +coyote. I'm after him, by golly, till I get him." +</P> + +<P> +Lone muttered something and went out. Within five minutes Swan, +hearing hoofbeats, looked out through a crack in the door and saw Lone +riding at a gallop along the trail to Rock City. "Good bait. He +swallows the hook," he commented to himself, and his good-natured grin +was not brightening his face while he washed the dishes and tidied the +cabin. +</P> + +<P> +With Lone rode bitterness of soul and a sick fear that had nothing to +do with his own destiny. How long ago Brit had been hurled into the +canyon Lone did not know; he had not asked. But he judged that it must +have been very recently. Swan had not told him of anything but the +runaway, and of helping to carry Brit home—and of the "damn funny +thing about the chain"—the rough-lock, he must have meant. Too well +Lone understood the sinister meaning that probably lay behind that +phrase. +</P> + +<P> +"They've started on the Quirt now," he told himself with foreboding. +"She's been telling her father——" +</P> + +<P> +Lone fell into bitter argument with himself. Just how far was it +justifiable to mind his own business? And if he did not mind it, what +possible chance had he against a power so ruthless and so cunning? An +accident to a man driving a loaded wagon down the Spirit Canyon grade +had a diabolic plausibility that no man in the country could question. +Brit, he reasoned, could not have known before he started that his +rough-lock had been tampered with, else he would have fixed it. +Neither was Brit the man to forget the brake on his load. If Brit +lived, he might talk as much as he pleased, but he could never prove +that his accident had been deliberately staged with murderous intent. +</P> + +<P> +Lone lifted his head and looked away across the empty miles of sageland +to the quiet blue of the mountains beyond. Peace—the peace of +untroubled wilderness—brooded over the land. Far in the distance, +against the rim of rugged hills, was an irregular splotch of brown +which was the headquarters of the Sawtooth. Lone turned his wrist to +the right, and John Doe, obeying the rein signal, left the trail and +began picking his way stiff-legged down the steep slope of the ridge, +heading directly toward the home ranch. +</P> + +<P> +John Doe was streaked with sweat and his flanks were palpitating with +fatigue when Lone rode up to the corral and dismounted. Pop Bridgers +saw him and came bow-legging eagerly forward with gossip titillating on +his meddlesome tongue, but Lone stalked by him with only a surly nod. +Bob Warfield he saw at a distance and gave no sign of recognition. He +met Hawkins coming down from his house and stopped in the trail. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you got time to go back to the office and fix up my time, +Hawkins?" he asked without prelude. "I'm quitting to-day." +</P> + +<P> +Hawkins stared and named the Biblical place of torment. "What yuh +quittin' for, Lone?" he added incredulously. "All you boys got a raise +last month; ain't that good enough?" +</P> + +<P> +"Plenty good enough, so long as I work for the outfit." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what's wrong? You've been with us five years, Lone, and it's +suited you all right so far——" +</P> + +<P> +Lone looked at him. "Say, I never set out to marry the Sawtooth," he +stated calmly. "And if I have married you-all by accident, you can get +a bill of divorce for desertion. This ain't the first time a man ever +quit yuh, is it, Hawkins?" +</P> + +<P> +"No—and there ain't a man on the pay roll we can't do without," +Hawkins retorted, his neck stiffening with resentment. "It's a kinda +rusty trick, though, Lone, quittin' without notice and leaving a camp +empty." +</P> + +<P> +"Elk Spring won't run away," Lone assured him without emotion. "She's +been left alone a week or two at a time during roundups. I don't +reckon the outfit'll bust up before you get a man down there." +</P> + +<P> +The foreman looked at him curiously, for this was not like Lone, whose +tone had always been soft and friendly, and whose manner had no hint of +brusqueness. There was a light, too, in Lone's eyes that had not been +there before. But Hawkins would not question him further. If Lone +Morgan or any other man wanted to quit, that was his +privilege,—providing, of course, that his leaving was not likely to +menace the peace and security of the Sawtooth. Lone had made it a +point to mind his own business, always. He had never asked questions, +he had never surmised or gossiped. So Hawkins gave him a check for his +wages and let him go with no more than a foreman's natural reluctance +to lose a trustworthy man. +</P> + +<P> +By hard riding along short cuts, Lone reached the Quirt ranch and +dropped reins at the doorstep, not much past mid-afternoon. +</P> + +<P> +"I rode over to see if there's anything I can do," he said, when +Lorraine opened the door to him. He did not like to ask about her +father, fearing that the news would be bad. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, thank you for coming." Lorraine stepped back, tacitly inviting +him to enter. "Dad knows us to-day, but of course he's terribly hurt +and can't talk much. We do need some one to go to town for things. +Frank helps me with dad, and Jim and Sorry are trying to keep things +going on the ranch. And Swan does what he can, of course, but——" +</P> + +<P> +"I just thought you maybe needed somebody right bad," said Lone +quietly, meaning a great deal more than Lorraine dreamed that he meant. +"I'm not doing anything at all, right now, so I can just as well help +out as not. I can go to town right away, if I can borrow a horse. +John Doe, he's pretty tired. I been pushing him right through—not +knowing there was a town trip ahead of him." +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine found her eyes going misty. He was so quiet, and so +reassuring in his quiet. Half her burden seemed to slip from her +shoulders while she looked at him. She turned away, groping for the +door latch. +</P> + +<P> +"You may see dad, if you like, while I get the list of things the +doctor ordered. He left only a little while ago, and I was waiting for +one of the boys to come back so I could send him to town." +</P> + +<P> +It was on Lone's tongue to ask why the doctor had not taken in the +order himself and instructed some one to bring out the things; but he +remembered how very busy with its own affairs was Echo and decided that +the doctor was wise. +</P> + +<P> +He tiptoed in to the bed and saw a sallow face covered with stubbly +gray whiskers and framed with white bandages. Brit opened his eyes and +moved his thin lips in some kind of greeting, and Lone sat down on the +edge of a chair, feeling as miserably guilty as if he himself had +brought the old man to this pass. It seemed to him that Brit must know +more of the accident than Swan had told, and the thought did not add to +his comfort. He waited until Brit opened his eyes again, and then he +leaned forward, holding Brit's wandering glance with his own intent +gaze. +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't working now," he said, lowering his voice so that Lorraine +could not hear. "So I'm going to stay here and help see you through +with this. I've quit the Sawtooth." +</P> + +<P> +Brit's eyes cleared and studied Lone's face. "D'ye know—anything?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, I don't." Lone's face hardened a little. "But I wanted you to +know that I'm—with the Quirt, now." +</P> + +<P> +"Frank hire yuh?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. I ain't hired at all. I'm just—<I>with</I> yuh." +</P> + +<P> +"We—need yuh," said Brit grimly, looking Lone straight in the eyes. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +"FRANK'S DEAD" +</H4> + +<P> +"Frank come yet?" The peevish impatience of an invalid whose horizon +has narrowed to his own personal welfare and wants was in Brit's voice. +Two weeks he had been sick, and his temper had not sweetened with the +pain of his broken bones and the enforced idleness. Brit was the type +of man who is never quiet unless he is asleep or too ill to get out of +bed. +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine came to the doorway and looked in at him. Two weeks had set +their mark on her also. She seemed older, quieter in her ways; there +were shadows in her eyes and a new seriousness in the set of her mouth. +She had had her burdens, and she had borne them with more patience than +many an older woman would have done, but what she thought of those +burdens she did not say. +</P> + +<P> +"No, dad—but I thought I heard a wagon a little while ago. He must be +coming," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Where's Lone at?" Brit moved restlessly on the pillow and twisted his +face at the pain. +</P> + +<P> +"Lone isn't back, either." +</P> + +<P> +"He ain't? Where'd he go?" +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine came to the bedside and, lifting Brit's head carefully, +arranged the pillow as she knew he liked it. "I don't know where he +went," she said dully. "He rode off just after dinner. Do you want +your supper now? Or would you rather wait until Frank brings the +fruit?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'd ruther wait—if Frank don't take all night," Brit grumbled. "I +hope he ain't connected up with that Echo booze. If he has——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no, dad! Don't borrow trouble. Frank was anxious to get home as +soon as he could. He'll be coming any minute, now. I'll go listen for +the wagon." +</P> + +<P> +"No use listenin'. You couldn't hear it in that sand—not till he gits +to the gate. I don't see where Lone goes to, all the time. Where's +Jim and Sorry, then?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, they've had their supper and gone to the bunk-house. Do you want +them?" +</P> + +<P> +"No! What'd I want 'em fur? Not to look at, that's sure. I want to +know how things is going on this ranch. And from all I can make out, +they ain't goin' at all," Brit fretted. "What was you 'n' Lone talkin' +so long about, out in the kitchen last night? Seems to me you 'n' him +have got a lot to say to each other, Raine." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, nothing in particular. We were just—talking. We're all human +beings, dad; we have to talk sometimes. There's nothing else to do." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I caught something about the Sawtooth. I don't want you talking +to Lone or anybody else about that outfit, Raine. I told yuh so once. +He's all right—I ain't saying anything against Lone—but the less you +have to say the more you'll have to be thankful fur, mebby." +</P> + +<P> +"I was wondering if Swan could have gotten word somehow to the Sawtooth +and had them telephone out that you were hurt. And Lone was drawing a +map of the trails and showing me how far it was from the canyon to the +Sawtooth ranch. And he was asking me just how it happened that the +brake didn't hold, and I said it must have been all right, because I +saw you come out from under the wagon just before you hitched up. I +thought you were fixing the chain on them." +</P> + +<P> +"Huh?" Brit lifted his head off the pillow and let it drop back again, +because of the pain in his shoulder. "You never seen me crawl out from +under no wagon. I come straight down the hill to the team." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I saw some one. He went up into the brush. I thought it was +you." Lorraine turned in the doorway and stood looking at him +perplexedly. "We shouldn't be talking about it, dad—the doctor said +we mustn't. But are you <I>sure</I> it wasn't you? Because I certainly saw +a man crawl out from under the wagon and start up the hill. Then the +horses acted up, and I couldn't see him after Yellowjacket jumped off +the road." +</P> + +<P> +Brit lay staring up at the ceiling, apparently unheeding her +explanation. Lorraine watched him for a minute and returned to the +kitchen door, peering out and listening for Frank to come from Echo +with supplies and the mail and, more important just now, fresh fruit +for her father. +</P> + +<P> +"I think he's coming, dad," she called in to her father. "I just heard +something down by the gate." +</P> + +<P> +She could save a few minutes, she thought, by running down to the +corral where Frank would probably stop and unload the few sacks of +grain he was bringing, before he drove up to the house. Frank was very +methodical in a fussy, purposeless way, she had observed. Twice he had +driven to Echo since her father had been hurt, and each time he had +stopped at the corral on his way to the house. So she closed the +screen door behind her, careful that it should not slam, and ran down +the path in the heavy dusk wherein crickets were rasping a strident +chorus. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh! It's you, is it, Lone?" she exclaimed, when she neared the vague +figure of a man unsaddling a horse. "You didn't see Frank coming +anywhere, did you? Dad won't have his supper until Frank comes with +the things I sent for. He's late." +</P> + +<P> +Lone was lifting the saddle off the back of John Doe, which he had +bought from the Sawtooth because he was fond of the horse. He +hesitated and replaced the saddle, pulling the blanket straight under +it. +</P> + +<P> +"I saw him coming an hour ago," he said. "I was back up on the ridge, +and I saw a team turn into the Quirt trail from the ford. It couldn't +be anybody but Frank. I'll ride out and meet him." +</P> + +<P> +He was mounted and gone before she realised that he was ready. She +heard the sharp staccato of John Doe's hoofbeats and wondered why Lone +had not waited for another word from her. It was as if she had told +him that Frank was in some terrible danger,—yet she had merely +complained that he was late. The bunk-house door opened, and Sorry +came out on the doorstep, stood there a minute and came slowly to meet +her as she retraced her steps to the house. +</P> + +<P> +"Where'd Lone go so sudden?" he asked, when she came close to him in +the dusk. "That was him, wasn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine stopped and stood looking at him without speaking. A vague +terror had seized her. She wanted to scream, and yet she could think +of nothing to scream over. It was Lone's haste, she told herself +impatiently. Her nerves were ragged from nursing her dad and from +worrying over things she must not talk about,—that forbidden subject +which never left her mind for long. +</P> + +<P> +"Wasn't that him?" Sorry repeated uneasily. "What took him off again +in such a rush?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I don't know! He said Frank should have been here long ago. He +went to look for him. Sorry," she cried suddenly, "what <I>is</I> the +matter with this place? I feel as if something horrible was just ready +to jump out at us all. I—I want my back against something solid, all +the time, so that nothing can creep up behind. Nothing," she added +desperately, "could happen to Frank between here and the turn-off at +the ford, could it? Lone saw him turn into our trail over an hour ago, +he said." +</P> + +<P> +Sorry, his fingers thrust into his overalls pockets, his thumbs hooked +over the waistband, spat into the sand beside the path. "Well, he +started off with a cracked doubletree," he said slowly. "He mighta +busted 'er pullin' through that sand hollow. She was wired up pretty +good, though, and there was more wire in the rig. I don't know of +anything else that'd be liable to happen, unless——" +</P> + +<P> +"Unless what?" Lorraine prompted sharply. "There's too much that isn't +talked about, on this ranch. What else could happen?" +</P> + +<P> +Sorry edged away from her. "Well—I dunno as anything would be liable +to happen," he said uncomfortably. "'Tain't likely him 'n' Brit'd both +have accidents—not right hand-runnin'." +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Accidents?</I>" Lorraine felt her throat squeeze together. "Sorry, you +don't mean—Sawtooth accidents?" she blurted. +</P> + +<P> +She surprised a grunt out of Sorry, who looked over his shoulder as if +he feared eavesdroppers. "Where'd you git that idee?" he demanded. "I +dunno what you mean. Ain't that yore dad callin' yuh?" +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine ignored the hint. "You <I>do</I> know what I mean. Why did you +say they wouldn't both be likely to have accidents hand-running? And +why don't you <I>do</I> something? Why does everyone just keep still and +let things happen, and not say a word? If there's any chance of Frank +having an—an <I>accident</I>, I should think you'd be out looking after +him, and not standing there with your hands in your pockets just +waiting to see if he shows up or if he doesn't show up. You're all +just like these rabbits out in the sage. You'll hide under a bush and +wait until you're almost stepped on before you so much as wiggle an +ear! I'm getting good and tired of this meek business!" +</P> + +<P> +"We-ell," Sorry drawled amiably as she went past him, "playin' +rabbit-under-a-bush mebby don't look purty, but it's dern good life +insurance." +</P> + +<P> +"A coward's policy," Lorraine taunted him over her shoulder, and went +to see what her father wanted. When he, too, wanted to know why Lone +had come and gone again in such a hurry, Lorraine felt all the courage +go out of her at once. Their very uneasiness seemed to prove that +there was more than enough cause for it. Yet, when she forced herself +to stop and think, it was all about nothing. Frank had driven to Echo +and had not returned exactly on time, though a dozen things might have +detained him. +</P> + +<P> +She was listening at the door when Swan appeared unexpectedly before +her, having walked over from the Thurman ranch after doing the chores. +To him she observed that Frank was an hour late, and Swan, whistling +softly to Jack—Lorraine was surprised to hear how closely the call +resembled the chirp of a bird—strode away without so much as a +pretence at excuse. Lorraine stared after him wide-eyed, wondering and +yet not daring to wonder. +</P> + +<P> +Her father called to her fretfully, and she went in to him again and +told him what Sorry had said about the cracked doubletree, and +persuaded him to let her bring his supper at once, and to have the +fruit later when Frank arrived. Brit did not say much, but she sensed +his uneasiness, and her own increased in proportion. Later she saw two +tiny, glowing points down by the corral and knew that Sorry and Jim +were down there, waiting and listening, ready to do whatever was needed +of them; although what that would be she could not even conjecture. +</P> + +<P> +She made her father comfortable, chattered aimlessly to combat her +understanding of his moody silence, and listened and waited and tried +her pitiful best not to think that anything could be wrong. The +subdued chuckling of the wagon in the sand outside the gate startled +her with its unmistakable reality after so many false impressions that +she heard it. +</P> + +<P> +"Frank's coming, dad," she announced relievedly, "and I'll go and get +the mail and the fruit." +</P> + +<P> +She ran down the path again, almost light-hearted in her relief from +that vague terror which had held her for the past hour. From the +corral Sorry and Jim came walking up the path to meet the wagon which +was making straight for the bunkhouse instead of going first to the +stable. One man rode on the seat, driving the team which walked +slowly, oddly, reminding Lorraine of a funeral procession. Beside the +wagon rode Lone, his head drooped a little in the starlight. It was +not until the team stopped before the bunk-house that Lorraine knew +what it was that gave her that strange, creepy feeling of disaster. It +was not Frank Johnson, but Swan Vjolmar who climbed limberly down from +the seat without speaking and turned toward the back of the wagon. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, where's Frank?" she asked, going up to where Lone was dismounting +in silence. +</P> + +<P> +"He's there—in the wagon. We picked him up back here about +three-quarters of a mile or so." +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter? Is he drunk?" This was Sorry who came up to Swan +and stood ready to lend a hand. +</P> + +<P> +"He's so drunk he falls out of wagon down the road, but he don't have +whisky smell by his face," was Swan's ambiguous reply. +</P> + +<P> +"He's not hurt, is he?" Lorraine pressed close, and felt a hand on her +arm pulling her gently away. +</P> + +<P> +"He's hurt," Lone said, just behind her. "We'll take him into the +bunk-house and bring him to. Run along to the house and don't +worry—and don't say anything to your dad, either. There's no need to +bother him about it. We'll look after Frank." +</P> + +<P> +Already Swan and Sorry and Jim were lifting Frank's limp form from the +rear of the wagon. It sagged in their arms like a dead thing, and +Lorraine stepped back shuddering as they passed her. A minute later +she followed them inside, where Jim was lighting the lamp with shaking +fingers. By the glow of the match Lorraine saw how sober Jim looked, +how his chin was trembling under the drooping, sandy moustache. She +stared at him, hating to read the emotion in his heavy face that she +had always thought so utterly void of feeling. +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't—he isn't——" she began, and turned upon Swan, who was +beside the bunk, looking down at Frank's upturned face. "Swan, if it's +serious enough for a doctor, can't you send another thought message to +your mother?" she asked. "He looks—oh, Lone! He isn't <I>dead</I>, is he?" +</P> + +<P> +Swan turned his head and stared down at her, and from her face his +glance went sharply to Lone's downcast face. He looked again at +Lorraine. +</P> + +<P> +"To-night I can't talk with my mind," Swan told her bluntly. "Not +always I can do that. I could ask Lone how can a man be drunk so he +falls off the wagon when no whisky smell is on his breath." +</P> + +<P> +"Breath? Hell! There ain't no breath to smell," Sorry exclaimed as +unexpectedly as his speeches usually were. "If he's breathin' I can't +tell it on him." +</P> + +<P> +"He's got to be breathing!" Lone declared with a suppressed fierceness +that made them all look at him. "I found a half bottle of whisky in +his pocket—but Swan's right. There wasn't a smell of it on his +breath—I tell you now, boys, that he was lying in the sand between two +sagebrushes, on his face. And there is where he got the blow—<I>behind +his ear</I>. It's one of them accidents that you've got to figure out for +yourself." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, do something!" Lorraine cried distractedly. "Never mind now how +it happened, or whether he was drunk or not—bring him to his senses +first, and let him explain. If there's whisky, wouldn't that help if +he swallowed some now? And there's medicine for dad's bruises in the +house. I'll get it. And Swan! Won't you <I>please</I> talk to your mother +and tell her we need the doctor?" +</P> + +<P> +Swan drew back. "I can't," he said shortly. "Better you send to Echo +for telegraph. And if you have medicine, it should be on his head +quick." +</P> + +<P> +Lone was standing with his fingers pressed on Frank's wrist. He looked +up, hesitated, drew out his knife and opened the small blade. He moved +so that his back was to Lorraine, and still holding the wrist he made a +small, clean cut in the flesh. The three others stooped, stared with +tightened lips at the bloodless incision, straightened and looked at +one another dumbly. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd like to lie to you," Lone told Lorraine, speaking over his +shoulder. "But I won't. You're too game and too square. Go and stay +with your dad, but don't let him know—get him to sleep. We don't need +that medicine, nor a doctor either. Frank's dead. I reckon he was +dead when he hit the ground." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +SWAN TRAILS A COYOTE +</H4> + +<P> +At daybreak Swan was striding toward the place where Frank Johnson had +been found. Lone, his face moody, his eyes clouded with thought, rode +beside him, while Jack trotted loose-jointedly at Swan's heels. Swan +had his rifle, and Lone's six-shooter showed now and then under his +coat when the wind flipped back a corner. Neither had spoken since +they left the ranch, where Jim was wandering dismally here and there, +trying to do the chores when his heart was heavy with a sense of +personal loss and grim foreboding. None save Brit had slept during the +night—and Brit had slept only because Lorraine had prudently given him +a full dose of the sedative left by the doctor for that very purpose. +Sorry had gone to Echo to send a telegram to the coroner, and he was +likely to return now at any time. Wherefore Swan and Lone were going +to look over the ground before others had trampled out what evidence +there might be in the shape of footprints. +</P> + +<P> +They reached the spot where the team had stopped of its own accord in +crossing a little, green meadow, and had gone to feeding. Lone pulled +up and half turned in the saddle, looking at Swan questioningly. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that dog of yours any good at trailing?" he asked abruptly. "I've +got a theory that somebody was in that wagon with Frank, and drove on a +ways before he jumped out. I believe if you'd put that dog on the +trail——" +</P> + +<P> +"If I put that dog on the trail he stays on the trail all day, maybe," +Swan averred with some pride. "By golly, he follows a coyote till he +drops." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, it's a coyote we're after now," said Lone. "A sheep-killer that +has made his last killin'. Right here's where I rode up and caught the +team, last night. We better take a look along here for tracks." +</P> + +<P> +Swan stared at him curiously, but he did not speak, and the two went on +more slowly, their glances roving here and there along the trail edge, +looking for footprints. Once the dog Jack swung off the trail into the +brush, and Swan followed him while Lone stopped and awaited the result. +Swan came back presently, with Jack sulking at his heels. +</P> + +<P> +"Yack, he take up the trail of a coyote," Swan explained, "but it's got +the four legs, and Yack, he don't understand me when I don't follow. +He thinks I'm crazy this morning." +</P> + +<P> +"I reckon the team came on toward home after the fellow jumped out," +Lone observed. "He'd plan that way, seems to me. I know I would." +</P> + +<P> +"I guess that's right. I don't have experience in killing somebody," +Swan returned blandly, and Lone was too preoccupied to wonder at the +unaccustomed sarcasm. +</P> + +<P> +A little farther along Swan swooped down upon a blue dotted +handkerchief of the kind which men find so useful where laundries are +but a name. Again Lone stopped and bent to examine it as Swan spread +it out in his hands. A few tiny grains of sandstone rattled out, and +in the centre was a small blood spot. Swan looked up straight into +Lone's dark, brooding eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"By golly, Lone, you would do that, too, if you kill somebody," he +began in a new tone,—the tone which Lorraine had heard indistinctly in +the bunkhouse when Swan was talking to the doctor. "Do you think I'm a +damn fool, just because I'm a Swede? You are smart—you think out +every little thing. But you make a big mistake if you don't think some +one else may be using his brain, too. This handkerchief I have seen +you pull from your pocket too many times. And it had a rock in it last +night, and the blood shows that it was used to hit Frank behind the +ear. You think it all out—but maybe I've been thinking too. Now +you're under arrest. Just stay on your horse—he can't run faster than +a bullet, and I don't miss coyotes when I shoot them on the run." +</P> + +<P> +"The hell you say!" Lone stared at him. "Where's your authority, Swan?" +</P> + +<P> +Swan lifted the rifle to a comfortable, firing position, the muzzle +pointing straight at Lone's chest. With his left hand he turned back +his coat and disclosed a badge pinned to the lining. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm a United States Marshal, that's all; a government hunter," he +stated. "I'm hot on the trail of coyotes—all kinds. Throw that +six-shooter over there in the brush, will you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I hate to get the barrel all sanded up," Lone objected mildly. "You +can pack it, can't you?" He grinned a little as he handed out the gun, +muzzle toward himself. "You're playing safe, Swan, but if that dog of +yours is any good, you'll have a change of heart pretty quick. Isn't +that a man's track, just beside that flat rock? Put the dog on, why +don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yack is on already," Swan pointed out. "Ride ahead of me, Lone." +</P> + +<P> +With a shrug of his shoulders Lone obeyed, following the dog as it +trotted through the brush on the trail of a man's footprints which Swan +had shown it. A man might have had some trouble in keeping to the +trail, but Jack trotted easily along and never once seemed at fault. +In a very few minutes he stopped in a rocky depression where a horse +had been tied, and waited for Swan, wagging his tail and showing his +teeth in a panting smile. The man he had trailed had mounted and +ridden toward the ridge to the west. Swan examined the tracks, and +Lone sat on his horse watching him. +</P> + +<P> +Jack picked up the trail where the horseman had walked away toward the +road, and Swan followed him, motioning Lone to ride ahead. +</P> + +<P> +"You could tell me about this, I think, but I can find out for myself," +he observed, glancing at Lone briefly. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, you can find out, if you use your eyes and do a little +thinking," Lone replied. "I hope you do lay the evidence on the right +doorstep." +</P> + +<P> +"I will," Swan promised, looking ahead to where Jack was nosing his way +through the sagebrush. +</P> + +<P> +They brought up at the edge of the road nearly a quarter of a mile +nearer Echo than the place where Frank's body had been found. They saw +where the man had climbed into the wagon, and followed to where they +had found Frank beside the road, lying just as he had pitched forward +from the wagon seat. +</P> + +<P> +"I think," said Swan quietly, "we will go now and find out where that +horse went last night." +</P> + +<P> +"A good idea," Lone agreed. "Do you see how it was done, Swan? When +he saw the team coming, away back toward Echo, he rode down into that +wash and tied his horse. He was walking when Frank overtook him, I +reckon—maybe claiming his horse had broke away from him. He had a +rock in his handkerchief. Frank stopped and gave him a lift, and he +used the rock first chance he got. Then I reckon he stuck the whisky +bottle in Frank's pocket and heaved him out. He dropped the +handkerchief out of his hip pocket when he jumped out of the rig. It's +right simple, and if folks didn't get to wondering about it, it'd be +safe as any killing can be. As safe," he added meaningly, "as dragging +Fred Thurman, or unhooking Brit's chain-lock before he started down the +canyon with his load of posts." +</P> + +<P> +Swan did not answer, but turned back to where the horse had been left +tied and took up the trail from there. As before, the dog trotted +along, Lone riding close behind him and Swan striding after. They did +not really need the dog, for the hoofprints were easily followed for +the greater part of the way. +</P> + +<P> +They had gone perhaps four miles when Lone turned, resting a hand on +the cantle of his saddle while he looked back at Swan. "You see where +he was headed for, don't yuh, Swan?" he asked, his tone as friendly as +though he was not under arrest as a murderer. "If he didn't go to +Whisper, I'll eat my hat." +</P> + +<P> +"You're the man to know," Swan retorted grimly. And then, because +Lone's horse had slowed in a long climb over a ridge, he came up even +with a stirrup. "Lone, I hate to do it. I'd like you, if you don't +kill for a living. But for that I could shoot you quick as a coyote. +You're smart—but not smart enough. You gave yourself away when I +showed you Fred's saddle. After that I knew who was the Sawtooth +killer that I came here to find." +</P> + +<P> +"You thought you knew," Lone corrected calmly. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't have to lie," Swan informed mm bluntly. "You don't have to +tell anything. I find out for myself if I make mistake." +</P> + +<P> +"Go to it," Lone advised him coldly. "It don't make a darn bit of +difference to me whether I ride in front of you or behind. I'm so glad +you're here on the job, Swan, that I'm plumb willing to be tied hand +and foot if it'll help you any." +</P> + +<P> +"When a man's too damn willing to be my prisoner," Swan observed +seriously, "he gets tied, all right. Put out your hands, Lone. You +look good to me with bracelets on, when you talk so willing to go to +jail for murder." +</P> + +<P> +He had slipped the rifle butt to the ground, and before Lone quite +realised what he was doing Swan had a short, wicked-looking automatic +pistol in one hand and a pair of handcuffs in the other. Lone flushed, +but there was nothing to do but hold out his hands. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE SAWTOOTH SHOWS ITS HAND +</H4> + +<P> +In her fictitious West Lorraine had long since come to look upon +violence as a synonym for picturesqueness; murder and mystery were +inevitably an accompaniment of chaps and spurs. But when a man she had +cooked breakfast for, had talked with just a few hours ago, lay dead in +the bunk-house, she forgot that it was merely an expected incident of +Western life. She lay in her bed shaking with nervous dread, and the +shrill rasping of the crickets and tree-toads was unendurable. +</P> + +<P> +After the first shock had passed a deep, fighting rage filled her, made +her long for day so that she might fight back somehow. Who was the +Sawtooth Company, that they could sweep human beings from their path so +ruthlessly and never be called to account? Not once did she doubt that +this was the doing of the Sawtooth, another carefully planned +"accident" calculated to rid the country of another man who in some +fashion had become inimical to their interests. +</P> + +<P> +From Lone she had learned a good deal about the new irrigation project +which lay very close to the Sawtooth's heart. She could see how the +Quirt ranch, with its water rights and its big, fertile meadows and its +fences and silent disapprobation of the Sawtooth's methods, might be +looked upon as an obstacle which they would be glad to remove. +</P> + +<P> +That her father had been sent down that grade with a brake deliberately +made useless was a horrible thought which she could not put from her +mind. She had thought and thought until it seemed to her that she knew +exactly how and why the killer's plans had gone awry. She was certain +that she and Swan had prevented him from climbing down into the canyon +and making sure that her dad did not live to tell what mischance had +overtaken him. He had probably been watching while she and Swan made +that stretcher and carried her dad away out of his reach. He would not +shoot <I>her</I>,—he would not dare. Nor would he dare come to the cabin +and finish the job he had begun. But he had managed to kill +Frank—poor old Frank, who would never grumble and argue over little +things again. +</P> + +<P> +There was nothing picturesque, nothing adventurous about it. It was +just straight, heart-breaking tragedy, that had its sordid side too. +Her dad was a querulous sick man absorbed by his sufferings and not yet +out of danger, if she read the doctor's face aright. Jim and Sorry had +taken orders all their life, and they would not be able to handle the +ranch work alone; yet how else would it be done? There was +Lone,—instinctively she turned her thoughts to him for comfort. Lone +would stay and help, and somehow it would be managed. +</P> + +<P> +But to think that these things could be done without fear of +retribution. Jim and Sorry, Swan and Lone had not attempted to hide +their belief that the Sawtooth was responsible for Frank's death, yet +not one of them had hinted at the possibility of calling the sheriff, +or placing the blame where it belonged. They seemed browbeaten into +the belief that it would be useless to fight back. They seemed to look +upon the doings of the Sawtooth as an act of Providence, like being +struck by lightning or freezing to death, as men sometimes did in that +country. +</P> + +<P> +To Lorraine that passive submission was the most intolerable part, the +one thing she could not, would not endure. Had she lived all of her +life on the Quirt, she probably would never have thought of fighting +back and would have accepted conditions just as her dad seemed to +accept them. But her mimic West had taught her that women sometimes +dared where the men had hesitated. It never occurred to her that she +should submit to the inevitable just because the men appeared to do so. +</P> + +<P> +Wherefore it was a new Lorraine who rose at daybreak and silently +cooked breakfast for the men, learned from Jim that Sorry was not back +from Echo, and that Swan and Lone had gone down to the place where +Frank had been found. She poured Jim's coffee and went on her tiptoes +to see if her father still slept. She dreaded his awakening and the +moment when she must tell him about Frank, and she had an unreasonable +hope that the news might be kept from him until the doctor came again. +</P> + +<P> +Brit was awake, and the look in his eyes frightened Lorraine so that +she stopped in the middle of the room, staring at him fascinated. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," he said flatly, "who is it this time? Lone, or—Frank?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why—who is what?" Lorraine parried awkwardly. "I don't—-" +</P> + +<P> +"Did they git Frank, las' night?" Brit's eyes seemed to bore into her +soul, searching pitilessly for the truth. "Don't lie to me, Raine—it +ain't going to help any. Was it Frank or Lone? They's a dead man laid +out on this ranch. Who is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"F-frank," Lorraine stammered, backing away from him. "H-how did you +know?" +</P> + +<P> +"How did it happen?" Brit's eyes were terrible. +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine shuddered while she told him. +</P> + +<P> +"Rabbits in a trap," Brit muttered, staring at the low ceiling. "Can't +prove nothing—couldn't convict anybody if we could prove it. Bill +Warfield's got this county under his thumb. Rabbits in a trap. Raine, +you better pack up and go home to your mother. There's goin' to be +hell a-poppin' if I live to git outa this bed." +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine stooped over him, and her eyes were almost as terrible as were +Brit's. "Let it pop. We aren't quitters, are we, dad? I'm going to +stay with you." Then she saw tears spilling over Brit's eyelids and +left the room hurriedly, fighting back a storm of weeping. She herself +could not mourn for Frank with any sense of great personal loss, but it +was different with her dad. He and Frank had lived together for so +many years that his loyal heart ached with grief for that surly, +faithful old partner of his. +</P> + +<P> +But Lorraine's fighting blood was up, and she could not waste time in +weeping. She drank a cup of coffee, went out and called Jim, and told +him that she was going to take a ride, and that she wanted a decent +horse. +</P> + +<P> +"You can take mine," Jim offered. "He's gentle and easy-gaited. I'll +go saddle up. When do you want to go?" +</P> + +<P> +"Right now, as soon as I'm ready. I'll fix dad's breakfast, and you +can look after him until Lone and Swan come back. One of them will +stay with him then. I may be gone for three or four hours. I'll go +crazy if I stay here any longer." +</P> + +<P> +Jim eyed her while he bit off a chew of tobacco. "It'd be a good thing +if you had some neighbour woman come in and stay with yuh," he said +slowly. "But there ain't any I can think of that'd be much force. You +take Snake and ride around close and forget things for awhile." He +hesitated, his hand moving slowly back to his pocket. "If yuh feel +like you want a gun——" +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine laughed bitterly. "You don't think any accident would happen +to <I>me</I>, do you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, no—er I wouldn't advise yuh to go ridin'," Jim said +thoughtfully. "This here gun's kinda techy, anyway, unless you're used +to a quick trigger. Yuh might be safer without than with it." +</P> + +<P> +By the time she was ready, Jim was tying his horse, Snake, to the +corral. Lorraine walked slowly past the bunk-house with her face +turned from it and her thoughts dwelling terrifiedly upon what lay +within. Once she was past she began running, as if she were trying to +outrun her thoughts, Jim watched her gravely, untied Snake and stood at +his head while she mounted, then walked ahead of her to the gate and +opened it for her. +</P> + +<P> +"Yore nerves are sure shot to hell," he blurted sympathetically as she +rode past him. "I guess you need a ride, all right. Snake's plumb +safe, so yuh got no call to worry about him. Take it easy, Raine, on +the worrying. That's about the worst thing you can do." +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine gave him a grateful glance and a faint attempt at a smile, and +rode up the trail she always took,—the trail where she had met Lone +that day when he returned her purse, the trail that led to Fred +Thurman's ranch and to Sugar Spring and, if you took a certain turn at +a certain place, to Granite Ridge and beyond. +</P> + +<P> +Up on the ridge nearest the house Al Woodruff shifted his position so +that he could watch her go. He had been watching Lone and Swan and the +dog, trailing certain tracks through the sagebrush down below, and when +Lorraine rode away from the Quirt they were in the wagon road, fussing +around the place where Frank had been found. +</P> + +<P> +"They can't pin nothing on <I>me</I>," Al tried to comfort himself. "If +that damn girl would keep her mouth shut I could stand a trial, even. +They ain't got any evidence whatever, unless she saw me at Rock City +that night." He turned and looked again toward the two men down on the +road and tilted his mouth down at the corners in a sour grin. +</P> + +<P> +"Go to it and be damned to you!" he muttered. "You haven't got the +dope, and you can't git it, either. Trail that horse if you want +to—I'd like to see yuh amuse yourselves that way!" +</P> + +<P> +He turned again to stare after Lorraine, meditating deeply. If she had +only been a man, he would have known exactly how to still her tongue, +but he had never before been called upon to deal with the problem of +keeping a woman quiet. He saw that she was taking the trail toward +Fred Thurman's, and that she was riding swiftly, as if she had some +errand in that direction, something urgent. Al was very adept at +reading men's moods and intentions from small details in their +behaviour. He had seen Lorraine start on several leisurely, +purposeless rides, and her changed manner held a significance which he +did not attempt to belittle. +</P> + +<P> +He led his horse down the side of the ridge opposite the road and the +house, mounted there and rode away after Lorraine, keeping parallel +with the trail but never using it, as was his habit. He made no +attempt to overtake her, and not once did Lorraine glimpse him or +suspect that she was being followed. Al knew well the art of +concealing his movements and his proximity from the inquisitive eyes of +another man's saddle horse, and Snake had no more suspicion than his +rider that they were not altogether alone that morning. +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine sent him over the trail at a pace which Jim had long since +reserved for emergencies. But Snake appeared perfectly able and +willing to hold it and never stumbled or slowed unexpectedly as did +Yellowjacket, wherefore Lorraine rode faster than she would have done +had she known more about horses. +</P> + +<P> +Still, Snake held his own better than even Jim would have believed, and +carried Lorraine up over Granite Ridge and down into the Sawtooth flat +almost as quickly as Lorraine expected him to do. She came up to the +Sawtooth ranch-houses with Snake in a lather of sweat and with her own +determination unweakened to carry the war into the camp of her enemy. +It was, she firmly believed, what should have been done long ago; what +would have curbed effectually the arrogant powers of the Sawtooth. +</P> + +<P> +She glanced at the foreman's cottage only to make sure that Hawkins was +nowhere in sight there, and rode on toward the corrals, intercepting +Hawkins and a large, well-groomed, smooth-faced man whom she knew at +once must be Senator Warfield himself. Unconsciously Lorraine mentally +fitted herself into a dramatic movie "scene" and plunged straight into +the subject. +</P> + +<P> +"There has been," she said tensely, "another Sawtooth accident. It +worked better than the last one, when my father was sent over the grade +into Spirit Canyon. Frank Johnson is <I>dead</I>. I am here to discover +what you are going to do about it?" Her eyes were flashing, her chest +was rising and falling rapidly when she had finished. She looked +straight into Senator Warfield's face, her own full in the sunlight, so +that, had there been a camera "shooting" the scene, her expression +would have been fully revealed—though she did not realise all that. +</P> + +<P> +Senator Warfield looked her over calmly (just as a director would have +wished him to do) and turned to Hawkins. "Who is this girl?" he asked. +"Is she the one who came here temporarily—deranged?" +</P> + +<P> +"She's the girl," Hawkins affirmed, his eyes everywhere but on +Lorraine's face. "Brit Hunter's daughter—they say." +</P> + +<P> +"They <I>say</I>? I <I>am</I> his daughter! How dare you take that tone, Mr +Hawkins? My home is at the Quirt. When you strike at the Quirt you +strike at me. When you strike at me I am going to strike back. Since +I came here two men have been killed and my father has been nearly +killed. He may die yet—I don't know what effect this shock will have +upon him. But I know that Frank is dead, and that it's up to me now to +see that justice is done. You—you cowards! You will kill a man for +the sake of a few dollars, but you kill in the dark. You cover your +murders under the pretence of accidents. I want to tell you this: Of +all the men you have murdered, Frank Johnson will be avenged. You are +going to answer for that. I shall see that you do answer for it! +There is justice in this country, there <I>must</I> be. I'm going to demand +that justice shall be measured out to you. I——" +</P> + +<P> +"Was she violent, before?" Senator Warfield asked Hawkins in an +undertone which Lorraine heard distinctly. "You're a deputy, Hawkins. +If this keeps on, I'm afraid you will have to take her in and have her +committed for insanity. It's a shame, poor thing. At her age it is +pitiful. Look how she has ridden that horse! Another mile would have +finished him." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mean to say you think I'm crazy? What an idea! It seems to +me, Senator Warfield, that you are crazy yourself, to imagine that you +can go on killing people and thinking you will never have to pay the +penalty. You will pay. There is law in this land, even if——" +</P> + +<P> +"This is pathetic," said Senator Warfield, still speaking to Hawkins. +"Her father—if he is her father—is sick and not able to take care of +her. We'll have to assume the responsibility ourselves, I'm afraid, +Hawkins. She may harm herself, or——" +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine turned white. She had never seen just such a situation arise +in a screen story, but she knew what danger might lie in being accused +of insanity. While Warfield was speaking, she had a swift vision of +the evidence they could bring against her; how she had arrived there +delirious after having walked out from Echo,—why, they would call even +that a symptom of insanity! Lone had warned her of what people would +say if she told any one of what she saw in Rock City, perhaps really +believing that she had imagined it all. Lone might even think that she +had some mental twist! Her world was reeling around her. +</P> + +<P> +She whirled Snake on his hind feet, struck him sharply with the quirt +and was galloping back over the trail past the Hawkins house before +Senator Warfield had finished advising Hawkins. She saw Mrs Hawkins +standing in the door, staring at her, but she did not stop. They would +take her to the asylum; she felt that the Sawtooth had the power, that +she had played directly into their hands, and that they would be as +ruthless in dealing with her as they had been with the nesters whom +they had killed. She knew it, she had read it in the inscrutable, +level look of Senator Warfield, in the half cringing, wholly +subservient manner of Hawkins when he listened to his master. +</P> + +<P> +"They're fiends!" she cried aloud once, while she urged Snake up the +slope of Granite Ridge. "I believe they'd kill me if they were sure +they could get away with it. But they could frame an insanity charge +and put me—my God, what fiends they are!" +</P> + +<P> +At the Sawtooth, Senator Warfield was talking with Mrs Hawkins while +her husband saddled two horses. Mrs Hawkins lived within her four +walls and called that her "spere," and spoke of her husband as "he." +You know the type of woman. That Senator Warfield was anything less +than a godlike man who stood very high on the ladder of Fame, she would +never believe. So she related garrulously certain incoherent, aimless +utterances of Lorraine's, and cried a little, and thought it was +perfectly awful that a sweet, pretty girl like that should be crazy. +She would have made an ideal witness against Lorraine, her very +sympathy carrying conviction of Lorraine's need of it. That she did +not convince Senator Warfield of Lorraine's mental derangement was a +mere detail. Senator Warfield had reasons for knowing that Lorraine +was merely afflicted with a dangerous amount of knowledge and was using +it without discretion. +</P> + +<P> +"You mustn't let her run loose and maybe kill herself or somebody +else!" Mrs Hawkins exclaimed. "Oh, Senator, it's awful to think of! +When she went past the house I knew the poor thing wasn't right——" +</P> + +<P> +"We'll overtake her," Senator Warfield assured her comfortingly. "She +can't go very far on that horse. She'd ridden him half to death, +getting here. He won't hold out—he can't. She came here, I suppose, +because she had been here before. A sanitorium may be able to restore +her to a normal condition. I can't believe it's anything more than +some nervous disorder. Now don't worry, my good woman. Just have a +room ready, so that she will be comfortable here until we can get her +to a sanitorium. It isn't hopeless, I assure you—but I'm mighty glad +I happened to be here so that I can take charge of the case. Now here +comes Hawkins. We'll bring her back—don't you worry." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, take her away as quick as you can, Senator. I'm scared of crazy +people. His brother went crazy in our house and——" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes—we'll take care of her. Poor girl, I wish that I had been +here when she first came," said the senator, as he went to meet +Hawkins, who was riding up from the corrals leading two horses—one for +Lorraine, which shows what was his opinion of Snake. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +YACK DON'T LIE +</H4> + +<P> +For a time the trail seemed to lead toward Whisper. Then it turned +away and seemed about to end abruptly on a flat outcropping of rock two +miles from Whisper camp. Lone frowned and stared at the ground, and +Swan spoke sharply to Jack, who was nosing back and forth, at fault if +ever a dog was. But presently he took up the scent and led them down a +barren slope and into grassy ground where a bunch of horses grazed +contentedly. Jack singled out one and ran toward it silently, as he +had done all his trailing that morning. The horse looked up, stared +and went galloping down the little valley, stampeding the others with +him. +</P> + +<P> +"That's about where I thought we'd wind up—in a saddle bunch," Lone +observed disgustedly. "If I had the evidence you're carrying in your +pocket, Swan, I'd put that darn dog on the scent of the man, not the +horse." +</P> + +<P> +"The man I've got," Swan retorted. "I don't have to trail him." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, now, you <I>think</I> you've got him. Here's good, level ground—I +couldn't get outa sight in less than ten minutes, afoot. Let me walk +out a ways, and you see if that handkerchief's mine. Oh, search me all +you want to, first," he added, when he read the suspicion in Swan's +eyes. "Make yourself safe as yuh please, but give me a fair show. +You've made up your mind I'm the killer, and you've been fitting the +evidence to me—or trying to." +</P> + +<P> +"It fits," Swan pointed out dryly. +</P> + +<P> +"You see if it does. The dog'll tell you all about it in about two +minutes if you give him a chance." +</P> + +<P> +Swan looked at him. "Yack don't lie. By golly, I raised that dog to +trail, and he <I>trails</I>, you bet! He's cocker spaniel and bloodhound, +and he knows things, that dog. All right, Lone, you walk over to that +black rock and set down. If you think you frame something, maybe, I +pack a dead man to the Quirt again." +</P> + +<P> +"You can, for all me," Lone replied quietly. "I'd about as soon go +that way as the way I am now." +</P> + +<P> +Swan watched him until he was seated on the rock as directed, his +manacled hands resting on his knees, his face turned toward the horses. +Then Swan took the blue handkerchief from his pocket, called Jack to +him and muttered something in Swedish while the dog sniffed at the +cloth. "Find him, Yack," said Swan, standing straight again. +</P> + +<P> +Jack went sniffing obediently in wide circles, crossing unconcernedly +Lone's footprints while he trotted back and forth. He hesitated once +on the trail of the horse he had followed, stopped and looked at Swan +inquiringly, and whined. Swan whistled the dog to him with a peculiar, +birdlike note and called to Lone. +</P> + +<P> +"You come back, Lone, and let Yack take a damn good smell of you. By +golly, if that dog lies to me this time, I lick him good!" +</P> + +<P> +Lone came back, grinning a little. "All right, now maybe you'll listen +to reason. I ain't the kind to tell all I know and some besides, Swan. +I've been a Sawtooth man, and a fellow kinda hates to throw down his +outfit deliberate. But they're going' too strong for any white man to +stand for. I quit them when they tried to get Brit Hunter. I don't +know so much, Swan, but I'm pretty good at guessing. So if you'll come +with me to Whisper, your dog may show yuh who owns that handkerchief. +If he don't, then I'm making a mistake, and I'd like to be set right." +</P> + +<P> +"Somebody rode that horse," Swan meditated aloud. "Yack don't make a +mistake like that, and I don't think I'm blind. Where's the man that +was on the horse? What you think, Lone?" +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Me</I>? I think there was another horse somewhere close to that +outcropping, tied to a bush, maybe. I think the man you're after +changed horses there, just on a chance that somebody might trail him +from the road. You put your dog on the trail of that one particular +horse, and he showed yuh where it was feeding with the bunch. It looks +to me like it was turned loose, back there, and come on alone. Your +man went to Whisper; I'll bank money on that. Anyway, your dog'll know +if he's been there." +</P> + +<P> +Swan thought it over, his eyes moving here and there to every hint of +movement between the skyline and himself. Suddenly he turned to Lone, +his face flushing with honest shame. +</P> + +<P> +"Loney, take a damn Swede and give him something he believes, and you +could pull his teeth before you pull that notion from his thick head. +You acted funny, that day Fred Thurman was killed, and you gave +yourself away at the stable when I showed you that saddle. So I think +you're the killer, and I keep on thinking that, and I've been trying to +catch you with evidence. I'm a Swede, all right! Square head. Built +of wood two inches thick. Loney, you kick me good. You don't have +time to ride over here, get some other horse and ride back to the Quirt +after Frank was killed. You got there before I did, last night. We +know Frank was dead not much more than one hour when we get him to the +bunk-house. Yack, he gives you a good alibi." +</P> + +<P> +"I sure am glad we took the time to trail that horse, then," Lone +remarked, while Swan was removing the handcuffs. "You're all right, +Swan. Nothing like sticking to an idea till you know it's wrong. Now, +let's stick to mine for awhile. Let's go on to Whisper. It ain't far." +</P> + +<P> +They returned to the rocky hillside where the trail had been covered, +and searched here and there for the tracks of another horse; found the +trail and followed it easily enough to Whisper. Swan put Jack once +more on the scent of the handkerchief, and if actions meant anything, +Jack proved conclusively that he found the Whisper camp reeking with +the scent. +</P> + +<P> +But that was all,—since Al was at that moment trailing Lorraine toward +the Sawtooth. +</P> + +<P> +"We may as well eat," Swan suggested. "We'll get him, by golly, but we +don't have to starve ourselves." +</P> + +<P> +"He wouldn't know we're after him," Lone agreed. "He'll stick around +so as not to raise suspicion. And he might come back, most any time. +If he does, we'll say I'm out with you after coyotes, and we stopped +here for a meal. That's good enough to satisfy him—till you get the +drop on him. But I want to tell yuh, Swan, you can't take Al Woodruff +as easy as you took me. And you couldn't have taken me so easy if I'd +been the man you wanted. Al would kill you as easy as you kill +coyotes. Give him a reason, and you won't need to give him a chance +along with it. He'll find the chance himself." +</P> + +<P> +Because they thought it likely that Al would soon return, they did not +hurry. They were hungry, and they cooked enough food for four men and +ate it leisurely. Jim was at the ranch, Sorry had undoubtedly returned +before now, and the coroner would probably not arrive before noon, at +the earliest. +</P> + +<P> +Swan wanted to take Al Woodruff back with him in irons. He wanted to +confront the coroner with the evidence he had found and the testimony +which Lone could give. There had been too many killings already, he +asserted in his naïve way; the sooner Al Woodruff was locked up, the +safer the country would be. +</P> + +<P> +He discussed with Lone the possibility of making Al talk,—the chance +of his implicating the Sawtooth. Lone did not hope for much and said +so. +</P> + +<P> +"If Al was a talker he wouldn't be holding the job he's got," Lone +argued. "Don't get the wrong idea again, Swan. Yuh may pin this on to +Al, but that won't let the Sawtooth in. The Sawtooth's too slick for +that. They'd be more likely to make up a lynching party right in the +outfit and hang Al as an example than they would try to shield him. +He's played a lone hand, Swan, right from the start, unless I'm badly +mistaken. The Sawtooth's paid him for playing it, that's all." +</P> + +<P> +"Warfield, he's the man I want," Swan confided. "It's for more than +killing these men. It goes into politics, Loney, and it goes deep. +He's bad for the government. Getting Warfield for having men killed is +getting Warfield without telling secrets of politics. Warfield, he's a +smart man, by golly. He knows some one is after him in politics, but +he don't know some one is after him at home. So the big Swede has got +to be smart enough to get the evidence against him for killing." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I wish yuh luck, Swan, but I can't say you're going at it right. +Al won't talk, I tell yuh." +</P> + +<P> +Swan did not believe that. He waited another hour and made a mental +inventory of everything in camp while he waited. Then, chiefly because +Lone's impatience finally influenced him, he set out to see where Al +had gone. +</P> + +<P> +According to Jack, Al had gone to the corral. From there they put Jack +on the freshest hoof-prints leaving the place, and were led here and +there in an apparently aimless journey to nowhere until, after Jack had +been at fault in another rock patch, the trail took them straight away +to the ridge overlooking the Quirt ranch. The two men looked at one +another. +</P> + +<P> +"That's like Al," Lone commented dryly. "Coyotes are foolish alongside +him, and you'll find it out. I'll bet he's been watching this place +since daybreak." +</P> + +<P> +"Where he goes, Yack will follow," Swan grinned cheerfully. "And I +follow Yack. We'll get him, Lone. That dog, he never quits till I say +quit." +</P> + +<P> +"You better go down and get a horse, then," Lone advised. "They're all +gentle. Al's mounted, remember. He's maybe gone to the Sawtooth, and +that's farther than you can walk." +</P> + +<P> +"I can walk all day and all night, when I need to go like that. I can +take short cuts that a horse can't take. I think I shall go on my own +legs." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'm going down to the house first. I know them two men riding +down to the gate. I want to see what the boss and Hawkins have got to +say about this last 'accident.' Better come on down, Swan. You might +pick up something. They're heading for the ranch, all right. Going to +make a play at being neighbourly, I reckon." +</P> + +<P> +"You bet I want to see Warfield," Swan assented rather eagerly and +called Jack, who had nosed around the spot where Al had waited so long +and was now trotting along the ridge on the next lap of Al's journey. +</P> + +<P> +They reached the gate in time to meet Warfield and Hawkins face to +face. Hawkins gave Lone a quick, questioning look and nodded +carelessly to Swan. Warfield, having a delicate errand to perform and +knowing how much depended upon first impressions, pulled up eagerly +when he recognised Lone. +</P> + +<P> +"Has the girl arrived safely, Lone?" he asked anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"What girl?" Lone looked at him non-committally. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss—ah—Hunter. Have you been away all the forenoon? The girl came +to the ranch in such a condition that I was afraid she might do herself +or some one else an injury. Has she been unbalanced for long?" +</P> + +<P> +"If you mean Lorraine Hunter, she was all right last time I saw her, +and that was last night." Lone's eyes narrowed a little as he watched +the two. "You say she went to the Sawtooth?" +</P> + +<P> +"She came pelting over there crazier than when you brought her in," +Hawkins broke in gruffly. "She ain't safe going around alone like +that." +</P> + +<P> +Senator Warfield glanced at him impatiently. "Is there any truth in +her declaring that Frank Johnson is dead? She seemed to have had a +shock of some kind. She was raving crazy, and in her rambling talk she +said something about Frank Johnson having died last night." +</P> + +<P> +Lone glanced back as he led the way through the gate which Swan was +holding open. "He didn't die—he got killed last night," he corrected. +</P> + +<P> +"Killed! And how did that happen? It was impossible to get two +coherent sentences out of the girl." Senator Warfield rode through +just behind Lone and reined close, lowering his voice. "No use in +letting this get out," he said confidentially. "It may be that the +girl's dementia is some curable nervous disorder, and you know what an +injustice it would be if it became noised around that the girl is +crazy. How much English does that Swede know?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not any more than he needs to get along on," Lone answered, +instinctively on guard. "He's all right—just a good-natured kinda +cuss that wouldn't harm anybody." +</P> + +<P> +He glanced uneasily at the house, hoping that Lorraine was safe inside, +yet fearing that she would not be safe anywhere. Sane or insane, she +was in danger if Senator Warfield considered her of sufficient +importance to bring him out on horseback to the Quirt ranch. Lone knew +how seldom the owner of the Sawtooth rode on horseback since he had +high-powered cars to carry him in soft comfort. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll go see if she's home," Lone explained, and reined John Doe toward +the house. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll go with you," Senator Warfield offered suavely and kept +alongside. "Frank Johnson was killed, you say? How did it happen?" +</P> + +<P> +"Fell off his wagon and broke his neck," Lone told him laconically. +"Brit's pretty sick yet; I don't guess you'd better go inside. There's +been a lot of excitement already for the old man. He only sees folks +he's used to having around." +</P> + +<P> +With that he dismounted and went into the house, leaving Senator +Warfield without an excuse for following. Swan and Hawkins came up and +waited with him, and Jim opened the door of the bunkhouse and looked +out at them without showing enough interest to come forward and speak +to them. +</P> + +<P> +In a few minutes Lone returned, to find Senator Warfield trying to +glean information from Swan, who seemed willing enough to give it if +only he could find enough English words to form a complete sentence. +Swan, then, had availed himself of Lone's belittlement of him and was +living down to it. But Lone gave him scant attention just then. +</P> + +<P> +"She hasn't come back. Brit's worked himself up into a fever, and I +didn't dare tell him she wasn't with me. I said she's all tired out +and sick and wanted to stay up by the spring awhile, where it's cool. +I said she was with me, and the sun was too much for her, and she sent +him word that Jim would take care of him awhile longer. So you better +move down this way, or he'll hear us talking and want to know what's +up." +</P> + +<P> +"You're sure she isn't here?" Senator Warfield's voice held suspicion. +</P> + +<P> +"You can ask Jim, over here. He's been on hand right along. And if +you can't take his word for it, you can go look in the shack—but in +that case Brit's liable to take a shot at yuh, Senator. He's on the +warpath right, and he's got his gun right handy." +</P> + +<P> +"It is not necessary to search the cabin," Senator Warfield answered +stiffly. "Unless she is in a stupor we'd have heard her yelling long +ago. The girl was a raving maniac when she appeared at the Sawtooth. +It's for her good that I'm thinking." +</P> + +<P> +Jim stepped out of the doorway and came slowly toward them, eyeing the +two from the Sawtooth curiously while he chewed tobacco. His hands +rested on his hips, his thumbs hooked inside his overalls; a gawky pose +that fitted well his colourless personality,—and left his right hand +close to his six-shooter. +</P> + +<P> +"Cor'ner comin'?" he asked, nodding at the two who were almost +strangers to him. "Sorry, he got back two hours ago, and he said the +cor'ner would be right out. But he ain't showed up yet." +</P> + +<P> +Senator Warfield said that he felt sure the coroner would be prompt and +then questioned Jim artfully about "Miss Hunter." +</P> + +<P> +"Raine? She went fer a ride. I loaned her my horse, and she ain't +back yet. I told her to take a good long ride and settle her nerves. +She acted kinda edgy." +</P> + +<P> +Senator Warfield and his foreman exchanged glances for which Lone could +have killed them. +</P> + +<P> +"You noticed, then, that she was not quite—herself?" Senator Warfield +used his friendly, confidential tone on Jim. +</P> + +<P> +"We-ell—yes, I did. I thought a ride would do her good, mebby. She's +been sticking here on the job purty close. And Frank getting killed +kinda—upset her, I guess." +</P> + +<P> +"That's it—that's what I was saying. Disordered nerves, which rest +and proper medical care will soon remedy." He looked at Lone. "Her +horse was worn out when she reached the ranch. Does she know this +country well? She started this way, and she should have been here some +time ago. We thought it best to ride after her, but there was some +delay in getting started. Hawkins' horse broke away and gave us some +trouble catching him, so the girl had quite a start. But with her +horse fagged as it was, we had no idea that we would fail to get even a +sight of her. She may have wandered off on some other trail, in which +case her life as well as her reason is in danger." +</P> + +<P> +Lone did not answer at once. It had occurred to him that Senator +Warfield knew where Lorraine was at that minute, and that he might be +showing this concern for the effect it would have on his hearers. He +looked at him speculatively. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think we ought to get out and hunt for her?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I certainly think some one ought to. We can't let her wander around +the country in that condition. If she is not here, she is somewhere in +the hills, and she should be found." +</P> + +<P> +"She sure ain't here," Jim asserted convincingly. "I been watching for +the last two hours, expecting every minute she'd show up. I'd a been +kinda oneasy, myself, but Snake's dead gentle, and she's a purty fair +rider fer a girl." +</P> + +<P> +"Then we'll have to find her. Lone, can you come and help?" +</P> + +<P> +"The Swede and me'll both help," Lone volunteered. "Jim and Sorry can +wait here for the coroner. We ought to find her without any trouble, +much. Swan, I'll get you that tobacco first and see if Brit needs +anything." +</P> + +<P> +He started to the house, and Swan followed him aimlessly, his long +strides bringing him close to Lone before they reached the door. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you make of this new play?" Lone muttered cautiously when he +saw Swan's shadow move close to his own. +</P> + +<P> +"By golly, it's something funny about it. You stick with them, Loney, +and find out. I'm taking Al's trail with Yack. You fix it." And he +added whimsically, "Not so much tobacco, Lone. I don't eat it or smoke +it ever in my life." +</P> + +<P> +His voice was very Swedish, which was fortunate, because Senator +Warfield appeared softly behind him and went into the house. Swan was +startled, but he hadn't much time to worry over the possibility of +having been overheard. Brit's voice rose in a furious denunciation of +Bill Warfield, punctuated by two shots and followed almost immediately +by the senator. +</P> + +<P> +"My God, the whole family's crazy!" Warfield exclaimed, when he had +reached the safety of the open air. "You're right, Lone. I thought +I'd be neighbourly enough to ask what I could do for him, and he tried +to kill me!" +</P> + +<P> +Lone merely grunted and gave Swan the tobacco. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVIII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +"I THINK AL WOODRUFF'S GOT HER" +</H4> + +<P> +There was no opportunity for further conference. Senator Warfield +showed no especial interest in Swan, and the Swede was permitted +without comment to take his dog and strike off up the ridge. Jim and +Sorry were sent to look after Brit, who was still shouting vain threats +against the Sawtooth, and the three men rode away together. Warfield +did not suggest separating, though Lone expected him to do so, since +one man on a trail was as good as three in a search of this kind. +</P> + +<P> +He was still inclined to doubt the whole story. He did not believe +that Lorraine had been to the Sawtooth, or that she had raved about +anything. She had probably gone off by herself to cry and to worry +over her troubles,—hurt, too, perhaps, because Lone had left the ranch +that morning without a word with her first. He believed the story of +her being insane had been carefully planned, and that Warfield had +perhaps ridden over in the hope that they would find her alone; though +with Frank dead on the ranch that would be unlikely. But to offset +that, Lone's reason told him that Warfield had probably not known that +Frank was dead. That had been news to him—or had it? He tried to +remember whether Warfield had mentioned it first and could not. Too +many disturbing emotions had held him lately; Lone was beginning to +feel the need of a long, quiet pondering over his problems. He did not +feel sure of anything except the fact that the Quirt was like a +drowning man struggling vainly against the whirlpool that is sucking +him slowly under. +</P> + +<P> +One thing he knew, and that was his determination to stay with these +two of the Sawtooth until he had some definite information; until he +saw Lorraine or knew that she was safe from them. Like a weight +pressing harder and harder until one is crushed beneath it, their talk +of Lorraine's insanity forced fear into his soul. They could do just +what they had talked of doing. He himself had placed that weapon in +their hands when he took her to the Sawtooth delirious and told of +wilder words and actions. Hawkins and his wife would swear away her +sanity if they were told to do it, and there were witnesses in plenty +who had heard him call her crazy that first morning. +</P> + +<P> +They could do it; they could have her committed to an asylum, or at +least to a sanitorium. He did not underestimate the influence of +Senator Warfield. And what could the Quirt do to prevent the outrage? +Frank Johnson was dead; Brit was out of the fight for the time being; +Jim and Sorry were the doggedly faithful sort who must have a leader +before they can be counted upon to do much. +</P> + +<P> +Swan,—Lone lifted his head and glanced toward the ridge when he +thought of Swan. There, indeed, he might hope for help. But Swan was +out here, away from reinforcements. He was trailing Al Woodruff, and +when he found him,—that might be the end of Swan. If not, Warfield +could hurry Lorraine away before Swan could act in the matter. A +whimsical thought of Swan's telepathic miracle crossed his mind and was +dismissed as an unseemly bit of foolery in a matter so grave as +Lorraine's safety. And yet—the doctor had received a message that he +was wanted at the Quirt, and he had arrived before his patient. There +was no getting around that, however impossible it might be. No one +could have foreseen Brit's accident; no one save the man who had +prepared it for him, and he would be the last person to call for help. +</P> + +<P> +"We followed the girl's horse-tracks almost to Thurman's place and lost +the trail there." Warfield turned in the saddle to look at Lone riding +behind him. "We made no particular effort to trace her from there, +because we were sure she would come on home. I'm going back that far, +and we'll pick up the trail, unless we find her at the ranch. She may +have hidden herself away. You can't," he added, "be sure of anything +where a demented person is concerned. They never act according to +logic or reason, and it is impossible to make any deductions as to +their probable movements." +</P> + +<P> +Lone nodded, not daring to trust his tongue with speech just then. If +he were to protect Lorraine later on, he knew that he must not defend +her now. +</P> + +<P> +"Hawkins told me she had some sort of hallucination that she had seen a +man killed at Rock City, when she was wandering around in that storm," +Warfield went on in a careless, gossipy tone. "Just what was that +about, Lone? You're the one who found her and took her in to the +ranch, I believe. She somehow mixed her delusion up with Fred Thurman, +didn't she?" +</P> + +<P> +Lone made a swift decision. He was afraid to appear to hesitate, so he +laughed his quiet little chuckle while he scrambled mentally for a +plausible lie. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know as she done that, quite," he drawled humorously. "She +was out of her head, all right, and talking wild, but I laid it to her +being sick and scared. She said a man was shot, and that she saw it +happen. And right on top of that she said she didn't think they ought +to stage a murder and a thunderstorm in the same scene, and thought +they ought to save the thunder and lightning for the murderer to make +his get-a-way by. She used to work for the moving pictures, and she +was going on about some wild-west picture she thought she was acting a +part in. +</P> + +<P> +"Afterwards I told her what she'd been saying, and she seemed to kinda +remember it, like a bad dream she'd had. She told me she thought the +villain in one of the plays she acted in had pulled off a stage murder +in them rocks. We figured it out together that the first crack of +thunder had sounded like shooting, and that's what started her off. +She hadn't ever been in a real thunderstorm before, and she's scared of +them. I know that one we had the other day like to of scared her into +hysterics. I laughed at her and joshed her out of it." +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't she ever say anything about Fred Thurman, then?" Warfield +persisted. +</P> + +<P> +"Not to me, she didn't. Fred was dragged that night, and if she heard +about a man being killed during that same storm, she might have said +something about it. She might have wondered if that was what she saw. +I don't know. She's pretty sensible—when she ain't crazy." +</P> + +<P> +Warfield turned his horse, as if by accident, so that he was brought +face to face with Lone. His eyes searched Lone's face pitilessly. +</P> + +<P> +"Lone, you know how ugly a story can grow if it's left alone. Do <I>you</I> +believe that girl actually saw a man shot? Or do you think she was +crazy?" +</P> + +<P> +Lone met Warfield's eyes fairly. "I think she was plumb out of her +head," he answered. And he added with just the right degree of +hesitation: "I don't think she's what you'd call right crazy, Mr +Warfield. Lots of folks go outa their heads and talk crazy when they +get a touch of fever, and they get over it again." +</P> + +<P> +"Let's have a fair understanding," Warfield insisted. "Do you think I +am justified in the course I am taking, or don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Hunting her up? Sure, I do! If you and Hawkins rode on home, I'd +keep on hunting till I located her. If she's been raving around like +you say, she's in no shape to be riding these hills alone. She's got +to be taken care of." +</P> + +<P> +Warfield gave him another sharp scrutiny and rode on. "I always prefer +to deal in the open with everyone," he averred. "It may not be my +affair, strictly speaking. The Quirt and the Sawtooth aren't very +intimate. But the Quirt's having trouble enough to warrant any one in +lending a hand; and common humanity demands that I take charge of the +girl until she is herself again." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know as any one would question that," Lone assented and ground +his teeth afterwards because he must yield even the appearance of +approval. He knew that Warfield must feel himself in rather a +desperate position, else he would never trouble to make his motives so +clear to one of his men. Indeed, Warfield had protested his +unselfishness in the matter too much and too often to have deceived the +dullest man who owned the slightest suspicion of him. Lone could have +smiled at the sight of Senator Warfield betraying himself so, had +smiling been possible to him then. +</P> + +<P> +He dropped behind the two at the first rough bit of trail and felt +stealthily to test the hanging of his six-shooter, which he might need +in a hurry. Those two men would never lay their hands on Lorraine +Hunter while he lived to prevent it. He did not swear it to himself; +he had no need. +</P> + +<P> +They rode on to Fred Thurman's ranch, dismounted at Warfield's +suggestion—which amounted to a command—and began a careful search of +the premises. If Warfield had felt any doubt of Lone's loyalty he +appeared to have dismissed it from his mind, for he sent Lone to the +stable to search there, while he and Hawkins went into the house. Lone +guessed that the two felt the need of a private conference after their +visit to the Quirt, but he could see no way to slip unobserved to the +house and eavesdrop, so he looked perfunctorily through all the sheds +and around the depleted haystacks,—wherever a person could find a +hiding place. He was letting himself down through the manhole in the +stable loft when Swan's voice, lowered almost to a whisper, startled +him. +</P> + +<P> +"What the hell!" Lone ejaculated under his breath. "I thought you were +on another trail!" +</P> + +<P> +"That trail leads here, Lone. Did you find Raine yet?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not a sign of her. Swan, I don't know what to make of it. I did +think them two were stalling. I thought they either hadn't seen her at +all, or had got hold of her and were trying to square themselves on the +insanity dodge. But if they know where she is, they're acting damn +queer, Swan. They <I>want</I> her. They haven't got her yet." +</P> + +<P> +"They're in the house," Swan reassured Lone. "I heard them walking. +You don't think they've got her there, Lone?" +</P> + +<P> +"If they have," gritted Lone, "they made the biggest blunder of their +lives bringing me over here. No, I could see they wanted to get off +alone and hold a powwow. They expected she'd be at the Quirt." +</P> + +<P> +"I think Al Woodruff, he's maybe got her, then," Swan declared, after +studying the matter briefly. "All the way he follows the trail over +here, Lone. I could see you sometimes in the trail. He was keeping +hid from the trail—I think because Raine was riding along, this +morning, and he's following. The tracks are that old." +</P> + +<P> +"They said they had trailed Raine this far, coming from the Sawtooth," +Lone told him worriedly. "What do you think Al would want——" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't she see him shoot Fred Thurman? By golly, I'm scared for that +girl, Loney!" +</P> + +<P> +Lone stared at him. "He wouldn't dare!" +</P> + +<P> +"A coward is a brave man when you scare him bad enough," Swan stated +flatly. "I'm careful always when I corner a coward." +</P> + +<P> +"Al ain't a coward. You've got him wrong." +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe, but he kills like a coward would kill, and he's scared he will +be caught. Warfield, he's scared, too. You watch him, Lone. +</P> + +<P> +"Now I tell you what I do. Yack, he picks up the trail from here to +where you can follow easy. We know two places where he didn't go with +her, and from here is two more trails he could take. But one goes to +the main road, and he don't take that one, I bet you. I think he takes +that girl up Spirit Canyon, maybe. It's woods and wild country in a +few miles, and plenty of places to hide, and good chances for getting +out over the top of the divide. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to my cabin, and you don't say anything when I leave. +Warfield, he don't want the damn Swede hanging around. So you go with +them, Loney. This is to what you call a showdown." +</P> + +<P> +"We'll want the dog," Lone told him, but Swan shook his head. Hawkins +and Warfield had come from the house and were approaching the stable. +Swan looked at Lone, and Lone went forward to meet them. +</P> + +<P> +"The Swede followed along on the ridge, and he didn't see anything," he +volunteered, before Warfield could question him. "We might put his dog +on the trail and see which way she went from here." +</P> + +<P> +Warfield thought that a good idea. He was so sure that Lorraine must +be somewhere within a mile or two of the place that he seemed to think +the search was practically over when Jack, nosing out the trail of Al +Woodruff, went trotting toward Spirit Canyon. +</P> + +<P> +"Took the wrong turn after she left the corrals here," Warfield +commented relievedly. "She wouldn't get far, up this way." +</P> + +<P> +"There's the track of two horses," Hawkins said abruptly. "That there +is the girl's horse, all right—there's a hind shoe missing. We saw +where her horse had cast a shoe, coming over Juniper Ridge. But +there's another horse track." +</P> + +<P> +Lone bit his lip. It was the other horse that Jack had been trailing +so long. "There was a loose horse hanging around Thurman's place," he +said casually. "It's him, tagging along, I reckon." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," said Hawkins. "That accounts for it." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIX +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +SWAN CALLS FOR HELP +</H4> + +<P> +Past the field where the horses were grazing and up the canyon on the +side toward Skyline Meadow, that lay on a shoulder of Bear Top, the dog +nosed unfalteringly along the trail. Now and then he was balked when +the hoofprints led him to the bank of Granite Creek, but not for long. +Jack appeared to understand why his trailing was interrupted and +sniffed the bank until he picked up the scent again. +</P> + +<P> +"Wonder if she changed off and rode that loose horse," Hawkins said +once, when the tracks were plain in the soft soil of the creek bank. +"She might, and lead that horse she was on." +</P> + +<P> +"She wouldn't know enough. She's a city girl," Lone replied, his heart +heavy with fear for Lorraine. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, she ain't far off then," Hawkins comforted himself. "Her horse +acted about played out when she hit the ranch. She had him wet from +his ears to his tail, and he was breathin' like that Ford at the ranch. +If that's a sample of her riding, she ain't far off." +</P> + +<P> +"Crazy—to ride up here. Keep your eyes open, boys. We must find her, +whatever we do." Warfield gazed apprehensively at the rugged steeps on +either hand and at the timber line above them. "From here on she +couldn't turn back without meeting us—if I remember this country +correctly. Could she, Hawkins?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not unless she turned off, up here a mile or two, into that gulch that +heads into Skyline," said Hawkins. "There's a stock trail part way +down from the top where it swings off from the divide to Wilder Creek." +</P> + +<P> +Swan, walking just behind Hawkins, moved up a pace. +</P> + +<P> +"I could go on Skyline with Yack, and I could come down by those +trail," he suggested diffidently, Swedishly, yet with a certain +compelling confidence. "What you think?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think that's a damned good idea for a square head," Hawkins told +him, and repeated it to Warfield, who was riding ahead. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, yes. We don't need the dog, or the man either. Go up to the +head of the gulch and keep your eyes open, Swan. We'll meet you up +here. You know the girl, don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yas, Ay know her pretty good," grinned Swan. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, don't frighten her. Don't let her see that you think anything +is wrong—and don't say anything about us. We made the mistake of +discussing her condition within her hearing, and it is possible that +she understood enough of what we were saying to take alarm. You +understand? Don't tell girl she's crazy." He tapped his head to make +his meaning plainer. "Don't tell girl we're looking for her. You +understand?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yas, Ay know English pretty good. Ay don't tell too moch." His +cheerful smile brought a faint response from Senator Warfield. At Lone +he did not look at all. "I go quick. I'm good climber like a sheep," +he boasted, and whistling to Jack, he began working his way up a rough, +brush-scattered ledge to the slope above. +</P> + +<P> +Lone watched him miserably, wishing that Swan was not quite so matter +of fact in his man-chasing. If Al Woodruff, for some reason which Lone +could not fathom, had taken Lorraine and forced her to go with him into +the wilderness, Warfield and Hawkins would be his allies the moment +they came up with him. Lone was no coward, but neither was he a fool. +Hawkins had never distinguished himself as a fighter, but Lone had +gleaned here and there a great deal of information about Senator +Warfield in the old days when he had been plain Bill. When Lorraine +and Al were overtaken, then Lone would need to show the stuff that was +in him. He only hoped he would have time, and that luck would be with +him. +</P> + +<P> +"If they get me, it'll be all off with her," he worried, as he followed +the two up the canyon. "Swan would have been a help. But he thinks +more of catching Al than he does of helping Raine." +</P> + +<P> +He looked up and saw that already Swan was halfway up the canyon's +steep side, making his way through the brush with more speed than Lone +could have shown on foot in the open, unless he ran. The sight +heartened Lone a little. Swan might have some plan of his own,—an +ambush, possibly. If he would only keep along within rifle shot and +remain hidden, he would show real brains, Lone thought. But Swan, when +Lone looked up again, was climbing straight away from the little +searching party; and even though he seemed tireless on foot, he could +not perform miracles. +</P> + +<P> +Swan, however, was not troubling himself over what Lone would think, or +even what Warfield was thinking. Contrary to Lone's idea of him, Swan +was tired, and he was thinking a great deal about Lorraine, and very +little about Al Woodruff, except as Al was concerned with Lorraine's +welfare. Swan had made a mistake, and he was humiliated over his +blunder. Al had kept himself so successfully in the background while +Lone's peculiar actions had held his attention, that Swan had never +considered Al Woodruff as the killer. Now he blamed himself for +Frank's death. He had been watching Lone, had been baffled by Lone's +consistent kindness toward the Quirt, by the force of his personality +which held none of the elements of cold-blooded murder. He had +believed that he had the Sawtooth killer under observation, and he had +been watching and waiting for evidence that would impress a grand jury. +And all the while he had let Al Woodruff ride free and unsuspected. +</P> + +<P> +The one stupid thing, in Swan's opinion, which he had not done was to +let Lone go on holding his tongue. He had forced the issue that +morning. He had wanted to make Lone talk, had hoped for a weakening +and a confession. Instead he had learned a good deal which he should +have known before. +</P> + +<P> +As he forged up the slope across the ridged lip of the canyon, his one +immediate object was speed. Up the canyon and over the divide on the +west shoulder of Bear Top was a trail to the open country beyond. It +was perfectly passable, as Swan knew; he had packed in by that trail +when he located his homestead on Bear Top. That is why he had his +cabin up and was living in it before the Sawtooth discovered his +presence. +</P> + +<P> +Al, he believed, was making for Bear Top Pass. Once down the other +side he would find friends to lend him fresh horses. Swan had learned +something of these friends of the Sawtooth, and he could guess pretty +accurately how far some of them would go in their service. Fresh +horses for Al, food—perhaps even a cabin where he could hide Lorraine +away—were to be expected from any one of them, once Al was over the +divide. +</P> + +<P> +Swan glanced up at the sun, saw that it was dropping to late afternoon +and started in at a long, loose-jointed trot across the mountain meadow +called Skyline. A few pines, with scattered clumps of juniper and fir, +dotted the long, irregular stretch of grassland which formed the +meadow. Range cattle were feeding here and there, so wild they lifted +heads to stare at the man and dog, then came trotting forward, their +curiosity unabated by the fact that they had seen these two before. +</P> + +<P> +Jack looked up at his master, looked at the cattle and took his place +at Swan's heels. Swan shouted and flung his arms, and the cattle +ducked, turned and galloped awkwardly away. Swan's trot did not +slacken. His rifle swung rhythmically in his right hand, the muzzle +tilted downward. Beads of perspiration on his forehead had merged into +tiny rivulets on his cheeks and dripped off his clean-lined, square +jaw. Still he ran, his breath unlaboured yet coming in whispery +aspirations from his great lungs. +</P> + +<P> +The full length of Skyline Meadow he ran, jumping the small beginning +of Wilder Creek with one great leap that scarcely interrupted the +beautiful rhythm of his stride. At the far end of the clearing, +snuggled between two great pines that reached high into the blue, his +squatty cabin showed red-brown against the precipitous shoulder of Bear +Top peak, covered thick with brush and scraggy timber whipped +incessantly by the wind that blew over the mountain's crest. +</P> + +<P> +At the door Swan stopped and examined the crude fastening of the door; +made himself certain, by private marks of his own, that none had +entered in his absence, and went in with a great sigh of satisfaction. +It was still broad daylight, though the sun's rays slanted in through +the window; but Swan lighted a lantern that hung on a nail behind the +door, carried it across the neat little room, and set it down on the +floor beside the usual pioneer cupboard made simply of clean boxes +nailed bottom against the wall. Swan had furnished a few extra frills +to his cupboard, for the ends of the boxes were fastened to hewn slabs +standing upright and just clearing the floor. Near the upper shelf a +row of nails held Swan's coffee cups,—four of them, thick and white, +such as cheap restaurants use. +</P> + +<P> +Swan hooked a finger over the nail that held a cracked cup and glanced +over his shoulder at Jack, sitting in the doorway with his keen nose to +the world. +</P> + +<P> +"You watch out now, Yack. I shall talk to my mother with my thoughts," +he said, drawing a hand across his forehead and speaking in breathless +gasps. "You watch." +</P> + +<P> +For answer Jack thumped his tail on the dirt floor and sniffed the +breeze, taking in his overlapping tongue while he did so. He licked +his lips, looked over his shoulder at Swan, and draped his pink tongue +down over his lower jaw again. +</P> + +<P> +"All right, now I talk," said Swan and pulled upon the nail in his +fingers. +</P> + +<P> +The cupboard swung toward him bodily, end slabs and all. He picked up +the lantern, stepped over the log sill and pulled the cupboard door +into place again. +</P> + +<P> +Inside the dugout Swan set the lantern on a table, dropped wearily upon +a rough bench before it and looked at the jars beside him, lifted his +hand and opened a compact, but thoroughly efficient field wireless +"set." His right fingers dropped to the key, and the whining drone of +the wireless rose higher and higher as he tuned up. He reached for his +receivers, ducked his head and adjusted them with one hand, and sent a +call spitting tiny blue sparks from the key under his fingers. +</P> + +<P> +He waited, repeating the call. His blue eyes clouded with anxiety and +he fumbled the adjustments, coaxing the current into perfect action +before he called again. Answer came, and Swan bent over the table, +listening, his eyes fixed vacantly upon the opposite wall of the +dugout. Then, his fingers flexing delicately, swiftly, he sent the +message that told how completely his big heart matched the big body: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Send doctor and trained nurse to Quirt ranch at once. Send men to +Bear Top Pass, intercept man with young woman, or come to rescue if he +don't cross. Have three men here with evidence to convict if we can +save the girl who is valuable witness. Girl being abducted in fear of +what she can tell. They plan to charge her with insanity. Urgent. +Hurry. Come ready to fight. +<BR><BR> +"S. V." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Swan had a code, but codes require a little time in the composition of +a message, and time was the one thing he could not waste. He heard the +gist of the message repeated to him, told the man at the other station +that lives were at stake, and threw off the current. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XX +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +KIDNAPPED +</H4> + +<P> +Lorraine had once had a nasty fall from riding down hill at a gallop. +She remembered that accident and permitted Snake to descend Granite +Ridge at a walk, which was fortunate, since it gave the horse a chance +to recover a little from the strain of the terrific pace at which she +had ridden him that morning. At first it had been fighting fury that +had impelled her to hurry; now it was fear that drove her homeward +where Lone was, and Swan, and that stolid, faithful Jim. She felt that +Senator Warfield would never dare to carry out his covert threat, once +she reached home. Nevertheless, the threat haunted her, made her +glance often over her shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +At the Thurman ranch, which she was passing with a sickening memory of +the night when she and Swan had carried her father there, Al Woodruff +rode out suddenly from behind the stable and blocked trail, his +six-shooter in his hand, his face stony with determination. Lorraine +afterwards decided that he must have seen or heard her coming down the +ridge and had waited for her there. He smiled with his lips when she +pulled up Snake with a startled look. +</P> + +<P> +"You're in such a hurry this morning that I thought the only way to get +a chance to talk to you was to hold you up," he said, in much the same +tone he had used that day at the ranch. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't see why you want to talk to me," Lorraine retorted, not in the +least frightened at the gun, which was too much like her movie West to +impress her much. But her eyes widened at the look in his face, and +she tried to edge away from him without seeming to do so. +</P> + +<P> +Al stopped her by the simple method of reaching out his left hand and +catching Snake by the cheek-piece of the bridle. "You don't have to +see why," he said. "I've been thinking a lot about you lately. I've +made up my mind that I've got to have you with me—always. This is +kinda sudden, maybe, but that's the way the game runs, sometimes. Now, +I want to tell yuh one or two things that's for your own good. One is +that I'll have my way, or die getting it. Don't be scared; I won't +hurt you. But if you try to break away, I'll shoot you, that's all. +I'm going to marry you, see, first. Then I'll make love to you +afterwards. I ain't asking you if you'll marry me. You're going to do +it, or I'll kill you." +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine gazed at him fascinated, too astonished to attempt any move +toward escape. Al's hand slipped from the bridle down to the reins, +and still holding Snake, still holding the gun muzzle toward her, still +looking her straight in the eyes, he threw his right leg over the +cantle of his saddle and stepped off his horse. +</P> + +<P> +"Put your other hand on the saddle horn," he directed. "I ain't going +to hurt you if you're good." +</P> + +<P> +He twitched his neckerchief off—Lorraine saw that it was untied, and +that he must have planned all this—and with it tied her wrists to the +saddle horn. She gave Snake a kick in the ribs, but Al checked the +horse's first start and Snake was too tired to dispute a command to +stand still. Al put up his gun, pulled a hunting knife from a little +scabbard in his boot, sliced two pairs of saddle strings from +Lorraine's saddle, calmly caught and held her foot when she tried to +kick him, pushed the foot back into the stirrup and tied it there with +one of the leather strings. Just as if he were engaged in an everyday +proceeding, he walked around Snake and tied Lorraine's right foot; +then, to prevent her from foolishly throwing herself from the horse and +getting hurt, he tied the stirrups together under the horse's belly. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, if you'll be a good girl, I'll untie your hands," he said, +glancing up into her face. He freed her hands, and Lorraine +immediately slapped him in the face and reached for his gun. But Al +was too quick for her. He stepped back, picked up Snake's reins and +mounted his own horse. He looked back at her appraisingly, saw her +glare of hatred and grinned at it, while he touched his horse with the +spurs and rode away, leading Snake behind him. +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine said nothing until Al, riding at a lope, passed the field at +the mouth of Spirit Canyon where the blaze-faced roan still fed with +the others. They were feeding along the creek quite close to the +fence, and the roan walked toward them. The sight of it stirred +Lorraine out of her dumb horror. +</P> + +<P> +"You killed Fred Thurman! I saw you," she cried suddenly. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you ain't going to holler it all over the country," Al flung +back at her over his shoulder. "When you're married to me, you'll come +mighty close to keeping your mouth shut about it." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll never marry you! You—you fiend! Do you think I'd marry a +cold-blooded murderer like you?" +</P> + +<P> +Al turned in the saddle and looked at her intently. "If I'm all that," +he told her coolly, "you can figure out about what'll happen to you if +you <I>don't</I> marry me. If you saw what I done to Fred Thurman, what do +you reckon I'd do to <I>you</I>?" He looked at her for a minute, shrugged +his shoulders and rode on, crossing the creek and taking a trail which +Lorraine did know. Much of the time they travelled in the water, +though it slowed their space. Where the trail was rocky, they took it +and made better time. +</P> + +<P> +Snake lagged a little on the upgrades, but he was well trained to lead +and gave little trouble. Lorraine thought longingly of Yellowjacket +and his stubbornness and tried to devise some way of escape. She could +not believe that fate would permit Al Woodruff to carry out such a +plan. Lone would overtake them, perhaps,—and then she remembered that +Lone would have no means of knowing which way she had gone. If Hawkins +and Senator Warfield came after them, her plight would be worse than +ever. Still, she decided that she must risk that danger and give Lone +a clue. +</P> + +<P> +She dropped a glove beside the trail, where it lay in plain sight of +any one following them. But presently Al looked over his shoulder, saw +that one of her hands was bare, and tied Snake's reins to his saddle +and his own horse to a bush. Then he went back down the trail until he +found the glove. He put it into his pocket, came silently up to +Lorraine and pulled off her other glove. Without a word he took her +wrists in a firm clasp, tied them together again to the saddle horn, +pulled off her tie, her hat, the pins from her hair. +</P> + +<P> +"I guess you don't know me yet," he remarked dryly, when he had +confiscated every small article which she could let fall as she rode. +"I was trying to treat yuh white, but you don't seem to appreciate it. +Now you can ride hobbled, young lady." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I could <I>kill</I> you!" Lorraine whispered between set teeth. +</P> + +<P> +"You mean you'd like to. Well, I ain't going to give you a chance." +His eyes rested on her face with a new expression; an awakening desire +for her, an admiration for the spirit that would not let her weep and +plead with him. +</P> + +<P> +"Say! you ain't going to be a bit hard to marry," he observed, his eyes +lighting with what was probably his nearest approach to tenderness. "I +kinda wish you liked me, now I've got you." +</P> + +<P> +He shook her arm and laughed when she turned her face away from him, +then remounted his horse, Snake moved reluctantly when Al started on. +Lorraine felt hope slipping from her. With her hands tied, she could +do nothing at all save sit there and ride wherever Al Woodruff chose to +lead her horse. He seemed to be making for the head of Spirit Canyon, +on the side toward Bear Top. +</P> + +<P> +As they climbed higher, she could catch glimpses of the road down which +her father had driven almost to his death. She studied Al's back as he +rode before her and wondered if he could really be cold-blooded enough +to kill without compunction whoever he was told to kill, whether he had +any personal quarrel with his victim or not. Certainly he had had no +quarrel with her father, or with Frank. +</P> + +<P> +It was long past noon, and she was terribly hungry and very thirsty, +but she would not tell Al her wants if she starved. She tried to guess +at his plans and at his motive for taking her away like this. He had +no camping outfit, a bulkily rolled slicker forming his only burden. +He could not, then, be planning to take her much farther into the +wilderness; yet if he did not hide her away, how could he expect to +keep her? His motive for marrying her was rather mystifying. He did +not seem sufficiently in love with her to warrant an abduction, and he +was too cool for such a headlong action, unless driven by necessity. +She wondered what he was thinking about as he rode. Not about her, she +guessed, except when some bad place in the trail made it necessary for +him to stop, tie Snake to the nearest bush, lead his own horse past the +obstruction and come back after her. Several times this was necessary. +Once he took the time to examine the thongs on her ankles, apparently +wishing to make sure that she was not uncomfortable. Once he looked up +into her sullenly distressed face and said, "Tired?" in a humanly +sympathetic tone that made her blink back the tears. She shook her +head and would not look at him. Al regarded her in silence for a +minute, led Snake to his own horse, mounted and rode on. +</P> + +<P> +He was a murderer; he had undoubtedly killed many men. He would kill +her if she attempted to escape—"and he could not catch me," Lorraine +was just enough to add. Yet she felt baffled; cheated of the full +horror of being kidnapped. +</P> + +<P> +She had no knowledge of a bad man who was human in spots without being +repentant. For love of a girl, she had been taught to believe, the +worst outlaw would weep over his past misdeeds, straighten his +shoulders, look to heaven for help and become a self-sacrificing hero +for whom audiences might be counted upon to shed furtive tears. +</P> + +<P> +Al Woodruff, however, did not love her. His eyes had once or twice +softened to friendliness, but love was not there. Neither was +repentance there. He seemed quite satisfied with himself, quite ready +to commit further crimes for sake of his own safety or desire. He was +hard, she decided, but he was not unnecessarily harsh; cruel, without +being wantonly brutal. He was, in short, the strangest man she had +ever seen. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +"OH, I COULD KILL YOU!" +</H4> + +<P> +Before sundown they reached the timber-land on Bear Top. The horses +slipped on the pine needles when Al left the trail and rode up a gentle +incline where the trees grew large and there was little underbrush. It +was very beautiful, with the slanting sun-rays painting broad yellow +bars across the gloom of the forest. In a little while they reached +the crest of that slope, and Lorraine, looking back, could only guess +at where the trail wound on among the trees lower down. +</P> + +<P> +Birds called companionably from the high branches above them. A +nesting grouse flew chuttering out from under a juniper bush, alighted +a short distance away and went limping and dragging one wing before +them, cheeping piteously. +</P> + +<P> +While Lorraine was wondering if the poor thing had hurt a leg in +lighting, Al clipped its head off neatly with a bullet from his +six-shooter, though Lorraine had not seen him pull the gun and did not +know he meant to shoot. The bird's mate whirred up and away through +the trees, and Lorraine was glad that it had escaped. +</P> + +<P> +Al slid the gun back into his holster, leaned from his saddle and +picked up the dead grouse as unconcernedly as he would have dismounted, +pulled his knife from his boot and drew the bird neatly, flinging the +crop and entrails from him. +</P> + +<P> +"Them juniper berries tastes the meat if you don't clean 'em out right +away," he remarked casually to Lorraine, as he wiped the knife on his +trousers and thrust it back into the boot-scabbard before he tied the +grouse to the saddle by its blue, scaley little feet. +</P> + +<P> +When he was ready to go on, Snake refused to budge. Tough as he was, +he had at last reached the limit of his energy and ambition. Al yanked +hard on the bridle reins, then rode back and struck him sharply with +his quirt before Snake would rouse himself enough to move forward. He +went stiffly, reluctantly, pulling back until his head was held +straight out before him. Al dragged him so for a rod or two, lost +patience and returned to whip him forward again. +</P> + +<P> +"What a brute you are!" Lorraine exclaimed indignantly. "Can't you see +how tired he is?" +</P> + +<P> +Al glanced at her from under his eyebrows. "He's all in, but he's got +to make it," he said. "I've been that way myself—and made it. What I +can do, a horse can do. Come on, you yella-livered bonehead!" +</P> + +<P> +Snake went on, urged now and then by Al's quirt. Every blow made +Lorraine wince, and she made the wincing perfectly apparent to Al, in +the hope that he would take some notice of it and give her a chance to +tell him what she thought of him without opening the conversation +herself. +</P> + +<P> +But Al did not say anything. When the time came—as even Lorraine saw +that it must—when Snake refused to attempt a steep slope, Al still +said nothing. He untied her ankles from the stirrups and her hands +from the saddle horn, carried her in his arms to his own horse and +compelled her to mount. Then he retied her exactly as she had been +tied on Snake. +</P> + +<P> +"Skinner knows this trail," he told Lorraine. "And I'm behind yuh with +a gun. Don't forget that, Miss Spitfire. You let Skinner go to suit +himself—and if he goes wrong, you pay, because it'll be you reining +him wrong. Get along there, Skinner!" +</P> + +<P> +Skinner got along in a businesslike way that told why Al Woodruff had +chosen to ride him on this trip. He seemed to be a perfectly +dependable saddle horse for a bandit to own. He wound in and out among +the trees and boulders, stepping carefully over fallen logs; he thrust +his nose out straight and laid back his ears and pushed his way through +thickets of young pines; he went circumspectly along the edge of a deep +gulch, climbed over a ridge and worked his way down the precipitous +slope on the farther side, made his way around a thick clump of spruces +and stopped in a little, grassy glade no bigger than a city lot, but +with a spring gurgling somewhere near. Then he swung his head around +and looked over his shoulder inquiringly at Al, who was coming behind, +leading Snake. +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine looked at him also, but Al did not say anything to her or to +the horse. He let them stand there and wait while he unsaddled Snake, +put a drag rope on him and led him to the best grazing. Then, coming +back, he very matter-of-factly untied Lorraine and helped her off the +horse. Lorraine was all prepared to fight, but she did not quite know +how to struggle with a man who did not take hold of her or touch her, +except to steady her in dismounting. Unconsciously she waited for a +cue, and the cue was not given. +</P> + +<P> +Al's mind seemed intent upon making Skinner comfortable. Still, he +kept an eye on Lorraine, and he did not turn his back to her. Lorraine +looked over to where Snake, too exhausted to eat, stood with drooping +head and all four legs braced like sticks under him. It flashed across +her mind that not even her old director would order her to make a run +for that horse and try to get away on him. Snake looked as if he would +never move from that position until he toppled over. +</P> + +<P> +Al pulled the bridle off Skinner, gave him a half-affectionate slap on +the rump, and watched him go off, switching his tail and nosing the +ground for a likeable place to roll. Al's glance went on to Snake, and +from him to Lorraine. +</P> + +<P> +"You sure do know how to ride hell out of a horse," he remarked. "Now +he'll be stiff and sore to-morrow—and we've got quite a ride to make." +</P> + +<P> +His tone of disapproval sent a guilty feeling through Lorraine, until +she remembered that a slow horse might save her from this man who was +all bad,—except, perhaps, just on the surface which was not altogether +repellent. She looked around at the tiny basin set like a saucer among +the pines. Already the dusk was painting deep shadows in the woods +across the opening, and turning the sky a darker blue. Skinner rolled +over twice, got up and shook himself with a satisfied snort and went +away to feed. She might, if she were patient, run to the horse when +Al's back was turned, she thought. Once in the woods she might have +some chance of eluding him, and perhaps Skinner would show as much +wisdom going as he had in coming, and take her down to the sageland. +</P> + +<P> +But Skinner walked to the farther edge of the meadow before he stopped, +and Al Woodruff never turned his back to a foe. An owl hooted +unexpectedly, and Lorraine edged closer to her captor, who was +gathering dead branches one by one and throwing them toward a certain +spot which he had evidently selected for a campfire. He looked at her +keenly, even suspiciously, and pointed with the stick in his left hand. +</P> + +<P> +"You might go over there by the saddle and set down till I get a fire +going," he said. "Don't go wandering around aimless, like a hen +turkey, watching a chance to duck into the brush. There's bear in +there and lion and lynx, and I'd hate to see you chawed. They never +clean their toe-nails, and blood poison generally sets in where they +leave a scratch. Go and set down." +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine did not know how much of his talk was truth, but she went and +sat down by his saddle and began braiding her hair in two tight braids +like a squaw. If she did get a chance to run, she thought, she did not +want her hair flying loose to catch on bushes and briars. She had once +fled through a brush patch in Griffith Park with her hair flowing +loose, and she had not liked the experience, though it had looked very +nice on the screen. +</P> + +<P> +Before she had finished the braiding, Al came over to the saddle and +untied his slicker roll and the grouse. +</P> + +<P> +"Come on over to the fire," he said. "I'll learn yuh a trick or two +about camp cooking. If I'm goin' to keep yuh with me, you might just +as well learn how to cook. We'll be on the trail the biggest part of +our time, I expect." +</P> + +<P> +He took her by the arm, just as any man might have done, and led her to +the fire that was beginning to crackle cheerfully. He set her down on +the side where the smoke would be least likely to blow her way and +proceeded to dress the grouse, stripping off skin and feathers +together. He unrolled the slicker and laid out a piece of bacon, a +package of coffee, a small coffeepot, bannock and salt. The coffeepot +and the grouse he took in one hand—his left, Lorraine observed—and +started toward the spring which she could hear gurgling in the shadows +amongst the trees. +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine watched him sidelong. He seemed to take it for granted now +that she would stay where she was. The woods were dark, the firelight +and the warmth enticed her. The sight of the supper preparations made +her hungrier than she had ever been in her life before. When one has +breakfasted on one cup of coffee at dawn and has ridden all day with +nothing to eat, running away from food, even though that food is in the +hands of one's captor, requires courage. Lorraine was terribly tempted +to stay, at least until she had eaten. But Al might not give her +another chance like this. She crept on her knees to the slicker and +seized one piece of bannock, crawled out of the firelight stealthily, +then sprang to her feet and began running straight across the meadow +toward Skinner. +</P> + +<P> +Twenty yards she covered when a bullet sang over her head. Lorraine +ducked, stumbled and fell head-first over a hummock, not quite sure +that she had not been shot. +</P> + +<P> +"Thought maybe I could trust yuh to play square," Al said disgustedly, +pulling her to her feet, the gun still smoking in his hands. "You +little fool, what do you think you'd do in these hills alone? You sure +enough belittle me, if you think you'd have a chance in a million of +getting away from me!" +</P> + +<P> +She fought him, then, with a great, inner relief that the situation was +at last swinging around to a normal kidnapping. Still, Al Woodruff +seemed unable to play his part realistically. He failed to fill her +with fear and repulsion. She had to think back, to remember that he +had killed men, in order to realise her own danger. Now, for instance, +he merely forced her back to the campfire, pulled the saddle strings +from his pocket and tied her feet together, using a complicated knot +which he told her she might work on all she darn pleased, for all he +cared. Then he went calmly to work cooking their supper. +</P> + +<P> +This was simple. He divided the grouse so that one part had the meaty +breast and legs, and the other the back and wings. The meaty part he +larded neatly with strips of bacon, using his hunting knife,—which +Lorraine watched fascinatedly, wondering if it had ever taken the life +of a man. He skewered the meat on a green, forked stick and gave it to +her to broil for herself over the hottest coals of the fire, while he +made the coffee and prepared his own portion of the grouse. +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine was hungry. She broiled the grouse carefully and ate it, with +the exception of one leg, which she surprised herself by offering to +Al, who was picking the bones of his own share down to the last shred +of meat. She drank a cup of coffee, black, and returned the cup to the +killer, who unconcernedly drank from it without any previous rinsing. +She ate bannock with her meat and secretly thought what an adventure it +would be if only it were not real,—if only she were not threatened +with a forced marriage to this man. The primitive camp appealed to +her; she who had prided herself upon being an outdoor girl saw how she +had always played at being primitive. This was real. She would have +loved it if only the man opposite were Lone, or Swan, or some one else +whom she knew and trusted. +</P> + +<P> +She watched the firelight dancing on Al's sombre face, softening its +hardness, making it almost wistful when he gazed thoughtfully into the +coals. She thrilled when she saw how watchful he was, how he lifted +his head and listened to every little night sound. She was afraid of +him as she feared the lightning; she feared his pitiless attitude +toward human life. She would find some way to outwit him when it came +to the point of marrying him, she thought. She would escape him if she +could without too great a risk of being shot. She felt absolutely +certain that he would shoot her with as little compunction as he would +marry her by force,—and it seemed to Lorraine that he would not +greatly care which he did. +</P> + +<P> +"I guess you're tired," Al said suddenly, rousing himself from deep +study and looking at her imperturbably. "I'll fix yuh so you can +sleep—and that's about all yuh can do." +</P> + +<P> +He went over to his saddle, took the blanket and unfolded it until +Lorraine saw that it was a full-size bed blanket of heavy gray wool. +The man's ingenuity seemed endless. Without seeming to have any extra +luggage, he had nevertheless carried a very efficient camp outfit with +him. He took his hunting knife, went to the spruce grove and cut many +small, green branches, returning with all he could hold in his arms. +She watched him lay them tips up for a mattress, and was secretly glad +that she knew this much at least of camp comfort. He spread the +blanket over them and then, without a word, came over to her and untied +her feet. +</P> + +<P> +"Go and lay down on the blanket," he commanded. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll do nothing of the kind!" Lorraine set her mouth stubbornly. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, then I'll have to lay you down," said Al, lifting her to her +feet. "If you get balky, I'm liable to get rough." +</P> + +<P> +Lorraine drew away from him as far as she could and looked at him for a +full minute. Al stared back into her eyes. "Oh, I could <I>kill</I> you!" +cried Lorraine for the second time that day and threw herself down on +the bed, sobbing like an angry child. +</P> + +<P> +Al said nothing. The man's capacity for keeping still was amazing. He +knelt beside her, folded the blanket over her from the two sides, and +tied the corners around her neck snugly, the knot at the back. In the +same way he tied her ankles. Lorraine found herself in a sleeping bag +from which she had small hope of extricating herself. He took his +coat, folded it compactly and pushed it under her head for a pillow; +then he brought her own saddle blanket and spread it over her for extra +warmth. +</P> + +<P> +"Now stop your bawling and go to sleep," he advised her calmly. "You +ain't hurt, and you ain't going to be as long as you gentle down and +behave yourself." +</P> + +<P> +She saw him draw the slicker over his shoulders and move back where the +shadows were deep and she could not see him. She heard some animal +squall in the woods behind them. She looked up at the stars,—millions +of them, and brighter than she had ever seen them before. Insensibly +she quieted, watching the stars, listening to the night noises, +catching now and then a whiff of smoke from Al Woodruff's cigarette. +Before she knew that she was sleepy, she slept. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap22"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +"YACK, I LICK YOU GOOD IF YOU BARK" +</H4> + +<P> +Swan cooked himself a hasty meal while he studied the various +possibilities of the case and waited for further word from +headquarters. He wanted to be sure that help had started and to be +able to estimate within an hour or two the probable time of its +arrival, before he left the wireless. Jack he fed and left on watch +outside the cabin, so that he could without risk keep open the door to +the dugout. +</P> + +<P> +His instrument was not a large one, and the dugout door was thick,—as +a precaution against discovery if he should be called when some visitor +chanced to be in the cabin. Not often did a man ride that way, though +occasionally some one stopped for a meal if he knew that the cabin was +there and had ever tasted Swan's sour-dough biscuits. His aerial was +cleverly camouflaged between the two pine trees, and he had no fear of +discovery there; Jack was a faithful guardian and would give warning if +any one approached the place. Swan could therefore give his whole +attention to the business at hand. +</P> + +<P> +He was not yet supplied with evidence enough to warrant arresting +Warfield and Hawkins, but he hoped to get it when the real crisis came. +They could not have known of Al Woodruff's intentions towards Lorraine, +else they would have kept themselves in the background and would not +have risked the failure of their own plan. +</P> + +<P> +On the other hand, Al must have been wholly ignorant of Warfield's +scheme to try and prove Lorraine crazy. It looked to Swan very much +like a muddling of the Sawtooth affairs through over-anxiety to avoid +trouble. They were afraid of what Lorraine knew. They wanted to +eliminate her, and they had made the blunder of working independently +to that end. +</P> + +<P> +Lone's anxiety he did not even consider. He believed that Lone would +be equal to any immediate emergency and would do whatever the +circumstances seemed to require of him. Warfield counted him a +Sawtooth man. Al Woodruff, if the four men met unexpectedly, would +also take it for granted that he was one of them. They would probably +talk to Lone without reserve,—Swan counted on that. Whereas, if he +were present, they would be on their guard, at least. +</P> + +<P> +Swan's plan was to wait at the cabin until he knew that deputies were +headed toward the Pass. Then, with Jack, it would be a simple matter +to follow Warfield to where he overtook Al,—supposing he did overtake +him. If he did not, then Swan meant to be present when the meeting +occurred. The dog would trail Al anywhere, since the scent would be +less than twenty-four hours old. Swan would locate Warfield and lead +him straight to Al Woodruff, and then make his arrests. But he wanted +to have the deputies there. +</P> + +<P> +At dusk he got his call. He learned that four picked men had started +for the Pass, and that they would reach the divide by daybreak. Others +were on their way to intercept Al Woodruff if he crossed before then. +</P> + +<P> +It was all that Swan could have hoped for,—more than he had dared to +expect on such short notice. He notified the operator that he would +not be there to receive anything else, until he returned to report that +he had got his men. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't count your chickens till they're hatched," came facetiously out +of the blue. +</P> + +<P> +"By golly, I can hear them holler in the shell," Swan sent back, +grinning to himself as he rattled the key. "That irrigation graft is +killed now. You tell the boss Swan says so. He's right. The way to +catch a fox is to watch his den." +</P> + +<P> +He switched off the current, closed the case and went out, making sure +that the cupboard-camouflaged door looked perfectly innocent on the +outside. With a bannock stuffed into one pocket, a chunk of bacon in +the other, he left the cabin and swung off again in that long, tireless +stride of his, Jack following contentedly at his heels. +</P> + +<P> +At the farther end of Skyline Meadow he stopped, took a tough leather +leash from his pocket and fastened it to Jack's collar. +</P> + +<P> +"We don't go running to paw nobody's stomach and say, 'Wow-wow! Here +we are back again!'" he told the dog, pulling its ears affectionately. +"Maybe we get shot or something like that. We trail, and we keep our +mouth still, Yack. One bark, and I lick you good!" +</P> + +<P> +Jack flashed out a pink tongue and licked his master's chin to show how +little he was worried over the threat, and went racing along at the end +of the leash, taking Swan's trail and his own back to where they had +climbed out of the canyon. +</P> + +<P> +At the bottom Swan spoke to the dog in an undertone, and Jack +obediently started up the canyon on the trail of the five horses who +had passed that way since noon. It was starlight now, and Swan did not +hurry. He was taking it for granted that Warfield and Hawkins would +stop when it became too dark to follow the hoofprints, and without Jack +to show them the way they would perforce remain where they were until +daybreak. +</P> + +<P> +They would do that, he reasoned, if they were sincere in wanting to +overtake Lorraine and in their ignorance that they were also following +Al Woodruff. And try as he would, he could not see the object of so +foolish a plan as this abduction carried out in collusion with two men +of unknown sentiments in the party. They had shown no suspicion of +Al's part in the affair, and Swan grinned when he thought of the mutual +surprise when they met. +</P> + +<P> +He was not disappointed. They reached timber line, following the +seldom used trail that wound over the divide to Bear Top Pass and so, +by a difficult route which he did not believe Al would attempt after +dark, to the country beyond the mountain. Where dark overtook them, +they stopped in a sheltered nook to wait, just as Swan had expected +they would. They were close to the trail, where no one could pass +without their knowledge. +</P> + +<P> +In the belief that it was only Lorraine they were following, and that +she would be frightened and would come to the cheer of a campfire, they +had a fine, inviting blaze. Swan made his way as close as he dared, +without being discovered, and sat down to wait. He could see nothing +of the men until Lone appeared and fed the flames more wood, and sat +down where the light shone on his face. Swan grinned again. Warfield +had probably decided that Lorraine would be less afraid of Lone than of +them and had ordered him into the firelight as a sort of decoy. And +Lone, knowing that Al Woodruff might be within shooting distance, was +probably much more uncomfortable than he looked. +</P> + +<P> +He sat with his legs crossed in true range fashion and stared into the +fire while he smoked. He was a fair mark for an enemy who might be +lurking out there in the dark, but he gave no sign that he realised the +danger of his position. Neither did he wear any air of expectancy. +Warfield and Hawkins might wait and listen and hope that Lorraine, +wide-eyed and weary, would steal up to the warmth of the fire; but not +Lone. +</P> + +<P> +Swan, sitting on a rotting log, became uneasy at the fine target which +Lone made by the fire, and drew Al Woodruff's blue bandanna from his +pocket. He held it to Jack's nose and whispered, "You find him, +Yack—and I lick you good if you bark." Jack sniffed, dropped his nose +to the ground and began tugging at the leash. Swan got up and, moving +stealthily, followed the dog. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap23"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +"I COULDA LOVED THIS LITTLE GIRL" +</H4> + +<P> +A chill wind that hurried over Bear Top ahead of the dawn brought Swan +and Jack clattering up the trail that dipped into Spirit Canyon. +Warfield rose stiffly from the one-sided warmth of the fire and walked +a few paces to meet him, shrugging his wide shoulders at the cold and +rubbing his thigh muscles that protested against movement. Much riding +upon upholstered cushions had not helped Senator Warfield to retain the +tough muscles of hard-riding Bill Warfield. The Senator was +saddle-sore as well as hungry, and his temper showed in his blood-shot +eyes. He would have quarrelled with his best-loved woman that morning, +and he began on Swan. +</P> + +<P> +Why hadn't he come back down the gulch yesterday and helped track the +girl, as he was told to do? (The senator had quite unpleasant opinions +of Swedes, and crazy women, and dogs that were never around when they +were wanted, and he expressed them fluently.) +</P> + +<P> +Swan explained with a great deal of labour that he had not thought he +was wanted, and that he had to sleep on his claim sometimes or the law +would take it from him, maybe. Also he virtuously pointed out that he +had come with Yack before daylight to the canyon to see if they had +found Miss Hunter and gone home, or if they were still hunting for her. +</P> + +<P> +"If you like to find that jong lady, I put Yack on the trail quick," he +offered placatingly. "I bet you Yack finds her in one-half an hour." +</P> + +<P> +With much unnecessary language, Senator Warfield told him to get to +work, and the three tightened cinches, mounted their horses and +prepared to follow Swan's lead. Swan watched his chance and gave Lone +a chunk of bannock as a substitute for breakfast, and Lone, I may add, +dropped behind his companions and ate every crumb of it, in spite of +his worry over Lorraine. +</P> + +<P> +Indeed, Swan eased that worry too, when they were climbing the pine +slope where Al had killed the grouse. Lone had forged ahead on John +Doe, and Swan stopped suddenly, pointing to the spot where a few bloody +feathers and a boot-print showed. The other evidence Jack had eaten in +the night. +</P> + +<P> +"Raine's all right, Lone. Got men coming. Keep your gun handy," he +murmured and turned away as the others rode up, eager for whatever news +Swan had to offer. +</P> + +<P> +"Something killed a bird," Swan explained politely, planting one of his +own big feet over the track, which did not in the least resemble +Lorraine's. "Yack! you find that jong lady quick!" +</P> + +<P> +From there on Swan walked carefully, putting his foot wherever a print +of Al's boot was visible. Since he was much bigger than Al, with a +correspondingly longer stride, his gait puzzled Lone until he saw just +what Swan was doing. Then his eyes lightened with amused appreciation +of the Swede's cunning. +</P> + +<P> +"We ought to have some hot drink, or whisky when we find that girl," +Hawkins muttered unexpectedly, riding up beside Lone as they crossed an +open space. "She'll be half-dead with cold—if we find her alive." +</P> + +<P> +Before Lone could answer, Swan looked back at the two and raised his +hand for them to stop. +</P> + +<P> +"Better if you leave the horses here," he suggested. "From Yack I know +we get close pretty quick. That jong lady's horse maybe smells these +horse and makes a noise, and crazy folks run from noise." +</P> + +<P> +Without objection the three dismounted and tied their horses securely +to trees. Then, with Swan and Jack leading the way, they climbed over +the ridge and descended into the hollow by way of the ledge which +Skinner had negotiated so carefully the night before. Without the dog +they never would have guessed that any one had passed this way, but as +it was they made good progress and reached the nearest edge of the +spruce thicket just as the sun was making ready to push up over the +skyline. +</P> + +<P> +Jack stopped and looked up at his master inquiringly, lifting his lip +at the sides and showing his teeth. But he made no sound; nor did +Swan, when he dropped his fingers to the dog's head and patted him +approvingly. +</P> + +<P> +They heard a horse sneeze, beyond the spruce grove, and Warfield +stepped forward authoritatively, waving Swan back. This, his manner +said plainly, was first and foremost his affair, and from now on he +would take charge of the situation. At his heels went Hawkins, and +Swan sent an oblique glance of satisfaction toward Lone, who answered +it with his half-smile. Swan himself could not have planned the +approach more to his liking. +</P> + +<P> +The smell of bacon cooking watered their mouths and made Warfield and +Hawkins look at one another inquiringly. Crazy young women would +hardly be expected to carry a camping outfit. But Swan and Lone were +treading close on their heels, and their own curiosity pulled them +forward. They went carefully around the thicket, guided by the pungent +odour of burning pine wood, and halted so abruptly that Swan and Lone +bumped into them from behind. A man had risen up from the campfire and +faced them, his hands rising slowly, palms outward. +</P> + +<P> +"Warfield, by——!" Al blurted in his outraged astonishment. "Trailing +me with a bunch, are yuh? I knew you'd double-cross your own +father—but I never thought you had it in you to do it in the open. +Damn yuh, what d'yuh want that you expect to get?" +</P> + +<P> +Warfield stared at him, slack-jawed. He glanced furtively behind him +at Swan, and found that guileless youth ready to poke him in the back +with the muzzle of a gun. Lone, he observed, had another. He looked +back at Al, whose eyes were ablaze with resentment. With an effort he +smiled his disarming, senatorial smile, but Al's next words froze it on +his face. +</P> + +<P> +"I think I know the play you're making, but it won't get you anything, +Bill Warfield. You think I slipped up—and you told me not to let my +foot slip; said you'd hate to lose me. Well, you're the one that +slipped, you damned, rotten coward. I was watching out for leaks. I +stopped two, and this one——" +</P> + +<P> +He glanced down at Lorraine, who sat beside the fire, a blanket tied +tightly around her waist and her ankles, so that, while comfortably +free, she could make no move to escape. +</P> + +<P> +"I was fixing to stop <I>her</I> from telling all she knew," he added +harshly. "By to-night I'd have had her married to me, you damned fool. +And here you've blocked everything for me, afraid I was falling down on +my job! +</P> + +<P> +"Now folks, lemme just tell you a few little things. I know my +limit—you've got me dead to rights. I ain't complaining about that; a +man in my game expects to get his, some day. But I ain't going to let +the man go that paid me my wages and a bonus of five hundred dollars +for every man I killed that he wanted outa the way. +</P> + +<P> +"Hawkins knows that's a fact. He's foreman of the Sawtooth, and he +knows the agreement. I've got to say for Hawkins that aside from +stealing cattle off the nesters and helping make evidence against some +that's in jail, Hawkins never done any dirty work. He didn't have to. +They paid <I>me</I> for that end of the business. +</P> + +<P> +"I killed Fred Thurman—this girl, here, saw me shoot him. And it was +when I told Warfield I was afraid she might set folks talking that he +began to get cold feet. Up to then everything was lovely, but Warfield +began to crawfish a little. We figured—<I>we</I> figured, emphasise the +<I>we</I>, folks,—that the Quirt would have to be put outa business. We +knew if the girl told Brit and Frank, they'd maybe get the nerve to try +and pin something on us. We've stole 'em blind for years, and they +wouldn't cry if we got hung. Besides, they was friendly with Fred. +</P> + +<P> +"The girl and the Swede got in the way when I tried to bump Brit off. +I'd have gone into the canyon and finished him with a rock, but they +beat me to it. The girl herself I couldn't get at very well and make +it look accidental—and anyway, I never did kill a woman, and I'd hate +it like hell. I figured if her dad got killed, she'd leave. +</P> + +<P> +"And let me tell you, folks, Warfield raised hell with me because Brit +Hunter wasn't killed when he pitched over the grade. He held out on me +for that job—so I'm collecting five hundred dollars' worth of fun +right now. He did say he'd pay me after Brit was dead, but it looks +like he's going to pull through, so I ain't counting much on getting my +money outa Warfield. +</P> + +<P> +"Frank I got, and made a clean job of it. And yesterday morning the +girl played into my hands. She rode over to the Sawtooth, and I got +her at Thurman's place, on her way home, and figured I'd marry her and +take a chance on keeping her quiet afterwards. I'd have been down the +Pass in another two hours and heading for the nearest county seat. +She'd have married me, too. She knows I'd have killed her if she +didn't—which I would. I've been square with her—she'll tell you +that. I told her, when I took her, just what I was going to do with +her. So that's all straight. She's been scared, I guess, but she +ain't gone hungry, and she ain't suffered, except in her mind. I don't +fight women, and I'll say right now, to her and to you, that I've got +all the respect in the world for this little girl, and if I'd married +her I'd have been as good to her as I know how, and as she'd let me be. +</P> + +<P> +"Now I want to tell you folks a few more things about Bill Warfield. +If you want to stop the damnest steal in the country, tie a can onto +that irrigation scheme of his. He's out to hold up the State for all +he can get, and bleed the poor devils of farmers white, that buys land +under that canal. It may look good, but it ain't good—not by a damn +sight. +</P> + +<P> +"Yuh know what he's figuring on doing? Get water in the canal, sell +land under a contract that lets him out if the ditch breaks, or +something so he <I>can't</I> supply water at any time. And when them poor +suckers gets their crops all in, and at the point where they've got to +have water or lose out, something'll happen to the supply. Folks, I +<I>know</I>! I'm a reliable man, and I've rode with a rope around my neck +for over five years, and Warfield offered me the same old five hundred +every time I monkeyed with the water supply as ordered. He'd have done +it slick; don't worry none about that. The biggest band of thieves he +could get together is that company. So if you folks have got any +sense, you'll bust it up right now. +</P> + +<P> +"Bill Warfield, what I've got to say to you won't take long. You +thought you'd make a grand-stand play with the law, and at the same +time put me outa the way. You figured I'd resist arrest, and you'd +have a chance to shoot me down. I know your rotten mind better than +you do. You wanted to bump me off, but you wanted to do it in a way +that'd put you in right with the public. Killing me for kidnapping +this girl would sound damn romantic in the newspapers, and it wouldn't +have a thing to do with Thurman or Frank Johnson, or any of the rest +that I've sent over the trail for you. +</P> + +<P> +"Right now you're figuring how you'll get around this bawling-out I'm +giving you. There's nobody to take down what I say, and I'm just a +mean, ornery outlaw and killer, talking for spite. With your pull you +expect to get this smoothed over and hushed up, and have me at a +hanging bee, and everything all right for Bill! Well——" +</P> + +<P> +His eyes left Warfield's face and went beyond the staring group. His +face darkened, a sneer twisted his lips. +</P> + +<P> +"Who're them others?" he cried harshly. "Was you afraid four wouldn't +be enough to take me?" +</P> + +<P> +The four turned heads to look. Bill Warfield never looked back, for +Al's gun spoke, and Warfield sagged at the knees and the shoulders, and +he slumped to the ground at the instant when Al's gun spoke again. +</P> + +<P> +"That's for you, Lone Morgan," Al cried, as he fired again. "She +talked about you in her sleep last night. She called you Loney, and +she wanted you to come and get her. I was going to kill you first +chance I got. I coulda loved this little girl. I—could——" +</P> + +<P> +He was down, bleeding and coughing and trying to talk. Swan had shot +him, and two of the deputies who had been there through half of Al's +bitter talk. Lorraine, unable to get up and run, too sturdy of soul to +faint, had rolled over and away from him, her lips held tightly +together, her eyes wide with horror. Al crawled after her, his eyes +pleading. +</P> + +<P> +"Little Spitfire—I shot your Loney—but I'd have been good to you, +girl. I watched yuh all night—and I couldn't help loving yuh. +I—couldn't——" That was all. Within three feet of her, his face +toward her and his eyes agonising to meet hers, he died. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap24"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +ANOTHER STORY BEGINS +</H4> + +<P> +This chapter is very much like a preface: it is not absolutely +necessary, although many persons will read it and a few will be glad +that it was written. +</P> + +<P> +The story itself is ended. To go on would be to begin another story; +to tell of the building up of the Quirt outfit, with Lone and Lone's +savings playing a very important part, and with Brit a semi-invalided, +retired stockman who smoked his pipe and told the young couple what +they should do and how they should do it. +</P> + +<P> +Frank he mourned for and seldom mentioned. The Sawtooth, under the +management of a greatly chastened young Bob Warfield, was slowly +winning its way back to the respect of its neighbours. +</P> + +<P> +For certain personal reasons there was no real neighbourliness between +the Quirt and the Sawtooth. There could not be, so long as Brit's +memory remained clear, and Bob was every day reminded of the crimes his +father had paid a man to commit. Moreover, Southerners are jealous of +their women,—it is their especial prerogative. And Lone suspected +that, given the opportunity, Bob Warfield would have fallen in love +with Lorraine. Indeed, he suspected that any man in the country would +have done that. Al Woodruff had, and he was noted for his indifference +to women and his implacable hardness toward men. +</P> + +<P> +But you are not to accuse Lone of being a jealous husband. He was not, +and I am merely pointing out the fact that he might have been, had he +been given any cause. +</P> + +<P> +Oh, by the way, Swan "proved up" as soon as possible on his homestead +and sold out to the Quirt. Lone managed to buy the Thurman ranch also, +and the TJ up-and-down is on its feet again as a cattle ranch. Sorry +and Jim will ride for the Quirt, I suppose, as long as they can crawl +into a saddle, but there are younger men now to ride the Skyline Meadow +range. +</P> + +<P> +Some one asked about Yellowjacket, having, I suppose, a sneaking regard +for his infirmities. He hasn't been peeled yet—or he hadn't, the last +I heard of him. Lone and Lorraine told me they were trying to save him +for the "Little Feller" to practise on when he is able to sit up +without a cushion behind his back, and to hold something besides a +rubber rattle. And—oh, do you know how Lone is teaching the Little +Feller to sit up on the floor? He took a horse collar and scrubbed it +until he nearly wore out the leather. Then he brought it to the cabin, +put it on the floor and set the Little Feller inside it. +</P> + +<P> +They sent me a snap-shot of the event, but it is not very good. The +film was under-exposed, and nothing was to be seen of the Little Feller +except a hazy spot which I judged was a hand, holding a black object I +guessed was the ridgy, rubber rattle with the whistle gone out of the +end,—down the Little Feller's throat, they are afraid. And there was +his smile, and a glimpse of his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Aren't you envious as sin, and glad they're so happy? +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sawtooth Ranch, by B. M. 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Bower + +Release Date: April 2, 2009 [EBook #28482] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SAWTOOTH RANCH *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + +SAWTOOTH RANCH + + +BY + +B. M. BOWER + + + + + + METHUEN & CO. LTD. + 36 ESSEX STREET, W.C. + LONDON + + + + +BY THE SAME AUTHOR + + JEAN OF THE LAZY A + GOOD INDIAN + THE UPHILL CLIMB + THE GRINGOS + THE FLYING U'S LAST STAND + THE PHANTOM HERD + THE HERITAGE OF THE SIOUX + SKYRIDER + + + + +This Book was First Published in Great Britain . . . March 10th, 1921 + +First Issued in this Cheap Form . . . 1922 + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAP. + + I. LITTLE FISH + II. THE ENCHANTMENT OF LONG DISTANCE + III. REALITY IS WEIGHED AND FOUND WANTING + IV. "SHE'S A GOOD GIRL WHEN SHE AIN'T CRAZY" + V. A DEATH "BY ACCIDENT" + VI. LONE ADVISES SILENCE + VII. THE MAN AT WHISPER + VIII. "IT TAKES NERVE JUST TO HANG ON" + IX. THE EVIL EYE OF THE SAWTOOTH + X. ANOTHER SAWTOOTH "ACCIDENT" + XI. SWAN TALKS WITH HIS THOUGHTS + XII. THE QUIRT PARRIES THE FIRST BLOW + XIII. LONE TAKES HIS STAND + XIV. "FRANK'S DEAD" + XV. SWAN TRAILS A COYOTE + XVI. THE SAWTOOTH SHOWS ITS HAND + XVII. YACK DON'T LIE + XVIII. "I THINK AL WOODRUFF'S GOT HER" + XIX. SWAN CALLS FOR HELP + XX. KIDNAPPED + XXI. "OH, I COULD KILL YOU!" + XXII. "YACK, I LICK YOU GOOD IF YOU BARK" + XXIII. "I COULDA LOVED THIS LITTLE GIRL" + XXIV. ANOTHER STORY BEGINS + + + + +SAWTOOTH RANCH + + +CHAPTER I + +LITTLE FISH + +Quirt Creek flowed sluggishly between willows which sagged none too +gracefully across its deeper pools, or languished beside the rocky +stretches that were bone dry from July to October, with a narrow +channel in the centre where what water there was hurried along to the +pools below. For a mile or more, where the land lay fairly level in a +platter-like valley set in the lower hills, the mud that rimmed the +pools was scored deep with the tracks of the "TJ up-and-down" cattle, +as the double monogram of Hunter and Johnson was called. + +A hard brand to work, a cattleman would tell you. Yet the TJ +up-and-down herd never seemed to increase beyond a niggardly three +hundred or so, though the Quirt ranch was older than its lordly +neighbours, the Sawtooth Cattle Company, who numbered their cattle by +tens of thousands and whose riders must have strings of fifteen horses +apiece to keep them going; older too than many a modest ranch that had +flourished awhile and had finished as line-camps of the Sawtooth when +the Sawtooth bought ranch and brand for a lump sum that looked big to +the rancher, who immediately departed to make himself a new home +elsewhere: older than others which had somehow gone to pieces when the +rancher died or went to the penitentiary under the stigma of a long +sentence as a cattle thief. There were many such, for the Sawtooth, +powerful and stern against outlawry, tolerated no pilfering from their +thousands. + +The less you have, the more careful you are of your possessions. +Hunter and Johnson owned exactly a section and a half of land, and for +a mile and a half Quirt Creek was fenced upon either side. They hired +two men, cut what hay they could from a field which they irrigated, fed +their cattle through the cold weather, watched them zealously through +the summer, and managed to ship enough beef each fall to pay their +grocery bill and their men's wages and have a balance sufficient to buy +what clothes they needed, and perhaps pay a doctor if one of them fell +ill. Which frequently happened, since Brit was becoming a prey to +rheumatism that sometimes kept him in bed, and Frank occasionally +indulged himself in a gallon or so of bad whisky and suffered +afterwards from a badly deranged digestion. + +Their house was a two-room log cabin, built when logs were easier to +get than lumber. That the cabin contained two rooms was the result of +circumstances rather than design. Brit had hauled from the +mountain-side logs long and logs short, and it had seemed a shame to +cut the long ones any shorter. Later, when the outside world had crept +a little closer to their wilderness--as, go where you will, the outside +world has a way of doing--he had built a lean-to shed against the cabin +from what lumber there was left after building a cowshed against the +log-barn. + +In the early days, Brit had had a wife and two children, but the wife +could not endure the loneliness of the ranch nor the inconvenience of +living in a two-room log cabin. She was continually worrying over +rattlesnakes and diphtheria and pneumonia, and begging Brit to sell out +and live in town. She had married him because he was a cowboy, and +because he was a nimble dancer and rode gallantly with silver-shanked +spurs ajingle on his heels and a snake-skin band around his hat, and +because a ranch away out on Quirt Creek had sounded exactly like a +story in a book. + +Adventures, picturesqueness, even romance, are recognised and +appreciated only at a distance. Mrs Hunter lost the perspective of +romance and adventure, and shed tears because there was sufficient +mineral in the water to yellow her week's washing, and for various +other causes which she had never foreseen and to which she refused to +resign herself. + +Came a time when she delivered a shrill-voiced, tear-blurred ultimatum +to Brit. Either he must sell out and move to town, or she would take +the children and leave him. Of towns Brit knew nothing except the +post-office, saloon, cheap restaurant side,--and a barber shop where a +fellow could get a shave and hair-cut before he went to see his girl. +Brit could not imagine himself actually _living_, day after day, in a +town. Three or four days had always been his limit. It was in a +restaurant that he had first met his wife. He had stayed three days +when he had meant to finish his business in one, because there was an +awfully nice girl waiting on table in the Palace, and because there was +going to be a dance on Saturday night, and he wanted his acquaintance +with her to develop to the point where he might ask her to go with him, +and be reasonably certain of a favourable answer. + +Brit would not sell his ranch. In this Frank Johnson, old-time friend +and neighbour, who had taken all the land the government would allow +one man to hold, and whose lines joined Brit's, profanely upheld him. +They had planned to run cattle together, had their brand already +recorded, and had scraped together enough money to buy a dozen young +cows. Luckily, Brit had "proven up" on his homestead, so that when the +irate Mrs Hunter deserted him she did not jeopardise his right to the +land. + +Brit was philosophical, thinking that a year or so of town life would +be a cure. If he missed the children, he was free from tears and +nagging complaints, so that his content balanced his loneliness. Frank +proved up and came down to live with him, and the partnership began to +wear into permanency. Share and share alike, they lived and worked and +wrangled together like brothers. + +For months Brit's wife was too angry and spiteful to write. Then she +wrote acrimoniously, reminding Brit of his duty to his children. Royal +was old enough for school and needed clothes. She was slaving for them +as she had never thought to slave when Brit promised to honour and +protect her, but the fact remained that he was their father even if he +did not act like one. She needed at least ten dollars. + +Brit showed the letter to Frank, and the two talked it over solemnly +while they sat on inverted feed buckets beside the stable, facing the +unearthly beauty of a cloud-piled Idaho sunset. They did not feel that +they could afford to sell a cow, and two-year-old steers were out of +the question. They decided to sell an unbroken colt that a cow-puncher +fancied. In a week Brit wrote a brief, matter-of-fact letter to Minnie +and enclosed a much-worn ten-dollar bank-note. With the two dollars +and a half which remained of his share of the sale, Brit sent to a +mail-order house for a mackinaw coat, and felt cheated afterwards +because the coat was not "wind and waterproof" as advertised in the +catalogue. + +More months passed, and Brit received, by registered mail, a notice +that he was being sued for divorce on the ground of non-support. He +felt hurt, because, as he pointed out to Frank, he was perfectly +willing to support Minnie and the kids if they came back where he could +have a chance. He wrote this painstakingly to the lawyer and received +no reply. Later he learned from Minnie that she had freed herself from +him, and that she was keeping boarders and asking no odds of him. + +To come at once to the end of Brit's matrimonial affairs, he heard from +the children once in a year, perhaps, after they were old enough to +write. He did not send them money, because he seemed never to have any +money to send, and because they did not ask for any. Dumbly he sensed, +as their handwriting and their spelling improved, that his children +were growing up. But when he thought of them they seemed remote, +prattling youngsters whom Minnie was for ever worrying over and who +seemed to have been always under the heels of his horse, or under the +wheels of his wagon, or playing with the pitchfork, or wandering off +into the sage while he and their distracted mother searched for them. +For a long while--how many years Brit could not remember--they had been +living in Los Angeles. Prospering, too, Brit understood. The girl, +Lorraine--Minnie had wanted fancy names for the kids, and Brit +apologised whenever he spoke of them, which was seldom--Lorraine had +written that "Mamma has an apartment house." That had sounded +prosperous, even at the beginning. And as the years passed and their +address remained the same, Brit became fixed in the belief that Casa +Grande was all that its name implied, and perhaps more. Minnie must be +getting rich. She had a picture of the place on the stationery which +Lorraine used when she wrote him. There were two palm trees in front, +with bay windows behind them, and pillars. Brit used to study these +magnificences and thank God that Minnie was doing so well. He never +could have given her a home like that. Brit sometimes added that he +had never been cut out for a married man, anyway. + +Old-timers forgot that Brit had ever been married, and late comers +never heard of it. To all intents the owners of the Quirt outfit were +old bachelors who kept pretty much to themselves, went to town only +when they needed supplies, rode old, narrow-fork saddles and grinned +scornfully at "swell-forks" and "buckin'-rolls," and listened to all +the range gossip without adding so much as an opinion. They never +talked politics nor told which candidates received their two votes. +They kept the same two men season after season,--leathery old range +hands with eyes that saw whatever came within their field of vision, +and with the gift of silence, which is rare. + +If you know anything at all about cattlemen, you will know that the +Quirt was a poor man's ranch, when I tell you that Hunter and Johnson +milked three cows and made butter, fed a few pigs on the skim milk and +the alfalfa stalks which the saddle horses and the cows disdained to +eat, kept a flock of chickens, and sold what butter, eggs and pork they +did not need for themselves. Cattlemen seldom do that. More often +they buy milk in small tin cans, butter in "squares," and do without +eggs. + +Four of a kind were the men of the TJ up-and-down, and even Bill +Warfield--president and general manager of the Sawtooth Cattle Company, +and of the Federal Reclamation Company and several other companies, +State senator and general benefactor of the Sawtooth country--even the +great Bill Warfield lifted his hat to the owners of the Quirt when he +met them, and spoke of them as "the finest specimens of our old, +fast-vanishing type of range men." Senator Warfield himself +represented the modern type of range man and was proud of his +progressiveness. Never a scheme for the country's development was +hatched but you would find Senator Warfield closely allied with it, his +voice the deciding one when policies and progress were being discussed. + +As to the Sawtooth, forty thousand acres comprised their holdings under +patents, deeds and long-time leases from the government. Another +twenty thousand acres they had access to through the grace of the +owners, and there was forest-reserve grazing besides, which the +Sawtooth could have if it chose to pay the nominal rental sum. The +Quirt ranch, was almost surrounded by Sawtooth land of one sort or +another, though there was scant grazing in the early spring on the +sagebrush wilderness to the south. This needed Quirt Creek for +accessible water, and Quirt Creek, save where it ran through cut-bank +hills, was fenced within the section and a half of the TJ up-and-down. + +So there they were, small fish making shift to live precariously with +other small fish in a pool where big fish swam lazily. If one small +fish now and then disappeared with mysterious abruptness, the other +small fish would perhaps scurry here and there for a time, but few +would leave the pool for the safe shallows beyond. + +This is a tale of the little fishes. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE ENCHANTMENT OF LONG DISTANCE + +Lorraine Hunter always maintained that she was a Western girl. If she +reached the point of furnishing details she would tell you that she had +ridden horses from the time that she could walk, and that her father +was a cattle-king of Idaho, whose cattle fed upon a thousand hills. +When she was twelve she told her playmates exciting tales about +rattlesnakes. When she was fifteen she sat breathless in the movies +and watched picturesque horsemen careering up and down and around the +thousand hills, and believed in her heart that half the Western +pictures were taken on or near her father's ranch. She seemed to +remember certain landmarks, and would point them out to her companions +and whisper a desultory lecture on the cattle industry as illustrated +by the picture. She was much inclined to criticism of the costuming +and the acting. + +At eighteen she knew definitely that she hated the very name Casa +Grande. She hated the narrow, half-lighted hallway with its "tree" +where no one ever hung a hat, and the seat beneath where no one ever +sat down. She hated the row of key-and-mail boxes on the wall, with +the bell buttons above each apartment number. She hated the jangling +of the hall telephone, the scurrying to answer, the prodding of +whichever bell button would summon the tenant asked for by the caller. +She hated the meek little Filipino boy who swept that ugly hall every +morning. She hated the scrubby palms in front. She hated the pillars +where the paint was peeling badly. She hated the conflicting odours +that seeped into the atmosphere at certain hours of the day. She hated +the three old maids on the third floor and the frowsy woman on the +first, who sat on the front steps in her soiled breakfast cap and +bungalow apron. She hated the nervous tenant who occupied the +apartment just over her mother's three-room-and-bath, and pounded with +a broom handle on the floor when Lorraine practised overtime on +chromatic scales. + +At eighteen Lorraine managed somehow to obtain work in a Western +picture, and being unusually pretty she so far distinguished herself +that she was given a small part in the next production. Her glorious +duty it was to ride madly through the little cow-town "set" to the +post-office where the sheriff's posse lounged conspicuously, and there +pull her horse to an abrupt stand and point quite excitedly to the +distant hills. Also she danced quite close to the camera in the +"Typical Cowboy Dance" which was a feature of this particular +production. + +Lorraine thereby earned enough money to buy her fall suit and coat and +cheap furs, and learned to ride a horse at a gallop and to dance what +passed in pictures as a "square dance." + +At nineteen years of age Lorraine Hunter, daughter of old Brit Hunter +of the TJ up-and-down, became a real "range-bred girl" with a real +Stetson hat of her own, a green corduroy riding skirt, gray flannel +shirt, brilliant neckerchief, boots and spurs. A third picture gave +her further practice in riding a real horse,--albeit an extremely +docile animal called Mouse with good reason. She became known on the +lot as a real cattle-king's daughter, though she did not know the name +of her father's brand and in all her life had seen no herd larger than +the thirty head of tame cattle which were chased past the camera again +and again to make them look like ten thousand, and which were so +thoroughly "camera broke" that they stopped when they were out of the +scene, turned and were ready to repeat the performance _ad lib_. + +Had she lived her life on the Quirt ranch she would have known a great +deal more about horseback riding and cattle and range dances. She +would have known a great deal less about the romance of the West, +however, and she would probably never have seen a sheriff's posse +riding twenty strong and bunched like bird-shot when it leaves the +muzzle of the gun. Indeed, I am very sure she would not. Killings +such as her father heard of with his lips drawn tight and the cords +standing out on the sides of his skinny neck she would have considered +the grim tragedies they were, without once thinking of the "picture +value" of the crime. + +As it was, her West was filled with men who died suddenly in gobs of +red paint and girls who rode loose-haired and panting with hand held +over the heart, hurrying for doctors, and cowboys and parsons and such. +She had seen many a man whip pistol from holster and dare a mob with +lips drawn back in a wolfish grin over his white, even teeth, and +kidnappings were the inevitable accompaniment of youth and beauty. + +Lorraine learned rapidly. In three years she thrilled to more +blood-curdling adventure than all the Bad Men in all the West could +have furnished had they lived to be old and worked hard at being bad +all their lives. For in that third year she worked her way +enthusiastically through a sixteen-episode movie serial called "The +Terror of the Range." She was past mistress of romance by that time. +She knew her West. + +It was just after the "Terror of the Range" was finished that a great +revulsion in the management of this particular company stopped +production with a stunning completeness that left actors and actresses +feeling very much as if the studio roof had fallen upon them. +Lorraine's West vanished. The little cow-town "set" was being torn +down to make room for something else quite different. The cowboys +appeared in tailored suits and drifted away. Lorraine went home to the +Casa Grande, hating it more than ever she had hated it in her life. + +Some one up-stairs was frying liver and onions, which was in flagrant +defiance of the Rule Four which mentioned cabbage, onions and fried +fish as undesirable foodstuffs. Outside, the palm leaves were dripping +in the night fog that had swept soggily in from the ocean. Her mother +was trying to collect a gas bill from the dressmaker down the hall, who +protested shrilly that she distinctly remembered having paid that gas +bill once and had no intention of paying it twice. + +Lorraine opened the door marked LANDLADY, and closed it with a slam +intended to remind her mother that bickerings in the hall were less +desirable than the odour of fried onions. She had often spoken to her +mother about the vulgarity of arguing in public with the tenants, but +her mother never seemed to see things as Lorraine saw them. + +In the apartment sat a man who had been too frequent a visitor, as +Lorraine judged him. He was an oldish man with the lines of failure in +his face and on his lean form the sprightly clothing of youth. He had +been a reporter,--was still, he maintained. But Lorraine suspected +shrewdly that he scarcely made a living for himself, and that he was +home-hunting in more ways than one when he came to visit her mother. + +The affair had progressed appreciably in her absence, it would appear. +He greeted her with a fatherly "Hello, kiddie," and would have kissed +her had Lorraine not evaded him skilfully. + +Her mother came in then and complained intimately to the man, and +declared that the dressmaker would have to pay that bill or have her +gas turned off. He offered sympathy, assistance in the turning off of +the gas, and a kiss which was perfectly audible to Lorraine in the next +room. The affair had indeed progressed! + +"L'raine, d'you know you've got a new papa?" her mother called out in +the peculiar, chirpy tone she used when she was exuberantly happy. "I +knew you'd be surprised!" + +"I am," Lorraine agreed, pulling aside the cheap green portieres and +looked in upon the two. Her tone was unenthusiastic. "A superfluous +gift of doubtful value. I do not feel the need of a papa, thank you. +If you want him for a husband, mother, that is entirely your own +affair. I hope you'll be very happy." + +"The kid don't want a papa; husbands are what means the most in her +young life," chuckled the groom, restraining his bride when she would +have risen from his knee. + +"I hope you'll both be very happy indeed," said Lorraine gravely. "Now +you won't mind, mother, when I tell you that I am going to dad's ranch +in Idaho. I really meant it for a vacation, but since you won't be +alone, I may stay with dad permanently. I'm leaving to-morrow or the +next day--just as soon as I can pack my trunk and get a Pullman berth." + +She did not wait to see the relief in her mother's face contradicting +the expostulations on her lips. She went out to the telephone in the +hall, remembered suddenly that her business would be overheard by half +the tenants, and decided to use the public telephone in a hotel farther +down the street. Her decision to go to her dad had been born with the +words on her lips. But it was a lusty, full-voiced young decision, and +it was growing at an amazing rate. + +Of course she would go to her dad in Idaho! She was astonished that +the idea had never before crystallised into action. Why should she +feed her imagination upon a mimic West, when the great, glorious real +West was there? What if her dad had not written a word for more than a +year? He must be alive; they would surely have heard of his death, for +she and Royal were his sole heirs, and his partner would have their +address. + +She walked fast and arrived at the telephone booth so breathless that +she was compelled to wait a few minutes before she could call her +number. She inquired about trains and rates to Echo, Idaho! + +Echo, Idaho! While she waited for the information clerk to look it up +the very words conjured visions of wide horizons and clean winds and +high adventure. If she pictured Echo, Idaho, as being a replica of the +"set" used in the movie serial, can you wonder? If she saw herself, +the beloved queen of her father's cowboys, dashing into Echo, Idaho, on +a crimply-maned broncho that pirouetted gaily before the post-office +while handsome young men in chaps and spurs and "big four" Stetsons +watched her yearningly, she was merely living mentally the only West +that she knew. + +From that beatific vision Lorraine floated into others more entrancing. +All the hairbreadth escapes of the heroine of the movie serial were +hers, adapted by her native logic to fit within the bounds of +possibility,--though I must admit they bulged here and there and +threatened to overlap and to encroach upon the impossible. Over the +hills where her father's vast herds grazed, sleek and wild and +long-horned and prone to stampede, galloped the Lorraine of Lorraine's +dreams, on horses sure-footed and swift. With her galloped strong men +whose faces limned the features of her favourite Western "lead." + +That for all her three years of intermittent intimacy with a +disillusioning world of mimicry, her dreams were pure romance, proved +that Lorraine had still the unclouded innocence of her girlhood +unspoiled. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +REALITY IS WEIGHED AND FOUND WANTING + +Still dreaming her dreams, still featuring herself as the star of many +adventures, Lorraine followed the brakeman out of the dusty day coach +and down the car steps to the platform of the place called Echo, Idaho. +I can only guess at what she expected to find there in the person of a +cattle-king father, but whatever it was she did not find it. No +father, of any type whatever, came forward to claim her. In spite of +her "Western" experience she looked about her for a taxi, or at least a +streetcar. Even in the wilds of Western melodrama one could hear the +clang of street-car gongs warning careless autoists off the track. + +After the train had hooted and gone on around an absolutely +uninteresting low hill of yellow barrenness dotted with stunted sage, +it was the silence that first impressed Lorraine disagreeably. Echo, +Idaho, was a very poor imitation of all the Western sets she had ever +seen. True, it had the straggling row of square-fronted, one-story +buildings, with hitch rails, but the signs painted across the fronts +were absolutely common. Any director she had ever obeyed would have +sent for his assistant director and would have used language which a +lady must not listen to. Behind the store and the post-office and the +blacksmith shop, on the brow of the low hill around whose point the +train had disappeared, were houses with bay windows and porches +absolutely out of keeping with the West. So far as Lorraine could see, +there was not a log cabin in the whole place. + +The hitch rails were empty, and there was not a cowboy in sight. +Before the post-office a terribly grimy touring car stood with its +running-boards loaded with canvas-covered suitcases. Three goggled, +sunburned women in ugly khaki suits were disconsolately drinking soda +water from bottles without straws, and a goggled, red-faced, +angry-looking man was jerking impatiently at the hood of the machine. +Lorraine and her suitcase apparently excited no interest whatever in +Echo, Idaho. + +The station agent was carrying two boxes of oranges and a crate of +California cabbages in out of the sun, and a limp individual in blue +gingham shirt and dirty overalls had shouldered the mail sack and was +making his way across the dusty, rut-scored street to the post-office. + +Two questions and two brief answers convinced her that the station +agent did not know Britton Hunter,--which was strange, unless this +happened to be a very new agent. Lorraine left him to his cabbages and +followed the man with the mail sack. + +At the post-office the anaemic clerk came forward, eyeing her with +admiring curiosity. Lorraine had seen anaemic young men all her life, +and the last three years had made her perfectly familiar with that look +in a young man's eyes. She met it with impatient disfavour founded +chiefly upon the young man's need of a decent hair-cut, a less flowery +tie and a tailored suit. When he confessed that he did not know Mr +Britton Hunter by sight he ceased to exist so far as Lorraine was +concerned. She decided that he also was new to the place and therefore +perfectly useless to her. + +The postmaster himself--Lorraine was cheered by his spectacles, his +shirt sleeves, and his chin whiskers, which made him look the part--was +better informed. He, too, eyed her curiously when she said "My father, +Mr Britton Hunter," but he made no comment on the relationship. He +gave her a telegram and a letter from the General Delivery. The +telegram, she suspected, was the one she had sent to her dad announcing +the date of her arrival. The postmaster advised her to get a "livery +rig" and drive out to the ranch, since it might be a week or two before +any one came in from the Quirt. Lorraine thanked him graciously and +departed for the livery stable. + +The man in charge there chewed tobacco meditatively and told her that +his teams were all out. If she was a mind to wait over a day or two, +he said, he might maybe be able to make the trip. Lorraine took a long +look at the structure which he indicated as the hotel. + +"I think I'll walk," she said calmly. + +"_Walk?_" The stableman stopped chewing and stared at her. "It's some +consider'ble of a walk. It's all of eighteen mile--I dunno but twenty, +time y'get to the house." + +"I have frequently walked twenty-five or thirty miles. I am a member +of the Sierra Club in Los Angeles. We seldom take hikes of less than +twenty miles. If you will kindly tell me which road I must take----" + +"There she is," the man stated flatly, and pointed across the railroad +track to where a sandy road drew a yellowish line through the sage, +evidently making for the hills showing hazily violet in the distance. +Those hills formed the only break in the monotonous gray landscape, and +Lorraine was glad that her journey would take her close to them. + +"Thank you so much," she said coldly and returned to the station. In +the small lavatory of the depot waiting room she exchanged her slippers +for a pair of moderately low-heeled shoes which she had at the last +minute of packing tucked into her suitcase, put a few extra articles +into her rather smart travelling bag, left the suitcase in the +telegraph office and started. Not another question would she ask of +Echo, Idaho, which was flatter and more insipid than the drinking water +in the tin "cooler" in the waiting room. The station agent stood with +his hands on his hips and watched her cross the track and start down +the road, pardonably astonished to see a young woman walk down a road +that led only to the hills twenty miles away, carrying her luggage +exactly as if her trip was a matter of a block or two at most. + +The bag was rather heavy and as she went on it became heavier. She +meant to carry it slung across her shoulder on a stick as soon as she +was well away from the prying eyes of Echo's inhabitants. Later, if +she felt tired, she could easily hide it behind a bush along the road +and send one of her father's cowboys after it. The road was very dusty +and carried the wind-blown traces of automobile tires. Some one would +surely overtake her and give her a ride before she walked very far. + +For the first half hour she believed that she was walking on level +ground, but when she looked back there was no sign of any town behind +her. Echo had disappeared as completely as if it had been swallowed. +Even the unseemly bay-windowed houses on the hill had gone under. She +walked for another half hour and saw only the gray sage stretching all +around her. The hills looked farther away than when she started. +Still, that beaten road must lead somewhere. Two hours later she began +to wonder why this particular road should be so unending and so empty. +Never in her life before had she walked for two hours without seeming +to get anywhere, or without seeing any living human. + +Both shoulders were sore from the weight of the bag on the stick, but +the sagebushes looked so exactly alike that she feared she could not +describe the particular spot where the cowboys would find her bag, +wherefore she carried it still. She was beginning to change hands very +often when the wind came. + +Just where or how that wind sprang up she did not know. Suddenly it +was whooping across the sage and flinging up clouds of dust from the +road. To Lorraine, softened by years of southern California weather, +it seemed to blow straight off an ice field, it was so cold. + +After an interminable time which measured three hours on her watch, she +came to an abrupt descent into a creek bed, down the middle of which +the creek itself was flowing swiftly. Here the road forked, a rough, +little-used trail keeping on up the creek, the better travelled road +crossing and climbing the farther bank. Lorraine scarcely hesitated +before she chose the main trail which crossed the creek. + +From the creek the trail she followed kept climbing until Lorraine +wondered if there would ever be a top. The wind whipped her narrow +skirts and impeded her, tugged at her hat, tingled her nose and watered +her eyes. But she kept on doggedly, disgustedly, the West, which she +had seen through the glamour of swift-blooded Romance, sinking lower +and lower in her estimation. Nothing but jack rabbits and little, +twittery birds moved through the sage, though she watched hungrily for +horsemen. + +Quite suddenly the gray landscape glowed with a palpitating radiance, +unreal, beautiful beyond expression. She stopped, turned to face the +west and stared awestruck at one of those flaming sunsets which makes +the desert land seem but a gateway into the ineffable glory beyond the +earth. That the high-piled, gorgeous cloud-bank presaged a +thunderstorm she never guessed; and that a thunderstorm may be a +deadly, terrifying peril she never had quite believed. Her mother had +told of people being struck by lightning, but Lorraine could not +associate lightning with death, especially in the West, where men +usually died by shooting, lynching, or by pitching over a cliff. + +The wind hushed as suddenly as it had whooped. Warned by the twinkling +lights far behind her--lights which must be the small part at last +visible of Echo, Idaho--Lorraine went on. She had been walking +steadily for four hours, and she must surely have come nearly twenty +miles. If she ever reached the top of the hill, she believed that she +would see her father's ranch just beyond. + +The afterglow had deepened to dusk when she came at last to the highest +point of that long grade. Far ahead loomed a cluster of square, black +objects which must be the ranch buildings of the Quirt, and Lorraine's +spirits lightened a little. What a surprise her father and all his +cowboys would have when she walked in upon them! It was almost worth +the walk, she told herself hearteningly. She hoped that dad had a good +cook. He would wear a flour-sack apron, naturally, and would be tall +and lean, or else very fat. He would be a comedy character, but she +hoped he would not be the grouchy kind, which, though very funny when +he rampages around on the screen, might be rather uncomfortable to meet +when one is tired and hungry and out of sorts. But of course the +crankiest of comedy cooks would be decently civil to _her_. Men always +were, except directors who are paid for their incivility. + +A hollow into which she walked in complete darkness and in silence, +save the gurgling of another stream, hid from sight the shadowy +semblance of houses and barns and sheds. Their disappearance slumped +her spirits again, for without them she was no more than a solitary +speck in the vast loneliness. Their actual nearness could not comfort +her. She was seized with a reasonless, panicky fear that by the time +she crossed the stream and climbed the hill beyond they would no longer +be there where she had seen them. She was lifting her skirts to wade +the creek when the click of hoofs striking against rocks sent her +scurrying to cover in a senseless fear. + +"I learned this act from the jack rabbits," she rallied herself +shakily, when she was safely hidden behind a sagebush whose pungency +made her horribly afraid that she might sneeze, which would be too +ridiculous. + +"Some of dad's cowboys, probably, but still they _may_ be bandits." + +If they were bandits they could scarcely be out banditting, for the two +horsemen were talking in ordinary, conversational tones as they rode +leisurely down to the ford. When they passed Lorraine, the horse +nearest her shied against the other and was sworn at parenthetically +for a fool. Against the skyline Lorraine saw the rider's form bulk +squatty and ungraceful, reminding her of an actor whom she knew and did +not like. It was that resemblance perhaps which held her quiet instead +of following her first impulse to speak to them and ask them to carry +her to the house. + +The horses stopped with their forefeet in the water and drooped heads +to drink thirstily. The riders continued their conversation. + +"--and as I says time and again, they ain't big enough to fight the +outfit, and the quicker they git out the less lead they'll carry under +their hides when they do go. What they want to try an' hang on for, +beats me. Why, it's like setting into a poker game with a five-cent +piece! They ain't got my sympathy. I ain't got any use for a damn +fool, no way yuh look at it." + +"Well, there's the TJ--they been here a long while, and they ain't +packin' any lead, and they ain't getting out." + +"Well, say, lemme tell yuh something. The TJ'll git theirs and git it +right. Drink all night, would yuh?" He swore long and fluently at his +horse, spurred him through the shallows, and the two rode on up the +hill, their voices still mingled in desultory argument, with now and +then an oath rising clearly above the jumble of words. + +They may have been law-abiding citizens riding home, to families that +were waiting supper for them, but Lorraine crept out from behind her +sagebush, sneezing and thanking her imitation of the jack rabbits. +Whoever they were, she was not sorry she had let them ride on. They +might be her father's men, and they might have been very polite and +chivalrous to her. But their voices and their manner of speaking had +been rough; and it is one thing, Lorraine reflected, to mingle with +made-up villains--even to be waylaid and kidnapped and tied to trees +and threatened with death--but it is quite different to accost +rough-speaking men in the dark when you know they are not being rough +to suit the director of the scene. + +She was so absorbed in trying to construct a range of war or something +equally thrilling from the scrap of conversation she had heard that she +reached the hilltop in what seemed a very few minutes of climbing. The +sky was becoming overcast. Already the stars to the west were blotted +out, and the absolute stillness of the atmosphere frightened her more +than the big, dark wilderness itself. It seemed to her exactly as +though the earth was holding its breath and waiting for something +terrible to happen. The vague bulk of buildings was still some +distance ahead, and when a rumble like the deepest notes of a pipe +organ began to fill all the air, Lorraine thrust her grip under a bush +and began to run, her soggy shoes squashing unpleasantly on the rough +places in the road. + +Lorraine had seen many stage storms and had thrilled ecstatically to +the mimic lightning, knowing just how it was made. But when that huge +blackness behind and to the left of her began to open and show a +terrible brilliance within, and to close abruptly, leaving the world +ink black, she was terrified. She wanted to hide as she had hidden +from those two men; but from that stupendous monster, a real +thunderstorm, sagebrush formed no protection whatever. She must reach +the substantial shelter of buildings, the comforting presence of men +and women. + +She ran, and as she ran she wept aloud like a child and called for her +father. The deep rumble grew louder, nearer. The revealed brilliance +became swift sword-thrusts of blinding light that seemed to stab deep +the earth. Lorraine ran awkwardly, her hands over her ears, crying out +at each lightning flash, her voice drowned in the thunder that followed +it close. Then, as she neared the sombre group of buildings, the +clouds above them split with a terrific, rending crash, and the whole +place stood pitilessly revealed to her, as if a spotlight had been +turned on. Lorraine stood aghast. The buildings were not buildings at +all. They were rocks, great, black, forbidding boulders standing there +on a narrow ridge, having a diabolic likeness to houses. + +The human mind is wonderfully resilient, but readjustment comes slowly +after a shock. Dumbly, refusing to admit the significance of what she +had seen, Lorraine went forward. Not until she had reached and had +touched the first grotesque caricature of habitation did she wholly +grasp the fact that she was lost, and that shelter might be miles away. +She stood and looked at the orderly group of boulders as the lightning +intermittently revealed them. She saw where the road ran on, between +two square-faced rocks. She would have to follow the road, for after +all it must lead _somewhere_,--to her father's ranch, probably. She +wondered irrelevantly why her mother had never mentioned these queer +rocks, and she wondered vaguely if any of them had caves or ledges +where she could be safe from the lightning. + +She was on the point of stepping out into the road again when a +horseman rode into sight between the two rocks. In the same instant of +his appearance she heard the unmistakable crack of a gun, saw the rider +jerk backward in the saddle, throw up one hand--and then the darkness +dropped between them. + +Lorraine crouched behind a juniper bush close against the rock and +waited. The next flash came within a half-minute. It showed a man at +the horse's head, holding it by the bridle. The horse was rearing. +Lorraine tried to scream that the man on the ground would be trampled, +but something went wrong with her voice, so that she could only whisper. + +When the light came again the man who had been shot was not altogether +on the ground. The other, working swiftly, had thrust the injured +man's foot through the stirrup. Lorraine saw him stand back and lift +his quirt to slash the horse across the rump. Even through the crash +of thunder Lorraine heard the horse go past her down the hill, +galloping furiously. When she could see again she glimpsed him +running, while something bounced along on the ground beside him. + +She saw the other man, with a dry branch in his hand, dragging it +across the road where it ran between the two rocks. Then Lorraine +Hunter, hardened to the sight of crimes committed for picture values +only, realised sickeningly that she had just looked upon a real +murder,--the cold-blooded killing of a man. She felt very sick. Queer +little red sparks squirmed and danced before her eyes. She crumpled +down quietly behind the jumper bush and did not know when the rain +came, though it drenched her in the first two or three minutes of +downpour. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +"SHE'S A GOOD GIRL WHEN SHE AIN'T CRAZY" + +When the sun has been up just long enough to take the before-dawn chill +from the air without having swallowed all the diamonds that spangle +bush and twig and grass-blade after a night's soaking rain, it is good +to ride over the hills of Idaho and feel oneself a king,--and never +mind the crown and the sceptre. Lone Morgan, riding early to the +Sawtooth to see the foreman about getting a man for a few days to help +replace a bridge carried fifty yards downstream by a local cloudburst, +would not have changed places with a millionaire. The horse he rode +was the horse he loved, the horse he talked to like a pal when they +were by themselves. The ridge gave him a wide outlook to the four +corners of the earth. Far to the north the Sawtooth range showed blue, +the nearer mountains pansy purple where the pine trees stood, the +foothills shaded delicately where canyons swept down to the gray plain. +To the south was the sagebrush, a soft, gray-green carpet under the +sun. The sky was blue, the clouds were handfuls of clean cotton +floating lazily. Of the night's storm remained no trace save slippery +mud when his horse struck a patch of clay, which was not often, and the +packed sand still wet and soggy from the beating rain. + +Rock City showed black and inhospitable even in the sunlight. The rock +walls rose sheer, the roofs slanted rakishly, the signs scratched on +the rock by facetious riders were pointless and inane. Lone picked his +way through the crooked defile that was marked MAIN STREET on the +corner of the first huge boulder and came abruptly into the road. Here +he turned north and shook his horse into a trot. + +A hundred yards or so down the slope beyond Rock City he pulled up +short with a "What the hell!" that did not sound profane, but merely +amazed. In the sodden road were the unmistakable footprints of a +woman. Lone did not hesitate in naming the sex, for the wet sand held +the imprint cleanly, daintily. Too shapely for a boy, too small for +any one but a child or a woman with little feet, and with the point at +the toes proclaiming the fashion of the towns, Lone guessed at once +that she was a town girl, a stranger, probably,--and that she had +passed since the rain; which meant since daylight. + +He swung his horse and rode back, wondering where she could have spent +the night. Halfway through Rock City the footprints ended abruptly, +and Lone turned back, riding down the trail at a lope. She couldn't +have gone far, he reasoned, and if she had been out all night in the +rain, with no better shelter than Rock City afforded, she would need +help,--"and lots of it, and pretty darn quick," he added to John Doe, +which was the ambiguous name of his horse. + +Half a mile farther on he overtook her. Rather, he sighted her in the +trail, saw her duck in amongst the rocks and scattered brush of a small +ravine, and spurred after her. It was precarious footing for his horse +when he left the road, but John Doe was accustomed to that. He jumped +boulders, shied around buckthorn, crashed through sagebrush and so +brought the girl to bay against a wet bank, where she stood shivering. +The terror in her face and her wide eyes would have made her famous in +the movies. It made Lone afraid she was crazy. + +Lone swung off and went up to her guardedly, not knowing just what an +insane woman might do when cornered. "There, now, I'm not going to +hurt yuh at all," he soothed. "I guess maybe you're lost. What made +you run away from me when you saw me coming?" + +Lorraine continued to stare at him. + +"I'm going to the ranch, and if you'd like a ride, I'll lend you my +horse. He'll be gentle if I lead him. It's a right smart walk from +here." Lone smiled, meaning to reassure her. + +"Are you the man I saw shoot that man and then fasten him to the +stirrup of the saddle so the horse dragged him down the road? If you +are, I--I----" + +"No--oh, no, I'm not the man," Lone said gently. "I just now came from +home. Better let me take you in to the ranch." + +"I was going to the ranch--did you see him shoot that man and make the +horse drag him--_make_ the horse--he _slashed_ that horse with the +quirt--and he went tearing down the road dragging--it--it +was--_horrible_!" + +"Yes--yes, don't worry about it. We'll fix him. You come and get on +John Doe and let me take you to the ranch. Come on--you're wet as a +ducked pup." + +"That man was just riding along--I saw him when it lightened. And he +shot him--oh, can't you _do_ something?" + +"Yes, yes, they're after him right now. Here. Just put your foot in +the stirrup--I'll help you up. Why, you're soaked!" Perseveringly +Lone urged her to the horse. "You're soaking wet!" he exclaimed again. + +"It rained," she muttered confusedly. "I thought it was the ranch--but +they were rocks. Just rocks. Did you _see_ him shoot that man? +Why--why it shouldn't be allowed! He ought to be arrested right +away--I'd have called a policeman but--isn't thunder and lightning just +perfectly _awful_? And that horse--going down the road dragging----" + +"You'd better get some one to double for me in this scene," she said +irrelevantly. "I--I don't know this horse, and if he starts running +the boys might not catch him in time. It isn't safe, is it?" + +"It's safe," said Lone pityingly. "You won't be dragged. You just get +on and ride. I'll lead him. John Doe's gentle as a dog." + +"Just straight riding?" Lorraine considered the matter gravely. +"Wel-ll--but I saw a man dragged, once. He'd been shot first. It--it +was awful!" + +"I'll bet it was. How'd you come to be walking so far?" + +Lorraine looked at him suspiciously. Lone thought her eyes were the +most wonderful eyes--and the most terrible--that he had ever seen. +Almond-shaped they were, the irises a clear, dark gray, the eyeballs +blue-white like a healthy baby's. That was the wonder of them. But +their glassy shine made them terrible. Her lids lifted in a sudden +stare. + +"You're not the man, are you? I--I think he was taller than you. And +his hat was brown. He's a brute--a _beast_! To shoot a man just +riding along---- It rained," she added plaintively. "My bag is back +there somewhere under a bush. I think I could find the bush--it was +where a rabbit was sitting--but he's probably gone by this time. A +rabbit," she told him impressively, "wouldn't sit out in the rain all +night, would he? He'd get wet. And a rabbit would feel horrid when he +was wet--such thick fur he never _would_ get dried out. Where do they +go when it rains? They have holes in the ground, don't they?" + +"Yes. Sure, they do. I'll show you one, down the road here a little +piece. Come on--it ain't far." + +To see a rabbit hole in the ground, Lorraine consented to mount and +ride while Lone walked beside her, agreeing with everything she said +that needed agreement. When she had gone a few rods, however, she +began to call him Charlie and to criticise the direction of the +picture. They should not, she declared, mix murders and thunderstorms +in the same scene. While the storm effect was perfectly _wonderful_, +she thought it rather detracted from the killing. She did not believe +in lumping big stuff together like that. Why not have the killing done +by moonlight, and use the storm when the murderer was getting away, or +something like that? And as for taking them out on location and making +all those storm scenes without telling them in advance so that they +could have dry clothes afterwards, she thought it a perfect outrage! +If it were not for spoiling the picture, she would quit, she asserted +indignantly. She thought the director had better go back to driving a +laundry wagon, which was probably where he came from. + +Lone agreed with her, even though he did not know what she was talking +about. He walked as fast as he could, but even so he could not travel +the six miles to the ranch very quickly. He could see that the girl +was burning up with fever, and he could hear her voice growing +husky,--could hear, too, the painful labouring of her breath. When she +was not mumbling incoherent nonsense she was laughing hoarsely at the +plight she was in, and after that she would hold both hands to her +chest and moan in a way that made Lone grind his teeth. + +When he lifted her off his horse at the foreman's cottage she was +whispering things no one could understand. Three cowpunchers came +running and hindered him a good deal in carrying her into the house, +and the foreman's wife ran excitedly from one room to the other, asking +questions and demanding that some one do something "for pity's sake, +she may be dying for all you know, while you stand there gawping like +fool-hens." + +"She was out all night in the rain--got lost, somehow. She said she +was coming here, so I brought her on. She's down with a cold, Mrs +Hawkins. Better take off them wet clothes and put hot blankets around +her. And a poultice or something on her chest, I reckon." Lone turned +to the door, stopped to roll a cigarette, and watched Mrs Hawkins +hurrying to Lorraine with a whisky toddy the cook had mixed for her. + +"A sweat's awful good for a cold like she's got," he volunteered +practically. "She's out of her head--or she was when I found her. But +I reckon that's mostly scare, from being lost all night. Give her a +good sweat, why don't you?" He reached the doorstep and then turned +back to add, "She left a grip back somewhere along the road. I'll go +hunt it up, I reckon." + +He mounted John Doe and rode down to the corral, where two or three +riders were killing time on various pretexts while they waited for +details of Lone's adventure. Delirious young women of the silk +stocking class did not arrive at the Sawtooth every morning, and it was +rumoured already amongst the men that she was some looker, which +naturally whetted their interest in her. + +"I'll bet it's one of Bob's girls, come trailin' him up. Mebby another +of them heart-ballum cases of Bob's," hazarded Pop Bridgers, who read +nothing unless it was printed on pink paper, and who refused to believe +that any good could come out of a city. "Ain't that right, Loney? +Hain't she a heart-ballum girl of Bob's?" + +From the saddle Lone stared down impassively at Pop and Pop's +companions. "I don't know a thing about her," he stated emphatically. +"She said she was coming to the ranch, and she was scared of the +thunder and lightning. That's every word of sense I could get outa +her. She ain't altogether ignorant--she knows how to climb on a horse, +anyway, and she kicked about having to ride sideways on account of her +skirts. She was plumb out of her head, and talked wild, but she +handled her reins like a rider. And she never mentioned Bob, nor +anybody else excepting some fellow she called Charlie. She thought I +was him, but she only talked to me friendly. She didn't pull any love +talk at all." + +"Charlie?" Pop ruminated over a fresh quid of tobacco. "Charlie! +Mebby Bob, he stakes himself to a different name now and then. There +ain't any Charlie, except Charlie Werner; she wouldn't mean him, do yuh +s'pose?" + +"Charlie Werner? Hunh! Say, Pop, she ain't no squaw--is she, Loney?" +Sid Sterling remonstrated. + +"If I can read brands," Lone testified, "she's no girl of Bob's. She's +a good, honest girl when she ain't crazy." + +"And no good, honest girl who is not crazy could possibly be a girl of +mine! Is that the idea, Lone?" + +Lone turned unhurriedly and looked at young Bob Warfield standing in +the stable door with his hands in his trousers pockets and his pipe in +his mouth. + +"That ain't the argument. Pop, here, was wondering if she was another +heart-ballum girl of yours," Lone grinned unabashed. "I don't know +such a hell of a lot about heart-balm ladies, Bob. I ain't a +millionaire. I'm just making a guess at their brand--and it ain't the +brand this little lady carries." + +Bob removed one hand from his pocket and cuddled the bowl of his pipe. +"If she's a woman, she's a heart-balmer if she gets the chance. They +all are, down deep in their tricky hearts. There isn't a woman on +earth that won't sell a man's soul out of his body if she happens to +think it's worth her while--and she can get away with it. But don't +for any sake call her _my_ heart-balmer." + +"That was Pop," drawled Lone. "It don't strike me as being any subject +for you fellows to make remarks about, anyway," he advised Pop firmly. +"She's a right nice little girl, and she's pretty darn sick." He +touched John Doe with the spurs and rode away, stopping at the +foreman's gate to finish his business with Hawkins. He was a +conscientious young man, and since he had charge of Elk Spring camp, he +set its interests above his own, which was more than some of the +Sawtooth men would have done in his place. + +Having reported the damage to the bridge and made his suggestions about +the repairs, he touched up John Doe again and loped away on a purely +personal matter, which had to do with finding the bag which the girl +had told him was under a bush where a rabbit had been sitting. + +If she had not been so very sick, Lone would have laughed at her naive +method of identifying the spot. But he was too sorry for her to be +amused at the vagaries of her sick brain. He did not believe anything +she had said, except that she had been coming to the ranch and had left +her bag under a bush beside the road. It should not be difficult to +find it, if he followed the road and watched closely the bushes on +either side. + +Until he reached the place where he had first sighted her, Lone rode +swiftly, anxious to be through with the business and go his way. But +when he came upon her footprints again, he pulled up and held John Doe +to a walk, scanning each bush and boulder as he passed. + +It seemed probable that she had left the grip at Rock City where she +must have spent the night. She had spoken of being deceived into +thinking the place was the Sawtooth ranch until she had come into it +and found it "just rocks." Then, he reasoned, the storm had broken, +and her fright had held her there. When daylight came she had either +forgotten the bag or had left it deliberately. + +At Rock City, then, Lone stopped to examine the base of every rock, +even riding around those nearest the road. The girl, he guessed +shrewdly, had not wandered off the main highway, else she would not +have been able to find it again. Rock City was confusing unless one +was perfectly familiar with its curious, winding lanes. + +It was when he was riding slowly around the boulder marked "Palace +Hotel, Rates Reasnible," that he came upon the place where a horse had +stood, on the side best sheltered from the storm. Deep hoof marks +closely overlapping, an overturned stone here and there gave proof +enough, and the rain-beaten soil that blurred the hoofprints farthest +from the rock told him more. Lone backed away, dismounted, and, +stepping carefully, went close. He could see no reason why a horse +should have stood there with his head toward the road ten feet away, +unless his rider was waiting for something--or some one. There were +other boulders near which offered more shelter from rain. + +Next the rock he discovered a boot track, evidently made when the rider +dismounted. He thought of the wild statement of the girl about seeing +some one shoot a man and wondered briefly if there could be a basis of +truth in what she said. But the road showed no sign of a struggle, +though there were, here and there, hoofprints half washed out with the +rain. + +Lone went back to his horse and rode on, still looking for the bag. +His search was thorough and, being a keen-eyed young man, he discovered +the place where Lorraine had crouched down by a rock. She must have +stayed there all night, for the scuffed soil was dry where her body had +rested, and her purse, caught in the juniper bush close by, was sodden +with rain. + +"The poor little kid!" he muttered, and with a sudden impulse he turned +and looked toward the rock behind which the horse had stood. Help had +been that close, and she had not known it, unless---- + +"If anything happened there last night, she could have seen it from +here," he decided, and immediately put the thought away from him. + +"But nothing happened," he added, "unless maybe she saw him ride out +and go on down the road. She was out of her head and just imagined +things." + +He slipped the soaked purse into his coat pocket, remounted and rode on +slowly, looking for the grip and half-believing she had not been +carrying one, but had dreamed it just as she had dreamed that a man had +been shot. + +He rode past the bag without seeing it, for Lorraine had thrust it far +back under a stocky bush whose scraggly branches nearly touched the +ground. So he came at last to the creek, swollen with the night's +storm so that it was swift and dangerous. Lone was turning back when +John Doe threw up his head, stared up the creek for a moment and +whinnied shrilly. Lone stood in the stirrups and looked. + +A blaze-faced horse was standing a short rifle-shot away, bridled and +with an empty saddle. Whether he was tied or not Lone, could not tell +at that distance, but he knew the horse by its banged forelock and its +white face and sorrel ears, and he knew the owner of the horse. He +rode toward it slowly. + +"Whoa, you rattle-headed fool," he admonished, when the horse snorted +and backed a step or two as he approached. He saw the bridle-reins +dangling, broken, where the horse had stepped on them in running. +"Broke loose and run off again," he said, as he took down his rope and +widened the loop. "I'll bet Thurman would sell you for a bent nickel, +this morning." + +The horse squatted and jumped when he cast the loop, and then stood +quivering and snorting while Lone dismounted and started toward him. +Ten steps from the horse Lone stopped short, staring. For down in the +bushes on the farther side half lay, half hung the limp form of a man. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +A DEATH "BY ACCIDENT" + +Lone Morgan was a Virginian by birth, though few of his acquaintances +knew it. + +Lone never talked of himself except as his personal history touched a +common interest with his fellows. But until he was seventeen he had +lived very close to the centre of one of the deadliest feuds of the +Blue Ridge. That he had been neutral was merely an accident of birth, +perhaps. And that he had not become involved in the quarrel that raged +among his neighbours was the direct result of a genius for holding his +tongue. He had attended the funerals of men shot down in their own +dooryards, he had witnessed the trials of the killers. He had grown up +with the settled conviction that other men's quarrels did not concern +him so long as he was not directly involved, and that what did not +concern him he had no right to discuss. If he stood aside and let +violence stalk by unhindered, he was merely doing what he had been +taught to do from the time he could walk. "Mind your own business and +let other folks do the same," had been the family slogan in Lone's +home. There had been nothing in Lone's later life to convince him that +minding his own business was not a very good habit. It had grown to be +second nature,--and it had made him a good man for the Sawtooth Cattle +Company to have on its pay roll. + +Just now Lone was stirred beyond his usual depth of emotion, and it was +not altogether the sight of Fred Thurman's battered body that unnerved +him. He wanted to believe that Thurman's death was purely an +accident,--the accident it appeared. But Lorraine and the telltale +hoofprints by the rock compelled him to believe that it was not an +accident. He knew that if he examined carefully enough Fred Thurman's +body he would find the mark of a bullet. He was tempted to look, and +yet he did not want to know. It was no business of his; it would be +foolish to let it become his business. + +"He's too dead to care now how it happened--and it would only stir up +trouble," he finally decided and turned his eyes away. + +He pulled the twisted foot from the stirrup, left the body where it +lay, and led the blaze-faced horse to a tree and tied it securely. He +took off his coat and spread it over the head and shoulders of the dead +man, weighted the edges with rocks and rode away. + +Halfway up the hill he left the road and took a narrow trail through +the sage, a short-cut that would save him a couple of miles. + +The trail crossed the ridge half a mile beyond Rock City, dipping into +the lower end of the small gulch where he had overtaken the girl. The +place recalled with fresh vividness her first words to him: "Are _you_ +the man I saw shoot that other man and fasten his foot in the stirrup?" +Lone shivered and threw away the cigarette he had just lighted. + +"My God, that girl mustn't tell that to any one else!" he exclaimed +apprehensively. "No matter who she is or what she is, she mustn't tell +that!" + +"Hello! Who you talking to? I heard somebody talking----" The bushes +parted above a low, rocky ledge and a face peered out, smiling +good-humouredly. Lone started a little and pulled up. + +"Oh, hello, Swan. I was just telling this horse of mine all I was +going to do to him. Say, you're a chancey bird, Swan, yelling from the +brush like that. Some folks woulda taken a shot at you." + +"Then they'd hit me, sure," Swan observed, letting himself down into +the trail. He, too, was wet from his hat crown to his shoes, that +squelched when he landed lightly on his toes. "Anybody would be +ashamed to shoot at a mark so large as I am. I'd say they're poor +shooters." And he added irrelevantly, as he held up a grayish pelt, "I +got that coyote I been chasing for two weeks. He was sure smart. He +had me guessing. But I made him guess some, maybe. He guessed wrong +this time." + +Lone's eyes narrowed while he looked Swan over. "You must have been +out all night," he said. "You're crazier about hunting than I am." + +"Wet bushes," Swan corrected carelessly. "I been tramping since +daylight. It's my work to hunt, like it's your work to ride." He had +swung into the trail ahead of John Doe and was walking with long +strides,--the tallest, straightest, limberest young Swede in all the +country. He had the bluest eyes, the readiest smile, the healthiest +colour, the sunniest hair and disposition the Sawtooth country had seen +for many a day. He had homesteaded an eighty-acre claim on the south +side of Bear Top and had by that means gained possession of two living +springs and the only accessible portion of Wilder Creek where it +crossed the meadow called Skyline before it plunged into a gulch too +narrow for cattle to water with any safety. + +The Sawtooth Cattle Company had for years "covered" that eighty-acre +patch of government land, never dreaming that any one would ever file +on it. Swan Vjolmar was there and had his log cabin roofed and ready +for the door and windows before the Sawtooth discovered his presence. +Now, nearly a year afterwards, he was accepted in a tolerant, +half-friendly spirit. He had not objected to the Sawtooth cattle which +still watered at Skyline Meadow. He was a "Government hunter" and he +had killed many coyotes and lynx and even a mountain lion or two. Lone +wondered sometimes what the Sawtooth meant to do about the Swede, but +so far the Sawtooth seemed inclined to do nothing at all, evidently +thinking his war on animal pests more than atoned for his effrontery in +taking Skyline as a homestead. When he had proven up on his claim they +would probably buy him out and have the water still. + +"Well, what do you know?" Swan turned his head to inquire abruptly. +"You're pretty quiet." + +Lone roused himself. "Fred Thurman's been dragged to death by that +damned flighty horse of his," he said. "I found him in the brush this +side of Granite Creek. Had his foot caught in the stirrup. I thought +I'd best leave him there till the coroner can view him." + +Swan stopped short in the trail and turned facing Lone. "Last night my +dog Yack whines to go out. He went and sat in a place where he looks +down on the walley, and he howled for half an hour. I said then that +somebody in the walley has died. That dog is something queer about it. +He knows things." + +"I'm going to the Sawtooth," Lone told him. "I can telephone to the +coroner from there. Anybody at Thurman's place, do you know?" + +Swan shook his head and started again down the winding, steep trail. +"I don't hunt over that way for maybe a week. That's too bad he's +killed. I like Fred Thurman. He's a fine man, you bet." + +"He was," said Lone soberly. "It's a damn shame he had to go--like +that." + +Swan glanced back at him, studied Lone's face for an instant and turned +into a tributary gully where a stream trickled down over the water-worn +rocks. "Here I leave you," he volunteered, as Lone came abreast of +him. "A coyote's crossed up there, and I maybe find his tracks. I +could go do chores for Fred Thurman if nobody's there. Should I do +that? What you say, Lone?" + +"You might drift around by there if it ain't too much out of your way, +and see if he's got a man on the ranch," Lone suggested. "But you +better not touch anything in the house, Swan. The coroner'll likely +appoint somebody to look around and see if he's got any folks to send +his stuff to. Just feed any stock that's kept up, if nobody's there." + +"All right," Swan agreed readily. "I'll do that, Lone. Good-bye." + +Lone nodded and watched him climb the steep slope of the gulch on the +side toward Thurman's ranch. Swan climbed swiftly, seeming to take no +thought of where he put his feet, yet never once slipping or slowing. +In two minutes he was out of sight, and Lone rode on moodily, trying +not to think of Fred Thurman, trying to shut from his mind the things +that wild-eyed, hoarse-voiced girl had told him. + +"Lone, you mind your own business," he advised himself once. "You +don't know anything that's going to do any one any good, and what you +don't know there's no good guessing. But that girl--she mustn't talk +like that!" + +Of Swan he scarcely gave a thought after the Swede had disappeared, yet +Swan was worth a thought or two, even from a man who was bent on +minding his own business. Swan had no sooner climbed the gulch toward +Thurman's claim than he proceeded to descend rather carefully to the +bottom again, walk along on the rocks for some distance and climb to +the ridge whose farther slope led down to Granite Creek. He did not +follow the trail, but struck straight across an outcropping ledge, +descended to Granite Creek and strode along next the hill where the +soil was gravelly and barren. When he had gone some distance, he sat +down and took from under his coat two huge, crudely made moccasins of +coyote skin. These he pulled on over his shoes, tied them around his +ankles and went on, still keeping close under the hill. + +He reached the place where Fred Thurman lay, stood well away from the +body and studied every detail closely. Then, stepping carefully on +trampled brush and rocks, he approached and cautiously lifted Lone's +coat. It was not a pretty sight, but Swan's interest held him there +for perhaps ten minutes, his eyes leaving the body only when the +blaze-faced horse moved. Then Swan would look up quickly at the horse, +seem reassured when he saw that the animal was not watching anything at +a distance, and return, to his curious task. Finally he drew the coat +back over the head and shoulders, placed each stone exactly as he had +found it and went up to the horse, examining the saddle rather closely. +After that he retreated as carefully as he had approached. When he had +gone half a mile or so upstream he found a place where he could wash +his hands without wetting his moccasins, returned to the rocky hillside +and took off the clumsy footgear and stowed them away under his coat. +Then with long strides that covered the ground as fast as a horse could +do without loping, Swan headed as straight as might be for the Thurman +ranch. + +About noon Swan approached the crowd of men and a few women who stood +at a little distance and whispered together, with their faces averted +from the body around which the men stood grouped. The news had spread +as such news will, even in a country so sparsely settled as the +Sawtooth. Swan counted forty men,--he did not bother with the women. +Fred Thurman had been known to every one of them. Some one had spread +a piece of canvas over the corpse, and Swan did not go very near. The +blaze-faced horse had been led farther away and tied to a cottonwood, +where some one had thrown down a bundle of hay. The Sawtooth country +was rather punctilious in its duty toward the law, and it was generally +believed that the coroner would want to see the horse that had caused +the tragedy. + +Half an hour after Swan arrived, the coroner came in a machine, and +with him came the sheriff. The coroner, an important little man, +examined the body, the horse and the saddle, and there was the usual +formula of swearing in a jury. The inquest was rather short, since +there was only one witness to testify, and Lone merely told how he had +discovered the horse there by the creek, and that the body had not been +moved from where he found it. + +Swan went over to where Lone, anxious to get away from the place, was +untying his horse after the jury had officially named the death an +accident. + +"I guess those horses could be turned loose," he began without prelude. +"What you think, Lone? I been to Thurman's ranch, and I don't find +anybody. Some horses in a corral, and pigs in a pen, and chickens. I +guess Thurman was living alone. Should I tell the coroner that?" + +"I dunno," Lone replied shortly. "You might speak to the sheriff. I +reckon he's the man to take charge of things." + +"It's bad business, getting killed," Swan said vaguely. "It makes me +feel damn sorry when I go to that ranch. There's the horses waiting +for breakfast--and Thurman, he's dead over here and can't feed his pigs +and his chickens. It's a white cat over there that comes to meet me +and rubs my leg and purrs like it's lonesome. That's a nice ranch he's +got, too. Now what becomes of that ranch? What you think, Lone?" + +"Hell, how should I know?" Lone scowled at him from the saddle and +rode away, leaving Swan standing there staring after him. He turned +away to find the sheriff and almost collided with Brit Hunter, who was +glancing speculatively from him to Lone Morgan. Swan stopped and put +out his hand to shake. + +"Lone says I should tell the sheriff I could look after Fred Thurman's +ranch. What you think, Mr Hunter?" + +"Good idea, I guess. Somebody'll have to. They can't----" He checked +himself. "You got a horse? I'll ride over with yuh, maybe." + +"I got legs," Swan returned laconically. "They don't get scared, Mr +Hunter, and maybe kill me sometime. You could tell the sheriff I'm +government hunter and honest man, and I take good care of things. You +could do that, please?" + +"Sure," said Brit and rode over to where the sheriff was standing. + +The sheriff listened, nodded, beckoned to Swan. "The court'll have to +settle up the estate and find his heirs, if he's got any. But you look +after things--what's your name? Vjolmar--how yuh spell it? I'll swear +you in as a deputy. Good Lord, you're a husky son-of-a-gun!" The +sheriff's eyes went up to Swan's hat crown, descended to his shoulders +and lingered there admiringly for a moment, travelled down his flat, +hard-muscled body and his straight legs. "I'll bet you could put up +some fight, if you had to," he commented. + +Swan grinned good-humouredly, glanced conscience-stricken at the +covered figure on the ground and straightened his face decorously. + +"I could lick you good," he admitted in a stage whisper. "I'm a +son-off-a-gun all right--only I don't never get mad at somebody." + +Brit Hunter smiled at that, it was so like Swan Vjolmar. But when they +were halfway to Thurman's ranch--Brit on horseback and Swan striding +easily along beside him, leading the blaze-faced horse, he glanced down +at Swan's face and wondered if Swan had not lied a little. + +"What's on your mind, Swan?" he asked abruptly. + +Swan started and looked up at him, glanced at the empty hills on either +side, and stopped still in the trail. + +"Mr Hunter, you been longer in the country than I have been. You seen +some good riding, I bet. Maybe you see some men ride backwards on a +horse?" + +Brit looked at him uncomprehendingly. "Backwards?" + +Swan led up the blaze-faced horse and pointed to the right stirrup. +"Spurs would scratch like that if you jerk your foot, maybe. You're a +good rider, Mr Hunter, you can tell. That's a right stirrup, ain't it? +Fred Thurman, he's got his left foot twist around, all broke from +jerking in his stirrup. Left foot in right stirrup----" He pushed +back his hat and rumpled his yellow hair, looking up into Brit's face +inquiringly. "Left foot in right stirrup is riding backwards. That's +a damn good rider to ride like that--what you think, Mr Hunter?" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +LONE ADVISES SILENCE + +Twice in the next week Lone found an excuse for riding over to the +Sawtooth. During his first visit, the foreman's wife told him that the +young lady was still too sick to talk much. The second time he went, +Pop Bridgers spied him first and cackled over his coming to see the +girl. Lone grinned and dissembled as best he could, knowing that Pop +Bridgers fed his imagination upon denials and argument and remonstrance +and was likely to build gossip that might spread beyond the Sawtooth. +Wherefore he did not go near the foreman's house that day, but +contented himself with gathering from Pop's talk that the girl was +still there. + +After that he rode here and there, wherever he would be likely to meet +a Sawtooth rider, and so at last he came upon Al Woodruff loping along +the crest of Juniper Ridge. Al at first displayed no intention of +stopping, but pulled up when he saw John Doe slowing down +significantly. Lone would have preferred a chat with some one else, +for this was a sharp-eyed, sharp-tongued man; but Al Woodruff stayed at +the ranch and would know all the news, and even though he might give it +an ill-natured twist, Lone would at least know what was going on. Al +hailed him with a laughing epithet. + +"Say, you sure enough played hell all around, bringin' Brit Hunter's +girl to the Sawtooth!" he began, chuckling as if he had some secret +joke. "Where'd you pick her up, Lone? She claims you found her at +Rock City. That right?" + +"No, it ain't right," Lone denied promptly, his dark eyes meeting Al's +glance steadily. "I found her in that gulch away this side. She was +in amongst the rocks where she was trying to keep outa the rain. Brit +Hunter's girl, is she? She told me she was going to the Sawtooth. +She'd have made it, too, if it hadn't been for the storm. She got as +far as the gulch, and the lightning scared her from going any farther." +He offered Al his tobacco sack and fumbled for a match. "I never knew +Brit Hunter had a girl." + +"Nor me," Al said and sifted tobacco into a cigarette paper. "Bob, he +drove her over there yesterday. Took him close to all day to make the +trip--and Bob, he claims to hate women!" + +"So would I, if I'd got stung for fifty thousand. She ain't that kind. +She's a nice girl, far as I could tell. She got well, all right, did +she?" + +"Yeah--only she was still coughing some when she left the ranch. She +like to of had pneumonia, I guess. Queer how she claimed she spent the +night in Rock City, ain't it?" + +"No," Lone answered judicially, "I don't know as it's so queer. She +never realised how far she'd walked, I reckon. She was plumb crazy +when I found her. You couldn't take any stock in what she said. Say, +you didn't see that bay I was halter-breaking, did yuh, Al? He jumped +the fence and got away on me, day before yesterday. I'd like to catch +him up again. He'll make a good horse." + +Al had not seen the bay, and the talk tapered off desultorily to a +final "So-long, see yuh later." Lone rode on, careful not to look +back. So she was Brit Hunter's girl! Lone whistled softly to himself +while he studied this new angle of the problem,--for a problem he was +beginning to consider it. She was Brit Hunter's girl, and she had told +them at the Sawtooth that she had spent the night at Rock City. He +wondered how much else she had told; how much she remembered of what +she had told him. + +He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a round leather purse +with a chain handle. It was soiled and shrunken with its wetting, and +the clasp had flecks of rust upon it. What it contained Lone did not +know. Virginia had taught him that a man must not be curious about the +personal belongings of a woman. Now he turned the purse over, tried to +rub out the stiffness of the leather, and smiled a little as he dropped +it back into his pocket. + +"I've got my calling card," he said softly to John Doe. "I reckon I +had the right hunch when I didn't turn it over to Mrs Hawkins. I'll +ask her again about that grip she said she hid under a bush. I never +heard about any of the boys finding it." + +His thoughts returned to Al Woodruff and stopped there. Determined +still to attend strictly to his own affairs, his thoughts persisted in +playing truant and in straying to a subject he much preferred not to +think of at all. Why should Al Woodruff be interested in the exact +spot where Brit Hunter's daughter had spent the night of the storm? +Why should Lone instinctively discount her statement and lie +whole-heartedly about it? + +"Now if Al catches me up in that, he'll think I know a lot I don't +know, or else----" He halted his thoughts there, for that, too, was a +forbidden subject. + +Forbidden subjects are like other forbidden things: they have a way of +making themselves very conspicuous. Lone was heading for the Quirt +ranch by the most direct route, fearing, perhaps, that if he waited he +would lose his nerve and would not go at all. Yet it was important +that he should go; he must return the girl's purse! + +The most direct route to the Quirt took him down Juniper Ridge and +across Granite Creek near the Thurman ranch. Indeed, if he followed +the trail up Granite Creek and across the hilly country to Quirt Creek, +he must pass within fifty yards of the Thurman cabin. Lone's time was +limited, yet he took the direct route rather reluctantly. He did not +want to be reminded too sharply of Fred Thurman as a man who had lived +his life in his own way and had died so horribly. + +"Well, he didn't have it coming to him--but it's done and over with +now, so it's no use thinking about it," he reflected, when the roofs of +the Thurman ranch buildings began to show now and then through the thin +ranks of the cottonwoods along the creek. + +But his face sobered as he rode along. It seemed to him that the +sleepy little meadows, the quiet murmuring of the creek, even the soft +rustling of the cottonwood leaves breathed a new loneliness, an +emptiness where the man who had called this place home, who had clung +to it in the face of opposition that was growing into open warfare, had +lived and left life suddenly--unwarrantably, Lone knew in his heart. +It might be of no use to think about it, but the vivid memory of Fred +Thurman was with him when he rode up the trail to the stable and the +small corrals. He had to think, whether he would or no. + +At the corral he came unexpectedly in sight of the Swede, who grinned a +guileless welcome and came toward him, so that Lone could not ride on +unless he would advertise his dislike of the place. John Doe, plainly +glad to find an excuse to stop, slowed and came to where Swan waited by +the gate. + +"By golly, this is lonesome here," Swan complained, heaving a great +sigh. "That judge don't get busy pretty quick, I'm maybe jumping my +job. Lone, what you think? You believe in ghosts?" + +"Naw. What's on your chest, Swan?" Lone slipped sidewise in the +saddle, resting his muscles. "You been seeing things?" + +"No--I don't be seeing things, Lone. But sometimes I been--like I +_feel_ something." He stared at Lone questioningly. "What you think, +Lone, if you be sitting down eating your supper, maybe, and you feel +something say words in your brain? Like you know something talks to +you and then quits." + +Lone gave Swan a long, measuring look, and Swan laughed uneasily. + +"That sounds crazy. But it's true, what something tells me in my +brain. I go and look, and by golly, it's there just like the words +tell me." + +Lone straightened in the saddle. "You better come clean, Swan, and +tell the whole thing. What was it? Don't talk in circles. What words +did you feel--in your brain?" In spite of himself, Lone felt as he had +when the girl had talked to him and called him Charlie. + +Swan closed the gate behind him with steady hands. His lips were +pressed firmly together, as if he had definitely made up his mind to +something. Lone was impressed somehow with Swan's perfect control of +his speech, his thoughts, his actions. But he was puzzled rather than +anything else, and when Swan turned, facing him, Lone's bewilderment +did not lessen. + +"I'll tell you. It's when I'm sitting down to eat my supper. I'm just +reaching out my hand like this, to get my coffee. And something says +in my head, 'It's a lie. I don't ride backwards. Go look at my +saddle. There's blood----' And that's all. It's like the words go +far away so I can't hear any more. So I eat my supper, and then I get +the lantern and I go look. You come with me, Lone. I'll show you." + +Without a word Lone dismounted and followed Swan into a small shed +beside the stable, where a worn stock saddle hung suspended from a +cross-piece, a rawhide string looped over the horn. Lone did not ask +whose saddle it was, nor did Swan name the owner. There was no need. + +Swan took the saddle and swung it around so that the right side was +toward them. It was what is called a full-stamped saddle, with the +popular wild-rose design on skirts and cantle. Much hard use and +occasional oilings had darkened the leather to a rich, red brown, +marred with old scars and scratches and the stains of many storms. + +"Blood is hard to find when it's raining all night," Swan observed, +speaking low as one does in the presence of death. "But if somebody is +bleeding and falls off a horse slow, and catches hold of things and +tries like hell to hang on----" He lifted the small flap that covered +the cinch ring and revealed a reddish, flaked stain. Phlegmatically he +wetted his finger tip on his tongue, rubbed the stain and held up his +finger for Lone to see. "That's a damn funny place for blood, when a +man is dragging on the ground," he commented dryly. "And something +else is damn funny, Lone." + +He lifted the wooden stirrup and touched with his finger the rowel +marks. "That is on the front part," he said. "I could swear in court +that Fred's left foot was twisted--that's damn funny, Lone. I don't +see men ride backwards, much." + +Lone turned on him and struck the stirrup from his hand. "I think you +better forget it," he said fiercely. "He's dead--it can't help him any +to----" He stopped and pulled himself together. "Swan, you take a +fool's advice and don't tell anybody else about feeling words talk in +your head. They'll have you in the bug-house at Black-foot, sure as +you live." He looked at the saddle, hesitated, looked again at Swan, +who was watching him. "That blood most likely got there when Fred was +packing a deer in from the hills. And marks on them old oxbow stirrups +don't mean a damn thing but the need of a new pair, maybe." He forced +a laugh and stepped outside the shed. "Just shows you, Swan, that +imagination and being alone all the time can raise Cain with a fellow. +You want to watch yourself." + +Swan followed him out, closing the door carefully behind him. "By +golly, I'm watching out now," he assented thoughtfully. "You don't +tell anybody, Lone." + +"No, I won't tell anybody--and I'd advise you not to," Lone repeated +grimly. "Just keep those thoughts outa your head, Swan. They're bad +medicine." + +He mounted John Doe and rode away, his eyes downcast, his quirt +slapping absently the weeds along the trail. It was not his business, +and yet---- Lone shook himself together and put John Doe into a lope. +He had warned Swan, and he could do no more. + +Halfway to the Quirt he met Lorraine riding along the trail. She would +have passed him with no sign of recognition, but Lone lifted his hat +and stopped. Lorraine looked at him, rode on a few steps and turned. +"Did you wish to speak about something?" she asked impersonally. + +Lone felt the flush in his cheeks, which angered him to the point of +speaking curtly. "Yes. I found your purse where you dropped it that +night you were lost. I was bringing it over to you. My name's Morgan. +I'm the man that found you and took you in to the ranch." + +"Oh." Lorraine looked at him steadily. "You're the one they call +Loney?" + +"When they're feeling good toward me. I'm Lone Morgan. I went back to +find your grip--you said you left it under a bush, but the world's +plumb full of bushes. I found your purse, though." + +"Thank you so much. I must have been an awful nuisance, but I was so +scared--and things were terribly mixed in my mind. I didn't even have +sense enough to tell you what ranch I was trying to find, did I? So +you took me to the wrong one, and I was a week there before I found it +out. And then they were perfectly lovely about it and brought +me--home." She turned the purse over and over in her hands, looking at +it without much interest. She seemed in no hurry to ride on, which +gave Lone courage. + +"There's something I'd like to say," he began, groping for words that +would make his meaning plain without telling too much. "I hope you +won't mind my telling you. You were kinda out of your head when I +found you, and you said something about seeing a man shot and----" + +"Oh!" Lorraine looked up at him, looked through him, he thought, with +those brilliant eyes of hers. "Then I did tell----" + +"I just wanted to say," Lone interrupted her, "that I knew all the time +it was just a nightmare. I never mentioned it to anybody, and you'll +forget all about it, I hope. You didn't tell any one else, did you?" + +He looked up at her again and found her studying him curiously. +"You're not the man I saw," she said, as if sue were satisfying herself +on that point. "I've wondered since--but I was sure, too, that I had +seen it. Why mustn't I tell any one?" + +Lone did not reply at once. The girl's eyes were disconcertingly +direct, her voice and her manner disturbed him with their judicial +calmness, so at variance with the wildness he remembered. + +"Well, it's hard to explain," he said at last. "You're strange to this +country, and you don't know all the ins and outs of--things. It +wouldn't do any good to you or anybody else, and it might do a lot of +harm." His eyes flicked her face with a wistful glance. "You don't +know me--I really haven't got any right to ask or expect you to trust +me. But I wish you would, to the extent of forgetting that you saw--or +thought you saw--anything that night in Rock City." + +Lorraine shivered and covered her eyes swiftly with one hand. His +words had brought back too sharply that scene. But she shook off the +emotion and faced him again. + +"I saw a man murdered," she cried. "I wasn't sure afterwards; +sometimes I thought I had dreamed it. But I was sure I saw it. I saw +the horse go by, running--and you want me to keep still about that? +What harm could it do to tell? Perhaps it's true--perhaps I did see it +all. I might think you were trying to cover up something--only, you're +not the man I saw--or thought I saw." + +"No, of course I'm not. You dreamed the whole thing, and the way you +talked to me was so wild, folks would say you're crazy if they heard +you tell it. You're a stranger here, Miss Hunter, and--your father is +not as popular in this country as he might be. He's got enemies that +would be glad of the chance to stir up trouble for him. You--just +dreamed all that. I'm asking you to forget a bad dream, that's all, +and not go telling it to other folks." + +For some time Lorraine did not answer. The horses conversed with +sundry nose-rubbings, nibbled idly at convenient brush tips, and +wondered no doubt why their riders were so silent. Lone tried to think +of some stronger argument, some appeal that would reach the girl +without frightening her or causing her to distrust him. But he did not +know what more he could say without telling her what must not be told. + +"Just how would it make trouble for my father?" Lorraine asked at last. +"I can't believe you'd ask me to help cover up a crime, but it seems +hard to believe that a nightmare would cause any great commotion. And +why is my father unpopular?" + +"Well, you don't know this country," Lone parried inexpertly. "It's +all right in some ways, and in some ways it could be a lot improved. +Folks haven't got much to talk about. They go around gabbling their +heads off about every little thing, and adding onto it until you can't +recognise your own remarks after they've peddled for a week. You've +maybe seen places like that." + +"Oh, yes." Lorraine's eyes lighted with a smile. "Take a movie +studio, for instance." + +"Yes. Well, you being a stranger, you would get all the worst of it. +I just thought I'd tell you; I'd hate to see you misunderstood by folks +around here. I--I feel kinda responsible for you; I'm the one that +found you." + +Lorraine's eyes twinkled. "Well, I'm glad to know one person in the +country who doesn't gabble his head off. You haven't answered any of +my questions, and you've made me feel as if you'd found a dangerous, +wild woman that morning. It isn't very flattering, but I think you're +honest, anyway." + +Lone smiled for the first time, and she found his smile pleasant. "I'm +no angel," he disclaimed modestly, "and most folks think I could be +improved on a whole lot. But I'm honest in one way. I'm thinking +about what's best for you, this time." + +"I'm terribly grateful," Lorraine laughed. "I shall take great care +not to go all around the country telling people my dreams. I can see +that it wouldn't make me awfully popular." Then she sobered. "Mr +Morgan, that was a _horrible_ kind of--nightmare. Why, even last night +I woke up shivering, just imagining it all over again." + +"It was sure horrible the way you talked about it," Lone assured her. +"It's because you were sick, I reckon. I wish you'd tell me as close +as you can where you left that grip of yours. You said it was under a +bush where a rabbit was sitting. I'd like to find the grip--but I'm +afraid that rabbit has done moved!" + +"Oh, Mr Warfield and I found it, thank you. The rabbit had moved, but +I sort of remembered how the road had looked along there, and we hunted +until we discovered the place. Dad has driven in after my other +luggage to-day--and I believe I must be getting home. I was only out +for a little ride." + +She thanked him again for the trouble he had taken and rode away. Lone +turned off the trail and, picking his way around rough outcroppings of +rock, and across unexpected little gullies, headed straight for the +ford across Granite Creek and home. Brit Hunter's girl, he was +thinking, was even nicer than he had pictured her. And that she could +believe in the nightmare was a vast relief. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE MAN AT WHISPER + +Brit Hunter finished washing the breakfast dishes and put a stick of +wood into the broken old cook-stove that had served him and Frank for +fifteen years and was feeling its age. Lorraine's breakfast was in the +oven, keeping warm. Brit looked in, tested the heat with his gnarled +hand to make sure that the sour-dough biscuits would not be dried to +crusts, and closed the door upon them and the bacon and fried potatoes. +Frank Johnson had the horses saddled and it was time to go, yet Brit +lingered, uneasily conscious that his habitation was lacking in many +things which a beautiful young woman might consider absolute +necessities. He had seen in Lorraine's eyes, as they glanced here and +there about the grimy walls, a certain disparagement of her +surroundings. The look had made him wince, though he could not quite +decide what it was that displeased her. Maybe she wanted lace +curtains, or something. + +He set the four chairs in a row against the wall, swept up the bits of +bark and ashes beside the stove, made sure that the water bucket was +standing full on its bench beside the door, sent another critical +glance around the room, and tip-toed over to the dish cupboard and let +down the flowered calico curtain that had been looped up over a nail +for convenience. The sun sent a bright, wide bar of yellow light +across the room to rest on the shelf behind the stove where stood the +salt can, the soda, the teapot, a box of matches and two pepper cans, +one empty and the other full. Brit always meant to throw out that +empty pepper can and always neglected to do so. Just now he remembered +picking up the empty one and shaking it over the potatoes futilely and +then changing it for the full one. But he did not take it away; in the +wilderness one learns to save useless things in the faint hope that +some day they may become useful. The shelves were cluttered with fit +companions to that empty pepper can. Brit thought that he would have +"cleaned out" had he known that Lorraine was coming. Since she was +here, it scarcely seemed worth while. + +He walked on his boot-toes to the door of the second room of the cabin, +listened there for a minute, heard no sound and took a tablet and +pencil off another shelf littered with useless things. The note which +he wrote painstakingly, lest she might think him lacking in education, +he laid upon the table beside Lorraine's plate; then went out, closing +the door behind him as quietly as a squeaking door can be made to close. + +Lorraine, in the other room, heard the squeak and sat up. Her wrist +watch, on the chair beside her bed, said that it was fifteen minutes +past six, which she considered an unearthly hour for rising. She +pulled up the covers and tried to sleep again. The day would be long +enough, at best. There was nothing to do, unless she took that queer +old horse with withers like the breastbone of a lean Christmas turkey +and hips that reminded her of the little roofs over dormer windows, and +went for a ride. And if she did that, there was nowhere to go and +nothing to do when she arrived there. + +In a very few days Lorraine had exhausted the sights of Quirt Creek and +vicinity. If she rode south she would eventually come to the top of a +hill whence she could look down upon further stretches of barrenness. +If she rode east she would come eventually to the road along which she +had walked from Echo, Idaho. Lorraine had had enough of that road. If +she went north she would--well, she would not meet Mr Lone Morgan +again, for she had tried it twice, and had turned back because there +seemed no end to the trail twisting through the sage and rocks. West +she had not gone, but she had no doubt that it would be the same dreary +monotony of dull gray landscape. + +Monotony of landscape was one thing which Lorraine could not endure, +unless it had a foreground of riders hurtling here and there, and of +perspiring men around a camera tripod. At the Sawtooth ranch, after +she was able to be up, she had seen cowboys, but they had lacked the +dash and the picturesque costuming of the West she knew. They were +mostly commonplace young men, jogging past the house on horseback, or +loitering down by the corrals. They had offered absolutely no interest +or "colour" to the place, and the owner's son, Bob Warfield, had driven +her over to the Quirt in a Ford and had seemed exactly like any other +big, good-looking young man who thought well of himself. Lorraine was +not susceptible to mere good looks, three years with the "movies" +having disillusioned her quite thoroughly. Too many young men of Bob +Warfield's general type had attempted to make love to her--lightly and +not too well--for Lorraine to be greatly impressed. + +She yawned, looked at her watch again, found that she had spent exactly +six minutes in meditating upon her immediate surroundings, and fell to +wondering why it was that the real West was so terribly commonplace. +Why, yesterday she had been brought to such a pass of sheer loneliness +that she had actually been driven to reading an old horse-doctor book! +She had learned the symptoms of epizootic--whatever that was--and +poll-evil and stringhalt, and had gone from that to making a shopping +tour through a Montgomery-Ward catalogue. There was nothing else in +the house to read, except a half-dozen old copies of the _Boise News_. + +There was nothing to do, nothing lo see, no one to talk to. Her dad +and the big, heavy-set man whom he called Frank, seemed uncomfortably +aware of their deficiencies and were pitiably anxious to make her feel +welcome--and failed. They called her "Raine." The other two men did +not call her anything at all. They were both sandy-complexioned and +they both chewed tobacco quite noticeably, and when they sat down in +their shirt sleeves to eat, Lorraine had seen irregular humps in their +hip pockets which must be six-guns; though why they should carry them +in their pockets instead of in holster belts buckled properly around +their bodies and sagging savagely down at one side and swinging +ferociously when they walked, Lorraine could not imagine. They did not +wear chaps, either, and their spurs were just spurs, without so much as +a silver concho anywhere. Cowboys in overalls and blue gingham shirts +and faded old coats whose lapels lay in wrinkles and whose pockets were +torn down at the corners! If Lorraine had not been positive that this +was actually a cattle ranch in Idaho, she never would have believed +that they were anything but day labourers. + +"It's a comedy part for the cattle-queen's daughter," she admitted, +putting out a hand to stroke the lean, gray cat that jumped upon her +bed from the open window. "Ket, it's a _scream_! I'll take my West +before the camera, thank you; or I would, if I hadn't jumped right into +the middle of this trick West before I knew what I was doing. Ket, +what do you do to pass away the time? I don't see how you can have the +nerve to live in an empty space like this and purr!" + +She got up then, looked into the kitchen and saw the paper on the +table. This was new and vaguely promised some sort of break in the +deadly monotony which she saw stretching endlessly before her. +Carrying the nameless cat in her arms, Lorraine went in her bare feet +across the grimy, bare floor to the table and picked up the note. It +read simply: + + +"Your brekfast is in the oven we wont be back till dark maby. Dont +leave the ranch today. Yr loveing father." + + +Lorraine hugged the cat so violently that she choked off a purr in the +middle. "'Don't leave the ranch to-day!' Ket, I believe it's going to +be dangerous or something, after all." + +She dressed quickly and went outside into the sunlight, the cat at her +heels, the thrill of that one command filling the gray monotone of the +hills with wonderful possibilities of adventure. Her father had made +no objection before when she went for a ride. He had merely instructed +her to keep to the trails, and if she didn't know the way home, to let +the reins lie loose on Yellowjacket's neck and he would bring her to +the gate. + +Yellowjacket's instinct for direction had not been working that day, +however. Lorraine had no sooner left the ranch out of sight behind her +than she pretended that she was lost. Yellowjacket had thereupon +walked a few rods farther and stopped, patiently indifferent to the +location of his oats box. Lorraine had waited until his head began to +droop lower and lower, and his switching at flies had become purely +automatic. Yellowjacket was going to sleep without making any effort +to find the way home. But since Lorraine had not told her father +anything about it, his injunction could not have anything to do with +the unreliability of the horse. + +"Now," she said to the cat, "if three or four bandits would appear on +the ridge, over there, and come tearing down into the immediate +foreground, jump the gate and surround the house, I'd know this was the +real thing. They'd want to make me tell where dad kept his gold or +whatever it was they wanted, and they'd have me tied to a chair--and +then, cut to Lone Morgan (that's a perfectly _wonderful_ name for the +lead!) hearing shots and coming on a dead run to the rescue." She +picked up the cat and walked slowly down the hard-trodden path to the +stable. "But there aren't any bandits, and dad hasn't any gold or +anything else worth stealing--Ket, if dad isn't a miser, he's _poor_! +And Lone Morgan is merely ashamed of the way I talked to him, and +afraid I'll queer myself with the neighbours. No Western lead that _I_ +ever saw would act like that. Why, he didn't even want to ride home +with me, that day. + +"And Bob Warfield and his Ford are incidents of the past, and not one +soul at the Sawtooth seems to give a darn whether I'm in the country or +out of it. Soon as they found out where I belonged, they brought me +over here and dropped me and forgot all about me. And that, I suppose, +is what they call in fiction the Western spirit! + +"Dad looked exactly as if he'd opened the door to a book agent when I +came. He--he _tolerates_ my presence, Ket! And Frank Johnson's pipe +smells to high heaven, and I hate him in the house and 'the +boys'--hmhm! The _boys_--Ket, it would be terribly funny, if I didn't +have to stay here." + +She had reached the corral and stood balancing the cat on a warped top +rail, staring disconsolately at Yellowjacket, who stood in a far corner +switching at flies and shamelessly displaying all the angularity of his +bones under a yellowish hide with roughened hair that was shedding +dreadfully, as Lorraine had discovered to her dismay when she removed +her green corduroy skirt after riding him. Yellowjacket's lower lip +sagged with senility or lack of spirit, Lorraine could not tell which. + +"You look like the frontispiece in that horse-doctor book," she +remarked, eyeing him with disfavour. "I can't say that comedy hide +you've got improves your appearance. You'd be better peeled, I +believe." + +She heard a chuckle behind her and turned quickly, palm up to shield +her eyes from the straight, bright rays of the sun. Now here was a +live man, after all, with his hat tilted down over his forehead, a +cigarette in one hand and his reins in the other, looking at her and +smiling. + +"Why don't you peel him, just on a chance?" His smile broadened to a +grin, but when Lorraine continued to look at him with a neutral +expression in her eyes, he threw away his cigarette and abandoned with +it his free-and-easy manner. + +"You're Miss Hunter, aren't you? I rode over to see your father. +Thought I'd find him somewhere around the corral, maybe." + +"You won't, because he's gone for the day. No, I don't know where." + +"I--see. Is Mr Johnson anywhere about?" + +"No, I don't believe anyone is anywhere about. They were all gone when +I got up, a little while ago." Then, remembering that she did not know +this man, and that she was a long way from neighbours, she added, "If +you'll leave a message I can tell dad when he comes home." + +"No-o--I'll ride over to-morrow or next day. I'm the man at Whisper. +You can tell him I called, and that I'll call again." + +Still he did not go, and Lorraine waited. Some instinct warned her +that the man had not yet stated his real reason for coming, and she +wondered a little what it could be. He seemed to be watching her +covertly, yet she failed to catch any telltale admiration for her in +his scrutiny. She decided that his forehead was too narrow to please +her, and that his eyes were too close together, and that the lines +around his mouth were cruel lines and gave the lie to his smile, which +was pleasant enough if you just looked at the smile and paid no +attention to anything else in his face. + +"You had quite an experience getting out here, they tell me," he +observed carelessly; too carelessly, thought Lorraine, who was well +schooled in the circumlocutions of delinquent tenants, agents of +various sorts and those who crave small gossip of their neighbours. +"Heard you were lost up in Rock City all night." + +Lorraine looked up at him, startled. "I caught a terrible cold," she +said, laughing nervously. "I'm not used to the climate," she added +guardedly. + +The man fumbled in his pocket and produced smoking material. "Do you +mind if I smoke?" he asked perfunctorily. + +"Why, no. It doesn't concern me in the slightest degree." Why, she +thought confusedly, must she always be reminded of that horrible place +of rocks? What was it to this man where she had been lost? + +"You must of got there about the time the storm broke," the man +hazarded after a silence. "It's sure a bad place in a thunderstorm. +Them rocks draw lightning. Pretty bad, wasn't it?" + +"Lightning is always bad, isn't it?" Lorraine tried to hold her voice +steady. "I don't know much about it. We don't have thunderstorms to +amount to anything, in Los Angeles. It sometimes does thunder there in +the winter, but it is very mild." + +With hands that trembled she picked the cat off the rail and started +toward the house. "I'll tell dad what you said," she told him, +glancing back over her shoulder. When she saw that he had turned his +horse and was frankly following her to the house, her heart jumped +wildly into her throat--judging by the feel of it. + +"I'm plumb out of matches. I wonder if you can let me have some," he +said, still speaking too carelessly to reassure her. "So you stuck it +out in Rock City all through that storm! That's more than what I'd +want to do." + +She did not answer that, but once on the door-step Lorraine turned and +faced him. Quite suddenly it came to her--the knowledge of why she did +not like this man. She stared at him, her eyes wide and bright. + +"Your hat's brown!" she exclaimed unguardedly. "I--I saw a man with a +brown hat----" + +He laughed suddenly. "If you stay around here long you'll see a good +many," he said, taking off his hat and turning it on his hand before +her. "This here hat I traded for yesterday. I had a gray one, but it +didn't suit me. Too narrow in the brim. Brown hats are getting to be +the style. If I can borrow half a dozen matches, Miss Hunter, I'll be +going." + +Lorraine looked at him again doubtfully and went after the matches. He +thanked her, smiling down at her quizzically. "A man can get along +without lots of things, but he's plumb lost without matches. You've +maybe saved my life, Miss Hunter, if you only knew it." + +She watched him as he rode away, opening the gate and letting himself +through without dismounting. He disappeared finally around a small +spur of the hill, and Lorraine found her knees trembling under her. + +"Ket, you're an awful fool," she exclaimed fiercely. "Why did you let +me give myself away to that man? I--I believe he _was_ the man. And +if I really did see him, it wasn't my imagination at all. He saw me +there, perhaps. Ket, I'm scared! I'm not going to stay on this ranch +all alone. I'm going to saddle the family skeleton, and I'm going to +ride till dark. There's something queer about that man from Whisper. +I'm afraid of him." + +After awhile, when she had finished her breakfast and was putting up a +lunch, Lorraine picked up the nameless gray cat and holding its head +between her slim fingers, looked at it steadily. "Ket, you're the +humanest thing I've seen since I left home," she said wistfully. "I +_hate_ a country where horrible things happen under the surface and the +top is just gray and quiet and so dull it makes you want to scream. +Lone Morgan lied to me. He lied--he lied!" She hugged the cat +impulsively and rubbed her cheek absently against it, so that it began +purring immediately. + +"Ket--I'm afraid of that man at Whisper!" she breathed miserably +against its fur. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +"IT TAKES NERVE JUST TO HANG ON" + +Brit was smoking his pipe after supper and staring at nothing, though +his face was turned toward the closed door. Lorraine had washed the +dishes and was tidying the room and looking at her father now and then +in a troubled, questioning way of which Brit was quite oblivious. + +"Dad," she said abruptly, "who is the man at Whisper?" + +Brit turned his eyes slowly to her face as if he had not grasped her +meaning and was waiting for her to repeat the question. It was evident +that his thoughts had pulled away from something that meant a good deal +to him. + +"Why?" + +"A man came this morning, and said he was the man at Whisper, and that +he would come again to see you." + +Brit took his pipe from his mouth, looked at it and crowded down the +tobacco with a forefinger. "He seen me ride away from the ranch, this +morning," he said. "He was coming down the Whisper trail as I was +taking the fork over to Sugar Spring, Frank and me. What did he say he +wanted to see me about?" + +"He didn't say. He asked for you and Frank." Lorraine sat down and +folded her arms on the oilcloth-covered table. "Dad, what _is_ +Whisper?" + +"Whisper's a camp up against a cliff, over west of here. It belongs to +the Sawtooth. Is that all he said? Just that he wanted to see me?" + +"He--talked a little," Lorraine admitted, her eyebrows pulled down. +"If he saw you leave, I shouldn't think he'd come here and ask for you." + +"He knowed I was gone," Brit stated briefly. + +With a finger nail Lorraine traced the ugly, brown pattern on the +oilcloth. It was not easy to talk to this silent man who was her +father, but she had done a great deal of thinking during that long, +empty day, and she had reached the point where she was afraid not to +speak. + +"Dad!" + +"What do you want, Raine?" + +"Dad, was--has any one around here died, lately?" + +"Died? Nobody but Fred Thurman, over here on Granite. He was drug +with a horse and killed." + +Lorraine caught her breath, saw Brit looking at her curiously and moved +closer to him. She wanted to be near somebody just then, and after +all, Brit was her father, and his silence was not the inertia of a dull +mind, she knew. He seemed bottled-up, somehow, and bitter. She caught +his hand and held it, feeling its roughness between her two soft palms. + +"Dad, I've got to tell you. I feel trapped, somehow. Did his horse +have a white face, dad?" + +"Yes, he's a blaze-faced roan. Why?" Brit moved uncomfortably, but he +did not take his hand away from her. "What do you know about it, +Raine?" + +"I saw a man shoot Fred Thurman and push his foot through the stirrup. +And, dad, I believe it was that man at Whisper. The one I saw had on a +brown hat, and this man wears a brown hat--and I was advised not to +tell any one I had been at that place they call Rock City, when the +storm came. Dad, would an innocent man--one that didn't have anything +to do with a crime--would he try to cover it up afterwards?" + +Brit's hand shook when he removed the pipe from his mouth and laid it +on the table. His face had turned gray while Lorraine watched him +fearfully. He laid his hand on her shoulder, pressing down hard--and +at last his eyes met her big, searching ones. + +"If he wanted to live--in this country--he'd have to. Leastways, he'd +have to keep his mouth shut," he said grimly. + +"And he'd try to shut the mouths of others----" + +"If he cared anything about them, he would. You ain't told anybody +what you saw, have yuh?" + +Lorraine hid her face against his arm. "Just Lone Morgan, and he +thought I was crazy and imagined it. That was in the morning, when he +found me. And he--he wanted me to go on thinking it was just a +nightmare--that I'd imagined the whole thing. And I did, for awhile. +But this man at Whisper tried to find out where I was that night----" + +Brit pulled abruptly away from her, got up and opened the door. He +stood there for a time, looking out into the gloom of early nightfall. +He seemed to be listening, Lorraine thought. When he came back to her +his voice was lower, his manner intangibly furtive. + +"You didn't tell him anything, did you?" he asked, as if there had been +no pause in their talk. + +"No--I made him believe I wasn't there. Or I tried to. And dad! As I +was going to cross that creek just before you come to Rock City, two +men came along on horseback, and I hid before they saw me. They +stopped to water their horses, and they were talking. They said +something about the TJ had been here a long time, but they would get +theirs, and it was like sitting into a poker game with a nickel. They +said the little ones aren't big enough to fight the Sawtooth, and +they'd carry lead under their hides if they didn't leave. Dad, isn't +your brand the TJ? That's what it looks like on Yellowjacket." + +Brit did not answer, and when Lorraine was sure that he did not mean to +do so, she asked another question. "Dad, why didn't you want me to +leave the ranch to-day? I was nervous after that man was here, and I +did go." + +"I didn't want you riding around the country unless I knew where you +went," Brit said. "My brand is the TJ up-and-down. We never call it +just the TJ." + +"Oh," said Lorraine, relieved. "They weren't talking about you, then. +But dad--it's horrible! We simply _can't_ let that murder go and not +do anything. Because I know that man was shot. I heard the shot +fired, and I saw him start to fall off his horse. And the next flash +of lightning I saw----" + +"Look here, Raine. I don't want you talking about what you saw. I +don't want you _thinkin'_ about it. What's the use? Thurman's dead +and buried. The cor'ner come and held an inquest, and the jury agreed +it was an accident. I was on the jury. The sheriff's took charge of +his property. You couldn't prove what you saw, even if you was to +try." He looked at her very much as Lone Morgan had looked at her. +His next words were very nearly what Lone Morgan had said, Lorraine +remembered. "You don't know this country like I know it. Folks live +in it mainly because they don't go around blatting everything they see +and hear and think." + +"You have laws, don't you, dad? You spoke about the sheriff----" + +"The sheriff!" Brit laughed harshly. "Yes, we got a sheriff, and we +got a jail, and a judge--all the makin's of law. But we ain't got one +thing that goes with it, and that's justice. You'd best make up your +mind like the cor'ner's jury done, that Fred Thurman was drug to death +by his horse. That's all that'll ever be proved, and if you can't +prove nothing else you better keep your mouth shut." + +Lorraine sprang up and stood facing her father, every nerve taut with +protest. "You don't mean to tell me, dad, that you and Frank Johnson +and Lone Morgan and--everybody in the country are _cowards_, do you?" + +Brit looked at her patiently. "No," he said in the tone of +acknowledged defeat, "we ain't cowards, Raine. A man ain't a coward +when he stands with his hands over his head. Most generally it's +because some one's got the drop on 'im." + +Lorraine would not accept that. "You think so, because you don't +fight," she cried hotly. "No one is holding a gun at your head. Dad! +I thought Westerners never quit. It's fight to the finish, always. +Why, I've seen one man fight a whole outfit and win. He couldn't be +beaten because he wouldn't give up. Why----" + +Brit gave her a tolerant glance. "Where'd you see all that, Raine?" +He moved to the table, picked up his pipe and knocked out the ashes on +the stove hearth. His movements were those of an aging man--yet Brit +Hunter was not old, as age is reckoned. + +"Well--in stories--but it was reasonable and logical and possible, just +the same. If you use your brains you can outwit them, and if you have +any nerve----" + +Brit made a sound somewhat like a snort. "These days, when politics is +played by the big fellows, and the law is used to make money for 'em, +it takes nerve just to hang on," he said. "Nobody but a dang fool +would fight." Slow anger grew within him. He turned upon Lorraine +almost fiercely. "D'yuh think me and Frank could fight the Sawtooth +and get anything out of it but a coffin apiece, maybe?" he demanded +harshly. "Don't the Sawtooth _own_ this country? Warfield's got the +sheriff in his pocket, and the cor'ner, and the judge, and the stock +inspector--he's _Senator_ Warfield, and what he wants he gets. He gets +through the law that you was talking about a little while ago. What +you goin' to do about it? If I had the money and the land and the +political pull he's got, mebby I'd have me sheriff and a judge, too. + +"Fred Thurman tried to fight the Sawtooth over a water right he owned +and they wanted. They had the case runnin' in court till they like to +of took the last dollar he had. He got bull-headed. That water right +meant the hull ranch--everything he owned. You can't run a ranch +without water. And when he'd took the case up and up till it got to +the Supreme Court, and he stood some show of winnin' out--he had an +accident. He was drug to death by his horse." + +Brit stooped and opened the stove door, seeking a live coal; found none +and turned again to Lorraine, shaking his pipe at her for emphasis. + +"We try to prove Fred was murdered, and what's the result? Something +happens: to me, mebby, or Frank, or both of us. And you can't say, +'Here, I know the Sawtooth had a hand in that.' You got to _prove_ it! +And when you've proved it," he added bitterly, "you got to have +officers that'll carry out the law instead of using it to hog-tie yuh." + +His futile, dull anger surged up again. "You call us cowards because +we don't git up on our hind legs and fight the Sawtooth. A lot you +know about courage! You've read stories, and you've saw moving +pictures, and you think that's the West--that's the way they do it. +One man hold off a hunderd with his gun--and on the other hand, a +hunderd men, mebby, ridin' hell-whoopin' after one. You think that's +it--that's the way they do it. Hunh!" He lifted the lid of the stove, +spat into it as if he were spitting in the face of an enemy, and turned +again to Lorraine. + +"What you seen--what you say you seen--that was done at night when +there wasn't no audience. All the fighting the Sawtooth does is done +under cover. _You_ won't see none of it--they ain't such fools. And +what us small fellers do, we do it quiet, too. We ain't ridin' up and +down the trail, flourishin' our six-shooters and yellin' to the +Sawtooth to come on and we'll clean 'em up!" + +"But you're fighting just the same, aren't you, dad? You're not +letting them----" + +"We're makin' out to live here--and we've been doin' it for twenty-five +year," Brit told her, with a certain grim dignity. "We've still got a +few head uh stock left--enough to live on. Playin' poker with a +nickel, mebby--but we manage to ante, every hand so fur." His mind +returned to the grisly thing Lorraine had seen. + +"We can't run down the man that got Fred Thurman, supposin' he was +killed, as you say. That's what the law is paid to do. If Lone Morgan +told you not to talk about it, he told you right. He was talking for +your own good. What about Al--the man from Whisper? You didn't tell +_him_, did you?" + +His tone, the suppressed violence of his manner, frightened Lorraine. +She moved farther away from him. + +"I didn't tell him anything. He was curious but--I only said I knew +him because he was wearing a brown hat, and the man that shot Mr +Thurman had a brown hat. I didn't say all that. I just mentioned the +hat. And he said there were lots of brown hats in the country. He +said he had traded for that one, just yesterday. He said his own hat +was gray." + +Brit stared at her, his jaw sagging a little, his eyes growing vacant +with the thoughts he hid deep in his mind. He slumped down into his +chair and leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees, his fingers +clasped loosely. After a little he tilted his head and looked up at +her. + +"You better go to bed," he told Her stolidly. "And if you're going to +live at the Quirt, Raine, you'll have to learn to keep your mouth shut. +I ain't blaming you--but you told too much to Al Woodruff. Don't talk +to him no more, if he comes here when I'm gone." He put out a hand, +beckoning her to him, sorry for his harshness. Lorraine went to him +and knelt beside him, slipping an arm around his neck while she hid her +face on his shoulder. + +"I won't be a nuisance, dad--really, I won't," she said. "I--I can +shoot a gun. I never shot one with bullets in, but I could. And I +learned to do lots of things when I was working in that play West I +thought was real. It isn't like I thought. There's no picture stuff +in the real West, I guess; they don't do things that way. But--what I +want you to know is that if they're fighting you they'll have to fight +me, too. + +"I don't mean movie stuff, honestly I don't. I'm in this thing now, +and you'll have to count me, same as you count Jim and Sorry. Won't +you please feel that I'm one more in the game, dad, and not just +another responsibility? I'll herd cattle, or do whatever there is to +do. And I'll keep my mouth shut, too. I can't stay here, day after +day, doing nothing but sweep and dust two rooms and fry potatoes and +bacon for you at night. Dad, I'll go _crazy_ if you don't let me into +your life! + +"Dad, if you knew the stunts I've done in the last three years! It was +make-believe West, but I learned things just the same." She kissed him +on the unshaven cheek nearest her--and thought of the kisses she had +breathed upon the cheeks of story fathers with due care for the make-up +on her lips. Just because this was real, she kissed him again with the +frank vigour of a child. + +"Dad," she said wheedlingly, "I think you might scare up something that +I can really ride. Yellowjacket is safe, but--but you have real live +horses on the ranch, haven't you? You must not go judging me by the +palms and the bay windows of the Casa Grande. That's where I've slept, +the last few years when I wasn't off on location--but it's just as +sensible to think I don't know anything else, as it would be for me to +think you can't do anything but skim milk and fry bacon and make +sour-dough bread, just because I've seen you do it!" + +Brit laughed and patted her awkwardly on the back. "If you was a boy, +I'd set you up as a lawyer," he said with an attempt at playfulness. +"I kinda thought you could ride. I seen how you piled onto old +Yellowjacket and the way you held your reins. It runs in the blood, I +guess. I'll see what I can do in the way of a horse. Ole Yellowjacket +used to be a real rim-rider, but he's gitting old; gitting old--same as +me." + +"You're not! You're just letting yourself _feel_ old. And am I one of +the outfit, dad?" + +"I guess so--only there ain't going to be any of this hell-whoopin' +stuff, Raine. You can't travel these trails at a long lope with yore +hair flyin' out behind and--and all that damn foolishness. I've saw +'em in the movin' pitchers----" + +Lorraine blushed, and was thankful that her dad had not watched her +work in that serial. For that matter, she hoped that Lone Morgan would +never stray into a movie where any of her pictures were being shown. + +"I'm serious, dad. I don't want to make a show of myself. But if +you'll feel that I can be a help instead of a handicap, that's what I +want. And if it comes to fighting----" + +Brit pushed her from him impatiently. "There yuh go--fight--fight--and +I told yuh there ain't any fighting going on. Nothing more'n a fight +to hang on and make a living. That means straight, hard work and +mindin' your own business. If you want to help at that----" + +"I do," said Raine quietly, getting to her feet. Her legacy of +stubbornness set her lips firmly together. "That's exactly what I +mean. Good night, dad." + +Brit answered her non-committally, apparently sunk already in his own +musings. But his lips drew in to suppress a smile when he saw, from +the corner of his eyes, that Lorraine was winding the alarm on the +cheap kitchen clock, and that she set the hand carefully and took the +clock with her to bed. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE EVIL EYE OF THE SAWTOOTH + +Oppression is a growth that flourishes best in the soil of opportunity. +It seldom springs into full power at once. The Sawtooth Cattle Company +had begun much as its neighbours had begun: with a tract of land, +cattle, and the ambition for prospering. Senator Warfield had then +been plain Bill Warfield, manager of the outfit, who rode with his men +and saw how his herds increased,--saw too how they might increase +faster under certain conditions. At the outset he was not perhaps, +more unscrupulous than some of his neighbours. True, if a homesteader +left his claim for a longer time than the law allowed him, Bill +Warfield would choose one of his own men to file a contest on that +claim. The man's wages would be paid. Witnesses were never lacking to +swear to the improvements he had made, and after the patent had been +granted the homesteader (for the contestant always won in that country) +the Sawtooth would pay him for the land. Frequently a Sawtooth man +would file upon land before any other man had claimed it. Sometimes a +Sawtooth man would purchase a relinquishment from some poor devil of a +claim-holder who seemed always to have bad luck, and so became +discouraged and ready to sell. An intelligent man like Bill Warfield +could acquire much land in this manner, give him time enough. + +In much the same manner his herds increased. He bought out small +ranchers who were crowded to the selling point in one way or another. +They would find themselves fenced off from water, the Sawtooth having +acquired the water rights to creek or spring. Or they would be hemmed +in with fenced fields and would find it next to impossible to make use +of the law which gave them the right to "condemn" a road through. They +would not be openly assailed,--Bill Warfield was an intelligent man. A +dozen brands were recorded in the name of the Sawtooth Cattle Company, +and if a small rancher found his calf crop shorter than it should be, +he might think as he pleased, but he would have no tangible proof that +his calves wore a Sawtooth brand. + +Inevitably it became necessary now and then to stop a mouth that was +ready to speak unwelcome truths. But if a Sawtooth man were known to +have committed violence, the Sawtooth itself was the first to put the +sheriff on his trail. If the man successfully dodged the sheriff and +made his way to parts unknown, the Sawtooth could shrug its shoulders +and wash its hands of him. + +Then whispers were heard that the Sawtooth had on its pay roll men who +were paid to kill and to leave no trace. So many heedless ones crossed +the Sawtooth's path to riches! Fred Thurman had been one; a +"bull-headed cuss" who had the temerity to fight back when the Sawtooth +calmly laid claim to the first water rights to Granite Creek, having +bought it, they said, with the placer claim of an old miner who had +prospected along the headwaters of Granite at the base of Bear Top. + +By that time the Sawtooth had grown to a power no poor man could hope +to defeat. Bill Warfield was Senator Warfield, and Senator Warfield +was a power in the political world that immediately surrounded him. +Since his neighbouring ranchmen had not been able to prevent his steady +climbing to the position he now held, they had small hope of pulling +him down. Brit was right. They did well to hang on and continue +living in that country. + +At open killing, one that would attract the attention of the outside +world might be avenged. The man who committed the crime might be +punished,--if public opinion were sufficiently massed against him. In +that case Senator Warfield would cry loudest for justice. But it would +take a stronger man than the country held to raise the question of Fred +Thurman's death and take even the first steps toward proving it a +murder. + +"It ain't that they can do anything, Mr Warfield," the man from Whisper +said guardedly, urging his horse close to the machine that stood in the +trail from Echo. It was broad day--a sun-scorched day to boot--and +Senator Warfield perspired behind the wheel of his car. "It's the talk +they may get started." + +"What have they said? The girl was at the ranch for several days. She +didn't talk there, or Hawkins would have told me." + +"She was sick. I saw her the other day at the Quirt, and she more'n +half recognised me. Hell! How'd _I_ know she was in there among them +rocks? Everybody that was apt to be riding through was accounted for, +and I knew there wasn't any one coming horseback or with a rig. My +hearing's pretty good." + +Warfield moved the spark lever up and down on the wheel while he +thought. "Well," he said carefully at last, "if you're falling down in +your work, what are you whining about it to me for? What do you want?" + +Al moistened his lips with his tongue. "I want to know how far I can +go. It's been hands off the Quirt, up to now. And the Quirt's +beginning to think it can get away with most anything. They've throwed +a fence across the pass through from Sugar Spring to Whisper. That +sends us away around by Three Creek. You can't trail stock across +Granite Ridge, nor them lava ledges. If it's going to be hands off, I +want to know it. There's other places I'd rather live in, if the +Quirt's going to raise talk about Fred Thurman." + +Senator Warfield pulled at his collar and tie as if they choked him. +"The Quirt has made no trouble," he said. "Of course, if they begin +throwing fences across our stock trails and peddling gossip, that is +another story. I expect you to protect our interests, of course. And +I have never made a practice of dictating to you. In this case"--he +sent a sharp glance at Al--"it seems to me your interests are involved +more than ours. As to Fred Thurman, I don't know anything about it. I +was not here when he died, and I have never seen this girl of Brit's +who seems to worry you. She doesn't interest me, one way or the other." + +"She seems to interest Bob a whole lot," Al said maliciously. "He rode +over to see her yesterday. She wasn't home, though." + +Senator Warfield seemed unmoved by this bit of news, wherefore Al +returned to the main issue. + +"Do I get a free hand, or don't I?" he insisted. "They can't be let +peddle talk--not if I stay around here." + +Senator Warfield considered the matter. + +"The girl's got the only line on me," Al went on. "The inquest was as +clean as I ever saw. Everything all straight--and then, here she comes +up----" + +"If you know how to stop a woman's mouth, Al, you can make a million a +month telling other men." Senator Warfield smiled at him. Then he +leaned across the front seat and added impressively, "Bear one thing in +mind, Al. The Sawtooth cannot permit itself to become involved in any +scandal, nor in any killing cases. We're just at the most crucial +point with our reclamation project, over here on the flat. The +legislature is willing to make an appropriation for the building of the +canal, and in two or three months at the latest we should begin selling +agricultural tracts to the public. The State will also throw open the +land it had withdrawn from settlement, pending the floating of this +canal project. More than ever the integrity of the Sawtooth Cattle +Company must be preserved, since it has come out openly as a backer of +the irrigation company. Nothing--_nothing_ must be permitted to stand +in the way." + +He removed his thin driving cap and wiped his perspiring forehead. +"I'm sorry this all happened--as it has turned out," he said, with real +regret in his tone. "But since it did happen, I must rely upon you +to--to--er----" + +"I guess I understand," Al grinned sardonically. "I just wanted you to +know how things is building up. The Quirt's kinda overreached itself. +I didn't want you comin' back on me for trying to keep their feet outa +the trough. I want you to know things is pretty damn ticklish right +now, and it's going to take careful steppin'." + +"Well, don't let your foot slip, Al," Senator Warfield warned him. +"The Sawtooth would hate to lose you; you're a good man." + +"Oh, I get yuh," Al retorted. "My foot ain't going to slip---- If it +did, the Sawtooth would be the first to pile onto my back!" The last +sentence was not meant for the senator's ears. Al had backed his +horse, and Senator Warfield was stepping on the starter. But it would +not have mattered greatly if he had heard, for this was a point quite +thoroughly understood by them both. + +The Warfield car went on, lurching over the inequalities of the narrow +road. Al shook his horse into a shambling trot, picking his way +carelessly through the scattered sage. + +His horse travelled easily, now and then lifting a foot high to avoid +rock or exposed root, or swerving sharply around obstacles too high to +step over. Al very seldom travelled along the beaten trails, though +there was nothing to deter him now save an inherent tendency toward +secretiveness of his motives, destinations and whereabouts. If the +country was open, you would see Al Woodruff riding at some distance +from the trail--or you would not see him at all, if there were gullies +in which he could conceal himself. He was always "line-riding," or +hunting stray stock--horses, usually--or striking across to some +line-camp of the Sawtooth on business which he was perfectly willing to +state. + +But you will long ago have guessed that he was the evil eye of the +Sawtooth Company. He took no orders save such general ones as Senator +Warfield had just given him. He gave none. Whatever he did he did +alone, and he took no man into his confidence. It is more than +probable that Senator Warfield would never have known to a certainty +that Al was responsible for Thurman's death, if Al had not been worried +over the Quirt's possible knowledge of the crime and anxious to know +just how far his power might go. + +Ostensibly he was in charge of the camp at Whisper, a place far enough +off the beaten trails to free him from chance visitors. The Sawtooth +kept many such camps occupied by men whose duty it was to look after +the Sawtooth cattle that grazed near; to see that stock did not "bog +down" in the tricky sand of the adjacent water holes and die before +help came, and to fend off any encroachments of the smaller cattle +owners--though these were growing fewer year by year, thanks to the +weeding-out policy of the Sawtooth and the cunning activities of such +as Al Woodruff. + +It may sound strange to say that the Sawtooth country had not had a +real "killing" for years, though accidental deaths had been rather +frequent. One man, for instance, had fallen over a ledge and broken +his neck, presumably while drunk. Another had bought a few sticks of +dynamite to open up a spring on his ranch, and at the inquest which +followed the jury had returned a verdict of "death caused by being +blown up by the accidental discharge of dynamite." A sheepman was +struck by lightning, according to the coroner, and his widow had been +glad to sell ranch and sheep very cheaply to the Sawtooth and return to +her relatives in Montana. The Sawtooth had shipped the sheep within a +month and turned the ranch into another line-camp. + +You will see that Senator Warfield had every reason to be sincere when +he called Al Woodruff a good man; good for the Sawtooth interests, that +means. You will also see that Brit Hunter had reasons for believing +that the business of ranching in the Sawtooth country might be classed +as extra hazardous, and for saying that it took nerve just to hang on. + +That is why Al rode oblivious to his surroundings, meditating no doubt +upon the best means of preserving the integrity of the Sawtooth and at +the same time soothing effectively the ticklishness of the situation of +which he had complained. It was his business to find the best means. +It was for just such work that the Sawtooth paid him--secretly, to be +sure--better wages than the foreman, Hawkins, received. Al was +conscientious and did his best to earn his wages; not because he +particularly loved killing and spying as a sport, but because the +Sawtooth had bought his loyalty for a price, and so long as he felt +that he was getting a square deal from them, he would turn his hand +against any man that stood in their way. He was a Sawtooth man, and he +fought the enemies of the Sawtooth as matter-of-factly as a soldier +will fight for his country. To his unimaginative mind there was +sufficient justification in that attitude. As for the ease with which +he planned to kill and cover his killing under the semblance of +accident, he would have said, if you could make him speak of it, that +he was not squeamish. They'd all have to die some day, anyway. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +ANOTHER SAWTOOTH "ACCIDENT" + +Frank Johnson rose from the breakfast table, shaved a splinter off the +edge of the water bench for a toothpick and sharpened it carefully +while he looked at Brit. + +"You goin' after them posts, or shall I?" he inquired glumly, which, by +the way, was his normal tone. "Jim and Sorry oughta git the post holes +all dug to-day. One erf us better take a look through that young stock +in the lower field, too, and see if there's any more sign uh blackleg. +Which you ruther do?" + +Brit tilted his chair backward so that he could reach the coffeepot on +the stove hearth. "I'll haul down the posts," he decided carelessly. +"They're easy loaded, and I guess my back's as good as yourn." + +"All you got to do is skid 'em down off'n the bank onto the wagon," +Frank said. "I wisht you'd go on up where we cut them last ones and +git my sweater, Brit. I musta left it hanging on a bush right close to +where I was workin'." + +Brit's grunt signified assent, and Frank went out. Jim and Sorry, the +two unpicturesque cowboys of whom Lorraine had complained to the cat, +had already departed with pick and shovel to their unromantic task of +digging post holes. Each carried a most unattractive lunch tied in a +flour sack behind the cantle of his saddle. Lorraine had done her +conscientious best, but with lumpy, sourdough bread, cold bacon and +currant jelly of that kind which is packed in wooden kegs, one can't do +much with a cold lunch. Lorraine wondered how much worse it would look +after it had been tied on the saddle for half a day; wondered too what +those two silent ones got out of life--what they looked forward to, +what was their final goal. For that matter she frequently wondered +what there was in life for any of them, shut into that deadly monotony +of sagebrush and rocks interspersed with little, grassy meadows where +the cattle fed listlessly. + +Even the sinister undercurrent of antagonism against the Quirt could +not whip her emotions into feeling that she was doing anything more +than live the restricted, sordid little life of a poorly equipped +ranch. She had ridden once with Frank Johnson to look through a bunch +of cattle, but it had been nothing more than a hot, thirsty, dull ride, +with a wind that blew her hat off in spite of pins and tied veil, and +with a companion who spoke only when he was spoken to and then as +briefly as possible. + +Her father would not talk again as he had talked that night. She had +tried to make him tell her more about the Sawtooth and had gotten +nothing out of him. The man from Whisper, whom Brit had spoken of as +Al, had not returned. Nor had the promised saddle horse materialised. +The boys were too busy to run in any horses, her father had told her +shortly when she reminded him of his promise. When the fence was done, +maybe he could rustle her another horse--and then he had added that he +didn't see what ailed Yellowjacket, for all the riding she was likely +to do. + +"Straight hard work and minding your own business," her father had +said, and it seemed to Lorraine after three or four days of it that he +had summed up the life of a cattleman's daughter in a masterly manner +which ought to be recorded among Famous Sayings like "War is hell" and +"Don't give up the ship." + +On this particular morning Lorraine's spirits were at their lowest ebb. +If it were not for the new stepfather, she would return to the Casa +Grande, she told herself disgustedly. And if it were not for the +belief among all her acquaintances that she was queening it over the +cattle-king's vast domain, she would return and find work again in +motion pictures. But she could not bring herself to the point of +facing the curiosity and the petty gossip of the studios. She would be +expected to explain satisfactorily why she had left the real West for +the mimic West of Hollywood. She did not acknowledge to herself that +she also could not face the admission of failure to carry out what she +had begun. + +She had told her dad that she wanted to fight with him, even though +"fighting" in this case meant washing the coarse clothing of her father +and Frank, scrubbing the rough, warped boards of the cabin floor, and +frying ranch-cured bacon for every meal, and in making butter to sell, +and counting the eggs every night and being careful to use only the +cracked ones for cooking. + +She hated every detail of this crude housekeeping, from the chipped +enamel dishpan to the broom that was all one-sided, and the pillow +slips which were nothing more nor less than sugar sacks. She hated it +even more than she had hated the Casa Grande and her mother's frowsy +mentality. But because she could see that she made life a little more +comfortable for her dad, because she felt that he needed her, she would +stay and assure herself over and over that she was staying merely +because she was too proud to go back to the old life and own the West a +failure. + +She was sweeping the doorstep with the one-sided broom when Brit drove +out through the gate and up the trail which she knew led eventually to +Sugar Spring. The horses, sleek in their new hair and skittish with +the change from hay to new grass, danced over the rough ground so that +the running gear of the wagon, with its looped log-chain, which would +later do duty as a brake on the long grade down from timber line on the +side of Spirit Canyon, rattled and banged over the rocks with the +clatter that could be heard for half a mile. Lorraine looked after her +father enviously. If she were a boy she would be riding on that sack +of hay tied to the "hounds" for a seat. But, being a girl, it had +never occurred to Brit that she might like to go--might even be useful +to him on the trip. + +"I suppose if I told dad I could drive that team as well as he can, +he'd just look at me and think I was crazy," she thought resentfully +and gave the broom a spiteful fling toward a presumptuous hen that had +approached too closely. "If I'd asked him to let me go along he'd have +made some excuse--oh, I'm beginning to know dad! He thinks a woman's +place is in the house--preferably the kitchen. And here I've thought +all my life that cowgirls did nothing but ride around and warn people +about stage holdups and everything! I'd just like to know how a girl +would ever have a chance to know what was going on in the country, +unless she heard the men talking while she poured their coffee. Only +this bunch don't talk at all. They just gobble and go." + +She went in then and shut the door with a slam. Up on the ridge Al +Woodruff lowered his small binocular and eased away from the spot where +he had been crouching behind a bush. Every one on the Quirt ranch was +accounted for. As well as if he had sat at their breakfast table Al +knew where each man's work would take him that day. As for the girl, +she was safe at the ranch for the day, probably. If she did take a +ride later on, it would probably be up the ridge between the Quirt and +Thurman's ranch, and sit for an hour or so just looking. That ride was +beginning to be a habit of hers, Al observed, so that he considered her +accounted for also. + +He made his way along the side hill to where his horse was tied to a +bush, mounted and rode away with his mind pretty much at ease. Much +more at ease than it would have been had he read what was in Lorraine's +mind when she slammed that door. + +Up above Sugar Spring was timber. By applying to the nearest Forest +Supervisor a certain amount could be had for ranch improvements upon +paying a small sum for the "stumpage." The Quirt had permission to cut +posts for their new fence which Al Woodruff had reported to his boss. + +As he drove up the trail, which was in places barely passable for a +wagon, Brit was thinking of that fence. The Sawtooth would object to +it, he knew, since it cut off one of their stock trails and sent them +around through rougher country. Just what form their objection would +take, Brit did not know. Deep in his intrepid soul he hoped that the +Sawtooth would at last show its hand openly. He had liked Fred +Thurman, and what Lorraine had told him went much deeper than she knew. +He wanted to bring them into the open where he could fight with some +show of winning. + +"I'll git Bill Warfield yet--and git him right," was the gist of his +musings. "He's bound to show his head, give him time enough. Him and +his killers can't always keep under cover. Let 'em come at me about +that fence! It's on my land--the Quirt's got a right to fence every +foot of land that belong to 'em." + +All the way over the ridge and across the flat and up the steep, narrow +road along the edge of Spirit Canyon, Brit dwelt upon the probable +moves of the Sawtooth. They would wait, he thought, until the fence +was completed and they had made a trail around through the lava rocks. +They would not risk any move at present; they would wait and tacitly +accept the fence, or pretend to accept it, as a natural inconvenience. +But Brit did not deceive himself that they would remain passive. That +it had been "hands off the Quirt" he did not know, but attributed the +Quirt's immunity to careful habits and the fact that they had never +come to the point where their interests actually clashed with the +Sawtooth. + +It never occurred to him therefore that he was slated for an accident +that day if the details could be conveniently arranged. + +It was a long trail to Sugar Spring, and from there up Spirit Canyon +the climb was so tedious and steep that Brit took a full hour for the +trip, resting the team often because they were soft from the new grass +diet and sweated easily. They lost none of their spirit, however, and +when the road was steepest nagged at each other with head-shakings and +bared teeth, and ducked against each other in pretended fright at every +unusual rock or bush. + +At the top he was forced to drive a full half mile beyond the piled +posts to a flat large enough to turn around. All this took time, +especially since Caroline, the brown mare, would rather travel ten +miles straight ahead than go backward ten feet. Brit was obliged to +"take it out of her" with the rein ends and his full repertoire of +opprobrious epithets before he could cramp the wagon and head them down +the trail again. + +At the post pile he unhitched the team for safety's sake and tied them +to trees, where he fed them a little grain in nose bags. He was +absorbed now in his work and thought no more about the Sawtooth. He +fastened the log chain to the rear wheels to brake the wagon on the +long grade down the canyon, loaded the wagon with posts, bound them +fast with a lighter chain he had brought for the purpose, ate his own +lunch and decided that, since he had made fair time and would arrive +home too early to do the chores and too late to start any other job, he +would cruise farther up the mountain side and see what was the prospect +of getting out logs enough for an addition to the cabin. + +Now that Raine was going to live with him, two rooms were not enough. +Brit wanted to make her as happy as he could, in his limited fashion. +He had for some days been planning a "settin' room and bedroom" for +her. She would be having beaux after awhile when she got acquainted, +he supposed. He could not deny her the privilege; she was young and +she was, in Brit's opinion, the best looking girl he had ever seen, not +even excepting Minnie, her mother. But he hoped she wouldn't go off +and get married the first thing she did,--and one good way to prevent +that, he reasoned, was to make her comfortable with him. He had +noticed how pleased she was that their cabin was of logs. She had even +remarked that she could not understand how a rancher would ever want to +build a board shack if there was any timber to be had. Well, timber +was to be had, and she should have her log house, though the hauling +was not going to be any sunshine, in Brit's opinion. With his axe he +walked through the timber, craning upward for straight tree trunks and +lightly blazing the ones he would want, the occasional axe strokes +sounding distinctly in the quiet air. + +Lorraine heard them as she rode old Yellowjacket puffing up the grade, +following the wagon marks, and knew that she was nearing the end of her +journey,--for which Yellowjacket, she supposed, would be thankful. She +had started not more than an hour later than her father, but the team +had trotted along more briskly than her poor old nag would travel, so +that she did not overtake her dad as she had hoped. + +She was topping the last climb when she saw the team tied to the trees, +and at the same moment she caught a glimpse of a man who crawled out +from under the load of posts and climbed the slope farther on. She was +on the point of calling out to him, thinking that he was her dad, when +he disappeared into the brush. At the same moment she heard the stroke +of an axe over to the right of where the man was climbing. + +She was riding past the team when Caroline humped her back and kicked +viciously at Yellowjacket, who plunged straight down off the trail +without waiting to see whether Caroline's aim was exact. He slid into +a juniper thicket and sat down looking very perplexed and very +permanently placed there. Lorraine stepped off on the uphill side of +him, thanked her lucky stars she had not broken a leg, and tried to +reassure Yellowjacket and to persuade him that no real harm had been +done him. Straightway she discovered that Yellowjacket had a mind of +his own and that a pessimistic mind. He refused to scramble back into +the trail, preferring to sit where he was, or since Lorraine made that +too uncomfortable, to stand where he had been sitting. Yellowjacket, I +may explain, owned a Roman nose, a pendulous lower lip and drooping +eyelids. Those who know horses will understand. + +By the time Lorraine had bullied and cajoled him into making a somewhat +circuitous route to the road, where he finally appeared some distance +above the point of his descent, Brit was there, hitching the team to +the wagon. + +"What yuh doing up there?" he wanted to know, looking up with some +astonishment. + +Lorraine furnished him with details and her opinion of both Caroline +and Yellowjacket. "I simply refuse to ride this comedy animal another +mile," she declared with some heat. "I'll drive the team and you can +ride him home, or he can be tied on behind the wagon." + +"He won't lead," Brit objected. "Yeller's all right if you make up +your mind to a few failin's. You go ahead and ride him home. You sure +can't drive this team." + +"I can!" Lorraine contended. "I've driven four horses--I guess I can +drive two, all right." + +"Well, you ain't going to," Brit stated with a flat finality that +abruptly ended the argument. + +Lorraine had never before been really angry with her father. She +struck Yellowjacket with her quirt and sent him sidling past the wagon +and the tricky Caroline, too stubborn to answer her dad when he called +after her that she had better ride behind the load. She went on, +making Yellowjacket trot when he did not want to trot down hill. + +Behind her she heard the chuck-chuck of the loaded wagon. Far ahead +she heard some one whistling a high, sweet melody which had the queer, +minor strains of some old folk song. For just a few bars she heard it, +and then it was stilled, and the road dipping steeply before her seemed +very lonely, its emptiness cooling her brief anger to a depression that +had held her too often in its grip since that terrible night of the +storm. For the first time she looked back at her father lurching along +on the load and at the team looking so funny with the collars pushed up +on their necks with the weight of the load behind. + +With a quick impulse of penitence she waved her hand to Brit, who waved +back at her. Then she went on, feeling a bit less alone in the world. +After all, he was her dad, and his life had been hard. If he failed to +understand her and her mental hunger for real companionship, perhaps +she also failed to understand him. + +They had left the timber line now and had come to the lip of the canyon +itself. Lorraine looked down its steep, rock-roughened sides and +thought how her old director would have raved over its possibilities in +the way of "stunts." Yellowjacket, she noticed, kept circumspectly to +the centre of the trail and eyed the canyon with frank disfavour. + +She did not know at just what moment she became aware of trouble behind +her. It may have been Yellowjacket, turning his head sidewise and +abruptly quickening his pace that warned her. It may have been the +difference in the sound of the wagon and the impact of the horses' +hoofs on the rock trail. She turned and saw that something had gone +wrong. They were coming down upon her at a sharp trot, stepping high, +the wagon tongue thrust up between their heads as they tried to hold +back the load. + +Brit yelled to her then to get out of the way, and his voice was harsh +and insistent. Lorraine looked at the steep bank to the right, knew +instinctively that Yellowjacket would never have time to climb it +before the team was upon them, and urged him to a lope. She glanced +back again, saw that the team was not running away, that they were +trying to hold the wagon, and that it was gaining momentum in spite of +them. + +"Jump, dad!" she called and got no answer. Brit was sitting braced +with his feet far apart, holding and guiding the team. "He won't +jump--he wouldn't jump--any more than I would," she chattered to +herself, sick with fear for him, while she lashed her own horse to keep +out of their way. + +The next she knew, the team was running, their eyeballs staring, their +front feet flung high as they lunged panic-stricken down the trail. +The load was rocking along behind them. Brit was still braced and +clinging to the reins. + +Panic seized Yellowjacket. He, too, went lunging down that trail, his +head thrown from side to side that he might watch the thing that +menaced him, heedless of the fact that danger might lie ahead of him +also. Lorraine knew that he was running senselessly, that he might +leave the trail at any bend and go rolling into the canyon. + +A sense of unreality seized her. It could not be deadly earnest, she +thought. It was so exactly like some movie thrill, planned carefully +in advance, rehearsed perhaps under the critical eye of the director, +and done now with the camera man turning calmly the little crank and +counting the number of film feet the scene would take. A little +farther and she would be out of the scene, and men stationed ahead +would ride up and stop her horse for her and tell her how well she had +"put it over." + +She looked over her shoulder and saw them still coming. It was real. +It was terribly real, the way that team was fleeing down the grade. +She had never seen anything like that before, never seen horses so +frantically trying to run from the swaying load behind them. Always, +she had been accustomed to moderation in the pace and a slowed camera +to speed up the action on the screen. Yellowjacket, too--she had never +ridden at that terrific speed down hill. Twice she lost a stirrup and +grabbed the saddle horn to save herself from going over his head. + +They neared a sharp turn, and it took all her strength to pull her +horse to the inside and save him from plunging off down the canyon's +side. The nose of the hill hid for a moment her dad, and in that +moment she heard a crash and knew what had happened. But she could not +stop; Yellowjacket had his ears laid back flat on his senseless head, +and the bit clamped tight in his teeth. + +She heard the crash repeated in diminuendo farther down in the canyon. +There was no longer the rattle of the wagon coming down the trail, the +sharp staccato of pounding hoofs. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +SWAN TALKS WITH HIS THOUGHTS + +Lorraine, following instinct rather than thought, pulled Yellowjacket +into the first opening that presented itself. This was a narrow, +rather precipitous gully that seamed the slope just beyond the bend. +The bushes there whipped her head and shoulders cruelly as the horse +forged in among them, but they trapped him effectually where the gully +narrowed to a point. He stopped perforce, and Lorraine was out of the +saddle and running down to the trail before she quite realised what she +was doing. + +At the bend she looked down, saw the marks where the wagon had gone +over, scraping rocks and bushes from its path. Fence posts were strewn +at all angles down the incline, and far down a horse was standing with +part of the harness on him and with his head drooping dispiritedly. +Her father she could not see, nor the other horse, nor the wagon. A +clump of young trees hid the lower declivity. Lorraine did not stop to +think of what she would find down there. Sliding, running, she +followed the traces of the wreck to where the horse was standing. It +was Caroline, looking very dejected but apparently unhurt, save for +skinned patches here and there where she had rolled over rocks. + +A little farther, just beyond the point of the grove which they seemed +to have missed altogether, lay the other horse and what was left of the +wagon. Brit she did not see at all. She searched the bushes, looked +under the wagon, and called and called. + +A full-voiced shout answered her from farther up the canyon, and she +ran stumbling toward the sound, too agonised to shed tears or to think +very clearly. It was not her father's voice; she knew that beyond all +doubt. It was no voice that she had ever heard before. It had a clear +resonance that once heard would not have been easily forgotten. When +she saw them finally, her father was being propped up in a half-sitting +position, and the strange man was holding something to his lips. + +"Just a little water. I carry me a bottle of water always in my +pocket," said Swan, glancing up at her when she had reached them. "It +sometimes makes a man's head think better when he has been hurt, if he +can drink a little water or something." + +Brit swallowed and turned his face away from the tilted bottle. "I +jumped--but I didn't jump quick enough," he muttered thickly. "The +chain pulled loose. Where's the horses, Raine?" + +"They're all right. Caroline's standing over there. Are you hurt +much, dad?" It was a futile question, because Brit was already going +off into unconsciousness. + +"He's hurt pretty bad," Swan declared honestly; looking up at her with +his eyes grown serious. "I was across the walley and I saw him coming +down the road like rolling rocks down a hill. I came quick. Now we +make stretcher, I think, and carry him home. I could take him on my +back, but that is hurting him too much." He looked at her--through +her, it seemed to Lorraine. In spite of her fear, in spite of her +grief, she felt that Swan was reading her very soul, and she backed +away from him. + +"I could help your father very much," he said soberly, "but I should +tell you a secret if I do that. I should maybe ask that you tell a lie +if somebody asks questions. Could you do that, Miss?" + +"Lie?" Lorraine laughed uncertainly. "I'd _kill!_--if that would help +dad." + +Swan was folding his coat very carefully and placing it under Brit's +head. "My mother I love like that," he said, without looking up. "My +mother I love so well that I talk with my thoughts to her sometimes. +You believe people can talk with their thoughts?" + +"I don't know--what's that got to do with helping dad?" Lorraine knelt +beside Brit and began stroking his forehead softly, as is the soothing +way of women with their sick. + +"I could send my thought to my mother. I could say to her that a man +is hurt and that a doctor must come very quickly to the Quirt ranch. I +could do that, Miss, but I should not like it if people knew that I did +it. They would maybe say that I am crazy. They would laugh at me, and +it is not right to laugh at those things." + +"I'm not laughing. If you can do it, for heaven's sake go ahead! I +don't believe it, but I won't tell any one, if that's what you want." + +"If some neighbours should ask, 'How did that doctor come so +quick?'----" + +"I'd rather lie and say I sent for him, than say that you or any one +else sent a telepathic message. That would sound more like a lie than +a lie would. How are we going to make a stretcher? We've got to get +him home, somehow----" + +"At my cabin is blankets," Swan told her briskly. "I can climb the +hill--it is up there. In a little while I will come back." + +He started off without waiting to see what Lorraine would have to say +about it, and with some misgivings she watched him run down to the +canyon's bottom and go forging up the opposite side with a most amazing +speed and certainty. In travel pictures she had seen mountain sheep +climb like that, and she likened him now to one of them. It seemed a +shame that he was a bit crazy, she thought; and immediately she +recalled his perfect assurance when he told her of sending thought +messages to his mother. She had heard of such things, she had even +read a little on the subject, but it had never seemed to her a +practical means of communicating. Calling a doctor, for instance, +seemed to Lorraine rather far-fetched an application of what was at +best but a debatable theory. + +Considering the distance, he was back in a surprisingly short time with +two blankets, a couple of light poles and a flask of brandy. He seemed +as fresh and unwinded as if he had gone no farther than the grove, and +he wore, more than ever, his air of cheerful assurance. + +"The doctor will be there," he remarked, just as if it were the +simplest thing in the world. "We can carry him to Fred Thurman's. +There I can get horses and a wagon, and you will not have to carry so +far. And when we get to your ranch the doctor will be there, I think. +He is starting now. We will hurry. I will fix it so you need not +carry much. It is just to make it steady for me." + +While he talked he was working on the stretcher. He had a rope, and he +was knotting it in a long loop to the poles. Lorraine wondered why, +until he had lifted her father and placed him on the stretcher and +placed the loop over his head and under one arm, as a ploughman holds +the reins, so that his hands may be free. + +"If you will carry the front," said Swan politely, "it will not be +heavy for you like this. But you will help me keep it steady." + +Lorraine was past discussing anything. She obeyed him silently, +lifting the end of the stretcher and leading the way down to the +canyon's bottom, where Swan assured her they could walk quite easily +and would save many detours which the road above must take. At the +bottom Swan stopped her so that he might shorten the rope and take more +of the weight on his shoulders. She protested half-heartedly, but Swan +only laughed. + +"I am strong like a mule," he said. "You should see me wrestle with +somebody. Clear over my head--I can carry a man in my hands. This is +so you can walk fast. Three miles straight down we come to Thurman's +ranch, where I get the horses. It's funny how hills make a road far +around. Just three miles--that's all. I have walked many times." + +Lorraine did not answer him. She felt that he was talking merely to +keep her from worrying, and she was fairly sick with anxiety and did +not hear half of what he was saying. She was nervously careful about +choosing her steps so that she would not stumble and jolt her father. +She did not believe that he was wholly unconscious, for she had seen +his eyelids tighten and his lips twitch several times, when she waiting +for Swan. He had seemed to be in pain and to be trying to hide the +fact from her. She felt that Swan knew it, else he would have talked +of her dad, would at least have tried to reassure her. But it is +difficult to speak of a person who hears what you are saying, and Swan +was talking of everything, it seemed to her, except the man they were +carrying. + +She wondered if it were really true that Swan had sent a call through +space for a doctor; straightway she would call herself crazy for even +considering for a moment its possibility. If he could do that--but of +course he couldn't. He must just imagine it. + +Many times Swan had her lower the stretcher to the ground, and would +make a great show of rubbing his arms and easing his shoulder muscles. +Whenever Lorraine looked full into his face he would grin at her as +though nothing was wrong, and when they came to a clear-running stream +he emptied the water bottle, dipped up a little fresh water, added +brandy, and lifted Brit's head very gently and gave him a drink. Brit +opened his eyes and looked at Swan, and from him to Lorraine, but he +did not say anything. He still had that tightened look around his +mouth which spelled pain. + +"Pretty quick now we get you fixed up good," Swan told him cheerfully. +"One mile more is all, and we get the horses and I make a good bed for +you." He looked a signal, and Lorraine once more took up the stretcher. + +Another mile seemed a long way, light though Swan had made the load for +her. She thought once that he must have some clairvoyant power, +because whenever she felt as if her arms were breaking, Swan would tell +her to stop a minute. + +"How do you know a doctor will come?" she asked Swan suddenly, when +they were resting with the Thurman ranch in view half a mile below them. + +Swan did not look at her directly, as had been his custom. She saw a +darker shade of red creep up into his cheeks. "My mother says she +would send a doctor quick," he replied hesitatingly. "You will see. +It is because--your father he is not like other men in this country. +Your father is a good man. That is why a doctor comes." + +Lorraine looked at him strangely and stooped again to her burden. She +did not speak again until they were passing the Thurman fence where it +ran up into the mouth of the canyon. A few horses were grazing there, +the sun striking their sides with the sheen of satin. They stared +curiously at the little procession, snorted and started to run, heads +and tails held high. But one wheeled suddenly and came galloping +toward them, stopped when he was quite close, ducked and went +thundering past to the head of the field. Lorraine gave a sharp little +scream and set down the stretcher with a lurch, staring after the horse +wide-eyed, her face white. + +"They do it for play," Swan said reassuringly. "They don't hurt you. +The fence is between, and they don't hurt you anyway." + +"That horse with the white face--I saw it--and when the man struck it +with his quirt it went past me, running like that and +dragging--_oh-h!_" She leaned against the bluff side, her face covered +with her two palms. + +Swan glanced down at Brit, saw that his eyes were closed, ducked his +head from under the looped rope and went to Lorraine. + +"The man that struck that horse--do you know that man?" he asked, all +the good nature gone from his voice. + +"No--I don't know--I saw him twice, by the lightning flashes. He +shot--and then I saw him----" She stopped abruptly, stood for a minute +longer with her eyes covered, then dropped her hands limply to her +sides. But when the horse came circling back with a great flourish, +she shivered and her hands closed into the fists of a fighter. + +"Are you a Sawtooth man?" she demanded suddenly, looking up at Swan +defiantly. "It was a nightmare. I--I dreamed once about a horse--like +that." + +Swan's wide-open eyes softened a little. "The Sawtooth calls me that +damn Swede on Bear Top," he explained. "I took a homestead up there +and some day they will want to buy my place or they will want to make a +fight with me to get the water. Could you know that man again?" + +"Raine!" Brit's voice held a warning, and Lorraine shivered again as +she turned toward him. "Raine, you----" + +He closed his eyes again, and she could get no further speech from him. +But she thought she understood. He did not want her to talk about Fred +Thurman. She went to her end of the stretcher and waited there while +Swan put the rope over his head. They went on, Lorraine walking with +her head averted, trying not to see the blaze-faced roan, trying to +shut out the memory of him dashing past her with his terrible burden, +that night. + +Swan did not speak of the matter again. With Lorraine's assistance he +carried Brit into Thurman's cabin, laid him, stretcher and all, on the +bed and hurried out to catch and harness the team of work horses. +Lorraine waited beside her father, helpless and miserable. There was +nothing to do but wait, yet waiting seemed to her the one thing she +could not do. + +"Raine!" Brit's voice was very weak, but Lorraine jumped as though a +trumpet had bellowed suddenly in her ear. "Swan--he's all right. But +don't go telling--all yuh know and some besides. He ain't--Sawtooth, +but--he might let out----" + +"I know. I won't, dad. It was that horse----" + +Brit turned his face to the wall as if no more was to be said on the +subject. Lorraine wandered around the cabin, which was no larger than +her father's place. The rooms were scrupulously clean--neater than the +Quirt, she observed guiltily. Not one article, however small and +unimportant, seemed to be out of its place, and the floors of both +rooms were scrubbed whiter than any floors she had ever seen. Swan's +housekeeping qualities made her ashamed of her own imperfections; and +when, thinking that Swan must be hungry and that the least she could do +was to set out food for him, she opened the cupboard, she had a swift, +embarrassed vision of her own culinary imperfections. She could cook +better food than her dad had been content to eat and to set before +others, but Swan's bread was a triumph in sour dough. Biscuits tall +and light as bread can be she found, covered neatly with a cloth. +Prunes stewed so that there was not one single wrinkle in +them--Lorraine could scarcely believe they were prunes until she tasted +them. She was investigating a pot of beans when Swan came in. + +"Food I am thinking of, Miss," he grinned at her. "We shall hurry, but +it is not good to go hungry. Milk is outside in a cupboard. It is +quicker than to make coffee." + +"It will be dark before we can get him home," said Lorraine uneasily. +"And by the time a doctor can get out there----" + +"A doctor will be there, I think. You don't believe, but that is no +difference to his coming just the same." + +He brought the milk, poured off the creamy top into a pitcher, stirred +it, and quietly insisted that she drink two glasses. Lorraine observed +that Swan himself ate very little, bolting down a biscuit in great +mouthfuls while he carried a mattress and blankets out to spread in the +wagon. It was like his pretence of weariness on the long carry down +the canyon, she thought. It was for her more than for himself that he +was thinking. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE QUIRT PARRIES THE FIRST BLOW + +A car with dimmed lights stood in front of the Quirt cabin when Swan +drove around the last low ridge and down to the gate. The rattle of +the wagon must have been heard, for the door opened suddenly and Frank +stood revealed in the yellow light of the kerosene lamp on the table +within. Behind Frank, Lorraine saw Jim and Sorry standing in their +shirt sleeves looking out into the dark. Another, shorter figure she +glimpsed as Frank and the two men stepped out and came striding hastily +toward them. Lorraine jumped out and ran to meet them, hoping and +fearing that her hope was foolish. That car might easily be only Bob +Warfield on some errand of no importance. Still, she hoped. + +"That you, Raine? Where's Brit? What's all this about Brit being +hurt? A doctor from Shoshone----" + +"A _doctor_? Oh, did a doctor come, then? Oh, help Swan carry dad in! +I'm--oh, I'm afraid he's awfully injured!" + +"Yes-s--but how'n hell did a doctor know about it?" Sorry, the silent, +blurted unexpectedly. + +"Oh,--never mind--but get dad in. I'll----" She ran past them without +finishing her sentence and burst incoherently into the presence of an +extremely calm little man with gray whiskers and dust on the shoulder +of his coat. These details, I may add, formed the sum of Lorraine's +first impression of him. + +"Well! Well!" he remonstrated with a professional briskness, when she +nearly bowled him over. "We seem to be in something of a hurry! Is +this the patient I was sent to examine?" + +"No!" Lorraine flashed impatiently over her shoulder as she rushed +into her own room and began turning down the covers. "It's dad, of +course--and you'd better get your coat off and get ready to go to work, +because I expect he's just one mass of broken bones!" + +The doctor smiled behind his whiskers and returned to the doorway to +direct the carrying in of his patient. His sharp eyes went immediately +to Brit's face, pallid under the leathery tan, his fingers went to +Brit's hairy, corded wrist. The doctor smiled no more that evening. + +"No, he is not a mass of broken bones, I am happy to say," he reported +gravely to Lorraine afterwards. "He has a sufficient number, however. +The left scapula is fractured, likewise the clavicle, and there is a +compound fracture of the femur. There is some injury to the head, the +exact extent of which I cannot as yet determine. He should be removed +to a hospital, unless you are prepared to have a nurse here for some +time, or to assume the burden of a long and tedious illness." He +looked at her thoughtfully. "The journey to Shoshone would be a +considerable strain on the patient in his present condition. He has a +splendid amount of constitutional vitality, or he would scarcely have +survived his injuries so long without medical attendance. Can you tell +me just how the accident occurred?" + +"Excuse me, doctor--and Miss," Swan diffidently interrupted. "I could +ask you to take a look on my shoulder, if you please. If you are done +setting bones in Mr Hunter. I have a great pain on my shoulder from +carrying so long." + +"You never mentioned it!" Lorraine reproached him quickly. "Of course +it must be looked after right away. And then, Doctor, I'd like to talk +to you, if you don't mind." She watched them retreat to the bunk-house +together. Swan's big form towering above the doctor's slighter figure. +Swan was talking earnestly, the mumble of his voice reaching Lorraine +without the enunciation of any particular word to give a clue to what +he was saying. But it struck her that his voice did not sound quite +natural; not so Swedish, not so careful. + +Frank came tiptoeing out of the room where Brit lay bandaged and +unconscious and stood close to Lorraine, looking down at her solemnly. + +"How'n 'ell did he git here--the doctor?" he demanded, making a great +effort to hold his voice down to a whisper, and forgetting now and +then. "How'd _he_ know Brit rolled off'n the grade? Us here, _we_ +never knowed it, and I was tryin' to send him back when you came. He +said somebody telephoned there was a man hurt in a runaway. There +ain't a telephone closer'n the Sawtooth, and that there's a good twenty +mile and more from where Brit was hurt. It's damn funny." + +"Yes, it is," Lorraine admitted uncomfortably. "I don't know any more +than you do about it." + +"Well, how'n 'ell did it happen? Brit, he oughta know enough to +rough-lock down that hill. An' that team ain't a runaway team. _I_ +never had no trouble with 'em--they're good at holdin' a load. They'll +set down an' slide but what they'll hold 'er. What become of the +horses?" + +"Why--they're over there yet. We forgot all about the horses, I think. +Caroline was standing up, all right. The other horse may be killed. I +don't know--it was lying down. And Yellowjacket was up that little +gully just this side of the wreck, when I left him. They did try to +hold the load, Frank. Something must have happened to the brake. I +saw dad crawling out from under the wagon just before I got to where +the load was standing. Or some one did. I think it was dad. But +Caroline kicked my horse down off the road, and, I only saw him a +minute--but it _must_ have been dad. And then, a little way down the +hill, something went wrong." + +Frank seemed trying to reconstruct the accident from Lorraine's +description. "He'd no business to start down if his rough-lock wasn't +all right," he said. "It ain't like him. Brit's careful about them +things--little men most always are. I don't see how 'n 'ell it worked +loose. It's a damn queer layout all around; and this here doctor +gitting here ahead of you folks, that there is the queerest. What's he +say about Brit? Think he'll pull through?" + +The doctor himself, coming up just then, answered the question. Of +course the patient would pull through! What were doctors for? As to +his reason for coming, he referred them to Mr Vjolmar, whom he thought +could better explain the matter. + +The three of them waited,--five of them, since Jim and Sorry had come +up, anxious to hear the doctor's opinion and anything else pertaining +to the affair. Swan was coming slowly from the bunk-house, buttoning +his coat. He seemed to feel that they were waiting for him and to know +why. His manner was diffident, deprecating even. + +"We may as well go in out of the mosquitoes," the doctor suggested. +"And I wish you would tell these people what you told me, young man. +Don't be afraid to speak frankly; it is rather amazing but not at all +impossible, as I can testify. In fact," he added dryly, "my presence +here ought to settle any doubt of that. Just tell them, young man, +about your mother." + +Swan was the last to enter the kitchen, and he stood leaning against +the closed door, turning his old hat round and round, his eyes going +swiftly from face to face. They were watching him, and Swan blushed a +deep red while he told them about his mother in Boise, and how he could +talk to her with his thoughts. He explained laboriously how the +thoughts from her came like his mother speaking in his head, and that +his thoughts reached her in the same way. He said that since he was a +little boy they could talk together with their thoughts, but people +laughed and some called them crazy, so that now he did not like to have +somebody know that he could do it. + +"But Brit Hunter's hurt bad, so a doctor must come quick, or I think he +maybe will die. It takes too long to ride a horse to Echo from this +ranch, so I call on my mother, and I tell my mother a doctor must come +quick to this ranch. So my mother sends a telephone to this doctor in +Shoshone, and he comes. That is all. But I would not like it if +everybody maybe finds it out that I do that, and makes talk about it." + +He looked straight at Jim and Sorry, and those two unprepossessing ones +looked at each other and at Swan and at the doctor and at each other +again, and headed for the door. But Swan was leaning against it, and +his eyes were on them. "I would like it if you say somebody rides to +get the doctor," he hinted quietly. + +Sorry looked at Jim. "I rode like hell," he stated heavily. "I leave +it to Jim." + +"You shore'n hell did!" Jim agreed, and Swan removed his big form from +the door. + +"You boys goin' over t' Spirit Canyon?" Frank wanted to know. + +"Yeah," said Sorry, answering for them both, and they went out, giving +Swan a sidelong look of utter bafflement as they passed him. Talking +by the thought route from Spirit Canyon to Boise City was evidently a +bit too much for even their phlegmatic souls to contemplate with +perfect calm. + +"They'll keep it to theirselves, whether they believe it or not," Frank +assured Swan in his laboured whisper. "It don't go down with me. I +ain't supe'stitious enough fer that." + +"The doctor he comes, don't he?" Swan retorted. "I shall go back now +and milk the cows and do chores." + +"But if your shoulder is lame, Swan, how can you?" Lorraine asked in +her unexpected fashion. + +Swan swallowed and looked helplessly at the doctor, who stood smoothing +his chin. "The muscle strain is not serious," he said calmly. "A +little gentle exercise will prevent further trouble, I think." +Whereupon he turned abruptly to the door of the other room, glanced in +at Brit and beckoned Lorraine with an upraised finger. + +"You have had a hard time of it yourself, young lady," he told her. +"You needn't worry about Swan. He is not suffering appreciably. I +shall mix you a very unpleasant dose of medicine, and then I want you +to go to bed and sleep. I shall stay with your father to-night; not +that it is necessary, but because I prefer daylight for the trip back +to town. So there is no reason why you should sit up and wear yourself +out. You will have plenty of time to do that while your father's bones +mend." + +He proceeded to mix the unpleasant dose, which Lorraine swallowed and +straightway forgot, in the muddle of thoughts that whirled confusingly +in her brain. Little things distressed her oddly, while her father's +desperate state left her numb. She lay down on the cot in the farther +corner of the kitchen where her father had slept just last night--it +seemed so long ago!--and almost immediately, as her senses recorded it, +bright sunlight was shining into the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +LONE TAKES HIS STAND + +Lone Morgan, over at Elk Spring camp, was just sitting down to eat his +midday meal when some one shouted outside. Lone stiffened in his +chair, felt under his coat, and then got up with some deliberation and +looked out of the window before he went to the door. All this was a +matter of habit, bred of Lone's youth in the feud country, and had +nothing whatever to do with his conscience. + +"Hello!" he called, standing in the doorway and grinning a welcome to +Swan, who stood with one arm resting on the board gate. "She's on the +table--come on in." + +"I don't know if you're home with the door shut like that," Swan +explained, coming up to the cabin. "I chased a coyote from Rock City +to here, and by golly, he's going yet! I'll get him sometime, maybe. +He's smart, but you can beat anything with thinking if you don't stop +thinking. Always the other feller stops sometimes, and then you get +him. You believe that?" + +"It most generally works out that way," Lone admitted, getting another +plate and cup from the cupboard, which was merely a box nailed with its +bottom to the wall, and a flour sack tacked across the front for a +curtain. "Even a coyote slips up now and then, I reckon." + +Swan sat down, smoothing his tousled yellow hair with both hands as he +did so. "By golly, my shoulder is sore yet from carrying Brit Hunter," +he remarked carelessly, flexing his muscles and grimacing a little. + +Lone was pouring the coffee, and he ran Swan's cup over before he +noticed what he was doing. Swan looked up at him and looked away +again, reaching for a cloth to wipe the spilled coffee from the table. + +"How was that?" Lone asked, turning away to the stove. "What-all +happened to Brit Hunter?" + +Swan, with his plate filled and his coffee well sweetened, proceeded to +relate with much detail the story of Brit's misfortune. "By golly, I +don't see how he don't get killed," he finished, helping himself to +another biscuit. "By _golly_, I don't. Falling into Spirit Canyon is +like getting dragged by a horse. It should kill a man. What you +think, Lone?" + +"It didn't, you say." Lone's eyes were turned to his coffee cup. + +"It don't kill Brit Hunter--not yet. I think maybe he dies with all +his bones broke, like that. By golly, that shows you what could happen +if a man don't think. Brit should look at that chain on his wheel +before he starts down that road." + +"Oh. His brake didn't hold, eh?" + +"I look at that wagon," Swan answered carefully. "It is something +funny about that chain. I worked hauling logs in the mountains, once. +It is something damn funny about that chain, the way it's fixed." + +Lone did not ask him for particulars, as perhaps Swan expected. He did +not speak at all for awhile, but presently pushed back his plate as if +his appetite were gone. + +"It's like Fred Thurman," Swan continued moralising. "If Fred don't +ride backwards, I bet he don't get killed--like that." + +"Where's Brit now?" Lone asked, getting up and putting on his hat. "At +the ranch?" + +"Or heaven, maybe," Swan responded sententiously. "But my dog Yack, he +don't howl yet. I guess Brit's at the ranch." + +"Sorry I'm busy to-day," said Lone, opening the door. "You stay as +long as you like, Swan. I've got some riding to do." + +"I'll wash the dishes, and then I maybe will think quicker than that +coyote. I'm after him, by golly, till I get him." + +Lone muttered something and went out. Within five minutes Swan, +hearing hoofbeats, looked out through a crack in the door and saw Lone +riding at a gallop along the trail to Rock City. "Good bait. He +swallows the hook," he commented to himself, and his good-natured grin +was not brightening his face while he washed the dishes and tidied the +cabin. + +With Lone rode bitterness of soul and a sick fear that had nothing to +do with his own destiny. How long ago Brit had been hurled into the +canyon Lone did not know; he had not asked. But he judged that it must +have been very recently. Swan had not told him of anything but the +runaway, and of helping to carry Brit home--and of the "damn funny +thing about the chain"--the rough-lock, he must have meant. Too well +Lone understood the sinister meaning that probably lay behind that +phrase. + +"They've started on the Quirt now," he told himself with foreboding. +"She's been telling her father----" + +Lone fell into bitter argument with himself. Just how far was it +justifiable to mind his own business? And if he did not mind it, what +possible chance had he against a power so ruthless and so cunning? An +accident to a man driving a loaded wagon down the Spirit Canyon grade +had a diabolic plausibility that no man in the country could question. +Brit, he reasoned, could not have known before he started that his +rough-lock had been tampered with, else he would have fixed it. +Neither was Brit the man to forget the brake on his load. If Brit +lived, he might talk as much as he pleased, but he could never prove +that his accident had been deliberately staged with murderous intent. + +Lone lifted his head and looked away across the empty miles of sageland +to the quiet blue of the mountains beyond. Peace--the peace of +untroubled wilderness--brooded over the land. Far in the distance, +against the rim of rugged hills, was an irregular splotch of brown +which was the headquarters of the Sawtooth. Lone turned his wrist to +the right, and John Doe, obeying the rein signal, left the trail and +began picking his way stiff-legged down the steep slope of the ridge, +heading directly toward the home ranch. + +John Doe was streaked with sweat and his flanks were palpitating with +fatigue when Lone rode up to the corral and dismounted. Pop Bridgers +saw him and came bow-legging eagerly forward with gossip titillating on +his meddlesome tongue, but Lone stalked by him with only a surly nod. +Bob Warfield he saw at a distance and gave no sign of recognition. He +met Hawkins coming down from his house and stopped in the trail. + +"Have you got time to go back to the office and fix up my time, +Hawkins?" he asked without prelude. "I'm quitting to-day." + +Hawkins stared and named the Biblical place of torment. "What yuh +quittin' for, Lone?" he added incredulously. "All you boys got a raise +last month; ain't that good enough?" + +"Plenty good enough, so long as I work for the outfit." + +"Well, what's wrong? You've been with us five years, Lone, and it's +suited you all right so far----" + +Lone looked at him. "Say, I never set out to marry the Sawtooth," he +stated calmly. "And if I have married you-all by accident, you can get +a bill of divorce for desertion. This ain't the first time a man ever +quit yuh, is it, Hawkins?" + +"No--and there ain't a man on the pay roll we can't do without," +Hawkins retorted, his neck stiffening with resentment. "It's a kinda +rusty trick, though, Lone, quittin' without notice and leaving a camp +empty." + +"Elk Spring won't run away," Lone assured him without emotion. "She's +been left alone a week or two at a time during roundups. I don't +reckon the outfit'll bust up before you get a man down there." + +The foreman looked at him curiously, for this was not like Lone, whose +tone had always been soft and friendly, and whose manner had no hint of +brusqueness. There was a light, too, in Lone's eyes that had not been +there before. But Hawkins would not question him further. If Lone +Morgan or any other man wanted to quit, that was his +privilege,--providing, of course, that his leaving was not likely to +menace the peace and security of the Sawtooth. Lone had made it a +point to mind his own business, always. He had never asked questions, +he had never surmised or gossiped. So Hawkins gave him a check for his +wages and let him go with no more than a foreman's natural reluctance +to lose a trustworthy man. + +By hard riding along short cuts, Lone reached the Quirt ranch and +dropped reins at the doorstep, not much past mid-afternoon. + +"I rode over to see if there's anything I can do," he said, when +Lorraine opened the door to him. He did not like to ask about her +father, fearing that the news would be bad. + +"Why, thank you for coming." Lorraine stepped back, tacitly inviting +him to enter. "Dad knows us to-day, but of course he's terribly hurt +and can't talk much. We do need some one to go to town for things. +Frank helps me with dad, and Jim and Sorry are trying to keep things +going on the ranch. And Swan does what he can, of course, but----" + +"I just thought you maybe needed somebody right bad," said Lone +quietly, meaning a great deal more than Lorraine dreamed that he meant. +"I'm not doing anything at all, right now, so I can just as well help +out as not. I can go to town right away, if I can borrow a horse. +John Doe, he's pretty tired. I been pushing him right through--not +knowing there was a town trip ahead of him." + +Lorraine found her eyes going misty. He was so quiet, and so +reassuring in his quiet. Half her burden seemed to slip from her +shoulders while she looked at him. She turned away, groping for the +door latch. + +"You may see dad, if you like, while I get the list of things the +doctor ordered. He left only a little while ago, and I was waiting for +one of the boys to come back so I could send him to town." + +It was on Lone's tongue to ask why the doctor had not taken in the +order himself and instructed some one to bring out the things; but he +remembered how very busy with its own affairs was Echo and decided that +the doctor was wise. + +He tiptoed in to the bed and saw a sallow face covered with stubbly +gray whiskers and framed with white bandages. Brit opened his eyes and +moved his thin lips in some kind of greeting, and Lone sat down on the +edge of a chair, feeling as miserably guilty as if he himself had +brought the old man to this pass. It seemed to him that Brit must know +more of the accident than Swan had told, and the thought did not add to +his comfort. He waited until Brit opened his eyes again, and then he +leaned forward, holding Brit's wandering glance with his own intent +gaze. + +"I ain't working now," he said, lowering his voice so that Lorraine +could not hear. "So I'm going to stay here and help see you through +with this. I've quit the Sawtooth." + +Brit's eyes cleared and studied Lone's face. "D'ye know--anything?" + +"No, I don't." Lone's face hardened a little. "But I wanted you to +know that I'm--with the Quirt, now." + +"Frank hire yuh?" + +"No. I ain't hired at all. I'm just--_with_ yuh." + +"We--need yuh," said Brit grimly, looking Lone straight in the eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +"FRANK'S DEAD" + +"Frank come yet?" The peevish impatience of an invalid whose horizon +has narrowed to his own personal welfare and wants was in Brit's voice. +Two weeks he had been sick, and his temper had not sweetened with the +pain of his broken bones and the enforced idleness. Brit was the type +of man who is never quiet unless he is asleep or too ill to get out of +bed. + +Lorraine came to the doorway and looked in at him. Two weeks had set +their mark on her also. She seemed older, quieter in her ways; there +were shadows in her eyes and a new seriousness in the set of her mouth. +She had had her burdens, and she had borne them with more patience than +many an older woman would have done, but what she thought of those +burdens she did not say. + +"No, dad--but I thought I heard a wagon a little while ago. He must be +coming," she said. + +"Where's Lone at?" Brit moved restlessly on the pillow and twisted his +face at the pain. + +"Lone isn't back, either." + +"He ain't? Where'd he go?" + +Lorraine came to the bedside and, lifting Brit's head carefully, +arranged the pillow as she knew he liked it. "I don't know where he +went," she said dully. "He rode off just after dinner. Do you want +your supper now? Or would you rather wait until Frank brings the +fruit?" + +"I'd ruther wait--if Frank don't take all night," Brit grumbled. "I +hope he ain't connected up with that Echo booze. If he has----" + +"Oh, no, dad! Don't borrow trouble. Frank was anxious to get home as +soon as he could. He'll be coming any minute, now. I'll go listen for +the wagon." + +"No use listenin'. You couldn't hear it in that sand--not till he gits +to the gate. I don't see where Lone goes to, all the time. Where's +Jim and Sorry, then?" + +"Oh, they've had their supper and gone to the bunk-house. Do you want +them?" + +"No! What'd I want 'em fur? Not to look at, that's sure. I want to +know how things is going on this ranch. And from all I can make out, +they ain't goin' at all," Brit fretted. "What was you 'n' Lone talkin' +so long about, out in the kitchen last night? Seems to me you 'n' him +have got a lot to say to each other, Raine." + +"Why, nothing in particular. We were just--talking. We're all human +beings, dad; we have to talk sometimes. There's nothing else to do." + +"Well, I caught something about the Sawtooth. I don't want you talking +to Lone or anybody else about that outfit, Raine. I told yuh so once. +He's all right--I ain't saying anything against Lone--but the less you +have to say the more you'll have to be thankful fur, mebby." + +"I was wondering if Swan could have gotten word somehow to the Sawtooth +and had them telephone out that you were hurt. And Lone was drawing a +map of the trails and showing me how far it was from the canyon to the +Sawtooth ranch. And he was asking me just how it happened that the +brake didn't hold, and I said it must have been all right, because I +saw you come out from under the wagon just before you hitched up. I +thought you were fixing the chain on them." + +"Huh?" Brit lifted his head off the pillow and let it drop back again, +because of the pain in his shoulder. "You never seen me crawl out from +under no wagon. I come straight down the hill to the team." + +"Well, I saw some one. He went up into the brush. I thought it was +you." Lorraine turned in the doorway and stood looking at him +perplexedly. "We shouldn't be talking about it, dad--the doctor said +we mustn't. But are you _sure_ it wasn't you? Because I certainly saw +a man crawl out from under the wagon and start up the hill. Then the +horses acted up, and I couldn't see him after Yellowjacket jumped off +the road." + +Brit lay staring up at the ceiling, apparently unheeding her +explanation. Lorraine watched him for a minute and returned to the +kitchen door, peering out and listening for Frank to come from Echo +with supplies and the mail and, more important just now, fresh fruit +for her father. + +"I think he's coming, dad," she called in to her father. "I just heard +something down by the gate." + +She could save a few minutes, she thought, by running down to the +corral where Frank would probably stop and unload the few sacks of +grain he was bringing, before he drove up to the house. Frank was very +methodical in a fussy, purposeless way, she had observed. Twice he had +driven to Echo since her father had been hurt, and each time he had +stopped at the corral on his way to the house. So she closed the +screen door behind her, careful that it should not slam, and ran down +the path in the heavy dusk wherein crickets were rasping a strident +chorus. + +"Oh! It's you, is it, Lone?" she exclaimed, when she neared the vague +figure of a man unsaddling a horse. "You didn't see Frank coming +anywhere, did you? Dad won't have his supper until Frank comes with +the things I sent for. He's late." + +Lone was lifting the saddle off the back of John Doe, which he had +bought from the Sawtooth because he was fond of the horse. He +hesitated and replaced the saddle, pulling the blanket straight under +it. + +"I saw him coming an hour ago," he said. "I was back up on the ridge, +and I saw a team turn into the Quirt trail from the ford. It couldn't +be anybody but Frank. I'll ride out and meet him." + +He was mounted and gone before she realised that he was ready. She +heard the sharp staccato of John Doe's hoofbeats and wondered why Lone +had not waited for another word from her. It was as if she had told +him that Frank was in some terrible danger,--yet she had merely +complained that he was late. The bunk-house door opened, and Sorry +came out on the doorstep, stood there a minute and came slowly to meet +her as she retraced her steps to the house. + +"Where'd Lone go so sudden?" he asked, when she came close to him in +the dusk. "That was him, wasn't it?" + +Lorraine stopped and stood looking at him without speaking. A vague +terror had seized her. She wanted to scream, and yet she could think +of nothing to scream over. It was Lone's haste, she told herself +impatiently. Her nerves were ragged from nursing her dad and from +worrying over things she must not talk about,--that forbidden subject +which never left her mind for long. + +"Wasn't that him?" Sorry repeated uneasily. "What took him off again +in such a rush?" + +"Oh, I don't know! He said Frank should have been here long ago. He +went to look for him. Sorry," she cried suddenly, "what _is_ the +matter with this place? I feel as if something horrible was just ready +to jump out at us all. I--I want my back against something solid, all +the time, so that nothing can creep up behind. Nothing," she added +desperately, "could happen to Frank between here and the turn-off at +the ford, could it? Lone saw him turn into our trail over an hour ago, +he said." + +Sorry, his fingers thrust into his overalls pockets, his thumbs hooked +over the waistband, spat into the sand beside the path. "Well, he +started off with a cracked doubletree," he said slowly. "He mighta +busted 'er pullin' through that sand hollow. She was wired up pretty +good, though, and there was more wire in the rig. I don't know of +anything else that'd be liable to happen, unless----" + +"Unless what?" Lorraine prompted sharply. "There's too much that isn't +talked about, on this ranch. What else could happen?" + +Sorry edged away from her. "Well--I dunno as anything would be liable +to happen," he said uncomfortably. "'Tain't likely him 'n' Brit'd both +have accidents--not right hand-runnin'." + +"_Accidents?_" Lorraine felt her throat squeeze together. "Sorry, you +don't mean--Sawtooth accidents?" she blurted. + +She surprised a grunt out of Sorry, who looked over his shoulder as if +he feared eavesdroppers. "Where'd you git that idee?" he demanded. "I +dunno what you mean. Ain't that yore dad callin' yuh?" + +Lorraine ignored the hint. "You _do_ know what I mean. Why did you +say they wouldn't both be likely to have accidents hand-running? And +why don't you _do_ something? Why does everyone just keep still and +let things happen, and not say a word? If there's any chance of Frank +having an--an _accident_, I should think you'd be out looking after +him, and not standing there with your hands in your pockets just +waiting to see if he shows up or if he doesn't show up. You're all +just like these rabbits out in the sage. You'll hide under a bush and +wait until you're almost stepped on before you so much as wiggle an +ear! I'm getting good and tired of this meek business!" + +"We-ell," Sorry drawled amiably as she went past him, "playin' +rabbit-under-a-bush mebby don't look purty, but it's dern good life +insurance." + +"A coward's policy," Lorraine taunted him over her shoulder, and went +to see what her father wanted. When he, too, wanted to know why Lone +had come and gone again in such a hurry, Lorraine felt all the courage +go out of her at once. Their very uneasiness seemed to prove that +there was more than enough cause for it. Yet, when she forced herself +to stop and think, it was all about nothing. Frank had driven to Echo +and had not returned exactly on time, though a dozen things might have +detained him. + +She was listening at the door when Swan appeared unexpectedly before +her, having walked over from the Thurman ranch after doing the chores. +To him she observed that Frank was an hour late, and Swan, whistling +softly to Jack--Lorraine was surprised to hear how closely the call +resembled the chirp of a bird--strode away without so much as a +pretence at excuse. Lorraine stared after him wide-eyed, wondering and +yet not daring to wonder. + +Her father called to her fretfully, and she went in to him again and +told him what Sorry had said about the cracked doubletree, and +persuaded him to let her bring his supper at once, and to have the +fruit later when Frank arrived. Brit did not say much, but she sensed +his uneasiness, and her own increased in proportion. Later she saw two +tiny, glowing points down by the corral and knew that Sorry and Jim +were down there, waiting and listening, ready to do whatever was needed +of them; although what that would be she could not even conjecture. + +She made her father comfortable, chattered aimlessly to combat her +understanding of his moody silence, and listened and waited and tried +her pitiful best not to think that anything could be wrong. The +subdued chuckling of the wagon in the sand outside the gate startled +her with its unmistakable reality after so many false impressions that +she heard it. + +"Frank's coming, dad," she announced relievedly, "and I'll go and get +the mail and the fruit." + +She ran down the path again, almost light-hearted in her relief from +that vague terror which had held her for the past hour. From the +corral Sorry and Jim came walking up the path to meet the wagon which +was making straight for the bunkhouse instead of going first to the +stable. One man rode on the seat, driving the team which walked +slowly, oddly, reminding Lorraine of a funeral procession. Beside the +wagon rode Lone, his head drooped a little in the starlight. It was +not until the team stopped before the bunk-house that Lorraine knew +what it was that gave her that strange, creepy feeling of disaster. It +was not Frank Johnson, but Swan Vjolmar who climbed limberly down from +the seat without speaking and turned toward the back of the wagon. + +"Why, where's Frank?" she asked, going up to where Lone was dismounting +in silence. + +"He's there--in the wagon. We picked him up back here about +three-quarters of a mile or so." + +"What's the matter? Is he drunk?" This was Sorry who came up to Swan +and stood ready to lend a hand. + +"He's so drunk he falls out of wagon down the road, but he don't have +whisky smell by his face," was Swan's ambiguous reply. + +"He's not hurt, is he?" Lorraine pressed close, and felt a hand on her +arm pulling her gently away. + +"He's hurt," Lone said, just behind her. "We'll take him into the +bunk-house and bring him to. Run along to the house and don't +worry--and don't say anything to your dad, either. There's no need to +bother him about it. We'll look after Frank." + +Already Swan and Sorry and Jim were lifting Frank's limp form from the +rear of the wagon. It sagged in their arms like a dead thing, and +Lorraine stepped back shuddering as they passed her. A minute later +she followed them inside, where Jim was lighting the lamp with shaking +fingers. By the glow of the match Lorraine saw how sober Jim looked, +how his chin was trembling under the drooping, sandy moustache. She +stared at him, hating to read the emotion in his heavy face that she +had always thought so utterly void of feeling. + +"It isn't--he isn't----" she began, and turned upon Swan, who was +beside the bunk, looking down at Frank's upturned face. "Swan, if it's +serious enough for a doctor, can't you send another thought message to +your mother?" she asked. "He looks--oh, Lone! He isn't _dead_, is he?" + +Swan turned his head and stared down at her, and from her face his +glance went sharply to Lone's downcast face. He looked again at +Lorraine. + +"To-night I can't talk with my mind," Swan told her bluntly. "Not +always I can do that. I could ask Lone how can a man be drunk so he +falls off the wagon when no whisky smell is on his breath." + +"Breath? Hell! There ain't no breath to smell," Sorry exclaimed as +unexpectedly as his speeches usually were. "If he's breathin' I can't +tell it on him." + +"He's got to be breathing!" Lone declared with a suppressed fierceness +that made them all look at him. "I found a half bottle of whisky in +his pocket--but Swan's right. There wasn't a smell of it on his +breath--I tell you now, boys, that he was lying in the sand between two +sagebrushes, on his face. And there is where he got the blow--_behind +his ear_. It's one of them accidents that you've got to figure out for +yourself." + +"Oh, do something!" Lorraine cried distractedly. "Never mind now how +it happened, or whether he was drunk or not--bring him to his senses +first, and let him explain. If there's whisky, wouldn't that help if +he swallowed some now? And there's medicine for dad's bruises in the +house. I'll get it. And Swan! Won't you _please_ talk to your mother +and tell her we need the doctor?" + +Swan drew back. "I can't," he said shortly. "Better you send to Echo +for telegraph. And if you have medicine, it should be on his head +quick." + +Lone was standing with his fingers pressed on Frank's wrist. He looked +up, hesitated, drew out his knife and opened the small blade. He moved +so that his back was to Lorraine, and still holding the wrist he made a +small, clean cut in the flesh. The three others stooped, stared with +tightened lips at the bloodless incision, straightened and looked at +one another dumbly. + +"I'd like to lie to you," Lone told Lorraine, speaking over his +shoulder. "But I won't. You're too game and too square. Go and stay +with your dad, but don't let him know--get him to sleep. We don't need +that medicine, nor a doctor either. Frank's dead. I reckon he was +dead when he hit the ground." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +SWAN TRAILS A COYOTE + +At daybreak Swan was striding toward the place where Frank Johnson had +been found. Lone, his face moody, his eyes clouded with thought, rode +beside him, while Jack trotted loose-jointedly at Swan's heels. Swan +had his rifle, and Lone's six-shooter showed now and then under his +coat when the wind flipped back a corner. Neither had spoken since +they left the ranch, where Jim was wandering dismally here and there, +trying to do the chores when his heart was heavy with a sense of +personal loss and grim foreboding. None save Brit had slept during the +night--and Brit had slept only because Lorraine had prudently given him +a full dose of the sedative left by the doctor for that very purpose. +Sorry had gone to Echo to send a telegram to the coroner, and he was +likely to return now at any time. Wherefore Swan and Lone were going +to look over the ground before others had trampled out what evidence +there might be in the shape of footprints. + +They reached the spot where the team had stopped of its own accord in +crossing a little, green meadow, and had gone to feeding. Lone pulled +up and half turned in the saddle, looking at Swan questioningly. + +"Is that dog of yours any good at trailing?" he asked abruptly. "I've +got a theory that somebody was in that wagon with Frank, and drove on a +ways before he jumped out. I believe if you'd put that dog on the +trail----" + +"If I put that dog on the trail he stays on the trail all day, maybe," +Swan averred with some pride. "By golly, he follows a coyote till he +drops." + +"Well, it's a coyote we're after now," said Lone. "A sheep-killer that +has made his last killin'. Right here's where I rode up and caught the +team, last night. We better take a look along here for tracks." + +Swan stared at him curiously, but he did not speak, and the two went on +more slowly, their glances roving here and there along the trail edge, +looking for footprints. Once the dog Jack swung off the trail into the +brush, and Swan followed him while Lone stopped and awaited the result. +Swan came back presently, with Jack sulking at his heels. + +"Yack, he take up the trail of a coyote," Swan explained, "but it's got +the four legs, and Yack, he don't understand me when I don't follow. +He thinks I'm crazy this morning." + +"I reckon the team came on toward home after the fellow jumped out," +Lone observed. "He'd plan that way, seems to me. I know I would." + +"I guess that's right. I don't have experience in killing somebody," +Swan returned blandly, and Lone was too preoccupied to wonder at the +unaccustomed sarcasm. + +A little farther along Swan swooped down upon a blue dotted +handkerchief of the kind which men find so useful where laundries are +but a name. Again Lone stopped and bent to examine it as Swan spread +it out in his hands. A few tiny grains of sandstone rattled out, and +in the centre was a small blood spot. Swan looked up straight into +Lone's dark, brooding eyes. + +"By golly, Lone, you would do that, too, if you kill somebody," he +began in a new tone,--the tone which Lorraine had heard indistinctly in +the bunkhouse when Swan was talking to the doctor. "Do you think I'm a +damn fool, just because I'm a Swede? You are smart--you think out +every little thing. But you make a big mistake if you don't think some +one else may be using his brain, too. This handkerchief I have seen +you pull from your pocket too many times. And it had a rock in it last +night, and the blood shows that it was used to hit Frank behind the +ear. You think it all out--but maybe I've been thinking too. Now +you're under arrest. Just stay on your horse--he can't run faster than +a bullet, and I don't miss coyotes when I shoot them on the run." + +"The hell you say!" Lone stared at him. "Where's your authority, Swan?" + +Swan lifted the rifle to a comfortable, firing position, the muzzle +pointing straight at Lone's chest. With his left hand he turned back +his coat and disclosed a badge pinned to the lining. + +"I'm a United States Marshal, that's all; a government hunter," he +stated. "I'm hot on the trail of coyotes--all kinds. Throw that +six-shooter over there in the brush, will you?" + +"I hate to get the barrel all sanded up," Lone objected mildly. "You +can pack it, can't you?" He grinned a little as he handed out the gun, +muzzle toward himself. "You're playing safe, Swan, but if that dog of +yours is any good, you'll have a change of heart pretty quick. Isn't +that a man's track, just beside that flat rock? Put the dog on, why +don't you?" + +"Yack is on already," Swan pointed out. "Ride ahead of me, Lone." + +With a shrug of his shoulders Lone obeyed, following the dog as it +trotted through the brush on the trail of a man's footprints which Swan +had shown it. A man might have had some trouble in keeping to the +trail, but Jack trotted easily along and never once seemed at fault. +In a very few minutes he stopped in a rocky depression where a horse +had been tied, and waited for Swan, wagging his tail and showing his +teeth in a panting smile. The man he had trailed had mounted and +ridden toward the ridge to the west. Swan examined the tracks, and +Lone sat on his horse watching him. + +Jack picked up the trail where the horseman had walked away toward the +road, and Swan followed him, motioning Lone to ride ahead. + +"You could tell me about this, I think, but I can find out for myself," +he observed, glancing at Lone briefly. + +"Sure, you can find out, if you use your eyes and do a little +thinking," Lone replied. "I hope you do lay the evidence on the right +doorstep." + +"I will," Swan promised, looking ahead to where Jack was nosing his way +through the sagebrush. + +They brought up at the edge of the road nearly a quarter of a mile +nearer Echo than the place where Frank's body had been found. They saw +where the man had climbed into the wagon, and followed to where they +had found Frank beside the road, lying just as he had pitched forward +from the wagon seat. + +"I think," said Swan quietly, "we will go now and find out where that +horse went last night." + +"A good idea," Lone agreed. "Do you see how it was done, Swan? When +he saw the team coming, away back toward Echo, he rode down into that +wash and tied his horse. He was walking when Frank overtook him, I +reckon--maybe claiming his horse had broke away from him. He had a +rock in his handkerchief. Frank stopped and gave him a lift, and he +used the rock first chance he got. Then I reckon he stuck the whisky +bottle in Frank's pocket and heaved him out. He dropped the +handkerchief out of his hip pocket when he jumped out of the rig. It's +right simple, and if folks didn't get to wondering about it, it'd be +safe as any killing can be. As safe," he added meaningly, "as dragging +Fred Thurman, or unhooking Brit's chain-lock before he started down the +canyon with his load of posts." + +Swan did not answer, but turned back to where the horse had been left +tied and took up the trail from there. As before, the dog trotted +along, Lone riding close behind him and Swan striding after. They did +not really need the dog, for the hoofprints were easily followed for +the greater part of the way. + +They had gone perhaps four miles when Lone turned, resting a hand on +the cantle of his saddle while he looked back at Swan. "You see where +he was headed for, don't yuh, Swan?" he asked, his tone as friendly as +though he was not under arrest as a murderer. "If he didn't go to +Whisper, I'll eat my hat." + +"You're the man to know," Swan retorted grimly. And then, because +Lone's horse had slowed in a long climb over a ridge, he came up even +with a stirrup. "Lone, I hate to do it. I'd like you, if you don't +kill for a living. But for that I could shoot you quick as a coyote. +You're smart--but not smart enough. You gave yourself away when I +showed you Fred's saddle. After that I knew who was the Sawtooth +killer that I came here to find." + +"You thought you knew," Lone corrected calmly. + +"You don't have to lie," Swan informed mm bluntly. "You don't have to +tell anything. I find out for myself if I make mistake." + +"Go to it," Lone advised him coldly. "It don't make a darn bit of +difference to me whether I ride in front of you or behind. I'm so glad +you're here on the job, Swan, that I'm plumb willing to be tied hand +and foot if it'll help you any." + +"When a man's too damn willing to be my prisoner," Swan observed +seriously, "he gets tied, all right. Put out your hands, Lone. You +look good to me with bracelets on, when you talk so willing to go to +jail for murder." + +He had slipped the rifle butt to the ground, and before Lone quite +realised what he was doing Swan had a short, wicked-looking automatic +pistol in one hand and a pair of handcuffs in the other. Lone flushed, +but there was nothing to do but hold out his hands. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE SAWTOOTH SHOWS ITS HAND + +In her fictitious West Lorraine had long since come to look upon +violence as a synonym for picturesqueness; murder and mystery were +inevitably an accompaniment of chaps and spurs. But when a man she had +cooked breakfast for, had talked with just a few hours ago, lay dead in +the bunk-house, she forgot that it was merely an expected incident of +Western life. She lay in her bed shaking with nervous dread, and the +shrill rasping of the crickets and tree-toads was unendurable. + +After the first shock had passed a deep, fighting rage filled her, made +her long for day so that she might fight back somehow. Who was the +Sawtooth Company, that they could sweep human beings from their path so +ruthlessly and never be called to account? Not once did she doubt that +this was the doing of the Sawtooth, another carefully planned +"accident" calculated to rid the country of another man who in some +fashion had become inimical to their interests. + +From Lone she had learned a good deal about the new irrigation project +which lay very close to the Sawtooth's heart. She could see how the +Quirt ranch, with its water rights and its big, fertile meadows and its +fences and silent disapprobation of the Sawtooth's methods, might be +looked upon as an obstacle which they would be glad to remove. + +That her father had been sent down that grade with a brake deliberately +made useless was a horrible thought which she could not put from her +mind. She had thought and thought until it seemed to her that she knew +exactly how and why the killer's plans had gone awry. She was certain +that she and Swan had prevented him from climbing down into the canyon +and making sure that her dad did not live to tell what mischance had +overtaken him. He had probably been watching while she and Swan made +that stretcher and carried her dad away out of his reach. He would not +shoot _her_,--he would not dare. Nor would he dare come to the cabin +and finish the job he had begun. But he had managed to kill +Frank--poor old Frank, who would never grumble and argue over little +things again. + +There was nothing picturesque, nothing adventurous about it. It was +just straight, heart-breaking tragedy, that had its sordid side too. +Her dad was a querulous sick man absorbed by his sufferings and not yet +out of danger, if she read the doctor's face aright. Jim and Sorry had +taken orders all their life, and they would not be able to handle the +ranch work alone; yet how else would it be done? There was +Lone,--instinctively she turned her thoughts to him for comfort. Lone +would stay and help, and somehow it would be managed. + +But to think that these things could be done without fear of +retribution. Jim and Sorry, Swan and Lone had not attempted to hide +their belief that the Sawtooth was responsible for Frank's death, yet +not one of them had hinted at the possibility of calling the sheriff, +or placing the blame where it belonged. They seemed browbeaten into +the belief that it would be useless to fight back. They seemed to look +upon the doings of the Sawtooth as an act of Providence, like being +struck by lightning or freezing to death, as men sometimes did in that +country. + +To Lorraine that passive submission was the most intolerable part, the +one thing she could not, would not endure. Had she lived all of her +life on the Quirt, she probably would never have thought of fighting +back and would have accepted conditions just as her dad seemed to +accept them. But her mimic West had taught her that women sometimes +dared where the men had hesitated. It never occurred to her that she +should submit to the inevitable just because the men appeared to do so. + +Wherefore it was a new Lorraine who rose at daybreak and silently +cooked breakfast for the men, learned from Jim that Sorry was not back +from Echo, and that Swan and Lone had gone down to the place where +Frank had been found. She poured Jim's coffee and went on her tiptoes +to see if her father still slept. She dreaded his awakening and the +moment when she must tell him about Frank, and she had an unreasonable +hope that the news might be kept from him until the doctor came again. + +Brit was awake, and the look in his eyes frightened Lorraine so that +she stopped in the middle of the room, staring at him fascinated. + +"Well," he said flatly, "who is it this time? Lone, or--Frank?" + +"Why--who is what?" Lorraine parried awkwardly. "I don't---" + +"Did they git Frank, las' night?" Brit's eyes seemed to bore into her +soul, searching pitilessly for the truth. "Don't lie to me, Raine--it +ain't going to help any. Was it Frank or Lone? They's a dead man laid +out on this ranch. Who is it?" + +"F-frank," Lorraine stammered, backing away from him. "H-how did you +know?" + +"How did it happen?" Brit's eyes were terrible. + +Lorraine shuddered while she told him. + +"Rabbits in a trap," Brit muttered, staring at the low ceiling. "Can't +prove nothing--couldn't convict anybody if we could prove it. Bill +Warfield's got this county under his thumb. Rabbits in a trap. Raine, +you better pack up and go home to your mother. There's goin' to be +hell a-poppin' if I live to git outa this bed." + +Lorraine stooped over him, and her eyes were almost as terrible as were +Brit's. "Let it pop. We aren't quitters, are we, dad? I'm going to +stay with you." Then she saw tears spilling over Brit's eyelids and +left the room hurriedly, fighting back a storm of weeping. She herself +could not mourn for Frank with any sense of great personal loss, but it +was different with her dad. He and Frank had lived together for so +many years that his loyal heart ached with grief for that surly, +faithful old partner of his. + +But Lorraine's fighting blood was up, and she could not waste time in +weeping. She drank a cup of coffee, went out and called Jim, and told +him that she was going to take a ride, and that she wanted a decent +horse. + +"You can take mine," Jim offered. "He's gentle and easy-gaited. I'll +go saddle up. When do you want to go?" + +"Right now, as soon as I'm ready. I'll fix dad's breakfast, and you +can look after him until Lone and Swan come back. One of them will +stay with him then. I may be gone for three or four hours. I'll go +crazy if I stay here any longer." + +Jim eyed her while he bit off a chew of tobacco. "It'd be a good thing +if you had some neighbour woman come in and stay with yuh," he said +slowly. "But there ain't any I can think of that'd be much force. You +take Snake and ride around close and forget things for awhile." He +hesitated, his hand moving slowly back to his pocket. "If yuh feel +like you want a gun----" + +Lorraine laughed bitterly. "You don't think any accident would happen +to _me_, do you?" + +"Well, no--er I wouldn't advise yuh to go ridin'," Jim said +thoughtfully. "This here gun's kinda techy, anyway, unless you're used +to a quick trigger. Yuh might be safer without than with it." + +By the time she was ready, Jim was tying his horse, Snake, to the +corral. Lorraine walked slowly past the bunk-house with her face +turned from it and her thoughts dwelling terrifiedly upon what lay +within. Once she was past she began running, as if she were trying to +outrun her thoughts, Jim watched her gravely, untied Snake and stood at +his head while she mounted, then walked ahead of her to the gate and +opened it for her. + +"Yore nerves are sure shot to hell," he blurted sympathetically as she +rode past him. "I guess you need a ride, all right. Snake's plumb +safe, so yuh got no call to worry about him. Take it easy, Raine, on +the worrying. That's about the worst thing you can do." + +Lorraine gave him a grateful glance and a faint attempt at a smile, and +rode up the trail she always took,--the trail where she had met Lone +that day when he returned her purse, the trail that led to Fred +Thurman's ranch and to Sugar Spring and, if you took a certain turn at +a certain place, to Granite Ridge and beyond. + +Up on the ridge nearest the house Al Woodruff shifted his position so +that he could watch her go. He had been watching Lone and Swan and the +dog, trailing certain tracks through the sagebrush down below, and when +Lorraine rode away from the Quirt they were in the wagon road, fussing +around the place where Frank had been found. + +"They can't pin nothing on _me_," Al tried to comfort himself. "If +that damn girl would keep her mouth shut I could stand a trial, even. +They ain't got any evidence whatever, unless she saw me at Rock City +that night." He turned and looked again toward the two men down on the +road and tilted his mouth down at the corners in a sour grin. + +"Go to it and be damned to you!" he muttered. "You haven't got the +dope, and you can't git it, either. Trail that horse if you want +to--I'd like to see yuh amuse yourselves that way!" + +He turned again to stare after Lorraine, meditating deeply. If she had +only been a man, he would have known exactly how to still her tongue, +but he had never before been called upon to deal with the problem of +keeping a woman quiet. He saw that she was taking the trail toward +Fred Thurman's, and that she was riding swiftly, as if she had some +errand in that direction, something urgent. Al was very adept at +reading men's moods and intentions from small details in their +behaviour. He had seen Lorraine start on several leisurely, +purposeless rides, and her changed manner held a significance which he +did not attempt to belittle. + +He led his horse down the side of the ridge opposite the road and the +house, mounted there and rode away after Lorraine, keeping parallel +with the trail but never using it, as was his habit. He made no +attempt to overtake her, and not once did Lorraine glimpse him or +suspect that she was being followed. Al knew well the art of +concealing his movements and his proximity from the inquisitive eyes of +another man's saddle horse, and Snake had no more suspicion than his +rider that they were not altogether alone that morning. + +Lorraine sent him over the trail at a pace which Jim had long since +reserved for emergencies. But Snake appeared perfectly able and +willing to hold it and never stumbled or slowed unexpectedly as did +Yellowjacket, wherefore Lorraine rode faster than she would have done +had she known more about horses. + +Still, Snake held his own better than even Jim would have believed, and +carried Lorraine up over Granite Ridge and down into the Sawtooth flat +almost as quickly as Lorraine expected him to do. She came up to the +Sawtooth ranch-houses with Snake in a lather of sweat and with her own +determination unweakened to carry the war into the camp of her enemy. +It was, she firmly believed, what should have been done long ago; what +would have curbed effectually the arrogant powers of the Sawtooth. + +She glanced at the foreman's cottage only to make sure that Hawkins was +nowhere in sight there, and rode on toward the corrals, intercepting +Hawkins and a large, well-groomed, smooth-faced man whom she knew at +once must be Senator Warfield himself. Unconsciously Lorraine mentally +fitted herself into a dramatic movie "scene" and plunged straight into +the subject. + +"There has been," she said tensely, "another Sawtooth accident. It +worked better than the last one, when my father was sent over the grade +into Spirit Canyon. Frank Johnson is _dead_. I am here to discover +what you are going to do about it?" Her eyes were flashing, her chest +was rising and falling rapidly when she had finished. She looked +straight into Senator Warfield's face, her own full in the sunlight, so +that, had there been a camera "shooting" the scene, her expression +would have been fully revealed--though she did not realise all that. + +Senator Warfield looked her over calmly (just as a director would have +wished him to do) and turned to Hawkins. "Who is this girl?" he asked. +"Is she the one who came here temporarily--deranged?" + +"She's the girl," Hawkins affirmed, his eyes everywhere but on +Lorraine's face. "Brit Hunter's daughter--they say." + +"They _say_? I _am_ his daughter! How dare you take that tone, Mr +Hawkins? My home is at the Quirt. When you strike at the Quirt you +strike at me. When you strike at me I am going to strike back. Since +I came here two men have been killed and my father has been nearly +killed. He may die yet--I don't know what effect this shock will have +upon him. But I know that Frank is dead, and that it's up to me now to +see that justice is done. You--you cowards! You will kill a man for +the sake of a few dollars, but you kill in the dark. You cover your +murders under the pretence of accidents. I want to tell you this: Of +all the men you have murdered, Frank Johnson will be avenged. You are +going to answer for that. I shall see that you do answer for it! +There is justice in this country, there _must_ be. I'm going to demand +that justice shall be measured out to you. I----" + +"Was she violent, before?" Senator Warfield asked Hawkins in an +undertone which Lorraine heard distinctly. "You're a deputy, Hawkins. +If this keeps on, I'm afraid you will have to take her in and have her +committed for insanity. It's a shame, poor thing. At her age it is +pitiful. Look how she has ridden that horse! Another mile would have +finished him." + +"Do you mean to say you think I'm crazy? What an idea! It seems to +me, Senator Warfield, that you are crazy yourself, to imagine that you +can go on killing people and thinking you will never have to pay the +penalty. You will pay. There is law in this land, even if----" + +"This is pathetic," said Senator Warfield, still speaking to Hawkins. +"Her father--if he is her father--is sick and not able to take care of +her. We'll have to assume the responsibility ourselves, I'm afraid, +Hawkins. She may harm herself, or----" + +Lorraine turned white. She had never seen just such a situation arise +in a screen story, but she knew what danger might lie in being accused +of insanity. While Warfield was speaking, she had a swift vision of +the evidence they could bring against her; how she had arrived there +delirious after having walked out from Echo,--why, they would call even +that a symptom of insanity! Lone had warned her of what people would +say if she told any one of what she saw in Rock City, perhaps really +believing that she had imagined it all. Lone might even think that she +had some mental twist! Her world was reeling around her. + +She whirled Snake on his hind feet, struck him sharply with the quirt +and was galloping back over the trail past the Hawkins house before +Senator Warfield had finished advising Hawkins. She saw Mrs Hawkins +standing in the door, staring at her, but she did not stop. They would +take her to the asylum; she felt that the Sawtooth had the power, that +she had played directly into their hands, and that they would be as +ruthless in dealing with her as they had been with the nesters whom +they had killed. She knew it, she had read it in the inscrutable, +level look of Senator Warfield, in the half cringing, wholly +subservient manner of Hawkins when he listened to his master. + +"They're fiends!" she cried aloud once, while she urged Snake up the +slope of Granite Ridge. "I believe they'd kill me if they were sure +they could get away with it. But they could frame an insanity charge +and put me--my God, what fiends they are!" + +At the Sawtooth, Senator Warfield was talking with Mrs Hawkins while +her husband saddled two horses. Mrs Hawkins lived within her four +walls and called that her "spere," and spoke of her husband as "he." +You know the type of woman. That Senator Warfield was anything less +than a godlike man who stood very high on the ladder of Fame, she would +never believe. So she related garrulously certain incoherent, aimless +utterances of Lorraine's, and cried a little, and thought it was +perfectly awful that a sweet, pretty girl like that should be crazy. +She would have made an ideal witness against Lorraine, her very +sympathy carrying conviction of Lorraine's need of it. That she did +not convince Senator Warfield of Lorraine's mental derangement was a +mere detail. Senator Warfield had reasons for knowing that Lorraine +was merely afflicted with a dangerous amount of knowledge and was using +it without discretion. + +"You mustn't let her run loose and maybe kill herself or somebody +else!" Mrs Hawkins exclaimed. "Oh, Senator, it's awful to think of! +When she went past the house I knew the poor thing wasn't right----" + +"We'll overtake her," Senator Warfield assured her comfortingly. "She +can't go very far on that horse. She'd ridden him half to death, +getting here. He won't hold out--he can't. She came here, I suppose, +because she had been here before. A sanitorium may be able to restore +her to a normal condition. I can't believe it's anything more than +some nervous disorder. Now don't worry, my good woman. Just have a +room ready, so that she will be comfortable here until we can get her +to a sanitorium. It isn't hopeless, I assure you--but I'm mighty glad +I happened to be here so that I can take charge of the case. Now here +comes Hawkins. We'll bring her back--don't you worry." + +"Well, take her away as quick as you can, Senator. I'm scared of crazy +people. His brother went crazy in our house and----" + +"Yes, yes--we'll take care of her. Poor girl, I wish that I had been +here when she first came," said the senator, as he went to meet +Hawkins, who was riding up from the corrals leading two horses--one for +Lorraine, which shows what was his opinion of Snake. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +YACK DON'T LIE + +For a time the trail seemed to lead toward Whisper. Then it turned +away and seemed about to end abruptly on a flat outcropping of rock two +miles from Whisper camp. Lone frowned and stared at the ground, and +Swan spoke sharply to Jack, who was nosing back and forth, at fault if +ever a dog was. But presently he took up the scent and led them down a +barren slope and into grassy ground where a bunch of horses grazed +contentedly. Jack singled out one and ran toward it silently, as he +had done all his trailing that morning. The horse looked up, stared +and went galloping down the little valley, stampeding the others with +him. + +"That's about where I thought we'd wind up--in a saddle bunch," Lone +observed disgustedly. "If I had the evidence you're carrying in your +pocket, Swan, I'd put that darn dog on the scent of the man, not the +horse." + +"The man I've got," Swan retorted. "I don't have to trail him." + +"Well, now, you _think_ you've got him. Here's good, level ground--I +couldn't get outa sight in less than ten minutes, afoot. Let me walk +out a ways, and you see if that handkerchief's mine. Oh, search me all +you want to, first," he added, when he read the suspicion in Swan's +eyes. "Make yourself safe as yuh please, but give me a fair show. +You've made up your mind I'm the killer, and you've been fitting the +evidence to me--or trying to." + +"It fits," Swan pointed out dryly. + +"You see if it does. The dog'll tell you all about it in about two +minutes if you give him a chance." + +Swan looked at him. "Yack don't lie. By golly, I raised that dog to +trail, and he _trails_, you bet! He's cocker spaniel and bloodhound, +and he knows things, that dog. All right, Lone, you walk over to that +black rock and set down. If you think you frame something, maybe, I +pack a dead man to the Quirt again." + +"You can, for all me," Lone replied quietly. "I'd about as soon go +that way as the way I am now." + +Swan watched him until he was seated on the rock as directed, his +manacled hands resting on his knees, his face turned toward the horses. +Then Swan took the blue handkerchief from his pocket, called Jack to +him and muttered something in Swedish while the dog sniffed at the +cloth. "Find him, Yack," said Swan, standing straight again. + +Jack went sniffing obediently in wide circles, crossing unconcernedly +Lone's footprints while he trotted back and forth. He hesitated once +on the trail of the horse he had followed, stopped and looked at Swan +inquiringly, and whined. Swan whistled the dog to him with a peculiar, +birdlike note and called to Lone. + +"You come back, Lone, and let Yack take a damn good smell of you. By +golly, if that dog lies to me this time, I lick him good!" + +Lone came back, grinning a little. "All right, now maybe you'll listen +to reason. I ain't the kind to tell all I know and some besides, Swan. +I've been a Sawtooth man, and a fellow kinda hates to throw down his +outfit deliberate. But they're going' too strong for any white man to +stand for. I quit them when they tried to get Brit Hunter. I don't +know so much, Swan, but I'm pretty good at guessing. So if you'll come +with me to Whisper, your dog may show yuh who owns that handkerchief. +If he don't, then I'm making a mistake, and I'd like to be set right." + +"Somebody rode that horse," Swan meditated aloud. "Yack don't make a +mistake like that, and I don't think I'm blind. Where's the man that +was on the horse? What you think, Lone?" + +"_Me_? I think there was another horse somewhere close to that +outcropping, tied to a bush, maybe. I think the man you're after +changed horses there, just on a chance that somebody might trail him +from the road. You put your dog on the trail of that one particular +horse, and he showed yuh where it was feeding with the bunch. It looks +to me like it was turned loose, back there, and come on alone. Your +man went to Whisper; I'll bank money on that. Anyway, your dog'll know +if he's been there." + +Swan thought it over, his eyes moving here and there to every hint of +movement between the skyline and himself. Suddenly he turned to Lone, +his face flushing with honest shame. + +"Loney, take a damn Swede and give him something he believes, and you +could pull his teeth before you pull that notion from his thick head. +You acted funny, that day Fred Thurman was killed, and you gave +yourself away at the stable when I showed you that saddle. So I think +you're the killer, and I keep on thinking that, and I've been trying to +catch you with evidence. I'm a Swede, all right! Square head. Built +of wood two inches thick. Loney, you kick me good. You don't have +time to ride over here, get some other horse and ride back to the Quirt +after Frank was killed. You got there before I did, last night. We +know Frank was dead not much more than one hour when we get him to the +bunk-house. Yack, he gives you a good alibi." + +"I sure am glad we took the time to trail that horse, then," Lone +remarked, while Swan was removing the handcuffs. "You're all right, +Swan. Nothing like sticking to an idea till you know it's wrong. Now, +let's stick to mine for awhile. Let's go on to Whisper. It ain't far." + +They returned to the rocky hillside where the trail had been covered, +and searched here and there for the tracks of another horse; found the +trail and followed it easily enough to Whisper. Swan put Jack once +more on the scent of the handkerchief, and if actions meant anything, +Jack proved conclusively that he found the Whisper camp reeking with +the scent. + +But that was all,--since Al was at that moment trailing Lorraine toward +the Sawtooth. + +"We may as well eat," Swan suggested. "We'll get him, by golly, but we +don't have to starve ourselves." + +"He wouldn't know we're after him," Lone agreed. "He'll stick around +so as not to raise suspicion. And he might come back, most any time. +If he does, we'll say I'm out with you after coyotes, and we stopped +here for a meal. That's good enough to satisfy him--till you get the +drop on him. But I want to tell yuh, Swan, you can't take Al Woodruff +as easy as you took me. And you couldn't have taken me so easy if I'd +been the man you wanted. Al would kill you as easy as you kill +coyotes. Give him a reason, and you won't need to give him a chance +along with it. He'll find the chance himself." + +Because they thought it likely that Al would soon return, they did not +hurry. They were hungry, and they cooked enough food for four men and +ate it leisurely. Jim was at the ranch, Sorry had undoubtedly returned +before now, and the coroner would probably not arrive before noon, at +the earliest. + +Swan wanted to take Al Woodruff back with him in irons. He wanted to +confront the coroner with the evidence he had found and the testimony +which Lone could give. There had been too many killings already, he +asserted in his naive way; the sooner Al Woodruff was locked up, the +safer the country would be. + +He discussed with Lone the possibility of making Al talk,--the chance +of his implicating the Sawtooth. Lone did not hope for much and said +so. + +"If Al was a talker he wouldn't be holding the job he's got," Lone +argued. "Don't get the wrong idea again, Swan. Yuh may pin this on to +Al, but that won't let the Sawtooth in. The Sawtooth's too slick for +that. They'd be more likely to make up a lynching party right in the +outfit and hang Al as an example than they would try to shield him. +He's played a lone hand, Swan, right from the start, unless I'm badly +mistaken. The Sawtooth's paid him for playing it, that's all." + +"Warfield, he's the man I want," Swan confided. "It's for more than +killing these men. It goes into politics, Loney, and it goes deep. +He's bad for the government. Getting Warfield for having men killed is +getting Warfield without telling secrets of politics. Warfield, he's a +smart man, by golly. He knows some one is after him in politics, but +he don't know some one is after him at home. So the big Swede has got +to be smart enough to get the evidence against him for killing." + +"Well, I wish yuh luck, Swan, but I can't say you're going at it right. +Al won't talk, I tell yuh." + +Swan did not believe that. He waited another hour and made a mental +inventory of everything in camp while he waited. Then, chiefly because +Lone's impatience finally influenced him, he set out to see where Al +had gone. + +According to Jack, Al had gone to the corral. From there they put Jack +on the freshest hoof-prints leaving the place, and were led here and +there in an apparently aimless journey to nowhere until, after Jack had +been at fault in another rock patch, the trail took them straight away +to the ridge overlooking the Quirt ranch. The two men looked at one +another. + +"That's like Al," Lone commented dryly. "Coyotes are foolish alongside +him, and you'll find it out. I'll bet he's been watching this place +since daybreak." + +"Where he goes, Yack will follow," Swan grinned cheerfully. "And I +follow Yack. We'll get him, Lone. That dog, he never quits till I say +quit." + +"You better go down and get a horse, then," Lone advised. "They're all +gentle. Al's mounted, remember. He's maybe gone to the Sawtooth, and +that's farther than you can walk." + +"I can walk all day and all night, when I need to go like that. I can +take short cuts that a horse can't take. I think I shall go on my own +legs." + +"Well, I'm going down to the house first. I know them two men riding +down to the gate. I want to see what the boss and Hawkins have got to +say about this last 'accident.' Better come on down, Swan. You might +pick up something. They're heading for the ranch, all right. Going to +make a play at being neighbourly, I reckon." + +"You bet I want to see Warfield," Swan assented rather eagerly and +called Jack, who had nosed around the spot where Al had waited so long +and was now trotting along the ridge on the next lap of Al's journey. + +They reached the gate in time to meet Warfield and Hawkins face to +face. Hawkins gave Lone a quick, questioning look and nodded +carelessly to Swan. Warfield, having a delicate errand to perform and +knowing how much depended upon first impressions, pulled up eagerly +when he recognised Lone. + +"Has the girl arrived safely, Lone?" he asked anxiously. + +"What girl?" Lone looked at him non-committally. + +"Miss--ah--Hunter. Have you been away all the forenoon? The girl came +to the ranch in such a condition that I was afraid she might do herself +or some one else an injury. Has she been unbalanced for long?" + +"If you mean Lorraine Hunter, she was all right last time I saw her, +and that was last night." Lone's eyes narrowed a little as he watched +the two. "You say she went to the Sawtooth?" + +"She came pelting over there crazier than when you brought her in," +Hawkins broke in gruffly. "She ain't safe going around alone like +that." + +Senator Warfield glanced at him impatiently. "Is there any truth in +her declaring that Frank Johnson is dead? She seemed to have had a +shock of some kind. She was raving crazy, and in her rambling talk she +said something about Frank Johnson having died last night." + +Lone glanced back as he led the way through the gate which Swan was +holding open. "He didn't die--he got killed last night," he corrected. + +"Killed! And how did that happen? It was impossible to get two +coherent sentences out of the girl." Senator Warfield rode through +just behind Lone and reined close, lowering his voice. "No use in +letting this get out," he said confidentially. "It may be that the +girl's dementia is some curable nervous disorder, and you know what an +injustice it would be if it became noised around that the girl is +crazy. How much English does that Swede know?" + +"Not any more than he needs to get along on," Lone answered, +instinctively on guard. "He's all right--just a good-natured kinda +cuss that wouldn't harm anybody." + +He glanced uneasily at the house, hoping that Lorraine was safe inside, +yet fearing that she would not be safe anywhere. Sane or insane, she +was in danger if Senator Warfield considered her of sufficient +importance to bring him out on horseback to the Quirt ranch. Lone knew +how seldom the owner of the Sawtooth rode on horseback since he had +high-powered cars to carry him in soft comfort. + +"I'll go see if she's home," Lone explained, and reined John Doe toward +the house. + +"I'll go with you," Senator Warfield offered suavely and kept +alongside. "Frank Johnson was killed, you say? How did it happen?" + +"Fell off his wagon and broke his neck," Lone told him laconically. +"Brit's pretty sick yet; I don't guess you'd better go inside. There's +been a lot of excitement already for the old man. He only sees folks +he's used to having around." + +With that he dismounted and went into the house, leaving Senator +Warfield without an excuse for following. Swan and Hawkins came up and +waited with him, and Jim opened the door of the bunkhouse and looked +out at them without showing enough interest to come forward and speak +to them. + +In a few minutes Lone returned, to find Senator Warfield trying to +glean information from Swan, who seemed willing enough to give it if +only he could find enough English words to form a complete sentence. +Swan, then, had availed himself of Lone's belittlement of him and was +living down to it. But Lone gave him scant attention just then. + +"She hasn't come back. Brit's worked himself up into a fever, and I +didn't dare tell him she wasn't with me. I said she's all tired out +and sick and wanted to stay up by the spring awhile, where it's cool. +I said she was with me, and the sun was too much for her, and she sent +him word that Jim would take care of him awhile longer. So you better +move down this way, or he'll hear us talking and want to know what's +up." + +"You're sure she isn't here?" Senator Warfield's voice held suspicion. + +"You can ask Jim, over here. He's been on hand right along. And if +you can't take his word for it, you can go look in the shack--but in +that case Brit's liable to take a shot at yuh, Senator. He's on the +warpath right, and he's got his gun right handy." + +"It is not necessary to search the cabin," Senator Warfield answered +stiffly. "Unless she is in a stupor we'd have heard her yelling long +ago. The girl was a raving maniac when she appeared at the Sawtooth. +It's for her good that I'm thinking." + +Jim stepped out of the doorway and came slowly toward them, eyeing the +two from the Sawtooth curiously while he chewed tobacco. His hands +rested on his hips, his thumbs hooked inside his overalls; a gawky pose +that fitted well his colourless personality,--and left his right hand +close to his six-shooter. + +"Cor'ner comin'?" he asked, nodding at the two who were almost +strangers to him. "Sorry, he got back two hours ago, and he said the +cor'ner would be right out. But he ain't showed up yet." + +Senator Warfield said that he felt sure the coroner would be prompt and +then questioned Jim artfully about "Miss Hunter." + +"Raine? She went fer a ride. I loaned her my horse, and she ain't +back yet. I told her to take a good long ride and settle her nerves. +She acted kinda edgy." + +Senator Warfield and his foreman exchanged glances for which Lone could +have killed them. + +"You noticed, then, that she was not quite--herself?" Senator Warfield +used his friendly, confidential tone on Jim. + +"We-ell--yes, I did. I thought a ride would do her good, mebby. She's +been sticking here on the job purty close. And Frank getting killed +kinda--upset her, I guess." + +"That's it--that's what I was saying. Disordered nerves, which rest +and proper medical care will soon remedy." He looked at Lone. "Her +horse was worn out when she reached the ranch. Does she know this +country well? She started this way, and she should have been here some +time ago. We thought it best to ride after her, but there was some +delay in getting started. Hawkins' horse broke away and gave us some +trouble catching him, so the girl had quite a start. But with her +horse fagged as it was, we had no idea that we would fail to get even a +sight of her. She may have wandered off on some other trail, in which +case her life as well as her reason is in danger." + +Lone did not answer at once. It had occurred to him that Senator +Warfield knew where Lorraine was at that minute, and that he might be +showing this concern for the effect it would have on his hearers. He +looked at him speculatively. + +"Do you think we ought to get out and hunt for her?" he asked. + +"I certainly think some one ought to. We can't let her wander around +the country in that condition. If she is not here, she is somewhere in +the hills, and she should be found." + +"She sure ain't here," Jim asserted convincingly. "I been watching for +the last two hours, expecting every minute she'd show up. I'd a been +kinda oneasy, myself, but Snake's dead gentle, and she's a purty fair +rider fer a girl." + +"Then we'll have to find her. Lone, can you come and help?" + +"The Swede and me'll both help," Lone volunteered. "Jim and Sorry can +wait here for the coroner. We ought to find her without any trouble, +much. Swan, I'll get you that tobacco first and see if Brit needs +anything." + +He started to the house, and Swan followed him aimlessly, his long +strides bringing him close to Lone before they reached the door. + +"What do you make of this new play?" Lone muttered cautiously when he +saw Swan's shadow move close to his own. + +"By golly, it's something funny about it. You stick with them, Loney, +and find out. I'm taking Al's trail with Yack. You fix it." And he +added whimsically, "Not so much tobacco, Lone. I don't eat it or smoke +it ever in my life." + +His voice was very Swedish, which was fortunate, because Senator +Warfield appeared softly behind him and went into the house. Swan was +startled, but he hadn't much time to worry over the possibility of +having been overheard. Brit's voice rose in a furious denunciation of +Bill Warfield, punctuated by two shots and followed almost immediately +by the senator. + +"My God, the whole family's crazy!" Warfield exclaimed, when he had +reached the safety of the open air. "You're right, Lone. I thought +I'd be neighbourly enough to ask what I could do for him, and he tried +to kill me!" + +Lone merely grunted and gave Swan the tobacco. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +"I THINK AL WOODRUFF'S GOT HER" + +There was no opportunity for further conference. Senator Warfield +showed no especial interest in Swan, and the Swede was permitted +without comment to take his dog and strike off up the ridge. Jim and +Sorry were sent to look after Brit, who was still shouting vain threats +against the Sawtooth, and the three men rode away together. Warfield +did not suggest separating, though Lone expected him to do so, since +one man on a trail was as good as three in a search of this kind. + +He was still inclined to doubt the whole story. He did not believe +that Lorraine had been to the Sawtooth, or that she had raved about +anything. She had probably gone off by herself to cry and to worry +over her troubles,--hurt, too, perhaps, because Lone had left the ranch +that morning without a word with her first. He believed the story of +her being insane had been carefully planned, and that Warfield had +perhaps ridden over in the hope that they would find her alone; though +with Frank dead on the ranch that would be unlikely. But to offset +that, Lone's reason told him that Warfield had probably not known that +Frank was dead. That had been news to him--or had it? He tried to +remember whether Warfield had mentioned it first and could not. Too +many disturbing emotions had held him lately; Lone was beginning to +feel the need of a long, quiet pondering over his problems. He did not +feel sure of anything except the fact that the Quirt was like a +drowning man struggling vainly against the whirlpool that is sucking +him slowly under. + +One thing he knew, and that was his determination to stay with these +two of the Sawtooth until he had some definite information; until he +saw Lorraine or knew that she was safe from them. Like a weight +pressing harder and harder until one is crushed beneath it, their talk +of Lorraine's insanity forced fear into his soul. They could do just +what they had talked of doing. He himself had placed that weapon in +their hands when he took her to the Sawtooth delirious and told of +wilder words and actions. Hawkins and his wife would swear away her +sanity if they were told to do it, and there were witnesses in plenty +who had heard him call her crazy that first morning. + +They could do it; they could have her committed to an asylum, or at +least to a sanitorium. He did not underestimate the influence of +Senator Warfield. And what could the Quirt do to prevent the outrage? +Frank Johnson was dead; Brit was out of the fight for the time being; +Jim and Sorry were the doggedly faithful sort who must have a leader +before they can be counted upon to do much. + +Swan,--Lone lifted his head and glanced toward the ridge when he +thought of Swan. There, indeed, he might hope for help. But Swan was +out here, away from reinforcements. He was trailing Al Woodruff, and +when he found him,--that might be the end of Swan. If not, Warfield +could hurry Lorraine away before Swan could act in the matter. A +whimsical thought of Swan's telepathic miracle crossed his mind and was +dismissed as an unseemly bit of foolery in a matter so grave as +Lorraine's safety. And yet--the doctor had received a message that he +was wanted at the Quirt, and he had arrived before his patient. There +was no getting around that, however impossible it might be. No one +could have foreseen Brit's accident; no one save the man who had +prepared it for him, and he would be the last person to call for help. + +"We followed the girl's horse-tracks almost to Thurman's place and lost +the trail there." Warfield turned in the saddle to look at Lone riding +behind him. "We made no particular effort to trace her from there, +because we were sure she would come on home. I'm going back that far, +and we'll pick up the trail, unless we find her at the ranch. She may +have hidden herself away. You can't," he added, "be sure of anything +where a demented person is concerned. They never act according to +logic or reason, and it is impossible to make any deductions as to +their probable movements." + +Lone nodded, not daring to trust his tongue with speech just then. If +he were to protect Lorraine later on, he knew that he must not defend +her now. + +"Hawkins told me she had some sort of hallucination that she had seen a +man killed at Rock City, when she was wandering around in that storm," +Warfield went on in a careless, gossipy tone. "Just what was that +about, Lone? You're the one who found her and took her in to the +ranch, I believe. She somehow mixed her delusion up with Fred Thurman, +didn't she?" + +Lone made a swift decision. He was afraid to appear to hesitate, so he +laughed his quiet little chuckle while he scrambled mentally for a +plausible lie. + +"I don't know as she done that, quite," he drawled humorously. "She +was out of her head, all right, and talking wild, but I laid it to her +being sick and scared. She said a man was shot, and that she saw it +happen. And right on top of that she said she didn't think they ought +to stage a murder and a thunderstorm in the same scene, and thought +they ought to save the thunder and lightning for the murderer to make +his get-a-way by. She used to work for the moving pictures, and she +was going on about some wild-west picture she thought she was acting a +part in. + +"Afterwards I told her what she'd been saying, and she seemed to kinda +remember it, like a bad dream she'd had. She told me she thought the +villain in one of the plays she acted in had pulled off a stage murder +in them rocks. We figured it out together that the first crack of +thunder had sounded like shooting, and that's what started her off. +She hadn't ever been in a real thunderstorm before, and she's scared of +them. I know that one we had the other day like to of scared her into +hysterics. I laughed at her and joshed her out of it." + +"Didn't she ever say anything about Fred Thurman, then?" Warfield +persisted. + +"Not to me, she didn't. Fred was dragged that night, and if she heard +about a man being killed during that same storm, she might have said +something about it. She might have wondered if that was what she saw. +I don't know. She's pretty sensible--when she ain't crazy." + +Warfield turned his horse, as if by accident, so that he was brought +face to face with Lone. His eyes searched Lone's face pitilessly. + +"Lone, you know how ugly a story can grow if it's left alone. Do _you_ +believe that girl actually saw a man shot? Or do you think she was +crazy?" + +Lone met Warfield's eyes fairly. "I think she was plumb out of her +head," he answered. And he added with just the right degree of +hesitation: "I don't think she's what you'd call right crazy, Mr +Warfield. Lots of folks go outa their heads and talk crazy when they +get a touch of fever, and they get over it again." + +"Let's have a fair understanding," Warfield insisted. "Do you think I +am justified in the course I am taking, or don't you?" + +"Hunting her up? Sure, I do! If you and Hawkins rode on home, I'd +keep on hunting till I located her. If she's been raving around like +you say, she's in no shape to be riding these hills alone. She's got +to be taken care of." + +Warfield gave him another sharp scrutiny and rode on. "I always prefer +to deal in the open with everyone," he averred. "It may not be my +affair, strictly speaking. The Quirt and the Sawtooth aren't very +intimate. But the Quirt's having trouble enough to warrant any one in +lending a hand; and common humanity demands that I take charge of the +girl until she is herself again." + +"I don't know as any one would question that," Lone assented and ground +his teeth afterwards because he must yield even the appearance of +approval. He knew that Warfield must feel himself in rather a +desperate position, else he would never trouble to make his motives so +clear to one of his men. Indeed, Warfield had protested his +unselfishness in the matter too much and too often to have deceived the +dullest man who owned the slightest suspicion of him. Lone could have +smiled at the sight of Senator Warfield betraying himself so, had +smiling been possible to him then. + +He dropped behind the two at the first rough bit of trail and felt +stealthily to test the hanging of his six-shooter, which he might need +in a hurry. Those two men would never lay their hands on Lorraine +Hunter while he lived to prevent it. He did not swear it to himself; +he had no need. + +They rode on to Fred Thurman's ranch, dismounted at Warfield's +suggestion--which amounted to a command--and began a careful search of +the premises. If Warfield had felt any doubt of Lone's loyalty he +appeared to have dismissed it from his mind, for he sent Lone to the +stable to search there, while he and Hawkins went into the house. Lone +guessed that the two felt the need of a private conference after their +visit to the Quirt, but he could see no way to slip unobserved to the +house and eavesdrop, so he looked perfunctorily through all the sheds +and around the depleted haystacks,--wherever a person could find a +hiding place. He was letting himself down through the manhole in the +stable loft when Swan's voice, lowered almost to a whisper, startled +him. + +"What the hell!" Lone ejaculated under his breath. "I thought you were +on another trail!" + +"That trail leads here, Lone. Did you find Raine yet?" + +"Not a sign of her. Swan, I don't know what to make of it. I did +think them two were stalling. I thought they either hadn't seen her at +all, or had got hold of her and were trying to square themselves on the +insanity dodge. But if they know where she is, they're acting damn +queer, Swan. They _want_ her. They haven't got her yet." + +"They're in the house," Swan reassured Lone. "I heard them walking. +You don't think they've got her there, Lone?" + +"If they have," gritted Lone, "they made the biggest blunder of their +lives bringing me over here. No, I could see they wanted to get off +alone and hold a powwow. They expected she'd be at the Quirt." + +"I think Al Woodruff, he's maybe got her, then," Swan declared, after +studying the matter briefly. "All the way he follows the trail over +here, Lone. I could see you sometimes in the trail. He was keeping +hid from the trail--I think because Raine was riding along, this +morning, and he's following. The tracks are that old." + +"They said they had trailed Raine this far, coming from the Sawtooth," +Lone told him worriedly. "What do you think Al would want----" + +"Don't she see him shoot Fred Thurman? By golly, I'm scared for that +girl, Loney!" + +Lone stared at him. "He wouldn't dare!" + +"A coward is a brave man when you scare him bad enough," Swan stated +flatly. "I'm careful always when I corner a coward." + +"Al ain't a coward. You've got him wrong." + +"Maybe, but he kills like a coward would kill, and he's scared he will +be caught. Warfield, he's scared, too. You watch him, Lone. + +"Now I tell you what I do. Yack, he picks up the trail from here to +where you can follow easy. We know two places where he didn't go with +her, and from here is two more trails he could take. But one goes to +the main road, and he don't take that one, I bet you. I think he takes +that girl up Spirit Canyon, maybe. It's woods and wild country in a +few miles, and plenty of places to hide, and good chances for getting +out over the top of the divide. + +"I'm going to my cabin, and you don't say anything when I leave. +Warfield, he don't want the damn Swede hanging around. So you go with +them, Loney. This is to what you call a showdown." + +"We'll want the dog," Lone told him, but Swan shook his head. Hawkins +and Warfield had come from the house and were approaching the stable. +Swan looked at Lone, and Lone went forward to meet them. + +"The Swede followed along on the ridge, and he didn't see anything," he +volunteered, before Warfield could question him. "We might put his dog +on the trail and see which way she went from here." + +Warfield thought that a good idea. He was so sure that Lorraine must +be somewhere within a mile or two of the place that he seemed to think +the search was practically over when Jack, nosing out the trail of Al +Woodruff, went trotting toward Spirit Canyon. + +"Took the wrong turn after she left the corrals here," Warfield +commented relievedly. "She wouldn't get far, up this way." + +"There's the track of two horses," Hawkins said abruptly. "That there +is the girl's horse, all right--there's a hind shoe missing. We saw +where her horse had cast a shoe, coming over Juniper Ridge. But +there's another horse track." + +Lone bit his lip. It was the other horse that Jack had been trailing +so long. "There was a loose horse hanging around Thurman's place," he +said casually. "It's him, tagging along, I reckon." + +"Oh," said Hawkins. "That accounts for it." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +SWAN CALLS FOR HELP + +Past the field where the horses were grazing and up the canyon on the +side toward Skyline Meadow, that lay on a shoulder of Bear Top, the dog +nosed unfalteringly along the trail. Now and then he was balked when +the hoofprints led him to the bank of Granite Creek, but not for long. +Jack appeared to understand why his trailing was interrupted and +sniffed the bank until he picked up the scent again. + +"Wonder if she changed off and rode that loose horse," Hawkins said +once, when the tracks were plain in the soft soil of the creek bank. +"She might, and lead that horse she was on." + +"She wouldn't know enough. She's a city girl," Lone replied, his heart +heavy with fear for Lorraine. + +"Well, she ain't far off then," Hawkins comforted himself. "Her horse +acted about played out when she hit the ranch. She had him wet from +his ears to his tail, and he was breathin' like that Ford at the ranch. +If that's a sample of her riding, she ain't far off." + +"Crazy--to ride up here. Keep your eyes open, boys. We must find her, +whatever we do." Warfield gazed apprehensively at the rugged steeps on +either hand and at the timber line above them. "From here on she +couldn't turn back without meeting us--if I remember this country +correctly. Could she, Hawkins?" + +"Not unless she turned off, up here a mile or two, into that gulch that +heads into Skyline," said Hawkins. "There's a stock trail part way +down from the top where it swings off from the divide to Wilder Creek." + +Swan, walking just behind Hawkins, moved up a pace. + +"I could go on Skyline with Yack, and I could come down by those +trail," he suggested diffidently, Swedishly, yet with a certain +compelling confidence. "What you think?" + +"I think that's a damned good idea for a square head," Hawkins told +him, and repeated it to Warfield, who was riding ahead. + +"Why, yes. We don't need the dog, or the man either. Go up to the +head of the gulch and keep your eyes open, Swan. We'll meet you up +here. You know the girl, don't you?" + +"Yas, Ay know her pretty good," grinned Swan. + +"Well, don't frighten her. Don't let her see that you think anything +is wrong--and don't say anything about us. We made the mistake of +discussing her condition within her hearing, and it is possible that +she understood enough of what we were saying to take alarm. You +understand? Don't tell girl she's crazy." He tapped his head to make +his meaning plainer. "Don't tell girl we're looking for her. You +understand?" + +"Yas, Ay know English pretty good. Ay don't tell too moch." His +cheerful smile brought a faint response from Senator Warfield. At Lone +he did not look at all. "I go quick. I'm good climber like a sheep," +he boasted, and whistling to Jack, he began working his way up a rough, +brush-scattered ledge to the slope above. + +Lone watched him miserably, wishing that Swan was not quite so matter +of fact in his man-chasing. If Al Woodruff, for some reason which Lone +could not fathom, had taken Lorraine and forced her to go with him into +the wilderness, Warfield and Hawkins would be his allies the moment +they came up with him. Lone was no coward, but neither was he a fool. +Hawkins had never distinguished himself as a fighter, but Lone had +gleaned here and there a great deal of information about Senator +Warfield in the old days when he had been plain Bill. When Lorraine +and Al were overtaken, then Lone would need to show the stuff that was +in him. He only hoped he would have time, and that luck would be with +him. + +"If they get me, it'll be all off with her," he worried, as he followed +the two up the canyon. "Swan would have been a help. But he thinks +more of catching Al than he does of helping Raine." + +He looked up and saw that already Swan was halfway up the canyon's +steep side, making his way through the brush with more speed than Lone +could have shown on foot in the open, unless he ran. The sight +heartened Lone a little. Swan might have some plan of his own,--an +ambush, possibly. If he would only keep along within rifle shot and +remain hidden, he would show real brains, Lone thought. But Swan, when +Lone looked up again, was climbing straight away from the little +searching party; and even though he seemed tireless on foot, he could +not perform miracles. + +Swan, however, was not troubling himself over what Lone would think, or +even what Warfield was thinking. Contrary to Lone's idea of him, Swan +was tired, and he was thinking a great deal about Lorraine, and very +little about Al Woodruff, except as Al was concerned with Lorraine's +welfare. Swan had made a mistake, and he was humiliated over his +blunder. Al had kept himself so successfully in the background while +Lone's peculiar actions had held his attention, that Swan had never +considered Al Woodruff as the killer. Now he blamed himself for +Frank's death. He had been watching Lone, had been baffled by Lone's +consistent kindness toward the Quirt, by the force of his personality +which held none of the elements of cold-blooded murder. He had +believed that he had the Sawtooth killer under observation, and he had +been watching and waiting for evidence that would impress a grand jury. +And all the while he had let Al Woodruff ride free and unsuspected. + +The one stupid thing, in Swan's opinion, which he had not done was to +let Lone go on holding his tongue. He had forced the issue that +morning. He had wanted to make Lone talk, had hoped for a weakening +and a confession. Instead he had learned a good deal which he should +have known before. + +As he forged up the slope across the ridged lip of the canyon, his one +immediate object was speed. Up the canyon and over the divide on the +west shoulder of Bear Top was a trail to the open country beyond. It +was perfectly passable, as Swan knew; he had packed in by that trail +when he located his homestead on Bear Top. That is why he had his +cabin up and was living in it before the Sawtooth discovered his +presence. + +Al, he believed, was making for Bear Top Pass. Once down the other +side he would find friends to lend him fresh horses. Swan had learned +something of these friends of the Sawtooth, and he could guess pretty +accurately how far some of them would go in their service. Fresh +horses for Al, food--perhaps even a cabin where he could hide Lorraine +away--were to be expected from any one of them, once Al was over the +divide. + +Swan glanced up at the sun, saw that it was dropping to late afternoon +and started in at a long, loose-jointed trot across the mountain meadow +called Skyline. A few pines, with scattered clumps of juniper and fir, +dotted the long, irregular stretch of grassland which formed the +meadow. Range cattle were feeding here and there, so wild they lifted +heads to stare at the man and dog, then came trotting forward, their +curiosity unabated by the fact that they had seen these two before. + +Jack looked up at his master, looked at the cattle and took his place +at Swan's heels. Swan shouted and flung his arms, and the cattle +ducked, turned and galloped awkwardly away. Swan's trot did not +slacken. His rifle swung rhythmically in his right hand, the muzzle +tilted downward. Beads of perspiration on his forehead had merged into +tiny rivulets on his cheeks and dripped off his clean-lined, square +jaw. Still he ran, his breath unlaboured yet coming in whispery +aspirations from his great lungs. + +The full length of Skyline Meadow he ran, jumping the small beginning +of Wilder Creek with one great leap that scarcely interrupted the +beautiful rhythm of his stride. At the far end of the clearing, +snuggled between two great pines that reached high into the blue, his +squatty cabin showed red-brown against the precipitous shoulder of Bear +Top peak, covered thick with brush and scraggy timber whipped +incessantly by the wind that blew over the mountain's crest. + +At the door Swan stopped and examined the crude fastening of the door; +made himself certain, by private marks of his own, that none had +entered in his absence, and went in with a great sigh of satisfaction. +It was still broad daylight, though the sun's rays slanted in through +the window; but Swan lighted a lantern that hung on a nail behind the +door, carried it across the neat little room, and set it down on the +floor beside the usual pioneer cupboard made simply of clean boxes +nailed bottom against the wall. Swan had furnished a few extra frills +to his cupboard, for the ends of the boxes were fastened to hewn slabs +standing upright and just clearing the floor. Near the upper shelf a +row of nails held Swan's coffee cups,--four of them, thick and white, +such as cheap restaurants use. + +Swan hooked a finger over the nail that held a cracked cup and glanced +over his shoulder at Jack, sitting in the doorway with his keen nose to +the world. + +"You watch out now, Yack. I shall talk to my mother with my thoughts," +he said, drawing a hand across his forehead and speaking in breathless +gasps. "You watch." + +For answer Jack thumped his tail on the dirt floor and sniffed the +breeze, taking in his overlapping tongue while he did so. He licked +his lips, looked over his shoulder at Swan, and draped his pink tongue +down over his lower jaw again. + +"All right, now I talk," said Swan and pulled upon the nail in his +fingers. + +The cupboard swung toward him bodily, end slabs and all. He picked up +the lantern, stepped over the log sill and pulled the cupboard door +into place again. + +Inside the dugout Swan set the lantern on a table, dropped wearily upon +a rough bench before it and looked at the jars beside him, lifted his +hand and opened a compact, but thoroughly efficient field wireless +"set." His right fingers dropped to the key, and the whining drone of +the wireless rose higher and higher as he tuned up. He reached for his +receivers, ducked his head and adjusted them with one hand, and sent a +call spitting tiny blue sparks from the key under his fingers. + +He waited, repeating the call. His blue eyes clouded with anxiety and +he fumbled the adjustments, coaxing the current into perfect action +before he called again. Answer came, and Swan bent over the table, +listening, his eyes fixed vacantly upon the opposite wall of the +dugout. Then, his fingers flexing delicately, swiftly, he sent the +message that told how completely his big heart matched the big body: + + +"Send doctor and trained nurse to Quirt ranch at once. Send men to +Bear Top Pass, intercept man with young woman, or come to rescue if he +don't cross. Have three men here with evidence to convict if we can +save the girl who is valuable witness. Girl being abducted in fear of +what she can tell. They plan to charge her with insanity. Urgent. +Hurry. Come ready to fight. + +"S. V." + + +Swan had a code, but codes require a little time in the composition of +a message, and time was the one thing he could not waste. He heard the +gist of the message repeated to him, told the man at the other station +that lives were at stake, and threw off the current. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +KIDNAPPED + +Lorraine had once had a nasty fall from riding down hill at a gallop. +She remembered that accident and permitted Snake to descend Granite +Ridge at a walk, which was fortunate, since it gave the horse a chance +to recover a little from the strain of the terrific pace at which she +had ridden him that morning. At first it had been fighting fury that +had impelled her to hurry; now it was fear that drove her homeward +where Lone was, and Swan, and that stolid, faithful Jim. She felt that +Senator Warfield would never dare to carry out his covert threat, once +she reached home. Nevertheless, the threat haunted her, made her +glance often over her shoulder. + +At the Thurman ranch, which she was passing with a sickening memory of +the night when she and Swan had carried her father there, Al Woodruff +rode out suddenly from behind the stable and blocked trail, his +six-shooter in his hand, his face stony with determination. Lorraine +afterwards decided that he must have seen or heard her coming down the +ridge and had waited for her there. He smiled with his lips when she +pulled up Snake with a startled look. + +"You're in such a hurry this morning that I thought the only way to get +a chance to talk to you was to hold you up," he said, in much the same +tone he had used that day at the ranch. + +"I don't see why you want to talk to me," Lorraine retorted, not in the +least frightened at the gun, which was too much like her movie West to +impress her much. But her eyes widened at the look in his face, and +she tried to edge away from him without seeming to do so. + +Al stopped her by the simple method of reaching out his left hand and +catching Snake by the cheek-piece of the bridle. "You don't have to +see why," he said. "I've been thinking a lot about you lately. I've +made up my mind that I've got to have you with me--always. This is +kinda sudden, maybe, but that's the way the game runs, sometimes. Now, +I want to tell yuh one or two things that's for your own good. One is +that I'll have my way, or die getting it. Don't be scared; I won't +hurt you. But if you try to break away, I'll shoot you, that's all. +I'm going to marry you, see, first. Then I'll make love to you +afterwards. I ain't asking you if you'll marry me. You're going to do +it, or I'll kill you." + +Lorraine gazed at him fascinated, too astonished to attempt any move +toward escape. Al's hand slipped from the bridle down to the reins, +and still holding Snake, still holding the gun muzzle toward her, still +looking her straight in the eyes, he threw his right leg over the +cantle of his saddle and stepped off his horse. + +"Put your other hand on the saddle horn," he directed. "I ain't going +to hurt you if you're good." + +He twitched his neckerchief off--Lorraine saw that it was untied, and +that he must have planned all this--and with it tied her wrists to the +saddle horn. She gave Snake a kick in the ribs, but Al checked the +horse's first start and Snake was too tired to dispute a command to +stand still. Al put up his gun, pulled a hunting knife from a little +scabbard in his boot, sliced two pairs of saddle strings from +Lorraine's saddle, calmly caught and held her foot when she tried to +kick him, pushed the foot back into the stirrup and tied it there with +one of the leather strings. Just as if he were engaged in an everyday +proceeding, he walked around Snake and tied Lorraine's right foot; +then, to prevent her from foolishly throwing herself from the horse and +getting hurt, he tied the stirrups together under the horse's belly. + +"Now, if you'll be a good girl, I'll untie your hands," he said, +glancing up into her face. He freed her hands, and Lorraine +immediately slapped him in the face and reached for his gun. But Al +was too quick for her. He stepped back, picked up Snake's reins and +mounted his own horse. He looked back at her appraisingly, saw her +glare of hatred and grinned at it, while he touched his horse with the +spurs and rode away, leading Snake behind him. + +Lorraine said nothing until Al, riding at a lope, passed the field at +the mouth of Spirit Canyon where the blaze-faced roan still fed with +the others. They were feeding along the creek quite close to the +fence, and the roan walked toward them. The sight of it stirred +Lorraine out of her dumb horror. + +"You killed Fred Thurman! I saw you," she cried suddenly. + +"Well, you ain't going to holler it all over the country," Al flung +back at her over his shoulder. "When you're married to me, you'll come +mighty close to keeping your mouth shut about it." + +"I'll never marry you! You--you fiend! Do you think I'd marry a +cold-blooded murderer like you?" + +Al turned in the saddle and looked at her intently. "If I'm all that," +he told her coolly, "you can figure out about what'll happen to you if +you _don't_ marry me. If you saw what I done to Fred Thurman, what do +you reckon I'd do to _you_?" He looked at her for a minute, shrugged +his shoulders and rode on, crossing the creek and taking a trail which +Lorraine did know. Much of the time they travelled in the water, +though it slowed their space. Where the trail was rocky, they took it +and made better time. + +Snake lagged a little on the upgrades, but he was well trained to lead +and gave little trouble. Lorraine thought longingly of Yellowjacket +and his stubbornness and tried to devise some way of escape. She could +not believe that fate would permit Al Woodruff to carry out such a +plan. Lone would overtake them, perhaps,--and then she remembered that +Lone would have no means of knowing which way she had gone. If Hawkins +and Senator Warfield came after them, her plight would be worse than +ever. Still, she decided that she must risk that danger and give Lone +a clue. + +She dropped a glove beside the trail, where it lay in plain sight of +any one following them. But presently Al looked over his shoulder, saw +that one of her hands was bare, and tied Snake's reins to his saddle +and his own horse to a bush. Then he went back down the trail until he +found the glove. He put it into his pocket, came silently up to +Lorraine and pulled off her other glove. Without a word he took her +wrists in a firm clasp, tied them together again to the saddle horn, +pulled off her tie, her hat, the pins from her hair. + +"I guess you don't know me yet," he remarked dryly, when he had +confiscated every small article which she could let fall as she rode. +"I was trying to treat yuh white, but you don't seem to appreciate it. +Now you can ride hobbled, young lady." + +"Oh, I could _kill_ you!" Lorraine whispered between set teeth. + +"You mean you'd like to. Well, I ain't going to give you a chance." +His eyes rested on her face with a new expression; an awakening desire +for her, an admiration for the spirit that would not let her weep and +plead with him. + +"Say! you ain't going to be a bit hard to marry," he observed, his eyes +lighting with what was probably his nearest approach to tenderness. "I +kinda wish you liked me, now I've got you." + +He shook her arm and laughed when she turned her face away from him, +then remounted his horse, Snake moved reluctantly when Al started on. +Lorraine felt hope slipping from her. With her hands tied, she could +do nothing at all save sit there and ride wherever Al Woodruff chose to +lead her horse. He seemed to be making for the head of Spirit Canyon, +on the side toward Bear Top. + +As they climbed higher, she could catch glimpses of the road down which +her father had driven almost to his death. She studied Al's back as he +rode before her and wondered if he could really be cold-blooded enough +to kill without compunction whoever he was told to kill, whether he had +any personal quarrel with his victim or not. Certainly he had had no +quarrel with her father, or with Frank. + +It was long past noon, and she was terribly hungry and very thirsty, +but she would not tell Al her wants if she starved. She tried to guess +at his plans and at his motive for taking her away like this. He had +no camping outfit, a bulkily rolled slicker forming his only burden. +He could not, then, be planning to take her much farther into the +wilderness; yet if he did not hide her away, how could he expect to +keep her? His motive for marrying her was rather mystifying. He did +not seem sufficiently in love with her to warrant an abduction, and he +was too cool for such a headlong action, unless driven by necessity. +She wondered what he was thinking about as he rode. Not about her, she +guessed, except when some bad place in the trail made it necessary for +him to stop, tie Snake to the nearest bush, lead his own horse past the +obstruction and come back after her. Several times this was necessary. +Once he took the time to examine the thongs on her ankles, apparently +wishing to make sure that she was not uncomfortable. Once he looked up +into her sullenly distressed face and said, "Tired?" in a humanly +sympathetic tone that made her blink back the tears. She shook her +head and would not look at him. Al regarded her in silence for a +minute, led Snake to his own horse, mounted and rode on. + +He was a murderer; he had undoubtedly killed many men. He would kill +her if she attempted to escape--"and he could not catch me," Lorraine +was just enough to add. Yet she felt baffled; cheated of the full +horror of being kidnapped. + +She had no knowledge of a bad man who was human in spots without being +repentant. For love of a girl, she had been taught to believe, the +worst outlaw would weep over his past misdeeds, straighten his +shoulders, look to heaven for help and become a self-sacrificing hero +for whom audiences might be counted upon to shed furtive tears. + +Al Woodruff, however, did not love her. His eyes had once or twice +softened to friendliness, but love was not there. Neither was +repentance there. He seemed quite satisfied with himself, quite ready +to commit further crimes for sake of his own safety or desire. He was +hard, she decided, but he was not unnecessarily harsh; cruel, without +being wantonly brutal. He was, in short, the strangest man she had +ever seen. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +"OH, I COULD KILL YOU!" + +Before sundown they reached the timber-land on Bear Top. The horses +slipped on the pine needles when Al left the trail and rode up a gentle +incline where the trees grew large and there was little underbrush. It +was very beautiful, with the slanting sun-rays painting broad yellow +bars across the gloom of the forest. In a little while they reached +the crest of that slope, and Lorraine, looking back, could only guess +at where the trail wound on among the trees lower down. + +Birds called companionably from the high branches above them. A +nesting grouse flew chuttering out from under a juniper bush, alighted +a short distance away and went limping and dragging one wing before +them, cheeping piteously. + +While Lorraine was wondering if the poor thing had hurt a leg in +lighting, Al clipped its head off neatly with a bullet from his +six-shooter, though Lorraine had not seen him pull the gun and did not +know he meant to shoot. The bird's mate whirred up and away through +the trees, and Lorraine was glad that it had escaped. + +Al slid the gun back into his holster, leaned from his saddle and +picked up the dead grouse as unconcernedly as he would have dismounted, +pulled his knife from his boot and drew the bird neatly, flinging the +crop and entrails from him. + +"Them juniper berries tastes the meat if you don't clean 'em out right +away," he remarked casually to Lorraine, as he wiped the knife on his +trousers and thrust it back into the boot-scabbard before he tied the +grouse to the saddle by its blue, scaley little feet. + +When he was ready to go on, Snake refused to budge. Tough as he was, +he had at last reached the limit of his energy and ambition. Al yanked +hard on the bridle reins, then rode back and struck him sharply with +his quirt before Snake would rouse himself enough to move forward. He +went stiffly, reluctantly, pulling back until his head was held +straight out before him. Al dragged him so for a rod or two, lost +patience and returned to whip him forward again. + +"What a brute you are!" Lorraine exclaimed indignantly. "Can't you see +how tired he is?" + +Al glanced at her from under his eyebrows. "He's all in, but he's got +to make it," he said. "I've been that way myself--and made it. What I +can do, a horse can do. Come on, you yella-livered bonehead!" + +Snake went on, urged now and then by Al's quirt. Every blow made +Lorraine wince, and she made the wincing perfectly apparent to Al, in +the hope that he would take some notice of it and give her a chance to +tell him what she thought of him without opening the conversation +herself. + +But Al did not say anything. When the time came--as even Lorraine saw +that it must--when Snake refused to attempt a steep slope, Al still +said nothing. He untied her ankles from the stirrups and her hands +from the saddle horn, carried her in his arms to his own horse and +compelled her to mount. Then he retied her exactly as she had been +tied on Snake. + +"Skinner knows this trail," he told Lorraine. "And I'm behind yuh with +a gun. Don't forget that, Miss Spitfire. You let Skinner go to suit +himself--and if he goes wrong, you pay, because it'll be you reining +him wrong. Get along there, Skinner!" + +Skinner got along in a businesslike way that told why Al Woodruff had +chosen to ride him on this trip. He seemed to be a perfectly +dependable saddle horse for a bandit to own. He wound in and out among +the trees and boulders, stepping carefully over fallen logs; he thrust +his nose out straight and laid back his ears and pushed his way through +thickets of young pines; he went circumspectly along the edge of a deep +gulch, climbed over a ridge and worked his way down the precipitous +slope on the farther side, made his way around a thick clump of spruces +and stopped in a little, grassy glade no bigger than a city lot, but +with a spring gurgling somewhere near. Then he swung his head around +and looked over his shoulder inquiringly at Al, who was coming behind, +leading Snake. + +Lorraine looked at him also, but Al did not say anything to her or to +the horse. He let them stand there and wait while he unsaddled Snake, +put a drag rope on him and led him to the best grazing. Then, coming +back, he very matter-of-factly untied Lorraine and helped her off the +horse. Lorraine was all prepared to fight, but she did not quite know +how to struggle with a man who did not take hold of her or touch her, +except to steady her in dismounting. Unconsciously she waited for a +cue, and the cue was not given. + +Al's mind seemed intent upon making Skinner comfortable. Still, he +kept an eye on Lorraine, and he did not turn his back to her. Lorraine +looked over to where Snake, too exhausted to eat, stood with drooping +head and all four legs braced like sticks under him. It flashed across +her mind that not even her old director would order her to make a run +for that horse and try to get away on him. Snake looked as if he would +never move from that position until he toppled over. + +Al pulled the bridle off Skinner, gave him a half-affectionate slap on +the rump, and watched him go off, switching his tail and nosing the +ground for a likeable place to roll. Al's glance went on to Snake, and +from him to Lorraine. + +"You sure do know how to ride hell out of a horse," he remarked. "Now +he'll be stiff and sore to-morrow--and we've got quite a ride to make." + +His tone of disapproval sent a guilty feeling through Lorraine, until +she remembered that a slow horse might save her from this man who was +all bad,--except, perhaps, just on the surface which was not altogether +repellent. She looked around at the tiny basin set like a saucer among +the pines. Already the dusk was painting deep shadows in the woods +across the opening, and turning the sky a darker blue. Skinner rolled +over twice, got up and shook himself with a satisfied snort and went +away to feed. She might, if she were patient, run to the horse when +Al's back was turned, she thought. Once in the woods she might have +some chance of eluding him, and perhaps Skinner would show as much +wisdom going as he had in coming, and take her down to the sageland. + +But Skinner walked to the farther edge of the meadow before he stopped, +and Al Woodruff never turned his back to a foe. An owl hooted +unexpectedly, and Lorraine edged closer to her captor, who was +gathering dead branches one by one and throwing them toward a certain +spot which he had evidently selected for a campfire. He looked at her +keenly, even suspiciously, and pointed with the stick in his left hand. + +"You might go over there by the saddle and set down till I get a fire +going," he said. "Don't go wandering around aimless, like a hen +turkey, watching a chance to duck into the brush. There's bear in +there and lion and lynx, and I'd hate to see you chawed. They never +clean their toe-nails, and blood poison generally sets in where they +leave a scratch. Go and set down." + +Lorraine did not know how much of his talk was truth, but she went and +sat down by his saddle and began braiding her hair in two tight braids +like a squaw. If she did get a chance to run, she thought, she did not +want her hair flying loose to catch on bushes and briars. She had once +fled through a brush patch in Griffith Park with her hair flowing +loose, and she had not liked the experience, though it had looked very +nice on the screen. + +Before she had finished the braiding, Al came over to the saddle and +untied his slicker roll and the grouse. + +"Come on over to the fire," he said. "I'll learn yuh a trick or two +about camp cooking. If I'm goin' to keep yuh with me, you might just +as well learn how to cook. We'll be on the trail the biggest part of +our time, I expect." + +He took her by the arm, just as any man might have done, and led her to +the fire that was beginning to crackle cheerfully. He set her down on +the side where the smoke would be least likely to blow her way and +proceeded to dress the grouse, stripping off skin and feathers +together. He unrolled the slicker and laid out a piece of bacon, a +package of coffee, a small coffeepot, bannock and salt. The coffeepot +and the grouse he took in one hand--his left, Lorraine observed--and +started toward the spring which she could hear gurgling in the shadows +amongst the trees. + +Lorraine watched him sidelong. He seemed to take it for granted now +that she would stay where she was. The woods were dark, the firelight +and the warmth enticed her. The sight of the supper preparations made +her hungrier than she had ever been in her life before. When one has +breakfasted on one cup of coffee at dawn and has ridden all day with +nothing to eat, running away from food, even though that food is in the +hands of one's captor, requires courage. Lorraine was terribly tempted +to stay, at least until she had eaten. But Al might not give her +another chance like this. She crept on her knees to the slicker and +seized one piece of bannock, crawled out of the firelight stealthily, +then sprang to her feet and began running straight across the meadow +toward Skinner. + +Twenty yards she covered when a bullet sang over her head. Lorraine +ducked, stumbled and fell head-first over a hummock, not quite sure +that she had not been shot. + +"Thought maybe I could trust yuh to play square," Al said disgustedly, +pulling her to her feet, the gun still smoking in his hands. "You +little fool, what do you think you'd do in these hills alone? You sure +enough belittle me, if you think you'd have a chance in a million of +getting away from me!" + +She fought him, then, with a great, inner relief that the situation was +at last swinging around to a normal kidnapping. Still, Al Woodruff +seemed unable to play his part realistically. He failed to fill her +with fear and repulsion. She had to think back, to remember that he +had killed men, in order to realise her own danger. Now, for instance, +he merely forced her back to the campfire, pulled the saddle strings +from his pocket and tied her feet together, using a complicated knot +which he told her she might work on all she darn pleased, for all he +cared. Then he went calmly to work cooking their supper. + +This was simple. He divided the grouse so that one part had the meaty +breast and legs, and the other the back and wings. The meaty part he +larded neatly with strips of bacon, using his hunting knife,--which +Lorraine watched fascinatedly, wondering if it had ever taken the life +of a man. He skewered the meat on a green, forked stick and gave it to +her to broil for herself over the hottest coals of the fire, while he +made the coffee and prepared his own portion of the grouse. + +Lorraine was hungry. She broiled the grouse carefully and ate it, with +the exception of one leg, which she surprised herself by offering to +Al, who was picking the bones of his own share down to the last shred +of meat. She drank a cup of coffee, black, and returned the cup to the +killer, who unconcernedly drank from it without any previous rinsing. +She ate bannock with her meat and secretly thought what an adventure it +would be if only it were not real,--if only she were not threatened +with a forced marriage to this man. The primitive camp appealed to +her; she who had prided herself upon being an outdoor girl saw how she +had always played at being primitive. This was real. She would have +loved it if only the man opposite were Lone, or Swan, or some one else +whom she knew and trusted. + +She watched the firelight dancing on Al's sombre face, softening its +hardness, making it almost wistful when he gazed thoughtfully into the +coals. She thrilled when she saw how watchful he was, how he lifted +his head and listened to every little night sound. She was afraid of +him as she feared the lightning; she feared his pitiless attitude +toward human life. She would find some way to outwit him when it came +to the point of marrying him, she thought. She would escape him if she +could without too great a risk of being shot. She felt absolutely +certain that he would shoot her with as little compunction as he would +marry her by force,--and it seemed to Lorraine that he would not +greatly care which he did. + +"I guess you're tired," Al said suddenly, rousing himself from deep +study and looking at her imperturbably. "I'll fix yuh so you can +sleep--and that's about all yuh can do." + +He went over to his saddle, took the blanket and unfolded it until +Lorraine saw that it was a full-size bed blanket of heavy gray wool. +The man's ingenuity seemed endless. Without seeming to have any extra +luggage, he had nevertheless carried a very efficient camp outfit with +him. He took his hunting knife, went to the spruce grove and cut many +small, green branches, returning with all he could hold in his arms. +She watched him lay them tips up for a mattress, and was secretly glad +that she knew this much at least of camp comfort. He spread the +blanket over them and then, without a word, came over to her and untied +her feet. + +"Go and lay down on the blanket," he commanded. + +"I'll do nothing of the kind!" Lorraine set her mouth stubbornly. + +"Well, then I'll have to lay you down," said Al, lifting her to her +feet. "If you get balky, I'm liable to get rough." + +Lorraine drew away from him as far as she could and looked at him for a +full minute. Al stared back into her eyes. "Oh, I could _kill_ you!" +cried Lorraine for the second time that day and threw herself down on +the bed, sobbing like an angry child. + +Al said nothing. The man's capacity for keeping still was amazing. He +knelt beside her, folded the blanket over her from the two sides, and +tied the corners around her neck snugly, the knot at the back. In the +same way he tied her ankles. Lorraine found herself in a sleeping bag +from which she had small hope of extricating herself. He took his +coat, folded it compactly and pushed it under her head for a pillow; +then he brought her own saddle blanket and spread it over her for extra +warmth. + +"Now stop your bawling and go to sleep," he advised her calmly. "You +ain't hurt, and you ain't going to be as long as you gentle down and +behave yourself." + +She saw him draw the slicker over his shoulders and move back where the +shadows were deep and she could not see him. She heard some animal +squall in the woods behind them. She looked up at the stars,--millions +of them, and brighter than she had ever seen them before. Insensibly +she quieted, watching the stars, listening to the night noises, +catching now and then a whiff of smoke from Al Woodruff's cigarette. +Before she knew that she was sleepy, she slept. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +"YACK, I LICK YOU GOOD IF YOU BARK" + +Swan cooked himself a hasty meal while he studied the various +possibilities of the case and waited for further word from +headquarters. He wanted to be sure that help had started and to be +able to estimate within an hour or two the probable time of its +arrival, before he left the wireless. Jack he fed and left on watch +outside the cabin, so that he could without risk keep open the door to +the dugout. + +His instrument was not a large one, and the dugout door was thick,--as +a precaution against discovery if he should be called when some visitor +chanced to be in the cabin. Not often did a man ride that way, though +occasionally some one stopped for a meal if he knew that the cabin was +there and had ever tasted Swan's sour-dough biscuits. His aerial was +cleverly camouflaged between the two pine trees, and he had no fear of +discovery there; Jack was a faithful guardian and would give warning if +any one approached the place. Swan could therefore give his whole +attention to the business at hand. + +He was not yet supplied with evidence enough to warrant arresting +Warfield and Hawkins, but he hoped to get it when the real crisis came. +They could not have known of Al Woodruff's intentions towards Lorraine, +else they would have kept themselves in the background and would not +have risked the failure of their own plan. + +On the other hand, Al must have been wholly ignorant of Warfield's +scheme to try and prove Lorraine crazy. It looked to Swan very much +like a muddling of the Sawtooth affairs through over-anxiety to avoid +trouble. They were afraid of what Lorraine knew. They wanted to +eliminate her, and they had made the blunder of working independently +to that end. + +Lone's anxiety he did not even consider. He believed that Lone would +be equal to any immediate emergency and would do whatever the +circumstances seemed to require of him. Warfield counted him a +Sawtooth man. Al Woodruff, if the four men met unexpectedly, would +also take it for granted that he was one of them. They would probably +talk to Lone without reserve,--Swan counted on that. Whereas, if he +were present, they would be on their guard, at least. + +Swan's plan was to wait at the cabin until he knew that deputies were +headed toward the Pass. Then, with Jack, it would be a simple matter +to follow Warfield to where he overtook Al,--supposing he did overtake +him. If he did not, then Swan meant to be present when the meeting +occurred. The dog would trail Al anywhere, since the scent would be +less than twenty-four hours old. Swan would locate Warfield and lead +him straight to Al Woodruff, and then make his arrests. But he wanted +to have the deputies there. + +At dusk he got his call. He learned that four picked men had started +for the Pass, and that they would reach the divide by daybreak. Others +were on their way to intercept Al Woodruff if he crossed before then. + +It was all that Swan could have hoped for,--more than he had dared to +expect on such short notice. He notified the operator that he would +not be there to receive anything else, until he returned to report that +he had got his men. + +"Don't count your chickens till they're hatched," came facetiously out +of the blue. + +"By golly, I can hear them holler in the shell," Swan sent back, +grinning to himself as he rattled the key. "That irrigation graft is +killed now. You tell the boss Swan says so. He's right. The way to +catch a fox is to watch his den." + +He switched off the current, closed the case and went out, making sure +that the cupboard-camouflaged door looked perfectly innocent on the +outside. With a bannock stuffed into one pocket, a chunk of bacon in +the other, he left the cabin and swung off again in that long, tireless +stride of his, Jack following contentedly at his heels. + +At the farther end of Skyline Meadow he stopped, took a tough leather +leash from his pocket and fastened it to Jack's collar. + +"We don't go running to paw nobody's stomach and say, 'Wow-wow! Here +we are back again!'" he told the dog, pulling its ears affectionately. +"Maybe we get shot or something like that. We trail, and we keep our +mouth still, Yack. One bark, and I lick you good!" + +Jack flashed out a pink tongue and licked his master's chin to show how +little he was worried over the threat, and went racing along at the end +of the leash, taking Swan's trail and his own back to where they had +climbed out of the canyon. + +At the bottom Swan spoke to the dog in an undertone, and Jack +obediently started up the canyon on the trail of the five horses who +had passed that way since noon. It was starlight now, and Swan did not +hurry. He was taking it for granted that Warfield and Hawkins would +stop when it became too dark to follow the hoofprints, and without Jack +to show them the way they would perforce remain where they were until +daybreak. + +They would do that, he reasoned, if they were sincere in wanting to +overtake Lorraine and in their ignorance that they were also following +Al Woodruff. And try as he would, he could not see the object of so +foolish a plan as this abduction carried out in collusion with two men +of unknown sentiments in the party. They had shown no suspicion of +Al's part in the affair, and Swan grinned when he thought of the mutual +surprise when they met. + +He was not disappointed. They reached timber line, following the +seldom used trail that wound over the divide to Bear Top Pass and so, +by a difficult route which he did not believe Al would attempt after +dark, to the country beyond the mountain. Where dark overtook them, +they stopped in a sheltered nook to wait, just as Swan had expected +they would. They were close to the trail, where no one could pass +without their knowledge. + +In the belief that it was only Lorraine they were following, and that +she would be frightened and would come to the cheer of a campfire, they +had a fine, inviting blaze. Swan made his way as close as he dared, +without being discovered, and sat down to wait. He could see nothing +of the men until Lone appeared and fed the flames more wood, and sat +down where the light shone on his face. Swan grinned again. Warfield +had probably decided that Lorraine would be less afraid of Lone than of +them and had ordered him into the firelight as a sort of decoy. And +Lone, knowing that Al Woodruff might be within shooting distance, was +probably much more uncomfortable than he looked. + +He sat with his legs crossed in true range fashion and stared into the +fire while he smoked. He was a fair mark for an enemy who might be +lurking out there in the dark, but he gave no sign that he realised the +danger of his position. Neither did he wear any air of expectancy. +Warfield and Hawkins might wait and listen and hope that Lorraine, +wide-eyed and weary, would steal up to the warmth of the fire; but not +Lone. + +Swan, sitting on a rotting log, became uneasy at the fine target which +Lone made by the fire, and drew Al Woodruff's blue bandanna from his +pocket. He held it to Jack's nose and whispered, "You find him, +Yack--and I lick you good if you bark." Jack sniffed, dropped his nose +to the ground and began tugging at the leash. Swan got up and, moving +stealthily, followed the dog. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +"I COULDA LOVED THIS LITTLE GIRL" + +A chill wind that hurried over Bear Top ahead of the dawn brought Swan +and Jack clattering up the trail that dipped into Spirit Canyon. +Warfield rose stiffly from the one-sided warmth of the fire and walked +a few paces to meet him, shrugging his wide shoulders at the cold and +rubbing his thigh muscles that protested against movement. Much riding +upon upholstered cushions had not helped Senator Warfield to retain the +tough muscles of hard-riding Bill Warfield. The Senator was +saddle-sore as well as hungry, and his temper showed in his blood-shot +eyes. He would have quarrelled with his best-loved woman that morning, +and he began on Swan. + +Why hadn't he come back down the gulch yesterday and helped track the +girl, as he was told to do? (The senator had quite unpleasant opinions +of Swedes, and crazy women, and dogs that were never around when they +were wanted, and he expressed them fluently.) + +Swan explained with a great deal of labour that he had not thought he +was wanted, and that he had to sleep on his claim sometimes or the law +would take it from him, maybe. Also he virtuously pointed out that he +had come with Yack before daylight to the canyon to see if they had +found Miss Hunter and gone home, or if they were still hunting for her. + +"If you like to find that jong lady, I put Yack on the trail quick," he +offered placatingly. "I bet you Yack finds her in one-half an hour." + +With much unnecessary language, Senator Warfield told him to get to +work, and the three tightened cinches, mounted their horses and +prepared to follow Swan's lead. Swan watched his chance and gave Lone +a chunk of bannock as a substitute for breakfast, and Lone, I may add, +dropped behind his companions and ate every crumb of it, in spite of +his worry over Lorraine. + +Indeed, Swan eased that worry too, when they were climbing the pine +slope where Al had killed the grouse. Lone had forged ahead on John +Doe, and Swan stopped suddenly, pointing to the spot where a few bloody +feathers and a boot-print showed. The other evidence Jack had eaten in +the night. + +"Raine's all right, Lone. Got men coming. Keep your gun handy," he +murmured and turned away as the others rode up, eager for whatever news +Swan had to offer. + +"Something killed a bird," Swan explained politely, planting one of his +own big feet over the track, which did not in the least resemble +Lorraine's. "Yack! you find that jong lady quick!" + +From there on Swan walked carefully, putting his foot wherever a print +of Al's boot was visible. Since he was much bigger than Al, with a +correspondingly longer stride, his gait puzzled Lone until he saw just +what Swan was doing. Then his eyes lightened with amused appreciation +of the Swede's cunning. + +"We ought to have some hot drink, or whisky when we find that girl," +Hawkins muttered unexpectedly, riding up beside Lone as they crossed an +open space. "She'll be half-dead with cold--if we find her alive." + +Before Lone could answer, Swan looked back at the two and raised his +hand for them to stop. + +"Better if you leave the horses here," he suggested. "From Yack I know +we get close pretty quick. That jong lady's horse maybe smells these +horse and makes a noise, and crazy folks run from noise." + +Without objection the three dismounted and tied their horses securely +to trees. Then, with Swan and Jack leading the way, they climbed over +the ridge and descended into the hollow by way of the ledge which +Skinner had negotiated so carefully the night before. Without the dog +they never would have guessed that any one had passed this way, but as +it was they made good progress and reached the nearest edge of the +spruce thicket just as the sun was making ready to push up over the +skyline. + +Jack stopped and looked up at his master inquiringly, lifting his lip +at the sides and showing his teeth. But he made no sound; nor did +Swan, when he dropped his fingers to the dog's head and patted him +approvingly. + +They heard a horse sneeze, beyond the spruce grove, and Warfield +stepped forward authoritatively, waving Swan back. This, his manner +said plainly, was first and foremost his affair, and from now on he +would take charge of the situation. At his heels went Hawkins, and +Swan sent an oblique glance of satisfaction toward Lone, who answered +it with his half-smile. Swan himself could not have planned the +approach more to his liking. + +The smell of bacon cooking watered their mouths and made Warfield and +Hawkins look at one another inquiringly. Crazy young women would +hardly be expected to carry a camping outfit. But Swan and Lone were +treading close on their heels, and their own curiosity pulled them +forward. They went carefully around the thicket, guided by the pungent +odour of burning pine wood, and halted so abruptly that Swan and Lone +bumped into them from behind. A man had risen up from the campfire and +faced them, his hands rising slowly, palms outward. + +"Warfield, by----!" Al blurted in his outraged astonishment. "Trailing +me with a bunch, are yuh? I knew you'd double-cross your own +father--but I never thought you had it in you to do it in the open. +Damn yuh, what d'yuh want that you expect to get?" + +Warfield stared at him, slack-jawed. He glanced furtively behind him +at Swan, and found that guileless youth ready to poke him in the back +with the muzzle of a gun. Lone, he observed, had another. He looked +back at Al, whose eyes were ablaze with resentment. With an effort he +smiled his disarming, senatorial smile, but Al's next words froze it on +his face. + +"I think I know the play you're making, but it won't get you anything, +Bill Warfield. You think I slipped up--and you told me not to let my +foot slip; said you'd hate to lose me. Well, you're the one that +slipped, you damned, rotten coward. I was watching out for leaks. I +stopped two, and this one----" + +He glanced down at Lorraine, who sat beside the fire, a blanket tied +tightly around her waist and her ankles, so that, while comfortably +free, she could make no move to escape. + +"I was fixing to stop _her_ from telling all she knew," he added +harshly. "By to-night I'd have had her married to me, you damned fool. +And here you've blocked everything for me, afraid I was falling down on +my job! + +"Now folks, lemme just tell you a few little things. I know my +limit--you've got me dead to rights. I ain't complaining about that; a +man in my game expects to get his, some day. But I ain't going to let +the man go that paid me my wages and a bonus of five hundred dollars +for every man I killed that he wanted outa the way. + +"Hawkins knows that's a fact. He's foreman of the Sawtooth, and he +knows the agreement. I've got to say for Hawkins that aside from +stealing cattle off the nesters and helping make evidence against some +that's in jail, Hawkins never done any dirty work. He didn't have to. +They paid _me_ for that end of the business. + +"I killed Fred Thurman--this girl, here, saw me shoot him. And it was +when I told Warfield I was afraid she might set folks talking that he +began to get cold feet. Up to then everything was lovely, but Warfield +began to crawfish a little. We figured--_we_ figured, emphasise the +_we_, folks,--that the Quirt would have to be put outa business. We +knew if the girl told Brit and Frank, they'd maybe get the nerve to try +and pin something on us. We've stole 'em blind for years, and they +wouldn't cry if we got hung. Besides, they was friendly with Fred. + +"The girl and the Swede got in the way when I tried to bump Brit off. +I'd have gone into the canyon and finished him with a rock, but they +beat me to it. The girl herself I couldn't get at very well and make +it look accidental--and anyway, I never did kill a woman, and I'd hate +it like hell. I figured if her dad got killed, she'd leave. + +"And let me tell you, folks, Warfield raised hell with me because Brit +Hunter wasn't killed when he pitched over the grade. He held out on me +for that job--so I'm collecting five hundred dollars' worth of fun +right now. He did say he'd pay me after Brit was dead, but it looks +like he's going to pull through, so I ain't counting much on getting my +money outa Warfield. + +"Frank I got, and made a clean job of it. And yesterday morning the +girl played into my hands. She rode over to the Sawtooth, and I got +her at Thurman's place, on her way home, and figured I'd marry her and +take a chance on keeping her quiet afterwards. I'd have been down the +Pass in another two hours and heading for the nearest county seat. +She'd have married me, too. She knows I'd have killed her if she +didn't--which I would. I've been square with her--she'll tell you +that. I told her, when I took her, just what I was going to do with +her. So that's all straight. She's been scared, I guess, but she +ain't gone hungry, and she ain't suffered, except in her mind. I don't +fight women, and I'll say right now, to her and to you, that I've got +all the respect in the world for this little girl, and if I'd married +her I'd have been as good to her as I know how, and as she'd let me be. + +"Now I want to tell you folks a few more things about Bill Warfield. +If you want to stop the damnest steal in the country, tie a can onto +that irrigation scheme of his. He's out to hold up the State for all +he can get, and bleed the poor devils of farmers white, that buys land +under that canal. It may look good, but it ain't good--not by a damn +sight. + +"Yuh know what he's figuring on doing? Get water in the canal, sell +land under a contract that lets him out if the ditch breaks, or +something so he _can't_ supply water at any time. And when them poor +suckers gets their crops all in, and at the point where they've got to +have water or lose out, something'll happen to the supply. Folks, I +_know_! I'm a reliable man, and I've rode with a rope around my neck +for over five years, and Warfield offered me the same old five hundred +every time I monkeyed with the water supply as ordered. He'd have done +it slick; don't worry none about that. The biggest band of thieves he +could get together is that company. So if you folks have got any +sense, you'll bust it up right now. + +"Bill Warfield, what I've got to say to you won't take long. You +thought you'd make a grand-stand play with the law, and at the same +time put me outa the way. You figured I'd resist arrest, and you'd +have a chance to shoot me down. I know your rotten mind better than +you do. You wanted to bump me off, but you wanted to do it in a way +that'd put you in right with the public. Killing me for kidnapping +this girl would sound damn romantic in the newspapers, and it wouldn't +have a thing to do with Thurman or Frank Johnson, or any of the rest +that I've sent over the trail for you. + +"Right now you're figuring how you'll get around this bawling-out I'm +giving you. There's nobody to take down what I say, and I'm just a +mean, ornery outlaw and killer, talking for spite. With your pull you +expect to get this smoothed over and hushed up, and have me at a +hanging bee, and everything all right for Bill! Well----" + +His eyes left Warfield's face and went beyond the staring group. His +face darkened, a sneer twisted his lips. + +"Who're them others?" he cried harshly. "Was you afraid four wouldn't +be enough to take me?" + +The four turned heads to look. Bill Warfield never looked back, for +Al's gun spoke, and Warfield sagged at the knees and the shoulders, and +he slumped to the ground at the instant when Al's gun spoke again. + +"That's for you, Lone Morgan," Al cried, as he fired again. "She +talked about you in her sleep last night. She called you Loney, and +she wanted you to come and get her. I was going to kill you first +chance I got. I coulda loved this little girl. I--could----" + +He was down, bleeding and coughing and trying to talk. Swan had shot +him, and two of the deputies who had been there through half of Al's +bitter talk. Lorraine, unable to get up and run, too sturdy of soul to +faint, had rolled over and away from him, her lips held tightly +together, her eyes wide with horror. Al crawled after her, his eyes +pleading. + +"Little Spitfire--I shot your Loney--but I'd have been good to you, +girl. I watched yuh all night--and I couldn't help loving yuh. +I--couldn't----" That was all. Within three feet of her, his face +toward her and his eyes agonising to meet hers, he died. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +ANOTHER STORY BEGINS + +This chapter is very much like a preface: it is not absolutely +necessary, although many persons will read it and a few will be glad +that it was written. + +The story itself is ended. To go on would be to begin another story; +to tell of the building up of the Quirt outfit, with Lone and Lone's +savings playing a very important part, and with Brit a semi-invalided, +retired stockman who smoked his pipe and told the young couple what +they should do and how they should do it. + +Frank he mourned for and seldom mentioned. The Sawtooth, under the +management of a greatly chastened young Bob Warfield, was slowly +winning its way back to the respect of its neighbours. + +For certain personal reasons there was no real neighbourliness between +the Quirt and the Sawtooth. There could not be, so long as Brit's +memory remained clear, and Bob was every day reminded of the crimes his +father had paid a man to commit. Moreover, Southerners are jealous of +their women,--it is their especial prerogative. And Lone suspected +that, given the opportunity, Bob Warfield would have fallen in love +with Lorraine. Indeed, he suspected that any man in the country would +have done that. Al Woodruff had, and he was noted for his indifference +to women and his implacable hardness toward men. + +But you are not to accuse Lone of being a jealous husband. He was not, +and I am merely pointing out the fact that he might have been, had he +been given any cause. + +Oh, by the way, Swan "proved up" as soon as possible on his homestead +and sold out to the Quirt. Lone managed to buy the Thurman ranch also, +and the TJ up-and-down is on its feet again as a cattle ranch. Sorry +and Jim will ride for the Quirt, I suppose, as long as they can crawl +into a saddle, but there are younger men now to ride the Skyline Meadow +range. + +Some one asked about Yellowjacket, having, I suppose, a sneaking regard +for his infirmities. He hasn't been peeled yet--or he hadn't, the last +I heard of him. Lone and Lorraine told me they were trying to save him +for the "Little Feller" to practise on when he is able to sit up +without a cushion behind his back, and to hold something besides a +rubber rattle. And--oh, do you know how Lone is teaching the Little +Feller to sit up on the floor? He took a horse collar and scrubbed it +until he nearly wore out the leather. Then he brought it to the cabin, +put it on the floor and set the Little Feller inside it. + +They sent me a snap-shot of the event, but it is not very good. The +film was under-exposed, and nothing was to be seen of the Little Feller +except a hazy spot which I judged was a hand, holding a black object I +guessed was the ridgy, rubber rattle with the whistle gone out of the +end,--down the Little Feller's throat, they are afraid. And there was +his smile, and a glimpse of his eyes. + +Aren't you envious as sin, and glad they're so happy? + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sawtooth Ranch, by B. M. 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