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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/29958-8.txt b/29958-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f16b408 --- /dev/null +++ b/29958-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16917 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Law-Breakers, by Ridgwell Cullum + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Law-Breakers + +Author: Ridgwell Cullum + +Release Date: September 10, 2009 [EBook #29958] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAW-BREAKERS *** + + + + +Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + THE + LAW-BREAKERS + + By RIDGWELL CULLUM + + AUTHOR OF + "The Story of the Foss River Ranch," "In the Brooding + Wild," "The Way of the Strong," Etc. + + With Frontispiece in Colors + + A. L. BURT COMPANY + Publishers New York + Published by Arrangement with GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO. + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY + GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY + + ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + PRINTED IN U. S. A. + + + + + BY THE SAME AUTHOR + + THE WAY OF THE STRONG + THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK + THE NIGHT-RIDERS + THE ONE-WAY TRAIL + THE TRAIL OF THE AXE + THE SHERIFF OF DYKE HOLE + THE WATCHERS OF THE PLAINS + + + + + [Illustration: "WHAT IS THIS MAN TO YOU?" HE DEMANDED + _The Law-Breakers._ _Frontispiece._] + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I WATCHING THE LINE 1 + + II WHITE POINT 5 + + III THE HOLD-UP 11 + + IV AT THE FOOT OF AN AGED PINE 18 + + V BOUND FOR THE SOUTHERN TRAIL 25 + + VI THE MAN-HUNTERS 35 + + VII CHARLIE BRYANT 43 + + VIII THE SOUL-SAVERS 53 + + IX THE "STRAY"-HUNTER 64 + + X THE BROTHERS 73 + + XI THE UNREGENERATE 79 + + XII THE DISCOMFITURE OF HELEN 91 + + XIII LIGHT-HEARTED SOULS 100 + + XIV THE HOUSE OF DIRTY O'BRIEN 110 + + XV ADVENTURES IN THE NIGHT 120 + + XVI FURTHER ADVENTURES 128 + + XVII BILL PEEPS UNDER THE SURFACE 137 + + XVIII THE ARM OUTREACHING 142 + + XIX BILL MAKES THREE DISCOVERIES 155 + + XX IN THE FAR REACHES 166 + + XXI WORD FROM HEADQUARTERS 176 + + XXII MOVES IN THE GAME OF LOVE 184 + + XXIII STORM CLOUDS 195 + + XXIV THE SOUL OF A MAN 206 + + XXV THE BROKEN CHAIN 215 + + XXVI ROCKY SPRINGS HEARS THE NEWS 221 + + XXVII AT THE HIDDEN CORRAL 235 + + XXVIII A WAGER 241 + + XXIX BILL'S FRESH BLUNDERING 256 + + XXX THE COMMITTEE DECIDE 261 + + XXXI ANTAGONISTS 265 + + XXXII TREACHERY 272 + + XXXIII PLAYING THE GAME 278 + + XXXIV AN ENCOUNTER 286 + + XXXV ON MONDAY NIGHT 296 + + XXXVI STILL MONDAY NIGHT 299 + + XXXVII THE NIGHT TRAIL 307 + + XXXVIII THE FALL OF THE OLD PINE 315 + + XXXIX FROM THE ASHES 327 + + XL THE DAWN 335 + + + + +THE LAW-BREAKERS + + + + +CHAPTER I + +WATCHING THE LINE + + +There was no shade anywhere. The terrible glare of the summer sun beat +down upon the whole length of the wooden platform at Amberley. Hot as +was the dry, bracing air, it was incomparable with the blistering +intensity of heat reflected from the planking, which burned through +to the soles of the feet of the uniformed man who paced its length, +slowly, patiently. + +This sunburnt, gray-eyed man, with his loose, broad shoulders, +his powerful, easy-moving limbs, seemed quite indifferent to the +irritating climatic conditions of the moment. Even the droning of the +worrying mosquitoes had no power to disturb him. Like everything else +unpleasant in this distant northwestern land, he accepted these things +as they came, and brushed them aside for the more important affairs he +was engaged upon. + +He gazed out across the wide monotony of prairie with its undulating +wavelets, a tawny green beneath the scorching summer sun. He was +thinking deeply; perhaps dreaming, although dreaming had small enough +place in his busy life. His lot was a stern fight against crime, and, +in a land so vast, so new, where crime flourished upon virgin soil, it +left him little time for the more pleasant avenues of thought. + +Inspector Stanley Fyles came to a halt at the eastern end of the long +platform. Miles of railroad track stretched away in a dead straight +line toward the distant, shimmering horizon. For miles ahead the road +was unbroken by a single moving object, and, after a long, keen +survey, the man abruptly turned his back upon it. + +In a moment he became aware of a hollow-chested man hurrying toward +him. He was coming from the direction of the only building upon the +platform--the railroad office, or, as it was grandiloquently called, +the "booking hall." + +Fyles recognized the man as the railroad agent, Huntly, who controlled +the affairs of his company in this half-fledged prairie town. + +He came up in a flurry of unusual excitement. + +"She's past New Camp, inspector," he cried. "Guess she's in the Broken +Hills, an' gettin' near White Point. I'd say she'd be along in an +hour--sure." + +"Damn!" + +For once in his life Stanley Fyles's patience gave way. + +The man grinned. + +"It ain't no use cussin'," he protested, with a suggestion of +malicious delight. "Y'see, she's just a bum freight. Ain't even a +'through.' I tell you, these sort have emptied a pepper box of gray +around my head. Yes, sir, there's more gray to my head by reason of +their sort than a hired man could hoe out in half a year." + +"Twenty minutes ago you told me she'd be in in half an hour." + +There was resentment as well as distrust in the officer's protest. + +"Sure," the man responded glibly. "That was accordin' to schedule. +Guess Ananias must have been the fellow who invented schedules for +local freights." + +The toe of Fyles's well-polished riding-boot tapped the superheated +platform. + +His gray eyes suddenly fixed and held the ironical eyes of the other. + +"See here, Huntly," he said at last, in that tone of quiet authority +which never deserted him for long. "I can rely on that? There's +nothing to stop her by the way--now? Nothing at all?" + +But the agent shook his head, and his eyes still shone with their +ironical light. + +"I'd say the prophet business petered out miser'bly nigh two thousand +years ago. I wouldn't say this dogone prairie 'ud be the best place +to start resurrectin' it. No, sir! There's too many chances for +that--seein' we're on a branch line. There's the track--it might give +way. You never can tell on a branch line. The locomotive might drop +dead of senile decay. Maybe the train crew's got drunk, and is +raisin' hell at some wayside city. You never can tell on a branch +line. Then there's that cargo of liquor you're yearnin' to----" + +"Cut it out, man," broke in the officer sharply. "You are sure about +the train? You know what you're talking about?" + +The agent grinned harder than ever. + +"This is a prohibition territory----" he began. + +But again Fyles cut him short. The man's irrepressible love of +fooling, half good-humored, half malicious, had gone far enough. + +"Anyway you don't usually get drunk before sundown, so I guess I'll +have to take your word for it." + +Then Inspector Fyles smiled back into the other's face, which had +abruptly taken on a look of resentment at the charge. + +"I tell you what it is," he went on. "You boys get mighty close to +the wind swilling prohibited liquor. It's against the spirit of the +law--anyway." + +But the agent's good humor warmed again under the officer's admission +of his difficulties. He was an irrepressible fellow when opportunity +offered. Usually he lived in a condition of utter boredom. In fact, +there were only two things that made life tolerable for him in +Amberley. These were the doings of the Mounted Police, and the doings +of those who made their existence a necessity in the country. + +Even while weighted down with the oppressive routine of his work, it +was an inspiriting thing to watch the war between law and lawlessness. +Here in Amberley, situated in the heart of the Canadian prairie lands, +was a handful of highly trained men pitted against almost a world of +crime. Perhaps the lightest of their duties was the enforcing of the +prohibition laws, formulated by a dear, grandmotherly government in an +excess of senile zeal for the welfare of the health and morals of +those far better able to think for themselves. + +The laws of prohibition! The words stuck with Mr. Huntly as they stuck +with every full-grown man and woman in the country outside the narrow +circle of temperance advocates. The law was anathema to him. Under its +influence the bettering, the purification of life in the Northwestern +Territories had received a setback, which optimistic antagonists +of the law declared was little less than a quarter of a century. +Drunkenness had increased about one hundred per cent, since human +nature had been forbidden the importation and consumption of alcohol +in any form stronger than four per cent. beer. + +Huntly knew that Inspector Fyles was almost solely at work upon the +capture of contraband liquor. Also he knew, and hated the fact, that +his own duty required that he must give any information concerning +this traffic upon his railroad which the police might require. +Therefore there was an added vehemence in his reply to the officer's +warning. + +"Sakes, man! What 'ud you have us do?" he cried, with a laugh that was +more than half angry. "Do you think we're goin' to sit around this +darned diagram of a town readin' temperance tracts, just because +somebody guesses we haven't the right to souse liquor? Think we're +goin' to suck milk out of a kid's feeder, just because you boys in red +coats figure that way? No, sir. Guess that ain't doin'--anyway. I'm +sousing all the liquor I can get my hooks on, an' it's all the sweeter +because of you boys. Outside my duty to the railroad company I +wouldn't raise a finger to stop a gallon of good rye comin' into town, +no, not if the penitentiary was yearnin' to swallow me right up." + +Fyles's purposeful eyes surveyed the man with a thoughtful smile. + +"Just so," he said coolly. "That clause about 'duty' squares the rest. +You'll need to do your duty about these things. That's all we want. +That's all we intend to have. Do you get me? I'm right here to see +that duty done. The first trip, my friend, and you won't talk of +penitentiary so--easily." The quietness with which he spoke did not +rob his words of their significance. Then he went on, just a shade +more sharply. "Now, see here. When that freight gets in I hold you +responsible that the hindmost car--next the caboose--is dropped here, +and the seals are intact. It's billed loaded with barrels of cube +sugar, for Calford. Get me? That's your duty just now. See you do it." + +Huntly understood Fyles. Everybody in Amberley understood him. And the +majority recognized the deliberate purpose lying behind his calmest +assurance. The agent knew that his protest had touched the limit, +consequently there was nothing left him but to carry out instructions +to the letter. He hated the position. + +His face twisted into a wry grin. + +"Guess you don't leave much to the imagination, inspector," he said +sourly. + +Fyles was moving away. He replied over his shoulder. + +"No. Just the local color of the particular penitentiary," he said, +with a laugh. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +WHITE POINT + + +Mr. Moss was the sole employe of the railroad company at White Point +flag station. His official hours were long. They extended round the +dial of the clock twice daily. Curiously enough, his leisure extended +to practically the same limits. The truth was, in summer, anyway, he +had no duties that could seriously claim him. Thus the long summer +days were spent chiefly among his vegetables, and the bits of flowers +at the back of the shanty, which was at once his home and his office, +in short, White Point. + +Jack Huntly at Amberley grumbled at the unenlivening conditions of his +existence, but compared with those of Mr. Moss he lived in a perfect +whirlwind of gaiety. + +There was no police station at White Point. There were no farms in the +neighborhood. There was not even a half-breed camp, with its +picturesque squalor, to break up the deadly drear of the surrounding +plains. The only human diversion that ever marred the calm serenity of +the neighborhood was the rare visit of some lodge of Indians, straying +from the reservation, some sixty miles to the south, on a hunting +pass. + +But if White Point lacked interest from human associations its setting +at least was curiously arresting. Nature's whim was the inspiration +which had brought the station into existence. To the north, south, and +west the prairie stretched away in the distance for untold miles; but +immediately to the east quite another aspect prevailed. Here lay the +reason of White Point station. + +Almost from the very foot of the walls of Mr. Moss's shanty the land +rose up with, as it were, a jolt. Great forest-clad hills reared their +torn and barren crests to enormous heights out of the dead level of +the prairie. A tumbled sea of Nature's wreckage lay strewn about +unaccountably, for a distance of something like two miles, east and +west, and double that distance from north to south. It was an oasis of +natural splendor in the heart of a calm sea of green grass. + +These strange hills necessitated a watchful eye upon the railroad +track, which pierced their heart, in winter and spring. In summer +there was nothing to exercise the mind of Mr. Moss. But in winter the +track was constantly becoming blocked with snow, while during the +spring thaw there was always the dread of a "wash-out" to disturb his +nightly dreams. At such times these things kept the agent far more +alive than he cared about. + +Just now, however, it was the height of summer, and no such anxieties +prevailed. Therefore Mr. Moss fell back upon the less exciting pastime +of a perspiry afternoon among his potatoes and other vegetable +luxuries. + +He was hoeing the rows of potatoes with a sort of dogged determination +to find interest in the work. He believed that physical effort was the +only safety-valve for healthy feelings all too long bottled up. Even +the streaming sweat suggested to him a feeling that it was at least +hygienic, although the moist mixture of muddy consistency upon his +face, merging with the growth of three days' beard, left his +appearance something more than a blot upon the general view. + +Just now he had nothing to disturb the blank of his mind. The only +possible interruption to the work in hand, of an official character, +was the passing of a local freight train. However, a local freight was +a matter of no importance whatever. It might come to-day, or it might +come to-morrow. He would signal it through in due course, after that +he didn't much care what happened to it. + +The potatoes fully occupied him, and as he came to the end of each row +he took the opportunity of straightening out the crick in his back, +and gazing upon his handiwork with the look of a man who feels he has +surely earned his own admiration. + +Once he varied this procedure by glancing up while still in the middle +of a row. His glance was sharp and startled. He had heard an +unaccustomed sound, distinct but distant. It seemed to him that a +horse had neighed. There came an answering neigh. It was quite +disturbing. + +A long and careful scrutiny of the plains in every direction, however, +left him with a feeling of doubt. There was no horse in sight +anywhere, and the great hills adjacent offered no inducement +whatsoever for any straying quadruped. He assured himself that the +solitude of his life was rendering him fanciful, and forthwith +returned to his work. + +For some time the measured stroke of his hoe clanked upon the baking +soil, and later on he paused to fill and light his pipe. He had just +cut the flakes of tobacco from his plug, and was rolling them in the +palms of his hands, when the thought occurred to him to glance at the +time. His great coin-silver timepiece pointed the hour when he felt he +might safely signal the freight train through. + +Lounging round to the front of the station building he walked down the +track to the foot of the semaphore, and flung the rusty lever over. +His action expressed something of the contempt in which he held all +"local freights." Then he sauntered back to his work with his pipe +under full blast. + +But his day has yet surprises in store. In half an hour's time he +received his second start. A distant rumble and grinding warned him +that the freight was approaching through the hills. He smiled at the +sound, and his smile was largely satirical. He glanced up once, but +promptly continued his work. But it was only for a few moments. The +sound which had been growing had almost died out and was being +replaced by the hammering of the cars as they closed up against each +other. The train was stopping. + +He was looking up now full of interest, and one hand went up to his +head, and its fingers raked among the roots of his hair. Suddenly the +engine bell began to clang violently. There was distinctly a note of +protest in the sound. Something was wrong. He swung round and looked +at his signal. Say--was he dreaming? What on earth----? Half an hour +ago he had lowered the semaphore, at least he had set the lever over, +and now--now it was set against the train! + +For a second he stared at the offending arm, then, as the bell clanged +still more violently, he dashed across the intervening space to remedy +his mistake. + +But now incident crowded upon him. He was quite right. The lever was +set as it should be set. His practiced eye glanced rapidly down the +connecting rod to discover the source of the trouble, and further +amazement waited upon him. The explanation of the mystery lay before +his eyes. There at the triangular junction, where the connecting rod +linked with the down-haul of the semaphore, the bolt had fallen out, +and the whole thing was disconnected. The bolt with its screw nut and +washer were lying on the ground, where, apparently, they had fallen. + +The furious clanging of the engine bell, where the head of the train +stood just in view round the bend of the track where it entered the +hills, left him no time for consideration of the mishap. The +protesting train must be passed on without further delay. Therefore, +with deft hands, he quickly readjusted the bolt, and once again set +the lever. This time the arm of the signal dropped. + +It was not until these things were accomplished that he had time to +study the cause of the disconnection. Then, at once, a curious feeling +of incredulity swept over him. It was an impossibility for the thing +to have happened. The bolt fitted horizontally, and the washered nut +had full two inches to unscrew! Besides this, the whole thing was well +rusted with years of exposure. Yet the impossible had happened! + +He stood gazing at the bolt with a sort of uncanny feeling stirring +within him. The engine at the head of its long string of box cars +approached. It passed him, and he heard its driver hurl some +uncomplimentary remark at him as the rattling old kettle clanked by. +Then, as the last car passed him, and rapidly grew smaller as the +distance swallowed it up, he turned back to his vegetable patch with +the mystery still unsolved. + + * * * * * + +The journey through the hills was nearly over, and White Point was but +a short distance ahead. The conductor and crew of the local freight +were lounging comfortably in the caboose. + +The brakeman's life is full of risk and little comfort, and such +moments as these were all too few. When they came they were more than +gratefully received. Now the men were spread out in various attitudes +of repose, and, for the most part, were half asleep. + +Suddenly, without the least warning, they were startled into full +wakefulness by the familiar clatter, beginning at the head of the +train and passing rapidly down its full length, as the cars closed up +on each other. The resting men knew that the locomotive was either +stopping, or had already come to a halt. + +The conductor, or head brakeman, sat up with a jolt. + +"Hey, you, Jack!" he cried peevishly. "Get up aloft an' get a peek +out. Say, we sure ain't goin' to get held up at a bum flag layout." + +His contempt was no less for the flag station than Mr. Moss's for a +local freight. + +The man addressed as "Jack" sprang alertly to the roof of the caboose. +A moment later his voice echoed through the car below him. + +"Can't see a thing," he cried. "We're on the last bend, just outside +White Point. She's stopped--dead sure. Guess the flag has got us held +up." With a few added curses he clambered down into the car again. + + * * * * * + +As the brakeman left the roof of the caboose the enactment of a +strange scene began at the fore part of the car immediately in front +of it. + +A glance down at the coupling would have revealed the cautious +appearance of a shock of rough hair covering a man's head from under +the last box car. Slowly it twisted round till a grimy, dust-covered +face was turned upward, and a pair of expectant eyes peered up at the +tops of the two cars. + +Apparently the preliminary survey was satisfactory, for, in a moment, +the head was withdrawn, only to be replaced by an outstretched bare +hand and forearm. The hand reached up and caught the iron foot rail, +gripping it firmly. Then another hand appeared, and with it came the +same head again and part of a man's body. The second hand reached +toward the coupling-pin, which, with a dexterous movement, was slowly +and noiselessly removed. The pin was lowered to the length of its +chain. Then, once more the hand reached toward the coupling. This time +it seized the great iron link. This, without a moment's delay, was +lifted from its hook and noiselessly lowered till it swung suspended +from the car in front. Then both arms, head, and body vanished once +more under the car, beneath which the man must have traveled for +miles. + + * * * * * + +A few moments later the welcome jolting of couplings reached the crew +in the caboose, who promptly settled themselves down to await the next +call of duty. The conductor's relief at the brevity of the delay was +expressed in smiling contempt at the expense of all flag stations. + +"Trust a darned outfit like that to hold you up," he cried +witheringly. "They got to act fresh, or the company 'ud get wise they +ain't no sort o' use on the line. Say----" + +But he broke off listening. + +The jolting had ceased. The grinding of wheels of the moving train was +plainly heard. But--the caboose remained stationary. + +He leaped to his feet. + +"Hell!" he cried. "What the----" + +But the brakeman, Jack, was on his feet, too. With a bound he sprang +at the door of the caboose. But instantly he fell back with a cry. + +Four gun muzzles were leveled at his body, and, behind them, stood the +figures of two masked men. + +One of the two spoke in the slow easy drawl of the West, which lacked +nothing in conviction. + +"Jest keep dead still--all o' you," he said. "Don't move--nor nothin', +or we'll blow holes through your figgers that'll cause a hell of a +draught. We ain't yearning to make no sort o' mess in this yer +caboose. But we're going to do it--'cep' you keep quite still, an' +don't worry any." + +The conductor was a man of wide experience on the railroad. He had +seen many "hold-ups." So many, he was almost used to them. But without +being absolutely sure of the purpose of these men he thanked his +genius of good luck that he had not seen the "pay train" for nearly a +month. He was quite ready to obey. For all he cared the raiders could +take locomotive, train, caboose and all, provided he was left with a +whole skin. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE HOLD-UP + + +Just beyond the flag station at White Point, where the forest-clad +slopes of the great hills crowded in upon the railroad track, a scene +of utter lawlessness was being silently enacted. + +The spot was a lonely one, lonely with that oppressive solitude always +to be found where the great hills of ages rear their towering heads. +It was utterly cut off, too, from the outer world, by a monstrous +abutment of hill which left the track a mere ribbon, like the track of +some invertebrate, laboriously making its way through surroundings all +uncongenial and antagonistic. Yet the station was but a few hundred +yards beyond this point, where it lay open to the sweep of at least +three of the four winds of Heaven. But even so, the two places were as +effectually separated as though miles, and not yards, intervened. + +No breath of air stirred the generous spruce and darkening pinewoods. +The drooping, westering sun, already athwart the barren crown of the +hill tops, left a false, velvety suggestion of twilight in the heart +of the valley, while a depressing superheat enervated all life, except +the profusion of vegetation which beautified the rugged slopes. For +the most part the stillness was profound, only the most trifling +sounds disturbing it. There was an uneasy shuffle of moving feet; +there was the occasional crisp clip of a driven axe; then, too, +weighty articles being dropped into the bottom of a heavy wagon sent +up their dull boom at long intervals. + +The outlaws worked swiftly, but without apparent haste. The success of +their efforts depended upon rapidity of execution, that and the most +exact care for the detail of their organization. Provided these things +were held foremost in their minds there was small enough chance of +interruption. Had not the train, with its all unconscious driver, +passed upon its rumbling way toward Amberley? Had not all suspicion +been lulled in the mind of the bucolic agent, who was even now +laboriously expending a maximum of energy for a minimum return of +culinary delicacies in his vegetable patch? What was there to +interfere? Nothing. These men well knew that except for the flag +station there was not a habitation within ten miles, and the +ruggedness of the hills barred them to every form of traffic except +the irresistible impulse of railroad enterprise. + +Three men carried out the work of unloading the box car, while the two +others held the train crew at bay. All were masked with one exception, +and he, from his evident authority and mode of dress, was obviously +the leader of the gang. + +He was a slight, dark man, of somewhat remarkable refinement of +appearance. He was good looking, and almost boyish in the lack of hair +upon his face. But this was more than counterbalanced by the +determined set of his features, and the keen, calculating glance of +his eyes. The latter, particularly, were darkly luminous and lit with +an expression of lawless exhilaration as the work proceeded. Compared +with his fellows, who were of the well-known type of ruffian, in whom +the remoter prairie lands abound, he looked wholly out of place in +such a transaction. His air was that of a town-bred man, and his +clothing, too, suggested a refinement of tailoring, particularly the +rather loose cord riding breeches he affected. The others, masked as +they were, with their coatless bodies, and loose, unclean shirts, +their leather chapps, and the guns they wore upon their hips--well, +they made an exquisite picture of that ruffianism which bows to no law +of civilization, but that which they carry in the leather holsters +hanging at their waists. + +The trackside was strewn with disemboweled whitewood barrels. The +wreckage was grotesque. The ground was strewn in every direction with +a litter of white cube sugar, like the wind-swept drifts of a summer +snowfall. Barrels were still being dragged out of the car and dropped +roughly to the ground, where the sharp stroke of an axe ripped out the +head, revealing within the neatly packed keg of spirit, embedded so +carefully in its setting of sugar. The cargo had been well shipped by +men skilled in the subtle art of contraband. It was billed, and the +barrels were addressed, to a firm in Calford whose reputation for +integrity was quite unimpeachable. Herein was the cunning of the +smugglers. The sugar barrels were never intended to reach Calford. +They were not robbing the consignees in this raid upon the freight +train. They were simply possessing themselves, in unorthodox fashion, +of an illicit cargo that belonged to their leader. + +Fifteen kegs of spirit had been removed and bestowed in the wagon. +There were still five more to complete the tally. + +The leader, in easy tones, urged his men to greater speed. + +"Get a hustle, boys," he said, in a deep, steady voice, while he +strove with his somewhat delicate hands to lift a keg into the wagon. + +The effort was too great for him single-handed, and one of his +assistants came to his aid. + +"There's no time to spare," he went on a moment later, breathing hard +from his exertion. "Maybe the loco driver'll whistle for brakes." He +laughed with a pleasant, half humorous chuckle. "If that happens, +why--why I guess the train'll be chasing back on its tracks to pick up +its lost tail." + +He spoke with a refined accent of the West. The man nearest him +guffawed immoderately. + +"Gee!" he exclaimed delightedly. "This game's a cinch. Guess Fyles'll +kick thirteen holes in himself when that train gets in." + +"Thirteen?" inquired the leader smilingly. + +"Sure. Guess most folks reckon that figure unlucky." + +The third man snorted as he shouldered a keg and moved toward the +Wagon. + +"Holes? Thirteen?" he cried, as he dropped his burden into the +vehicle. Then he hawked and spat. "When that blamed train gets around +Amberley he'll hate hisself wuss'n a bank clerk with his belly awash +wi' boardin' house wet hash." + +Again came the leader's dark smile. But he had nothing to add. + +Presently the last keg was hoisted into the wagon. The leader of the +enterprise sighed. + +It was a sigh of pent feeling, the sigh of a man laboring under great +stress. Yet it was not wholly an expression of relief. If anything, +there was regret in it, regret that work he delighted in was finished. + +One of the men was removing his mask, and he watched him. Then, as the +face of the man who had been concealed under the car was revealed, he +signed to him. + +"Get busy on the wagon," he said. + +The man promptly mounted to the driving seat, and gathered up the +reins. + +"Hit the south trail for the temporary cache," the leader went on. +"Guess we'll need to ride hard if Fyles is feeling as worried as you +fellows--hope." + +The man winked abundantly. + +"That's all right, all right. He'll need to hop some when we get busy. +Ho, boys!" And he chirrupped his horses out of the shallow cutting, +and the wagon crushed its way into the smaller bush. + +The leader stood for a moment looking after it. Then he turned to the +other man, still awaiting orders. + +"Get the other boys' horses up," he said sharply. "Then stand by on +horseback, and hold the train crew while they tumble into the saddle. +Then make for the cache." + +The man hurried to obey. There were no questions asked when this man +gave his orders. Long experience had taught these men that there was +no necessity to question. Hardy ruffians as they were they knew well +enough that if they had the bodies for this work, he had a head that +was far cleverer even than that of Inspector Fyles himself. + +Meanwhile the leader had moved out into the center of the track, and +his eyes were turned westward, toward the bend round the great hill. +They were pensive eyes, almost regretful, and somehow his whole face +had changed from its look of daring to match them. The exhilaration +had gone out of it; the command, even the determination had merged +into something like weakness. His look was soft--even tender. + +He stood there while the final details of his enterprise were +completed. He heard the horses come up; he heard the two men clamber +from the caboose and get into the saddle. Then, at last, he turned, +and moved off the track. + +Once more the old look of reckless daring was shining in his luminous +eyes. He dashed off into the bush to mount his horse, leaving his +softer mood somewhere behind him--in the West. + +There was a clatter and rattle of speeding hoofs, which rapidly died +out. Then again the hills returned to their brooding silence. + +The withdrawal of the outlaws was the cue for absurd activity on the +part of the train crew. A whirlwind of heated blasphemy set in, which +might well have scorched the wooden sides of the car. They cursed +everybody and everything, but most of all they cursed the bucolic +agent at White Point. + +Then came a cautious reconnoitering beyond the door. This was promptly +followed by a pell-mell dash for the open. In a moment they were +crowding the trackside, staring with stupid eyes and mouths agape at +the miniature snowfall of sugar, and the wreckage of whitewood +barrels. + +The conductor was the first to gather his scattered faculties. + +"The lousy bums!" he cried fiercely. Then he added, with less ferocity +and more regret, "The--lousy--bums!" + +A moment later he turned upon his comrades in the aggrieved fashion of +one who would like to accuse. + +"'Taint no use in gawkin' around here," he cried sharply. "We're up +agin it. That's how it is." Then his face went scarlet, as a memory +occurred to him. "Say, White Point's around the corner. And that's +where we'll find that hop-headed agent--if he ain't done up. Anyways, +if he ain't--why, I guess we'll just set him playin' a miser-arey over +his miser'ble wires, that'll set 'em diggin' out a funeral hearse and +mournin' coaches in that dogasted prairie sepulcher--Amberley." + + * * * * * + +Mr. Moss was disentangling the crick in his back for the last time +that day. His stomach had forced on him the conviction that his +evening meal was a necessity not lightly to be denied. + +His back eased, he shouldered his hoe and moved off toward his shanty +with the dispirited air of the man who must prepare his own meal. As +he passed the lean-to, where his kindling and fuel were kept, he flung +the implements inside it, as though glad to be rid of the burden of +his labors. Then he passed on round to the front of the building with +the lagging step of indifference. There was little enough in his life +to encourage hopeful anticipation. + +At the door he paused. Such was his habit that his eyes wandered to +the track which had somehow become the highway of his life, and he +glanced up and down it. The far-reaching plains to the west offered +him too wide a focus. There was nothing to hold him in its breadth of +outlook. But as his gaze came in contact with the frowning crags to +the east, a sudden light of interest, even apprehension, leaped into +his eyes. In a moment he became a creature transformed. His bucolic +calm had gone. The metamorphosis was magical. + +In one bound he leaped within the hut. Then, in a moment, he was back +at the door again, his tensely poised figure filling up the opening. +His powerful hands were gripping his Winchester, and he stood ready. +The farmer in him had disappeared. His eyes were alight with the +impulse of battle. + +Along the track, from out of the hills, ran four unkempt human +figures. They were rushing for the flag station, gesticulating as they +came. In the loneliness of the spot there was only one interpretation +of their attitude for the waiting man. + +Mr. Moss's voice rang out violently, and caught the echo of the hills. + +"What in hell----?" he shouted, raising the deadly Winchester swiftly +to his shoulder. "Hold up!" he went on, "or I'll let daylight into +some of you." + +The effect of this challenge was instantaneous and almost ludicrous. +The oncoming figures stopped, and nearly fell over each other in their +haste to thrust their hands above their heads. Then the eager, anxious +shout of the gray-headed brakeman came back to him. + +"Fer Gawd's sake don't shoot!" he cried, in terrified tones. "We're +the train crew! The freight crew! We bin held up! Say----!" + +But the lowering of the threatening gun saved him further explanation +at such a distance. + +The light of battle had entirely died out of Mr. Moss's eyes, but it +was the brakeman's uniform, rather than his explanation, that had +inspired the white flag of peace. + +The man came hastily up. + +"What the----?" began the agent. But he was permitted to proceed no +further. + +The angry eyes of the brakeman snapped, and his blasphemous tongue +poured out its protesting story as rapidly as his stormy feelings +could drive him. Then, with an added violence, he came to his final +charge of the agent himself. + +"What in hell did you flag us for?" he cried. "You, on this bum +layout? Do you stand in with these 'hold-ups'? I tell you right here +this thing's goin' to be just as red-hot for you as I can make it. +That train was flagged _without official reason_," he went on with +rising heat. "Get me? An' you're responsible." + +Having delivered himself of his threat, he assumed the hectoring air +which the moral support of his companions afforded him. + +"Now, you just start right in and get busy on the wires. You can just +hammer seven sorts of hell into your instruments and call up Amberley +quick. You're goin' to put 'em wise right away. Macinaw! When I'm done +with this thing you're goin' to hate White Point wuss'n hell, an' wish +to Gawd they'd cut 'flag station' right out o' the conversation of the +whole durned American continent." + +Mr. Moss had listened in a perfect daze. It was his blank acceptance +of the brakeman's hectoring which had so encouraged that individual. +But now that all had been told, and the man's harsh tones ceased to +disturb the peace of their surroundings, his mind cleared, and hot +resentment leaped to his tongue. + +He sat down at his instrument and pounded the key, calling up +Amberley; and as the Morse sign clacked its metallic, broken note he +verbally replied to his accuser. + +"You've talked a whole heap that sounds to me like hot air," he cried, +with bitter feeling. "Maybe you're old, so it don't amount to +anything. As for your bum freight it was late--as usual. It wasn't my +duty to pass it through till you shouted for signals. There ain't any +schedule for bum freights. When they're late it's up to them." + +But for all Mr. Moss's contempt, and righteous indignation, the +brakeman's charge had had its effect. Well enough he remembered the +disjointed connecting rod, and he wondered how these "hold-ups" had +contrived it under his very nose. In his own phraseology, he felt +"sore." But his ill humor was not alone due to the brakeman's abuse. +He was thinking of something far more vital. He knew well enough that +his explanation would never satisfy the heads of his department. Then, +too, always hovering somewhere in the background, was the, to him, +sinister figure of Inspector Fyles of the Mounted Police. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +AT THE FOOT OF AN AGED PINE + + +Waiting for word from the agent, Huntly, Inspector Fyles had retreated +to the insignificant wooden shack which served the police as a Town +Station in Amberley. It consisted of two rooms and a loft in the pitch +of the roof. Its furniture was reduced to a minimum, and everything, +except the loft above where the two troopers and the corporal in +charge slept, was a matter of bare boards and bare wooden chairs. + +The officer sat in the smaller inner room where the telephone was +close to his hand, while the non-commissioned officer and his men +occupied the outer room. + +Fyles faced the window with his hard Windsor chair close beside the +office table. His elbow rested upon its chipped and discolored +surface, and his chin was supported on the palm of his hand. Just now +his busy thoughts were free to wander whithersoever they listed. This +was an interim of waiting, when all preparations were made for the +work in hand, and there was nothing to do but await developments. So +used was he to this work of seizing contraband spirits that its +contemplation had not power enough to quicken one single beat of his +pulse. And in this, too, he displayed that wondrous patience which was +so much a part of his nature. + +Stanley Fyles's reputation in these wild regions was decidedly unique. +Scarcely a day passed but what some strenuous emergency arose +demanding quick thought and quicker action, where life, frequently his +own, hung in the balance. Yet the most strenuous of them found him +always easy, always deliberate, and, as his subordinates loved to +declare, he always managed to "beat the game by a second." + +There were people outside, civilians, who confidently and +contemptuously declared him to be a bungler; a patient, hard-working +bungler. These were the men who saw few of his successes, and always +contrived to smell out his failures. These people were those who had +no understanding of the difficulties of a handful of men pitted +against a country eaten up with every form of criminal disease. There +were others, again, who insisted that far more crime slipped through +his well "oiled" hands than ever was held by them. These were the +people who sneered at his reputation for stern discipline, and +declared it to be a mere pose to cover his tracks, while he patiently +piled up a fortune through the shady channels of "graft." A small +minority admitted his ability, but averred that his patience erred on +the side of slackness, which was one of the causes that the flood of +prohibited liquor in the country showed no abatement. + +Nevertheless, one and all admitted his patience, whether it was in +bungling, in harvesting his graft, or whether it was a form of +slackness. Nor could they help doing so, for patience, a wonderful +purposeful patience, was his greatest characteristic. Every other +feature of his personality was subservient to it, and so it was that +the most hardened criminals began at once a nervous scrutiny of their +tracks the moment the news reached them that the lean nose of Stanley +Fyles had caught their scent. + +Those who knew Fyles best ignored the patience which caught the public +mind so readily. They saw something more beneath it, something much +more to their liking. His patience only masked a keen, swift-moving, +scheming brain, packed to the uttermost with a wonderful instinct for +detection. He worked on no rule-of-thumb method as so many of his +comrades did. He was the fortunate possessor of an imagination, and, +long since, he had learned its value in his crusade against crime. + +But this man was by no means a mere detection machine. He was full of +ambition. Police work was merely serving its purpose in his scheme of +things. He saw advancement in it--advancement in the right direction. +In five years he had raised himself from the lowest rung of the police +ladder to a commissioned rank, and from this rank he knew he could +reach out in any of the directions in which he required to proceed. + +There were several directions in which his ambitious eyes gazed. There +were politics, with their multifarious opportunities for fortune and +place. There was the land, crying aloud of the fortunes lying hidden +within its bosom. There was official service upon higher planes, from +which so many names were drawn to fill the roll of fame to be handed +down to an adoring posterity. He was not yet thirty years of age, and +he felt that any one of these things lay well within the focus his +present position presented. + +But the time for his next move was not yet; and herein was the real +man. In his mind there were still purposes which required complete +fulfilment before that further upward movement began. It was the more +human side of the man dictating its will upon him, that will which can +never be denied when once it rouses from its slumbers amid the living +fires which course through the veins of healthy manhood. + +Just now, as he leaned back in his unyielding chair, luxuriating in a +comfort which only a man as hard as he could have extracted from it, +the hot, living fires were stirring in his veins. His mind had gone +back to a picture, one of the many pictures which so often held him in +his scant leisure, that represented the first waking of those dormant +fires of manhood. + +The scene was a memory forming the starting point of a long series of +other pictures, which aways came with a rush, changing and changing +with kaleidoscopic rapidity till they developed into a stream of +swiftly flowing thought. + +It was the picture of a quaint, straggling prairie village, half +hidden in the multi-hued foliage of a deep valley, as viewed from his +saddle where his horse stood upon the shoulder of land which dropped +away at his feet. It was one of those wondrous fairy scenes with which +the prairie, in her friendlier moods, delights to charm the eye. +Perhaps "mock" would better express her whim, for many of these fair +settlements in the days of the Prohibition Laws were veritable +sepulchers of crime, only whitewashed by the humorous mood of nature. + +Ten yards below him an aged pine reared its hoary, time-worn head +toward the gleaming azure of a noonday summer sky. It was a landmark +known throughout the land; it was the landmark which had guided him to +this obscure village of Rocky Springs. It had been in his eye all the +morning as he rode toward it, and as he drew near curiosity had +impelled him to leave the trail he was on and examine more closely +this wonderful specimen of a far, far distant age. + +But his inspection was never fully made. Instead, his interest was +abruptly diverted to that which he beheld reposing beneath its +shadow. A girl was sitting, half reclining, against the dark old +trunk, with a sewing basket at her side, and a perfect maze of white +needlework in her lap. + +She was not sewing, however, as he drew near. She was gazing out over +the village below, with a pair of eyes so deep and darkly beautiful +that the man caught his breath. Just for one unconscious moment +Stanley Fyles had followed the direction of her gaze, then his own +eyes came back to her face and riveted themselves upon it. + +She was very, very beautiful. Her hair was abundant and dark. Yet it +was quite devoid of that suggestion of great weight so often found in +very dark hair. There was a melting luster in the velvet softness of +her deeply fringed eyes. Her features were sufficiently irregular to +escape the accusation of classic form, and possessed a firmness and +decision quite remarkable. At that moment the solitary horseman +decided in his mind that here was the most beautiful creature he had +ever looked upon. + +She was dressed in a light summer frock, through the delicate texture +of which peeped the warm tint of beautifully rounded arms and +shoulders. She was hatless, too, in spite of the summer blaze. To his +fired imagination she belonged to a canvas painted by some old master +whose portrayals suggested a strength and depth of character rarely +seen in life. Even the beautiful olive of her complexion suggested +those southern climes whence alone, he had always been led to believe, +old masters hailed. + +To him it was the face of a woman whose heart and mind were crowding +with a yearning for something--something unattainable. Such was her +look of strength and virility that he almost regretted them, fearing +that her character might belie her wondrous femininity. + +But in a moment he had denial forced upon him. The girl turned slowly, +and gazed up into his face with smiling frankness. Her eyes took him +in from his prairie hat to his well-booted feet. They passed swiftly +over his dark patrol jacket, with its star upon its shoulder, and down +the yellow stripe of his riding breeches. There was nothing left him +but to salute, which he did as her voice broke the silence. + +"You're Inspector Stanley Fyles?" she said, with a rising inflection +in her deep musical voice. + +The man answered bluntly. He was taken aback at the unconventional +greeting. + +"Yes----" He cleared his throat in his momentary confusion. Then he +responded to her still smiling eyes. "And--that's Rocky Springs?" he +inquired, pointing down the valley. The information was quite +unnecessary. + +The girl nodded. + +"Yes," she said, "a prairie village that's full of everything +interesting--except, perhaps, honesty." + +The man smiled broadly. + +"That's why I'm here." + +The girl laughed a merry, rippling laugh. + +"Sure," she nodded. "We heard you were coming. You're going to fix a +police station here, aren't you?" Then, as he nodded, her smile died +out and her eyes became almost earnest. "It's surely time," she +declared. "I've heard of bad places, I've read of them, I guess. But +all I've heard of, or read of, are heavens of righteousness compared +with this place. Look," she cried, rising from the ground and reaching +out one beautifully rounded arm in the direction of the nestling +houses, amid their setting of green woods, with the silvery gleam of +the river peeping up as it wound its sluggish summer way through the +heart of the valley. "Was there ever such a mockery? The sweetest +picture human eyes could rest on. Fair--far, far fairer than any +artist's fancy could paint it. It's a fit resting place for everything +that's good, and true, and beautiful in life, and--and yet--I'd say +that Rocky Springs, very nearly to a man, is--against the law." + +For a moment Fyles had no reply. He was thinking of the charm of the +picture she made standing there silhouetted against the green slope of +the far side of the valley. Then, as she suddenly dropped her arm, and +began to gather up the sewing she had tumbled upon the ground when she +stood up, he pulled himself together. He beamed an unusually genial +smile. + +"Guess there are things we police need to be thankful for, and places +like Rocky Springs are among 'em," he said, cheerfully. "I'd say if it +wasn't for your Rocky Springs, and its like, we should be chasing +around as uselessly as hungry coyotes in winter. The Government +wouldn't fancy paying us for nothing." + +By the time he had finished speaking the girl's work was gathered in +her arms. + +"That's the trail," she said abruptly, pointing at the path which +Fyles had left for his inspection of the tree. "It goes right on down +to the saloon. You see," she added slyly, "the saloon's about the most +important building in the town. Good-bye." + +Without another word she walked off down the slope, and, in a moment, +was lost among the generous growth of shrubs. + +This was the scene to which his mind always reverted. But there were +others, many of them, and in each this beautiful girl's presence was +always the center of his focus. He had seen and spoken to her many +times since then, for his duty frequently took him into the +neighborhood of that aged pine. But in spite of her frankness at their +first meeting she quickly proved far more elusive than he would have +believed possible, and consequently his intimacy with her had +progressed very little. + +The result was a natural one. The man's interest in her was still +further whetted, till, in time, he finally realized that the long +anticipated move upwards, which he was preparing for, could no longer +be made--alone. + +These were the thoughts occupying him now as he stared out through the +dusty window at the scattered houses which lined Amberley's main +street. These were the thoughts which conjured on his bronzed, strong +features, that pleasant half-smile of satisfaction. He wanted her very +much. He wanted her so much that all impulse to rush headlong and make +her his was thrust aside. He must wait--wait with the same patience +which he applied to all that which was important in his life, and, +when opportunity offered, when the moment was ripe, he would make the +great effort upon which he knew so much of his future happiness +depended. + +Thus he was dreaming on pleasantly, hopefully, and yet not without +doubts, when a sharp knock at his door banished the last vestige of +romance from his mind. In an instant he was on his feet, alert and +waiting. + +"Come!" + +His summons was promptly answered, and the tall figure of the corporal +stood framed in the doorway. + +"Well?" + +The question came with the sharp ring of authority. + +"It's Huntly, sir," the man explained briefly. "He's got a message. +There's been a 'hold-up' of the freight, just beyond White Point. The +'jumpers' have dropped off the two hindermost cars and held the crew +prisoners. Seems the train was flagged on the bend out of the hills +and then allowed to pass. While it was standing the cars were cut +loose. Then the train came on without them. She's in sight now. +Huntly's outside." + +The Inspector gave no sign while his subordinate talked. His eyes were +lowered at a point of interest on the floor. At the conclusion of the +man's brief outline he glanced up. + +"Has Huntly got the message with him?" + +"Yes, sir." + +Fyles made a move, and the other stepped back to let him pass out. + +The agent was waiting in the outer office. His eyes were wide with +excitement. + +"Well? Where's the message?" the officer demanded. + +Huntly thrust a paper into his hand. + +"It just came through." + +Fyles took it, and his strong brows drew together as he read the long +story of the "hold-up" which the man had taken down from his +instrument. + +A deep silence prevailed while the officer read the news which so +completely frustrated all his plans. + +At last he looked up. Favoring the man Huntly with one inquiring +glance, he turned to the corporal. + +"It says here the brakeman heard the leader tell his men to make for +the south trail. That was either bluff--or a mistake. They sometimes +make mistakes, and that's how we get our chances. The south trail is +the road into Rocky Springs. Rocky Springs is twenty-two miles from +White Point. They've probably had an hour's start with a heavily +loaded wagon. Rocky Springs is twenty-six from here by trail. Good. +Say, tell the boys to get on the move quick. They'll strike the south +trail about seven miles northeast of Rocky Springs. If they ride hard +they should cut them off, or, any way, hit their trail close behind +them." + +"Yes, sir." + +As Fyles turned back to the inner room and picked up the telephone, +ignoring the still waiting agent, the corporal hurried away. + +In a moment the telephone bell rang out and the officer was speaking. + +"Yes, sir, Fyles. Yes, at the Town Station. I'm coming up to barracks +right away. It's most important. I must see you. The whisky-runners +have--doubled on us." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +BOUND FOR THE SOUTHERN TRAIL + + +Three uniformed men rode hard across the tawny plains. They rode +abreast. Their horses were a-lather; their lean sides tuckered, but +their gait remained unslackening. It was a gait they would keep as +long as daylight lasted. + +Sergeant McBain's horse kept its nose just ahead of the others. It was +as though the big, rawboned animal appreciated its rider's rank. + +Quite abruptly the non-commissioned officer raised an arm and pointed. + +"Yon's the Cypress Hills, boys," he cried. "See, they're getting up +out of the heat haze on the skyline. We're heading too far south." + +He spoke without for a moment withdrawing the steady gaze of his hard +blue eyes. + +One of the troopers answered him. + +"Sure, sergeant," he agreed. "We need to head away to the left." + +The horses swung off the line, beating the sun-scorched grass with +their iron-shod hoofs with a vigor that felt good to the riders. + +The bronzed faces of the men were eager. Their widely gazing eyes were +alert and watchful. They were trailing a hot scent, a pastime as well +as a work that was their life. They needed no greater incentive to put +forth the best efforts of bodily and mental energies. + +The uniform of these riders of the western plains was unassuming. +Their brown canvas tunics, their prairie hats, their black, hard +serge breeches, with broad, yellow stripes down the thighs, possessed +a businesslike appearance not to be found in a modern soldier's +uniform. These things were for sheer hard service. + +The life of these men was made up of hard service. It was demanded of +them by the Government; it was also demanded of them by the conditions +of the country. Lawlessness prevailed on these fair, sunlit plains; +lawlessness of man, lawlessness of Nature. Between the two they were +left with scarce a breathing space for those comforts which only found +existence in dreams that were all too brief and transitory. + +Nominally, these men were military police, yet their methods were far +enough removed from all matters martial. Theirs it was to obey orders, +but all similarity ended there. Each man was left free to think and +act for himself. Brief orders, with little detail, were hurled at him. +For the rest his superiors demanded one result--achievement. A crime +was committed; a criminal was at large; information of a contemplated +breach of the peace was to hand. Then go--and see to it. Investigate +and arrest. The individual must plan and carry out, whatever the odds. +Success would meet with cool approval; failure would be promptly +rewarded with the utmost rigor of the penal code governing the force. +The work might take days, weeks, months. It mattered not. Nor did it +matter the expense, provided success crowned the effort. But with +failure resulting--ah, there must be no failure. The prestige of the +force could not stand failure, for its seven hundred men were required +to dominate and cleanse a territory in which half a dozen European +countries could be comfortably lost. + +Presently Sergeant McBain spoke again. His steady eyes were still +fixed upon the horizon. + +"Say, that's her," he said. "There she is. Coming right up like a mop +head. That's the pine at Rocky Springs. Further away to the left +still, boys." + +He turned his horse, and the race against time was continued. +Somewhere ahead, on the southern trail, a gang of whisky smugglers +were plying their trade. Inspector Fyles had said, "Go, and--round +them up." + +The odds were all against these men, yet no one considered the +matter. Each, with eyes and brain alert, was ready to do all of which +human effort was capable. + +Now that definite direction over those wastes of grass had been +finally located, the sergeant, a rough, hard-faced Scot, relaxed his +vigilance. His mind drifted to the purpose in hand, and a dry humor +lit his eyes. + +"Eh, man, but it's a shameful waste, spilling good spirit," he said, +addressing no one in particular. "Governments are always +prodigal--except with pay." + +One of the troopers sniggered. + +"Guess we could spill some of it, sergeant," he declared meaningly. + +"Spill it!" The sergeant grinned. "That isn't the word, boy. Spill +don't describe the warm trickle of good liquor down a man's throat. +Say, I mind----" + +The other trooper broke in. + +"Fyles 'ud spill champagne," he cried in disgust. "A man like that +needs seeing to." + +The sergeant shook his head. + +"Fyles would spill anything or anybody that required spilling, so he +gets his nose to windward of the game. He's right, too, in this +God-forgotten land. If we didn't spill, we'd be right down and out, +and our lives wouldn't be worth a second's purchase. No, boys, it +breaks our hearts to spill--but we got to do it--or be spilt +ourselves." + +The man shook his reins and bustled the great sorrel under him. The +animal's response was a lengthening of stride which left his +companions hard put to it to keep pace. + +The brief talk was closed. It had been a moment of relaxed tension. +Now, once more, every eye was fixed on the shimmering skyline. They +were eagerly looking out for the southern trail. + +Half an hour later its yellow, sandy surface lay beneath their feet, +an open book for the reading. + +All three leaped from the saddle and began a close examination of it, +while their sweating horses promptly regaled themselves with the ripe, +tufty grass at the trail side. + +Sergeant McBain narrowly scrutinized the wheel tracks, estimating the +speed at which the last vehicle to pass had been traveling. The +blurred hoofmarks of the horses warned him they had been driven hard. + +"We're behind 'em, boys," he declared promptly, "an' their gait says +they're taking no chances." + +Further down the trail one of the troopers answered him: + +"There's four saddle horses with 'em," he said thoughtfully. "Two +shod, and two shod on the forefeet only. Guess, with the teamster, +that makes five men. Prairie toughs, I'd guess." + +The sergeant concurred, while they continued their examination. + +Then the third man exclaimed sharply-- + +"Here!" he cried, picking something up at the side of the trail. + +The others joined him at once. + +He was quietly tearing open a half-burned cigarette, the tobacco +inside of which was still moist. + +"Prairie toughs don't smoke _made_ cigarettes around here. It's a +Caporal. Get it? That's bought in a town." + +"Ay," said McBain quickly. "Rocky Springs, I'd say. It's the Rocky +Springs gang, sure as hell. It's the foulest hole of crime in the +northwest. Come on, boys. We need to get busy." + +Two minutes later a moving cloud of dust marked their progress down +the trail in the direction of Rocky Springs. Presently, however, the +dust subsided. The astute riders of the plains were giving no chances +away; they had left the tell-tale trail and rode on over the grass at +its edge. + + * * * * * + +The westering sun was low on the horizon. The air was still. Not a +cloud was visible anywhere in the sky. The world was silent. The +drowsing birds, even, had finished their evensong. + +Low bush-grown hills lined the trail where it entered the wide valley +of Leaping Creek, which, six miles further on, ran through the heart +of the hamlet of Rocky Springs. + +It was a beauty spot of no mean order. The smaller hills were broken +and profuse, with dark woodland gorges splitting them in every +direction, crowded with such a density of foliage as to be almost +impassable. Farther on, as the valley widened and deepened, its aspect +became more rugged. The land rose to greater heights, the lighter +vegetation gave way to heavier growths of spruce and blue gum and +maple. These too, in turn, became sprinkled with the darker and +taller pines. Then, as the distance gained, a still further change met +the eye. Vast patches of virgin pine woods, with their mournful, +tattered crowns, toned the brighter greens to the somber grandeur of +more mountainous regions. + +The breathless hush of evening lay upon the valley. There was even a +sense of awe in the silence. It was peace, a wonderful natural peace, +when all nature seems at rest, nor could the chastened atmosphere of a +cloister have conveyed more perfectly the sense of repose. + +But the human contradiction lay in the heart of the valley. It was the +abiding place of the hamlet of Rocky Springs, and Rocky Springs was +accredited with being the very breeding ground of prairie crime. + +Just now, however, the chastened atmosphere was perfect. Rocky +Springs, so far away, was powerless to affect it. Even the song of the +tumbling creek, which coursed through the heart of the valley, was +powerless to awaken discordant echoes. Its music was low and soft. It +was like the drone of the stirring insects, part of that which went to +make up the atmosphere of perfect peace. + +The sun dropped lower in the western sky. A velvet twilight seemed to +rise out of the heart of the valley. Slowly the glowing light vanished +behind a bluff of woodland. In a few minutes the trees and undergrowth +were lit up as though a mighty conflagration were devouring them. Then +the fire died down, and the sun sank. + +But as the sun sank, a low, deep note grew softly out of the distance. +For a time it blended musically with the murmuring of the bustling +creek and the wakeful insect life. Then it dominated both, and its +music lessened. Its note changed rapidly, so rapidly that its softer +tone was at once forgotten, and only the harshness it now assumed +remained in the mind. Louder and harsher it grew till from a mere +rumble it jumped to a rattle and clatter which suggested speed, +violence, and a dozen conflicting emotions. + +Almost immediately came a further change, and one which left no doubt +remaining. The clatter broke up into distinct and separate sounds. The +swift beat of speeding hoofs mingled with the fierce rattle of light +wheels, racing over the surface of a hard road. + +All sense of peace vanished from the valley. Almost it seemed as if +its very aspect had changed. A sense of human strife had suddenly +possessed it, and left its painful mark indelibly set upon the whole +scene. + +The climax was reached as a hard driven team and wagon, escorted by +four mounted men, precipitated themselves into the picture. They came +over the shoulder of the valley and plunged headlong down the +dangerous slope, regardless of all consequences, regardless both of +life and limb. The teamster was leaning forward in his seat, his arms +outstretched, grasping a rein in each hand. He was urging his horses +to their utmost. In his face was that stern, desperate expression that +told of perfect cognizance of his position. It said as plainly as +possible, however great the danger he saw before him, it must be +chanced for the greater danger behind. + +Two of the horsemen detached themselves from the escort and remained +hidden behind some bush at the shoulder of the hill. They were there +to watch the approach to the valley. The others kept pace with the +racing vehicle as the surefooted team tore down the slope. + +Rocking and swaying and skidding, the vehicle seemed literally to +precipitate itself to the depths below, and, as the horses, with necks +outstretched and mouths beginning to gape, with ears flattened and +streaming flanks, reached the bottom, the desperate nature of the +journey became even more apparent. There was neither wavering nor +mercy in the eyes of the teamster and his escort as they pressed on +down the valley. + +One of the escort called sharply to the teamster. + +"Can we make it?" he shouted. + +"Got to," came back the answer through clenched jaws. "If we got +twenty minutes on the gorl darned p'lice they won't see us for dust. +Heh!" + +The man's final exclamation came as one of his horses stumbled. But he +kept the straining beast on its legs by the sheer physical strength of +his hands upon the reins. The check was barely an instant, but he +picked up the rawhide whip lying in the wagon and plied it +mercilessly. + +The exhausted beasts responded and the vehicle flew down the trail, +swaying and yawing the whole breadth of the road. The dust in its wake +rose up in a dense cloud. Into this the escort plunged and quickly +became lost to view behind the bush which lined the sharply twisting +trail. + +Faster and faster the horses sped under the iron hand of the teamster, +till distance took hold of the clatter and finally diminished it to a +rumble. In a few minutes even the rising cloud of dust, like smoke +above the tree tops, thinned and finally melted away, and so, once +more, peace returned to the twilit valley. + + * * * * * + +A wagon was lumbering slowly toward Rocky Springs. It was less than a +mile beyond the outskirts of the village, and already an occasional +flash of white paint through the trees revealed the sides of some +outlying house in the distance ahead. + +The horses were dejected-looking creatures, and their flanks were +streaked with gray lines of caking sweat. They were walking, and the +teamster on the wagon sat huddled down in the driving seat, an +exquisite picture of unclean ease. + +He was a hard-faced, unwashed creature, whose swarthy features were +ingrained with sweat and dirt. He was clad in typical prairie costume, +his loose cotton shirt well matching the unclean condition of his +face. One cheek was bulging with a big chew of tobacco, while the +other sank in over the hollows left by absent back teeth. + +He certainly was unprepossessing. Even his contented smile only added +to the evil of his expression. His contentment, however, was by no +means his whole atmosphere. In fact, it was rather studied, for his +eyes were alight and watchful with the furtive watchfulness so easy to +detect in those of partial color. They suggested that his ears, too, +were no less alert, and now and again this suggestion received +confirmation in the quick turn of the head in a direction which said +plainly he was listening for any unusual sound from behind him. + +One of these turns of the head remained longer than usual. Then, with +quite a sharp movement of the body, he swung one of the great pistols +hanging at his waist, so that its barrel rested across his thigh, and +its butt was ready to his hand. Then, with a malicious chuckle, he +took a firmer grip of his reins, and his jaded horses raised their +drooping heads. + +The object of his change of attitude quickly became apparent, for, a +few moments later, the distant sound of hoof-beats, far behind him, +echoed through the still valley. + +He checked his horses still more, and it became evident that he wished +those who were behind him to come up before he reached the village. +The smile on his evil face became more humorous, and he spat out a +stream of tobacco juice with great enjoyment. + +The sounds grew louder, and he turned about and peered down the +darkening valley. There was nothing and no one in sight yet amid the +woodland shadows. Only the clatter of hoofs was growing with each +moment. He finally turned back and resettled himself. His attitude now +became one of even more studied indifference, but his gun remained +close to his hand. + +The sounds behind him were drawing nearer. His tired horses pricked +their ears. They, too, seemed to become interested. The pursuers came +on. They were less than a hundred yards behind. In a few moments they +were directly behind. Then the man lazily turned his head. For some +moments he stared stupidly at the three uniformed figures who had +descended upon him. Then he suddenly sat up and brought his horses to +a standstill. The policemen were surrounding his wagon. + +Sergeant McBain was abreast of him on one side, one trooper drew up +his horse at the other side, while the third came to a halt at the +rear of the wagon and peered into it. + +"Evenin', sergeant," cried the teamster, with deliberate cheeriness. +"Makin' Rocky Springs?" + +McBain's hard blue eyes looked straight into the half-breed's face. He +was endeavoring to fix and hold those dark, furtive eyes. But it was +not easy. + +"Maybe," he said curtly. + +Then he glanced swiftly over the outfit. The sweat-streaked horses +interested him. The nature of the wagon. Then, finally, the contents +of the wagon covered with a light canvas protection against the dust. + +"Where you from?" he demanded peremptorily. + +"Just got through from Myrtle," replied the man, quite undisturbed by +the other's manner. + +"Fourteen miles," said McBain sharply. "Guess your plugs sweated +some. What's your name, and who do you work for?" + +"Guess I'm Pete Clancy, an' I'm Kate Seton's 'hired' man. Been across +to Myrtle for fixin's for her." + +"Fixings?" + +The sergeant's eyes at last compelled the other's. There was something +like insolence in the way Pete Clancy returned his stare. There was +also humor. + +"Sure," he returned easily. "Guess you'll find 'em in the wagon ef you +raise that cover. There's one of them fakes fer sewin' with. There's a +deal o' fancy canned truck, an' say, the leddy's death on notions. Get +a peek at the colors o' them silk duds. On'y keep dirty hands off'n +'em, or she'll cuss me to hell for a fust-class hog." + +McBain signed to the trooper at the rear of the wagon and the man +stripped the cover off. The first thing the officer beheld was a +sewing machine in its shining walnut case. Beside this was an open +packing case filled with canned fruits and meats, and a large supply +of groceries. In another box, packed under layers of paper, were +materials for dressmaking, and a roll of white lawn for other articles +of a woman's apparel. + +With obvious disgust he signed again to the trooper to replace the +cover. Then Clancy broke in. + +"Say," he cried ironically, "ain't they dandy? I tell you, sergeant, +when it comes to fancy things, women ha' got us skinned to death. +Fancy us wearin' skirts an' things made o' them flimsies! We'd fall +right through 'em an' break our dirty necks. An' the colors, too. +Guess they'd shame a dago wench, an' set a three-year old stud bull +shakin' his sides with a puffic tempest of indignation. But when it +comes to canned truck, well, say, prairie hash ain't nothin' to it, +an' if I hadn't been raised in a Bible class, an' had the feel o' the +cold water o' righteousness in my bones, I'd never ha' hauled them all +this way without gettin' a peek into them cans. I----" + +"Cut it out, man," cried the officer sharply. "I need a straight word +with you. Get me? Straight. Your bluff'll do for other folks. You +haven't been to Myrtle. You come from White Point, where you helped +hold up a freight. You ran a big cargo of liquor in this wagon, which +is why your plugs are tuckered out. You've cached that liquor in this +valley, at the place you gathered up this truck. I don't say you +aren't 'hired man' to Miss Seton in Rocky Springs, but you're playing +a double game. You fetched her goods and dumped 'em at the cache, only +to pick 'em up when you were through with your other game." + +The man laughed insolently. + +"Gee! I must be a ter'ble bad feller, sergeant," he cried. "Me, as was +raised in a Bible class." His eyes twinkled as he went on. "An' I done +all that? All that you sed, sergeant? Say, I'm a real bright feller. +Guess I'll get a drink o' that liquor, won't I? It 'ud be a bum +trick----" + +The sergeant's eyes snapped. + +"You'll get the penitentiary before we're through with you. You and +the boys with you. We've followed your trail all the way, and that +trail ends right here. We're wise to you----" + +"But you ain't wise where the liquor's cached," retorted the man with +a chuckle. + +Then he looked straight into the officer's eyes. + +"Say," he cried with his big laugh. "You can talk penitentiary till +you're sick. Ther' ain't no liquor in my wagon, an' if there ever has +been any, as you kind o' fancy, it's right up to you to locate it, and +spill it, an' not set right there keepin' me from my work." + +As he finished speaking, with elaborate display, he shook his reins +and shouted at his horses, which promptly moved on. + +As the wagon rolled away he turned his head and spoke over his +shoulder. + +"You can't spill canned truck an' sewin' machines, sergeant," he +called back derisively. "That penitentiary racket don't fizz nothin'. +Guess you best think again." + +The officer's chagrin was complete. It was the start the outlaws had +had that had beaten him. This was the wagon; this was one of the men. +Of these things he was convinced. There were others in it, too, but +they----. He turned to his troopers. + +"I'd give a month's pay to get bracelets on that feller," he said with +a grin that had no mirth in it. Then he added grimly, as he gazed +after the receding wagon: "And I'm a Scotchman." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE MAN-HUNTERS + + +The girl's handsome face was turned toward the valley below her. She +was staring with eyes of dreaming, half regretful, yet not without a +faint light of humor, at the nestling village in the lap of the +woodlands, which crowded the heart of the valley, where the silvery +thread of river wound its way. + +The wide foliage of the maple tree, beneath which she sat, sheltered +her bare head from the burning noonday sun. And here, so high up on +the shoulder of the valley, she felt there was at least air to +breathe. + +The book on the ground beside her had only just been laid there; its +pages, wide open, had been turned face downward upon the dry, +grassless patch surrounding the tree trunk. + +Only a few feet away another girl, slight and fair-haired, was nimbly +plying her needle upon a pile of white lawn, as to the object of which +there could be small enough doubt. She was working with the care and +obvious appreciation which most women display toward the manufacture +of delicate underclothing. + +As her companion laid her book aside and turned toward the valley, the +pretty needlewoman raised a pair of gray, speculative eyes. But almost +at once they dropped again to her work. It was only for a moment, +however. She reached the end of her seam and began to fold the +material up, and, as she did so, her eyes were once more raised in the +direction of her sister, only now they were full of laughter. + +"Kate," she said, in a tone in which mirth would not be denied, "do +you know, it's five years to-day since we first came to Rocky Springs? +Five years." She breathed a profound sigh, which was full of mockery. +"You were twenty-three when we came. You are twenty-eight now, and I +am twenty-two. We'll soon be old maids. The folks down there," she +went on, nodding at the village below, "will soon be speaking of us as +'them two old guys,' or 'them funny old dears, the Seton sisters.' +Isn't it awful to think of? We came out West to find husbands for +ourselves, and here we are very nearly--old maids." + +Kate Seton's eyes wore a responsive twinkle, but she did not turn. + +"You're a bit of a joke, Hel," she replied, in the slow musical +fashion of a deep contralto voice. + +"But I'm not a joke," protested the other, with pretended severity. +"And I won't be called 'Hel,' just because my name's Helen. It--it +sounds like the way Pete and Nick swear at each other when they've +been spending their pay at Dirty O'Brien's. Besides, it doesn't alter +facts at all. It won't take much more climbing to find ourselves right +on the shelf, among the frying pans and other cooking utensils. +I'm--I'm tired of it--I--really am. It's no use talking. I'm a woman, +and I'd sooner see a pair of trousers walking around my house than +another bunch of skirts--even if they belong to my beloved sister. +Trousers go every time--with me." + +Kate withdrew her gaze from the village below and looked into her +sister's pretty face with smiling, indulgent eyes. + +"Well?" she said. + +The other shook her fair head. Her eyes were still laughing, but their +expression did not hide the seriousness which lay behind them. + +"It's not 'well' at all," she cried. She drew herself up from the +ground into a kneeling position, which left her sitting on the heels +of shoes that could never have been bought in Rocky Springs. "Now, +listen to me," she went on, holding up a warning finger. "I'm just +going to state my case right here and now, and--and you've got to +listen to me. Five years ago, Kate Seton, aged twenty-three, and her +sister, Helen Seton, were left orphans, with the sum of two thousand +dollars equally divided between them. You get that?" + +Her sister nodded amusedly. "Well," the girl went on deliberately. +"Kate Seton was no ordinary sort of girl. Oh, no. She was most +_un_ordinary, as Nick would say. She was a sort of headstrong girl +with an absurd notion of woman's independence. I--I don't mean she was +masculine, or any horror like that. But she believed that when it came +to doing the things she wanted to do she could do them just as well, +and deliberately, as any man. That she could think as well as any man. +In fact, she didn't believe in the superiority of the male sex over +hers. The only superiority she did acknowledge was that a man could +ask a woman to marry, while the privilege of asking a man was denied +to Kate's sex. But even in acknowledging this she reserved to herself +an alternative. She believed that every woman had the right to make a +man ask her." + +The patient Kate mildly protested. "You're making me out a perfectly +awful creature," she said, without the least umbrage. "Hadn't I better +stand up for the--arraignment?" + +But her sister's mock seriousness remained quite undisturbed. + +"There's no necessity," she said, airily. "Besides, you'll be tired +when I'm through. Now listen. Kate Seton is a very kind and lovable +creature--really. Only--only she suffers from--notions." + +The dark-eyed Kate, with her handsome face so full of decision and +character, eyed her sister with the indulgence of a mother. + +"You do talk, child," was all she said. + +Helen nodded. "I like talking. It makes me feel clever." + +"Ye--es. People are like that," returned the other ironically. "Go +on." + +Helen folded her hands in her lap, and for a moment gazed +speculatively at the sister she knew she adored. + +"Well," she went on presently. "Let us keep to the charge. Five years +ago this spirit of independence and adventure was very strong in Kate +Seton. Far, far stronger than it is now. That's by the way. Say, +anyhow, it was so strong then that when these two found themselves +alone in the world with their money, it was her idea to break through +all convention, leave her little village in New England, go out west, +and seek 'live' men and fortune on the rolling plains of Canada. The +last part of that's put in for effect." + +The girl paused, watching her sister as she turned again toward the +valley below. + +With a sigh of resignation Helen was forced to proceed. "That's five +years--ago," she said. Then, dropping her voice to a note of pathos, +and with the pretense of a sob: "Five long years ago two lonely girls, +orphans, set out from their conventional home in a New England +village, after having sold it out--the home, not the village--and +turned wistful faces toward the wild green plains of the western +wilderness, the home of the broncho, the gopher, and the merciless +mosquito." + +"Oh, do get on," Kate's smile was good to see. + +"It's emotion," said Helen, pretending to dab her eyes. "It's emotion +mussing up the whole blamed business, as Nick would say." + +"Never mind Nick," cried her sister. "Anyway, I don't think he swears +nearly as much as you make out. I'll soon have to go and get the +Meeting House ready for to-morrow's service. So----" + +"Ah, that's just it," broke in Helen, with a great display of triumph +in her laughing eyes. "Five years ago Kate Seton would never have said +that. She'd have said, 'bother the old Meeting House, and all the old +cats who go there to slander each other in--in the name of religion.' +That's what she'd have said. It's all different now. Gone is her love +of adventure; gone is her defiance of convention; gone is--is her +independence. What is she now? A mere farmer, a drudging female, +spinster farmer, growing cabbages and things, and getting her +manicured hands all mussed up, and freckles on her otherwise handsome +face." + +"A successful--female, spinster farmer," put in Kate, in her deep, +soft voice. + +Helen nodded, and there was a sort of helplessness in her admission. + +"Yes," she sighed, "and that's the worst of it. We came to find +husbands--'live' husbands, and we only find--cabbages. The +man-hunters. That's what we called ourselves. It sounded--uncommon, +and so we used the expression." Suddenly she scrambled to her feet in +undignified haste, and shook a small, clenched fist in her sister's +direction. "Kate Seton," she cried, "you're a fraud. An +unmitigated--fraud. Yes, you are. Don't glare at me. 'Live' men! +Adventure! Poof! You're as tame as any village cat, and just +as--dozy." + +Kate had risen, too. She was not glaring. She was laughing. Her dark, +handsome face was alight with merriment at her sister's characteristic +attack. She loved her irresponsible chatter, just as she loved the +loyal heart that beat within the girl's slight, shapely body. Now she +came over and laid a caressing hand upon the girl's shoulder. In a +moment it dropped to the slim waist about which her arm was quickly +placed. + +"I wish I could get cross with you, Helen," she said happily. "But I +simply--can't. You know you get very near the mark in your funny +fashion--in some things. Say, I wonder. Do you know we have more than +our original capital in the bank? Our farm is a flourishing concern. +We employ labor. Two creatures that call themselves men, and who +possess the characters of--hogs, or tigers, or something pretty +dreadful. We can afford to buy our clothes direct from New York or +Montreal. Think of that. Isn't that due to independence? I admit the +villagy business. I seem to love Rocky Springs. It's such a whited +sepulcher, and its inhabitants are such blackguards with great big +hearts. Yes, I love even the unconventional conventions of the place. +But the spirit of adventure. Well, somehow I don't think that has +really gone." + +"Just got mired--among the cabbages," said Helen, slyly. Then she +released herself from her sister's embrace and stood off at arm's +length, assuming an absurdly accusing air. "But wait a moment, Kate +Seton. This is all wrong. I'm making the charge, and you're doing all +the talking. There's no defense in the case. You've--you've just got +to listen, and--accept the sentence. Guess this isn't a court of +men--just women. Now, we're man-hunters. That's how we started, and +that's what I am--still. We've been five years at it, with what +result? I'll just tell you. I've been proposed to by everything +available in trousers in the village--generally when the 'thing' is +drunk. The only objects that haven't asked me to marry are our two +hired men, Nick and Pete, and that's only because their wages aren't +sufficient to get them drunk enough. As for you, most of the boys sort +of stand in awe of you, wouldn't dare talk marrying to you even in the +height of delirium tremens. The only men who have ever had courage to +make any display in that direction are Inspector Fyles, when his duty +brings him in the neighborhood of Rocky Springs, and a dypsomaniac +rancher and artist, to wit, Charlie Bryant. And how do you take it? +You--a man-hunter? Why, you run like a rabbit from Fyles. Courage? +Oh, dear. The mention of his name is enough to send you into +convulsions of trepidation and maidenly confusion. And all the time +you secretly admire him. As for the other, you have turned yourself +into a sort of hospital nurse and temperance reformer. You've taken +him up as a sort of hobby, until, in his lucid intervals, he takes +advantage of your reforming process to acquire the added disease of +love, which has reduced him to a condition of imbecile infatuation +with your charming self." + +Kate was about to break in with a laughing protest, but Helen stayed +her with a gesture of denial. + +"Wait," she cried, grandly. "Hear the whole charge. Look at your +village life, which you plead guilty to. You, a high-spirited woman of +independence and daring. You are no better than a sort of hired +cleaner to a Meeting House you have adopted, and which is otherwise +run by a lot of cut-throats and pirates, whose wives and offspring are +no better than themselves. You attend the village social functions +with as much appreciation of them as any village mother with an +unwashed but growing family. You gossip with them and scandalize as +badly as any of them, and, in your friendliness and charity toward +them, I verily believe, for two cents, you'd go among the said +unwashed offspring with a scrub-brush. What--what is coming to you, +Kate? You--a man-hunter? No--no," she went on, with a hopeless shake +of her pretty head, "'tis no use talking. The big, big spirit of early +womanhood has somehow failed you. It's failed us both. We are no +longer man-hunters. The soaring Kate, bearing her less brave sister in +her arms, has fallen. They have both tumbled to the ground. The early +seed, so full of promise, has germinated and grown--but it's come up +cabbages. And--and they're getting old. There you are, I can't help +it. I've tripped over the agricultural furrow we've ploughed, and----. +There!" + +She flung out an arm dramatically, pointing down at the slight figure +of a man coming toward them, slowly toiling up the slope of the +valley. + +"There he is," she cried. "Your artist-patient. Your dypsomaniac +rancher. A symbol, a symbol of the bonds which are crushing the brave +spirits of our--ahem!--young hearts." + +But Kate ignored the approaching man. She had eyes only for the bright +face before her. + +"You're a great child," she declared warmly. "I ought to be angry. I +ought to be just mad with you. I believe I really am. But--but the +cabbage business has broken up the storm of my feelings. Cabbage? Oh, +dear." She laughed softly. "You, with your soft, wavy hair, dressed as +though we had a New York hairdresser in the village. You, with your +great gray eyes, your charming little nose and cupid mouth. You, with +your beautiful new frock, only arrived from New York two days ago, and +which, by the way, I don't think you ought to wear sprawling upon +dusty ground. You--a cabbage! It just robs all you've said of, I won't +say truth, but--sense. There, child, you've said your say. But you +needn't worry about me. I'm not changed--really. Maybe I do many +things that seem strange to you, but--but--I know what I'm doing. Poor +old Charlie. Look at him. I often wonder what'll be the end of him." + +Kate Seton sighed. It seemed as though there were a great depth of +motherly tenderness in her heart, and just now that tenderness was +directed toward the man approaching them. + +But the lighter-minded Helen was less easily stirred. She smiled +amusedly in her sister's direction. Then her bright eyes glanced +swiftly down at the man. + +"If all we hear is true, his end will be the penitentiary," she +declared with decision. + +Kate glanced round quickly, and her eyes suddenly became quite hard. + +"Penitentiary?" she questioned sharply. + +Helen shrugged. + +"Everybody says he's the biggest whisky smuggler in the country, +and--and his habits don't make things look much--different. Say, Kate, +O'Brien told me the other day that the police had him marked down. +They were only waiting to get him--red-handed." + +The hardness abruptly died out of Kate's eyes. A faint sigh, perhaps +of relief, escaped her. + +"They'll never do that," she declared firmly. "Everybody's making a +mistake about Charlie. I'm--sure. With all his failings Charlie's no +whisky-runner. He's too gentle. He's too--too honest to descend to +such a traffic." + +Suddenly her eyes lit. She came close to Helen, and one firm hand +grasped the soft flesh of the girl's arm, and closed tightly upon it. + +"Say, child," she went on, in a deep, thrilling tone, "do you know +what these whisky-runners risk? Do you? No. Of course you don't. They +risk life as well as liberty. They're threatened every moment of their +lives. The penalty is heavy, and when a man becomes a whisky-runner he +has no intention of being taken--alive. Think of all that, and see +where your imagination carries you. Then think of Charlie--as we know +him. An artist. A warm-hearted, gentle creature, whose only sins +are--against himself." + +But the younger girl's face displayed skepticism. + +"Yes--as we know him," she replied quickly. "I've thought of it while +he's been giving me lessons in painting, when I've watched him with +you, with that wonderful look of dog-like devotion in his eyes, while +hanging on every word you uttered. I've thought of it all. And always +running through my mind was the title of a book I once read--'Dr. +Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.' You are sure, and I--I only wonder." + +Kate's hand relaxed its hold upon her sister's arm. Her whole +expression changed with a suddenness which, had she observed it, must +have startled the other. Her eyes were cold, very cold, as she +surveyed the sister to whom she was so devoted, and who could find it +in her heart to think so harshly of one whom she regarded as a sick +and ailing creature, needing the utmost support from natures morally +stronger than his own. + +"You must think as you will, Helen," she said coldly. "I know. I know +Charlie. I understand the gentle heart that guides his every action, +and I warn you you are wrong--utterly wrong. Everybody is wrong, the +police--everybody." + +She turned away and moved a few steps down the slope toward the +approaching figure. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +CHARLIE BRYANT + + +As Kate stood out from the shadow of the trees, the man approaching, +looking up, beheld her, and his dark eyes gladdened with a smile of +delight. His greeting came up to her on the still air in a tone +thrilling with warmth and deep feeling. + +"Ho, Kate," he cried, in his deeply musical voice. "I saw you and +Helen making this way, and guessed I'd just get around." + +He was breathing hard as he came up the hill, his slight figure was +bending forward with the effort of his climb. Kate watched him, much +as an anxious mother might watch, with doubtful eyes, some effort of +her ailing child. He reached her level and stood breathing heavily +before her. + +"I was around watching the boys at work down there on the new church," +he went on. His handsome boyish face was flushing. The delicate, +smooth, whiskerless skin was almost womanish in its texture, and +betrayed almost every emotion stirring behind it. "Allan Dy came along +with my mail. When I'd read it I felt I had to come and tell you the +news right away. You see, I had to tell someone, and wanted you--two +to be the first to hear it." + +Kate's eyes were full of a smiling tender amusement at the +ingenuousness of the man. Helen was looking on with less tenderness +than amusement. He had not come to tell her the news--only Kate. The +Kate whom she knew he worshipped, and who was the only rival in his +life to his passionate craving for drink. + +She surveyed the man now with searching eyes. What was it that +inspired in her such mixed feeling? She knew she had a dislike and +liking for him, all in the same moment. There was something +fascinating about him. Yes, there certainly was. He was darkly +handsome. Unusually so. He had big, soft, almost womanish eyes, full +of passionate possibilities. The delicate moulding of his features was +certainly beautiful. They were too delicate. Ah, that was it. They +were womanish. Yes, he was womanish, and nothing womanish in a man +could ever appeal to the essentially feminine heart of Helen. His +figure was slight, but perfectly proportioned, and quite lacking in +any suggestion of mannish strength. Again the thought of it brought +Helen a feeling of repugnance. She hated effeminacy in a man. And yet, +how could she associate effeminacy with a man of his known character? +Was he not the most lawless of this lawless village? Then there was +his outward seeming of gentleness. Yes, she had never known him +otherwise, even in his moments of dreadful drunkenness, and she had +witnessed those frequently enough during the past few years. + +The whole personality of the man was an enigma to her. Nor was it +altogether a pleasant enigma. She felt that somehow there was an ugly +streak in him which her sister had utterly missed, and she only half +guessed at. Furthermore, somehow in the back of her mind, she knew +that she was not without fear of him. + +In spite of Kate's denial, when the man came under discussion between +them, her conviction always remained. She knew she liked him, and she +knew she disliked him. She knew she despised him, and she knew she +feared him. And through it all she looked on with eyes of amusement at +the absurd, dog-like devotion he yielded to her strong, reliant, +big-hearted, handsome sister. + +"What's your news, Charlie?" she demanded, as Kate remained silent, +waiting for him to continue. "Good, I'll bet five dollars, or you +wouldn't come rushing to us." + +The man turned to her as though it were an effort to withdraw his gaze +from the face of the woman he loved. + +"Good? Why, yes," he said quickly. "I'd surely hate to bring you two +anything but good news." Then a shadow of doubt crossed his smiling +features. "Maybe it won't be of much account to you, though," he went +on, almost apologetically. "You see, it's just my brother. My big +brother Bill. He's coming along out here to--to join me. He--he wants +to ranch, so--he's coming here, and going to put all his money into my +ranch, and suggests we run it together." Then he laughed shortly. "He +says I've got experience and he's got dollars, and between us we ought +to make things hum. He's a hustler, is Bill. Say, he's as much sense +as a two-year-old bull, and just about as much strength. He can't see +the difference between a sharp and a saint. They're all the same to +him. He just loves everybody to death, till they kick him on the +shins, then he hits out, and something's going to break. He's just the +bulliest feller this side of life." + +Kate was still smiling at the man's enthusiasm, but she had no answer +for him. It was Helen who did the talking now, as she generally did, +while Kate listened. + +"Oh, Charlie," Helen cried impulsively, "you will let me see him, +won't you? He's big--and--and manly? Is he good looking? But then he +must be if he's your--I'm just dying to see this Big Brother Bill," +she added hastily. + +Charlie shook his head, laughing in his silent fashion. + +"Oh, you'll see him all right. This village'll just be filled right up +with him." Then his dark eyes became serious, and a hopeless shadow +crept into them. "I'm glad he's coming," he went on, adding simply, +"maybe he'll keep me straight." + +Kate's smile died out in an instant. "Don't talk like that Charlie," +she cried almost sharply. "Do you know what your words imply? Oh, it's +too dreadful, and--and I won't have it. You don't need anybody's +support. You can fight yourself. You can conquer yourself. I know it." + +The man's eyes came back to the face he loved, and, for a moment, they +looked into it as though he would read all that which lay hidden +behind. + +"You think so?" he questioned presently. + +"I'm sure; sure as--as Fate," Kate cried impulsively. + +"You think that all--all weakness can be conquered?" + +Kate nodded. "If the desire to conquer lies behind it." + +"Ah, yes." + +The man's eyes had become even more thoughtful. There was a look in +them which suggested to Helen that he was not wholly thinking of the +thing Kate had in her mind. + +"If the desire to conquer is there," he went on, "I suppose the +habits--diseases of years, even--could be beaten. But--but----" + +"But what?" Kate's demand came almost roughly. + +Charlie shrugged his slim shoulders. "Nothing," he said. "I--I was +just thinking. That's all." + +"But it isn't all," cried Kate, in real distress. + +Helen saw Charlie smile in a half-hearted fashion. For some moments +his patience remained. Then, as Kate still waited for him to speak, +his eyes abruptly lit with the deep fire of passion. + +"Why? Why?" he cried suddenly. "Why must we conquer and fight with +ourselves? Why beat down the nature given to us by a power beyond our +control? Why not indulge the senses that demand indulgence, when, in +such indulgence, we injure no one else? Oh, I argue it all with +myself, and I try to reason, too. I try to see it all from the +wholesome point of view from which you look at it, Kate. And I can't +see it. I just can't see it. All I know is that the only thing that +makes me attempt to deny myself is that I want your good opinion. Did +I not want that I should slide down the road to hell, which I am told +I am on, with all the delight of a child on a toboggan slide. Yes, I +would. I surely would, Kate. I'm a drunkard, I know. A drunkard by +nature. I have not the smallest desire to be otherwise, from any moral +scruple. It's you that makes me want to straighten up, and you only. +When I'm sober I'd be glad if I weren't. And when I'm not sober I'd +hate being otherwise. Why should I be sober, when in such moments I +suffer agonies of craving? Is it worth it? What does it matter if +drink eases the craving, and lends me moments of peace which I am +otherwise denied? These are the things I think all the time, and these +are the thoughts which send me tumbling headlong--sometimes. But I +know--yes, I know I am all wrong. I know that I would rather suffer +all the tortures of hell than forfeit your--good will." + +Kate sighed. She had no answer. She knew all that lay behind the man's +passionate appeal. She knew, too, that he spoke the truth. She knew +that the only reason he made any effort at all was because his +devotion to herself was something just a shade stronger than this +awful disease with which he was afflicted. + +The hopelessness of the position for a moment almost overwhelmed her. +She knew that she had no love--love such as he required--to give him +in return. And when that finally became patent to him away would go +the last vestige of self-restraint, and his fall would be headlong. + +She knew his early story, and it was a pitiful one. She knew he was +born of good parents, rich parents, in New York, that he was well +educated. He had been brought up to become an artist, and therein had +lain the secret of his fall. In Paris, and Rome, and other European +cities, he had first tasted the dregs of youthful debauchery, and +disaster had promptly set in. Then, after his student days, had come +the final break. His parents abandoned him as a ne'er-do-well, and, +setting him up as a rancher in a small way, had sent him out west, +another victim of that over-indulgence which helps to populate the +fringes of civilization. + +The moment was a painful one, and Helen was quick to perceive her +sister's distress. She came to her rescue with an effort at lightness. +But her pretty eyes had become very gentle. + +She turned to the man who had just taken a letter from his pocket. + +"Tell us some more about Big Brother Bill," she said, with the +pretense of a sigh. Then, with a little daring in her manner: "Do you +think he'll like me? Because if he don't I'll sure go into mourning, +and order my coffin, and bury me on the hillside with my face to the +beautiful east--where I come from." + +The man's moment of passionate discontent had passed, and he smiled +into the girl's questioning eyes in his gentle fashion. + +"He'll just be crazy about you, Helen," he said. "Say, when he gets +his big, silly blue eyes on to you in that swell suit, why, he'll just +hustle you right off to the parson, and you'll be married before you +get a notion there's such a whirlwind around Rocky Springs." + +"Is he--such a whirlwind?" the girl demanded with appreciation. + +"He surely is," the man asserted definitely. + +Helen sighed with relief. "I'm glad," she said. "You see, a +whirlwind's a sort of summer storm. All sunshine--and--and well, a +whirlwind don't suggest the cold, vicious, stormy gales of the folks +in this village, nor the dozy summer zephyrs of the women in this +valley. Yes, I'd like a whirlwind. His eyes are blue, and--silly?" + +Charlie smiled more broadly as he nodded again. "His eyes are blue. +And big. The other's a sort of term of endearment. You see, he's my +big brother Bill, and I'm kind of fond of him." + +Helen laughed joyously. "I'm real glad he's not silly," she cried. +"Let's see. He's big. He's got blue eyes. He's good looking. +He's--he's like a whirlwind. He's got lots of money." She counted the +attractions off on her fingers. "Guess I'll sure have to marry him," +she finished up with a little nod of finality. + +Kate turned a flushed face in her direction. + +"For goodness sake, Helen!" she cried in horror. + +Helen's gray eyes opened to their fullest extent. + +"Why, whatever's the matter, Kate?" she exclaimed. "Of course, I'll +have to marry Big Brother Bill. Why, his very name appeals to me. May +I, Charlie?" she went on, turning to the smiling man. "Would you like +me for--a--a sister? I'm not a bad sort, am I, Kate?" she appealed +mischievously. "I can sew, and cook, and--and darn. No, I don't mean +curse words. I leave that to Kate's hired men. They're just dreadful. +Really, I wasn't thinking of anything worse than Big Brother Bill's +socks. When'll he be getting around? Oh, dear, I hope it won't be +long. 'Specially if he's a--whirlwind." + +Charlie was scanning the open pages of his letter. + +"No. Guess he won't be long," he said, amusedly. "He says he'll be +right along here the 16th. That's the day after to-morrow." + +Helen ran to her sister's side, and shook her by the arm. + +"Say, Kate," she cried, her eyes sparkling with pretended excitement. +"Isn't that just great? Big Brother Bill's coming along day after +to-morrow. Isn't it lucky I've just got my new suits? They'll last me +three months, and by the time I have to get my fall suits he'll have +to marry me." Then the dancing light in her eyes sobered. "Now, where +shall we live?" she went on, with a pretense of deep consideration. +"Shall we go east, or--or shall we live at Charlie's ranch? Oh, dear. +It's so important not to make any mistake. And yet--you see, Charlie's +ranch wants some one _capable_ to look after it, doesn't it? It's kind +of mousy. Big Brother Bill is sure to be particular--coming from the +east." + +Her audience were smiling broadly. Kate understood now that her +irresponsible sister was simply letting her bubbling spirits overflow. +Charlie had no other feelings than frank amusement at the girl's +gaiety. + +"Oh, he's most particular," he said readily. "You see, he's accustomed +to Broadway restaurants." + +Helen pulled a long face. + +"I'm afraid your shack wouldn't make much of a Broadway restaurant." +She shook her head with quaint solemnity. "Guess I never could get you +right. Here you run a ranch, and make quite big with it, yet you never +eat off a china plate, or spread your table with anything better than +a newspaper. True, Charlie, you've got me beaten to death. Why, how +you manage to run a ranch and make it pay is a riddle that 'ud put the +poor old Sphinx's nose plump out of joint. I----" + +Kate suddenly turned a pair of darkly frowning eyes upon her sister. + +"You're talking a whole heap of nonsense," she declared severely. +"What has the care of a home to do with making a ranch pay?" + +Helen's eyes opened wide with mischief. + +"Say, Kate," she cried with a great air of patronage, "you have a +whole heap to learn. Big Brother Bill's coming right along from +Broadway, with money and--notions. He's just bursting with them. +Charlie's a prosperous rancher. What does B. B. B. expect? Why, he'll +get around with fancy clothes and suitcases and trunks. He'll dream of +rides over the boundless plains, of cow-punchers with guns and things. +He'll have visions of big shoots, and any old sport, of a +well-appointed ranch house, with proper fixings, and baths, and swell +dinners and servants. But they're all visions. He'll blow in to Rocky +Springs--he's a whirlwind, mind--and he'll find a prosperous rancher +living in a tumbled-down shanty that hasn't been swept this side of +five years, a blanket-covered bunk, and a table made of packing cases +with the remains of last week's meals on it. That's what he'll find. +Prosperous rancher, indeed. Say, Charlie," she finished up with fine +scorn, "you know as much about living as Kate's two hired men, and +dear knows they only exist." Suddenly she broke out into a rippling +laugh. "And this is what my future husband is coming to. It's--it's an +insult to me." + +The girl paused, looking from one to the other with dancing eyes. But +the more sober-minded Kate slipped her arm about her waist and began +to move down the hill. + +"Come along, dear," she said. "I must get right on down to the +Meeting House. I--have work to do. You would chatter on all day if I +let you." + +In a moment Helen was all indignant protest. + +"I like that. Say, did you hear, Charlie? She's accusing me, and all +the time it's you doing the talking. But there, I'm always +misjudged--always. She'll accuse me of trying to trap your +brother--next. Anyway, I've got work to do, too. I've got to be at +Mrs. John's for the new church meeting. So Kate isn't everybody. Come +along." + +Helen's laughter was good to hear as she dashed off in an attempt to +drag her elder sister down the hill at a run. The man looked on +happily as he kept pace with them. Helen was always privileged. Her +sister adored her, and the whole village of Rocky Springs yielded her +a measure of popularity which made her its greatest favorite. Even the +women had nothing but smiles for her merry irresponsibility, and, as +for the men, there was not one who would not willingly have sacrificed +even his crooked ways for her smile. + +Halfway down to the village Charlie again reverted to his news. + +"Helen put the rest of it out of my head," he said, and his manner of +speaking had lost the enjoyment of his earlier announcement. "It's +about the police. They're going to set a station here. A corporal and +two men. Fyles is coming, too. Inspector Fyles." His eyes were +studying Kate's face as he made the announcement. Helen, too, was +looking at her with quizzical eyes. "It's over that whisky-running a +week ago. They're going to clean the place up. Fyles has sworn to do +it. O'Brien told me this morning." + +For some moments after his announcement neither of the women spoke. +Kate was thinking deeply. Nor, from her expression, would it have been +possible to have guessed the trend of her thoughts. + +Helen, watching her, was far more expressive. She was thinking of her +sister's admiration for the officer. She was speculating as to what +might happen with Fyles stationed here in Rocky Springs. Would her +beautiful sister finally yield to his very evident admiration, or +would she still keep that barrier of aloofness against him? She +wondered. And, wondering, there came the memory of what Fyles's coming +would mean to Charlie Bryant. + +To her mind there was no doubt but that the law would quickly direct +its energies against him. But she was also wondering what would happen +to him should time, and a man's persistence, finally succeed in +breaking down the barrier Kate had set up against the officer. Quite +suddenly this belated news assumed proportions far more significant +than the coming of Big Brother Bill. + +Her tongue could not remain silent for long, however. Something of her +doubt had to find an outlet. + +"I knew it would come sooner or later," she declared hopelessly. + +She glanced quickly at Charlie, across her sister, beside whom he was +walking. The man was staring out down at the village with gloomy eyes. +She read into his expression a great dread of this officer's coming to +Rocky Springs. She knew she was witnessing the outward signs of a +guilty conscience. Suddenly she made up her mind. + +"What--ever is to be done?" she cried, half eagerly, half fearfully. +"Say, I just can't bear to think of it. All these men, men we've +known, men we've got accustomed to, even--men we like, to be herded to +the penitentiary. It's awful. There's some I shouldn't be sorry to see +put away. They're scallywags, anyway. They aren't clean, and they chew +tobacco, and--and curse like railroaders. But they aren't all +like--that--are they, Kate?" She paused. Then, in a desperate appeal, +"Kate, I'd fire your two boys, Nick and Pete. They're mixed up in +whisky-running, I know. When Stanley Fyles gets around they'll be +corralled, sure, and I'd hate him to think we employed such men. Don't +you think that, Charlie?" she demanded, turning sharply and looking +into the man's serious face. + +Then, quite suddenly, she changed her tone and relapsed into her less +responsible manner, and laughed as though something humorous had +presented itself to her cheerful fancy. + +"Guess I'd have to laugh seeing those two boys doing the chores around +a penitentiary for--five years. They'd be cleaner then. Guess they get +bathed once a week. Then the funny striped clothes they wear. Can't +you see Nick, with his long black hair all cut short, and his vulture +neck sticking out of the top end of his clothes, like--like a thread +of sewing cotton in a darning needle? Wouldn't he look queer? And the +work, too! Say, it would just break his heart. My, but they get most +killed by the warders. And then for drink. Five years without tasting +a drop of liquor. No--they'd go mad. Anybody would. And all for the +sake of making a few odd dollars against the law. I wouldn't do it. I +wouldn't do it, not if I'd got to starve--else." + +The man made no answer. His eyes remained upon the village below, and +their expression had become lost to the anxious Helen. She was talking +at him. But she was thinking not of him so much as her sister. She +knew how much it would mean to Kate if Charlie Bryant were brought +into direct conflict with the police. So she was offering her warning. + +Kate turned to her quietly. She ignored the reference to her hired +men. She knew at whom her sister's remarks were directed. She shook +her head. + +"Why worry about things, Sis?" she said, in her deliberate fashion. +"Lawbreakers need to be cleverer folks than those who live within the +law. I guess there won't be much whisky run into Rocky Springs with +Fyles around, and the police can do nothing unless they catch the boys +at it. You're too nervous about things." She laughed quietly. "Why, +the sight of a red coat scares you worse than getting chased by a +mouse." + +The sound of Kate's voice seemed to rouse Charlie from his gloomy +contemplation of the village. He turned his eyes on the woman at his +side--and encountered the half-satirical smile of hers--which were as +dark as his own. + +"Maybe Helen's right, though," he said. "Maybe you'd do well to fire +your boys." He spoke deliberately, but with a shade of anxiety in his +voice. "They're known whisky-runners." + +Kate drew Helen to her side as though for moral support. "And what of +the other folks who are known--or believed--to be whisky-runners--with +whom we associate. Are they to be turned down, too? No, Charlie," she +went on determinedly, "I stand by my boys. I'll stand by my friends, +too. Maybe they'll need all the help I can give them. Then it's up to +me to give it them. Fyles must do his duty as he sees it. Our duty is +by our friends here, in Rocky Springs. Whatever happens in the crusade +against this place, I am against Fyles. I'm only a woman, and, maybe, +women don't count much with the police," she said, with a confident +smile, "but such as I am, I am loyal to all those who have helped me +in my life here in Rocky Springs, and to my--friends." + +The man drew a deep breath. Nor was it easy to fathom its meaning. + +Helen, eyeing her well-loved sister, could have thrown her young arms +about her neck in enthusiasm. This was the bold sister whom she had so +willingly followed to the western wilds. This was the spirit she had +deplored the waning of. All her apprehensions for Charlie Bryant +vanished, merged in a newly awakened confidence, since her brave +sister was ready to help and defend him. + +She felt that Fyles's coming to Rocky Springs was no longer to be +feared. Only was it a source of excitement and interest. She felt that +though, perhaps, he might never have met his match during the long +years of his duties as a police officer, he had yet to pit himself +against Rocky Springs--with her wonderful sister living in the +village. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE SOUL-SAVERS + + +Helen parted from her sister at the little old Meeting House. But +first she characteristically admonished her for offering herself a +sacrifice on the altar of the moral welfare of a village which reveled +in every form of iniquity within its reach. Furthermore, she threw in +a brief homily on the subject of the outrageous absurdity of turning +herself into a sort of "hired woman" in the interests of a sepulcher +whose whitewash was so obviously besmirched. + +With the departure of the easy-going Kate, Charlie Bryant suddenly +awoke to the claims of the work at his ranch. He must return at once, +or disaster would surely follow. + +Helen smiled at his sudden access of zeal, and welcomed his going +without protest. Truth to tell, she never failed to experience a +measure of relief at the avoidance of being alone with him. + +Left to herself she moved on down toward the village without haste. +Her enthusiasm for the new church meeting at the house of Mrs. John +Day, who was the leading woman in the village, and, incidentally, the +wife of its chief citizen, who also owned a small lumber yard, was of +a lukewarm character. She had much more interest in the building +itself, and the motley collection of individuals in whose hands its +practical construction lay. + +She possessed none of her sister's interest in Rocky Springs. Her +humor denied her serious contemplation of anything in it but the +opposite sex. And even here it frequently trapped her into pitfalls +which demanded the utmost exercise of her ready wit to extricate her +from. No, serious contemplation of her surroundings would have +certainly bored her, had it been possible to shadow her sunny nature. +Fortunately, the latter was beyond the reach of the sordid life in the +midst of which she found herself, and she never failed to laugh her +merry way to those plains of delight belonging to an essentially happy +disposition. + +As she walked down the narrow trail, with the depths of green woods +lining it upon either hand, she remembered how beautiful the valley +really was. Of course, it was beautiful. She knew it. Was she not +always being told it? She was never allowed to forget it. Sometimes +she wished she could. + +Down the trail a perfect vista of riotous foliage opened out before +her eyes. There, too, in the distance, peeping through the trees, were +scattered profiles of oddly designed houses, possessing a wonderful +picturesqueness to which they had no real claims. They borrowed their +beauty from the wealth of the valley, she told herself. Like the +people who lived in them, they had no claims to anything bordering on +the refinements or virtues of life. No, they were mockeries, just as +was the pretense of virtue which inspired the building of the new +church by a gathering of men and women, who, if they had their +deserts, would be attending divine service within the four walls of +the penitentiary. + +She laughed. Really it was absurdly laughable. Life in this wonderful +valley was something in the nature of a tragic farce. The worst thing +was that the farce of it all could only be detected by the looker-on. +There was no real farce in these people, only tragedy--a very painful +and hideous tragedy. + +On her way down she passed the great pine which for years had served +as a beacon marking the village. It was higher up on the slope of the +valley, but its vast trunk and towering crest would not be denied. + +Helen gazed up at it, wondering, as many times she had gazed and +wondered before. It was a marvelous survival of primæval life. It was +so vast, so forbidding. Its torn crown, so sparse and weary looking, +its barren trunk, too, dark and forbidding against the dwarfed +surroundings of green, were they not a fit beacon for the village +below? It suggested to her imagination a giant, mouldering skeleton of +some dreadfully evil creature. How could virtue maintain in its +vicinity? + +She laughed again as she thought. She knew there was some weird old +legend associated with it, some old Indian folklore. But that left no +impression of awe upon her laughter-loving nature. + +Farther on the new church came into view. It was in the course of +construction, and at once her attention became absorbed. Here was a +scene which thoroughly appealed to her. Here was movement, and--life. +Here was food for her most appreciative observation. + +It was a Church. Not a Meeting House. Not even a Chapel. She felt +quite sure, had the villagers had their way, it would have been called +a Cathedral. There was nothing half-hearted about these people. They +recognized the necessity of giving their souls a lift up, with a view +to an after life, and they meant to do it thoroughly. + +They had no intention of mending their ways. They had no thought of +abandoning any of their pursuits or pleasures, be they never so +deplorable. But they felt that something had better be done toward +assurance of their futures. A Meeting House suggested something too +inadequate to meet their special case. It was right enough as far as +it went, but it didn't go far enough. They realized the journey might +be very long and the ultimate destination uncertain. A Chapel had its +claims in their minds, but Church seemed much stronger, bigger, more +powerful to help them in those realms of darkness to which they must +all eventually descend. Of course, Cathedral would have been _the_ +thing. With a cathedral in Rocky Springs they would have felt certain +of their hereafter. But the difficulties of laying hands on a bishop, +and claiming him for their own, seemed too overwhelming. So they +accepted Church as being the best they could do under the +circumstances. + +Quite a number of men were standing idly around the structure, +watching others at work. It was a weakness of the citizens of Rocky +Springs to watch others work. They had no desire to help. They rarely +were beset with any desire to help anybody. They simply clustered +together in small groups, chewing tobacco, or smoking, and, to a man, +their hands were indolently thrust into the tops of their trousers, +which, in every case, were girdled with a well-laden ammunition belt, +from which was suspended at least one considerable revolver. + +There was no doubt in Helen's mind but that these weapons were loaded +in every chamber, and the thought set her merry eyes dancing again. + +These men wanted a church, and were there to see they had it. Woe +betide--but, was there ever such a gathering of unclean, unholy +humanity? She thought not. + +Helen knew that every man and woman in the village had had some voice +in the erection of the new church. There was not a citizen--they all +possessed the courtesy title of "citizens"--in Rocky Springs, who had +not contributed something toward it. Those who had wherewithal to give +in money or kind, had given. Those who had nothing else to give gave +their labor. She guessed the present onlookers had already done their +share of giving, and were now there to see that their less fortunate +brethren did not attempt to shirk their responsibilities. + +For a moment, as the girl drew near, she abandoned her study of the +men for a rapid survey of the building itself, and, in a way, it held +her flattering attention. As yet there was no roof on it, but the +walls were up, and the picturesqueness of the design of the building +was fully apparent. Then she remembered that Charlie Bryant had +designed the building, and somehow the thought lessened her interest. + +The whole thing was constructed of lateral, raw pine logs, carefully +dovetailed, with the ends protruding at the angles. There was no great +originality of design, merely the delightful picturesqueness which +unstripped logs never fail to yield. She knew that every detail of the +building was to be carried out in the same way. The roof, the spire, +the porches, even the fence which was ultimately to enclose the +churchyard. + +Then the inside was to be lined throughout with polished red pine. +There was not a brick or stone to be used in the whole construction, +except in the granite foundations, which did not appear above ground. +The lumber was hewn in the valley and milled in John Day's yard. The +entire labor of hauling and building was to be done by the citizens of +Rocky Springs. The draperies, necessary for the interior, would be +made by the busy needles of the women of the village, and the +materials would be supplied by Billy Unguin, the dry goods +storekeeper. As for the stipend of the officiating parson, that would +be scrambled together in cash and kind from similar sources. + +The church was to be a monument, a tribute to a holy zeal, which the +methods of life in Rocky Springs denied. Its erection was an attempt +to steal absolution for the sins of its citizens. It was the pouring +of a flood of oil upon the turbulent waters of an after life which +Rocky Springs knew was waiting to engulf its little craft laden with +tattered souls. It was a practical bribe to the Deity its people had +so long outraged, were still outraging, and had every intention of +continuing to outrage. + +Helen's merry eyes glanced from group to group of the men, until they +finally came to rest upon an individual standing apart from the rest. + +She walked on toward him. + +He was a forbidding-looking creature, with a hard face, divided in its +expression between evil thoughts and a malicious humor. His general +appearance was much that of the rest of the men, with the exception +that he made no display of offensive weapons. It was not this, +however, that drew Helen in his direction, for she well enough knew +that, in fact, he was a perfect gunpark of concealed firearms. She +liked him because he never failed to amuse her. + +"Good morning, Dirty," she greeted him cheerfully, as she came up, +smiling into his bearded face. + +Dirty O'Brien turned. In a moment his wicked eyes were smiling. With +an adept twist of the tongue his chew of tobacco ceased to bulge one +cheek, and promptly distended the other. + +"Howdy," he retorted, with as much amiability as it was possible for +him to display. + +The girl nodded in the direction of the other onlookers. + +"It's wonderful the interest you all take in the building of this +church." + +"Int'rest?" The man's eyes opened wide. Then a gleam of scorn replaced +the surprise in them. "Guess you'd be mighty int'rested if you was +sittin' on a roof with the house afire under you, an' you just got a +peek of a ladder wagon comin' along, an' was guessin' if it 'ud get +around in time." + +Helen's eyes twinkled. + +"I s'pose I should," she admitted. + +"S'pose nuthin'." The saloonkeeper laughed a short, hard laugh. "It's +dead sure. But most of them boys are feelin' mighty good. You see, the +ladders mostly fixed for 'em. I'd say they reckon that fire's as good +as out." + +The interest of the onlookers was purely passive. They displayed none +of the enthusiasm one might have expected in men who considered that +the safety of their souls was assured. Helen remarked upon the fact. + +"Their enthusiasm's wonderful," she declared, with a satirical laugh. +"Do you think they'll ever be able to use swear words again?" + +Dirty O'Brien grinned till his discolored teeth parted the hair upon +his face. + +"Say, I don't reckon to set myself up as a prophet at most things," he +replied, "but I'd like to say right here, the fixin' of that all-fired +chu'ch is jest about the limit fer the morals of this doggone city. +Standin' right here I seem to sort o' see a vision o' things comin' on +like a pernicious fever. I seem to see all them boys--good boys, mind +you, as far as they go--only they don't travel more'n 'bout an +inch--lyin', an' slanderin', an' thievin', an' shootin', an'--an' +committin' every blamed sin ever invented since Pharo's daughter got +busy makin' up fairy yarns 'bout them bulrushes----" + +"I don't think you ought to talk like that," Helen protested hastily. +"There's no necessity to make----" + +But Dirty O'Brien was not to be denied. He promptly cut her short +without the least scruple. + +"No necessity?" he cried, with a sarcasm that left the girl +speechless. "How in hell would you have me talk standin' around a +swell chu'ch like that? I tell you what, Miss Helen, you ain't got +this thing right. Within a month this durned city'll all be that +mussed up with itself an' religion, the folks'll grow a crop o' wings +enough to stock a chicken farm, an' the boys'll get scratchin' around +for worms, same as any other feathered fowl. They'll get that out o' +hand with their own glory, they'll get shootin' up creation in the +name of religion by way o' pastime, and robbin' the stages an' +smugglin' liquor fer the fun o' gettin' around this blamed church an' +braggin' of it to the parson. Say, if I know anything o' the boys, in +a week they'll be shootin' craps with the parson fer his wages, an', +in a month, they'll set up tables around in the body o' the chu'ch so +they ken play 'draw' while the old man argues the shortest cut to +everlastin' glory. You ain't got the boys in this city right, miss. +Indeed, you ain't. Chu'ch? Why they got as much notion how to act +around a chu'ch as an unborn babe has of shellin' peanuts. Folks needs +eddicatin' to a chu'ch like that. Eddicatin'? An' that's a word as +ain't a cuss word, and as the boys of this yer city ain't wise to." + +"It seems rather hopeless, doesn't it?" said Helen, stifling a violent +inclination to laugh outright. + +Dirty O'Brien was less scrupulous. He laughed with a vicious snort. + +"Hopeless?--well, say, hopeless ain't a circumstance. Guess you've +never seen a 'Jonah-man' buckin' a faro bank run by a Chinaman sharp?" + +Helen shook her head while the saloonkeeper spat out his chew of +tobacco with all the violence of his outraged feelings. + +"He surely is a gilt-edged winner beside it," he finally admitted +impressively, before clipping off a fresh chew from his plug with his +strong teeth. + +Helen turned away, partly to hide the laugh that would no longer be +denied, and partly to watch the approach of a team of horses hauling a +load of logs. In a moment swift anger shone in her pretty eyes. + +"Why!" she cried, pointing at them. "Look, Dirty! That's our team; and +Pete Clancy is driving it." + +The man followed the direction in which she was pointing. + +"Sure," he agreed indifferently. + +"Sure? Of course it's sure," retorted Helen sharply; "but +what--what--impertinence!" + +Dirty O'Brien saw nothing remarkable in the matter, and his face +displayed a waning interest. + +"Don't he most gener'ly drive your team?" he inquired without +enthusiasm. + +"Of course he does. But he's s'posed to be right out in the hay +sloughs--cutting. I heard Kate tell him this morning." + +O'Brien's eyes twinkled, and a deep chuckle came from somewhere in the +depths of his beard. + +"Ken you beat it?" he inquired, with cordial appreciation. "Do you get +his play?" + +"Play?" The girl turned a pair of angry, bewildered eyes upon her +companion. "Impertinence!" + +The man nodded significantly. + +"Sure. Them two scallywags of yours ain't got nothin' to give to the +building of the chu'ch. Which means they'll need to get busy workin' +on it. Guess work never did come welcome to Mister Peter Clancy and +Nick. They hate work worse'n washin'--an' that's some. Guess they +borrowed your team to do a bit o' haulin', which--kind o' squares +their account. They're bright boys." + +"Bright? They're impertinent rascals and--and--oh!" + +Helen's exasperation left her almost speechless. + +"Which is mighty nigh a compliment to them," observed the man. + +But Helen's sense of humor utterly failed her now. + +"It's--too bad, Dirty," she cried. "And poor Kate thinks they're out +cutting our winter hay. I begged of her only this morning to 'fire' +them both. I'm--I'm sure they're going to get us into trouble +when--when the police come here. I hate the sight of them both. Last +time Pete got drunk he--he very nearly asked me to marry him. I +believe he would have, only I had a bucket of boiling water in my +hand." + +Again came the man's curious chuckle. + +"It won't be you folks they get into trouble," he declared +enigmatically. "An' I guess it ain't goin' to be 'emselves, neither. +But when the p'lice get hot after 'em, why, they'll shift the +scent--sure." + +Helen's eyes had suddenly become anxious. + +"You mean--Charlie Bryant," she half whispered. + +The man nodded. + +"Sure. An' anybody else, so--_they_ get clear." O'Brien's eyes +hardened as they contemplated the distant teamster. "Say," he went on, +after a brief pause, "there are some low-down bums in this city. +There's Shorty Solon, the Jew boy. He's wanted across the border fer +shootin' up a bank manager, and gettin' off with the cash. Ther's +Crank Heufer, the squarehead stage robber, shot up more folks, women, +too, in Montana than 'ud populate a full-sized city. Ther's Kid +Blaney, the faro sharp, who broke penitentiary in Dakota twelve months +back. Ther's Macaddo, the train 'hold-up,' mighty badly wanted in +Minnesota. Ther's Stormy Longton, full of scalps to his gun, a bad man +by nature. Ther's Holy Dick, over there," he went on, pointing at a +gray-bearded, mild-looking man, sitting on a log beside a small group +of lounging spectators. "He owes the States Government seven good +years for robbing a church. Ther's Danny Jarvis and Fighting Mike, +both of 'em dodgin' the law, an' would shoot their own fathers up fer +fi' cents. It's a dandy tally of crooks, but they ain't a circumstance +beside them two boys of yours. They're bred bad 'uns, an' they +couldn't play even the crook's game right. I'd sure say they'd be a +fortune to Fyles, when he gets busy cleaning up this place. They'd +give Satan away if they see things gettin' busy their way." + +The anxiety deepened in Helen's eyes as the man denounced the two men +who were her sister's hired help. She knew that all he said of them +was true. She had known it for months. Now she was thinking of Charlie +Bryant and Kate. If Fyles ever got hold of Charlie it would break poor +Kate's heart. + +"You think they'd give--any one away?" + +The man shook his head. + +"I don't think. Guess I know." Then, after a pause, he went on, +speaking rapidly and earnestly. "See here, Miss Helen, I don't hold no +brief fer nobody but myself, an' I guess that brief needs a hell of a +piece of studyin' right. There's things in it I don't need to shout +about, and anyway I don't fancy Fyles's long nose smudging the ink on +it. You an' Miss Kate are jest about two o' the most wholesome bits +o' women in this township, an' there ain't many of us as wouldn't fix +ourselves up clean an' neat to pay our respec's to either of you. Wal, +Miss Kate's got a hell of a notion for that drunken bum, Charlie +Bryant. That bein' so, tell her to keep a swift eye on her two boys. +They're in with him, sure, an' they'll put him away if it suits 'em. +Savee? Tell her I said so--since Fyles is goin' to butt in around +here. I don't want to see Charlie Bryant in a stripe soot, +penitentiary way. I need him. An' I need the liquor he runs." + +The man turned away abruptly. He had broken the unwritten law of Rocky +Springs, where it was understood that no man spoke of another man's +past, or questioned his present doings, or even admitted knowledge of +them. But like all the rest of the male portion of Rocky Springs, he +possessed a soft spot in his vicious heart for the two sisters, who, +in the mire of iniquity which flooded the township, contrived a clean, +wholesome living out of the soil, and were womanly enough to find +interest, and even pleasure, in their sordid surroundings. Now, he +hurried off down to his saloon, much in the manner of a man who fears +the consequences of feelings which have been allowed to run away with +him. + +Left to herself, Helen only remained long enough to pass a few cheery +greetings with the rest of the onlookers; then she, too, took her +departure. + +For some moments she certainly was troubled by the direct warning of a +man like Dirty O'Brien. With all the many criminal attainments of the +other citizens of Rocky Springs, she knew him to be the shrewdest man +in the place. A warning from him was more than significant. What +should she do? Tell her sister? Certainly she would do that, but she +felt it to be well-nigh useless. Kate was the gentlest soul in the +world. She was the essence of kindliness, of sympathy, of loyalty to +her friends, but she was determined to a degree. She saw always with +her own eyes, and would go the way she saw. + +Had she not warned her herself before? Had she not endeavored to +persuade her a dozen times? It was all quite useless. Kate was +something of an enigma, a contradiction. For all her gentleness Helen +knew she could be as hard as iron. + +Finally, with a sigh, she dismissed the matter from her mind until +such time as opportunity served. Meanwhile she must put in an +appearance at Mrs. John Day's house. Mrs. John Day was the social +pivot of Rocky Springs, and, to disobey her summons, Helen knew would +be to risk a displeasure which would find reflection in every woman in +the place. + +That was a catastrophe she had no desire to face. It was enough for +her to remember that she had imprisoned herself in such a place. She +had no desire to earn the ill-will of the wardresses. + +She laughed to herself. But she really felt that it was very dreadful +that her life must be passed among these people. She wanted to be +free--to live all these good years of her life. She wanted to attend +parties, and--and dances among those people amid whom she had been +brought up. She craved for the society of cultured folks--of men. Yes, +she admitted it, she wanted all those things which make a young girl's +life enjoyable--theatres, dances, skating, hockey and--and, yes, +flirtations. Instead of those things what had she--what was she? That +was it. What was she? She had been planted in the furrows of life a +decorative flower, and some terrible botanical disaster had brought +her up a--cabbage. + +She laughed outright, and in the midst of her laugh, looking out +across the valley, she beheld her sister leaving the Meeting House, +which stood almost in the shadow of the great pine, far up on the +distant slope. + +Her laugh sobered. Her thoughts passed from herself to Kate with a +feeling which was almost resentment. Her high-spirited, +adventure-loving, handsome sister. What of her? It was terrible. So +full of promise, so full of possibilities. Look at her. She was clad +in a big gingham apron. No doubt her beautiful, artistic hands were +all messed up with the stains of scrubbing out a Meeting House, which, +in turn, right back to the miserable Indian days, had served the +purposes of saloon, a trader's store, the home of a bloodthirsty +badman, and before that goodness knows what. Now it was a house of +worship for people, beside whom the scum of the earth was as the froth +of whipped cream. It was--outrageous. It was so terrible to her that +she felt as if she must cry, or--or laugh. + +The issue remained in doubt for some moments. Then, just as she +reached the pretentious portals of Mrs. John Day's home, her real +nature asserted itself, and a radiant smile lit her pretty face as she +passed within. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE "STRAY"-HUNTER + + +The real man is nearest the surface after a long period of idle +solitude. + +So it was with Stanley Fyles, riding over the even, sandy trail of the +prairies which stretched away south of the Assiniboine River. His +sunburnt face was sternly reposeful, and in his usually keen gray eyes +was that open staring light which belongs to the man who gropes his +way over Nature's trackless wastes, and whose mind is ever asking the +question of direction. But there was no question of such a nature in +his mind now. His look was the look of habit, when the call of the +trail is heard. + +He sat his horse with the easy grace of a man whose life is mostly +spent in the saddle. His loose shoulders and powerful frame swayed +with that magical rhythm which gives most ease to both horse and +rider. His was the seat of a horseman whose poise is the poise of +perfect balance rather than the set attitude of the riding school. + +The bit hung lightly in the horse's mouth, but lightly as the reins +were held in the man's hand there was a firmness and decision in the +feeling of them that communicated the necessary confidence between +horse and rider. + +Stanley Fyles was as nearly a perfect horseman as the prairie could +produce. + +Just now the man beneath the officer's habit was revealed. His +military training was set aside, perhaps all thought of it had been +left behind with his uniform, and just the "man" was reassumed with +the simple prairie kit he had adopted for the work in hand. + +To look at him now he might have been a ranch hand out on the work of +the spring round-up. He was dressed in plain leather chapps over his +black cloth riding breeches, and, from his waist up, his clothing was +a gray flannel shirt, over which he wore an open waistcoat of ordinary +civilian make. About his neck was tied a silk handkerchief of modest +hue, and about his waist was strapped a revolver belt. The only +visible detail that could have marked him as a police officer was the +glimpse of military spurs beneath his chapps. + +His thoughts and feelings as he covered the dreary miles of grass were +of a conflicting nature, and, roaming at will, they centered, as +thoughts so roaming will center, chiefly upon those things which +concerned his most cherished ambitions. + +At first a feeling of something bordering on anxious resentment pretty +fully occupied him. There was still in his mind the memory of an +interview he had had with his immediate superior, Superintendent +Jason, just before the time of his setting out. It had been an +uncomfortable half-hour spent listening to the sharp criticisms of his +chief, whose mind was saturated with the spirit of his official +capacity, almost to the exclusion of common sense. + +Superintendent Jason was still angry at the manner in which the great +whisky-running coup had been effected, and of the manner in which the +perpetrators of it had slipped through the official fingers. He blamed +everybody, and particularly Inspector Fyles, in whose hands the case +had been placed. + +Nor had he been wholly appeased by the inspector's final offer. Goaded +by the merciless pin-prick of his superior's tongue, Fyles had finally +offered to set out for Rocky Springs, the place, both were fully +agreed, whence the trouble emanated, and bring all those concerned in +the smuggling to book. + +At first Jason had been inclined to sneer, nor was it until Fyles +unfolded something of his scheme that he began to take it seriously. +Finally, however, the younger man had had his way, and the necessary +permission was granted. Then the superintendent dealt with the matter +as the cold discipline of police methods demanded. + +Fyles remembered his words well. They meant far more to him than they +expressed. They were full of a cold threat, which, to a man of his +experience, could not be mistaken. + +The picture remained in his mind for many a long day. It was doubtful +if he would ever forget it. It was a moment of crisis in his official +life, a crisis when it became necessary to back himself against all +odds--or ultimately sacrifice his position. + +He was standing beside the superintendent, and both men were bending +over one of those secret official charts of the district surrounding +Rocky Springs. They were alone in Jason's bare, even mean office. +Fyles's long, firm forefinger was pointing along a trail, and his +sharp, incisive words were explaining something of his convictions as +his finger moved. The other was listening without interruption. At +last, as the quiet, confident tones ceased, the superintendent +straightened himself up, and his small, quick-moving, dark eyes shot +their gleam of cold authority into his companion's. + +"It's up to you," he said, with a callous upraising of his shoulders. +"You've talked a good deal to me here, and you've made your talk sound +right. But talk doesn't put these men in the penitentiary. You've made +a mess of this job so far. Guess it's up to you to make good. You've +got your chance now. See you don't miss it. The authorities don't +stand for two mistakes on one job, not even when they're made by +Inspector Fyles. You get me? You've _got_ to make good." + +Fyles left the office fully aware that sentence had been passed on +him, just as surely as though he had stood before the Commissioner, a +prisoner. + +Thus, at the outset of his journey, his feelings had been scarcely +pleasant, but, as the distance between him and headquarters increased, +his confidence and sense of responsibility returned, and the shadow of +threat retreated into the background. His plans were carefully laid, +and all the support he could need was arranged for. This time the work +before him was no mere capture of whisky-runners, but to make all +whisky-running, as associated with Rocky Springs, impossible, and to +break up the gang who had for so long defied the law. Yes, he felt +confident in the result, and, as the long miles were put behind him, +his thoughts wandered into more pleasant channels. + +Rocky Springs certainly offered him inducement. And curiously enough +he found himself wondering how much he was influenced by that +inducement in accepting the odds against him in cleaning up the place, +and dusting the cobwebs of crime from its corners. + +Kate Seton. He had not seen her for something running into weeks. The +thought that he was to renew an acquaintance, which, though almost +slight, still had extraordinary power to hold him, was a delightful +one. Sometimes he had found himself wondering at the phenomenon of her +attraction for him. But he was incapable of analyzing his feelings +closely. His life had been spent on these fringes of civilization so +long, and the generality of the women he had come into contact with +had been so much a part of the life of the country, that their appeal +had been weakened almost to the vanishing point. + +Then here, in Rocky Springs, where he might reasonably expect to find +only the dregs of society, he suddenly discovered a woman obviously +belonging to an utterly different and more cultured life. A woman of +uncommon beauty and distinction; a woman, who, to his mind, fulfilled +some essentially mannish ideal, an ideal that, in idle moments, had +stolen in upon a wholly reposeful mind. A woman who---- + +But the thread of his pleasant reflections was suddenly broken, and +his mechanically watchful eyes warned him that a horseman was riding +along the trail ahead of him, and that he was rapidly overtaking this +stranger. + +In a moment all other interests were forgotten. To the solitary rider +of the plains a fellow-creature ever becomes a matter of considerable +moment. In Fyles's case he possessed the added interest of a possible +giver of information. + +As he gently urged his horse to lengthen its stride, his keen eyes +took in the details of the man's figure, and the points of the horse +he was riding. The man was of unusual stature, so unusual, in fact, +that his horse, although a big raking creature, became dwarfed under +him. Even from that distance the officer obtained a suggestion of fair +hair beneath the brim of the prairie hat, which was tilted forward at +an unusual angle. The great square shoulders of the stranger were clad +in a tweed jacket, and, from what he could make out, he wore no +chapps. + +Just for a moment Fyles guessed he might be some farmer, and the tweed +jacket suggested he was out to pay a visit to friends. Then, quite +abruptly, he changed his mind, and further increased his pace. He had +detected the city-fashioned top-boots the man was wearing. + +Without further speculation he pressed on to overtake the stranger, +whom, presently, he saw turn round and look back. Evidently he had +become aware of the approach. Equally evidently he either welcomed or +resented the intrusion upon his solitude. For he reined in his horse, +and waited for the officer to come up. + +The greeting between the men was widely different. The stranger's face +was abeam with smiling good nature. His big blue eyes were wide with +frank welcome. + +"I've been just bursting with a painful longing for the sight of a +living man with two arms and two legs, and anything else that goes to +make up a human companion," he said delightedly. "Say, how far do you +guess a fellow could ride by himself without needing to be sent into a +home to be looked after?" + +Fyles's manner was more guarded. The police officer was uppermost in +him now, but he smiled a certain cordiality at the other's frankly +unconventional greeting. + +"That mostly depends on how many things there are chasing around in +his brain-box to keep the works busy," he said gently. + +The stranger's smile broadened into a laugh. + +"That don't offer much hope," he replied dryly. "I've been riding +around this eternal grass for nigh a week. God knows where I haven't +been during that time. Nobody ever did brag about the ideas I've got +in my head, not even my mother, and any I have got have just been +chewed right up to death till there isn't a blamed thing left to chew. +For the past ten miles I've been reviewing the attractions of every +nursing home I've ever heard of, with a view to becoming an inmate. I +think I've almost decided on one I know of in Toronto. You see there +are a few human beings there." + +Fyles's eyes had taken in the stranger from head to foot. Even the +horse did not escape his closest attention. He recognized this man as +being a stranger in the country. He was obviously direct from some +eastern city, though not aggressively so. Furthermore, the beautiful +chestnut horse he was riding was no prairie-bred animal, and +suggested, in combination with the man's general get-up, the +possession of ample means. + +"A week riding about--trying to find yourself?" + +Fyles's question was one of amused speculation. + +"Sure," the man nodded, with a buoyant amusement in his eyes. "That, +and finding some forgotten hole of a place called Rocky Springs." + +Fyles lifted his reins and his horse moved on. + +"We'd best ride together. I'm going to Rocky Springs, and--you've +certainly hit the trail at last." + +The fair-haired giant jumped at the suggestion, and even his horse +seemed to welcome the companionship, for it ambled on in the +friendliest manner by the side of the police horse. + +"How did you manage to--lose yourself?" Fyles inquired presently. "Did +you start out from Amberley?" + +The stranger's look of chagrin was almost comical. He shook his head. + +"That's where I ought to've started from," he said. Then he shrugged +his great shoulders. "Here, I'll tell you. I come from down East, and +I'm on my way to join a brother of mine at Rocky Springs. He's a +rancher. Sort of artist, too. His name's Charlie Bryant. My name's +Bill--Bill Bryant. Well, I ought to have got off at Black Cross, and +changed trains for the Amberley branch. Instead of that I was sleeping +peacefully in the car and went right on to a place called Moosemin. +Well, some torn fool told me if I got off at Moosemin I would get +across country to Amberley, and thus get on to the Rocky Springs road. +Maybe he was right enough, if the feller getting off had got any horse +sense. But I guess they forgot to hand any out my way. Anyhow, I kind +of took to the idea. Guessed I'd make a break that way and get used to +the country. So I just bought the best horse I could find in the town +from the worst thief that ever dodged penitentiary, and since then +have spent seven whole days getting on intimate terms with every blade +of grass in the country, and trying to convince various settlers that +I wasn't a murderer or horse thief, and didn't want to shoot 'em in +their beds, but just needed food and sleep, all of which I was ready +to pay for at any fancy prices they liked to ask. How I eventually got +here I don't know, and haven't a desire to know, and I'll stake my +oath you won't find any two people in the country with the same ideas +of direction. And I want to say that I hate grass worse than poison, +and as for sun it's an abomination. Horse riding's overrated, and +tailors don't know a thing about making pants that are comfortable +riding. I could write a book on the subject of boils and saddle +chafes, and when I get off this blamed saddle I don't intend to sit +down for a week. I think a rancher's life is just the dandiest thing +to read about I ever knew, and beans--those things the shape of an +immature egg and as hard as rocks--are most nourishing; and I don't +think I shall need nourishing ever again. Also the West is the +greatest country ever forgotten by God or men, but the remark applies +only to its size. The best thing I know of, just now, is a full-sized +human being going the same way I am." + +Bill Bryant finished up with a great laugh of the happiest good +nature, which quite robbed Fyles of his last shadow of aloofness. No +one could have looked into the man's humorously smiling eyes, or +listened to the frank admissions of his own blundering, and felt it +necessary to entertain the least question as to his perfect honesty. + +Fyles accepted the introduction in the spirit in which it was made. + +"My name's Fyles--Stanley Fyles," he said cordially. "Glad to meet +you, Mr. Bryant." + +"Bill Bryant," corrected the other, grasping and wringing the +policeman's proffered hand with painful cordiality. "That's a good +name--Fyles," he went on, releasing the other's hand. "Suggests all +sorts of things--nails, chisels--something in the hardware line. Good +name for this country, too." Then his big blue eyes scanned the +officer's outfit. "Rancher?" he suggested. + +Fyles smiled, shaking his head. + +"Hardly a--rancher," he deprecated. + +"Ah. I know. Cowpuncher. You're dressed that way. I've read about 'em. +Chasing cattle. Rounding 'em up. Branding, and all that sort of thing. +Fine. Exciting." + +Fyles shook his head again. + +"My job's not just that, either," he said, his smile broadening. "You +see, I just round up 'strays,' and send 'em to their right homes. I'm +out after 'strays' now." + +Bill nodded with ready understanding. + +"I get it," he cried. "They just break out in spring, and go chasing +after fancy grass. Then they get lost, or mussed up with ether cattle, +and--and need sorting out. Must be a mighty lonesome job--always +hunting 'strays.'" + +Inspector Fyles's eyes twinkled, but his sunburned face remained +serious. + +"Yes, I'd say it's lonesome--at times. You see, it isn't easy locating +their tracks. And when you do locate 'em maybe you've got a long piece +to travel before you come up with 'em. They get mighty wild running +loose that way, and, hate being rounded up. Some of 'em show fight, +and things get busy. No, it's not dead easy--and it doesn't do making +mistakes. Guess a mistake is liable to snuff your light out when +you're up against 'strays.'" + +A sudden enthusiasm lit Bill Bryant's interested eyes. + +"That sounds better than ranching," he said quickly. "You see, I've +lived a soft sort of life, and it kind of seems good to get upsides +with things. I've got a notion that it's better to hand a feller a +nasty bunch of knuckles, square on the most prominent part of his +face, than taking dollars out of him to pay legal chin waggers. That's +how I've always felt, but living in luxury in a city makes you act +otherwise. I've quit it though, now, and, in consequence, I'm just +busting to hand some fellow that bunch of knuckles." He raised one +great clenched fist and examined it with a sort of mild enthusiasm. +"I'm going to ranch," he went on simply, while the police officer +surveyed him as he might some big, boisterous child. "My brother's got +a ranch at Rocky Springs. He's done pretty well, I guess--for an +artist fellow. He's making money--oh, yes, he's making good money, and +seems to like the life. + +"The fact is," he went on eagerly, "Charlie was a bit of a bad +boy--he's a dandy good fellow, really he is; but I guess he got gay +when he was an art student, and the old man got rattled over it and +sent him along out here to raise cattle and wheat. Well, when dad died +he left me most of his dollars. There were plenty, and it's made me +feel sick he forgot Charlie's existence. So I took a big think over +things. You see it makes a fellow think, when he finds himself with a +lot of dollars that ought to be shared with another fellow. + +"Well, I don't often think hard," he went on ingenuously. "But I did +that time, and it's queer how easy it is to think right when you +really try--hard. Guess you don't need to think much in your work--but +maybe sometimes you'll have to, and then you'll find how easy it +comes." + +He turned abruptly in the saddle and looked straight into the +officer's interested face. His eyes were alight, and he emitted a +deep-throated guffaw. + +"Say," he went on, "it came to me all of a sudden. It was in the +middle of the night. I woke up thinking it. I was saying it to myself. +Why not go out West? Join Charlie. Put all your money into his ranch. +Turn it into a swell affair, and run it together. That way it'll seem +as if you were doing it for yourself. That way Charlie'll never know +you're handing him a fortune. Can you beat it?" he finished up +triumphantly. + +Stanley Fyles had not often met men in the course of his sordid work +with whom he really wanted to shake hands. But somehow this great, +soft-hearted, simple giant made him feel as he had never felt before. +He abruptly thrust out a hand, forgetful of the previous handshakes he +had endured, and, in a moment, it was seized in a second vice-like +grip. + +"It's fine," he said. Then as an afterthought: "No, you can't beat +it." + +The unconscious Bill beamed his satisfaction. + +"That's how I thought," he said enthusiastically. "And I'll be mighty +useful to him, myself, too--in a way. Don't guess I know much about +wheat or cattle, but I can ride anything with hair on it, and I've +never seen the feller I couldn't pound to a mush with the gloves on. +That's useful, seeing Charlie's sort of small, and--and mild." +Suddenly he pointed out ahead. "What's that standing right up there? +See, over there. A tree--or--something." + +Fyles abruptly awoke to their whereabouts. Bill Bryant was pointing at +the great pine marking Rocky Springs. + +"That's the landmark of Rocky Springs," he told him. This stranger had +so interested and amused him that he had quite lost reckoning of the +distance they had ridden together. + +"I don't see any town," complained his companion. + +"It's in the valley. You see, that tree is on the shoulder of the +valley of Leaping Creek." + +Bill's eyes widened. + +"Oh, that's a valley, eh? And Charlie's ranch is down below. I see." + +The man's eyes became thoughtful, and he relapsed into silence as they +drew on toward the aged signpost. He was thinking--perhaps hard--of +that brother whom he had not seen for years. Maybe, now that the time +had come for the meeting, some feeling of nervousness was growing. +Perhaps he was wondering if he would be as welcome as he hoped. Had +Charlie changed much? Would his coming be deemed an impertinence? +Charlie had not answered his letter. He forgot his brother had not had +time to answer his impulsive epistle. + +As they drew near the valley his eyes lost their enthusiastic light. +His great, honest face was grave, almost to the point of anxiety. + +Fyles, watching him furtively, observed every change of expression, +and the meaning of each was plain enough to him. He, too, was +wondering about that meeting. It would have interested him to have +witnessed it. He was thinking about that brother in Rocky Springs. He +knew him slightly, and knew his reputation better, and, in +consequence, the two words "drunkard" and "crook" drifted through his +mind, and left him regretfully wondering. Somehow he felt sorry, +inexpressibly sorry, for this great big babe of a man whom he found +himself unusually glad to have met. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE BROTHERS + + +The valley of Leaping Creek gaped at Bill Bryant's feet and the man's +ready delight bubbled over. + +"Say," he demanded of his guide, "and this is where my brother's ranch +is? Gee," he went on, while Fyles nodded a smiling affirmative, "it +surely is the dandiest ditch this side of creation. It makes me want +to holler." + +As Fyles offered no further comment they rode on down the hill in +silence, while Bill Bryant's shining eyes drank in the beauties which +opened out in every direction. + +The police officer, by virtue of his knowledge of the valley, led the +way. Nor was he altogether sorry to do so. He felt that the moment for +answering questions had passed. Any form of cross-examination now +might lead him into imparting information that might hurt this +stranger, and he had no desire to be the one to cast a shadow upon his +introduction to the country he intended to make his home. + +However, beyond this first expression of delight, Bill Bryant made no +further attempt at speech. Once more doubt had settled upon his mind, +and he was thinking--hard. + +Ten minutes later the village came into view. Then it was that Bill +was abruptly aroused from his somewhat troubled thought. They were +just approaching the site of the new church, and sounds of activity +broke the sylvan peace of the valley. But these things were of a +lesser interest. A pedestrian, evidently leaving the neighborhood of +the new building, was coming toward them along the trail. It was a +girl--a girl clad in a smart tailored costume, which caught and held +the stranger's most ardent attention. + +She came on, and as they drew abreast of her, just for one brief +instant the girl's smiling gray eyes were raised to the face of the +stranger. The smile was probably unconscious, but it was nevertheless +pronounced. In a moment, off came Bill's hat in a respectful salute, +and only by the greatest effort could he refrain from a verbal +greeting. Then, in another moment, as she passed like a ray of April +sun, he had drawn up beside his guide. + +"Say," he cried, with a deep breath of enthusiasm, "did you get that +pretty girl?" Then with a burst of impetuosity: "Are they all like +that in--this place? If so, I'm surely up to my neck in the valley of +Leaping Creek. Who is she? How did she get here? I'll bet a thousand +dollars to a bad nickel this place didn't raise her." + +The officer's reply to the volley of questions came with +characteristic directness. + +"That's Miss Seton, Miss Helen Seton, sister of the one they +call--Kate. They're sort of farmers, in a small way. Been here five +years." + +"Farmers?" Bill's scorn was tremendous. "Why, that girl might have +stepped off Broadway, New York, yesterday. Farmers!" + +"Nevertheless they _are_ farmers," replied Fyles, "and they've been +farming here five years." + +"Five years! They've been here five years, and that girl--with her +pretty face and dandy eyes--not married? Say, the boys of this place +need seeing to. They ought to be lynched plumb out of hand." + +Fyles smiled as he drew his horse up at the point where the trail +merged into the main road of the village. + +"Maybe it's not--their fault," he said dryly. + +But Bill's indignation was sweeping him on. + +"Then I'd like to know whose it is." + +Fyles laughed aloud. + +"Maybe she's particular. Maybe she knows them. They surely do need +lynching--most of 'em--but not for that. When you know 'em better +you'll understand." + +He shrugged his shoulders and pointed down the trail, away from the +village. + +"That's your way," he went on, "along west. Just keep right along the +trail for nearly half a mile till you come to a cattle track on the +right, going up the hill again." + +Then he shifted the direction of his pointing finger to a distant +house on the hillside, which stood in full view. + +"The track'll take you to that shanty there, with the veranda facing +this way. That's Charlie Bryant's place, and, unless I'm mistaken, +that's your brother standing right there on the veranda looking out +this way. For a rancher--he don't seem busy. Guess I'm going right on +down to the saloon. I'll see you again some time. So long." + +The police officer swung his horse round, and set off at a sharp +canter before Bill could give expression to any of the dozen questions +which leaped to his lips. The truth was Fyles had anticipated them, +and wished to avoid them. + + * * * * * + +Charlie Bryant was standing on the veranda of his little house up on +the hillside. He was watching with eyes of anxious longing for the +sight of a familiar figure emerging from a house, almost as diminutive +as his own, standing across the river on the far side of the valley. + +There was never any question as to the longing in his dark eyes when +they were turned upon the house of Kate Seton, but the anxiety in them +now was less understandable. + +It was his almost constant habit to watch for her appearance leaving +her home each morning. But to-day she had remained invisible. He +wondered why. It was her custom to be abroad early, and here it was +long past mid-day, and, so far, there had been no sign of her going. + +He wondered was she ill. Helen had long since made her appearance. He +knew well enough that the new church building, and the many other +small activities of the village, usually claimed Helen's morning. That +was the difference, one of the many differences between the sisters. +Helen must always be a looker on at life--the village life. Kate--Kate +was part of it. + +He sighed, and a look of almost desperate worry crossed his dark, +good-looking face. His thoughts seemed to disturb him painfully. Ever +since he had heard of Inspector Fyles's coming to the village a sort +of depression had settled like a cloud upon him--a depression he could +not shake off. Fyles was the last man he wished to see in Rocky +Springs--for several reasons. + +He was reluctantly about to turn away, and pass on down to his +corrals, which were situated on the slope beside the house. There was +work to be done there, some repairs, which he had intended to start +early that morning. They had been neglected so long, as were many +things to do with his ranch. + +With this intention he moved toward the end of the veranda, but his +progress was abruptly arrested by the sight of two horsemen in the +distance making their way down toward the village. For awhile he only +caught odd glimpses of them through the trees, but at last they +reached the main road of the village, and halted in full, though +somewhat distant, view of his house. + +In a moment the identity of one of the men became certain in his mind. +In spite of the man's civilian clothing he recognized the easy poise +in the saddle of Inspector Fyles. He had seen him so many times at +comparatively close range that he was sure he could not be mistaken. + +The sight of the police officer banished all his interest in the +identity of the second horseman. A dark look of bitter, anxious +resentment crept into his eyes, and all the mildness, all the +gentleness vanished out of his expressive features. They had suddenly +grown hard and cold. He knew that trouble was knocking at the door of +Rocky Springs. He knew that his own peace of mind could never be +restored so long as the shadow of Stanley Fyles hovered over the +village. + +Presently he saw the two horsemen part. Fyles rode on down toward the +village while the other turned westwards, but the now hot eyes of the +watching man followed only the figure of the unwelcome policeman until +it was lost to view beyond the intervening bush. + +As the officer disappeared the rancher made a gesture of fierce anger. + +"Kate, Kate," he cried, raising his clenched fists as though about to +strike the unconscious horseman, "if I lose you through him, +I'll--I'll kill him." + +Now he hurried away down to the corrals with the air of a man who is +endeavoring to escape from himself. He suddenly realized the necessity +of a vent for his feelings. + +But his work had yet to suffer a further delay. He had scarcely +reached the scene of operations when the sound of galloping hoofs +caught and held his attention. He had quite forgotten the second +horseman in his bitter interest in the policeman. Now he remembered +that he had turned westward, which was in the direction of his ranch. +The sounds were rapidly approaching up the track toward him. His eyes +grew cold and almost vicious as he thought. Was this another of the +police force? The force to which Fyles belonged? + +He stood waiting at the head of the trail. And the look in his eyes +augured ill for the welcome of the newcomer. + +The sounds grew louder. Then he heard a voice, a somewhat familiar +voice. It was big, and cheerful, and full of a cordial good humor. + +"By Judas! he was a thief, and an outrageous robber, but you can go, +my four-footed monument to a blasted rogue's perfidy. Five hundred +good dollars--now, at it for a final spurt." + +Charlie Bryant understood. The man was talking to his horse. Had he +needed evidence it came forthwith, for, with a rush, at a headlong +gallop, a horseman dashed from amid the bushes and drew up with a jolt +almost on top of him. + +"Charlie!" + +"Bill! Good old--Bill!" + +The greetings came simultaneously. The next instant Big Brother Bill +flung out of the saddle, and stood wringing his brother's hand with +great force. + +"Gee! It's good to see you, Charlie," he cried joyously. + +"Good? Why, it's great, and--and I took you for one of the damned +p'lice." + +Charlie's face was wreathed in such a smile of welcome and relief, +that all Big Brother Bill's doubts in that direction were flung +pell-mell to the winds. + +Charlie caught something of the other's beaming enthusiasm. + +"Why, I've been expecting you for days, old boy. Thought maybe you'd +changed your mind. Say, where's your baggage? Coming on behind? You +haven't lost it?" he added anxiously, as Bill's face suddenly fell. + +"I forgot. Say, was there ever such a tom-fool trick?" Bill cried, +with a great laugh at his own folly. "Why, I left it checked at +Moosemin--without instructions." + +Charlie's smiling eyes suddenly widened. + +"Moosemin? What in the name of all that's----?" + +"I'll have to tell you about it later," Bill broke in hastily. "I've +had one awful journey. If it hadn't been for a feller I met on the +road I don't know when I'd have landed here." + +Charlie nodded, and the smile died out of his eyes. + +"I saw him. You certainly were traveling in good company." + +Bill nodded, towering like some good-natured St. Bernard over a +mild-eyed water spaniel. + +"Good company's a specialty with me. But I didn't come alongside any +of it, since I set out to make here 'cross country from Moosemin on +the advice of the only bigger fool than myself I've ever met, until I +ran into him. Say, Charlie, I s'pose its necessary to have a deal of +grass around to run a ranch on?" + +Charlie's eyes lit with the warmest amusement. This great brother of +his was the brightest landmark in his memory of the world he had said +good-bye to years ago. + +"You can't graze cattle on bare ground," he replied watchfully. "Why?" + +Bill's shoulders went up to the accompaniment of a chuckle. + +"Nothing--only I hate grass. I seem to have gone over as much grass +in the last week as a boarding-house spring lamb. But for that feller, +I surely guess I'd still be chasing over it, like those 'strays' he +spends his life rounding-up." + +A quick look of inquiry flashed in the rancher's eyes. + +"Strays?" he inquired. + +Bill nodded gravely. "Yes, he's something in the ranching line. Rounds +up 'strays,' and herds 'em to their right homes. His name's +Fyles--Stanley Fyles." + +Just for an instant Charlie's face struggled with the more bitter +feelings Fyles's name inspired. Then he gave way to the appeal of a +sort of desperate humor, and broke into an uncontrolled fit of +laughter. + +Bill looked on wondering, his great blue eyes widely open. Then he +caught the infection, and began to laugh, too, but without knowing +why. + +After some moments, however, Charlie sobered and choked back a final +gurgle. + +"Oh, dear!" he exclaimed. "You've done me a heap of good, Bill. That's +the best laugh I've had in weeks. That fellow a rancher? +Fyles--Stanley Fyles a--rancher? Well, p'raps you're right. That's his +job all right--rounding up 'strays,' and herding 'em to their right +homes. But the 'strays' are 'crooks,' and their homes the +penitentiary. That's Inspector Stanley Fyles, of the Mounted Police, +and just about the smartest man in the force. He's come out here to +start his ranching operations on Rocky Springs, which has the +reputation of being the busiest hive of crooks in Western Canada. +You're going to see things hum, Bill--you've just got around in time." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE UNREGENERATE + + +Later in the afternoon the two brothers found themselves seated on the +veranda talking together, as only devoted relationship will permit +after years of separation. + +They had just returned from a brief inspection of the little ranch for +Bill's edification. The big man's enthusiasm had demanded immediate +satisfaction. His headlong nature impelled him to the earliest +possible digestion of the life he was about to enter. So he had +insisted on a tour of inspection. + +The inspection was of necessity brief. There was so little to be seen +in the way of an outward display of the prosperity his elder brother +claimed. In consequence, as it proceeded, the newcomer's spirits fell. +His radiant dreams of a rancher's life tumbled about his big +unfortunate head, and, for the moment, left him staggered. + +His first visit was to the barn, where Kid Blaney, his brother's +ranchman, was rubbing down two well saddle-marked cow-ponies, after +his morning out on the fences. It was a crazy sort of a shanty, built +of sod walls with a still more crazy door frame, and a thatched roof +more than a foot thick. It was half a dug-out on the hillside, and +suggested as much care as a hog pen. The floor was a mire of +accumulations of manure and rotted bedding, and the low roof gave the +place a hovelish suggestion such as Bill could never have imagined in +the breezy life of a rancher, as he understood it. + +There were one or two other buildings of a similar nature. One was +used for a few unhealthy looking fowls; another, by the smell and +noise that emanated therefrom, housed a number of pigs. Then there was +a small grain storehouse. These were the buildings which comprised the +ranch. They were just dotted about in the neighborhood of the house, +at points most convenient for their primitive construction. + +The corrals, further down the slope, offered more hope. There were +three of them, all well enough built and roomy. There was one with a +branding "pinch," outside which stood a small hand forge and a number +of branding irons. At the sight of these things Bill's spirit +improved. + +When questioned as to pastures and grazing, Charlie led him along a +cattle track, through the bush up the slope, to the prairie level +above. Here there were three big pastures running into a hundred acres +or more, all well fenced, and the wire in perfect order. Bill's +improving spirits received a further fillip. The grazing, Charlie told +him, lay behind these limits upon the open plains, over which the +newcomer had spent so much time riding. + +"You see, Bill," he said, half apologetically, "I'm only a very small +rancher. The land I own is this on which the house stands, and these +pastures, and another pasture or two further up the valley. For +grazing, I simply rent rights from the Government. It answers well +enough, and I only have to keep one regular boy in consequence. Spring +and fall I hire extra hands for round-up. It pays me better that way." + +Bill nodded with increasing understanding. His original dreams had +received a bad jolt, but he was beginning a readjustment of focus. +Besides, his simple mind was already formulating fresh plans, and he +began to talk of them with that whole-hearted enthusiasm which seemed +to be the foundation of his nature. + +"Sure," he said cordially. "And--and you've done a big heap, Charlie. +Say, how much did dad start you out with? Five thousand dollars? Yes, +I remember, five thousand, and our mother gave you another two +thousand five hundred. It was all she had. She'd saved it up in years. +It wasn't much to turn bare land into a money-making proposition, +specially when you'd had no experience. But we're going to alter all +that. We're going to own our grazing, if it can be bought. Yes, sir, +we're going to own a lot more, and I've got nearly one hundred +thousand dollars to do it with. We're going to turn these barns into +barns, and we're going to run horses as well as cattle. We're going to +grow wheat, too. That's the coming game. All the boys say so down +East--that is, the real bright boys. We're just going to get busy, you +and me, Charlie. We're going to have a deed of partnership drawn up +all square and legal, and I'm going to blow my stuff in it against +what you've got already, and what you know. That's what I'm here for." + +By the aid of his big voice and aggressive bulk Bill strove to conceal +his obvious desire to benefit his brother under an exterior of strong +business methods. And he felt the result to be all he could desire. He +told himself that a man of Charlie's unbusiness-like nature was quite +easy to impress. When it came to a proper understanding of business he +was much his brother's superior. + +Charlie, however, was in no way deceived, but such was his regard for +this simple-minded creature that his protest was of the mildest. + +"Of course we could do a great deal with your money, Bill, but--but +it's all you've got, and----" + +His protest was hastily thrust aside. + +"See here, Charlie, boy, that's right up to me," Bill cried, with a +buoyant laugh. "I'm out here to ranch. That's what I've come for, +that's what I've worn my skin to the bone for on the most outrageously +uncomfortable saddle I've ever thrown a leg over. That's why I took +the trouble to keep on chasing up this place when my brain got plumb +addled at the sight of so much grass. That's why I didn't go back to +find the feller--and shoot him--for advising me to get off at Moosemin +instead of hitting back on my tracks for the right place to change +trains. You see, maybe I haven't all the horse sense in some things +you have, but I've got my back teeth into the idea of this ranching +racket, and my dollars are going to talk all they know. I tell you, +when my mind's made up, I can't be budged an inch. It's no use your +trying. I know you, Charlie. You're scared to death I'll lose my +money--well, I'm ready to lose it, if things go that way. Meanwhile, +I've a commercial proposition. I'm out to make good, and I'm looking +for you to help me." + +Charlie looked into the earnest, good-natured face with eyes that read +deep down into the open heart beneath. A great regret lay behind them, +a regret which made him hate and despise himself in a way he had never +felt before. He was thinking whither his own follies had driven him; +he was thinking of his own utter failure as a man, a strong, +big-principled man. He was wondering, too, what this kindly soul would +think and feel when he realized how little he was changed from the +contemptible creature his father had turned out of doors, and when he +finally learned of the horrors of degradation his life really +concealed. + +He had no alternative but to acquiesce before the strong determination +of his brother, and though his words were cordial, his fears, his +qualms of conscience underlying them, were none the less. + +So they came back to the house, and finally foregathered on two +uncomfortable, rawhide-seated, home-made chairs, while Bill enlarged +upon his plans. It was not until these were completely exhausted that +their talk drifted to more personal matters. Then it was that Charlie +himself opened up the way, with a bitter reference to the reasons +that saved him from completely going under when their father shipped +him out to this forlorn spot to regenerate. + +He talked earnestly, leaning forward in his chair. His delicate hands +were tightly clasped, as his eyes gazed out across the valley at a +spot where Kate Seton's house stood beyond the river. + +Bill sat listening. He wanted Charlie to talk. He wanted to learn all +those little things, sometimes even very big things, which can only be +read between the lines when the tongue runs on unguardedly. He knew +his brother's many weaknesses, and it was his ardent desire to +discover those signs of betterment and strengthening he fondly hoped +had taken place in the passing of years. + +He lolled back with the luxury of an utterly saddle-weary man. His +heavy bent pipe hung loosely from the corner of his mouth. His big +blue eyes were steady and earnest. + +"Yes," Charlie went on, after a moment's thought, "I'm glad, mighty +glad, I came here when I did." He gave a short mirthless laugh. "I +doubt if my satisfaction is inspired by any moral scruple," he added +hastily, as the other nodded. "Say, can you understand how I feel when +I say I believe all moral scruple has somehow decayed, rotted, died in +me? I don't mean that I don't want to be decent. I do; but that's +because decency appeals to me from some sort of artistic feelings +which have survived the wreck I made of life years ago. No, moral +scruples were killed stone dead when I was chasing through Europe +hunting Art, searching for it with eyes too young to gaze upon +anything more beautiful than a harsh life of strict discipline. + +"Now I have to follow inclinations that have somehow got the better of +all the best qualities in me. That's how I'm fixed now. And, queer as +it may seem, that's been my salvation--if you can call it salvation. +When I first came here I was ready to drift any old way. I did drift +into every muck-hole that appealed to me. I didn't care. As I said, +moral scruples were dead in me. Then this same self-indulgence did me +a good turn. The only good turn it's ever done me." + +The eyes gazing across the valley grew very soft. + +"Say, Bill," he began again, after a brief, reflective pause, "I came +here, and--and found a woman. The greatest, the best woman God ever +created. She was strong, big-spirited, beautiful. She'd come out here +to earn a living with her sister. She'd left the East for no better +reason than her big spirit of independence, and a desire to live +beyond the narrow confines of convention. Say, I think I went crazy +about that woman." + +The man was smiling very softly. All Bill's senses were alert. His +slow brain was groping for the subtle comprehension which he felt was +needed for a full understanding. + +"That woman came near to saving me--from myself," Charlie went on, +with a tenderness he was unaware of. "And it was through that very +weakness of self-indulgence. I love her that bad it's bigger than +anything else in my life. Say, I'd rather have her good opinion, +and--and liking--than anything in life. It's more to me than any of +those desires that have always claimed me. But there are times when +even her influence isn't quite big enough. There are times when even +she can't hold me up. There are things back of my head I can't +beat--even through her--at times. That's why I say she's come near +saving me. Not quite--but near. + +"Bill, guess you can't understand. Guess no one can. I fight, fight, +fight. She fights, too. She fights without knowing it, too, because +always in my mind is a picture of her handsome face, and eyes of +disapproval. That picture wins most times--but not always. Wait till +you see Kate, Bill, then you'll understand. I just love her to +death--and that's all there is to it. She only likes me. She'll never +feel for me same as I do for her. How can she?--I'm--but I guess you +know what I am. Everybody who knows me knows that I'm a hopeless +drunkard." + +The man's final admission came without any self-pity or bitterness. It +is doubtful if there was any shame in him at the acknowledgment. Bill +marveled. He could not understand. He tried to picture himself making +such an admission, and to estimate his feelings at it. Shame, +unutterable shame, was all he could think of, and his good-natured +face flushed with shame for his brother, who had somehow so squandered +all his better feelings. + +Charlie saw the flush, and the tenderness died out of his eyes. He +shook his head. + +"Don't feel that way about it," he cried bitterly. "I'm not worth it. +Besides, I can't stand it from--you. Only--from Kate. I know what +you're thinking. You're bound to think that way. You were born with a +man's body--a big, strong man's body. I was born weak and puny. I was +born all wrong. I don't say it in excuse. I merely state a fact. Look +at me beside you, both children of the same parents. I'm like a woman, +I can't even grow the hair of a man on my face. My mother reveled in +what she regarded as the artistic beauty of my features, my hands"--he +held out his thin hands with their long tapering fingers--"and my love +for all those softer things of life that should only be found in +female nature. She gloried in those things and fostered them. She did +her best, all unknowingly, bless her, to kill the last vestige of +manhood in me. And all the time it was crying out, crying out +bitterly. It was growing stronger and stronger, as my physique +remained undeveloped. Finally it became too great to withstand. Then, +when it turned loose, I was without power to check it. My moral +strength was not equal to the tide, and all my passions swayed me +whithersoever they chose. Again I say this is no excuse; it is merely +fact as I see it. I was powerless to resist temptation. The woman who +once looses her hold on her moral nature can never recover herself. +That is nature--her nature--and, by the curse of fate, it is also +mine." + +For the moment Bill had no answer. He sat with his eyes averted. All +his affection for his erring brother was uppermost, all his sympathy +and pity. But he dared not display them. All that Charlie had said was +true. His whole appearance was effeminate. He was a man without the +physical support belonging to his sex. As he said, he was left +powerless by nature and upbringing to fight a man's battle on the +plains of moral integrity. His fall had been drink, with its +accompanying vices, and Bill realized now, after five years' absence, +how hopeless his brother's reformation had become. If his love for +this woman could not save him, then surely nothing on earth could. For +Bill, in his simple fashion, believed that such an appeal was above +all in its claims upon any real man. + +He groped for something to say, for something that might show Charlie +that his affection remained utterly unaltered, but he had no great +cleverness, and the right thing refused to come to his aid. As the +silence lengthened between them his groping thoughts took their own +course, which led him to the name, "Kate," which the other had used. +He remembered he had heard it that day once before. + +"Kate?" he inquired lamely. "Kate--who?" + +"Kate Seton." + +In an instant Bill's whole attitude underwent a change. He sat up, +and, removing his pipe, dashed the charred ashes from its bowl. + +"Why, that's the sister of--Helen Seton." + +Charlie nodded, his eyes lighting with a sharp question. + +"Sure. But--you don't know--Helen?" + +Bill's face beamed. + +"Met her on the trail," he cried triumphantly. "No end of a pretty +girl. Gray eyes and fair hair. Might have been walking on Broadway, +New York--from her style. Fyles told me about her." + +"Fyles?" + +Charlie's eyes suddenly darkened with resentment. He rose abruptly +from his chair, and began to pace the veranda. Then he halted, and +looked coldly down into his brother's eyes. + +"What did he say?" he demanded shortly. + +Bill's eyes answered him with question for question. + +"Just told me who Helen was. Said she had a sister--Kate. Said they +were farmers--of a sort. Said they'd been here five years. Why?" + +Charlie ignored the question. + +"That's all?" he demanded. + +"Sure." Bill nodded. + +Then the hardness died out of Charlie's eyes to be replaced once more +by his usual gentle smile. + +"I'm glad. You see, I don't want him--around Kate. Say----" he +hesitated. Then he moved toward the door of the house. "Guess I'll get +supper. I forgot, you must be starving." + + * * * * * + +Kate Seton had spent the whole morning at home. The work of her little +farm had claimed her. She had been out with her two disreputable boys +around the grain, now rapidly turning from its fresh green to that +delicate tint of yellow so welcome to the farmer. It was a +comparatively anxious time, for the cattle grazing at large upon the +prairie loved the sweet flavor of the growing grain, and had no +scruples at breaking their way through the carelessly constructed +barbed wire fencing, and wrecking all that came within their reach. +The fences needed "top railing," and Kate could not trust the work to +her two men without supervision. So she spent the morning in their +company. + +After the mid-day meal, as soon as Helen had left the house on a +journey to Billy Unguin's drapery store, she sat herself down at a +small bureau in their kitchen-parlor and drew a couple of books, +suspiciously like account books, from one of its locked drawers, and +settled herself for an hour's work upon them. + +The room, though not large, was comfortable. It was full of odd, +feminine knick-knacks contrived by Helen's busy hands. The walls were +dotted with a number of unframed water colors, also the work of the +younger of the two women. There were three comfortable rockers, so +dear to the heart of the women of the country. Besides these, there +was a biggish dining table, and, in one corner of the room, beside a +china and store cupboard, a square iron cook stove stood out, on which +a tin kettle of water was pleasantly simmering. + +It was a homely room which had been gradually furnished into its +present atmosphere of comfort by two pairs of busy hands, and both +Kate and Helen loved it far more, in consequence, than if it had borne +the hall-mark of lavish expenditure. + +But Kate, as she sat before her bureau, had no thought of these things +just now. She was anxious to complete her work before Helen returned. +It was always impossible to deal with figures while her sister was in +the room. And her figures now needed careful attention. + +She opened her books, and soon her busy pen was at work. From a pocket +in her underskirt she drew a number of papers, and these she carefully +sorted out. + +Having arranged them to her satisfaction the task of entering figures +in her book was resumed. Finally she performed the operation of many +sums, the accurate working out of which took considerable time and +pains. Then, from the same pocket, she drew a bundle of notes which +she carefully counted and checked by the figures in the books. + +This work completed she sat back idly in her chair with a thoughtful, +ironical smile in her dark eyes, and the holder of her pen poised in +the grip of her even white teeth. + +She was thinking pleasantly, with a half humorous vein running through +her thought. She was dreaming, day-dreaming, of many things dear to +her woman's heart. Now and again her look changed. Now a quick flash +leaped into her slumberous eyes, only to die out almost immediately, +hidden under that softer gleam which had so much humor in it. At +another time a grave look replaced all other expression; then, again, +a quick frown would occasionally mar the fair, smooth brow. But always +the dominating note of humorous thoughtfulness would return, as if +this were her chief characteristic. + +Her day-dreaming did not last long, however. It was abruptly +dispelled, as such moods generally are. The sound of hurrying feet +brought a quick look that was one almost of anxiety into her usually +confident eyes. With one comprehensive movement she scrambled her +books and papers together and heaped them into the still open drawer. +Then she gathered up the money, and flung it in after the other +things. + +As the door burst open and Helen ran into the room, her eyes bright +with excitement, and her breathing hurried and short from her run, +Kate was in the act of locking the drawer. + +Helen halted as she came abreast of the table, and her dancing eyes +challenged her sister. + +"At your Bluebeard's chamber again, Kate?" she cried, in mock +reproval. Then she raised a warning finger. "One of these days--mind, +one of these days, I surely will have a duplicate key made and get a +peek into that drawer, which you never open in my presence. I believe +you're carrying on an intrigue with some man. Maybe it's full of +letters from--Dirty O'Brien." + +Kate straightened herself up laughing. + +"Dirty O'Brien? Well, he's all sorts of a sport anyway, and I like +'sports,'" she said lightly. + +Helen took up the challenge. + +"'Sports'? Why, yes, there are plenty of 'sports'--of a kind--in this +place. I'll have to see if I can find one who can make skeleton keys. +I'd surely say that sort of 'sport' should be going round the village +all right, all right." + +She nodded her threat at her sister, who was in no way disconcerted. +She only laughed. + +"What's brought you back on the run?" she inquired. + +"Why, what d'you s'pose?" + +Kate shrugged, still smiling. + +"I'd say the only thing that could fix you that way was a--man." + +"Right. Right in once. A man, Kate, not a mouse," Helen declared, +"although I allow they're both motive forces calculated to set me +running. The only thing is, one attracts, and the other repels. This +is distinctly a matter of attraction." + +"Who's the man?" demanded the practical Kate, with a look of real +interest in her handsome eyes. + +"Why, Big Brother Bill, of course, the man I promised you all I'd +marry." + +Helen suddenly dashed at her sister and caught her by the arm in +pretended excitement. + +"I've seen him, Kate, seen him!" she cried. "And--and he raised his +hat to me. He's big--ever so big, and he's got the loveliest, most +foolish blue eyes I've ever seen. That's how I knew him. Say, and when +I saw him with Inspector Fyles, I remembered what Charlie said about +him having no sense, and I had to laugh, and I think he thought I was +grinning at him, and that's why he raised his hat to me. It seemed so +comical--looked just as if he was being brought in charge of a +policeman for fear he'd lose himself, and would never find himself +again. He's surely a real live man, and I've fallen in love with him +right away, and, if you don't find something to send me up to see +Charlie about right away, I'll--I'll go crazy--or--or faint, or do +something equally foolish." + +Kate's amusement culminated in a peal of laughter. She knew Helen so +well, and was so used to her wild outbursts of enthusiasm, which +generally lasted for five minutes, finally dying out in some whimsical +admission of her own irresponsibility. + +She promptly entered into the spirit of the thing. + +"Let's see," she cried, gazing thoughtfully about the room, while +Helen still clung to her arm. "An excuse--an excuse." + +"No, no," cried the impetuous Helen. "Not an excuse. I never make any +excuse for wanting to be in a man's company. Besides----" + +"Hush, child," retorted Kate. "How can I think with you chattering? +I've got to find you an excuse for going across to Charlie's place. +Now what shall it be? I know," she cried, suddenly darting across the +room, followed by the clinging Helen. "I've got it." + +"Got what?" cried the other, with difficulty retaining her hold. + +"Why, the excuse, of course," cried Kate, grabbing up two books from a +chair under the window. "Here, I promised to send these to Charlie +days ago. That's it," she went on. "Take these, and," she added +mischievously, "I'll write a note telling him to be sure and introduce +you to Big Brother Bill, as you're dying to--to make love to him!" + +"Don't you dare, Kate Seton, don't you ever dare," cried Helen +threateningly. "I'll shoot you clean up to death with one of your own +big guns if you do. I never heard such a thing, never. How dare you +say I want to make love to him? I--I don't think I even want to see +him now--I'm sure I don't. Still, I'll take the books up if +you--really want Charlie to have them. You see, I sure don't mind what +I do to--to help you out." + +Kate's eyes opened wide. Then, in a moment, she stood convulsed. + +"Well, of all the sauce," she cried. "Helen, you're a perfect--imp. +Now for your pains you shan't take those books till after supper." + +Helen's merry eyes sobered, and her face fell. + +"Kate--I----" + +"No," returned the other, with pretended severity. "It's no use +apologizing. It's too late. After supper." + +Helen promptly left her side, and, with a laugh, ran to the wall where +a pair of revolvers were hanging suspended from an ammunition belt. + +She seized one of the weapons by the butt, and was about to withdraw +it from its holster. But, in a flash, Kate was at her side. + +"Don't Helen!" she cried, in real alarm. "Let go of that gun. They're +both loaded." + +Helen withdrew her hand in a panic, her pretty face blanching. + +"My, Kate!" she cried horrified. "They're--loaded?" + +The other nodded. + +"Whatever do you keep them loaded for? I--I never knew. You--you +wouldn't dare to--use them?" + +Kate's dark eyes were smiling, but the smile was forced. + +"Wouldn't I?" she said, with a curious set to her firm lips. Then she +added in a lighter tone: "They're all that stand between us and--the +ruffians of Rocky Springs." + +For a moment Helen looked into her sister's eyes as though searching +for something she had lost. + +"I--I thought you'd changed, Kate," she said at last, almost +apologetically. "I thought you'd forgotten all--that. I--thought you'd +become a sort of 'hired girl' in this village. Guess I'll have to wait +until after supper--seeing you want me to." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE DISCOMFITURE OF HELEN + + +It was well past six o'clock in the evening when the two brothers +completed the discussion of their future plans. It had been a great +day for Bill. A day such as one may look forward to in long +anticipatory moments of dreaming, but the ultimate realization of +which often falls so desperately short of the anticipation. In the +present instance, however, no such calamity had befallen. He felt that +his weary journeyings, with their many discomforts and trials, had not +proved vain. Many of his hopes had been fully realized. + +The unselfishness of the man was supreme. He wanted nothing for +himself, but the delight of sharing in the life of his less fortunate +brother, and changing the course of that fortune into the happier +channels wherein his own lay. And Charlie seemed to accept the +position. He certainly offered no opposition, and, if his manner of +acceptance was undemonstrative, even to an excess of reserve, at least +it was sufficiently cordial to satisfy the unsuspicious mind of Big +Brother Bill. + +Had the big man's wide, blue eyes been less ready to accept all they +beheld, had his mind been more versed in the study of human nature, +and those shadowy, inexpressible feelings glancing furtively out of +eyes intended only to express carefully controlled thoughts, then Bill +must have detected reluctance in his brother. There were moments, too, +when only a half-heartedness found vent in the man's verbal acceptance +of his brother's proposals, which should have been significant, and +certainly invited investigation. + +But even if he observed these things Bill undoubtedly misread them. He +had no reason to doubt that his presence, and all his enthusiastic +plans were welcome, and so he was left blinded to any other feelings +on the part of his brother than those which he verbally expressed. +That Charlie delighted in his presence there could be no doubt, but as +to those other things, well, a close observer might well have been +forgiven had he felt sorry for the bigger man's single-minded +generosity. To the end Bill felt confident, and remained quite +undisturbed. + +There were still fully two hours of daylight left when Charlie finally +rose from his seat upon the veranda. + +He smiled down at the big figure of the brother he so affectionately +regarded. + +"We'll need to set about getting your baggage sent through from +Moosemin to-morrow," he said. Then he added with a quizzical gleam in +his eyes: "Guess you've got the checks all right?" + +Bill nodded with profound gravity, and dived into one of his pockets. + +"Sure," he replied, dragging forth a bunch of metal discs on a strap. +"Five pieces." + +"Good." Charlie nodded. His brother's unconsciousness amused him. +Then, after a moment, his gaze drifted across the valley, and came to +rest on the little home of the Setons, and he went on reflectively, "I +need to get around a piece before dark," he said. Then with an +unmistakable question in his dark eyes: "Maybe you'll fancy a walk +around--meantime?" + +Bill's eyes lit good humoredly. + +"Which means I'm not wanted," he said with a laugh. + +Then he, too, rose. He stretched himself like some great contented +dog. + +"I've a notion to get a peek at the village," he said. "I'll call +along down at the saloon and hunt Fyles up. Guess I owe him a drink +for--finding me." + +At the mention of Fyles's name a curious look changed the expression +of his brother's regard. A short laugh that had no mirth in it was the +prompt reply. + +"You can't buy Fyles a drink in Rocky Springs," Charlie exclaimed. +"Maybe you can buy all the drink _you_ want. But there's not a +saloonkeeper in the Northwest Territories would hand you one for +Fyles. This is prohibition territory, and I guess Fyles is hated to +death--hereabouts." + +For a moment Bill's eyes looked absurdly serious. + +"I see," he demurred. "You--hate him--too?" + +Charlie nodded. + +"For--that?" suggested Bill. + +Charlie shrugged. "I certainly have no use for Inspector Fyles," he +declared. "Maybe it's for his work, maybe it isn't. It don't matter +either way." + +The manner of Charlie's reply reminded his brother that his question +had been unnecessarily pointed, and he hastened to make amends. + +"I'm kind of sorry, Charlie," he said, his face flushing with +contrition. "I didn't think. You see, I hadn't----" + +But the other waved his regret aside. + +"Don't worry," he said quickly. "Guess you can't hurt me that way. I +was thinking on other lines. What does matter, and matters pretty +badly, is that some day, if you stop around Rocky Springs, you'll find +it up to you to take sides between Fyles and----" + +"And?" Bill's interest had become suddenly absorbed as his brother +paused, his gaze once more drifting away beyond the river. Finally, +Charlie turned back to him. + +"Me," he said quietly. And the two stood facing each other, eye to +eye. + +It was some moments before Bill's slow-moving wit came to his aid. He +was so startled that it was even slower than usual. + +"You and--Fyles?" he said at last, his eyes full of absurd wonder. "I +don't understand. You--you are not against the law?" + +Bill's wonder had changed to apprehension, and the sight of it +distracted his brother's more serious mood. + +"Does a fellow always need to be against the law to get up against a +police officer?" he inquired, with a smile of amusement. Then his +smile died out, and he went on enigmatically. "Men can scrap about +most anything," he said slowly. "Men who _are_ men. I may be a poor +example, but----Say, when Fyles takes hold of things in Rocky Springs, +I guess he isn't likely to feel kindly disposed my way. That being so, +you'll surely be fixed one way or the other. Get me, Bill?" + +Bill nodded dubiously. + +"I get that, but--I don't understand----" he began. + +But Charlie gave him no time to finish. + +"Don't worry to," he said quickly. Then he gripped the other's +muscular arm affectionately. "See you later," he added, smiling +whimsically up into the troubled blue eyes as he moved off the +veranda. + +Bill was left puzzled. He was thinking very hard and very slowly as he +looked after the departing man. He watched him till he reached the +barn and disappeared within it to get his horse. Then he, too, moved +away, but it was in the direction of the trail which led ultimately to +the village. + +Bill's nature was too recklessly happy to long remain a prey to +disquieting thoughts. Once the avenue of spruce trees swallowed him up +he abandoned all further contemplation of his disquietude, and gave +himself up to the full enjoyment of his new surroundings. + + * * * * * + +It was in the gayest possible mood and highest spirits that Helen, +with her "two-book" excuse tucked under her arm, set out for Charlie +Bryant's ranch. + +When she appeared at supper time Kate's dark eyes shone with +admiration and a lurking mischief. At the sight of Helen she clapped +her hands delightedly. The younger girl's smart, tailored suit had +made way for the daintiest of summer frocks, diaphanous, seductive, +and wholly fascinating. + +"A vision of fluffy whiteness," cried Kate delightedly, as Helen sat +down at the table. "Helen," she went on, mischievously, "as a man +hunter you are just too dreadful. Poor Big Brother Bill, why, he +hasn't the chance of a rat in a corner. He surely is as good as +engaged, married, and--done for." + +Helen's eyebrows went up in lofty resentment. + +"Katherine Seton, I--don't understand you--thank goodness. If I did I +should want to box your ears," she added, in mild scorn. "You're a +perfectly ridiculous woman, and of no account at all." + +Kate's amusement was good to see. + +"Oh, Hel----" she cried. + +But her sister cut her short. + +"Don't use bad language, please. My name's 'Helen'--unless you've got +something pleasant to say." + +Kate poured out the coffee, and helped herself to cold meat. The +supper was the characteristic evening meal of the village. Cakes, and +sweets, and cold meat. + +"How could I have anything but something pleasant to say, with you +looking such a vision?" Kate went on, quite undisturbed. "Why, I +hadn't a notion you had such a pretty frock." + +Helen's attitude modified, as she helped herself to home-made scones +and butter. + +"I've been saving it up," she deigned to explain. "Do I look all +right? How's my hair?" + +She beamed on her sister, waiting for an expected compliment. + +"Lovely!" exclaimed Kate. Then with added mischief: "And your hair is +simply as fluffy as--as a feather duster." + +Helen laughed. Her eyes were dancing with that merriment she could +never long restrain. + +"I--I simply hate you, Kate," she cried. "I'm so upset I can't eat a +thing. Feather duster indeed. Well, it's better than the mop Pete +swabs up the floors with. If you'd said that, I'd sure have gone +straight off into a trance, and--and got buried alive. But your +appetite's awful, Kate, and I can't sit here forever. I'd say food's +mighty important, but it's nothing beside a _man_ waiting for you +somewhere, and you don't know where. Guess I'll have something to eat +before I go to bed. Please, Kate--please may I go?" + +The humility of the final request was quite too much for Kate, who +laughed immoderately while she gave the required permission. + +"Yes, off with you, bless your heart," she cried joyously. "And don't +you dare come back here without bringing your future husband with +you. Remember, I want to see him, too, and--and if you're not mighty +good, and nice to me, I'll see what I can do cutting you out. +Remember, too, I'm not quite on the shelf yet--in spite of what folks +may say. Off with you!" + +Helen needed no second bidding. She snatched up her books, took a +swift glance at herself in the small mirror on the wall, and hastened +out of the house. + +"So long, Kitty," she cried lightly; "my nets are spread for the big +fish, my dear. He's there, slumbering peacefully in the shady pool, +waiting to be caught. Do you think he's ever been fished before? I +hope he's not wily. You see, I'm so out of practice. That's the worst +of living in a place where men have to get drunk before they have the +courage to become attentive. And, Kitty, dear----" + +"Off with you, you man hunter," cried Kate, from her place at the +table, "and don't you dare ever to call me 'Kitty' again. I----" + +But the door was closed, and further expostulation was useless. The +next moment Kate beheld a waving hand through the window. She +responded, and, a moment later, as her sister passed from view, the +smile died out of her eyes. + +She sat on at the table, although her meal was finished. And somehow +all her gaiety had dropped like a mask from her face, leaving her +handsome eyes strangely thoughtful and something hard. + + * * * * * + +Meanwhile Helen crossed the river by the quaint log footbridge which +had been one of the first efforts at construction upon which Kate had +embarked on arrival at Rocky Springs. It was stout, and, from a +distance, picturesque. Close to it was a trap for the unwary. For the +two sisters, and their hired men, it was a simple matter for +negotiation. They were used to its pitfalls, which increased with +every spring flood. + +Beyond this the track wound through the bush on its way to the village +main trail, but Helen had no thought of adopting such a circuitous +route when the bush offered her a far more direct one. She vanished +into the wood like a flitting shadow, nor did she reappear until half +the slope up to Charlie Bryant's house had been negotiated. + +Her reappearance was in the midst of a small clearing, whence she had +an uninterrupted view of Charlie's house, and a less clear view of the +winding track leading up to it. + +Somehow, by the time she reached this spot, a marked change had come +over her. Her pretty, even brows were slightly drawn together in an +odd, thoughtful pucker. Her usually merry eyes were watchful and +sober. It may have been the gradient of the hills, but somehow her +gait had lost something of its buoyancy. Her steps were lagging, even +hesitating, and, when she finally halted, it was almost with an air of +relief. + +There were several fallen tree trunks about, and, though they must +have been sufficiently inviting if she were weary with her effort, she +quite ignored them. She stood quite still, looking first ahead at her +goal, and then back over the valley toward the little house where her +sister was probably still watching her. Her eyes slowly became +expressive of doubt and indecision. It seemed as though she found it +hard to make up her mind about something. + +After a moment or two she removed the two books from under her arm, +and idly read their titles. She knew them quite well, and promptly +returned them to their place with an impatient sigh. + +Again her look had changed. Now her cheeks suddenly flushed a burning, +shamefaced crimson. Then they paled, and something like a panic grew +in her eyes. But this, too, passed, all but the panic, and, with a +little vicious stamp of her foot, she half determinedly faced the +ranch house on the hill. Her determination, however, was evidently +insufficient, for she did not move on, and, presently, she laughed a +short mirthless laugh. It was her belated sense of humor mocking her. +Her courage, she knew, had failed her. She could not live up to her +boasted claims as a man hunter. + +But her laugh died almost at its birth. Something moving down the hill +among the trees caught her troubled eyes. Then, too, the sound of a +whistle reached her. Some one was approaching from the direction of +Charlie's house, whistling a tune which somehow seemed familiar. She +promptly warned herself it could not be Charlie. She never remembered +to have heard Charlie whistling so blithe an air. + +Now she distinctly heard the sound of heavy, rapid footsteps drawing +nearer. The panic in her eyes deepened. They were staring intently at +the surrounding bush, searching for a definite sight of the intruder. +Nor had she to wait long. The path was just beyond the clearing, and +she had fixed her gaze upon a narrow gap in the foliage. She felt +almost safe in doing so, for the stranger must pass that way if he +were on the path, and the gap was so narrow that it would probably +escape his notice. + +The whistling came nearer, so, too, the rapid footsteps. Then followed +realization. A figure passed the gap. She saw it quite plainly. The +big, broad-shouldered figure of a man with fair hair and blue eyes. It +was Big Brother Bill. Instinctively she drew back, entirely forgetful +of the fallen tree trunks. Then tragedy came upon her. + +How it happened she didn't know. She afterward felt she never wanted +to know. Something seemed to hit her sharply at the back of the knees. +She remembered that they bent under her. Then, in a second, she found +herself sitting upon the ground with her feet sticking up in the air +in a perfectly ridiculous manner, and, by some horribly mysterious +means, with the support of a fallen sapling pine holding them there. + +At the moment of impact she was too paralyzed with fear to move, then +as a sharp exclamation in a man's deep voice reached her, a wild +terror seized upon her, and, with a violent effort she rolled herself +clear of the log, scrambled to her feet, her dainty frock stained and +torn with her tumble, and fled for dear life down the hill. + +Faster and faster she ran, breaking her way through all obstructing +foliage utterly regardless of the rents she was making in the soft +material of her frock. She felt she dared not pause for anything with +that man behind her. She felt that she hated him worse than anybody in +the world. To think that he must have witnessed her discomfiture, and +worse than all her two absurd feet sticking up in the air like--like +signposts. It was too awful to contemplate. + +She did not pause for breath until she reached the footbridge. Then a +fresh panic set in. She had left the books behind. They were at the +place where she had fallen. + +Oh dear, oh dear! He would find them. He would find her name in them. +He would take them back to Charlie, and her last hope would be gone. +She would undoubtedly be recognized! + +She wanted to burst into tears, then and there, but something inside +her would not permit her such relief. Instead a whimsical humor came +to her aid and she laughed. + +At first her laugh was pathetically near to tears, but the moment of +doubt passed, and the whole humor of the situation took hold of her. +She hurried on home, laughing as she went; and, desperately near +hysterics, she at last burst into her sister's presence. + +Kate was on her feet in an instant. + +"Oh, Kate," she cried, with a wild sort of laughter. "Behold the man +hunter--hunted!" Then she flung herself into a chair, gasping for +breath. + +Kate's anxious eyes took in something of the situation at a glance. + +"Stop that laughing," she cried severely. + +Helen's laugh died out, and she sighed deeply. The next moment she +stood up, and began to smooth out her tattered frock. + +"I'm--all right now--Kate," she said almost humbly. "But----" + +Again Kate took charge of the situation. + +"Go and change your frock before you tell me anything," she said +decidedly. + +Helen was about to protest, but the quiet command of her sister had +its effect. She moved toward the door, and Kate's serious tones +further composed her. + +"Take your time," she said. "You can tell me later." + +Helen left the room, and Kate remained gazing after her at the closed +door. + +But it was only for a few moments. The sound of footsteps approaching +the house startled her. She remembered the torn condition of her +sister's dress. The poor girl had been on the verge of hysterics. "The +man hunter hunted!" she had cried. + +Kate glanced at her revolvers hanging on the wall. Then, with a shrug, +she flung open the door. + +Big Brother Bill was standing outside it. He had removed his hat, and +the evening light was shining on his good-looking fair head. His wide +blue eyes were smiling their most persuasive smile as he held two +books out toward her. + +"I'm fearfully sorry to trouble you, but I was just coming along down +from up there," he pointed back across the river, "and saw a--a lady +suddenly jump up as though she was scared some, and run on down the +hill toward this house. I guessed it must have been a--a rattler +or--or maybe a bear, or something had scared her, so I jumped in +to--to find it. I was too late, however. Couldn't find it. Only found +these two books instead. I just followed the lady on down here, +and--well, I brought 'em along." + +The man's manner was so frankly ingenuous, and his whole air so +hopelessly that of a tenderfoot that Kate recognized him at once. +Instantly she held out her hand with a smile. + +"Thanks, Mr. Bryant. They're my sister's. She was taking them up to +your brother. It's very kind of you to take so much trouble. Won't you +come in, and let her thank you herself? You see, we're great friends +of your brother's. I am Kate Seton, and--the lady you so gallantly +sought to help is my sister--Helen." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +LIGHT-HEARTED SOULS + + +A pair of gray eyes were struggling to glare coldly into a pair of +amiably smiling blue eyes. It was a battle of one against an opponent +who had no idea battle was intended. From the vantage ground of only +partial understanding a pair of dark eyes looked on, smiling with the +wisdom which is ever the claim of the onlooker. + +"This is my sister, Helen, Mr. Bryant," Kate said, with quiet +enjoyment, as her sister, perfectly composed once more, but still +angry with the world in general, abruptly entered the room from that +part of the house where her bedroom was situated. + +As the words fell upon her ears, and she looked into the good-looking, +cheerful face of the man, all Helen's feelings underwent a shock, as +though a mighty seismological upheaval were going on inside her. + +The man who had witnessed her discomfiture--the man who had dared to +be within one hundred miles of her when her daintily shod feet, with +a display of diaphanous stocking, had been waving in the air like two +wobbly semaphores celebrating Dominion Day or the Fourth of July, +or--or something. Those silly looking prying eyes had seen. How dared +he? What right had he to be walking down that particular trail at that +particular moment? How dared he whistle, any way? What right had he in +Rocky Springs? Why--why was he on earth at all? + +At that moment Helen felt that if there was one combination in the +world she disliked more than another it was blue eyes and fair hair. +Yes, and long noses were hateful, too; they were always poking +themselves into other people's business. Big men were always clumsy. +If this man hadn't been clumsy he--he--wouldn't have been there to +see. Yes, she hated this man, and she hated her sister for standing +there looking on, grinning like--like a Cheshire cat. She didn't know +what a Cheshire cat was like, but she was certain it resembled Kate at +that moment. + +"How d'you do?" + +The frigidity of Helen's greeting was a source of dismay to the man, +who had suddenly become aware that she was again dressed in the +tailored suit which had so caught his fancy earlier in the day. His +dismay became evident to Kate, the onlooker. Helen, too, noted the +effect in his sobering eyes, and was resentfully glad. + +"It was a lucky chance my coming along," Bill blundered. "You see, if +the dew had got on these books they'd have got all mussed. Must have +been a sort of fate about my being around, and--and finding 'em for +you." + +"Fate?" sniffed Helen, with the light of battle in her eyes, while +Kate began to laugh. + +"Why, sure," said Bill eagerly. "Don't you believe in fate? I do. +Say," he went on, gaining confidence from the sound of his own voice, +"it was like this. Charlie and I had been talking a piece, and then he +had to go off, and didn't want me. If he had, I should have gone with +him. Instead, I set off by myself, making toward the village. Being a +sort of feller who never sees much but what's straight ahead of him, +it didn't occur to me to look around at things. That's how it was I +didn't see you till I caught sight of your----" + +"You needn't go into details," broke in Helen icily. "I just think it +was hateful your standing there looking on while I fell over that tree +trunk." + +Bill's eyes took on a sudden blank look of bewilderment, which raised +a belated hope in Helen's broken heart, and set Kate chuckling +audibly. + +"Tree trunk?" he exclaimed. "Did you fall? Say, I'm real sorry, +Miss Helen. I surely am. You see, I just caught sight of"--again +came Helen's warning glance, but the man went on without +understanding--"somebody in white, disappearing through the bushes, +on the run. I guessed a rattler, or a bear, or--or something had +got busy scaring you to death. So I jumped right in to fix him. +That's how I found these books," he finished up rather regretfully. +"And I was just feeling good enough to scrap a--a house." + +A thaw had abruptly set in in Helen's frozen feelings. The memory of +those unfortunate feet of hers no longer waved before her mind's eye. +It was fading--fading rapidly. _He had not seen--them._ And as the +frozen particles melted, she could not help noticing what splendidly +cut features the man really had. His nose was really beautifully +shaped. She was glad, too, that his eyes were blue; it was her +favorite color, and went so well with fair hair, especially when it +was slightly wavy. + +She smiled. + +"Won't you sit down awhile?" she inquired, with a sudden access of +graciousness. "You see, we're very unconventional here, and your +brother's a great friend of ours." Then, out of the corners of her +eyes she detected Kate's satirically smiling eyes. She promptly +resolved to get even with her. "Especially Kate's, and--I'll let you +into a secret. A great secret, mind. We knew you were coming +to-day--had arrived, in fact--and Kate's been dying to see you all +day. Said she really couldn't rest till she'd seen Charlie's brother. +Truth." + +Bill lumbered heavily into an ample rocker, and Helen propped herself +upon the table, while Kate, upon whom had descended an avalanche of +displeasure, suddenly bestirred herself. + +"How dare you, Helen?" she cried, in an outraged tone. "You--mustn't +take any notice of her, Mr. Bryant. You see, she isn't +altogether--responsible. She has a naturally truth-loving nature, but +she has somehow become corrupted by contamination with this--this +dreadful village. I--I feel very sorry for her at times," she added, +laughing. "But really it can't be helped. She keeps awful company." + +"Well, I like that," protested Helen, now thoroughly restored to good +humor by the conviction that Big Brother Bill had not witnessed her +shameful trouble. "Mr. Bryant will soon know which of us to believe, +after a statement like that." + +"I always believe everybody." The man laughed heartily. "It saves an +awful lot of trouble." + +"Does it?" inquired Kate, as she slipped quietly into the other +rocker. + +Helen shook her head decidedly. + +"Not when you're living in this 'dump' of a village. Say, Mr. Bryant, +you've heard of Mr. Ananias in the Bible? If you haven't you ought to +have. Well, the people who wrote about him never guessed there was +such a place as Rocky Springs, or they'd sure have choked rather than +have written about such a milk-and-water sort of liar as Mr. Ananias. +Truth, he's not a--circumstance. All you need to believe in Rocky +Springs is what you come up against, and then you don't need to be too +sure you haven't got--visions." + +"Yes, and generally mighty unpleasant--visions," chimed in Kate, with +a laugh. + +Bill's smiling eyes refused to become serious under the portent of +these warnings. + +"Guess I've been around Rocky Springs about five hours, and the +visions I've had, so far, don't seem to worry me a thing," he said. + +Helen smiled. She remembered her first meeting with this man. + +"What were you doing with Fyles to-day?" she inquired unguardedly. + +Bill suddenly brought his fist down on the arm of his rocker. + +"There," he cried, as though he had suddenly made a great discovery. +"I knew it was you I saw on the trail. Why," he added, with guileful +simplicity, "you were wearing that very suit you have on now. Say, +was there ever such a fool, not recognizing you before?" + +Helen was deceived--and so easily. + +"I didn't think you really saw me," she said, without the least shame. +"You were so busy with the--sights." Bill nodded. + +"Yes, we'd just come along down past that mighty big pine. Fyles had +told me it was the landmark. I--I was just thinking about things." + +"Thinking about the old pine?" inquired Helen. + +"Well, not exactly," replied Bill. "Though it's worth it. I mean +thinking about----. You see, a fellow like me don't need to waste many +big thinks. Guess I haven't got 'em to waste," he added deprecatingly. + +Helen shook her head, but her laughing eyes belied the seriousness of +her denial. + +"That's not a bit fair to--yourself," she said. "I just don't believe +you haven't got any big 'thinks.'" + +Bill's manner warmed. + +"Say, that makes me feel sort of glad, Miss Helen. You see, I'm not +such a duffer really. I think an awful lot, and it don't come hard +either. But folks have always told me I'm such a fool, that I've kind +of got into the way of believing it. Now, when I saw that pine and +the valley I felt sort of queer. It struck me then it was sort of +mysterious. Just as though the hand of Fate was groping around and +trying to grab me." + +He reached out one big hand to illustrate his words, and significantly +pawed the air. + +Helen's face wreathed itself in smiles. + +"I know," she declared. "You felt your fate was somehow linked with it +all." + +Kate was gently rocking herself, listening to the light-hearted +inconsequent talk of these two. Now she checked the movement of the +rocker and leaned forward. + +Her eyes were smiling, but her manner was half serious. + +"It's not at all strange to me that that old pine inspired you +with--superstitious feelings," she said. "It has the same effect on +most folks--right back to the old Indian days. You know, there's a +legend attached to it. I don't know where it comes from. Maybe it's +really Indian. Maybe it belongs to the time when King Fisher used to +live in the old Meeting House, before it was a--saloon. I don't know." + +Helen suddenly raised herself to a seat upon the table. Her eyes lit, +and Big Brother Bill, watching her, reveled in the picture she made. +Now he knew her, his first feelings at sight of her on the trail had +received ample confirmation. She surely was one of the most delightful +creatures he had ever met. + +"Oh, Kate, a legend," cried the girl, as she settled herself on the +table. "However did you know about it? You--you never told me." + +Kate shook her head indulgently. + +"I don't tell you everything," she said with mock severity. "You're +too imaginative, too young--too altogether irresponsible. Besides, you +might have nightmare. Anyway most folk know it in the village." + +"Oh, Kate!" + +"Say, tell us, Miss Seton," cried Bill, his big eyes alight with +interest. "If there's one thing I'm crazy on it is legends. I just +love 'em to death." + +"I don't think I ought to tell it in front of Helen," Kate said +mischievously. "She's----" + +Helen sprang from her seat and stood threateningly before her sister. + +"Kate Seton," she cried, "I demand your story." Then she went on +melodramatically, "You've said too much or too little. You've got to +tell it right here and now, or--or I'll never speak to you +again--never," she finished up feebly. + +Kate smiled. + +"What a dreadful threat!" Then she turned to Bill. "Mr. Bryant, I +s'pose I'll have to tell her. You don't know what an awful tempered +woman it is. I really believe it would actually carry out its threat +for--five minutes." + +Bill's good-natured guffaw came readily. + +"I'll back Miss Helen up," he declared promptly. "If you don't tell us +we'll both refrain from speech for--five minutes." + +Kate sighed. + +"Oh, dear. Then I'll have to tell. It's bullying. That's what it is. +But--here goes." + +Helen beamed upon Bill, and the man's blue eyes beamed back again. +While he settled himself in his chair Helen returned to her less +dignified seat upon the table. + +"Let's see," began Kate thoughtfully. "Now, just where does it begin? +Oh, I know. There's a longish rhyme about it, but I can't remember +that. The story of it goes like this. + + "Somewhere away back, a young chief broke away from his + tribe with a number of braves. The young chief had fallen in + love with the squaw of the chief of the tribe, and she with + him. Well, they decided to elope together, and the young + chief's followers decided to go with them, taking their + squaws with them, too. It was decided at their council that + they would break away from the old chief and form themselves + into a sort of nomadic tribe, and wander over the plains, + fighting their way through, until they conquered enough + territory on which to settle, and found a new great race. + + "Well, I guess the young chief was a great warrior, and so + were his braves, and, for awhile, wherever they went they + were victorious, devastating the country by massacre too + terrible to think of. But the chief of the tribe, from which + these warriors had broken away, was also a great and savage + warrior, and when he discovered that his wife was faithless + and had eloped with another, stealing all his best war paint + and fancy bead work, he rose up and used dreadful language, + and gathered his braves together. They set out in pursuit of + the absconders, determined to kill both the wife and her + paramour. + + "To follow the young chief's trail was an easy matter, for + it was a trail of blood and fire, and, after long days of + desperate riding, the pursuers came within striking + distance. Then came the first pitched battle. Both sides + lost heavily, but the fight was indecisive. The result of + it, however, showed the pursuers that they had no light task + before them. The chief harangued his braves, and prepared to + follow up the attack next day. The fugitives, though their + losses had been only proportionate with those of their + pursuers, were not in such good case. Their original numbers + were less than half of their opponents. + + "However, they were great fighters, and took no heed, but + got ready at once for more battle. The young chief, however, + had a streak of caution in him. Maybe he saw what the braves + all missed. If in a fight he lost as many men as his + opponents, and the opponents persisted, why, by the process + of elimination, he would be quietly but surely wiped out. + + "Now, it so happened, he had long since made up his mind to + make his permanent home in the valley of Leaping Creek. He + knew it by repute, and where it lay, and he felt that once + in the dense bush of the valley he would have a great + advantage over the attacks of all pursuers. + + "Therefore, all that night, leaving his dead and wounded + upon the plains, he and his men rode hard for the valley. At + daybreak he saw the great pine that stood up on the horizon, + and he knew that he was within sight of his goal, and, in + consequence, he and his men felt good. + + "But daybreak showed him something else, not so pleasant. He + had by no means stolen a march upon his pursuers. They, too, + had traveled all night, and the second battle began at + sunrise. + + "Again was the fight indecisive, and the young chief was + buoyant, and full of hope. He told himself that that night + should see him and his squaw and his braves safely housed in + the sheltering bush of the valley. But when he came to count + up his survivors he was not so pleased. He had lost nearly + three-quarters of his original numbers, and still there + seemed to be hordes of the pursuers. + + "However, with the remnant of his followers, he set out for + the final ride to the valley that night. Hard on his heels + came the pursuers. Then came the tragedy. Daylight showed + them the elusive pine still far away on the horizon, and his + men and horses were exhausted. He was too great a warrior + not to realize what this meant. There were his pursuers + making ready for the attack, seemingly hundreds of them. + Disaster was hard upon him. + + "So, before the battle began, he took his paramour, and, + before all eyes, he slew her so that his enemy should not + wholly triumph, and incidentally torture her. Then he rose + up, and, in a loud voice, cursed the pine and the valley of + the pine. He called down his gods and spirits to witness + that never, so long as the pine stood, should there be peace + in the valley. Forever it should be the emblem of crime and + disaster beneath its shadow. There should be no happiness, + no prosperity, no peace. So, too, with its final fall should + go the lives of many of those who lived beneath its shadow, + and only with their blood should the valley be purified and + its people washed clean. + + "By the time his curse was finished his enemies had + performed a great enveloping movement. When the circle was + duly completed, then, like vultures swooping down upon their + prey, the attacking Indians fell upon their victims and + completed the massacre. + +"There!" Kate exclaimed. "That's about as I remember it. And a pretty +parlor story it is, isn't it?" + +"I like that feller," declared Bill, with wholesome appreciation. "He +was good grit. A bit of a mean cuss--but good grit." + +But Helen promptly crushed him. + +"I don't think he was at all nice," she cried scornfully. "He deserved +all he got, and--and the woman, too. And anyway, I don't think his +curse amounts to small peas. A man like that--not even his heathen +gods would take any notice of." + +Kate rose from her chair laughing. + +"Tell the boys of this village that. Ask them what they think of the +pine." + +"I've heard Dirty O'Brien say he loves it," protested Helen +obstinately. "Doesn't know how he could get on without it." + +"There, Mr. Bryant, didn't I tell you she kept bad company? Dirty +O'Brien! What a name." Kate looked at the clock. "Good gracious, it's +nearly eight o'clock, and I have--to go out." + +Bill was on his feet in a moment. + +"And all the time I'm supposed to be investigating the village and +making the acquaintance of this very Dirty O'Brien," he said. "You +see, Charlie had to go out, as I told you. He didn't say when he'd +get back. So----." He held out his hand to the elder sister. + +"Did Charlie say--where he was going?" she inquired quickly, as she +shook hands. + +Bill laughed, and shook his head. + +"No," he replied. "And somehow he didn't invite me to ask--either." + +Helen had slid herself off the table. + +"That's what I never can understand about men. If Kate were going +out--and told me she was going, why--I should just demand to know +where, when, how, and why, and every other old thing a curious +feminine mind could think of in the way of cross-examination. But +there, men surely are queer folks." + +"Good-bye, Mr. Bryant," said Kate. She had suddenly lost something of +her lightness. Her dark eyes had become very thoughtful. + +Helen, on the contrary, was bubbling over with high spirits, and was +loath to part from their new acquaintance. + +"I hated your coming, Mr. Bryant," she explained radiantly. "I tell +you so frankly. Some day, when I know you a heap better, I'll tell you +why," she added mysteriously. "But I'm glad now you came. And thank +you for bringing the books. You'll like Dirty O'Brien. He's an awful +scallywag, but he's--well, he's so quaint. I like him--and his +language is simply awful. Good night." + +"Good night." + +Bill held the girl's hand a moment or two longer than was necessary. +It was such a little brown hand, and seemed almost swamped in his +great palm. He released it at last, however, and smiled into her sunny +gray eyes. + +"I'm glad you feel that way. You know I have a sort of sneaking regard +for the feller who can forget good talk, and--and explode a bit. I--I +can do it myself--at times." + +Helen stood at the door as the man took his departure. The evening was +still quite light, and Bill, looking back to wave a farewell, fell +further as a victim to the picture she made in the framing of the +doorway. + +Helen turned back as he passed from view. + +"You going out, Kate, dear?" she asked quickly. + +Kate nodded. + +"Where?" + +"Out." + +And somehow Helen forgot all the other inquiries she might have made. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE HOUSE OF DIRTY O'BRIEN + + +It was late at night. The yellow lamplight left hard faces almost +repulsive under the fantastic shadows it so fitfully impressed upon +them. The low-ceiled room, too, gained in its sordid aspect. An +atmosphere of moral degradation looked out from every shadowy corner, +claiming the features of everybody who came within the dull radiance +of the two cheap oil lamps swinging from the rafters. + +Dirty O'Brien's saloon was a fitting setting for a proprietor with +such a name. Crime of every sort was suggested in its atmosphere at +all time; but at night, when the two oil lamps, with their smoky +chimneys, were burning, when drink was flowing, when the room was full +of rough bechapped men belonging to the valley, with their long hair, +their unwashed skins, their frowsy garments, and the firearms adorning +their persons, when strident voices kept up an almost continual +babel of coarse oaths, interlarded with rough laughter, or deadly +quarrelings, when the permeation of alcohol had done its work and left +its victims in a condition when self-control, at all times weak enough +in these untamed citizens, was at its lowest ebb, then indeed the +stranger, unaccustomed to such sights and sounds, might well feel that +at last a cesspool of civilization had been reached. + +The room was large in floor space, but the bark-covered rafters, +frowsy with cobwebs, were scarcely more than two feet above the head +of a six-foot man. The roof was on a gradual, flat slope from the bar +to the front door, which was flanked by windows on either side of it. +So low were the latter set, and so small were they, that a well-grown +man must have stooped low to peer through the befouled glass panes. +The walls of the building were of heavy lateral logs bare as the day +they were set up, except for a coating of whitewash which must have +stood the wear of at least ten years. + +The evening had been a long and noisy one; longer and noisier than +usual. For a note of alarm had swept through the town--an alarm +which, in natures as savage and unscrupulous as those of the citizens +of the valley, promptly aroused the desperate fighting spirit always +pretty near the surface. + +The gathering was pretty well representative of the place. The bar had +been crowded all night. Some of the men were plain townsmen belonging +to the purely commercial side of the place, and these were clad as +became citizens of any little western township. But they were the very +small minority, and had no particularly elevating effect upon the +aspect of the gathering. Far and away the majority were of the +prairie, men from outlying farms and ranches, whose hard, bronzed +features and toil-stained kits, marked them out as legitimate workers +who found their recreation in the foul purlieus of this drinking +booth merely from lack of anything more enticing. Then, too, a few +dusky-visaged, lank-haired creatures wearing the semi-barbaric costume +of the prairie half-breed found a place in the gathering. + +But none of these were the loud-voiced, hard-swearing complainants. +That was left to a section of the citizens of the town who had +everything in the world to lose by the coming of the police. As the +evening wore on these gradually drew everybody's interest in the +matter, until the stirring of passions raised the babel of tongues to +an almost intolerable clamor. + +Dirty O'Brien, sinister and cynical, stood behind his bar serving +every customer with a rapidity and nonchalance which the presence of +the police in the place could never disturb. But the situation was +well within his grasp. On this particular night his mandate had gone +forth, and, in his own bar, he was an absolute autocrat. Each drink +served must be devoured at once, and the empty glass promptly passed +back across the counter. These were hastily borne off by an assistant +to an adjoining room, where, in secret cupboards let into the sod +partition wall, the kegs of smuggled spirit were secreted. All drinks +were poured out in this room, and, on the first alarm, the secret +cupboards could be hidden up, and all sign of the traffic concealed. +Then there was nothing left to be seen but the musty display of +temperance drinks on the shelves behind the bar, and a barrel of four +per cent. beer, for the dispensing of which the existence of these +prohibition saloons was tolerated and licensed by the Government. + +Dirty O'Brien knew the law to the last word. He only came up against +it when caught in the act of selling spirits. This was scarcely likely +to happen. He was far too astute. His only danger was a trap customer, +and the difficulties and dangers of attempting such a course, even the +most foolhardy would scarcely dare to risk in a place as untamed as +Rocky Springs. + +Even the wildest spirits, however, were bound to reach their limit +of protest against this new move of the authorities, and by midnight +the majority of the customers had taken their departure from Dirty +O'Brien's booth. Thus, when the small hours crept on, only a trifling +gathering of his regular patrons still remained behind. + +The air of the place was utterly foul. The stench of tobacco smoke +blending with the fumes of liquor left it nauseating. In the farthest +corner of the room, just beside one of the windows, a group of four +men were playing draw poker, and with these were Kate's two hired men, +Nick Devereux, with his vulture head and long lean neck, and Pete +Clancy, the half-breed, whose cadaverous cheeks and furtive eye marked +him out as a man of desperate purpose. + +At another table Kid Blaney was amusing himself with a pack of cards, +betting on the turn-up with the well-known badman, Stormy Longton. For +the rest there was a group of citizens lounging against the bar, still +discussing with the proprietor the possibilities of the newly created +situation. These were the postmaster, Allan Dy, and Billy Unguin, the +dry-goods man, and the patriarch church robber known as Holy Dick. The +only other occupant of the bar was Charlie Bryant. + +He had come there earlier in the evening for no other purpose than to +hear how the town was taking the arrival of the police, and to glean, +if possible, any news of the contemplated movements of Stanley Fyles. +This had been his purpose, and for some time he had resisted all other +temptation. Nor, apart from his weakness, was he without considerable +added temptation. Dirty O'Brien displayed a marked geniality toward +him the moment he came in, and, by every consummate art of which he +was master, sought to break through the man's resolve. + +Charlie fell. Of course he fell, as in the end O'Brien knew he would. +And, once having fallen, he lingered on and on, drinking all that came +his way with that insatiable craving, which, once indulged, never left +him a moment's peace. + +Now, silent, resentful, but only partially under the influence of +liquor, he was sitting upon the edge of the wooden coal box which +stood against the wall at the end of the counter. His legs were +outspread along the top of its side, and his back was resting against +the counter itself. His eyes were bright with that peculiar luster +inspired by a brain artificially stimulated. They were slightly +puffed, but otherwise his boyish features bore no sign of his +libations. One peculiarity, however, suggested a change in him. The +womanish delicacy of his lips had somehow gone, and now they protruded +sensually as he sucked at a cheap cigarette. + +Although these were only slight changes in Charlie's appearance, they +nevertheless possessed a strangely brutalizing effect upon the +refinement of his handsome face. And, added to them was an air of +moroseness, of cold reserve, that suggested nothing so much as +impotent resentment at the conditions under which he found himself. + +Without any appearance of interest he was listening to the talk of +those at the bar. And somehow, though his back was turned toward him, +O'Brien, judging by the frequency with which his quick-moving eyes +flashed in his direction, was aware of his real interest, and was +looking for some sign whereby he might draw him into the talk. But the +sign did not come, and the saloonkeeper was left without the least +encouragement. + +Finally, however, O'Brien made a direct attempt. He was standing a +round of drinks and included in his invitation the man on the coal +box. He passed him a glass of whisky. + +"Have another," he said, in his short way. Then he added: "On me." + +Charlie thanked him curtly, and took the drink. He drank it at a gulp +and passed the glass back. But his general attitude underwent no +change. His eyes remained morosely fixed upon the poker players. + +Billy Unguin winked significantly at O'Brien and glanced at Charlie. + +"Queer cuss," he said, under his breath. Then he turned to Allen Dy, +as though imparting news: "Drinks alone--always alone." + +Dy nodded comprehendingly. + +"Sure sign of a drunkard," he returned wisely, in a similar undertone. + +O'Brien smiled. He was about to give vent to one of his coldest +cynicisms, when Nick Devereux looked over from the card table and +claimed him. + +"Say, Dirty," he drawled, in his rather musical southern accent, +"wher' in hell is Fyles located anyhow? There's been a mighty piece +of big talk goin' on, but none of us ain't seen him. Big talk makes +me sick." He spat on the floor as though to emphasize his disgust. + +"He's around anyways," O'Brien returned coldly. "I've seen him right +here. After that he rode east. One of the boys see him pick up +Sergeant McBain an' two troopers. Will that do you?" he inquired +sarcastically. + +Nick picked up a fresh hand of cards. + +"Have to--till I see him," he said savagely. + +"Oh, you'll see him all right--all right," O'Brien returned with a +laugh, while the men at the bar grinned over at the card players. +"Guess you boys'll see him later--all you need." Then his eyes flashed +in Charlie's direction, and he winked at those near him. "Maybe some +folks around here'll hate the sight of him before long." + +Pete looked up, turning his cruel eyes with a malicious grin on +O'Brien. + +"Guess there's more than us boys goin' to see him if there's trouble +busy. Say, I don't guess there's a heap of folk 'ud fancy Fyles +sittin' around their winter stoves in this city." + +"Or summer stoves either," chuckled Holy Dick, craning round so that +his gray hair revealed the dirty collar on his soft shirt. + +Stormy Longton glanced over quickly, while the kid shuffled the cards. + +"Who cares a curse for red-coats?" he snorted fiercely, his keen, +scarred face flushing violently, his steel-gray eyes shining like +silver tinsel. "If Fyles and his boys butt in there'll be a dandy +bunch of lead flying around Rocky Springs. Maybe it won't drop from +the sky neither. There's fools who reckon when it comes to shooting +that fair play's a jewel. Wal, when I'm up against police butters-in, +or any vermin like that, I leave my jewelry right home." + +O'Brien chuckled voicelessly. + +"Gas," he cried, in his cutting way. "Hot air, an'--gas. I tell you +right here, Fyles and his crowd have got crooks beat to death in this +country. I'll tell you more, it's only because this country's so +mighty wide and big, crooks have got any chance of dodging the +penitentiary at all. I tell you, you folks ain't got an eye open at +all, if you can't see how things are. If I was handing advice, I'd say +to crooks, quit your ways an' run straight awhiles, if you don't fancy +a striped suit. The red-coats are jest runnin' this country through a +sieve, and when they're done they'll grab the odd rock, which are the +crooks, and hide 'em away a few years. You can't beat 'em, and Fyles +is the daddy of the outfit. No, sir, crooks are beat--beat to death." + +Then his eyes shot a furtive look in Charlie's direction. + +"The sharps ain't in such bad case," he went on. "I'd say it's the +sharps are worrying the p'lice about now. The prohibition law has got +'em plumb on edge. The other things are dead easy to 'em. You see, a +feller shoots up another and they're after him, red hot on his trail. +They'll get him sure--in the end, because he's wanted at any time or +place. It's different running whisky. They got to get the fellow in +the act o' running it. They can't touch him five minutes after he's +cached it safe--not if they know he's run it. If they find his cache +they can spill the liquor, but still they can't touch him. That's +where the sharps ha' got Fyles beat." + +He chuckled sardonically. + +"Guess I'd sooner be a whisky-running sharp than be a crook with Fyles +on my trail," he added as an afterthought. + +"An' he's after the sharps most now," suggested Holy Dick, with a +contemplative eye on Charlie. + +A laugh came from the poker table. Holy Dick glanced round as a harsh +voice commented---- + +"Feelin' glad, ain't you, Holy?" it said. + +Holy Dick spat. + +"I'd feel gladder, Pete Clancy, if I could put him wise to some o' the +whisky sharps," said the old man vindictively. "Maybe it would sheer +him off Rocky Springs." + +The man's eyes were snapping for all the mildness of his words. + +O'Brien replied before Pete could summon his angry retort. + +"There's a good many sharps in the game in this town, and I don't +guess it would be a gay day for the feller that put any of 'em away. +Not that I think anybody could, by reason of the feller that runs the +gang. Look at that train 'hold-up' at White Point. Was there ever such +a bright play? I tell you, whoever runs that gang is a wise guy. He's +ten points flyer than Master Stanley Fyles. Say, Fyles was waiting for +that cargo at Amberley, and here are you boys, drinking some of it +right here, and with him around the town, too. Say, the boss of that +gang is a bright boy." + +He sighed as though regretful that so much cleverness should have +passed him by in favor of another, and again his gaze wandered in +Charlie's direction. + +"Well, I'm glad I'm not a--sharp," said Billy Unguin, preparing to +depart. "Come on, Allan," he went on to the postmaster. "It's past +midnight and----" + +O'Brien chuckled. + +"There's the old woman waiting." + +Billy nodded good-naturedly, and the two passed out with a brief "good +night." + +When they had gone Holy Dick leaned across the bar confidentially. + +"Who'd _you_ guess is the boss of the gang?" he inquired. + +O'Brien shook his head. + +"Can't say," he said, with a knowing wink. "All I know is I can lay +hands on all the liquor I need right here in this town, and I'm +dealing direct with the boss. When the money's up right, the liquor's +laid any place you select. He don't give himself away to any customer. +He's the smartest guy this side of hell. He's right here all the time, +jest one of the boys, and we don't know who he is." + +"No one's ever seen him--except his gang," murmured Holy, with a +smile. "Guess they wouldn't give him away neither." + +Stormy Longton and the Kid arose from their table and demanded a final +drink. O'Brien served them and they took their departure. + +"I sort of fancy I saw him once," said O'Brien, in answer to Holy +Dick's remark. + +He spoke loudly, and his eyes again took in the silent Charlie in +their roving glance. At that instant the poker game broke up, and the +men gathered at the bar. + +"What's he like?" demanded Nick derisively. + +"Guess he's a hell of a man," laughed Pete sarcastically. + +O'Brien eyed his interlocutors coldly. He had no liking for men with +color in them. They always roused the worst side of his none too easy +nature. + +"Wal," he said frigidly, "I ain't sure. But, if I'm right, he ain't +such a hell of a feller. He ain't a giant. Kind o' small. All his +smartness wrapped in a little bundle. Sort o' refined-looking. Make a +dandy fine angel--to look at. Bit of a swell sharp. Got education bad. +But he ain't got swells around him. Not by a sight. His gang are the +lowest down bums I ever heard tell of. Say, they're that low I'd hate +to drink out of the same glass as any one of them." He picked up +Pete's glass and dipped it in water, and began to wipe it. "It 'ud +need to be mighty well cleaned first--like I'm doing this one." + +His manner and action were a studied insult, which neither Pete nor +Nick attempted to take up. But Holy Dick's grin drew threatening +glances. Somehow, however, even in his direction neither made any +more aggressive movement. Toughs as they were, these two men fully +appreciated the company they were in. Holy Dick was one of the most +desperate men in Rocky Springs, and, as for O'Brien, well, no one had +ever been known to get "gay" with Dirty O'Brien and come off best. + +Pete strove to grin the insult aside. + +"Wal," he said, with a yawn, "I guess Fyles has 'some' feller to +handle, if your yarn's right, Dirty. Blankets fer mine and--right now. +Comin', Nick? An' you boys? Nick an' me are hayin' bright an' early +to-morrer mornin'," he added with a laugh, as he moved toward the +door. + +The others slouched after him and with them went the cold voice of +O'Brien. + +"You an' Nick hayin' is good--mighty good," he said, with a sneer. +"Nigh as good as Satin poppin' corn at a Sunday School tea." + +"Or Dirty O'Brien handin' out scripture readin's in the same layout," +retorted Pete, as he followed his companions out of the door. + +Holy Dick ordered a "night-cap." + +"Them two fellers make me hot as hell," cried O'Brien fiercely, as he +dashed the whisky into Holy's glass from a bottle under the counter. + +"Ther', Holy, drink up, and git. I'm quittin' right now," he added. +"Say, I'm just sick to death handin' out drinks this day." + +Holy Dick grinned, his bloodshot eyes twinkling with an evil leer, +which was never far from their expression. + +"With things sportin' busy as they done to-day, guess you won't need +to keep at it long. Say, Fyles has brought you dollars an' dollars." + +The old rascal gulped down his drink and slouched out of the bar +chuckling. He was always an amiable villain--until roused. + +As the door closed behind him O'Brien leaned on his bar, and looked +over at the back view of the still recumbent figure of Charlie Bryant. + +"I was thinkin' of closin' down, Charlie," he said quietly. + +Charlie looked around. Then, when he became aware that the room was +entirely empty, he sprang up with a sudden start. + +He looked dazed. But, after a moment, his confusion slowly faded out, +and he looked into the grinning eyes of probably the shrewdest man in +the valley. + +"Feelin' good?" suggested the saloonkeeper. "Have a 'night-cap'?" + +Charlie raised one delicate hand and passed it wearily across his +forehead. As it passed once more that eager craving lit his eyes. His +reply came almost roughly. + +"Hell--yes," he cried. Then he laughed idiotically. + +O'Brien poured out a double drink and passed it across to him. He took +a drink himself. He watched the other as he greedily swallowed the +spirit. Then he drank his more slowly. It was only the second drink he +had taken that day. + +"Say, I'm runnin' out of rye and brandy," he said, setting his glass +in the bucket under the counter, and picking up Charlie's. "Guess I +need 10 brandy and 20 rye--right away." + +He was wiping the glasses deliberately, and paused as though in some +doubt before he went on. But Charlie made no effort to encourage him. +Only in his eyes was a faint, growing smile, the meaning of which was +not quite apparent. + +"I left the order--with the dollars--same place," O'Brien went on +presently. "Same old spot," he added with a grin. + +Charlie's smile had broadened. A whimsical humor was peeping out of +his half-drunken eyes. + +"Sure," he nodded. "Same old spot." + +O'Brien set his glasses aside. + +"I need it right away. I'd like it laid in my barn, 'stead of +the--usual spot. I wrote that on my order. Makes it easier--with Fyles +around." + +Again Charlie nodded. + +"Sure," he agreed briefly. + +O'Brien found himself responding to the other's smile. + +These whisky-runners meant everything to him, and he felt it incumbent +upon him to display his most amiable side. + +"Say," he chuckled, "the bark of the old tree's held some dollars of +mine in its time. It's a hell of a good thing that tree has a yarn to +it. The folks 'ud sure fetch it down for the new church if it hadn't. +I'd say it would be awkward. We'd need a new cache for our orders +and--dollars." + +Charlie shook his head. + +"Guess they won't cut it down," he said easily. "They're scared of the +superstition." + +O'Brien abandoned his smile and became confidential. + +"Ain't you--worried some, Fyles gettin' around?" + +For a moment Charlie made no answer. The smile abruptly died out of +his eyes, and a marked change came over his whole expression. He +suddenly seemed to be making an effort to throw off the effects of the +whisky he had consumed. He straightened himself up, and his mouth +hardened. The cigarette lolling between his lips became firmly +gripped. O'Brien, watching the change in him, suddenly saw his hands +clench at his sides, and understood the sudden access of resentment +which the mention of Fyles's name stirred in the man. He read into +what he beheld something of the real character of the "sharp," as he +understood it. + +Charlie's reply came at last. It came briefly and coldly, and O'Brien +felt the sting of the rebuff. + +"Guess I can look after myself," he said. + +Then, without another word, he turned away, and walked out of the +saloon. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +ADVENTURES IN THE NIGHT + + +Big Brother Bill changed his mind after all. He did not go to +O'Brien's saloon. At least not when he left the Seton's house. Truth +to tell, his unanticipated visit to Helen Seton's home had inspired +him with a distaste for exploring the less savory corners of this +beautiful valley. For the time, at least, it had become a sort of +Garden of Eden, in which he had discovered his Eve, and he had no +desire to dispel the illusion by unnecessary contact with a grade of +creatures whose existence therein could only mar the beauties and +delights of his dream. + +So, instead of carrying out his original intention, full of pleasant +dreaming, he made his way back toward his brother's home, hoping to +find him returned so that he could pour out his enthusiastic feelings +for the benefit of ears he felt would be sympathetic. + +As he came to the clearing where he had first discovered Helen, +however, his purpose underwent a further modification. His sentimental +feelings getting the better of him, he sat down upon the very log over +which the girl had fallen, and turned his face toward where the little +home of the girls, with its single twinkling light, was rapidly losing +itself in the deep of the gathering twilight. + +He had no thought for the elder girl as he sat there. Her bolder +beauty had no attraction for him, her big, dark eyes, so full of +reliant spirit were scarcely the type he admired. She might be +everything a woman should be, strong, sympathetic, generous, big in +spirit, and of unusual courage; she might be all these and more, but, +even so, she was incomparable to the fair delight of Helen's bright, +inconsequent prettiness. No, serious-minded people did not appeal to +him, and, in his blundering way, he told himself that life itself was +far too serious to be taken seriously. + +Now Helen was full to the brim of a flippant, girlish humor that +appealed to him monstrously. He felt that it was a man's place to +think seriously, if serious thought were needed. And he intended when +he married to do the thinking. His wife must be wholly delightful and +feminine, in fact, just as Helen was. Pretty, laughing, smartly +dressed, and always preferring to lean on his decisions rather than +indulge in the manufacture of wrinkles on her pretty forehead striving +to find them for herself. + +He felt sure that Helen would make a perfect wife for a man like +himself. Particularly now, as she was used to the life of the valley. +And, furthermore, he felt that a wife such as she would be essential +to him, since he had definitely come to live as a rancher. + +She certainly would be an ideal rancher's wife. He could picture her +quite well mounted upon a high-spirited prairie-bred horse, riding +over the plains, or round the fences, since that seemed necessary, at +his side. He would listen to her merry chatter as he inspected the +work that was going forward, while she, simply bubbling with the joy +of living, looked on with a perfect sense of humor for those things +which her more sober-minded sister would have regarded as matters only +for serious consideration. + +Thus he went on dreaming, his eyes fixed upon the distant, lamp-lit +window, all utterly regardless of the fall of night, and the passing +of the hours. Nor was it until he suddenly awoke to the chill of the +falling dew that he remembered that he was on his way home to tell +Charlie of all his pleasant adventures. + +Stirring with that swift impulse which always seemed to actuate him, +he rose from his seat on the log and stumbled across the clearing, +floundering among the fallen logs with a desperate energy that cost +him many more bruises than were necessary, even in the profound +darkness of the, as yet, moonless night. + +Finally, however, he reached the track which led up to the house and +hurried on. + +A few minutes later he was wandering through the house searching in +the darkened rooms for his brother. It was characteristic of him that +he did not confine his search to the house, but sought the missing man +in every unlikely spot his vigorous and errant imagination could +suggest. He visited the corrals, he visited the barn, he visited the +hog pens and the chicken roosts. Then he brought up to a final halt +upon the veranda and sought to solve the problem by thought. + +There was, of course, an obvious solution which did not occur to +him. He might reasonably have sought his bed, and waited until +morning--since Charlie had survived five years of life in the valley. +That was not his way, however. Instead, a great inspiration came to +him. It was an inspiration which he viewed with profound admiration. +Of course, he ought to have gone at once to the village, as he had +intended, and have visited O'Brien's saloon. + +Forthwith he once more set out, and this time, his purpose being +really definite, after much unnecessary wandering he finally achieved +it. + +He reached the saloon as O'Brien was in the act of turning out the two +swing lamps. Already one of them was turned low, and the saloonkeeper, +with distended cheeks, was in the act of putting an end to its +flickering life when Bill flung open the door. + +O'Brien turned abruptly. He turned with that air which is never far +from his class, living on the fringe of civilization. His whole look, +his attitude, was a truculent demand, and had it found its equivalent +in words he would have asked sharply: "What in hell d'you want here?" + +But the significance of his attitude quite passed Big Brother Bill by. +Had he understood it, it would have made no difference to him +whatever. But that was his way. He never saw much more than a single +purpose ahead of him, and possessed an indestructible conviction of +his ability to carry it out, even in the face of superlative or even +overwhelming odds. + +He walked into the meanly lighted saloon, while O'Brien reluctantly +turned up the light again. For a moment the saloonkeeper's shrewd eyes +surveyed the newcomer, and, as they did so, a quiet, derisive contempt +slowly curled his thin lips. + +"Wal?" he inquired, in the harsh drawl Bill was beginning to get +accustomed to since he had traveled so far from his eastern home. + +Bill laughed. He always seemed ready to laugh. + +"Guess I don't seem to have come along at the best time," he said, +glancing at the lamp above O'Brien. "Say, I'm sorry to have troubled +you. I thought maybe my brother was down here. I'm Bill Bryant, and +I'm looking for Charlie--my brother. Has--has he been along here +to-night?" + +The man's big blue eyes glanced swiftly around the squalid, empty +interior. It was the first time he had been inside a western saloon of +this class, and he was interested. + +Meanwhile O'Brien had taken him in from head to foot, and the growing +smile in his eyes expressed his opinion of what he beheld. + +"You're Charlie Bryant's brother, eh?" he said contemplatively. "Guess +I sure heard you was around. Wal, since you're lookin' fer Charlie, +you'd better go lookin' a bit farther. He was around, but he's quit +half an hour since. I'd surely say ef you ain't built in the natur' of +a cat, or you ain't a walkin' microscope, you best wait till daylight +to find Charlie. There's more folks than you'd like to find Charlie at +night, but most of 'em ain't gifted with second sight. Say, seein' +you're his brother, an' ain't one of them other folk, I'll admit +you're more likely to find him somewhere around the old pine just now +than anywhere else. And, likewise, seein' you're his brother, you'd +better not open your face wider than Providence makes necessary--till +you've found him." + +O'Brien's manner rather pleased the simple easterner, for his unspoken +contempt was beyond the reach of the latter's understanding. He smiled +his perfect amiability. + +"Thanks," he cried readily. "I've got to go that way back, so I'll +chase around there." He half turned away, as though about to depart, +but turned again immediately. "It's that pine up on the side of the +valley, isn't it?" he questioned doubtfully. + +"There's only one pine in this valley--yes." + +O'Brien's hand was again raised toward the lamp. + +"I see." Bill nodded. Then, "What's he doing there?" he asked sharply. +A thought had occurred to him. It was one which contained a faint +suspicion. + +The other looked him squarely in the eyes. Then a sort of voiceless +chuckle shook his broad shoulders. + +"Doin'? Wal, I guess he ain't sparkin' any lady friend, and I don't +calc'late he's holdin' any conversazione with Fyles and his crew." +O'Brien's amusement had spread to his features, and Bill found himself +wondering as to what internal trouble he was suffering from. "Charlie +Bryant, bein' a rancher, guess he's roundin' up a bunch of 'strays.' +Y'see, he's got a few greenback stock he's mighty pertickler about. +They was last seen around that pine." + +Bill stared. + +"Greenbacked--cattle?" he exclaimed incredulously. + +O'Brien laughed outright, and Bill was no longer left in doubt as to +his malady. + +"They're a fancy breed," the saloonkeeper declared, "and kind of rare +hereabouts. They come from Ottawa way. The States breed 'em, too. +Guess I'll say good night." + +Bill was left with no alternative but to take his departure, for +O'Brien, with scant courtesy, extinguished the light overhead and +crossed to the second lamp. His visitor made for the door, and, as he +reached it, a flash of inspiration came to him. This man was making +fun of him, of his inexperience. Of course. He was half inclined to +get angry, but changed his mind, and, instead, turned with a +good-natured laugh as he reached the door. + +"I see," he cried. "You mean dollars, eh? Charlie's collecting some +dollars--some one owes him? For the moment I thought you were talking +of cattle--greenbacked cattle. Guess you surely have the laugh on me." + +O'Brien nodded. + +"That's so," he admitted, and Bill closed the door behind him as the +saloonkeeper extinguished the second lamp. + +Big Brother Bill hurried away in the darkness. He swung along with +long, powerful strides that roused dull echoes as he moved down the +wide, wood-lined trail. It seemed to him that he had been wandering +around the village for hours, the place was growing so ridiculously +familiar. + +Nor was it until he reached the spot where the trail divided that +he realized what a perfect fool the saloonkeeper had made of him. +It always took a long time for such things to filter through his +good-natured brain. Now, however, he grew angry--really very angry, +and, for a moment, even considered the advisability of turning back to +tell the man what he thought of him. + +After a few moments' consideration better counsel prevailed, and he +continued on his way, his thoughts filled with a great pity for a mind +so small as to delight in such a cheap sort of humor. No doubt it was +his own fault. Somehow or other he generally managed to impress people +with the conviction that he was a fool. But he wasn't a fool by any +means. No, not by any means. What was more, before he had done with +Rocky Springs he would show some of them. He would show Mr. O'Brien. +Greenbacked cattle! The thought thoroughly annoyed him. + +But, as he clambered up the hill toward the pine, his heat moderated, +and his thoughts turned upon Charlie again. He remembered that he was +collecting money, and quite suddenly it occurred to him as strange +that he should be doing so as this time of night, and in the +neighborhood of the pine. In the light of greenbacked cattle, that, +too, seemed like perfect nonsense, unless, of course, some one were +living in the neighborhood of the tree. He could not remember to have +seen a house there. Wait a minute. Yes, there was. A smallish log +building, not far from the new church. + +Of course. That was it. Why hadn't that fool O'Brien said so right out +instead of leaving him guessing? Yes, he would call at that house +on----. Hallo, what was that? + +A great dull yellow light was gleaming through the foliage ahead. A +beautiful golden light. Bill laughed abruptly. It was the full moon +just appearing on the horizon. For the moment he had not recognized +it. + +Now it held his attention completely. What a beautiful scene it made, +lighting up the shadowy foliage. His mind went back to the Biblical +story of the burning bush. He found himself wondering if it were like +that. Much brighter, of course. But how green it looked, and how +intensely it threw the thinner foliage into relief. What a pity Helen +Seton wasn't there to see it! It would appeal to her, he was sure. +Pretty name, Helen Seton. + +From this point, as he toiled up the hill, his thoughts became +engrossed with the girl who had been so angry with him at first. He +wished he could find some excuse for seeing her again that night. But, +of course, that was---- + +He suddenly stopped dead, and his train of thought ended. There was +the great pine ahead of him right in the back of the moonlight. +There, too, was the figure of a man standing silhouetted against the +great ball of golden light as it rose slowly above the horizon. + +Charlie! Yes, of course it was Charlie. There could be no doubt. The +slight figure was unmistakable. Even at that distance he was certain +he could make out his dark hair. + +In a moment he was hailing the distant figure. + +"Ho, Charlie!" he cried. + +But his greeting met with an unexpected result. The figure vanished as +if by magic, and he was left at a loss to understand. + +Then further astonishment came to him. There was a sharp rustling of +bush, and breaking of twigs close by, and the sound of heavy, plodding +hoofs. The next moment two horsemen broke from the dense cover about +him, and flung out of the saddle. + +"Darnation take it, what in blazes are you shouting around for at this +hour of the night?" + +Inspector Fyles stood confronting the astounded man. Beside him stood +another man in uniform, with three gold stripes on his arm. It was +Sergeant McBain. + +In spite of his recognition of the Inspector, Bill's anger rose +swiftly, and his great muscles were set tingling at the man's words +and tone. + +"'Struth!" he cried in exasperation. "This is a free country, isn't +it? If I need to shout it's none of your damn business. What in the +name of all that's holy has it got to do with you? I saw my brother +ahead, and was hailing him. Well?" + +Bill's eyes were fiercely alight. He and Fyles stood eye to eye for a +moment. Then the latter's resentment seemed to suddenly die out. + +"Say, I'm sorry, Mr. Bryant," he apologized. "I just didn't recognize +you in the darkness. Guess I thought you were some tough from the +saloon. That was your brother--ahead?" + +Fyles's calm, clean-cut features were in strong contrast to his +subordinate's. He was smiling slightly, too. Sergeant McBain was +wholly grim. + +Bill glanced from one to the other. + +"Of course it was my brother," he said, promptly, mollified by the +officer's expression of regret. "I've been chasing him half the night. +You see, O'Brien told me he was up this way, and when I sighted him +yonder by the pine, I----" + +He broke off. He had suddenly remembered O'Brien's warning. He had an +uncomfortable feeling that he had opened his mouth very wide. Far +wider than Providence had made necessary. + +"You----?" + +Fyles was distinctly smiling as he urged him. + +But Bill had no intention of blundering further. He laughed, but +without his usual buoyancy. + +"Say, what are _you_ doing up here?" he demanded, seeking to turn the +tables on the officer. "Rounding up 'strays'?" + +At that moment a black cloud swept swiftly across the face of the +moon. And though Fyles's smile had broadened at the other's clumsy +attempt at subterfuge, it was quite lost upon Bill in the darkness. + +Fyles glanced quickly at the sky. + +"Storm," he said. Then he turned back to his questioner. "Why, I guess +I'm always chasing 'strays.' They're toughs mostly--pretty bad 'uns, +too." Then he laughed audibly. "Makes me laugh," he went on. "I've +been tracking the fellow for quite a piece. And all the time he's your +brother. You're sure?" + +Bill nodded. He was still feeling uncomfortable. + +"I'm glad you saw him," Fyles went on at once. "It's put us wise. We +don't need to waste any more time. It's lucky, with a storm coming on. +Guess we'll get right back, McBain," he added, turning to his +companion. + +Fyles had no more difficulty in fooling the guileless Bill than +O'Brien had. + +"Going home?" Bill inquired of the officer as the latter turned to his +horse. + +"Sure." + +"Me, too." + +Fyles leaped into the saddle. McBain, too, had mounted. + +"Best hurry," said Fyles, with another quick glance at the sky. "We +get sharpish storms hereabouts in summer. You'll be drowned else. So +long." + +Bill moved away. + +"So long," he cried, relieved at the parting. "I haven't far to go, +but since you reckon a storm's getting busy I'll take a cut through +the bush. It'll be quicker that way." + +As he thrust his way into the bush he glanced back at the two +policemen. They were both in the saddle watching him. Neither made any +attempt at the hasty departure the Inspector had suggested. + +However, their attitudes gave him no uneasiness. Truth to tell, he did +not realize any significance. The one thing that did concern him and +trouble him was that he somehow felt convinced that he had committed +the very indiscretion O'Brien had warned him against. + +The whole thing was very disquieting. An air of mystery seemed to have +suddenly surrounded him, and he hated mystery. Why should there be any +mystery? If there was one thing he delighted in more than another, it +was the thought that his life was all in the open. The broad daylight +could search the innermost corners of his every action. He had nothing +in the world to hide. Why then should he suddenly find himself +actively concerned with this atmosphere of mystery which had suddenly +closed about him? + +But Bill had not done with the mistakes of the evening. He made +another one now--in leaving the trail. + +Within five minutes of leaving the two police officers he found +himself blindly floundering his way through an inky forest. The sky +was jet black. The moon had long since switched off her light. The +last star had concealed its twinkle behind the banking clouds of the +summer storm. Now great warm splashes of rain had begun to fall. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +FURTHER ADVENTURES + + +Half an hour later tragedy befell. + +Drenched to the skin, blinded by the deluge of torrential rain, +thoroughly confused beyond all recognition of his whereabouts in the +tangle of bush through which he was thrusting his way, all his senses +dazed by the fierce overhead detonations, and the streams of blazing +fire splitting the black vault above, Big Brother Bill beat his way +along the path of least resistance by sheer physical might. + +All idea of direction had left him. Up hill or down hill had become +one and the same to him. He felt he must keep moving, must press on, +and, in the end, he would reach his destination. + +At last, almost wearied out by his efforts, he came to a definite halt +in a bush that seemed to afford no outlet whatsoever. Even the way he +had entered it was lost, for the heavy foliaged boughs had closed in +behind him in the darkness, utterly cutting off his retreat. + +For a moment he stood like an infuriated steer at bay, caught in the +narrow branding "pinch." He waited for a revealing flash of lightning +in the hope that it would show him a way out. He should have realized +the futility of his hope, but, if he were soaked by the downpour, his +spirit of optimism was as yet by no means drowned. + +The flash he awaited came. The whole valley seemed to be lit from end +to end. Then it was gone as swiftly as it had come, leaving a pitchy +blackness behind it. But in that brief flash Bill told himself he had +seen the trail just beyond the clump of bush in the midst of which he +stood. Summoning all his strength he hurled himself to thrust his way +toward it. He fought the resisting boughs with all his great strength, +backed by every ounce of his buoyant spirits. Then, in a moment, Fate +stepped in, and--released him. + +His sensations were brief but tumultuous. He had a feeling that an +earthquake had opened the ground at his feet. With all his might he +sought to save himself from the yawning chasm. But the sudden jolt of +his great weight was more than his muscles could withstand. His hands +relaxed their grip upon the foliage and he fell with a great +splash--into the river. + +He had driven his way through the overhanging foliage of the river. + +Big Brother Bill was not easily disconcerted by any physical +catastrophe to himself. Nor did his sudden immersion now add one +single pulse beat. The obvious thing, being a strong swimmer, was to +strike out and get clear of the dripping trees, which he promptly +proceeded to do, and, reaching the middle of the stream, and +discovering that the rain had ceased, he philosophically consoled +himself with the thought that, at least, he knew where he was. + +Five minutes later he climbed up the opposite bank out of the water. +His first object at once became the ascertaining of his bearings. With +a serious effort of argument he finally concluded he was on the wrong +side of the river, which meant, of course, that the matter must be put +right without delay. Seeing that the water was cold, in spite of the +warmth of the summer evening, he was reminded of the footbridge +opposite the Setons' house. Consequently, the further problem became +the whereabouts of that bridge. + +Glancing up at the sky, possibilities presented themselves. The clouds +were breaking almost as rapidly as they had gathered, and, with great +decision, he concluded that the best thing to do would be to await the +return of the moonlight, and occupy the interim by wringing some of +the uncomfortable moisture out of his clothes. + +Ten minutes later his patience was rewarded. The moon shone out upon +the stream at his feet, and there, less than one hundred yards to the +west of him, the ghostly outline of the bridge loomed up. He really +felt that Fate, at last, was doing her best. + +He set off at once at as swinging a gait as his damp condition would +permit, and he even found it possible to whistle an air as he moved +along, to the accompanying squelch of his water-logged boots. + +But, as the footbridge was approached, his purpose received a setback. +The home of the Setons loomed up in the moonlight and promptly +absorbed his attention. The moon was at its full once more, and the +last clouds of the summer storm had passed away, leaving the +wonderful, velvety night sky a-shimmer with twinkling diamonds. + +The front of the house was in full light, so pale, so distinct, that +no detail of it escaped his interested eyes. There was the door with +its rain-water barrel, there was the shingle roof. The lateral logs of +its walls were most picturesque. The only thing that struck him as +ordinary was, perhaps, the window----. Hallo! What was that at the +window? + +He paused abruptly, and stared hard. + +He started. It was a woman! A woman sitting on the sill of the open +window! Of all the----. Well, if that wasn't luck he felt he would +like to know what was. He wondered which of the sisters it was--Kate +or Helen. He was confident it was one of them. He would soon find out. + +With a tumultuously beating heart he promptly diverged from his +course, and set off straight for the house. It was always his way to +act on impulse. Rarely did he give things a second thought where his +inclinations were concerned. + +As he drew near, Kate Seton's deep voice greeted him. Its tone was +velvety in its richness, nor was there the least inflection of +astonishment in its tone. + +"That you, Mr. Bryant?" she said, without stirring from her attitude +of luxurious enjoyment. + +Bill came up hurriedly. + +"I s'pose it is," he said with a laugh. "All that the river hasn't +washed away. Say," he went on, with amiable inconsequence, "there's +just two things puzzling my fool head, Miss Seton: Why Fate takes a +particular delight in handing me so many pleasant moments with so many +unpleasant kicks? And what wild streak of good luck finds you sitting +in the moonlight this hour of the night? It surely was a scurvy trick +of Fate dumping me in the creek, when there's a bridge to walk over, +just to land me right here, where you're handing up fancy dreams to a +very chilly but beautiful moon. Guess I'm kind of spoiling the picture +for you though. I may be some picture to look at, but I wouldn't say +it's worth framing--would you?" + +Kate smiled up at him. His dripping condition was obvious enough. Nor +could she help her amusement. Knowing something of the man, he became +doubly grotesque in her eyes. + +"It needs courage to put things nicely under such adverse conditions," +she said, with a laugh. "And I like courage." Then she went on in her +easy, pleasant way: "It was the storm fetched me out of bed. I never +can resist a storm. So I just had to dress and come right out here to +watch it. Why are you around, anyway? Tell me about--about the river, +and how you got into it." + +Bill laughed joyously. + +"Guess that's an easy one," he said lightly. "I was on my way home +when I met that policeman, Fyles. He put me wise to the storm coming +up--which I guessed was bright and friendly of him. You see, I hadn't +located it. It was up to me to make Charlie's place quick, so I got +busy on a short cut. Say, did you ever take a short cut--in a hurry? +Don't ever do it. 'Tisn't worth it--if you're in a hurry. Of course, I +lost myself in the storm, and Fate began handing me one or two. Fate's +always tricky. She likes to wait till she gets you by the back of the +neck, so you can't do a thing, and then passes you all that's coming +to you. Guess she's had me by the neck quite awhile now, what with one +thing and another. However, I mustn't blame her too much. You see, I +lost myself, and it was she who found me, though I don't think +anything of the way she did it. I was boosting through what I thought +was a reasonable sort of bush, and found it wasn't. It was the +overhang of the river, and when I dropped through I found myself in +the water. Still, I knew that water was the river, and I knew where +the river was. I'm grateful, in a way, but I can't help feeling Fate's +got a dirty side to her nature, and bridges are fool things anyway, +for always being where they aren't wanted." + +Kate's laugh was one of whole-hearted amusement. Big Brother Bill's +whimsical manner appealed to her. + +"Maybe Fate thought you were out later than you ought to be," she +said. "You--a stranger." + +But the girl's remark had a different effect upon Bill than might have +been expected. His smile died out, and all his lightness vanished. +Once more he was feeling that atmosphere of mystery closing about him. +It had oppressed him before, and now again it was oppressing him. + +For a moment he made no answer. He was debating with himself in his +blundering way. Finally, with a quick, reckless plunge, he made up his +mind. + +"I--was looking for Charlie," he said. "I've been trying to find him +ever since I left here." + +The girl's smile had passed, too. A growing trouble was in her eyes. + +"Charlie--is still out?" she demanded sharply. "And Fyles--where did +you meet Inspector Fyles?" + +The dark eyes were full of anxiety now. Kate's voice had lost its +softness. Nor could Bill help noticing the wonderful strength that +seemed to lie behind it. + +"I can't say where Charlie is now," the man went on, a little +helplessly. "I saw Fyles close by that big pine tree." + +"Close by the pine tree?" Kate repeated the words after him, and her +repetition of them suddenly endowed them with a strange significance +for Bill. + +With an air of having suddenly abandoned all prudence, all caution, +Bill flung out his arms. + +"Say, Miss Seton," he said, in a sort of desperation, "I'm +troubled--troubled to death. I can't tell the top-side from the +bottom-side of anything, it seems to me. There's things I can't +understand hereabouts, a sort of mystery that gets me by the neck and +nearly chokes me. Maybe you can help me. It seems different, too, +talking to you. I don't seem to be opening my mouth too wide--as I've +been warned not to." + +"Who warned you?" + +The question came sharp and direct. + +"Why, O'Brien. You see, I went down to the saloon after I'd searched +the ranch for Charlie, and asked if he had been there. O'Brien was +shutting up. He said he had been there, but had gone. Then he told me +where I'd be likely to find him, but warned me not to open my mouth +wide--till I'd found him. Said I'd likely find him somewhere around +that pine. Said he'd likely be collecting some money around there. + +"Well, I set out to make the pine, and I didn't wonder at things for +awhile. It wasn't till I got near it, and I saw the moon get up, and, +in its light, saw Charlie in the distance near the pine, that this +mystery thing got hold of me. It came on me when I hollered to him, +and, as a result of it, saw him vanish like a ghost. But----" + +"You called to him?" + +The girl's question again came sharply, but this time with an air of +deep contemplation. + +"Yes. But I didn't get time to think about it. Just as I'd shouted two +horsemen scrambled out of the bush beside me. One of 'em was Fyles. +The other I didn't know. He'd got three stripes on his arm." + +"Sergeant McBain," put in the woman quietly. + +"You know him?" + +Kate shrugged. + +"We all know him about here." + +Bill nodded. + +"Fyles cursed me for a fool for hollering out. Said he'd been watching +that 'tough,' and didn't want to lose sight of him. I got riled. I +told him a few things, and said I'd a right to hail my brother any old +time. Then he changed around and said he was sorry, and asked me if I +was sure it was my brother. When I told him 'yes,' he thanked me for +putting him wise, and said I'd saved him a deal of unnecessary +trouble. Said there was no more need to watch him--seeing he was my +brother. That's when he told me about the storm, and I hit my short +cut, and, finally, reached--the river. Now, what was he watching for, +and who did he mistake Charlie for? What's the meaning of the whole +thing? Why did O'Brien warn me? These are the things that get me +puzzled to death. Maybe you can tell me--can help me out?" + +He waited, confidently expecting an explanation that would clear up +all the mystery, but none was forthcoming. Instead, when Kate finally +replied, there was an almost peevish complaint in her tone. + +"I wish you had taken O'Brien's warning more to heart," she said. +"Maybe you've done a lot of harm to-night. I can't tell--not yet." + +"Harm?" Bill stood aghast. + +"Yes--harm, man, harm." Kate's whole manner had suddenly undergone +a change. She seemed to be laboring under an apprehension that +almost unnerved her. "Don't you know who Fyles is after? He's after +whisky-runners. Don't you know why O'Brien warned you? Because he +believes, as pretty nearly everybody believes--Fyles, too--that your +brother Charlie is the head of a big gang of them. Mystery? Mystery? +There is no mystery at all--only danger, danger for your brother, +Charlie, while Fyles is on his track. You don't know Fyles. We, in +this valley, do. It is his whole career to bring whisky-runners under +the hammer of the law. If he can fix this thing on Charlie he will do +it." + +The girl sprang from her seat in her agitation, and began to pace the +wet ground. + +"Charlie? Though he's your brother, I tell you Charlie's the most +impossible creature alive. Everything he does, or is, somehow fosters +the conviction that he is against the law. He drinks. Oh, how he +drinks! And at night he's always on the prowl. His associates are +known whisky-runners, men whom the police, everybody, knows have not +the wit to inspire the schemes that are carried out under the very +noses of the authorities. What is the result? The police look for the +brain behind them. Charlie is clever, unusually clever; he drinks, his +movements are suspicious. He's asking for trouble, and God knows he's +going to find it." + +A sudden panic was swiftly overwhelming Big Brother Bill. Though he +knew no fear for himself it was altogether a different matter where +his brother was concerned. He ran the great fingers of one hand +through his wet, fair hair, an action that expressed to the full his +utter helplessness. + +"Say," he cried desperately, "Charlie's no crook. By God, I'll swear +it! He's just a weak, helpless babe, with a heart as big as a house. +Charlie a crook? Say, Miss Seton, you don't believe it, do you?" + +Kate shook her head. + +"I know he's not," she said gently. Then in a moment all her fierce +agitation returned. "But what's the use? Tell the folks in the valley +he isn't, and they'll laugh at you. Tell that to Fyles." She laughed +wildly. "Man, man, there's only one thing can save Charlie from this +stigma, from Fyles. Let him leave the valley. It's the only way." She +sighed and then went on, her manner becoming suddenly subdued and +rather hopeless. "But nothing on earth could move him from here, +unless it were a police escort taking him to the penitentiary." + +She returned to her seat in the window, and when she spoke again her +whole manner had undergone a further change. It was full of that +womanly gentleness which fitted her so well. + +"Mr. Bryant," she said, with a pathetic smile lighting her handsome +features, and softening them to an almost maternal tenderness, "I'm +fonder of Charlie than any creature in the world--except Helen. Don't +make any mistake. I'm not in love with him. He's just a dear, dear, +erring, ailing brother to me. He can't, or won't help himself. What +can we do to save him? Oh, I'm glad you've come here. It's taken a +load from my heart. What--what can we do?" + +Again the big fingers raked through the man's wet hair. + +"I--wish I knew," Bill lamented helplessly. But a moment later a +quick, bright look lit his big blue eyes. "I know," he almost shouted. +"Let's hunt this gang down--ourselves." + +Kate's gaze had been steadily fixed upon the far side of the valley, +where Charlie Bryant's house stood. Now, in response to the man's wild +suggestion, it came slowly back to his face. + +"I hadn't thought of--that," she said, after a pause. + +In a wild burst of enthusiasm Bill warmed to his inspiration. + +"No," he cried. "Of course not. That's because you aren't used to +scrapping." He laughed. "But why not? I'll do the scrapping, and +you--you just do the thinking. See? We'll share up. It's dead easy." + +"Yes--it would be dead easy," Kate demurred. + +"Easy? Of course it's easy. I'm pretty hot when it comes to a scrap," +Bill ran on with added confidence. "And a bunch of whisky-runners +don't amount to a heap anyway." + +Suddenly Kate rose from her seat. She moved a step toward him and laid +one brown hand gently on his arm. She was smiling as she had smiled at +the thought of her regard for this man's brother. There was something +almost motherly now in her whole attitude. + +"You're a big, brave soul, and like all brave souls you're ready at +all times to act--act first and think afterwards," she said very +gently. "You said I was to think. Let me think now. You see, I know +this place. I know this class of man. It's the life of the police to +deal with these whisky-runners, and they--they can do nothing against +them. Then what are we, you, with your brave inexperience, I, with my +woman's helplessness, going to do against them? Believe me, the men +who carry on this traffic are absolutely desperate creatures who would +give their lives at any moment rather than go to the penitentiary. +Life to them, their own and their enemy's, means nothing. They set +no value on it whatsoever. The trade is profitable, and"--she +sighed--"against the law. Those engaged in it live for the excitement +of fighting the law. That's one of the reasons which makes it +impossible that Charlie could be one of them. No, Mr. Bryant, I guess +it's not for us to do this thing. We just couldn't do a thing. But we +must think of Charlie, and, when we've thought, and the time comes, +why, then--we'll act. Fyles is a brave man, and a just man," she went +on, with a slight warmth. "He's a man of unusual capacity, and worth +admiration. But he is a police officer," she added regretfully. "In +saving Charlie from him we shall prevent one good man wronging +another, and I guess that should be good service. Let's content +ourselves with that. Will you help?" + +Big Brother Bill had no hesitation at any time. He was carried away by +the enthusiasm Kate's words inspired. He thrust out one great hand and +crushed the woman's in its palm. + +"Sure I'll help. I've just got two hands and a straight eye, and when +fight's around I don't care if it snows. My head's the weak spot. But, +anyway, what you say goes. We'll save Charlie, or--or--Say, a real +bright woman's just about the grandest thing God ever made." + +Kate winced under the crushing force of his handshake, but she smiled +bravely and thankfully up into his face as she bade him "good night." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +BILL PEEPS UNDER THE SURFACE + + +The surprises of the night were not yet over for Big Brother Bill. It +almost seemed as if a lifetime of surprises were to be crowded into +his first night in the valley of Leaping Creek. + +Still thoroughly moist, he finally reached home to find his brother +there, waiting for him. + +Of course, the big man promptly blundered. + +Charlie was in the living room, sitting in a dilapidated rocking +chair. An unopen book was in his lap, and his dark, clever face was +turned toward the single window the room possessed, as the heavy tread +of Bill sounded on the veranda. + +It was obvious he was still laboring under the influence of the +drink; it was also obvious, though less apparent, that he was laboring +under an emotion, which unusually disturbed him. His eyes were shining +with a gleaming light which might have expressed anger, excitement, +or even simply the effect of his libations. Whatever it was, Bill +recognized, without appreciating its meaning, a definite change from +the man he had so cordially greeted earlier in the day; a recognition +which made his blundering now, more hopelessly than ever, an +expression of his utter lack of discretion. + +"Say, Charlie, boy," he cried, as he entered the little room, filling +it almost to overflowing with his robust personality, "I've chased +half over the valley looking for you. Then I saw you at the old pine +and shouted, and you sort of faded away. I thought I'd 'got' 'em. What +with that, and then falling into the river, and one or two minor, but +more or less unpleasant accidents, I've had one awful time. Say, this +valley's got me beat to death." + +The simplicity of the man was monumental. No one else could have +looked upon that slight figure, huddled down in the big old rocker, +without having experienced a feeling of restraint; no one could have +observed the drawn, frowning brows, and the hard lines about the still +somewhat sensual mouth, without using an added caution in approaching +him. There were fires stirring behind Charlie's dark eyes which were +certainly ominous. + +Now, as he listened to his brother's greeting, swift anger leaped into +them. His words came sharply, and almost without restraint. Big +Brother Bill was confronted by another side of his nature, a side of +which he had no knowledge whatever. + +"You always were a damned fool," Charlie cried, starting heatedly +forward in his chair. "I told you I was going out. If you had any sort +of horse sense you'd have understood I wasn't in need of a wet-nurse. +What the devil do you want smelling out my trail as if you were one of +the police?" Then he suddenly broke into an unpleasant laugh. "You +came here in Fyles's company. Maybe you caught the police infection +from him." + +Bill stared in wide-eyed astonishment at the harsh injustice of the +attack. For one second his blood ran hot, and a wild desire to +retaliate leaped. But the moment passed. Though he was not fully aware +of Charlie's condition, something of it now forced itself upon him, +and his big-hearted regret saved him from his more rampant feelings. + +He sat himself on the edge of the table. + +"Easy, Charlie," he said quietly, "you're kind of talking recklessly. +I'm no wet-nurse to anybody. Certainly it's not my wish to interfere +with you. I'm--sorry if I've hurt you. I just looked around to tell +you my adventures, I'm no--spy." + +Charlie rose from his seat. He stood swaying slightly. The sight of +this outward sign of his drunken condition smote the good-natured Bill +to the heart. It was nothing new to him in his erring brother. He had +seen it all before, years ago, so many, many times. But through all +these years apart he had hoped for that belated reforming which meant +so much. He had hoped and believed it had set in. Now he knew, and his +last hopes were dashed. Kate Seton had warned him, but her warning had +not touched him as the exhibition he now beheld did. Why, why had +Charlie done this thing, and done it to-night--their first night +together in the new world? He could have cried out in his bitterness +of disappointment. + +As he looked upon the man's unsteady poise he felt as though he could +have picked him up in his two strong hands and shaken sober senses +into him. + +But Charlie's mood had changed at the sound of the big man's regrets. +They had penetrated the mists of alcohol, and stirred a belated +contrition. + +"I don't want any apologies from you, Bill," he said thickly. "Guess +I'm not worth it. You couldn't spy on a soul. It's not that----." He +broke off, and it became evident to the other that he was making a +supreme effort at concentration. "You saw me at the pine?" he suddenly +inquired. + +Bill nodded. He had no desire to say anything more now. He felt sick +with himself, with everything. He almost regretted his own coming to +the valley at all. For a moment his optimism was utterly obscured. +Added to what he now beheld, all that Kate Seton had said was +revolving in his brain, an oppressive cloud depriving him of every joy +the reunion with his brother had inspired. The two thoughts paramount, +and all pervading, were suggested by the words "drunkard" and "crook." +Nor, in that moment of terrible disappointment, would they be denied. + +Charlie sat down in his chair again, and, to the onlooker, his +movement was almost involuntary. + +"I was there," he said, a moment later, passing one hand across his +frowning brows as though to clear away the cobwebs impeding the +machinery of his thought. "Why--why didn't you come and speak to me? I +was just--around." + +Again Bill's eyes opened to their fullest extent. + +"I hollered to you," he said. "When you heard me you just--vanished." + +Again Charlie smoothed his brow. + +"Yes--I'd forgotten. It was you hollered, eh! You see, I didn't know +it was you." + +Bill sat swinging one leg thoughtfully. A sort of bewilderment was +getting hold of him. + +"You didn't recognize my voice?" he asked. Then he added thoughtfully, +"No--and it might have been Fyles, or the other policemen. They were +there." + +Charlie suddenly sat up. His hands were grasping the arms of the +rocker. + +"The police were there--with you?" he demanded. "What--what were they +doing there--with you?" + +The sharp questions, flung at him so quickly, so soberly, suddenly +lifted Bill out of his vain and moody regrets. + +In spite of all Kate had told him, in spite of her assurance that +Fyles, and all the valley, believed Charlie to be the head of the +smuggling gang, the full significance of Fyles's presence in the +neighborhood of the pine had not penetrated to his slow understanding +before. Now an added light was thrown upon the matter in a flash of +greater understanding. Fyles was not watching any chance crook. He was +watching Charlie, and he knew it was Charlie, and the assurance of +Charlie's identity extracted from him, Bill, had been a simple blind. +What a fool he had made of himself. Kate was right. The harm he had +done now became appalling. + +He promptly became absorbed in a strongly restrained excitement. He +leaned forward and talked rapidly. He had forgotten Charlie's +condition, he had forgotten everything but the danger threatening. + +"Here, Charlie," he cried, "I'll tell you just all that happened after +I left here, when you went out. Guess it's a long yarn, but I think +you need to know it for your own safety." + +Charlie leaned back in his chair and nodded. + +"Go ahead," he said. Then he closed his eyes as Bill rushed into his +narrative. + +The big man told it all as far as it concerned his first meeting with +the Setons, his subsequent visit to the saloon, and, afterwards, his +meeting with Fyles. The only thing he kept to himself was his final +meeting with Kate Seton. + +At the end of this story Charlie reopened his eyes, and, to any one +more observant than Big Brother Bill, it was plain that his condition +had improved. A keen light was shining in them, a light of interest +and perfectly clear understanding. + +"Thanks, Bill," he said, "I'm glad you've told me all that." Then he +rose from his chair, and his movements had become more certain, more +definite. "Guess I'll get off to bed. It's no use discussing all this. +It can lead nowhere. Still, there is one thing I'd like to say before +we quit. I'm glad, I'm so mighty glad you've come along out here to +join me I can't just say it all to you. I'm ready to tumble headlong +into any schemes you've got in your head. But there's things in my +life I've got to work out in my own way. Things I can't and don't want +to talk about. Maybe I'll often be doing things that seem queer to +you. But I want to do 'em, and intend to do 'em. Drink is not one +of 'em. You'll find I'm a night bird, too. But, again, my night +wanderings are my own. You'll hear folks say all sorts of things about +me. You'll see Fyles very busy. Well, it's up to you to listen or not. +All I say is don't fight my battles. I can fight them in my own way. +Two of us are liable to mess them all up. Get me? I live my life, and +you can share as much in it as you like, except in that--well, that +part of it I need to keep to myself. There's just one thing I promise +you, Fyles'll never get me inside any penitentiary. I promise you +that, sure, because I know from your manner that's the trouble in the +back of your silly old head. Good night." + +He passed out of the room without giving the astonished Bill any +opportunity to do more than respond to his "good night." Anyway, the +latter had nothing else to say. He was too taken aback, too painfully +startled at the tacit admission to all the charges he had been warned +the people and police of Leaping Creek were making against his +brother. What could he say? What could he do? Nothing--simply nothing. + +He remained where he was against the table. He had forgotten his wet +clothes. He had forgotten everything in the overwhelming nature of +his painful feelings. His own beliefs, Kate's loyally expressed +convictions, had been utterly negatived. It was all true. All +painfully, dreadfully true. Charlie was not only a drunkard still, but +the "crook" he was supposed to be. He was a whisky-runner. He was +against the law. His ultimate goal was the penitentiary. Good God, the +thought was appalling! This was where drink had led him. This was the +end of his spoiled and wayward brother's career. What a cruel waste of +a promising life. His good-natured, gentle-hearted brother. The boy he +had always admired and loved in those early days. It was cruel, +terrible. By his own admission he was against the law, a "crook," +and--the penitentiary was looming. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE ARM OUTREACHING + + +The morning was gloriously fine. It was aglow with the fulness of +summer. Far as the eye could see the valley was bathed in a golden +light which the myriad shades of green made intoxicating to senses +drinking in this glory of nature's splendor. Leaping Creek gamboled +its tortuous way through the heart of a perfect garden. + +A veritable Eden thought Stanley Fyles--complete to the last detail. + +But his thought was without cynicism. He had no time for cynicism. +Besides, the goal of his career lay yet before him. + +His thought drifted further. His whole fate had suddenly become bound +up in that valley. Nor was the fact without a certain irony. For him +it was the valley of destiny. Within its spacious confines lay the +two great factors of life--his life--love and duty. They were +confronting him. They were standing there waiting for him to possess +himself of his victorious hold. + +Stanley Fyles felt rather like a ticket-of-leave criminal, instead of +a law officer, as he gazed out from the doorway of the frame hut, +which formed the temporary quarters of the police, far out on the +western reaches of the valley, five miles above the village of Rocky +Springs. He knew he was there to prove himself. His mistakes, or his +bad luck, of the past must be remedied before he could return to his +superiors with a clean sheet. His hands were free, he knew. But in +that freedom he was more surely a prisoner on parole than any man on +his given word. He was pitting himself like the gambler against the +final throw. It was all, or--ruin. To leave the valley with the work +undone, with another mistake to his credit, and his present career +must terminate. + +Then there was that other side. That wonderful--other side. The human +nature in him made the valley more surely his destiny than any charges +of his superior officer. The woman was there. The Eve in his Eden. +More than all else the thought of her inspired him to the big effort +of his life. + +He was thinking of Kate Seton now as his gaze roamed at will over the +ravishing summer tints. He was thinking wholly of her when his mind +might well have been contemplating the terms of the despatches he had +just written, the orders he had sent to his troopers, even the events +and clues he had obtained on the previous night, pointing the work he +had in hand. + +A door opened and closed behind him. He was aware of it, but did not +turn. A voice addressed him. It was the cold voice of Sergeant McBain. + +"The men are saddled up, sir." + +Fyles glanced around without changing his position. + +"The despatches are on the table," he replied, with a sharp +inclination of the head in the direction. + +"Any other instructions, sir?" + +Fyles thought a moment. + +"Yes," he said at last. "When they return here it must be after dark. +The patrol and horses they bring with 'em are to be camped over at +Winter's Crossing, five miles higher up the valley. This before they +come in to report. That's all." + +"Very good, sir." + +Sergeant McBain departed, and presently the clatter of hoofs told the +officer that the two troopers had ridden away. As they went he drew +out a pipe and began to fill it. + +When McBain re-entered the room Fyles bestirred himself. He turned +back and flung himself into an uncomfortable, rawhide-seated, +home-made chair, and lit his pipe. McBain took up a position at the +small table which served the purpose of a desk. + +McBain and his men had taken up their quarters here several weeks ago. +It was a mere shed, possibly an implement shed on an abandoned farm. +It was a frame, weather-boarded shanty with a dilapidated shingle +roof. Quite a reasonable shelter till it chanced to rain. The +handiness of the troopers had made it comparatively habitable with +oddments of furnishing, and a partition, which left an inner room for +sleeping quarters. There was a partial wooden lining covering the +timbers supporting the roof, which was an open pitch, without any +ceiling. There were several wooden brackets projecting from the walls, +which had probably, at one time, been used to support harness. Now +they served the purpose of carrying police saddles and uniform +overcoats. + +There was obviously no attempt at establishing a permanent station +there. These men were, as was their custom, merely utilizing the +chance finding as an added comfort in their strenuous lives. + +Fyles lit his pipe, and, for some moments, smoked thoughtfully, while +McBain's pen scratched a series of entries in his diary. + +Fyles watched him through a cloud of smoke, and when his subordinate +returned his pen to the home-made rack on the table, he began to talk. + +"There's two things puzzling me about that tree, McBain," he said, +following out his train of thought. "Your reckoning has justification +all right. We saw enough last night for that. Besides, you have seen +the same sort of thing several times before. It surely has a big play +in the affairs of these 'runners.' But I can't get a focus of that +play. Suppose that the tree is in some mysterious way a sort of means +of communication, why is it necessary? And, why in thunder, when +everybody knows who the boss of the gang is, don't they deal direct +with him?" + +Fyles smiled into the grim face of McBain, and sat back waiting to +hear the Scot's reply. His keen face was alight with expectancy. He +wanted this shrewd man's ideas as well as his facts obtained by +observation. + +The sergeant's face was obstinately set. He had already asserted +certain convictions about the old pine, and now he detected skepticism +in his superior. + +"Three times in the last two weeks I have seen the same figure in the +shadow of that tree late at night. It hasn't needed any guessing to +locate his identity. Very well, starting with the supposition that the +village folk are right, and Charlie Bryant is our man, then his +movements about that tree at that hour of the night become more than +suspicious. Especially since we know he's run a big cargo in lately. +But while I figger on that tree there's something else, as I've told +you. I've tracked him into the neighborhood of the old Meeting House +and back again to the tree. Now, I've seen this play three times, and +would have seen the whole of it again last night if that damned coyote +of a tenderfoot hadn't butted in. That's that, sir." + +Fyles nodded. The older man's earnestness was not without its weight. +But to a man like Fyles, definite proof, or reasonable probabilities, +were necessary. Clearing his throat, McBain went on. + +"Let's come to another argument, sir," he said, setting himself with +his arms on the table. "Every man or woman in the place reckons this +tough, Charlie Bryant, runs the gang. They can lay their tongues to +the names of the men who form the gang. Guess this is the list, and a +certain one sure, knowing the men. There's Pete Clancy, Nick Devereux, +both hired men to Miss Seton. There's Kid Blaney, hired to Bryant +himself. There's Stormy Longton, the gambler and--murderer. Then +there's another I believe to be Macaddo, the train hold-up, and the +fellow they call "Holy" Dick. That's the gang with Bryant at their +head, but there may be more of them. I've got the names indirectly +from the village folk. But this is my point. Never a soul in the +village has seen them at work. Never a soul has seen them buy, or +sell, or handle, one drop of drink, except what they buy in the saloon +to consume. The gang don't do one single thing to give itself away, +and there's not a man or woman could give them away in the village, +except from their talk when they're drunk." + +The man was making his point, and Fyles remained interested. + +"Now, this is the argument, an' you'll admit, sir, experience carries +a lot of it out. Crooks are scared to death of each other, you know +that, sir, better than I do. It's the basis of their methods. They've +got to make safe. To do this they have to resort to schemes which hide +their identity. They'll trust each other engaged in the crime because +all are involved. But they daren't trust those who're under no +penalty. What do they do? They've got to blind the outside world, the +police, and they do it by making a mystery. Now, in this case, the +pine is the heart of their mystery. It must give the key to the cache. +It must lead us to getting the lot red-handed--running a cargo. That's +what I know and feel, and it's up to you, sir, to show us the way. +I've worked on the lines you gave me, sir, and I've done all a man can +do. I've had the whole village watched, and worked inquiry by a farmer +outlying the valley. But now we're plumb at a deadlock till they run +another cargo, which I'm calculating, at the rate liquor's consumed, +they'll soon have to do. Maybe that'll give us a week or so for fixing +our plans. I've watched each member of the gang, and we've got their +movements written down here, from the time we missed that cargo on the +trail. Maybe you'll read my notes on them." + +Fyles took the diary the man held out. + +"It's a tough proposition, McBain," he said with a sigh, which had no +weakening in it. "But I think we'll make good this time, if only we +can get the news of the shipment when it comes along well ahead. +Superintendent Jason is in communication with every local police force +east, and should get it all right. If we get that, the rest should be +easy. Rocky Springs only has three roads, and it's a small place. I've +got a pretty wide scheme ready for them when we get word. In the +meantime our present work must be to endeavor to locate their cache. +That discovered, and left alone, our work will be simple pie. I'll +read these notes now. Then I'm going into the village. Later on I've +a notion to see just how busy Master Bryant is on his--ranch." + + * * * * * + +Kate gave a final glance round at the walls of green logs, and noted +with appreciation the picturesque dovetailing of every angle. + +"Well," she declared, after a moment's thought, "all I can say is that +the design's working out in truly elegant fashion. Charlie's done his +work well--and so have the boys." She beamed pleasantly upon her +audience, two men balancing themselves upon the open floor joists of +the new church. "It's a real work of art. It's going to be swell, and +the folks should be just proud of it." + +Billy Unguin smiled confidently. + +"Oh, the folks'll be proud of it all right, all right," he said. +"They'll yap about this place, and how they built it, till you'll wish +it was swallowed up by that kingdom they guess they're going to get +boosted into by means of it. They'll have one hell of a burst at the +saloon when the work's done, and every feller'll be guessin' he could +have done the other feller's job better than he could have done it +himself, and the women folk'll just say what elegant critturs their +men are, till they get home sossled. Then they'll beat hell out of +'em. They'll sure be proud of it, but I don't guess the church'll be +proud of them. It'll have hard work helpin' most of 'em into the +kingdom. Ain't that so, Allan?" + +Billy asked for confirmation of his opinions merely as a matter of +form. But Allan Dy displayed little interest in them. He had some of +his own. + +"Guess so," he murmured indifferently. + +"Course it's so," said Billy sharply. + +"Dessay you're right," replied Dy, with still less interest. "But +I ain't got time thinking conundrums. I get too many, running the +mail. Still, I'd like to say right here this doggone church ain't +architecture. Maybe it's art, as Miss Kate says. But it ain't +architecture. That's what it ain't," he finished up, with decided +emphasis. + +Kate smiled upon him. She was interested in what lay behind the +remark. + +"How--how do you make that out, Allan?" she inquired. + +The postmaster felt sorry for her and showed it. + +"It's easy," he declared. Then he gathered his opinions in a bunch, +and metaphorically hurled them at her. "Where's the steel girders an' +stone masonry?" he demanded. "It's just wood--pine. Wher's the figures +an' measurements? Who knows the breakin' strain o' them green logs? +Maybe it's art, but it ain't architecture. I ain't so sure about the +art, neither. It's to be lined with red pine. Ther' ain't no art to +red pine. Now maple--bird's-eye maple, an' we got forests of it. +Ther's art in bird's-eye maple. It's mighty pleasing to the eye. It +'ud make the folks feel good. Red pine? Red?" He shook his head +ominously. "Not in this city. You see, red's a shoutin' color. Sets +folk gropin' fer trouble. But white's different. It--it sort o' sets +folks thinking o' them days when their little souls was white enough, +even if their bodies wasn't rid of a month's dirt. I tell you, Rocky +Springs 'ud get pious right away under the influence of bird's-eye +maple. Maybe they'd be fighting drunk later, but that don't cut no +ice. You see, it's sort o' natural to 'em. Still, the church would +have done 'em some good if only it kept 'em a few seconds from doing +somebody or something a personal injury." + +Billy was chafing at his friend's monopoly of the talk and promptly +seized the opportunity of belittling his opinions. + +"What's the use," he cried. "I'm with Miss Kate. Charlie's done right +in fixing on red pine lining. Art's art, an' if you're goin' to be +artistic, why, you just got to match things same as you'd match a team +of horses, same as a woman does her fixings. 'Tain't good to mix +anything. Not even drinks. Red pine goes with raw logs. Say, there's +art in everything. Beans goes with pork; cabbage with corned beef. But +you don't never eat ice cream with sowbelly. Everybody hates winter. +Why for do folks fix 'emselves like funeral mutes in winter? It's just +the artistic mind in 'em. They'd hate flying in the face of Providence +by cheerin' themselves up with a bit of color. Art is art, Dy, my boy; +maybe art ain't in your line, seein' you're a Government servant. +Ther' ain't nothin' but red pine for the inside of that church, or all +art's bust to hell. Start the folks in this city off on notions +inspired by anemic woodwork, an' the sight o' so much purity would set +'em off sniveling on their women-folk's bosoms, and give 'emselves +internal chills shoutin' fer ice water at O'Brien's bar. You'd set +the boys so all-fired good-natured they'd give 'emselves up fer the +crimes they never committed, or they'd be startin' up a weekly funeral +club so as to be sure of a Christian burial anyway. You'd upset the +harmony o' Rocky Springs something terrible. Bird's-eye +maple--nothin'. Ain't that so, Miss Kate?" + +Kate laughed outright. + +"I can't quite follow all the arguments," she said, cautiously. +"But--but--it sounds all right." + +"Sure," agreed Billy, complacently. + +But Dy was not yet defeated. + +"I'm arguin' architecture," he said doggedly. "Here," he indicated +the length of the main building, "I don't care a cuss about your art. +What about this? Where's the tree grown hereabouts tall enough to +give us a ridge pole for this roof? It means a join in the ridge +pole. That's what it means. And that ain't architecture, Master +Billy--smarty--Unguin." + +Kate ran her eye over the offending length. The man's point seemed +obvious. + +"It certainly looks like a join," she admitted unwillingly. + +For a moment Billy was disconcerted. But his inventive faculties +quickly supplied him with a way out. Anyway, he could break up the +other's argument. + +"Isn't nothin'!" he cried, with fine scorn. "That don't need to worry +you. Ain't we got the tallest pine in creation right here on the +spot?" + +The postmaster's eyes widened. Even Kate was startled at the +suggestion. + +"You'd cut down the old tree?" she inquired. + +"Wher's your sense?" demanded Dy roughly. "Cut down the old pine? +Who's goin to do it? Who's got the grit?" + +"It don't need grit to saw that tree--only a saw," smiled Billy, +provokingly. + +But Dy had no sense of humor at the moment. + +"Pshaw! What about the Indian cuss on it?" he demanded. "Ther' ain't +a boy in this valley 'ud drive a saw into that tree. You're talking +foolish." + +Billy grew very red. + +"Am I?" he cried, angrily. "Well, I ain't no sawyer, but I'll say +right here if the church needs that pine I'll fetch it down if it's +only to show you that Charlie Bryant's notions are better than yours. +I'll do it if the work kills me." + +"Which it surely will," said Dy significantly. + +But Kate had no liking for the turn the conversation had taken, and +attempted to divert it. + +"No, no," she cried, with a laugh that was a trifle forced. "That's +the worst of you men when you begin to argue. You generally get +spiteful. Just like women. Art or architecture, it doesn't matter a +bit. We're all proud of this lovely little church. But I must be off. +I've a committee meeting to attend. Then there's a church sewing bee. +See you again." + +She turned away and began to pick her way from joist to joist toward +the doorway in the wall. Her progress occupied all her attention and +careful balance. Thus she was left wholly unaware of the man who was +standing framed in the opening watching her. Her first realization +came with the sound of his voice. And so startling was its effect that +she lost her balance, and must have taken an undignified fall between +the joists, had not a pair of strong hands been thrust out to save +her. + +"I'm sorry, Miss Kate," cried Fyles earnestly, as, aided by his +supporting arms, she regained her balance. "I thought you knew I was +here--had seen me." + +Kate freed herself as quickly as she could. Her action was almost a +rebuff, and suggested small enough thanks. Probably none of the +villagers would have met with similar treatment. + +She felt angry. She did not know why, and her words of thanks had no +thanks in their tone. + +"Thank you," she said coldly. Then she looked up into the keen face +before her and beheld its easy confident smile. "It was real stupid +of me. But--you see, I didn't guess anybody was there." + +"No." + +Kate stepped down through the doorway, and stood beside the officer, +whose horse was grazing a few yards away upon a trifling patch of +weedy grass. Her annoyance was passing. + +"I'd heard you'd come into Rocky Springs," she said. "Everybody is--is +excited about it." + +Inspector Fyles was still smiling as he returned her glance. He was +thinking, at that moment, that the passing of time only added to Kate +Seton's attractiveness. His quick eyes took in the simplicity of her +costume, while he realized its comparative costliness for a village +like Rocky Springs. + +"I don't guess there's much to be excited about--yet," he said. "Maybe +that'll come later, for--some of them. I'm going to be around for +quite a while." + +Kate was looking ahead down the trail. She was half-heartedly seeking +an excuse for leaving him. Perhaps the man read something of her +thought, for he abruptly nodded in the direction of the village. + +"You're going on down?" he inquired casually. + +"Yes. I've a church committee to attend. I am rather late." + +"Then maybe I may walk with you?" + +The man's manner was perfectly deferential, and something about it +pleased his companion more than she would have admitted. Somehow she +resented him and liked him at the same time. She was half afraid of +him, too. But her fear was wholly sub-conscious, and would certainly +have been promptly denied had she been made aware of it. + +"Your horse?" she protested. "You--you are riding." + +But Fyles only shook his head. + +"We needn't bother about him," he declared easily. "You see, he'll +just walk right on." + +They moved on toward the mouth of the trail at the edge of the +clearing, and Kate, watching the horse, saw it suddenly throw up its +head and begin to follow in that indifferent manner so truly equine, +picking at the blades of grass as it came. + +"What a dear creature," she exclaimed impulsively. "Did--did you train +him that way?" + +Fyles smilingly shook his head. + +"Taught himself," he said. "Poor Peter's a first-class baby. He hates +to be left alone. Guess if I went on walking miles he'd never be more +than ten yards behind me." + +They walked on. Kate for the most part seemed interested only in the +horse following so close behind, while Fyles made small secret of his +interest in her. But for awhile talk seemed difficult. + +Finally it was Kate who was forced to take the initiative with this +big, loose-limbed man of the plains. She searched her brains for an +appropriate subject, and, finally, blundered into the very matter she +had intended to avoid. + +"I suppose there's going to be a very busy time about here, now you've +come around?" she said. "I suppose the lawlessness of this place will +receive a check that's liable to make some folks pretty +uncomfortable?" + +She smiled up at her companion with just a suspicion of irony in her +dark eyes, and the man who had to rely on his wits so much in his +life's work found it necessary to think hard before replying. + +The result of his thought was less than he could have hoped, for he +had already learned, with some misgiving, of her friendliness with +Charlie Bryant. However, the opportunity seemed a suitable one, so he +added a gravity of tone to his reply. + +"There are people in this valley to whom my presence will make no +difference. There are others--well, others whose company is worth +avoiding. Say, Miss Kate, maybe you haven't a notion of a policeman's +work--and penalties. Maybe you know nothing of the meaning of crime, +as we understand it. Maybe you think us just paid machines, without +feelings, without sentiment, cold, ruthless creatures who are here to +run down criminals, as the old-time Indians ran down the buffalo, in +a wanton love of destroying life. Believe me, it isn't so. We're +particularly humane, and would far rather see folks well within the +law and prospering, the same as we want to prosper ourselves. We don't +fancy the work of shutting up our fellow creatures from all enjoyment +of the life about us, or curtailing that life for them by so much as a +second. Still, if folks obstinately refuse to come within the law of +their own free will, then, for the sake of all other law-abiding folk, +they must be forced to do so, or be made to suffer. Yes, I am here to +do certain work, and what's more, I don't quit till it's done. It may +cost me nothing but a deal of work, and some regret, it may cost me my +life, it may cost other lives. But the work will go on till it is +finished, and though I may not see that finish, there will be others +to take my place. That is the work of the police in this country. It +has always been so, and, finally, we always achieve our purpose. In +the end a criminal hasn't a dog's chance of escape." + +The man's calmly spoken words were not without their effect. The irony +in Kate's glance had merged into a gravity of expression that was +not without admiration for the speaker. Furtively she took in the +clean-cut profile, the square jaw, the strongly marked brows of the +man under his prairie hat, then his powerful active frame. He was +strikingly powerful in his suggestion of manhood. + +"It seems all different when you put it that way," she said +thoughtfully. "Yes, I guess you're right, we folks sort of get other +ideas of the police. Maybe it's living among a people who are +notoriously--well, human. You don't hear nice things about the police +in this valley, and I s'pose one gets in the same way of thinking. +But----" + +Kate broke off, and her dark eyes gazed half wistfully out over the +valley. + +"But?" + +Fyles urged her. Nor did his manner suggest any of his official +capacity. He was interested. He simply wanted her to go on talking. +It was pleasant to listen to her rich thrilling voice, it was more +pleasant than he could have believed possible. + +Kate laughed quietly. + +"Maybe what I was going to say will--will hurt you," she said. "And I +don't want to hurt you." + +Fyles shook his head. + +"We police don't consider our official feelings. They, and any damage +done to them, are simply part of our work." + +They had reached the main village trail. The girl deliberately halted +and stood facing him. + +"I was thinking it a pity you came here in--time of peace," she said +quickly. "I was thinking how much better it would have been to wait +until a cargo of liquor was being run, and then get the culprits +red-handed. You see," she went on naively, "you've got time to look +around you now, and--and listen to the gossip of the village, and form +opinions which--which may put you on a false scent. Believe me," she +cried, with sudden warmth, "I'd be glad to see you measure your wits +against the real culprits. Maybe you'd be successful. Who can say? +Anyway, you'd get a sound idea of whom you were after, and would not +be chasing a phantom, as you are likely to be now, if you listen to +the talk of this place. Believe me, I hold no brief for wrongdoers. +They must take their chances. If they are discovered and captured they +must pay the penalty. But I know how deceptive appearances may be in +this valley, and--and it would break my heart if--a great wrong were +done, however inadvertently." + +The wide reaches of the valley were spread out before them. Kate was +gazing away out westward, where, high up on the hillside, Charlie +Bryant's house was perched like an eagle's eyrie. Even at that +distance two figures could be seen standing on the veranda, and +neither she nor Fyles, who was following the direction of her gaze, +needed a second thought as to their identity. + +"You're thinking of Charlie Bryant," the man said after a pause. +"You're warning me--off him." + +"Maybe I am." + +Kate's eyes challenged the officer fearlessly. + +"Why?" + +The man's searching eyes were not seeking those secrets which might +help his official capacity. Other feelings were stirring. + +"Why? Because Charlie is a weak, sick creature, deserving all the pity +and help the strong can give him. Because he is a gentle, ailing man +who has only contrived to earn the contempt of most, for his weakness, +and the blame of those who are strong enough to help. Because he is, +for all his weaknesses, an--honest man." + +Fyles gazed up at the house on the hillside again, and Kate's anxious +eyes watched him. + +"Is that all?" he inquired presently. Nor could there be any mistake +as to the thought behind the question. + +A dash of recklessness, that recklessness which her sister had +deplored the absence of, now drove Kate headlong. + +"No. It is not all," she cried. "For five years I have been striving +to help him to escape from the demon which possesses him. Oh, and I +know how hopeless it has all been. I love Charlie, Mr. Fyles. I love +him as though he were my brother, or even my own son. I would do +anything in the world to save him, and I tell you frankly, openly, if +the police seek to fix any crime this valley is accused of upon him, I +will strive, by every possible means, whether right or wrong, to +defeat their ends." + +The woman's face was aglow with reckless courage. Her eyes were +shining with an enthusiasm which the man before her delighted in. All +her defiance of him, of the law, only made her appeal the more surely. +But he was not thinking of her words. He was thinking of her beauty, +her courage, while he repeated her words mechanically. + +"Your brother--or even your own son?" + +"Yes, yes," Kate cried. Then she caught a sharp breath, and a deep +flush suffused her cheeks and brow. The significance of the man's +thoughtful words and tone had come home to her. She knew he was not +thinking of anything else she had said. Only of her regard for that +other man. + +She abruptly held out her hand and Stanley Fyles took it. Her good-bye +came with a curtness that might well have inspired consternation. But +the policeman replied to it without any such feeling, and passed on +with his faithful Peter trailing leisurely behind him. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +BILL MAKES THREE DISCOVERIES + + +It was Big Brother Bill's third morning in the valley of Leaping +Creek, and in that brief time his optimism and enthusiasm for the +affairs of life in general had suffered shocks from which, at the +moment, recovery seemed altogether doubtful. + +Like all simple natures, once mental disquiet set in it was not +easily shaken off. So, about nine o'clock in the morning, he found +himself sitting on the sill of the barn doorway, his broad back +propped against the casing, hugging his troubles to himself, and, +incidentally, smoking like a miniature smoke-stack. + +The place was quite still under the blazing morning sun; a +collar-chain rattled inside the barn where a few horses stood +impatiently swishing off the attacks of troublesome flies with their +long tails; a hen, somewhere nearby, clucked to her brood of wandering +chicks; an occasional grunt, and curious snuffing, came from the +regions of the dilapidated hog pen. These were the only signs of +life about the place. For Charlie, after displaying an unusual +taciturnity, had taken himself off for the day, upon work which he had +declared to be imperative, and Kid Blaney, after feeding and watering +his horses, had done the same thing, on a similar excuse. + +Now, Bill felt he must do one of those very big "thinks," which, on +occasion, he had been known to achieve. He felt that the time had come +when something must really be done to ease the pressure upon his +mental endurance. + +The previous night had furnished the climax, a painful climax, to all +he had learned of his brother's doings, of his brother's guilt. Yes, +he no longer shrank from using that hideous word. All suspected +Charlie, the police, everybody, except Kate Seton, and Charlie had +practically admitted his guilt to him personally, without any apparent +shame or regret. But since then, since Bill had listened to the loyal +defense of Kate, he had seen for himself the smugglers and their chief +at work upon their nefarious trade, and thus further proof was no +longer necessary. + +All mystery was banished. The whole thing, in spite of Kate's denial, +was as plain as daylight. Charlie was a whisky-runner. The head of +the gang. His little "one-eyed" ranch was the merest blind. His +prosperity, if prosperity he possessed at all, was the prosperity of +successful defiance of the law. To the simple brother this realization +was a terrible one. Charlie, the brother to whom he had always been so +devoted, was a crook, a mere common crook. + +His discovery of the previous evening had come as a far greater shock +than might have been expected, considering all Bill had heard and +witnessed of his brother's doings. But then it is the way of things to +make the witnessing of a disaster far more terrible than listening to +the story told in language however lurid. Last night he had watched +his brother supplying contraband liquor to the saloonkeeper. + +It had happened in this way. After his first experiences on the night +of his arrival he had been determined to avoid so unpleasant a +sequence of occurrences on the second. Charlie had ridden off directly +after supper, and Bill took the opportunity of paying an evening call +upon Kate and Helen Seton. The chance he had deemed too good to miss. +At least there was nothing of mystery and suspicion there, and he +desired more than anything to breathe a wholesome air of frank +honesty. These girls, particularly Helen, were the one bright spot in +this crime-shadowed valley. To his mind Helen was a perfect ray of +sunshine, which made the shadows in the place something more than +possible of endurance. + +His call was welcomed in a manner that was obvious, even to his +simple mind. And never in his life had he spent an evening of more +whole-hearted enjoyment than he did with Helen, while her less +volatile sister considerately kept herself more or less out of the +way. + +Had his evening ended there his peace of mind might have suffered no +further shock, but, as it was, the comparatively natural desire to +celebrate his successful evening with a drink at O'Brien's sent him +off in the direction of the village. + +Proceeding rapidly along the trail, full of happy thoughts of Helen, +with her ready wit and gaiety, he was dreaming pleasantly all those +delightful dreams, which every man at some time in his life, finds +running through his head. Then suddenly he was aroused to the scene +about him by the yellow light of a back window of O'Brien's saloon, +just ahead of him. + +He was approaching the saloon from the rear! How had this happened? +Then he discovered that, by some strange chance, he had left the main +trail, and was proceeding up a wagon track, which evidently led to the +barn behind the saloon. + +He turned off to seek a way round to the front of the building, and +soon became so involved that he finally drew up at a low wire fence, +enclosing the rear buildings, with the lamp-lit window still directly +ahead of him. He was about to step over the wire when a movement, and +the sound of hushed voices, caught and held his attention. + +He stood quite still. It was still fairly early, and the moon had not +yet risen. The outbuildings rose up in shadowy outline against the +starlit sky, and only the lamplight in the window made anything clear +at all. It was this window, and the shaft of light it threw across the +intervening space that held his attention, for it was somewhere in the +shadow, to the right of it, he heard the movement and the voices. + +The movement continued, and then, quite suddenly, a figure stepped +into the light. Bill drew back farther into the shadow. It was a +man's figure, tall and lean. He was carrying something on his +shoulder, which the watcher had no difficulty in recognizing as a +small barrel. Close behind him followed a second man. He, too, was +tall and spare, and he, too, was burdened with a keg upon his +shoulder. In a moment Bill knew he was witnessing a transaction in +contraband liquor between the whisky-runners and the saloonkeeper. + +His interest became absorbed. He had recognized neither of the men, +and a wild hope stirred within him that perhaps he was to gain +definite proof that Kate Seton's belief was right, and that Charlie +had nothing to do with these people. His excitement and hope became +intense. + +For the moment the men had vanished through the darkened doorway of +the barn. Their voices were still hoarsely whispering, and though he +could not catch a word of what was said, he felt that they were merely +discussing their work. He waited for them to reappear. It was his +anxious desire to finally assure himself that Charlie was not with +them. + +He had not long to wait. The voices drew nearer. First one man emerged +from the barn. It was one of the two he had seen go in. Then the other +followed. They crossed the light once more. He was absolutely certain +now, and a great thankfulness swept over him. + +But his relief was short-lived. A third man now appeared from the +barn. He was smaller, much smaller, and very slight. His face and hair +were undistinguishable beneath his prairie hat, but his dark jacket, +and loose riding breeches were plain enough to the onlooker. In a +moment Bill's heart sank. Even in that dim light he knew he was gazing +upon the figure he had seen the night before at the old pine. There +could be no mistake. Though he could not see the man's face, his +figure was sufficient. He felt convinced that it was his brother. Kate +was wrong, and everybody else was right. Charlie was indeed the +whisky-runner whom the police were after. + +Any purpose he had had before was promptly abandoned. He hurried away, +sick at heart, and hastily returned to the ranch to find +Charlie--still out. + +After what he had witnessed he had no desire to meet Charlie that +night, so he went straight to bed, but not to sleep. For a long time +he lay awake thinking, thinking of his discovery. Then at last, +thoroughly weary with thinking, he fell into a troubled sleep and +dreamed that Inspector Fyles and his men were pursuing him over a +plain, upon which there was no cover, and over which he made no +progress whatsoever. + +Now, as he sat at the door of the barn, brooding over all he had seen +and discovered, he felt that there were but two courses open to him. +He must either, in his own phraseology, "get out or go on." And by +that he meant he must either renounce all his affection for his erring +brother, and leave him to his fate, or, like Kate, he must stand by to +help him in the time of trouble, and do all in his power to save him +from himself. There was not much doubt as to which direction his +inclinations took, but he felt it was no time for permitting his +feelings to rule him. He must think a big "think," and adopt its +verdict. + +But the "think" would not come. Only would his inclinations obtrude. +There was nothing mean or petty in this big creature. He loved his +brother frankly and freely, and his absurd heart would not permit him +to thrust those feelings aside. + +Groping and struggling, and undecided, yet convinced, he finally rose +from his seat and stretched and shook himself like some great dog. +Then he looked about rather helplessly. At that moment his eyes came +to rest on the distant house of the Setons', and, as he beheld a woman +emerge from its door, a great inspiration came to him. + +In a moment his dilemma disentangled itself. He laughed in very +triumph as the idea swept through his brain. It permeated his whole +being with a sense of delight. He only wondered he had not thought of +it before. It was the very thing. How the devil had he managed to miss +it? Helen was as full of plain wisdom and sense, as her pretty gray +eyes were full of laughter. She was tremendously clever. She was +always reading books. Hadn't he picked them up? Why, of course. He +would go and catch her up, and--do a big powwow and "think" with her. + +His enthusiasm once more at high pressure, Big Brother Bill set off +hot foot to intercept the girl he had seen just leaving her home. She +would have to cross the bridge, that was certain--then----Ah, yes, +the church. The new church. She generally took that in on her way to +the village. She had told him that. Well, that was quite easy. He +would cut across to the old pine, he couldn't lose himself doing that, +then the trail would run right on down by the church. + +For once he made no mistake in taking a short cut. He reached the +old pine safely, and felt like congratulating himself. Then a +disconcerting thought occurred to him as he contemplated the trail +down which he must proceed. The girl had a long way to go, and he had +hurried desperately. She wouldn't be up at the church for some time +yet. He felt annoyed with himself for always doing things in such a +hurry. It was quite absurd. Now he would have either to remain where +he was, kicking his heels about, or go on down to the church, and make +it look as though he were purposely lying in wait for her. + +He felt that would be a mistake. She might resent it. She might regard +it as an impertinence. He couldn't afford to offend her, he was much +too anxious for her approval. He remembered her resentment at their +first meeting, and--laughed. But he told himself she was quite right. +She thought he had been spying on her. If he had been it would have +been a low-down trick. Anyway he would take no chance now. He would +wait right there, and---- + +A sudden commotion in the scrub beside him abruptly changed the trend +of his thought. He was startled. The commotion went on. Then with a +rush and whirr of wings, and a hoarse-throated squawk, a large bird +flew up, clutching the ruffled body of a lesser one in its fierce +claws, its great flapping wings brushing his sleeve as it swept on +past him. + +His wondering blue eyes followed the bird's flight until it passed +beyond the tree tops, and became hidden by the trunk of the old pine. +Then he looked down into the bush, searching for the nest of +fledglings he felt sure the hawk had robbed of a mother. + +He was absurdly grieved that his gun was still with his missing +baggage. It would have delighted him to have brought the lawless +pirate to book, and restored the mother to her panic stricken chicks. + +He peered into the bush searching for the nest, but the foliage was +dense, and though he groped the boughs aside he could discover no +signs of it. Still, the thought of those motherless chicks had stirred +him, and he persisted. + +Breaking his way in among the boughs he searched more carefully. +But at last, after wasting nearly a quarter of an hour upon his +tender-hearted sympathy, he finally decided that he must be wrong. +There was no nest of fledglings. He really felt quite disappointed. +Just as he was about to abandon his search something fluttered at the +very roots of the bush. It was of a grayish blue. With a lunge he made +a grab, caught it, and stood up. It was a ball of paper, loosely +crumpled. + +With an exclamation of disgust he made his way out of the bush and +found himself confronted by the laughing gray eyes of Helen Seton. + +"For goodness' sake, Mr. Bryant!" the girl exclaimed, "whatever are +you playing at? Is it Injuns, or--or are you busy on one of your short +cuts? I'm nearly scared to death. I surely am." + +Bill looked into that laughing face, and slowly one great hand went up +to his perspiring brow. It was the action of a man at a loss. + +"Guess you aren't half as scared as I am," he blurted out. "I've just +had the life scared right out of me. It was a pirate hawk. A big one +flapped up out of that bush, with a small bird in its claws. I--I was +looking for the little feller's fledglings, and the nest. Sort of +birds' nesting. You see, I guessed they'd need feeding--with their +mother gone." + +Helen looked into the eyes of this absurd creature, and--wondered. Was +there--was there ever a man quite so simple and--soft hearted? Her +eyes became very gentle. + +"And did you--find them?" she asked quietly. + +Bill shook his head, and looked ruefully down at the paper in his +hand. + +"Only this," he said, almost dejectedly. + +His air was too much for the girl's sense of humor. She laughed as she +shifted the folded easel, and japanned tin box she was carrying, from +one hand to the other. + +"Oh, dear, oh, dear," she cried, stifling her mirth. "And--and I do so +hate hawks. They're such villains, and--and the valley's full of them. +But there, the valley is full of everything bad--isn't it?" + +Bill was smoothing out the paper absent mindedly. Helen's reference +had reminded him of his purpose. Her presence somehow made it +difficult. + +But Helen went on without apparently noticing his awkwardness. + +"Tell me, Mr. Bryant, what was it brought you out this way, when you +ought to be worrying around getting wise to--to the ranching +business?" she demanded. + +Bill flung back his broad shoulders, and, with the movement, seemed to +fling off every care. He laughed cordially. + +"Say, you make me laugh," he cried. "Now if I was to tell you what +had brought me this way, you'd sure get mad." Then he discovered the +things she was carrying for the first time. "Say, can't I carry those +things?" he cried, reaching out and possessing himself of them without +ceremony. "Why, it's a paint box, and--and easel," he cried in +awe-struck tones. "I didn't guess you--painted." + +Helen was frankly delighted with him, but she promptly denied the +charge. + +"Paint? 'Daub,' you mean. Guess Charlie tried to knock painting into +my--my thick head. But he had to quit it after I reached the daubing +stage. I don't think he guesses I'll ever win prizes at it," she went +on, moving up toward the pine. "Still, I might sell some of my daubs +among the worst drinking cases in the village." + +But Bill felt the outrage of such possibilities. + +"I'll buy 'em all," he cried. "Just name your price, I'd--I'd like to +collect works of art," he added enthusiastically. + +Helen turned abruptly and glared. + +"How dare you laugh at me?" she cried, in mock anger. "I--I might have +paid you to take one away, but I just won't--now. So there. Works of +art! How dare you? And what are you hugging that old piece of paper to +death for? Give it to me. Perhaps it's somebody's love letter. Though +folks don't generally write love letters on blue paper. It suggests +something too legal." + +Bill yielded up the paper with a good-natured smile. + +"It's all mussed and dirty," he said, in a sort of apology. + +"That's up to me," cried Helen. "Anyway a woman's curiosity don't mind +dirt." + +She smoothed the paper carefully as she paused at the foot of the +pine. Bill looked around. + +"Is this where you paint?" he asked. + +Helen nodded. She was busy with the paper. Bill occupied himself by +thoroughly entangling the legs of the folded easel, in an endeavor to +set it up for her. He tried it every way without success, and finally +desisted with a regretful sigh. + +"Was there ever----?" he began. + +But Helen broke in with a sharp exclamation, which promptly drew him +to her side. + +"This--this isn't a love letter at all," she cried amazedly. +"It's--it's--listen! 'Please have ten gallons of Brandy and twenty +Rye laid in the manger in my barn. Money enclosed. O'B!'" + +Helen looked up at the man beside her. All her laughter had gone. +There was something like tragedy in her serious eyes. + +Bill was staring at the paper. + +"Why that's--that's an order for--liquor from O'Brien," he said, with +the air of having made a discovery. + +His brilliancy passed the girl by. She merely nodded. + +"How--how did it get there?" she ejaculated. + +"Why, some one must have thrown it there," Bill declared deliberately. + +Again the man's shrewdness lacked an appreciative audience. The girl +made no answer. She was thinking. She moved aside and leaned against +the rough trunk of the mighty pine. She was still staring at the +paper. + +But her movement caught the man's attention, and the sudden +realization of the proximity of the pine recalled many things to his +mind. The pine. That was where he had seen Charlie, his first night in +the valley. That was where the police were watching him. That was +where he vanished. It was at the pine that O'Brien had warned him +Charlie had gone to collect "greenbacks"--dollars. That was O'Brien's +order, money enclosed. Charlie had found the order and money. Then, +when he was interrupted by his, Bill's, shout he had thrown the order +away. + +The realization was like a douche of cold water, in spite of all he +had seen and knew. Then he did a thing he hardly understood the reason +of. It was the result of impulse--a sort of sub-conscious impulse. He +reached out and took the weather-stained paper from the girl's +yielding hands and deliberately tore it up. + +"Why--why are you doing that?" Helen asked sharply. + +Bill forced himself to a smile, and shrugged his shoulders. + +"I don't know," he said. Then, after a pause: "I guess that order has +been filled." A bitterness found expression in the quality of his +smile. "I saw the liquor delivered at O'Brien's last night. I saw the +'runners' at work. Charlie was with them. Say, where d'you paint from? +Right here?" + +Helen looked up into the man's face. The last vestige of levity had +passed from her. Her cheeks had paled, and she was striving +desperately to read behind the ill-fitting smile she beheld. Bill +knew. Bill knew all that everybody believed in the valley. He had +done what nobody else had done. He had seen Charlie at his work. A +desperate feeling of tragedy was tugging at her heart. This great big +soul had received the full force of the blow, and somehow she felt +that it had been a staggering blow. + +All her sympathy went out to him. Now she utterly ignored his +question. She sat down at the foot of the tree and signed to him. + +"Sit here," she said soberly. "Sit here, and--talk to me. You came out +here this morning because--because you wanted to find some one to talk +to. Well?" + +Bill obeyed her. There was no question in his mind. She had fathomed +his purpose, and he was glad. He replied to her challenge without +hesitation, and strove to speak lightly. But as he went on all +lightness passed out of his manner, and the girl was left with a full +view of those stirring feelings which he had not the wit nor +inclination to secrete for long. + +"Say," he began, "you asked what I was doing here, and guessed +right--first time. Only, maybe you didn't guess it was you I came out +to find. I saw you leave your house, and figured you'd make the new +church. I was going right on down to the new church. Yes, I wanted to +talk--to you. You see, I came here full of a--a sort of hope, and--and +in two days I find the arm of the law reaching out to grab up my +brother. I've given up everything to come and--join. Now I'm up +against it, and I can't just think right. I sort of need some one to +help me think--right. You see, I guessed you could do it." + +The man was sitting with his arms clasped about his knees. His big +blue eyes were staring out over the valley. But he saw nothing of it. + +Helen, watching him, remained quite unconscious of the tribute to +herself. She was touched. She was filled with a tender feeling she had +never known before. She found herself longing to reach out and take +hold of one of those big, strong hands, and clasp it tightly and +protectingly in her own. She longed to tell him that she understood +his grief, and was yearning to share it with him, that she might +lighten the burden which had fallen upon him. But she did neither of +these things. She just waited for him to continue. + +"You see," he went on, slowly, with almost painful deliberation, "I +kind of feel we can think two ways. One with our heads, and the other +with our hearts. That's how I seem to be thinking now. And between the +two I'm all mussed up." + +The girl nodded. + +"I--I think I know," she said quietly. + +The man's face lit for a moment. + +"I knew you would," he cried, in a burst of enthusiasm. Then the light +died out of his eyes again, and he shook his head. "But you can't," he +said hopelessly. "Nobody can, but--me. I love old Charlie." + +"What does your head say?" asked Helen abruptly. + +"My head?" The man released his knees and pushed back his hat, as +though for her to read for herself. "Guess my head says I best get +aboard a train quick, and get right back East where I came from, +and--stop there." + +"And leave Charlie to his--fate?" suggested the girl. + +The man nodded. + +"That's what my head says." + +"And your heart?" + +Helen's gray eyes were very tender as they looked into the troubled +face beside her. + +Bill's broad shoulders lifted, with the essence of nonchalance. + +"Oh, that says get right up, and shut off the life of every feller at +the main who tries to do Charlie any hurt." + +A sudden emotion stirred the girl at his side, and she turned her head +away lest he should see that which her eyes betrayed. + +"The head is the wisest," she said without conviction. + +But she was wholly unprepared for the explosion her words invoked. + +"Then the head can be--damned!" Bill cried fiercely. And in a moment +the shadows seemed to fall from about him. He suddenly sprang up and +stood towering before her. "I knew if I talked to you about things +you'd fix me right," he cried, with passionate enthusiasm. "I tell you +my head's just a fool thing that generally butts in all wrong. You've +just made me see right. You're that wise and clever. And--and when I +get fixed like I've been, I'll always need to come to you. Say, there +isn't another girl in all the world as bright as you. I'm going to +stop right here, and I'll smash every blamed policeman to a pulp if he +lays hands on Charlie. Charlie may be what he is. I don't care. If he +needs help I'm here to give it. I tell you if Charlie goes to the +penitentiary I go with him. If they hang him, they'll hang me, too. +That's how your sister feels. That's how I feel. That's how----" + +"I feel, too," put in Helen quickly. "Oh, you great Big Brother Bill," +she went on, in her sudden joy and enthusiasm. "You're the loyalest +and best thing I ever knew. And--and if you aren't careful I'll--I'll +give you one of my daubs after all. Come along. Let's go and look at +the new church. Let's go and see how all the pious, whited sepulchers +of this valley are getting on with their soul-saving business. I--I +couldn't paint a thing to-day." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +IN THE FAR REACHES + + +Charlie Bryant's horse was a good one, far better than a rancher of +his class might have been expected to ride. It was a big, compact +animal with the long sloping pasterns of a horse bred for speed. It +possessed those wonderful rounded ribs, which seemed to run right up +to quarters let down like those of a racehorse. It was a beautiful +creature, and as it chafed under the gentle, restraining hand of its +rider its full veins stood out like ropes, and its shoulders and +flanks were a-lather of sweat. + +They were traveling over a broken country a few miles up the valley. +There was no road of any sort, only cattle tracks, which, amid the +wild tangle of bush, made progress difficult and slow. + +The man's eyes were brooding, and his effeminate face was overcast as +he rode. The wild scene about him went for nothing, even to his artist +eyes. His thoughts were full to the brim with things that held them +concentrated to the exclusion of all else. And, for all he thought, +or saw, or felt, of his surroundings, he might have been footing the +superheated plains of a tropical desert. + +He was thinking of a woman. She was never really out of his thoughts, +and his heart was torn with the hopelessness of the passion consuming +him. No overshadowing threat could give him the least disquiet, no +physical fear ever seemed to touch him. But every thought of the one +woman whose image was forever before him could sear and lacerate his +heart almost beyond endurance. + +He had no blame for her at any time. He had no protest to offer that +her love, the love of a wife for a husband, was utterly beyond his +reach. How could it be otherwise? He knew himself so well for what he +was, he had so subtle an appreciation of all he must lack in the eyes +of a big spirited, human woman, that, to his troubled mind, the +situation as it was had almost become inevitable. + +Now as he rode, he thought, too, of his newly arrived brother, and the +hatefulness of personal comparison made him almost cringe beneath +their flagellations. Bill, so big of heart and body, so lacking in the +many abilities which go to make up the man in men's eyes, but which +count for so little in a woman's, so strong in the buoyancy and +fearlessness that was his. He felt he could almost hate him for these +things. Bill had not one ugly thought or feeling in the whole of his +nature. Temptation? He barely understood the word, because he was so +naturally wholesome. + +But more than these things it was the memory of that which, since his +earliest youth, had looked back at him out of the mirror, that robbed +Charlie Bryant of so much peace now. That, and the weakness which +seemed to fit the vision so well. Whereas Bill, this child of the same +parents, was all that might be, his own form and manner made him +shudder as he thought of them. Then there was that devil haunting him, +and from whom there seemed to be no escape. + +How could he ever hope that Kate Seton would do more than lend her +strong, pitying affection for his support? How could she ever look to +him for support and guidance? His sense of proportion was far too +acute to permit so grievous an error. + +In some perverse way his mentality was abnormally acute. He saw +with eyes which were inspired by a brain capable of vast achievement, +but which possessed none of that equipoise so necessary for a +well-balanced manhood. And it told him all that, and forced conviction +upon him. It told him so much of that which no man should believe +until it be thrust upon him overwhelmingly by the bitter experiences +of life. His whole brain was permeated by a pessimism forced upon him +by a morbid introspection, resulting from an undue appreciation of his +own physical and moral shortcomings. + +Yet with it all he bore no resentment except against the perversity of +such a lot as his. And in this lay the germ of a self-pity, which is a +specter to be dreaded more than anything else in life. While deploring +the conditions under which he must live, robbed, as he believed he was +robbed, of the possibility of winning for himself all those things +which belong to the manhood really existing beneath his exterior of +denial, he yet felt he would rather have his bread divided than be +denied that trifling food which made it possible for him to go on +living. + +Kate's tender pity, Kate's warmth of affection, an affection she might +even bestow upon some pet animal, was preferable to that she should +shut him entirely out of her life. It left him free to drink in the +dregs of happiness, although the nectar itself was denied him. + +He could accept such conditions. Yes, he could almost be satisfied +with them, since he believed no others to be forthcoming. But, and a +dark fury of jealousy flooded his heart as he thought, he could not +witness another drinking the nectar while he was condemned to the +dregs. He felt that that way lay madness. That way was more than could +be endured. He could endure all else, whatever life had in store for +him, but the thought that he must stand by while Kate be given to +another was more than his fate, for all its perversity, could expect +of him. + +From his veranda that morning, as on the morning before, Charlie had +seen Kate and Stanley Fyles walking together. More than that he had +heard from Kate herself of her admiration of the police officer. And, +in these things, so trifling perhaps, so commonplace, he had read the +forecast of a mind naturally dreading, and eaten up by suspicion. He +would have been ready to suspect his own brother, had not a merciful +providence made it plain to him that Bill possessed interest solely in +the laughing gray eyes of Kate's sister. + +Now, as he rode along, he saw dull visions of a future in which Kate +no longer played a part. A demon of jealousy was driving him. He +longed impotently for the power to rob the man of the possibility of +winning that which was dearest to him. In the momentary madness which +his jealousy invoked he felt that the death of this man, his life +crushed out between his own lean hands, would be something approaching +a joy worth living for. + +But such murderous thoughts were merely passing. They fled again +before the pessimism so long his habit. It would not help him one +iota. It would rob Kate of a happiness which he felt was her due, +which he desired for her; it would rob him of the last vestige of even +her pitying regard. + +Then he laughed to himself, a laugh full of a hatefulness that somehow +did not seem to fit him. It was inspired by the thought of how easy it +would be to shoot the heart out of the man he deemed his rival. Others +had done such things, he told himself. Then, with a world of +bitterness, he added, far better men than himself. + +But he knew that no such intention was really his. He knew that +beneath all his bitterness of feeling, and before all things, he +desired Kate's happiness and security. A strange magnanimity, in a +nature so morally weak, so lacking in all that the world regards as +the signs of true manhood, was his. Even his life, he felt, would be +small enough price to pay for the happiness and security of the only +woman who had ever held out the strong arm of support and affection +for him to lean upon, the only woman he had ever truly loved. + +So a nightmare of thought teemed through his brain as he rode. Now he +would fall into a sweat of panic as fantastic specters of hideous +possibilities arose and confronted him, now only a world of grief +would overwhelm him. Again a passion of jealousy would drive him to +the verge of madness, only to be followed swiftly by that lurking +self-pity which robbed him of the wholesome human instincts inspired +by the spirit of battle in affairs of life. Then would come that +overwhelming depression, bred of the long sapping of his moral +strength, while through it all, a natural gentleness strove to soar +above the ashes of baser fires. + +It was with a sigh of relief, as his horse finally cleared a close +growing bush, he emerged upon a small clearing. In the midst of this +stood a corral. But, for the moment, he passed this by, and rode +toward a log hut of ancient construction and design. + +He drew the restive creature up and dismounted. Then he flung the +reins over one of the posts of the old corral. The place was beyond +the boundary of his homestead and belonged to a time when the valley +knew few inhabitants beyond half-breeds and Indians. He had discovered +it, and had turned it into the service of a storage for those things +which were required only rarely upon his ranch, and at the more remote +parts of it. + +Inside the corral stood a wagon. It was an ordinary box wagon, but +nearby stood a hay-rack, which signified its uses. Then there was a +mower, and horse rake. There were other odds and ends, too, but it +appeared obvious that haying operations were carried on in this +direction, and this old corral so found its uses. + +After glancing casually in the direction of these things Charlie +passed round to the door of the hut. And herein his purpose became +more obscure. + +The place was heavily thatched and suggested long disuse. Its air was +less of dilapidation than desertion, and lichen and fungus played a +large part in such an aspect. The walls were low, and the heavy roof +was flat and sloping. As the man drew near a flight of birds streamed +from its eaves, screaming their resentment at such intrusion. + +Charlie appeared not to notice them, so intent was he upon his +purpose. He walked hurriedly, and finally paused at the doorway. For a +moment he almost seemed in doubt. Then, with a thrust, he pushed the +door, the hinges of which creaked protestingly as it opened inwards. + +Another fluttering of wings, another chorus of harsh screams, and a +further flight of birds poured from within and rushed headlong into +the brilliant sunshine. + +The place was certainly very old. A dreadful mustiness pervaded the +atmosphere. The dirt, too, the heavy deposit of guano upon the floor, +made it almost revolting. There was no furniture of any sort, while +yet it conveyed the suggestion that, at some remote period, it had +been the habitation of man. + +A rough boarding lined the walls of logs very nearly up to the sloping +roof. Rusty nails protruded here and there, suggesting hangers for +utensils. A circular aperture in the roof denoted the presence, at one +time, of a stove, possibly a cooking stove. And these things might +well have raised in the mind a picture of a lean, black-haired, +cadaverous man of low type, living a secret life amid the wilderness +of this valley, with crime, crime against the laws of both God and Man +as his object. Just such a man as is the notorious half-breed cattle +thief. + +Stepping over to the far end of the room, where the light shone down +through the stovepipe hole in the roof, Charlie halted before the +rough boarding at the angle of the wall. Then he reached out and +caught the upper edge of the wooden lining, which, here, was much +lower than at any other point, and exerted some strength. Four of the +upright plankings slid upward together in a sort of rough panel, and +revealed a shallow cupboard hewn out of the old logs behind them. + +Within this opening a number of garments were hanging. There were +several pairs of riding breeches, and an odd coat or two, besides +other articles of man's outer attire. Added to these were two +ammunition belts with holsters and revolvers. + +Charlie stood gazing at the contents of the cupboard for some moments. +Then he examined them, pulling each article aside as though to assure +himself that nothing was missing. Each revolver, too, he withdrew from +its holster and examined closely. The chambers were fully loaded. And +having satisfied himself of these things he slid the boards back +into their place. As they dropped back his expression was one of +appreciation. No one could possibly have guessed, even from a narrow +examination, what lay behind those rough, time-worn boards. Their fit +was in perfect keeping with the rest of the wall lining. + +He stood back and gave a final glance about him. Then he turned toward +the door. + +As he did so the sound of a soft whinny reached him. It came from his +horse outside. A quick, startled light leaped into his dark eyes, and +the next moment his movements became almost electrical. He reached the +door on the run and looked out. His horse was standing with head held +high and ears pricked. The creature was gazing fixedly in the +direction from which it had approached the clearing. + +Charlie needed nothing more. Something was approaching. Probably +another horse. If so there was equally the probability of a rider upon +its back. + +He closed the door quickly and carefully behind him, and hurried +toward the corral. He threw down the poles that barred it, and made +his way to the side of the wagon. Then his movements became more +leisurely. + +Opening the wagon box he drew out a jack and a tin of grease. Then, +still with an easy, leisurely air he jacked up one wheel and removed +an axle cap. + +He was intent upon his work now--curiously intent. He removed the +wheel and smeared the inside of the hub with the filthy looking +grease. His horse beyond the fence gave another whinny, which ended in +a welcoming neigh. The man did not even look up. He replaced the wheel +and spun it round. Then he examined the felloes which had shrunk in +the summer heat. An answering neigh, and a final equine duet still +failed to draw his attention. Nor, until a voice beyond the fence +greeted him, did he look up. + +"Getting ready for a journey?" said the voice casually. + +Charlie looked round into the keen face of Stanley Fyles. He smiled +pleasantly. + +"Not exactly a journey," he said. Then he glanced quickly at the +hay-rack standing on its side. "Say, doing anything?" he cried, and +his smile was not without derision. + +"Nothing particular," replied the police officer, "unless you reckon +getting familiar with the geography of the valley particular." + +Charlie nodded. + +"I'd say that's particular for--a police officer." His rich voice was +at curious variance with his appearance. It was not unlike a terrier +with the bay of a bloodhound. + +The phenomenon was not lost upon Fyles. He was studying this meager +specimen of a prairie "crook." He had never before met one quite like +him. He felt that here was a case of brain rather than physical +outlawry. It might be harder to deal with than the savage, illiterate +toughs he was used to. + +"Yes," returned Fyles, "we need to learn things." + +"Sure." + +Charlie pointed at the hay-rack. + +"Guess you don't feel like giving us a hand tipping that on to the +wagon? I'm going haying to-morrow." + +"Sure," cried Fyles, with an easy smile, as he leaped out of the +saddle. He passed into the old corral and his quick eyes took in +every detail at a glance. They came to rest on the slight figure of +the man and noted his costume. Charlie Bryant was clad in loose riding +breeches, but was coatless. Nor did he display any firearms. "Two-man +job, isn't it?" he said lightly. "And you guessed to do it--single?" + +Charlie's smile was blandly disarming. + +"No. I hadn't thought to get it on to-day. The Kid'll be with me +to-morrow, or maybe my brother, Bill." + +"Ah. Brother Bill could about eat that rack on his own," Fyles +declared, as the two men set about the task. + +It was a far lighter affair than it looked, and, in less than five +minutes was resting perfectly balanced in its place on the wagon. +Fyles looked on while Charlie went round and bolted the rack securely +in its place. + +"Your wagon?" the officer observed casually, while his sharp eyes took +in its last details. + +Charlie nodded. + +"Yes. Folks borrow it some. You see, I don't need it a heap, except at +hay time." + +"No, I don't guess you need it a heap. Say, this is a queer place +tucked away up here. Old cattle station, I guess." + +Fyles's remarks had no question in them. But he intended them to +elicit a response. Charlie appeared to have nothing to conceal. + +"Well, of a sort, I'd say," he replied. "You see, this was King +Fisher's corral. There's others around the valley, though I don't know +just where. King Fisher reigned nearly twenty years ago. He lived in +the building the folks in Rocky Springs use as a Meeting House. He was +pretty tough. One of the worst badmen ever hit this part. Had a +signboard set up on the trail down from the prairie. He wrote it. +'This is King Fisher's trail, take any other old trail.' I believe +most folks used to take 'any other old trail.' There was one feller +didn't though. And that was the end of King Fisher's reign. These +secret corrals have always been used by toughs." + +Fyles was smiling. + +"Yes." + +Charlie laughed and pointed at the hut beyond the corral. + +"I'd awfully like to know some of the games that went on in there. +Birds and things nest in its roof now. I guess they didn't come within +a mile of it one time. They say King Fisher was mad--blood mad. If +that's so, I daresay this place could tell a few yarns." + +Again came Fyles's monosyllabic agreement. + +Charlie turned to his wagon and went on with his greasing. And while +he worked and listened to the other's talk, the memory of having seen +him with Kate gathered stormily in his mind. But he still smiled when +he looked up. He still replied in the light-hearted fashion in which +he had accepted the police officer's coming. He was perfectly aware of +the reason of the man's presence there. And, equally, he was +indifferent to it. + +"Where are you haying now?" Fyles inquired presently. + +Charlie answered without turning from his work. + +"Half a mile down stream. Guess we all hay that way. There's no other +sloughs handy on the west side of the village." + +"That's why the wagon's kept here?" + +"Sure. Saves the horses. They'll come out here to-morrow, and stop +right here till we quit." + +Charlie spun the last wheel round after replacing the cap. + +"Where are you stopping with your men?" he demanded abruptly, as he +let the jack down. + +"Just around," said Fyles evasively. + +"I see. On the prowl." Charlie smiled up into the man's shrewd, +good-looking face. "You need to do some prowling around this valley if +you're going to clean things up. Yes, and I'd say you need a mighty +big broom." + +"We've got the broom, and I guess we'll do the work," replied Fyles +nodding. "We generally do--in the end." + +Charlie's eyes had become thoughtful. + +"Yes," he agreed. "I s'pose you do. Guess I'll have to be moving." + +He returned the grease and jack to the wagon box, and moved toward the +gate of the corral. + +"Coming my way?" he asked casually. + +"Not just now. I'm looking around--some." + +Charlie laughed. + +"Ah. I'd forgotten that broom." + +"Most folks do," replied Fyles, "--until they fall over it." + +Charlie had reached his horse's side. He unhooked the reins from the +fence, and flung them over its head. Then, with an agility quite +remarkable, he vaulted into the saddle. + +"Well, I hope that broom won't come my way," he laughed. "I'd hate +falling around." + +"I hope it won't," said Fyles, in the same light manner, as he +followed out of the corral. "That's a dandy plug of yours," he said +with admiration, as his appreciative eyes noted the chestnut's points. + +"He surely is," returned Charlie. "He can go some, too. I'll give you +a run one day--if you fancy yours." + +Fyles was hooking his reins over the post Charlie had vacated. + +"Mine?" he said. "Peter's the quickest thing west of Winnipeg. He'll +sure give you a run when--the time comes." + +Charlie laughed. The drift of the talk, its hidden meaning, amused +him. + +"We'll have to make a time, eh?" + +"Sure," said Fyles, looking him squarely in the eyes. + +Charlie moved his horse away. + +"Well, so long, for the present. Guess I'll remember that challenge. +Thanks for helping me with the rack. You're stopping?" + +Fyles nodded. + +"Yes--for awhile." + +Charlie rode away with the air of a man with not a care in the world. +But he was thinking swiftly, and his thoughts were of that hidden +cupboard, and what it contained. Hope and fear struggled for paramount +place in his heart. Was the secret of that hiding place sufficiently +simple to defy Stanley Fyles, or was it not? Was he the man he +was reputed to be, or was he merely a clever man backed by a big +authority? In the end he abandoned the troublesome point. Time alone +would give him his answer. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +WORD FROM HEADQUARTERS + + +Two horses ambled complacently, side by side, down the village trail. +Each was ridden by the man it knew best, and was most willing to +serve. Peter's affection for Stanley Fyles was probably little less +than his master's affection for him. The same thing applied to +Sergeant McBain, whose hard face suggested little enough of the +tenderer emotions. But both men belonged to the prairie, and the long +prairie trail inspires a wonderful sympathy between man and beast. + +The men were talking earnestly in low voices, but their outward +seeming had no suggestion of anything beyond ordinary interest. + +"He's surely leaving a trail all over the valley," said Sergeant +McBain, after listening to his superior's talk for some moments. "It's +a clear trail, too--but it don't ever seem to lead anywhere--definite. +You've made nothing of that corral place, sir?" + +Fyles's eyes roamed over the scene about him in the quick, uneasy +fashion of a groping mind. + +"I don't know yet," he said slowly, "I've got to windward of that +haying business. The fellow's haying all right. He's got a permit for +cutting, and he generally puts up fifty tons. Maybe he keeps that +wagon out there all the time for convenience. I can't say. But even if +he doesn't I can't see where it points." + +"We can watch the place," said McBain quickly. + +"That's better than speculation, but--it's clumsy." + +"How, sir?" + +"Why, man alive," replied Fyles sharply. "Do you think we're going to +fool a crook like him by just watching? Besides----" + +"Yes, sir?" + +Fyles had broken off. A woman was moving down the trail ahead of them. +She was a good distance away, but he had recognized the easy gait and +trim figure of Kate Seton. After a moment's pause he withdrew his gaze +and went on. + +"I've got all I need out of that place--for the present. You've seen +the wagon and--recognized it. It's the wagon they ran that last cargo +in. The man who drove it was Pete Clancy. Clancy is one of Charlie +Bryant's gang. I don't think we need any more--yet. We've centralized +the running of that last cargo. The rest of the work is for the +future. My plans are all ready. The patrol comes in from Amberley +to-night. It will be ample reinforcement. We're just one move ahead of +these boys, here, and we've got to keep that way. You can get right +back to quarters, and wait for my return. I'm going in to the mail +office to run my eye over local mail. The envelopes of a local mail +make good reading--when a man's used to it." + +McBain grinned in a manner that seemed to give his hard face pain. + +"You get more out of the ad-dress on an envelope than any one I ever +see, sir," he observed shrewdly. + +Fyles shrugged, not ill pleased at the compliment. + +"It's practice, and--imagination. Those things, and--a good memory for +handwriting, also postmarks. Say, who's that coming down the southern +trail? Looks like----" + +He broke off, shading his eyes from the burning sunlight of the +valley. + +McBain needed no such protection. His mahogany face screwed itself up +until his eyes were mere slits. + +"It ain't part of the patrol?" he said questioningly. "Yet it's one of +our fellers. Maybe it's a--despatch." + +Fyles's brows drew sharply together in a frown of annoyance. + +"If the chief's sent me the word I'm waiting for that way he's--a damn +fool. I asked him for cipher mail." + +"Mr. Jason don't ever reckon on what those who do the work want. If +that feller's riding despatch, the whole valley will know it." + +McBain's disgust was no less than that of Fyles. His hard face was +coldly set, and the despatch rider, if he were one, seemed likely to +get a rough reception. + +"He'll make for the mail office," said Fyles shortly. "We'll go and +meet him." + +He lifted Peter's reins, and the horse responded at a jump. In a +moment the two men were galloping down to Dy's office. Fyles was the +first out of the saddle, and the two stood waiting in silence for the +arrival of the horseman. + +There was not much doubt as to the publicity of the man's arrival. +As if by magic a number of men, and as many women, appeared in the +vicinity of the saloon, farther down the trail. They, too, had seen +the newcomer, and they, too, were consumed with interest, though it +was based on quite a different point of view from that of Stanley +Fyles and Sergeant McBain. + +To them a despatch rider meant important news, and probable action on +the part of the authorities. Important action meant, to their minds, +something detrimental to the shady side of their village life. Every +man was searching his brain for an explanation, a reason for the man's +coming, and every woman, sparing herself mental effort, was asking +pointed questions of those who should think for her. + +The man rode into the village at full gallop, and, seeing the two +police horses outside the mail office, came straight on toward them. + +He flung out of the saddle and saluted the inspector. Then he began +fumbling in an inner pocket. Fyles understood his intention and +sharply warned him. + +"Not here. Now, in one word. Is it news from down East?" + +The man nodded. + +"Yes, sir. I believe so." + +"You believe so?" + +"Yes, sir. Mr. Jason told me I'd to make here to-day--mid-day. Said +you were waiting for this letter to act. He also said I was to avoid +speaking to any one in the place till I'd delivered the despatch into +your hands. He also said I was to remain here under your orders." + +"Damnation! And we've had letters through the mail every day." + +"Beg pardon, sir----" + +McBain made a sign for silence, and the man broke off. But Fyles bade +him go on. + +"Mr. Jason warned me to be very careful, as it was a despatch he could +not trust to the mail." + +Fyles gave a short laugh. + +"That'll do. Now, get mounted, and ride back the way you came into the +valley. When you get out of it keep along the edge of it westwards. +You'll come to our camp five miles out. It's in a bluff. It's a shack +on an abandoned farm. I can't direct you better, except it's just +under the shoulder in the valley, and is approached by a cattle track. +You'll have to ride around till you locate it. McBain will be coming +back soon. Maybe he'll pick you up. Avoid questions, and still +more--answers. Keep the letter till McBain gets in." + +"Very good, sir." + +The man remounted and rode away. His coming had been so sudden, his +stay so brief, and his departure so rapid, that Fyles had achieved +something of his purpose in repairing any damage Superintendent Jason +had done to his plans in acting contrary to his subordinate's wishes. + +The sharp-eyed villagers had witnessed the interview with suspicions +lulled. There had been no despatch delivered, and the man was off +again the way he had come. Surely nothing very significant had taken +place. Possibly, after all, the man was merely a patrol from some +outlying station. + +Fyles turned to his lieutenant. + +"We're going to get busy," he said, with a shadowy smile. + +The older man could not conceal his appreciation. + +"Looks that way, sir." + +"I'll look over the mail myself," Fyles went on. "You best get back to +camp, and see to that letter. Guess you'll wait for me to take action. +You can get out across the valley south. Ride on west and ford the +river up at the crossing--Winter's Crossing. See if the patrol's in. +Then make camp--and keep an eye skinned for that boy. I'll get along +later." + +The sergeant saluted and sprang into the saddle. Fyles passed into the +mail office as the man rode off. + +Allan Dy was used to these visits of the inspector. There were very +few country postmasters who were not used to such visits. It was a +process of espionage which was never acknowledged, yet one that was +carried on extensively in suspected districts. There was never any +verbal demand, or acquiescence, in the manner in which it was carried +out. When the police officer appeared the day's mail was usually in +the process of being sorted, and was generally to be found spread out +lying in full view of the searching eyes. + +Fyles walked in. Passed the time of day. Collected his own mail and +that of the men under him. Chatted pleasantly with the subservient +official, and started to pass out again. In those brief moments he had +seen all he wanted to see, which on this occasion was little enough. + +There were only four letters from the East, The rest were all of local +origin. One of the eastern letters was for O'Brien, and it carried an +insurance firm's superscription. There were two letters for Kate +Seton, both from New York, and both carrying the firm styles of +well-known retail traders in women's clothing. The fourth was +addressed to Charlie Bryant, and bore no trader's imprint. + +As he neared the door of the little office he had to stand aside as +Kate Seton made her way in. + +Fyles felt that his luck was certainly in. The news he had awaited +with so much impatience had been received at last, and now--well, his +quick appreciative eyes took in the delightfully fresh, wholesome +appearance of this woman, who had made such inroads upon his usually +unemotional heart. There was not a detail escaped him. The rounded +figure suggesting virility and physical well-being. Her delightful, +purposeful face full of a wide intelligence and strength. Those +wonderful dark eyes of such passionate, tender depth, which yet held +possibilities for every emotion which finds its place in the depth of +a strong heart. + +She was clad, too, so differently from the general run of the +villagers. Like her sister, though in a lesser degree, she breathed +the air of a city--a city far from these western regions, a city where +refinement and culture inspires a careful regard for outward +appearance. + +She smiled upon him as he stood aside. Somehow the shyness which her +sister had accused her of seemed to have gone. Her whole atmosphere +was that of a cordial welcome. + +"You're early down for your mail, Mr. Fyles," she said, after greeting +him. "I'm generally right on the spot before Allan Dy is through. +Still, I dare say your mail is more important, and stands for no +delay." + +"It's the red tape of our business, Miss Seton," Fyles replied, with a +light shrug. "We're always getting orders that should rightly be +executed before they can possibly reach us. It's up to us to get them +the moment they arrive." + +Kate's smile was good to see. There was just that dash of ironical +challenge in her eyes which Fyles was beginning to associate with her. + +"Still working out impossible problems which don't really--exist?" + +The man returned her smile. + +"Still working out problems," he said. Then he added slyly, "Problems +which must be solved, in spite of assurances of their non-existence." + +"You mean--what I said to you the other day?" + +Fyles nodded. + +Kate's eyes sobered, and the change in their expression came near to +melting the officer's heart. + +"I'm sorry," she said simply. Then she sighed. "But I s'pose you must +see things your own way." She glanced at the mail counter. "You had a +despatch rider in this morning. I saw him coming down the trail. +Everybody saw him." + +Just for a moment Fyles's strong brows drew together. He was reluctant +to deliberately lie to this woman. He felt that to do so was not +worthy. He felt that a lie to her was a thing to be despised. + +"We had a patrol in," he said guardedly. + +Kate smiled. + +"A patrol from--Amberley?" + +Again was that ironical challenge in Kate's eyes. Fyles's responsive +smile was that of the fencer. + +"You are too well informed." + +But the woman shook her head. + +"Not so well informed as I could wish," she said. Then she laughed as +her merry sister might have laughed, and the policeman wanted to join +in it by reason of its very infection. "There's a whole heap of things +I'd like to know. I'd like to know why a government of the people +makes a law nobody wants, and spends the public's money in enforcing +it. Also I'd like to know why they take a vicious delight in striving +to make criminals of honest enough people in the process. Also I'd +like to know how your people intend to trip up certain people for a +crime which they have never committed, and don't intend to commit, +and, anyway, before they can be punished must be caught red-handed. +You've got your problems sure enough, and--and these are some of the +simplest of mine. Oh, dear--it almost makes my head whirl when I think +of them. But I must do so, because," her smile died out, and the man +watched the sudden determined setting of her lips, "I'm against you as +long as you are--against him. Good-bye. I must get my mail." + + * * * * * + +It was a long circuitous route which took Stanley Fyles back to his +camp. But it seemed short enough on the back of the faithful, +fleet-footed Peter. Then, too, the man's thoughts were more than +merely pleasant. Satisfaction that his news was awaiting him at the +camp left him free to indulge in the happy memory of his brief passage +of arms with Kate Seton. + +What a staunch creature she was! He wondered if the day would ever +come when she would exercise the same loyalty and staunchness on his +behalf. To him it seemed an extraordinary, womanish perversity that +made her cling to a poor creature so obviously a wrongdoer. Was she +truly blind to his doings, or was she merely blinding herself to them? +She was not in love with Charlie Bryant, he felt sure. Her avowal of +regard had been too open and sincere to have been of any other nature +than the one she had claimed for it. Yes, he could understand that +attitude in her. Anything he had ever seen of her pointed the big +woman nature in her. She felt herself strong, and, like other strong +people, it was a passion with her to help the weak and erring. + +Fyles's knowledge of women was slight enough, but he had that keen +observation which told him many things instinctively. And all the best +and truest that was in him had been turned upon this woman from the +very first time he had seen her. + +He told himself warmly, now, that she was the most lovable creature on +earth, and nothing but marriage with her could ever bring him the +necessary peace of mind that would permit him to continue his work +with that zeal and hope of achievement with which he had set about a +career. + +He saw so many things now, through the eyes of a great passion, that +seemed utterly different, rendered transcendentally attractive through +the glamor of a strong, deep love. They were things which, before, had +always been viewed dispassionately, almost coldly, yet not without +satisfaction. They had always been part of his scheme, but had no +greater attraction than the mere fact that they were integral parts of +one great whole. Now they became oases, restful shades in the sunlight +of his effort. + +He had always contemplated marriage as an ultimately necessary adjunct +to the main purpose. No man, he felt, could succeed adequately, after +a certain measure had been achieved, without a woman at his side, a +woman's influence to keep the social side of a career in balance with +the side which depended upon his direct effort. Now he saw there was +more in it than that. Something more human. Something which made +success a thousand times more pleasing to contemplate. He felt that +with Kate at his side giant's work would become all too easy. Her +ravishing smile of encouragement would be a gentle spur to the most +jaded energies. The delight of bearing her upon his broad shoulders in +his upward career, would be bliss beyond words, and, in the interim of +his great efforts, the care and happiness of her loyally courageous +heart would be a delight almost too good to be true. + +His keen mind and straining energies were bathed in the wonderful +fount of love. He was looking for the first time into the magic mirror +which every human creature must, at some time, gaze into. He was +discovering all those pictures which had been discovered countless +millions of times before, and which other coming countless millions +had yet to discover for themselves. + +So he rode on dreaming to the rhythmic beat of Peter's willing hoofs. +So he came at last to the distant camp of his subordinate comrades. + +He was greeted by the harsh voice and hard, weather-stained features +of McBain wreathed in a smile which was a mere distortion, yet which +augured well. + +"I haven't opened the letters, sir," he said, "but I've questioned +Jones close. I guess it's right, all right." + +Fyles was once more the man of business. He nodded as he flung off his +horse and handed it over to a waiting trooper. + +"Where's the despatch?" he demanded sharply. + +McBain produced a long, official envelope. The other tore it open +hastily. He ran his eyes over its contents, and passed it back to the +sergeant. + +"Good," he exclaimed. "There's a cargo left Fort Allerton, on the +American side, bound for Rocky Springs by trail. It's a big cargo of +rye whisky. We'll have to get busy." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +MOVES IN THE GAME OF LOVE + + +Stanley Fyles's extreme satisfaction was less enduring than might have +been expected. Success, and the prospect of success, were matters +calculated to affect him more nearly than anything else in his life. +That was the man, as he always had been; that was the man, who, in so +brief a time, had raised himself to the commissioned ranks of his +profession. But, somehow, just now a slight undercurrent of thought +and feeling had set in. It was scarcely perceptible at first, but +growing rapidly, it quickly robbed the tide of his satisfaction of +quite half its strength, and came near to reducing it to the condition +of slack water. + +McBain was in the quarters attending to the detail which fell to his +lot. A messenger from Winter's Crossing had come in announcing the +arrival, at that camp, of the reinforcing patrol. This was the +culminating point of Fyles's satisfaction. From that moment the +undercurrent set in. + +The inspector had moved out of the bluff, which screened the temporary +quarters from chance observation, and had taken up a position on the +shoulder of the valley, where he sat himself upon a fallen fence post +to consider the many details of the work he had in mind. + +The sun was setting in a ruddy cauldron of summer cloud, and, already, +the evening mists were rising from the heart of the superheated +valley. The wonderful peace of the scene might well have been a +sedative to the stream of rapid thought pouring through his busy +brain. + +But its soothing powers seemed to have lost virtue, and, as his almost +unconscious gaze took in the beauties spread out before it, a curious +look of unrest replaced the satisfaction in his keen eyes. His brows +drew together in a peevish frown. A discontent set the corners of +his tightly compressed lips drooping, and once or twice he stirred +impatiently, as though his irritation of mind had communicated itself +to his physical nerves. + +Once more the image of Kate Seton had risen up before his mind's eye, +and, for the first time it brought him no satisfaction. For the first +time he had associated the probable object of his plans with her. +Charlie Bryant was no longer a mere offender against the law in his +mind. In concentrating his official efforts against him he realized +the jeopardy in which his own regard for Kate Seton placed him. He saw +that his success now in ridding the district of the whisky-runner +would, at the same time, rob him of all possible chance of ever +obtaining the regard of this woman he loved. It meant an ostracism +based upon the strongest antipathy--the antipathy of a woman wounded +in her tenderest emotions, that wonderful natural instinct which is +perhaps beyond everything else in her life. + +The more than pity of it. Kate's interest in Charlie Bryant had +assumed proportions which threatened to overwhelm his whole purpose. +It became almost a tragedy. Pondering upon this ominous realization a +sort of panic came near to taking hold of him. Apart from his own +position, the pain and suffering he knew he must inflict upon her set +him flinching. + +Her protestations of Charlie's innocence were very nearly absurd. To +a mind trained like his there was little enough doubt of the man's +offense. He was a rank "waster," but, as in the case of all such +creatures, there was a woman ready to believe in him with all the +might of feminine faith. It was a bitter thought that in this case +Kate Seton should be the woman. She did believe. He was convinced of +her honesty in her declaration. She believed from the bottom of her +heart, she, a woman of such keen sense and intelligence. It was--yes, +it was maddening. Through it all he saw his duty lying plainly before +him. His whole career was at stake, that career for which only he had +hitherto lived, and which, eventually, he had hoped to lay at Kate's +feet. + +What could he do? There was no other way. He--must--go--on. His dream +was wrecking. It was being demolished before his eyes. It was not +being sent crushing at one mighty stroke, but was being torn to shreds +and destroyed piecemeal. + +He strove to stiffen himself before the blow, and his very attitude +expressed something of his effort. He told himself a dozen times that +he must accept the verdict, and carry his duty through, his duty to +himself as well as to his superiors. But conviction was lacking. The +human nature in him was rebelling. For all his discipline it would not +be denied. And with each passing moment it was gaining in its power to +make itself felt and heard. + +Its promptings came swiftly, and in a direction hardly conceivable in +a man of his balance of mind. But the more sure the strength of the +man, the more sure the strength of the old savage lurking beneath the +sanest thought. The savage rose up in him now in a reckless challenge +to all that was best and most noble in him. A cruel suspicion swept +through his mind and quickly permeated his whole outlook. What if he +had read Kate's regard for the man Bryant wrong? What if he had read +it as she intended him to read it, seeking to blind him to the true +facts? He knew her for a clever woman, a shrewd woman, even a daring +woman. What if she had read through his evident regard for her, and +had determined to turn it to account in saving her lover from +disaster, by posing with a maternal, or sisterly regard for his +welfare? Such things he felt had been done. He was to be a tool, a +mere tool in her hands, the poor dupe whose love had betrayed him. + +He sprang from his seat. + +No, a thousand times no, he told himself. His memory of her beautiful, +dark, fearless eyes was too plainly in his mind for that. The honesty +of her concern and regard for the man was too simply plain to hold +any trace of the perfidy which his thought suggested. He told +himself these things. He told himself again and again, and--remained +unconvinced. The savage in him, the human nature was gaining an +ascendancy that would not be denied, and from the astute, disciplined +man he really was, at a leap, he became the veriest doubting lover. + +He threw his powerful arms out, and stretched himself. His movements +were the movements of unconcern, but there was no unconcern within +him. A teeming, harassing thought was urging him, driving him to the +only possible course whereby he could hope to obtain a resumption of +his broken peace of mind. + +He must see Kate. He must see her again, without delay. + + * * * * * + +Kate Seton was sitting in the northern shadow of her little house the +following morning when Stanley Fyles rode down the southern slope of +the valley toward the old footbridge. She had just dispatched Big +Brother Bill on an errand to the village, and, with feminine tact, had +requested him to discover Helen's whereabouts, and send her, or bring +her home. She had no particular desire that Helen should return home. +In fact, she would rather she didn't until mid-day dinner. But she +felt she was giving the man the excuse he evidently needed. + +As a matter of fact, she had a good deal of work to do. And the first +hour after Bill had taken his departure she was fully occupied with +her two villainous hired men. After that she returned to the house, +and wrote several letters, and, finally, took up her position in the +shade, and devoted herself to a basket of long-neglected sewing. + +At the sound of the approaching horseman she looked up with a start. +She had no expectation of a visitor, she had no desire for one just +now. Nevertheless, when she discovered the officer's identity, she +displayed no surprise, and more interest, than might have been +expected. + +She did not disguise from herself the feelings this man inspired. On +the contrary she rather reveled in them, especially as, in a way, just +now, all her actions must be in direct antagonism to his efforts. + +She felt that a battle, a big battle, must be fought and won between +them. It was a battle to be fought out openly and frankly. It was her +determination that this man should not wrong himself by committing a +great wrong upon Charlie Bryant. + +Kate was very busy at the moment Fyles rode up. She was intent upon +fitting a piece of lace, obviously too small, upon a delicate white +garment of her sister's, which was obviously too big. + +For a moment, as she did not look up, Fyles sat leaning forward in the +saddle with his arms resting upon its horn. He was watching her with +a smiling interest which was not without anxiety. + +"There's surely not a dandier picture in the world than a girl sitting +in the shade sewing--white things," he said at last, by way of +greeting. + +Kate glanced up for the briefest of smiling glances. Then her dark +head bent over her sewing again. + +"And there's surely nothing calculated to upset things more than a man +butting in, where the same girl's fragment of brain is worrying to fit +something that doesn't fit anyway." + +"Meaning me?" + +Fyles smiled in his confident way. + +"Seeing there's no one else around, I must have meant some other +fellow." + +Kate laid the lace aside, and looked up with a sigh. A gentle +amusement shone in her fine dark eyes. + +"Have you ever tried to make things fit that--just won't?" she +demanded. + +Fyles shook his head. + +"Maybe I can help, though," he hazarded. + +"Help?" Kate's amusement merged into a laugh. "Say, when it comes to +fitting things that don't fit, two heads generally muss things right +up. All my life I've been trying to fit things that don't fit, and I +find, if you're to succeed, you've got to do it to yourself, and by +yourself. It always takes a big lot of thinking which nobody else can +follow. Maybe your way of thinking is different from other folks, and +so they can't understand, and that's why they can't follow it. Now +here's a bit of lace, and there's a sleeve. The lace is short by an +inch. Still there's ways and ways of fixing it, but only one right +way. If I make the sleeve smaller the lace will fit, but poor Helen +won't get her arm through it. If I tack on a bit more lace it'll muss +the job, and make it look bad. Then there's other ways, too, +but--there's only one right way." She dropped the lace in her basket +and began to fold the garment. "I'll get some new lace that does fit," +she declared emphatically. + +Fyles nodded, but the amusement died out of his eyes. + +"All of which is sound sense," he said seriously, "and is leading us +toward controversial--er--subjects. Eh?" + +Kate raised a pair of shoulders with pretended indifference. But her +eyes were smiling that challenge which Stanley Fyles always associated +with her. + +"Not a bad thing when the police are getting so very busy, and--you +are their chief in the district," she said. + +"I must once more remark, you are well informed," smiled Fyles. + +"And I must once more remark not as well informed as I could wish," +retorted Kate quickly. + +Fyles had permitted his gaze to wander down the wooded course of the +river. Kate was watching him closely, speculatively. And curious +enough she was thinking more of the man than his work at that moment. + +The man's eyes came back abruptly to her face, and her expression was +instantly changed to one of smiling irony. + +"Well?" she demanded. + +Fyles shook his head. + +"It isn't," he said. "May I ask how you know we are--so very busy?" + +"Sure," cried Kate, with a frank laugh. "You see, I have two of the +worst scamps in the valley working for me, and they seem to think it +more than necessary that they keep themselves posted as to--your +movements." + +"I see." Fyles's lighter mood had entirely passed, and with its going +Kate's became more marked. "I s'pose they spy out everything for the +benefit of their--chief." + +Kate clapped her hands. + +"What reasoning. I s'pose they have a chief?" she added slyly. + +A frown of irritation crossed the policeman's brow. + +"Must we open up that old sore, Miss Kate?" he, asked almost sharply. +"They are known to be--when not occupied with the work of your +farm--assisting Charlie Bryant in his whisky-running schemes. They are +two of his lieutenants." + +"And so, because they are so known among the village people here, you +are prosecuting this campaign against a man whom you hope to catch +red-handed." + +"I have sufficient personal evidence to--prosecute my campaign," said +Fyles quickly. "As you said just now, we are not idle." + +"Yes, I know," Kate sighed, and her gaze was turned upon the western +reaches of the valley. "Your camp out there is full of activity. So +is Winter's Crossing. And the care with which you mask your coming and +going is known to everybody. It is a case of the hunter being hunted. +Yes, I say it without resentment, I am glad of these things, because +I--must know." + +"If we are against each other--it is only natural you should wish to +know." + +Kate's eyes opened wider. + +"Of course we are against each other, as long as you are against +Charlie. But only in our--official capacities." A whimsical smile +stole into the woman's eyes. "Oh, you are so--so obstinate," she cried +in mock despair. "In this valley it is no trouble for me to watch your +every move, and, in Charlie's interests, to endeavor to frustrate +them. But the worst of it is I'd--I'd like to see you win out. Instead +of that I know you won't. You've had some news. You had it yesterday, +I suppose, by that patrol. Maybe it's news of another cargo coming in, +and you are getting ready to capture it, and--Charlie. I'm not here to +give any one away, I'm not here to tell you all I know, must know, +living in the valley, but you are doomed, utterly doomed to failure, +if you count the capture of Charlie success." + +In spite of the lightness of Kate's manner her words were not without +their effect upon Fyles. There was a ring of sincerity in them that +would not be denied. But its effect upon him was not that which she +could have wished. His face set almost sternly. The challenge of the +woman had stirred him out of his calm assurance, but it was in a +direction which she could scarcely have expected. He thrust his +sunburned face forward more aggressively, and challenged her in +return. + +"What is this man to you?" he demanded, his square jaws seeming to +clip his question the more shortly. + +In a moment Kate's face was flushing her resentment. Her dark eyes +were sparkling with a sudden leaping anger. + +"You have no right to--ask me that," she cried. But Fyles had +committed himself. Nor would he draw back. + +"Haven't I?" he laughed harshly. "All's fair in love and--war. We are +at war--officially." + +The woman's flushing cheeks remained, but the sparkle of her eyes had +changed again to an ironical light. + +"War--yes. Perhaps you're right. The only courtesies recognized in war +are observed in the prize ring, and in international warfare. Our +warfare must be less exalted, and permits hitting--below the belt. +I've told you what Charlie is to me, and I have told you truly. I am +trying to defend an innocent man, who is no more to me than a brother, +or--or son. I am doing so because of his peculiar ailments which make +him well-nigh incapable of helping himself. You see, he does not care. +His own safety, his own welfare, are nothing to him. It is for that +reason, for the way he acts in consequence of these things, that all +men believe him a rogue, and a--a waster. I tell you he is neither." + +She finished up a little breathlessly. She had permitted her loyalty +and anxiety to carry her beyond the calm fencing she had intended. + +But Fyles remained unmoved, except that the harshness had gone out of +his manner. + +"It is not I who am obstinate," he said soberly. "It is you, Miss +Kate. What if I told you I had irrefutable circumstantial evidence +against him? Would that turn you from your faith in him?" + +The woman shook her head. + +"It would be merely circumstantial evidence," she said. "God knows how +circumstance has filled our penitentiaries wrongfully," she added +bitterly. + +"And but for circumstance our population of wrongdoers at large would +be greater by a thousand per cent.," retorted the officer. + +"That is supposition," smiled Kate. + +"Which does not rob it of its possibility in fact." + +The two sat looking at each other, silently defiant. Kate was smiling. +A great excitement was thrilling her, and she liked this man all the +better for his blunt readiness for combat, even with her. + +Fyles was wondering at this woman, half angry, half pleased. Her +strength and readiness appealed to him as a wonderful display. + +He was the first to speak, and, in doing so, he felt he was +acknowledging his worsting in the encounter. + +"It's--it's impossible to fight like this," he said lamely. "I am not +accustomed to fight with women." + +"Does it matter, so long as a woman can fight?" Kate cried quickly. +"Chivalry?" she went on contemptuously. "That's surely a survival of +ages when the old curfew rang, and a lot of other stupid notions +filled folks' minds. I--I just love to fight." + +Her smile was so frankly infectious that Fyles found himself +responding. He heaved a sigh. + +"It's no good," he said almost hopelessly. "You must stick to your +belief, and I to mine. All I hope, Miss Kate, is that when I've done +with this matter the pain I've inflicted on you will not be +unforgivable." + +The woman's eyes were turned away. They had become very soft as she +gazed over at the distant view of Charlie's house. + +"I don't think it will be," she said gently. Then with a quick return +to her earlier manner: "You see, you will never get the chance of +hurting Charlie." A moment later she inquired naively: "When is the +cargo coming in?" + +But Fyles's exasperation was complete. + +"When?" he cried. "Why, when this scamp is ready for it. It's--it's no +use, Miss Kate. I can't stop, or--or I'll be forgetting you are a +woman, and say 'Damn!' I admit you have bested me, but--young Bryant +hasn't. I----" he broke off, laughing in spite of his annoyance, and +Kate cordially joined in. + +"But he will," she cried, as Peter began to move away. "Good-bye, Mr. +Fyles," she added, in her ironical fashion as she picked up her +sewing. "I can get on with these important matters--now." + +The man's farewell was no less cordial, and his better sense told him +that in accepting his defeat at her hands he had won a good deal in +another direction where he hoped to finally achieve her capitulation. + + * * * * * + +While the skirmish between Stanley Fyles and Kate Seton was going on, +the object of it was discussing the doings of the police and the +prospect of the coming struggle with Big Brother Bill on the veranda +of his house. + +He was leaning against one of its posts while Bill reposed on the hard +seat of a Windsor chair, seeking what comfort he could find in the +tremendous heat by abandoning all superfluous outer garments. + +Charlie's face was darkly troubled. His air was peevishly irritable. + +"Bill," he said, with a deep thrill of earnestness in his voice, as he +thrust his brown, delicate hands into the tops of his trousers. "All +the trouble in the world's just about to start, if I'm a judge of the +signs of things. There's a whole crowd of the police in the valley +now. They're camped higher up. They think we don't know, but we +do--all of us. I wonder what they think they're going to do?" + +His manner became more excited, and his voice grew deeper and deeper. + +"They think they're going to get a big haul of liquor. They think +they're going to get me. I tell you, Bill, that for men trained to +smelling things out, they're blunderers. Their methods are clumsy as +hell. I could almost laugh, if--if I didn't feel sick at their coming +around." + +Bill stirred uneasily. + +"If there were no whisky-running here they wouldn't be around," he +said pointedly. + +Charlie eyed him curiously. + +"No," he said. Then he added, "And if there were no whisky-running +there'd be no village here. If there were no village here we shouldn't +be here. Kate and her sister wouldn't be here. Nothing would be here, +but the old pine--that goes on forever. This village lives on the +prohibition law. Fyles may have a reputation, but he's clumsy--damned +clumsy. I'd like to see ahead--the next few days." + +"He's smelling a cargo--coming in, isn't he?" Bill's tact was holding +him tight. + +Again Charlie looked at him curiously before he replied. + +"That's how they reckon," he said guardedly, at last. + +Bill had turned away, vainly searching his unready wit for the best +means of carrying on the discussion. Suddenly his eyes lit, and he +pointed across at the Seton's house. + +"Say, who's that--on that horse? Isn't it Fyles? He's talking to some +one. Looks like----" + +He broke off. Charlie was staring out in the direction indicated, and, +in a moment, his excitement passed, swallowed up in a frowning, +brooding light that had suddenly taken possession of his dark eyes. + +Bill finally broke the uncomfortable silence. + +"It's--Fyles?" he said. + +"Yes, it's Fyles," said Charlie, with a sudden suppressed fury. "It's +Fyles--curse him, and he's talking to--Kate." + +At the sound of his brother's tone, even Bill realized his blundering. +He knew he had fired a train of passion that was to be deplored, even +dreaded in his brother. He blamed himself bitterly for his lack of +forethought, his absurd want of discretion. + +But the mischief was done. Charlie had forgotten everything else. + +Bill stirred again in his chair. + +"What does he want down there?" he demanded, for lack of something +better to say. + +"What does he want?" Charlie laughed. It was an unpleasant laugh, a +savage laugh. It was a laugh that spoke of sore heart, and feelings +crowding with bitterness. "I guess he wants something he'll never +get--while I'm alive." + +He relapsed into moody silence, and a new expression grew in his eyes +till it even dominated that which had shone in them before. Bill +thought he recognized it. The word "funk" flashed through his mind, +and left him wondering. What could Charlie have to fear from Fyles +talking to Kate? Did he believe that Kate would let the officer pump +her with regard to his, Charlie's, movements! + +Yes, that must be it. + +"He won't get more than five cents for his dollar out of her," he +said, in an effort to console. + +Charlie was round on him in a flash. + +"Five cents for a dollar? No," he cried, "nor one cent, nor a fraction +of a cent. Fyles is dealing with the cleverest, keenest woman I've +ever met in all my life. I'm not thinking that way. I'm thinking how +almighty easy it is for a man walking a broken trail to trip and +smash himself right up. The more sure he is the worse is his fall, +because--he takes big chances, and big chances mean big falls. You've +hit it, Bill, I'm scared--scared to death just now. If I know Fyles +there's going to be one hell of a time around here, and, if you value +your future, get clear while you can. I'm scared, Bill, scared and +mad. I can't stand to watch that man talking to Kate. I'm not scared +of man or devil, but I'm scared--scared to death when I see that. I +must get out of this. I must get away, or----" + +He moved off the veranda in a frantic state of nervous passion. + +Bill sprang from his seat and was at his brother's side in two great +strides, and his big hand fell with no little force upon the latter's +arm and held it. + +"What do you mean?" he cried apprehensively. "Where--where are you +going?" + +With surprising strength Charlie flung him off. He turned, facing him +with angry eyes and flushed face. + +"Don't you dare lay hand on me like that again, Bill," he cried +dangerously. "I don't stand for that from--anybody. I'm going down the +village, since you want to know. I'm going down to O'Brien's. And you +can get it right now that I wouldn't stand the devil himself butting +in to stop me." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +STORM CLOUDS + + +A dispirited creature made its way down to the Setons' house that same +evening. Big Brother Bill felt there was not one single clear thought +in his troubled head, at least, not one worth thinking. He was +weighted down by a hazy conception of the position of things, in a +manner that came near to destroying the very root of his optimism. + +One or two things settled upon his mind much in the manner of mental +vampires. He knew that Charlie was threatened, and he knew that +Charlie knew it, and made no attempt to protect himself. He knew that +Charlie was also scared--frightened out of all control of himself in a +manner that was absurdly contradictory. He knew that he was now at the +saloon for the purpose of drowning his hopeless feelings in the +maddening spirit O'Brien dispensed. He knew that his own baggage had +at last arrived from Heaven only knew where, and he wished it hadn't, +for it left him feeling even more burdened than ever with the +responsibilities of the pestilential valley. He knew that he was +beginning to hate the police, and Fyles, almost as much as Charlie +did. He knew that if prevailing conditions weren't careful he would +lose his temper with them, and make things hot for somebody or +something. But, more than all else, he knew that Helen Seton was more +than worth all the worry and anxiety he was enduring. + +In consequence of all this he arrayed himself in a light tweed suit, a +clean, boiled shirt and collar, a tie, that might well have startled +the natives of his home city, and a panama hat which he felt was +necessary to improve the tropical appearance of his burnt and +perspiring features, and hastened to Helen's presence for comfort and +support. + +The girl had been waiting for him. She looked the picture of +diaphanous coolness in the shade of the house, lounging in an old +wicker chair, with its fellow, empty, drawn up beside her. There were +no feminine eyes to witness her little schemes, and Bill?--why, Bill +was delighted beyond words that she was there, also the empty chair, +also, that, as he believed, while she was wholly unconscious of the +fact, the girl's attitude and costume were the most innocently +pleasing things he had ever beheld with his two big, blue, +appreciative eyes. + +He promptly told her so. + +"Say, Hel," he cried, "you don't mind me calling you 'Hel,' do +you?--you see, everything delightful seems to be associated with +'Hell' nowadays. If you could see yourself and the dandy picture +you make you'd kind of understand how I feel just about now." + +The girl smiled her delight. + +"Maybe I do understand," she said. "You see, I don't always sit around +in this sort of fancy frock. Then, no girl of sense musses herself +into an awkward pose when six foot odd of manhood's getting around her +way. No, no Big Brother Bill. That chair didn't get there by itself. +Two carefully manicured hands put it there, after their owner had +satisfied herself that her mirror hadn't made a mistake, and that she +was looking quite her most attractive. You see, you'd promised to come +to see me this evening, and--well, I'm woman enough to be very +pleased. That's all." + +Bill's sun-scorched face deepened its ruddy hue with youthful delight. + +"Say, you did all this for--for me?" + +Helen laughed. + +"Why, yes, and told you the various details to be appreciated, because +I was scared to death you wouldn't get them right." + +Bill sat himself down, and set the chair creaking as he turned it +about facing her. He held out his hands. + +"I haven't seen the manicuring racket right, yet," he laughed. + +Helen stretched out her two hands toward him for inspection. He +promptly seized them in his, and pretended to examine them. + +"The prettiest, softest, jolliest----" + +But the girl snatched them away. + +"That's not inspection. That's----" + +"Sure it's not," retorted Bill easily. "It's true." + +"And absurd." + +"What--the truth?" + +Bill's blue eyes were widely inquiring. + +"Sometimes." + +The smile died out of the man's eyes, and his big face became doleful. + +"Yes, I s'pose it is." + +Helen set up. + +"What's gone wrong--now? What truth is--absurd?" she demanded. + +The man shrugged. + +"Oh, everything. Say, have you ever heard of a disease of the--the +brain called 'partly hatched'?" + +The girl's eyes twinkled. + +"I don't kind of remember it." + +"No, I don't s'pose you do. I don't think anybody ever has it but me. +I've got it bad. This valley's given it me, and--and if it isn't +careful it's going to get fatal." + +Helen looked around at him in pretended sympathy. + +"What's the symptoms? Nothing outward? I mean that tie--that's not a +symptom, is it?" + +Bill shook his head. He was smiling, but beneath his smile there was a +certain seriousness. + +"No. There's no outward signs--yet. I got it through thinking too--too +young. You see, I've done so much thinking in the last week. If it had +been spread over, say six months, the hatching might have got fixed +right. But it's been too quick, and things have got addled. You see, +if a hen turned on too much pressure of heat her eggs would get +fried--or addled. That's how my brain is. It's addled." + +Helen nodded with a great show of seriousness which the twitching +corners of her pretty mouth belied. + +"I always thought you'd got a trouble back of your--head. But you'd +best tell me. You see, I don't get enough pressure of thinking to +hatch anything. Maybe between us we can fix your mental eggs right." + +Bill's big eyes lit with relief and hope. + +"That's bright of you. You surely are the cutest girl ever. You must +have got a heap of brain to spare." + +Helen could no longer restrain her laughter. + +"It's mostly all--spare. Now, then, tell me all your troubles." + +The great creature at her side looked doubtful and puzzled. + +"I don't know just where to begin. There's such a heap, and I've +worried thinking about it, till--till----" + +Helen sat up and propped her chin in her hands with her elbows on her +knees. + +"When you don't know where to begin just start with the first thought +in your head, and--and--ramble." + +Bill brightened up. + +"Sure that's best?" + +"Sure." + +The man sighed in relief. + +"That's made a heap of difference," he cried. Then he took a +handkerchief from his pocket, removed his panama and mopped his +forehead. He gave a big gulp in the midst of the process, and spoke as +though he were defying an enemy. "Will you marry me?" he demanded, and +sat up glaring at her, with his hat and handkerchief poised in either +hand. + +The girl gave him a quick look. Then she flung herself back in her +chair and laughed. + +"We--we are talking of troubles," she protested. + +Bill replaced his hat, and restored his handkerchief to its pocket. + +"Troubles? Troubles? Isn't that trouble enough to start with? +It's--it's the root of it all," he declared. "I'm--I'm just crazy +about you. And every time I try to think about Charlie and the police, +and--and the scallywags of the valley, I--I find you mixed up with it +all, and get so tangled up that I don't know where I am, or--or why. +Say, have you ever been crazy about anybody? Some feller, for +instance? It's the worst worrying muddle ever happened. First you're +pleased--then you cuss them. Then you sort of sit dreaming all sorts +of fool things that haven't any sense at all. Then you want to make +rhymes and things about eyes, and flowers, and moons, and feet, and +laces and bits. You feel all over that everything else has got no +sense to it, and is just so much waste of time thinking about it. You +sort of feel that all men are fools but yourself, and other females +aren't women, but just images. You sort of get the notion the world's +on a pivot, and that pivot's just yourself, and if you weren't there +there'd be a bust up, and most everything would get chasing glory, and +you don't care a darn, anyway, if they did. Say, when you get clean +crazy about anybody, same as I am about you, you find yourself hating +everybody that comes near them. You get notions that every man is +conspiring to tell the girl what a perfect fool you are, that they're +worrying to boost you right out with her. You hate her, because you +think she thinks you are a simpleton, and can't see your good points, +which are so obvious to yourself. You hate yourself, you hate life, +you hate the sunlight and the trees, and your food, and--and +everything. And you wouldn't have things different, or stop making +such a fool of yourself, no--not if hell froze over. Will--will you +marry me?" + +Helen's humor suddenly burst the bonds of all restraint. She sat there +laughing until she nearly choked. + +Bill waited with a patience that seemed inexhaustible. Then, as the +girl's mirth began to lessen, he put his question again with dogged +persistence. + +"Will you marry me?" + +"Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Of all the----" + +"Will you marry me?" the man persisted, his great face flushing. + +Helen abruptly sobered. The masterful tone somehow sent a delighted +thrill through her nerves. + +She nodded. + +"Of course I will. I--intended to from the first moment I saw your +big, funny face with Stanley----" + +"You mean that, Hel? You really--meant to marry me? You did?" + +The man's happy excitement was something not easily to be forgotten. +He sprang from his chair, reached out his powerful hands, caught the +girl about the waist, and picked her up in his arms as he might have +picked up a child. His great bear-like hug was a monstrous thing to +endure, but Helen was more than willing to endure it, as also his +kisses, which he rained upon her happy, laughing face. + +But the girl's sense of the fitness of things soon came to her rescue. +The ridiculousness, the undignified figure she must appear, held in +her great lover's arms, set her struggling to free herself, and, in a +few moments, he set her once more upon her feet, and stood laughing +down into her blushing face. + +"Say," he cried, with a great laugh, "I don't care a cuss if my brains +never hatch out. You're going to be my wife. You, the girl I'm crazy +to death about. Fyles and all the rest can go hang. Gee!" + +Helen looked up at him. Then she smoothed out her ruffled frock, and +patted her hair into its place. + +"Well," she cried, with a happy laugh, "I've heard some queer +proposals from the boys of this valley when they were drunk, but for a +sober, educated man, I think you've made the funniest proposal that +any one ever listened to. Oh, Bill, Bill, you've done a foolish thing. +I'm a shameless man-hunter. I came out west to find a husband, and +I've found one. I wanted to marry you all along. I meant to marry +you." + +Bill's laugh rang out in a great guffaw. + +"Bully!" he cried. "What's the use of marrying a girl who doesn't want +to marry you?" + +"But she ought to pretend--at first." + +"Not on your life. No pretense for me, Hel. Give me the girl who's +honest enough to love me, and let me know it." + +"Bill! How--dare you? How dare you say I loved you and told you so? +I've--I've a good mind not to marry----Say, Bill, you are a--joke. +Now, sit right down, and tell me all about those--those other things +worrying you." + +In a moment a shadow crossed the man's cheerful face. But he +obediently resumed his seat, and somehow, when Helen sat down, their +chairs were as close together as their manufacturer had made possible. + +"It's Charlie--Charlie, and the police," said Bill, in a despondent +tone. "And Kate, too. I don't know. Say, Hel, what's--what's going to +happen? Fyles is hot after Charlie. Charlie don't care a curse. But +there's something scaring him that bad he's nearly crazy. Then there's +Kate. He saw Kate talking to Fyles, and he got madder than--hell. And +now he's gone off to O'Brien's, and it don't even take any thinking to +guess what for. I tell you he's so queer I can't do a thing with him. +I'm not smart enough. I could just break him in my two hands if I took +hold of him to keep him home and out of trouble, but what's the use? +He's crazy about Kate, he's crazy about drink, he's crazy about +everything, but keeping clear of the law. That's what I came to tell +you about--that, and to fix up about getting married." + +The man's words left a momentary dilemma in the girl's mind. For a +moment she was at a loss how to answer him. It seemed impossible to +accept seriously his tale of anxiety and worry, and yet----. The same +tale from any other would have seemed different. But coming from Bill, +and just when she was so full of an almost childish happiness at the +thought that this great creature loved her, and wanted to marry her, +it took her some moments to reduce herself to a condition of judicial +calm, sufficient to obtain the full significance of his anxious +complaint. + +When at last she spoke her eyes were serious, so serious that Bill +wondered at it. He had never seen them like that before. + +"It's dreadful," she said in a low tone. "Dreadful." + +Bill jumped at the word. + +"Dreadful? My God, it's awful when you think he's my brother, and--and +Kate's your sister. I can't see ahead. I can't see where things +are--are drifting. That's the devil of it. I wish to goodness they'd +given me less beef and more brain," he finished up helplessly. + +Helen displayed no inclination to laugh. Somehow now that this simple +man was here, now that the responsibility of him had devolved upon +her, a delightful feeling of gentle motherliness toward him rose up in +her heart, and made her yearn to help him. It was becoming quite easy +to take him seriously. + +"P'r'aps it's a good thing you've got all that--beef. P'r'aps it's for +the best, you're so--so strong, and so ready to help. You can't see +ahead. Neither can I. Maybe no one can, but--Fyles. Suppose you and +I were standing at the foot of a cliff--a big, high cliff, very +dangerous, very dreadful, and some one we both loved was climbing its +face, and we saw them reach a point where it looked impossible to go +on, or turn back. What could we do? I'll tell you. We could remain +standing there looking on, praying to Providence that they might get +through, and holding ourselves ready to bear a hand when opportunity +offered, and, failing that, do our utmost to _break their fall_." + +Bill's appreciation suddenly illuminated his ingenuous face. + +"Say," he cried admiringly. "You've hit it. Sure, we can't climb up +and help. It would mean disaster to both, with no one left to help. +Say, I'm glad I'm big and strong. That's it, we'll stand--by. You'll +think, and I'll do what you tell me. By Jing! That's made everything +different. We'll stand by, and break their fall. I could never have +thought of that--I couldn't, sure." + +It was Helen's turn to display enthusiasm. It was an enthusiasm +inspired by her lover's acceptance of her suggestion. + +"But we're not going to just watch and watch and do nothing. We must +keep on Fyles's trail. We must keep close behind Charlie, and when we +see the fall coming on we must be ready to thrust out a hand. You +never know, we may beat the whole game in spite of Charlie. We may be +able to save him in spite of himself. No harm must come to Kate +through him. I can't see where it can come, except--that he is mad +about her, and she is mad about--some one else." + +"Fyles?" Bill hazarded. + +Helen looked around at him in amused admiration. She nodded. + +"You're getting too clever for me. You will be thinking for us both +soon." + +Bill denied the accusation enthusiastically. + +"Never," he exclaimed. And after that he drifted into a lover's +rhapsody of his own inferiority and unworthiness. + +Thus, for a while, the more serious cares were set aside for that +brief lover's paradise when two people find their focus filled to +overflowing with that precious Self, which we are told always to deny. +Fortunately human nature does not readily yield to such behests, and +so life is not robbed of its mainspring, and the whole machinery of +human nature is not reduced to a chaotic bundle of useless wheels. + +For all Helen's boasted scheming, for all Bill's lack of brilliancy, +these two were just a pair of simple creatures, loyal and honest, and +deeply in love. So they dallied as all true lovers must dally with +those first precious moments which a Divine Providence permits to flow +in full tide but once in a lifetime. + + * * * * * + +Charlie Bryant was standing at the bar of O'Brien's saloon. One hand +rested on the edge of the counter as though to steady himself. His +eyes were bloodshot, a strange pallor left his features ghastly, and +the combination imparted a subtle appearance of terror which the +shrewd saloonkeeper interpreted in his own fashion as he unfolded his +information, and its deductions. + +The bar was quite empty otherwise, and the opportunity had been too +good for O'Brien to miss. + +"Say, I was mighty glad to get them kegs the other night safely. But +I'm takin' no more chances. It'll see me through for awhile," he said, +as he refilled Charlie's glass at his own expense. "There's a big play +coming right now, and, if you'll take advice, you'll lie low--desprit +low." + +"You mean Fyles--as usual," said Charlie thickly. Then he added as an +afterthought: "To hell with Fyles, and all his damned red-coats." + +O'Brien's quick eyes surveyed his half-drunken customer with a shrewd, +contemptuous speculation. + +"That sounds like bluff. Hot air never yet beat the p'lice. It needs a +darnation clear head, and big acts, to best Fyles. A half-soused bluff +ain't worth hell room." + +Charlie appeared to take no umbrage. His bloodshot eyes were still +fixed upon O'Brien's hard face as he raised his glass with a shaking +hand and drained it. + +"I don't need to bluff with no one around worth bluffing," he said, +setting the empty glass down on the counter. + +O'Brien's response was to fold his arms aggressively, and lean forward +upon the counter, peering into the delicate, pale face before him. + +"See here," he cried, "a fellow mostly bluffs when he's scared, or +he's in a corner--like a rat. See? Now it's to my interest to see +Fyles beat clean out of Rocky Springs. It's that set me gassin'. Get +me? So just keep easy, and take what I got to hand out. I'm wise to +the game. It's my business to keep wise. Those two crooks of yours, +Pete and Nick, were in this morning, and I heard 'em talkin'. Then I +got 'em yarning to me. They've got every move Fyles is making dead +right. They're smartish guys, and I feel they're too smart for you by +a sight. If things go their way you're safe. If there's a chance of +trouble for them you're up against it." + +Charlie licked his dry lips as the saloonkeeper paused. Then he +replaced the sodden end of his cigarette between them. But he remained +silent. + +"I've warned you of them boys before," O'Brien went on. "But that's by +the way. Now, see here, Fyles has got your play. The boys know that, +and in turn have got his play. Fyles knows that to-morrow night you're +running in a big cargo of liquor. The only thing he don't know is +where you cache it. Anyways, he's got a big force of boys around, and +Rocky Springs'll have a complete chain of patrols around it, to-morrow +night. Each man's got a signal, and when that signal's given it means +he's located the cargo. Then the others'll crowd in, and your gang's +to be overwhelmed. Get it? You'll all be taken--red-handed. I'm +guessin' you know all this all right, all right, and I'm only telling +it so you can get the rest clear. How you and your boys get these +things I'm not guessing. It's smart. But here's the bad stuff. It's my +way to watch folks and draw 'em when I want to get wise. I drew them +boys. They're reckonin' things are getting hot for 'emselves. They're +scared. They're reckonin' the game's played out, and ain't worth hell +room, with Fyles smelling around. Those boys'll put you away to Fyles, +if they see the pinch coming. And that's where my interests come in. +They'll put you away sure as death." + +If O'Brien were looking for the effect of his solemn warning he was +disappointed. Charlie's expression remained unchanged. The ghastly +white of his features suggested fear, but it was not added to by so +much as a flicker of an eyelid. + +"That all?" he asked, with a deliberate pause between the words to +obtain clear diction. + +O'Brien shrugged, but his eyes snapped angrily at this lack of +appreciation. + +"Ain't it enough? Say," his manner had become almost threatening, "I'm +not doing things for hoss-play. The folks around can build any old +church to ease their souls and make a show. Rocky Springs ain't the +end of all things for me. I'm out after the stuff. I'll soothe my soul +with dollars. That's why I'm around telling you, because your game's +the thing that's to give 'em to me. When your game's played I hit the +trail, but as long as you make good Rocky Springs is for me. If you +can't handle your proposition right then I quit you." + +Charlie suddenly shifted his position, and leaned his body against +the counter. The saloonkeeper looked for that sign which was to +re-establish his confidence. It was not forthcoming. For a moment +the half-drunken man leaned his head upon one hand, and his face +was turned from the other behind the bar. + +O'Brien became impatient. + +"Wal?" he demanded. + +His persistence was rewarded at last. But it was rewarded with a shock +which left him startled beyond retort. + +Charlie suddenly brought a clenched fist down upon the counter with a +force that set the glasses ringing. + +"Fyles!" he cried fiercely, "Fyles! It's always Fyles! God's truth, am +I never to hear, or see, the last of him? Say, you know. You think you +know. But you don't. Damn you, you don't!" + +Before the astonished saloonkeeper could recover himself and formulate +the angry retort which rose to his lips, Charlie staggered out of the +place. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE SOUL OF A MAN + + +It was growing dark. Away in the west a pale stream of light was +fading smoothly out, absorbed by the velvet softness of the summer +night. There was no moon, but the starlit vault shone dazzlingly upon +the shadowed valley. Already among the trees the yellow oil lamps were +shining within the half-hidden houses. + +From within a dense clump of trees, high up the northern slope of the +valley, a man's slight figure made its way. His movements were slow, +deliberate, even furtive. For some moments he stood peering out at a +point below where a woman's figure was rapidly making its way up the +steep trail toward the old Meeting House. + +The man's eyes were straining in the darkness for the outline of the +woman's figure was indistinct, only just discernible in the starlight. +She came on, and he could distinctly hear her voice humming an old, +familiar air. She evidently had no thought of the possibility that her +movements could be of any interest to anybody but herself. + +She reached the Meeting House and paused. Then the watching man heard +the rattle of a key in the lock. The humming had ceased. The next +moment there was the sound of a turning handle, and a tight-fitting +door being thrust open. The woman's figure had disappeared within the +building. + +The man left the sheltering bush and moved out on to the trail. He +passed one thin hand across his brow, as though to clear the thoughts +behind of their last murkiness after a drunken slumber. He stretched +himself wearily as though stiff from his unyielding bed of sun-baked +earth. Then he moved down the trail toward the Meeting House, +selecting the scorched grass at the side of it to muffle the sound of +his footsteps. + +His weariness seemed to have entirely passed now, and all his +attention was fixed upon the rough exterior of the old building, which +had passed through such strange vicissitudes to finally become the +house of worship it now was. With its old, heavy-plastered walls, and +its long, reed-thatched roof, so heavy and vastly thick, it was a +curiosity; the survival of days when men and beasts met upon a common +arena and played out the game of life and death, each as it suited +him, with none but the victor in the game to say him nay. + +The man felt something of the influence of the place now as he drew +near. Nor could he help feeling that the game that went on about it +now had changed little enough in its purpose. The rules may have +received modification, but the spirit was still the same. Men were +still struggling for victory over some one else, and beneath the +veneer of a growing civilization, passions, just as untamed, raged and +worked their will upon their ill-starred possessors. + +Reaching the building, he moved cautiously around the walls till he +came to a window. It was closed, and a curtain was drawn across it. He +passed on till he came to another window. It was partially open, and, +though the curtain was drawn across it, the opening had disarranged +the curtain, and a beam of light shone through. + +He pressed his face toward the opening so that his mouth was at its +level. Then he spoke softly, in a voice that was little more than a +whisper---- + +"Kate!" he called. "Kate! It is I--Charlie. I've--I've been waiting +for you, and want to speak to you." + +For answer there was a sound of hurrying footsteps across the floor of +the room. The next moment the curtain was pulled aside. Kate stood at +the other side of the window in the dim lamplight. Her handsome eyes +were startled and full of inquiry, and her rounded bosom rose and fell +quickly. When she saw the pale face peering in at her a gentle smile +crept into her eyes. + +"You scared the life out of me," she said calmly. Then, with a quick +look into his bloodshot eyes, she went on: "Why did you wait for +me--here?" + +Charlie lowered his eyes. "I--guessed you'd be along some time this +evening. I wanted to speak to you--alone." + +Kate studied him for a moment. His averted, almost shifty, eyes seemed +to hold her attention. She was thinking rapidly. + +Presently his eyes came back to her face; a deep passion was shining +in them. + +"Can I come around to the door?" + +There was just the smallest hesitation before Kate replied. + +"Yes, if you must see me here." + +Charlie waited for no more. The door was on the other side of the +building, overlooking the village below. He hurried thither, and when +he thrust it open the place was in darkness. + +Kate's voice greeted him promptly. "The draught has blown the lamp +out. Have you a match?" + +Charlie closed the door behind him, and produced and struck a match. +The lamp flared up and Kate replaced the glass chimney. Then she moved +over to the wall and placed the lamp in its bracket. + +It was a curious interior. In their unevenness the white kalsomined +walls displayed their primitive workmanship. The windows were small, +framed, and set deep in the ponderous walls. They looked almost like +the arrow slits in a mediæval fortress. The long, pitched roof was +supported, and collared, by heavy, untrimmed logs, which, at some +time, had formed the floor-supports of a sort of loft. This had been +done away with since, for the purpose of giving air to the suppliants +at a prayer meeting below. + +At the far end of the room were two reading desks and a sort of +communion table. While in one corner, behind one of the reading desks, +was a cheap-looking harmonium. Here and there, upon the rough walls, +were nailed cardboard streamers, conveying, amid a wealth of +illumination, sundry appropriate texts of a non-committal religious +flavor, and down the narrow body of the building were stretched rows +of hard-seated, hard-backed benches for the accommodation of the +congregation. + +One swift glance sufficed for Charlie, and his eyes came back to the +woman's smiling face. Her good looks were undoubted, but to him they +were of an almost celestial order. There was no creature in the whole +wide world to compare with her. + +His eyes devoured every detail of her expression, of her personality, +with the hungry greed of a soul-starved man. It was almost an +impossibility for him to seize upon and hold the thoughts that so +swiftly poured through his brain. So the moments passed and Kate found +her patience ebbing. + +"Well?" she demanded, her smile slowly fading. + +The man breathed a sigh, and swallowed as with a dry throat. The spell +of her charm had been broken. + +"I had to come," he cried, with a nervous rush. "I had to find you. I +had to speak to you--to tell you." + +The woman's eyes, so steadily fixed upon his face, were wearing an +almost hard look. + +"Was it necessary to stimulate your nerve to come, and--speak to me? +Charlie, Charlie," Kate went on more gently, her fine eyes softening, +"when is this all to cease? Why must you drink? It seems so hopeless. +Oh, man, where is your backbone, your grit. You tell me you long to be +free of your curse, yet you plunge headlong the moment you are +disturbed." + +Her moment of passionate remonstrance passed and a subtle coolness +superseded it, as the scarlet flushed into the man's pale cheeks. + +"Tell it me all," she went on, "tell me what it is you had to see me +about. Remember, to-morrow is Sunday, and this place must be put in +order for meeting. As it is, I am late. I was kept." + +The flush of shame died out of the man's face, and his eyes became +questioning. But his manner was almost humble. + +"I know," he said. "I knew I had no right to disturb you--now. I knew +you would resent it. But I had to see you--while I had the chance. +To-morrow it might be too late." + +"Too late?" + +The woman's question came with a sharp, rising inflection. + +"Oh, Kate, Kate, won't you understand what has brought me? Can't you +understand all that I feel now that the shadow of the law is so +threatening here in this valley? All the time I'm thinking of you; +thinking of all you mean in my life; thinking of the love which would +make it a happiness to lay down my life for you, the love which to me +is the whole, whole world." + +He ceased speaking with a curious abruptness. It was as though there +were much more to be said, but he feared to give it expression. + +Kate seized upon his pause to remonstrate. + +"Hush, Charlie," she cried almost vehemently, "you mustn't tell me all +this. You mustn't. I am not worthy of such a love from any man. +Besides," she went on, with a sigh, "it is all so useless. I have no +love to return you. You know that. You have known it so long. Our +friendship has been precious to me. It will always be precious. I +feel, somehow, that you belong to me, are part of me, but not in the +way you would have it. Oh, Charlie, the one thought in my mind, the +one desire in my heart, is for your welfare. I desire that more than I +could ever desire the love of any man. You love me, and yet by every +act of yours that jeopardizes that welfare you stab me to the heart +as surely as you add another nail to the coffin of your moral and +physical well-being. You come here to tell me of these things, +straight from one of your mad debauches, the signs of which are even +now in your eyes, and in your shaking, nervous hands. Oh, Charlie, why +must it all be? What madness is it with which you are possessed?" + +The man looked into her big eyes, so full of strength and courage. The +yellow lamplight left them shining darkly. He sought in them something +that always seemed to baffle. Something he knew was there, but which +ever eluded him. And the while he cried out in bitterness at her +challenge. + +"What does it matter--these things?" he said hoarsely. "What does it +matter what I am if--I can't be anything to you?" + +Then his bitterness was redoubled, and an almost savage light shone in +his usually gentle eyes. + +"Oh, God, I know I can never be anything to you but a sort of puling +weakling, who must be nursed, and petted, and cared for. I know," he +went on, his words coming with a rush in the height of his protesting +passion, "if your thoughts, your secret thoughts and feelings, were +put into words, I know what they would say of me, must say of me. Do I +need to tell you? No, I think not. Look at me. It is sufficient." + +He paused, his great dark eyes alight as Kate had never seen them +before. Then he went on, and his tone had become subdued, and its rich +note thrilled with the depths of passion stirring him. + +"But for all that I am a man, Kate. For all my weakness I have +strength to feel, to love, to fight. I have all that, besides, which +goes to make a man, just as surely as has the man, Fyles, whom you +love. I know, Kate. Denial would be useless, and in denying, you would +be untrue to yourself. Fyles is the man for you, and no one knows it +better than I. Fyles! The irony of it. The man who represents the law +is the man who stands between me and all I desire on earth. I have +seen it. I have watched. Nothing that concerns your life escapes me. +How could it, when my whole thought is for you--you? But the agony of +mind I suffer is no less. I cannot help it, Kate. The knowledge and +sight of things drives me nearly crazy, and I suffer the tortures of +hell. But even so, if your happiness lies at Fyles's side, then--I +would have it so. If I were sure--sure that this happiness were +awaiting you. Is it, Kate? Think. Think of it in--every aspect. Is it? +Happiness with this--Fyles?" + +It was some moments before Kate made any reply. Her eyes were fixed +upon the old Communion Table, so shadowy in the single lamplight. She +was asking herself many questions; almost as many as he could have +asked her. She had permitted herself to drift on the tide of her +feelings. Whither? She knew she was beyond her depth. Her life was in +the hands of a Providence which would inevitably work its will. All +she knew was that she loved. She had known it from the first. She +loved, and rejoiced that it was so. Again, there were moments when she +feared as cordially. She knew the work that lay before this lover of +hers. She knew in what direction it pointed. And in obedience to her +thoughts her eyes came back to the drunkard's eager face. + +"You--you came to tell me--all this?" she said, in a low tone. "You +came to assure yourself of my--happiness?" Then she shook her head. +"Tell me the rest." + +It was Charlie's turn to hesitate now. The demand had robbed him of +the small enough confidence he possessed. + +But Kate was waiting and he had no power to deny her anything. + +"I came to tell you of--things, while I still have the chance. +To-morrow? Who knows what to-morrow may bring forth?" + +A keen, hard light suddenly flashed into the woman's eyes. + +"What of--to-morrow?" she demanded sharply, while she studied the +man's pale features, with their boyish good looks. + +For answer Charlie reached out and caught one of her hands in both of +his. She strove to release it, but he clung to it despairingly. + +"No, no, Kate. Don't take it away," he cried passionately. "It is for +the last--the very last time. Tell me, dear, is--is there no hope for +me? None? Kate, I love you so. I do--dear. I will give up everything +for you, dear, everything. I can do it. I will do it. I swear it, +if--only you'll love me. Tell me. Is there----?" + +Kate shook her head, and the man dropped her hand with a gesture of +utter hopelessness. + +"My love is given, Charlie. Believe me, I have not given it. It--it is +simply gone from me." + +Kate sighed. Then her mood changed again. That sharp alert look came +into her eyes once more. + +"Tell me--of to-morrow," she urged him. + +The second demand had a pronounced effect upon Charlie. The air of the +suppliant fell from him, even the signs of his recent debauch seemed +to give way before a startling alertness of mentality. In his curious +way he seemed suddenly to have become the man of action, full of a +keenness of perception and shrewdness which might well have carried an +added conviction to Stanley Fyles, had he witnessed the display. + +"Listen," he said, with a thrill of excitement. "Maybe it's not +necessary to tell you. Maybe it's stale news. Anyway, to-morrow is to +be the day of Fyles's coup." He paused, watching for the effect of his +words. + +Just for an instant the woman's eyes flashed, but whether in fear, or +merely excited interest, it would have been impossible to say. + +"Go on," she said. + +"To-morrow the village is to be surrounded by a chain of police +patrols. Every entry will be closely watched for the incoming cargo of +whisky. Fyles reckons to get me red-handed." + +"You?" + +Kate's eyes flashed again. + +"Sure. That's how he reckons." + +They looked into each other's eyes steadily. Charlie's were lit by a +curious baffling irony. + +It was finally Charlie who spoke. + +"Fyles's plans are not likely to disconcert--anybody. There is no fear +of legitimate capture. It is treachery--that is to be feared." + +Kate started. + +"Treachery?" + +The man nodded. And the woman gave a sharp exclamation of disgust. + +"Treachery! I hate it. I despise it. I--I could kill a traitor. +You--fear treachery?" + +"I have been warned of it. That's all," he said, in a hard biting +voice. "It is because of this I've come to you to-night. Who can tell +the outcome of to-morrow if there's treachery? So I came to you to +make my--last appeal." In a moment his passion was blazing forth +again. "Say the word, dear. Forget this man. Give me one little grain +of hope. We can leave this place, and all the treachery in the world +doesn't matter. We can leave that, and everything else, behind +us--forever." + +Kate shook her head. It almost seemed as though his pleading had +passed her by. + +"It can't be," she said, almost coldly. "It's too late." + +"Too late?" + +The woman nodded, but her thoughts seemed far away. + +"Tell me," she said, after a pause, while she avoided the man's +despairing eyes, "where does the treachery--lie?" + +The man turned away. His slim shoulders lifted with seeming +indifference. + +"Pete Clancy and Nick Devereux--your two boys. But I don't know yet. +I'm not sure." + +Suddenly Kate moved toward him. The coldness had passed out of her +manner. Her eyes had softened, and a smile, a tender smile, shone in +their depths. She held out her two hands. + +"Charlie, boy," she said, "you needn't fear for treachery for +to-morrow. Leave Pete and Nick to me. I can deal with them. I promise +you Fyles will gain nothing in the game he's playing, through them. +Now, you must go. Give up all thought of me. We cannot help things. We +can never be anything to each other, more than we are now, so why +endure the pain and misery of a hope than can never be fulfilled. As +long as I live I shall pray for your welfare. So long as I can I shall +strive for it. It is for you to be strong. You must set your heart +upon living down this old past, and--forgetting me. I am not worth +the love you give me. Indeed--indeed I am not." + +But her outstretched hands were ignored. Charlie made a slight, +impatient movement, and turned toward the door. Finally he looked +back, and, for a moment, his gaze encountered the appeal in Kate's +eyes. Then he passed on swiftly as though he could not endure the +sight of all that which he knew to be slipping from beyond his reach. + +One hand reached the door handle, then he hunched his shoulders +obstinately. + +"I give up nothing, Kate. Nothing," he said doggedly. "I love you, and +I shall go on loving you to--the end." + + * * * * * + +It was late when Kate returned to her home. The house was in darkness, +and the moon brought it out in silvery, frigid relief. Thrusting the +front door open, she paused for a moment upon the threshold. She might +have been listening; she might merely have been thinking. Finally she +sat down and removed her shoes and gently tip-toed to her sister's +room. + +Helen's door was ajar, and she pushed it open and looked in. The +moonlight was shining across her sister's fair features, and the mass +of loose fair hair which framed them. She was sound asleep in that +wonderful dreamless land of rest, far from the turbulent little world +in which her waking hours were spent. + +Kate as softly withdrew. Now she made her way back to the familiar +kitchen parlor, and, in the dark, took up her position at the open +window. Her whole attention was centered upon the ranch house of +Charlie Bryant across the valley, which stood out in the moonlight +almost as clearly as in daylight. A light was shining in one of its +windows. + +She sat there waiting with infinite patience, and at last the light +was extinguished. Then she rose, and, going to her bureau, picked up a +pair of night glasses. She leveled these at the distant house and +continued her watch. + +Her vigil, however, did not last long. In a few minutes she distinctly +beheld a figure move out on to the veranda. Its identity, at that +distance, she was left to conjecture. But she saw it leave the veranda +and make its way round to the barn. A few minutes later, again, it +reappeared, this time mounted upon a horse. + +She sighed. It was a sigh of impatience, it was also a sigh of +resignation. Then she rose from her seat, and returned her night +glasses to the bureau. Again she looked out of the window, but this +time she remained standing. Nor were her eyes turned upon the distant +ranch house. Her whole attitude was one of deep pensiveness. + +At last, however, she stirred, and, quite suddenly, her movements +became quick and decided. It almost seemed as though she had finally +reached a definite resolve. + +She passed out of the room, and then out of the house through the back +way. The little barn was within a hundred yards of the house. She was +still in the shadow of the house when she became aware of figures +moving just outside the barn. In a moment she recognized them. They +were her two hired men in the act of riding away on their horses. + +She let them get well away. Then she drew the door close after her and +crossed over to the barn. + +The door was open and she went in. Passing the two empty stalls where +the men's horses were kept, she went on to another, where her own +horse, hearing her approach, set its collar chains rattling and +greeted her with a suppressed whinny. + +It was the work of but a few minutes to saddle him and bring him out +into the moonlight. Then she mounted him and rode off in the wake of +those who had gone on before. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE BROKEN CHAIN + + +The peace of Sunday evening merged into the calm of night. Service was +long since over in the old Meeting House. The traveling parson had +come and gone. He had done his duty. He had read the service to the +lounging, unkempt congregation, he had prayed over them, he had +preached at them. He had done all these things because it was his duty +to do so, but he had done them without the least hope of improving the +morals of his unworthy flock, or of penetrating one single fraction +through their crime-stained armor of self-satisfaction. Rocky Springs +was one of the shadowed corners upon his tour, into which, he felt, +it was beyond his power to impart light. + +There were those in the valley who viewed the Sabbath calm with a +derisive smile. There were those who sat upon their little verandas +and smoked, and talked in hushed voices, lest listening ears might +catch the ominous purport of their words. There were others who went +to their beds with a shrug of pretended indifference, feeling glad +that for once, at least, their homes were a haven of safety for +themselves. + +Rocky Springs as a whole knew that something was afoot--some play in +which some one was to be worsted, in which, maybe, a life or two would +be lost. Anyway, the players were Law _versus_ Outlaw, and those who +were not actually concerned with the game felt glad that they still +had another night under their own roofs. + +It was truly extraordinary how unspoken news spread. It was +extraordinary the scent of battle, the scent of a struggle against the +law, that was possessed by this people. Everybody seemed to know that +to-night something like history was to be made in the annals of the +crime of the valley. + +So the peace of the valley was almost remarkable. An undoubted air of +studied indifference prevailed, but surely it was carefully studied. + +Neither Fyles nor any of his police had been seen the whole day. None +of them had attended divine service. It was almost as if they had +entirely vanished from the precincts of the valley. + +So the sun sank, and the ruddy clouds rose up from the west like the +fiery splash of the molten contents of the cauldron into which the +great ball of fire had plunged. They rose up, and then dispersed, +vanishing into thin air, and making way for the soft sheen of a myriad +stars, and leaving clear a perfect night for the great summer moon to +illuminate. + + * * * * * + +Two by two a large number of horsemen rode out of the valley of +Leaping Creek. Once away from the starting point, their movements, +their figures became elusive and shadowy. They passed out from among +the trees, on to the wide plains above, and each couple split up, +taking their individual ways with a certainty which displayed their +perfect prairie craft. + +Far out into the night they rode, each with clear instructions filling +his mind, each with the certainty that one or more of their number +must be brought face to face with a crisis before morning, which would +need all their nerve and wit to bring to a successful issue. + +The moon rose up, a great golden globe, slowly changing to a cold +silvery light as it mounted the starlit vault. Then came a change. +Instead of leaving a starry track behind it, a bank of cloud followed +hard upon its heels, threatening to overtake it and hide its splendor +behind a pall of summer storm. + +Stanley Fyles watched with satisfaction the signs of the night. + + * * * * * + +A solitary horseman sat leaning forward upon the horn of his saddle, +his eyes searching, searching, with aching intensity, that dim, +shadowed skyline now almost lost against its backing of cloud. He was +half-hidden in the shadow of a small bluff of spruce, with the depths +of the valley hard behind him. + +Not only were his eyes searching with an almost unblinking +watchfulness, but his ears, too, were busy with that intense, +nerve-racking straining which leaves them ever ready to carry the +phantom sounds of imagination to the impatient brain above. + +It was a long, intense vigil, and a hundred times the waiting man saw +movements and heard sounds which set him ready to give the final +signal which was to complete the carefully laid plans of his chief. +But, in each case, he was spared the false alarm to which tricks of +imagination so nearly drove him. + +Midnight came and passed. The sky grew more threatening. The man's +eyes were upon that distant, southern upland which marked the skyline. +Something seemed to be moving in the hazy distance, but as yet there +was no sound accompanying the movement. + +Was there not? Hark, what was that? + +The man sighed. It was the rustle of the trees about him, stirred +by a gentle rising breeze. But was it? Hark! That sounded like a +footfall. But a footfall was not wanted. It was the sound of wheels +for which his ears were straining. Ah, that was surely the wind. +And--yes--listen. A rumble. It might be the wheels at last, or was it +thunder? He sat up. The strain was hard to bear. It was thunder. And +his eyes, for a moment, left the horizon for the clouds above. He +regretted the absence of the moon. It left his work doubly difficult. +He wondered---- + +But his wonder ceased, and he fell like a stone out of the saddle. He +struggled fiercely, but his arms were held to his sides immovable. He +had a vague recollection of a swift whirring sound, but that was all. +Then he found himself struggling furiously on the ground with his +horse vanished. + + * * * * * + +Inspector Fyles was thinking of many things. His post was at a point +overlooking the Fort Alberton trail, which wound its way in the wide +trough of two great, still waves of prairieland directly in front of +him. Nothing could pass that way and remain unobserved, excepting +under cover of the storm which seemed to be gathering. + +He patted Peter's arched neck, and the well-mannered, amiable creature +responded by champing its bit impatiently. Fyles smiled. He knew that +Peter loved to be traveling far and fast. + +He turned his eyes skywards. Perhaps it was not a storm. There were +breaks here and there, and occasionally a star peeped out and twinkled +mockingly at him. Still, he must hope for the best. A storm would +favor his quarry, besides being----. Hark! + +A shot rang out in the distance, away to the east. One--two! Wait. A +third! There it was. To the east. They were coming on over the +southern trail, and that was in McBain's section! + +He lifted his reins, and Peter promptly laid his swift heels to the +ground. Three shots. Fyles hoped the fourth would not be fired until +he was within striking distance of the spot. + + * * * * * + +Four horsemen were converging upon the bluff whence the shots had +proceeded. Each of the four had heard the three shots fired, each was +executing the tactical arrangement agreed upon, and each was waiting +as he rode, laboring under a high nervous tension, for the fourth +shot, which was to confirm the alarm and notify the definite discovery +of the contraband. + +It was withheld. + +Fyles was the first to reach the bluff, but, almost at the same +moment, McBain's great horse drew up with a jolt. The inspector saw +the approach of his subordinate while his eyes were still searching +the skirts of the bluff for the patrol who had given the signal. + +"He should be on the southeast side," said McBain, and rode off in +that direction. Fyles followed hard upon his heels. + +They had gone less than two hundred yards when the officer saw the +shadowy form of the Scot throw itself back in the saddle, and pull his +great horse back upon its haunches. Fyles swept up on the swift-footed +Peter. He, too, reined up with a jolt and leaped out of the saddle. + +McBain was on his knees beside the prostrate form of the sentry. The +man was bound hand and foot, and a heavy gag was secured in his widely +forced open mouth. + +At that moment two troopers dashed up. And the sounds of others +foregathering could be plainly heard. + +As Fyles regarded the prostrate man he realized that once more he had +been defeated. He did not require to wait for the gag to be removed. +He understood. + +He leaped into the saddle, as McBain cut the gag from the man's mouth. +A sharp inquiry broke the silence. + +"Say, did you fire that--alarm?" Fyles cried almost fiercely. + +The man had struggled to a sitting posture, and began to explain. + +"No, sir. I was dragged----" + +"Never mind what happened. You didn't give the alarm?" + +"No, sir." + +"Quick, McBain!" Fyles almost shouted. "They've done us. Cut him +loose, and follow me. They're on the Fort Allerton trail--or my +name's not Fyles." + + * * * * * + +Peter led the race for the Fort Allerton trail. The dark night clouds +were breaking when they reached the spot where the inspector had +originally stationed himself. They passed on, and a glimmer of +moonlight peeped out at them as they reached the trail side. + +Fyles and McBain leaped from their saddles and examined the sandy +surface of it. Two of the troopers joined them. + +At length the officer spoke, and his voice had lost something of its +sharp tone of authority. + +"They've beaten us, McBain," he cried. "God's curse on them, they've +played us at our own game, and--beaten us. A wagon and team's passed +here less than five minutes ago. Look at the dust track they've left." + +Fyles stood up. Then he started, and an angry glitter shone in his +gray eyes. A horseman was silently looking on at the group of +dismounted men, deliberately watching their movements. In the heat of +the hunt no one had heard his approach. He sat there looking on in +absolute silence. + +Fyles moved clear of his men and strode up to the horseman. He halted +within a yard of him, while the rest of the party looked on in +amazement. McBain was the only one to make any move. He followed hard +on his chief's heels. + +Fyles looked up into the horseman's face. The sky had cleared and the +moon was shining once more. A sudden fury leaped to the officer's +brain, and, for a moment, all discretion was very nearly flung to the +winds. By a great effort, however, he checked his mad impulse. + +"What are you doing here, Mr. Bryant?" he demanded sharply. + +Charlie Bryant leaned forward upon the horn of his saddle. His dark +eyes were smiling, but it was not a pleasant smile. + +"Why, wondering what you fellows are doing here," he said calmly. + +Fyles stared, and again his fury nearly got the better of him. + +"That's no answer to my question," he snapped. + +"Isn't it?" A subtle change was in Charlie Bryant's manner. His smile +remained, but it was full of a burning dislike, and even insolence. +"Guess it's all you'll get from a free citizen. I've as much right +here looking on at the escapades of the police, as they have +to--indulge in 'em. Guess I've had a mighty long day and need to get +home. Say, I'm tired. So long." + +He urged his horse forward and passed on down the trail. And as he +went a trooper followed him, with orders to track him till daylight. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +ROCKY SPRINGS HEARS THE NEWS + + +The news which greeted early morning ears in Rocky Springs was of a +quality calculated to upset the entire affairs of the day, and bring +a perfect surfeit of grist to O'Brien's insatiable mill. It even +jeopardized the all-important church affairs. No one was inclined to +work at all, let alone voluntarily work. + +Then, too, there were the difficulties of gathering together a quorum +of the Church Construction Committee, and Mrs. John Day, full of +righteous indignation and outraged pride, as president, felt and +declared that it was a scandal that the degraded doings of a parcel of +low-down whisky-runners should be allowed to interfere with the noble +cause which the hearts of the valley were set upon. But, being a woman +of considerable energy, she by no means yielded to circumstances. + +However, her difficulties were considerable. The percolation of the +news of the police failure had reduced the male population to the +condition of a joyful desire to celebrate in contraband drink. The +female population became obsessed with a love of their own doorsteps, +whence they could greet each other and exchange loud-voiced opinions +with their neighbors, while their household "chores" awaited their +later convenience. The children, too, were robbed of their delight in +more familiar mischief, and turned their inventive faculties toward +something newer and more in keeping with prevailing conditions and +sentiments. Thus, a new game was swiftly arranged, and some brighter +soul among them christened it the D. I. F. game. The initials were +popularly believed to represent "Done is Fyles," but the enlightened +among the boys understood that they stood for "Damn Idjut Fyles," an +interpretation quite in keeping with the general opinion of the people +of the valley. + +Certainly the atmosphere of the village that morning must have been +intolerable to Inspector Fyles, had he permitted himself to dwell upon +the indications, the derisive glances, the quiet laugh of men as he +chanced to pass. But public opinion and feeling were things he had +long since schooled himself to ignore. He was concerned with his +superiors, and his superiors only. At all times they were more than +sufficient to trouble with, and his whole anxiety was turned in their +direction now, in view of his terrible failure of the night before. + +Thus he was forced to witness the signs about him, and content himself +with the knowledge that he had been bluffed, while he cast about in +his troubled mind for a means of appeasing his superior's official +wrath. + +The church committee was to assemble at Mrs. John Day's house at ten +o'clock, and the hour passed without a shadow of a quorum being +formed. Kate Seton, the honorary secretary, was the only member, +besides the president, who put in an appearance at the appointed hour. + +So Mrs. Day thrust on her bonnet, and, with every artificial flower in +its crown shaking with indignation, set out to "round-up" the members. + +O'Brien was impossible. His trade was too overwhelming to be left in +the hands of a mere bartender, but there was less excuse for Billy +Unguin and Allan Dy, who were merely drinkers in the place. She +possessed herself of their persons and marched them off, and gathered +up two or three women friends of hers on the way home. Thus, by eleven +o'clock, she had the door of her parlor closed upon a more or less +efficient quorum. + +Then she sat her bulk down with a sigh of enforced content. Her florid +face was beaded with perspiration as a result of her efforts. + +She turned autocratically to her secretary. + +"We'll dispense with the reading of the minutes of the last meeting," +she declared half-defiantly. "We'll take 'em as read and passed. This +liquor business is driving us all to perdition, as well as wasting our +time, which is more important in Rocky Springs. I've never seen the +like of this place." She glared directly at the two men. "And the +men--well, say, I s'pose they are men, these fellows who stand around +decorating that villain O'Brien's saloon. If it was a christening, +they'd drink; if it was a wedding, they'd drink; if it was a funeral, +they'd drink; if they were going to stand before their Maker right +away, they'd call for rye first." + +After which few opening remarks, given with all the scornful dignity +of one who knows she holds the leading position among her sex in the +village, she proceeded with the work in hand with a capacity for +detail that quite worried the absent minds of the only two male +members of the committee present. + +Such was the general yearning for a termination of the meeting, so +that its members might once more return to the gossip outside, that +Mrs. John Day was permitted to carry all her plans in her scheme of +salvation before her, with little or no discussion. And, in +consequence, her good nature quickly reasserted itself, and she became +more and more inclined to look leniently upon the defects of the +majority of her committee. + +The president disposed of several lesser complaints against the +construction of the church to her own satisfaction. The list of them +was an accumulation of opinions sent in by people who felt that it was +due to the community, and themselves, particularly, that the elected +committee were sufficiently harrassed by pin pricks, lest it became +too high-handed and autocratic. + +Mrs. Day's methods of dealing with these was characteristic of her +social rule in the village. She rose with a look of contemptuous +defiance upon her fiery features. It was Helen who had once declared +that Mrs. John always reminded her of one of those very red-combed +old hens who never failed to cluck themselves very nearly into an +apoplectic fit over a helpless worm, and demanded that all eyes should +watch her marvelous display of prowess in its slaughter. A slip of +paper had been thrust into her hands by the undisturbed honorary +secretary. + +"I guess I'm not going to worry you folks with debating these fool +complaints sent in by some of the glory-seekers in this village," she +began with enthusiastic heat. "I've settled them all myself. I'll read +you the complaints and what I've done in each case. First, there's a +kick from Mrs. Morgan, upon the hill. She's no account anyway, and +hasn't given a bean toward the church--yet. Guess I'll have to see to +that later. She says she saw two of the boys working on log hauling, +sitting around in the shade of the church wall, after doing their +work, swilling whisky out of the neck of a bottle, and guessed it +wasn't decent. I've written her asking her to send two boys to do the +work in their place. Guess she hasn't replied. Katherine L. Sherman, +who guesses she's related to the real Shermans, and has had twins +twice in three years, writes: 'When are we goin' to arrange for a +christening font?' I handed her this. 'When folks needing it see their +way clear to unrolling their bank wads.' Then there's Mrs. Andy +Carlton, who's felt high-toned ever since she bought that second-hand +top buggy from Mary Porson. She guesses we need a bell. I told her +that if the people of Rocky Springs tried ringing their way to glory, +it would be liable to alarm folks there. Best way would be to try and +sneak in, and not shout they were coming. Then I heard from Mary +Porson, herself. She wants to know who's to keep the boys who're drunk +out of service, and wouldn't it be better to hold Meeting on Monday, +so's the boys could get over the Saturday night souse in comfort. I +told her she seemed to have a wrong idea of the folks of this village. +I guessed if any feller got around to Meeting with liquor under his +belt, there was liable to be a lynching right away. The boys wouldn't +stand for any ungentlemanly conduct at Meeting. Then there's Mrs. +Annerly-Jones. Having a hyphen to her name, she's all for white +surplices and organized singing. She figures to start up a full choir, +and sing the solos herself. I hinted that the choir racket wasn't to +be despised, but solo work was liable to cause ill-feeling in the +village by making folks think the singer was getting the start of them +in the chase for glory. And, anyway, the old harmonium wasn't a match +for her voice. Then there's a suggestion for cuspidors for each bench, +and I must say, right here, I'm in favor of them. I'm not one to +interfere with the disgusting ways of men. Men are just men, and can't +help it, anyway, and if they contract filthy habits, it's not for +woman to put 'em right. But she's got the right to refuse having her +skirts turned into floor swabs. I've fixed all these things right, so +we don't need to vote on 'em. But there's one little matter that needs +discussing right here and now, seeing that the folks are present +who've brought it up." + +The president paused and glared at the two men through her big, +steel-rimmed glasses, and Billy Unguin and Allan Dy found themselves +uncomfortably interested in various parts of well-varnished +appointments of the lady's parlor. + +Kate Seton eyed the two men with some amusement. She felt that the +recent discussion, which took place in the new church itself, was +liable to assume a different complexion here. Besides, she knew these +two men, and felt it was best to have the suggestion of felling the +old pine, as a ridge pole for the church, definitely negatived by the +present meeting. + +Mrs. John Day was always a difficult woman, of very strong opinions. +Therefore it was not policy to suggest her course of action. So Kate +had merely warned her that the suggestion had been made. + +"It's been said," Mrs. Day went on, with an aggressive look in her hot +eyes, "that the design of the building is all wrong. That the main +body is too long, and that the ridge pole of the roof will have to be +joined in several places. This means a great weakness that'll have to +be supported by central columns, which will obstruct the central +gangway and the general view. I'd like Mr. Unguin and Mr. Dy to +discuss the matter before the meeting." + +Thus challenged, Allan Dy sprang to his feet. + +"It's just as you say, ma'm," he cried. "And I say right here that +ridge pole should be in one piece. It's bad. In a few years' time +we'll surely have to rebuild that roof." + +He sat down with a jolt, and glared fiercely at his friend beside him. + +Billy Unguin was on his feet in a moment. + +"I want to say right here that my friend's been sorting mail so long +he's got nervous. Furthermore, I'd add he don't need to worry a thing. +It's my opinion the new church is an elegant proposition which +reflects credit upon Rocky Springs, and our charming president more +than anybody. And, if there's any liberties taken with the science of +architecture, the matter can be got over dead easy. If joining the +ridge pole means weakening the structure, then don't join it. That +don't beat us a little bit. With such a head as our president has for +the management of big affairs I'm sure she'll see a way out of the +trouble, 'specially when I draw her attention to the old pine, which +is tall enough to cut two ridge poles out of it for our church." + +Like his friend, he sat down with a jolt. But he was smiling with +anticipated triumph. He felt that his long experience as a salesman of +dry goods had taught him how to reach the most vulnerable point in +feminine armor. When it came to winning over Mrs. John Day to his side +Allan Dy hadn't an earthly chance with him. + +But his smile slowly disappeared when the honorary secretary promptly +rose to her feet. + +Kate Seton turned and addressed herself to the president. + +"I should like to put in a word of protest," she began, while Allan Dy +smiled and breathed his thankfulness that he was not to remain +unsupported. + +Instantly Billy Unguin broke in. + +"Miss Seton, as secretary, is only ex-officio," he cried. + +Mrs. Day shot a withering glance at him. + +"Miss Seton is _honorary_ secretary." + +Allan Dy smiled more broadly as the president promptly nodded for Kate +to proceed. + +"I wish to protest against the old pine being felled," she said, with +some warmth. "It means disaster to Rocky Springs. There is the old +legend. There is a curse on the felling of that tree." + +Her announcement was greeted by a murmur of approval from the women +present, all except Mrs. Day. Dy beamed. But Kate was less pleased. +She knew her president. She would always listen to the men, but when +her own sex ventured on thinking for themselves she was liable to +become restive. + +The president glanced round the room with a swift challenge shining +through her glasses, and her hard mouth closed tightly. Then she +turned sharply to the woman at her side. + +"I'm--I'm--astonished, Kate," she cried, with difficulty suppressing +her inclination to domineer. "The matter is most simple. It is said +the best interests of the church are being jeopardized. There is the +obvious necessity of altering the design of the roof of our beautiful +building. You--whom I have always regarded as the essence of sanity, +and my chief support in the arduous work which has been flung upon my +shoulders, and which Mr. Unguin has been pleased to say I'm not +incapable of carrying out--you would sacrifice those interests for a +lot of old Indian fool talk. I never would have believed it. Never! +Say," she turned to the others, and her eyes challenged the rest of +the women, "This surely is a more serious matter than I thought. It +must be looked into. I'll look into it myself. If things are as Mr. Dy +says, and it's necessary, as Mr. Unguin points out, to cut down that +tree to fix our church right--why, it's going to be cut down. That's +all." + +She paused dramatically, but not long enough for anybody to interrupt +her. Then, with a wave of her fat arm, which, to the women, became a +threat, and to the men appeared to be something like the gesticulation +of an animated sausage, she proceeded to terminate the debate. + +"Those in favor of _my_ proposition will signify the same in the usual +manner," she cried, with an air that brooked no sort of denial. + +Up went every right hand in the room except those of Kate and Allan +Dy. Then the "no's" were taken. After which the result was announced +with all the triumph of Mrs. Day's domineering personality. + +"Carried," she cried. + +Then she turned upon her secretary without the least sympathy or +kindliness in her manner. + +"You'll enter that resolution in the minutes of the meeting," she +snapped. + + * * * * * + +Some half-hour later the quorum dissolved itself and trickled out of +the oppressive precincts of Mrs. John Day's highly polished parlor. +The trickling process only lasted until the front door was gained. +Then came a rush which had neither dignity nor politeness in it. + +The two men set off for the saloon without attempting to disguise +their purpose. The women hastily tripped off in the various directions +whither they knew their favorite gossips would be found. Even Kate +Seton failed to wait to exchange her usual few final words with the +president. Truth to tell, she was both disgusted and depressed, and +felt that somehow she had made a mess of things. She felt that she had +contrived to turn an unimportant matter into something of the first +magnitude. The question of felling the old pine had merely been one +of those subjects for bickering between Billy and Allan Dy, who had +never been known to agree on any subject, and now, through bringing +their dispute before the committee, she knew that she had changed it +into a question upon which the whole village would take sides. She +only trusted that superstition would prevail, and the aged landmark +would be left standing. She somehow felt doubtful, however, now that +Mrs. Day had taken sides against her, and she hurried off to avoid +further discussion. + +Billy Unguin arrived at the saloon alone. Allan Dy's course was +diverted when he came within sight of his post office. As he reached +the main trail of the village, he saw Inspector Fyles and Sergeant +McBain riding down from the west, and the sight of them reminded him +of his mail. So, leaving his friend to continue his way to the saloon +alone, he went on to his little office, arriving in time to take down +a telegraphic message from Amberley, and hand it, with his mail, to +the police officer. + +He rubbed his hands delightedly as he read the message over to himself +a second time before placing it in its envelope. It was from the +police headquarters, and its wording was full of significance in the +light of last night's events. Allan Dy was glad he had not gone on to +the saloon. + +The message was desperately curt. + +"Wagon returned to Fort Allerton empty. Report. Jason." + +The postmaster had just placed the message with the officers' mail +when the two policemen entered. Fyles's expression was morose, and his +manner repellent. McBain was grim and silent. + +"There's a goodish mail, Mr. Fyles," said Dy, without a trace of his +real feelings, as he held out the bulky packet of letters. "That +message has just come along over the wire." He pointed at the tinted +envelope enclosing the telegram. + +While Fyles took his mail, McBain's keen eyes were at work upon the +letters spread out on the counter. + +Fyles's silent manner induced the curious official to go a step +further. + +"It's from headquarters--Superintendent Jason," he said, covertly +watching the policeman's face. + +But the effect was not quite as satisfactory as he hoped. Fyles +smiled. + +"Thanks. I was expecting it." + +Then he turned away, and, followed by McBain, passed out of the +building. + +Once outside, however, it was quite another matter. The officer tore +open the message and glanced at its contents. Then he passed it on to +McBain with a brief comment. + +"They're wise," he said. "Guess the band's going to start +playing--right away." + +McBain read the message. "We're up against it, sir," was his dry +comment. + +"Up against it, man?" Fyles cried, with sudden heat. "I tell you +that's very nearly our sentence. We've failed--failed, do you +understand? And it's not our first failure. Do you need me to tell you +anything? We may just as well stand right here and cut off the badges +of our various ranks. That's what we may as well do," he added +bitterly. "There's no mercy in Jason, and devilish little reason." + +But the Scot seemed to have very little sympathy for the other's +feelings. He seemed to care less for his rank than something else, +and, in his next words, the real man shone out. + +"I don't care a curse for my rank, sir," he exclaimed. "We've been +bluffed and beaten like two babes in the game our lives are spent in +playing. That's what hurts me. Have you seen 'em, sir? All the way +along as we came down here just now. We passed five or six women at +the doors of their miserable shacks, and they smiled as they saw us. +We passed four men, and their greeting was maddening in its jeer. Even +the damned kids looked up and grinned like the apes they are. They've +bluffed and beaten us, and I--hate 'em all." + +For some moments Stanley Fyles made no answer. He was gazing out down +the village trail, and his eyes were on a small group of people +standing some way off talking together. He had recognized them. They +were Kate and Helen Seton, and with them was young Bryant, the +ingenuous brother of Charlie. He guessed, as well he might, the +subject of their talk. His failure. Was not everybody talking of it? +And were not most of them, probably all of them, rejoicing? His +bitterness grew, and at last he turned on his subordinate. + +"Bluffed, but not beaten," he said, with a fierce oath which did the +Scot's heart good. "We're not beaten," he reiterated, "if only Jason +will leave us alone, and trust us further. I've got to convince him. +I've got to tell him all that's happened, and I've got to persuade him +to leave us here. We've got to go on. He can recommend my resignation, +he can do what he damn well pleases, so long as he leaves me here to +finish this work. I tell you, I've got to break up this gang of +hoodlums." + +McBain's eyes glittered. + +"That's how I feel, sir." + +"Feel? We've just got to do it--or clear out of the country. Man, +I'd give a thousand dollars to know how they got possession of our +signals. Those shots, that bluffed us, were fired by some of the gang. +How did they learn it? It's been done by spying, but--say, get on back +to camp, and prepare the report of last night. Hold it up for me, and +I'll enclose a private letter to Mr. Jason. I'll be along later." + +McBain nodded. + +"You fix it, sir, so we don't get transferred back. We need another +chance badly. Maybe they won't bluff us next time." + +He swung himself into the saddle and rode away, while Fyles, linking +his arm through the faithful Peter's reins, strolled leisurely on down +the track toward the group which included Kate Seton. + +As he drew near they ceased talking, and watched his approach. Their +attitude was such that Fyles could not refrain from a half-bitter, +half-laughing comment as he came up. + +"It doesn't take much guessing to locate the subject of your talk, +Miss Kate," he cried. + +Kate's dark eyes had no smile in them as she replied to his challenge. + +"How's that?" she inquired, while Bill and Helen watched his face. + +Fyles shrugged. + +"You stopped talking when you saw I was coming your way." He laughed. +"However, I guess it's only to be expected. The boys bluffed us all +right last night. It was a smartish trick. Still," he added +thoughtfully, "it's given us an elegant lever--when the time comes." + +Kate made no answer. She was studying the man's face, and there was a +certain regret and even pity in the depths of her regard. Bill and +Helen had no such feelings for him. They were frankly rejoiced at his +failure. + +Helen replied. "That's so, Mr. Fyles," she said, almost tartly, "but I +guess that lever needs to help them into your traps to do any real +good." + +The officer's smile was quite good-humored, in spite of the sharpness +of the girl's reminder. What he really felt he was not likely to +display here. + +"Sure," he said. "The spider weaves his web and it's not worth a cent +if the flies aren't foolish enough to make mistakes. The spider is a +student of winged insect nature, and he lays his plans accordingly. +The flies always come to him--in the end." + +Bill laughed good-humoredly. + +"That's dandy," he cried. "There's always fool flies around. But +sometimes that spider's web gets all mussed up and broken. I've broke +'em myself--rather than see the fool things caught." + +Kate's eyes were turned on the great bulk of Charlie's brother. Even +Helen looked up with bright admiration for her lover. + +Fyles's gaze was leveled directly into the innocent looking blue eyes +laughing into his. + +"Yes, I dare say you and other folks have broken those things up, +often--but the spiders thrive and multiply. You see, when one net is +busted they--make another. They don't seem to starve ever, do they? +Ever seen a spider dead of starvation?" + +"Can't say I have." Bill shook his great head. "But maybe they'd get a +bad time if they set their traps for any special flies--or fly." + +Fyles raised his powerful shoulders coldly. + +"Guess the spider business doesn't go far enough," he said, talking +directly at Big Brother Bill. "When I spoke of that lever just now, +maybe you didn't get my meaning quite clearly. That gang, who ran the +liquor in last night, put themselves further up against the law than +maybe they think. It was an armed attack on the police, which is +quite a different thing to just simple whisky-running. Get me? The +police are always glad when crooks do that. It pays them better--when +the time comes." + +Bill had no reply. He suddenly experienced the chill of the cold steel +of police methods. A series of painful pictures rose up before his +mind's eye, which held his tongue silent. Helen quickly came to his +rescue. + +"But who's to say who did it?" she demanded. + +Fyles smiled down into her pretty face. + +"Those who want to save their skins--when the time comes." + +It was Helen's turn to realize something of the irresistible nature of +the work of the police. Somehow she felt that the defeat of the police +last night was but a shadowy success after all, for those concerned in +the whisky-running. Her thought flew at once to Charlie, and she +shuddered at the suggested possibilities in Fyles's words. + +She turned away. + +"Well, all I can say is, I--I hate it all, and wish it was all over +and done with. Everybody's talking, everybody's gloating, and--and it +just makes me feel scared to death." Then she turned again to Bill. +"Let's go on," she cried, a little desperately. "We'll finish our +shopping, and--and get away from it all. It just makes me real ill." + +She waved a farewell to Kate and moved away, and Bill, like some +faithful watchdog, followed at her heels. Fyles looked after them both +with serious, earnest eyes. Kate watched them smiling. + +Presently Fyles turned back to her. + +"Well?" he demanded. + +Kate's eyes were slowly raised to his. + +"Well?" she echoed. "So----" + +She broke off. Her generous nature checked her in time. She had been +about to twit him with his defeat. She sympathized with his feelings +at the thought of his broken hopes. + +"Better say it," said Fyles, with a smile, in which chagrin and +tenderness struggled for place. "You were going to say I have been +defeated, as you told me I should be defeated." + +"I s'pose I was." Kate glanced quickly up into his face, but the +feeling she beheld there made her turn her eyes away so that they +followed Bill and Helen moving down the trail. "Women are usually +ungenerous to--an adversary." Then her whole manner changed to one of +kindly frankness. "Do you know my feelings are sort of mixed about +your--defeat----" + +"Not defeat," put in Fyles. "Check." + +Kate smiled. + +"Well, then, 'check.' I am glad--delighted--since you direct all your +suspicions against Charlie. Then I am full of regret for you, +because--because I know the rigor of police discipline. In the eyes of +the authorities you have failed--twice. Oh, if you would only attack +this thing with an open mind, and not start prejudiced against +Charlie. I wish you had never listened to local gossip. If that were +so I could be on your side, and--and with true sportsmanship, wish you +well. Besides that, I might be able to tell you things. You see, I +learn many things in the village that others do not--hear." + +Fyles was studying the woman's face closely as she spoke. And +something he beheld there robbed his defeat of a good deal of its +sting. Her words were the words of partisanship, and her partisanship +was for another as well as himself. Had this not been so, had her +partisanship been for him alone, he could well have abandoned himself +to an open mind, as she desired. As it was, she drove him to a dogged +pursuit of the man he was convinced was the real culprit. + +"Don't let us reopen the old subject," he said, with a shade of +irritability. "I have evidence you know nothing of, and I should be +mad indeed if I changed my objective at your desire, for the sake of +the unsupported belief and regard you have for this man. Let us be +content to be adversaries, each working out our little campaign as we +think best. Don't waste regrets at my failures. I know the price I +have to pay for them--only too well. I know, and I tell you frankly, +but only you, that my career in the police may terminate in +consequence. That's all right. The prestige of the force cannot be +maintained by--failures. The prestige of the force is very dear to me. +If you have anything to tell me that may lead me in the direction of +the real culprit, then tell me. If not--why let us be friends +until--until my work has made that impossible. I--I want your +friendship very much." + +Kate's eyes were turned from him. The deep light in them was very +soft. + +"Do you?" she smiled. "Well--perhaps you have it, in spite of our +temporary antagonism. Oh, dear--it's all so absurd." + +Fyles laughed. + +"Isn't it? But, then, anything out of the ordinary is generally +absurd, until we get used to it. Somehow, it doesn't seem absurd that +I want your--friendship. At least, not to me." + +Kate smiled up into his face. + +"And yet it is--absurd." + +The man's eyes suddenly became serious. + +"Why?" + +Kate shrugged. + +"That's surely explained. We are--antagonists." + +Again that look of impatience crossed the man's keen features. As he +offered no reply, Kate went on. + +"About the armed attack on the police. You said it made all the +difference. What is the difference?" + +"Anything between twelve months in the penitentiary and twenty +years--when the gang is landed." + +"Twenty years!" The woman gave a slight gasp. + +The man nodded. + +"And do you know the logical consequence of it all?" he inquired. + +"No." Kate's eyes were horrified. + +"Why, when next we come into conflict there will be shooting if these +people are pressed. They will have to shoot to save themselves. Then +there may be murder added to their list of--delinquencies. These +things follow in sequence. It is the normal progress of those who put +themselves on the side of crime." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +AT THE HIDDEN CORRAL + + +Charlie Bryant urged his horse at a dangerous pace along the narrow, +winding cattle tracks which threaded the upper reaches of the valley. +He gave no heed to anything--the lacerating thorns, the great, knotty +roots, with which the paths were studded, the overhanging boughs. His +sole object seemed to be a desperate desire to reach his destination. + +His horse often floundered and tripped, the man's own clothes were +frequently ripped by the thorns, and the bleeding flesh beneath laid +bare, while it seemed a miracle that he successfully dodged the +threatening boughs overhead. + +There was a hunted look in his dark eyes, too. It was a look of +concern, almost of terror. His gaze was alert and roving. Now, he was +looking ahead, straining with anxiety, now he was turning this way and +that in response to the mysterious woodland sounds which greeted his +ears. Again, with a nervous jerk, he would rein in his horse and sit +listening, with eyes staring back over the way he had come, as though +fearing pursuit. + +Once he thrust a hand into an inside pocket as though to reassure +himself that something was there which he valued and feared to lose, +and with every movement, every look of his eyes, every turn of the +head, he displayed an unusual nervousness and apprehension. + +At last his horse swept into the clearing of the hidden corral, and he +reined it up with a jerk, and leaped from the saddle. Then he stood +listening, and the apprehension in his eyes deepened. But presently it +lessened, and he moved forward, and flung his reins over one of the +corral fence posts. Every woodland sound, every discordant note from +the heart of the valley was accounted for in his mind, so he hurried +toward the flat-roofed hut, that mysterious relic of a bygone age. + +He thrust the creaking door open and waited while the flight of birds +swarmed past him. Then he made his way within. Once inside he paused +again with that painful look of expectancy and fear in his eyes. Again +this passed, and he went on quickly to the far corner of the room, +and laid his hands upon the wooden lining of the wall. Then he +abruptly seemed to change his mind. He removed his hands, and withdrew +a largish, morocco pocketbook from an inner pocket. + +It was a rather fine case, bound in embossed silver, and ornamented +with a silver monogram. For some moments he looked at it as though in +doubt. He seemed to be definitely making up his mind, and his whole +attitude suggested his desire for its safety. + +While he was still gazing at it a startled look leaped into his eyes, +and his head turned as though at some suspicious sound. A moment later +he reached out and slid the wooden lining of the wall up, revealing +the cavity behind it, which still contained its odd assortment of +garments. Without hesitation he reached up to a dark jacket and thrust +the pocketbook into an inner pocket. Then, with a swift movement, he +replaced the paneling and turned about. + +It was the work of a moment, and as he turned about his right hand was +gripping the butt of a revolver, ready and pointing at the door. + +"Charlie!" + +The revolver was slipped back into the man's pocket, and Charlie +Bryant's furious face was turned toward the window opening, which now +framed the features of his great blundering brother. + +"You, Bill?" he cried angrily. "What in hell are you doing here?" + +But Bill ignored the challenge, he ignored the tone of it. His big +eyes were full of excitement. + +"Come out of there--quick!" he cried sharply. + +Charlie's dark eyes had lost some of their anger in the inquiry now +replacing it. + +"Why?" But he moved toward the doorway. + +"Why? Because Fyles is behind me. I've seen him in the distance." + +Charlie came around the corner of the building with the door firmly +closed behind him. Bill left the window and moved across to his horse, +which was standing beside that of his brother. Charlie followed him. + +Neither spoke again until the horses were reached, and Bill had +unhitched his reins from the corral fence. Then he turned his great +blue eyes, so full of trouble, upon the small figure beside him, and +he answered the other's half-angry, half-curious challenge with a +question. + +"What's this place?" he demanded. Then he added, "And what's that +cupboard in there?" He jerked his head in the direction of the hut, "I +saw you close it." + +Charlie seemed to have recovered from the apprehension which had +caused him to obey his brother unquestioningly. There was an angry +sparkle in his eyes as he gazed steadily into Bill's face. + +"That's none of your damn business," he said, in a low tone of surly +truculence. "I'm not here to answer any questions till you tell me the +reason why you've had the impertinence to hunt me down. How did you +know where to find me?" + +Just for one moment a hot retort leaped to the other's lips. But he +checked his rising temper. His journey in pursuit of his brother had +been taken after deep reflection and consultation with Helen. But the +mystery of that hut, that cupboard, did more to keep him calm than +anything else. His curiosity was aroused. Not mere idle curiosity, but +these things, this place, were a big link in the chain of evidence +that had been forged about his brother, and he felt he was on the +verge of a discovery. Then there was Fyles somewhere nearby in the +neighborhood. This last thought, and all it portended, destroyed his +feelings of resentment. + +"I s'pose you think I followed you for sheer curiosity. Guess I might +well enough do so, seeing we bear the same name, and that name's +liable to stink--through you. But I didn't, anyway. I came out here to +tell you something I heard this morning, and it's about--last night. +Fyles says that the result of last night is that the gang, their +leader, is now wanted for an armed attack on the police, and that the +penalty is--anything up to twenty years in the penitentiary." + +Charlie's intense regard never wavered for one moment. + +"Who told you I was here?" he demanded angrily. + +"No one." + +There was a sting in the sharpness of Bill's reply. The big blue eyes +were growing hot again. + +"Then how did you know where to find me?" Charlie's deep voice was +full of suppressed fury. + +"I didn't know just where to find you," Bill protested, with rising +heat. "The kid told me you'd gone up the valley, but didn't say where. +I set out blindly and stumbled on your horse's tracks. I chanced those +tracks, and they led me here. Will that satisfy you?" + +Charlie's eyes were still glittering. + +"Not quite. I'll ask you to get out of my ranch. And remember this, +you've seen me at this shack, and you've seen that cupboard. If you'd +been anybody but my brother I'd have shot you down in your tracks. +Fyles--anybody. That cupboard is my secret, and if anyone learns of it +through you--well, I'll forget you're my brother and treat you as +though you were--Fyles." + +A sudden blaze of wrath flared up in the bigger man's eyes. But, +almost as it kindled, it died out and he laughed. However, when he +spoke there was no mirth in his voice. + +"My God, Charlie," he cried, holding out his big hands, "I could +almost take you in these two hands and--and wring your foolish, +obstinate, wicked neck. You stand there talking blasted melodrama like +a born actor on the one-night stands. Your fool talk don't scare me a +little. What in the name of all that's sacred do you think I want to +send you to the penitentiary for? Haven't I come here to warn you? +Man, the rye whisky's turned you crazy. I'm here to help, help, do you +understand? Just four letters, 'help,' a verb which means 'support,' +not 'destroy.'" + +Charlie's cold regard never wavered. + +"When will you clear out of--my ranch?" + +Bill started. The brothers' eyes met in a long and desperate exchange +of regard. Then the big man brought his fist down upon the high cantle +of his saddle with startling force. + +"When I choose, not before," he cried fiercely. "Do you understand? +Here, you foolish man. I know what I'm up against. I know what you're +up against, and I tell you right here that if Fyles is going to hunt +you into the penitentiary he can hunt me, too. I'm not smart, like +you, on these crook games, but I'm determined that the man who lags +you will get it good and plenty. I sort of hate you, you foolish man. +I hate you and like you. You've got grit, and, by God, I like you for +it, and I don't stand to see you go down for any twenty years--alone. +If Fyles gets you that way, you're the last man he ever will get. Damn +you!" + +Charlie drew a deep breath. It was a sigh of pent feeling. He averted +his gaze, and it wandered over the old corral inside which the wagon +with its hay-rack was still standing, though its position was changed +slightly. His eyes rested upon it, and passed on to the hut, about +which the birds were once more gathering. They paused for some silent +moments in this direction. Then they came back to the angry, waiting +brother. + +"I wish you weren't such a blunderer, Bill," he said, and his manner +had become peevishly gentle. "Can't you see I've got to play my own +game in my own way? You don't know all that's back of my head. You +don't know a thing. All you know is that Fyles wants to send me down, +by way of cleaning up this valley. I want him to--if he can. But he +can't. Not as long as the grass grows. He's beaten--beaten before he +starts. I don't want help. I don't want help from anybody. Now, for +God's sake, can't you leave me alone?" + +The tension between the two was relaxed. Bill gave an exclamation of +impatience. + +"You want him to--send you down?" + +The warp of this man was too much for his common sense. + +"If he can." + +Charlie smiled now. It was a smile of perfect confidence. Bill threw +up his hands. + +"Well, you've got me beat to a rag. I----" + +"The same as I have Fyles. But say----" + +Charlie broke off, and his smile vanished. + +"Maybe I'm a crook. Maybe I'm anything you, or anybody else likes to +call me. There's one thing I'm not. I'm no bluff. You know of that +cupboard in that shack. The thought's poison to me. If any other man +had found it, he wouldn't be alive now to listen to me. Do you +understand me? Forget it. Forget you ever saw it. If you dream of it, +fancy it's a nightmare and--turn over. Bill, I solemnly swear that +I'll shoot the man dead, on sight, who gives that away, or dares to +look inside it. Now, we'll get away from here." + +He sprang into the saddle and waited while his brother mounted. Then +he held out his hand. + +"Do you get me?" he asked. + +Bill nodded, and took the outstretched hand in solemn compact. + +"What you say goes," he said easily. "But your threat of shooting +doesn't worry me a little bit." + +He gathered up his reins and the two men rode out of the clearing. + + * * * * * + +The last sound of speeding hoofs died away, and the clearing settled +once more to its mysterious quiet. Only the twittering of the swarming +birds on the thatched roof of the hut disturbed the silence, but, +somehow, even their chattering voices seemed really to intensify it. + +Thus a few minutes passed. + +Then a breaking of bush and rustling of leaves gave warning of a fresh +approach. A man's head and shoulders were thrust forward, out from +amid the boughs of a wild cherry bush. + +His dark face peered cautiously around, and his keen eyes took in a +comprehensive survey of both corral and hut. A moment later he stood +clear of the bush altogether. + +Stanley Fyles swiftly crossed the intervening space and entered the +corral. He strode up to the wagon and examined it closely, studying +its position and the wheel tracks, with a minuteness that left him in +possession of every available fact. Having satisfied himself in this +direction, he passed out of the corral and went over to the hut. + +The screaming birds promptly protested, and flew once more from their +nesting quarters in panicky dudgeon. Fyles watched them go with +thoughtful eyes. Then he passed around to the door of the building and +thrust it open. Another rush of birds swept past him, and he passed +within. Again his searching eyes were brought into play. Not a detail +of that interior escaped him. But ten minutes later he left the +half-lit room for the broad light of day outside--disappointed. + +For a long time he moved around the building, examining the walls, +their bases and foundations. His disappointment remained, however, +and, finally, with strong discontent in his expression, and an +unmistakable shrug of his shoulders, he moved away. + +Finally, he paused and gave a long, low whistle. He repeated it at +intervals, three times, and, after awhile, for answer, the wise face +of Peter appeared from among the bushes. The creature solemnly +contemplated the scene. It was almost as if he were assuring himself +of the safety of revealing himself. Then, with measured gait, he made +his way slowly toward his master. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +A WAGER + + +The wild outbreak of excitement in Rocky Springs died out swiftly. +After all, whisky-running was a mere traffic. It was a general traffic +throughout the country. The successful "running" of a cargo of alcohol +was by no means an epoch-making event. But just now, in Rocky Springs, +it was a matter of more than usual interest, in that the police had +expressed their intention of "cleaning" the little township up. So +the excitement at their outwitting. So, more than ever, the excited +rejoicing became a cordial expression of delight at the fooling of the +purpose of a generally hated act. + +This sentiment was expressed by O'Brien before his bar full of men, +among whom were many of those responsible for the defeat of the +police. He addressed himself personally to Stormy Longton with the +certainty of absolute sympathy. + +"Guess when the boys here have done with the p'lice they'll have the +prohibition law wiped out of the statute book, Stormy," he said, with +a knowing wink. "Ther's fellers o' grit around this valley, eh? Good +boys and gritty. Guess it ain't fer us to open our mouths wide, 'cep' +to swallow prohibition liquor, but there'll be some tales to tell of +these days later, eh, Stormy? An'," he added slyly, "guess you'll be +able to tell some of 'em." + +The badman displayed no enthusiasm at the personality. He considered +carefully before replying. When he did reply, however, he set the +saloonkeeper re-sorting some of his convictions, mixing them with a +doubt which had never occurred to him before. + +"Sure," said Stormy, with a contemptuous shrug, "and I guess you, with +the rest, will do some of the listenin'. You're all wise guys +hereabouts--mostly as wise as the p'lice. Best hand the company a +round of drinks. I've got money to burn." + +He laughed, but no amount of questioning could elicit anything more of +interest to the curious minds about him. + +It was on the second day after the whisky-running that Kate Seton was +returning home after an arduous morning in the village. She was +feeling unusually depressed, and her handsome face was pathetically +lacking in the high spirits and delight of living usual to it. It was +not her way to indulge in the self-pitying joys of depression. On the +contrary, her buoyancy, her spirit, were such as to attract the weaker +at all times to lean on her for support. + +She was tired, too, physically tired. The day had been one of +sweltering heat, one of those sultry, oppressive days, which are +fortunately few enough in the brilliant Canadian summer. + +As she reached the wooden bridge across the river she paused and +leaned herself against the handrail, and, propping her elbow upon it, +leaned her chin upon the palm of her hand and abandoned herself to a +long train of troubled thought. It may have been chance; it may have +been that her thought inspired the direction of her gaze. It may have +been that her attitude had nothing whatsoever to do with her thought. +Certain it is, however, that her brooding eyes were turned, as they +were so often turned, upon that little ranch house perched so high up +on the valley slope. + +She remained thus for a while, her eyes almost unseeing in their +far-away gaze, but, later, without shifting her attitude, they glanced +off to the right in the direction of the old pine, rearing its +vagabond head high above the surrounding wealth of by no means +insignificant foliage. + +It was a splendid sight, and, to her imagination, it looked the +personification of the rascality of the village she had so come to +love. Look at it. Its trunk, naked as the supports of a scarecrow, +suggesting mighty strength, indolence and poverty. There, above, its +ragged garments--unwholesome, dirty, like the garments of some +tramping, villainous, degraded loafer. And yet, with it all, the old +tree looked so mighty, so wise. + +To her it seemed like some ages-old creature looking down from its +immense height, and out of its experience of centuries, upon a world +of struggling beings, with the pitying contempt of a wisdom beyond the +understanding of man. It seemed to her the embodiment of evil, yet +withal of wisdom, too. And somehow she loved it. Its evil meant +nothing to her, nothing more than the evil of the life amid which she +lived. It was no mere passing sentiment with her. Her nature was too +strong for the softer, womanish sentiments, stirred in a moment and as +easily set aside. For her to yield her affections to any creature or +object, was to yield herself to a bondage more certain than any life +of slavery. To think of this valley without---- + +Her thoughts were abruptly cut short as the sound of a cry reached her +from the direction of her house. + +She turned, and, for a moment, stared hard and alertly in the +direction whence it came. Her ears were straining, too. In a moment +she became aware of a faint confusion of sounds which she had no power +of interpreting. But somehow they conveyed an ominous suggestion to +her keen mind. + +She bestirred herself. She set off at a run for her home. The distance +was less than a hundred yards, and she covered it quickly. As she came +nearer the sounds grew, and became even more ominous. They proceeded +from somewhere in the direction of the barn behind the house. + +She darted into the house, and, after one comprehensive glance around +the sitting room, where she found the rocker upset, and a china +ornament fallen from its place on the table, and smashed in fragments +upon the floor, as though someone had knocked it down in a hasty +departure, she snatched a revolver from its holster upon the wall, and +rushed out of the house through the back door. + +She was not mistaken. Her hearing had accurately conveyed to her the +meaning of those sounds. + +Nevertheless she was wholly unprepared for the sight which actually +greeted her as she turned the angle of the barn where the building +faced away from the house. + +She stood stock still, her big eyes wide with wonder and swift rising +anger. Twisting, struggling, writhing, cursing, two men lay upon the +ground held in a fierce embrace, much in the manner of two wildcats. +Beyond them, huddled upon the ground, her face covered with her hands, +a picture of abject terror, crouched her younger sister, Helen. + +All this she beheld at the first glance. Then, keeping clear of the +fighters she darted around to the terrified girl. With a cry Helen +scrambled to her feet and clung to her sister's arm, and began to pour +out a stream of hysterical thankfulness. + +"Oh, stop them," she cried. "Oh, thank God, thank God! Stop them, or +they'll kill each other. Pete will kill him. He----" + +But Kate had no time for such feminine weakness. She dragged the girl +away out of sight, and left her while she returned to the affray. + +Once in full view of it she made no effort to stop it. She stood +looking on with the critical eye of an interested spectator, but her +hand was grasping her revolver, nor was her forefinger far from the +trigger of it. + +The men rolled this way and that, while deep-throated curses came up +from their midst with a breathless, muttered force. But through the +tangle of sprawling bodies and waving limbs Kate's quick eyes +discovered all she required to satisfy herself. She saw no real life +and death struggle here. Maybe, had the circumstances been changed, it +would have been so, but one of the combatants was far too experienced +a rough and tumble fighter for those circumstances to mature. + +The man on top at the moment had the other in a vice-like grip by the +right wrist, keeping the heavy revolver, which the underman had in his +hand, from becoming a serious danger. With the other hand he was +dealing his adversary careful, well-timed smashes upon his bruised and +battered face, with the object of warding off a fierce attack of +strong, yellow teeth. + +The man on top had his adversary's measure to a fraction. He was +dealing with him almost as he chose, and the onlooker knew that it +could only be moments before the other finally "squealed," and +dropped the murderous weapon from his hand. + +Down came the fist, a great, white fist, with a soggy sound upon the +man's pulpy features, its force increased a hundred per cent. by the +resistance of the hard ground on which his adversary lay. A fierce +curse was the response, and a wild upward slash at the big face above. +Then the big fist went up again. + +"Drop it, you son-of-a-moose," Kate heard, in Big Brother Bill's +fiercest tones. "Drop it, or I'll kill you!" + +Down came his fist with a fearful smash on the other's gaping mouth. + +A splutter of oaths was his reply, and an even greater effort to throw +the white man off. + +But the effort was unavailing. Then Kate saw something happen. The big +white man changed his tactics. He desisted quite suddenly from +belaboring his victim. He made no attempt to defend himself. He +reached out his disengaged hand and added a second grip upon the man's +revolver arm. Then, with a terrific jolt, he flung himself backwards, +so that he was left in a kneeling position upon the other's middle. +Then, in a second, with an agility absolutely staggering, he was on +his feet. The next moment the other was jerked to his feet with his +revolver arm twisted behind his back and nearly dislocated. + +With a frantic yell of agony the half-breed's hand relaxed its grip +upon his revolver, and the weapon fell to the ground. The fight was +over. With a mighty throw Pete Clancy was hurled headlong, and fell +sprawling upon the ground at the foot of the barn wall, and his impact +was like the result of a shot from a catapult. + +"Lie there, you dirty dog!" cried Big Brother Bill, in a fury of +breathless indignation. "That'll maybe learn you a lesson not to get +drinking rot gut, and, if you do, not to insult a white girl. You +damnation nigger, for two beans I'd kick the life out of you where you +lay." + +The man was scrambling to his feet, glaring an eternity of hatred at +his white victor. + +"Did he insult--Helen?" + +Bill swung around with almost ludicrous abruptness. He had been +utterly unaware of Kate's presence. + +He stared. Then, with a rush of passionate anger---- + +"Yes; but by God, he'll think some before he does it again." + +Kate's eyes were coldly commanding. + +"Go around to Helen, and--take that gun," she said authoritatively. +"Leave Pete to me." + +"Leave him----?" Bill's protest remained uncompleted. + +"Do as I tell you--please." + +"But he'll----" + +Again Kate cut him short. + +"Please!" She pointed in the direction of the house. + +Bill was left with no alternative but to obey. He moved away, but his +movements were grudging, and he looked back as he went, ready to hurl +himself to Kate's succor at the slightest sign. + +Ten minutes later Kate entered the sitting room. Her handsome face was +pale, and her eyes were shining. The spirit of the woman was stirred. +There was no fear in her--only a sort of hard resentment that left her +expression one of cold determination. + +Helen ran to her at once. But, for perhaps the first time in her life, +she encountered something in the nature of a rebuff. Kate looked +straight into her sister's eyes as she flung herself into a chair, and +laid her loaded revolver upon the table. + +"Tell me about it. Just the plain facts," she said, and waited. + +Bill started up from his place in the rocker, but Kate signed him to +be silent. + +"Helen can tell me," she said coldly. + +Helen, leaning against the table, glanced across at Bill. Her sister's +attitude troubled her. She felt the resentment underlying it. She was +at a loss to understand it. After a moment's hesitation she began to +explain. Nor could she quite keep the sharp edge of feeling out of her +tone. + +"It was my fault," she began. "At least, I s'pose it was. I s'pose I +was doing a fool thing interfering, but I didn't just think you'd +mind, seeing you'd ordered him to do work he hadn't done. You see, he +hadn't touched those potatoes you'd told him to dig. He's been +drinking instead." + +Suddenly her sense of humor got the better of her resentful feelings, +and she began to laugh. + +"Well, I had to go and be severe with him. I tried to bully him, and +stamped my foot at him, and--and called him a drunken brute. I took a +chance. Being drunk, he might have proposed to me. Well, he didn't +this time. It was far worse. He told me to go--to hell, first of all. +But, as I didn't show signs of obeying him, he got sort of funny and +tried to kiss me." + +"The swine!" muttered Bill, but was silenced by a look from Helen's +humorous eyes. + +"That's what I thought--first," she said. Then, her eyes widening: +"But he meant doing it, and I got scared to death. Oh, dear, I was +frightened. Being a coward, I shouted for help. And Bill responded +like--like a great angry steer. Then I got worse scared, for, directly +Pete saw Bill coming, he pulled a gun, and there surely was murder in +his eye." + +She breathed a deep sigh, and her eyes had changed their expression to +one of delight and pride. + +"But he hadn't a dog's chance of putting Bill's lights out. He hadn't, +true. Say, Kate, Bill was just like--like a whirlwind. Same as Charlie +said. He was so quick I hardly know how it happened. Bill dropped Pete +like a--a sack of wheat. He--he was on him like a tiger. Then I was +just worse scared than ever, and--and began to cry." + +The girl's mouth drooped, but her eyes were laughing. Then, as Kate +still remained quiet, she inquired: + +"Wasn't I a fool?" + +Kate suddenly looked up from the brown study into which she had +fallen. Her big eyes looked straight across at Bill, and she ignored +Helen's final remark. + +"Thanks, Bill," she said quietly. And her last suggestion of +displeasure seemed to pass with her expression of gratitude. "I'm glad +you were here, and"--she smiled--"you can fight. You nearly killed +him." Then, after a pause: "It's been a lesson to me. I--shan't forget +it." + +"What have you--done to him?" cried Helen suddenly. + +But Kate shook her head. + +"Let's talk of something else. There's things far more important +than--him. Anyway, he won't do _that_ again." + +She rose from her seat and moved to the window, where she stood +looking out. But she had no interest in what she beheld. She was +thinking moodily of other things. + +Bill stirred in his chair. He was glad enough to put the episode +behind him. + +"Yes," he said, taking up Kate's remark at once. "There certainly are +troubles enough to go around." He was thinking of his scene of the +previous day with his brother. "But--but what's gone wrong with you, +Kate? What are the more important things?" + +"You haven't fallen out with Mrs. Day?" Helen put in quickly. + +Kate shook her head. + +"No one falls out with Mrs. Day," she said quietly. "Mrs. Day does the +falling out. It isn't only Mrs. Day, it's--it's everybody. I think the +whole village is--is mad." She turned back from the window and +returned to her seat. But she did not sit down. She stood resting her +folded arms on its back and leaned upon it. "They're all mad. +Everybody. I'm mad." She glanced from one to the other, smiling in the +sanest fashion, but behind her smile was obvious anxiety and trouble. +"They've practically decided to cut down the old pine." + +Bill sat up. He laughed at the tone of her announcement. + +But Helen gasped. + +"The old pine?" She had caught some of her sister's alarm. + +Kate nodded. + +"You can laugh, Bill," she cried. "That's what they're all doing. +They're laughing at--the old superstition. But--it's not a laughing +matter to folks who think right along the lines of the essence of our +human natures, which is superstition. The worst of it is I've brought +it about. I told the meeting about a stupid argument about the +building of the church which Billy and Dy had. Billy wants the tree +for a ridge pole, because the church is disproportionately long. Well, +I told the folks because I thought they wouldn't hear of the tree +being cut. But Mrs. Day rounded on me, and the meeting followed her +like a flock of sheep. Still, I wasn't done by that. I've been +canvassing the village since, and, would you believe it, they all say +it's a good job to cut the tree down. Maybe it'll rid the place of +its evil influence, and so rid us of the attentions of the police. I +tell you, Billy and Dy are perfect fools, and the folks are all mad. +And I'm the greatest idiot ever escaped a home for imbeciles. There! +That's how I feel. It's--it's scandalous." + +Bill laughed good-naturedly. + +"Say, cheer up, Kate," he cried. "You surely don't need to worry any. +It can't hurt you. Besides----." He broke off abruptly, and, sitting +up, looked out of the window. "Say, here comes Fyles." He almost +leaped out of his seat. + +"What's the matter?" demanded Kate sharply. Then she looked around at +her sister, who had moved away from the table. + +Bill laughed again in his inconsequent fashion. + +"Matter?" he cried. "Nothin's the matter, only--only----. Say, did you +ever have folks get on your nerves?" + +"Plenty in Rocky Springs," said Kate bitterly. + +Bill nodded. + +"That's it. Say, I've just remembered I've got an appointment that was +never made with somebody who don't exist. I'm going to keep it." + +Helen laughed, and clapped her hands. + +"Say, that's really funny. And I've just remembered something I'd +never forgotten, that's too late to do anyway. Come on, Bill, let's go +and see about these things, and," she added slyly, "leave Kate to +settle Fyles--by herself." + +"Helen!" + +But Kate's remonstrance fell upon empty air. The lovers had fled +through the open doorway, and out the back way. Nor had she time to +call them back, for, at that moment, Fyles's horse drew up at the +front door, and she heard the officer leap out of the saddle. + + * * * * * + +"Have you made your peace with--headquarters?" + +Kate and Stanley Fyles were standing out in the warm shade of the +house. The woman's hand was gently caressing the velvety muzzle of +Peter's long, fiddle face. It was a different woman talking to the +police officer from the bitter, discontented creature of a few +minutes ago. For the time, at least, all regrets, all thoughts of +an unpleasant nature seemed to have been lost in the delight of a +woman wholesomely in love. + +As she put her question her big eyes looked up into the man's keen +face with just the faintest suspicion of raillery in their glowing +depths. But her rich tones were full of a genuine eagerness that +belied the look. + +The man was good to look upon. The strength of his face appealed to +her, as did the big, loose shoulders and limbs, as strength must +always appeal to a real woman. Her love inspired a subtle tenderness, +even anxiety. + +"I hope so, but--I don't know yet." + +Fyles made no attempt to conceal his doubts. Somehow the official side +of the man was becoming less and less sustained before this woman, who +had come to occupy such a big portion of his life. + +"You mean you've sent in your report, and are now awaiting +the--verdict?" + +Fyles nodded. + +"Like so many of the criminals I have brought before the courts," he +said, bitterly. + +"And the chances?" + +"About equal to those of a convicted felon." + +The smile died out of Kate's eyes. They were full of regretful +sympathy. + +"It's pretty tough," she said, turning from him. "It isn't as if you +had made a mistake, or neglected your duty." + +"No, I was beaten." + +The man turned away coldly. But his coldness was not for her. + +"Is there no hope?" Kate asked presently, in a low tone. + +Fyles shrugged. + +"There might be if I had something definite to promise for the future. +I mean a chance of--redeeming myself." + +Kate made no answer. The whole thing to her mind seemed impossible if +it depended upon that. The thought of this strong man being broken +through the police system, for no particular fault of his own, seemed +very hard. Harder now than ever. She strove desperately to find a +gleam of light in the darkness of his future. She would have given +worlds to discover some light, and show him the way. But one thing +seemed impossible, and he--well, he only made it harder. His very +decision and obstinacy, she considered, were his chief undoing. + +"If you could reasonably hold out a prospect to them," she said, her +dark eyes full of thought--strong and earnest thought. "Can't you?" + +She watched him closely. She saw him suddenly straighten himself up, +throwing back his powerful shoulders as though to rid himself of the +burden which had been oppressing him so long. + +He drew a step nearer. Kate's heart beat fast. Then her eyes drooped +before the passion shining in his. + +"Maybe you don't realize why I am here, Kate," he said, in a low +thrilling voice, while a warm smile grew in his eyes. "You see, weeks +ago I made a mistake, a bad mistake--just such as I have made here. +The liquor was run under my nose, while I--well, I just stood around +looking on like some fool babe. That liquor was--for this place. After +that I asked the chief to give me a free hand, and to allow me to come +right along, and round this place up. My object was twofold. I knew I +had to make good, and--I knew you were here. Guess you don't remember +our first meeting? I do. It was up on the hillside, near the old pine. +I've always wanted to get back here--ever since then. Well, I've had +my wish. I'm here, sure. But I've not made good. The folks, here, have +beaten me, and you--why, I've just contrived to make you my sworn +adversary. Failure, eh? Failure in my work, and in my--love." + +For an instant the woman's eyes were raised to his face. She was +trembling as no physical fear could have made her tremble. Peter +nuzzled the palm of her hand with his velvety nose, and she quickly +lowered her gaze, and appeared to watch his efforts. + +After a moment's pause the man went on in a voice full of a great +passionate love. All the official side of him had gone utterly. He +stood before the woman he loved baring his soul. For the moment he had +put his other failures behind him. He wanted only her. + +"I came here because I loved you, Kate. I came here dreaming all those +dreams which we smile at in others. I dreamed of a life at your side, +with you ever before me to spur me on to the greater heights which I +have thought about, dreamed about. And all my work, all my striving, +was to be for you. I saw visions of the days, when, together, we might +fill high office in our country's affairs, with an ambition ever +growing, as, together, we mounted the ladder of success. Vain enough +thought, eh? Guess it was not long before I brought the roof of my +castle crashing about my ears. I have failed in my work a second time, +and only succeeded in making you my enemy." + +Kate's eyes were shining. A great light of happiness was in them. But +she kept them turned from him. + +"Not enemy--only adversary," she said, in a low voice. + +The man shook his head. + +"It is such a small distinction," he said bitterly. "Antagonists. How +can I ever hope that you can care for me? Kate, Kate," he burst out +passionately, "if you would marry me, none of the rest would matter. I +love you so, dear. If you would marry me I should not care what the +answer from headquarters might be. Why should I? I should then have +all I cared for in the world, and the world itself would still be +before us. I have money saved. All we should need to start us. My God, +the very thought of it fills me with the lust of conquest. There would +be nothing too great to aspire to. Kate, Kate!" He held his arms out +toward her in supplication. + +The woman shook her head, but offered no verbal refusal. The man's +arms dropped once more to his sides, and, for a moment, the silence +was only broken by the champing of Peter's bit. Then once more the +man's eyes lit. + +"Tell me," he cried, almost fiercely. "Tell me, had we not come into +conflict over this man, Bryant, would--would it--could it have been +different?" Then his voice grew soft and persuasive. "I know you don't +dislike me, Kate." He smiled. "I know it, and you must forgive +my--vanity. I have watched, and studied you, and--convinced myself. I +felt I had the right to hope. The right of every decently honest man. +Our one disagreement has been this man, Bryant. I had thought maybe +you loved him, but that you have denied. You do not? There is no one +else?" + +Again Kate silently shook her head. The man was pressing her hard. All +her woman's soul was crying out for her to fling every consideration +to the winds, and yield to the impulse of the love stirring within +her. But something held her back, something so strong as to be quite +irresistible. + +The man went on. He was fighting that last forlorn hope amid what, to +him, seemed to be a sea of disaster. + +"No. You have told me that before," he said, almost to himself. "Then +why," he went on, his voice rising with the intensity of his feelings. +"Why--why----? But no, it's absurd. You tell me you don't--you can't +love me." + +For one brief instant Kate's eyes were shyly raised to his. They +dropped again at once to the brown head of the horse beside her. + +"I have told you nothing--yet," she said, in a low voice. + +The man snatched a brief hope. + +"You mean----?" + +Kate looked up again, fearlessly now. + +"I mean just what I say." + +"You have told me nothing--yet," the man repeated. "Then you have +something--to tell me?" + +Kate nodded and pushed Peter's head aside almost roughly. + +"The man I can care for, the man I marry must have no thought of hurt +for Charlie Bryant in his mind." + +"Then you----" + +Kate made a movement of impatience. + +"Again, I mean just what I say--no more, no less." + +But it was Fyles's turn to become impatient. + +"Bryant--Charlie Bryant? It is always Charlie Bryant--before all +things!" + +Kate's eyes looked steadily into his. + +"Yes--before even myself." + +The man returned her look. + +"Yet you do not love him as--I would have you love me?" + +"Yet I do not love him, as you would have me love you." + +The man thrust out his arms. + +"Then, for God's sake, tell me some more." + +The insistent Peter claimed Kate once more. His long face was once +more thrust against her arm, and his soft lips began to nibble at the +wrist frill of her sleeve. She turned to him with a laugh, and placed +an arm about his crested neck. + +"Oh, Peter, Peter," she said smiling, and gently caressing the +friendly creature. "He wants me to tell him some more. Shall I? Shall +I tell him something of the many things I manage to learn in this +valley? Shall I try and explain that I contrive to get hold of secrets +that the police, with all their cleverness, can never hope to get hold +of? Shall I tell him, that, if only he will put Charlie out of his +mind, and leave him alone, and not try to fix this--this crime on him, +I can put him on the track of the real criminal? Shall I point out to +him the absurdity of fixing on this one man when there are such men as +O'Brien, and Stormy Longton, and my two boys, and Holy Dick, and Kid +Blaney in the place? Shall I? Shall I tell him of the things I've +found out? Yes, Peter, I will, if he'll promise me to put Charlie out +of his mind. But not unless. Eh? Not unless." + +The man shook his head. + +"You make the condition impossible," he cried. "You have faith in that +man. Good. I have overwhelming evidence that he is the man we are +after. Until he is caught the whisky-running in this place will never +cease." + +Kate refused to display impatience. She went on talking to the horse. + +"Isn't he obstinate? Isn't he? And here am I offering to show him how +he can get the real criminals." + +Fyles suddenly broke into a laugh. It was not a joyous laugh. It was +cynical, almost bitter. + +"You are seeking to defend Bryant, and yet you can, and will, put me +on the track of the whisky-runners. It's farcical. You would be +closing the door of the penitentiary upon your--friend." + +Kate's eyes flashed. + +"Should I? I don't think so. The others I don't care that for." She +flicked her fingers. "They must look to themselves. I promise you I +shall not be risking Charlie's liberty." + +"I'll wager if you show me how I can get these people, and I +succeed--you will." + +The angry sparkle in the woman's eyes died out, to be replaced with a +sudden light of inspiration. + +"You'll wager?" she cried, with an excited laugh. "You will?" + +The policeman nodded. + +"Yes--anything you like." + +Kate's laugh died out, and she stood considering. + +"But you said my conditions were--impossible. You will leave Charlie +alone until you capture him running the whisky? You will call your +men off his track--until you catch him red-handed? You will accept +that condition, if I show you how you can--make good with +your--headquarters?" + +The man suddenly found himself caught in the spirit of Kate's mood. + +"But the conditions must not be all with you," he cried, with a short +laugh. "You are too generous to make it that way. If I accept your +conditions, against my better judgment, will you allow me to make +one?" + +"But I am conferring the benefit," Kate protested. + +"All of it? What about your desire to protect Bryant?" + +Kate nodded. + +"What is your condition?" + +Fyles drew a deep breath. + +"Will you marry me after I have caught the leader of the gang, if he +be this man, Bryant? That must be your payment--for being wrong." + +In a moment all Kate's lightness vanished. She stared at him for some +wide-eyed moments. Then, again, all in a moment, she began to laugh. + +"Done!" she cried. "I accept, and you accept! It's a wager!" + +But her ready acceptance of his offer for the first time made the +police officer doubt his own convictions as to the identity of the +head of the gang. + +"You are accepting my condition because you believe Bryant is not the +man, and so you hope to escape marrying me," he said almost roughly. + +"I accept your condition," cried Kate staunchly. + +Slowly a deep flush mounted to the man's cheeks and spread over his +brow. His eyes lit, and his strong mouth set firmly. + +"But you will marry me," he cried, with sudden force. "Whatever lies +behind your condition, Kate, you'll marry me, as a result of this. The +conditions are agreed. I take your wager. I shall get the man Bryant, +and he'll get no mercy from me. He's stood in my way long enough. I'm +going to win out, Kate," he cried; "I know it, I feel it. Because I +want you. I'd go through hell itself to do that. Quick. Tell me. Show +me how I can get these people, and I promise you they shan't escape me +this time." + +But Kate displayed no haste. Now that the wager was made she seemed +less delighted. After a moment's thought, however, she gave him the +information he required. + +"I've learned definitely that on Monday next, that's nearly a week +to-day, there's a cargo coming in along the river trail, from the +east. The gang will set out to meet it at midnight, and will bring it +into the village about two o'clock in the morning. How, I can't say." + +Fyles's desperate eyes seemed literally to bore their way through her. + +"That's--the truth?" + +"True as--death." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +BILL'S FRESH BLUNDERING + + +The change in the man that rode away from Kate Seton's home as +compared with the man who had arrived there less than an hour earlier +was so remarkable as to be almost absurd in a man of Stanley Fyles's +reputation for stern discipline and uncompromising methods. There was +an almost boyish light of excited anticipation and hope in the usually +cold eyes that looked out down the valley as he rode away. There was +no doubt, no question. His look suggested the confidence of the +victor. And so Charlie Bryant read it as he passed him on the trail. + +Charlie was in a discontented mood. He had seen Fyles approach Kate's +home from his eyrie on the valley slope, and that hopeless impulse +belonging to a weakly nature, that self-pitying desire to further +lacerate his own feelings, had sent him seeking to intercept the man +whom he felt in his inmost heart was his successful rival for all that +which he most desired on earth. + +So he walked past Fyles, who was on the back of his faithful Peter, +and hungrily read the expression of his face, that he might further +assure himself of the truth of his convictions. + +The men passed each other without the exchange of a word. Fyles eyed +the slight figure with contempt and dislike. Nor could he help such +feelings for one whom he knew possessed so much of Kate's warmest +sympathy and liking. Besides, was he not a man whose doings placed him +against the law, in the administration of which it was his duty to +share? + +Charlie's eyes were full of an undisguised hatred. His interpretation +of the officer's expression left him no room for doubting. Delight, +victory, were hall-marked all over it. And victory for Fyles could +only mean defeat for him. + +He passed on. His way took him along the main village trail, and, +presently, he encountered two people whom he would willingly have +avoided. Helen and his brother were returning toward the house across +the river. + +Helen's quick eyes saw him at once, and she pointed him out to the big +man at her side. + +"It's Charlie," she cried, "let's hurry, or he'll give us the slip. I +must tell him." + +"Tell him what?" + +But Helen deigned no answer. She hurried on, and called to the +dejected figure, which, to her imagination, seemed to shuffle rather +than walk along the trail. + +Charlie Bryant had no alternative. He came up. He felt a desperate +desire to curse their evident happiness in each other's society. Why +should these two know nothing but the joys of life, while he--he was +forbidden even a shadow of the happiness for which he yearned? + +But Helen gave him little enough chance to further castigate himself +with self-pity. She was full of her desire to impart her news, and her +desire promptly set her tongue rattling out her story. + +"Oh, Charlie," she cried, "I've had such a shock. Say, did you ever +have a cyclone strike you when--when there wasn't a cyclone within a +hundred miles of you?" Then she laughed. "That surely don't sound +right, does it? It's--it's kind of mixed metaphor. Anyway, you know +what I mean. I had that to-day. Bill's nearly killed one of our +boys--Pete Clancy. Say, I once saw a dog fight. It was a terrier, and +one of those heavy, slow British bulldogs. Well, I guess when he +starts the bully is greased lightning. Bill's that bully. That's all. +Pete tried to kiss me. He was drunk. They're always drunk when they +get gay like that. Bill guessed he wasn't going to succeed, and now I +sort of fancy he's sitting back there by our barn trying to sort out +his face. My, Bill nearly killed him!" + +But the girl's dancing-eyed enjoyment found no reflection in Bill's +brother. In a moment Charlie's whole manner underwent a change, and +his dark eyes stared incredulously up into Bill's face, which, surely +enough, still bore the marks of his encounter. + +"You--thrashed Pete?" he inquired slowly, in the manner of a man +painfully digesting unpleasant facts. + +But Bill was in no mood to accept any sort of chiding on the point. + +"I wish I'd--killed him," he retorted fiercely. + +Charlie's eyes turned slowly from the contemplation of his brother's +war-scarred features. + +"I guess he deserved it--all right," he said thoughtfully. + +Helen protested indignantly. + +"Deserved it? My word, he deserved--anything," she cried. Then her +indignation merged again into her usual laughter. "Say," she went on. +"I--I don't believe you're a bit glad, a bit thankful to Bill. I--I +don't believe you mind that--that I was insulted. Oh, but if you'd +only seen it you'd have been proud of Big Brother Bill. He--he was +just greased lightning. I don't think I'd be scared of anything with +him around." + +But her praise was too much for the modest Bill. He flushed as he +clumsily endeavored to change the subject. + +"Where are you going, Charlie?" he inquired. "We're going on over the +river. Kate's there. You coming?" + +Just for a moment a look of hesitation crept into his brother's eyes. +He glanced across the river as though he were yearning to accept the +invitation. But, a moment later, his eyes came back to his brother +with a look of almost cold decision. + +"I'm afraid I can't," he said. Then he added, "I've got something to +see to--in the village." + +Bill made no attempt to question him further, and Helen had no desire +to. She felt that she had somehow blundered, and her busy mind was +speculating as to how. + +They parted. And as Charlie moved on he called back to Bill. + +"I'll be back soon. Will you be home?" + +"I can be. In an hour?" + +Charlie nodded and went on. + +The moment they were out of earshot Helen turned to her lover. + +"Say, Bill," she exclaimed. "What have I done wrong?" + +The laughter had gone out of her eyes and left them full of anxiety. + +Bill shrugged gloomily. + +"Nothing," he said. "It's me--again." Then he added, still more +gloomily, "Pete's one of the whisky gang, and--I'm Charlie's brother. +Say," he finished up with a ponderous sigh. "I've mussed +things--surely." + + * * * * * + +"I'm sorry for that scrap, Bill." + +Charlie Bryant was leaning against a veranda post with his hands in +his pockets, and his gaze, as usual, fixed on the far side of the +valley. Bill completely filled a chair, where he basked in the evening +sunlight. + +"So am I--now, Charlie." + +The big man's agreement brought the other's eyes to his battered face. + +"Why?" he demanded quickly. + +Bill looked up into the dark eyes above him, and his own were full of +concern. + +"Why? Is there need to ask that?" + +A shadowy smile spread slowly over the other's face. + +"No, I don't guess _you_ need to ask why." + +There was just the slightest emphasis on the pronoun. + +"You've remembered he's one of the gang--my gang. You sort of feel +there's danger ahead--in consequence. Yes, there is danger. That's why +I'm sorry. But--somehow I wouldn't have had you act different--even +though there's danger. I'm glad it was you, and not me, though. You +could hammer him with your two big fists. I couldn't. I should have +shot him--dead." + +Bill stared incredulously at the other's boyish face. His brother's +tone had carried such cold conviction. + +"Charlie," he cried, "you get me beat every time. I wouldn't have +guessed you felt that way." + +The other smiled bitterly. + +"No," he said. Then he shifted his position. "I'm afraid there's going +to be trouble. I've thought a heap since Helen told me." + +"Trouble--through me?" said Bill, sharply. "Say, there's been nothing +but blundering through me ever since I came here. I'd best pull up +stakes and get out. I'm too big and foolish. I'm the worst blundering +idiot out. I wish I'd shot him up. But," he added plaintively, "I +hadn't got a gun. Say, I'm too foolishly civilized for this country. I +sure best get back to the parlors of the East where I came from." + +Charlie shook his head, and his smile was affectionate. + +"Best stop around, Bill," he said. "You haven't blundered. You've +acted as--honesty demanded. If there's trouble comes through it, it's +no blame to you. There's no blame to you anyway. You're honest. Maybe +I've cursed you some, but it's me who's wrong--always. Do you get me? +It don't make any difference to my real feelings. You just stop around +all you need, and don't you act different from what you are doing." + +Bill stirred his bulk uneasily. + +"But this trouble? Say, Charlie, boy," he cried, his big face flushing +painfully, "it don't matter to me a curse what you are. You're my +brother. See? I wouldn't do you a hurt intentionally. I'd--I'd chop my +own fool head off first. Can't anything be done? Can't I do anything +to fix things right?" + +The other had turned away. A grave anxiety was written all over his +youthful face. + +"Maybe," he said. + +"How? Just tell me right now," cried Bill eagerly. + +"Why----" Charlie broke off. His pause was one of deep consideration. + +"It don't matter what it is, Charlie," cried Bill, suddenly stirred to +a big pitch of enthusiasm. "Just count me on your side, and--and if +you need to have Fyles shot up, why--I'm your man." + +Charlie shook his head. + +"Don't worry that way," he cried. "Just stop around. You needn't ask a +whole heap of questions. Just stop around, and maybe you can bear a +hand--some day. I shan't ask you to do any dirty work. But if there's +anything an honest man may do--why, I'll ask you--sure." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE COMMITTEE DECIDE + + +The earlier days of summer were passing rapidly. And with their +passage Kate Seton's variations of mood became remarkable. There were +times when her excited cheerfulness astounded her sister, and there +were times when her depression caused her the greatest anxiety. Kate +was displaying a variableness and uncertainty to which Helen was quite +unaccustomed, and it left the girl laboring under a great strain of +worry. + +She strove very hard to, as she termed it, localize her sister's +changes of mood, and in this she was not without a measure of success. +Whenever the doings of the church committee were discussed Kate's mood +dropped to zero, and sometimes below that point. It was obvious that +the decision to demolish the old landmark in the service of the church +was causing her an alarm and anxiety which would far better have +fitted one of the old village wives, eaten up with superstition, than +a woman of Kate's high-spirited courage. Then, too, the work of her +little farm seemed to worry her. Her attention to it in these days +became almost feverish. Whereas, until recently, all her available +time was given to church affairs, now these were almost entirely +neglected in favor of the farm. Kate was almost always to be found in +company of her two hired men, working with a zest that ill suited the +methods of her male helpers. + +On one occasion Helen ventured to remark upon it in her inconsequent +fashion, a fashion often used to disguise her real feelings, her real +interest. + +Kate had just returned from a long morning out on the wheat land. She +was weary, and dusty, and thirsty. And she had just thirstily drained +a huge glass of barley water. + +"For the Lord's sake, Kate!" Helen cried in pretended dismay. "When I +see you drink like that I kind of feel I'm growing fins all over me." + +Kate smiled, but without lightness. + +"Get right out in this July sun and try to shame your hired men into +doing a man's work, and see how you feel then," she retorted. +"Fins?--why, you'd give right up walking, and grow a full-sized tail, +and an uncomfortable crop of scales." + +Helen shook her head. + +"I wouldn't work that way. Say, you're always chasing the boys up. Are +they slacking worse than usual? Are they on the 'buck'?" + +Kate shot a swift glance into the gray eyes fixed on her so shrewdly. + +"No," she said quite soberly. "Only--only work's good for folks, +sometimes. The boys are all right. It just does me good to work. +Besides, I like to know what Pete's doing." + +"You mean----?" + +"Oh, it doesn't matter what I mean," Kate retorted, with a sudden +impatience. "Where's dinner?" + +This was something of her sister's mood more or less all the time, and +Helen found it very trying. But she made every allowance for it, also +the more readily as she watched the affairs of the church, and +understood how surely they were upsetting to her sister through her +belief in the old Indian legend of the fateful pine. + +But Kate's occasional outbursts of delirious excitement were far more +difficult of understanding. Helen read them in the only way she +understood. Her observation warned her that they generally followed +talk of the doings of Inspector Fyles, or a distant view of him. + +As the days went by Kate seemed more and more wrapped up in the work +of the police. Every little item of news of them she hungrily +devoured. And frequently she went out on long solitary rides, which +Helen concluded were for the purpose of interested observation of +their doings. + +But all this display of interest was somewhat nullified by another +curious phase in her sister. It quickly became obvious that she was +endeavoring by every artifice to avoid coming into actual contact with +Stanley Fyles. Somehow this did not seem to fit in with Helen's idea +of love, and again she found herself at a loss. + +Thus poor Helen found herself passing many troubled hours. Things +seemed to be going peculiarly awry, and, for the life of her, she +could not follow their trend with any certainty of whither it was +leading. Even Bill was worse than of no assistance to her. Whenever +she poured out her long list of anxieties to him, he assumed a +perfectly absurd air of caution and denial that left her laboring +under the belief that he really was "one big fool," or else he knew +something, and had the audacity to keep it from her. In Bill's case, +however, the truth was he felt he had blundered so much already in his +brother's interests that he was not prepared to take any more chances, +even with Helen. + +Then came one memorable and painful day for Helen. It was a Saturday +morning. She had just returned from a church committee meeting. Kate +had deliberately absented herself from her post as honorary secretary +ever since the decision to fell the old pine had been arrived at. It +was her method of protest against the outrage. But Mrs. John Day, +quite undisturbed, had appointed a fresh secretary, and Kate's +defection had been allowed to pass as a matter of no great importance. + +The noon meal was on the table when Helen came in. Kate was at her +little bureau writing. The moment her sister entered the room she +closed the desk and locked it. Helen saw the action and almost +listlessly remarked upon it. + +"It's all right, Kate," she said. "Bluebeard's chamber doesn't +interest me--to-day." + +Kate started up at the other's depressed tone. She looked sharply into +the gray eyes, in which there was no longer any sign of their usual +laughter. + +"What's the matter, dear?" she asked, with affectionate concern. "Mrs. +John?" + +Helen nodded. Then at once she shook her head. + +"Yes--no. Oh, I don't know. No, I don't think it's Mrs. John. +It's--it's everybody." + +Kate had moved to the head of the table, and stood with her hands +gripping the back of her chair. + +"Everybody?" she said, with a quiet look of understanding in her big +eyes. "You mean--the tree?" + +Helen nodded. She was very near tears. + +But Kate rose to the occasion. She knew. She pointed at Helen's chair. + +"Sit down, dear. We'll have food," she said, quietly. "I'm as hungry +as any coyote." + +Helen obeyed. She was feeling so miserable for her sister, that she +had lost all inclination to eat. But Kate seemed to have entirely +risen above any of the feelings she had so lately displayed. She +laughed, and, with gentle insistence, forced the other to eat her +dinner. Strangely enough her manner had become that which Helen seemed +to have lost sight of for so long. All her actions, all her words, +were full of confident assurance, and quiet command. + +Gradually, under this new influence, the anxiety began to die out +of Helen's eyes, and the watchful Kate beheld the change with +satisfaction. Then, when the girl had done full justice to the +simple meal, she pushed her own plate aside, planted her elbows +upon the table, and sat with her strong brown hands clasped. + +"Now tell me," she commanded gently. + +In a moment Helen's anxiety returned, and her lips trembled. The next +she was telling her story--in a confused sort of rush. + +"Oh, I don't know," she cried. "It's--it's too bad. You see, Kate, I +didn't sort of think about it, or trouble anything, until you let me +know how you felt over that--that old story. It didn't seem to me that +old tree mattered at all. It didn't seem to me it could hurt cutting +it down, any more than any other. And now--now it just seems as if--as +if the world'll come to an end when they cut it down. I believe I'm +more frightened than you are." + +"Frightened?" + +Kate smiled. But the smile scarcely disguised her true feelings. + +"Yes, I'm scared--to death--now," Helen went on, "because they're +going to cut it down. They've fixed the time and--day." + +"They've fixed the time--and day," repeated Kate dully. "When?" + +Her smile had completely gone now. Her dark eyes were fixed on her +sister's face with a curious straining. + +"Tuesday morning at--daybreak." + +"Tuesday--daybreak? Go on. Tell me some more." + +"There's no more to tell, only--only there's to be a ceremony. The +whole village is going to turn out and assist. Mrs. Day is going to +make an ad-dress. She said if she'd known there was a legend and curse +to that pine she's have had it down at the start of building the +church. She'd have had it down 'in the name of religion, honesty and +righteousness'--those were her words--'as a fitting tribute at the +laying of the foundations of the new church.' Again, in her own words, +she said, 'It's presence in the valley is a cloud obscuring the sun of +our civilization, a stumbling block to the progress of righteousness.' +And--and they all agreed that she was right--all of them." + +Kate was no longer looking at her sister. She was gazing out +straight ahead of her. It is doubtful even if she had listened +to the pronouncements of Mrs. John Day, with her self-satisfied +dictatorship of the village social and religious affairs. She was +thinking--thinking. And something almost like panic seemed suddenly +to have taken hold of her. + +"Tuesday--at daybreak," she muttered. Then, in a moment, her eyes +flashed, and she sprang from her chair. "Daybreak? Why, that--that's +practically Monday night! Do you hear? Monday night!" + +Helen was on her feet in a moment. + +"I--I don't understand," she stammered. + +"Understand? No, of course you don't. Nobody understands but me," Kate +cried fiercely. "I understand, and I tell you they're all mad. +Hopelessly mad." She laughed wildly. "Disaster? Oh, blind, blind, +fools. There'll be disaster, sure enough. The old Indian curse will be +fulfilled. Oh, Helen, I could weep for the purblind skepticism of this +wretched people, this consequential old fool, Mrs. Day. And I--I am +the idiot who has brought it all about." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +ANTAGONISTS + + +Fyles endured perhaps the most anxious time that had ever fallen to +his lot, during the few days following his momentous interview with +Kate. An infinitesimal beam of daylight had lit up the black horizon +of his threatened future. It was a question, a painfully doubtful +question, as to whether it would mature and develop into a glorious +sunlight, or whether the threatening clouds would overwhelm it, and +thrust it back into the obscurity whence it had sprung. + +He dared not attempt to answer the question himself. Everything hung +upon that insecure thread of official amenability. Such was his own +experience that he was beset by the gravest doubts. His only hope lay +in the long record of exceptional work he possessed to his credit in +the books of the police. This, and the story he had to tell them of +future possibilities in the valley of Leaping Creek. + +Would Jason listen? Would he turn up the records, and count the +excellence of Inspector Fyles's past work? Or would he, with that +callous severity of police regulations, only regard the failures, and +turn a deaf official ear to the promise of the future? Supersession +was so simple in the force, it was the usual routine. Would the +superintendent in charge interest himself sufficiently to get away +from it? + +These were some of the doubts with which the police officer was +assailed. These were some of the endless pros and cons he debated with +his lieutenant, Sergeant McBain, when they sat together planning their +next campaign, while awaiting Amberley's reply to both the report of +failure, and plea for the future. + +But Fyles's anxieties were far deeper than McBain's, who was equally +involved in the failure. He had far more at stake. For one thing he +belonged to the commissioned ranks, and his fall, in conjunction with +his greater and wider reputation, would be far more disastrous. For +McBain, reduction in rank was of lesser magnitude. His rank could be +regained. For Fyles there was no such redemption. Resignation from the +force was his alternative to being dismissed, and from resignation +there was no recovery of rank. + +At one time this would have been his paramount, almost sole anxiety. +It would have meant the loss of all he had achieved in the past. Now, +curiously enough, it took a second place in his thoughts. A greater +factor than ambition had entered into his life, a factor to which he +had promptly become enslaved. Far above all thoughts of ambition, of +place, of power, of all sense of duty, the figure of a handsome +dark-eyed woman rose before his mind's eye. Kate Seton had become his +whole world, the idol of all his thoughts and ambitions, and longings, +which left every other consideration lost in the remotest shadows far +below. + +His earlier love for her had suddenly burst into a passionate flame +that seemed to be devouring his very soul. And he had a chance of +winning her. A chance. It seemed absurd--a mere chance. It was not his +way in life to wait for chances. It was for him to set out on a +purpose, and achieve or fail. Here--here, where his love was +concerned, he was committing himself to accepting chances, the +slightest chances, when the winning of Kate for his wife had become +the essence of all his hopes and ambitions. + +Chance? Yes, it was all chance. The decision of Superintendent Jason. +The leadership of this gang. His success in capturing the man, when +the time came. In a moment his whole life seemed to have become a +plaything to be tossed about at the whim of chance. + +So the days passed, swallowed up by feverish work and preparation. +It was work that might well be all thrown away should his recall be +insisted upon at Amberley, or, at best, might only pave the way to his +successor's more fortunate endeavors. It was all very trying, very +unsatisfactory, yet he dared not relax his efforts, with the knowledge +which he now possessed, and the thought of Kate always before him. + +Several times, during those anxious days, he sought to salve his +troubled feelings by stealing precious moments of delight in the +presence of this woman he loved. But somehow Fate seemed to have +assumed a further perverseness, and appeared bent on robbing him of +even this slight satisfaction. + +At such times Kate was never to be found. Small as was that little +world in the valley, it seemed to Fyles that she had a knack of +vanishing from his sight as though she had been literally spirited +away. Nor for some time could he bring himself to realize that she was +deliberately avoiding him. + +She was never at home when he rode up to the house on the back of his +faithful Peter. And, furthermore, at such times as he found Helen +there, she never by any chance knew where her sister was. Even when he +chanced to discover Kate in the distance, on his rare visits to the +village, she was never to be found by the time he reached the spot at +which he had seen her. She was as elusive as a will-o'-th'-wisp. + +But this could not go on forever, and, after one memorable visit to +the postoffice, where he found a letter awaiting him from +headquarters, Fyles determined to be denied no longer. + +His task was less easy than he supposed, and it was not until evening +that he finally achieved his purpose. + +It was nearly eight o'clock in the evening. Up to that time his search +had been utterly unavailing, and he found himself riding down the +village trail at a loss, and in a fiercely impatient mood. + +He had just reached the point where the trail split in two. The one +way traveling due west, and the other up to the new church, and on, +beyond, to the Meeting House. + +The inspiration came to him as Peter, of his own accord, turned off up +the hill in the direction of the church. Then he remembered that the +day was Saturday, and on Saturday evening it was Kate's custom to put +the Meeting House in order for the next day's service. + +In a moment he bustled his faithful horse, and, taking the grassy side +of the trail for it, to muffle his approach, hurried on toward the +quaint old building. + +To his utmost delight he realized that, for once, Fate had decided to +be kind to him. There was a light in one of the windows, and he knew +that nobody but Kate had access to the place at times other than the +hours of service. + +In that moment of pleasant anticipation he was suddenly seized by an +almost childish desire to take her unawares. The thought appealed to +him strongly after his long and futile search, and, with this object, +he steadied his horse's gait lest the sound of its plodding hoofs +should betray his approach. Twenty yards from the building he drew up +and dismounted. + +Once on foot he made his way across the intervening space and reached +the window. A thin curtain, however, was drawn across it, and, though +the light shone through, the interior remained hidden. So he pressed +on toward the door. + +Here he paused. And as he did so the sound of something heavy falling +reached him from within. Kate was evidently moving the heavy benches. +He hesitated only for an instant, then he placed his hand cautiously +on the latch and raised it. In spite of his precautions the heavy old +iron rattled noisily, and again he hesitated. Then, with a thrust, he +pushed the aged door open and passed within. + +He stood still, his eyes smiling. Kate was at the far end of the room +on her knees. She was looking round at him with a curious, startled +look in her eyes, which had somehow caught the reflection of the light +from the oil bracket lamp on the floor beside her, and set them +glowing a dull, golden copper. The long strip of coco-matting was +rolled back from the floor, and she seemed to be in the act of +resetting it in its place. + +Just for a moment they remained staring at each other. Then Kate +turned back to her work, and finished rolling out the matting. + +"I'll be glad, mighty glad, when--when we discontinue service in this +place," she said. "The dirt's just--fierce." + +Fyles moved up toward her. The matting was in its place. + +"Is it?" he said. Then, as he came to a halt, "Say, I've been chasing +the village through half the day to find you, Kate. Then Peter led me +here, and I remembered it was Saturday. I guessed I'd have a surprise +on you, and I thought I'd succeeded. But you don't 'surprise' worth a +cent. Say, I'm to remain here till--after Monday." + +Kate slowly rose to her feet. She was clad in a white shirtwaist and +old tailored skirt. She made a perfect figure of robust health and +vigorous purpose. Her eyes, too, were shining, and full of those +subtle depths of fire which held the man enthralled. + +"Monday?" she said. Then in a curiously reflective way she repeated +the word, "Monday." + +Fyles waited, and, in a moment, Kate's thought seemed to pass. She +looked fearlessly up into the man's eyes, but there was no smile in +response to his. + +"I'm--going away until after--Monday," she said. + +"Going away?" + +The man's disappointment was too evident to be mistaken. "Why?" he +asked, after a moment's pause. + +Quite suddenly the woman flung her arms out in a gesture of +helplessness, which somehow did not seem to fit her. + +"I can't--bear the strain of waiting here," she said, with an +impatient shrug. "It's--it's on my nerves." + +The man began to smile again. "A wager like ours takes nerve to make, +but a bigger nerve to carry through. Still, say, I can't see how +running from it's going to help any. You'll still be thinking. +Thoughts take a heap of getting clear of. Best stop around. It'll be +exciting--some. I'm going to win out," he went on, with confidence, +"and I guess it'll be a game worth watching, even if you--lose." + +Kate stooped and picked up the lamp. As she straightened up she sighed +and shook her head. It seemed to the man that a grave trouble was in +her handsome eyes. + +"It's not that," she cried, suddenly. "Lose my wager? I'm not going to +lose, but even if I were--I would pay up like a sportsman. No, it's +not that. It's these foolish folk here. It's these stupid creatures +who're just ready to fly at the throat of Providence and defy all--all +superstition. Oh, yes, I know," she hurried on, as the man raised his +strongly marked brows in astonishment. "You'll maybe think me a fool, +a silly, credulous fool. But I know--I feel it here." She placed her +hands upon her bosom with a world of dramatic sincerity. + +"What--what's troubling you, Kate? I don't seem to get your meaning." + +It was the woman's turn to express surprise. + +"Why, you know what they're going to do here, practically on Monday +night. You've heard? Why, the whole village is talking of it. It's the +tree. The old pine. They're going to cut it down." Then she laughed +mirthlessly. "They'll use it as a ridge pole for the new church. That +wicked old, cursed pine." + +"Wicked--cursed? I don't understand," Fyles said perplexed. "I heard +about the felling of it all right--but, the other I don't understand." + +Kate set the lamp down on one of the benches. + +"Listen. I'll tell you," she cried. "Then maybe you'll understand my +feelings--since making my wager with you. Oh, the old story wouldn't +matter so much to me, only--only for that wager. Listen." + +Then she hurriedly told him the outline of the curse upon the tree, +and further added an analysis of the situation in conjunction with the +matter which stood between themselves. At the finish she pointed her +argument. + +"Need I say any more? Need I tell you that no logic or reason of any +kind can put the conviction out of my mind that here, and now, we are +to be faced with some dreadful tragedy as the price we must pay for +the--the felling of that tree? I can't help it--I know calamity will +befall us." + +Fyles shook his head. The woman's obvious convictions left him quite +untouched. Had it been any other who spoke of it he would have derided +the whole idea. But since it was Kate's distress, Kate's belief in the +old legend, he refrained. + +"The only calamity that can affect you, Kate, is a calamity for young +Bryant," he said seriously. "And yet you refuse to believe him +concerned with the affairs of--Monday night. Surely you can have no +misgivings on that score?" + +Kate shook her head. + +"Then what do you fear?" Fyles went on patiently. + +Quite slowly the woman raised her big eyes to her companion's face. +For some moments they steadily looked into his. Then slowly into her +gaze there crept an inscrutable expression that was not wholly without +a shadow of a smile. + +"It is your reason against my--superstition," she said slowly. "On +Monday night you will capture, or fail to capture, the gang you are +after. Maybe it will be within an hour of the cutting down of that +tree. Disaster will occur. Blood will flow. Death! Any, or all of +these things. For whom? I cannot--will not--wait to see. I shall leave +to-morrow morning after service--for Myrtle." + + * * * * * + +Kate locked the door of the Meeting House behind them. Then she held +out her hand. Fyles took it and pressed it tenderly. + +"Why," he asked gently, almost humbly, "have you so deliberately +avoided me lately?" + +The woman stroked Peter's brown head as it was pushed forward beside +the man's shoulder. + +"Why?" she echoed. Then she smiled up into the man's face. "Because we +are--antagonists--until after Monday. Good-bye." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +TREACHERY + + +On his westward journey to camp Stanley Fyles did a good deal of +thinking. Generally speaking he was of that practical turn which has +no time for indulgence in the luxury of visions, and signs. Long +experience had made him almost severe in his practice. + +But, as he rode along pondering upon the few pleasant moments spent in +Kate's presence, his imagination slowly began to stir, and he found +himself wondering; wondering, at first, at her credulity, and, +presently, wondering if it were really possible that an old curse, +uttered in the height of impotent human passion, could, by any occult +process, possess a real effect. + +He definitely and promptly denied it. He told himself more. He +believed that only women, highly emotional women, or creatures of +weaker intellect, could possibly put faith in such things. Kate +belonged to neither of these sections of her sex. Then how did this +strange belief come in a woman so keenly sensible, so full of +practical courage? + +Maybe it was the result of living so closely in touch with the soil. +Maybe the narrow life of such a village as Rocky Springs had had its +effect. + +However, her belief, so strong, so passionate, had left an +uncomfortable effect upon him. It was absurd, of course, but somehow +he wished he had not heard the story of the old pine. At least not +till after Monday. Kate had said they were to fell that tree at dawn. +It was certainly a curious coincidence that they should have selected, +as Kate had said, practically Monday night. The night of the +whisky-running. + +He smiled. However, the omen was surely in favor of his success. +According to the legend the felling of the tree meant the end of crime +in the valley, and the end of crime meant his----But blood would flow. +Death. Whose blood? Whose--death? + +His smile died out. + +In these contingencies it meant a--hand to hand conflict. It +meant----Who's death did she dread? Surely she was not thinking of the +police? They always carried their lives in their hands. It was part +of their profession. She denied Charlie Bryant's leadership, so----But +in her own secret mind did she deny it? He wondered. + +So he rode on probing the problem. Later he smiled again. She was +thinking of himself. The vanity of the thought amused him, and he +found himself shaking his head. Not likely. It was not her regard for +him. He was certain in his mind that her wager was made in the full +conviction that he would not win, and, consequently, she would not +have to marry him. She certainly was a strange creature, +and--charming. + +However, she was concerned that somebody was to meet death, and she +dreaded it. Furthermore, now he came to think of it, a similar belief, +without the accompanying dread, was growing in him. He pulled himself +together. The old superstition must not get hold of him. That would +indeed be the height of folly. + +But once the seed had been sown in his imagination the roots quickly +strove to possess themselves of all the fertility such a rich soil +afforded. He could not shake clear of their tendrils. Maybe it was +the effect of his sympathy and regard for the woman. Maybe he was +discovering that he, too, deep down beneath the veneer in which his +work armored him, was possessed of that strange superstition which +seems to possess all human life. He hated the thought, and still more +hated the feeling the thought inspired. + +He touched Peter's flank with his heels, and the unaccustomed spur +sent the highly strung beast plunging into a headlong gallop. + +He was far beyond the village now, and more than half way to the camp, +and presently he slowed down to that steady canter which eats up +distance so rapidly without undue exertion for either man or beast. +He strove to turn the course of his thoughts. He pondered upon the +ungracious official letter of his superior, begrudging, but yielding +to his persuasions. Things certainly were "coming his way." At last he +was to be given his final chance, and it was something to obtain such +clemency in a force which existed simply by reason of its unfailing +success. He had much to be thankful for. McBain would have fresh heart +put into him. It would be something like a taste of hell for McBain to +find himself reduced to the rank of trooper again, after all his +years of successful service. Yes, he was glad for McBain's---- + +Suddenly he checked the willing Peter, and drew him down to a walk. +There was a horseman on the trail, some thirty or forty yards ahead. +He had just caught sight of his dim outline against the starlit sky +line. It was only for a moment. But it was sufficient for his trained +eyes. He had detected the upper part of the man's body, and the +shadowy outline of a wide-brimmed prairie hat. + +Now, as Peter moved at that shuffling, restful amble which all prairie +horses acquire, he leaned down over the horn of his saddle and peered +ahead. The man was sitting stock still upon his horse. + +Instinctively Fyles's hand went to his revolver, and remained there. +When a man waits upon a western trail at night, it is as well that the +traveler take no undue chances, particularly when he be one of the +none too well loved red coats. + +The policeman kept on. He displayed no hesitation. Finally he drew his +horse to a standstill with its nose almost touching the shoulder of +the stranger's horse. + +Fyles was peering forward in the darkness, and his revolver was in +that position which, all unseen, kept its muzzle directly leveled at +the horseman's middle. + +"Kind of lonesome sitting around here at night," he said, with a +keenly satirical inflection. + +"You can put up your darn gun, inspector," came the startling +response. "Guess I had you covered from way back there, if I'd had a +notion to shoot. Guess I ain't in the 'hold-up' bizness. But I've been +waiting for you--anyway." + +The man's assurance had no effect upon the policeman. The latter +pressed his horse up closer, and peered into the other's face. The +face he beheld startled him, although he gave no outward sign. + +"Ah, Pete--Pete Clancy," he said quietly. "Guess my gun's always +pretty handy. It won't hurt where it is, unless I want it to. It's +liable to be more effective than your's would have been--way back +there." + +The man seemed to resign himself. + +"Guess it don't pay shootin' up red coats," he said, with a rough +laugh. + +"No." Then in a moment Fyles put a sharp question. "You are waiting +for--me? Why?" + +Pete laughed, but his laugh was uneasy. + +"Because I'm sick to death being agin the law." + +"Ah. Been taking a hand building the church back there?" The sarcasm +was unmistakable, but it passed the other by. + +"Ben takin' a hand in most things--back there." + +"Sure. Find some of 'em don't pay?" + +The man shook his head. + +"Guess they pay--mostly. 'Tain't that." + +"What then?" + +"Sort o' feel it's time to quit--bizness." + +"Oh. So you waited around for--me?" + +Fyles understood the type of man he was dealing with. The half-breed +was a life study of his. In the great West he was always of more +interest to the police than any white man. + +"We mostly wait around for the p'lice when we want to get out of +business," the man replied with meaning. + +"Yes, some folks find it difficult getting out of business without the +help of the police." + +"Sure," returned Pete easily. "They need to do it right. They need to +make things square." + +"For themselves?" + +"Jest so--for 'emselves." + +The half-breed leaned over his horse's shoulder and spat. Then he +ostentatiously returned the gun he was holding to its holster. + +"Maybe I'll need him no more," he said, with an obviously insincere +sigh. + +Fyles was quite undeceived. + +"Surely--if you're going out of business. What's your--business?" + +The man laughed. + +"I used to be runnin' whisky." Then he chuckled softly. "Y'see, that +chu'ch has got a hold on me. I'm feelin' that pious I can't bear the +thought of runnin' whisky--an' I can't bear the thought of--other folk +runnin' it. No, I'm quittin' that bizness. I'm jest goin' in fer +straight buyin' and sellin'--inside the law." + +Fyles was watching the man closely in the dim night light. He knew +exactly what the man was there for now. Furthermore he knew precisely +how to deal with him. He was weighing in his mind the extent to which +he could trust him. His detestation of the race increased, while yet +every nerve was alert to miss no chance. + +"Straight buying and selling is good when you've found a buyer, and +got--something to sell," he said. + +The man shrugged. + +"I sure got something to sell, an' I guess you ought to be the buyer." + +Fyles nodded. + +"I mostly buy--what I need. What's your line?" + +Again the man laughed. His uneasiness had passed. He felt they +understood each other. + +"Mostly hot air," he said carelessly. + +Fyles hated the man's contemplated treachery. However, his duty was +plain. + +"Well, I might buy hot air--if it's right, and the price is right." + +The man turned with an alert look and peered into the police officer's +face. + +"They're both right," he said sharply. Then his manner changed +abruptly to one of hot intensity. "Here let's quit talkin' fool stuff. +I can tell you what you're needin' to know. And I'll tell you, if +you'll pass me over, and let me quit clear without a question. I need +to get across the border--an' I don't want to see the inside of no +penitentiary, nor come up before any court. I want to get right away +quick. See? I can tell you just how a big cargo's comin' into Rocky +Springs. I know, because I'm one of 'em bringing it in. See? And when +I've told you I've still got to bring it in, or those who're running +it with me would guess things, and get busy after me, or--or change +their plans. See? Give us your word of a free run for the border, an' +I'll put you wise. A free run clear, on your honor, in the name of the +Government." + +"Why are you doing this?" demanded Fyles sharply. + +"That's up to me." + +"Why are you doing this?" Fyles insisted. "I need to know before I +make any deal." + +"Do you?" + +Pete thought for some moments, and Fyles waited. At last the man +looked up, and his evil face was full of the venom of his words. + +"I want to give 'em away," he cried with bitter hatred. "I want to see +the boss pass on to the penitentiary. See? I want to see the boss rot +there for five good, dandy years." + +"Who's the boss?" demanded Fyles sharply. + +The man's eyes grinned cunningly. + +"Why, the feller you're going to get Monday night, with fifty gallons +of good rye." + +Fyles sat up. + +"Monday night?" Then he went on. "Say, why do you want to put him +away?" + +"Ah." + +"Well?" + +Again the half-breed hesitated. Then with a sudden exclamation of +impatience his desire for revenge urged him on. + +"Tcha! What's the use?" he cried fiercely. "Say, have you ever had +hell smashed out of your features by a lousy dude? No. Well, I owe a +bit--a hell of a bit--to some one, and I guess I don't owe nothing in +this world else but money. Debts o' this sort I generally pay when I +get the chance. You're goin' to give me that chance." + +Fyles had satisfied himself. The man sickened him. Now he wanted to be +done with him. + +"What's your story? I'll pay you the price," he cried, with utter +contempt. + +But the man wanted added assurance. + +"Sure?" he cried eagerly. "You're goin' to get me with the rest? +Savee? You're goin' to get me, an' when you get me, you're goin' to +give me twenty-four hours' free run for the border?" + +"If I get you you can go free--for twenty-four hours." + +The man's face lit with a devilish grin of cruelty. + +"Good. You'll shake on it?" He held out his hand. + +Fyles shook his hand. + +"Guess it's not necessary. My word goes. You've got to take my word, +as I've got to take yours. Come on. I've no more time to waste." + +Pete withdrew his hand. He understood. His venom against the white +race was only the further increased. + +"Say," he growled, his eyes lighting with added ferocity. "That cargo +is to be run down the river on Monday night about midnight. There'll +be a big rack of hay come in by trail--the river trail--and most of +the gang'll be with it. If you locate it they calculate you'll get +busy unloading to find the liquor. Meanwhile the cargo'll slip through +on the river, in a small boat. Savee? Guess there'll be jest one +feller with that boat, an'--he'll be the feller that's--that's had you +red coats skinned a mile all these months an' years." + +Fyles gathered up his reins. + +"Just one word," he said coldly. "I hate a traitor worse than poison, +but I'm paid to get these people. So my word goes, if your story's +true. If it isn't--well, take my advice and get out quick, or--you +won't have time." + +Before the half-breed had time to reply Peter threw up his head, and +set off at the touch of his master's spurs. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +PLAYING THE GAME + + +For some moments the two men faced each other in a sort of grim +silence. It was already daylight. Sunday morning was breaking under a +cloudless sky. + +At last McBain rose from his seat at the deal table which served him +for a desk. He reached out and turned out the lamp. Its light was no +longer needed. Then he stretched himself and yawned. + +"Had enough of it?" inquired Fyles, catching the infection and +stifling a yawn. + +"Just what you might notice, sir." A shadowy smile played about the +Scot's hard mouth, but it was gone in a moment. + +Fyles nodded. + +"So have I," he agreed. "But we've broke the back of things. +And--you'll be kept busy all day to--I was going to say to-morrow. I +mean to-day." + +McBain sat down again. + +"Yes, sir. A couple of hours' sleep'll do me, though. We daren't spare +ourselves. It's sort of life and death to us." + +Fyles shot a keen look into the other's face. + +"I shouldn't be surprised if it were literally so." + +"You think, sir----?" + +McBain's voice was sharply questioning. + +But Fyles only laughed. There was no mirth in his expression, and +McBain understood. + +"Never mind," the officer went on, with a careless shrug. "Best turn +in. We'll know all about it when the time comes." + +He rose from his seat, and McBain, with a brief "Good night, sir," +disappeared into the inner room. + +But Fyles did not follow his example for a few moments. He went to the +door and flung it open. Then he stood for awhile gazing out at the +wonderful morning daylight, and drinking in the pure prairie air. +While he stood thus his thoughts were busy, and a half smile was in +his eyes. He was thinking of the irony of the fact that Kate Seton's +superstition had completely taken possession of him. + + * * * * * + +Two hours after sunrise McBain and his superior were at work again. +They had snatched their brief sleep, but it was sufficient for these +hardy riders of the plains. The camp was full of activity. Each man of +the patrol had to be interviewed, and given minute instructions, also +instructions for the arising of unforeseen circumstances, where +individual initiative would require to be displayed. Then there were +rations to be served out, and, finally, messengers must be sent to the +supernumerary camp higher up the valley. But there was no undue bustle +or haste. It was simply activity. + +At ten o'clock Stanley Fyles left the camp. McBain would continue the +work, which, by this time, had returned to conditions of ordinary +routine. + +Peter ambled gently down the valley. His rider seemed in no hurry. +There was no need for hurry. The village was five miles away, and he +had no desire to reach it until just before eleven. So he could take +his leisure, sparing both himself and his horse for the great effort +of the morrow. + +Just for one brief moment he contemplated a divergence from his +course. It was at the moment when he left the cattle track which led +to his camp and joined the old Indian trail to the village. He reached +the branching cattle track on the other side of it which would have +led him to the mysterious corral, which was possessed of so much +interest and suspicion. But he remembered that a visit thither would +violate the conditions of his wager with Kate. The place belonged to +Charlie Bryant. So he pushed on. + +As he rode he thought of Kate Seton's determination to absent herself +during the critical events about to happen in the village. On the +whole he was pleased with her decision. Somehow he felt he understood +her feelings. The grip of her superstition had left him more +understanding of her desire to get away. + +Then, too, he would rather she were away when his own big effort came. +Should he fail again, which now he believed impossible, he would +rather she were not there to witness that failure. He knew, only too +well, from bitter experience, how easy it was for the most complete +plans to go awry when made against the genius of crime. No, he did not +want her to witness his failure. Nor would he care to flaunt the +success he anticipated, and consequently the error she had fallen +into, before her distressed eyes. He felt very tender toward her. She +was so loyal, so courageous in her beliefs, such a great little +sportswoman. No, he must spare her all he could when he had won that +wager. He would not demand his pound of flesh. He would release her +from her debt, and just appeal to her through his love. And, somehow, +when he had caught this man, Bryant, and so proved how utterly +unworthy he was of her regard, he felt that possibly he would not have +to appeal in vain. + +He reached the old Meeting House as the earliest of the village folk +were gathering for service. He did not ride up, but left Peter, much +to that creature's disquiet, tied in the bush some fifty yards from +the place. + +His interest became at once absorbed. He chatted pleasantly for a few +moments with Mr. Blundell, the traveling Methodist minister, and +greeted those of the villagers whom he had come to know personally. +But all the while his eyes and ears were fully alert for the things +concerning his purpose. He noted carefully all those who were present, +but the absentees were his greatest interest. Not one of those who +constituted the gang of smugglers was present, and particularly he +noted Charlie Bryant's absence. + +Among the last to arrive were Big Brother Bill and Helen, and Fyles +smiled as he beheld the careful toilet of the big city man. Helen, as +usual, was clad in her best tailored suit, and looked particularly +bright and smart when he greeted her. + +"Miss Kate not at--service?" he inquired, as they paused at the door +of the building. + +Helen shook her head, and her face fell. + +"No. She's preparing for her journey to Myrtle," said the girl. "How +she can do with that noisy old creature Mrs. Radley I--I--well, +she gets me beat every time. But Kate's just as obstinate as a +fifty-year-old mule. She's crazy to get away from here, and--and I +left her about to dope the wheels of the wretched old wagon she's +going to drive this afternoon. Oh, dear! But come along, Bill, they're +beginning service." + +A moment later the police officer was left alone outside the building. + +It was not his way to take long arriving at a decision. He walked +briskly away, and vanished amid the bush. A minute later he was once +more in the saddle, heading for the bridge in front of Kate's house. + +Kate was still at her wagon when Fyles arrived. At the sound of his +approach she straightened herself up with a smiling, half-embarrassed +welcome shining in her eyes. + +"Don't you come too near," she exclaimed. "I'm all over axle dope. It +truly is the messiest job ever. But what are you to do when the boys +clear out, and--and play you such a scurvy trick? I've been relying on +Nick to drive me out and bring the wagon back. Now I'll have to drive +myself, and keep the wagon there, unless I can hire some one to bring +it back, so Charlie can haul his last hay to-morrow." + +The policeman ran his eyes over the wagon. At the mention of Charlie +Bryant's name, his manner seemed to freeze up. He recognized the +vehicle at once. + +"It's Bryant's wagon?" he said shortly. + +Kate nodded. + +"Sure. He always lends it me when I want one. I haven't one of my +own." + +"I see." + +Fyles's manner became more easy. Then he went on. + +"Where are your boys? Where's Pete?" + +Kate's eyes widened. + +"Gracious goodness only knows," she said, in sheer exasperation. "I +only hope Nick turns up to drive me. I surely will have to get rid of +them both. I've had enough of Pete since he got drunk and insulted +Helen. Still, he got his med'cine from Bill all right. And he got the +rough side of my tongue, too. Yes, I shall certainly get rid of both. +Charlie's always urging me to." She wiped her hands on a cloth. +"There, thank goodness I've finished that messy job." + +She released the jack under the axle, and the wheel dropped to the +ground. + +"Now I can load up my grips," she exclaimed. + +Fyles looked up from the brown study into which he had fallen. + +"This Bill--this Big Brother Bill hammered master Pete to a--pulp?" he +inquired, with a smile of interest. + +"He certainly did," laughed Kate. "And when he'd done with him I'm +afraid my tongue completed the--good work. That's why this has +happened." She indicated the wagon with a humorous look of dismay. + +Fyles laughed. Then he sobered almost at once. + +"I came here for two reasons," he said curiously. "I came +to--well--because I couldn't stay away, for one thing. You see, I'm +not nearly so much of a police officer as I am a mere human creature. +So I came to see you before you went away. You see, so many things may +happen on--Monday. The other reason was to tell you I've had a +wonderful slice of--hateful good luck." + +"Hateful good luck?" + +Kate raised a pair of wondering eyes to his face. + +"Yes, hateful." The man's emphasis left no sort of doubt as to his +feelings. "Of course," he went on, "it's ridiculous that sort of +attitude in a policeman, but I can admire a loyal crook. Yes, I could +have a friendly feeling for him. A traitor turns me sick in the +stomach. One of the gang has turned traitor. He's told me that detail +you couldn't give me. I've got their complete plan of campaign." + +The wonder in Kate's eyes had become one steady look of inquiry. + +"Their complete plan of campaign?" she echoed. Then in a moment a +great excitement seemed to rise up in her. It found expression in the +rapidity of her words. + +"Then you know that--Charlie is innocent? You know now how wrong you +were? You know that I have been right all the way through, and that +you have been wrong? Tell me! Tell me!" she cried. + +Stanley Fyles shook his head. + +"I'm sorry. The man had the grace to refuse me the leader's identity. +I only got their plan--but it's more than enough." + +Kate breathed a sigh as of regret. + +"That's too bad," she cried. "If he'd only told you that, it might--it +might have cleared up everything. We should have had no more of this +wretched suspicion of an innocent man. It might have altered your +whole plan of campaign. As it is----" + +"It leaves me more than ever convinced I am on a red-hot scent which +must now inevitably lead me to success." + +For a few moments Kate looked into the man's face as though waiting +for him to continue. Then, at last, she smiled, and the man thought he +had never beheld so alluring a picture of feminine persuasion. + +"Am I to--know any more?" she pleaded. + +The appeal became irresistible. + +"There can be no harm in telling you," he said. "You gave me the first +help. It is to you I shall largely owe my success. Yes, you may as +well know, and I know I can rely on your discretion. You were able to +tell me of the coming of the liquor, but you could not tell me exactly +how it was coming. The man could tell me that--and did. It is coming +in down the river in a small boat. One man will bring it--the man who +runs the gang. While this is being done a load of hay, accompanied by +the whole gang, will come into the town as a blind. It is obvious to +me they will come in on the run, hoping to draw us. Then, when caught, +they rely on our search of the wagon to delay us--while the boat slips +through. It's pretty smart, and," he added ruefully, "would probably +have been successful--had I not been warned. Now it is different. Our +first attention will be that boat." + +Kate's eyes were alight with the warmest interest. She became further +excited. + +"It's smart," she cried enthusiastically. "They're--they're a clever +set of rascals." Then, for a moment, she thought. "Of course, you must +get that boat. What a sell for them when you let the wagon go free. +Say, it's--it's the greatest fun ever." + +Fyles smilingly agreed. This woman's delight in the upsetting of the +"runners" plans was very pleasant to him. There could be no doubt as +to her sympathies being with him. If only she weren't concerned for +Bryant he could have enjoyed the situation to the full. + +Suddenly she looked up into his face with just a shade of anxiety. + +"But this--informer," she said earnestly. "They'll--kill him." + +Fyles laughed. + +"He'll be over the border before they're wise, and they'll be held +safe--anyway." + +Kate agreed. + +"I'd forgotten that," she said thoughtfully. Then she gave a shiver of +disgust. "I--I loathe an informer." + +"Everybody with any sense of honor--must," agreed Fyles. "Informer? +I'd sooner shake hands with a murderer. And yet we have to deal and +bargain with them--in our work." + +"I was just wondering," said Kate, after another pause, "who he could +be. I--I'm not going to ask his name. But--do I know him?" + +The policeman laughingly shook his head. + +"I must play the game, even--with an informer. Say, there's an old saw +in our force, 'No names, no pack-drill.' It fits the case now. When +the feller's skipped the border, maybe you'll know who he is by his +absence from the village." + +Suddenly Kate turned to her wagon. She gazed at it for some moments. +Then she turned about, and, with a pathetic smile, gave vent to her +feelings. + +"Oh, dear," she cried. "I--I wish it was after dinner. I should be +away then. I feel as if I never--never wanted to see this valley +again--ever. It all seems wrong. It all seems like a nightmare now. I +feel as if at any moment the ground might open up, and--and swallow me +right up. I--I feel like a dizzy creature standing at the edge of a +precipice. I--I feel as if I must fall, as if I wanted to fall. I +shall be so glad to get away." + +"But you'll come back," the man cried urgently. "It's--only till +after Monday." Then he steadied himself, and smiled whimsically. +"Remember, we have our wager. Remember, in the end you either have +to--laugh at me, or--marry me. It's a big stake for us both. For me +especially. Your mocking laughter would be hard to bear in conjunction +with losing you. Oh, Kate, we entered on this in a spirit of +antagonism, but--but I sort of think it'll break my heart to--lose. +You see, if I lose, I lose you. You, I suppose, will feel glad--if you +win. It's hard." His eyes grew dark with the contemplation of his +possible failure. "If I could only hope it would be otherwise. If I +could only feel that you cared, in however slight a degree. It would +not seem so bad. If I win I have only won you. I have not won your +love. The whole thing is absurd, utterly ridiculous, and mad. I want +your love, not--not--just you." + +Kate made no answer, and the man went on. + +"Do you know, Kate, as the days go on in this place, as the moment of +crisis approaches, I am growing less and less of a policeman. I'm even +beginning to repent of my wager with you, and but for the chance of +winning you, I should be glad to abandon it. Love has been a hidden +chapter in the book of life to me up till now, and now, reading it, it +quite overwhelms me. Do you know I've always despised people who've +put true love before all other considerations? I thought them weak +imbeciles, and quite unfit. Now I am realizing how much I had to learn +all the while, and have since learned." + +He paused, and, after a moment's thought, went on again. + +"Do you know a curious thought, desire, has grown up in me since our +compact. I know it's utterly--utterly mad, but I can't help it. +Believing now, as I do, that Bryant is no more to you than you say, I +feel that when I get him--I feel I cannot, dare not keep him. I feel a +crazy longing to let him go free. Do you know what that means to me? +It means giving up all I have struggled for all these years. Do you +know why I want to do it? Because I believe it would make you happy." + +Kate's eyes were turned from him. They were full of a great burning +joy and love. And the love was all for this man, so recklessly +desirous of her happiness. + +She shook her head without turning to him. + +"You must not," she said, in deep thrilling tones. "You must not +forego the duty you owe yourself. If you capture Charlie he must pay +the price. No thought of me must influence you. And I--I am ready to +pay the forfeit. I made the wager with my eyes wide open--wide, wide." + +Fyles stirred uneasily. He meant every word he had said, and somehow +he felt he was still beyond the barrier, still outside the citadel he +was striving to reduce. + +"Yes, I know," he said almost bitterly. "It is just a wager--a wager +between us. It is a wager whereby we can force our convictions upon +each other." + +Kate nodded, and the warm light of her eyes had changed to a look of +anxiety. + +"There is a whole day and more before the--settlement, a day and night +which may be fraught with a world of disaster. Let us leave it at +that--for the present." Then, with an effort, she banished the +seriousness from her manner. "But I am delaying. I must pack my grip, +and harness my team. You see, I must leave directly after dinner." + +Fyles accepted his dismissal. He turned to his horse and prepared to +mount. Kate followed his every movement with a forlorn little smile. +She would have given anything if he could have stayed. But----. + +"Good luck," she cried, in a low tone. + +"Good luck? Do you know what that means?" Fyles turned abruptly. "It +means my winning the wager, Kate." + +"Does it?" Kate smiled tenderly across at him. "Well, good luck +anyway." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +AN ENCOUNTER + + +Service was still proceeding at the Meeting House. The valley was +quiet. Scarcely a sound broke the perfect peace of the Sabbath +morning. The sun blazed down, a blistering fragrant heat, and the +laden atmosphere of the valley suggested only the rusticity, the +simple innocence of a pastoral world. + +At Kate Seton's homestead a profound quiet reigned. There was the +occasional rattle of a collar chain to be heard proceeding from the +barn; the clucking of a foolish hen, fussing over a well-discovered +worm of plump proportions, sounded musically upon the air, and in +perfect harmony with the radiant, ripening sunlight. A stupid mongrel +pup stretched itself luxuriantly upon the ground in the shade of the +barn, and drowsily watched the busy hens, with one eye half open. +Another, evidently the brother of the former, was more actively +inclined. He was snuffing at the splashes of axle "dope" on the ground +beneath the wagon. He was young enough to eat, and appreciate, +anything he could get his baby teeth into. + +There was scarcely a sign of life about the place otherwise. The whole +valley was enjoying that perfect, almost holy, calm, to be found +pretty well all the world over, yielded by man to the hours of +worship. + +Inside the house there was greater activity. Kate Seton was in her +homely parlor. She was at her desk. That Bluebeard's chamber, which +roused so much curiosity in her sister, was open. The drawers were +unlocked, and Kate was sorting out papers, and collecting the loose +paper money she kept there. + +She was very busy and profoundly occupied. But none of her movements +were hurried, or suggested anything but the simple preparations of one +about to leave home. + +Her work did not take her long. All the loose money was collected into +a pocketbook, bearing her initials in silver on its outer cover. This +she bestowed in the bosom of her dress. Then, very deliberately, she +tore up a lot of letters and loose papers, thrust them in the +cookstove, and watched them burn in the fragment of fire smouldering +there. Next she passed across to the wall where her loaded revolvers +were hanging, and took one of them from its nail. Then, with an air of +perfect calm and assurance, she passed out of the room to her bedroom, +where a grip lay open on the simple white coverlet of her bed. + +Her packing was proceeded with leisurely. Yet the precision of her +movements and the certainty with which she understood her needs made +the process rapid. + +Everything was completed. The grip was full to overflowing. She stood +looking at it speculatively. She was assuring herself that nothing +was forgotten for her few days' sojourn away from home. + +In the midst of her contemplation she abruptly raised her eyes to the +window and inclined her head in an attitude of listening. A sound had +reached her, a sound which had nothing to do with the two puppies, +or the hens, outside. It was a sound that brought a swift, alert +expression into her handsome eyes, the look of one who belongs to a +world where the unusual is generally looked upon with suspicion. + +A moment later she was peering out of the window into the radiant +sunlight. The sound was plainer now, and she had recognized it. It was +the sound of a horse galloping, and approaching her home. + +Still the doubtful questioning was in her eyes. + +She left the window and passed out of the room. The next moment she +was standing in the doorway at the back of the house, and in front of +her stood the wagon that was to bear her to Myrtle. The slumberous pup +was on its feet standing alertly defiant. Its brother was already +yapping truculently in its baby fashion. The old hen had abandoned its +search for more delectable provender, and had fled incontinently. + +A horseman dashed up to the house. He had ignored the front door and +made straight for the barn. He drew up with a jerk, and sat looking at +the wagon standing there. Then, with an excited, impatient +ejaculation, he flung out of the saddle. + +The next moment he became aware of Kate's presence in the doorway. +With eyes alight and half-angry, half-impatient, Charlie Bryant turned +upon her. + +"Why have you taken this wagon, Kate?" he demanded, going to the point +of his concern without preamble. + +The woman drew a sharp breath. It was as though she realized that a +vital moment had arrived, a moment when she must grip the situation, +and use all her power of domination over the questioner. + +"You've placed it at my disposal at all times," she said, smiling into +his excited eyes. + +The man rushed on. + +"Yes, yes, I know; but why have you taken it now? You say you are +going to Myrtle. You don't need it. You could ride to Myrtle--in the +ordinary way. You are welcome to the wagon at all times. To anything I +have. But why are you taking it now? I only found out it had gone this +morning. I--" he averted his gaze--"I only happened to go over to the +corral this morning--and I found it--gone." + +Quick as a shot Kate's answer was formulated and fired at him. + +"Why did you go to the corral--this morning?" + +The man's reply was slow in coming. His cheeks flushed, and it looked +as though he were seeking excuse. + +"I had to go there. I--needed my wagon for to-morrow's work." + +Kate smiled. She was feeling more confident. + +"For hauling your hay? Won't it wait? You see, I can't carry a grip on +the saddle." + +Great beads of sweat were standing on Charlie's youthful face. He +raised one nervous hand and brushed it across his forehead. He cleared +his throat. + +"Say, why--why must you go now, Kate? What is this absurd talk I have +heard? You going away because--because of that tree business? Kate, +Kate, such an idea isn't worthy of you. You going? You flying from +superstition? No, no, it's not worthy of you. Kate----" he paused. +Then, with a gulp: "You can't have the wagon. I refuse to--lend it +you. I simply must have it." + +Kate was leaning against the door casing. She made no move. Her smile +deepened, that was all. She understood all that lay behind the man's +desperate manner, and--she had no intention of yielding. + +"If you must have it, you must," she said, in her deep voice, so like +his own. "You had better send for it, but--" her look suddenly +hardened--"don't ever speak to me again. That is all I have to say." + +The man's determination wavered before the woman's coldness. He looked +into her dark eyes desperately. They were cold and hard. They had +never looked at him like that before. + +"D'you mean that, Kate?" he demanded desperately. "Do you mean that if +I take that wagon you have--done with me forever? Do you?" + +"I meant precisely what I said." Kate suddenly bestirred herself. The +coldness in her eyes turned to anger, a swift, hot anger, to which +the man was unused, and he shrank before it. "If you are sane you +will leave that wagon to me. You _do not_ want it for your haying +to-morrow. Anyway, your haying excuse is far too thin for me. I know +why you want it. If you take it I wash my hands of you entirely. You +must choose now between these things, once and for all. I am in no +trifling mood. You must choose now--at once. And your choice must +stand for all time." + +Kate watched the effect of every word she spoke, and she knew, long +before she finished speaking, she was to have her way. It was always +so. This man had no power to refuse her anything. It was only in her +absence, when his weakness overwhelmed him, that her influence lost +power over him. + +All the excitement had died out of his eyes. Anger gave way to +despair, decision to weakness and yielding. And through it all a great +despair and hopelessness sounded in his voice. + +"Oh, Kate," he cried, "I can't believe this is you--I can't--I can't. +You are cruel--crueller than ever I would have believed. You know why +I want to keep the wagon just now. I implore you not to do this thing. +I will do most anything else you ask me, but--leave that wagon." + +Kate shook her head in cold decision. + +"My mind is quite made up," she said. "There is nothing more to be +said. You must choose here--and now." + +The man hesitated. Just for a moment a gleam of anger flashed into his +eyes, but it died almost at its birth, and he made a gesture of +something like despair. + +"You must do as you see fit," he said, yielding. Then, in a moment, +his weakness was further displayed in an impotent obstinacy. "You must +do as you see fit, and I shall do the same. My mind, too, is made up. +I shall carry out the plans I have already made, and if harm +comes--blame yourself." + +He turned away abruptly. He refused even to look in her direction +again. He sprang into the saddle with remarkable agility and galloped +off. + + * * * * * + +Charlie Bryant raced back to his house. For the moment a sort of +frenzy was upon him. He flung out of the saddle, and left his horse +at the veranda. He rushed into his sitting room, and, in a sort of +impotent excitement and anger, he paced the floor. + +He went through the little house without object or reason. At the +kitchen door he stood staring out, lost in a troubled sea of racing +thought. Presently he returned to the sitting room. He was about to +pass out on to the veranda, but abruptly paused. With a gesture of +impatient defiance he returned to his bedroom and drew a black bottle +of rye whisky from beneath the mattress of his bed. Without waiting to +procure a glass he withdrew the cork, and, thrusting the neck of the +bottle into his mouth, took a long "pull" at the contents. After a +moment he removed it, and gasped with the scorch of the powerful +liquor. Then he took another long drink. Finally he replaced the cork +and returned the bottle to its hiding place. + +A few moments later he was on the veranda again looking out over the +village with brooding eyes. For a long while he stood thus, his +stimulated thought rushing madly through his brain. Then, later, he +became aware of movement down there in the direction of the Meeting +House. He realized that service was over. In a few moments Bill would +return for the mid-day meal which was all unprepared. + +With a short, hard laugh he left the veranda and mounted his patient +horse. Then, at another headlong gallop, he raced down toward the +village. + + * * * * * + +It was sundown the following day. A horse stood grazing in the midst +of a small grass patch surrounded by a thick bush of spruce, and +maple, and blue gums. A velvet twilight was gathering over all, and +the sky above was melting to the softer hues of evening. + +The horse hobbled about in that eager equine fashion when in the midst +of a generous feed of sweet grass. Its saddle was slightly awry upon +its back, and its forelegs were through the bridle reins, which +trailed upon the ground. The creature seemed more than content with +its lot, and the saddle disturbed it not at all. + +Once or twice it looked up from its occupation. Then it went on +grazing. Then, quite suddenly, it raised its head with a start, and +the movement caused it to raise a foreleg caught in the trailing +reins. Something was moving in the bushes. + +It stood thus for some moments. Its gaze was apprehensively fixed upon +the recumbent figure of a man just within the bush. The figure had +rolled over, and a pair of arms were raised above its head in the act +of stretching. + +Presently the figure sat up and stared stupidly about it. + +Charlie Bryant had awakened with a parching thirst, and a head racked +and bursting with pain. It was some minutes before his faculties took +in the meaning of his surroundings. Some minutes before they took in +anything but the certainty of his parched throat and racking head. + +He stared around him stupidly. Then, with a dazed sort of movement, he +rubbed his bloodshot eyes with the knuckles of his clenched fists. +After that he scrambled to his feet and stood swaying upon his aching +limbs. Then he moved uncertainly out into the open. He felt stiff, and +sore, and his head was aching maddeningly. + +Now he beheld his horse, and the animal's wistful eyes were steadily +fixed upon him. Every moment now his mind was growing clearer. He was +striving to recollect. Striving to remember what had happened. He +remembered going to the saloon. Yes, he had stayed there all day. That +he was certain of, for he could recall the lamps being lit--and yet +now it was daylight. + +For a moment his dazed condition left him puzzled. How did this come +about? Then, all in a flash he understood. This must be Monday. He +must have left the saloon--drunk, blind drunk. He must have +ridden--where? Ah, yes, now it was all plain. He must have ridden till +he fell off his horse, and then slept where he fell. Monday--Monday. +He seemed to remember something about Monday. What was it--ah! + +In a moment the cobwebs of his debauch began to fall from him, and he +became alert. He felt ill--desperately ill--but the swift action of +his brain left him no time to dwell upon it. He moved across to his +horse, and set the saddle straight upon its back. Then he disentangled +the reins from about its feet, and threw them over its head. The next +moment he was in the saddle and riding away. + +It was some moments before he could make up his mind as to his exact +whereabouts. He knew he was in the valley, but----. At that instant he +struck a cattle track and promptly followed it. It must lead +somewhere, and, sooner or later, he knew that he would definitely +locate his position. + +He rode on down the track, pondering upon all that must have occurred +to him. He must have slept for eighteen hours at least. He knew full +well he was not likely to have left O'Brien's until the place was +closed, and now it was sundown--the next day. Sundown on Monday. He +quickened his pace. His nerves were shaking, and--he wondered in what +direction the river lay. He was consumed with a fierce thirst. + +Suddenly his horse threw up its head and pricked its ears. Charlie sat +up, startled, and peered out ahead. The next moment he had reduced his +horse's gait to a walk. He knew where he was, and--he heard a sound +like a distant neigh. + +In a moment he was out of the saddle. He tied his horse just inside +the bush and then proceeded on foot. The old corral lay ahead of him. +That corral where he usually kept his wagon, and where the old hut +stood. + +He moved rapidly forward, and, as he neared the clearing, he left the +cattle track and took to the bush. That tell-tale sound, his horse's +pricked ears, had aroused his suspicions. + +A few moments later he reached the fringe of the clearing. Keeping +himself well hidden, he pressed to the very edge, and peered out from +amid the bush. As he did so he breathed a sigh of thankfulness. Two +horses were tied to the corral fence, and the door of the little old +shack was wide open. + +One of the horses he recognized as belonging to Inspector Fyles--the +other didn't matter. So he waited breathlessly, while one hand went to +his coat pocket, an unconscious movement, and rested on the revolver +it found there. + +He had not long to wait. The sound of voices reached him presently. +Then they grew louder. And presently he beheld two men appear from +within the hut. Inspector Fyles came first, closely followed by a +half-breed whom he recognized at once. It was Pete--Pete Clancy. + +In a moment the waiting man understood. A sort of blind fury mounted +to his brain and set his head swimming. Now, too, his right hand was +withdrawn from his gun pocket, and the weapon was gripped tightly, and +his finger was around the trigger. + +But the men were talking, and the watcher strained to catch their +words. He felt he must know. He must know what treachery was afoot, +and how far it affected---- + +"The game's a pretty bright one," Pete was saying; and the waiting man +ground his teeth as he realized the swagger in the man's tones, and +the grin of triumph on his still scarred features. "Maybe it ain't a +new sort of play, but I guess it ain't none the worse for that. Y'see, +that wagon is kept here right along. It's allers my work runnin' it +back here, and fetchin' it along when it's needed. That's how I know +about things here," he added, with a jerk of the head in the direction +of the hut. "It's far enough from the village for folks not to know +when it's here or not. Then the feller runnin' this layout keeps other +things here. Y'see, when a job's on he don't fancy folks gettin' to +know him. So he keeps an outfit o' stuff back in the hut there as 'ud +hide up a Dago ice-cream seller. Maybe he has other uses for that +shack. I ain't wise. But that hidin' hole I located dead easy. Guess +he figgers it's a dead secret--but it ain't." + +Then Fyles's voice, sharply imperious, carried to the listening man. + +"Who is he?" he demanded, turning suddenly upon his companion as they +reached the horses. + +The grin left the half-breed's face, and Charlie held his breath. + +The half-breed halted. An ironical light possessed his discolored +eyes. + +"Why, the feller you're getting to-night--in the boat." + +Fyles eyed his man sternly. + +"That's the second time you've answered me in that way. I'm not to be +played with. Who is this man?" + +A curious truculence grew in the half-breed's face. + +"I've told you all I'm going to tell you. Guess you'll be askin' me to +lay hands on him for you, next. I've earned my freedom, and when you +get these folks I'll be square with the game. You can't bluff me on +this game. No, sir. I got the law clear. You can't touch me for a +thing. It's up to you to get your man. I showed you the way." + +Charlie breathed again, though his fury at the miserable traitor was +no less. + +Fyles swung himself into the saddle. He bent down, and his voice was +harshly commanding. + +"Maybe I can't touch you--now," he cried. "But see you play the game +to-night. You get your free run, only if I get the man I'm after. The +rest of the gang don't count a lot, nor the liquor. It's the boss of +the gang I need. If you've lied to me you'll get short shrift." + +"You'll get him all right." + +The half-breed grinned insolently up into the officer's face. Then +Fyles rode away, and, from the moment his horse began to move until it +vanished down the cattle track, the muzzle of Charlie Bryant's gun was +covering him. His impulse was homicidal. To bring this man down might +be the best means of nullifying the effect of Pete's treachery. Then, +in time, he remembered that there were others to replace him, and, in +all probability, they knew already the story Pete had told their +chief. There was one thing certain, however, that liquor must not be +run to-night. + +Urgent as was the moment Charlie had not yet finished here. The moment +Stanley Fyles had disappeared he turned back to the half-breed. He saw +Pete take his horse and lead it on to the grass some distance from the +corral fence, and his gun held him covered. Then he watched him go +back to the hut and carefully close the door. After that he watched +him disturb his own footmarks and those of the policeman in the +neighborhood of the doorway. + +Charlie moved. The bushes parted, and he made his way into the open. +The half-breed's back was turned. Then, quite suddenly, a deep, harsh +challenge rang out, breaking up entirely the sylvan peace. + +"You damned traitor!" + +With a leap the half-breed swung about. As he did so the gleaming +barrel of his gun flashed with a sharp report. A bullet whistled +through Charlie Bryant's hat, another tore its way through the sleeve +of his jacket. But before a third could find a vital spot in his body +his own gun spat out certain death. The half-breed flung up his hands, +and, with a sharp oath, his knees crumpled up under him, and he fell +in a heap on the ground. + +His face livid with passion, Charlie hurried across the intervening +space. For one moment he stood gazing down upon the fallen man. Then +he aimed a kick of spurning at the dead man's body and moved away. + +It was some minutes before he left the precincts of the old corral +with its evil history. He went into the hut and opened the secret +cupboard. It was quite empty, and he closed it again. Then he passed +out, and removed the saddle and bridle from the half-breed's horse, +and turned it loose. Then, after one last look of hatred and loathing +at the dead man, he moved away and vanished among the trees. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +ON MONDAY NIGHT + + +Big Brother Bill, after an evening of considerable worry, had retired +to his little lean-to bedroom with its low, camp bedstead. It was +useless sitting up any longer attempting one of those big worrying +"thinks" which, usually, he was rather proud of achieving. + +On this occasion thinking led him nowhither. His worries had come +swiftly and significantly. In the first place, on Sunday afternoon he +had been seriously concerned about Helen. It was not until Kate's +going that either he or Helen had realized the girl's lonely position +in the house on the river bank. It came home to them both as they +returned thither at about sundown, to find that neither of the hired +men had shown up again, and the work, even to the "chores" of the +homestead, was at a standstill. + +He really became angry in his anxiety. Angry with Kate, angry with the +men. However, his displeasure was not likely to help matters, so he +and Helen turned to and fed the few livestock, made them snug for the +night, and then proceeded to consider Helen's position. After some +debate it was decided to appeal to Mrs. John Day. This was promptly +done, and the leading citizeness, after a closer cross-examination, +consented to take the girl under her brusque wing, and lodged her in +her own rather resplendent house. + +This was comparatively satisfactory, and Bill breathed his relief. But +hard upon this came the more alarming realization that Charlie did not +return home on Sunday night. Not only that, but nothing was heard of +him the whole of Monday. All the alarmed brother was able to discover +was the fact that Charlie had left the saloon at the time O'Brien +closed it, about midnight on Sunday, in a hopelessly drunken +condition. + +So, what with assisting Helen with the work of her homestead, and +searching for his defaulting brother, Bill's day was an anxious one. +Then, at nightfall, a further concern added fresh trouble to his +thought. Kid Blaney had defected as well, and, in consequence, the +work of Charlie's little ranch had been completely at a standstill the +whole day. + +In the end, quite wearied out with his unusual exertions, Bill +abandoned all further attempt to get a grip on the situation and went +to bed. He knew he must be up early in the morning, at daylight, in +fact, for he had promised Helen to be at the ceremony of the felling +of the pine tree, for which all preparations had been duly made under +the watchful and triumphant eye of Mrs. John Day. + +Sleep, however, was long in coming. His brain was too busy, a sign he +was secretly pleased at. He felt that during the last two days he had +more than proved his ability in emergency. So, lying awake, waiting +patiently for sleep to come, he rather felt like a general in action, +perfectly assured of his own capacity to meet every situation +successfully. + +It was nearly midnight when he finally dropped off into a light and +rather disturbed slumber. How long he had slept, or even if he really +had slept at all, he was never quite sure, for, quite suddenly, he was +aroused, and wide awake, by the sound of his own name being called in +the darkness. + +"Bill! Bill!" + +At the second pronouncement of his name he was sitting up with his +bare feet on the bare floor, and his great pajamaed body foolishly +alert. + +"Who in----" he began. But in a moment Charlie's voice cut him short. + +"You there? Thank God! Where's the lamp? Quick, light it." + +To Bill's credit it must be admitted he offered no further attempt at +a blasphemous protest, but leaned over toward the Windsor chair on +which the lamp stood, and fumbled for the matches. + +The next moment he had struck a light, and the lamp was lit. He stood +up and looked across the room. Charlie's slight figure was just inside +the doorway. His face was ghastly in the yellow lamplight. His clothes +were in a filthy condition, and, altogether, in Bill's own words, he +looked like a priceless antique of some forgotten race. + +However, the hunted look in the man's eyes smote his brother's +generous heart, and a swift, anxious inquiry sprang to his lips. + +"What's--what's up, Charlie?" he cried, gathering his clothes +together, and beginning to dress himself. + +Charlie's eyes glowed with a reflection of the lamplight. + +"The game's up, Bill," he cried hoarsely. "My God, it's been given +away. Pete Clancy, the feller you hammered, has turned informer. I--I +shot him dead. Say, the gang's out to-night. They're coming in with a +cargo of liquor. Fyles is wise to their play, and knows just how it's +coming in. They'll be trapped to a man." + +"You--shot Pete--dead?" + +In the overwhelming rush of his brother's information, the death of +the informer at his, Charlie's, hands seemed alone to penetrate +Bill's, as yet, none too alert faculties. + +"Yes, yes," cried the other impatiently. "I'd have shot him, or--or +anybody else for such treachery, but--but--it's the other that +matters. I've got to get out and stop that cargo. It's midnight now, +and--God! If the police get----" + +Bill's brain was working more rapidly, and so were his hands. He was +almost dressed now. + +"But you, Charlie," he cried, all his concern for his brother +uppermost. "They'll get you. And--and they'll hang you for killing +Pete--sure." + +Suddenly a peal of hysterical laughter, which ended in a furious +curse, rang through the room. + +"God Almighty!" Charlie cried fiercely, "don't stand there yapping +about me. Hang me? What in hell do I care what they do to me? I +haven't come here about myself. Nothing that concerns me matters. +Here, it's midnight. I've time to reach 'em and give 'em the word. +See, that's why I'm here. I don't know what's happened by now, or what +may happen. You offered to help. Will you help me now? Bill, I've got +to get there, and warn 'em. The police will try and stop us. If there +are two of us, one may get through--will you----?" + +Bill crushed his hat on his head. His eyes, big and blue, were +gleaming with the light of battle. + +"Give me a gun, and come on," he cried. "I don't understand it all, +but that don't matter. I'll think it out later. You're up against it, +and that's good enough for me. Somebody's going to have to look bright +if he lays hands on you, if it's Fyles, or McBain, or the devil knows +who. Come on." + +Picking up the lamp, Bill took the lead. Here, in action, he had no +doubts or difficulties, Charlie was in trouble; Charlie was +threatened; Charlie, his foolish, but well-loved brother. + +Five minutes later two horsemen, regardless of rousing the +inhabitants, regardless of who might see and recognize them, galloped +headlong through the heart of the village. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +STILL MONDAY NIGHT + + +The little river wound its silvery way through the heart of the +valley. The broken summer clouds strove to shut out the brilliant +light of the moon, and signally failed. The swift-moving currents of +air kept them stirring, and breaking. So the tattered breaks through +which peeped the radiant lamp of night, illuminated each fringe of +mist with the sheen of burnished steel. + +In spite of the high wind above, the night was still in the heart of +the valley. So still. High up above, the racing wind kept up the +constant movement, but not a breath below disturbed one single +sun-scorched leaf. It was warm. The night air was heavy with the +fragrance of ripening vegetation, and the busy droning sounds of +stirring insect life chorused joyously and seductively with the +murmuring of speeding waters. + +The very stillness thrilled. It was the hush of portent, the hush of +watchfulness, the hush of a threatening tension. + +In the wide heart of the valley the waters of the river laughed, and +sang, and frollicked on their way, while under cover of the deep +night-shadows lurking figures waited, with nerves set, and weapons of +destruction ready to fulfill their deadly mission. Strife loomed heavy +amid the reigning peace, the ruthless, savage strife which seems ever +to center the purpose of all sentient life. + +So the moments passed. Minutes grew. With every passing minute the +threat weighed heavier and heavier, until it seemed, at last, that +only the smallest spark was needed to fire the train. + +The racing clouds melted. They gathered again. Again and again the +changes came and went. It was like one great, prolonged conflict +wherein the darkening veil strove to hide the criminal secrets upon +the earth below from the searching gaze. + +For awhile the moon held sway. The river lit, a perfect mirror. Only +the shadowed banks remained. Round the bend came a trifling object, +small, uncertain in its outline. A sigh of relief went up from many +lips. The tension was relaxed. + +Caught in the dazzling light the object shot across the water to the +sheltering bank. Then the clouds obscured the moonlight, and eyes +strove vainly to penetrate the shadow. + +The moments passed. Again the moon shone out. Again was the object +caught in the revealing light. Now it was closer, and as it raced once +more for the wood-lined bank the watching eyes made out a deep-laden +canoe, low in the water, with a solitary figure plying a skillful +paddle. + +It crept on under the bank. With a wonderful dexterity the man at the +paddle steered his course beneath the green of drooping foliage, while +now and then his narrow, evil, humorous eyes surveyed the heavy cargo +at his feet with a smile of satisfaction. + +But the shadows could not claim him for long. The full stream lay +beyond in the middle of the river. His cargo was heavy, and the +sluggish water under the bank made his progress slow and arduous. +Again he sought the stream, and the lesser effort, and the little +craft raced on. + +Then, of a sudden, the peace of the night was broken. A chorus of +night cries awoke to the sharp crack of a carbine. A voice shouted a +swift command, and the canoe was turned head on to the hither bank. In +a moment a ring of metal was thrust into the face of the man with the +paddle, and the hard voice of Sergeant McBain bade him throw up his +hands. + +The boatman glanced swiftly about him. His evil eyes lit with a smile +of appreciation as he dropped his paddle and thrust his hands high +above his head. There were ten or twelve police troopers upon the +bank--and he was only one. + +"Haul him out o' that, boys, and yank the boat up out o' water. We're +needin' his cargo bad." + +The man was dragged unceremoniously from the boat, and stood before +the hard-faced sergeant. + +"Name?" he snapped. + +"Holy Dick," chuckled the prisoner. + +The sergeant peered into his face. At the moment the clouds had +obscured the moon. + +Was this the man they were waiting for? He made out the gray hair, the +smiling, evil eyes. He knew and recognized the features. + +The officer struggled with himself for a moment. Then his authority +returned. + +"You're under arrest for--running this cargo of liquor," he said +sharply. + +Holy Dick's smile broadened. + +"But----" + +"If you're going to make a statement I'm here to listen, but--it'll be +used against you." + +Sergeant McBain rapped out his formula without regard for the letter +of it. Then, while one of the troopers placed handcuffs upon the +prisoner's wrists, he turned to those at the canoe. + +"How many kegs?" he demanded. + +For a moment there was no reply. Holy Dick sniggered. McBain glared +furiously, and his impatience rose. + +"How many?" he cried again, more sharply. + +One of the troopers approached him and spoke in a low voice. + +"None, sergeant," he said, vainly striving to avoid the sharp ears of +their prisoner. "The boat's loaded heavy with loose rocks. It's----" + +A cunning laugh interrupted him. Holy Dick was holding out his +manacled arms. + +"Guess you'd best grab these off, Sergeant; maybe you'll need 'em for +someone else." + +But the policeman's reply became lost. A rattle of firearms far off on +the other side of the river left it unspoken. Something was happening +away over there, something they had not calculated upon. The rest of +the patrol, with Fyles, was divided between the other bank and the +more distant trail. He turned to his men. + +"Loose him and get into the saddle sharp!" he cried. "They've fooled +us. By God, they've fooled us--again!" + + * * * * * + +The uncertain moonlight revealed to Stanley Fyles a movement on the +distant rise of ground where the trail first mounted, and, beyond, +finally disappeared. His night glasses made out a rapidly oncoming +vehicle, accompanied by a small band of horsemen. + +The sight rejoiced him. Things were working out well. The man Pete had +not lied. McBain held the river. No boat could pass him. He would take +these men as part of the gang, working in conjunction with the boat. +All was well, and his spirits rose. A sharp order was passed back to +his men, ambushed in the bluff where he had taken up his position. The +thing would be simple as daylight. There would be no bloodshed. A few +shots fired to hold the gang up. Then the arrest. + +He waited. Then he backed into the ambush out of sight. The wagon came +on. Through his leafy screen he watched for the details of the +vehicle, the entire convoy. It would not be Bryant's wagon; that he +knew would be elsewhere. It would probably be some hired conveyance +which did not belong to the village. + +Nearer drew the little convoy, nearer and nearer. It was less than +one hundred yards away. In the uncertain moonlight its pace seemed +leisurely, and he could hear the voices of the men escorting it. He +wanted it nearer. He wanted it under the very muzzles of his men's +carbines. The rattle of wheels, the plod of horses' hoofs were almost +abreast. A few seconds more, then---- + +Half-a-dozen shots rang out, the bullets whistling across in front of +the wagon, and above the horses' heads. The teamster reined up, +throwing his horses upon their haunches. Then, like a log, he fell +headlong from his driving seat. + +Fyles turned with a bitter curse upon his lips for the criminal +carelessness of his men. But he was given no time to vent it. A cry +went up from the wagon's escort, and a hail of bullets rained upon the +ambush. + +In a second the troopers charged the wagon, while two of their horses, +with empty saddles, raced from the cover, and vanished down the trail. + +Then the fight waged furiously. + +It lasted but a few moments. These savage men about the wagon had been +goaded beyond the power of their restraint, at no time great, by the +fall of their comrade. A wild fury at the wanton killing by the +troopers had fired the train of their passions. Retaliation had been +certain--certain as death itself. + +But, after that first furious assault, these untamed prairie souls +realized the inevitable result of their action. They broke and fled, +scattering across country, vanishing like shadows in the night. The +next moment, acting on a sharp command, the police were in red-hot +pursuit, like hounds breaking from leash. Only Fyles and three men +stayed behind with the fallen teamster and his one other dead comrade. + +But at the moment of the flight and pursuit, the sound of racing +wheels some distance away caught the officer's ears. In a moment he +was at the wagon side. His men were close upon his heels. The wagon +was empty. It was the blind he had anticipated, but--that sound of +speeding wheels. + +He shouted to his men and set off across country in the direction. +Nothing must be left to chance. There was no doubt about the peculiar +rattle which sounded so plainly. It was a buckboard being driven at a +racing speed. Why? + + * * * * * + +As his horse ploughed through the low scrub his men followed hard upon +his heels. Farther on the country was open, and a wide stretch of +prairie grass spread out without cover of any sort. It was over this +the buckboard was racing. + +He strove to estimate its distance away, the start it had of him, +by the sound. It could not be much over a mile. A light buckboard +and team could travel very fast under the hands of a skilful +teamster. It would take a distance of five miles to overhaul it. The +direction--yes, it was the direction of the village. The buckboard +might get there ahead of them. + +Fyles rammed both spurs into the flanks of the faithful Peter, and, as +he did so, he saw a party of horsemen converging on him from the left. +They drew on, and, in a moment, he recognized McBain and his men. + +He called out to the Scot as they came together. + +"You get the boat?" + +McBain shouted his reply. + +"Sure, but--there was nothing doing. It was loaded down with rocks." + +Just for one brief instant a bitter imprecation hovered on the +officer's lips. Then, in a wave of inspiration, he shouted his +conviction. + +"By God, then we're on the right trail now. It's the buckboard ahead. +We must get it. That's the cargo, sure as fate. Come on!" + + * * * * * + +A light buckboard was moving leisurely over the open prairie. It was +just an ordinary, spidery buckboard drawn by an unusually fine team of +horses, and driven by a slightish man clad in a dark jacket and cord +riding-breeches, with a wide prairie hat drawn firmly down upon his +dark head, its brim deeply shading his boyish, good-looking face. +Running beside his team, tied to the neck yoke of the near-side +driver, was a saddle horse. It was a fine beast, with racehorse +quarters, and a shoulder laid back for speed. + +The buckboard was well loaded. Nor was its load disguised. It +consisted of a number of the small wooden kegs adopted for the purpose +of transporting contraband liquor. + +But though the vehicle moved over the rough grass in such a leisurely +fashion, the man's eyes were alert and watchful. His ears, too, were +sharply set, and lost no sound, as his eyes lost no sight, in the +distant prospect of the country through which he was traveling. + +His gait was by no means the result of any reposeful sense. It was the +well-calculated result of caution. There was caution in his whole +poise. In the quick turn of the head at any predominating sound. In +the sharp glance of his dark eyes at any of the more fantastic shadows +cast by the searching moonlight. Then, too, a tight hand was upon the +reins, and there was an alert searching for those badger and gopher +holes so perilous for horses in the uncertain light of the moon. + +He was traveling in a parallel, a mile to the south of the river +trail, and, far ahead, to the right, he could see the bush which +marked the winding course of the river. + +Now he was listening to the faint rumble of a wagon moving along the +trail, and, with which, though so far away, he was carefully keeping +pace. This was his whole object--to keep pace, almost step for step, +with the rumbling movement of the distant wagon. + +At his present gait his wheels gave out practically no sound. They +gently, almost silently, crushed their way over the tufted grass, and +the sound of his horses' hoofs suggested a muffling. + +So he made his way, stealthily, secretly. His was the brain which had +planned, and this vital work of convoying his smuggled liquor could be +entrusted to no other hand. The work he demanded of others was simple; +it was the background to his central purpose. He had no desire to risk +his helpers. His must be the risk, as, too, his must be the chief +profit. + +With all his caution he yet had time to think of those other things +which frequently brought a smile to his dark eyes. Why not? There was +a wild exhilaration in this work. He reveled in the thought of his +risk. He reveled in laying plans which could beat all the best brains +among the law officers. The excitement of the chances was as the +breath of life to him, and the cargo once safely secreted he could +feel that he had not lived in vain. + +He knew full well that the penitentiary doors were wide open waiting +to greet him, but he meant them to remain open, and spend their whole +time in a yearning which he vowed should never be fulfilled. Five +years. He smiled. Five years--wearing a striped---- + +What was that? + +A shot! One single shot! Far away, there, by the river. Ah, yes. That +big bluff. Holy Dick was probably busy. Holy Dick in his boat. He +smiled. But all unconsciously he eased his hand upon the lines, and +his horses quickened their gait. It was just the slight, nervous +quickening as the critical moment of his effort drew near. + +The buckboard was less silent. The wheels began to rattle over the +hummocky surface of the prairie grass. He listened even more acutely +for the rumble of the wagon on the trail. He must definitely assure +himself he was still abreast of it. That was all important. + +He could plainly hear it. Was he abreast? For the moment he was not +quite sure. Therefore, he further permitted his horses to quicken +their pace. It was better to---- + +He sat up, and a look of alarm peered out from under the brim of his +hat. The sound of a volley being fired over there on the trail +suddenly disconcerted him. This was something he had not reckoned on. +This was something he had wished to---- + +Hark! Again! An answering volley! The first was the heavier. The +latter was the familiar note of revolvers. A definite alarm took hold +of him. What was the meaning of it? An attack? Were the men on the +trail resisting the police? He had warned them. He----. Listen! The +shouting! Now he could distinctly hear the sound of galloping horses. + +He leaned forward and grabbed the whip from its socket on the +dashboard, and brought it smartly down upon his horses' backs. + +In an instant they leaped into a gallop, and he was racing over the +rough grass at a perilous pace. + +The fools. The mad, idiotic fools. Resisting the police. An armed +attack on the police. If they killed any of them----. Great God, was +there ever such a pack of fools and madmen? It was no longer simple +contraband. It was no longer playing up a ridiculous law. It was---- + +Again he brought his whip down upon his horses. He must get through +now. He must get to the cache with the liquor, and trust to the luck +of the reckless to get away. Further concealment was out of the +question. + +Hark, what was that? + +Horsemen coming his way. Yes--horsemen. There could be no doubt of it. +The racing hoof-beats were unmistakable. Down came the whip again, and +the great team, with the saddle horse beside them, raced with bellies +low to the ground. + +Now he had no thought but for getting away. His mind ran over the +possibilities. If only he could get clear with the liquor there might +yet be a chance of his comrades' and his own escape. He had no +knowledge of what had happened to the others, except that there was +shooting and pursuit. The only comfort to be drawn was from the +certainty in his mind that the first shooting he had heard was the +heavy firing of police carbines. + +Hark! Yes, there was no doubt of the pursuit. Furthermore, the pursuit +was hard behind him. Why? The police must have heard the buckboard. He +flogged his horses to a greater effort. They were the speediest team +in the country, and he had only three miles to go. They---- + +"Hold up, you beast," he cried, his deep voice hoarse with excitement. + +One of the horses lunged forward, stumbling in a badger hole. The +buckboard jolted terrifically. The driver was nearly thrown from his +seat. Under his firm hands, however, the beast managed to recover +itself. Then, as though he saw the gates of the penitentiary closing +upon him, a feeling of unutterable horror shivered through the man's +body and settled upon his heart. The horse was dead lame. + +But there was no time now for feeling, no time for regrets. The +pursuers had found his trail, and were hard upon his heels. The cargo +must go. Everything must go. Personal safety was the only thing to be +considered. From the confidence of victory now he had fallen to the +zero of certain failure. + +He pulled his sweating team up and sprang to the ground. He ran up to +the saddle horse, and, casting the neck-rope loose from the neck yoke, +looped it over the horn of the saddle. The next moment he was in the +saddle and racing over the grassland in the direction of the village. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +THE NIGHT TRAIL + + +The trail declined over a long, gradual slope. At the bottom of it +was a broad, almost dried-out slough. A wooden culvert spanned the +reed-grown watercourse. Then the trail made a sharpish ascent beyond, +and lost itself behind a distant bush, beyond which again stretched +out a broad expanse of grass. + +Two horsemen were speeding down the longer slope. Their horses were +fresh and full of speed. There was no speech passing between them. +Eyes and ears were alert, and their grimly set faces gave warning of +the anxious thought teeming through their brains. + +The indications of the night were nothing to them. The trail might +ring with the beat of their horses' hoofs, or only reply with the soft +thud of a deep, sandy surface. They were not out to consider either +their horses or themselves. Each knew that his journey was one of +desperate emergency, and one of them, at least, cared nothing what +might be his sacrifice, even if it were life itself. + +The horses came down the hill with a headlong rush. Loose reins told +of the men's feelings, and the creatures, themselves, as though imbued +with something of their riders' spirits, abandoned themselves to the +race with equal recklessness. + +Halfway down the hill the foremost of the two, the smaller and +slighter, abruptly flung a word across his shoulder to his companion +behind. + +"Someone coming," he said, in a deep, hoarse voice. + +The second man beat his horse's flanks with his heels, and drew +abreast. + +"I can't see," he replied, shading his eyes from the light of the +moon, which, at that moment, shone out from behind a cloud. + +The other pointed beyond the culvert. + +"There. Riding like hell. Gee! Look--it's--trouble." + +Bill Bryant now discerned the hazy outline of a moving figure. It +seemed to him that whoever, or whatever it was, it was aware of their +approach and desirous of avoiding them. The moving object had suddenly +left the trail. It had taken to the grass, and was heading straight +for the miry slough. + +"The fool. The madman," muttered Charlie. "Does he know what he's +making for?" + +"Is it--a stream, Charlie?" + +Bill's question seemed to irritate his brother. + +"Stream?--Damn it, it's mire. His horse'll throw himself. Who----?" + +He leaned forward in the saddle searching the distance for the +identity of the oncoming horseman. His horse shot forward, and Bill's +was hard put to it to keep pace. + +"Can't we shout a warning?" cried Bill, caught in his brother's +anxious excitement. + +"Warning be damned," snapped Charlie over his shoulder. "This is no +time to be shouting around. We don't----Hallo! He's realized where +he's heading. He's----. Oh, the hopeless, seven sorts of damned idiot. +Look! Look at that! There he goes. Poor devil, what a smash. Hurry +up!" + +The two men made a further call upon their horses, urged by the sight +of the horseman beyond the slough. He had crashed headlong into the +half-dry watercourse at the very edge of the culvert. + +The man's disaster was quite plain, even at that distance. He had +evidently been unaware of his danger in leaving the trail for a +cross-country run to avoid those he saw approaching him. As he came +down to the slough, all too late he had realized whither he was +heading. Then, instead of keeping on, and taking his chances of +getting through the mire, he had made a frantic effort to swing his +horse aside and regain the culvert. His reckless speed had been his +undoing. His impetus had been so great that the poor beast under him +had only the more surely plunged to disaster, from the very magnitude +of its effort to avoid it. + +Charlie was the first to reach the culvert. In a moment he was out of +the saddle. + +The stranger's floundering horse struggled, and finally scrambled to +its feet. The rider was close beside it, but lay quite still where he +had fallen. To Charlie's critical eye there was little doubt as to +what had happened. The adjacency of the edge of the culvert warned him +of what had befallen. The rider must have struck it as he fell. + +As Bill dismounted he pointed at the stranger's horse. + +"Grab it," cried Charlie. The next moment was kneeling beside the +fallen man. + +Then, in a moment, the wondering Bill, looking on, beheld a sight he +would never forget. + +Charlie bent down over the silent figure. He reached out and placed an +arm under the man's body and turned him over. The next instant a cry, +half-stifled in his throat, a cry as of some dumb creature mortally +wounded, a cry full of hopeless, dreadful pain rose from the kneeling +man, and its agony smote the sympathetic brother as though with a +mortal blow. + +Then came words, a rush of words, imploring, agonized. + +"Kate! Kate! Oh, Kate, why did you do it? Why? Oh, God, she's dead! +Kate! Kate! Speak to me. For God's sake speak to me. You're not dead. +No, no. Not dead. It can't be." + +The man's hand caressed the soft pale cheek under it. He had thrust +back the prairie hat which still retained its position, pressed low +upon the head, and a mass of dark, luxuriant hair fell away from its +place, coiled tightly about the small head. + +At that moment the horrified voice of Bill broke in. + +"Charlie! Charlie! I can hear horses galloping in the distance!" he +cried, alarmed, without actually realizing why. And some sort of +desperate instinct made him thrust his hand into his revolver pocket. + +For an instant only Charlie looked up at him in a dazed, only +half-understanding. Then his eyes lit with a stirring alarm as he +turned a listening ear to windward. + +The next moment his arms were flung about the body of the disguised +woman at his feet, and, with a great effort, he lifted her and +struggled to his feet. + +Bill stared in stupid wonderment when he beheld the figure of Kate +Seton clad in man's clothing, but he continued to hold on to the +horses, and, with a hand on his revolver, awaited his brother's +commands. + +At that moment Kate opened her eyes and gazed into the dark face above +her. In a moment the ardent eyes of Charlie smiled down at her. Then +the injured woman's lips opened, and, as they formulated her halting +words, his smile gave place to something like panic. She was still in +a fainting condition, but power was vouchsafed her to impart a story +which drove him to something like a frenzy of activity. + +"It's the police," she gasped. "It's--it's shooting. They're--behind. +They're right after me--O-oh!" + +She had fainted again with her last word, and the dead weight in the +man's arms became almost unsupportable. + +But now there was no longer any uncertainty. Kate was alive. The +police were behind. At all costs--the woman he loved must be saved. + +Charlie looked up at Bill, and his voice became harshly commanding. + +"Quick! On your horse, man," he cried, almost fiercely. "That's it," +as Bill flung himself into the saddle without question. "Here, now +take her. You're strong. Get her across your saddle in front of you. +There, that's it--lift. So. Gently. Get her right across your lap. +That's it. Now take my horse and lead it. So." + +Bill obeyed like a well-disciplined child, and with equal enthusiasm. +He leaned down from the saddle and lifted the fainting woman out of +his brother's arms. She was like a babe in his powerful arms. He laid +her across his knee. Then, as his brother passed the reins of his own +horse up to him, he took them and slung them over his supporting arm. +The command died out of Charlie's tones, and his whole attitude became +an irresistible appeal. + +"Now, Bill," he cried, urgently. "Down there, along the bank of the +slough." He pointed away southwards. "Along there, into that bush. Get +into hiding and remain till the coast is clear. Then get her back to +her home. Leave the police to me, and--and remember she's all I care +for--in the world." + +Bill waited no further word. Once he understood what was required of +him he could do it--he would do it--with all his might. He moved off +with all the confident air of his simple, purposeful nature. + +Charlie watched him go. He saw him vanish amid the shadows of the +bush. Then he turned to Kate's horse and sprang into the saddle. + +For a moment he sat there watching and listening. But his purpose was +not quite clear. It had not been clear to Bill, who had asked no +question, feeling such to be superfluous at the moment. + +But his own purpose was clear enough to Charlie's devoted mind. There +must be no chance of Kate's discovery by the police. Whatever had +happened before, there must be no chance of harm to her now. His mind +was quite clear. His thought flowed swiftly and keenly. + +The distant sound of galloping horses was growing. The summit of the +rising ground over which they must come was not more than two hundred +yards behind him. + +He waited. The clatter of hoofs was growing louder with each passing +second. The police must certainly be near the top of the rise now. +Bill was well away. He was well in the bush by this time. + +Hark! Yes. There they were. The moon was hidden just now, but even so +Charlie could see the bobbing figures at the hilltop. + +Suddenly he rammed his heels into his horse's flanks and dashed off up +the slope which he had so recently descended. As he went he drew his +revolver and fired two shots in swift succession in the direction of +the horsemen approaching. Well enough he knew, as he raced on toward +the village, that the police were beyond his range, but his purpose +was that there should be no doubt in their minds that he--he was their +quarry--that he was the man they had already been pursuing so far. + + * * * * * + +Ten men made up the tally of the pursuers riding with Inspector Fyles. +McBain was not among them. He had remained with the abandoned +buckboard while the rest of the police were scouring the neighborhood +for the fugitives from the first encounter. + +As Fyles came over the rise, and beheld the culvert below him, and +heard the two defiant shots hurled in his direction, a thrill of +satisfaction swept through him. The man was less than three hundred +yards ahead of him with a long hill to climb, and something over a +mile to go before the village, and the possibility of safety, was +reached. + +There was no match in the country for Peter when it came to a long, +uphill chase. He told himself the man hadn't a dog's chance with Peter +hard on his heels. + +"We've got him, boys," he cried to his men, in his moment of +exuberance. "He ought to have been half a mile on by the start he got. +It's the poor devil of a horse playing out. He's beat--beat to death. +Now, boys, hard on my heels for a spurt." + +Peter leaped ahead under the sharp reminder of the spur, and, in a few +moments, the clatter of iron-shod hoofs left the wooden culvert behind +it, and the race up the hill began. + +The moon now blazed out, as though at last it had definitely decided +to throw its weight in against the fugitive. The summer clouds were +lifting and vanishing with that wonderful rapidity with which, once +the brilliant moon gains sway, she seems to sweep all obstruction from +her chilly path. + +The steely light poured down upon the slim back of the fugitive, and +left both horse and rider sharply outlined. The distance diminished +under the terrific spurt of the police horses, and a confident look +began to dawn in the eyes of their riders. + +They were gaining so rapidly that it seemed hardly necessary to press +their bronchos so hard. The top of the hill was still a quarter of a +mile away. The fugitive's evidently wearying beast could never make +that last final incline. The man would be forced to turn and defend +himself or yield for very helplessness. The whole thing was too easy. +It was absurdly easy. Nor could there be any sort of a "scrap." They +were ten to one. It was disappointing. These riders of the plains +reveled in a genuine fight. + +But Fyles's contentment suddenly received a disconcerting shock. Peter +was stretching out like a greyhound. The pace at which they pursued +the hunted hare was terrific. But now, although they were, if +anything, traveling faster, they seemed to be no longer gaining. The +three hundred yards intervening had, in that first rush, been reduced +to nearly one hundred. But, somehow, to his disquiet Fyles now +realized that there was no further encroachment. + +He shook Peter up and left his companions behind. But it quickly +became evident he could make no further impression. If anything, his +quarry was gaining. An unpleasant conviction began to make itself felt +in the mind of the policeman. The man had been foxing. He had been +saving his horse up for that hill, calculating to a fraction the +distance he had yet to go. + +He called to his men to race for it. + +They came up on his heels. The man nearest to him was a corporal. + +"We're not done with him yet, corporal," he said grimly. "I wanted to +get him without trouble. Guess we'll have to bail him up. Once over +the top of that hill, he runs into the bush on the outskirts of the +village. We daren't risk it." + +The corporal's eyes lit. + +"Shall we open out and give him a round, sir?" + +Fyles nodded. + +"Let 'em fire low. Bring his horse down." + +The corporal turned back to his men, and gave the necessary order. + +"Open out!" he cried. "It's just over a hundred yards. Fire low, and +get his horse. We'll be on him before he can pick himself up." + +"There's fifty dollars between you if you can bring him down and keep +his skin whole," added Fyles. + +Still keeping their pace, the men spread out from the trail, +withdrawing the carbines from their leather buckets as they rode. Then +came the ominous clicking of the breeches as cartridges were thrust +home. Fyles, with Corporal Mooney, kept to the trail. + +A moment passed. Then the first carbine spat out its vicious pellet. +Fyles, watching, fancied that the fugitive had begun to flog his +horse. Now, in swift succession, the other carbines added their +chorus. There was no check in the pace of the pursuers. The +well-trained horses were used to the work. + +The first volley seemed ineffective. The men had not yet got their +sights. The fugitive had another fifty yards before he reached the top +of the long incline. + +The distance to the top of the hill was lessening rapidly. Fyles was +becoming anxious. It had become a matter of seconds before the man +would clear the ridge. + +"Keep low," cried the corporal, warningly, in the excitement of the +moment. "A ricochet--anything will do. Get his horse." + +The horseman was twenty yards from the crest of the hill. Fifteen. The +carbines again rattled out their hurried fire. + +Ten yards--in a moment he would be---- + +A cloud of dust arose suddenly among the feet of the fugitive's horse. +It cleared. Fyles gave a sigh of relief and raced Peter forward. The +man's horse had crashed to the ground. + + * * * * * + +Fyles was gazing down upon the body of the fallen man. The horse was +lying a few yards away, struggling to rise. A great welter of blood +flooded the sandy track all about it. + +A trooper walked up to the horse. He placed the muzzle of his carbine +close behind the poor creature's ear. The next moment there was a +sharp report. The head dropped heavily to the ground and remained +quite still. + +The corporal looked up at his superior. He was kneeling beside the +body of Charlie Bryant. + +"I'm afraid it's all up with him, sir," he said seriously. "But he +wasn't hit. I can't find a sign of a hit. I--think his neck's +broken--or--or something. It was the fall. He's dead, sir--sure." + +The officer's face never changed its stern expression. But the +suspicion of a sigh escaped him. He was by no means an unfeeling man, +but he had his duty to do. In this case there was more than his duty +concerned. Hence the sigh. Hence any lack of appreciation. + +"It's the man I expected," he said. "A foolish fellow, but--a smart +man. You're sure he's dead? Sure?" + +The corporal nodded. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Poor devil. I'm sorry." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +THE FALL OF THE OLD PINE + + +The gray of dawn was slowly gladdening toward the warmer hue of day. +The eastern skies lit with that pallid yellow which precedes the gold +and amber of the rising sun. Somewhere, far below the horizon, the +great day god was marching onward, ever onward, shedding its splendor +upon a refreshed and waking world. + +The valley of Leaping Creek was stirring. + +Whatever the shortcomings of the citizens of Rocky Springs, morning +activity was not one of them. But they knew, on this day of days, a +fresh era in the history of the village was about to begin. Every man +knew this. Every woman. Even every child who had power to understand +anything at all. + +So, as the golden light spread upward toward the vault of the eastern +heavens, the spirals of smoke curled up from among the trees on the +breathless air. Every cookstove in the village was lit by the +unwillingly busy hands of the men-folk, while the women bedecked +themselves and their offspring, as befitted the occasion and their +position. + +Breakfast ensued. It was not the leisurely breakfast of every day, +when men required an ample foundation to sustain their daily routine +of laborious indolence, but a meal at which coffee was drunk in +scalding gulps, and bread and butter, and some homely preserve, +replaced the more substantial fare of chops and steak, or bacon and +cereals. + +Then came the real business of the day. Doors opened and men looked +out. Children, with big bow ties upon their heads and sashes at their +waists, scuttled through, about the legs of their parents, and reached +the open. Neighborly voices hailed each other with a cheery greeting, +and the tone was unusual. It was the tone of those who anticipate +pleasantly, or are stirred by the excitement of uncertainty. + +Minutes later the footpaths and unpaved tracks lost their deserted +appearance. Solitary figures and groups lounged along them. Men +accompanied by their well-starched womenfolk, women striving vainly to +control their legions of offspring. They all began to move abroad, and +their ways were convergent. They were all moving upon a common goal, +as though drawn thither by the irresistible attraction of a magnet. + +From the lower reaches of the village, toward the eastern river, that +better class residential quarter, where the houses, four in number, of +Mrs. John Day, of Billy Unguin, of Allan Dy, and the local blacksmith +were located, an extremely decorous cortege emerged. Here there was +neither bustle nor levity. These were the chief folk of Rocky Springs, +and their position, as examples to their brethren of lesser degree, +weighed heavily upon them. + +Mrs. John was the light about which all social moths fluttered. The +women supporting her formed a bodyguard sufficiently impressive and +substantial. The men-folk were allowed no nearer than the fringe of +their bristling skirts. It was like the slow and stately progress of a +swollen, vastly overfed queen bee, moving on her round of the cells to +deposit her eggs. The women were the attendant bees, the men were the +guarding drones, whose habits in real life in no way detracted from +the analogy, while Mrs. John--well, Mrs. John would have made a fine +specimen of a queen bee, except, perhaps, for the egg-laying business. + +They, too, were being drawn to the magnet point, but, as the distance +they had to travel was greater than that of the other villagers, they +would certainly be the last to arrive. This had been well calculated +by Mrs. John, who was nothing if not important. She had well seen to +it that the ceremony, so shortly to take place, was on no account to +begin until her august word had been given. To further insure this +trifling piece of self-aggrandizement she was defraying the whole of +the expenses for the demolishment of the aged landmark of the valley. + +The saloonkeeper, O'Brien, coldly cynical, but eager to miss nothing +of the doings of his fellow citizens, took up his position at an early +hour with two of the most faithful adherents of his business house. + +It was his way to observe. It was his way to watch, and read the signs +going on about him. This valley, and all that belonged to it, had +little enough attraction for him beyond its possibilities of profit to +himself. Therefore the signs about him were at all times important. +And the signs of the doings of the forthcoming day more particularly +so. + +Those who accompanied him were Danny Jarvis and "fighting" Mike. They +were entirely after his own heart, and, perhaps, if opportunity ever +chanced to offer, after his pocket as well. They accompanied him +because he insisted upon it, and with a more than tacit protest. As +yet they had not sufficiently slept off the fumes of their overnight +indulgence in rye whisky. But O'Brien, when it suited him, was quite +irresistible to his customers. + +Having roused these two inebriates from their drunken slumbers on the +hay in his barn with a healthy kick, he proceeded to herd them out +into the daylight with a whole-hearted enthusiasm. + +"Out you get, you lousy souses," he enjoined them. "There's a big +play up at the old tree goin' to happen right away. Guess that old +crow bait, Ma Day'll need all the youth an' beauty o' Rocky Springs +around to get eyes on her glory. I can't say either o' you boys fit +in with these things, but if you don't git too near hoss soap and +cold water mebbe you'll pass for the picturesque." + +After a brief interval of blasphemous upbraiding and protest, after +these two men had exhausted their complimentary vocabulary on the +subject of the charms of the lumber merchant's wife, to all of which +O'Brien turned a more or less deaf ear, the three set out for the +scene of action, and took up an obscure position whence they could +watch every detail of the proceedings without, themselves, being too +closely observed. + +As O'Brien looked out upon the preparations already made, and while +his two friends stood chewing the silent cud of angry discontent, with +a diluting of black plug tobacco, he had to admit that the moment +certainly was a moment, and the scene had assumed a fascination which +even contrived to take possession of his now somewhat rusty +imagination. + +There, in the center of all, stood the villainous old pine, clothed in +all its atmosphere of unconscionable evil. It stood out quite by +itself in the midst of a clearing, which had been carefully prepared. +Every tree and every bush had been cut away, so that nothing should +interfere with the impressive fall of the aged giant. + +O'Brien studied the position closely. His eye was measuring, and he +was forced to admit that the setting was impressive. More than that, +he felt constrained to appreciate the imagination of Mrs. John Day. +With a view to possibilities the approximate height of the tree had +been taken, and a corresponding radius had been cleared of all lesser +growths. This was excellent. But--and he contrived to find one +objection--the old Meeting House was well within the radius. It was +the preparation for its defense to which he took exception. He scorned +the surrounding of lesser trees which had been left to guard it from +the crushing impact should the tree fall that way. Nor was he slow to +air his opinions. + +He eyed the discontented features of his companions, and snorted +violently. + +"Say," he cried, forcefully. "Look at that, you two bokays o' beauty." +He pointed at the Meeting House. "There--right there. If that +darnation stack o' kindlin' was to fall that aways, why, I guess them +vegetables wouldn't amount to a mush o' cabbige." + +Fighting Mike deliberately spat. + +"An' who in hell cares?" he snarled. + +O'Brien turned on the other for a sign of interest. But Danny's +stomach was in bad case. + +"Oh, hell!" he cried, and promptly turned his gaze in another +direction. + +O'Brien looked from one to the other, torn by feelings of pity and +anger, with a desire for bodily assault uppermost. + +"You sure are bright boys," he said at last, a sort of sardonic humor +getting the better of his harsher feelings. + +He had no intention of having his enjoyment spoiled by what he termed +"bad bile," so he yielded his full attention to the tree itself. It +certainly was a magnificent piece of Nature's handiwork. Somehow he +regretted that he had never studied it carefully before. From the tree +he turned to a mild appreciation of the other preparations for its +fall. Long guide ropes had been set in place, high up the vast, bare +trunk. These, four of them in number, had been secured at the four +points of the compass to other trees of stout growth on the fringe of +the clearing. They were new ropes provided for the purpose. Then +again, a heavy cable chain had been girded about the lower trunk, and +to this, well out of range of the fall of the tree, were hitched two +teams of heavy draught horses. It was obvious that they were to haul +as the tree, steadied by the guides, began to fall. + +He summed up the result of his observations for the benefit of his +companions, in a pleasantly conversational manner. + +"Makes a dandy picture," he said doubtfully, "but I guess there's a +whole heap o' things women don't understand. Hand 'em a baby, an' they +got men beat a mile, an' they most gener'ly don't forget to say so. +That's all right, an' we ain't kickin' a thing. Guess we ain't +yearnin' to share that glory--none of us. But babies and fellin' trees +ain't got a spark o' resemblance far as I kin see, 'cep' it is an axe +is a mighty useful thing dealing with 'em when they ain't needed. What +I was comin' to was this old sawdust bag, Ma Day'll have a hell of a +mouthful to chew when that tree gets busy. These guides ain't a +circumstance. They won't hold nothin'. An' I guess I don't get a step +nearer things than I am now." + +Mike gazed around on the speaker with billious scorn. + +"Don't guess that'll hurt nothin'," he sneered. + +Danny was beginning to revive. + +"Ain't you goin' to hand the leddy compliments?" he inquired +sarcastically. "You got an elegant tank o' hot air laid on." + +O'Brien remained quite unruffled. + +"She'll hand herself all the compliments she's yearnin' for. Women +like her can't do without bokays, an' they don't care a cuss how they +get 'em. Say----" + +He gazed up at the tattered crest of the tree. But the immensity of +its height, looking so directly up, turned him dizzy, and he was glad +to bring his gaze back to the unattractive faces of his companions. + +"----I'm gettin' clear on to higher ground. You boys stop right ther'. +If the old tree gets busy your ways it won't matter nothin'. Guess +your score's overrun down at the saloon, but I lose that without a +kick. You're too bright for me." + +He turned away, and, moving up the hill, took up a fresh position. + +Here he had a better view. He had abandoned the pleasure of listening +to any speeches which he felt sure would be made, but his safety more +than compensated him. Without the distractions of his companions' +society he was better able to concentrate his attention upon details. +He observed that the tree was already sawn more than half way through, +and he congratulated himself that he had not discovered it before. +Also he saw a number of huge, hardwood wedges lying on the ground, and +beside them two heavy wooden mauls. + +Their purpose was obvious, and he wondered who were the men who would +handle them. And, wondering, he cast an interested eye up at the sky +with the thought of wind in his mind. The possibility of such a +tragedy as the sudden rising of a breeze to upset calculations, and, +incidentally, the half-sawn tree, had no effect upon him. He was out +of range. Those gathering about the tree in the open were welcome to +their belief in the strength of the guide ropes. + +In a few moments all his interest was centered about the gathering of +the villagers. He knew them all, and watched them with the keenest +interest. He could hear the babel of tongues from his security. Nor +could he help feeling how much these people resembled a flock of +silly, curious sheep. + +His eyes quickly searched for those whom he felt were really the more +important in the concern of the tree. Where were Charlie Bryant, and +those men who were concerned in his exploits? His eyes scanned every +face, and then, when his search was completed, something like +excitement took possession of him. + +Charlie Bryant was absent. So were his associates, Kid Blaney, Stormy +Longton, Holy Dick, and Cranky Herefer. Where were Pete Clancy and +Nick Devereux, Kate Seton's hired men? They were all absent. So was +Kate herself. Ah, yes, he had heard she had gone to Myrtle. Anyway, +her sister, Helen, was there--with Mrs. John Day. Where was her +beau--Charlie Bryant's brother? + +His excitement rose. The coincidence of these absences suggested +possibilities. The possibilities brought a fresh train of thought. He +suddenly realized that not a single policeman was present. This, of +course, might easily be accounted for on the score of duty. But their +absence, taken in conjunction with the absence of the others, +certainly was remarkable. + +But now the ceremony was beginning. Mrs. John Day had assumed command, +and, surrounded by her select bodyguard, she was haranguing the +villagers, and enjoying herself tremendously. Yes, there was no manner +of doubt about her enjoyment. O'Brien's maliciously humorous eyes +watched her expression of smiling self-satisfaction, and estimated it +at its true worth. Her face was very red, and her arms swung about +like flails, beating the air in her efforts to carry conviction upon +an indifferent audience. He felt that the glory of that moment was +something she must have lived for for days, and a feeling of awful +anticipation swept over him as he considered her possible verbal and +physical antics at such time as the new church should be opened. He +felt that it would really be necessary to take a holiday on that +occasion. + +However, the speech terminated, as speeches sometimes do, and a chorus +of applause dutifully followed, as such choruses generally do. And now +the great interest of the day was to begin. + +Menfolk began to press the crowd back beyond the safety line, and two +of Mrs. Day's lumbermen, evidently sent down for the occasion by her +husband from his camp, picked up the two wooden mauls. At the same +time a man took his place at each guide rope. + +O'Brien rubbed his hands. Now for the fun, and he thought of the old +legend. He wondered which of those silly-looking sheep, gazing in +open-mouthed expectation, were to be the victims of the old Indian +curse. And curiously enough, hard-headed, callous as he was, O'Brien +was convinced someone was to pay the penalty. + +The great wedges were placed in position, and the heavy stroke of one +of the mauls resounded through the valley. A second wedge was placed, +and a second stroke fell. Then several strokes in swift succession, +and the men stood clear, and gazed upward with measuring eye. + +O'Brien, too, looked up. The tree had begun to lean, and two of the +guides were straining taut. He wondered. He wondered if the men at the +guides were used to the work. Now, for the first time, he realized +that the crest of the tree had a vast overhang of foliage on one side, +and mighty misshapen limbs. He regarded it speculatively. + +Then he glanced at the lumbermen. They were still looking up at the +lean of the tree. Suddenly he found himself expressing his opinions +aloud, as he ominously shook his head. + +"They're raw hands, or--jest mill hands," he muttered. "They sure +ain't sawyers." + +And again his eyes lifted to the ominous overhang. + +A further scrutiny enlightened him. They were endeavoring to fell the +tree so that its crest should drop somewhere on or near the trail +toward the new church. This made its fall in the direction of, but to +the south of, the old Meeting House. This was obviously for the +purpose of simplifying haulage. Good enough--if all went well. + +The lumbermen seemed satisfied and turned again to their wedges. As +they did so a gleam of smiling irony began to grow in O'Brien's eyes. +He had detected a slight swing in the overhang of the crest, and the +strain on the two guides was unequally distributed. The greater strain +was on the _wrong_ guide. + +The swing of the tree was slightly out of its calculated direction, +and inclining a degree or two nearer the direction of the Meeting +House. + +As the heavy strokes of the mauls fell he glanced over the faces of +the onlookers. What a picture of expectancy, what idiotic delight he +saw there! + +A crack, sharp and loud, echoed over the clearing. The double team +were straining mightily on their heavy tugs. The lumbermen had stood +clear. The strain on the _wrong_ guide had increased. + +O'Brien looked up. The swing had changed several more degrees, further +out of its direction. + +The expression of the upturned faces had changed, too. Now it was +evident that others had realized what O'Brien had discovered already. +Loud voices began to point it out, and the lumbermen stared stupidly +upward. The tree was in the balance, and slowly moving, bearing all +its crushing weight upon that single _wrong_ guide. + +There was a rapid movement near O'Brien, and Mike and Danny Jarvis +joined him hurriedly. + +"Say," cried the latter, "the blamed galoots'll bust up the whole +durned shootin' match." + +Which remark warned O'Brien that Danny had awakened to the threatening +danger to the Meeting House. + +"They done it," returned O'Brien calmly, his eyes riveted upon the +leaning tree. + +Mike thrust his hands into the tops of his trousers. + +"It sure was time to quit," he said with satisfaction. + +The saloonkeeper's only comment was to rub his hands in a sort of +malicious glee. Then in a moment, he pointed at the straining guide. +"It's got way," he cried. "Look, she's spinning. The rope. She'll part +in half a tick. Get it? Say, might as well try to hold a house with +pure rubber, as a new rope. It's got such a spring. It's give the old +tree way. Now it's----. Gee!" + +His final exclamation came as a terrific rending and cracking, far +louder than heavy gunshots, came from the base of the tree. There was +a vision of the lumbermen running clear. The next instant the +straining guide parted with a report that echoed far down the valley. +Then, caught by the other restraining guide, the whole tree swung +around, pivoting on its base, and fell with a roar of splitting and +rending, and a mighty final boom, along the whole length of the roof +of the Meeting House. + +All O'Brien had anticipated had come to pass. Furthermore, the mush of +"vegetables" surrounding the house was more than fulfilled. The vast +trunk cut its way through the building, everything, like a knife +passing through butter, and finally came to rest upon the ruined +flooring inside. + +With the final crash an awful silence prevailed. Not a voice was +raised among the onlookers. The old superstitions were fully stirring. +Was this the beginning of some further disaster to come? Was this the +work of that old-time curse? Was this only a part of the evil +connected with that tree? It was not the destruction of the house +alone that filled them with awe. It was the character of the house +that had been destroyed. + +But in a moment the spell was broken, and O'Brien was the first to +help to break it. The tree had fallen. It lay there quite still, like +some great, dead, evil giant. Now his callous mind demanded to know +the full extent of the damage done. + +He left his post, followed closely by his companions, and ran down +toward the wrecked building. With his movement a rush came from other +directions among the spectators, and, in the twinkling of an eye, the +ruined Meeting House was swarmed with an eager, curious throng of men +and women clambering over the wreckage. + +What a gladdening result for the sensation-loving minds of the +callous! O'Brien and his companions were among the first to reach the +scene. + +There lay the fallen giant, the greater part of its colossal crest far +beyond the extreme end of the demolished building. Only a few of the +lower, bare branches, just beneath the foliage, had caught the house, +these and the trunk. But the wreckage was complete. The walls had +fallen as though they had been made of loose sand, walls that had +withstood the storms of years, and the old, heavy-timbered roof was +torn to shreds, and lay strewn about like matchwood. + +As the eager crowd swarmed over the _debris_ an extraordinary sight +awaited them. The weight of the tree, and the falling roof timbers, +had almost completely destroyed the flooring, and there, in its place, +gaped an open cavity extending the length of the building. The place +was undermined by one huge cellar, divided by now crushed and broken +cross-supporting walls. + +The searching eyes of the saloonkeeper and his companions lost no +detail. Nor did the prevailing astonishment at the discovery seem to +concern them. With some care they clambered among the _debris_ to add +further to the discovery, if such additions were to be made. And their +efforts were rewarded without stint. The all-unsuspected and unknown +cellar was no simple relic of a bygone age, but displayed every sign +of recent usage. Furthermore, it was stocked with more than a hundred +liquor kegs, many of which were empty, but, also, many of which were +full of smuggled rye whisky. + +Within five minutes the entire village, from Mrs. John Day down to the +youngest child, knew that the cache of the whisky-runners had been +laid bare by the fall of the old pine. + +The wave of sentimental superstition again broke out and fastened +itself upon the minds of the people, and the miracle of it was spoken +of among them with almost bated breath. + +But O'Brien had no time to waste upon any such thought. He clambered +round through the cellars with eyes and wits alert. And he chuckled +delightedly, as, groping in the half-light among the kegs, he +discovered and recognized his own markings upon many of the empty +kegs. + +The whole thing amused him vastly, and he dilated upon his various +discoveries to those who accompanied him. + +"Say, Danny, boy, don't it beat hell?" he cried gleefully. "While all +them psalm-smiters were busy to death sweepin' the cobwebs out o' +their muddy souls upstairs, the old wash-tub o' sins was full to the +bung o' good wholesome rye underneath 'em. Was it a bright notion? +Well, I'd smile. If it don't beat the whole blamed circus. Is there a +p'liceman in the country 'ud chase up a Meetin' House for liquor? Not +on your life. That dope was as safe right there from discovery as if +it was stored in the United States Treasury. Say, them guys was smart. +Smart? Hell--say--what's that?" + +Excited voices were talking and calling loudly beyond the walls of the +ruined building. Even amid the dark surroundings of the cellars +O'Brien and his companions detected the words "police" and "patrol." + +Ready for any fresh interest forthcoming, the saloonkeeper clambered +hurriedly out of the cellar with the other men close behind him. They +mounted the broken walls and looked out upon the crowd. + +All eyes were turned along the trail coming up from the village, and +O'Brien followed the direction of their gaze. A half-spring police +wagon, followed closely by a wagon, which many recognized as that of +Charlie Bryant, were coming up the trail, escorted by Inspector Fyles +and a patrol of police troopers. The horses were walking slowly, and +as they approached a hush fell upon the crowd of spectators. + +Suddenly Stanley Fyles urged his horse forward, and came on at a rapid +canter. He pulled up at the ruined building and looked about him, +first at the wreckage and then at the silent throng. Then, as he +beheld O'Brien standing on the wall, he pointed at the ruins. + +"An--accident?" he inquired sharply. + +O'Brien's eyes twinkled. + +"A damn piece of foolish play by folks who orter know better," he +said. "They tried wreckin' this durned old tree an' succeeded in +wreckin' the soul laundry o' this yer village. Mebbe, too, you'll find +things down under it to interest you, inspector. I don't guess you'd +be lookin' for whisky an' religion goin' hand in hand, so to speak." + +The officer's eyes were sharply questioning. + +"How's that?" + +"Why, the cellars are full o' kegs of good rye--some full, some empty. +Gee, but I'd hate spilling it." + +The wagons had come up, and now it was to be seen that coarse police +blankets were laid out over them, the soft material displaying +something of the ominous figures hidden under them. + +"Say----" cried the startled saloonkeeper, and paused, as his quick +eyes observed these signs. Then, in an excited voice, he went on. +"Say, them--wagons--are loaded some." + +Fyles nodded. + +"I was bringing 'em along to have them laid out here--in the Meeting +House, before--burial." + +"Burial?" + +O'Brien's eyes opened wide. A sort of gasp went through the silent +crowd of onlookers, hanging on the police officer's words. + +"Yes, it was a brush with--the runners," Fyles said seriously. "We +got them red-handed last night. It was a case of shooting, too. Two +of our boys were shot up. They're in the wagons. There's three of the +gang--dead, and the boss of it, Charlie Bryant. They're all in the +wagons. The rest are across the border by now. Guess there'll be no +more whisky run in this valley." + +The hush which followed his announcement was far more eloquent than +words. + +It was O'Brien whose temerity was strong enough to break it. + +"That's so," he remarked thoughtfully. Then he sighed a world of +genuine regret, and his eyes glanced along the vast timber of the old +pine. "Guess the old cuss has worked out," he went on. "No, there'll +be no more whisky-running." Then he climbed slowly down from the wall. +"I'll have to get--moving on." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +FROM THE ASHES + + +The nine days' wonder had come and passed. Never again could the +valley of Leaping Creek return to the conditions which had for so long +prevailed there. And strangely enough the victory won was far more a +moral than a physical one. True, one or two lives had paid for the +victory, but this was less than nothing compared with the effect +achieved. + +Within three weeks a process of emigration had set in which left the +police with scarcely an excuse for their presence in the valley at +all. All those who, for long years, had sought sanctuary within the +shelter of the vast, forest-clad slopes of the valley, began to +realize that the immunity which they had enjoyed for so long was +rapidly becoming doubtful. The forces of the police suddenly seemed to +have become possessed of a too-intimate knowledge of the shortcomings +which had driven them to shelter. In fact, the limelight of government +authority was shining altogether too brightly, searching out the +shadowed corners in the lives of the citizens, and yielding up secrets +so long and so carefully hidden. + +The first definite result of the police raid apparent was the "moving +on" of Dirty O'Brien. It came quite suddenly, and unexpectedly. Rocky +Springs one morning awoke to find that the old saloon was closed. +Inquiry soon elicited the true facts. O'Brien had vanished. The barn +was empty. His team and spring wagon had gone, and the house, and bar, +had been stripped of everything worth taking. The night before O'Brien +had served his customers up to the usual hour, and there was nothing +unusual to be observed. Therefore, the removal must have been effected +swiftly and silently in the dead of night, performed as the result of +careful, well-laid plans. + +This was the first result of the definite establishment of police +authority. Evidently the future of Rocky Springs no longer appealed to +the shrewd saloonkeeper, and so he "moved on." + +This was the cue for further goings. With the saloon closed, and the +police authority established, Rocky Springs was Rocky Springs no +longer. So, one by one, silently, without the least ostentation, men +began to yield up their claims as citizens, and, vanishing over the +distant horizon, were heard of no more. + +The sledgehammer of police methods had penetrated through the +case-hardening of the village, and the place became hopelessly +impossible for its population of undesirables. + +For Helen Seton those first three weeks left her with a dull, +apathetic feeling that quite suddenly her whole world had been turned +upside down. That somehow a complete wreckage of all the life about +her, her new life, had been consummated. Nor did she understand why, +or how. It seemed to her she was living in a new world where all was +misery and depression. Her usually bubbling spirit was weighted down +as with an avalanche of responsibility and unhappiness. + +For her the change had begun with almost the very moment of the +felling of the old pine, and, somehow, it seemed to her as if that +wicked, mischievous monument of bygone crimes were responsible. + +With the yielding up of the secrets of the Meeting House had started a +succession of shocks, each one harder than its predecessor to bear, +until she was left almost paralyzed and quite powerless to resist +them. + +With Stanley Fyles heading the procession of death, with the man's +brief outline of the circumstances attending his raid, her heart +seemed suddenly to have turned to stone. Her thought turned at once to +her sister. That sister, even now away from home, waiting in dreading +unconsciousness for the completion of the disaster she so terribly +feared. To Helen's sympathetic heart the horror of the position was +magnified an hundredfold. Kate had been right. Kate had understood +where they had all been blind, and Kate, loyal, strong, brave Kate, +must learn that the very disaster she had prophesied had come, and, in +coming, had overtaken the one man they had all so earnestly desired to +shield--Charlie Bryant. + +Without waiting another moment she left the scene. She had blindly +rushed from the proximity of that gaping, awe-stricken, curious crowd. +And her way had taken her straight home. She had no thought for any +object. How could she? Her mind and heart were overflowing with fear +and concern, and a world of sympathy for Kate--the absent Kate. +Charlie was dead. Charlie had been caught red-handed. Charlie, that +poor, helpless, besotted drunkard. He--he--after all their faith in +his integrity, after all Kate's lavish affection, he was the real +criminal, and--Fyles had run him to his death. She had no thought now +of Bill's absence from her side. She had no thought of anything but +this one overwhelming disaster. + +So she ran on home. Nor did she pause till she flung herself upon the +coverlet of her little white bed in a passionate storm of weeping. + +How long she lay there she never knew. A merciful Providence finally +sent sleep to her weary brain and heart. And when she ultimately awoke +it was to start up dazedly, and find herself staring into the solemn, +dreadful eyes of her sister, Kate, who was standing just beyond the +open doorway of her bedroom, gazing in upon her. + +Then followed a scene never likely to be wholly forgotten. + +She sprang from her bed and ran toward that ominous figure. She was +prepared to fling herself upon that strong support which had never yet +failed her. But, for once, no such support was forthcoming. Long +before she reached her side Kate had stepped into the room and seemed +to collapse into the rocker beside the dressing bureau. The brave +Kate was reduced to a pitiful outburst of tearless sobs. + +For one brief instant Helen was again on the verge of tears, but she +remembered. With a great effort she forced them back, and held herself +in a strong grip. Then, slowly, a change began to creep over her. It +was not she who must look for support from Kate. It was she who must +yield support, and the memory of all those years when Kate, never by +word or act had failed her, came to her aid. + +But though she sought by every means in her power to comfort the +heartbroken woman, her efforts were wholly unavailing. They were +perhaps worse than unavailing. For Kate proved as unreasonable as any +weak, hysterical girl, and, rebuffing her at every turn, finally broke +into such a storm of bitter self-reviling as to leave her sister +helpless. + +"Leave me, Helen," she cried, through her grievous sobs. "Don't come +near me. Go, go. Don't look at me; don't come near. I'm not fit to +live. I'm a--murderess. It's I--I who've killed him. Oh, God, was +there ever such punishment. No--no. Go away--go away. I--I can't bear +it." + +Horrified beyond words, stunned and confused, poor Helen knew not +where to turn, or what to do. She stood silently by--wondering. Then, +without reasoning or understanding, something came to her help just as +she was about to yield to her own woman's weakness once more. + +She moved out of the room, nor did she know for what reason. Nor was +her next action any impulse of her own. Mechanically she set about the +housework of her home. + +It was her salvation, the salvation of the situation. She worked, and +gradually a great calm settled upon her. Thought began to flow. +Practical, helpful thought. And as she worked she saw all those things +she must do for poor Kate's well-being. + +It was a long and terrible day. And when night fell she was utterly +wearied out in mind and body. She had already prepared a meal for +Kate, which had been left untouched, and now, as evening came, she +prepared another. + +But this, like the first, was never partaken of by her sister. When +she went into her own bedroom, where Kate had remained, to make her +second attempt, she found to her relief and joy that her sister was +lying on her bed sound asleep. + +She stole out and closed up the house for the night. + +Nor was Helen prepared for the miracle of the next morning. When she +arose it was to find her bedroom empty, and her bed made up. She +hurriedly set out in search of her sister. She was nowhere in the +house. In rapidly rising dismay she hurried out to search the barn, +fearing she knew not what. But instant relief awaited her. Kate was +outside doing all those little necessary duties by the livestock of +her homestead, which she was accustomed to do, in the calm unruffled +fashion in which she always went about her work. + +Helen stared. She could scarcely believe her eyes. The miracle was +altogether beyond her comprehension. But her delight and relief were +profound. She greeted her sister and spoke. Then it was that she +realized that here was no longer the old Kate, but a changed, utterly +changed woman. The big eyes, so darkly ringed, no longer smiled. They +looked out at her so full of unutterable pain, as full of dull aching +regrets. There was such a depth of yearning and misery in them that +her greeting suddenly seemed to jar upon her own ears, and come back +to her in bitter mockery. In a moment, however, understanding came. +Intuitively she felt that her sister's grief was her own, into which +she could never pry. She must ask no questions, she must offer no +sympathy. For the moment her sister's mantle had fallen upon her +shoulders. Hers had suddenly become the strength, and it was for her +to use it in Kate's support. + +So the days wore on, long dreary days of many heartaches and bitter +speculation. Kate remained the dark, brooding figure she had displayed +herself on that first morning after her return. She was utterly +unapproachable in those first days, while yet at the greatest pains to +conceal the sorrow she was enduring. No questions or explanations +passed between the two women, and Helen was left without the faintest +suspicion of the truth. + +Sometimes, Helen, in the long silent days, strove to solve the meaning +of everything for herself. She thought and thought till her poor head +ached. But she always began and ended with the same thought. It was +Charlie's capture, Charlie's death which had wrought this havoc in her +sister, and she felt that time alone could remove the shadow which had +settled itself so hopelessly upon her. + +Then she began to wonder and worry at the prolonged absence of +her--Bill. + + * * * * * + +Kate had just finished removing the remains of the evening meal. Helen +had curled herself up in the old rocker. She was reading through the +numerous pages of a long letter, for perhaps the twentieth time. She +was tired, bodily and mentally, and her pretty face looked drawn under +its tanning. + +Her sister watched her, moving silently about, returning the various +articles to the cupboards where they belonged. Her eyes were shadowed. +The old assurance seemed to have gone entirely out of her. Her whole +manner was inclined to a curious air of humility, which, even now, +seemed to fit her so ill. + +She watched the girl turn page after page. Then she heard her draw a +long sigh as she turned the last page. + +Helen looked up and caught the eyes so yearningly regarding her. + +"I--I feel better now," she declared, with a pathetic little smile. +"And--please--please don't worry about me, Kate, dear. I'm tired. +We're both tired. Tired to death. But--there's no help for it. We +surely must keep going, and--and we've no one now to help us." She +glanced down at the letter in her lap. Then she abruptly raised her +eyes, and went on quickly. "Say, Kate, I s'pose we'll never see Nick +or Pete again? Shall we always have to do the work of our little patch +ourselves?" Then she smiled and something of her old lightness peeped +out of her pretty eyes. "Look at me," she cried. "I--I haven't put on +one of my nice suits since--since that day. I'm--a tramp." + +Kate's returning smile was of the most shadowy description. She shook +her head. + +"Maybe we'll get some hired men soon," she said, quietly. Then she +sighed. "I don't know. I hope so. I guess we'll never see Nick again. +He got away--I believe--across the border. As for Pete," she +shuddered, "he was found by the police--shot dead." + +Helen sat up. + +"You never told me," she cried. + +Kate shook her head. + +"I didn't want to distress you--any more." Just for one moment she +averted her eyes. Then they came back to Helen's face in an inquiry. +"When--when is--Bill coming back?" + +"Bill?" Helen's eyes lighted up, and a warm smile shone in them as she +glanced down at her letter again. "He says he'll be through with +Charlie's affairs soon. He's in Amberley. He's had to see to things +through the police. He's coming right on here the moment he's through. +He's--he's going to wire me when he starts. Kate?" + +"Yes, dear." + +Kate turned from the cook stove at the abruptness of her sister's +tone. Helen began to speak rapidly, and as she talked she kept her +gaze fixed upon the window. + +"It's--it's a long while now, since--that day. We were both feeling +mighty bad 'bout things then. We," she smiled whimsically, "sort of +didn't know whether it was Rocky Springs, or Broadway, did we? And +there was such a lot I didn't know or understand. And I never asked a +question. Did I?" + +Kate winced visibly. The moment she had always dreaded had come. She +had realized that it must eventually come, and for days she had +wondered vaguely how she would be able to meet it. The smile which +strove to reach her eyes was a failure, and, for a moment, a hunted +look threatened. In the end, however, she forced herself to perfect +calmness. + +"I don't think I could have answered them then if you had," she said +gently. "I don't know that I can answer many now--for both our sakes." + +Helen thought for some moments. Then she appeared to have arrived at a +determination. + +"How did you--come home that day--and why? I didn't expect you until +the next day." + +Kate drew a deep breath. + +"I came back--riding," she said. "I came back because--because I had +to." + +"Why?" + +"Because of the--disaster out there." + +"You knew?" + +Kate nodded. + +"Pretty well everything. That is all I can tell you, dear." Kate +crossed the room, and stood beside her sister's chair. She laid one +gentle hand upon her shoulder. "Don't ask me any more about that. +It--it is like--like searing my very soul with red-hot irons. That +must be my secret, and you must forgive me for keeping it from you. +Ask me anything else, and I will tell you--but leave that alone. It +can do nobody any good." + +Helen leaned her head on one side till her soft cheek rested +caressingly upon her sister's hand. + +"Forgive me, Kate," she said. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I'll never +mention it again--never." + +For some moments neither spoke. But Kate was waiting. She knew there +were other questions that must be asked and answered. + +"Was it because of the felling of that tree you went away?" Helen +asked presently. + +Kate shook her head. + +"No." + +Helen started up. + +"I knew it wasn't. Oh, Kate, I knew it wasn't. It was so unlike you. I +know why you went. Listen," she went on, almost excitedly. "You always +defended Charlie. You pretended to believe him straight. You--you +stuck to him through thick and thin. You flouted every charge made +against him. It was because of him you went away. You went to try and +help him--save him. All the time you knew he was against the law. +That's why you went. Oh, Kate, I knew it--I knew it." + +Helen was looking up into her sister's shadowed face with loyal +enthusiasm shining in her admiring eyes. + +Kate gravely shook her head. + +"I believed every word I said of Charlie. As God is my witness I +believed it. And I tell you now, Helen, that as long as I live my +heart will be bowed down beneath a terrible weight of grief and +remorse at the death of a brave, honest, and loyal gentleman. I have +no more to say. I never shall have--on the subject. I love you, Helen, +and shall always love you. My one thought in life now is your welfare. +If you love me, dear, then leave those things. Leave them as part of a +cruel, evil, shadowed time, which must be put behind us. All I want +you to ever remember of it--when you are the happy wife of your Big +Brother Bill--is that Charlie was all we believed him, in spite of +all appearances, and he died the noblest, the most heroic death that +man ever died." + +Kate bent down and tenderly kissed the beautiful head of fair, wavy +hair. Then, without waiting for the astonished sister's reply, she +moved across to the door. + +"Some day," she said, pausing with her hand on the catch, and, turning +back, smiling gently through the gathering tears, "Bill will tell you +it all. He knows it all--everything. Just now he is bound to secrecy, +but he will be released from that some day, and then--he will tell +you." + + + + +CHAPTER XL + +THE DAWN + + +A girl was leaning against a solitary post, a hundred yards or so from +where the descent into the valley of Leaping Creek began. All about +her stretched the vast plains of grass, which seemed to know no end. +The wide flat trail, so bare and hard, passed her by, and vanished +into the valley behind her. In the opposite direction, at long +intervals, it showed up in sections as it passed over the rises in the +prairie ocean, until the limits of her vision were reached. + +Not a single object stood out to relieve the monotony of that desert +of grass. Any dwelling of man within reach of the searching eye must +have been hidden in the troughs between the crests of summer grass. It +was all so wide, so vast, so dreadful in its unspeakable solitude. + +Helen's eyes were upon the last section of the trail, away to the +northwest, just as far as her bright eyes could see. She was +searching, searching. Her heart was beating with a great and buoyant +hope, and every little detail she beheld in that far-off distance she +searched, and sought to mould into the figure of the horseman she was +waiting for. + +The sun was hot. It's relentless rays, freed from the wealth of shade +in the valley below, beat down upon the parching land with a fiery +intensity which must have been insupportable to unaccustomed human +life. But to Helen it meant nothing, nothing but the fact that its +brilliant light was in keeping with every beat of the warm, thrilling +heart within her bosom. + +He was on the road. Bill--her Big Brother Bill. He was on the road, +and must be somewhere near now, for the telegram in her hand warned +her that he hoped to reach the valley by sundown. + +Four long weeks since the dreadful day. Four long weeks in which her +aching heart and weary thought had left her in wretched unhappiness. +Four weeks of doubt and trouble, in which her sister seemed to have +shut herself out of her life, leaving her to face all her doubts and +fears alone. + +Bill was away on his dead brother's affairs. Loyal Bill, seeking by +every means in his lumbering power to shield the memory of the dead +man from the effects of the manner of his death. Helen honored her +lover for it. He was just the good, loyal soul she had believed. And +now, as she stood with the tinted paper message, announcing his return +in her hand, she smiled, and wondered tenderly what blunders he would +contrive in the process. + +Sundown. Sundown would not be for at least two hours. Two hours. Two +hours meant some fourteen or sixteen miles by horse upon the trail. +She told herself she could not see for sixteen miles, nor even for +eight. It was absurd waiting there. She had already been waiting there +over an hour. Then she smiled, laughing at herself for her absurd +yearning for this lover of hers. He was so big, so foolish, so honest +and loyal--and, he was just hers. + +She sat down again on the ground, as already she had seated herself +many times. She would restrain her impatience. She would not just get +up at every---- + +She was on her feet again at the very moment of making her resolve. +This time her eyes were straining and wide open. Every nerve in her +body was at a tension. Some one was on the trail this time. Certain. +It was a horseman, too. There was no mistake, but he was near, quite +near, comparatively. How had she come to miss him in the far distance? + +She saw the figure as it came over a rising ground. She watched it +closely. Then she saw it was not on the trail, but was making for +it--across country. Now she knew. Now she was certain, and she laughed +and clapped her hands. It must be Bill, and--of course he had lost +himself, and now, at last, had found his way. + +The horseman came on at a great pace. + +As he drew nearer a frown of doubt crossed the girl's face. He did not +appear big enough--somehow. + +He dropped down into a hollow, and mounted the next crest. In a +moment, as he came into view, Helen felt like bursting into tears of +disappointment. + +The next moment, however, all thought of tears passed away and a +steady coldness grew in her eyes. She felt like hiding herself back +there in the valley. She had recognized the man. Without a doubt it +was Stanley Fyles. But he wore no uniform. He was clad in a civilian +costume, which pronouncedly smacked of the prairie. + +It was too late to hide. Besides, to hide would be undignified. What +was he coming to the valley for? Helen's eyes hardened. Nor did she +know quite why she felt resentful at the sight of him. Yes, she did. +It was for poor Charlie, Bill's brother. And Kate had sworn that +Charlie was innocent. + +She stood thinking, thinking, and then a further change came over her. +She remembered this man's work. She remembered his duty. Ought she to +feel badly toward him? + +And Kate? What of Kate? Would she----What on earth brought him to the +valley--now? + +It was too late to avoid him now, if she had wanted to. And, somehow, +on reflection, she was not sure she did want to. So she stood her +ground as he came up. + +He reined Peter in as he came abreast, and his dark eyes expressed his +surprise at sight of the waiting girl. + +"Why--Miss Helen, this----" He broke off abruptly, and, turning in his +saddle, looked back over the long, long trail. When his eyes came back +to the girl's face they were smiling. "It's kind of hot out here," +he said. "Aren't you afraid of the sun?" Then he became silent +altogether, while he interpreted to himself the somewhat stony regard +in her eyes. + +In a moment something of the awkwardness of the encounter occurred to +him. His mind was full of other things, which before he had missed the +possibility of. + +"I don't mind the sun, Mr. Fyles," said Helen coldly. "Besides, I +guess I'm not standing around here for--fun. I'm waiting for some +one." + +Fyles glanced back over the trail. Then he nodded. "He's coming +along," he said quietly. "Guess he started out from Amberley before +me. Say, he's a bully feller, sure enough, and I like him. I've seen a +good deal of him in Amberley. But I guessed he wouldn't be thanking me +for my company on the trail, so I came another way, and passed on +ahead. You see--I, well, I had to do my duty--here, and--well, he's a +bully feller, Miss Helen, and--you'll surely be happy with him." + +While he was talking, just for a moment, a wild impulse stirred Helen +to some frigid and hateful retort. But the man's evident sincerity won +the day and the girl's eyes lit with a radiant smile. + +"He's--on the trail?" she cried, banishing her last shadow of +coldness. "He is? Say, tell me where, and when he'll get in. I--I had +this message which said he'd be here by sundown, and--and I thought +I'd just come right along and meet him. Have--have you seen him? +And--and----" + +Fyles shook his head. "Not until just now," he said kindly. "He's +about four miles back. Say," he added, with less assurance, "maybe +your sister's home?" + +For a moment Helen stared incredulously. "Yes," she answered slowly. +Then in agitation: "You're not going to----?" + +The man nodded, but his smile had died out. "Yes. That's why I've come +along," he said seriously. "Is--is she well? Is she----?" + +But Helen left him no time to finish his apprehensive inquiries. At +that moment she caught sight of a distant figure on the trail. It was +the figure of a big man--so big, and her woman's heart cried out in +love and thankfulness. + +"Oh, look! It's Bill--my Bill! Here he comes. Oh, thank God." + +Stanley Fyles flung a glance over his shoulder. Then without a word he +lifted Peter's reins. Then he seemed to glide off in the direction of +the setting sun. + +As he went he drew a long sigh. He was wondering--wondering if all the +happiness in the world lay there, behind him, in the warm heart of the +girl who was waiting to embrace her lover. + + * * * * * + +Kate Seton was standing at the window of her parlor. Her back was +turned upon the room, upon the powerful, loose-limbed figure of +Stanley Fyles. + +Her face was hidden, she wanted it to remain hidden--from him. She +felt that he must not see all that his sudden visit, without warning, +meant to her. + +The man was near the center table. One knee was resting upon the hard, +tilted seat of a Windsor chair, and his folded arms leaned upon the +back of it. His eyes were full of a deep fire as he gazed upon the +woman's erect, graceful figure. A great longing was in him to seize +her, and crush her in arms that were ready to claim and hold her +against all the world. + +All the atmosphere of his calling seemed to have fallen from him. He +stood there just a plain, strong man of no great eloquence, facing a +position in which he might well expect certain defeat, but from which +there was no thought of shrinking. + +Silence had fallen since their first greeting. That painful silence +when realization of that which lies between them drives each to search +for a way to cross the barrier. + +It was Kate who finally spoke. She moved slightly. It was a movement +which might have suggested many things, among them uncertainty of +mind, perhaps of decision. Her voice came low and gentle. But it was +full of a great weariness and regret, even of pain. + +"Why--why did you come--now?" she asked plaintively. "It seems as +though I've lived through years in the last few weeks. I've tried to +forget so much. And now--you come here to remind me--to stir once more +the shadows which have nearly driven me crazy. Is it merciful--to do +that?" + +The woman's tone was baffling. Fyles searched for its meaning. +Resentment he had anticipated. He had been prepared for it, and to +resist it, and break it down by the ardor of his appeal. That dreary +regret was more than he could bear, and he hastened to protest. + +"Say, Kate," he cried, his sun-tanned features flushing with a quick +shame. "Don't think I've come here to remind you. Don't think I've +come along to taunt you with the loss of our--our mad wager. I want to +forget it. It became a gamble on a man's life, and--and I hate the +thought. You're free of it, and I wish to God it had never been made." + +The bitter sincerity of his final words was not without its effect. +Kate stirred. Then she turned. Her beautiful eyes, so full of pathos, +so full of remorse, looked straight into his. + +"Then--why did you come here?" she asked. + +The man started up. The chair dropped back on to its four legs with a +clatter. His arms were outstretched, and the passionate fire of his +eyes blazed up as the quick, hot words escaped his lips. + +"Why? Why?" he demanded, his eyes widening, his whole body vibrant +with a consuming passion. "Don't you know? Kate, Kate, I came because +I couldn't stay away. I came because there's just nothing in the world +worth living for but you. I came because I just love you to death, +and--there's nothing else. Say, listen. I went right back from here +with one fixed purpose. Maybe it won't tell you a thing. Maybe you +won't understand. I went back to get quit of the force--honorably. I'd +made my peace with them. Oh, yes, I'd done that. Then I demanded leave +of absence pending my resignation. They had to grant it. I am never +going back. Oh, yes, I knew what I was up against. I wanted you. I +wanted you so that I couldn't see a thing else in any other direction. +There is no other direction. So I came straight here to--to ask you to +forget. I came here to tell you all I feel about--the work I had to do +here. I came here with a wild sort of forlorn hope you could forgive. +You see, I even believed that but for--for that--there was just a +shadow of hope for me. Kate----!" + +The woman suddenly held up her hand. And when she spoke there was +nothing of the Kate he had always known in the humility of her tone. + +"It is not I who must forgive," she said quickly. "If there is any +forgiveness on this earth it is I who need it." + +"You? Forgiveness?" + +The man's face wore blank incredulity. + +Kate sighed. It was the sigh of a broken-hearted woman. + +"Yes. If there is any forgiveness I pray that it may come my way. I +need it all--all. I can never forgive myself. It was I who caused +Charlie's death." + +Quite suddenly her whole manner changed. The humility, the sadness of +her tone rose quickly to a passionate self-denunciation. + +"Yes, yes. I will tell you now. Oh, man, man. Your words--every one +of them, have only stabbed me more and more surely to the heart. You +don't understand. You can't, because you do not know what I mean. Oh, +yes," she went on desperately, "why shouldn't I admit it? I love you. +I always have loved you. Let me admit everything fully and freely." + +"Kate!" The man stepped forward, his eyes alight with a world of +happiness, of overwhelming joy. But she waved him back. + +"No, no," she cried, almost harshly. "I have told you that just to +show you how your words have well nigh crazed me. I can be nothing to +you. I can be nothing to anybody. It was I who brought about Charlie's +death. He, the bravest, the loyalest man I ever knew, gave his life to +save me from the police, who were hunting me down. Oh," she went on, +at sight of Fyles's incredulous expression, "you don't need to take my +word alone. Ask Charlie's brother. Ask Bill. He was there. He, too, +shared in the sacrifice, although he did not understand that which lay +in the depths of his brother's brave heart. And now--now I must live +on with the knowledge of what my wild folly has brought about. For +weeks the burden of thought and remorse has been almost insupportable, +and now you come to torture me further. Oh, God, I have paid for my +wanton folly and wickedness. Oh, God!" + +Kate buried her face in her hands, and abruptly flung herself into the +rocker close behind her. + +Fyles looked down upon her in amazed helplessness. He watched the +woman's heaving shoulders as great, dry, hard sobs broke from her in +tearless agony. He waited, feeling for the moment that nothing he +could say or do but must add to her despair, to her pain. Her +self-accusation had so far left him untouched. He could not realize +all she meant. All that was plain to him was her suffering, and he +longed to comfort her, and help her, and defend her against herself. + +The moments slipped away, heavy moments of intense feeling and bitter +grief. + +Presently the grief-stricken woman's sobs grew less, and with +something like a gesture of impatience she snatched her hands from her +face, and raised a pair of agonized eyes to his. + +"Leave me," she cried. "Go, please go. I--I can't bear it." + +Her appeal was so helpless. Again the impulse to take her in his arms +was almost too strong for the man, but with an effort he overcame it. + +"Won't you--go on?" he said, in the gentlest possible tone. "It will +help you. And--you would rather tell me." + +The firmness of his manner, the gentleness, had a heartbreaking +effect. In a moment the woman's eyes were flooded with tears, which +coursed down her cheeks. It was the relief that her poor troubled +brain and nerves demanded, and so Fyles understood. + +He waited patiently until the passion of weeping was over. Then again +he urged his demand. + +"Now tell me, Kate. Tell me all. And remember I'm not here as your +judge. I am here to help--because--I love you." + +The look from the woman's eyes thanked him. Then she bowed her head +lest the sight of him should leave her afraid. + + * * * * * + +"Must I tell it all?" + +Kate's tone was firmer. There was a ring in it that reminded the other +of the woman he used to know. + +"Tell me just what you wish. No more--no less. You are telling it for +your own sake, remember. To me--it makes no difference." + +"There's no use in telling it you from the start. The things that led +up to it," she began. "I have been smuggling whisky for nearly five +years. It's a pretty admission, isn't it? Yes, you may well be +horrified," she went on, as Fyles started. + +But the man denied. + +"I am not horrified," he said. "It is--the wonder of it." + +"The wonder? It isn't wonderful. It was so simple. A little ingenuity, +a little nerve and recklessness. The law itself makes it easy. You +cannot arrest on suspicion." Kate sighed, and her eyes had become +reflective, so that their calmness satisfied the waiting man. "I must +tell you this," she went on quickly. "My reasons were twofold. Helen +and I came here to farm. We came here because I was crazy for +adventure. We had money, but I soon found that we, two women, could +never make our farm pay. We were here surrounded by outlaws, who were +already smuggling liquor, and their trade appealed to me. I was just +crazy to take a hand in it for the excitement of it, and--to replenish +our diminishing capital." + +"Helen knows nothing about it," she went on, her voice hardening as +though the shameful story she was about to tell were forcing the iron +deeper and deeper into her soul. "She has never guessed, or suspected, +and I could almost hope she never will. It didn't take me long to make +up my mind. This was about the time Charlie came to the valley," she +sighed. "Well, I quickly contrived to get at the men I wanted. I +talked to them carefully, and finally unfolded to them a plan I had +worked out to smuggle whisky on a large and profitable scale. It +doesn't matter about the details. They all came in at once. It pleased +their sense of humor to be run by a woman. I was to disguise myself as +a man, which nature made easy for me, and my real personality was to +be our chief safeguard. No one would suspect unless we were caught +red-handed. And that--well, that was not a great chance, anyway, in +those days. I was responsible. I was to purchase cargoes across the +border. The others were only my helpers, under my absolute orders. And +I ruled them sharply." + +The man nodded without other comment. + +"But Charlie had arrived, and very soon his coming began to complicate +matters," Kate went on, after the briefest of pauses. "He came out +here to ranch. He was turned out of his home. And I--I just pitied +him, and strove to turn him from his drunken habits. This is where the +mischief was done. I liked him. I sort of felt like a mother to him. +He was so gentle and kind-hearted. He was clever, too--very clever. +Yes, I looked upon him as a son, or brother--but he didn't look on me +in the same way. I don't know. I suppose I didn't think. I was +foolish. Anyway, Charlie asked me to marry him. I refused him, and he +drank himself into delirium tremens." + +Again came a long-drawn sigh at the memory of that poor, wasted life. + +"Well, I nursed him, and finally he got better, and again I went on +with my work. Then, one day, I received a shock. Charlie came to me +and told me he'd found a mysterious old corral, away up, hidden in +the higher reaches of the valley. He begged me to let him show it me. +Feeling that I owed him something, I consented to go with him. So we +rode out. You know the place. But maybe you don't know its secret." + +Fyles nodded. + +"Yes--you mean the--cupboard in the lining of the wall." + +"You know it?" Kate's surprise was marked. However, she went on +rapidly. "Well, while we were there he showed it to me, and then, +looking me straight in the eyes, he said, 'Wouldn't it be a dandy +hiding place for things? Suppose I was a big whisky smuggler. Suppose +I wanted to disguise myself. I could keep my disguise here. No chance +of its being found by police or any one. It would be a great place.' +Then he went on, enlarging enthusiastically upon his idea. He said, 'A +feller wants to do things right if he's going to beat the law. If I +were running liquor I'd take no chances. I'd run it on a big scale, +and I'd cache my stuff in the cellars under the Meeting House. No one +knows of 'em. I only lit on 'em by chance. + +"'Not a soul even suspects they're there. Guess they were used for +caches in the old days. Now, I'd take on the job of looking after the +place, keeping it clean, and all that. That would let me be seen there +without anybody getting suspicious.' All this time his eyes were +watching me shrewdly, speculatively. Then, still pretending, he went +off in another direction. He told me he'd bought a good wagon. He +said, 'I'd keep it here in the corral. It would be better than a +buckboard.' Then I knew for certain that he was aware of my doings. +For I used a buckboard. It was a desperate moment. I waited. All of a +sudden he dropped his mask of lightness, and became serious. I can +never forget his poor, dear face as he gave me his final warning. +'Kate,' he said, 'if there was anybody I--liked, and was anxious +about, running whisky in this place, I'd show them the corral and tell +them what I've told you. You see,' he added ingenuously, 'I'd give my +life for those I like, then how readily would I help them like this. +This is the safest scheme I can think of. And I'm rather proud of it. +Anyways, it's better than keeping disguises kicking around for any one +to find, and caching liquor under bushes.' He had discovered all my +secret. All--how? The thought set me nearly crazy." + +"Did you--question him?" The man's voice cut sharply into the +momentary silence. + +Kate shook her head. + +"No. I couldn't. I don't know why, but I couldn't." She drew a deep +breath. "The next thing I knew was that I was shadowed in all my work, +and I knew that shadow was--Charlie. Here came a memorable day. I +think the devil was in me that day. I remember Charlie came to me. He +smiled in his gentle, boyish fashion. He said, 'No one's adopted my +scheme yet--and I've left the wagon down at the old corral, too.' It +was too much. I laughed. I told him that now no one could ever use his +scheme for I had secured the work--voluntarily--of seeing to the +Meeting House. His response was deadly serious. 'I'm glad,' he said. +'That will end temptation for--others.'" + +"He thought of using it--on your behalf--himself!" + +"I fancy so." Kate paused. Then, with an effort, she seemed to spur +herself to her task. "There seems so much of it. Such a long, dreary +story. I must skip to the time you came on the scene. It was then that +serious trouble began. Danger really increased. But I was used to it +by then. I loved it. I didn't care. I was pleased to think I was +pitted against the police. You remember White Point? Like all the +rest, I planned that. I was there. We beat your men on the trail, too. +We contrived to temporarily cache the cargo, and afterward remove it +to the Meeting House. Then later. You remember the night that you +found Bill by the pine tree, which, by the way, served me as a mail +office for orders from my local customers? They placed money and +orders in one of the old crevices under the bark. You see, I never +came into personal contact with them. It was I you saw there. I had +just been there to get an order from O'Brien. Bill saw me--and mistook +me for Charlie. Charlie was probably there, but it was I you saw drop +down into hiding. That night was a great shock to me. I discovered +that, disguised as a man, by some evil chance I became the double of +Charlie. You can imagine my distress. In a flash I was made aware of +the reason that he was bearing the blame for all my doings. This +brought me another realization, too. My personality had been +discovered. People must have seen me before. I was known by, perhaps +distant, sight, and Charlie was blamed for all my doings. It left me +with a resolve to defend him to my utmost, all the more so that I was +convinced in my mind that he was doing his utmost to divert suspicion +from me to himself. Even his own brother believed in his guilt. + +"When you opened your campaign against him, my cup of bitterness was +full. Then it was I resolved to run cargo after cargo in the wild hope +that some chance would reveal to you that Charlie was not your man. I +resolved this, knowing you--and--and liking you, and being aware that +every time I succeeded I was further helping to ruin you with your +superiors, and in your career. It had to be. I had to sacrifice all my +own feelings to--save Charlie." + +The shining eyes of the man gazed admiringly on the sad face of the +loyal woman. + +"I think I see," he said. + +Kate raised her shoulders. + +"I hardly expected any one would see, or understand, what I felt, and +the way I reasoned. You remember the cargo from Fort Allerton? It was +my two boys, acting under my command, who bound and gagged your +patrol, and fired the alarm. Pete brought me word of your plans. He +had spied on you in your camp. But there was very nearly disaster in +that affair. I dropped my pocketbook on the trail. It was full of +incriminating papers. I did not discover my loss till I returned my +disguise to the secret hut. You can imagine my horror at such a +discovery. It meant everything. I waited desperately, expecting it +to have been found by your men. Two days later, in a fever of +apprehension, I went to search my clothes again at the corral. I felt +it was useless. It could not be there. But my guardian angel had been +at work. It was in its place in my coat pocket. Then I knew that +Charlie was still watching over me. He had found it, and--returned +it." + +Fyles nodded. + +"He was on the trail that night--I saw him." + +"Do you want to know the rest?" Kate went on. "Is it necessary? The +heartless game I played on you. Do you understand it now? Oh, it was a +cruel thing to do. But you drove me crazy with your suspicions, your +obstinate suspicions, of Charlie. I was determined to pursue my +ruthless course in his defense to the end. It was my only hope of +relieving Charlie of suspicion--without betraying myself. But there +were things I had not calculated on. Two things happened after I had +offered you my challenge. I made my plans, and ordered my cargo, after +telling you when and where it was to arrive. Then the two things +happened. First? Bill ran foul of Pete. Pete was drunk and insulted +Helen. Bill was there, and thrashed him soundly, and I was glad. But I +feared for mischief. He knew my plans. I talked to him, and quickly +realized my fears were well-founded. There was no help for it. I +promptly changed my plans. The cargo was to come in by water. The +escorted empty wagon by trail. I left that disposition, except that I +decided the boat should be empty, too, and, unknown to any one but +Holy Dick, I should bring in the cargo on a buckboard myself. You see, +it left me free of any chance of treachery. When you told me of Pete's +treachery I knew I had done well. Then the second thing happened, +which served me with an excuse for leaving the village, which had +become imperative to complete my change of plans. You remember. It was +the tree. You remember I feared the old superstition, and I went +to--Myrtle. + +"The rest. Yes, let me tell it quickly, while I still have the +courage. You must fill in the gaps which I leave for yourself. Before +I left, Charlie came here. He tried to stop me. I know why. He had +some premonition of disaster. I, too, had the same premonition, but--I +was quite reckless. He refused me his wagon, but I took it in spite of +him. I had to have it. We quarreled for the first time. He left me in +anger, and--I went. Everything was carried through successfully. I was +in the road on Monday night with the cargo. I was keeping abreast of +the wagon, in my buckboard, away to the south of it. I intended to +make a quiet dash while you were busy with the boat and wagon. But my +star was not in the ascendant. + +"While I was waiting for the moment to arrive I suddenly heard the +firing, and I knew at once that the game was up. It was no longer +simply smuggling. To me such shooting meant killing--and that----" she +shuddered. "Perhaps I lost my head. I don't know. I raced for it. You +came after me. One of my horses stumbled, and when it recovered I +found it was dead lame. I had a saddle horse with me. You were hard +on my heels by then. I abandoned the buckboard and cargo, and took to +the saddle. I was keeping well ahead of you, and was only a short +distance from the village. I raced down the hill to the culvert over +the hay slough. As I did so I saw two horsemen coming in the opposite +direction. I believed them to be police. I swung out to the south, +intending to take the slough at a jump, and get away toward the +border. Too late I realized the slough's miry state. I tried to get +back to the culvert, but my horse failed me. The troubled beast +floundered, then he fell, and my head struck the culvert." + +Kate was breathing quickly. The horror of it all was getting hold of +her. But she went on in broken jerky sentences. + +"When I opened my eyes, Charlie was bending over me. I told him what +had happened. Then he passed me over to Bill, and I fainted again. +When I awoke I was here--at home. Bill had brought me here, and I know +now what Charlie must have done." + +Fyles nodded. + +"He took your place, and drew us after him," he said. Then, after a +pause. "Say, he did a big thing, Kate, and--he did it with his eyes +wide open." + +But Kate was not listening. Tears were coursing down her cheeks, and +she sat a poor, suffering, bowed creature whose spirit could no longer +support the strain of her remorse. Her confession was complete, and +again the horrors of her earlier sufferings were assailing her +weakened spirit. + +Fyles waited for the storm to lessen. He no longer had doubts. His +pity was for the reckless heart so hopelessly crushed. He had no +blame, only pity, and--love. He knew now that all he had hoped and +longed for was to be his. Kate cared for him. She had loved him from +the start. His were the arms that would shelter her. His were the +caresses that must woo that warm, palpitating spirit back to its +confidence and strength. + +What was her past recklessness to him? He passed it by, and thanked +God that, for all its wrong against the laws, she assessed a courage +so fearless, and a brain so keen. There was no evil in her. She was a +woman to love and live for. To work, and--to die for. And his +feelings he knew had been shared by another. + +He rose from his chair and passed behind Kate's rocker. He leaned down +and kissed her masses of beautiful dark hair. + +"Look up, Kate. Look up, dear. The old pine has fallen at last, and +now--now there is to be peace in the valley for all time. Peace for +you. Peace for me. We will go away together now, dear. And presently, +please God, we'll come back to our--home." + + * * * * * + +Two days later Stanley Fyles and Big Brother Bill were standing at the +doorway of Kate's house. It was evening, and four saddle horses were +tied together in a bunch, ready saddled for the road. + +Bill stood chewing his thumb in silence. His thoughtful, blue eyes +were gazing out across the valley at the little ranch house on the +hill. + +Fyles was equally thoughtfully filling his pipe. + +"We haven't talked much about things before," he said, pressing the +tobacco firmly into the bowl of his pipe with his little finger. +"Guess there wasn't much room for talk between--you and me. But we had +to say things sooner or later, on--account of--the girls. It's bad +med'cine starting out brothers with any trouble sticking out between +us. That's why I've started talking now--with the horses waiting +saddled." + +Bill nodded. + +"I was desperate sore," he said, his blue eyes coming back to the +other's face. "You see, I couldn't think right at first, back there in +Amberley, and I blamed you to death. Still, I've done a big think +since then. Yes, a huge big think. And--do you know I'm kind of sure +now Charlie was just glad to do what he did." Then his voice dropped +to an awed undertone. "It's queer how thinking makes you see things +right. I kind of feel now, if Charlie was here, he'd tell us right +away he's gladder he is where he is than ever he was--here. I'm just +certain of it. That's the best of thinking hard. You sort of +understand things better. I'm going to shake hands with you. Guess +Charlie 'ud like me to--now. And it'll be a mighty hard shake, so +you'll know I've thought hard, and--and just understood." + +Fyles winced under the giant's grip. But he smiled and nodded. Bill +smiled and nodded, too, and then released the injured limb. It was the +way of two men who understand. + +A sound came from within the house. It was the jingle of a spur and a +swish of skirts. + +Fyles indicated the direction with his pipe. + +"Best quit talking now," he said. "It's--it's the girls." + +Bill wagged a sapient head, and moved over to the horses. + +"Right ho, Stanley." + +"Right ho, Bill." + +The big blue eyes met the steady brown eyes in a final, smiling glance +of mutual understanding as Kate and Helen appeared in the doorway. + + + + + Popular Copyright Novels + + _AT MODERATE PRICES_ + + Ask Your Dealer for a Complete List of A. L. Burt Company's Popular + Copyright Fiction + + + =Adventures of Jimmie Dale, The.= By Frank L. Packard. + =Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.= By A. Conan Doyle. + =After House, The.= By Mary Roberts Rinehart. + =Ailsa Paige.= By Robert W. Chambers. + =Alton of Somasco.= By Harold Bindloss. + =Amateur Gentleman, The.= By Jeffery Farnol. + =Anna, the Adventuress.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Anne's House of Dreams.= By L. M. Montgomery. + =Around Old Chester.= By Margaret Deland. + =Athalie.= By Robert W. Chambers. + =At the Mercy of Tiberius.= By Augusta Evans Wilson. + =Auction Block, The.= By Rex Beach. + =Aunt Jane of Kentucky.= By Eliza C. Hall. + =Awakening of Helena Richie.= By Margaret Deland. + + =Bab: a Sub-Deb.= By Mary Roberts Rinehart. + =Barrier, The.= By Rex Beach. + =Barbarians.= By Robert W. Chambers. + =Bargain True, The.= By Nalbro Bartley. + =Bar 20.= By Clarence E. Mulford. + =Bar 20 Days.= By Clarence E. Mulford. + =Bars of Iron, The.= By Ethel M. Dell. + =Beasts of Tarzan, The.= By Edgar Rice Burroughs. + =Beloved Traitor, The.= By Frank L. Packard. + =Beltane the Smith.= By Jeffery Farnol. + =Betrayal, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Beyond the Frontier.= By Randall Parrish. + =Big Timber.= By Bertrand W. Sinclair. + =Black Is White.= By George Barr McCutcheon. + =Blind Man's Eyes, The.= By Wm. MacHarg and Edwin Balmer. + =Bob, Son of Battle.= By Alfred Ollivant. + =Boston Blackie.= By Jack Boyle. + =Boy with Wings, The.= By Berta Ruck. + =Brandon of the Engineers.= By Harold Bindloss. + =Broad Highway, The.= By Jeffery Farnol. + =Brown Study, The.= By Grace S. Richmond. + =Bruce of the Circle A.= By Harold Titus. + =Buck Peters, Ranchman.= By Clarence E. Mulford. + =Business of Life, The.= By Robert W. Chambers. + + =Cabbages and Kings.= By O. Henry. + =Cabin Fever.= By B. M. Bower. + =Calling of Dan Matthews, The.= By Harold Bell Wright. + =Cape Cod Stories.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =Cap'n Abe, Storekeeper.= By James A. Cooper. + =Cap'n Dan's Daughter.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =Cap'n Eri.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =Cap'n Jonah's Fortune.= By James A. Cooper. + =Cap'n Warren's Wards.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =Chain of Evidence, A.= By Carolyn Wells. + =Chief Legatee, The.= By Anna Katharine Green. + =Cinderella Jane.= By Marjorie B. Cooke. + =Cinema Murder, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =City of Masks, The.= By George Barr McCutcheon. + =Cleek of Scotland Yard.= By T. W. Hanshew. + =Cleek, The Man of Forty Faces.= By Thomas W. Hanshew. + =Cleek's Government Cases.= By Thomas W. Hanshew. + =Clipped Wings.= By Rupert Hughes. + =Clue, The.= By Carolyn Wells. + =Clutch of Circumstance, The.= By Marjorie Benton Cooke. + =Coast of Adventure, The.= By Harold Bindloss. + =Coming of Cassidy, The.= By Clarence E. Mulford. + =Coming of the Law, The.= By Chas. A. Seltzer. + =Conquest of Canaan, The.= By Booth Tarkington. + =Conspirators, The.= By Robert W. Chambers. + =Court of Inquiry, A.= By Grace S. Richmond. + =Cow Puncher, The.= By Robert J. C. Stead. + =Crimson Gardenia, The, and Other Tales of Adventure.= By Rex Beach. + =Cross Currents.= By Author of "Pollyanna." + =Cry in the Wilderness, A.= By Mary E. Waller. + + =Danger, And Other Stories.= By A. Conan Doyle. + =Dark Hollow, The.= By Anna Katharine Green. + =Dark Star, The.= By Robert W. Chambers. + =Daughter Pays, The.= By Mrs. Baillie Reynolds. + =Day of Days, The.= By Louis Joseph Vance. + =Depot Master, The.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =Desired Woman, The.= By Will N. Harben. + =Destroying Angel, The.= By Louis Jos. Vance. + =Devil's Own, The.= By Randall Parrish. + =Double Traitor=, The. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + + =Empty Pockets.= By Rupert Hughes. + =Eyes of the Blind=, The. By Arthur Somers Roche. + =Eye of Dread, The.= By Payne Erskine. + =Eyes of the World, The.= By Harold Bell Wright. + =Extricating Obadiah.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + + =Felix O'Day.= By F. Hopkinson Smith. + =54-40 or Fight.= By Emerson Hough. + =Fighting Chance, The.= By Robert W. Chambers. + =Fighting Shepherdess, The.= By Caroline Lockhart. + =Financier, The.= By Theodore Dreiser. + =Flame, The.= By Olive Wadsley. + =Flamsted Quarries.= By Mary E. Wallar. + =Forfeit, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Four Million, The.= By O. Henry. + =Fruitful Vine, The.= By Robert Hichens. + =Further Adventures of Jimmie Dale, The.= By Frank L. Packard. + + =Girl of the Blue Ridge, A.= By Payne Erskine. + =Girl from Keller's, The.= By Harold Bindloss. + =Girl Philippa, The.= By Robert W. Chambers. + =Girls at His Billet, The.= By Berta Ruck. + =God's Country and the Woman.= By James Oliver Curwood. + =Going Some.= By Rex Beach. + =Golden Slipper, The.= By Anna Katharine Green. + =Golden Woman, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Greater Love Hath No Man.= By Frank L. Packard. + =Greyfriars Bobby.= By Eleanor Atkinson. + =Gun Brand, The.= By James B. Hendryx. + + =Halcyone.= By Elinor Glyn. + =Hand of Fu-Manchu=, The. By Sax Rohmer. + =Havoc.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Heart of the Desert=, The. By Honoré Willsie. + =Heart of the Hills, The.= By John Fox, Jr. + =Heart of the Sunset.= By Rex Beach. + =Heart of Thunder Mountain, The.= By Edfrid A. Bingham. + =Her Weight in Gold.= By Geo. B. McCutcheon. + =Hidden Children, The.= By Robert W. Chambers. + =Hidden Spring, The.= By Clarence B. Kelland. + =Hillman, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Hills of Refuge, The.= By Will N. Harben. + =His Official Fiancee.= By Berta Ruck. + =Honor of the Big Snows.= By James Oliver Curwood. + =Hopalong Cassidy.= By Clarence E. Mulford. + =Hound from the North, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =House of the Whispering Pines, The.= By Anna Katharine Green. + =Hugh Wynne, Free Quaker.= By S. Weir Mitchell, M.D. + + =I Conquered.= By Harold Titus. + =Illustrious Prince, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =In Another Girl's Shoes.= By Berta Ruck. + =Indifference of Juliet, The.= By Grace S. Richmond. + =Infelice.= By Augusta Evans Wilson. + =Initials Only.= By Anna Katharine Green. + =Inner Law, The.= By Will N. Harben. + =Innocent.= By Marie Corelli. + =Insidious Dr. Fu-Manchu, The.= By Sax Rohmer. + =In the Brooding Wild.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Intriguers, The.= By Harold Bindloss. + =Iron Trail, The.= By Rex Beach. + =Iron Woman, The.= By Margaret Deland. + =I Spy.= By Natalie Sumner Lincoln. + + =Japonette.= By Robert W. Chambers. + =Jean of the Lazy A.= By B. M. Bower. + =Jeanne of the Marshes.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Jennie Gerhardt.= By Theodore Dreiser. + =Judgment House, The.= By Gilbert Parker. + + =Keeper of the Door, The.= By Ethel M. Dell. + =Keith of the Border.= By Randall Parrish. + =Kent Knowles: Ouahaug.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =Kingdom of the Blind. The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =King Spruce.= By Holman Day. + =King's Widow, The.= By Mrs. Baillie Reynolds. + =Knave of Diamonds, The.= By Ethel M. Dell. + + =Ladder of Swords.= By Gilbert Parker. + =Lady Betty Across the Water.= By C. N. & A. M. Williamson. + =Land-Girl's Love Story, A.= By Berta Ruck. + =Landloper, The.= By Holman Day. + =Land of Long Ago, The.= By Eliza Calvert Hall. + =Land of Strong Men, The.= By A. M. Chisholm. + =Last Trail, The.= By Zane Grey. + =Laugh and Live.= By Douglas Fairbanks. + =Laughing Bill Hyde.= By Rex Beach. + =Laughing Girl, The.= By Robert W. Chambers. + =Law Breakers, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Lifted Veil, The.= By Basil King. + =Lighted Way, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Lin McLean.= By Owen Wister. + =Lonesome Land.= By B. M. Bower. + =Lone Wolf, The.= By Louis Joseph Vance. + =Long Ever Ago.= By Rupert Hughes. + =Lonely Stronghold, The.= By Mrs. Baillie Reynolds. + =Long Live the King.= By Mary Roberts Rinehart. + =Long Roll, The.= By Mary Johnston. + =Lord Tony's Wife.= By Baroness Orczy. + =Lost Ambassador.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Lost Prince, The.= By Frances Hodgson Burnett. + =Lydia of the Pines.= By Honoré Willsie. + + =Maid of the Forest, The.= By Randall Parrish. + =Maid of the Whispering Hills, The.= By Vingie E. Roe. + =Maids of Paradise, The.= By Robert W. Chambers. + =Major, The.= By Ralph Connor. + =Maker of History, A.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Malefactor, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Man from Bar 20, The.= By Clarence E. Mulford. + =Man in Grey, The.= By Baroness Orczy. + =Man Trail, The.= By Henry Oyen. + =Man Who Couldn't Sleep, The.= By Arthur Stringer. + =Man with the Club Foot, The.= By Valentine Williams. + =Mary-'Gusta.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =Mary Moreland.= By Marie Van Vorst. + =Mary Regan.= By Leroy Scott. + =Master Mummer, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes.= By A. Conan Doyle. + =Men Who Wrought, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Mischief Maker, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Missioner, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Miss Million's Maid.= By Berta Ruck. + =Molly McDonald.= By Randall Parrish. + =Money Master, The.= By Gilbert Parker. + =Money Moon, The.= By Jeffery Farnol. + =Mountain Girl, The.= By Payne Erskine. + =Moving Finger, The.= By Natalie Sumner Lincoln. + =Mr. Bingle.= By George Barr McCutcheon. + =Mr. Grex of Monte Carlo.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Mr. Pratt.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =Mr. Pratt's Patients.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =Mrs. Belfame.= By Gertrude Atherton. + =Mrs. Red Pepper.= By Grace S. Richmond. + =My Lady Caprice.= By Jeffrey Farnol. + =My Lady of the North.= By Randall Parrish. + =My Lady of the South.= By Randall Parrish. + =Mystery of the Hasty Arrow, The.= By Anna K. Green. + + =Nameless Man, The.= By Natalie Sumner Lincoln. + =Ne'er-Do-Well, The.= By Rex Beach. + =Nest Builders, The.= By Beatrice Forbes-Robertson Hale. + =Net, The.= By Rex Beach. + =New Clarion.= By Will N. Harben. + =Night Operator, The.= By Frank L. Packard. + =Night Riders, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Nobody.= By Louis Joseph Vance. + + =Okewood of the Secret Service.= By the Author of "The Man with the + Club Foot." + =One Way Trail, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Open, Sesame.= By Mrs. Baillie Reynolds. + =Otherwise Phyllis.= By Meredith Nicholson. + =Outlaw, The.= By Jackson Gregory. + + =Paradise Auction.= By Nalbro Bartley. + =Pardners.= By Rex Beach. + =Parrot & Co.= By Harold MacGrath. + =Partners of the Night.= By Leroy Scott. + =Partners of the Tide.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =Passionate Friends, The.= By H. G. Wells. + =Patrol of the Sun Dance Trail, The.= By Ralph Connor. + =Paul Anthony, Christian.= By Hiram W. Hays. + =Pawns Count, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =People's Man, A.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Perch of the Devil.= By Gertrude Atherton. + =Peter Ruff and the Double Four.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Pidgin Island.= By Harold MacGrath. + =Place of Honeymoon, The.= By Harold MacGrath. + =Pool of Flame, The.= By Louis Joseph Vance. + =Postmaster, The.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =Prairie Wife, The.= By Arthur Stringer. + =Price of the Prairie, The.= By Margaret Hill McCarter. + =Prince of Sinners, A.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Promise, The.= By J. B. Hendryx. + =Proof of the Pudding, The.= By Meredith Nicholson. + + =Rainbow's End, The.= By Rex Beach. + =Ranch at the Wolverine, The.= By B. M. Bower. + =Ranching for Sylvia.= By Harold Bindloss. + =Ransom.= By Arthur Somers Roche. + =Reason Why, The.= By Elinor Glyn. + =Reclaimers, The.= By Margaret Hill McCarter. + =Red Mist, The.= By Randall Parrish. + =Red Pepper Burns.= By Grace S. Richmond. + =Red Pepper's Patients.= By Grace S. Richmond. + =Rejuvenation of Aunt Mary, The.= By Anne Warner. + =Restless Sex, The.= By Robert W. Chambers. + =Return of Dr. Fu-Manchu, The.= By Sax Rohmer. + =Return of Tarzan, The.= By Edgar Rice Burroughs. + =Riddle of Night, The.= By Thomas W. Hanshew. + =Rim of the Desert, The.= By Ada Woodruff Anderson. + =Rise of Roscoe Paine, The.= By J. C. Lincoln. + =Rising Tide, The.= By Margaret Deland. + =Rocks of Valpré, The.= By Ethel M. Dell. + =Rogue by Compulsion, A.= By Victor Bridges. + =Room Number 3.= By Anna Katharine Green. + =Rose in the Ring, The.= By George Barr McCutcheon. + =Rose of Old Harpeth, The.= By Maria Thompson Daviess. + =Round the Corner in Gay Street.= By Grace S. Richmond. + + =Second Choice.= By Will N. Harben. + =Second Violin, The.= By Grace S. Richmond. + =Secret History.= By C. N. & A. M. Williamson. + =Secret of the Reef, The.= By Harold Bindloss. + =Seven Darlings, The.= By Gouverneur Morris. + =Shavings.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =Shepherd of the Hills, The.= By Harold Bell Wright. + =Sheriff of Dyke Hole, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Sherry.= By George Barr McCutcheon. + =Side of the Angels, The.= By Basil King. + =Silver Horde, The.= By Rex Beach. + =Sin That Was His, The.= By Frank L. Packard. + =Sixty-first Second, The.= By Owen Johnson. + =Soldier of the Legion, A.= By C. N. & A. M. Williamson. + =Son of His Father, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Son of Tarzan, The.= By Edgar Rice Burroughs. + =Source, The.= By Clarence Buddington Kelland. + =Speckled Bird, A.= By Augusta Evans Wilson. + =Spirit in Prison, A.= By Robert Hichens. + =Spirit of the Border, The.= (New Edition.) By Zane Grey. + =Spoilers, The.= By Rex Beach. + =Steele of the Royal Mounted.= By James Oliver Curwood. + =Still Jim.= By Honoré Willsie. + =Story of Foss River Ranch, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Story of Marco, The.= By Eleanor H. Porter. + =Strange Case of Cavendish, The.= By Randall Parrish. + =Strawberry Acres.= By Grace S. Richmond. + =Sudden Jim.= By Clarence B. Kelland. + + =Tales of Sherlock Holmes.= By A. Conan Doyle. + =Tarzan of the Apes.= By Edgar R. Burroughs. + =Tarzan and the Jewels of Opar.= By Edgar Rice Burroughs. + =Tempting of Tavernake, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Tess of the D'Urbervilles.= By Thos. Hardy. + =Thankful's Inheritance.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =That Affair Next Door.= By Anna Katharine Green. + =That Printer of Udell's.= By Harold Bell Wright. + =Their Yesterdays.= By Harold Bell Wright. + =Thirteenth Commandment, The.= By Rupert Hughes. + =Three of Hearts, The.= By Berta Ruck. + =Three Strings, The.= By Natalie Sumner Lincoln. + =Threshold, The.= By Marjorie Benton Cooke. + =Throwback, The.= By Alfred Henry Lewis. + =Tish.= By Mary Roberts Rinehart. + =To M. L. G.; or, He Who Passed.= Anon. + =Trail of the Axe, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Trail to Yesterday, The.= By Chas. A. Seltzer. + =Treasure of Heaven, The.= By Marie Corelli. + =Triumph, The.= By Will N. Harben. + =T. Tembarom.= By Frances Hodgson Burnett. + =Turn of the Tide.= By Author of "Pollyanna." + =Twenty-fourth of June, The.= By Grace S. Richmond. + =Twins of Suffering Creek, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Two-Gun Man, The.= By Chas. A. Seltzer. + + =Uncle William.= By Jeannette Lee. + =Under Handicap.= By Jackson Gregory. + =Under the Country Sky.= By Grace S. Richmond. + =Unforgiving Offender, The.= By John Reed Scott. + =Unknown Mr. Kent, The.= By Roy Norton. + =Unpardonable Sin, The.= By Major Rupert Hughes. + =Up From Slavery.= By Booker T. Washington. + + =Valiants of Virginia, The.= By Hallie Ermine Rives. + =Valley of Fear, The.= By Sir A. Conan Doyle. + =Vanished Messenger, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Vanguards of the Plains.= By Margaret Hill McCarter. + =Vashti.= By Augusta Evans Wilson. + =Virtuous Wives.= By Owen Johnson. + =Visioning, The.= By Susan Glaspell. + + =Waif-o'-the-Sea.= By Cyrus Townsend Brady. + =Wall of Men, A.= By Margaret H. McCarter. + =Watchers of the Plans, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Way Home, The.= By Basil King. + =Way of an Eagle, The.= By E. M. Dell. + =Way of the Strong, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Way of These Women, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =We Can't Have Everything.= By Major Rupert Hughes. + =Weavers, The.= By Gilbert Parker. + =When a Man's a Man.= By Harold Bell Wright. + =When Wilderness Was King.= By Randall Parrish. + =Where the Trail Divides.= By Will Lillibridge. + =Where There's a Will.= By Mary R. Rinehart. + =White Sister, The.= By Marion Crawford. + =Who Goes There?= By Robert W. Chambers. + =Why Not.= By Margaret Widdemer. + =Window at the White Cat, The.= By Mary Roberts Rinehart. + =Winds of Chance, The.= By Rex Beach. + =Wings of Youth, The.= By Elizabeth Jordan. + =Winning of Barbara Worth, The.= By Harold Bell Wright. + =Wire Devils, The.= By Frank L. Packard. + =Winning the Wilderness.= By Margaret Hill McCarter. + =Wishing Ring Man, The.= By Margaret Widdemer. + =With Juliet in England.= By Grace S. Richmond. + =Wolves of the Sea.= By Randall Parrish. + =Woman Gives, The.= By Owen Johnson. + =Woman Haters, The.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =Woman in Question, The.= By John Reed Scott. + =Woman Thou Gavest Me, The.= By Hall Caine. + =Woodcarver of 'Lympus, The.= By Mary E. Waller. + =Wooing of Rosamond Fayre, The.= By Berta Ruck. + =World for Sale, The.= By Gilbert-Parker. + + =Years for Rachel, The.= By Berta Ruck. + =Yellow Claw, The.= By Sax Rohmer. + =You Never Know Your Luck.= By Gilbert Parker. + + =Zeppelin's Passenger, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + + + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES: + +1. Minor changes have been made to correct typesetter's errors; + otherwise every effort has been made to remain true to the author's + words and intent. + +2. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Law-Breakers + +Author: Ridgwell Cullum + +Release Date: September 10, 2009 [EBook #29958] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAW-BREAKERS *** + + + + +Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p class="gap"> </p> + +<div class="centerbox2 bbox2"> +<h1>THE<br /> +LAW-BREAKERS</h1> + +<p class="double"> </p> + +<h2>By RIDGWELL CULLUM</h2> +<hr class="full" /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Author of</span><br /> +“The Story of the Foss River Ranch,” “In the Brooding<br /> +Wild,” “The Way of the Strong,” Etc.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 99px;"> +<img src="images/i001.jpg" width="99" height="100" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="center">With Frontispiece in Colors</p> + +<p class="double"> </p> + +<h2>A. L. BURT COMPANY</h2> + +<h3>Publishers New York</h3> + +<p class="center">Published by Arrangement with <span class="smcap">George W. Jacobs & Co.</span></p></div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1914, by<br /> +George W. Jacobs & Company</span></p> + +<p class="center">ALL RIGHTS RESERVED<br /> +PRINTED IN U. S. A.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<div class="centerbox bbox"> +<h3>BY THE SAME AUTHOR</h3> + +<hr class="tiny" /> + +<p> +THE WAY OF THE STRONG<br /> +THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK<br /> +THE NIGHT-RIDERS<br /> +THE ONE-WAY TRAIL<br /> +THE TRAIL OF THE AXE<br /> +THE SHERIFF OF DYKE HOLE<br /> +THE WATCHERS OF THE PLAINS<br /> +</p></div> + +<hr class="large" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 360px;"> +<img src="images/i003.jpg" width="360" height="500" alt="“WHAT IS THIS MAN TO YOU?” HE DEMANDED" title="" /> +<span class="caption">“WHAT IS THIS MAN TO YOU?” HE DEMANDED</span></div> +<p class="center"><i>The Law-Breakers. Frontispiece.</i></p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" width="60%" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="3" summary="CONTENTS"> + +<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER</td> +<td align="left"> </td> +<td align="right">PAGE</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">I</td> +<td align="left">WATCHING THE LINE</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#THE_LAW-BREAKERS">1</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">II</td> +<td align="left">WHITE POINT</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">5</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">III</td> +<td align="left">THE HOLD-UP</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">11</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">IV</td> +<td align="left">AT THE FOOT OF AN AGED PINE</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">18</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">V</td> +<td align="left">BOUND FOR THE SOUTHERN TRAIL</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">25</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">VI</td> +<td align="left">THE MAN-HUNTERS</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">35</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">VII</td> +<td align="left">CHARLIE BRYANT</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">43</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">VIII</td> +<td align="left">THE SOUL-SAVERS</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">53</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">IX</td> +<td align="left">THE “STRAY”-HUNTER</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">64</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">X</td> +<td align="left">THE BROTHERS</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">73</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XI</td> +<td align="left">THE UNREGENERATE</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">79</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XII</td> +<td align="left">THE DISCOMFITURE OF HELEN</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">91</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XIII</td> +<td align="left">LIGHT-HEARTED SOULS</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">73</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XIV</td> +<td align="left">THE HOUSE OF DIRTY O’BRIEN</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">110</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XV</td> +<td align="left">ADVENTURES IN THE NIGHT</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">120</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XVI</td> +<td align="left">FURTHER ADVENTURES</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">128</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XVII</td> +<td align="left">BILL PEEPS UNDER THE SURFACE</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">137</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XVIII</td> +<td align="left">THE ARM OUTREACHING</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">142</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XIX</td> +<td align="left">BILL MAKES THREE DISCOVERIES</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">155</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XX</td> +<td align="left">IN THE FAR REACHES</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">166</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XXI</td> +<td align="left">WORD FROM HEADQUARTERS</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">176</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XXII</td> +<td align="left">MOVES IN THE GAME OF LOVE</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">184</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XXIII</td> +<td align="left">STORM CLOUDS</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">195</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XXIV</td> +<td align="left">THE SOUL OF A MAN</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">206</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XXV</td> +<td align="left">THE BROKEN CHAIN</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">215</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XXVI</td> +<td align="left">ROCKY SPRINGS HEARS THE NEWS</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">221</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XXVII</td> +<td align="left">AT THE HIDDEN CORRAL</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">235</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XXVIII</td> +<td align="left">A WAGER</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">241</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XXIX</td> +<td align="left">BILL’S FRESH BLUNDERING</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">256</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XXX</td> +<td align="left">THE COMMITTEE DECIDE</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">261</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XXXI</td> +<td align="left">ANTAGONISTS</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">265</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XXXII</td> +<td align="left">TREACHERY</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">272</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XXXIII</td> +<td align="left">PLAYING THE GAME</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">278</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XXXIV</td> +<td align="left">AN ENCOUNTER</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">286</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XXXV</td> +<td align="left">ON MONDAY NIGHT</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">296</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XXXVI</td> +<td align="left">STILL MONDAY NIGHT</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">296</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XXXVII</td> +<td align="left">THE NIGHT TRAIL</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">299</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XXXVIII</td> +<td align="left">THE FALL OF THE OLD PINE</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">307</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XXXIX</td> +<td align="left">FROM THE ASHES</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">315</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XL</td> +<td align="left">THE DAWN</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XL">327</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_LAW-BREAKERS" id="THE_LAW-BREAKERS"></a>THE LAW-BREAKERS</h2> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>WATCHING THE LINE</h3> + +<p>There was no shade anywhere. The terrible glare of the summer sun beat +down upon the whole length of the wooden platform at Amberley. Hot as +was the dry, bracing air, it was incomparable with the blistering +intensity of heat reflected from the planking, which burned through to +the soles of the feet of the uniformed man who paced its length, +slowly, patiently.</p> + +<p>This sunburnt, gray-eyed man, with his loose, broad shoulders, his +powerful, easy-moving limbs, seemed quite indifferent to the +irritating climatic conditions of the moment. Even the droning of the +worrying mosquitoes had no power to disturb him. Like everything else +unpleasant in this distant northwestern land, he accepted these things +as they came, and brushed them aside for the more important affairs he +was engaged upon.</p> + +<p>He gazed out across the wide monotony of prairie with its undulating +wavelets, a tawny green beneath the scorching summer sun. He was +thinking deeply; perhaps dreaming, although dreaming had small enough +place in his busy life. His lot was a stern fight against crime, and, +in a land so vast, so new, where crime flourished upon virgin soil, it +left him little time for the more pleasant avenues of thought.</p> + +<p>Inspector Stanley Fyles came to a halt at the eastern end of the long +platform. Miles of railroad track stretched away in a dead straight +line toward the distant, shimmering horizon. For miles ahead the road +was unbroken by a single moving object, and, after a long, keen +survey, the man abruptly turned his back upon it.</p> + +<p>In a moment he became aware of a hollow-chested man hurrying toward +him. He was coming from the direction of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>the only building upon the +platform—the railroad office, or, as it was grandiloquently called, +the “booking hall.”</p> + +<p>Fyles recognized the man as the railroad agent, Huntly, who controlled +the affairs of his company in this half-fledged prairie town.</p> + +<p>He came up in a flurry of unusual excitement.</p> + +<p>“She’s past New Camp, inspector,” he cried. “Guess she’s in the Broken +Hills, an’ gettin’ near White Point. I’d say she’d be along in an +hour—sure.”</p> + +<p>“Damn!”</p> + +<p>For once in his life Stanley Fyles’s patience gave way.</p> + +<p>The man grinned.</p> + +<p>“It ain’t no use cussin’,” he protested, with a suggestion of +malicious delight. “Y’see, she’s just a bum freight. Ain’t even a +‘through.’ I tell you, these sort have emptied a pepper box of gray +around my head. Yes, sir, there’s more gray to my head by reason of +their sort than a hired man could hoe out in half a year.”</p> + +<p>“Twenty minutes ago you told me she’d be in in half an hour.”</p> + +<p>There was resentment as well as distrust in the officer’s protest.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” the man responded glibly. “That was accordin’ to schedule. +Guess Ananias must have been the fellow who invented schedules for +local freights.”</p> + +<p>The toe of Fyles’s well-polished riding-boot tapped the superheated +platform.</p> + +<p>His gray eyes suddenly fixed and held the ironical eyes of the other.</p> + +<p>“See here, Huntly,” he said at last, in that tone of quiet authority +which never deserted him for long. “I can rely on that? There’s +nothing to stop her by the way—now? Nothing at all?”</p> + +<p>But the agent shook his head, and his eyes still shone with their +ironical light.</p> + +<p>“I’d say the prophet business petered out miser’bly nigh two thousand +years ago. I wouldn’t say this dogone prairie ’ud be the best place to +start resurrectin’ it. No, sir! There’s too many chances for +that—seein’ we’re on a branch line. There’s the track—it might give +way. You never can tell on a branch line. The locomotive might drop +dead of senile decay. Maybe the train crew’s got drunk, and is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>raisin’ hell at some wayside city. You never can tell on a branch +line. Then there’s that cargo of liquor you’re yearnin’ to——”</p> + +<p>“Cut it out, man,” broke in the officer sharply. “You are sure about +the train? You know what you’re talking about?”</p> + +<p>The agent grinned harder than ever.</p> + +<p>“This is a prohibition territory——” he began.</p> + +<p>But again Fyles cut him short. The man’s irrepressible love of +fooling, half good-humored, half malicious, had gone far enough.</p> + +<p>“Anyway you don’t usually get drunk before sundown, so I guess I’ll +have to take your word for it.”</p> + +<p>Then Inspector Fyles smiled back into the other’s face, which had +abruptly taken on a look of resentment at the charge.</p> + +<p>“I tell you what it is,” he went on. “You boys get mighty close to the +wind swilling prohibited liquor. It’s against the spirit of the +law—anyway.”</p> + +<p>But the agent’s good humor warmed again under the officer’s admission +of his difficulties. He was an irrepressible fellow when opportunity +offered. Usually he lived in a condition of utter boredom. In fact, +there were only two things that made life tolerable for him in +Amberley. These were the doings of the Mounted Police, and the doings +of those who made their existence a necessity in the country.</p> + +<p>Even while weighted down with the oppressive routine of his work, it +was an inspiriting thing to watch the war between law and lawlessness. +Here in Amberley, situated in the heart of the Canadian prairie lands, +was a handful of highly trained men pitted against almost a world of +crime. Perhaps the lightest of their duties was the enforcing of the +prohibition laws, formulated by a dear, grandmotherly government in an +excess of senile zeal for the welfare of the health and morals of +those far better able to think for themselves.</p> + +<p>The laws of prohibition! The words stuck with Mr. Huntly as they stuck +with every full-grown man and woman in the country outside the narrow +circle of temperance advocates. The law was anathema to him. Under its +influence the bettering, the purification of life in the Northwestern +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>Territories had received a setback, which optimistic antagonists of +the law declared was little less than a quarter of a century. +Drunkenness had increased about one hundred per cent, since human +nature had been forbidden the importation and consumption of alcohol +in any form stronger than four per cent. beer.</p> + +<p>Huntly knew that Inspector Fyles was almost solely at work upon the +capture of contraband liquor. Also he knew, and hated the fact, that +his own duty required that he must give any information concerning +this traffic upon his railroad which the police might require. +Therefore there was an added vehemence in his reply to the officer’s +warning.</p> + +<p>“Sakes, man! What ’ud you have us do?” he cried, with a laugh that was +more than half angry. “Do you think we’re goin’ to sit around this +darned diagram of a town readin’ temperance tracts, just because +somebody guesses we haven’t the right to souse liquor? Think we’re +goin’ to suck milk out of a kid’s feeder, just because you boys in red +coats figure that way? No, sir. Guess that ain’t doin’—anyway. I’m +sousing all the liquor I can get my hooks on, an’ it’s all the sweeter +because of you boys. Outside my duty to the railroad company I +wouldn’t raise a finger to stop a gallon of good rye comin’ into town, +no, not if the penitentiary was yearnin’ to swallow me right up.”</p> + +<p>Fyles’s purposeful eyes surveyed the man with a thoughtful smile.</p> + +<p>“Just so,” he said coolly. “That clause about ‘duty’ squares the rest. +You’ll need to do your duty about these things. That’s all we want. +That’s all we intend to have. Do you get me? I’m right here to see +that duty done. The first trip, my friend, and you won’t talk of +penitentiary so—easily.” The quietness with which he spoke did not +rob his words of their significance. Then he went on, just a shade +more sharply. “Now, see here. When that freight gets in I hold you +responsible that the hindmost car—next the caboose—is dropped here, +and the seals are intact. It’s billed loaded with barrels of cube +sugar, for Calford. Get me? That’s your duty just now. See you do it.”</p> + +<p>Huntly understood Fyles. Everybody in Amberley understood him. And the +majority recognized the deliberate purpose lying behind his calmest +assurance. The agent <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>knew that his protest had touched the limit, +consequently there was nothing left him but to carry out instructions +to the letter. He hated the position.</p> + +<p>His face twisted into a wry grin.</p> + +<p>“Guess you don’t leave much to the imagination, inspector,” he said +sourly.</p> + +<p>Fyles was moving away. He replied over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“No. Just the local color of the particular penitentiary,” he said, +with a laugh.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>WHITE POINT</h3> + +<p>Mr. Moss was the sole employe of the railroad company at White Point +flag station. His official hours were long. They extended round the +dial of the clock twice daily. Curiously enough, his leisure extended +to practically the same limits. The truth was, in summer, anyway, he +had no duties that could seriously claim him. Thus the long summer +days were spent chiefly among his vegetables, and the bits of flowers +at the back of the shanty, which was at once his home and his office, +in short, White Point.</p> + +<p>Jack Huntly at Amberley grumbled at the unenlivening conditions of his +existence, but compared with those of Mr. Moss he lived in a perfect +whirlwind of gaiety.</p> + +<p>There was no police station at White Point. There were no farms in the +neighborhood. There was not even a half-breed camp, with its +picturesque squalor, to break up the deadly drear of the surrounding +plains. The only human diversion that ever marred the calm serenity of +the neighborhood was the rare visit of some lodge of Indians, straying +from the reservation, some sixty miles to the south, on a hunting +pass.</p> + +<p>But if White Point lacked interest from human associations its setting +at least was curiously arresting. Nature’s whim was the inspiration +which had brought the station into existence. To the north, south, and +west the prairie stretched away in the distance for untold miles; but +immediately to the east quite another aspect prevailed. Here lay the +reason of White Point station.</p> + +<p>Almost from the very foot of the walls of Mr. Moss’s <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>shanty the land +rose up with, as it were, a jolt. Great forest-clad hills reared their +torn and barren crests to enormous heights out of the dead level of +the prairie. A tumbled sea of Nature’s wreckage lay strewn about +unaccountably, for a distance of something like two miles, east and +west, and double that distance from north to south. It was an oasis of +natural splendor in the heart of a calm sea of green grass.</p> + +<p>These strange hills necessitated a watchful eye upon the railroad +track, which pierced their heart, in winter and spring. In summer +there was nothing to exercise the mind of Mr. Moss. But in winter the +track was constantly becoming blocked with snow, while during the +spring thaw there was always the dread of a “wash-out” to disturb his +nightly dreams. At such times these things kept the agent far more +alive than he cared about.</p> + +<p>Just now, however, it was the height of summer, and no such anxieties +prevailed. Therefore Mr. Moss fell back upon the less exciting pastime +of a perspiry afternoon among his potatoes and other vegetable +luxuries.</p> + +<p>He was hoeing the rows of potatoes with a sort of dogged determination +to find interest in the work. He believed that physical effort was the +only safety-valve for healthy feelings all too long bottled up. Even +the streaming sweat suggested to him a feeling that it was at least +hygienic, although the moist mixture of muddy consistency upon his +face, merging with the growth of three days’ beard, left his +appearance something more than a blot upon the general view.</p> + +<p>Just now he had nothing to disturb the blank of his mind. The only +possible interruption to the work in hand, of an official character, +was the passing of a local freight train. However, a local freight was +a matter of no importance whatever. It might come to-day, or it might +come to-morrow. He would signal it through in due course, after that +he didn’t much care what happened to it.</p> + +<p>The potatoes fully occupied him, and as he came to the end of each row +he took the opportunity of straightening out the crick in his back, +and gazing upon his handiwork with the look of a man who feels he has +surely earned his own admiration.</p> + +<p>Once he varied this procedure by glancing up while still in the middle +of a row. His glance was sharp and startled. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>He had heard an +unaccustomed sound, distinct but distant. It seemed to him that a +horse had neighed. There came an answering neigh. It was quite +disturbing.</p> + +<p>A long and careful scrutiny of the plains in every direction, however, +left him with a feeling of doubt. There was no horse in sight +anywhere, and the great hills adjacent offered no inducement +whatsoever for any straying quadruped. He assured himself that the +solitude of his life was rendering him fanciful, and forthwith +returned to his work.</p> + +<p>For some time the measured stroke of his hoe clanked upon the baking +soil, and later on he paused to fill and light his pipe. He had just +cut the flakes of tobacco from his plug, and was rolling them in the +palms of his hands, when the thought occurred to him to glance at the +time. His great coin-silver timepiece pointed the hour when he felt he +might safely signal the freight train through.</p> + +<p>Lounging round to the front of the station building he walked down the +track to the foot of the semaphore, and flung the rusty lever over. +His action expressed something of the contempt in which he held all +“local freights.” Then he sauntered back to his work with his pipe +under full blast.</p> + +<p>But his day has yet surprises in store. In half an hour’s time he +received his second start. A distant rumble and grinding warned him +that the freight was approaching through the hills. He smiled at the +sound, and his smile was largely satirical. He glanced up once, but +promptly continued his work. But it was only for a few moments. The +sound which had been growing had almost died out and was being +replaced by the hammering of the cars as they closed up against each +other. The train was stopping.</p> + +<p>He was looking up now full of interest, and one hand went up to his +head, and its fingers raked among the roots of his hair. Suddenly the +engine bell began to clang violently. There was distinctly a note of +protest in the sound. Something was wrong. He swung round and looked +at his signal. Say—was he dreaming? What on earth——? Half an hour +ago he had lowered the semaphore, at least he had set the lever over, +and now—now it was set against the train!</p> + +<p>For a second he stared at the offending arm, then, as the bell clanged +still more violently, he dashed across the intervening space to remedy +his mistake.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p><p>But now incident crowded upon him. He was quite right. The lever was +set as it should be set. His practiced eye glanced rapidly down the +connecting rod to discover the source of the trouble, and further +amazement waited upon him. The explanation of the mystery lay before +his eyes. There at the triangular junction, where the connecting rod +linked with the down-haul of the semaphore, the bolt had fallen out, +and the whole thing was disconnected. The bolt with its screw nut and +washer were lying on the ground, where, apparently, they had fallen.</p> + +<p>The furious clanging of the engine bell, where the head of the train +stood just in view round the bend of the track where it entered the +hills, left him no time for consideration of the mishap. The +protesting train must be passed on without further delay. Therefore, +with deft hands, he quickly readjusted the bolt, and once again set +the lever. This time the arm of the signal dropped.</p> + +<p>It was not until these things were accomplished that he had time to +study the cause of the disconnection. Then, at once, a curious feeling +of incredulity swept over him. It was an impossibility for the thing +to have happened. The bolt fitted horizontally, and the washered nut +had full two inches to unscrew! Besides this, the whole thing was well +rusted with years of exposure. Yet the impossible had happened!</p> + +<p>He stood gazing at the bolt with a sort of uncanny feeling stirring +within him. The engine at the head of its long string of box cars +approached. It passed him, and he heard its driver hurl some +uncomplimentary remark at him as the rattling old kettle clanked by. +Then, as the last car passed him, and rapidly grew smaller as the +distance swallowed it up, he turned back to his vegetable patch with +the mystery still unsolved.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>The journey through the hills was nearly over, and White Point was but +a short distance ahead. The conductor and crew of the local freight +were lounging comfortably in the caboose.</p> + +<p>The brakeman’s life is full of risk and little comfort, and such +moments as these were all too few. When they came they were more than +gratefully received. Now the men were spread out in various attitudes +of repose, and, for the most part, were half asleep.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p><p>Suddenly, without the least warning, they were startled into full +wakefulness by the familiar clatter, beginning at the head of the +train and passing rapidly down its full length, as the cars closed up +on each other. The resting men knew that the locomotive was either +stopping, or had already come to a halt.</p> + +<p>The conductor, or head brakeman, sat up with a jolt.</p> + +<p>“Hey, you, Jack!” he cried peevishly. “Get up aloft an’ get a peek +out. Say, we sure ain’t goin’ to get held up at a bum flag layout.”</p> + +<p>His contempt was no less for the flag station than Mr. Moss’s for a +local freight.</p> + +<p>The man addressed as “Jack” sprang alertly to the roof of the caboose. +A moment later his voice echoed through the car below him.</p> + +<p>“Can’t see a thing,” he cried. “We’re on the last bend, just outside +White Point. She’s stopped—dead sure. Guess the flag has got us held +up.” With a few added curses he clambered down into the car again.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>As the brakeman left the roof of the caboose the enactment of a +strange scene began at the fore part of the car immediately in front +of it.</p> + +<p>A glance down at the coupling would have revealed the cautious +appearance of a shock of rough hair covering a man’s head from under +the last box car. Slowly it twisted round till a grimy, dust-covered +face was turned upward, and a pair of expectant eyes peered up at the +tops of the two cars.</p> + +<p>Apparently the preliminary survey was satisfactory, for, in a moment, +the head was withdrawn, only to be replaced by an outstretched bare +hand and forearm. The hand reached up and caught the iron foot rail, +gripping it firmly. Then another hand appeared, and with it came the +same head again and part of a man’s body. The second hand reached +toward the coupling-pin, which, with a dexterous movement, was slowly +and noiselessly removed. The pin was lowered to the length of its +chain. Then, once more the hand reached toward the coupling. This time +it seized the great iron link. This, without a moment’s delay, was +lifted from its hook and noiselessly lowered till it swung suspended +from the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>car in front. Then both arms, head, and body vanished once +more under the car, beneath which the man must have traveled for +miles.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>A few moments later the welcome jolting of couplings reached the crew +in the caboose, who promptly settled themselves down to await the next +call of duty. The conductor’s relief at the brevity of the delay was +expressed in smiling contempt at the expense of all flag stations.</p> + +<p>“Trust a darned outfit like that to hold you up,” he cried +witheringly. “They got to act fresh, or the company ’ud get wise they +ain’t no sort o’ use on the line. Say——”</p> + +<p>But he broke off listening.</p> + +<p>The jolting had ceased. The grinding of wheels of the moving train was +plainly heard. But—the caboose remained stationary.</p> + +<p>He leaped to his feet.</p> + +<p>“Hell!” he cried. “What the——”</p> + +<p>But the brakeman, Jack, was on his feet, too. With a bound he sprang +at the door of the caboose. But instantly he fell back with a cry.</p> + +<p>Four gun muzzles were leveled at his body, and, behind them, stood the +figures of two masked men.</p> + +<p>One of the two spoke in the slow easy drawl of the West, which lacked +nothing in conviction.</p> + +<p>“Jest keep dead still—all o’ you,” he said. “Don’t move—nor nothin’, +or we’ll blow holes through your figgers that’ll cause a hell of a +draught. We ain’t yearning to make no sort o’ mess in this yer +caboose. But we’re going to do it—’cep’ you keep quite still, an’ +don’t worry any.”</p> + +<p>The conductor was a man of wide experience on the railroad. He had +seen many “hold-ups.” So many, he was almost used to them. But without +being absolutely sure of the purpose of these men he thanked his +genius of good luck that he had not seen the “pay train” for nearly a +month. He was quite ready to obey. For all he cared the raiders could +take locomotive, train, caboose and all, provided he was left with a +whole skin.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>THE HOLD-UP</h3> + +<p>Just beyond the flag station at White Point, where the forest-clad +slopes of the great hills crowded in upon the railroad track, a scene +of utter lawlessness was being silently enacted.</p> + +<p>The spot was a lonely one, lonely with that oppressive solitude always +to be found where the great hills of ages rear their towering heads. +It was utterly cut off, too, from the outer world, by a monstrous +abutment of hill which left the track a mere ribbon, like the track of +some invertebrate, laboriously making its way through surroundings all +uncongenial and antagonistic. Yet the station was but a few hundred +yards beyond this point, where it lay open to the sweep of at least +three of the four winds of Heaven. But even so, the two places were as +effectually separated as though miles, and not yards, intervened.</p> + +<p>No breath of air stirred the generous spruce and darkening pinewoods. +The drooping, westering sun, already athwart the barren crown of the +hill tops, left a false, velvety suggestion of twilight in the heart +of the valley, while a depressing superheat enervated all life, except +the profusion of vegetation which beautified the rugged slopes. For +the most part the stillness was profound, only the most trifling +sounds disturbing it. There was an uneasy shuffle of moving feet; +there was the occasional crisp clip of a driven axe; then, too, +weighty articles being dropped into the bottom of a heavy wagon sent +up their dull boom at long intervals.</p> + +<p>The outlaws worked swiftly, but without apparent haste. The success of +their efforts depended upon rapidity of execution, that and the most +exact care for the detail of their organization. Provided these things +were held foremost in their minds there was small enough chance of +interruption. Had not the train, with its all unconscious driver, +passed upon its rumbling way toward Amberley? Had not all suspicion +been lulled in the mind of the bucolic agent, who was even now +laboriously expending a maximum of energy for a minimum return of +culinary delicacies in his vegetable patch? What was there to +interfere? Nothing. These men well <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>knew that except for the flag +station there was not a habitation within ten miles, and the +ruggedness of the hills barred them to every form of traffic except +the irresistible impulse of railroad enterprise.</p> + +<p>Three men carried out the work of unloading the box car, while the two +others held the train crew at bay. All were masked with one exception, +and he, from his evident authority and mode of dress, was obviously +the leader of the gang.</p> + +<p>He was a slight, dark man, of somewhat remarkable refinement of +appearance. He was good looking, and almost boyish in the lack of hair +upon his face. But this was more than counterbalanced by the +determined set of his features, and the keen, calculating glance of +his eyes. The latter, particularly, were darkly luminous and lit with +an expression of lawless exhilaration as the work proceeded. Compared +with his fellows, who were of the well-known type of ruffian, in whom +the remoter prairie lands abound, he looked wholly out of place in +such a transaction. His air was that of a town-bred man, and his +clothing, too, suggested a refinement of tailoring, particularly the +rather loose cord riding breeches he affected. The others, masked as +they were, with their coatless bodies, and loose, unclean shirts, +their leather chapps, and the guns they wore upon their hips—well, +they made an exquisite picture of that ruffianism which bows to no law +of civilization, but that which they carry in the leather holsters +hanging at their waists.</p> + +<p>The trackside was strewn with disemboweled whitewood barrels. The +wreckage was grotesque. The ground was strewn in every direction with +a litter of white cube sugar, like the wind-swept drifts of a summer +snowfall. Barrels were still being dragged out of the car and dropped +roughly to the ground, where the sharp stroke of an axe ripped out the +head, revealing within the neatly packed keg of spirit, embedded so +carefully in its setting of sugar. The cargo had been well shipped by +men skilled in the subtle art of contraband. It was billed, and the +barrels were addressed, to a firm in Calford whose reputation for +integrity was quite unimpeachable. Herein was the cunning of the +smugglers. The sugar barrels were never intended to reach Calford. +They were not robbing the consignees in this raid upon the freight +train. They were simply possessing themselves, in <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>unorthodox fashion, +of an illicit cargo that belonged to their leader.</p> + +<p>Fifteen kegs of spirit had been removed and bestowed in the wagon. +There were still five more to complete the tally.</p> + +<p>The leader, in easy tones, urged his men to greater speed.</p> + +<p>“Get a hustle, boys,” he said, in a deep, steady voice, while he +strove with his somewhat delicate hands to lift a keg into the wagon.</p> + +<p>The effort was too great for him single-handed, and one of his +assistants came to his aid.</p> + +<p>“There’s no time to spare,” he went on a moment later, breathing hard +from his exertion. “Maybe the loco driver’ll whistle for brakes.” He +laughed with a pleasant, half humorous chuckle. “If that happens, +why—why I guess the train’ll be chasing back on its tracks to pick up +its lost tail.”</p> + +<p>He spoke with a refined accent of the West. The man nearest him +guffawed immoderately.</p> + +<p>“Gee!” he exclaimed delightedly. “This game’s a cinch. Guess Fyles’ll +kick thirteen holes in himself when that train gets in.”</p> + +<p>“Thirteen?” inquired the leader smilingly.</p> + +<p>“Sure. Guess most folks reckon that figure unlucky.”</p> + +<p>The third man snorted as he shouldered a keg and moved toward the +Wagon.</p> + +<p>“Holes? Thirteen?” he cried, as he dropped his burden into the +vehicle. Then he hawked and spat. “When that blamed train gets around +Amberley he’ll hate hisself wuss’n a bank clerk with his belly awash +wi’ boardin’ house wet hash.”</p> + +<p>Again came the leader’s dark smile. But he had nothing to add.</p> + +<p>Presently the last keg was hoisted into the wagon. The leader of the +enterprise sighed.</p> + +<p>It was a sigh of pent feeling, the sigh of a man laboring under great +stress. Yet it was not wholly an expression of relief. If anything, +there was regret in it, regret that work he delighted in was finished.</p> + +<p>One of the men was removing his mask, and he watched him. Then, as the +face of the man who had been concealed under the car was revealed, he +signed to him.</p> + +<p>“Get busy on the wagon,” he said.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>The man promptly mounted to the driving seat, and gathered up the +reins.</p> + +<p>“Hit the south trail for the temporary cache,” the leader went on. +“Guess we’ll need to ride hard if Fyles is feeling as worried as you +fellows—hope.”</p> + +<p>The man winked abundantly.</p> + +<p>“That’s all right, all right. He’ll need to hop some when we get busy. +Ho, boys!” And he chirrupped his horses out of the shallow cutting, +and the wagon crushed its way into the smaller bush.</p> + +<p>The leader stood for a moment looking after it. Then he turned to the +other man, still awaiting orders.</p> + +<p>“Get the other boys’ horses up,” he said sharply. “Then stand by on +horseback, and hold the train crew while they tumble into the saddle. +Then make for the cache.”</p> + +<p>The man hurried to obey. There were no questions asked when this man +gave his orders. Long experience had taught these men that there was +no necessity to question. Hardy ruffians as they were they knew well +enough that if they had the bodies for this work, he had a head that +was far cleverer even than that of Inspector Fyles himself.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the leader had moved out into the center of the track, and +his eyes were turned westward, toward the bend round the great hill. +They were pensive eyes, almost regretful, and somehow his whole face +had changed from its look of daring to match them. The exhilaration +had gone out of it; the command, even the determination had merged +into something like weakness. His look was soft—even tender.</p> + +<p>He stood there while the final details of his enterprise were +completed. He heard the horses come up; he heard the two men clamber +from the caboose and get into the saddle. Then, at last, he turned, +and moved off the track.</p> + +<p>Once more the old look of reckless daring was shining in his luminous +eyes. He dashed off into the bush to mount his horse, leaving his +softer mood somewhere behind him—in the West.</p> + +<p>There was a clatter and rattle of speeding hoofs, which rapidly died +out. Then again the hills returned to their brooding silence.</p> + +<p>The withdrawal of the outlaws was the cue for absurd <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>activity on the +part of the train crew. A whirlwind of heated blasphemy set in, which +might well have scorched the wooden sides of the car. They cursed +everybody and everything, but most of all they cursed the bucolic +agent at White Point.</p> + +<p>Then came a cautious reconnoitering beyond the door. This was promptly +followed by a pell-mell dash for the open. In a moment they were +crowding the trackside, staring with stupid eyes and mouths agape at +the miniature snowfall of sugar, and the wreckage of whitewood +barrels.</p> + +<p>The conductor was the first to gather his scattered faculties.</p> + +<p>“The lousy bums!” he cried fiercely. Then he added, with less ferocity +and more regret, “The—lousy—bums!”</p> + +<p>A moment later he turned upon his comrades in the aggrieved fashion of +one who would like to accuse.</p> + +<p>“’Taint no use in gawkin’ around here,” he cried sharply. “We’re up +agin it. That’s how it is.” Then his face went scarlet, as a memory +occurred to him. “Say, White Point’s around the corner. And that’s +where we’ll find that hop-headed agent—if he ain’t done up. Anyways, +if he ain’t—why, I guess we’ll just set him playin’ a miser-arey over +his miser’ble wires, that’ll set ’em diggin’ out a funeral hearse and +mournin’ coaches in that dogasted prairie sepulcher—Amberley.”</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>Mr. Moss was disentangling the crick in his back for the last time +that day. His stomach had forced on him the conviction that his +evening meal was a necessity not lightly to be denied.</p> + +<p>His back eased, he shouldered his hoe and moved off toward his shanty +with the dispirited air of the man who must prepare his own meal. As +he passed the lean-to, where his kindling and fuel were kept, he flung +the implements inside it, as though glad to be rid of the burden of +his labors. Then he passed on round to the front of the building with +the lagging step of indifference. There was little enough in his life +to encourage hopeful anticipation.</p> + +<p>At the door he paused. Such was his habit that his eyes wandered to +the track which had somehow become the highway of his life, and he +glanced up and down it. The far-reaching plains to the west offered +him too wide a focus. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>There was nothing to hold him in its breadth of +outlook. But as his gaze came in contact with the frowning crags to +the east, a sudden light of interest, even apprehension, leaped into +his eyes. In a moment he became a creature transformed. His bucolic +calm had gone. The metamorphosis was magical.</p> + +<p>In one bound he leaped within the hut. Then, in a moment, he was back +at the door again, his tensely poised figure filling up the opening. +His powerful hands were gripping his Winchester, and he stood ready. +The farmer in him had disappeared. His eyes were alight with the +impulse of battle.</p> + +<p>Along the track, from out of the hills, ran four unkempt human +figures. They were rushing for the flag station, gesticulating as they +came. In the loneliness of the spot there was only one interpretation +of their attitude for the waiting man.</p> + +<p>Mr. Moss’s voice rang out violently, and caught the echo of the hills.</p> + +<p>“What in hell——?” he shouted, raising the deadly Winchester swiftly +to his shoulder. “Hold up!” he went on, “or I’ll let daylight into +some of you.”</p> + +<p>The effect of this challenge was instantaneous and almost ludicrous. +The oncoming figures stopped, and nearly fell over each other in their +haste to thrust their hands above their heads. Then the eager, anxious +shout of the gray-headed brakeman came back to him.</p> + +<p>“Fer Gawd’s sake don’t shoot!” he cried, in terrified tones. “We’re +the train crew! The freight crew! We bin held up! Say——!”</p> + +<p>But the lowering of the threatening gun saved him further explanation +at such a distance.</p> + +<p>The light of battle had entirely died out of Mr. Moss’s eyes, but it +was the brakeman’s uniform, rather than his explanation, that had +inspired the white flag of peace.</p> + +<p>The man came hastily up.</p> + +<p>“What the——?” began the agent. But he was permitted to proceed no +further.</p> + +<p>The angry eyes of the brakeman snapped, and his blasphemous tongue +poured out its protesting story as rapidly as his stormy feelings +could drive him. Then, with an added violence, he came to his final +charge of the agent himself.</p> + +<p>“What in hell did you flag us for?” he cried. “You, on <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>this bum +layout? Do you stand in with these ‘hold-ups’? I tell you right here +this thing’s goin’ to be just as red-hot for you as I can make it. +That train was flagged <i>without official reason</i>,” he went on with +rising heat. “Get me? An’ you’re responsible.”</p> + +<p>Having delivered himself of his threat, he assumed the hectoring air +which the moral support of his companions afforded him.</p> + +<p>“Now, you just start right in and get busy on the wires. You can just +hammer seven sorts of hell into your instruments and call up Amberley +quick. You’re goin’ to put ’em wise right away. Macinaw! When I’m done +with this thing you’re goin’ to hate White Point wuss’n hell, an’ wish +to Gawd they’d cut ‘flag station’ right out o’ the conversation of the +whole durned American continent.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Moss had listened in a perfect daze. It was his blank acceptance +of the brakeman’s hectoring which had so encouraged that individual. +But now that all had been told, and the man’s harsh tones ceased to +disturb the peace of their surroundings, his mind cleared, and hot +resentment leaped to his tongue.</p> + +<p>He sat down at his instrument and pounded the key, calling up +Amberley; and as the Morse sign clacked its metallic, broken note he +verbally replied to his accuser.</p> + +<p>“You’ve talked a whole heap that sounds to me like hot air,” he cried, +with bitter feeling. “Maybe you’re old, so it don’t amount to +anything. As for your bum freight it was late—as usual. It wasn’t my +duty to pass it through till you shouted for signals. There ain’t any +schedule for bum freights. When they’re late it’s up to them.”</p> + +<p>But for all Mr. Moss’s contempt, and righteous indignation, the +brakeman’s charge had had its effect. Well enough he remembered the +disjointed connecting rod, and he wondered how these “hold-ups” had +contrived it under his very nose. In his own phraseology, he felt +“sore.” But his ill humor was not alone due to the brakeman’s abuse. +He was thinking of something far more vital. He knew well enough that +his explanation would never satisfy the heads of his department. Then, +too, always hovering somewhere in the background, was the, to him, +sinister figure of Inspector Fyles of the Mounted Police.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>AT THE FOOT OF AN AGED PINE</h3> + +<p>Waiting for word from the agent, Huntly, Inspector Fyles had retreated +to the insignificant wooden shack which served the police as a Town +Station in Amberley. It consisted of two rooms and a loft in the pitch +of the roof. Its furniture was reduced to a minimum, and everything, +except the loft above where the two troopers and the corporal in +charge slept, was a matter of bare boards and bare wooden chairs.</p> + +<p>The officer sat in the smaller inner room where the telephone was +close to his hand, while the non-commissioned officer and his men +occupied the outer room.</p> + +<p>Fyles faced the window with his hard Windsor chair close beside the +office table. His elbow rested upon its chipped and discolored +surface, and his chin was supported on the palm of his hand. Just now +his busy thoughts were free to wander whithersoever they listed. This +was an interim of waiting, when all preparations were made for the +work in hand, and there was nothing to do but await developments. So +used was he to this work of seizing contraband spirits that its +contemplation had not power enough to quicken one single beat of his +pulse. And in this, too, he displayed that wondrous patience which was +so much a part of his nature.</p> + +<p>Stanley Fyles’s reputation in these wild regions was decidedly unique. +Scarcely a day passed but what some strenuous emergency arose +demanding quick thought and quicker action, where life, frequently his +own, hung in the balance. Yet the most strenuous of them found him +always easy, always deliberate, and, as his subordinates loved to +declare, he always managed to “beat the game by a second.”</p> + +<p>There were people outside, civilians, who confidently and +contemptuously declared him to be a bungler; a patient, hard-working +bungler. These were the men who saw few of his successes, and always +contrived to smell out his failures. These people were those who had +no understanding of the difficulties of a handful of men pitted +against a country eaten up with every form of criminal disease. There +were others, again, who insisted that far more crime slipped through +his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>well “oiled” hands than ever was held by them. These were the +people who sneered at his reputation for stern discipline, and +declared it to be a mere pose to cover his tracks, while he patiently +piled up a fortune through the shady channels of “graft.” A small +minority admitted his ability, but averred that his patience erred on +the side of slackness, which was one of the causes that the flood of +prohibited liquor in the country showed no abatement.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, one and all admitted his patience, whether it was in +bungling, in harvesting his graft, or whether it was a form of +slackness. Nor could they help doing so, for patience, a wonderful +purposeful patience, was his greatest characteristic. Every other +feature of his personality was subservient to it, and so it was that +the most hardened criminals began at once a nervous scrutiny of their +tracks the moment the news reached them that the lean nose of Stanley +Fyles had caught their scent.</p> + +<p>Those who knew Fyles best ignored the patience which caught the public +mind so readily. They saw something more beneath it, something much +more to their liking. His patience only masked a keen, swift-moving, +scheming brain, packed to the uttermost with a wonderful instinct for +detection. He worked on no rule-of-thumb method as so many of his +comrades did. He was the fortunate possessor of an imagination, and, +long since, he had learned its value in his crusade against crime.</p> + +<p>But this man was by no means a mere detection machine. He was full of +ambition. Police work was merely serving its purpose in his scheme of +things. He saw advancement in it—advancement in the right direction. +In five years he had raised himself from the lowest rung of the police +ladder to a commissioned rank, and from this rank he knew he could +reach out in any of the directions in which he required to proceed.</p> + +<p>There were several directions in which his ambitious eyes gazed. There +were politics, with their multifarious opportunities for fortune and +place. There was the land, crying aloud of the fortunes lying hidden +within its bosom. There was official service upon higher planes, from +which so many names were drawn to fill the roll of fame to be handed +down to an adoring posterity. He was not yet thirty years of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>age, and +he felt that any one of these things lay well within the focus his +present position presented.</p> + +<p>But the time for his next move was not yet; and herein was the real +man. In his mind there were still purposes which required complete +fulfilment before that further upward movement began. It was the more +human side of the man dictating its will upon him, that will which can +never be denied when once it rouses from its slumbers amid the living +fires which course through the veins of healthy manhood.</p> + +<p>Just now, as he leaned back in his unyielding chair, luxuriating in a +comfort which only a man as hard as he could have extracted from it, +the hot, living fires were stirring in his veins. His mind had gone +back to a picture, one of the many pictures which so often held him in +his scant leisure, that represented the first waking of those dormant +fires of manhood.</p> + +<p>The scene was a memory forming the starting point of a long series of +other pictures, which aways came with a rush, changing and changing +with kaleidoscopic rapidity till they developed into a stream of +swiftly flowing thought.</p> + +<p>It was the picture of a quaint, straggling prairie village, half +hidden in the multi-hued foliage of a deep valley, as viewed from his +saddle where his horse stood upon the shoulder of land which dropped +away at his feet. It was one of those wondrous fairy scenes with which +the prairie, in her friendlier moods, delights to charm the eye. +Perhaps “mock” would better express her whim, for many of these fair +settlements in the days of the Prohibition Laws were veritable +sepulchers of crime, only whitewashed by the humorous mood of nature.</p> + +<p>Ten yards below him an aged pine reared its hoary, time-worn head +toward the gleaming azure of a noonday summer sky. It was a landmark +known throughout the land; it was the landmark which had guided him to +this obscure village of Rocky Springs. It had been in his eye all the +morning as he rode toward it, and as he drew near curiosity had +impelled him to leave the trail he was on and examine more closely +this wonderful specimen of a far, far distant age.</p> + +<p>But his inspection was never fully made. Instead, his interest was +abruptly diverted to that which he beheld reposing <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>beneath its +shadow. A girl was sitting, half reclining, against the dark old +trunk, with a sewing basket at her side, and a perfect maze of white +needlework in her lap.</p> + +<p>She was not sewing, however, as he drew near. She was gazing out over +the village below, with a pair of eyes so deep and darkly beautiful +that the man caught his breath. Just for one unconscious moment +Stanley Fyles had followed the direction of her gaze, then his own +eyes came back to her face and riveted themselves upon it.</p> + +<p>She was very, very beautiful. Her hair was abundant and dark. Yet it +was quite devoid of that suggestion of great weight so often found in +very dark hair. There was a melting luster in the velvet softness of +her deeply fringed eyes. Her features were sufficiently irregular to +escape the accusation of classic form, and possessed a firmness and +decision quite remarkable. At that moment the solitary horseman +decided in his mind that here was the most beautiful creature he had +ever looked upon.</p> + +<p>She was dressed in a light summer frock, through the delicate texture +of which peeped the warm tint of beautifully rounded arms and +shoulders. She was hatless, too, in spite of the summer blaze. To his +fired imagination she belonged to a canvas painted by some old master +whose portrayals suggested a strength and depth of character rarely +seen in life. Even the beautiful olive of her complexion suggested +those southern climes whence alone, he had always been led to believe, +old masters hailed.</p> + +<p>To him it was the face of a woman whose heart and mind were crowding +with a yearning for something—something unattainable. Such was her +look of strength and virility that he almost regretted them, fearing +that her character might belie her wondrous femininity.</p> + +<p>But in a moment he had denial forced upon him. The girl turned slowly, +and gazed up into his face with smiling frankness. Her eyes took him +in from his prairie hat to his well-booted feet. They passed swiftly +over his dark patrol jacket, with its star upon its shoulder, and down +the yellow stripe of his riding breeches. There was nothing left him +but to salute, which he did as her voice broke the silence.</p> + +<p>“You’re Inspector Stanley Fyles?” she said, with a rising inflection +in her deep musical voice.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p><p>The man answered bluntly. He was taken aback at the unconventional +greeting.</p> + +<p>“Yes——” He cleared his throat in his momentary confusion. Then he +responded to her still smiling eyes. “And—that’s Rocky Springs?” he +inquired, pointing down the valley. The information was quite +unnecessary.</p> + +<p>The girl nodded.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she said, “a prairie village that’s full of everything +interesting—except, perhaps, honesty.”</p> + +<p>The man smiled broadly.</p> + +<p>“That’s why I’m here.”</p> + +<p>The girl laughed a merry, rippling laugh.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” she nodded. “We heard you were coming. You’re going to fix a +police station here, aren’t you?” Then, as he nodded, her smile died +out and her eyes became almost earnest. “It’s surely time,” she +declared. “I’ve heard of bad places, I’ve read of them, I guess. But +all I’ve heard of, or read of, are heavens of righteousness compared +with this place. Look,” she cried, rising from the ground and reaching +out one beautifully rounded arm in the direction of the nestling +houses, amid their setting of green woods, with the silvery gleam of +the river peeping up as it wound its sluggish summer way through the +heart of the valley. “Was there ever such a mockery? The sweetest +picture human eyes could rest on. Fair—far, far fairer than any +artist’s fancy could paint it. It’s a fit resting place for everything +that’s good, and true, and beautiful in life, and—and yet—I’d say +that Rocky Springs, very nearly to a man, is—against the law.”</p> + +<p>For a moment Fyles had no reply. He was thinking of the charm of the +picture she made standing there silhouetted against the green slope of +the far side of the valley. Then, as she suddenly dropped her arm, and +began to gather up the sewing she had tumbled upon the ground when she +stood up, he pulled himself together. He beamed an unusually genial +smile.</p> + +<p>“Guess there are things we police need to be thankful for, and places +like Rocky Springs are among ’em,” he said, cheerfully. “I’d say if it +wasn’t for your Rocky Springs, and its like, we should be chasing +around as uselessly as hungry coyotes in winter. The Government +wouldn’t fancy paying us for nothing.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p><p>By the time he had finished speaking the girl’s work was gathered in +her arms.</p> + +<p>“That’s the trail,” she said abruptly, pointing at the path which +Fyles had left for his inspection of the tree. “It goes right on down +to the saloon. You see,” she added slyly, “the saloon’s about the most +important building in the town. Good-bye.”</p> + +<p>Without another word she walked off down the slope, and, in a moment, +was lost among the generous growth of shrubs.</p> + +<p>This was the scene to which his mind always reverted. But there were +others, many of them, and in each this beautiful girl’s presence was +always the center of his focus. He had seen and spoken to her many +times since then, for his duty frequently took him into the +neighborhood of that aged pine. But in spite of her frankness at their +first meeting she quickly proved far more elusive than he would have +believed possible, and consequently his intimacy with her had +progressed very little.</p> + +<p>The result was a natural one. The man’s interest in her was still +further whetted, till, in time, he finally realized that the long +anticipated move upwards, which he was preparing for, could no longer +be made—alone.</p> + +<p>These were the thoughts occupying him now as he stared out through the +dusty window at the scattered houses which lined Amberley’s main +street. These were the thoughts which conjured on his bronzed, strong +features, that pleasant half-smile of satisfaction. He wanted her very +much. He wanted her so much that all impulse to rush headlong and make +her his was thrust aside. He must wait—wait with the same patience +which he applied to all that which was important in his life, and, +when opportunity offered, when the moment was ripe, he would make the +great effort upon which he knew so much of his future happiness +depended.</p> + +<p>Thus he was dreaming on pleasantly, hopefully, and yet not without +doubts, when a sharp knock at his door banished the last vestige of +romance from his mind. In an instant he was on his feet, alert and +waiting.</p> + +<p>“Come!”</p> + +<p>His summons was promptly answered, and the tall figure of the corporal +stood framed in the doorway.</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p><p>The question came with the sharp ring of authority.</p> + +<p>“It’s Huntly, sir,” the man explained briefly. “He’s got a message. +There’s been a ‘hold-up’ of the freight, just beyond White Point. The +‘jumpers’ have dropped off the two hindermost cars and held the crew +prisoners. Seems the train was flagged on the bend out of the hills +and then allowed to pass. While it was standing the cars were cut +loose. Then the train came on without them. She’s in sight now. +Huntly’s outside.”</p> + +<p>The Inspector gave no sign while his subordinate talked. His eyes were +lowered at a point of interest on the floor. At the conclusion of the +man’s brief outline he glanced up.</p> + +<p>“Has Huntly got the message with him?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>Fyles made a move, and the other stepped back to let him pass out.</p> + +<p>The agent was waiting in the outer office. His eyes were wide with +excitement.</p> + +<p>“Well? Where’s the message?” the officer demanded.</p> + +<p>Huntly thrust a paper into his hand.</p> + +<p>“It just came through.”</p> + +<p>Fyles took it, and his strong brows drew together as he read the long +story of the “hold-up” which the man had taken down from his +instrument.</p> + +<p>A deep silence prevailed while the officer read the news which so +completely frustrated all his plans.</p> + +<p>At last he looked up. Favoring the man Huntly with one inquiring +glance, he turned to the corporal.</p> + +<p>“It says here the brakeman heard the leader tell his men to make for +the south trail. That was either bluff—or a mistake. They sometimes +make mistakes, and that’s how we get our chances. The south trail is +the road into Rocky Springs. Rocky Springs is twenty-two miles from +White Point. They’ve probably had an hour’s start with a heavily +loaded wagon. Rocky Springs is twenty-six from here by trail. Good. +Say, tell the boys to get on the move quick. They’ll strike the south +trail about seven miles northeast of Rocky Springs. If they ride hard +they should cut them off, or, any way, hit their trail close behind +them.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>As Fyles turned back to the inner room and picked up <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>the telephone, +ignoring the still waiting agent, the corporal hurried away.</p> + +<p>In a moment the telephone bell rang out and the officer was speaking.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, Fyles. Yes, at the Town Station. I’m coming up to barracks +right away. It’s most important. I must see you. The whisky-runners +have—doubled on us.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>BOUND FOR THE SOUTHERN TRAIL</h3> + +<p>Three uniformed men rode hard across the tawny plains. They rode +abreast. Their horses were a-lather; their lean sides tuckered, but +their gait remained unslackening. It was a gait they would keep as +long as daylight lasted.</p> + +<p>Sergeant McBain’s horse kept its nose just ahead of the others. It was +as though the big, rawboned animal appreciated its rider’s rank.</p> + +<p>Quite abruptly the non-commissioned officer raised an arm and pointed.</p> + +<p>“Yon’s the Cypress Hills, boys,” he cried. “See, they’re getting up +out of the heat haze on the skyline. We’re heading too far south.”</p> + +<p>He spoke without for a moment withdrawing the steady gaze of his hard +blue eyes.</p> + +<p>One of the troopers answered him.</p> + +<p>“Sure, sergeant,” he agreed. “We need to head away to the left.”</p> + +<p>The horses swung off the line, beating the sun-scorched grass with +their iron-shod hoofs with a vigor that felt good to the riders.</p> + +<p>The bronzed faces of the men were eager. Their widely gazing eyes were +alert and watchful. They were trailing a hot scent, a pastime as well +as a work that was their life. They needed no greater incentive to put +forth the best efforts of bodily and mental energies.</p> + +<p>The uniform of these riders of the western plains was unassuming. +Their brown canvas tunics, their prairie hats, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>their black, hard +serge breeches, with broad, yellow stripes down the thighs, possessed +a businesslike appearance not to be found in a modern soldier’s +uniform. These things were for sheer hard service.</p> + +<p>The life of these men was made up of hard service. It was demanded of +them by the Government; it was also demanded of them by the conditions +of the country. Lawlessness prevailed on these fair, sunlit plains; +lawlessness of man, lawlessness of Nature. Between the two they were +left with scarce a breathing space for those comforts which only found +existence in dreams that were all too brief and transitory.</p> + +<p>Nominally, these men were military police, yet their methods were far +enough removed from all matters martial. Theirs it was to obey orders, +but all similarity ended there. Each man was left free to think and +act for himself. Brief orders, with little detail, were hurled at him. +For the rest his superiors demanded one result—achievement. A crime +was committed; a criminal was at large; information of a contemplated +breach of the peace was to hand. Then go—and see to it. Investigate +and arrest. The individual must plan and carry out, whatever the odds. +Success would meet with cool approval; failure would be promptly +rewarded with the utmost rigor of the penal code governing the force. +The work might take days, weeks, months. It mattered not. Nor did it +matter the expense, provided success crowned the effort. But with +failure resulting—ah, there must be no failure. The prestige of the +force could not stand failure, for its seven hundred men were required +to dominate and cleanse a territory in which half a dozen European +countries could be comfortably lost.</p> + +<p>Presently Sergeant McBain spoke again. His steady eyes were still +fixed upon the horizon.</p> + +<p>“Say, that’s her,” he said. “There she is. Coming right up like a mop +head. That’s the pine at Rocky Springs. Further away to the left +still, boys.”</p> + +<p>He turned his horse, and the race against time was continued. +Somewhere ahead, on the southern trail, a gang of whisky smugglers +were plying their trade. Inspector Fyles had said, “Go, and—round +them up.”</p> + +<p>The odds were all against these men, yet no one considered <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>the +matter. Each, with eyes and brain alert, was ready to do all of which +human effort was capable.</p> + +<p>Now that definite direction over those wastes of grass had been +finally located, the sergeant, a rough, hard-faced Scot, relaxed his +vigilance. His mind drifted to the purpose in hand, and a dry humor +lit his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Eh, man, but it’s a shameful waste, spilling good spirit,” he said, +addressing no one in particular. “Governments are always +prodigal—except with pay.”</p> + +<p>One of the troopers sniggered.</p> + +<p>“Guess we could spill some of it, sergeant,” he declared meaningly.</p> + +<p>“Spill it!” The sergeant grinned. “That isn’t the word, boy. Spill +don’t describe the warm trickle of good liquor down a man’s throat. +Say, I mind——”</p> + +<p>The other trooper broke in.</p> + +<p>“Fyles ’ud spill champagne,” he cried in disgust. “A man like that +needs seeing to.”</p> + +<p>The sergeant shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Fyles would spill anything or anybody that required spilling, so he +gets his nose to windward of the game. He’s right, too, in this +God-forgotten land. If we didn’t spill, we’d be right down and out, +and our lives wouldn’t be worth a second’s purchase. No, boys, it +breaks our hearts to spill—but we got to do it—or be spilt +ourselves.”</p> + +<p>The man shook his reins and bustled the great sorrel under him. The +animal’s response was a lengthening of stride which left his +companions hard put to it to keep pace.</p> + +<p>The brief talk was closed. It had been a moment of relaxed tension. +Now, once more, every eye was fixed on the shimmering skyline. They +were eagerly looking out for the southern trail.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later its yellow, sandy surface lay beneath their feet, +an open book for the reading.</p> + +<p>All three leaped from the saddle and began a close examination of it, +while their sweating horses promptly regaled themselves with the ripe, +tufty grass at the trail side.</p> + +<p>Sergeant McBain narrowly scrutinized the wheel tracks, estimating the +speed at which the last vehicle to pass had been traveling. The +blurred hoofmarks of the horses warned him they had been driven hard.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>“We’re behind ’em, boys,” he declared promptly, “an’ their gait says +they’re taking no chances.”</p> + +<p>Further down the trail one of the troopers answered him:</p> + +<p>“There’s four saddle horses with ’em,” he said thoughtfully. “Two +shod, and two shod on the forefeet only. Guess, with the teamster, +that makes five men. Prairie toughs, I’d guess.”</p> + +<p>The sergeant concurred, while they continued their examination.</p> + +<p>Then the third man exclaimed sharply—</p> + +<p>“Here!” he cried, picking something up at the side of the trail.</p> + +<p>The others joined him at once.</p> + +<p>He was quietly tearing open a half-burned cigarette, the tobacco +inside of which was still moist.</p> + +<p>“Prairie toughs don’t smoke <i>made</i> cigarettes around here. It’s a +Caporal. Get it? That’s bought in a town.”</p> + +<p>“Ay,” said McBain quickly. “Rocky Springs, I’d say. It’s the Rocky +Springs gang, sure as hell. It’s the foulest hole of crime in the +northwest. Come on, boys. We need to get busy.”</p> + +<p>Two minutes later a moving cloud of dust marked their progress down +the trail in the direction of Rocky Springs. Presently, however, the +dust subsided. The astute riders of the plains were giving no chances +away; they had left the tell-tale trail and rode on over the grass at +its edge.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>The westering sun was low on the horizon. The air was still. Not a +cloud was visible anywhere in the sky. The world was silent. The +drowsing birds, even, had finished their evensong.</p> + +<p>Low bush-grown hills lined the trail where it entered the wide valley +of Leaping Creek, which, six miles further on, ran through the heart +of the hamlet of Rocky Springs.</p> + +<p>It was a beauty spot of no mean order. The smaller hills were broken +and profuse, with dark woodland gorges splitting them in every +direction, crowded with such a density of foliage as to be almost +impassable. Farther on, as the valley widened and deepened, its aspect +became more rugged. The land rose to greater heights, the lighter +vegetation gave way to heavier growths of spruce and blue gum and +maple. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>These too, in turn, became sprinkled with the darker and +taller pines. Then, as the distance gained, a still further change met +the eye. Vast patches of virgin pine woods, with their mournful, +tattered crowns, toned the brighter greens to the somber grandeur of +more mountainous regions.</p> + +<p>The breathless hush of evening lay upon the valley. There was even a +sense of awe in the silence. It was peace, a wonderful natural peace, +when all nature seems at rest, nor could the chastened atmosphere of a +cloister have conveyed more perfectly the sense of repose.</p> + +<p>But the human contradiction lay in the heart of the valley. It was the +abiding place of the hamlet of Rocky Springs, and Rocky Springs was +accredited with being the very breeding ground of prairie crime.</p> + +<p>Just now, however, the chastened atmosphere was perfect. Rocky +Springs, so far away, was powerless to affect it. Even the song of the +tumbling creek, which coursed through the heart of the valley, was +powerless to awaken discordant echoes. Its music was low and soft. It +was like the drone of the stirring insects, part of that which went to +make up the atmosphere of perfect peace.</p> + +<p>The sun dropped lower in the western sky. A velvet twilight seemed to +rise out of the heart of the valley. Slowly the glowing light vanished +behind a bluff of woodland. In a few minutes the trees and undergrowth +were lit up as though a mighty conflagration were devouring them. Then +the fire died down, and the sun sank.</p> + +<p>But as the sun sank, a low, deep note grew softly out of the distance. +For a time it blended musically with the murmuring of the bustling +creek and the wakeful insect life. Then it dominated both, and its +music lessened. Its note changed rapidly, so rapidly that its softer +tone was at once forgotten, and only the harshness it now assumed +remained in the mind. Louder and harsher it grew till from a mere +rumble it jumped to a rattle and clatter which suggested speed, +violence, and a dozen conflicting emotions.</p> + +<p>Almost immediately came a further change, and one which left no doubt +remaining. The clatter broke up into distinct and separate sounds. The +swift beat of speeding hoofs mingled with the fierce rattle of light +wheels, racing over the surface of a hard road.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p><p>All sense of peace vanished from the valley. Almost it seemed as if +its very aspect had changed. A sense of human strife had suddenly +possessed it, and left its painful mark indelibly set upon the whole +scene.</p> + +<p>The climax was reached as a hard driven team and wagon, escorted by +four mounted men, precipitated themselves into the picture. They came +over the shoulder of the valley and plunged headlong down the +dangerous slope, regardless of all consequences, regardless both of +life and limb. The teamster was leaning forward in his seat, his arms +outstretched, grasping a rein in each hand. He was urging his horses +to their utmost. In his face was that stern, desperate expression that +told of perfect cognizance of his position. It said as plainly as +possible, however great the danger he saw before him, it must be +chanced for the greater danger behind.</p> + +<p>Two of the horsemen detached themselves from the escort and remained +hidden behind some bush at the shoulder of the hill. They were there +to watch the approach to the valley. The others kept pace with the +racing vehicle as the surefooted team tore down the slope.</p> + +<p>Rocking and swaying and skidding, the vehicle seemed literally to +precipitate itself to the depths below, and, as the horses, with necks +outstretched and mouths beginning to gape, with ears flattened and +streaming flanks, reached the bottom, the desperate nature of the +journey became even more apparent. There was neither wavering nor +mercy in the eyes of the teamster and his escort as they pressed on +down the valley.</p> + +<p>One of the escort called sharply to the teamster.</p> + +<p>“Can we make it?” he shouted.</p> + +<p>“Got to,” came back the answer through clenched jaws. “If we got +twenty minutes on the gorl darned p’lice they won’t see us for dust. +Heh!”</p> + +<p>The man’s final exclamation came as one of his horses stumbled. But he +kept the straining beast on its legs by the sheer physical strength of +his hands upon the reins. The check was barely an instant, but he +picked up the rawhide whip lying in the wagon and plied it +mercilessly.</p> + +<p>The exhausted beasts responded and the vehicle flew down the trail, +swaying and yawing the whole breadth of the road. The dust in its wake +rose up in a dense cloud. Into this the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>escort plunged and quickly +became lost to view behind the bush which lined the sharply twisting +trail.</p> + +<p>Faster and faster the horses sped under the iron hand of the teamster, +till distance took hold of the clatter and finally diminished it to a +rumble. In a few minutes even the rising cloud of dust, like smoke +above the tree tops, thinned and finally melted away, and so, once +more, peace returned to the twilit valley.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>A wagon was lumbering slowly toward Rocky Springs. It was less than a +mile beyond the outskirts of the village, and already an occasional +flash of white paint through the trees revealed the sides of some +outlying house in the distance ahead.</p> + +<p>The horses were dejected-looking creatures, and their flanks were +streaked with gray lines of caking sweat. They were walking, and the +teamster on the wagon sat huddled down in the driving seat, an +exquisite picture of unclean ease.</p> + +<p>He was a hard-faced, unwashed creature, whose swarthy features were +ingrained with sweat and dirt. He was clad in typical prairie costume, +his loose cotton shirt well matching the unclean condition of his +face. One cheek was bulging with a big chew of tobacco, while the +other sank in over the hollows left by absent back teeth.</p> + +<p>He certainly was unprepossessing. Even his contented smile only added +to the evil of his expression. His contentment, however, was by no +means his whole atmosphere. In fact, it was rather studied, for his +eyes were alight and watchful with the furtive watchfulness so easy to +detect in those of partial color. They suggested that his ears, too, +were no less alert, and now and again this suggestion received +confirmation in the quick turn of the head in a direction which said +plainly he was listening for any unusual sound from behind him.</p> + +<p>One of these turns of the head remained longer than usual. Then, with +quite a sharp movement of the body, he swung one of the great pistols +hanging at his waist, so that its barrel rested across his thigh, and +its butt was ready to his hand. Then, with a malicious chuckle, he +took a firmer grip of his reins, and his jaded horses raised their +drooping heads.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>The object of his change of attitude quickly became apparent, for, a +few moments later, the distant sound of hoof-beats, far behind him, +echoed through the still valley.</p> + +<p>He checked his horses still more, and it became evident that he wished +those who were behind him to come up before he reached the village. +The smile on his evil face became more humorous, and he spat out a +stream of tobacco juice with great enjoyment.</p> + +<p>The sounds grew louder, and he turned about and peered down the +darkening valley. There was nothing and no one in sight yet amid the +woodland shadows. Only the clatter of hoofs was growing with each +moment. He finally turned back and resettled himself. His attitude now +became one of even more studied indifference, but his gun remained +close to his hand.</p> + +<p>The sounds behind him were drawing nearer. His tired horses pricked +their ears. They, too, seemed to become interested. The pursuers came +on. They were less than a hundred yards behind. In a few moments they +were directly behind. Then the man lazily turned his head. For some +moments he stared stupidly at the three uniformed figures who had +descended upon him. Then he suddenly sat up and brought his horses to +a standstill. The policemen were surrounding his wagon.</p> + +<p>Sergeant McBain was abreast of him on one side, one trooper drew up +his horse at the other side, while the third came to a halt at the +rear of the wagon and peered into it.</p> + +<p>“Evenin’, sergeant,” cried the teamster, with deliberate cheeriness. +“Makin’ Rocky Springs?”</p> + +<p>McBain’s hard blue eyes looked straight into the half-breed’s face. He +was endeavoring to fix and hold those dark, furtive eyes. But it was +not easy.</p> + +<p>“Maybe,” he said curtly.</p> + +<p>Then he glanced swiftly over the outfit. The sweat-streaked horses +interested him. The nature of the wagon. Then, finally, the contents +of the wagon covered with a light canvas protection against the dust.</p> + +<p>“Where you from?” he demanded peremptorily.</p> + +<p>“Just got through from Myrtle,” replied the man, quite undisturbed by +the other’s manner.</p> + +<p>“Fourteen miles,” said McBain sharply. “Guess your <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>plugs sweated +some. What’s your name, and who do you work for?”</p> + +<p>“Guess I’m Pete Clancy, an’ I’m Kate Seton’s ‘hired’ man. Been across +to Myrtle for fixin’s for her.”</p> + +<p>“Fixings?”</p> + +<p>The sergeant’s eyes at last compelled the other’s. There was something +like insolence in the way Pete Clancy returned his stare. There was +also humor.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” he returned easily. “Guess you’ll find ’em in the wagon ef you +raise that cover. There’s one of them fakes fer sewin’ with. There’s a +deal o’ fancy canned truck, an’ say, the leddy’s death on notions. Get +a peek at the colors o’ them silk duds. On’y keep dirty hands off’n +’em, or she’ll cuss me to hell for a fust-class hog.”</p> + +<p>McBain signed to the trooper at the rear of the wagon and the man +stripped the cover off. The first thing the officer beheld was a +sewing machine in its shining walnut case. Beside this was an open +packing case filled with canned fruits and meats, and a large supply +of groceries. In another box, packed under layers of paper, were +materials for dressmaking, and a roll of white lawn for other articles +of a woman’s apparel.</p> + +<p>With obvious disgust he signed again to the trooper to replace the +cover. Then Clancy broke in.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he cried ironically, “ain’t they dandy? I tell you, sergeant, +when it comes to fancy things, women ha’ got us skinned to death. +Fancy us wearin’ skirts an’ things made o’ them flimsies! We’d fall +right through ’em an’ break our dirty necks. An’ the colors, too. +Guess they’d shame a dago wench, an’ set a three-year old stud bull +shakin’ his sides with a puffic tempest of indignation. But when it +comes to canned truck, well, say, prairie hash ain’t nothin’ to it, +an’ if I hadn’t been raised in a Bible class, an’ had the feel o’ the +cold water o’ righteousness in my bones, I’d never ha’ hauled them all +this way without gettin’ a peek into them cans. I——”</p> + +<p>“Cut it out, man,” cried the officer sharply. “I need a straight word +with you. Get me? Straight. Your bluff’ll do for other folks. You +haven’t been to Myrtle. You come from White Point, where you helped +hold up a freight. You ran a big cargo of liquor in this wagon, which +is why <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>your plugs are tuckered out. You’ve cached that liquor in this +valley, at the place you gathered up this truck. I don’t say you +aren’t ‘hired man’ to Miss Seton in Rocky Springs, but you’re playing +a double game. You fetched her goods and dumped ’em at the cache, only +to pick ’em up when you were through with your other game.”</p> + +<p>The man laughed insolently.</p> + +<p>“Gee! I must be a ter’ble bad feller, sergeant,” he cried. “Me, as was +raised in a Bible class.” His eyes twinkled as he went on. “An’ I done +all that? All that you sed, sergeant? Say, I’m a real bright feller. +Guess I’ll get a drink o’ that liquor, won’t I? It ’ud be a bum +trick——”</p> + +<p>The sergeant’s eyes snapped.</p> + +<p>“You’ll get the penitentiary before we’re through with you. You and +the boys with you. We’ve followed your trail all the way, and that +trail ends right here. We’re wise to you——”</p> + +<p>“But you ain’t wise where the liquor’s cached,” retorted the man with +a chuckle.</p> + +<p>Then he looked straight into the officer’s eyes.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he cried with his big laugh. “You can talk penitentiary till +you’re sick. Ther’ ain’t no liquor in my wagon, an’ if there ever has +been any, as you kind o’ fancy, it’s right up to you to locate it, and +spill it, an’ not set right there keepin’ me from my work.”</p> + +<p>As he finished speaking, with elaborate display, he shook his reins +and shouted at his horses, which promptly moved on.</p> + +<p>As the wagon rolled away he turned his head and spoke over his +shoulder.</p> + +<p>“You can’t spill canned truck an’ sewin’ machines, sergeant,” he +called back derisively. “That penitentiary racket don’t fizz nothin’. +Guess you best think again.”</p> + +<p>The officer’s chagrin was complete. It was the start the outlaws had +had that had beaten him. This was the wagon; this was one of the men. +Of these things he was convinced. There were others in it, too, but +they——. He turned to his troopers.</p> + +<p>“I’d give a month’s pay to get bracelets on that feller,” he said with +a grin that had no mirth in it. Then he added grimly, as he gazed +after the receding wagon: “And I’m a Scotchman.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>THE MAN-HUNTERS</h3> + +<p>The girl’s handsome face was turned toward the valley below her. She +was staring with eyes of dreaming, half regretful, yet not without a +faint light of humor, at the nestling village in the lap of the +woodlands, which crowded the heart of the valley, where the silvery +thread of river wound its way.</p> + +<p>The wide foliage of the maple tree, beneath which she sat, sheltered +her bare head from the burning noonday sun. And here, so high up on +the shoulder of the valley, she felt there was at least air to +breathe.</p> + +<p>The book on the ground beside her had only just been laid there; its +pages, wide open, had been turned face downward upon the dry, +grassless patch surrounding the tree trunk.</p> + +<p>Only a few feet away another girl, slight and fair-haired, was nimbly +plying her needle upon a pile of white lawn, as to the object of which +there could be small enough doubt. She was working with the care and +obvious appreciation which most women display toward the manufacture +of delicate underclothing.</p> + +<p>As her companion laid her book aside and turned toward the valley, the +pretty needlewoman raised a pair of gray, speculative eyes. But almost +at once they dropped again to her work. It was only for a moment, +however. She reached the end of her seam and began to fold the +material up, and, as she did so, her eyes were once more raised in the +direction of her sister, only now they were full of laughter.</p> + +<p>“Kate,” she said, in a tone in which mirth would not be denied, “do +you know, it’s five years to-day since we first came to Rocky Springs? +Five years.” She breathed a profound sigh, which was full of mockery. +“You were twenty-three when we came. You are twenty-eight now, and I +am twenty-two. We’ll soon be old maids. The folks down there,” she +went on, nodding at the village below, “will soon be speaking of us as +‘them two old guys,’ or ‘them funny old dears, the Seton sisters.’ +Isn’t it awful to think of? We came out West to find husbands for +ourselves, and here we are very nearly—old maids.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p><p>Kate Seton’s eyes wore a responsive twinkle, but she did not turn.</p> + +<p>“You’re a bit of a joke, Hel,” she replied, in the slow musical +fashion of a deep contralto voice.</p> + +<p>“But I’m not a joke,” protested the other, with pretended severity. +“And I won’t be called ‘Hel,’ just because my name’s Helen. It—it +sounds like the way Pete and Nick swear at each other when they’ve +been spending their pay at Dirty O’Brien’s. Besides, it doesn’t alter +facts at all. It won’t take much more climbing to find ourselves right +on the shelf, among the frying pans and other cooking utensils. +I’m—I’m tired of it—I—really am. It’s no use talking. I’m a woman, +and I’d sooner see a pair of trousers walking around my house than +another bunch of skirts—even if they belong to my beloved sister. +Trousers go every time—with me.”</p> + +<p>Kate withdrew her gaze from the village below and looked into her +sister’s pretty face with smiling, indulgent eyes.</p> + +<p>“Well?” she said.</p> + +<p>The other shook her fair head. Her eyes were still laughing, but their +expression did not hide the seriousness which lay behind them.</p> + +<p>“It’s not ‘well’ at all,” she cried. She drew herself up from the +ground into a kneeling position, which left her sitting on the heels +of shoes that could never have been bought in Rocky Springs. “Now, +listen to me,” she went on, holding up a warning finger. “I’m just +going to state my case right here and now, and—and you’ve got to +listen to me. Five years ago, Kate Seton, aged twenty-three, and her +sister, Helen Seton, were left orphans, with the sum of two thousand +dollars equally divided between them. You get that?”</p> + +<p>Her sister nodded amusedly. “Well,” the girl went on deliberately. +“Kate Seton was no ordinary sort of girl. Oh, no. She was most +<i>un</i>ordinary, as Nick would say. She was a sort of headstrong girl +with an absurd notion of woman’s independence. I—I don’t mean she was +masculine, or any horror like that. But she believed that when it came +to doing the things she wanted to do she could do them just as well, +and deliberately, as any man. That she could think as well as any man. +In fact, she didn’t believe in the superiority <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>of the male sex over +hers. The only superiority she did acknowledge was that a man could +ask a woman to marry, while the privilege of asking a man was denied +to Kate’s sex. But even in acknowledging this she reserved to herself +an alternative. She believed that every woman had the right to make a +man ask her.”</p> + +<p>The patient Kate mildly protested. “You’re making me out a perfectly +awful creature,” she said, without the least umbrage. “Hadn’t I better +stand up for the—arraignment?”</p> + +<p>But her sister’s mock seriousness remained quite undisturbed.</p> + +<p>“There’s no necessity,” she said, airily. “Besides, you’ll be tired +when I’m through. Now listen. Kate Seton is a very kind and lovable +creature—really. Only—only she suffers from—notions.”</p> + +<p>The dark-eyed Kate, with her handsome face so full of decision and +character, eyed her sister with the indulgence of a mother.</p> + +<p>“You do talk, child,” was all she said.</p> + +<p>Helen nodded. “I like talking. It makes me feel clever.”</p> + +<p>“Ye—es. People are like that,” returned the other ironically. “Go +on.”</p> + +<p>Helen folded her hands in her lap, and for a moment gazed +speculatively at the sister she knew she adored.</p> + +<p>“Well,” she went on presently. “Let us keep to the charge. Five years +ago this spirit of independence and adventure was very strong in Kate +Seton. Far, far stronger than it is now. That’s by the way. Say, +anyhow, it was so strong then that when these two found themselves +alone in the world with their money, it was her idea to break through +all convention, leave her little village in New England, go out west, +and seek ‘live’ men and fortune on the rolling plains of Canada. The +last part of that’s put in for effect.”</p> + +<p>The girl paused, watching her sister as she turned again toward the +valley below.</p> + +<p>With a sigh of resignation Helen was forced to proceed. “That’s five +years—ago,” she said. Then, dropping her voice to a note of pathos, +and with the pretense of a sob: “Five long years ago two lonely girls, +orphans, set out from their conventional home in a New England +village, after <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>having sold it out—the home, not the village—and +turned wistful faces toward the wild green plains of the western +wilderness, the home of the broncho, the gopher, and the merciless +mosquito.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, do get on,” Kate’s smile was good to see.</p> + +<p>“It’s emotion,” said Helen, pretending to dab her eyes. “It’s emotion +mussing up the whole blamed business, as Nick would say.”</p> + +<p>“Never mind Nick,” cried her sister. “Anyway, I don’t think he swears +nearly as much as you make out. I’ll soon have to go and get the +Meeting House ready for to-morrow’s service. So——”</p> + +<p>“Ah, that’s just it,” broke in Helen, with a great display of triumph +in her laughing eyes. “Five years ago Kate Seton would never have said +that. She’d have said, ‘bother the old Meeting House, and all the old +cats who go there to slander each other in—in the name of religion.’ +That’s what she’d have said. It’s all different now. Gone is her love +of adventure; gone is her defiance of convention; gone is—is her +independence. What is she now? A mere farmer, a drudging female, +spinster farmer, growing cabbages and things, and getting her +manicured hands all mussed up, and freckles on her otherwise handsome +face.”</p> + +<p>“A successful—female, spinster farmer,” put in Kate, in her deep, +soft voice.</p> + +<p>Helen nodded, and there was a sort of helplessness in her admission.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she sighed, “and that’s the worst of it. We came to find +husbands—‘live’ husbands, and we only find—cabbages. The +man-hunters. That’s what we called ourselves. It sounded—uncommon, +and so we used the expression.” Suddenly she scrambled to her feet in +undignified haste, and shook a small, clenched fist in her sister’s +direction. “Kate Seton,” she cried, “you’re a fraud. An +unmitigated—fraud. Yes, you are. Don’t glare at me. ‘Live’ men! +Adventure! Poof! You’re as tame as any village cat, and just +as—dozy.”</p> + +<p>Kate had risen, too. She was not glaring. She was laughing. Her dark, +handsome face was alight with merriment at her sister’s characteristic +attack. She loved her irresponsible chatter, just as she loved the +loyal heart that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>beat within the girl’s slight, shapely body. Now she +came over and laid a caressing hand upon the girl’s shoulder. In a +moment it dropped to the slim waist about which her arm was quickly +placed.</p> + +<p>“I wish I could get cross with you, Helen,” she said happily. “But I +simply—can’t. You know you get very near the mark in your funny +fashion—in some things. Say, I wonder. Do you know we have more than +our original capital in the bank? Our farm is a flourishing concern. +We employ labor. Two creatures that call themselves men, and who +possess the characters of—hogs, or tigers, or something pretty +dreadful. We can afford to buy our clothes direct from New York or +Montreal. Think of that. Isn’t that due to independence? I admit the +villagy business. I seem to love Rocky Springs. It’s such a whited +sepulcher, and its inhabitants are such blackguards with great big +hearts. Yes, I love even the unconventional conventions of the place. +But the spirit of adventure. Well, somehow I don’t think that has +really gone.”</p> + +<p>“Just got mired—among the cabbages,” said Helen, slyly. Then she +released herself from her sister’s embrace and stood off at arm’s +length, assuming an absurdly accusing air. “But wait a moment, Kate +Seton. This is all wrong. I’m making the charge, and you’re doing all +the talking. There’s no defense in the case. You’ve—you’ve just got +to listen, and—accept the sentence. Guess this isn’t a court of +men—just women. Now, we’re man-hunters. That’s how we started, and +that’s what I am—still. We’ve been five years at it, with what +result? I’ll just tell you. I’ve been proposed to by everything +available in trousers in the village—generally when the ‘thing’ is +drunk. The only objects that haven’t asked me to marry are our two +hired men, Nick and Pete, and that’s only because their wages aren’t +sufficient to get them drunk enough. As for you, most of the boys sort +of stand in awe of you, wouldn’t dare talk marrying to you even in the +height of delirium tremens. The only men who have ever had courage to +make any display in that direction are Inspector Fyles, when his duty +brings him in the neighborhood of Rocky Springs, and a dypsomaniac +rancher and artist, to wit, Charlie Bryant. And how do you take it? +You—a man-hunter? Why, you run like a rabbit from <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>Fyles. Courage? +Oh, dear. The mention of his name is enough to send you into +convulsions of trepidation and maidenly confusion. And all the time +you secretly admire him. As for the other, you have turned yourself +into a sort of hospital nurse and temperance reformer. You’ve taken +him up as a sort of hobby, until, in his lucid intervals, he takes +advantage of your reforming process to acquire the added disease of +love, which has reduced him to a condition of imbecile infatuation +with your charming self.”</p> + +<p>Kate was about to break in with a laughing protest, but Helen stayed +her with a gesture of denial.</p> + +<p>“Wait,” she cried, grandly. “Hear the whole charge. Look at your +village life, which you plead guilty to. You, a high-spirited woman of +independence and daring. You are no better than a sort of hired +cleaner to a Meeting House you have adopted, and which is otherwise +run by a lot of cut-throats and pirates, whose wives and offspring are +no better than themselves. You attend the village social functions +with as much appreciation of them as any village mother with an +unwashed but growing family. You gossip with them and scandalize as +badly as any of them, and, in your friendliness and charity toward +them, I verily believe, for two cents, you’d go among the said +unwashed offspring with a scrub-brush. What—what is coming to you, +Kate? You—a man-hunter? No—no,” she went on, with a hopeless shake +of her pretty head, “’tis no use talking. The big, big spirit of early +womanhood has somehow failed you. It’s failed us both. We are no +longer man-hunters. The soaring Kate, bearing her less brave sister in +her arms, has fallen. They have both tumbled to the ground. The early +seed, so full of promise, has germinated and grown—but it’s come up +cabbages. And—and they’re getting old. There you are, I can’t help +it. I’ve tripped over the agricultural furrow we’ve ploughed, and——. +There!”</p> + +<p>She flung out an arm dramatically, pointing down at the slight figure +of a man coming toward them, slowly toiling up the slope of the +valley.</p> + +<p>“There he is,” she cried. “Your artist-patient. Your dypsomaniac +rancher. A symbol, a symbol of the bonds which are crushing the brave +spirits of our—ahem!—young hearts.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p><p>But Kate ignored the approaching man. She had eyes only for the bright +face before her.</p> + +<p>“You’re a great child,” she declared warmly. “I ought to be angry. I +ought to be just mad with you. I believe I really am. But—but the +cabbage business has broken up the storm of my feelings. Cabbage? Oh, +dear.” She laughed softly. “You, with your soft, wavy hair, dressed as +though we had a New York hairdresser in the village. You, with your +great gray eyes, your charming little nose and cupid mouth. You, with +your beautiful new frock, only arrived from New York two days ago, and +which, by the way, I don’t think you ought to wear sprawling upon +dusty ground. You—a cabbage! It just robs all you’ve said of, I won’t +say truth, but—sense. There, child, you’ve said your say. But you +needn’t worry about me. I’m not changed—really. Maybe I do many +things that seem strange to you, but—but—I know what I’m doing. Poor +old Charlie. Look at him. I often wonder what’ll be the end of him.”</p> + +<p>Kate Seton sighed. It seemed as though there were a great depth of +motherly tenderness in her heart, and just now that tenderness was +directed toward the man approaching them.</p> + +<p>But the lighter-minded Helen was less easily stirred. She smiled +amusedly in her sister’s direction. Then her bright eyes glanced +swiftly down at the man.</p> + +<p>“If all we hear is true, his end will be the penitentiary,” she +declared with decision.</p> + +<p>Kate glanced round quickly, and her eyes suddenly became quite hard.</p> + +<p>“Penitentiary?” she questioned sharply.</p> + +<p>Helen shrugged.</p> + +<p>“Everybody says he’s the biggest whisky smuggler in the country, +and—and his habits don’t make things look much—different. Say, Kate, +O’Brien told me the other day that the police had him marked down. +They were only waiting to get him—red-handed.”</p> + +<p>The hardness abruptly died out of Kate’s eyes. A faint sigh, perhaps +of relief, escaped her.</p> + +<p>“They’ll never do that,” she declared firmly. “Everybody’s making a +mistake about Charlie. I’m—sure. With <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>all his failings Charlie’s no +whisky-runner. He’s too gentle. He’s too—too honest to descend to +such a traffic.”</p> + +<p>Suddenly her eyes lit. She came close to Helen, and one firm hand +grasped the soft flesh of the girl’s arm, and closed tightly upon it.</p> + +<p>“Say, child,” she went on, in a deep, thrilling tone, “do you know +what these whisky-runners risk? Do you? No. Of course you don’t. They +risk life as well as liberty. They’re threatened every moment of their +lives. The penalty is heavy, and when a man becomes a whisky-runner he +has no intention of being taken—alive. Think of all that, and see +where your imagination carries you. Then think of Charlie—as we know +him. An artist. A warm-hearted, gentle creature, whose only sins +are—against himself.”</p> + +<p>But the younger girl’s face displayed skepticism.</p> + +<p>“Yes—as we know him,” she replied quickly. “I’ve thought of it while +he’s been giving me lessons in painting, when I’ve watched him with +you, with that wonderful look of dog-like devotion in his eyes, while +hanging on every word you uttered. I’ve thought of it all. And always +running through my mind was the title of a book I once read—‘Dr. +Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.’ You are sure, and I—I only wonder.”</p> + +<p>Kate’s hand relaxed its hold upon her sister’s arm. Her whole +expression changed with a suddenness which, had she observed it, must +have startled the other. Her eyes were cold, very cold, as she +surveyed the sister to whom she was so devoted, and who could find it +in her heart to think so harshly of one whom she regarded as a sick +and ailing creature, needing the utmost support from natures morally +stronger than his own.</p> + +<p>“You must think as you will, Helen,” she said coldly. “I know. I know +Charlie. I understand the gentle heart that guides his every action, +and I warn you you are wrong—utterly wrong. Everybody is wrong, the +police—everybody.”</p> + +<p>She turned away and moved a few steps down the slope toward the +approaching figure.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>CHARLIE BRYANT</h3> + +<p>As Kate stood out from the shadow of the trees, the man approaching, +looking up, beheld her, and his dark eyes gladdened with a smile of +delight. His greeting came up to her on the still air in a tone +thrilling with warmth and deep feeling.</p> + +<p>“Ho, Kate,” he cried, in his deeply musical voice. “I saw you and +Helen making this way, and guessed I’d just get around.”</p> + +<p>He was breathing hard as he came up the hill, his slight figure was +bending forward with the effort of his climb. Kate watched him, much +as an anxious mother might watch, with doubtful eyes, some effort of +her ailing child. He reached her level and stood breathing heavily +before her.</p> + +<p>“I was around watching the boys at work down there on the new church,” +he went on. His handsome boyish face was flushing. The delicate, +smooth, whiskerless skin was almost womanish in its texture, and +betrayed almost every emotion stirring behind it. “Allan Dy came along +with my mail. When I’d read it I felt I had to come and tell you the +news right away. You see, I had to tell someone, and wanted you—two +to be the first to hear it.”</p> + +<p>Kate’s eyes were full of a smiling tender amusement at the +ingenuousness of the man. Helen was looking on with less tenderness +than amusement. He had not come to tell her the news—only Kate. The +Kate whom she knew he worshipped, and who was the only rival in his +life to his passionate craving for drink.</p> + +<p>She surveyed the man now with searching eyes. What was it that +inspired in her such mixed feeling? She knew she had a dislike and +liking for him, all in the same moment. There was something +fascinating about him. Yes, there certainly was. He was darkly +handsome. Unusually so. He had big, soft, almost womanish eyes, full +of passionate possibilities. The delicate moulding of his features was +certainly beautiful. They were too delicate. Ah, that was it. They +were womanish. Yes, he was womanish, and nothing womanish in a man +could ever appeal to the essentially feminine heart of Helen. His +figure was slight, but perfectly <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>proportioned, and quite lacking in +any suggestion of mannish strength. Again the thought of it brought +Helen a feeling of repugnance. She hated effeminacy in a man. And yet, +how could she associate effeminacy with a man of his known character? +Was he not the most lawless of this lawless village? Then there was +his outward seeming of gentleness. Yes, she had never known him +otherwise, even in his moments of dreadful drunkenness, and she had +witnessed those frequently enough during the past few years.</p> + +<p>The whole personality of the man was an enigma to her. Nor was it +altogether a pleasant enigma. She felt that somehow there was an ugly +streak in him which her sister had utterly missed, and she only half +guessed at. Furthermore, somehow in the back of her mind, she knew +that she was not without fear of him.</p> + +<p>In spite of Kate’s denial, when the man came under discussion between +them, her conviction always remained. She knew she liked him, and she +knew she disliked him. She knew she despised him, and she knew she +feared him. And through it all she looked on with eyes of amusement at +the absurd, dog-like devotion he yielded to her strong, reliant, +big-hearted, handsome sister.</p> + +<p>“What’s your news, Charlie?” she demanded, as Kate remained silent, +waiting for him to continue. “Good, I’ll bet five dollars, or you +wouldn’t come rushing to us.”</p> + +<p>The man turned to her as though it were an effort to withdraw his gaze +from the face of the woman he loved.</p> + +<p>“Good? Why, yes,” he said quickly. “I’d surely hate to bring you two +anything but good news.” Then a shadow of doubt crossed his smiling +features. “Maybe it won’t be of much account to you, though,” he went +on, almost apologetically. “You see, it’s just my brother. My big +brother Bill. He’s coming along out here to—to join me. He—he wants +to ranch, so—he’s coming here, and going to put all his money into my +ranch, and suggests we run it together.” Then he laughed shortly. “He +says I’ve got experience and he’s got dollars, and between us we ought +to make things hum. He’s a hustler, is Bill. Say, he’s as much sense +as a two-year-old bull, and just about as much strength. He can’t see +the difference between a sharp and a saint. They’re all the same to +him. He just loves everybody to death, till they <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>kick him on the +shins, then he hits out, and something’s going to break. He’s just the +bulliest feller this side of life.”</p> + +<p>Kate was still smiling at the man’s enthusiasm, but she had no answer +for him. It was Helen who did the talking now, as she generally did, +while Kate listened.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Charlie,” Helen cried impulsively, “you will let me see him, +won’t you? He’s big—and—and manly? Is he good looking? But then he +must be if he’s your—I’m just dying to see this Big Brother Bill,” +she added hastily.</p> + +<p>Charlie shook his head, laughing in his silent fashion.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you’ll see him all right. This village’ll just be filled right up +with him.” Then his dark eyes became serious, and a hopeless shadow +crept into them. “I’m glad he’s coming,” he went on, adding simply, +“maybe he’ll keep me straight.”</p> + +<p>Kate’s smile died out in an instant. “Don’t talk like that Charlie,” +she cried almost sharply. “Do you know what your words imply? Oh, it’s +too dreadful, and—and I won’t have it. You don’t need anybody’s +support. You can fight yourself. You can conquer yourself. I know it.”</p> + +<p>The man’s eyes came back to the face he loved, and, for a moment, they +looked into it as though he would read all that which lay hidden +behind.</p> + +<p>“You think so?” he questioned presently.</p> + +<p>“I’m sure; sure as—as Fate,” Kate cried impulsively.</p> + +<p>“You think that all—all weakness can be conquered?”</p> + +<p>Kate nodded. “If the desire to conquer lies behind it.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, yes.”</p> + +<p>The man’s eyes had become even more thoughtful. There was a look in +them which suggested to Helen that he was not wholly thinking of the +thing Kate had in her mind.</p> + +<p>“If the desire to conquer is there,” he went on, “I suppose the +habits—diseases of years, even—could be beaten. But—but——”</p> + +<p>“But what?” Kate’s demand came almost roughly.</p> + +<p>Charlie shrugged his slim shoulders. “Nothing,” he said. “I—I was +just thinking. That’s all.”</p> + +<p>“But it isn’t all,” cried Kate, in real distress.</p> + +<p>Helen saw Charlie smile in a half-hearted fashion. For some moments +his patience remained. Then, as Kate still waited for him to speak, +his eyes abruptly lit with the deep fire of passion.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p><p>“Why? Why?” he cried suddenly. “Why must we conquer and fight with +ourselves? Why beat down the nature given to us by a power beyond our +control? Why not indulge the senses that demand indulgence, when, in +such indulgence, we injure no one else? Oh, I argue it all with +myself, and I try to reason, too. I try to see it all from the +wholesome point of view from which you look at it, Kate. And I can’t +see it. I just can’t see it. All I know is that the only thing that +makes me attempt to deny myself is that I want your good opinion. Did +I not want that I should slide down the road to hell, which I am told +I am on, with all the delight of a child on a toboggan slide. Yes, I +would. I surely would, Kate. I’m a drunkard, I know. A drunkard by +nature. I have not the smallest desire to be otherwise, from any moral +scruple. It’s you that makes me want to straighten up, and you only. +When I’m sober I’d be glad if I weren’t. And when I’m not sober I’d +hate being otherwise. Why should I be sober, when in such moments I +suffer agonies of craving? Is it worth it? What does it matter if +drink eases the craving, and lends me moments of peace which I am +otherwise denied? These are the things I think all the time, and these +are the thoughts which send me tumbling headlong—sometimes. But I +know—yes, I know I am all wrong. I know that I would rather suffer +all the tortures of hell than forfeit your—good will.”</p> + +<p>Kate sighed. She had no answer. She knew all that lay behind the man’s +passionate appeal. She knew, too, that he spoke the truth. She knew +that the only reason he made any effort at all was because his +devotion to herself was something just a shade stronger than this +awful disease with which he was afflicted.</p> + +<p>The hopelessness of the position for a moment almost overwhelmed her. +She knew that she had no love—love such as he required—to give him +in return. And when that finally became patent to him away would go +the last vestige of self-restraint, and his fall would be headlong.</p> + +<p>She knew his early story, and it was a pitiful one. She knew he was +born of good parents, rich parents, in New York, that he was well +educated. He had been brought up to become an artist, and therein had +lain the secret of his fall. In Paris, and Rome, and other European +cities, he <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>had first tasted the dregs of youthful debauchery, and +disaster had promptly set in. Then, after his student days, had come +the final break. His parents abandoned him as a ne’er-do-well, and, +setting him up as a rancher in a small way, had sent him out west, +another victim of that over-indulgence which helps to populate the +fringes of civilization.</p> + +<p>The moment was a painful one, and Helen was quick to perceive her +sister’s distress. She came to her rescue with an effort at lightness. +But her pretty eyes had become very gentle.</p> + +<p>She turned to the man who had just taken a letter from his pocket.</p> + +<p>“Tell us some more about Big Brother Bill,” she said, with the +pretense of a sigh. Then, with a little daring in her manner: “Do you +think he’ll like me? Because if he don’t I’ll sure go into mourning, +and order my coffin, and bury me on the hillside with my face to the +beautiful east—where I come from.”</p> + +<p>The man’s moment of passionate discontent had passed, and he smiled +into the girl’s questioning eyes in his gentle fashion.</p> + +<p>“He’ll just be crazy about you, Helen,” he said. “Say, when he gets +his big, silly blue eyes on to you in that swell suit, why, he’ll just +hustle you right off to the parson, and you’ll be married before you +get a notion there’s such a whirlwind around Rocky Springs.”</p> + +<p>“Is he—such a whirlwind?” the girl demanded with appreciation.</p> + +<p>“He surely is,” the man asserted definitely.</p> + +<p>Helen sighed with relief. “I’m glad,” she said. “You see, a +whirlwind’s a sort of summer storm. All sunshine—and—and well, a +whirlwind don’t suggest the cold, vicious, stormy gales of the folks +in this village, nor the dozy summer zephyrs of the women in this +valley. Yes, I’d like a whirlwind. His eyes are blue, and—silly?”</p> + +<p>Charlie smiled more broadly as he nodded again. “His eyes are blue. +And big. The other’s a sort of term of endearment. You see, he’s my +big brother Bill, and I’m kind of fond of him.”</p> + +<p>Helen laughed joyously. “I’m real glad he’s not silly,” she cried. +“Let’s see. He’s big. He’s got blue eyes. He’s <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>good looking. +He’s—he’s like a whirlwind. He’s got lots of money.” She counted the +attractions off on her fingers. “Guess I’ll sure have to marry him,” +she finished up with a little nod of finality.</p> + +<p>Kate turned a flushed face in her direction.</p> + +<p>“For goodness sake, Helen!” she cried in horror.</p> + +<p>Helen’s gray eyes opened to their fullest extent.</p> + +<p>“Why, whatever’s the matter, Kate?” she exclaimed. “Of course, I’ll +have to marry Big Brother Bill. Why, his very name appeals to me. May +I, Charlie?” she went on, turning to the smiling man. “Would you like +me for—a—a sister? I’m not a bad sort, am I, Kate?” she appealed +mischievously. “I can sew, and cook, and—and darn. No, I don’t mean +curse words. I leave that to Kate’s hired men. They’re just dreadful. +Really, I wasn’t thinking of anything worse than Big Brother Bill’s +socks. When’ll he be getting around? Oh, dear, I hope it won’t be +long. ’Specially if he’s a—whirlwind.”</p> + +<p>Charlie was scanning the open pages of his letter.</p> + +<p>“No. Guess he won’t be long,” he said, amusedly. “He says he’ll be +right along here the 16th. That’s the day after to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>Helen ran to her sister’s side, and shook her by the arm.</p> + +<p>“Say, Kate,” she cried, her eyes sparkling with pretended excitement. +“Isn’t that just great? Big Brother Bill’s coming along day after +to-morrow. Isn’t it lucky I’ve just got my new suits? They’ll last me +three months, and by the time I have to get my fall suits he’ll have +to marry me.” Then the dancing light in her eyes sobered. “Now, where +shall we live?” she went on, with a pretense of deep consideration. +“Shall we go east, or—or shall we live at Charlie’s ranch? Oh, dear. +It’s so important not to make any mistake. And yet—you see, Charlie’s +ranch wants some one <i>capable</i> to look after it, doesn’t it? It’s kind +of mousy. Big Brother Bill is sure to be particular—coming from the +east.”</p> + +<p>Her audience were smiling broadly. Kate understood now that her +irresponsible sister was simply letting her bubbling spirits overflow. +Charlie had no other feelings than frank amusement at the girl’s +gaiety.</p> + +<p>“Oh, he’s most particular,” he said readily. “You see, he’s accustomed +to Broadway restaurants.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p><p>Helen pulled a long face.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid your shack wouldn’t make much of a Broadway restaurant.” +She shook her head with quaint solemnity. “Guess I never could get you +right. Here you run a ranch, and make quite big with it, yet you never +eat off a china plate, or spread your table with anything better than +a newspaper. True, Charlie, you’ve got me beaten to death. Why, how +you manage to run a ranch and make it pay is a riddle that ’ud put the +poor old Sphinx’s nose plump out of joint. I——”</p> + +<p>Kate suddenly turned a pair of darkly frowning eyes upon her sister.</p> + +<p>“You’re talking a whole heap of nonsense,” she declared severely. +“What has the care of a home to do with making a ranch pay?”</p> + +<p>Helen’s eyes opened wide with mischief.</p> + +<p>“Say, Kate,” she cried with a great air of patronage, “you have a +whole heap to learn. Big Brother Bill’s coming right along from +Broadway, with money and—notions. He’s just bursting with them. +Charlie’s a prosperous rancher. What does B. B. B. expect? Why, he’ll +get around with fancy clothes and suitcases and trunks. He’ll dream of +rides over the boundless plains, of cow-punchers with guns and things. +He’ll have visions of big shoots, and any old sport, of a +well-appointed ranch house, with proper fixings, and baths, and swell +dinners and servants. But they’re all visions. He’ll blow in to Rocky +Springs—he’s a whirlwind, mind—and he’ll find a prosperous rancher +living in a tumbled-down shanty that hasn’t been swept this side of +five years, a blanket-covered bunk, and a table made of packing cases +with the remains of last week’s meals on it. That’s what he’ll find. +Prosperous rancher, indeed. Say, Charlie,” she finished up with fine +scorn, “you know as much about living as Kate’s two hired men, and +dear knows they only exist.” Suddenly she broke out into a rippling +laugh. “And this is what my future husband is coming to. It’s—it’s an +insult to me.”</p> + +<p>The girl paused, looking from one to the other with dancing eyes. But +the more sober-minded Kate slipped her arm about her waist and began +to move down the hill.</p> + +<p>“Come along, dear,” she said. “I must get right on down <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>to the +Meeting House. I—have work to do. You would chatter on all day if I +let you.”</p> + +<p>In a moment Helen was all indignant protest.</p> + +<p>“I like that. Say, did you hear, Charlie? She’s accusing me, and all +the time it’s you doing the talking. But there, I’m always +misjudged—always. She’ll accuse me of trying to trap your +brother—next. Anyway, I’ve got work to do, too. I’ve got to be at +Mrs. John’s for the new church meeting. So Kate isn’t everybody. Come +along.”</p> + +<p>Helen’s laughter was good to hear as she dashed off in an attempt to +drag her elder sister down the hill at a run. The man looked on +happily as he kept pace with them. Helen was always privileged. Her +sister adored her, and the whole village of Rocky Springs yielded her +a measure of popularity which made her its greatest favorite. Even the +women had nothing but smiles for her merry irresponsibility, and, as +for the men, there was not one who would not willingly have sacrificed +even his crooked ways for her smile.</p> + +<p>Halfway down to the village Charlie again reverted to his news.</p> + +<p>“Helen put the rest of it out of my head,” he said, and his manner of +speaking had lost the enjoyment of his earlier announcement. “It’s +about the police. They’re going to set a station here. A corporal and +two men. Fyles is coming, too. Inspector Fyles.” His eyes were +studying Kate’s face as he made the announcement. Helen, too, was +looking at her with quizzical eyes. “It’s over that whisky-running a +week ago. They’re going to clean the place up. Fyles has sworn to do +it. O’Brien told me this morning.”</p> + +<p>For some moments after his announcement neither of the women spoke. +Kate was thinking deeply. Nor, from her expression, would it have been +possible to have guessed the trend of her thoughts.</p> + +<p>Helen, watching her, was far more expressive. She was thinking of her +sister’s admiration for the officer. She was speculating as to what +might happen with Fyles stationed here in Rocky Springs. Would her +beautiful sister finally yield to his very evident admiration, or +would she still keep that barrier of aloofness against him? She +wondered. And, wondering, there came the memory of what Fyles’s coming +would mean to Charlie Bryant.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>To her mind there was no doubt but that the law would quickly direct +its energies against him. But she was also wondering what would happen +to him should time, and a man’s persistence, finally succeed in +breaking down the barrier Kate had set up against the officer. Quite +suddenly this belated news assumed proportions far more significant +than the coming of Big Brother Bill.</p> + +<p>Her tongue could not remain silent for long, however. Something of her +doubt had to find an outlet.</p> + +<p>“I knew it would come sooner or later,” she declared hopelessly.</p> + +<p>She glanced quickly at Charlie, across her sister, beside whom he was +walking. The man was staring out down at the village with gloomy eyes. +She read into his expression a great dread of this officer’s coming to +Rocky Springs. She knew she was witnessing the outward signs of a +guilty conscience. Suddenly she made up her mind.</p> + +<p>“What—ever is to be done?” she cried, half eagerly, half fearfully. +“Say, I just can’t bear to think of it. All these men, men we’ve +known, men we’ve got accustomed to, even—men we like, to be herded to +the penitentiary. It’s awful. There’s some I shouldn’t be sorry to see +put away. They’re scallywags, anyway. They aren’t clean, and they chew +tobacco, and—and curse like railroaders. But they aren’t all +like—that—are they, Kate?” She paused. Then, in a desperate appeal, +“Kate, I’d fire your two boys, Nick and Pete. They’re mixed up in +whisky-running, I know. When Stanley Fyles gets around they’ll be +corralled, sure, and I’d hate him to think we employed such men. Don’t +you think that, Charlie?” she demanded, turning sharply and looking +into the man’s serious face.</p> + +<p>Then, quite suddenly, she changed her tone and relapsed into her less +responsible manner, and laughed as though something humorous had +presented itself to her cheerful fancy.</p> + +<p>“Guess I’d have to laugh seeing those two boys doing the chores around +a penitentiary for—five years. They’d be cleaner then. Guess they get +bathed once a week. Then the funny striped clothes they wear. Can’t +you see Nick, with his long black hair all cut short, and his vulture +neck sticking out of the top end of his clothes, like—like a thread +of sewing cotton in a darning needle? Wouldn’t he look queer? <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>And the +work, too! Say, it would just break his heart. My, but they get most +killed by the warders. And then for drink. Five years without tasting +a drop of liquor. No—they’d go mad. Anybody would. And all for the +sake of making a few odd dollars against the law. I wouldn’t do it. I +wouldn’t do it, not if I’d got to starve—else.”</p> + +<p>The man made no answer. His eyes remained upon the village below, and +their expression had become lost to the anxious Helen. She was talking +at him. But she was thinking not of him so much as her sister. She +knew how much it would mean to Kate if Charlie Bryant were brought +into direct conflict with the police. So she was offering her warning.</p> + +<p>Kate turned to her quietly. She ignored the reference to her hired +men. She knew at whom her sister’s remarks were directed. She shook +her head.</p> + +<p>“Why worry about things, Sis?” she said, in her deliberate fashion. +“Lawbreakers need to be cleverer folks than those who live within the +law. I guess there won’t be much whisky run into Rocky Springs with +Fyles around, and the police can do nothing unless they catch the boys +at it. You’re too nervous about things.” She laughed quietly. “Why, +the sight of a red coat scares you worse than getting chased by a +mouse.”</p> + +<p>The sound of Kate’s voice seemed to rouse Charlie from his gloomy +contemplation of the village. He turned his eyes on the woman at his +side—and encountered the half-satirical smile of hers—which were as +dark as his own.</p> + +<p>“Maybe Helen’s right, though,” he said. “Maybe you’d do well to fire +your boys.” He spoke deliberately, but with a shade of anxiety in his +voice. “They’re known whisky-runners.”</p> + +<p>Kate drew Helen to her side as though for moral support. “And what of +the other folks who are known—or believed—to be whisky-runners—with +whom we associate. Are they to be turned down, too? No, Charlie,” she +went on determinedly, “I stand by my boys. I’ll stand by my friends, +too. Maybe they’ll need all the help I can give them. Then it’s up to +me to give it them. Fyles must do his duty as he sees it. Our duty is +by our friends here, in Rocky Springs. Whatever happens in the crusade +against this place, I am <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>against Fyles. I’m only a woman, and, maybe, +women don’t count much with the police,” she said, with a confident +smile, “but such as I am, I am loyal to all those who have helped me +in my life here in Rocky Springs, and to my—friends.”</p> + +<p>The man drew a deep breath. Nor was it easy to fathom its meaning.</p> + +<p>Helen, eyeing her well-loved sister, could have thrown her young arms +about her neck in enthusiasm. This was the bold sister whom she had so +willingly followed to the western wilds. This was the spirit she had +deplored the waning of. All her apprehensions for Charlie Bryant +vanished, merged in a newly awakened confidence, since her brave +sister was ready to help and defend him.</p> + +<p>She felt that Fyles’s coming to Rocky Springs was no longer to be +feared. Only was it a source of excitement and interest. She felt that +though, perhaps, he might never have met his match during the long +years of his duties as a police officer, he had yet to pit himself +against Rocky Springs—with her wonderful sister living in the +village.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>THE SOUL-SAVERS</h3> + +<p>Helen parted from her sister at the little old Meeting House. But +first she characteristically admonished her for offering herself a +sacrifice on the altar of the moral welfare of a village which reveled +in every form of iniquity within its reach. Furthermore, she threw in +a brief homily on the subject of the outrageous absurdity of turning +herself into a sort of “hired woman” in the interests of a sepulcher +whose whitewash was so obviously besmirched.</p> + +<p>With the departure of the easy-going Kate, Charlie Bryant suddenly +awoke to the claims of the work at his ranch. He must return at once, +or disaster would surely follow.</p> + +<p>Helen smiled at his sudden access of zeal, and welcomed his going +without protest. Truth to tell, she never failed to experience a +measure of relief at the avoidance of being alone with him.</p> + +<p>Left to herself she moved on down toward the village without haste. +Her enthusiasm for the new church meeting at <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>the house of Mrs. John +Day, who was the leading woman in the village, and, incidentally, the +wife of its chief citizen, who also owned a small lumber yard, was of +a lukewarm character. She had much more interest in the building +itself, and the motley collection of individuals in whose hands its +practical construction lay.</p> + +<p>She possessed none of her sister’s interest in Rocky Springs. Her +humor denied her serious contemplation of anything in it but the +opposite sex. And even here it frequently trapped her into pitfalls +which demanded the utmost exercise of her ready wit to extricate her +from. No, serious contemplation of her surroundings would have +certainly bored her, had it been possible to shadow her sunny nature. +Fortunately, the latter was beyond the reach of the sordid life in the +midst of which she found herself, and she never failed to laugh her +merry way to those plains of delight belonging to an essentially happy +disposition.</p> + +<p>As she walked down the narrow trail, with the depths of green woods +lining it upon either hand, she remembered how beautiful the valley +really was. Of course, it was beautiful. She knew it. Was she not +always being told it? She was never allowed to forget it. Sometimes +she wished she could.</p> + +<p>Down the trail a perfect vista of riotous foliage opened out before +her eyes. There, too, in the distance, peeping through the trees, were +scattered profiles of oddly designed houses, possessing a wonderful +picturesqueness to which they had no real claims. They borrowed their +beauty from the wealth of the valley, she told herself. Like the +people who lived in them, they had no claims to anything bordering on +the refinements or virtues of life. No, they were mockeries, just as +was the pretense of virtue which inspired the building of the new +church by a gathering of men and women, who, if they had their +deserts, would be attending divine service within the four walls of +the penitentiary.</p> + +<p>She laughed. Really it was absurdly laughable. Life in this wonderful +valley was something in the nature of a tragic farce. The worst thing +was that the farce of it all could only be detected by the looker-on. +There was no real farce in these people, only tragedy—a very painful +and hideous tragedy.</p> + +<p>On her way down she passed the great pine which for <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>years had served +as a beacon marking the village. It was higher up on the slope of the +valley, but its vast trunk and towering crest would not be denied.</p> + +<p>Helen gazed up at it, wondering, as many times she had gazed and +wondered before. It was a marvelous survival of primæval life. It was +so vast, so forbidding. Its torn crown, so sparse and weary looking, +its barren trunk, too, dark and forbidding against the dwarfed +surroundings of green, were they not a fit beacon for the village +below? It suggested to her imagination a giant, mouldering skeleton of +some dreadfully evil creature. How could virtue maintain in its +vicinity?</p> + +<p>She laughed again as she thought. She knew there was some weird old +legend associated with it, some old Indian folklore. But that left no +impression of awe upon her laughter-loving nature.</p> + +<p>Farther on the new church came into view. It was in the course of +construction, and at once her attention became absorbed. Here was a +scene which thoroughly appealed to her. Here was movement, and—life. +Here was food for her most appreciative observation.</p> + +<p>It was a Church. Not a Meeting House. Not even a Chapel. She felt +quite sure, had the villagers had their way, it would have been called +a Cathedral. There was nothing half-hearted about these people. They +recognized the necessity of giving their souls a lift up, with a view +to an after life, and they meant to do it thoroughly.</p> + +<p>They had no intention of mending their ways. They had no thought of +abandoning any of their pursuits or pleasures, be they never so +deplorable. But they felt that something had better be done toward +assurance of their futures. A Meeting House suggested something too +inadequate to meet their special case. It was right enough as far as +it went, but it didn’t go far enough. They realized the journey might +be very long and the ultimate destination uncertain. A Chapel had its +claims in their minds, but Church seemed much stronger, bigger, more +powerful to help them in those realms of darkness to which they must +all eventually descend. Of course, Cathedral would have been <i>the</i> +thing. With a cathedral in Rocky Springs they would have felt certain +of their hereafter. But the difficulties of laying hands on a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>bishop, +and claiming him for their own, seemed too overwhelming. So they +accepted Church as being the best they could do under the +circumstances.</p> + +<p>Quite a number of men were standing idly around the structure, +watching others at work. It was a weakness of the citizens of Rocky +Springs to watch others work. They had no desire to help. They rarely +were beset with any desire to help anybody. They simply clustered +together in small groups, chewing tobacco, or smoking, and, to a man, +their hands were indolently thrust into the tops of their trousers, +which, in every case, were girdled with a well-laden ammunition belt, +from which was suspended at least one considerable revolver.</p> + +<p>There was no doubt in Helen’s mind but that these weapons were loaded +in every chamber, and the thought set her merry eyes dancing again.</p> + +<p>These men wanted a church, and were there to see they had it. Woe +betide—but, was there ever such a gathering of unclean, unholy +humanity? She thought not.</p> + +<p>Helen knew that every man and woman in the village had had some voice +in the erection of the new church. There was not a citizen—they all +possessed the courtesy title of “citizens”—in Rocky Springs, who had +not contributed something toward it. Those who had wherewithal to give +in money or kind, had given. Those who had nothing else to give gave +their labor. She guessed the present onlookers had already done their +share of giving, and were now there to see that their less fortunate +brethren did not attempt to shirk their responsibilities.</p> + +<p>For a moment, as the girl drew near, she abandoned her study of the +men for a rapid survey of the building itself, and, in a way, it held +her flattering attention. As yet there was no roof on it, but the +walls were up, and the picturesqueness of the design of the building +was fully apparent. Then she remembered that Charlie Bryant had +designed the building, and somehow the thought lessened her interest.</p> + +<p>The whole thing was constructed of lateral, raw pine logs, carefully +dovetailed, with the ends protruding at the angles. There was no great +originality of design, merely the delightful picturesqueness which +unstripped logs never fail to yield. She knew that every detail of the +building was to be carried <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>out in the same way. The roof, the spire, +the porches, even the fence which was ultimately to enclose the +churchyard.</p> + +<p>Then the inside was to be lined throughout with polished red pine. +There was not a brick or stone to be used in the whole construction, +except in the granite foundations, which did not appear above ground. +The lumber was hewn in the valley and milled in John Day’s yard. The +entire labor of hauling and building was to be done by the citizens of +Rocky Springs. The draperies, necessary for the interior, would be +made by the busy needles of the women of the village, and the +materials would be supplied by Billy Unguin, the dry goods +storekeeper. As for the stipend of the officiating parson, that would +be scrambled together in cash and kind from similar sources.</p> + +<p>The church was to be a monument, a tribute to a holy zeal, which the +methods of life in Rocky Springs denied. Its erection was an attempt +to steal absolution for the sins of its citizens. It was the pouring +of a flood of oil upon the turbulent waters of an after life which +Rocky Springs knew was waiting to engulf its little craft laden with +tattered souls. It was a practical bribe to the Deity its people had +so long outraged, were still outraging, and had every intention of +continuing to outrage.</p> + +<p>Helen’s merry eyes glanced from group to group of the men, until they +finally came to rest upon an individual standing apart from the rest.</p> + +<p>She walked on toward him.</p> + +<p>He was a forbidding-looking creature, with a hard face, divided in its +expression between evil thoughts and a malicious humor. His general +appearance was much that of the rest of the men, with the exception +that he made no display of offensive weapons. It was not this, +however, that drew Helen in his direction, for she well enough knew +that, in fact, he was a perfect gunpark of concealed firearms. She +liked him because he never failed to amuse her.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, Dirty,” she greeted him cheerfully, as she came up, +smiling into his bearded face.</p> + +<p>Dirty O’Brien turned. In a moment his wicked eyes were smiling. With +an adept twist of the tongue his chew of tobacco ceased to bulge one +cheek, and promptly distended the other.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p><p>“Howdy,” he retorted, with as much amiability as it was possible for +him to display.</p> + +<p>The girl nodded in the direction of the other onlookers.</p> + +<p>“It’s wonderful the interest you all take in the building of this +church.”</p> + +<p>“Int’rest?” The man’s eyes opened wide. Then a gleam of scorn replaced +the surprise in them. “Guess you’d be mighty int’rested if you was +sittin’ on a roof with the house afire under you, an’ you just got a +peek of a ladder wagon comin’ along, an’ was guessin’ if it ’ud get +around in time.”</p> + +<p>Helen’s eyes twinkled.</p> + +<p>“I s’pose I should,” she admitted.</p> + +<p>“S’pose nuthin’.” The saloonkeeper laughed a short, hard laugh. “It’s +dead sure. But most of them boys are feelin’ mighty good. You see, the +ladders mostly fixed for ’em. I’d say they reckon that fire’s as good +as out.”</p> + +<p>The interest of the onlookers was purely passive. They displayed none +of the enthusiasm one might have expected in men who considered that +the safety of their souls was assured. Helen remarked upon the fact.</p> + +<p>“Their enthusiasm’s wonderful,” she declared, with a satirical laugh. +“Do you think they’ll ever be able to use swear words again?”</p> + +<p>Dirty O’Brien grinned till his discolored teeth parted the hair upon +his face.</p> + +<p>“Say, I don’t reckon to set myself up as a prophet at most things,” he +replied, “but I’d like to say right here, the fixin’ of that all-fired +chu’ch is jest about the limit fer the morals of this doggone city. +Standin’ right here I seem to sort o’ see a vision o’ things comin’ on +like a pernicious fever. I seem to see all them boys—good boys, mind +you, as far as they go—only they don’t travel more’n ’bout an +inch—lyin’, an’ slanderin’, an’ thievin’, an’ shootin’, an’—an’ +committin’ every blamed sin ever invented since Pharo’s daughter got +busy makin’ up fairy yarns ’bout them bulrushes——”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think you ought to talk like that,” Helen protested hastily. +“There’s no necessity to make——”</p> + +<p>But Dirty O’Brien was not to be denied. He promptly cut her short +without the least scruple.</p> + +<p>“No necessity?” he cried, with a sarcasm that left the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>girl +speechless. “How in hell would you have me talk standin’ around a +swell chu’ch like that? I tell you what, Miss Helen, you ain’t got +this thing right. Within a month this durned city’ll all be that +mussed up with itself an’ religion, the folks’ll grow a crop o’ wings +enough to stock a chicken farm, an’ the boys’ll get scratchin’ around +for worms, same as any other feathered fowl. They’ll get that out o’ +hand with their own glory, they’ll get shootin’ up creation in the +name of religion by way o’ pastime, and robbin’ the stages an’ +smugglin’ liquor fer the fun o’ gettin’ around this blamed church an’ +braggin’ of it to the parson. Say, if I know anything o’ the boys, in +a week they’ll be shootin’ craps with the parson fer his wages, an’, +in a month, they’ll set up tables around in the body o’ the chu’ch so +they ken play ‘draw’ while the old man argues the shortest cut to +everlastin’ glory. You ain’t got the boys in this city right, miss. +Indeed, you ain’t. Chu’ch? Why they got as much notion how to act +around a chu’ch as an unborn babe has of shellin’ peanuts. Folks needs +eddicatin’ to a chu’ch like that. Eddicatin’? An’ that’s a word as +ain’t a cuss word, and as the boys of this yer city ain’t wise to.”</p> + +<p>“It seems rather hopeless, doesn’t it?” said Helen, stifling a violent +inclination to laugh outright.</p> + +<p>Dirty O’Brien was less scrupulous. He laughed with a vicious snort.</p> + +<p>“Hopeless?—well, say, hopeless ain’t a circumstance. Guess you’ve +never seen a ‘Jonah-man’ buckin’ a faro bank run by a Chinaman sharp?”</p> + +<p>Helen shook her head while the saloonkeeper spat out his chew of +tobacco with all the violence of his outraged feelings.</p> + +<p>“He surely is a gilt-edged winner beside it,” he finally admitted +impressively, before clipping off a fresh chew from his plug with his +strong teeth.</p> + +<p>Helen turned away, partly to hide the laugh that would no longer be +denied, and partly to watch the approach of a team of horses hauling a +load of logs. In a moment swift anger shone in her pretty eyes.</p> + +<p>“Why!” she cried, pointing at them. “Look, Dirty! That’s our team; and +Pete Clancy is driving it.”</p> + +<p>The man followed the direction in which she was pointing.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” he agreed indifferently.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p><p>“Sure? Of course it’s sure,” retorted Helen sharply; “but +what—what—impertinence!”</p> + +<p>Dirty O’Brien saw nothing remarkable in the matter, and his face +displayed a waning interest.</p> + +<p>“Don’t he most gener’ly drive your team?” he inquired without +enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>“Of course he does. But he’s s’posed to be right out in the hay +sloughs—cutting. I heard Kate tell him this morning.”</p> + +<p>O’Brien’s eyes twinkled, and a deep chuckle came from somewhere in the +depths of his beard.</p> + +<p>“Ken you beat it?” he inquired, with cordial appreciation. “Do you get +his play?”</p> + +<p>“Play?” The girl turned a pair of angry, bewildered eyes upon her +companion. “Impertinence!”</p> + +<p>The man nodded significantly.</p> + +<p>“Sure. Them two scallywags of yours ain’t got nothin’ to give to the +building of the chu’ch. Which means they’ll need to get busy workin’ +on it. Guess work never did come welcome to Mister Peter Clancy and +Nick. They hate work worse’n washin’—an’ that’s some. Guess they +borrowed your team to do a bit o’ haulin’, which—kind o’ squares +their account. They’re bright boys.”</p> + +<p>“Bright? They’re impertinent rascals and—and—oh!”</p> + +<p>Helen’s exasperation left her almost speechless.</p> + +<p>“Which is mighty nigh a compliment to them,” observed the man.</p> + +<p>But Helen’s sense of humor utterly failed her now.</p> + +<p>“It’s—too bad, Dirty,” she cried. “And poor Kate thinks they’re out +cutting our winter hay. I begged of her only this morning to ‘fire’ +them both. I’m—I’m sure they’re going to get us into trouble +when—when the police come here. I hate the sight of them both. Last +time Pete got drunk he—he very nearly asked me to marry him. I +believe he would have, only I had a bucket of boiling water in my +hand.”</p> + +<p>Again came the man’s curious chuckle.</p> + +<p>“It won’t be you folks they get into trouble,” he declared +enigmatically. “An’ I guess it ain’t goin’ to be ’emselves, neither. +But when the p’lice get hot after ’em, why, they’ll shift the +scent—sure.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p><p>Helen’s eyes had suddenly become anxious.</p> + +<p>“You mean—Charlie Bryant,” she half whispered.</p> + +<p>The man nodded.</p> + +<p>“Sure. An’ anybody else, so—<i>they</i> get clear.” O’Brien’s eyes +hardened as they contemplated the distant teamster. “Say,” he went on, +after a brief pause, “there are some low-down bums in this city. +There’s Shorty Solon, the Jew boy. He’s wanted across the border fer +shootin’ up a bank manager, and gettin’ off with the cash. Ther’s +Crank Heufer, the squarehead stage robber, shot up more folks, women, +too, in Montana than ’ud populate a full-sized city. Ther’s Kid +Blaney, the faro sharp, who broke penitentiary in Dakota twelve months +back. Ther’s Macaddo, the train ‘hold-up,’ mighty badly wanted in +Minnesota. Ther’s Stormy Longton, full of scalps to his gun, a bad man +by nature. Ther’s Holy Dick, over there,” he went on, pointing at a +gray-bearded, mild-looking man, sitting on a log beside a small group +of lounging spectators. “He owes the States Government seven good +years for robbing a church. Ther’s Danny Jarvis and Fighting Mike, +both of ’em dodgin’ the law, an’ would shoot their own fathers up fer +fi’ cents. It’s a dandy tally of crooks, but they ain’t a circumstance +beside them two boys of yours. They’re bred bad ’uns, an’ they +couldn’t play even the crook’s game right. I’d sure say they’d be a +fortune to Fyles, when he gets busy cleaning up this place. They’d +give Satan away if they see things gettin’ busy their way.”</p> + +<p>The anxiety deepened in Helen’s eyes as the man denounced the two men +who were her sister’s hired help. She knew that all he said of them +was true. She had known it for months. Now she was thinking of Charlie +Bryant and Kate. If Fyles ever got hold of Charlie it would break poor +Kate’s heart.</p> + +<p>“You think they’d give—any one away?”</p> + +<p>The man shook his head.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think. Guess I know.” Then, after a pause, he went on, +speaking rapidly and earnestly. “See here, Miss Helen, I don’t hold no +brief fer nobody but myself, an’ I guess that brief needs a hell of a +piece of studyin’ right. There’s things in it I don’t need to shout +about, and anyway I don’t fancy Fyles’s long nose smudging the ink on +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>it. You an’ Miss Kate are jest about two o’ the most wholesome bits +o’ women in this township, an’ there ain’t many of us as wouldn’t fix +ourselves up clean an’ neat to pay our respec’s to either of you. Wal, +Miss Kate’s got a hell of a notion for that drunken bum, Charlie +Bryant. That bein’ so, tell her to keep a swift eye on her two boys. +They’re in with him, sure, an’ they’ll put him away if it suits ’em. +Savee? Tell her I said so—since Fyles is goin’ to butt in around +here. I don’t want to see Charlie Bryant in a stripe soot, +penitentiary way. I need him. An’ I need the liquor he runs.”</p> + +<p>The man turned away abruptly. He had broken the unwritten law of Rocky +Springs, where it was understood that no man spoke of another man’s +past, or questioned his present doings, or even admitted knowledge of +them. But like all the rest of the male portion of Rocky Springs, he +possessed a soft spot in his vicious heart for the two sisters, who, +in the mire of iniquity which flooded the township, contrived a clean, +wholesome living out of the soil, and were womanly enough to find +interest, and even pleasure, in their sordid surroundings. Now, he +hurried off down to his saloon, much in the manner of a man who fears +the consequences of feelings which have been allowed to run away with +him.</p> + +<p>Left to herself, Helen only remained long enough to pass a few cheery +greetings with the rest of the onlookers; then she, too, took her +departure.</p> + +<p>For some moments she certainly was troubled by the direct warning of a +man like Dirty O’Brien. With all the many criminal attainments of the +other citizens of Rocky Springs, she knew him to be the shrewdest man +in the place. A warning from him was more than significant. What +should she do? Tell her sister? Certainly she would do that, but she +felt it to be well-nigh useless. Kate was the gentlest soul in the +world. She was the essence of kindliness, of sympathy, of loyalty to +her friends, but she was determined to a degree. She saw always with +her own eyes, and would go the way she saw.</p> + +<p>Had she not warned her herself before? Had she not endeavored to +persuade her a dozen times? It was all quite useless. Kate was +something of an enigma, a contradiction. For all her gentleness Helen +knew she could be as hard as iron.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p><p>Finally, with a sigh, she dismissed the matter from her mind until +such time as opportunity served. Meanwhile she must put in an +appearance at Mrs. John Day’s house. Mrs. John Day was the social +pivot of Rocky Springs, and, to disobey her summons, Helen knew would +be to risk a displeasure which would find reflection in every woman in +the place.</p> + +<p>That was a catastrophe she had no desire to face. It was enough for +her to remember that she had imprisoned herself in such a place. She +had no desire to earn the ill-will of the wardresses.</p> + +<p>She laughed to herself. But she really felt that it was very dreadful +that her life must be passed among these people. She wanted to be +free—to live all these good years of her life. She wanted to attend +parties, and—and dances among those people amid whom she had been +brought up. She craved for the society of cultured folks—of men. Yes, +she admitted it, she wanted all those things which make a young girl’s +life enjoyable—theatres, dances, skating, hockey and—and, yes, +flirtations. Instead of those things what had she—what was she? That +was it. What was she? She had been planted in the furrows of life a +decorative flower, and some terrible botanical disaster had brought +her up a—cabbage.</p> + +<p>She laughed outright, and in the midst of her laugh, looking out +across the valley, she beheld her sister leaving the Meeting House, +which stood almost in the shadow of the great pine, far up on the +distant slope.</p> + +<p>Her laugh sobered. Her thoughts passed from herself to Kate with a +feeling which was almost resentment. Her high-spirited, +adventure-loving, handsome sister. What of her? It was terrible. So +full of promise, so full of possibilities. Look at her. She was clad +in a big gingham apron. No doubt her beautiful, artistic hands were +all messed up with the stains of scrubbing out a Meeting House, which, +in turn, right back to the miserable Indian days, had served the +purposes of saloon, a trader’s store, the home of a bloodthirsty +badman, and before that goodness knows what. Now it was a house of +worship for people, beside whom the scum of the earth was as the froth +of whipped cream. It was—outrageous. It was so terrible to her that +she felt as if she must cry, or—or laugh.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p><p>The issue remained in doubt for some moments. Then, just as she +reached the pretentious portals of Mrs. John Day’s home, her real +nature asserted itself, and a radiant smile lit her pretty face as she +passed within.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>THE “STRAY”-HUNTER</h3> + +<p>The real man is nearest the surface after a long period of idle +solitude.</p> + +<p>So it was with Stanley Fyles, riding over the even, sandy trail of the +prairies which stretched away south of the Assiniboine River. His +sunburnt face was sternly reposeful, and in his usually keen gray eyes +was that open staring light which belongs to the man who gropes his +way over Nature’s trackless wastes, and whose mind is ever asking the +question of direction. But there was no question of such a nature in +his mind now. His look was the look of habit, when the call of the +trail is heard.</p> + +<p>He sat his horse with the easy grace of a man whose life is mostly +spent in the saddle. His loose shoulders and powerful frame swayed +with that magical rhythm which gives most ease to both horse and +rider. His was the seat of a horseman whose poise is the poise of +perfect balance rather than the set attitude of the riding school.</p> + +<p>The bit hung lightly in the horse’s mouth, but lightly as the reins +were held in the man’s hand there was a firmness and decision in the +feeling of them that communicated the necessary confidence between +horse and rider.</p> + +<p>Stanley Fyles was as nearly a perfect horseman as the prairie could +produce.</p> + +<p>Just now the man beneath the officer’s habit was revealed. His +military training was set aside, perhaps all thought of it had been +left behind with his uniform, and just the “man” was reassumed with +the simple prairie kit he had adopted for the work in hand.</p> + +<p>To look at him now he might have been a ranch hand out on the work of +the spring round-up. He was dressed in <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>plain leather chapps over his +black cloth riding breeches, and, from his waist up, his clothing was +a gray flannel shirt, over which he wore an open waistcoat of ordinary +civilian make. About his neck was tied a silk handkerchief of modest +hue, and about his waist was strapped a revolver belt. The only +visible detail that could have marked him as a police officer was the +glimpse of military spurs beneath his chapps.</p> + +<p>His thoughts and feelings as he covered the dreary miles of grass were +of a conflicting nature, and, roaming at will, they centered, as +thoughts so roaming will center, chiefly upon those things which +concerned his most cherished ambitions.</p> + +<p>At first a feeling of something bordering on anxious resentment pretty +fully occupied him. There was still in his mind the memory of an +interview he had had with his immediate superior, Superintendent +Jason, just before the time of his setting out. It had been an +uncomfortable half-hour spent listening to the sharp criticisms of his +chief, whose mind was saturated with the spirit of his official +capacity, almost to the exclusion of common sense.</p> + +<p>Superintendent Jason was still angry at the manner in which the great +whisky-running coup had been effected, and of the manner in which the +perpetrators of it had slipped through the official fingers. He blamed +everybody, and particularly Inspector Fyles, in whose hands the case +had been placed.</p> + +<p>Nor had he been wholly appeased by the inspector’s final offer. Goaded +by the merciless pin-prick of his superior’s tongue, Fyles had finally +offered to set out for Rocky Springs, the place, both were fully +agreed, whence the trouble emanated, and bring all those concerned in +the smuggling to book.</p> + +<p>At first Jason had been inclined to sneer, nor was it until Fyles +unfolded something of his scheme that he began to take it seriously. +Finally, however, the younger man had had his way, and the necessary +permission was granted. Then the superintendent dealt with the matter +as the cold discipline of police methods demanded.</p> + +<p>Fyles remembered his words well. They meant far more to him than they +expressed. They were full of a cold threat, which, to a man of his +experience, could not be mistaken.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p><p>The picture remained in his mind for many a long day. It was doubtful +if he would ever forget it. It was a moment of crisis in his official +life, a crisis when it became necessary to back himself against all +odds—or ultimately sacrifice his position.</p> + +<p>He was standing beside the superintendent, and both men were bending +over one of those secret official charts of the district surrounding +Rocky Springs. They were alone in Jason’s bare, even mean office. +Fyles’s long, firm forefinger was pointing along a trail, and his +sharp, incisive words were explaining something of his convictions as +his finger moved. The other was listening without interruption. At +last, as the quiet, confident tones ceased, the superintendent +straightened himself up, and his small, quick-moving, dark eyes shot +their gleam of cold authority into his companion’s.</p> + +<p>“It’s up to you,” he said, with a callous upraising of his shoulders. +“You’ve talked a good deal to me here, and you’ve made your talk sound +right. But talk doesn’t put these men in the penitentiary. You’ve made +a mess of this job so far. Guess it’s up to you to make good. You’ve +got your chance now. See you don’t miss it. The authorities don’t +stand for two mistakes on one job, not even when they’re made by +Inspector Fyles. You get me? You’ve <i>got</i> to make good.”</p> + +<p>Fyles left the office fully aware that sentence had been passed on +him, just as surely as though he had stood before the Commissioner, a +prisoner.</p> + +<p>Thus, at the outset of his journey, his feelings had been scarcely +pleasant, but, as the distance between him and headquarters increased, +his confidence and sense of responsibility returned, and the shadow of +threat retreated into the background. His plans were carefully laid, +and all the support he could need was arranged for. This time the work +before him was no mere capture of whisky-runners, but to make all +whisky-running, as associated with Rocky Springs, impossible, and to +break up the gang who had for so long defied the law. Yes, he felt +confident in the result, and, as the long miles were put behind him, +his thoughts wandered into more pleasant channels.</p> + +<p>Rocky Springs certainly offered him inducement. And curiously enough +he found himself wondering how much he <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>was influenced by that +inducement in accepting the odds against him in cleaning up the place, +and dusting the cobwebs of crime from its corners.</p> + +<p>Kate Seton. He had not seen her for something running into weeks. The +thought that he was to renew an acquaintance, which, though almost +slight, still had extraordinary power to hold him, was a delightful +one. Sometimes he had found himself wondering at the phenomenon of her +attraction for him. But he was incapable of analyzing his feelings +closely. His life had been spent on these fringes of civilization so +long, and the generality of the women he had come into contact with +had been so much a part of the life of the country, that their appeal +had been weakened almost to the vanishing point.</p> + +<p>Then here, in Rocky Springs, where he might reasonably expect to find +only the dregs of society, he suddenly discovered a woman obviously +belonging to an utterly different and more cultured life. A woman of +uncommon beauty and distinction; a woman, who, to his mind, fulfilled +some essentially mannish ideal, an ideal that, in idle moments, had +stolen in upon a wholly reposeful mind. A woman who——</p> + +<p>But the thread of his pleasant reflections was suddenly broken, and +his mechanically watchful eyes warned him that a horseman was riding +along the trail ahead of him, and that he was rapidly overtaking this +stranger.</p> + +<p>In a moment all other interests were forgotten. To the solitary rider +of the plains a fellow-creature ever becomes a matter of considerable +moment. In Fyles’s case he possessed the added interest of a possible +giver of information.</p> + +<p>As he gently urged his horse to lengthen its stride, his keen eyes +took in the details of the man’s figure, and the points of the horse +he was riding. The man was of unusual stature, so unusual, in fact, +that his horse, although a big raking creature, became dwarfed under +him. Even from that distance the officer obtained a suggestion of fair +hair beneath the brim of the prairie hat, which was tilted forward at +an unusual angle. The great square shoulders of the stranger were clad +in a tweed jacket, and, from what he could make out, he wore no +chapps.</p> + +<p>Just for a moment Fyles guessed he might be some farmer, and the tweed +jacket suggested he was out to pay a visit to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>friends. Then, quite +abruptly, he changed his mind, and further increased his pace. He had +detected the city-fashioned top-boots the man was wearing.</p> + +<p>Without further speculation he pressed on to overtake the stranger, +whom, presently, he saw turn round and look back. Evidently he had +become aware of the approach. Equally evidently he either welcomed or +resented the intrusion upon his solitude. For he reined in his horse, +and waited for the officer to come up.</p> + +<p>The greeting between the men was widely different. The stranger’s face +was abeam with smiling good nature. His big blue eyes were wide with +frank welcome.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been just bursting with a painful longing for the sight of a +living man with two arms and two legs, and anything else that goes to +make up a human companion,” he said delightedly. “Say, how far do you +guess a fellow could ride by himself without needing to be sent into a +home to be looked after?”</p> + +<p>Fyles’s manner was more guarded. The police officer was uppermost in +him now, but he smiled a certain cordiality at the other’s frankly +unconventional greeting.</p> + +<p>“That mostly depends on how many things there are chasing around in +his brain-box to keep the works busy,” he said gently.</p> + +<p>The stranger’s smile broadened into a laugh.</p> + +<p>“That don’t offer much hope,” he replied dryly. “I’ve been riding +around this eternal grass for nigh a week. God knows where I haven’t +been during that time. Nobody ever did brag about the ideas I’ve got +in my head, not even my mother, and any I have got have just been +chewed right up to death till there isn’t a blamed thing left to chew. +For the past ten miles I’ve been reviewing the attractions of every +nursing home I’ve ever heard of, with a view to becoming an inmate. I +think I’ve almost decided on one I know of in Toronto. You see there +are a few human beings there.”</p> + +<p>Fyles’s eyes had taken in the stranger from head to foot. Even the +horse did not escape his closest attention. He recognized this man as +being a stranger in the country. He was obviously direct from some +eastern city, though not aggressively so. Furthermore, the beautiful +chestnut horse he was riding was no prairie-bred animal, and +suggested, in <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>combination with the man’s general get-up, the +possession of ample means.</p> + +<p>“A week riding about—trying to find yourself?”</p> + +<p>Fyles’s question was one of amused speculation.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” the man nodded, with a buoyant amusement in his eyes. “That, +and finding some forgotten hole of a place called Rocky Springs.”</p> + +<p>Fyles lifted his reins and his horse moved on.</p> + +<p>“We’d best ride together. I’m going to Rocky Springs, and—you’ve +certainly hit the trail at last.”</p> + +<p>The fair-haired giant jumped at the suggestion, and even his horse +seemed to welcome the companionship, for it ambled on in the +friendliest manner by the side of the police horse.</p> + +<p>“How did you manage to—lose yourself?” Fyles inquired presently. “Did +you start out from Amberley?”</p> + +<p>The stranger’s look of chagrin was almost comical. He shook his head.</p> + +<p>“That’s where I ought to’ve started from,” he said. Then he shrugged +his great shoulders. “Here, I’ll tell you. I come from down East, and +I’m on my way to join a brother of mine at Rocky Springs. He’s a +rancher. Sort of artist, too. His name’s Charlie Bryant. My name’s +Bill—Bill Bryant. Well, I ought to have got off at Black Cross, and +changed trains for the Amberley branch. Instead of that I was sleeping +peacefully in the car and went right on to a place called Moosemin. +Well, some torn fool told me if I got off at Moosemin I would get +across country to Amberley, and thus get on to the Rocky Springs road. +Maybe he was right enough, if the feller getting off had got any horse +sense. But I guess they forgot to hand any out my way. Anyhow, I kind +of took to the idea. Guessed I’d make a break that way and get used to +the country. So I just bought the best horse I could find in the town +from the worst thief that ever dodged penitentiary, and since then +have spent seven whole days getting on intimate terms with every blade +of grass in the country, and trying to convince various settlers that +I wasn’t a murderer or horse thief, and didn’t want to shoot ’em in +their beds, but just needed food and sleep, all of which I was ready +to pay for at any fancy prices they liked to ask. How I eventually got +here I don’t know, and haven’t a desire to know, and I’ll stake my +oath you won’t find any two people <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>in the country with the same ideas +of direction. And I want to say that I hate grass worse than poison, +and as for sun it’s an abomination. Horse riding’s overrated, and +tailors don’t know a thing about making pants that are comfortable +riding. I could write a book on the subject of boils and saddle +chafes, and when I get off this blamed saddle I don’t intend to sit +down for a week. I think a rancher’s life is just the dandiest thing +to read about I ever knew, and beans—those things the shape of an +immature egg and as hard as rocks—are most nourishing; and I don’t +think I shall need nourishing ever again. Also the West is the +greatest country ever forgotten by God or men, but the remark applies +only to its size. The best thing I know of, just now, is a full-sized +human being going the same way I am.”</p> + +<p>Bill Bryant finished up with a great laugh of the happiest good +nature, which quite robbed Fyles of his last shadow of aloofness. No +one could have looked into the man’s humorously smiling eyes, or +listened to the frank admissions of his own blundering, and felt it +necessary to entertain the least question as to his perfect honesty.</p> + +<p>Fyles accepted the introduction in the spirit in which it was made.</p> + +<p>“My name’s Fyles—Stanley Fyles,” he said cordially. “Glad to meet +you, Mr. Bryant.”</p> + +<p>“Bill Bryant,” corrected the other, grasping and wringing the +policeman’s proffered hand with painful cordiality. “That’s a good +name—Fyles,” he went on, releasing the other’s hand. “Suggests all +sorts of things—nails, chisels—something in the hardware line. Good +name for this country, too.” Then his big blue eyes scanned the +officer’s outfit. “Rancher?” he suggested.</p> + +<p>Fyles smiled, shaking his head.</p> + +<p>“Hardly a—rancher,” he deprecated.</p> + +<p>“Ah. I know. Cowpuncher. You’re dressed that way. I’ve read about ’em. +Chasing cattle. Rounding ’em up. Branding, and all that sort of thing. +Fine. Exciting.”</p> + +<p>Fyles shook his head again.</p> + +<p>“My job’s not just that, either,” he said, his smile broadening. “You +see, I just round up ‘strays,’ and send ’em to their right homes. I’m +out after ‘strays’ now.”</p> + +<p>Bill nodded with ready understanding.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p><p>“I get it,” he cried. “They just break out in spring, and go chasing +after fancy grass. Then they get lost, or mussed up with ether cattle, +and—and need sorting out. Must be a mighty lonesome job—always +hunting ‘strays.’”</p> + +<p>Inspector Fyles’s eyes twinkled, but his sunburned face remained +serious.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I’d say it’s lonesome—at times. You see, it isn’t easy locating +their tracks. And when you do locate ’em maybe you’ve got a long piece +to travel before you come up with ’em. They get mighty wild running +loose that way, and, hate being rounded up. Some of ’em show fight, +and things get busy. No, it’s not dead easy—and it doesn’t do making +mistakes. Guess a mistake is liable to snuff your light out when +you’re up against ‘strays.’”</p> + +<p>A sudden enthusiasm lit Bill Bryant’s interested eyes.</p> + +<p>“That sounds better than ranching,” he said quickly. “You see, I’ve +lived a soft sort of life, and it kind of seems good to get upsides +with things. I’ve got a notion that it’s better to hand a feller a +nasty bunch of knuckles, square on the most prominent part of his +face, than taking dollars out of him to pay legal chin waggers. That’s +how I’ve always felt, but living in luxury in a city makes you act +otherwise. I’ve quit it though, now, and, in consequence, I’m just +busting to hand some fellow that bunch of knuckles.” He raised one +great clenched fist and examined it with a sort of mild enthusiasm. +“I’m going to ranch,” he went on simply, while the police officer +surveyed him as he might some big, boisterous child. “My brother’s got +a ranch at Rocky Springs. He’s done pretty well, I guess—for an +artist fellow. He’s making money—oh, yes, he’s making good money, and +seems to like the life.</p> + +<p>“The fact is,” he went on eagerly, “Charlie was a bit of a bad +boy—he’s a dandy good fellow, really he is; but I guess he got gay +when he was an art student, and the old man got rattled over it and +sent him along out here to raise cattle and wheat. Well, when dad died +he left me most of his dollars. There were plenty, and it’s made me +feel sick he forgot Charlie’s existence. So I took a big think over +things. You see it makes a fellow think, when he finds himself with a +lot of dollars that ought to be shared with another fellow.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p><p>“Well, I don’t often think hard,” he went on ingenuously. “But I did +that time, and it’s queer how easy it is to think right when you +really try—hard. Guess you don’t need to think much in your work—but +maybe sometimes you’ll have to, and then you’ll find how easy it +comes.”</p> + +<p>He turned abruptly in the saddle and looked straight into the +officer’s interested face. His eyes were alight, and he emitted a +deep-throated guffaw.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he went on, “it came to me all of a sudden. It was in the +middle of the night. I woke up thinking it. I was saying it to myself. +Why not go out West? Join Charlie. Put all your money into his ranch. +Turn it into a swell affair, and run it together. That way it’ll seem +as if you were doing it for yourself. That way Charlie’ll never know +you’re handing him a fortune. Can you beat it?” he finished up +triumphantly.</p> + +<p>Stanley Fyles had not often met men in the course of his sordid work +with whom he really wanted to shake hands. But somehow this great, +soft-hearted, simple giant made him feel as he had never felt before. +He abruptly thrust out a hand, forgetful of the previous handshakes he +had endured, and, in a moment, it was seized in a second vice-like +grip.</p> + +<p>“It’s fine,” he said. Then as an afterthought: “No, you can’t beat +it.”</p> + +<p>The unconscious Bill beamed his satisfaction.</p> + +<p>“That’s how I thought,” he said enthusiastically. “And I’ll be mighty +useful to him, myself, too—in a way. Don’t guess I know much about +wheat or cattle, but I can ride anything with hair on it, and I’ve +never seen the feller I couldn’t pound to a mush with the gloves on. +That’s useful, seeing Charlie’s sort of small, and—and mild.” +Suddenly he pointed out ahead. “What’s that standing right up there? +See, over there. A tree—or—something.”</p> + +<p>Fyles abruptly awoke to their whereabouts. Bill Bryant was pointing at +the great pine marking Rocky Springs.</p> + +<p>“That’s the landmark of Rocky Springs,” he told him. This stranger had +so interested and amused him that he had quite lost reckoning of the +distance they had ridden together.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see any town,” complained his companion.</p> + +<p>“It’s in the valley. You see, that tree is on the shoulder of the +valley of Leaping Creek.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p><p>Bill’s eyes widened.</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s a valley, eh? And Charlie’s ranch is down below. I see.”</p> + +<p>The man’s eyes became thoughtful, and he relapsed into silence as they +drew on toward the aged signpost. He was thinking—perhaps hard—of +that brother whom he had not seen for years. Maybe, now that the time +had come for the meeting, some feeling of nervousness was growing. +Perhaps he was wondering if he would be as welcome as he hoped. Had +Charlie changed much? Would his coming be deemed an impertinence? +Charlie had not answered his letter. He forgot his brother had not had +time to answer his impulsive epistle.</p> + +<p>As they drew near the valley his eyes lost their enthusiastic light. +His great, honest face was grave, almost to the point of anxiety.</p> + +<p>Fyles, watching him furtively, observed every change of expression, +and the meaning of each was plain enough to him. He, too, was +wondering about that meeting. It would have interested him to have +witnessed it. He was thinking about that brother in Rocky Springs. He +knew him slightly, and knew his reputation better, and, in +consequence, the two words “drunkard” and “crook” drifted through his +mind, and left him regretfully wondering. Somehow he felt sorry, +inexpressibly sorry, for this great big babe of a man whom he found +himself unusually glad to have met.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>THE BROTHERS</h3> + +<p>The valley of Leaping Creek gaped at Bill Bryant’s feet and the man’s +ready delight bubbled over.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he demanded of his guide, “and this is where my brother’s ranch +is? Gee,” he went on, while Fyles nodded a smiling affirmative, “it +surely is the dandiest ditch this side of creation. It makes me want +to holler.”</p> + +<p>As Fyles offered no further comment they rode on down the hill in +silence, while Bill Bryant’s shining eyes drank in the beauties which +opened out in every direction.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p><p>The police officer, by virtue of his knowledge of the valley, led the +way. Nor was he altogether sorry to do so. He felt that the moment for +answering questions had passed. Any form of cross-examination now +might lead him into imparting information that might hurt this +stranger, and he had no desire to be the one to cast a shadow upon his +introduction to the country he intended to make his home.</p> + +<p>However, beyond this first expression of delight, Bill Bryant made no +further attempt at speech. Once more doubt had settled upon his mind, +and he was thinking—hard.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later the village came into view. Then it was that Bill +was abruptly aroused from his somewhat troubled thought. They were +just approaching the site of the new church, and sounds of activity +broke the sylvan peace of the valley. But these things were of a +lesser interest. A pedestrian, evidently leaving the neighborhood of +the new building, was coming toward them along the trail. It was a +girl—a girl clad in a smart tailored costume, which caught and held +the stranger’s most ardent attention.</p> + +<p>She came on, and as they drew abreast of her, just for one brief +instant the girl’s smiling gray eyes were raised to the face of the +stranger. The smile was probably unconscious, but it was nevertheless +pronounced. In a moment, off came Bill’s hat in a respectful salute, +and only by the greatest effort could he refrain from a verbal +greeting. Then, in another moment, as she passed like a ray of April +sun, he had drawn up beside his guide.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he cried, with a deep breath of enthusiasm, “did you get that +pretty girl?” Then with a burst of impetuosity: “Are they all like +that in—this place? If so, I’m surely up to my neck in the valley of +Leaping Creek. Who is she? How did she get here? I’ll bet a thousand +dollars to a bad nickel this place didn’t raise her.”</p> + +<p>The officer’s reply to the volley of questions came with +characteristic directness.</p> + +<p>“That’s Miss Seton, Miss Helen Seton, sister of the one they +call—Kate. They’re sort of farmers, in a small way. Been here five +years.”</p> + +<p>“Farmers?” Bill’s scorn was tremendous. “Why, that girl might have +stepped off Broadway, New York, yesterday. Farmers!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p><p>“Nevertheless they <i>are</i> farmers,” replied Fyles, “and they’ve been +farming here five years.”</p> + +<p>“Five years! They’ve been here five years, and that girl—with her +pretty face and dandy eyes—not married? Say, the boys of this place +need seeing to. They ought to be lynched plumb out of hand.”</p> + +<p>Fyles smiled as he drew his horse up at the point where the trail +merged into the main road of the village.</p> + +<p>“Maybe it’s not—their fault,” he said dryly.</p> + +<p>But Bill’s indignation was sweeping him on.</p> + +<p>“Then I’d like to know whose it is.”</p> + +<p>Fyles laughed aloud.</p> + +<p>“Maybe she’s particular. Maybe she knows them. They surely do need +lynching—most of ’em—but not for that. When you know ’em better +you’ll understand.”</p> + +<p>He shrugged his shoulders and pointed down the trail, away from the +village.</p> + +<p>“That’s your way,” he went on, “along west. Just keep right along the +trail for nearly half a mile till you come to a cattle track on the +right, going up the hill again.”</p> + +<p>Then he shifted the direction of his pointing finger to a distant +house on the hillside, which stood in full view.</p> + +<p>“The track’ll take you to that shanty there, with the veranda facing +this way. That’s Charlie Bryant’s place, and, unless I’m mistaken, +that’s your brother standing right there on the veranda looking out +this way. For a rancher—he don’t seem busy. Guess I’m going right on +down to the saloon. I’ll see you again some time. So long.”</p> + +<p>The police officer swung his horse round, and set off at a sharp +canter before Bill could give expression to any of the dozen questions +which leaped to his lips. The truth was Fyles had anticipated them, +and wished to avoid them.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>Charlie Bryant was standing on the veranda of his little house up on +the hillside. He was watching with eyes of anxious longing for the +sight of a familiar figure emerging from a house, almost as diminutive +as his own, standing across the river on the far side of the valley.</p> + +<p>There was never any question as to the longing in his dark eyes when +they were turned upon the house of Kate Seton, but the anxiety in them +now was less understandable.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p><p>It was his almost constant habit to watch for her appearance leaving +her home each morning. But to-day she had remained invisible. He +wondered why. It was her custom to be abroad early, and here it was +long past mid-day, and, so far, there had been no sign of her going.</p> + +<p>He wondered was she ill. Helen had long since made her appearance. He +knew well enough that the new church building, and the many other +small activities of the village, usually claimed Helen’s morning. That +was the difference, one of the many differences between the sisters. +Helen must always be a looker on at life—the village life. Kate—Kate +was part of it.</p> + +<p>He sighed, and a look of almost desperate worry crossed his dark, +good-looking face. His thoughts seemed to disturb him painfully. Ever +since he had heard of Inspector Fyles’s coming to the village a sort +of depression had settled like a cloud upon him—a depression he could +not shake off. Fyles was the last man he wished to see in Rocky +Springs—for several reasons.</p> + +<p>He was reluctantly about to turn away, and pass on down to his +corrals, which were situated on the slope beside the house. There was +work to be done there, some repairs, which he had intended to start +early that morning. They had been neglected so long, as were many +things to do with his ranch.</p> + +<p>With this intention he moved toward the end of the veranda, but his +progress was abruptly arrested by the sight of two horsemen in the +distance making their way down toward the village. For awhile he only +caught odd glimpses of them through the trees, but at last they +reached the main road of the village, and halted in full, though +somewhat distant, view of his house.</p> + +<p>In a moment the identity of one of the men became certain in his mind. +In spite of the man’s civilian clothing he recognized the easy poise +in the saddle of Inspector Fyles. He had seen him so many times at +comparatively close range that he was sure he could not be mistaken.</p> + +<p>The sight of the police officer banished all his interest in the +identity of the second horseman. A dark look of bitter, anxious +resentment crept into his eyes, and all the mildness, all the +gentleness vanished out of his expressive features. They had suddenly +grown hard and cold. He knew that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>trouble was knocking at the door of +Rocky Springs. He knew that his own peace of mind could never be +restored so long as the shadow of Stanley Fyles hovered over the +village.</p> + +<p>Presently he saw the two horsemen part. Fyles rode on down toward the +village while the other turned westwards, but the now hot eyes of the +watching man followed only the figure of the unwelcome policeman until +it was lost to view beyond the intervening bush.</p> + +<p>As the officer disappeared the rancher made a gesture of fierce anger.</p> + +<p>“Kate, Kate,” he cried, raising his clenched fists as though about to +strike the unconscious horseman, “if I lose you through him, +I’ll—I’ll kill him.”</p> + +<p>Now he hurried away down to the corrals with the air of a man who is +endeavoring to escape from himself. He suddenly realized the necessity +of a vent for his feelings.</p> + +<p>But his work had yet to suffer a further delay. He had scarcely +reached the scene of operations when the sound of galloping hoofs +caught and held his attention. He had quite forgotten the second +horseman in his bitter interest in the policeman. Now he remembered +that he had turned westward, which was in the direction of his ranch. +The sounds were rapidly approaching up the track toward him. His eyes +grew cold and almost vicious as he thought. Was this another of the +police force? The force to which Fyles belonged?</p> + +<p>He stood waiting at the head of the trail. And the look in his eyes +augured ill for the welcome of the newcomer.</p> + +<p>The sounds grew louder. Then he heard a voice, a somewhat familiar +voice. It was big, and cheerful, and full of a cordial good humor.</p> + +<p>“By Judas! he was a thief, and an outrageous robber, but you can go, +my four-footed monument to a blasted rogue’s perfidy. Five hundred +good dollars—now, at it for a final spurt.”</p> + +<p>Charlie Bryant understood. The man was talking to his horse. Had he +needed evidence it came forthwith, for, with a rush, at a headlong +gallop, a horseman dashed from amid the bushes and drew up with a jolt +almost on top of him.</p> + +<p>“Charlie!”</p> + +<p>“Bill! Good old—Bill!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p><p>The greetings came simultaneously. The next instant Big Brother Bill +flung out of the saddle, and stood wringing his brother’s hand with +great force.</p> + +<p>“Gee! It’s good to see you, Charlie,” he cried joyously.</p> + +<p>“Good? Why, it’s great, and—and I took you for one of the damned +p’lice.”</p> + +<p>Charlie’s face was wreathed in such a smile of welcome and relief, +that all Big Brother Bill’s doubts in that direction were flung +pell-mell to the winds.</p> + +<p>Charlie caught something of the other’s beaming enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>“Why, I’ve been expecting you for days, old boy. Thought maybe you’d +changed your mind. Say, where’s your baggage? Coming on behind? You +haven’t lost it?” he added anxiously, as Bill’s face suddenly fell.</p> + +<p>“I forgot. Say, was there ever such a tom-fool trick?” Bill cried, +with a great laugh at his own folly. “Why, I left it checked at +Moosemin—without instructions.”</p> + +<p>Charlie’s smiling eyes suddenly widened.</p> + +<p>“Moosemin? What in the name of all that’s——?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll have to tell you about it later,” Bill broke in hastily. “I’ve +had one awful journey. If it hadn’t been for a feller I met on the +road I don’t know when I’d have landed here.”</p> + +<p>Charlie nodded, and the smile died out of his eyes.</p> + +<p>“I saw him. You certainly were traveling in good company.”</p> + +<p>Bill nodded, towering like some good-natured St. Bernard over a +mild-eyed water spaniel.</p> + +<p>“Good company’s a specialty with me. But I didn’t come alongside any +of it, since I set out to make here ’cross country from Moosemin on +the advice of the only bigger fool than myself I’ve ever met, until I +ran into him. Say, Charlie, I s’pose its necessary to have a deal of +grass around to run a ranch on?”</p> + +<p>Charlie’s eyes lit with the warmest amusement. This great brother of +his was the brightest landmark in his memory of the world he had said +good-bye to years ago.</p> + +<p>“You can’t graze cattle on bare ground,” he replied watchfully. “Why?”</p> + +<p>Bill’s shoulders went up to the accompaniment of a chuckle.</p> + +<p>“Nothing—only I hate grass. I seem to have gone over <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>as much grass +in the last week as a boarding-house spring lamb. But for that feller, +I surely guess I’d still be chasing over it, like those ‘strays’ he +spends his life rounding-up.”</p> + +<p>A quick look of inquiry flashed in the rancher’s eyes.</p> + +<p>“Strays?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>Bill nodded gravely. “Yes, he’s something in the ranching line. Rounds +up ‘strays,’ and herds ’em to their right homes. His name’s +Fyles—Stanley Fyles.”</p> + +<p>Just for an instant Charlie’s face struggled with the more bitter +feelings Fyles’s name inspired. Then he gave way to the appeal of a +sort of desperate humor, and broke into an uncontrolled fit of +laughter.</p> + +<p>Bill looked on wondering, his great blue eyes widely open. Then he +caught the infection, and began to laugh, too, but without knowing +why.</p> + +<p>After some moments, however, Charlie sobered and choked back a final +gurgle.</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear!” he exclaimed. “You’ve done me a heap of good, Bill. That’s +the best laugh I’ve had in weeks. That fellow a rancher? +Fyles—Stanley Fyles a—rancher? Well, p’raps you’re right. That’s his +job all right—rounding up ‘strays,’ and herding ’em to their right +homes. But the ‘strays’ are ‘crooks,’ and their homes the +penitentiary. That’s Inspector Stanley Fyles, of the Mounted Police, +and just about the smartest man in the force. He’s come out here to +start his ranching operations on Rocky Springs, which has the +reputation of being the busiest hive of crooks in Western Canada. +You’re going to see things hum, Bill—you’ve just got around in time.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>THE UNREGENERATE</h3> + +<p>Later in the afternoon the two brothers found themselves seated on the +veranda talking together, as only devoted relationship will permit +after years of separation.</p> + +<p>They had just returned from a brief inspection of the little ranch for +Bill’s edification. The big man’s enthusiasm had <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>demanded immediate +satisfaction. His headlong nature impelled him to the earliest +possible digestion of the life he was about to enter. So he had +insisted on a tour of inspection.</p> + +<p>The inspection was of necessity brief. There was so little to be seen +in the way of an outward display of the prosperity his elder brother +claimed. In consequence, as it proceeded, the newcomer’s spirits fell. +His radiant dreams of a rancher’s life tumbled about his big +unfortunate head, and, for the moment, left him staggered.</p> + +<p>His first visit was to the barn, where Kid Blaney, his brother’s +ranchman, was rubbing down two well saddle-marked cow-ponies, after +his morning out on the fences. It was a crazy sort of a shanty, built +of sod walls with a still more crazy door frame, and a thatched roof +more than a foot thick. It was half a dug-out on the hillside, and +suggested as much care as a hog pen. The floor was a mire of +accumulations of manure and rotted bedding, and the low roof gave the +place a hovelish suggestion such as Bill could never have imagined in +the breezy life of a rancher, as he understood it.</p> + +<p>There were one or two other buildings of a similar nature. One was +used for a few unhealthy looking fowls; another, by the smell and +noise that emanated therefrom, housed a number of pigs. Then there was +a small grain storehouse. These were the buildings which comprised the +ranch. They were just dotted about in the neighborhood of the house, +at points most convenient for their primitive construction.</p> + +<p>The corrals, further down the slope, offered more hope. There were +three of them, all well enough built and roomy. There was one with a +branding “pinch,” outside which stood a small hand forge and a number +of branding irons. At the sight of these things Bill’s spirit +improved.</p> + +<p>When questioned as to pastures and grazing, Charlie led him along a +cattle track, through the bush up the slope, to the prairie level +above. Here there were three big pastures running into a hundred acres +or more, all well fenced, and the wire in perfect order. Bill’s +improving spirits received a further fillip. The grazing, Charlie told +him, lay behind these limits upon the open plains, over which the +newcomer had spent so much time riding.</p> + +<p>“You see, Bill,” he said, half apologetically, “I’m only a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>very small +rancher. The land I own is this on which the house stands, and these +pastures, and another pasture or two further up the valley. For +grazing, I simply rent rights from the Government. It answers well +enough, and I only have to keep one regular boy in consequence. Spring +and fall I hire extra hands for round-up. It pays me better that way.”</p> + +<p>Bill nodded with increasing understanding. His original dreams had +received a bad jolt, but he was beginning a readjustment of focus. +Besides, his simple mind was already formulating fresh plans, and he +began to talk of them with that whole-hearted enthusiasm which seemed +to be the foundation of his nature.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” he said cordially. “And—and you’ve done a big heap, Charlie. +Say, how much did dad start you out with? Five thousand dollars? Yes, +I remember, five thousand, and our mother gave you another two +thousand five hundred. It was all she had. She’d saved it up in years. +It wasn’t much to turn bare land into a money-making proposition, +specially when you’d had no experience. But we’re going to alter all +that. We’re going to own our grazing, if it can be bought. Yes, sir, +we’re going to own a lot more, and I’ve got nearly one hundred +thousand dollars to do it with. We’re going to turn these barns into +barns, and we’re going to run horses as well as cattle. We’re going to +grow wheat, too. That’s the coming game. All the boys say so down +East—that is, the real bright boys. We’re just going to get busy, you +and me, Charlie. We’re going to have a deed of partnership drawn up +all square and legal, and I’m going to blow my stuff in it against +what you’ve got already, and what you know. That’s what I’m here for.”</p> + +<p>By the aid of his big voice and aggressive bulk Bill strove to conceal +his obvious desire to benefit his brother under an exterior of strong +business methods. And he felt the result to be all he could desire. He +told himself that a man of Charlie’s unbusiness-like nature was quite +easy to impress. When it came to a proper understanding of business he +was much his brother’s superior.</p> + +<p>Charlie, however, was in no way deceived, but such was his regard for +this simple-minded creature that his protest was of the mildest.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p><p>“Of course we could do a great deal with your money, Bill, but—but +it’s all you’ve got, and——”</p> + +<p>His protest was hastily thrust aside.</p> + +<p>“See here, Charlie, boy, that’s right up to me,” Bill cried, with a +buoyant laugh. “I’m out here to ranch. That’s what I’ve come for, +that’s what I’ve worn my skin to the bone for on the most outrageously +uncomfortable saddle I’ve ever thrown a leg over. That’s why I took +the trouble to keep on chasing up this place when my brain got plumb +addled at the sight of so much grass. That’s why I didn’t go back to +find the feller—and shoot him—for advising me to get off at Moosemin +instead of hitting back on my tracks for the right place to change +trains. You see, maybe I haven’t all the horse sense in some things +you have, but I’ve got my back teeth into the idea of this ranching +racket, and my dollars are going to talk all they know. I tell you, +when my mind’s made up, I can’t be budged an inch. It’s no use your +trying. I know you, Charlie. You’re scared to death I’ll lose my +money—well, I’m ready to lose it, if things go that way. Meanwhile, +I’ve a commercial proposition. I’m out to make good, and I’m looking +for you to help me.”</p> + +<p>Charlie looked into the earnest, good-natured face with eyes that read +deep down into the open heart beneath. A great regret lay behind them, +a regret which made him hate and despise himself in a way he had never +felt before. He was thinking whither his own follies had driven him; +he was thinking of his own utter failure as a man, a strong, +big-principled man. He was wondering, too, what this kindly soul would +think and feel when he realized how little he was changed from the +contemptible creature his father had turned out of doors, and when he +finally learned of the horrors of degradation his life really +concealed.</p> + +<p>He had no alternative but to acquiesce before the strong determination +of his brother, and though his words were cordial, his fears, his +qualms of conscience underlying them, were none the less.</p> + +<p>So they came back to the house, and finally foregathered on two +uncomfortable, rawhide-seated, home-made chairs, while Bill enlarged +upon his plans. It was not until these were completely exhausted that +their talk drifted to more personal matters. Then it was that Charlie +himself opened <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>up the way, with a bitter reference to the reasons +that saved him from completely going under when their father shipped +him out to this forlorn spot to regenerate.</p> + +<p>He talked earnestly, leaning forward in his chair. His delicate hands +were tightly clasped, as his eyes gazed out across the valley at a +spot where Kate Seton’s house stood beyond the river.</p> + +<p>Bill sat listening. He wanted Charlie to talk. He wanted to learn all +those little things, sometimes even very big things, which can only be +read between the lines when the tongue runs on unguardedly. He knew +his brother’s many weaknesses, and it was his ardent desire to +discover those signs of betterment and strengthening he fondly hoped +had taken place in the passing of years.</p> + +<p>He lolled back with the luxury of an utterly saddle-weary man. His +heavy bent pipe hung loosely from the corner of his mouth. His big +blue eyes were steady and earnest.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Charlie went on, after a moment’s thought, “I’m glad, mighty +glad, I came here when I did.” He gave a short mirthless laugh. “I +doubt if my satisfaction is inspired by any moral scruple,” he added +hastily, as the other nodded. “Say, can you understand how I feel when +I say I believe all moral scruple has somehow decayed, rotted, died in +me? I don’t mean that I don’t want to be decent. I do; but that’s +because decency appeals to me from some sort of artistic feelings +which have survived the wreck I made of life years ago. No, moral +scruples were killed stone dead when I was chasing through Europe +hunting Art, searching for it with eyes too young to gaze upon +anything more beautiful than a harsh life of strict discipline.</p> + +<p>“Now I have to follow inclinations that have somehow got the better of +all the best qualities in me. That’s how I’m fixed now. And, queer as +it may seem, that’s been my salvation—if you can call it salvation. +When I first came here I was ready to drift any old way. I did drift +into every muck-hole that appealed to me. I didn’t care. As I said, +moral scruples were dead in me. Then this same self-indulgence did me +a good turn. The only good turn it’s ever done me.”</p> + +<p>The eyes gazing across the valley grew very soft.</p> + +<p>“Say, Bill,” he began again, after a brief, reflective pause, “I came +here, and—and found a woman. The greatest, the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>best woman God ever +created. She was strong, big-spirited, beautiful. She’d come out here +to earn a living with her sister. She’d left the East for no better +reason than her big spirit of independence, and a desire to live +beyond the narrow confines of convention. Say, I think I went crazy +about that woman.”</p> + +<p>The man was smiling very softly. All Bill’s senses were alert. His +slow brain was groping for the subtle comprehension which he felt was +needed for a full understanding.</p> + +<p>“That woman came near to saving me—from myself,” Charlie went on, +with a tenderness he was unaware of. “And it was through that very +weakness of self-indulgence. I love her that bad it’s bigger than +anything else in my life. Say, I’d rather have her good opinion, +and—and liking—than anything in life. It’s more to me than any of +those desires that have always claimed me. But there are times when +even her influence isn’t quite big enough. There are times when even +she can’t hold me up. There are things back of my head I can’t +beat—even through her—at times. That’s why I say she’s come near +saving me. Not quite—but near.</p> + +<p>“Bill, guess you can’t understand. Guess no one can. I fight, fight, +fight. She fights, too. She fights without knowing it, too, because +always in my mind is a picture of her handsome face, and eyes of +disapproval. That picture wins most times—but not always. Wait till +you see Kate, Bill, then you’ll understand. I just love her to +death—and that’s all there is to it. She only likes me. She’ll never +feel for me same as I do for her. How can she?—I’m—but I guess you +know what I am. Everybody who knows me knows that I’m a hopeless +drunkard.”</p> + +<p>The man’s final admission came without any self-pity or bitterness. It +is doubtful if there was any shame in him at the acknowledgment. Bill +marveled. He could not understand. He tried to picture himself making +such an admission, and to estimate his feelings at it. Shame, +unutterable shame, was all he could think of, and his good-natured +face flushed with shame for his brother, who had somehow so squandered +all his better feelings.</p> + +<p>Charlie saw the flush, and the tenderness died out of his eyes. He +shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Don’t feel that way about it,” he cried bitterly. “I’m <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>not worth it. +Besides, I can’t stand it from—you. Only—from Kate. I know what +you’re thinking. You’re bound to think that way. You were born with a +man’s body—a big, strong man’s body. I was born weak and puny. I was +born all wrong. I don’t say it in excuse. I merely state a fact. Look +at me beside you, both children of the same parents. I’m like a woman, +I can’t even grow the hair of a man on my face. My mother reveled in +what she regarded as the artistic beauty of my features, my hands”—he +held out his thin hands with their long tapering fingers—“and my love +for all those softer things of life that should only be found in +female nature. She gloried in those things and fostered them. She did +her best, all unknowingly, bless her, to kill the last vestige of +manhood in me. And all the time it was crying out, crying out +bitterly. It was growing stronger and stronger, as my physique +remained undeveloped. Finally it became too great to withstand. Then, +when it turned loose, I was without power to check it. My moral +strength was not equal to the tide, and all my passions swayed me +whithersoever they chose. Again I say this is no excuse; it is merely +fact as I see it. I was powerless to resist temptation. The woman who +once looses her hold on her moral nature can never recover herself. +That is nature—her nature—and, by the curse of fate, it is also +mine.”</p> + +<p>For the moment Bill had no answer. He sat with his eyes averted. All +his affection for his erring brother was uppermost, all his sympathy +and pity. But he dared not display them. All that Charlie had said was +true. His whole appearance was effeminate. He was a man without the +physical support belonging to his sex. As he said, he was left +powerless by nature and upbringing to fight a man’s battle on the +plains of moral integrity. His fall had been drink, with its +accompanying vices, and Bill realized now, after five years’ absence, +how hopeless his brother’s reformation had become. If his love for +this woman could not save him, then surely nothing on earth could. For +Bill, in his simple fashion, believed that such an appeal was above +all in its claims upon any real man.</p> + +<p>He groped for something to say, for something that might show Charlie +that his affection remained utterly unaltered, but he had no great +cleverness, and the right thing refused <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>to come to his aid. As the +silence lengthened between them his groping thoughts took their own +course, which led him to the name, “Kate,” which the other had used. +He remembered he had heard it that day once before.</p> + +<p>“Kate?” he inquired lamely. “Kate—who?”</p> + +<p>“Kate Seton.”</p> + +<p>In an instant Bill’s whole attitude underwent a change. He sat up, +and, removing his pipe, dashed the charred ashes from its bowl.</p> + +<p>“Why, that’s the sister of—Helen Seton.”</p> + +<p>Charlie nodded, his eyes lighting with a sharp question.</p> + +<p>“Sure. But—you don’t know—Helen?”</p> + +<p>Bill’s face beamed.</p> + +<p>“Met her on the trail,” he cried triumphantly. “No end of a pretty +girl. Gray eyes and fair hair. Might have been walking on Broadway, +New York—from her style. Fyles told me about her.”</p> + +<p>“Fyles?”</p> + +<p>Charlie’s eyes suddenly darkened with resentment. He rose abruptly +from his chair, and began to pace the veranda. Then he halted, and +looked coldly down into his brother’s eyes.</p> + +<p>“What did he say?” he demanded shortly.</p> + +<p>Bill’s eyes answered him with question for question.</p> + +<p>“Just told me who Helen was. Said she had a sister—Kate. Said they +were farmers—of a sort. Said they’d been here five years. Why?”</p> + +<p>Charlie ignored the question.</p> + +<p>“That’s all?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>“Sure.” Bill nodded.</p> + +<p>Then the hardness died out of Charlie’s eyes to be replaced once more +by his usual gentle smile.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad. You see, I don’t want him—around Kate. Say——” he +hesitated. Then he moved toward the door of the house. “Guess I’ll get +supper. I forgot, you must be starving.”</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>Kate Seton had spent the whole morning at home. The work of her little +farm had claimed her. She had been out with her two disreputable boys +around the grain, now rapidly turning from its fresh green to that +delicate tint of yellow <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>so welcome to the farmer. It was a +comparatively anxious time, for the cattle grazing at large upon the +prairie loved the sweet flavor of the growing grain, and had no +scruples at breaking their way through the carelessly constructed +barbed wire fencing, and wrecking all that came within their reach. +The fences needed “top railing,” and Kate could not trust the work to +her two men without supervision. So she spent the morning in their +company.</p> + +<p>After the mid-day meal, as soon as Helen had left the house on a +journey to Billy Unguin’s drapery store, she sat herself down at a +small bureau in their kitchen-parlor and drew a couple of books, +suspiciously like account books, from one of its locked drawers, and +settled herself for an hour’s work upon them.</p> + +<p>The room, though not large, was comfortable. It was full of odd, +feminine knick-knacks contrived by Helen’s busy hands. The walls were +dotted with a number of unframed water colors, also the work of the +younger of the two women. There were three comfortable rockers, so +dear to the heart of the women of the country. Besides these, there +was a biggish dining table, and, in one corner of the room, beside a +china and store cupboard, a square iron cook stove stood out, on which +a tin kettle of water was pleasantly simmering.</p> + +<p>It was a homely room which had been gradually furnished into its +present atmosphere of comfort by two pairs of busy hands, and both +Kate and Helen loved it far more, in consequence, than if it had borne +the hall-mark of lavish expenditure.</p> + +<p>But Kate, as she sat before her bureau, had no thought of these things +just now. She was anxious to complete her work before Helen returned. +It was always impossible to deal with figures while her sister was in +the room. And her figures now needed careful attention.</p> + +<p>She opened her books, and soon her busy pen was at work. From a pocket +in her underskirt she drew a number of papers, and these she carefully +sorted out.</p> + +<p>Having arranged them to her satisfaction the task of entering figures +in her book was resumed. Finally she performed the operation of many +sums, the accurate working out of which took considerable time and +pains. Then, from the same pocket, she drew a bundle of notes which +she carefully counted and checked by the figures in the books.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p><p>This work completed she sat back idly in her chair with a thoughtful, +ironical smile in her dark eyes, and the holder of her pen poised in +the grip of her even white teeth.</p> + +<p>She was thinking pleasantly, with a half humorous vein running through +her thought. She was dreaming, day-dreaming, of many things dear to +her woman’s heart. Now and again her look changed. Now a quick flash +leaped into her slumberous eyes, only to die out almost immediately, +hidden under that softer gleam which had so much humor in it. At +another time a grave look replaced all other expression; then, again, +a quick frown would occasionally mar the fair, smooth brow. But always +the dominating note of humorous thoughtfulness would return, as if +this were her chief characteristic.</p> + +<p>Her day-dreaming did not last long, however. It was abruptly +dispelled, as such moods generally are. The sound of hurrying feet +brought a quick look that was one almost of anxiety into her usually +confident eyes. With one comprehensive movement she scrambled her +books and papers together and heaped them into the still open drawer. +Then she gathered up the money, and flung it in after the other +things.</p> + +<p>As the door burst open and Helen ran into the room, her eyes bright +with excitement, and her breathing hurried and short from her run, +Kate was in the act of locking the drawer.</p> + +<p>Helen halted as she came abreast of the table, and her dancing eyes +challenged her sister.</p> + +<p>“At your Bluebeard’s chamber again, Kate?” she cried, in mock +reproval. Then she raised a warning finger. “One of these days—mind, +one of these days, I surely will have a duplicate key made and get a +peek into that drawer, which you never open in my presence. I believe +you’re carrying on an intrigue with some man. Maybe it’s full of +letters from—Dirty O’Brien.”</p> + +<p>Kate straightened herself up laughing.</p> + +<p>“Dirty O’Brien? Well, he’s all sorts of a sport anyway, and I like +‘sports,’” she said lightly.</p> + +<p>Helen took up the challenge.</p> + +<p>“‘Sports’? Why, yes, there are plenty of ‘sports’—of a kind—in this +place. I’ll have to see if I can find one who can <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>make skeleton keys. +I’d surely say that sort of ‘sport’ should be going round the village +all right, all right.”</p> + +<p>She nodded her threat at her sister, who was in no way disconcerted. +She only laughed.</p> + +<p>“What’s brought you back on the run?” she inquired.</p> + +<p>“Why, what d’you s’pose?”</p> + +<p>Kate shrugged, still smiling.</p> + +<p>“I’d say the only thing that could fix you that way was a—man.”</p> + +<p>“Right. Right in once. A man, Kate, not a mouse,” Helen declared, +“although I allow they’re both motive forces calculated to set me +running. The only thing is, one attracts, and the other repels. This +is distinctly a matter of attraction.”</p> + +<p>“Who’s the man?” demanded the practical Kate, with a look of real +interest in her handsome eyes.</p> + +<p>“Why, Big Brother Bill, of course, the man I promised you all I’d +marry.”</p> + +<p>Helen suddenly dashed at her sister and caught her by the arm in +pretended excitement.</p> + +<p>“I’ve seen him, Kate, seen him!” she cried. “And—and he raised his +hat to me. He’s big—ever so big, and he’s got the loveliest, most +foolish blue eyes I’ve ever seen. That’s how I knew him. Say, and when +I saw him with Inspector Fyles, I remembered what Charlie said about +him having no sense, and I had to laugh, and I think he thought I was +grinning at him, and that’s why he raised his hat to me. It seemed so +comical—looked just as if he was being brought in charge of a +policeman for fear he’d lose himself, and would never find himself +again. He’s surely a real live man, and I’ve fallen in love with him +right away, and, if you don’t find something to send me up to see +Charlie about right away, I’ll—I’ll go crazy—or—or faint, or do +something equally foolish.”</p> + +<p>Kate’s amusement culminated in a peal of laughter. She knew Helen so +well, and was so used to her wild outbursts of enthusiasm, which +generally lasted for five minutes, finally dying out in some whimsical +admission of her own irresponsibility.</p> + +<p>She promptly entered into the spirit of the thing.</p> + +<p>“Let’s see,” she cried, gazing thoughtfully about the room, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>while +Helen still clung to her arm. “An excuse—an excuse.”</p> + +<p>“No, no,” cried the impetuous Helen. “Not an excuse. I never make any +excuse for wanting to be in a man’s company. Besides——”</p> + +<p>“Hush, child,” retorted Kate. “How can I think with you chattering? +I’ve got to find you an excuse for going across to Charlie’s place. +Now what shall it be? I know,” she cried, suddenly darting across the +room, followed by the clinging Helen. “I’ve got it.”</p> + +<p>“Got what?” cried the other, with difficulty retaining her hold.</p> + +<p>“Why, the excuse, of course,” cried Kate, grabbing up two books from a +chair under the window. “Here, I promised to send these to Charlie +days ago. That’s it,” she went on. “Take these, and,” she added +mischievously, “I’ll write a note telling him to be sure and introduce +you to Big Brother Bill, as you’re dying to—to make love to him!”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you dare, Kate Seton, don’t you ever dare,” cried Helen +threateningly. “I’ll shoot you clean up to death with one of your own +big guns if you do. I never heard such a thing, never. How dare you +say I want to make love to him? I—I don’t think I even want to see +him now—I’m sure I don’t. Still, I’ll take the books up if +you—really want Charlie to have them. You see, I sure don’t mind what +I do to—to help you out.”</p> + +<p>Kate’s eyes opened wide. Then, in a moment, she stood convulsed.</p> + +<p>“Well, of all the sauce,” she cried. “Helen, you’re a perfect—imp. +Now for your pains you shan’t take those books till after supper.”</p> + +<p>Helen’s merry eyes sobered, and her face fell.</p> + +<p>“Kate—I——”</p> + +<p>“No,” returned the other, with pretended severity. “It’s no use +apologizing. It’s too late. After supper.”</p> + +<p>Helen promptly left her side, and, with a laugh, ran to the wall where +a pair of revolvers were hanging suspended from an ammunition belt.</p> + +<p>She seized one of the weapons by the butt, and was about to withdraw +it from its holster. But, in a flash, Kate was at her side.</p> + +<p>“Don’t Helen!” she cried, in real alarm. “Let go of that gun. They’re +both loaded.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p><p>Helen withdrew her hand in a panic, her pretty face blanching.</p> + +<p>“My, Kate!” she cried horrified. “They’re—loaded?”</p> + +<p>The other nodded.</p> + +<p>“Whatever do you keep them loaded for? I—I never knew. You—you +wouldn’t dare to—use them?”</p> + +<p>Kate’s dark eyes were smiling, but the smile was forced.</p> + +<p>“Wouldn’t I?” she said, with a curious set to her firm lips. Then she +added in a lighter tone: “They’re all that stand between us and—the +ruffians of Rocky Springs.”</p> + +<p>For a moment Helen looked into her sister’s eyes as though searching +for something she had lost.</p> + +<p>“I—I thought you’d changed, Kate,” she said at last, almost +apologetically. “I thought you’d forgotten all—that. I—thought you’d +become a sort of ‘hired girl’ in this village. Guess I’ll have to wait +until after supper—seeing you want me to.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>THE DISCOMFITURE OF HELEN</h3> + +<p>It was well past six o’clock in the evening when the two brothers +completed the discussion of their future plans. It had been a great +day for Bill. A day such as one may look forward to in long +anticipatory moments of dreaming, but the ultimate realization of +which often falls so desperately short of the anticipation. In the +present instance, however, no such calamity had befallen. He felt that +his weary journeyings, with their many discomforts and trials, had not +proved vain. Many of his hopes had been fully realized.</p> + +<p>The unselfishness of the man was supreme. He wanted nothing for +himself, but the delight of sharing in the life of his less fortunate +brother, and changing the course of that fortune into the happier +channels wherein his own lay. And Charlie seemed to accept the +position. He certainly offered no opposition, and, if his manner of +acceptance was undemonstrative, even to an excess of reserve, at least +it was sufficiently cordial to satisfy the unsuspicious mind of Big +Brother Bill.</p> + +<p>Had the big man’s wide, blue eyes been less ready to accept <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>all they +beheld, had his mind been more versed in the study of human nature, +and those shadowy, inexpressible feelings glancing furtively out of +eyes intended only to express carefully controlled thoughts, then Bill +must have detected reluctance in his brother. There were moments, too, +when only a half-heartedness found vent in the man’s verbal acceptance +of his brother’s proposals, which should have been significant, and +certainly invited investigation.</p> + +<p>But even if he observed these things Bill undoubtedly misread them. He +had no reason to doubt that his presence, and all his enthusiastic +plans were welcome, and so he was left blinded to any other feelings +on the part of his brother than those which he verbally expressed. +That Charlie delighted in his presence there could be no doubt, but as +to those other things, well, a close observer might well have been +forgiven had he felt sorry for the bigger man’s single-minded +generosity. To the end Bill felt confident, and remained quite +undisturbed.</p> + +<p>There were still fully two hours of daylight left when Charlie finally +rose from his seat upon the veranda.</p> + +<p>He smiled down at the big figure of the brother he so affectionately +regarded.</p> + +<p>“We’ll need to set about getting your baggage sent through from +Moosemin to-morrow,” he said. Then he added with a quizzical gleam in +his eyes: “Guess you’ve got the checks all right?”</p> + +<p>Bill nodded with profound gravity, and dived into one of his pockets.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” he replied, dragging forth a bunch of metal discs on a strap. +“Five pieces.”</p> + +<p>“Good.” Charlie nodded. His brother’s unconsciousness amused him. +Then, after a moment, his gaze drifted across the valley, and came to +rest on the little home of the Setons, and he went on reflectively, “I +need to get around a piece before dark,” he said. Then with an +unmistakable question in his dark eyes: “Maybe you’ll fancy a walk +around—meantime?”</p> + +<p>Bill’s eyes lit good humoredly.</p> + +<p>“Which means I’m not wanted,” he said with a laugh.</p> + +<p>Then he, too, rose. He stretched himself like some great contented +dog.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p><p>“I’ve a notion to get a peek at the village,” he said. “I’ll call +along down at the saloon and hunt Fyles up. Guess I owe him a drink +for—finding me.”</p> + +<p>At the mention of Fyles’s name a curious look changed the expression +of his brother’s regard. A short laugh that had no mirth in it was the +prompt reply.</p> + +<p>“You can’t buy Fyles a drink in Rocky Springs,” Charlie exclaimed. +“Maybe you can buy all the drink <i>you</i> want. But there’s not a +saloonkeeper in the Northwest Territories would hand you one for +Fyles. This is prohibition territory, and I guess Fyles is hated to +death—hereabouts.”</p> + +<p>For a moment Bill’s eyes looked absurdly serious.</p> + +<p>“I see,” he demurred. “You—hate him—too?”</p> + +<p>Charlie nodded.</p> + +<p>“For—that?” suggested Bill.</p> + +<p>Charlie shrugged. “I certainly have no use for Inspector Fyles,” he +declared. “Maybe it’s for his work, maybe it isn’t. It don’t matter +either way.”</p> + +<p>The manner of Charlie’s reply reminded his brother that his question +had been unnecessarily pointed, and he hastened to make amends.</p> + +<p>“I’m kind of sorry, Charlie,” he said, his face flushing with +contrition. “I didn’t think. You see, I hadn’t——”</p> + +<p>But the other waved his regret aside.</p> + +<p>“Don’t worry,” he said quickly. “Guess you can’t hurt me that way. I +was thinking on other lines. What does matter, and matters pretty +badly, is that some day, if you stop around Rocky Springs, you’ll find +it up to you to take sides between Fyles and——”</p> + +<p>“And?” Bill’s interest had become suddenly absorbed as his brother +paused, his gaze once more drifting away beyond the river. Finally, +Charlie turned back to him.</p> + +<p>“Me,” he said quietly. And the two stood facing each other, eye to +eye.</p> + +<p>It was some moments before Bill’s slow-moving wit came to his aid. He +was so startled that it was even slower than usual.</p> + +<p>“You and—Fyles?” he said at last, his eyes full of absurd wonder. “I +don’t understand. You—you are not against the law?”</p> + +<p>Bill’s wonder had changed to apprehension, and the sight of it +distracted his brother’s more serious mood.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p><p>“Does a fellow always need to be against the law to get up against a +police officer?” he inquired, with a smile of amusement. Then his +smile died out, and he went on enigmatically. “Men can scrap about +most anything,” he said slowly. “Men who <i>are</i> men. I may be a poor +example, but——Say, when Fyles takes hold of things in Rocky Springs, +I guess he isn’t likely to feel kindly disposed my way. That being so, +you’ll surely be fixed one way or the other. Get me, Bill?”</p> + +<p>Bill nodded dubiously.</p> + +<p>“I get that, but—I don’t understand——” he began.</p> + +<p>But Charlie gave him no time to finish.</p> + +<p>“Don’t worry to,” he said quickly. Then he gripped the other’s +muscular arm affectionately. “See you later,” he added, smiling +whimsically up into the troubled blue eyes as he moved off the +veranda.</p> + +<p>Bill was left puzzled. He was thinking very hard and very slowly as he +looked after the departing man. He watched him till he reached the +barn and disappeared within it to get his horse. Then he, too, moved +away, but it was in the direction of the trail which led ultimately to +the village.</p> + +<p>Bill’s nature was too recklessly happy to long remain a prey to +disquieting thoughts. Once the avenue of spruce trees swallowed him up +he abandoned all further contemplation of his disquietude, and gave +himself up to the full enjoyment of his new surroundings.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>It was in the gayest possible mood and highest spirits that Helen, +with her “two-book” excuse tucked under her arm, set out for Charlie +Bryant’s ranch.</p> + +<p>When she appeared at supper time Kate’s dark eyes shone with +admiration and a lurking mischief. At the sight of Helen she clapped +her hands delightedly. The younger girl’s smart, tailored suit had +made way for the daintiest of summer frocks, diaphanous, seductive, +and wholly fascinating.</p> + +<p>“A vision of fluffy whiteness,” cried Kate delightedly, as Helen sat +down at the table. “Helen,” she went on, mischievously, “as a man +hunter you are just too dreadful. Poor Big Brother Bill, why, he +hasn’t the chance of a rat in a corner. He surely is as good as +engaged, married, and—done for.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>Helen’s eyebrows went up in lofty resentment.</p> + +<p>“Katherine Seton, I—don’t understand you—thank goodness. If I did I +should want to box your ears,” she added, in mild scorn. “You’re a +perfectly ridiculous woman, and of no account at all.”</p> + +<p>Kate’s amusement was good to see.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Hel——” she cried.</p> + +<p>But her sister cut her short.</p> + +<p>“Don’t use bad language, please. My name’s ‘Helen’—unless you’ve got +something pleasant to say.”</p> + +<p>Kate poured out the coffee, and helped herself to cold meat. The +supper was the characteristic evening meal of the village. Cakes, and +sweets, and cold meat.</p> + +<p>“How could I have anything but something pleasant to say, with you +looking such a vision?” Kate went on, quite undisturbed. “Why, I +hadn’t a notion you had such a pretty frock.”</p> + +<p>Helen’s attitude modified, as she helped herself to home-made scones +and butter.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been saving it up,” she deigned to explain. “Do I look all +right? How’s my hair?”</p> + +<p>She beamed on her sister, waiting for an expected compliment.</p> + +<p>“Lovely!” exclaimed Kate. Then with added mischief: “And your hair is +simply as fluffy as—as a feather duster.”</p> + +<p>Helen laughed. Her eyes were dancing with that merriment she could +never long restrain.</p> + +<p>“I—I simply hate you, Kate,” she cried. “I’m so upset I can’t eat a +thing. Feather duster indeed. Well, it’s better than the mop Pete +swabs up the floors with. If you’d said that, I’d sure have gone +straight off into a trance, and—and got buried alive. But your +appetite’s awful, Kate, and I can’t sit here forever. I’d say food’s +mighty important, but it’s nothing beside a <i>man</i> waiting for you +somewhere, and you don’t know where. Guess I’ll have something to eat +before I go to bed. Please, Kate—please may I go?”</p> + +<p>The humility of the final request was quite too much for Kate, who +laughed immoderately while she gave the required permission.</p> + +<p>“Yes, off with you, bless your heart,” she cried joyously. “And don’t +you dare come back here without bringing your <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>future husband with +you. Remember, I want to see him, too, and—and if you’re not mighty +good, and nice to me, I’ll see what I can do cutting you out. +Remember, too, I’m not quite on the shelf yet—in spite of what folks +may say. Off with you!”</p> + +<p>Helen needed no second bidding. She snatched up her books, took a +swift glance at herself in the small mirror on the wall, and hastened +out of the house.</p> + +<p>“So long, Kitty,” she cried lightly; “my nets are spread for the big +fish, my dear. He’s there, slumbering peacefully in the shady pool, +waiting to be caught. Do you think he’s ever been fished before? I +hope he’s not wily. You see, I’m so out of practice. That’s the worst +of living in a place where men have to get drunk before they have the +courage to become attentive. And, Kitty, dear——”</p> + +<p>“Off with you, you man hunter,” cried Kate, from her place at the +table, “and don’t you dare ever to call me ‘Kitty’ again. I——”</p> + +<p>But the door was closed, and further expostulation was useless. The +next moment Kate beheld a waving hand through the window. She +responded, and, a moment later, as her sister passed from view, the +smile died out of her eyes.</p> + +<p>She sat on at the table, although her meal was finished. And somehow +all her gaiety had dropped like a mask from her face, leaving her +handsome eyes strangely thoughtful and something hard.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>Meanwhile Helen crossed the river by the quaint log footbridge which +had been one of the first efforts at construction upon which Kate had +embarked on arrival at Rocky Springs. It was stout, and, from a +distance, picturesque. Close to it was a trap for the unwary. For the +two sisters, and their hired men, it was a simple matter for +negotiation. They were used to its pitfalls, which increased with +every spring flood.</p> + +<p>Beyond this the track wound through the bush on its way to the village +main trail, but Helen had no thought of adopting such a circuitous +route when the bush offered her a far more direct one. She vanished +into the wood like a flitting shadow, nor did she reappear until half +the slope up to Charlie Bryant’s house had been negotiated.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p><p>Her reappearance was in the midst of a small clearing, whence she had +an uninterrupted view of Charlie’s house, and a less clear view of the +winding track leading up to it.</p> + +<p>Somehow, by the time she reached this spot, a marked change had come +over her. Her pretty, even brows were slightly drawn together in an +odd, thoughtful pucker. Her usually merry eyes were watchful and +sober. It may have been the gradient of the hills, but somehow her +gait had lost something of its buoyancy. Her steps were lagging, even +hesitating, and, when she finally halted, it was almost with an air of +relief.</p> + +<p>There were several fallen tree trunks about, and, though they must +have been sufficiently inviting if she were weary with her effort, she +quite ignored them. She stood quite still, looking first ahead at her +goal, and then back over the valley toward the little house where her +sister was probably still watching her. Her eyes slowly became +expressive of doubt and indecision. It seemed as though she found it +hard to make up her mind about something.</p> + +<p>After a moment or two she removed the two books from under her arm, +and idly read their titles. She knew them quite well, and promptly +returned them to their place with an impatient sigh.</p> + +<p>Again her look had changed. Now her cheeks suddenly flushed a burning, +shamefaced crimson. Then they paled, and something like a panic grew +in her eyes. But this, too, passed, all but the panic, and, with a +little vicious stamp of her foot, she half determinedly faced the +ranch house on the hill. Her determination, however, was evidently +insufficient, for she did not move on, and, presently, she laughed a +short mirthless laugh. It was her belated sense of humor mocking her. +Her courage, she knew, had failed her. She could not live up to her +boasted claims as a man hunter.</p> + +<p>But her laugh died almost at its birth. Something moving down the hill +among the trees caught her troubled eyes. Then, too, the sound of a +whistle reached her. Some one was approaching from the direction of +Charlie’s house, whistling a tune which somehow seemed familiar. She +promptly warned herself it could not be Charlie. She never remembered +to have heard Charlie whistling so blithe an air.</p> + +<p>Now she distinctly heard the sound of heavy, rapid footsteps drawing +nearer. The panic in her eyes deepened. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>They were staring intently at +the surrounding bush, searching for a definite sight of the intruder. +Nor had she to wait long. The path was just beyond the clearing, and +she had fixed her gaze upon a narrow gap in the foliage. She felt +almost safe in doing so, for the stranger must pass that way if he +were on the path, and the gap was so narrow that it would probably +escape his notice.</p> + +<p>The whistling came nearer, so, too, the rapid footsteps. Then followed +realization. A figure passed the gap. She saw it quite plainly. The +big, broad-shouldered figure of a man with fair hair and blue eyes. It +was Big Brother Bill. Instinctively she drew back, entirely forgetful +of the fallen tree trunks. Then tragedy came upon her.</p> + +<p>How it happened she didn’t know. She afterward felt she never wanted +to know. Something seemed to hit her sharply at the back of the knees. +She remembered that they bent under her. Then, in a second, she found +herself sitting upon the ground with her feet sticking up in the air +in a perfectly ridiculous manner, and, by some horribly mysterious +means, with the support of a fallen sapling pine holding them there.</p> + +<p>At the moment of impact she was too paralyzed with fear to move, then +as a sharp exclamation in a man’s deep voice reached her, a wild +terror seized upon her, and, with a violent effort she rolled herself +clear of the log, scrambled to her feet, her dainty frock stained and +torn with her tumble, and fled for dear life down the hill.</p> + +<p>Faster and faster she ran, breaking her way through all obstructing +foliage utterly regardless of the rents she was making in the soft +material of her frock. She felt she dared not pause for anything with +that man behind her. She felt that she hated him worse than anybody in +the world. To think that he must have witnessed her discomfiture, and +worse than all her two absurd feet sticking up in the air like—like +signposts. It was too awful to contemplate.</p> + +<p>She did not pause for breath until she reached the footbridge. Then a +fresh panic set in. She had left the books behind. They were at the +place where she had fallen.</p> + +<p>Oh dear, oh dear! He would find them. He would find her name in them. +He would take them back to Charlie, and her last hope would be gone. +She would undoubtedly be recognized!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p><p>She wanted to burst into tears, then and there, but something inside +her would not permit her such relief. Instead a whimsical humor came +to her aid and she laughed.</p> + +<p>At first her laugh was pathetically near to tears, but the moment of +doubt passed, and the whole humor of the situation took hold of her. +She hurried on home, laughing as she went; and, desperately near +hysterics, she at last burst into her sister’s presence.</p> + +<p>Kate was on her feet in an instant.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Kate,” she cried, with a wild sort of laughter. “Behold the man +hunter—hunted!” Then she flung herself into a chair, gasping for +breath.</p> + +<p>Kate’s anxious eyes took in something of the situation at a glance.</p> + +<p>“Stop that laughing,” she cried severely.</p> + +<p>Helen’s laugh died out, and she sighed deeply. The next moment she +stood up, and began to smooth out her tattered frock.</p> + +<p>“I’m—all right now—Kate,” she said almost humbly. “But——”</p> + +<p>Again Kate took charge of the situation.</p> + +<p>“Go and change your frock before you tell me anything,” she said +decidedly.</p> + +<p>Helen was about to protest, but the quiet command of her sister had +its effect. She moved toward the door, and Kate’s serious tones +further composed her.</p> + +<p>“Take your time,” she said. “You can tell me later.”</p> + +<p>Helen left the room, and Kate remained gazing after her at the closed +door.</p> + +<p>But it was only for a few moments. The sound of footsteps approaching +the house startled her. She remembered the torn condition of her +sister’s dress. The poor girl had been on the verge of hysterics. “The +man hunter hunted!” she had cried.</p> + +<p>Kate glanced at her revolvers hanging on the wall. Then, with a shrug, +she flung open the door.</p> + +<p>Big Brother Bill was standing outside it. He had removed his hat, and +the evening light was shining on his good-looking fair head. His wide +blue eyes were smiling their most persuasive smile as he held two +books out toward her.</p> + +<p>“I’m fearfully sorry to trouble you, but I was just coming <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>along down +from up there,” he pointed back across the river, “and saw a—a lady +suddenly jump up as though she was scared some, and run on down the +hill toward this house. I guessed it must have been a—a rattler +or—or maybe a bear, or something had scared her, so I jumped in +to—to find it. I was too late, however. Couldn’t find it. Only found +these two books instead. I just followed the lady on down here, +and—well, I brought ’em along.”</p> + +<p>The man’s manner was so frankly ingenuous, and his whole air so +hopelessly that of a tenderfoot that Kate recognized him at once. +Instantly she held out her hand with a smile.</p> + +<p>“Thanks, Mr. Bryant. They’re my sister’s. She was taking them up to +your brother. It’s very kind of you to take so much trouble. Won’t you +come in, and let her thank you herself? You see, we’re great friends +of your brother’s. I am Kate Seton, and—the lady you so gallantly +sought to help is my sister—Helen.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>LIGHT-HEARTED SOULS</h3> + +<p>A pair of gray eyes were struggling to glare coldly into a pair of +amiably smiling blue eyes. It was a battle of one against an opponent +who had no idea battle was intended. From the vantage ground of only +partial understanding a pair of dark eyes looked on, smiling with the +wisdom which is ever the claim of the onlooker.</p> + +<p>“This is my sister, Helen, Mr. Bryant,” Kate said, with quiet +enjoyment, as her sister, perfectly composed once more, but still +angry with the world in general, abruptly entered the room from that +part of the house where her bedroom was situated.</p> + +<p>As the words fell upon her ears, and she looked into the good-looking, +cheerful face of the man, all Helen’s feelings underwent a shock, as +though a mighty seismological upheaval were going on inside her.</p> + +<p>The man who had witnessed her discomfiture—the man who had dared to +be within one hundred miles of her when <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>her daintily shod feet, with +a display of diaphanous stocking, had been waving in the air like two +wobbly semaphores celebrating Dominion Day or the Fourth of July, +or—or something. Those silly looking prying eyes had seen. How dared +he? What right had he to be walking down that particular trail at that +particular moment? How dared he whistle, any way? What right had he in +Rocky Springs? Why—why was he on earth at all?</p> + +<p>At that moment Helen felt that if there was one combination in the +world she disliked more than another it was blue eyes and fair hair. +Yes, and long noses were hateful, too; they were always poking +themselves into other people’s business. Big men were always clumsy. +If this man hadn’t been clumsy he—he—wouldn’t have been there to +see. Yes, she hated this man, and she hated her sister for standing +there looking on, grinning like—like a Cheshire cat. She didn’t know +what a Cheshire cat was like, but she was certain it resembled Kate at +that moment.</p> + +<p>“How d’you do?”</p> + +<p>The frigidity of Helen’s greeting was a source of dismay to the man, +who had suddenly become aware that she was again dressed in the +tailored suit which had so caught his fancy earlier in the day. His +dismay became evident to Kate, the onlooker. Helen, too, noted the +effect in his sobering eyes, and was resentfully glad.</p> + +<p>“It was a lucky chance my coming along,” Bill blundered. “You see, if +the dew had got on these books they’d have got all mussed. Must have +been a sort of fate about my being around, and—and finding ’em for +you.”</p> + +<p>“Fate?” sniffed Helen, with the light of battle in her eyes, while +Kate began to laugh.</p> + +<p>“Why, sure,” said Bill eagerly. “Don’t you believe in fate? I do. +Say,” he went on, gaining confidence from the sound of his own voice, +“it was like this. Charlie and I had been talking a piece, and then he +had to go off, and didn’t want me. If he had, I should have gone with +him. Instead, I set off by myself, making toward the village. Being a +sort of feller who never sees much but what’s straight ahead of him, +it didn’t occur to me to look around at things. That’s how it was I +didn’t see you till I caught sight of your——”</p> + +<p>“You needn’t go into details,” broke in Helen icily. “I <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>just think it +was hateful your standing there looking on while I fell over that tree +trunk.”</p> + +<p>Bill’s eyes took on a sudden blank look of bewilderment, which raised +a belated hope in Helen’s broken heart, and set Kate chuckling +audibly.</p> + +<p>“Tree trunk?” he exclaimed. “Did you fall? Say, I’m real sorry, +Miss Helen. I surely am. You see, I just caught sight of”—again +came Helen’s warning glance, but the man went on without +understanding—“somebody in white, disappearing through the bushes, +on the run. I guessed a rattler, or a bear, or—or something had +got busy scaring you to death. So I jumped right in to fix him. +That’s how I found these books,” he finished up rather regretfully. +“And I was just feeling good enough to scrap a—a house.”</p> + +<p>A thaw had abruptly set in in Helen’s frozen feelings. The memory of +those unfortunate feet of hers no longer waved before her mind’s eye. +It was fading—fading rapidly. <i>He had not seen—them.</i> And as the +frozen particles melted, she could not help noticing what splendidly +cut features the man really had. His nose was really beautifully +shaped. She was glad, too, that his eyes were blue; it was her +favorite color, and went so well with fair hair, especially when it +was slightly wavy.</p> + +<p>She smiled.</p> + +<p>“Won’t you sit down awhile?” she inquired, with a sudden access of +graciousness. “You see, we’re very unconventional here, and your +brother’s a great friend of ours.” Then, out of the corners of her +eyes she detected Kate’s satirically smiling eyes. She promptly +resolved to get even with her. “Especially Kate’s, and—I’ll let you +into a secret. A great secret, mind. We knew you were coming +to-day—had arrived, in fact—and Kate’s been dying to see you all +day. Said she really couldn’t rest till she’d seen Charlie’s brother. +Truth.”</p> + +<p>Bill lumbered heavily into an ample rocker, and Helen propped herself +upon the table, while Kate, upon whom had descended an avalanche of +displeasure, suddenly bestirred herself.</p> + +<p>“How dare you, Helen?” she cried, in an outraged tone. “You—mustn’t +take any notice of her, Mr. Bryant. You see, she isn’t +altogether—responsible. She has a naturally <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>truth-loving nature, but +she has somehow become corrupted by contamination with this—this +dreadful village. I—I feel very sorry for her at times,” she added, +laughing. “But really it can’t be helped. She keeps awful company.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I like that,” protested Helen, now thoroughly restored to good +humor by the conviction that Big Brother Bill had not witnessed her +shameful trouble. “Mr. Bryant will soon know which of us to believe, +after a statement like that.”</p> + +<p>“I always believe everybody.” The man laughed heartily. “It saves an +awful lot of trouble.”</p> + +<p>“Does it?” inquired Kate, as she slipped quietly into the other +rocker.</p> + +<p>Helen shook her head decidedly.</p> + +<p>“Not when you’re living in this ‘dump’ of a village. Say, Mr. Bryant, +you’ve heard of Mr. Ananias in the Bible? If you haven’t you ought to +have. Well, the people who wrote about him never guessed there was +such a place as Rocky Springs, or they’d sure have choked rather than +have written about such a milk-and-water sort of liar as Mr. Ananias. +Truth, he’s not a—circumstance. All you need to believe in Rocky +Springs is what you come up against, and then you don’t need to be too +sure you haven’t got—visions.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and generally mighty unpleasant—visions,” chimed in Kate, with +a laugh.</p> + +<p>Bill’s smiling eyes refused to become serious under the portent of +these warnings.</p> + +<p>“Guess I’ve been around Rocky Springs about five hours, and the +visions I’ve had, so far, don’t seem to worry me a thing,” he said.</p> + +<p>Helen smiled. She remembered her first meeting with this man.</p> + +<p>“What were you doing with Fyles to-day?” she inquired unguardedly.</p> + +<p>Bill suddenly brought his fist down on the arm of his rocker.</p> + +<p>“There,” he cried, as though he had suddenly made a great discovery. +“I knew it was you I saw on the trail. Why,” he added, with guileful +simplicity, “you were wearing that very suit you have on now. Say, was +there ever such a fool, not recognizing you before?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p><p>Helen was deceived—and so easily.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t think you really saw me,” she said, without the least shame. +“You were so busy with the—sights.” Bill nodded.</p> + +<p>“Yes, we’d just come along down past that mighty big pine. Fyles had +told me it was the landmark. I—I was just thinking about things.”</p> + +<p>“Thinking about the old pine?” inquired Helen.</p> + +<p>“Well, not exactly,” replied Bill. “Though it’s worth it. I mean +thinking about——. You see, a fellow like me don’t need to waste many +big thinks. Guess I haven’t got ’em to waste,” he added deprecatingly.</p> + +<p>Helen shook her head, but her laughing eyes belied the seriousness of +her denial.</p> + +<p>“That’s not a bit fair to—yourself,” she said. “I just don’t believe +you haven’t got any big ‘thinks.’”</p> + +<p>Bill’s manner warmed.</p> + +<p>“Say, that makes me feel sort of glad, Miss Helen. You see, I’m not +such a duffer really. I think an awful lot, and it don’t come hard +either. But folks have always told me I’m such a fool, that I’ve kind +of got into the way of believing it. Now, when I saw that pine and the +valley I felt sort of queer. It struck me then it was sort of +mysterious. Just as though the hand of Fate was groping around and +trying to grab me.”</p> + +<p>He reached out one big hand to illustrate his words, and significantly +pawed the air.</p> + +<p>Helen’s face wreathed itself in smiles.</p> + +<p>“I know,” she declared. “You felt your fate was somehow linked with it +all.”</p> + +<p>Kate was gently rocking herself, listening to the light-hearted +inconsequent talk of these two. Now she checked the movement of the +rocker and leaned forward.</p> + +<p>Her eyes were smiling, but her manner was half serious.</p> + +<p>“It’s not at all strange to me that that old pine inspired you +with—superstitious feelings,” she said. “It has the same effect on +most folks—right back to the old Indian days. You know, there’s a +legend attached to it. I don’t know where it comes from. Maybe it’s +really Indian. Maybe it belongs to the time when King Fisher used to +live in the old Meeting House, before it was a—saloon. I don’t know.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p><p>Helen suddenly raised herself to a seat upon the table. Her eyes lit, +and Big Brother Bill, watching her, reveled in the picture she made. +Now he knew her, his first feelings at sight of her on the trail had +received ample confirmation. She surely was one of the most delightful +creatures he had ever met.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Kate, a legend,” cried the girl, as she settled herself on the +table. “However did you know about it? You—you never told me.”</p> + +<p>Kate shook her head indulgently.</p> + +<p>“I don’t tell you everything,” she said with mock severity. “You’re +too imaginative, too young—too altogether irresponsible. Besides, you +might have nightmare. Anyway most folk know it in the village.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Kate!”</p> + +<p>“Say, tell us, Miss Seton,” cried Bill, his big eyes alight with +interest. “If there’s one thing I’m crazy on it is legends. I just +love ’em to death.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think I ought to tell it in front of Helen,” Kate said +mischievously. “She’s——”</p> + +<p>Helen sprang from her seat and stood threateningly before her sister.</p> + +<p>“Kate Seton,” she cried, “I demand your story.” Then she went on +melodramatically, “You’ve said too much or too little. You’ve got to +tell it right here and now, or—or I’ll never speak to you +again—never,” she finished up feebly.</p> + +<p>Kate smiled.</p> + +<p>“What a dreadful threat!” Then she turned to Bill. “Mr. Bryant, I +s’pose I’ll have to tell her. You don’t know what an awful tempered +woman it is. I really believe it would actually carry out its threat +for—five minutes.”</p> + +<p>Bill’s good-natured guffaw came readily.</p> + +<p>“I’ll back Miss Helen up,” he declared promptly. “If you don’t tell us +we’ll both refrain from speech for—five minutes.”</p> + +<p>Kate sighed.</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear. Then I’ll have to tell. It’s bullying. That’s what it is. +But—here goes.”</p> + +<p>Helen beamed upon Bill, and the man’s blue eyes beamed back again. +While he settled himself in his chair Helen returned to her less +dignified seat upon the table.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p><p>“Let’s see,” began Kate thoughtfully. “Now, just where does it begin? +Oh, I know. There’s a longish rhyme about it, but I can’t remember +that. The story of it goes like this.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“Somewhere away back, a young chief broke away from his +tribe with a number of braves. The young chief had fallen in +love with the squaw of the chief of the tribe, and she with +him. Well, they decided to elope together, and the young +chief’s followers decided to go with them, taking their +squaws with them, too. It was decided at their council that +they would break away from the old chief and form themselves +into a sort of nomadic tribe, and wander over the plains, +fighting their way through, until they conquered enough +territory on which to settle, and found a new great race.</p> + +<p>“Well, I guess the young chief was a great warrior, and so +were his braves, and, for awhile, wherever they went they +were victorious, devastating the country by massacre too +terrible to think of. But the chief of the tribe, from which +these warriors had broken away, was also a great and savage +warrior, and when he discovered that his wife was faithless +and had eloped with another, stealing all his best war paint +and fancy bead work, he rose up and used dreadful language, +and gathered his braves together. They set out in pursuit of +the absconders, determined to kill both the wife and her +paramour.</p> + +<p>“To follow the young chief’s trail was an easy matter, for +it was a trail of blood and fire, and, after long days of +desperate riding, the pursuers came within striking +distance. Then came the first pitched battle. Both sides +lost heavily, but the fight was indecisive. The result of +it, however, showed the pursuers that they had no light task +before them. The chief harangued his braves, and prepared to +follow up the attack next day. The fugitives, though their +losses had been only proportionate with those of their +pursuers, were not in such good case. Their original numbers +were less than half of their opponents.</p> + +<p>“However, they were great fighters, and took no heed, but +got ready at once for more battle. The young chief, however, +had a streak of caution in him. Maybe he saw what the braves +all missed. If in a fight he lost as many men as <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>his +opponents, and the opponents persisted, why, by the process +of elimination, he would be quietly but surely wiped out.</p> + +<p>“Now, it so happened, he had long since made up his mind to +make his permanent home in the valley of Leaping Creek. He +knew it by repute, and where it lay, and he felt that once +in the dense bush of the valley he would have a great +advantage over the attacks of all pursuers.</p> + +<p>“Therefore, all that night, leaving his dead and wounded +upon the plains, he and his men rode hard for the valley. At +daybreak he saw the great pine that stood up on the horizon, +and he knew that he was within sight of his goal, and, in +consequence, he and his men felt good.</p> + +<p>“But daybreak showed him something else, not so pleasant. He +had by no means stolen a march upon his pursuers. They, too, +had traveled all night, and the second battle began at +sunrise.</p> + +<p>“Again was the fight indecisive, and the young chief was +buoyant, and full of hope. He told himself that that night +should see him and his squaw and his braves safely housed in +the sheltering bush of the valley. But when he came to count +up his survivors he was not so pleased. He had lost nearly +three-quarters of his original numbers, and still there +seemed to be hordes of the pursuers.</p> + +<p>“However, with the remnant of his followers, he set out for +the final ride to the valley that night. Hard on his heels +came the pursuers. Then came the tragedy. Daylight showed +them the elusive pine still far away on the horizon, and his +men and horses were exhausted. He was too great a warrior +not to realize what this meant. There were his pursuers +making ready for the attack, seemingly hundreds of them. +Disaster was hard upon him.</p> + +<p>“So, before the battle began, he took his paramour, and, +before all eyes, he slew her so that his enemy should not +wholly triumph, and incidentally torture her. Then he rose +up, and, in a loud voice, cursed the pine and the valley of +the pine. He called down his gods and spirits to witness +that never, so long as the pine stood, should there be peace +in the valley. Forever it should be the emblem of crime and +disaster beneath its shadow. There should be no happiness, +no prosperity, no peace. So, too, with its final fall should +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>go the lives of many of those who lived beneath its shadow, +and only with their blood should the valley be purified and +its people washed clean.</p> + +<p>“By the time his curse was finished his enemies had +performed a great enveloping movement. When the circle was +duly completed, then, like vultures swooping down upon their +prey, the attacking Indians fell upon their victims and +completed the massacre.</p></div> + +<p>“There!” Kate exclaimed. “That’s about as I remember it. And a pretty +parlor story it is, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“I like that feller,” declared Bill, with wholesome appreciation. “He +was good grit. A bit of a mean cuss—but good grit.”</p> + +<p>But Helen promptly crushed him.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think he was at all nice,” she cried scornfully. “He deserved +all he got, and—and the woman, too. And anyway, I don’t think his +curse amounts to small peas. A man like that—not even his heathen +gods would take any notice of.”</p> + +<p>Kate rose from her chair laughing.</p> + +<p>“Tell the boys of this village that. Ask them what they think of the +pine.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve heard Dirty O’Brien say he loves it,” protested Helen +obstinately. “Doesn’t know how he could get on without it.”</p> + +<p>“There, Mr. Bryant, didn’t I tell you she kept bad company? Dirty +O’Brien! What a name.” Kate looked at the clock. “Good gracious, it’s +nearly eight o’clock, and I have—to go out.”</p> + +<p>Bill was on his feet in a moment.</p> + +<p>“And all the time I’m supposed to be investigating the village and +making the acquaintance of this very Dirty O’Brien,” he said. “You +see, Charlie had to go out, as I told you. He didn’t say when he’d get +back. So——.” He held out his hand to the elder sister.</p> + +<p>“Did Charlie say—where he was going?” she inquired quickly, as she +shook hands.</p> + +<p>Bill laughed, and shook his head.</p> + +<p>“No,” he replied. “And somehow he didn’t invite me to ask—either.”</p> + +<p>Helen had slid herself off the table.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p><p>“That’s what I never can understand about men. If Kate were going +out—and told me she was going, why—I should just demand to know +where, when, how, and why, and every other old thing a curious +feminine mind could think of in the way of cross-examination. But +there, men surely are queer folks.”</p> + +<p>“Good-bye, Mr. Bryant,” said Kate. She had suddenly lost something of +her lightness. Her dark eyes had become very thoughtful.</p> + +<p>Helen, on the contrary, was bubbling over with high spirits, and was +loath to part from their new acquaintance.</p> + +<p>“I hated your coming, Mr. Bryant,” she explained radiantly. “I tell +you so frankly. Some day, when I know you a heap better, I’ll tell you +why,” she added mysteriously. “But I’m glad now you came. And thank +you for bringing the books. You’ll like Dirty O’Brien. He’s an awful +scallywag, but he’s—well, he’s so quaint. I like him—and his +language is simply awful. Good night.”</p> + +<p>“Good night.”</p> + +<p>Bill held the girl’s hand a moment or two longer than was necessary. +It was such a little brown hand, and seemed almost swamped in his +great palm. He released it at last, however, and smiled into her sunny +gray eyes.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad you feel that way. You know I have a sort of sneaking regard +for the feller who can forget good talk, and—and explode a bit. I—I +can do it myself—at times.”</p> + +<p>Helen stood at the door as the man took his departure. The evening was +still quite light, and Bill, looking back to wave a farewell, fell +further as a victim to the picture she made in the framing of the +doorway.</p> + +<p>Helen turned back as he passed from view.</p> + +<p>“You going out, Kate, dear?” she asked quickly.</p> + +<p>Kate nodded.</p> + +<p>“Where?”</p> + +<p>“Out.”</p> + +<p>And somehow Helen forgot all the other inquiries she might have made.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>THE HOUSE OF DIRTY O’BRIEN</h3> + +<p>It was late at night. The yellow lamplight left hard faces almost +repulsive under the fantastic shadows it so fitfully impressed upon +them. The low-ceiled room, too, gained in its sordid aspect. An +atmosphere of moral degradation looked out from every shadowy corner, +claiming the features of everybody who came within the dull radiance +of the two cheap oil lamps swinging from the rafters.</p> + +<p>Dirty O’Brien’s saloon was a fitting setting for a proprietor with +such a name. Crime of every sort was suggested in its atmosphere at +all time; but at night, when the two oil lamps, with their smoky +chimneys, were burning, when drink was flowing, when the room was full +of rough bechapped men belonging to the valley, with their long hair, +their unwashed skins, their frowsy garments, and the firearms adorning +their persons, when strident voices kept up an almost continual babel +of coarse oaths, interlarded with rough laughter, or deadly +quarrelings, when the permeation of alcohol had done its work and left +its victims in a condition when self-control, at all times weak enough +in these untamed citizens, was at its lowest ebb, then indeed the +stranger, unaccustomed to such sights and sounds, might well feel that +at last a cesspool of civilization had been reached.</p> + +<p>The room was large in floor space, but the bark-covered rafters, +frowsy with cobwebs, were scarcely more than two feet above the head +of a six-foot man. The roof was on a gradual, flat slope from the bar +to the front door, which was flanked by windows on either side of it. +So low were the latter set, and so small were they, that a well-grown +man must have stooped low to peer through the befouled glass panes. +The walls of the building were of heavy lateral logs bare as the day +they were set up, except for a coating of whitewash which must have +stood the wear of at least ten years.</p> + +<p>The evening had been a long and noisy one; longer and noisier than +usual. For a note of alarm had swept through <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>the town—an alarm +which, in natures as savage and unscrupulous as those of the citizens +of the valley, promptly aroused the desperate fighting spirit always +pretty near the surface.</p> + +<p>The gathering was pretty well representative of the place. The bar had +been crowded all night. Some of the men were plain townsmen belonging +to the purely commercial side of the place, and these were clad as +became citizens of any little western township. But they were the very +small minority, and had no particularly elevating effect upon the +aspect of the gathering. Far and away the majority were of the +prairie, men from outlying farms and ranches, whose hard, bronzed +features and toil-stained kits, marked them out as legitimate workers +who found their recreation in the foul purlieus of this drinking booth +merely from lack of anything more enticing. Then, too, a few +dusky-visaged, lank-haired creatures wearing the semi-barbaric costume +of the prairie half-breed found a place in the gathering.</p> + +<p>But none of these were the loud-voiced, hard-swearing complainants. +That was left to a section of the citizens of the town who had +everything in the world to lose by the coming of the police. As the +evening wore on these gradually drew everybody’s interest in the +matter, until the stirring of passions raised the babel of tongues to +an almost intolerable clamor.</p> + +<p>Dirty O’Brien, sinister and cynical, stood behind his bar serving +every customer with a rapidity and nonchalance which the presence of +the police in the place could never disturb. But the situation was +well within his grasp. On this particular night his mandate had gone +forth, and, in his own bar, he was an absolute autocrat. Each drink +served must be devoured at once, and the empty glass promptly passed +back across the counter. These were hastily borne off by an assistant +to an adjoining room, where, in secret cupboards let into the sod +partition wall, the kegs of smuggled spirit were secreted. All drinks +were poured out in this room, and, on the first alarm, the secret +cupboards could be hidden up, and all sign of the traffic concealed. +Then there was nothing left to be seen but the musty display of +temperance drinks on the shelves behind the bar, and a barrel of four +per cent. beer, for the dispensing of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>which the existence of these +prohibition saloons was tolerated and licensed by the Government.</p> + +<p>Dirty O’Brien knew the law to the last word. He only came up against +it when caught in the act of selling spirits. This was scarcely likely +to happen. He was far too astute. His only danger was a trap customer, +and the difficulties and dangers of attempting such a course, even the +most foolhardy would scarcely dare to risk in a place as untamed as +Rocky Springs.</p> + +<p>Even the wildest spirits, however, were bound to reach their limit of +protest against this new move of the authorities, and by midnight the +majority of the customers had taken their departure from Dirty +O’Brien’s booth. Thus, when the small hours crept on, only a trifling +gathering of his regular patrons still remained behind.</p> + +<p>The air of the place was utterly foul. The stench of tobacco smoke +blending with the fumes of liquor left it nauseating. In the farthest +corner of the room, just beside one of the windows, a group of four +men were playing draw poker, and with these were Kate’s two hired men, +Nick Devereux, with his vulture head and long lean neck, and Pete +Clancy, the half-breed, whose cadaverous cheeks and furtive eye marked +him out as a man of desperate purpose.</p> + +<p>At another table Kid Blaney was amusing himself with a pack of cards, +betting on the turn-up with the well-known badman, Stormy Longton. For +the rest there was a group of citizens lounging against the bar, still +discussing with the proprietor the possibilities of the newly created +situation. These were the postmaster, Allan Dy, and Billy Unguin, the +dry-goods man, and the patriarch church robber known as Holy Dick. The +only other occupant of the bar was Charlie Bryant.</p> + +<p>He had come there earlier in the evening for no other purpose than to +hear how the town was taking the arrival of the police, and to glean, +if possible, any news of the contemplated movements of Stanley Fyles. +This had been his purpose, and for some time he had resisted all other +temptation. Nor, apart from his weakness, was he without considerable +added temptation. Dirty O’Brien displayed a marked geniality toward +him the moment he came in, and, by every consummate art of which he +was master, sought to break through the man’s resolve.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p><p>Charlie fell. Of course he fell, as in the end O’Brien knew he would. +And, once having fallen, he lingered on and on, drinking all that came +his way with that insatiable craving, which, once indulged, never left +him a moment’s peace.</p> + +<p>Now, silent, resentful, but only partially under the influence of +liquor, he was sitting upon the edge of the wooden coal box which +stood against the wall at the end of the counter. His legs were +outspread along the top of its side, and his back was resting against +the counter itself. His eyes were bright with that peculiar luster +inspired by a brain artificially stimulated. They were slightly +puffed, but otherwise his boyish features bore no sign of his +libations. One peculiarity, however, suggested a change in him. The +womanish delicacy of his lips had somehow gone, and now they protruded +sensually as he sucked at a cheap cigarette.</p> + +<p>Although these were only slight changes in Charlie’s appearance, they +nevertheless possessed a strangely brutalizing effect upon the +refinement of his handsome face. And, added to them was an air of +moroseness, of cold reserve, that suggested nothing so much as +impotent resentment at the conditions under which he found himself.</p> + +<p>Without any appearance of interest he was listening to the talk of +those at the bar. And somehow, though his back was turned toward him, +O’Brien, judging by the frequency with which his quick-moving eyes +flashed in his direction, was aware of his real interest, and was +looking for some sign whereby he might draw him into the talk. But the +sign did not come, and the saloonkeeper was left without the least +encouragement.</p> + +<p>Finally, however, O’Brien made a direct attempt. He was standing a +round of drinks and included in his invitation the man on the coal +box. He passed him a glass of whisky.</p> + +<p>“Have another,” he said, in his short way. Then he added: “On me.”</p> + +<p>Charlie thanked him curtly, and took the drink. He drank it at a gulp +and passed the glass back. But his general attitude underwent no +change. His eyes remained morosely fixed upon the poker players.</p> + +<p>Billy Unguin winked significantly at O’Brien and glanced at Charlie.</p> + +<p>“Queer cuss,” he said, under his breath. Then he turned <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>to Allen Dy, +as though imparting news: “Drinks alone—always alone.”</p> + +<p>Dy nodded comprehendingly.</p> + +<p>“Sure sign of a drunkard,” he returned wisely, in a similar undertone.</p> + +<p>O’Brien smiled. He was about to give vent to one of his coldest +cynicisms, when Nick Devereux looked over from the card table and +claimed him.</p> + +<p>“Say, Dirty,” he drawled, in his rather musical southern accent, +“wher’ in hell is Fyles located anyhow? There’s been a mighty piece of +big talk goin’ on, but none of us ain’t seen him. Big talk makes me +sick.” He spat on the floor as though to emphasize his disgust.</p> + +<p>“He’s around anyways,” O’Brien returned coldly. “I’ve seen him right +here. After that he rode east. One of the boys see him pick up +Sergeant McBain an’ two troopers. Will that do you?” he inquired +sarcastically.</p> + +<p>Nick picked up a fresh hand of cards.</p> + +<p>“Have to—till I see him,” he said savagely.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you’ll see him all right—all right,” O’Brien returned with a +laugh, while the men at the bar grinned over at the card players. +“Guess you boys’ll see him later—all you need.” Then his eyes flashed +in Charlie’s direction, and he winked at those near him. “Maybe some +folks around here’ll hate the sight of him before long.”</p> + +<p>Pete looked up, turning his cruel eyes with a malicious grin on +O’Brien.</p> + +<p>“Guess there’s more than us boys goin’ to see him if there’s trouble +busy. Say, I don’t guess there’s a heap of folk ’ud fancy Fyles +sittin’ around their winter stoves in this city.”</p> + +<p>“Or summer stoves either,” chuckled Holy Dick, craning round so that +his gray hair revealed the dirty collar on his soft shirt.</p> + +<p>Stormy Longton glanced over quickly, while the kid shuffled the cards.</p> + +<p>“Who cares a curse for red-coats?” he snorted fiercely, his keen, +scarred face flushing violently, his steel-gray eyes shining like +silver tinsel. “If Fyles and his boys butt in there’ll be a dandy +bunch of lead flying around Rocky Springs. Maybe it won’t drop from +the sky neither. There’s fools who reckon when it comes to shooting +that fair play’s <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>a jewel. Wal, when I’m up against police butters-in, +or any vermin like that, I leave my jewelry right home.”</p> + +<p>O’Brien chuckled voicelessly.</p> + +<p>“Gas,” he cried, in his cutting way. “Hot air, an’—gas. I tell you +right here, Fyles and his crowd have got crooks beat to death in this +country. I’ll tell you more, it’s only because this country’s so +mighty wide and big, crooks have got any chance of dodging the +penitentiary at all. I tell you, you folks ain’t got an eye open at +all, if you can’t see how things are. If I was handing advice, I’d say +to crooks, quit your ways an’ run straight awhiles, if you don’t fancy +a striped suit. The red-coats are jest runnin’ this country through a +sieve, and when they’re done they’ll grab the odd rock, which are the +crooks, and hide ’em away a few years. You can’t beat ’em, and Fyles +is the daddy of the outfit. No, sir, crooks are beat—beat to death.”</p> + +<p>Then his eyes shot a furtive look in Charlie’s direction.</p> + +<p>“The sharps ain’t in such bad case,” he went on. “I’d say it’s the +sharps are worrying the p’lice about now. The prohibition law has got +’em plumb on edge. The other things are dead easy to ’em. You see, a +feller shoots up another and they’re after him, red hot on his trail. +They’ll get him sure—in the end, because he’s wanted at any time or +place. It’s different running whisky. They got to get the fellow in +the act o’ running it. They can’t touch him five minutes after he’s +cached it safe—not if they know he’s run it. If they find his cache +they can spill the liquor, but still they can’t touch him. That’s +where the sharps ha’ got Fyles beat.”</p> + +<p>He chuckled sardonically.</p> + +<p>“Guess I’d sooner be a whisky-running sharp than be a crook with Fyles +on my trail,” he added as an afterthought.</p> + +<p>“An’ he’s after the sharps most now,” suggested Holy Dick, with a +contemplative eye on Charlie.</p> + +<p>A laugh came from the poker table. Holy Dick glanced round as a harsh +voice commented——</p> + +<p>“Feelin’ glad, ain’t you, Holy?” it said.</p> + +<p>Holy Dick spat.</p> + +<p>“I’d feel gladder, Pete Clancy, if I could put him wise to some o’ the +whisky sharps,” said the old man vindictively. “Maybe it would sheer +him off Rocky Springs.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p><p>The man’s eyes were snapping for all the mildness of his words.</p> + +<p>O’Brien replied before Pete could summon his angry retort.</p> + +<p>“There’s a good many sharps in the game in this town, and I don’t +guess it would be a gay day for the feller that put any of ’em away. +Not that I think anybody could, by reason of the feller that runs the +gang. Look at that train ‘hold-up’ at White Point. Was there ever such +a bright play? I tell you, whoever runs that gang is a wise guy. He’s +ten points flyer than Master Stanley Fyles. Say, Fyles was waiting for +that cargo at Amberley, and here are you boys, drinking some of it +right here, and with him around the town, too. Say, the boss of that +gang is a bright boy.”</p> + +<p>He sighed as though regretful that so much cleverness should have +passed him by in favor of another, and again his gaze wandered in +Charlie’s direction.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m glad I’m not a—sharp,” said Billy Unguin, preparing to +depart. “Come on, Allan,” he went on to the postmaster. “It’s past +midnight and——”</p> + +<p>O’Brien chuckled.</p> + +<p>“There’s the old woman waiting.”</p> + +<p>Billy nodded good-naturedly, and the two passed out with a brief “good +night.”</p> + +<p>When they had gone Holy Dick leaned across the bar confidentially.</p> + +<p>“Who’d <i>you</i> guess is the boss of the gang?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>O’Brien shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Can’t say,” he said, with a knowing wink. “All I know is I can lay +hands on all the liquor I need right here in this town, and I’m +dealing direct with the boss. When the money’s up right, the liquor’s +laid any place you select. He don’t give himself away to any customer. +He’s the smartest guy this side of hell. He’s right here all the time, +jest one of the boys, and we don’t know who he is.”</p> + +<p>“No one’s ever seen him—except his gang,” murmured Holy, with a +smile. “Guess they wouldn’t give him away neither.”</p> + +<p>Stormy Longton and the Kid arose from their table and demanded a final +drink. O’Brien served them and they took their departure.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p><p>“I sort of fancy I saw him once,” said O’Brien, in answer to Holy +Dick’s remark.</p> + +<p>He spoke loudly, and his eyes again took in the silent Charlie in +their roving glance. At that instant the poker game broke up, and the +men gathered at the bar.</p> + +<p>“What’s he like?” demanded Nick derisively.</p> + +<p>“Guess he’s a hell of a man,” laughed Pete sarcastically.</p> + +<p>O’Brien eyed his interlocutors coldly. He had no liking for men with +color in them. They always roused the worst side of his none too easy +nature.</p> + +<p>“Wal,” he said frigidly, “I ain’t sure. But, if I’m right, he ain’t +such a hell of a feller. He ain’t a giant. Kind o’ small. All his +smartness wrapped in a little bundle. Sort o’ refined-looking. Make a +dandy fine angel—to look at. Bit of a swell sharp. Got education bad. +But he ain’t got swells around him. Not by a sight. His gang are the +lowest down bums I ever heard tell of. Say, they’re that low I’d hate +to drink out of the same glass as any one of them.” He picked up +Pete’s glass and dipped it in water, and began to wipe it. “It ’ud +need to be mighty well cleaned first—like I’m doing this one.”</p> + +<p>His manner and action were a studied insult, which neither Pete nor +Nick attempted to take up. But Holy Dick’s grin drew threatening +glances. Somehow, however, even in his direction neither made any more +aggressive movement. Toughs as they were, these two men fully +appreciated the company they were in. Holy Dick was one of the most +desperate men in Rocky Springs, and, as for O’Brien, well, no one had +ever been known to get “gay” with Dirty O’Brien and come off best.</p> + +<p>Pete strove to grin the insult aside.</p> + +<p>“Wal,” he said, with a yawn, “I guess Fyles has ‘some’ feller to +handle, if your yarn’s right, Dirty. Blankets fer mine and—right now. +Comin’, Nick? An’ you boys? Nick an’ me are hayin’ bright an’ early +to-morrer mornin’,” he added with a laugh, as he moved toward the +door.</p> + +<p>The others slouched after him and with them went the cold voice of +O’Brien.</p> + +<p>“You an’ Nick hayin’ is good—mighty good,” he said, with a sneer. +“Nigh as good as Satin poppin’ corn at a Sunday School tea.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p><p>“Or Dirty O’Brien handin’ out scripture readin’s in the same layout,” +retorted Pete, as he followed his companions out of the door.</p> + +<p>Holy Dick ordered a “night-cap.”</p> + +<p>“Them two fellers make me hot as hell,” cried O’Brien fiercely, as he +dashed the whisky into Holy’s glass from a bottle under the counter.</p> + +<p>“Ther’, Holy, drink up, and git. I’m quittin’ right now,” he added. +“Say, I’m just sick to death handin’ out drinks this day.”</p> + +<p>Holy Dick grinned, his bloodshot eyes twinkling with an evil leer, +which was never far from their expression.</p> + +<p>“With things sportin’ busy as they done to-day, guess you won’t need +to keep at it long. Say, Fyles has brought you dollars an’ dollars.”</p> + +<p>The old rascal gulped down his drink and slouched out of the bar +chuckling. He was always an amiable villain—until roused.</p> + +<p>As the door closed behind him O’Brien leaned on his bar, and looked +over at the back view of the still recumbent figure of Charlie Bryant.</p> + +<p>“I was thinkin’ of closin’ down, Charlie,” he said quietly.</p> + +<p>Charlie looked around. Then, when he became aware that the room was +entirely empty, he sprang up with a sudden start.</p> + +<p>He looked dazed. But, after a moment, his confusion slowly faded out, +and he looked into the grinning eyes of probably the shrewdest man in +the valley.</p> + +<p>“Feelin’ good?” suggested the saloonkeeper. “Have a ‘night-cap’?”</p> + +<p>Charlie raised one delicate hand and passed it wearily across his +forehead. As it passed once more that eager craving lit his eyes. His +reply came almost roughly.</p> + +<p>“Hell—yes,” he cried. Then he laughed idiotically.</p> + +<p>O’Brien poured out a double drink and passed it across to him. He took +a drink himself. He watched the other as he greedily swallowed the +spirit. Then he drank his more slowly. It was only the second drink he +had taken that day.</p> + +<p>“Say, I’m runnin’ out of rye and brandy,” he said, setting his glass +in the bucket under the counter, and picking up Charlie’s. “Guess I +need 10 brandy and 20 rye—right away.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p><p>He was wiping the glasses deliberately, and paused as though in some +doubt before he went on. But Charlie made no effort to encourage him. +Only in his eyes was a faint, growing smile, the meaning of which was +not quite apparent.</p> + +<p>“I left the order—with the dollars—same place,” O’Brien went on +presently. “Same old spot,” he added with a grin.</p> + +<p>Charlie’s smile had broadened. A whimsical humor was peeping out of +his half-drunken eyes.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” he nodded. “Same old spot.”</p> + +<p>O’Brien set his glasses aside.</p> + +<p>“I need it right away. I’d like it laid in my barn, ’stead of +the—usual spot. I wrote that on my order. Makes it easier—with Fyles +around.”</p> + +<p>Again Charlie nodded.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” he agreed briefly.</p> + +<p>O’Brien found himself responding to the other’s smile.</p> + +<p>These whisky-runners meant everything to him, and he felt it incumbent +upon him to display his most amiable side.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he chuckled, “the bark of the old tree’s held some dollars of +mine in its time. It’s a hell of a good thing that tree has a yarn to +it. The folks ’ud sure fetch it down for the new church if it hadn’t. +I’d say it would be awkward. We’d need a new cache for our orders +and—dollars.”</p> + +<p>Charlie shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Guess they won’t cut it down,” he said easily. “They’re scared of the +superstition.”</p> + +<p>O’Brien abandoned his smile and became confidential.</p> + +<p>“Ain’t you—worried some, Fyles gettin’ around?”</p> + +<p>For a moment Charlie made no answer. The smile abruptly died out of +his eyes, and a marked change came over his whole expression. He +suddenly seemed to be making an effort to throw off the effects of the +whisky he had consumed. He straightened himself up, and his mouth +hardened. The cigarette lolling between his lips became firmly +gripped. O’Brien, watching the change in him, suddenly saw his hands +clench at his sides, and understood the sudden access of resentment +which the mention of Fyles’s name stirred in the man. He read into +what he beheld something of the real character of the “sharp,” as he +understood it.</p> + +<p>Charlie’s reply came at last. It came briefly and coldly, and O’Brien +felt the sting of the rebuff.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p><p>“Guess I can look after myself,” he said.</p> + +<p>Then, without another word, he turned away, and walked out of the +saloon.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>ADVENTURES IN THE NIGHT</h3> + +<p>Big Brother Bill changed his mind after all. He did not go to +O’Brien’s saloon. At least not when he left the Seton’s house. Truth +to tell, his unanticipated visit to Helen Seton’s home had inspired +him with a distaste for exploring the less savory corners of this +beautiful valley. For the time, at least, it had become a sort of +Garden of Eden, in which he had discovered his Eve, and he had no +desire to dispel the illusion by unnecessary contact with a grade of +creatures whose existence therein could only mar the beauties and +delights of his dream.</p> + +<p>So, instead of carrying out his original intention, full of pleasant +dreaming, he made his way back toward his brother’s home, hoping to +find him returned so that he could pour out his enthusiastic feelings +for the benefit of ears he felt would be sympathetic.</p> + +<p>As he came to the clearing where he had first discovered Helen, +however, his purpose underwent a further modification. His sentimental +feelings getting the better of him, he sat down upon the very log over +which the girl had fallen, and turned his face toward where the little +home of the girls, with its single twinkling light, was rapidly losing +itself in the deep of the gathering twilight.</p> + +<p>He had no thought for the elder girl as he sat there. Her bolder +beauty had no attraction for him, her big, dark eyes, so full of +reliant spirit were scarcely the type he admired. She might be +everything a woman should be, strong, sympathetic, generous, big in +spirit, and of unusual courage; she might be all these and more, but, +even so, she was incomparable to the fair delight of Helen’s bright, +inconsequent prettiness. No, serious-minded people did not appeal to +him, and, in his blundering way, he told himself that life itself was +far too serious to be taken seriously.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p><p>Now Helen was full to the brim of a flippant, girlish humor that +appealed to him monstrously. He felt that it was a man’s place to +think seriously, if serious thought were needed. And he intended when +he married to do the thinking. His wife must be wholly delightful and +feminine, in fact, just as Helen was. Pretty, laughing, smartly +dressed, and always preferring to lean on his decisions rather than +indulge in the manufacture of wrinkles on her pretty forehead striving +to find them for herself.</p> + +<p>He felt sure that Helen would make a perfect wife for a man like +himself. Particularly now, as she was used to the life of the valley. +And, furthermore, he felt that a wife such as she would be essential +to him, since he had definitely come to live as a rancher.</p> + +<p>She certainly would be an ideal rancher’s wife. He could picture her +quite well mounted upon a high-spirited prairie-bred horse, riding +over the plains, or round the fences, since that seemed necessary, at +his side. He would listen to her merry chatter as he inspected the +work that was going forward, while she, simply bubbling with the joy +of living, looked on with a perfect sense of humor for those things +which her more sober-minded sister would have regarded as matters only +for serious consideration.</p> + +<p>Thus he went on dreaming, his eyes fixed upon the distant, lamp-lit +window, all utterly regardless of the fall of night, and the passing +of the hours. Nor was it until he suddenly awoke to the chill of the +falling dew that he remembered that he was on his way home to tell +Charlie of all his pleasant adventures.</p> + +<p>Stirring with that swift impulse which always seemed to actuate him, +he rose from his seat on the log and stumbled across the clearing, +floundering among the fallen logs with a desperate energy that cost +him many more bruises than were necessary, even in the profound +darkness of the, as yet, moonless night.</p> + +<p>Finally, however, he reached the track which led up to the house and +hurried on.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later he was wandering through the house searching in +the darkened rooms for his brother. It was characteristic of him that +he did not confine his search to the house, but sought the missing man +in every unlikely spot his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>vigorous and errant imagination could +suggest. He visited the corrals, he visited the barn, he visited the +hog pens and the chicken roosts. Then he brought up to a final halt +upon the veranda and sought to solve the problem by thought.</p> + +<p>There was, of course, an obvious solution which did not occur to him. +He might reasonably have sought his bed, and waited until +morning—since Charlie had survived five years of life in the valley. +That was not his way, however. Instead, a great inspiration came to +him. It was an inspiration which he viewed with profound admiration. +Of course, he ought to have gone at once to the village, as he had +intended, and have visited O’Brien’s saloon.</p> + +<p>Forthwith he once more set out, and this time, his purpose being +really definite, after much unnecessary wandering he finally achieved +it.</p> + +<p>He reached the saloon as O’Brien was in the act of turning out the two +swing lamps. Already one of them was turned low, and the saloonkeeper, +with distended cheeks, was in the act of putting an end to its +flickering life when Bill flung open the door.</p> + +<p>O’Brien turned abruptly. He turned with that air which is never far +from his class, living on the fringe of civilization. His whole look, +his attitude, was a truculent demand, and had it found its equivalent +in words he would have asked sharply: “What in hell d’you want here?”</p> + +<p>But the significance of his attitude quite passed Big Brother Bill by. +Had he understood it, it would have made no difference to him +whatever. But that was his way. He never saw much more than a single +purpose ahead of him, and possessed an indestructible conviction of +his ability to carry it out, even in the face of superlative or even +overwhelming odds.</p> + +<p>He walked into the meanly lighted saloon, while O’Brien reluctantly +turned up the light again. For a moment the saloonkeeper’s shrewd eyes +surveyed the newcomer, and, as they did so, a quiet, derisive contempt +slowly curled his thin lips.</p> + +<p>“Wal?” he inquired, in the harsh drawl Bill was beginning to get +accustomed to since he had traveled so far from his eastern home.</p> + +<p>Bill laughed. He always seemed ready to laugh.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p><p>“Guess I don’t seem to have come along at the best time,” he said, +glancing at the lamp above O’Brien. “Say, I’m sorry to have troubled +you. I thought maybe my brother was down here. I’m Bill Bryant, and +I’m looking for Charlie—my brother. Has—has he been along here +to-night?”</p> + +<p>The man’s big blue eyes glanced swiftly around the squalid, empty +interior. It was the first time he had been inside a western saloon of +this class, and he was interested.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile O’Brien had taken him in from head to foot, and the growing +smile in his eyes expressed his opinion of what he beheld.</p> + +<p>“You’re Charlie Bryant’s brother, eh?” he said contemplatively. “Guess +I sure heard you was around. Wal, since you’re lookin’ fer Charlie, +you’d better go lookin’ a bit farther. He was around, but he’s quit +half an hour since. I’d surely say ef you ain’t built in the natur’ of +a cat, or you ain’t a walkin’ microscope, you best wait till daylight +to find Charlie. There’s more folks than you’d like to find Charlie at +night, but most of ’em ain’t gifted with second sight. Say, seein’ +you’re his brother, an’ ain’t one of them other folk, I’ll admit +you’re more likely to find him somewhere around the old pine just now +than anywhere else. And, likewise, seein’ you’re his brother, you’d +better not open your face wider than Providence makes necessary—till +you’ve found him.”</p> + +<p>O’Brien’s manner rather pleased the simple easterner, for his unspoken +contempt was beyond the reach of the latter’s understanding. He smiled +his perfect amiability.</p> + +<p>“Thanks,” he cried readily. “I’ve got to go that way back, so I’ll +chase around there.” He half turned away, as though about to depart, +but turned again immediately. “It’s that pine up on the side of the +valley, isn’t it?” he questioned doubtfully.</p> + +<p>“There’s only one pine in this valley—yes.”</p> + +<p>O’Brien’s hand was again raised toward the lamp.</p> + +<p>“I see.” Bill nodded. Then, “What’s he doing there?” he asked sharply. +A thought had occurred to him. It was one which contained a faint +suspicion.</p> + +<p>The other looked him squarely in the eyes. Then a sort of voiceless +chuckle shook his broad shoulders.</p> + +<p>“Doin’? Wal, I guess he ain’t sparkin’ any lady friend, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>and I don’t +calc’late he’s holdin’ any conversazione with Fyles and his crew.” +O’Brien’s amusement had spread to his features, and Bill found himself +wondering as to what internal trouble he was suffering from. “Charlie +Bryant, bein’ a rancher, guess he’s roundin’ up a bunch of ‘strays.’ +Y’see, he’s got a few greenback stock he’s mighty pertickler about. +They was last seen around that pine.”</p> + +<p>Bill stared.</p> + +<p>“Greenbacked—cattle?” he exclaimed incredulously.</p> + +<p>O’Brien laughed outright, and Bill was no longer left in doubt as to +his malady.</p> + +<p>“They’re a fancy breed,” the saloonkeeper declared, “and kind of rare +hereabouts. They come from Ottawa way. The States breed ’em, too. +Guess I’ll say good night.”</p> + +<p>Bill was left with no alternative but to take his departure, for +O’Brien, with scant courtesy, extinguished the light overhead and +crossed to the second lamp. His visitor made for the door, and, as he +reached it, a flash of inspiration came to him. This man was making +fun of him, of his inexperience. Of course. He was half inclined to +get angry, but changed his mind, and, instead, turned with a +good-natured laugh as he reached the door.</p> + +<p>“I see,” he cried. “You mean dollars, eh? Charlie’s collecting some +dollars—some one owes him? For the moment I thought you were talking +of cattle—greenbacked cattle. Guess you surely have the laugh on me.”</p> + +<p>O’Brien nodded.</p> + +<p>“That’s so,” he admitted, and Bill closed the door behind him as the +saloonkeeper extinguished the second lamp.</p> + +<p>Big Brother Bill hurried away in the darkness. He swung along with +long, powerful strides that roused dull echoes as he moved down the +wide, wood-lined trail. It seemed to him that he had been wandering +around the village for hours, the place was growing so ridiculously +familiar.</p> + +<p>Nor was it until he reached the spot where the trail divided that he +realized what a perfect fool the saloonkeeper had made of him. It +always took a long time for such things to filter through his +good-natured brain. Now, however, he grew angry—really very angry, +and, for a moment, even considered the advisability of turning back to +tell the man what he thought of him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p><p>After a few moments’ consideration better counsel prevailed, and he +continued on his way, his thoughts filled with a great pity for a mind +so small as to delight in such a cheap sort of humor. No doubt it was +his own fault. Somehow or other he generally managed to impress people +with the conviction that he was a fool. But he wasn’t a fool by any +means. No, not by any means. What was more, before he had done with +Rocky Springs he would show some of them. He would show Mr. O’Brien. +Greenbacked cattle! The thought thoroughly annoyed him.</p> + +<p>But, as he clambered up the hill toward the pine, his heat moderated, +and his thoughts turned upon Charlie again. He remembered that he was +collecting money, and quite suddenly it occurred to him as strange +that he should be doing so as this time of night, and in the +neighborhood of the pine. In the light of greenbacked cattle, that, +too, seemed like perfect nonsense, unless, of course, some one were +living in the neighborhood of the tree. He could not remember to have +seen a house there. Wait a minute. Yes, there was. A smallish log +building, not far from the new church.</p> + +<p>Of course. That was it. Why hadn’t that fool O’Brien said so right out +instead of leaving him guessing? Yes, he would call at that house +on——. Hallo, what was that?</p> + +<p>A great dull yellow light was gleaming through the foliage ahead. A +beautiful golden light. Bill laughed abruptly. It was the full moon +just appearing on the horizon. For the moment he had not recognized +it.</p> + +<p>Now it held his attention completely. What a beautiful scene it made, +lighting up the shadowy foliage. His mind went back to the Biblical +story of the burning bush. He found himself wondering if it were like +that. Much brighter, of course. But how green it looked, and how +intensely it threw the thinner foliage into relief. What a pity Helen +Seton wasn’t there to see it! It would appeal to her, he was sure. +Pretty name, Helen Seton.</p> + +<p>From this point, as he toiled up the hill, his thoughts became +engrossed with the girl who had been so angry with him at first. He +wished he could find some excuse for seeing her again that night. But, +of course, that was——</p> + +<p>He suddenly stopped dead, and his train of thought ended. There was +the great pine ahead of him right in the back of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>the moonlight. +There, too, was the figure of a man standing silhouetted against the +great ball of golden light as it rose slowly above the horizon.</p> + +<p>Charlie! Yes, of course it was Charlie. There could be no doubt. The +slight figure was unmistakable. Even at that distance he was certain +he could make out his dark hair.</p> + +<p>In a moment he was hailing the distant figure.</p> + +<p>“Ho, Charlie!” he cried.</p> + +<p>But his greeting met with an unexpected result. The figure vanished as +if by magic, and he was left at a loss to understand.</p> + +<p>Then further astonishment came to him. There was a sharp rustling of +bush, and breaking of twigs close by, and the sound of heavy, plodding +hoofs. The next moment two horsemen broke from the dense cover about +him, and flung out of the saddle.</p> + +<p>“Darnation take it, what in blazes are you shouting around for at this +hour of the night?”</p> + +<p>Inspector Fyles stood confronting the astounded man. Beside him stood +another man in uniform, with three gold stripes on his arm. It was +Sergeant McBain.</p> + +<p>In spite of his recognition of the Inspector, Bill’s anger rose +swiftly, and his great muscles were set tingling at the man’s words +and tone.</p> + +<p>“’Struth!” he cried in exasperation. “This is a free country, isn’t +it? If I need to shout it’s none of your damn business. What in the +name of all that’s holy has it got to do with you? I saw my brother +ahead, and was hailing him. Well?”</p> + +<p>Bill’s eyes were fiercely alight. He and Fyles stood eye to eye for a +moment. Then the latter’s resentment seemed to suddenly die out.</p> + +<p>“Say, I’m sorry, Mr. Bryant,” he apologized. “I just didn’t recognize +you in the darkness. Guess I thought you were some tough from the +saloon. That was your brother—ahead?”</p> + +<p>Fyles’s calm, clean-cut features were in strong contrast to his +subordinate’s. He was smiling slightly, too. Sergeant McBain was +wholly grim.</p> + +<p>Bill glanced from one to the other.</p> + +<p>“Of course it was my brother,” he said, promptly, mollified <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>by the +officer’s expression of regret. “I’ve been chasing him half the night. +You see, O’Brien told me he was up this way, and when I sighted him +yonder by the pine, I——”</p> + +<p>He broke off. He had suddenly remembered O’Brien’s warning. He had an +uncomfortable feeling that he had opened his mouth very wide. Far +wider than Providence had made necessary.</p> + +<p>“You——?”</p> + +<p>Fyles was distinctly smiling as he urged him.</p> + +<p>But Bill had no intention of blundering further. He laughed, but +without his usual buoyancy.</p> + +<p>“Say, what are <i>you</i> doing up here?” he demanded, seeking to turn the +tables on the officer. “Rounding up ‘strays’?”</p> + +<p>At that moment a black cloud swept swiftly across the face of the +moon. And though Fyles’s smile had broadened at the other’s clumsy +attempt at subterfuge, it was quite lost upon Bill in the darkness.</p> + +<p>Fyles glanced quickly at the sky.</p> + +<p>“Storm,” he said. Then he turned back to his questioner. “Why, I guess +I’m always chasing ‘strays.’ They’re toughs mostly—pretty bad ’uns, +too.” Then he laughed audibly. “Makes me laugh,” he went on. “I’ve +been tracking the fellow for quite a piece. And all the time he’s your +brother. You’re sure?”</p> + +<p>Bill nodded. He was still feeling uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad you saw him,” Fyles went on at once. “It’s put us wise. We +don’t need to waste any more time. It’s lucky, with a storm coming on. +Guess we’ll get right back, McBain,” he added, turning to his +companion.</p> + +<p>Fyles had no more difficulty in fooling the guileless Bill than +O’Brien had.</p> + +<p>“Going home?” Bill inquired of the officer as the latter turned to his +horse.</p> + +<p>“Sure.”</p> + +<p>“Me, too.”</p> + +<p>Fyles leaped into the saddle. McBain, too, had mounted.</p> + +<p>“Best hurry,” said Fyles, with another quick glance at the sky. “We +get sharpish storms hereabouts in summer. You’ll be drowned else. So +long.”</p> + +<p>Bill moved away.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p><p>“So long,” he cried, relieved at the parting. “I haven’t far to go, +but since you reckon a storm’s getting busy I’ll take a cut through +the bush. It’ll be quicker that way.”</p> + +<p>As he thrust his way into the bush he glanced back at the two +policemen. They were both in the saddle watching him. Neither made any +attempt at the hasty departure the Inspector had suggested.</p> + +<p>However, their attitudes gave him no uneasiness. Truth to tell, he did +not realize any significance. The one thing that did concern him and +trouble him was that he somehow felt convinced that he had committed +the very indiscretion O’Brien had warned him against.</p> + +<p>The whole thing was very disquieting. An air of mystery seemed to have +suddenly surrounded him, and he hated mystery. Why should there be any +mystery? If there was one thing he delighted in more than another, it +was the thought that his life was all in the open. The broad daylight +could search the innermost corners of his every action. He had nothing +in the world to hide. Why then should he suddenly find himself +actively concerned with this atmosphere of mystery which had suddenly +closed about him?</p> + +<p>But Bill had not done with the mistakes of the evening. He made +another one now—in leaving the trail.</p> + +<p>Within five minutes of leaving the two police officers he found +himself blindly floundering his way through an inky forest. The sky +was jet black. The moon had long since switched off her light. The +last star had concealed its twinkle behind the banking clouds of the +summer storm. Now great warm splashes of rain had begun to fall.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>FURTHER ADVENTURES</h3> + +<p>Half an hour later tragedy befell.</p> + +<p>Drenched to the skin, blinded by the deluge of torrential rain, +thoroughly confused beyond all recognition of his whereabouts in the +tangle of bush through which he was thrusting his way, all his senses +dazed by the fierce overhead detonations, and the streams of blazing +fire splitting the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>black vault above, Big Brother Bill beat his way +along the path of least resistance by sheer physical might.</p> + +<p>All idea of direction had left him. Up hill or down hill had become +one and the same to him. He felt he must keep moving, must press on, +and, in the end, he would reach his destination.</p> + +<p>At last, almost wearied out by his efforts, he came to a definite halt +in a bush that seemed to afford no outlet whatsoever. Even the way he +had entered it was lost, for the heavy foliaged boughs had closed in +behind him in the darkness, utterly cutting off his retreat.</p> + +<p>For a moment he stood like an infuriated steer at bay, caught in the +narrow branding “pinch.” He waited for a revealing flash of lightning +in the hope that it would show him a way out. He should have realized +the futility of his hope, but, if he were soaked by the downpour, his +spirit of optimism was as yet by no means drowned.</p> + +<p>The flash he awaited came. The whole valley seemed to be lit from end +to end. Then it was gone as swiftly as it had come, leaving a pitchy +blackness behind it. But in that brief flash Bill told himself he had +seen the trail just beyond the clump of bush in the midst of which he +stood. Summoning all his strength he hurled himself to thrust his way +toward it. He fought the resisting boughs with all his great strength, +backed by every ounce of his buoyant spirits. Then, in a moment, Fate +stepped in, and—released him.</p> + +<p>His sensations were brief but tumultuous. He had a feeling that an +earthquake had opened the ground at his feet. With all his might he +sought to save himself from the yawning chasm. But the sudden jolt of +his great weight was more than his muscles could withstand. His hands +relaxed their grip upon the foliage and he fell with a great +splash—into the river.</p> + +<p>He had driven his way through the overhanging foliage of the river.</p> + +<p>Big Brother Bill was not easily disconcerted by any physical +catastrophe to himself. Nor did his sudden immersion now add one +single pulse beat. The obvious thing, being a strong swimmer, was to +strike out and get clear of the dripping trees, which he promptly +proceeded to do, and, reaching the middle of the stream, and +discovering that the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>rain had ceased, he philosophically consoled +himself with the thought that, at least, he knew where he was.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later he climbed up the opposite bank out of the water. +His first object at once became the ascertaining of his bearings. With +a serious effort of argument he finally concluded he was on the wrong +side of the river, which meant, of course, that the matter must be put +right without delay. Seeing that the water was cold, in spite of the +warmth of the summer evening, he was reminded of the footbridge +opposite the Setons’ house. Consequently, the further problem became +the whereabouts of that bridge.</p> + +<p>Glancing up at the sky, possibilities presented themselves. The clouds +were breaking almost as rapidly as they had gathered, and, with great +decision, he concluded that the best thing to do would be to await the +return of the moonlight, and occupy the interim by wringing some of +the uncomfortable moisture out of his clothes.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later his patience was rewarded. The moon shone out upon +the stream at his feet, and there, less than one hundred yards to the +west of him, the ghostly outline of the bridge loomed up. He really +felt that Fate, at last, was doing her best.</p> + +<p>He set off at once at as swinging a gait as his damp condition would +permit, and he even found it possible to whistle an air as he moved +along, to the accompanying squelch of his water-logged boots.</p> + +<p>But, as the footbridge was approached, his purpose received a setback. +The home of the Setons loomed up in the moonlight and promptly +absorbed his attention. The moon was at its full once more, and the +last clouds of the summer storm had passed away, leaving the +wonderful, velvety night sky a-shimmer with twinkling diamonds.</p> + +<p>The front of the house was in full light, so pale, so distinct, that +no detail of it escaped his interested eyes. There was the door with +its rain-water barrel, there was the shingle roof. The lateral logs of +its walls were most picturesque. The only thing that struck him as +ordinary was, perhaps, the window——. Hallo! What was that at the +window?</p> + +<p>He paused abruptly, and stared hard.</p> + +<p>He started. It was a woman! A woman sitting on the sill of the open +window! Of all the——. Well, if that wasn’t <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>luck he felt he would +like to know what was. He wondered which of the sisters it was—Kate +or Helen. He was confident it was one of them. He would soon find out.</p> + +<p>With a tumultuously beating heart he promptly diverged from his +course, and set off straight for the house. It was always his way to +act on impulse. Rarely did he give things a second thought where his +inclinations were concerned.</p> + +<p>As he drew near, Kate Seton’s deep voice greeted him. Its tone was +velvety in its richness, nor was there the least inflection of +astonishment in its tone.</p> + +<p>“That you, Mr. Bryant?” she said, without stirring from her attitude +of luxurious enjoyment.</p> + +<p>Bill came up hurriedly.</p> + +<p>“I s’pose it is,” he said with a laugh. “All that the river hasn’t +washed away. Say,” he went on, with amiable inconsequence, “there’s +just two things puzzling my fool head, Miss Seton: Why Fate takes a +particular delight in handing me so many pleasant moments with so many +unpleasant kicks? And what wild streak of good luck finds you sitting +in the moonlight this hour of the night? It surely was a scurvy trick +of Fate dumping me in the creek, when there’s a bridge to walk over, +just to land me right here, where you’re handing up fancy dreams to a +very chilly but beautiful moon. Guess I’m kind of spoiling the picture +for you though. I may be some picture to look at, but I wouldn’t say +it’s worth framing—would you?”</p> + +<p>Kate smiled up at him. His dripping condition was obvious enough. Nor +could she help her amusement. Knowing something of the man, he became +doubly grotesque in her eyes.</p> + +<p>“It needs courage to put things nicely under such adverse conditions,” +she said, with a laugh. “And I like courage.” Then she went on in her +easy, pleasant way: “It was the storm fetched me out of bed. I never +can resist a storm. So I just had to dress and come right out here to +watch it. Why are you around, anyway? Tell me about—about the river, +and how you got into it.”</p> + +<p>Bill laughed joyously.</p> + +<p>“Guess that’s an easy one,” he said lightly. “I was on my way home +when I met that policeman, Fyles. He put me wise to the storm coming +up—which I guessed was bright <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>and friendly of him. You see, I hadn’t +located it. It was up to me to make Charlie’s place quick, so I got +busy on a short cut. Say, did you ever take a short cut—in a hurry? +Don’t ever do it. ’Tisn’t worth it—if you’re in a hurry. Of course, I +lost myself in the storm, and Fate began handing me one or two. Fate’s +always tricky. She likes to wait till she gets you by the back of the +neck, so you can’t do a thing, and then passes you all that’s coming +to you. Guess she’s had me by the neck quite awhile now, what with one +thing and another. However, I mustn’t blame her too much. You see, I +lost myself, and it was she who found me, though I don’t think +anything of the way she did it. I was boosting through what I thought +was a reasonable sort of bush, and found it wasn’t. It was the +overhang of the river, and when I dropped through I found myself in +the water. Still, I knew that water was the river, and I knew where +the river was. I’m grateful, in a way, but I can’t help feeling Fate’s +got a dirty side to her nature, and bridges are fool things anyway, +for always being where they aren’t wanted.”</p> + +<p>Kate’s laugh was one of whole-hearted amusement. Big Brother Bill’s +whimsical manner appealed to her.</p> + +<p>“Maybe Fate thought you were out later than you ought to be,” she +said. “You—a stranger.”</p> + +<p>But the girl’s remark had a different effect upon Bill than might have +been expected. His smile died out, and all his lightness vanished. +Once more he was feeling that atmosphere of mystery closing about him. +It had oppressed him before, and now again it was oppressing him.</p> + +<p>For a moment he made no answer. He was debating with himself in his +blundering way. Finally, with a quick, reckless plunge, he made up his +mind.</p> + +<p>“I—was looking for Charlie,” he said. “I’ve been trying to find him +ever since I left here.”</p> + +<p>The girl’s smile had passed, too. A growing trouble was in her eyes.</p> + +<p>“Charlie—is still out?” she demanded sharply. “And Fyles—where did +you meet Inspector Fyles?”</p> + +<p>The dark eyes were full of anxiety now. Kate’s voice had lost its +softness. Nor could Bill help noticing the wonderful strength that +seemed to lie behind it.</p> + +<p>“I can’t say where Charlie is now,” the man went on, a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>little +helplessly. “I saw Fyles close by that big pine tree.”</p> + +<p>“Close by the pine tree?” Kate repeated the words after him, and her +repetition of them suddenly endowed them with a strange significance +for Bill.</p> + +<p>With an air of having suddenly abandoned all prudence, all caution, +Bill flung out his arms.</p> + +<p>“Say, Miss Seton,” he said, in a sort of desperation, “I’m +troubled—troubled to death. I can’t tell the top-side from the +bottom-side of anything, it seems to me. There’s things I can’t +understand hereabouts, a sort of mystery that gets me by the neck and +nearly chokes me. Maybe you can help me. It seems different, too, +talking to you. I don’t seem to be opening my mouth too wide—as I’ve +been warned not to.”</p> + +<p>“Who warned you?”</p> + +<p>The question came sharp and direct.</p> + +<p>“Why, O’Brien. You see, I went down to the saloon after I’d searched +the ranch for Charlie, and asked if he had been there. O’Brien was +shutting up. He said he had been there, but had gone. Then he told me +where I’d be likely to find him, but warned me not to open my mouth +wide—till I’d found him. Said I’d likely find him somewhere around +that pine. Said he’d likely be collecting some money around there.</p> + +<p>“Well, I set out to make the pine, and I didn’t wonder at things for +awhile. It wasn’t till I got near it, and I saw the moon get up, and, +in its light, saw Charlie in the distance near the pine, that this +mystery thing got hold of me. It came on me when I hollered to him, +and, as a result of it, saw him vanish like a ghost. But——”</p> + +<p>“You called to him?”</p> + +<p>The girl’s question again came sharply, but this time with an air of +deep contemplation.</p> + +<p>“Yes. But I didn’t get time to think about it. Just as I’d shouted two +horsemen scrambled out of the bush beside me. One of ’em was Fyles. +The other I didn’t know. He’d got three stripes on his arm.”</p> + +<p>“Sergeant McBain,” put in the woman quietly.</p> + +<p>“You know him?”</p> + +<p>Kate shrugged.</p> + +<p>“We all know him about here.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p><p>Bill nodded.</p> + +<p>“Fyles cursed me for a fool for hollering out. Said he’d been watching +that ‘tough,’ and didn’t want to lose sight of him. I got riled. I +told him a few things, and said I’d a right to hail my brother any old +time. Then he changed around and said he was sorry, and asked me if I +was sure it was my brother. When I told him ‘yes,’ he thanked me for +putting him wise, and said I’d saved him a deal of unnecessary +trouble. Said there was no more need to watch him—seeing he was my +brother. That’s when he told me about the storm, and I hit my short +cut, and, finally, reached—the river. Now, what was he watching for, +and who did he mistake Charlie for? What’s the meaning of the whole +thing? Why did O’Brien warn me? These are the things that get me +puzzled to death. Maybe you can tell me—can help me out?”</p> + +<p>He waited, confidently expecting an explanation that would clear up +all the mystery, but none was forthcoming. Instead, when Kate finally +replied, there was an almost peevish complaint in her tone.</p> + +<p>“I wish you had taken O’Brien’s warning more to heart,” she said. +“Maybe you’ve done a lot of harm to-night. I can’t tell—not yet.”</p> + +<p>“Harm?” Bill stood aghast.</p> + +<p>“Yes—harm, man, harm.” Kate’s whole manner had suddenly undergone a +change. She seemed to be laboring under an apprehension that almost +unnerved her. “Don’t you know who Fyles is after? He’s after +whisky-runners. Don’t you know why O’Brien warned you? Because he +believes, as pretty nearly everybody believes—Fyles, too—that your +brother Charlie is the head of a big gang of them. Mystery? Mystery? +There is no mystery at all—only danger, danger for your brother, +Charlie, while Fyles is on his track. You don’t know Fyles. We, in +this valley, do. It is his whole career to bring whisky-runners under +the hammer of the law. If he can fix this thing on Charlie he will do +it.”</p> + +<p>The girl sprang from her seat in her agitation, and began to pace the +wet ground.</p> + +<p>“Charlie? Though he’s your brother, I tell you Charlie’s the most +impossible creature alive. Everything he does, or is, somehow fosters +the conviction that he is against the law. He drinks. Oh, how he +drinks! And at night he’s <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>always on the prowl. His associates are +known whisky-runners, men whom the police, everybody, knows have not +the wit to inspire the schemes that are carried out under the very +noses of the authorities. What is the result? The police look for the +brain behind them. Charlie is clever, unusually clever; he drinks, his +movements are suspicious. He’s asking for trouble, and God knows he’s +going to find it.”</p> + +<p>A sudden panic was swiftly overwhelming Big Brother Bill. Though he +knew no fear for himself it was altogether a different matter where +his brother was concerned. He ran the great fingers of one hand +through his wet, fair hair, an action that expressed to the full his +utter helplessness.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he cried desperately, “Charlie’s no crook. By God, I’ll swear +it! He’s just a weak, helpless babe, with a heart as big as a house. +Charlie a crook? Say, Miss Seton, you don’t believe it, do you?”</p> + +<p>Kate shook her head.</p> + +<p>“I know he’s not,” she said gently. Then in a moment all her fierce +agitation returned. “But what’s the use? Tell the folks in the valley +he isn’t, and they’ll laugh at you. Tell that to Fyles.” She laughed +wildly. “Man, man, there’s only one thing can save Charlie from this +stigma, from Fyles. Let him leave the valley. It’s the only way.” She +sighed and then went on, her manner becoming suddenly subdued and +rather hopeless. “But nothing on earth could move him from here, +unless it were a police escort taking him to the penitentiary.”</p> + +<p>She returned to her seat in the window, and when she spoke again her +whole manner had undergone a further change. It was full of that +womanly gentleness which fitted her so well.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Bryant,” she said, with a pathetic smile lighting her handsome +features, and softening them to an almost maternal tenderness, “I’m +fonder of Charlie than any creature in the world—except Helen. Don’t +make any mistake. I’m not in love with him. He’s just a dear, dear, +erring, ailing brother to me. He can’t, or won’t help himself. What +can we do to save him? Oh, I’m glad you’ve come here. It’s taken a +load from my heart. What—what can we do?”</p> + +<p>Again the big fingers raked through the man’s wet hair.</p> + +<p>“I—wish I knew,” Bill lamented helplessly. But a moment <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>later a +quick, bright look lit his big blue eyes. “I know,” he almost shouted. +“Let’s hunt this gang down—ourselves.”</p> + +<p>Kate’s gaze had been steadily fixed upon the far side of the valley, +where Charlie Bryant’s house stood. Now, in response to the man’s wild +suggestion, it came slowly back to his face.</p> + +<p>“I hadn’t thought of—that,” she said, after a pause.</p> + +<p>In a wild burst of enthusiasm Bill warmed to his inspiration.</p> + +<p>“No,” he cried. “Of course not. That’s because you aren’t used to +scrapping.” He laughed. “But why not? I’ll do the scrapping, and +you—you just do the thinking. See? We’ll share up. It’s dead easy.”</p> + +<p>“Yes—it would be dead easy,” Kate demurred.</p> + +<p>“Easy? Of course it’s easy. I’m pretty hot when it comes to a scrap,” +Bill ran on with added confidence. “And a bunch of whisky-runners +don’t amount to a heap anyway.”</p> + +<p>Suddenly Kate rose from her seat. She moved a step toward him and laid +one brown hand gently on his arm. She was smiling as she had smiled at +the thought of her regard for this man’s brother. There was something +almost motherly now in her whole attitude.</p> + +<p>“You’re a big, brave soul, and like all brave souls you’re ready at +all times to act—act first and think afterwards,” she said very +gently. “You said I was to think. Let me think now. You see, I know +this place. I know this class of man. It’s the life of the police to +deal with these whisky-runners, and they—they can do nothing against +them. Then what are we, you, with your brave inexperience, I, with my +woman’s helplessness, going to do against them? Believe me, the men +who carry on this traffic are absolutely desperate creatures who would +give their lives at any moment rather than go to the penitentiary. +Life to them, their own and their enemy’s, means nothing. They set no +value on it whatsoever. The trade is profitable, and”—she +sighed—“against the law. Those engaged in it live for the excitement +of fighting the law. That’s one of the reasons which makes it +impossible that Charlie could be one of them. No, Mr. Bryant, I guess +it’s not for us to do this thing. We just couldn’t do a thing. But we +must think of Charlie, and, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>when we’ve thought, and the time comes, +why, then—we’ll act. Fyles is a brave man, and a just man,” she went +on, with a slight warmth. “He’s a man of unusual capacity, and worth +admiration. But he is a police officer,” she added regretfully. “In +saving Charlie from him we shall prevent one good man wronging +another, and I guess that should be good service. Let’s content +ourselves with that. Will you help?”</p> + +<p>Big Brother Bill had no hesitation at any time. He was carried away by +the enthusiasm Kate’s words inspired. He thrust out one great hand and +crushed the woman’s in its palm.</p> + +<p>“Sure I’ll help. I’ve just got two hands and a straight eye, and when +fight’s around I don’t care if it snows. My head’s the weak spot. But, +anyway, what you say goes. We’ll save Charlie, or—or—Say, a real +bright woman’s just about the grandest thing God ever made.”</p> + +<p>Kate winced under the crushing force of his handshake, but she smiled +bravely and thankfully up into his face as she bade him “good night.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>BILL PEEPS UNDER THE SURFACE</h3> + +<p>The surprises of the night were not yet over for Big Brother Bill. It +almost seemed as if a lifetime of surprises were to be crowded into +his first night in the valley of Leaping Creek.</p> + +<p>Still thoroughly moist, he finally reached home to find his brother +there, waiting for him.</p> + +<p>Of course, the big man promptly blundered.</p> + +<p>Charlie was in the living room, sitting in a dilapidated rocking +chair. An unopen book was in his lap, and his dark, clever face was +turned toward the single window the room possessed, as the heavy tread +of Bill sounded on the veranda.</p> + +<p>It was obvious he was still laboring under the influence of the +drink; it was also obvious, though less apparent, that he was laboring +under an emotion, which unusually disturbed him. His eyes were shining +with a gleaming light which <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>might have expressed anger, excitement, +or even simply the effect of his libations. Whatever it was, Bill +recognized, without appreciating its meaning, a definite change from +the man he had so cordially greeted earlier in the day; a recognition +which made his blundering now, more hopelessly than ever, an +expression of his utter lack of discretion.</p> + +<p>“Say, Charlie, boy,” he cried, as he entered the little room, filling +it almost to overflowing with his robust personality, “I’ve chased +half over the valley looking for you. Then I saw you at the old pine +and shouted, and you sort of faded away. I thought I’d ‘got’ ’em. What +with that, and then falling into the river, and one or two minor, but +more or less unpleasant accidents, I’ve had one awful time. Say, this +valley’s got me beat to death.”</p> + +<p>The simplicity of the man was monumental. No one else could have +looked upon that slight figure, huddled down in the big old rocker, +without having experienced a feeling of restraint; no one could have +observed the drawn, frowning brows, and the hard lines about the still +somewhat sensual mouth, without using an added caution in approaching +him. There were fires stirring behind Charlie’s dark eyes which were +certainly ominous.</p> + +<p>Now, as he listened to his brother’s greeting, swift anger leaped into +them. His words came sharply, and almost without restraint. Big +Brother Bill was confronted by another side of his nature, a side of +which he had no knowledge whatever.</p> + +<p>“You always were a damned fool,” Charlie cried, starting heatedly +forward in his chair. “I told you I was going out. If you had any sort +of horse sense you’d have understood I wasn’t in need of a wet-nurse. +What the devil do you want smelling out my trail as if you were one of +the police?” Then he suddenly broke into an unpleasant laugh. “You +came here in Fyles’s company. Maybe you caught the police infection +from him.”</p> + +<p>Bill stared in wide-eyed astonishment at the harsh injustice of the +attack. For one second his blood ran hot, and a wild desire to +retaliate leaped. But the moment passed. Though he was not fully aware +of Charlie’s condition, something of it now forced itself upon him, +and his big-hearted regret saved him from his more rampant feelings.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p><p>He sat himself on the edge of the table.</p> + +<p>“Easy, Charlie,” he said quietly, “you’re kind of talking recklessly. +I’m no wet-nurse to anybody. Certainly it’s not my wish to interfere +with you. I’m—sorry if I’ve hurt you. I just looked around to tell +you my adventures, I’m no—spy.”</p> + +<p>Charlie rose from his seat. He stood swaying slightly. The sight of +this outward sign of his drunken condition smote the good-natured Bill +to the heart. It was nothing new to him in his erring brother. He had +seen it all before, years ago, so many, many times. But through all +these years apart he had hoped for that belated reforming which meant +so much. He had hoped and believed it had set in. Now he knew, and his +last hopes were dashed. Kate Seton had warned him, but her warning had +not touched him as the exhibition he now beheld did. Why, why had +Charlie done this thing, and done it to-night—their first night +together in the new world? He could have cried out in his bitterness +of disappointment.</p> + +<p>As he looked upon the man’s unsteady poise he felt as though he could +have picked him up in his two strong hands and shaken sober senses +into him.</p> + +<p>But Charlie’s mood had changed at the sound of the big man’s regrets. +They had penetrated the mists of alcohol, and stirred a belated +contrition.</p> + +<p>“I don’t want any apologies from you, Bill,” he said thickly. “Guess +I’m not worth it. You couldn’t spy on a soul. It’s not that——.” He +broke off, and it became evident to the other that he was making a +supreme effort at concentration. “You saw me at the pine?” he suddenly +inquired.</p> + +<p>Bill nodded. He had no desire to say anything more now. He felt sick +with himself, with everything. He almost regretted his own coming to +the valley at all. For a moment his optimism was utterly obscured. +Added to what he now beheld, all that Kate Seton had said was +revolving in his brain, an oppressive cloud depriving him of every joy +the reunion with his brother had inspired. The two thoughts paramount, +and all pervading, were suggested by the words “drunkard” and “crook.” +Nor, in that moment of terrible disappointment, would they be denied.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p><p>Charlie sat down in his chair again, and, to the onlooker, his +movement was almost involuntary.</p> + +<p>“I was there,” he said, a moment later, passing one hand across his +frowning brows as though to clear away the cobwebs impeding the +machinery of his thought. “Why—why didn’t you come and speak to me? I +was just—around.”</p> + +<p>Again Bill’s eyes opened to their fullest extent.</p> + +<p>“I hollered to you,” he said. “When you heard me you just—vanished.”</p> + +<p>Again Charlie smoothed his brow.</p> + +<p>“Yes—I’d forgotten. It was you hollered, eh! You see, I didn’t know +it was you.”</p> + +<p>Bill sat swinging one leg thoughtfully. A sort of bewilderment was +getting hold of him.</p> + +<p>“You didn’t recognize my voice?” he asked. Then he added thoughtfully, +“No—and it might have been Fyles, or the other policemen. They were +there.”</p> + +<p>Charlie suddenly sat up. His hands were grasping the arms of the +rocker.</p> + +<p>“The police were there—with you?” he demanded. “What—what were they +doing there—with you?”</p> + +<p>The sharp questions, flung at him so quickly, so soberly, suddenly +lifted Bill out of his vain and moody regrets.</p> + +<p>In spite of all Kate had told him, in spite of her assurance that +Fyles, and all the valley, believed Charlie to be the head of the +smuggling gang, the full significance of Fyles’s presence in the +neighborhood of the pine had not penetrated to his slow understanding +before. Now an added light was thrown upon the matter in a flash of +greater understanding. Fyles was not watching any chance crook. He was +watching Charlie, and he knew it was Charlie, and the assurance of +Charlie’s identity extracted from him, Bill, had been a simple blind. +What a fool he had made of himself. Kate was right. The harm he had +done now became appalling.</p> + +<p>He promptly became absorbed in a strongly restrained excitement. He +leaned forward and talked rapidly. He had forgotten Charlie’s +condition, he had forgotten everything but the danger threatening.</p> + +<p>“Here, Charlie,” he cried, “I’ll tell you just all that happened after +I left here, when you went out. Guess it’s a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>long yarn, but I think +you need to know it for your own safety.”</p> + +<p>Charlie leaned back in his chair and nodded.</p> + +<p>“Go ahead,” he said. Then he closed his eyes as Bill rushed into his +narrative.</p> + +<p>The big man told it all as far as it concerned his first meeting with +the Setons, his subsequent visit to the saloon, and, afterwards, his +meeting with Fyles. The only thing he kept to himself was his final +meeting with Kate Seton.</p> + +<p>At the end of this story Charlie reopened his eyes, and, to any one +more observant than Big Brother Bill, it was plain that his condition +had improved. A keen light was shining in them, a light of interest +and perfectly clear understanding.</p> + +<p>“Thanks, Bill,” he said, “I’m glad you’ve told me all that.” Then he +rose from his chair, and his movements had become more certain, more +definite. “Guess I’ll get off to bed. It’s no use discussing all this. +It can lead nowhere. Still, there is one thing I’d like to say before +we quit. I’m glad, I’m so mighty glad you’ve come along out here to +join me I can’t just say it all to you. I’m ready to tumble headlong +into any schemes you’ve got in your head. But there’s things in my +life I’ve got to work out in my own way. Things I can’t and don’t want +to talk about. Maybe I’ll often be doing things that seem queer to +you. But I want to do ’em, and intend to do ’em. Drink is not one of +’em. You’ll find I’m a night bird, too. But, again, my night +wanderings are my own. You’ll hear folks say all sorts of things about +me. You’ll see Fyles very busy. Well, it’s up to you to listen or not. +All I say is don’t fight my battles. I can fight them in my own way. +Two of us are liable to mess them all up. Get me? I live my life, and +you can share as much in it as you like, except in that—well, that +part of it I need to keep to myself. There’s just one thing I promise +you, Fyles’ll never get me inside any penitentiary. I promise you +that, sure, because I know from your manner that’s the trouble in the +back of your silly old head. Good night.”</p> + +<p>He passed out of the room without giving the astonished Bill any +opportunity to do more than respond to his “good night.” Anyway, the +latter had nothing else to say. He was too taken aback, too painfully +startled at the tacit admission <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>to all the charges he had been warned +the people and police of Leaping Creek were making against his +brother. What could he say? What could he do? Nothing—simply nothing.</p> + +<p>He remained where he was against the table. He had forgotten his wet +clothes. He had forgotten everything in the overwhelming nature of his +painful feelings. His own beliefs, Kate’s loyally expressed +convictions, had been utterly negatived. It was all true. All +painfully, dreadfully true. Charlie was not only a drunkard still, but +the “crook” he was supposed to be. He was a whisky-runner. He was +against the law. His ultimate goal was the penitentiary. Good God, the +thought was appalling! This was where drink had led him. This was the +end of his spoiled and wayward brother’s career. What a cruel waste of +a promising life. His good-natured, gentle-hearted brother. The boy he +had always admired and loved in those early days. It was cruel, +terrible. By his own admission he was against the law, a “crook,” +and—the penitentiary was looming.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>THE ARM OUTREACHING</h3> + +<p>The morning was gloriously fine. It was aglow with the fulness of +summer. Far as the eye could see the valley was bathed in a golden +light which the myriad shades of green made intoxicating to senses +drinking in this glory of nature’s splendor. Leaping Creek gamboled +its tortuous way through the heart of a perfect garden.</p> + +<p>A veritable Eden thought Stanley Fyles—complete to the last detail.</p> + +<p>But his thought was without cynicism. He had no time for cynicism. +Besides, the goal of his career lay yet before him.</p> + +<p>His thought drifted further. His whole fate had suddenly become bound +up in that valley. Nor was the fact without a certain irony. For him +it was the valley of destiny. Within <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>its spacious confines lay the +two great factors of life—his life—love and duty. They were +confronting him. They were standing there waiting for him to possess +himself of his victorious hold.</p> + +<p>Stanley Fyles felt rather like a ticket-of-leave criminal, instead of +a law officer, as he gazed out from the doorway of the frame hut, +which formed the temporary quarters of the police, far out on the +western reaches of the valley, five miles above the village of Rocky +Springs. He knew he was there to prove himself. His mistakes, or his +bad luck, of the past must be remedied before he could return to his +superiors with a clean sheet. His hands were free, he knew. But in +that freedom he was more surely a prisoner on parole than any man on +his given word. He was pitting himself like the gambler against the +final throw. It was all, or—ruin. To leave the valley with the work +undone, with another mistake to his credit, and his present career +must terminate.</p> + +<p>Then there was that other side. That wonderful—other side. The human +nature in him made the valley more surely his destiny than any charges +of his superior officer. The woman was there. The Eve in his Eden. +More than all else the thought of her inspired him to the big effort +of his life.</p> + +<p>He was thinking of Kate Seton now as his gaze roamed at will over the +ravishing summer tints. He was thinking wholly of her when his mind +might well have been contemplating the terms of the despatches he had +just written, the orders he had sent to his troopers, even the events +and clues he had obtained on the previous night, pointing the work he +had in hand.</p> + +<p>A door opened and closed behind him. He was aware of it, but did not +turn. A voice addressed him. It was the cold voice of Sergeant McBain.</p> + +<p>“The men are saddled up, sir.”</p> + +<p>Fyles glanced around without changing his position.</p> + +<p>“The despatches are on the table,” he replied, with a sharp +inclination of the head in the direction.</p> + +<p>“Any other instructions, sir?”</p> + +<p>Fyles thought a moment.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said at last. “When they return here it must be after dark. +The patrol and horses they bring with ’em are to be camped over at +Winter’s Crossing, five miles higher <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>up the valley. This before they +come in to report. That’s all.”</p> + +<p>“Very good, sir.”</p> + +<p>Sergeant McBain departed, and presently the clatter of hoofs told the +officer that the two troopers had ridden away. As they went he drew +out a pipe and began to fill it.</p> + +<p>When McBain re-entered the room Fyles bestirred himself. He turned +back and flung himself into an uncomfortable, rawhide-seated, +home-made chair, and lit his pipe. McBain took up a position at the +small table which served the purpose of a desk.</p> + +<p>McBain and his men had taken up their quarters here several weeks ago. +It was a mere shed, possibly an implement shed on an abandoned farm. +It was a frame, weather-boarded shanty with a dilapidated shingle +roof. Quite a reasonable shelter till it chanced to rain. The +handiness of the troopers had made it comparatively habitable with +oddments of furnishing, and a partition, which left an inner room for +sleeping quarters. There was a partial wooden lining covering the +timbers supporting the roof, which was an open pitch, without any +ceiling. There were several wooden brackets projecting from the walls, +which had probably, at one time, been used to support harness. Now +they served the purpose of carrying police saddles and uniform +overcoats.</p> + +<p>There was obviously no attempt at establishing a permanent station +there. These men were, as was their custom, merely utilizing the +chance finding as an added comfort in their strenuous lives.</p> + +<p>Fyles lit his pipe, and, for some moments, smoked thoughtfully, while +McBain’s pen scratched a series of entries in his diary.</p> + +<p>Fyles watched him through a cloud of smoke, and when his subordinate +returned his pen to the home-made rack on the table, he began to talk.</p> + +<p>“There’s two things puzzling me about that tree, McBain,” he said, +following out his train of thought. “Your reckoning has justification +all right. We saw enough last night for that. Besides, you have seen +the same sort of thing several times before. It surely has a big play +in the affairs of these ‘runners.’ But I can’t get a focus of that +play. Suppose that the tree is in some mysterious way a sort of means +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>of communication, why is it necessary? And, why in thunder, when +everybody knows who the boss of the gang is, don’t they deal direct +with him?”</p> + +<p>Fyles smiled into the grim face of McBain, and sat back waiting to +hear the Scot’s reply. His keen face was alight with expectancy. He +wanted this shrewd man’s ideas as well as his facts obtained by +observation.</p> + +<p>The sergeant’s face was obstinately set. He had already asserted +certain convictions about the old pine, and now he detected skepticism +in his superior.</p> + +<p>“Three times in the last two weeks I have seen the same figure in the +shadow of that tree late at night. It hasn’t needed any guessing to +locate his identity. Very well, starting with the supposition that the +village folk are right, and Charlie Bryant is our man, then his +movements about that tree at that hour of the night become more than +suspicious. Especially since we know he’s run a big cargo in lately. +But while I figger on that tree there’s something else, as I’ve told +you. I’ve tracked him into the neighborhood of the old Meeting House +and back again to the tree. Now, I’ve seen this play three times, and +would have seen the whole of it again last night if that damned coyote +of a tenderfoot hadn’t butted in. That’s that, sir.”</p> + +<p>Fyles nodded. The older man’s earnestness was not without its weight. +But to a man like Fyles, definite proof, or reasonable probabilities, +were necessary. Clearing his throat, McBain went on.</p> + +<p>“Let’s come to another argument, sir,” he said, setting himself with +his arms on the table. “Every man or woman in the place reckons this +tough, Charlie Bryant, runs the gang. They can lay their tongues to +the names of the men who form the gang. Guess this is the list, and a +certain one sure, knowing the men. There’s Pete Clancy, Nick Devereux, +both hired men to Miss Seton. There’s Kid Blaney, hired to Bryant +himself. There’s Stormy Longton, the gambler and—murderer. Then +there’s another I believe to be Macaddo, the train hold-up, and the +fellow they call “Holy” Dick. That’s the gang with Bryant at their +head, but there may be more of them. I’ve got the names indirectly +from the village folk. But this is my point. Never a soul in the +village has seen them at work. Never a soul <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>has seen them buy, or +sell, or handle, one drop of drink, except what they buy in the saloon +to consume. The gang don’t do one single thing to give itself away, +and there’s not a man or woman could give them away in the village, +except from their talk when they’re drunk.”</p> + +<p>The man was making his point, and Fyles remained interested.</p> + +<p>“Now, this is the argument, an’ you’ll admit, sir, experience carries +a lot of it out. Crooks are scared to death of each other, you know +that, sir, better than I do. It’s the basis of their methods. They’ve +got to make safe. To do this they have to resort to schemes which hide +their identity. They’ll trust each other engaged in the crime because +all are involved. But they daren’t trust those who’re under no +penalty. What do they do? They’ve got to blind the outside world, the +police, and they do it by making a mystery. Now, in this case, the +pine is the heart of their mystery. It must give the key to the cache. +It must lead us to getting the lot red-handed—running a cargo. That’s +what I know and feel, and it’s up to you, sir, to show us the way. +I’ve worked on the lines you gave me, sir, and I’ve done all a man can +do. I’ve had the whole village watched, and worked inquiry by a farmer +outlying the valley. But now we’re plumb at a deadlock till they run +another cargo, which I’m calculating, at the rate liquor’s consumed, +they’ll soon have to do. Maybe that’ll give us a week or so for fixing +our plans. I’ve watched each member of the gang, and we’ve got their +movements written down here, from the time we missed that cargo on the +trail. Maybe you’ll read my notes on them.”</p> + +<p>Fyles took the diary the man held out.</p> + +<p>“It’s a tough proposition, McBain,” he said with a sigh, which had no +weakening in it. “But I think we’ll make good this time, if only we +can get the news of the shipment when it comes along well ahead. +Superintendent Jason is in communication with every local police force +east, and should get it all right. If we get that, the rest should be +easy. Rocky Springs only has three roads, and it’s a small place. I’ve +got a pretty wide scheme ready for them when we get word. In the +meantime our present work must be to endeavor to locate their cache. +That discovered, and left alone, our work will be simple pie. I’ll +read these notes now. Then <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>I’m going into the village. Later on I’ve +a notion to see just how busy Master Bryant is on his—ranch.”</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>Kate gave a final glance round at the walls of green logs, and noted +with appreciation the picturesque dovetailing of every angle.</p> + +<p>“Well,” she declared, after a moment’s thought, “all I can say is that +the design’s working out in truly elegant fashion. Charlie’s done his +work well—and so have the boys.” She beamed pleasantly upon her +audience, two men balancing themselves upon the open floor joists of +the new church. “It’s a real work of art. It’s going to be swell, and +the folks should be just proud of it.”</p> + +<p>Billy Unguin smiled confidently.</p> + +<p>“Oh, the folks’ll be proud of it all right, all right,” he said. +“They’ll yap about this place, and how they built it, till you’ll wish +it was swallowed up by that kingdom they guess they’re going to get +boosted into by means of it. They’ll have one hell of a burst at the +saloon when the work’s done, and every feller’ll be guessin’ he could +have done the other feller’s job better than he could have done it +himself, and the women folk’ll just say what elegant critturs their +men are, till they get home sossled. Then they’ll beat hell out of +’em. They’ll sure be proud of it, but I don’t guess the church’ll be +proud of them. It’ll have hard work helpin’ most of ’em into the +kingdom. Ain’t that so, Allan?”</p> + +<p>Billy asked for confirmation of his opinions merely as a matter of +form. But Allan Dy displayed little interest in them. He had some of +his own.</p> + +<p>“Guess so,” he murmured indifferently.</p> + +<p>“Course it’s so,” said Billy sharply.</p> + +<p>“Dessay you’re right,” replied Dy, with still less interest. “But I +ain’t got time thinking conundrums. I get too many, running the mail. +Still, I’d like to say right here this doggone church ain’t +architecture. Maybe it’s art, as Miss Kate says. But it ain’t +architecture. That’s what it ain’t,” he finished up, with decided +emphasis.</p> + +<p>Kate smiled upon him. She was interested in what lay behind the +remark.</p> + +<p>“How—how do you make that out, Allan?” she inquired.</p> + +<p>The postmaster felt sorry for her and showed it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p><p>“It’s easy,” he declared. Then he gathered his opinions in a bunch, +and metaphorically hurled them at her. “Where’s the steel girders an’ +stone masonry?” he demanded. “It’s just wood—pine. Wher’s the figures +an’ measurements? Who knows the breakin’ strain o’ them green logs? +Maybe it’s art, but it ain’t architecture. I ain’t so sure about the +art, neither. It’s to be lined with red pine. Ther’ ain’t no art to +red pine. Now maple—bird’s-eye maple, an’ we got forests of it. +Ther’s art in bird’s-eye maple. It’s mighty pleasing to the eye. It +’ud make the folks feel good. Red pine? Red?” He shook his head +ominously. “Not in this city. You see, red’s a shoutin’ color. Sets +folk gropin’ fer trouble. But white’s different. It—it sort o’ sets +folks thinking o’ them days when their little souls was white enough, +even if their bodies wasn’t rid of a month’s dirt. I tell you, Rocky +Springs ’ud get pious right away under the influence of bird’s-eye +maple. Maybe they’d be fighting drunk later, but that don’t cut no +ice. You see, it’s sort o’ natural to ’em. Still, the church would +have done ’em some good if only it kept ’em a few seconds from doing +somebody or something a personal injury.”</p> + +<p>Billy was chafing at his friend’s monopoly of the talk and promptly +seized the opportunity of belittling his opinions.</p> + +<p>“What’s the use,” he cried. “I’m with Miss Kate. Charlie’s done right +in fixing on red pine lining. Art’s art, an’ if you’re goin’ to be +artistic, why, you just got to match things same as you’d match a team +of horses, same as a woman does her fixings. ’Tain’t good to mix +anything. Not even drinks. Red pine goes with raw logs. Say, there’s +art in everything. Beans goes with pork; cabbage with corned beef. But +you don’t never eat ice cream with sowbelly. Everybody hates winter. +Why for do folks fix ’emselves like funeral mutes in winter? It’s just +the artistic mind in ’em. They’d hate flying in the face of Providence +by cheerin’ themselves up with a bit of color. Art is art, Dy, my boy; +maybe art ain’t in your line, seein’ you’re a Government servant. +Ther’ ain’t nothin’ but red pine for the inside of that church, or all +art’s bust to hell. Start the folks in this city off on notions +inspired by anemic woodwork, an’ the sight o’ so much purity would set +’em off sniveling on their women-folk’s bosoms, and give ’emselves +internal chills shoutin’ fer ice <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>water at O’Brien’s bar. You’d set +the boys so all-fired good-natured they’d give ’emselves up fer the +crimes they never committed, or they’d be startin’ up a weekly funeral +club so as to be sure of a Christian burial anyway. You’d upset the +harmony o’ Rocky Springs something terrible. Bird’s-eye +maple—nothin’. Ain’t that so, Miss Kate?”</p> + +<p>Kate laughed outright.</p> + +<p>“I can’t quite follow all the arguments,” she said, cautiously. +“But—but—it sounds all right.”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” agreed Billy, complacently.</p> + +<p>But Dy was not yet defeated.</p> + +<p>“I’m arguin’ architecture,” he said doggedly. “Here,” he indicated the +length of the main building, “I don’t care a cuss about your art. What +about this? Where’s the tree grown hereabouts tall enough to give us a +ridge pole for this roof? It means a join in the ridge pole. That’s +what it means. And that ain’t architecture, Master +Billy—smarty—Unguin.”</p> + +<p>Kate ran her eye over the offending length. The man’s point seemed +obvious.</p> + +<p>“It certainly looks like a join,” she admitted unwillingly.</p> + +<p>For a moment Billy was disconcerted. But his inventive faculties +quickly supplied him with a way out. Anyway, he could break up the +other’s argument.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t nothin’!” he cried, with fine scorn. “That don’t need to worry +you. Ain’t we got the tallest pine in creation right here on the +spot?”</p> + +<p>The postmaster’s eyes widened. Even Kate was startled at the +suggestion.</p> + +<p>“You’d cut down the old tree?” she inquired.</p> + +<p>“Wher’s your sense?” demanded Dy roughly. “Cut down the old pine? +Who’s goin to do it? Who’s got the grit?”</p> + +<p>“It don’t need grit to saw that tree—only a saw,” smiled Billy, +provokingly.</p> + +<p>But Dy had no sense of humor at the moment.</p> + +<p>“Pshaw! What about the Indian cuss on it?” he demanded. “Ther’ ain’t a +boy in this valley ’ud drive a saw into that tree. You’re talking +foolish.”</p> + +<p>Billy grew very red.</p> + +<p>“Am I?” he cried, angrily. “Well, I ain’t no sawyer, but I’ll say +right here if the church needs that pine I’ll fetch it <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>down if it’s +only to show you that Charlie Bryant’s notions are better than yours. +I’ll do it if the work kills me.”</p> + +<p>“Which it surely will,” said Dy significantly.</p> + +<p>But Kate had no liking for the turn the conversation had taken, and +attempted to divert it.</p> + +<p>“No, no,” she cried, with a laugh that was a trifle forced. “That’s +the worst of you men when you begin to argue. You generally get +spiteful. Just like women. Art or architecture, it doesn’t matter a +bit. We’re all proud of this lovely little church. But I must be off. +I’ve a committee meeting to attend. Then there’s a church sewing bee. +See you again.”</p> + +<p>She turned away and began to pick her way from joist to joist toward +the doorway in the wall. Her progress occupied all her attention and +careful balance. Thus she was left wholly unaware of the man who was +standing framed in the opening watching her. Her first realization +came with the sound of his voice. And so startling was its effect that +she lost her balance, and must have taken an undignified fall between +the joists, had not a pair of strong hands been thrust out to save +her.</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry, Miss Kate,” cried Fyles earnestly, as, aided by his +supporting arms, she regained her balance. “I thought you knew I was +here—had seen me.”</p> + +<p>Kate freed herself as quickly as she could. Her action was almost a +rebuff, and suggested small enough thanks. Probably none of the +villagers would have met with similar treatment.</p> + +<p>She felt angry. She did not know why, and her words of thanks had no +thanks in their tone.</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” she said coldly. Then she looked up into the keen face +before her and beheld its easy confident smile. “It was real stupid of +me. But—you see, I didn’t guess anybody was there.”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>Kate stepped down through the doorway, and stood beside the officer, +whose horse was grazing a few yards away upon a trifling patch of +weedy grass. Her annoyance was passing.</p> + +<p>“I’d heard you’d come into Rocky Springs,” she said. “Everybody is—is +excited about it.”</p> + +<p>Inspector Fyles was still smiling as he returned her glance. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>He was +thinking, at that moment, that the passing of time only added to Kate +Seton’s attractiveness. His quick eyes took in the simplicity of her +costume, while he realized its comparative costliness for a village +like Rocky Springs.</p> + +<p>“I don’t guess there’s much to be excited about—yet,” he said. “Maybe +that’ll come later, for—some of them. I’m going to be around for +quite a while.”</p> + +<p>Kate was looking ahead down the trail. She was half-heartedly seeking +an excuse for leaving him. Perhaps the man read something of her +thought, for he abruptly nodded in the direction of the village.</p> + +<p>“You’re going on down?” he inquired casually.</p> + +<p>“Yes. I’ve a church committee to attend. I am rather late.”</p> + +<p>“Then maybe I may walk with you?”</p> + +<p>The man’s manner was perfectly deferential, and something about it +pleased his companion more than she would have admitted. Somehow she +resented him and liked him at the same time. She was half afraid of +him, too. But her fear was wholly sub-conscious, and would certainly +have been promptly denied had she been made aware of it.</p> + +<p>“Your horse?” she protested. “You—you are riding.”</p> + +<p>But Fyles only shook his head.</p> + +<p>“We needn’t bother about him,” he declared easily. “You see, he’ll +just walk right on.”</p> + +<p>They moved on toward the mouth of the trail at the edge of the +clearing, and Kate, watching the horse, saw it suddenly throw up its +head and begin to follow in that indifferent manner so truly equine, +picking at the blades of grass as it came.</p> + +<p>“What a dear creature,” she exclaimed impulsively. “Did—did you train +him that way?”</p> + +<p>Fyles smilingly shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Taught himself,” he said. “Poor Peter’s a first-class baby. He hates +to be left alone. Guess if I went on walking miles he’d never be more +than ten yards behind me.”</p> + +<p>They walked on. Kate for the most part seemed interested only in the +horse following so close behind, while Fyles made small secret of his +interest in her. But for awhile talk seemed difficult.</p> + +<p>Finally it was Kate who was forced to take the initiative <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>with this +big, loose-limbed man of the plains. She searched her brains for an +appropriate subject, and, finally, blundered into the very matter she +had intended to avoid.</p> + +<p>“I suppose there’s going to be a very busy time about here, now you’ve +come around?” she said. “I suppose the lawlessness of this place will +receive a check that’s liable to make some folks pretty +uncomfortable?”</p> + +<p>She smiled up at her companion with just a suspicion of irony in her +dark eyes, and the man who had to rely on his wits so much in his +life’s work found it necessary to think hard before replying.</p> + +<p>The result of his thought was less than he could have hoped, for he +had already learned, with some misgiving, of her friendliness with +Charlie Bryant. However, the opportunity seemed a suitable one, so he +added a gravity of tone to his reply.</p> + +<p>“There are people in this valley to whom my presence will make no +difference. There are others—well, others whose company is worth +avoiding. Say, Miss Kate, maybe you haven’t a notion of a policeman’s +work—and penalties. Maybe you know nothing of the meaning of crime, +as we understand it. Maybe you think us just paid machines, without +feelings, without sentiment, cold, ruthless creatures who are here to +run down criminals, as the old-time Indians ran down the buffalo, in a +wanton love of destroying life. Believe me, it isn’t so. We’re +particularly humane, and would far rather see folks well within the +law and prospering, the same as we want to prosper ourselves. We don’t +fancy the work of shutting up our fellow creatures from all enjoyment +of the life about us, or curtailing that life for them by so much as a +second. Still, if folks obstinately refuse to come within the law of +their own free will, then, for the sake of all other law-abiding folk, +they must be forced to do so, or be made to suffer. Yes, I am here to +do certain work, and what’s more, I don’t quit till it’s done. It may +cost me nothing but a deal of work, and some regret, it may cost me my +life, it may cost other lives. But the work will go on till it is +finished, and though I may not see that finish, there will be others +to take my place. That is the work of the police in this country. It +has always been so, and, finally, we always achieve our purpose. In +the end a criminal hasn’t a dog’s chance of escape.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p><p>The man’s calmly spoken words were not without their effect. The irony +in Kate’s glance had merged into a gravity of expression that was not +without admiration for the speaker. Furtively she took in the +clean-cut profile, the square jaw, the strongly marked brows of the +man under his prairie hat, then his powerful active frame. He was +strikingly powerful in his suggestion of manhood.</p> + +<p>“It seems all different when you put it that way,” she said +thoughtfully. “Yes, I guess you’re right, we folks sort of get other +ideas of the police. Maybe it’s living among a people who are +notoriously—well, human. You don’t hear nice things about the police +in this valley, and I s’pose one gets in the same way of thinking. +But——”</p> + +<p>Kate broke off, and her dark eyes gazed half wistfully out over the +valley.</p> + +<p>“But?”</p> + +<p>Fyles urged her. Nor did his manner suggest any of his official +capacity. He was interested. He simply wanted her to go on talking. It +was pleasant to listen to her rich thrilling voice, it was more +pleasant than he could have believed possible.</p> + +<p>Kate laughed quietly.</p> + +<p>“Maybe what I was going to say will—will hurt you,” she said. “And I +don’t want to hurt you.”</p> + +<p>Fyles shook his head.</p> + +<p>“We police don’t consider our official feelings. They, and any damage +done to them, are simply part of our work.”</p> + +<p>They had reached the main village trail. The girl deliberately halted +and stood facing him.</p> + +<p>“I was thinking it a pity you came here in—time of peace,” she said +quickly. “I was thinking how much better it would have been to wait +until a cargo of liquor was being run, and then get the culprits +red-handed. You see,” she went on naively, “you’ve got time to look +around you now, and—and listen to the gossip of the village, and form +opinions which—which may put you on a false scent. Believe me,” she +cried, with sudden warmth, “I’d be glad to see you measure your wits +against the real culprits. Maybe you’d be successful. Who can say? +Anyway, you’d get a sound idea of whom you were after, and would not +be chasing a phantom, as you are likely to be now, if you listen to +the talk of this place. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>Believe me, I hold no brief for wrongdoers. +They must take their chances. If they are discovered and captured they +must pay the penalty. But I know how deceptive appearances may be in +this valley, and—and it would break my heart if—a great wrong were +done, however inadvertently.”</p> + +<p>The wide reaches of the valley were spread out before them. Kate was +gazing away out westward, where, high up on the hillside, Charlie +Bryant’s house was perched like an eagle’s eyrie. Even at that +distance two figures could be seen standing on the veranda, and +neither she nor Fyles, who was following the direction of her gaze, +needed a second thought as to their identity.</p> + +<p>“You’re thinking of Charlie Bryant,” the man said after a pause. +“You’re warning me—off him.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe I am.”</p> + +<p>Kate’s eyes challenged the officer fearlessly.</p> + +<p>“Why?”</p> + +<p>The man’s searching eyes were not seeking those secrets which might +help his official capacity. Other feelings were stirring.</p> + +<p>“Why? Because Charlie is a weak, sick creature, deserving all the pity +and help the strong can give him. Because he is a gentle, ailing man +who has only contrived to earn the contempt of most, for his weakness, +and the blame of those who are strong enough to help. Because he is, +for all his weaknesses, an—honest man.”</p> + +<p>Fyles gazed up at the house on the hillside again, and Kate’s anxious +eyes watched him.</p> + +<p>“Is that all?” he inquired presently. Nor could there be any mistake +as to the thought behind the question.</p> + +<p>A dash of recklessness, that recklessness which her sister had +deplored the absence of, now drove Kate headlong.</p> + +<p>“No. It is not all,” she cried. “For five years I have been striving +to help him to escape from the demon which possesses him. Oh, and I +know how hopeless it has all been. I love Charlie, Mr. Fyles. I love +him as though he were my brother, or even my own son. I would do +anything in the world to save him, and I tell you frankly, openly, if +the police seek to fix any crime this valley is accused of upon him, I +will strive, by every possible means, whether right or wrong, to +defeat their ends.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p><p>The woman’s face was aglow with reckless courage. Her eyes were +shining with an enthusiasm which the man before her delighted in. All +her defiance of him, of the law, only made her appeal the more surely. +But he was not thinking of her words. He was thinking of her beauty, +her courage, while he repeated her words mechanically.</p> + +<p>“Your brother—or even your own son?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes,” Kate cried. Then she caught a sharp breath, and a deep +flush suffused her cheeks and brow. The significance of the man’s +thoughtful words and tone had come home to her. She knew he was not +thinking of anything else she had said. Only of her regard for that +other man.</p> + +<p>She abruptly held out her hand and Stanley Fyles took it. Her good-bye +came with a curtness that might well have inspired consternation. But +the policeman replied to it without any such feeling, and passed on +with his faithful Peter trailing leisurely behind him.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>BILL MAKES THREE DISCOVERIES</h3> + +<p>It was Big Brother Bill’s third morning in the valley of Leaping +Creek, and in that brief time his optimism and enthusiasm for the +affairs of life in general had suffered shocks from which, at the +moment, recovery seemed altogether doubtful.</p> + +<p>Like all simple natures, once mental disquiet set in it was not easily +shaken off. So, about nine o’clock in the morning, he found himself +sitting on the sill of the barn doorway, his broad back propped +against the casing, hugging his troubles to himself, and, +incidentally, smoking like a miniature smoke-stack.</p> + +<p>The place was quite still under the blazing morning sun; a +collar-chain rattled inside the barn where a few horses stood +impatiently swishing off the attacks of troublesome flies with their +long tails; a hen, somewhere nearby, clucked to her brood of wandering +chicks; an occasional grunt, and curious snuffing, came from the +regions of the dilapidated hog pen. These were the only signs of life +about the place. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>For Charlie, after displaying an unusual +taciturnity, had taken himself off for the day, upon work which he had +declared to be imperative, and Kid Blaney, after feeding and watering +his horses, had done the same thing, on a similar excuse.</p> + +<p>Now, Bill felt he must do one of those very big “thinks,” which, on +occasion, he had been known to achieve. He felt that the time had come +when something must really be done to ease the pressure upon his +mental endurance.</p> + +<p>The previous night had furnished the climax, a painful climax, to all +he had learned of his brother’s doings, of his brother’s guilt. Yes, +he no longer shrank from using that hideous word. All suspected +Charlie, the police, everybody, except Kate Seton, and Charlie had +practically admitted his guilt to him personally, without any apparent +shame or regret. But since then, since Bill had listened to the loyal +defense of Kate, he had seen for himself the smugglers and their chief +at work upon their nefarious trade, and thus further proof was no +longer necessary.</p> + +<p>All mystery was banished. The whole thing, in spite of Kate’s denial, +was as plain as daylight. Charlie was a whisky-runner. The head of the +gang. His little “one-eyed” ranch was the merest blind. His +prosperity, if prosperity he possessed at all, was the prosperity of +successful defiance of the law. To the simple brother this realization +was a terrible one. Charlie, the brother to whom he had always been so +devoted, was a crook, a mere common crook.</p> + +<p>His discovery of the previous evening had come as a far greater shock +than might have been expected, considering all Bill had heard and +witnessed of his brother’s doings. But then it is the way of things to +make the witnessing of a disaster far more terrible than listening to +the story told in language however lurid. Last night he had watched +his brother supplying contraband liquor to the saloonkeeper.</p> + +<p>It had happened in this way. After his first experiences on the night +of his arrival he had been determined to avoid so unpleasant a +sequence of occurrences on the second. Charlie had ridden off directly +after supper, and Bill took the opportunity of paying an evening call +upon Kate and Helen Seton. The chance he had deemed too good to miss. +At least there was nothing of mystery and suspicion there, and he +desired <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>more than anything to breathe a wholesome air of frank +honesty. These girls, particularly Helen, were the one bright spot in +this crime-shadowed valley. To his mind Helen was a perfect ray of +sunshine, which made the shadows in the place something more than +possible of endurance.</p> + +<p>His call was welcomed in a manner that was obvious, even to his simple +mind. And never in his life had he spent an evening of more +whole-hearted enjoyment than he did with Helen, while her less +volatile sister considerately kept herself more or less out of the +way.</p> + +<p>Had his evening ended there his peace of mind might have suffered no +further shock, but, as it was, the comparatively natural desire to +celebrate his successful evening with a drink at O’Brien’s sent him +off in the direction of the village.</p> + +<p>Proceeding rapidly along the trail, full of happy thoughts of Helen, +with her ready wit and gaiety, he was dreaming pleasantly all those +delightful dreams, which every man at some time in his life, finds +running through his head. Then suddenly he was aroused to the scene +about him by the yellow light of a back window of O’Brien’s saloon, +just ahead of him.</p> + +<p>He was approaching the saloon from the rear! How had this happened? +Then he discovered that, by some strange chance, he had left the main +trail, and was proceeding up a wagon track, which evidently led to the +barn behind the saloon.</p> + +<p>He turned off to seek a way round to the front of the building, and +soon became so involved that he finally drew up at a low wire fence, +enclosing the rear buildings, with the lamp-lit window still directly +ahead of him. He was about to step over the wire when a movement, and +the sound of hushed voices, caught and held his attention.</p> + +<p>He stood quite still. It was still fairly early, and the moon had not +yet risen. The outbuildings rose up in shadowy outline against the +starlit sky, and only the lamplight in the window made anything clear +at all. It was this window, and the shaft of light it threw across the +intervening space that held his attention, for it was somewhere in the +shadow, to the right of it, he heard the movement and the voices.</p> + +<p>The movement continued, and then, quite suddenly, a figure stepped +into the light. Bill drew back farther into the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>shadow. It was a +man’s figure, tall and lean. He was carrying something on his +shoulder, which the watcher had no difficulty in recognizing as a +small barrel. Close behind him followed a second man. He, too, was +tall and spare, and he, too, was burdened with a keg upon his +shoulder. In a moment Bill knew he was witnessing a transaction in +contraband liquor between the whisky-runners and the saloonkeeper.</p> + +<p>His interest became absorbed. He had recognized neither of the men, +and a wild hope stirred within him that perhaps he was to gain +definite proof that Kate Seton’s belief was right, and that Charlie +had nothing to do with these people. His excitement and hope became +intense.</p> + +<p>For the moment the men had vanished through the darkened doorway of +the barn. Their voices were still hoarsely whispering, and though he +could not catch a word of what was said, he felt that they were merely +discussing their work. He waited for them to reappear. It was his +anxious desire to finally assure himself that Charlie was not with +them.</p> + +<p>He had not long to wait. The voices drew nearer. First one man emerged +from the barn. It was one of the two he had seen go in. Then the other +followed. They crossed the light once more. He was absolutely certain +now, and a great thankfulness swept over him.</p> + +<p>But his relief was short-lived. A third man now appeared from the +barn. He was smaller, much smaller, and very slight. His face and hair +were undistinguishable beneath his prairie hat, but his dark jacket, +and loose riding breeches were plain enough to the onlooker. In a +moment Bill’s heart sank. Even in that dim light he knew he was gazing +upon the figure he had seen the night before at the old pine. There +could be no mistake. Though he could not see the man’s face, his +figure was sufficient. He felt convinced that it was his brother. Kate +was wrong, and everybody else was right. Charlie was indeed the whisky-runner whom the police were after.</p> + +<p>Any purpose he had had before was promptly abandoned. He hurried away, +sick at heart, and hastily returned to the ranch to find +Charlie—still out.</p> + +<p>After what he had witnessed he had no desire to meet Charlie that +night, so he went straight to bed, but not to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>sleep. For a long time +he lay awake thinking, thinking of his discovery. Then at last, +thoroughly weary with thinking, he fell into a troubled sleep and +dreamed that Inspector Fyles and his men were pursuing him over a +plain, upon which there was no cover, and over which he made no +progress whatsoever.</p> + +<p>Now, as he sat at the door of the barn, brooding over all he had seen +and discovered, he felt that there were but two courses open to him. +He must either, in his own phraseology, “get out or go on.” And by +that he meant he must either renounce all his affection for his erring +brother, and leave him to his fate, or, like Kate, he must stand by to +help him in the time of trouble, and do all in his power to save him +from himself. There was not much doubt as to which direction his +inclinations took, but he felt it was no time for permitting his +feelings to rule him. He must think a big “think,” and adopt its +verdict.</p> + +<p>But the “think” would not come. Only would his inclinations obtrude. +There was nothing mean or petty in this big creature. He loved his +brother frankly and freely, and his absurd heart would not permit him +to thrust those feelings aside.</p> + +<p>Groping and struggling, and undecided, yet convinced, he finally rose +from his seat and stretched and shook himself like some great dog. +Then he looked about rather helplessly. At that moment his eyes came +to rest on the distant house of the Setons’, and, as he beheld a woman +emerge from its door, a great inspiration came to him.</p> + +<p>In a moment his dilemma disentangled itself. He laughed in very +triumph as the idea swept through his brain. It permeated his whole +being with a sense of delight. He only wondered he had not thought of +it before. It was the very thing. How the devil had he managed to miss +it? Helen was as full of plain wisdom and sense, as her pretty gray +eyes were full of laughter. She was tremendously clever. She was +always reading books. Hadn’t he picked them up? Why, of course. He +would go and catch her up, and—do a big powwow and “think” with her.</p> + +<p>His enthusiasm once more at high pressure, Big Brother Bill set off +hot foot to intercept the girl he had seen just leaving her home. She +would have to cross the bridge, that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>was certain—then——Ah, yes, +the church. The new church. She generally took that in on her way to +the village. She had told him that. Well, that was quite easy. He +would cut across to the old pine, he couldn’t lose himself doing that, +then the trail would run right on down by the church.</p> + +<p>For once he made no mistake in taking a short cut. He reached the old +pine safely, and felt like congratulating himself. Then a +disconcerting thought occurred to him as he contemplated the trail +down which he must proceed. The girl had a long way to go, and he had +hurried desperately. She wouldn’t be up at the church for some time +yet. He felt annoyed with himself for always doing things in such a +hurry. It was quite absurd. Now he would have either to remain where +he was, kicking his heels about, or go on down to the church, and make +it look as though he were purposely lying in wait for her.</p> + +<p>He felt that would be a mistake. She might resent it. She might regard +it as an impertinence. He couldn’t afford to offend her, he was much +too anxious for her approval. He remembered her resentment at their +first meeting, and—laughed. But he told himself she was quite right. +She thought he had been spying on her. If he had been it would have +been a low-down trick. Anyway he would take no chance now. He would +wait right there, and——</p> + +<p>A sudden commotion in the scrub beside him abruptly changed the trend +of his thought. He was startled. The commotion went on. Then with a +rush and whirr of wings, and a hoarse-throated squawk, a large bird +flew up, clutching the ruffled body of a lesser one in its fierce +claws, its great flapping wings brushing his sleeve as it swept on +past him.</p> + +<p>His wondering blue eyes followed the bird’s flight until it passed +beyond the tree tops, and became hidden by the trunk of the old pine. +Then he looked down into the bush, searching for the nest of +fledglings he felt sure the hawk had robbed of a mother.</p> + +<p>He was absurdly grieved that his gun was still with his missing +baggage. It would have delighted him to have brought the lawless +pirate to book, and restored the mother to her panic stricken chicks.</p> + +<p>He peered into the bush searching for the nest, but the foliage was +dense, and though he groped the boughs aside he <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>could discover no +signs of it. Still, the thought of those motherless chicks had stirred +him, and he persisted.</p> + +<p>Breaking his way in among the boughs he searched more carefully. But +at last, after wasting nearly a quarter of an hour upon his +tender-hearted sympathy, he finally decided that he must be wrong. +There was no nest of fledglings. He really felt quite disappointed. +Just as he was about to abandon his search something fluttered at the +very roots of the bush. It was of a grayish blue. With a lunge he made +a grab, caught it, and stood up. It was a ball of paper, loosely +crumpled.</p> + +<p>With an exclamation of disgust he made his way out of the bush and +found himself confronted by the laughing gray eyes of Helen Seton.</p> + +<p>“For goodness’ sake, Mr. Bryant!” the girl exclaimed, “whatever are +you playing at? Is it Injuns, or—or are you busy on one of your short +cuts? I’m nearly scared to death. I surely am.”</p> + +<p>Bill looked into that laughing face, and slowly one great hand went up +to his perspiring brow. It was the action of a man at a loss.</p> + +<p>“Guess you aren’t half as scared as I am,” he blurted out. “I’ve just +had the life scared right out of me. It was a pirate hawk. A big one +flapped up out of that bush, with a small bird in its claws. I—I was +looking for the little feller’s fledglings, and the nest. Sort of +birds’ nesting. You see, I guessed they’d need feeding—with their +mother gone.”</p> + +<p>Helen looked into the eyes of this absurd creature, and—wondered. Was +there—was there ever a man quite so simple and—soft hearted? Her +eyes became very gentle.</p> + +<p>“And did you—find them?” she asked quietly.</p> + +<p>Bill shook his head, and looked ruefully down at the paper in his +hand.</p> + +<p>“Only this,” he said, almost dejectedly.</p> + +<p>His air was too much for the girl’s sense of humor. She laughed as she +shifted the folded easel, and japanned tin box she was carrying, from +one hand to the other.</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear, oh, dear,” she cried, stifling her mirth. “And—and I do so +hate hawks. They’re such villains, and—and the valley’s full of them. +But there, the valley is full of everything bad—isn’t it?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p><p>Bill was smoothing out the paper absent mindedly. Helen’s reference +had reminded him of his purpose. Her presence somehow made it +difficult.</p> + +<p>But Helen went on without apparently noticing his awkwardness.</p> + +<p>“Tell me, Mr. Bryant, what was it brought you out this way, when you +ought to be worrying around getting wise to—to the ranching +business?” she demanded.</p> + +<p>Bill flung back his broad shoulders, and, with the movement, seemed to +fling off every care. He laughed cordially.</p> + +<p>“Say, you make me laugh,” he cried. “Now if I was to tell you what had +brought me this way, you’d sure get mad.” Then he discovered the +things she was carrying for the first time. “Say, can’t I carry those +things?” he cried, reaching out and possessing himself of them without +ceremony. “Why, it’s a paint box, and—and easel,” he cried in +awe-struck tones. “I didn’t guess you—painted.”</p> + +<p>Helen was frankly delighted with him, but she promptly denied the +charge.</p> + +<p>“Paint? ‘Daub,’ you mean. Guess Charlie tried to knock painting into +my—my thick head. But he had to quit it after I reached the daubing +stage. I don’t think he guesses I’ll ever win prizes at it,” she went +on, moving up toward the pine. “Still, I might sell some of my daubs +among the worst drinking cases in the village.”</p> + +<p>But Bill felt the outrage of such possibilities.</p> + +<p>“I’ll buy ’em all,” he cried. “Just name your price, I’d—I’d like to +collect works of art,” he added enthusiastically.</p> + +<p>Helen turned abruptly and glared.</p> + +<p>“How dare you laugh at me?” she cried, in mock anger. “I—I might have +paid you to take one away, but I just won’t—now. So there. Works of +art! How dare you? And what are you hugging that old piece of paper to +death for? Give it to me. Perhaps it’s somebody’s love letter. Though +folks don’t generally write love letters on blue paper. It suggests +something too legal.”</p> + +<p>Bill yielded up the paper with a good-natured smile.</p> + +<p>“It’s all mussed and dirty,” he said, in a sort of apology.</p> + +<p>“That’s up to me,” cried Helen. “Anyway a woman’s curiosity don’t mind +dirt.”</p> + +<p>She smoothed the paper carefully as she paused at the foot of the +pine. Bill looked around.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p><p>“Is this where you paint?” he asked.</p> + +<p>Helen nodded. She was busy with the paper. Bill occupied himself by +thoroughly entangling the legs of the folded easel, in an endeavor to +set it up for her. He tried it every way without success, and finally +desisted with a regretful sigh.</p> + +<p>“Was there ever——?” he began.</p> + +<p>But Helen broke in with a sharp exclamation, which promptly drew him +to her side.</p> + +<p>“This—this isn’t a love letter at all,” she cried amazedly. +“It’s—it’s—listen! ‘Please have ten gallons of Brandy and twenty Rye +laid in the manger in my barn. Money enclosed. O’B!’”</p> + +<p>Helen looked up at the man beside her. All her laughter had gone. +There was something like tragedy in her serious eyes.</p> + +<p>Bill was staring at the paper.</p> + +<p>“Why that’s—that’s an order for—liquor from O’Brien,” he said, with +the air of having made a discovery.</p> + +<p>His brilliancy passed the girl by. She merely nodded.</p> + +<p>“How—how did it get there?” she ejaculated.</p> + +<p>“Why, some one must have thrown it there,” Bill declared deliberately.</p> + +<p>Again the man’s shrewdness lacked an appreciative audience. The girl +made no answer. She was thinking. She moved aside and leaned against +the rough trunk of the mighty pine. She was still staring at the +paper.</p> + +<p>But her movement caught the man’s attention, and the sudden +realization of the proximity of the pine recalled many things to his +mind. The pine. That was where he had seen Charlie, his first night in +the valley. That was where the police were watching him. That was +where he vanished. It was at the pine that O’Brien had warned him +Charlie had gone to collect “greenbacks”—dollars. That was O’Brien’s +order, money enclosed. Charlie had found the order and money. Then, +when he was interrupted by his, Bill’s, shout he had thrown the order +away.</p> + +<p>The realization was like a douche of cold water, in spite of all he +had seen and knew. Then he did a thing he hardly understood the reason +of. It was the result of impulse—a sort of sub-conscious impulse. He +reached out and took the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>weather-stained paper from the girl’s +yielding hands and deliberately tore it up.</p> + +<p>“Why—why are you doing that?” Helen asked sharply.</p> + +<p>Bill forced himself to a smile, and shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” he said. Then, after a pause: “I guess that order has +been filled.” A bitterness found expression in the quality of his +smile. “I saw the liquor delivered at O’Brien’s last night. I saw the +‘runners’ at work. Charlie was with them. Say, where d’you paint from? +Right here?”</p> + +<p>Helen looked up into the man’s face. The last vestige of levity had +passed from her. Her cheeks had paled, and she was striving +desperately to read behind the ill-fitting smile she beheld. Bill +knew. Bill knew all that everybody believed in the valley. He had done +what nobody else had done. He had seen Charlie at his work. A +desperate feeling of tragedy was tugging at her heart. This great big +soul had received the full force of the blow, and somehow she felt +that it had been a staggering blow.</p> + +<p>All her sympathy went out to him. Now she utterly ignored his +question. She sat down at the foot of the tree and signed to him.</p> + +<p>“Sit here,” she said soberly. “Sit here, and—talk to me. You came out +here this morning because—because you wanted to find some one to talk +to. Well?”</p> + +<p>Bill obeyed her. There was no question in his mind. She had fathomed +his purpose, and he was glad. He replied to her challenge without +hesitation, and strove to speak lightly. But as he went on all +lightness passed out of his manner, and the girl was left with a full +view of those stirring feelings which he had not the wit nor +inclination to secrete for long.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he began, “you asked what I was doing here, and guessed +right—first time. Only, maybe you didn’t guess it was you I came out +to find. I saw you leave your house, and figured you’d make the new +church. I was going right on down to the new church. Yes, I wanted to +talk—to you. You see, I came here full of a—a sort of hope, and—and +in two days I find the arm of the law reaching out to grab up my +brother. I’ve given up everything to come and—join. Now I’m up +against it, and I can’t just think right. I sort of need some one to +help me think—right. You see, I guessed you could do it.”</p> + +<p>The man was sitting with his arms clasped about his knees. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>His big +blue eyes were staring out over the valley. But he saw nothing of it.</p> + +<p>Helen, watching him, remained quite unconscious of the tribute to +herself. She was touched. She was filled with a tender feeling she had +never known before. She found herself longing to reach out and take +hold of one of those big, strong hands, and clasp it tightly and +protectingly in her own. She longed to tell him that she understood +his grief, and was yearning to share it with him, that she might +lighten the burden which had fallen upon him. But she did neither of +these things. She just waited for him to continue.</p> + +<p>“You see,” he went on, slowly, with almost painful deliberation, “I +kind of feel we can think two ways. One with our heads, and the other +with our hearts. That’s how I seem to be thinking now. And between the +two I’m all mussed up.”</p> + +<p>The girl nodded.</p> + +<p>“I—I think I know,” she said quietly.</p> + +<p>The man’s face lit for a moment.</p> + +<p>“I knew you would,” he cried, in a burst of enthusiasm. Then the light +died out of his eyes again, and he shook his head. “But you can’t,” he +said hopelessly. “Nobody can, but—me. I love old Charlie.”</p> + +<p>“What does your head say?” asked Helen abruptly.</p> + +<p>“My head?” The man released his knees and pushed back his hat, as +though for her to read for herself. “Guess my head says I best get +aboard a train quick, and get right back East where I came from, +and—stop there.”</p> + +<p>“And leave Charlie to his—fate?” suggested the girl.</p> + +<p>The man nodded.</p> + +<p>“That’s what my head says.”</p> + +<p>“And your heart?”</p> + +<p>Helen’s gray eyes were very tender as they looked into the troubled +face beside her.</p> + +<p>Bill’s broad shoulders lifted, with the essence of nonchalance.</p> + +<p>“Oh, that says get right up, and shut off the life of every feller at +the main who tries to do Charlie any hurt.”</p> + +<p>A sudden emotion stirred the girl at his side, and she turned her head +away lest he should see that which her eyes betrayed.</p> + +<p>“The head is the wisest,” she said without conviction.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p><p>But she was wholly unprepared for the explosion her words invoked.</p> + +<p>“Then the head can be—damned!” Bill cried fiercely. And in a moment +the shadows seemed to fall from about him. He suddenly sprang up and +stood towering before her. “I knew if I talked to you about things +you’d fix me right,” he cried, with passionate enthusiasm. “I tell you +my head’s just a fool thing that generally butts in all wrong. You’ve +just made me see right. You’re that wise and clever. And—and when I +get fixed like I’ve been, I’ll always need to come to you. Say, there +isn’t another girl in all the world as bright as you. I’m going to +stop right here, and I’ll smash every blamed policeman to a pulp if he +lays hands on Charlie. Charlie may be what he is. I don’t care. If he +needs help I’m here to give it. I tell you if Charlie goes to the +penitentiary I go with him. If they hang him, they’ll hang me, too. +That’s how your sister feels. That’s how I feel. That’s how——”</p> + +<p>“I feel, too,” put in Helen quickly. “Oh, you great Big Brother Bill,” +she went on, in her sudden joy and enthusiasm. “You’re the loyalest +and best thing I ever knew. And—and if you aren’t careful I’ll—I’ll +give you one of my daubs after all. Come along. Let’s go and look at +the new church. Let’s go and see how all the pious, whited sepulchers +of this valley are getting on with their soul-saving business. I—I +couldn’t paint a thing to-day.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>IN THE FAR REACHES</h3> + +<p>Charlie Bryant’s horse was a good one, far better than a rancher of +his class might have been expected to ride. It was a big, compact +animal with the long sloping pasterns of a horse bred for speed. It +possessed those wonderful rounded ribs, which seemed to run right up +to quarters let down like those of a racehorse. It was a beautiful +creature, and as it chafed under the gentle, restraining hand of its +rider its full veins stood out like ropes, and its shoulders and +flanks were a-lather of sweat.</p> + +<p>They were traveling over a broken country a few miles up the valley. +There was no road of any sort, only cattle tracks, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>which, amid the +wild tangle of bush, made progress difficult and slow.</p> + +<p>The man’s eyes were brooding, and his effeminate face was overcast as +he rode. The wild scene about him went for nothing, even to his artist +eyes. His thoughts were full to the brim with things that held them +concentrated to the exclusion of all else. And, for all he thought, or +saw, or felt, of his surroundings, he might have been footing the +superheated plains of a tropical desert.</p> + +<p>He was thinking of a woman. She was never really out of his thoughts, +and his heart was torn with the hopelessness of the passion consuming +him. No overshadowing threat could give him the least disquiet, no +physical fear ever seemed to touch him. But every thought of the one +woman whose image was forever before him could sear and lacerate his +heart almost beyond endurance.</p> + +<p>He had no blame for her at any time. He had no protest to offer that +her love, the love of a wife for a husband, was utterly beyond his +reach. How could it be otherwise? He knew himself so well for what he +was, he had so subtle an appreciation of all he must lack in the eyes +of a big spirited, human woman, that, to his troubled mind, the +situation as it was had almost become inevitable.</p> + +<p>Now as he rode, he thought, too, of his newly arrived brother, and the +hatefulness of personal comparison made him almost cringe beneath +their flagellations. Bill, so big of heart and body, so lacking in the +many abilities which go to make up the man in men’s eyes, but which +count for so little in a woman’s, so strong in the buoyancy and +fearlessness that was his. He felt he could almost hate him for these +things. Bill had not one ugly thought or feeling in the whole of his +nature. Temptation? He barely understood the word, because he was so +naturally wholesome.</p> + +<p>But more than these things it was the memory of that which, since his +earliest youth, had looked back at him out of the mirror, that robbed +Charlie Bryant of so much peace now. That, and the weakness which +seemed to fit the vision so well. Whereas Bill, this child of the same +parents, was all that might be, his own form and manner made him +shudder as he thought of them. Then there was that devil haunting him, +and from whom there seemed to be no escape.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p><p>How could he ever hope that Kate Seton would do more than lend her +strong, pitying affection for his support? How could she ever look to +him for support and guidance? His sense of proportion was far too +acute to permit so grievous an error.</p> + +<p>In some perverse way his mentality was abnormally acute. He saw with +eyes which were inspired by a brain capable of vast achievement, but +which possessed none of that equipoise so necessary for a +well-balanced manhood. And it told him all that, and forced conviction +upon him. It told him so much of that which no man should believe +until it be thrust upon him overwhelmingly by the bitter experiences +of life. His whole brain was permeated by a pessimism forced upon him +by a morbid introspection, resulting from an undue appreciation of his +own physical and moral shortcomings.</p> + +<p>Yet with it all he bore no resentment except against the perversity of +such a lot as his. And in this lay the germ of a self-pity, which is a +specter to be dreaded more than anything else in life. While deploring +the conditions under which he must live, robbed, as he believed he was +robbed, of the possibility of winning for himself all those things +which belong to the manhood really existing beneath his exterior of +denial, he yet felt he would rather have his bread divided than be +denied that trifling food which made it possible for him to go on +living.</p> + +<p>Kate’s tender pity, Kate’s warmth of affection, an affection she might +even bestow upon some pet animal, was preferable to that she should +shut him entirely out of her life. It left him free to drink in the +dregs of happiness, although the nectar itself was denied him.</p> + +<p>He could accept such conditions. Yes, he could almost be satisfied +with them, since he believed no others to be forthcoming. But, and a +dark fury of jealousy flooded his heart as he thought, he could not +witness another drinking the nectar while he was condemned to the +dregs. He felt that that way lay madness. That way was more than could +be endured. He could endure all else, whatever life had in store for +him, but the thought that he must stand by while Kate be given to +another was more than his fate, for all its perversity, could expect +of him.</p> + +<p>From his veranda that morning, as on the morning before, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>Charlie had +seen Kate and Stanley Fyles walking together. More than that he had +heard from Kate herself of her admiration of the police officer. And, +in these things, so trifling perhaps, so commonplace, he had read the +forecast of a mind naturally dreading, and eaten up by suspicion. He +would have been ready to suspect his own brother, had not a merciful +providence made it plain to him that Bill possessed interest solely in +the laughing gray eyes of Kate’s sister.</p> + +<p>Now, as he rode along, he saw dull visions of a future in which Kate +no longer played a part. A demon of jealousy was driving him. He +longed impotently for the power to rob the man of the possibility of +winning that which was dearest to him. In the momentary madness which +his jealousy invoked he felt that the death of this man, his life +crushed out between his own lean hands, would be something approaching +a joy worth living for.</p> + +<p>But such murderous thoughts were merely passing. They fled again +before the pessimism so long his habit. It would not help him one +iota. It would rob Kate of a happiness which he felt was her due, +which he desired for her; it would rob him of the last vestige of even +her pitying regard.</p> + +<p>Then he laughed to himself, a laugh full of a hatefulness that somehow +did not seem to fit him. It was inspired by the thought of how easy it +would be to shoot the heart out of the man he deemed his rival. Others +had done such things, he told himself. Then, with a world of +bitterness, he added, far better men than himself.</p> + +<p>But he knew that no such intention was really his. He knew that +beneath all his bitterness of feeling, and before all things, he +desired Kate’s happiness and security. A strange magnanimity, in a +nature so morally weak, so lacking in all that the world regards as +the signs of true manhood, was his. Even his life, he felt, would be +small enough price to pay for the happiness and security of the only +woman who had ever held out the strong arm of support and affection +for him to lean upon, the only woman he had ever truly loved.</p> + +<p>So a nightmare of thought teemed through his brain as he rode. Now he +would fall into a sweat of panic as fantastic specters of hideous +possibilities arose and confronted him, now only a world of grief +would overwhelm him. Again a passion of jealousy would drive him to +the verge of madness, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>only to be followed swiftly by that lurking +self-pity which robbed him of the wholesome human instincts inspired +by the spirit of battle in affairs of life. Then would come that +overwhelming depression, bred of the long sapping of his moral +strength, while through it all, a natural gentleness strove to soar +above the ashes of baser fires.</p> + +<p>It was with a sigh of relief, as his horse finally cleared a close +growing bush, he emerged upon a small clearing. In the midst of this +stood a corral. But, for the moment, he passed this by, and rode +toward a log hut of ancient construction and design.</p> + +<p>He drew the restive creature up and dismounted. Then he flung the +reins over one of the posts of the old corral. The place was beyond +the boundary of his homestead and belonged to a time when the valley +knew few inhabitants beyond half-breeds and Indians. He had discovered +it, and had turned it into the service of a storage for those things +which were required only rarely upon his ranch, and at the more remote +parts of it.</p> + +<p>Inside the corral stood a wagon. It was an ordinary box wagon, but +nearby stood a hay-rack, which signified its uses. Then there was a +mower, and horse rake. There were other odds and ends, too, but it +appeared obvious that haying operations were carried on in this +direction, and this old corral so found its uses.</p> + +<p>After glancing casually in the direction of these things Charlie +passed round to the door of the hut. And herein his purpose became +more obscure.</p> + +<p>The place was heavily thatched and suggested long disuse. Its air was +less of dilapidation than desertion, and lichen and fungus played a +large part in such an aspect. The walls were low, and the heavy roof +was flat and sloping. As the man drew near a flight of birds streamed +from its eaves, screaming their resentment at such intrusion.</p> + +<p>Charlie appeared not to notice them, so intent was he upon his +purpose. He walked hurriedly, and finally paused at the doorway. For a +moment he almost seemed in doubt. Then, with a thrust, he pushed the +door, the hinges of which creaked protestingly as it opened inwards.</p> + +<p>Another fluttering of wings, another chorus of harsh screams, and a +further flight of birds poured from within and rushed headlong into +the brilliant sunshine.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p><p>The place was certainly very old. A dreadful mustiness pervaded the +atmosphere. The dirt, too, the heavy deposit of guano upon the floor, +made it almost revolting. There was no furniture of any sort, while +yet it conveyed the suggestion that, at some remote period, it had +been the habitation of man.</p> + +<p>A rough boarding lined the walls of logs very nearly up to the sloping +roof. Rusty nails protruded here and there, suggesting hangers for +utensils. A circular aperture in the roof denoted the presence, at one +time, of a stove, possibly a cooking stove. And these things might +well have raised in the mind a picture of a lean, black-haired, +cadaverous man of low type, living a secret life amid the wilderness +of this valley, with crime, crime against the laws of both God and Man +as his object. Just such a man as is the notorious half-breed cattle +thief.</p> + +<p>Stepping over to the far end of the room, where the light shone down +through the stovepipe hole in the roof, Charlie halted before the +rough boarding at the angle of the wall. Then he reached out and +caught the upper edge of the wooden lining, which, here, was much +lower than at any other point, and exerted some strength. Four of the +upright plankings slid upward together in a sort of rough panel, and +revealed a shallow cupboard hewn out of the old logs behind them.</p> + +<p>Within this opening a number of garments were hanging. There were +several pairs of riding breeches, and an odd coat or two, besides +other articles of man’s outer attire. Added to these were two +ammunition belts with holsters and revolvers.</p> + +<p>Charlie stood gazing at the contents of the cupboard for some moments. +Then he examined them, pulling each article aside as though to assure +himself that nothing was missing. Each revolver, too, he withdrew from +its holster and examined closely. The chambers were fully loaded. And +having satisfied himself of these things he slid the boards back into +their place. As they dropped back his expression was one of +appreciation. No one could possibly have guessed, even from a narrow +examination, what lay behind those rough, time-worn boards. Their fit +was in perfect keeping with the rest of the wall lining.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p><p>He stood back and gave a final glance about him. Then he turned toward +the door.</p> + +<p>As he did so the sound of a soft whinny reached him. It came from his +horse outside. A quick, startled light leaped into his dark eyes, and +the next moment his movements became almost electrical. He reached the +door on the run and looked out. His horse was standing with head held +high and ears pricked. The creature was gazing fixedly in the +direction from which it had approached the clearing.</p> + +<p>Charlie needed nothing more. Something was approaching. Probably +another horse. If so there was equally the probability of a rider upon +its back.</p> + +<p>He closed the door quickly and carefully behind him, and hurried +toward the corral. He threw down the poles that barred it, and made +his way to the side of the wagon. Then his movements became more +leisurely.</p> + +<p>Opening the wagon box he drew out a jack and a tin of grease. Then, +still with an easy, leisurely air he jacked up one wheel and removed +an axle cap.</p> + +<p>He was intent upon his work now—curiously intent. He removed the +wheel and smeared the inside of the hub with the filthy looking +grease. His horse beyond the fence gave another whinny, which ended in +a welcoming neigh. The man did not even look up. He replaced the wheel +and spun it round. Then he examined the felloes which had shrunk in +the summer heat. An answering neigh, and a final equine duet still +failed to draw his attention. Nor, until a voice beyond the fence +greeted him, did he look up.</p> + +<p>“Getting ready for a journey?” said the voice casually.</p> + +<p>Charlie looked round into the keen face of Stanley Fyles. He smiled +pleasantly.</p> + +<p>“Not exactly a journey,” he said. Then he glanced quickly at the +hay-rack standing on its side. “Say, doing anything?” he cried, and +his smile was not without derision.</p> + +<p>“Nothing particular,” replied the police officer, “unless you reckon +getting familiar with the geography of the valley particular.”</p> + +<p>Charlie nodded.</p> + +<p>“I’d say that’s particular for—a police officer.” His rich voice was +at curious variance with his appearance. It was not unlike a terrier +with the bay of a bloodhound.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>The phenomenon was not lost upon Fyles. He was studying this meager +specimen of a prairie “crook.” He had never before met one quite like +him. He felt that here was a case of brain rather than physical +outlawry. It might be harder to deal with than the savage, illiterate +toughs he was used to.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” returned Fyles, “we need to learn things.”</p> + +<p>“Sure.”</p> + +<p>Charlie pointed at the hay-rack.</p> + +<p>“Guess you don’t feel like giving us a hand tipping that on to the +wagon? I’m going haying to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” cried Fyles, with an easy smile, as he leaped out of the +saddle. He passed into the old corral and his quick eyes took in every +detail at a glance. They came to rest on the slight figure of the man +and noted his costume. Charlie Bryant was clad in loose riding +breeches, but was coatless. Nor did he display any firearms. “Two-man +job, isn’t it?” he said lightly. “And you guessed to do it—single?”</p> + +<p>Charlie’s smile was blandly disarming.</p> + +<p>“No. I hadn’t thought to get it on to-day. The Kid’ll be with me +to-morrow, or maybe my brother, Bill.”</p> + +<p>“Ah. Brother Bill could about eat that rack on his own,” Fyles +declared, as the two men set about the task.</p> + +<p>It was a far lighter affair than it looked, and, in less than five +minutes was resting perfectly balanced in its place on the wagon. +Fyles looked on while Charlie went round and bolted the rack securely +in its place.</p> + +<p>“Your wagon?” the officer observed casually, while his sharp eyes took +in its last details.</p> + +<p>Charlie nodded.</p> + +<p>“Yes. Folks borrow it some. You see, I don’t need it a heap, except at +hay time.”</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t guess you need it a heap. Say, this is a queer place +tucked away up here. Old cattle station, I guess.”</p> + +<p>Fyles’s remarks had no question in them. But he intended them to +elicit a response. Charlie appeared to have nothing to conceal.</p> + +<p>“Well, of a sort, I’d say,” he replied. “You see, this was King +Fisher’s corral. There’s others around the valley, though I don’t know +just where. King Fisher reigned nearly twenty years ago. He lived in +the building the folks in Rocky Springs use as a Meeting House. He was +pretty tough. One <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>of the worst badmen ever hit this part. Had a +signboard set up on the trail down from the prairie. He wrote it. +‘This is King Fisher’s trail, take any other old trail.’ I believe +most folks used to take ‘any other old trail.’ There was one feller +didn’t though. And that was the end of King Fisher’s reign. These +secret corrals have always been used by toughs.”</p> + +<p>Fyles was smiling.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>Charlie laughed and pointed at the hut beyond the corral.</p> + +<p>“I’d awfully like to know some of the games that went on in there. +Birds and things nest in its roof now. I guess they didn’t come within +a mile of it one time. They say King Fisher was mad—blood mad. If +that’s so, I daresay this place could tell a few yarns.”</p> + +<p>Again came Fyles’s monosyllabic agreement.</p> + +<p>Charlie turned to his wagon and went on with his greasing. And while +he worked and listened to the other’s talk, the memory of having seen +him with Kate gathered stormily in his mind. But he still smiled when +he looked up. He still replied in the light-hearted fashion in which +he had accepted the police officer’s coming. He was perfectly aware of +the reason of the man’s presence there. And, equally, he was +indifferent to it.</p> + +<p>“Where are you haying now?” Fyles inquired presently.</p> + +<p>Charlie answered without turning from his work.</p> + +<p>“Half a mile down stream. Guess we all hay that way. There’s no other +sloughs handy on the west side of the village.”</p> + +<p>“That’s why the wagon’s kept here?”</p> + +<p>“Sure. Saves the horses. They’ll come out here to-morrow, and stop +right here till we quit.”</p> + +<p>Charlie spun the last wheel round after replacing the cap.</p> + +<p>“Where are you stopping with your men?” he demanded abruptly, as he +let the jack down.</p> + +<p>“Just around,” said Fyles evasively.</p> + +<p>“I see. On the prowl.” Charlie smiled up into the man’s shrewd, +good-looking face. “You need to do some prowling around this valley if +you’re going to clean things up. Yes, and I’d say you need a mighty +big broom.”</p> + +<p>“We’ve got the broom, and I guess we’ll do the work,” replied Fyles +nodding. “We generally do—in the end.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>Charlie’s eyes had become thoughtful.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he agreed. “I s’pose you do. Guess I’ll have to be moving.”</p> + +<p>He returned the grease and jack to the wagon box, and moved toward the +gate of the corral.</p> + +<p>“Coming my way?” he asked casually.</p> + +<p>“Not just now. I’m looking around—some.”</p> + +<p>Charlie laughed.</p> + +<p>“Ah. I’d forgotten that broom.”</p> + +<p>“Most folks do,” replied Fyles, “—until they fall over it.”</p> + +<p>Charlie had reached his horse’s side. He unhooked the reins from the +fence, and flung them over its head. Then, with an agility quite +remarkable, he vaulted into the saddle.</p> + +<p>“Well, I hope that broom won’t come my way,” he laughed. “I’d hate +falling around.”</p> + +<p>“I hope it won’t,” said Fyles, in the same light manner, as he +followed out of the corral. “That’s a dandy plug of yours,” he said +with admiration, as his appreciative eyes noted the chestnut’s points.</p> + +<p>“He surely is,” returned Charlie. “He can go some, too. I’ll give you +a run one day—if you fancy yours.”</p> + +<p>Fyles was hooking his reins over the post Charlie had vacated.</p> + +<p>“Mine?” he said. “Peter’s the quickest thing west of Winnipeg. He’ll +sure give you a run when—the time comes.”</p> + +<p>Charlie laughed. The drift of the talk, its hidden meaning, amused +him.</p> + +<p>“We’ll have to make a time, eh?”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Fyles, looking him squarely in the eyes.</p> + +<p>Charlie moved his horse away.</p> + +<p>“Well, so long, for the present. Guess I’ll remember that challenge. +Thanks for helping me with the rack. You’re stopping?”</p> + +<p>Fyles nodded.</p> + +<p>“Yes—for awhile.”</p> + +<p>Charlie rode away with the air of a man with not a care in the world. +But he was thinking swiftly, and his thoughts were of that hidden +cupboard, and what it contained. Hope and fear struggled for paramount +place in his heart. Was the secret of that hiding place sufficiently +simple to defy Stanley Fyles, or was it not? Was he the man he was +reputed <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>to be, or was he merely a clever man backed by a big +authority? In the end he abandoned the troublesome point. Time alone +would give him his answer.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3>WORD FROM HEADQUARTERS</h3> + +<p>Two horses ambled complacently, side by side, down the village trail. +Each was ridden by the man it knew best, and was most willing to +serve. Peter’s affection for Stanley Fyles was probably little less +than his master’s affection for him. The same thing applied to +Sergeant McBain, whose hard face suggested little enough of the +tenderer emotions. But both men belonged to the prairie, and the long +prairie trail inspires a wonderful sympathy between man and beast.</p> + +<p>The men were talking earnestly in low voices, but their outward +seeming had no suggestion of anything beyond ordinary interest.</p> + +<p>“He’s surely leaving a trail all over the valley,” said Sergeant +McBain, after listening to his superior’s talk for some moments. “It’s +a clear trail, too—but it don’t ever seem to lead anywhere—definite. +You’ve made nothing of that corral place, sir?”</p> + +<p>Fyles’s eyes roamed over the scene about him in the quick, uneasy +fashion of a groping mind.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know yet,” he said slowly, “I’ve got to windward of that +haying business. The fellow’s haying all right. He’s got a permit for +cutting, and he generally puts up fifty tons. Maybe he keeps that +wagon out there all the time for convenience. I can’t say. But even if +he doesn’t I can’t see where it points.”</p> + +<p>“We can watch the place,” said McBain quickly.</p> + +<p>“That’s better than speculation, but—it’s clumsy.”</p> + +<p>“How, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Why, man alive,” replied Fyles sharply. “Do you think we’re going to +fool a crook like him by just watching? Besides——”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>Fyles had broken off. A woman was moving down the trail ahead of them. +She was a good distance away, but he had recognized the easy gait and +trim figure of Kate Seton. After a moment’s pause he withdrew his gaze +and went on.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got all I need out of that place—for the present. You’ve seen +the wagon and—recognized it. It’s the wagon they ran that last cargo +in. The man who drove it was Pete Clancy. Clancy is one of Charlie +Bryant’s gang. I don’t think we need any more—yet. We’ve centralized +the running of that last cargo. The rest of the work is for the +future. My plans are all ready. The patrol comes in from Amberley +to-night. It will be ample reinforcement. We’re just one move ahead of +these boys, here, and we’ve got to keep that way. You can get right +back to quarters, and wait for my return. I’m going in to the mail +office to run my eye over local mail. The envelopes of a local mail +make good reading—when a man’s used to it.”</p> + +<p>McBain grinned in a manner that seemed to give his hard face pain.</p> + +<p>“You get more out of the ad-dress on an envelope than any one I ever +see, sir,” he observed shrewdly.</p> + +<p>Fyles shrugged, not ill pleased at the compliment.</p> + +<p>“It’s practice, and—imagination. Those things, and—a good memory for +handwriting, also postmarks. Say, who’s that coming down the southern +trail? Looks like——”</p> + +<p>He broke off, shading his eyes from the burning sunlight of the +valley.</p> + +<p>McBain needed no such protection. His mahogany face screwed itself up +until his eyes were mere slits.</p> + +<p>“It ain’t part of the patrol?” he said questioningly. “Yet it’s one of +our fellers. Maybe it’s a—despatch.”</p> + +<p>Fyles’s brows drew sharply together in a frown of annoyance.</p> + +<p>“If the chief’s sent me the word I’m waiting for that way he’s—a damn +fool. I asked him for cipher mail.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Jason don’t ever reckon on what those who do the work want. If +that feller’s riding despatch, the whole valley will know it.”</p> + +<p>McBain’s disgust was no less than that of Fyles. His hard face was +coldly set, and the despatch rider, if he were one, seemed likely to +get a rough reception.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>“He’ll make for the mail office,” said Fyles shortly. “We’ll go and +meet him.”</p> + +<p>He lifted Peter’s reins, and the horse responded at a jump. In a +moment the two men were galloping down to Dy’s office. Fyles was the +first out of the saddle, and the two stood waiting in silence for the +arrival of the horseman.</p> + +<p>There was not much doubt as to the publicity of the man’s arrival. As +if by magic a number of men, and as many women, appeared in the +vicinity of the saloon, farther down the trail. They, too, had seen +the newcomer, and they, too, were consumed with interest, though it +was based on quite a different point of view from that of Stanley +Fyles and Sergeant McBain.</p> + +<p>To them a despatch rider meant important news, and probable action on +the part of the authorities. Important action meant, to their minds, +something detrimental to the shady side of their village life. Every +man was searching his brain for an explanation, a reason for the man’s +coming, and every woman, sparing herself mental effort, was asking +pointed questions of those who should think for her.</p> + +<p>The man rode into the village at full gallop, and, seeing the two +police horses outside the mail office, came straight on toward them.</p> + +<p>He flung out of the saddle and saluted the inspector. Then he began +fumbling in an inner pocket. Fyles understood his intention and +sharply warned him.</p> + +<p>“Not here. Now, in one word. Is it news from down East?”</p> + +<p>The man nodded.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir. I believe so.”</p> + +<p>“You believe so?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir. Mr. Jason told me I’d to make here to-day—mid-day. Said +you were waiting for this letter to act. He also said I was to avoid +speaking to any one in the place till I’d delivered the despatch into +your hands. He also said I was to remain here under your orders.”</p> + +<p>“Damnation! And we’ve had letters through the mail every day.”</p> + +<p>“Beg pardon, sir——”</p> + +<p>McBain made a sign for silence, and the man broke off. But Fyles bade +him go on.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>“Mr. Jason warned me to be very careful, as it was a despatch he could +not trust to the mail.”</p> + +<p>Fyles gave a short laugh.</p> + +<p>“That’ll do. Now, get mounted, and ride back the way you came into the +valley. When you get out of it keep along the edge of it westwards. +You’ll come to our camp five miles out. It’s in a bluff. It’s a shack +on an abandoned farm. I can’t direct you better, except it’s just +under the shoulder in the valley, and is approached by a cattle track. +You’ll have to ride around till you locate it. McBain will be coming +back soon. Maybe he’ll pick you up. Avoid questions, and still +more—answers. Keep the letter till McBain gets in.”</p> + +<p>“Very good, sir.”</p> + +<p>The man remounted and rode away. His coming had been so sudden, his +stay so brief, and his departure so rapid, that Fyles had achieved +something of his purpose in repairing any damage Superintendent Jason +had done to his plans in acting contrary to his subordinate’s wishes.</p> + +<p>The sharp-eyed villagers had witnessed the interview with suspicions +lulled. There had been no despatch delivered, and the man was off +again the way he had come. Surely nothing very significant had taken +place. Possibly, after all, the man was merely a patrol from some +outlying station.</p> + +<p>Fyles turned to his lieutenant.</p> + +<p>“We’re going to get busy,” he said, with a shadowy smile.</p> + +<p>The older man could not conceal his appreciation.</p> + +<p>“Looks that way, sir.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll look over the mail myself,” Fyles went on. “You best get back to +camp, and see to that letter. Guess you’ll wait for me to take action. +You can get out across the valley south. Ride on west and ford the +river up at the crossing—Winter’s Crossing. See if the patrol’s in. +Then make camp—and keep an eye skinned for that boy. I’ll get along +later.”</p> + +<p>The sergeant saluted and sprang into the saddle. Fyles passed into the +mail office as the man rode off.</p> + +<p>Allan Dy was used to these visits of the inspector. There were very +few country postmasters who were not used to such visits. It was a +process of espionage which was never acknowledged, yet one that was +carried on extensively in suspected districts. There was never any +verbal demand, or <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>acquiescence, in the manner in which it was carried +out. When the police officer appeared the day’s mail was usually in +the process of being sorted, and was generally to be found spread out +lying in full view of the searching eyes.</p> + +<p>Fyles walked in. Passed the time of day. Collected his own mail and +that of the men under him. Chatted pleasantly with the subservient +official, and started to pass out again. In those brief moments he had +seen all he wanted to see, which on this occasion was little enough.</p> + +<p>There were only four letters from the East, The rest were all of local +origin. One of the eastern letters was for O’Brien, and it carried an +insurance firm’s superscription. There were two letters for Kate +Seton, both from New York, and both carrying the firm styles of +well-known retail traders in women’s clothing. The fourth was +addressed to Charlie Bryant, and bore no trader’s imprint.</p> + +<p>As he neared the door of the little office he had to stand aside as +Kate Seton made her way in.</p> + +<p>Fyles felt that his luck was certainly in. The news he had awaited +with so much impatience had been received at last, and now—well, his +quick appreciative eyes took in the delightfully fresh, wholesome +appearance of this woman, who had made such inroads upon his usually +unemotional heart. There was not a detail escaped him. The rounded +figure suggesting virility and physical well-being. Her delightful, +purposeful face full of a wide intelligence and strength. Those +wonderful dark eyes of such passionate, tender depth, which yet held +possibilities for every emotion which finds its place in the depth of +a strong heart.</p> + +<p>She was clad, too, so differently from the general run of the +villagers. Like her sister, though in a lesser degree, she breathed +the air of a city—a city far from these western regions, a city where +refinement and culture inspires a careful regard for outward +appearance.</p> + +<p>She smiled upon him as he stood aside. Somehow the shyness which her +sister had accused her of seemed to have gone. Her whole atmosphere +was that of a cordial welcome.</p> + +<p>“You’re early down for your mail, Mr. Fyles,” she said, after greeting +him. “I’m generally right on the spot before Allan Dy is through. +Still, I dare say your mail is more important, and stands for no +delay.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>“It’s the red tape of our business, Miss Seton,” Fyles replied, with a +light shrug. “We’re always getting orders that should rightly be +executed before they can possibly reach us. It’s up to us to get them +the moment they arrive.”</p> + +<p>Kate’s smile was good to see. There was just that dash of ironical +challenge in her eyes which Fyles was beginning to associate with her.</p> + +<p>“Still working out impossible problems which don’t really—exist?”</p> + +<p>The man returned her smile.</p> + +<p>“Still working out problems,” he said. Then he added slyly, “Problems +which must be solved, in spite of assurances of their non-existence.”</p> + +<p>“You mean—what I said to you the other day?”</p> + +<p>Fyles nodded.</p> + +<p>Kate’s eyes sobered, and the change in their expression came near to +melting the officer’s heart.</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry,” she said simply. Then she sighed. “But I s’pose you must +see things your own way.” She glanced at the mail counter. “You had a +despatch rider in this morning. I saw him coming down the trail. +Everybody saw him.”</p> + +<p>Just for a moment Fyles’s strong brows drew together. He was reluctant +to deliberately lie to this woman. He felt that to do so was not +worthy. He felt that a lie to her was a thing to be despised.</p> + +<p>“We had a patrol in,” he said guardedly.</p> + +<p>Kate smiled.</p> + +<p>“A patrol from—Amberley?”</p> + +<p>Again was that ironical challenge in Kate’s eyes. Fyles’s responsive +smile was that of the fencer.</p> + +<p>“You are too well informed.”</p> + +<p>But the woman shook her head.</p> + +<p>“Not so well informed as I could wish,” she said. Then she laughed as +her merry sister might have laughed, and the policeman wanted to join +in it by reason of its very infection. “There’s a whole heap of things +I’d like to know. I’d like to know why a government of the people +makes a law nobody wants, and spends the public’s money in enforcing +it. Also I’d like to know why they take a vicious delight in striving +to make criminals of honest enough people in the process. Also I’d +like to know how your people intend to trip up certain <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>people for a +crime which they have never committed, and don’t intend to commit, +and, anyway, before they can be punished must be caught red-handed. +You’ve got your problems sure enough, and—and these are some of the +simplest of mine. Oh, dear—it almost makes my head whirl when I think +of them. But I must do so, because,” her smile died out, and the man +watched the sudden determined setting of her lips, “I’m against you as +long as you are—against him. Good-bye. I must get my mail.”</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>It was a long circuitous route which took Stanley Fyles back to his +camp. But it seemed short enough on the back of the faithful, +fleet-footed Peter. Then, too, the man’s thoughts were more than +merely pleasant. Satisfaction that his news was awaiting him at the +camp left him free to indulge in the happy memory of his brief passage +of arms with Kate Seton.</p> + +<p>What a staunch creature she was! He wondered if the day would ever +come when she would exercise the same loyalty and staunchness on his +behalf. To him it seemed an extraordinary, womanish perversity that +made her cling to a poor creature so obviously a wrongdoer. Was she +truly blind to his doings, or was she merely blinding herself to them? +She was not in love with Charlie Bryant, he felt sure. Her avowal of +regard had been too open and sincere to have been of any other nature +than the one she had claimed for it. Yes, he could understand that +attitude in her. Anything he had ever seen of her pointed the big +woman nature in her. She felt herself strong, and, like other strong +people, it was a passion with her to help the weak and erring.</p> + +<p>Fyles’s knowledge of women was slight enough, but he had that keen +observation which told him many things instinctively. And all the best +and truest that was in him had been turned upon this woman from the +very first time he had seen her.</p> + +<p>He told himself warmly, now, that she was the most lovable creature on +earth, and nothing but marriage with her could ever bring him the +necessary peace of mind that would permit him to continue his work +with that zeal and hope of achievement with which he had set about a +career.</p> + +<p>He saw so many things now, through the eyes of a great <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>passion, that +seemed utterly different, rendered transcendentally attractive through +the glamor of a strong, deep love. They were things which, before, had +always been viewed dispassionately, almost coldly, yet not without +satisfaction. They had always been part of his scheme, but had no +greater attraction than the mere fact that they were integral parts of +one great whole. Now they became oases, restful shades in the sunlight +of his effort.</p> + +<p>He had always contemplated marriage as an ultimately necessary adjunct +to the main purpose. No man, he felt, could succeed adequately, after +a certain measure had been achieved, without a woman at his side, a +woman’s influence to keep the social side of a career in balance with +the side which depended upon his direct effort. Now he saw there was +more in it than that. Something more human. Something which made +success a thousand times more pleasing to contemplate. He felt that +with Kate at his side giant’s work would become all too easy. Her +ravishing smile of encouragement would be a gentle spur to the most +jaded energies. The delight of bearing her upon his broad shoulders in +his upward career, would be bliss beyond words, and, in the interim of +his great efforts, the care and happiness of her loyally courageous +heart would be a delight almost too good to be true.</p> + +<p>His keen mind and straining energies were bathed in the wonderful +fount of love. He was looking for the first time into the magic mirror +which every human creature must, at some time, gaze into. He was +discovering all those pictures which had been discovered countless +millions of times before, and which other coming countless millions +had yet to discover for themselves.</p> + +<p>So he rode on dreaming to the rhythmic beat of Peter’s willing hoofs. +So he came at last to the distant camp of his subordinate comrades.</p> + +<p>He was greeted by the harsh voice and hard, weather-stained features +of McBain wreathed in a smile which was a mere distortion, yet which +augured well.</p> + +<p>“I haven’t opened the letters, sir,” he said, “but I’ve questioned +Jones close. I guess it’s right, all right.”</p> + +<p>Fyles was once more the man of business. He nodded as he flung off his +horse and handed it over to a waiting trooper.</p> + +<p>“Where’s the despatch?” he demanded sharply.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>McBain produced a long, official envelope. The other tore it open +hastily. He ran his eyes over its contents, and passed it back to the +sergeant.</p> + +<p>“Good,” he exclaimed. “There’s a cargo left Fort Allerton, on the +American side, bound for Rocky Springs by trail. It’s a big cargo of +rye whisky. We’ll have to get busy.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3>MOVES IN THE GAME OF LOVE</h3> + +<p>Stanley Fyles’s extreme satisfaction was less enduring than might have +been expected. Success, and the prospect of success, were matters +calculated to affect him more nearly than anything else in his life. +That was the man, as he always had been; that was the man, who, in so +brief a time, had raised himself to the commissioned ranks of his +profession. But, somehow, just now a slight undercurrent of thought +and feeling had set in. It was scarcely perceptible at first, but +growing rapidly, it quickly robbed the tide of his satisfaction of +quite half its strength, and came near to reducing it to the condition +of slack water.</p> + +<p>McBain was in the quarters attending to the detail which fell to his +lot. A messenger from Winter’s Crossing had come in announcing the +arrival, at that camp, of the reinforcing patrol. This was the +culminating point of Fyles’s satisfaction. From that moment the +undercurrent set in.</p> + +<p>The inspector had moved out of the bluff, which screened the temporary +quarters from chance observation, and had taken up a position on the +shoulder of the valley, where he sat himself upon a fallen fence post +to consider the many details of the work he had in mind.</p> + +<p>The sun was setting in a ruddy cauldron of summer cloud, and, already, +the evening mists were rising from the heart of the superheated +valley. The wonderful peace of the scene might well have been a +sedative to the stream of rapid thought pouring through his busy +brain.</p> + +<p>But its soothing powers seemed to have lost virtue, and, as his almost +unconscious gaze took in the beauties spread out before it, a curious +look of unrest replaced the satisfaction in <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>his keen eyes. His brows +drew together in a peevish frown. A discontent set the corners of his +tightly compressed lips drooping, and once or twice he stirred +impatiently, as though his irritation of mind had communicated itself +to his physical nerves.</p> + +<p>Once more the image of Kate Seton had risen up before his mind’s eye, +and, for the first time it brought him no satisfaction. For the first +time he had associated the probable object of his plans with her. +Charlie Bryant was no longer a mere offender against the law in his +mind. In concentrating his official efforts against him he realized +the jeopardy in which his own regard for Kate Seton placed him. He saw +that his success now in ridding the district of the whisky-runner +would, at the same time, rob him of all possible chance of ever +obtaining the regard of this woman he loved. It meant an ostracism +based upon the strongest antipathy—the antipathy of a woman wounded +in her tenderest emotions, that wonderful natural instinct which is +perhaps beyond everything else in her life.</p> + +<p>The more than pity of it. Kate’s interest in Charlie Bryant had +assumed proportions which threatened to overwhelm his whole purpose. +It became almost a tragedy. Pondering upon this ominous realization a +sort of panic came near to taking hold of him. Apart from his own +position, the pain and suffering he knew he must inflict upon her set +him flinching.</p> + +<p>Her protestations of Charlie’s innocence were very nearly absurd. To a +mind trained like his there was little enough doubt of the man’s +offense. He was a rank “waster,” but, as in the case of all such +creatures, there was a woman ready to believe in him with all the +might of feminine faith. It was a bitter thought that in this case +Kate Seton should be the woman. She did believe. He was convinced of +her honesty in her declaration. She believed from the bottom of her +heart, she, a woman of such keen sense and intelligence. It was—yes, +it was maddening. Through it all he saw his duty lying plainly before +him. His whole career was at stake, that career for which only he had +hitherto lived, and which, eventually, he had hoped to lay at Kate’s +feet.</p> + +<p>What could he do? There was no other way. He—must—go—on. His dream +was wrecking. It was being demolished <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>before his eyes. It was not +being sent crushing at one mighty stroke, but was being torn to shreds +and destroyed piecemeal.</p> + +<p>He strove to stiffen himself before the blow, and his very attitude +expressed something of his effort. He told himself a dozen times that +he must accept the verdict, and carry his duty through, his duty to +himself as well as to his superiors. But conviction was lacking. The +human nature in him was rebelling. For all his discipline it would not +be denied. And with each passing moment it was gaining in its power to +make itself felt and heard.</p> + +<p>Its promptings came swiftly, and in a direction hardly conceivable in +a man of his balance of mind. But the more sure the strength of the +man, the more sure the strength of the old savage lurking beneath the +sanest thought. The savage rose up in him now in a reckless challenge +to all that was best and most noble in him. A cruel suspicion swept +through his mind and quickly permeated his whole outlook. What if he +had read Kate’s regard for the man Bryant wrong? What if he had read +it as she intended him to read it, seeking to blind him to the true +facts? He knew her for a clever woman, a shrewd woman, even a daring +woman. What if she had read through his evident regard for her, and +had determined to turn it to account in saving her lover from +disaster, by posing with a maternal, or sisterly regard for his +welfare? Such things he felt had been done. He was to be a tool, a +mere tool in her hands, the poor dupe whose love had betrayed him.</p> + +<p>He sprang from his seat.</p> + +<p>No, a thousand times no, he told himself. His memory of her beautiful, +dark, fearless eyes was too plainly in his mind for that. The honesty +of her concern and regard for the man was too simply plain to hold any +trace of the perfidy which his thought suggested. He told himself +these things. He told himself again and again, and—remained +unconvinced. The savage in him, the human nature was gaining an +ascendancy that would not be denied, and from the astute, disciplined +man he really was, at a leap, he became the veriest doubting lover.</p> + +<p>He threw his powerful arms out, and stretched himself. His movements +were the movements of unconcern, but there <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>was no unconcern within +him. A teeming, harassing thought was urging him, driving him to the +only possible course whereby he could hope to obtain a resumption of +his broken peace of mind.</p> + +<p>He must see Kate. He must see her again, without delay.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>Kate Seton was sitting in the northern shadow of her little house the +following morning when Stanley Fyles rode down the southern slope of +the valley toward the old footbridge. She had just dispatched Big +Brother Bill on an errand to the village, and, with feminine tact, had +requested him to discover Helen’s whereabouts, and send her, or bring +her home. She had no particular desire that Helen should return home. +In fact, she would rather she didn’t until mid-day dinner. But she +felt she was giving the man the excuse he evidently needed.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, she had a good deal of work to do. And the first +hour after Bill had taken his departure she was fully occupied with +her two villainous hired men. After that she returned to the house, +and wrote several letters, and, finally, took up her position in the +shade, and devoted herself to a basket of long-neglected sewing.</p> + +<p>At the sound of the approaching horseman she looked up with a start. +She had no expectation of a visitor, she had no desire for one just +now. Nevertheless, when she discovered the officer’s identity, she +displayed no surprise, and more interest, than might have been +expected.</p> + +<p>She did not disguise from herself the feelings this man inspired. On +the contrary she rather reveled in them, especially as, in a way, just +now, all her actions must be in direct antagonism to his efforts.</p> + +<p>She felt that a battle, a big battle, must be fought and won between +them. It was a battle to be fought out openly and frankly. It was her +determination that this man should not wrong himself by committing a +great wrong upon Charlie Bryant.</p> + +<p>Kate was very busy at the moment Fyles rode up. She was intent upon +fitting a piece of lace, obviously too small, upon a delicate white +garment of her sister’s, which was obviously too big.</p> + +<p>For a moment, as she did not look up, Fyles sat leaning forward in the +saddle with his arms resting upon its horn. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>He was watching her with +a smiling interest which was not without anxiety.</p> + +<p>“There’s surely not a dandier picture in the world than a girl sitting +in the shade sewing—white things,” he said at last, by way of +greeting.</p> + +<p>Kate glanced up for the briefest of smiling glances. Then her dark +head bent over her sewing again.</p> + +<p>“And there’s surely nothing calculated to upset things more than a man +butting in, where the same girl’s fragment of brain is worrying to fit +something that doesn’t fit anyway.”</p> + +<p>“Meaning me?”</p> + +<p>Fyles smiled in his confident way.</p> + +<p>“Seeing there’s no one else around, I must have meant some other +fellow.”</p> + +<p>Kate laid the lace aside, and looked up with a sigh. A gentle +amusement shone in her fine dark eyes.</p> + +<p>“Have you ever tried to make things fit that—just won’t?” she +demanded.</p> + +<p>Fyles shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Maybe I can help, though,” he hazarded.</p> + +<p>“Help?” Kate’s amusement merged into a laugh. “Say, when it comes to +fitting things that don’t fit, two heads generally muss things right +up. All my life I’ve been trying to fit things that don’t fit, and I +find, if you’re to succeed, you’ve got to do it to yourself, and by +yourself. It always takes a big lot of thinking which nobody else can +follow. Maybe your way of thinking is different from other folks, and +so they can’t understand, and that’s why they can’t follow it. Now +here’s a bit of lace, and there’s a sleeve. The lace is short by an +inch. Still there’s ways and ways of fixing it, but only one right +way. If I make the sleeve smaller the lace will fit, but poor Helen +won’t get her arm through it. If I tack on a bit more lace it’ll muss +the job, and make it look bad. Then there’s other ways, too, +but—there’s only one right way.” She dropped the lace in her basket +and began to fold the garment. “I’ll get some new lace that does fit,” +she declared emphatically.</p> + +<p>Fyles nodded, but the amusement died out of his eyes.</p> + +<p>“All of which is sound sense,” he said seriously, “and is leading us +toward controversial—er—subjects. Eh?”</p> + +<p>Kate raised a pair of shoulders with pretended indifference. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>But her +eyes were smiling that challenge which Stanley Fyles always associated +with her.</p> + +<p>“Not a bad thing when the police are getting so very busy, and—you +are their chief in the district,” she said.</p> + +<p>“I must once more remark, you are well informed,” smiled Fyles.</p> + +<p>“And I must once more remark not as well informed as I could wish,” +retorted Kate quickly.</p> + +<p>Fyles had permitted his gaze to wander down the wooded course of the +river. Kate was watching him closely, speculatively. And curious +enough she was thinking more of the man than his work at that moment.</p> + +<p>The man’s eyes came back abruptly to her face, and her expression was +instantly changed to one of smiling irony.</p> + +<p>“Well?” she demanded.</p> + +<p>Fyles shook his head.</p> + +<p>“It isn’t,” he said. “May I ask how you know we are—so very busy?”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” cried Kate, with a frank laugh. “You see, I have two of the +worst scamps in the valley working for me, and they seem to think it +more than necessary that they keep themselves posted as to—your +movements.”</p> + +<p>“I see.” Fyles’s lighter mood had entirely passed, and with its going +Kate’s became more marked. “I s’pose they spy out everything for the +benefit of their—chief.”</p> + +<p>Kate clapped her hands.</p> + +<p>“What reasoning. I s’pose they have a chief?” she added slyly.</p> + +<p>A frown of irritation crossed the policeman’s brow.</p> + +<p>“Must we open up that old sore, Miss Kate?” he, asked almost sharply. +“They are known to be—when not occupied with the work of your +farm—assisting Charlie Bryant in his whisky-running schemes. They are +two of his lieutenants.”</p> + +<p>“And so, because they are so known among the village people here, you +are prosecuting this campaign against a man whom you hope to catch +red-handed.”</p> + +<p>“I have sufficient personal evidence to—prosecute my campaign,” said +Fyles quickly. “As you said just now, we are not idle.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know,” Kate sighed, and her gaze was turned upon the western +reaches of the valley. “Your camp out there is <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>full of activity. So +is Winter’s Crossing. And the care with which you mask your coming and +going is known to everybody. It is a case of the hunter being hunted. +Yes, I say it without resentment, I am glad of these things, because +I—must know.”</p> + +<p>“If we are against each other—it is only natural you should wish to +know.”</p> + +<p>Kate’s eyes opened wider.</p> + +<p>“Of course we are against each other, as long as you are against +Charlie. But only in our—official capacities.” A whimsical smile +stole into the woman’s eyes. “Oh, you are so—so obstinate,” she cried +in mock despair. “In this valley it is no trouble for me to watch your +every move, and, in Charlie’s interests, to endeavor to frustrate +them. But the worst of it is I’d—I’d like to see you win out. Instead +of that I know you won’t. You’ve had some news. You had it yesterday, +I suppose, by that patrol. Maybe it’s news of another cargo coming in, +and you are getting ready to capture it, and—Charlie. I’m not here to +give any one away, I’m not here to tell you all I know, must know, +living in the valley, but you are doomed, utterly doomed to failure, +if you count the capture of Charlie success.”</p> + +<p>In spite of the lightness of Kate’s manner her words were not without +their effect upon Fyles. There was a ring of sincerity in them that +would not be denied. But its effect upon him was not that which she +could have wished. His face set almost sternly. The challenge of the +woman had stirred him out of his calm assurance, but it was in a +direction which she could scarcely have expected. He thrust his +sunburned face forward more aggressively, and challenged her in +return.</p> + +<p>“What is this man to you?” he demanded, his square jaws seeming to +clip his question the more shortly.</p> + +<p>In a moment Kate’s face was flushing her resentment. Her dark eyes +were sparkling with a sudden leaping anger.</p> + +<p>“You have no right to—ask me that,” she cried. But Fyles had +committed himself. Nor would he draw back.</p> + +<p>“Haven’t I?” he laughed harshly. “All’s fair in love and—war. We are +at war—officially.”</p> + +<p>The woman’s flushing cheeks remained, but the sparkle of her eyes had +changed again to an ironical light.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>“War—yes. Perhaps you’re right. The only courtesies recognized in war +are observed in the prize ring, and in international warfare. Our +warfare must be less exalted, and permits hitting—below the belt. +I’ve told you what Charlie is to me, and I have told you truly. I am +trying to defend an innocent man, who is no more to me than a brother, +or—or son. I am doing so because of his peculiar ailments which make +him well-nigh incapable of helping himself. You see, he does not care. +His own safety, his own welfare, are nothing to him. It is for that +reason, for the way he acts in consequence of these things, that all +men believe him a rogue, and a—a waster. I tell you he is neither.”</p> + +<p>She finished up a little breathlessly. She had permitted her loyalty +and anxiety to carry her beyond the calm fencing she had intended.</p> + +<p>But Fyles remained unmoved, except that the harshness had gone out of +his manner.</p> + +<p>“It is not I who am obstinate,” he said soberly. “It is you, Miss +Kate. What if I told you I had irrefutable circumstantial evidence +against him? Would that turn you from your faith in him?”</p> + +<p>The woman shook her head.</p> + +<p>“It would be merely circumstantial evidence,” she said. “God knows how +circumstance has filled our penitentiaries wrongfully,” she added +bitterly.</p> + +<p>“And but for circumstance our population of wrongdoers at large would +be greater by a thousand per cent.,” retorted the officer.</p> + +<p>“That is supposition,” smiled Kate.</p> + +<p>“Which does not rob it of its possibility in fact.”</p> + +<p>The two sat looking at each other, silently defiant. Kate was smiling. +A great excitement was thrilling her, and she liked this man all the +better for his blunt readiness for combat, even with her.</p> + +<p>Fyles was wondering at this woman, half angry, half pleased. Her +strength and readiness appealed to him as a wonderful display.</p> + +<p>He was the first to speak, and, in doing so, he felt he was +acknowledging his worsting in the encounter.</p> + +<p>“It’s—it’s impossible to fight like this,” he said lamely. “I am not +accustomed to fight with women.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>“Does it matter, so long as a woman can fight?” Kate cried quickly. +“Chivalry?” she went on contemptuously. “That’s surely a survival of +ages when the old curfew rang, and a lot of other stupid notions +filled folks’ minds. I—I just love to fight.”</p> + +<p>Her smile was so frankly infectious that Fyles found himself +responding. He heaved a sigh.</p> + +<p>“It’s no good,” he said almost hopelessly. “You must stick to your +belief, and I to mine. All I hope, Miss Kate, is that when I’ve done +with this matter the pain I’ve inflicted on you will not be +unforgivable.”</p> + +<p>The woman’s eyes were turned away. They had become very soft as she +gazed over at the distant view of Charlie’s house.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think it will be,” she said gently. Then with a quick return +to her earlier manner: “You see, you will never get the chance of +hurting Charlie.” A moment later she inquired naively: “When is the +cargo coming in?”</p> + +<p>But Fyles’s exasperation was complete.</p> + +<p>“When?” he cried. “Why, when this scamp is ready for it. It’s—it’s no +use, Miss Kate. I can’t stop, or—or I’ll be forgetting you are a +woman, and say ‘Damn!’ I admit you have bested me, but—young Bryant +hasn’t. I——” he broke off, laughing in spite of his annoyance, and +Kate cordially joined in.</p> + +<p>“But he will,” she cried, as Peter began to move away. “Good-bye, Mr. +Fyles,” she added, in her ironical fashion as she picked up her +sewing. “I can get on with these important matters—now.”</p> + +<p>The man’s farewell was no less cordial, and his better sense told him +that in accepting his defeat at her hands he had won a good deal in +another direction where he hoped to finally achieve her capitulation.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>While the skirmish between Stanley Fyles and Kate Seton was going on, +the object of it was discussing the doings of the police and the +prospect of the coming struggle with Big Brother Bill on the veranda +of his house.</p> + +<p>He was leaning against one of its posts while Bill reposed on the hard +seat of a Windsor chair, seeking what comfort he could find in the +tremendous heat by abandoning all superfluous outer garments.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>Charlie’s face was darkly troubled. His air was peevishly irritable.</p> + +<p>“Bill,” he said, with a deep thrill of earnestness in his voice, as he +thrust his brown, delicate hands into the tops of his trousers. “All +the trouble in the world’s just about to start, if I’m a judge of the +signs of things. There’s a whole crowd of the police in the valley +now. They’re camped higher up. They think we don’t know, but we +do—all of us. I wonder what they think they’re going to do?”</p> + +<p>His manner became more excited, and his voice grew deeper and deeper.</p> + +<p>“They think they’re going to get a big haul of liquor. They think +they’re going to get me. I tell you, Bill, that for men trained to +smelling things out, they’re blunderers. Their methods are clumsy as +hell. I could almost laugh, if—if I didn’t feel sick at their coming +around.”</p> + +<p>Bill stirred uneasily.</p> + +<p>“If there were no whisky-running here they wouldn’t be around,” he +said pointedly.</p> + +<p>Charlie eyed him curiously.</p> + +<p>“No,” he said. Then he added, “And if there were no whisky-running +there’d be no village here. If there were no village here we shouldn’t +be here. Kate and her sister wouldn’t be here. Nothing would be here, +but the old pine—that goes on forever. This village lives on the +prohibition law. Fyles may have a reputation, but he’s clumsy—damned +clumsy. I’d like to see ahead—the next few days.”</p> + +<p>“He’s smelling a cargo—coming in, isn’t he?” Bill’s tact was holding +him tight.</p> + +<p>Again Charlie looked at him curiously before he replied.</p> + +<p>“That’s how they reckon,” he said guardedly, at last.</p> + +<p>Bill had turned away, vainly searching his unready wit for the best +means of carrying on the discussion. Suddenly his eyes lit, and he +pointed across at the Seton’s house.</p> + +<p>“Say, who’s that—on that horse? Isn’t it Fyles? He’s talking to some +one. Looks like——”</p> + +<p>He broke off. Charlie was staring out in the direction indicated, and, +in a moment, his excitement passed, swallowed up in a frowning, +brooding light that had suddenly taken possession of his dark eyes.</p> + +<p>Bill finally broke the uncomfortable silence.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>“It’s—Fyles?” he said.</p> + +<p>“Yes, it’s Fyles,” said Charlie, with a sudden suppressed fury. “It’s +Fyles—curse him, and he’s talking to—Kate.”</p> + +<p>At the sound of his brother’s tone, even Bill realized his blundering. +He knew he had fired a train of passion that was to be deplored, even +dreaded in his brother. He blamed himself bitterly for his lack of +forethought, his absurd want of discretion.</p> + +<p>But the mischief was done. Charlie had forgotten everything else.</p> + +<p>Bill stirred again in his chair.</p> + +<p>“What does he want down there?” he demanded, for lack of something +better to say.</p> + +<p>“What does he want?” Charlie laughed. It was an unpleasant laugh, a +savage laugh. It was a laugh that spoke of sore heart, and feelings +crowding with bitterness. “I guess he wants something he’ll never +get—while I’m alive.”</p> + +<p>He relapsed into moody silence, and a new expression grew in his eyes +till it even dominated that which had shone in them before. Bill +thought he recognized it. The word “funk” flashed through his mind, +and left him wondering. What could Charlie have to fear from Fyles +talking to Kate? Did he believe that Kate would let the officer pump +her with regard to his, Charlie’s, movements!</p> + +<p>Yes, that must be it.</p> + +<p>“He won’t get more than five cents for his dollar out of her,” he +said, in an effort to console.</p> + +<p>Charlie was round on him in a flash.</p> + +<p>“Five cents for a dollar? No,” he cried, “nor one cent, nor a fraction +of a cent. Fyles is dealing with the cleverest, keenest woman I’ve +ever met in all my life. I’m not thinking that way. I’m thinking how +almighty easy it is for a man walking a broken trail to trip and smash +himself right up. The more sure he is the worse is his fall, +because—he takes big chances, and big chances mean big falls. You’ve +hit it, Bill, I’m scared—scared to death just now. If I know Fyles +there’s going to be one hell of a time around here, and, if you value +your future, get clear while you can. I’m scared, Bill, scared and +mad. I can’t stand to watch that man talking to Kate. I’m not scared +of man or devil, but I’m scared—scared to death when I see that. I +must get out of this. I must get away, or——”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>He moved off the veranda in a frantic state of nervous passion.</p> + +<p>Bill sprang from his seat and was at his brother’s side in two great +strides, and his big hand fell with no little force upon the latter’s +arm and held it.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” he cried apprehensively. “Where—where are you +going?”</p> + +<p>With surprising strength Charlie flung him off. He turned, facing him +with angry eyes and flushed face.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you dare lay hand on me like that again, Bill,” he cried +dangerously. “I don’t stand for that from—anybody. I’m going down the +village, since you want to know. I’m going down to O’Brien’s. And you +can get it right now that I wouldn’t stand the devil himself butting +in to stop me.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h3>STORM CLOUDS</h3> + +<p>A dispirited creature made its way down to the Setons’ house that same +evening. Big Brother Bill felt there was not one single clear thought +in his troubled head, at least, not one worth thinking. He was +weighted down by a hazy conception of the position of things, in a +manner that came near to destroying the very root of his optimism.</p> + +<p>One or two things settled upon his mind much in the manner of mental +vampires. He knew that Charlie was threatened, and he knew that +Charlie knew it, and made no attempt to protect himself. He knew that +Charlie was also scared—frightened out of all control of himself in a +manner that was absurdly contradictory. He knew that he was now at the +saloon for the purpose of drowning his hopeless feelings in the +maddening spirit O’Brien dispensed. He knew that his own baggage had +at last arrived from Heaven only knew where, and he wished it hadn’t, +for it left him feeling even more burdened than ever with the +responsibilities of the pestilential valley. He knew that he was +beginning to hate the police, and Fyles, almost as much as Charlie +did. He knew that if prevailing conditions weren’t careful he would +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>lose his temper with them, and make things hot for somebody or +something. But, more than all else, he knew that Helen Seton was more +than worth all the worry and anxiety he was enduring.</p> + +<p>In consequence of all this he arrayed himself in a light tweed suit, a +clean, boiled shirt and collar, a tie, that might well have startled +the natives of his home city, and a panama hat which he felt was +necessary to improve the tropical appearance of his burnt and +perspiring features, and hastened to Helen’s presence for comfort and +support.</p> + +<p>The girl had been waiting for him. She looked the picture of +diaphanous coolness in the shade of the house, lounging in an old +wicker chair, with its fellow, empty, drawn up beside her. There were +no feminine eyes to witness her little schemes, and Bill?—why, Bill +was delighted beyond words that she was there, also the empty chair, +also, that, as he believed, while she was wholly unconscious of the +fact, the girl’s attitude and costume were the most innocently +pleasing things he had ever beheld with his two big, blue, +appreciative eyes.</p> + +<p>He promptly told her so.</p> + +<p>“Say, Hel,” he cried, “you don’t mind me calling you ‘Hel,’ do +you?—you see, everything delightful seems to be associated with +‘Hell’ nowadays. If you could see yourself and the dandy picture you +make you’d kind of understand how I feel just about now.”</p> + +<p>The girl smiled her delight.</p> + +<p>“Maybe I do understand,” she said. “You see, I don’t always sit around +in this sort of fancy frock. Then, no girl of sense musses herself +into an awkward pose when six foot odd of manhood’s getting around her +way. No, no Big Brother Bill. That chair didn’t get there by itself. +Two carefully manicured hands put it there, after their owner had +satisfied herself that her mirror hadn’t made a mistake, and that she +was looking quite her most attractive. You see, you’d promised to come +to see me this evening, and—well, I’m woman enough to be very +pleased. That’s all.”</p> + +<p>Bill’s sun-scorched face deepened its ruddy hue with youthful delight.</p> + +<p>“Say, you did all this for—for me?”</p> + +<p>Helen laughed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>“Why, yes, and told you the various details to be appreciated, because +I was scared to death you wouldn’t get them right.”</p> + +<p>Bill sat himself down, and set the chair creaking as he turned it +about facing her. He held out his hands.</p> + +<p>“I haven’t seen the manicuring racket right, yet,” he laughed.</p> + +<p>Helen stretched out her two hands toward him for inspection. He +promptly seized them in his, and pretended to examine them.</p> + +<p>“The prettiest, softest, jolliest——”</p> + +<p>But the girl snatched them away.</p> + +<p>“That’s not inspection. That’s——”</p> + +<p>“Sure it’s not,” retorted Bill easily. “It’s true.”</p> + +<p>“And absurd.”</p> + +<p>“What—the truth?”</p> + +<p>Bill’s blue eyes were widely inquiring.</p> + +<p>“Sometimes.”</p> + +<p>The smile died out of the man’s eyes, and his big face became doleful.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I s’pose it is.”</p> + +<p>Helen set up.</p> + +<p>“What’s gone wrong—now? What truth is—absurd?” she demanded.</p> + +<p>The man shrugged.</p> + +<p>“Oh, everything. Say, have you ever heard of a disease of the—the +brain called ‘partly hatched’?”</p> + +<p>The girl’s eyes twinkled.</p> + +<p>“I don’t kind of remember it.”</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t s’pose you do. I don’t think anybody ever has it but me. +I’ve got it bad. This valley’s given it me, and—and if it isn’t +careful it’s going to get fatal.”</p> + +<p>Helen looked around at him in pretended sympathy.</p> + +<p>“What’s the symptoms? Nothing outward? I mean that tie—that’s not a +symptom, is it?”</p> + +<p>Bill shook his head. He was smiling, but beneath his smile there was a +certain seriousness.</p> + +<p>“No. There’s no outward signs—yet. I got it through thinking too—too +young. You see, I’ve done so much thinking in the last week. If it had +been spread over, say six months, the hatching might have got fixed +right. But it’s <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>been too quick, and things have got addled. You see, +if a hen turned on too much pressure of heat her eggs would get +fried—or addled. That’s how my brain is. It’s addled.”</p> + +<p>Helen nodded with a great show of seriousness which the twitching +corners of her pretty mouth belied.</p> + +<p>“I always thought you’d got a trouble back of your—head. But you’d +best tell me. You see, I don’t get enough pressure of thinking to +hatch anything. Maybe between us we can fix your mental eggs right.”</p> + +<p>Bill’s big eyes lit with relief and hope.</p> + +<p>“That’s bright of you. You surely are the cutest girl ever. You must +have got a heap of brain to spare.”</p> + +<p>Helen could no longer restrain her laughter.</p> + +<p>“It’s mostly all—spare. Now, then, tell me all your troubles.”</p> + +<p>The great creature at her side looked doubtful and puzzled.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know just where to begin. There’s such a heap, and I’ve +worried thinking about it, till—till——”</p> + +<p>Helen sat up and propped her chin in her hands with her elbows on her +knees.</p> + +<p>“When you don’t know where to begin just start with the first thought +in your head, and—and—ramble.”</p> + +<p>Bill brightened up.</p> + +<p>“Sure that’s best?”</p> + +<p>“Sure.”</p> + +<p>The man sighed in relief.</p> + +<p>“That’s made a heap of difference,” he cried. Then he took a +handkerchief from his pocket, removed his panama and mopped his +forehead. He gave a big gulp in the midst of the process, and spoke as +though he were defying an enemy. “Will you marry me?” he demanded, and +sat up glaring at her, with his hat and handkerchief poised in either +hand.</p> + +<p>The girl gave him a quick look. Then she flung herself back in her +chair and laughed.</p> + +<p>“We—we are talking of troubles,” she protested.</p> + +<p>Bill replaced his hat, and restored his handkerchief to its pocket.</p> + +<p>“Troubles? Troubles? Isn’t that trouble enough to start with? +It’s—it’s the root of it all,” he declared. “I’m—I’m <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>just crazy +about you. And every time I try to think about Charlie and the police, +and—and the scallywags of the valley, I—I find you mixed up with it +all, and get so tangled up that I don’t know where I am, or—or why. +Say, have you ever been crazy about anybody? Some feller, for +instance? It’s the worst worrying muddle ever happened. First you’re +pleased—then you cuss them. Then you sort of sit dreaming all sorts +of fool things that haven’t any sense at all. Then you want to make +rhymes and things about eyes, and flowers, and moons, and feet, and +laces and bits. You feel all over that everything else has got no +sense to it, and is just so much waste of time thinking about it. You +sort of feel that all men are fools but yourself, and other females +aren’t women, but just images. You sort of get the notion the world’s +on a pivot, and that pivot’s just yourself, and if you weren’t there +there’d be a bust up, and most everything would get chasing glory, and +you don’t care a darn, anyway, if they did. Say, when you get clean +crazy about anybody, same as I am about you, you find yourself hating +everybody that comes near them. You get notions that every man is +conspiring to tell the girl what a perfect fool you are, that they’re +worrying to boost you right out with her. You hate her, because you +think she thinks you are a simpleton, and can’t see your good points, +which are so obvious to yourself. You hate yourself, you hate life, +you hate the sunlight and the trees, and your food, and—and +everything. And you wouldn’t have things different, or stop making +such a fool of yourself, no—not if hell froze over. Will—will you +marry me?”</p> + +<p>Helen’s humor suddenly burst the bonds of all restraint. She sat there +laughing until she nearly choked.</p> + +<p>Bill waited with a patience that seemed inexhaustible. Then, as the +girl’s mirth began to lessen, he put his question again with dogged +persistence.</p> + +<p>“Will you marry me?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Of all the——”</p> + +<p>“Will you marry me?” the man persisted, his great face flushing.</p> + +<p>Helen abruptly sobered. The masterful tone somehow sent a delighted +thrill through her nerves.</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>“Of course I will. I—intended to from the first moment I saw your +big, funny face with Stanley——”</p> + +<p>“You mean that, Hel? You really—meant to marry me? You did?”</p> + +<p>The man’s happy excitement was something not easily to be forgotten. +He sprang from his chair, reached out his powerful hands, caught the +girl about the waist, and picked her up in his arms as he might have +picked up a child. His great bear-like hug was a monstrous thing to +endure, but Helen was more than willing to endure it, as also his +kisses, which he rained upon her happy, laughing face.</p> + +<p>But the girl’s sense of the fitness of things soon came to her rescue. +The ridiculousness, the undignified figure she must appear, held in +her great lover’s arms, set her struggling to free herself, and, in a +few moments, he set her once more upon her feet, and stood laughing +down into her blushing face.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he cried, with a great laugh, “I don’t care a cuss if my brains +never hatch out. You’re going to be my wife. You, the girl I’m crazy +to death about. Fyles and all the rest can go hang. Gee!”</p> + +<p>Helen looked up at him. Then she smoothed out her ruffled frock, and +patted her hair into its place.</p> + +<p>“Well,” she cried, with a happy laugh, “I’ve heard some queer +proposals from the boys of this valley when they were drunk, but for a +sober, educated man, I think you’ve made the funniest proposal that +any one ever listened to. Oh, Bill, Bill, you’ve done a foolish thing. +I’m a shameless man-hunter. I came out west to find a husband, and +I’ve found one. I wanted to marry you all along. I meant to marry +you.”</p> + +<p>Bill’s laugh rang out in a great guffaw.</p> + +<p>“Bully!” he cried. “What’s the use of marrying a girl who doesn’t want +to marry you?”</p> + +<p>“But she ought to pretend—at first.”</p> + +<p>“Not on your life. No pretense for me, Hel. Give me the girl who’s +honest enough to love me, and let me know it.”</p> + +<p>“Bill! How—dare you? How dare you say I loved you and told you so? +I’ve—I’ve a good mind not to marry——Say, Bill, you are a—joke. +Now, sit right down, and tell me all about those—those other things +worrying you.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>In a moment a shadow crossed the man’s cheerful face. But he +obediently resumed his seat, and somehow, when Helen sat down, their +chairs were as close together as their manufacturer had made possible.</p> + +<p>“It’s Charlie—Charlie, and the police,” said Bill, in a despondent +tone. “And Kate, too. I don’t know. Say, Hel, what’s—what’s going to +happen? Fyles is hot after Charlie. Charlie don’t care a curse. But +there’s something scaring him that bad he’s nearly crazy. Then there’s +Kate. He saw Kate talking to Fyles, and he got madder than—hell. And +now he’s gone off to O’Brien’s, and it don’t even take any thinking to +guess what for. I tell you he’s so queer I can’t do a thing with him. +I’m not smart enough. I could just break him in my two hands if I took +hold of him to keep him home and out of trouble, but what’s the use? +He’s crazy about Kate, he’s crazy about drink, he’s crazy about +everything, but keeping clear of the law. That’s what I came to tell +you about—that, and to fix up about getting married.”</p> + +<p>The man’s words left a momentary dilemma in the girl’s mind. For a +moment she was at a loss how to answer him. It seemed impossible to +accept seriously his tale of anxiety and worry, and yet——. The same +tale from any other would have seemed different. But coming from Bill, +and just when she was so full of an almost childish happiness at the +thought that this great creature loved her, and wanted to marry her, +it took her some moments to reduce herself to a condition of judicial +calm, sufficient to obtain the full significance of his anxious +complaint.</p> + +<p>When at last she spoke her eyes were serious, so serious that Bill +wondered at it. He had never seen them like that before.</p> + +<p>“It’s dreadful,” she said in a low tone. “Dreadful.”</p> + +<p>Bill jumped at the word.</p> + +<p>“Dreadful? My God, it’s awful when you think he’s my brother, and—and +Kate’s your sister. I can’t see ahead. I can’t see where things +are—are drifting. That’s the devil of it. I wish to goodness they’d +given me less beef and more brain,” he finished up helplessly.</p> + +<p>Helen displayed no inclination to laugh. Somehow now that this simple +man was here, now that the responsibility <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>of him had devolved upon +her, a delightful feeling of gentle motherliness toward him rose up in +her heart, and made her yearn to help him. It was becoming quite easy +to take him seriously.</p> + +<p>“P’r’aps it’s a good thing you’ve got all that—beef. P’r’aps it’s for +the best, you’re so—so strong, and so ready to help. You can’t see +ahead. Neither can I. Maybe no one can, but—Fyles. Suppose you and I +were standing at the foot of a cliff—a big, high cliff, very +dangerous, very dreadful, and some one we both loved was climbing its +face, and we saw them reach a point where it looked impossible to go +on, or turn back. What could we do? I’ll tell you. We could remain +standing there looking on, praying to Providence that they might get +through, and holding ourselves ready to bear a hand when opportunity +offered, and, failing that, do our utmost to <i>break their fall</i>.”</p> + +<p>Bill’s appreciation suddenly illuminated his ingenuous face.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he cried admiringly. “You’ve hit it. Sure, we can’t climb up +and help. It would mean disaster to both, with no one left to help. +Say, I’m glad I’m big and strong. That’s it, we’ll stand—by. You’ll +think, and I’ll do what you tell me. By Jing! That’s made everything +different. We’ll stand by, and break their fall. I could never have +thought of that—I couldn’t, sure.”</p> + +<p>It was Helen’s turn to display enthusiasm. It was an enthusiasm +inspired by her lover’s acceptance of her suggestion.</p> + +<p>“But we’re not going to just watch and watch and do nothing. We must +keep on Fyles’s trail. We must keep close behind Charlie, and when we +see the fall coming on we must be ready to thrust out a hand. You +never know, we may beat the whole game in spite of Charlie. We may be +able to save him in spite of himself. No harm must come to Kate +through him. I can’t see where it can come, except—that he is mad +about her, and she is mad about—some one else.”</p> + +<p>“Fyles?” Bill hazarded.</p> + +<p>Helen looked around at him in amused admiration. She nodded.</p> + +<p>“You’re getting too clever for me. You will be thinking for us both +soon.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>Bill denied the accusation enthusiastically.</p> + +<p>“Never,” he exclaimed. And after that he drifted into a lover’s +rhapsody of his own inferiority and unworthiness.</p> + +<p>Thus, for a while, the more serious cares were set aside for that +brief lover’s paradise when two people find their focus filled to +overflowing with that precious Self, which we are told always to deny. +Fortunately human nature does not readily yield to such behests, and +so life is not robbed of its mainspring, and the whole machinery of +human nature is not reduced to a chaotic bundle of useless wheels.</p> + +<p>For all Helen’s boasted scheming, for all Bill’s lack of brilliancy, +these two were just a pair of simple creatures, loyal and honest, and +deeply in love. So they dallied as all true lovers must dally with +those first precious moments which a Divine Providence permits to flow +in full tide but once in a lifetime.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>Charlie Bryant was standing at the bar of O’Brien’s saloon. One hand +rested on the edge of the counter as though to steady himself. His +eyes were bloodshot, a strange pallor left his features ghastly, and +the combination imparted a subtle appearance of terror which the +shrewd saloonkeeper interpreted in his own fashion as he unfolded his +information, and its deductions.</p> + +<p>The bar was quite empty otherwise, and the opportunity had been too +good for O’Brien to miss.</p> + +<p>“Say, I was mighty glad to get them kegs the other night safely. But +I’m takin’ no more chances. It’ll see me through for awhile,” he said, +as he refilled Charlie’s glass at his own expense. “There’s a big play +coming right now, and, if you’ll take advice, you’ll lie low—desprit +low.”</p> + +<p>“You mean Fyles—as usual,” said Charlie thickly. Then he added as an +afterthought: “To hell with Fyles, and all his damned red-coats.”</p> + +<p>O’Brien’s quick eyes surveyed his half-drunken customer with a shrewd, +contemptuous speculation.</p> + +<p>“That sounds like bluff. Hot air never yet beat the p’lice. It needs a +darnation clear head, and big acts, to best Fyles. A half-soused bluff +ain’t worth hell room.”</p> + +<p>Charlie appeared to take no umbrage. His bloodshot eyes were still +fixed upon O’Brien’s hard face as he raised his glass with a shaking +hand and drained it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>“I don’t need to bluff with no one around worth bluffing,” he said, +setting the empty glass down on the counter.</p> + +<p>O’Brien’s response was to fold his arms aggressively, and lean forward +upon the counter, peering into the delicate, pale face before him.</p> + +<p>“See here,” he cried, “a fellow mostly bluffs when he’s scared, or +he’s in a corner—like a rat. See? Now it’s to my interest to see +Fyles beat clean out of Rocky Springs. It’s that set me gassin’. Get +me? So just keep easy, and take what I got to hand out. I’m wise to +the game. It’s my business to keep wise. Those two crooks of yours, +Pete and Nick, were in this morning, and I heard ’em talkin’. Then I +got ’em yarning to me. They’ve got every move Fyles is making dead +right. They’re smartish guys, and I feel they’re too smart for you by +a sight. If things go their way you’re safe. If there’s a chance of +trouble for them you’re up against it.”</p> + +<p>Charlie licked his dry lips as the saloonkeeper paused. Then he +replaced the sodden end of his cigarette between them. But he remained +silent.</p> + +<p>“I’ve warned you of them boys before,” O’Brien went on. “But that’s by +the way. Now, see here, Fyles has got your play. The boys know that, +and in turn have got his play. Fyles knows that to-morrow night you’re +running in a big cargo of liquor. The only thing he don’t know is +where you cache it. Anyways, he’s got a big force of boys around, and +Rocky Springs’ll have a complete chain of patrols around it, to-morrow +night. Each man’s got a signal, and when that signal’s given it means +he’s located the cargo. Then the others’ll crowd in, and your gang’s +to be overwhelmed. Get it? You’ll all be taken—red-handed. I’m +guessin’ you know all this all right, all right, and I’m only telling +it so you can get the rest clear. How you and your boys get these +things I’m not guessing. It’s smart. But here’s the bad stuff. It’s my +way to watch folks and draw ’em when I want to get wise. I drew them +boys. They’re reckonin’ things are getting hot for ’emselves. They’re +scared. They’re reckonin’ the game’s played out, and ain’t worth hell +room, with Fyles smelling around. Those boys’ll put you away to Fyles, +if they see the pinch coming. And that’s where my interests come in. +They’ll put you away sure as death.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>If O’Brien were looking for the effect of his solemn warning he was +disappointed. Charlie’s expression remained unchanged. The ghastly +white of his features suggested fear, but it was not added to by so +much as a flicker of an eyelid.</p> + +<p>“That all?” he asked, with a deliberate pause between the words to +obtain clear diction.</p> + +<p>O’Brien shrugged, but his eyes snapped angrily at this lack of +appreciation.</p> + +<p>“Ain’t it enough? Say,” his manner had become almost threatening, “I’m +not doing things for hoss-play. The folks around can build any old +church to ease their souls and make a show. Rocky Springs ain’t the +end of all things for me. I’m out after the stuff. I’ll soothe my soul +with dollars. That’s why I’m around telling you, because your game’s +the thing that’s to give ’em to me. When your game’s played I hit the +trail, but as long as you make good Rocky Springs is for me. If you +can’t handle your proposition right then I quit you.”</p> + +<p>Charlie suddenly shifted his position, and leaned his body against the +counter. The saloonkeeper looked for that sign which was to +re-establish his confidence. It was not forthcoming. For a moment the +half-drunken man leaned his head upon one hand, and his face was +turned from the other behind the bar.</p> + +<p>O’Brien became impatient.</p> + +<p>“Wal?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>His persistence was rewarded at last. But it was rewarded with a shock +which left him startled beyond retort.</p> + +<p>Charlie suddenly brought a clenched fist down upon the counter with a +force that set the glasses ringing.</p> + +<p>“Fyles!” he cried fiercely, “Fyles! It’s always Fyles! God’s truth, am +I never to hear, or see, the last of him? Say, you know. You think you +know. But you don’t. Damn you, you don’t!”</p> + +<p>Before the astonished saloonkeeper could recover himself and formulate +the angry retort which rose to his lips, Charlie staggered out of the +place.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3>THE SOUL OF A MAN</h3> + +<p>It was growing dark. Away in the west a pale stream of light was +fading smoothly out, absorbed by the velvet softness of the summer +night. There was no moon, but the starlit vault shone dazzlingly upon +the shadowed valley. Already among the trees the yellow oil lamps were +shining within the half-hidden houses.</p> + +<p>From within a dense clump of trees, high up the northern slope of the +valley, a man’s slight figure made its way. His movements were slow, +deliberate, even furtive. For some moments he stood peering out at a +point below where a woman’s figure was rapidly making its way up the +steep trail toward the old Meeting House.</p> + +<p>The man’s eyes were straining in the darkness for the outline of the +woman’s figure was indistinct, only just discernible in the starlight. +She came on, and he could distinctly hear her voice humming an old, +familiar air. She evidently had no thought of the possibility that her +movements could be of any interest to anybody but herself.</p> + +<p>She reached the Meeting House and paused. Then the watching man heard +the rattle of a key in the lock. The humming had ceased. The next +moment there was the sound of a turning handle, and a tight-fitting +door being thrust open. The woman’s figure had disappeared within the +building.</p> + +<p>The man left the sheltering bush and moved out on to the trail. He +passed one thin hand across his brow, as though to clear the thoughts +behind of their last murkiness after a drunken slumber. He stretched +himself wearily as though stiff from his unyielding bed of sun-baked +earth. Then he moved down the trail toward the Meeting House, +selecting the scorched grass at the side of it to muffle the sound of +his footsteps.</p> + +<p>His weariness seemed to have entirely passed now, and all his +attention was fixed upon the rough exterior of the old building, which +had passed through such strange vicissitudes to finally become the +house of worship it now was. With its old, heavy-plastered walls, and +its long, reed-thatched roof, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>so heavy and vastly thick, it was a +curiosity; the survival of days when men and beasts met upon a common +arena and played out the game of life and death, each as it suited +him, with none but the victor in the game to say him nay.</p> + +<p>The man felt something of the influence of the place now as he drew +near. Nor could he help feeling that the game that went on about it +now had changed little enough in its purpose. The rules may have +received modification, but the spirit was still the same. Men were +still struggling for victory over some one else, and beneath the +veneer of a growing civilization, passions, just as untamed, raged and +worked their will upon their ill-starred possessors.</p> + +<p>Reaching the building, he moved cautiously around the walls till he +came to a window. It was closed, and a curtain was drawn across it. He +passed on till he came to another window. It was partially open, and, +though the curtain was drawn across it, the opening had disarranged +the curtain, and a beam of light shone through.</p> + +<p>He pressed his face toward the opening so that his mouth was at its +level. Then he spoke softly, in a voice that was little more than a +whisper——</p> + +<p>“Kate!” he called. “Kate! It is I—Charlie. I’ve—I’ve been waiting +for you, and want to speak to you.”</p> + +<p>For answer there was a sound of hurrying footsteps across the floor of +the room. The next moment the curtain was pulled aside. Kate stood at +the other side of the window in the dim lamplight. Her handsome eyes +were startled and full of inquiry, and her rounded bosom rose and fell +quickly. When she saw the pale face peering in at her a gentle smile +crept into her eyes.</p> + +<p>“You scared the life out of me,” she said calmly. Then, with a quick +look into his bloodshot eyes, she went on: “Why did you wait for +me—here?”</p> + +<p>Charlie lowered his eyes. “I—guessed you’d be along some time this +evening. I wanted to speak to you—alone.”</p> + +<p>Kate studied him for a moment. His averted, almost shifty, eyes seemed +to hold her attention. She was thinking rapidly.</p> + +<p>Presently his eyes came back to her face; a deep passion was shining +in them.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>“Can I come around to the door?”</p> + +<p>There was just the smallest hesitation before Kate replied.</p> + +<p>“Yes, if you must see me here.”</p> + +<p>Charlie waited for no more. The door was on the other side of the +building, overlooking the village below. He hurried thither, and when +he thrust it open the place was in darkness.</p> + +<p>Kate’s voice greeted him promptly. “The draught has blown the lamp +out. Have you a match?”</p> + +<p>Charlie closed the door behind him, and produced and struck a match. +The lamp flared up and Kate replaced the glass chimney. Then she moved +over to the wall and placed the lamp in its bracket.</p> + +<p>It was a curious interior. In their unevenness the white kalsomined +walls displayed their primitive workmanship. The windows were small, +framed, and set deep in the ponderous walls. They looked almost like +the arrow slits in a mediæval fortress. The long, pitched roof was +supported, and collared, by heavy, untrimmed logs, which, at some +time, had formed the floor-supports of a sort of loft. This had been +done away with since, for the purpose of giving air to the suppliants +at a prayer meeting below.</p> + +<p>At the far end of the room were two reading desks and a sort of +communion table. While in one corner, behind one of the reading desks, +was a cheap-looking harmonium. Here and there, upon the rough walls, +were nailed cardboard streamers, conveying, amid a wealth of +illumination, sundry appropriate texts of a non-committal religious +flavor, and down the narrow body of the building were stretched rows +of hard-seated, hard-backed benches for the accommodation of the +congregation.</p> + +<p>One swift glance sufficed for Charlie, and his eyes came back to the +woman’s smiling face. Her good looks were undoubted, but to him they +were of an almost celestial order. There was no creature in the whole +wide world to compare with her.</p> + +<p>His eyes devoured every detail of her expression, of her personality, +with the hungry greed of a soul-starved man. It was almost an +impossibility for him to seize upon and hold the thoughts that so +swiftly poured through his brain. So the moments passed and Kate found +her patience ebbing.</p> + +<p>“Well?” she demanded, her smile slowly fading.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>The man breathed a sigh, and swallowed as with a dry throat. The spell +of her charm had been broken.</p> + +<p>“I had to come,” he cried, with a nervous rush. “I had to find you. I +had to speak to you—to tell you.”</p> + +<p>The woman’s eyes, so steadily fixed upon his face, were wearing an +almost hard look.</p> + +<p>“Was it necessary to stimulate your nerve to come, and—speak to me? +Charlie, Charlie,” Kate went on more gently, her fine eyes softening, +“when is this all to cease? Why must you drink? It seems so hopeless. +Oh, man, where is your backbone, your grit. You tell me you long to be +free of your curse, yet you plunge headlong the moment you are +disturbed.”</p> + +<p>Her moment of passionate remonstrance passed and a subtle coolness +superseded it, as the scarlet flushed into the man’s pale cheeks.</p> + +<p>“Tell it me all,” she went on, “tell me what it is you had to see me +about. Remember, to-morrow is Sunday, and this place must be put in +order for meeting. As it is, I am late. I was kept.”</p> + +<p>The flush of shame died out of the man’s face, and his eyes became +questioning. But his manner was almost humble.</p> + +<p>“I know,” he said. “I knew I had no right to disturb you—now. I knew +you would resent it. But I had to see you—while I had the chance. +To-morrow it might be too late.”</p> + +<p>“Too late?”</p> + +<p>The woman’s question came with a sharp, rising inflection.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Kate, Kate, won’t you understand what has brought me? Can’t you +understand all that I feel now that the shadow of the law is so +threatening here in this valley? All the time I’m thinking of you; +thinking of all you mean in my life; thinking of the love which would +make it a happiness to lay down my life for you, the love which to me +is the whole, whole world.”</p> + +<p>He ceased speaking with a curious abruptness. It was as though there +were much more to be said, but he feared to give it expression.</p> + +<p>Kate seized upon his pause to remonstrate.</p> + +<p>“Hush, Charlie,” she cried almost vehemently, “you mustn’t tell me all +this. You mustn’t. I am not worthy of such a love from any man. +Besides,” she went on, with a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>sigh, “it is all so useless. I have no +love to return you. You know that. You have known it so long. Our +friendship has been precious to me. It will always be precious. I +feel, somehow, that you belong to me, are part of me, but not in the +way you would have it. Oh, Charlie, the one thought in my mind, the +one desire in my heart, is for your welfare. I desire that more than I +could ever desire the love of any man. You love me, and yet by every +act of yours that jeopardizes that welfare you stab me to the heart as +surely as you add another nail to the coffin of your moral and +physical well-being. You come here to tell me of these things, +straight from one of your mad debauches, the signs of which are even +now in your eyes, and in your shaking, nervous hands. Oh, Charlie, why +must it all be? What madness is it with which you are possessed?”</p> + +<p>The man looked into her big eyes, so full of strength and courage. The +yellow lamplight left them shining darkly. He sought in them something +that always seemed to baffle. Something he knew was there, but which +ever eluded him. And the while he cried out in bitterness at her +challenge.</p> + +<p>“What does it matter—these things?” he said hoarsely. “What does it +matter what I am if—I can’t be anything to you?”</p> + +<p>Then his bitterness was redoubled, and an almost savage light shone in +his usually gentle eyes.</p> + +<p>“Oh, God, I know I can never be anything to you but a sort of puling +weakling, who must be nursed, and petted, and cared for. I know,” he +went on, his words coming with a rush in the height of his protesting +passion, “if your thoughts, your secret thoughts and feelings, were +put into words, I know what they would say of me, must say of me. Do I +need to tell you? No, I think not. Look at me. It is sufficient.”</p> + +<p>He paused, his great dark eyes alight as Kate had never seen them +before. Then he went on, and his tone had become subdued, and its rich +note thrilled with the depths of passion stirring him.</p> + +<p>“But for all that I am a man, Kate. For all my weakness I have +strength to feel, to love, to fight. I have all that, besides, which +goes to make a man, just as surely as has the man, Fyles, whom you +love. I know, Kate. Denial would be useless, and in denying, you would +be untrue to yourself. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>Fyles is the man for you, and no one knows it +better than I. Fyles! The irony of it. The man who represents the law +is the man who stands between me and all I desire on earth. I have +seen it. I have watched. Nothing that concerns your life escapes me. +How could it, when my whole thought is for you—you? But the agony of +mind I suffer is no less. I cannot help it, Kate. The knowledge and +sight of things drives me nearly crazy, and I suffer the tortures of +hell. But even so, if your happiness lies at Fyles’s side, then—I +would have it so. If I were sure—sure that this happiness were +awaiting you. Is it, Kate? Think. Think of it in—every aspect. Is it? +Happiness with this—Fyles?”</p> + +<p>It was some moments before Kate made any reply. Her eyes were fixed +upon the old Communion Table, so shadowy in the single lamplight. She +was asking herself many questions; almost as many as he could have +asked her. She had permitted herself to drift on the tide of her +feelings. Whither? She knew she was beyond her depth. Her life was in +the hands of a Providence which would inevitably work its will. All +she knew was that she loved. She had known it from the first. She +loved, and rejoiced that it was so. Again, there were moments when she +feared as cordially. She knew the work that lay before this lover of +hers. She knew in what direction it pointed. And in obedience to her +thoughts her eyes came back to the drunkard’s eager face.</p> + +<p>“You—you came to tell me—all this?” she said, in a low tone. “You +came to assure yourself of my—happiness?” Then she shook her head. +“Tell me the rest.”</p> + +<p>It was Charlie’s turn to hesitate now. The demand had robbed him of +the small enough confidence he possessed.</p> + +<p>But Kate was waiting and he had no power to deny her anything.</p> + +<p>“I came to tell you of—things, while I still have the chance. +To-morrow? Who knows what to-morrow may bring forth?”</p> + +<p>A keen, hard light suddenly flashed into the woman’s eyes.</p> + +<p>“What of—to-morrow?” she demanded sharply, while she studied the +man’s pale features, with their boyish good looks.</p> + +<p>For answer Charlie reached out and caught one of her hands in both of +his. She strove to release it, but he clung to it despairingly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>“No, no, Kate. Don’t take it away,” he cried passionately. “It is for +the last—the very last time. Tell me, dear, is—is there no hope for +me? None? Kate, I love you so. I do—dear. I will give up everything +for you, dear, everything. I can do it. I will do it. I swear it, +if—only you’ll love me. Tell me. Is there——?”</p> + +<p>Kate shook her head, and the man dropped her hand with a gesture of +utter hopelessness.</p> + +<p>“My love is given, Charlie. Believe me, I have not given it. It—it is +simply gone from me.”</p> + +<p>Kate sighed. Then her mood changed again. That sharp alert look came +into her eyes once more.</p> + +<p>“Tell me—of to-morrow,” she urged him.</p> + +<p>The second demand had a pronounced effect upon Charlie. The air of the +suppliant fell from him, even the signs of his recent debauch seemed +to give way before a startling alertness of mentality. In his curious +way he seemed suddenly to have become the man of action, full of a +keenness of perception and shrewdness which might well have carried an +added conviction to Stanley Fyles, had he witnessed the display.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” he said, with a thrill of excitement. “Maybe it’s not +necessary to tell you. Maybe it’s stale news. Anyway, to-morrow is to +be the day of Fyles’s coup.” He paused, watching for the effect of his +words.</p> + +<p>Just for an instant the woman’s eyes flashed, but whether in fear, or +merely excited interest, it would have been impossible to say.</p> + +<p>“Go on,” she said.</p> + +<p>“To-morrow the village is to be surrounded by a chain of police +patrols. Every entry will be closely watched for the incoming cargo of +whisky. Fyles reckons to get me red-handed.”</p> + +<p>“You?”</p> + +<p>Kate’s eyes flashed again.</p> + +<p>“Sure. That’s how he reckons.”</p> + +<p>They looked into each other’s eyes steadily. Charlie’s were lit by a +curious baffling irony.</p> + +<p>It was finally Charlie who spoke.</p> + +<p>“Fyles’s plans are not likely to disconcert—anybody. There is no fear +of legitimate capture. It is treachery—that is to be feared.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>Kate started.</p> + +<p>“Treachery?”</p> + +<p>The man nodded. And the woman gave a sharp exclamation of disgust.</p> + +<p>“Treachery! I hate it. I despise it. I—I could kill a traitor. +You—fear treachery?”</p> + +<p>“I have been warned of it. That’s all,” he said, in a hard biting +voice. “It is because of this I’ve come to you to-night. Who can tell +the outcome of to-morrow if there’s treachery? So I came to you to +make my—last appeal.” In a moment his passion was blazing forth +again. “Say the word, dear. Forget this man. Give me one little grain +of hope. We can leave this place, and all the treachery in the world +doesn’t matter. We can leave that, and everything else, behind +us—forever.”</p> + +<p>Kate shook her head. It almost seemed as though his pleading had +passed her by.</p> + +<p>“It can’t be,” she said, almost coldly. “It’s too late.”</p> + +<p>“Too late?”</p> + +<p>The woman nodded, but her thoughts seemed far away.</p> + +<p>“Tell me,” she said, after a pause, while she avoided the man’s +despairing eyes, “where does the treachery—lie?”</p> + +<p>The man turned away. His slim shoulders lifted with seeming +indifference.</p> + +<p>“Pete Clancy and Nick Devereux—your two boys. But I don’t know yet. +I’m not sure.”</p> + +<p>Suddenly Kate moved toward him. The coldness had passed out of her +manner. Her eyes had softened, and a smile, a tender smile, shone in +their depths. She held out her two hands.</p> + +<p>“Charlie, boy,” she said, “you needn’t fear for treachery for +to-morrow. Leave Pete and Nick to me. I can deal with them. I promise +you Fyles will gain nothing in the game he’s playing, through them. +Now, you must go. Give up all thought of me. We cannot help things. We +can never be anything to each other, more than we are now, so why +endure the pain and misery of a hope than can never be fulfilled. As +long as I live I shall pray for your welfare. So long as I can I shall +strive for it. It is for you to be strong. You must set your heart +upon living down this old past, and—forgetting <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>me. I am not worth +the love you give me. Indeed—indeed I am not.”</p> + +<p>But her outstretched hands were ignored. Charlie made a slight, +impatient movement, and turned toward the door. Finally he looked +back, and, for a moment, his gaze encountered the appeal in Kate’s +eyes. Then he passed on swiftly as though he could not endure the +sight of all that which he knew to be slipping from beyond his reach.</p> + +<p>One hand reached the door handle, then he hunched his shoulders +obstinately.</p> + +<p>“I give up nothing, Kate. Nothing,” he said doggedly. “I love you, and +I shall go on loving you to—the end.”</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>It was late when Kate returned to her home. The house was in darkness, +and the moon brought it out in silvery, frigid relief. Thrusting the +front door open, she paused for a moment upon the threshold. She might +have been listening; she might merely have been thinking. Finally she +sat down and removed her shoes and gently tip-toed to her sister’s +room.</p> + +<p>Helen’s door was ajar, and she pushed it open and looked in. The +moonlight was shining across her sister’s fair features, and the mass +of loose fair hair which framed them. She was sound asleep in that +wonderful dreamless land of rest, far from the turbulent little world +in which her waking hours were spent.</p> + +<p>Kate as softly withdrew. Now she made her way back to the familiar +kitchen parlor, and, in the dark, took up her position at the open +window. Her whole attention was centered upon the ranch house of +Charlie Bryant across the valley, which stood out in the moonlight +almost as clearly as in daylight. A light was shining in one of its +windows.</p> + +<p>She sat there waiting with infinite patience, and at last the light +was extinguished. Then she rose, and, going to her bureau, picked up a +pair of night glasses. She leveled these at the distant house and +continued her watch.</p> + +<p>Her vigil, however, did not last long. In a few minutes she distinctly +beheld a figure move out on to the veranda. Its identity, at that +distance, she was left to conjecture. But she saw it leave the veranda +and make its way round to the barn. A few minutes later, again, it +reappeared, this time mounted upon a horse.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>She sighed. It was a sigh of impatience, it was also a sigh of +resignation. Then she rose from her seat, and returned her night +glasses to the bureau. Again she looked out of the window, but this +time she remained standing. Nor were her eyes turned upon the distant +ranch house. Her whole attitude was one of deep pensiveness.</p> + +<p>At last, however, she stirred, and, quite suddenly, her movements +became quick and decided. It almost seemed as though she had finally +reached a definite resolve.</p> + +<p>She passed out of the room, and then out of the house through the back +way. The little barn was within a hundred yards of the house. She was +still in the shadow of the house when she became aware of figures +moving just outside the barn. In a moment she recognized them. They +were her two hired men in the act of riding away on their horses.</p> + +<p>She let them get well away. Then she drew the door close after her and +crossed over to the barn.</p> + +<p>The door was open and she went in. Passing the two empty stalls where +the men’s horses were kept, she went on to another, where her own +horse, hearing her approach, set its collar chains rattling and +greeted her with a suppressed whinny.</p> + +<p>It was the work of but a few minutes to saddle him and bring him out +into the moonlight. Then she mounted him and rode off in the wake of +those who had gone on before.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3>THE BROKEN CHAIN</h3> + +<p>The peace of Sunday evening merged into the calm of night. Service was +long since over in the old Meeting House. The traveling parson had +come and gone. He had done his duty. He had read the service to the +lounging, unkempt congregation, he had prayed over them, he had +preached at them. He had done all these things because it was his duty +to do so, but he had done them without the least hope of improving the +morals of his unworthy flock, or of penetrating one single fraction +through their crime-stained armor of self-satisfaction. Rocky Springs +was one of the shadowed <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>corners upon his tour, into which, he felt, +it was beyond his power to impart light.</p> + +<p>There were those in the valley who viewed the Sabbath calm with a +derisive smile. There were those who sat upon their little verandas +and smoked, and talked in hushed voices, lest listening ears might +catch the ominous purport of their words. There were others who went +to their beds with a shrug of pretended indifference, feeling glad +that for once, at least, their homes were a haven of safety for +themselves.</p> + +<p>Rocky Springs as a whole knew that something was afoot—some play in +which some one was to be worsted, in which, maybe, a life or two would +be lost. Anyway, the players were Law <i>versus</i> Outlaw, and those who +were not actually concerned with the game felt glad that they still +had another night under their own roofs.</p> + +<p>It was truly extraordinary how unspoken news spread. It was +extraordinary the scent of battle, the scent of a struggle against the +law, that was possessed by this people. Everybody seemed to know that +to-night something like history was to be made in the annals of the +crime of the valley.</p> + +<p>So the peace of the valley was almost remarkable. An undoubted air of +studied indifference prevailed, but surely it was carefully studied.</p> + +<p>Neither Fyles nor any of his police had been seen the whole day. None +of them had attended divine service. It was almost as if they had +entirely vanished from the precincts of the valley.</p> + +<p>So the sun sank, and the ruddy clouds rose up from the west like the +fiery splash of the molten contents of the cauldron into which the +great ball of fire had plunged. They rose up, and then dispersed, +vanishing into thin air, and making way for the soft sheen of a myriad +stars, and leaving clear a perfect night for the great summer moon to +illuminate.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>Two by two a large number of horsemen rode out of the valley of +Leaping Creek. Once away from the starting point, their movements, +their figures became elusive and shadowy. They passed out from among +the trees, on to the wide plains above, and each couple split up, +taking their <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>individual ways with a certainty which displayed their +perfect prairie craft.</p> + +<p>Far out into the night they rode, each with clear instructions filling +his mind, each with the certainty that one or more of their number +must be brought face to face with a crisis before morning, which would +need all their nerve and wit to bring to a successful issue.</p> + +<p>The moon rose up, a great golden globe, slowly changing to a cold +silvery light as it mounted the starlit vault. Then came a change. +Instead of leaving a starry track behind it, a bank of cloud followed +hard upon its heels, threatening to overtake it and hide its splendor +behind a pall of summer storm.</p> + +<p>Stanley Fyles watched with satisfaction the signs of the night.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>A solitary horseman sat leaning forward upon the horn of his saddle, +his eyes searching, searching, with aching intensity, that dim, +shadowed skyline now almost lost against its backing of cloud. He was +half-hidden in the shadow of a small bluff of spruce, with the depths +of the valley hard behind him.</p> + +<p>Not only were his eyes searching with an almost unblinking +watchfulness, but his ears, too, were busy with that intense, +nerve-racking straining which leaves them ever ready to carry the +phantom sounds of imagination to the impatient brain above.</p> + +<p>It was a long, intense vigil, and a hundred times the waiting man saw +movements and heard sounds which set him ready to give the final +signal which was to complete the carefully laid plans of his chief. +But, in each case, he was spared the false alarm to which tricks of +imagination so nearly drove him.</p> + +<p>Midnight came and passed. The sky grew more threatening. The man’s +eyes were upon that distant, southern upland which marked the skyline. +Something seemed to be moving in the hazy distance, but as yet there +was no sound accompanying the movement.</p> + +<p>Was there not? Hark, what was that?</p> + +<p>The man sighed. It was the rustle of the trees about him, stirred by a +gentle rising breeze. But was it? Hark! That <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>sounded like a footfall. +But a footfall was not wanted. It was the sound of wheels for which +his ears were straining. Ah, that was surely the wind. +And—yes—listen. A rumble. It might be the wheels at last, or was it +thunder? He sat up. The strain was hard to bear. It was thunder. And +his eyes, for a moment, left the horizon for the clouds above. He +regretted the absence of the moon. It left his work doubly difficult. +He wondered——</p> + +<p>But his wonder ceased, and he fell like a stone out of the saddle. He +struggled fiercely, but his arms were held to his sides immovable. He +had a vague recollection of a swift whirring sound, but that was all. +Then he found himself struggling furiously on the ground with his +horse vanished.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>Inspector Fyles was thinking of many things. His post was at a point +overlooking the Fort Alberton trail, which wound its way in the wide +trough of two great, still waves of prairieland directly in front of +him. Nothing could pass that way and remain unobserved, excepting +under cover of the storm which seemed to be gathering.</p> + +<p>He patted Peter’s arched neck, and the well-mannered, amiable creature +responded by champing its bit impatiently. Fyles smiled. He knew that +Peter loved to be traveling far and fast.</p> + +<p>He turned his eyes skywards. Perhaps it was not a storm. There were +breaks here and there, and occasionally a star peeped out and twinkled +mockingly at him. Still, he must hope for the best. A storm would +favor his quarry, besides being——. Hark!</p> + +<p>A shot rang out in the distance, away to the east. One—two! Wait. A +third! There it was. To the east. They were coming on over the +southern trail, and that was in McBain’s section!</p> + +<p>He lifted his reins, and Peter promptly laid his swift heels to the +ground. Three shots. Fyles hoped the fourth would not be fired until +he was within striking distance of the spot.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>Four horsemen were converging upon the bluff whence the shots had +proceeded. Each of the four had heard the three shots fired, each was +executing the tactical arrangement agreed upon, and each was waiting +as he rode, laboring under <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>a high nervous tension, for the fourth +shot, which was to confirm the alarm and notify the definite discovery +of the contraband.</p> + +<p>It was withheld.</p> + +<p>Fyles was the first to reach the bluff, but, almost at the same +moment, McBain’s great horse drew up with a jolt. The inspector saw +the approach of his subordinate while his eyes were still searching +the skirts of the bluff for the patrol who had given the signal.</p> + +<p>“He should be on the southeast side,” said McBain, and rode off in +that direction. Fyles followed hard upon his heels.</p> + +<p>They had gone less than two hundred yards when the officer saw the +shadowy form of the Scot throw itself back in the saddle, and pull his +great horse back upon its haunches. Fyles swept up on the swift-footed +Peter. He, too, reined up with a jolt and leaped out of the saddle.</p> + +<p>McBain was on his knees beside the prostrate form of the sentry. The +man was bound hand and foot, and a heavy gag was secured in his widely +forced open mouth.</p> + +<p>At that moment two troopers dashed up. And the sounds of others +foregathering could be plainly heard.</p> + +<p>As Fyles regarded the prostrate man he realized that once more he had +been defeated. He did not require to wait for the gag to be removed. +He understood.</p> + +<p>He leaped into the saddle, as McBain cut the gag from the man’s mouth. +A sharp inquiry broke the silence.</p> + +<p>“Say, did you fire that—alarm?” Fyles cried almost fiercely.</p> + +<p>The man had struggled to a sitting posture, and began to explain.</p> + +<p>“No, sir. I was dragged——”</p> + +<p>“Never mind what happened. You didn’t give the alarm?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Quick, McBain!” Fyles almost shouted. “They’ve done us. Cut him +loose, and follow me. They’re on the Fort Allerton trail—or my name’s +not Fyles.”</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>Peter led the race for the Fort Allerton trail. The dark night clouds +were breaking when they reached the spot where the inspector had +originally stationed himself. They passed <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>on, and a glimmer of +moonlight peeped out at them as they reached the trail side.</p> + +<p>Fyles and McBain leaped from their saddles and examined the sandy +surface of it. Two of the troopers joined them.</p> + +<p>At length the officer spoke, and his voice had lost something of its +sharp tone of authority.</p> + +<p>“They’ve beaten us, McBain,” he cried. “God’s curse on them, they’ve +played us at our own game, and—beaten us. A wagon and team’s passed +here less than five minutes ago. Look at the dust track they’ve left.”</p> + +<p>Fyles stood up. Then he started, and an angry glitter shone in his +gray eyes. A horseman was silently looking on at the group of +dismounted men, deliberately watching their movements. In the heat of +the hunt no one had heard his approach. He sat there looking on in +absolute silence.</p> + +<p>Fyles moved clear of his men and strode up to the horseman. He halted +within a yard of him, while the rest of the party looked on in +amazement. McBain was the only one to make any move. He followed hard +on his chief’s heels.</p> + +<p>Fyles looked up into the horseman’s face. The sky had cleared and the +moon was shining once more. A sudden fury leaped to the officer’s +brain, and, for a moment, all discretion was very nearly flung to the +winds. By a great effort, however, he checked his mad impulse.</p> + +<p>“What are you doing here, Mr. Bryant?” he demanded sharply.</p> + +<p>Charlie Bryant leaned forward upon the horn of his saddle. His dark +eyes were smiling, but it was not a pleasant smile.</p> + +<p>“Why, wondering what you fellows are doing here,” he said calmly.</p> + +<p>Fyles stared, and again his fury nearly got the better of him.</p> + +<p>“That’s no answer to my question,” he snapped.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t it?” A subtle change was in Charlie Bryant’s manner. His smile +remained, but it was full of a burning dislike, and even insolence. +“Guess it’s all you’ll get from a free citizen. I’ve as much right +here looking on at the escapades of the police, as they have +to—indulge in ’em. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>Guess I’ve had a mighty long day and need to get +home. Say, I’m tired. So long.”</p> + +<p>He urged his horse forward and passed on down the trail. And as he +went a trooper followed him, with orders to track him till daylight.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h3>ROCKY SPRINGS HEARS THE NEWS</h3> + +<p>The news which greeted early morning ears in Rocky Springs was of a +quality calculated to upset the entire affairs of the day, and bring a +perfect surfeit of grist to O’Brien’s insatiable mill. It even +jeopardized the all-important church affairs. No one was inclined to +work at all, let alone voluntarily work.</p> + +<p>Then, too, there were the difficulties of gathering together a quorum +of the Church Construction Committee, and Mrs. John Day, full of +righteous indignation and outraged pride, as president, felt and +declared that it was a scandal that the degraded doings of a parcel of +low-down whisky-runners should be allowed to interfere with the noble +cause which the hearts of the valley were set upon. But, being a woman +of considerable energy, she by no means yielded to circumstances.</p> + +<p>However, her difficulties were considerable. The percolation of the +news of the police failure had reduced the male population to the +condition of a joyful desire to celebrate in contraband drink. The +female population became obsessed with a love of their own doorsteps, +whence they could greet each other and exchange loud-voiced opinions +with their neighbors, while their household “chores” awaited their +later convenience. The children, too, were robbed of their delight in +more familiar mischief, and turned their inventive faculties toward +something newer and more in keeping with prevailing conditions and +sentiments. Thus, a new game was swiftly arranged, and some brighter +soul among them christened it the D. I. F. game. The initials were +popularly believed to represent “Done is Fyles,” but the enlightened +among the boys understood that they stood for “Damn Idjut <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>Fyles,” an +interpretation quite in keeping with the general opinion of the people +of the valley.</p> + +<p>Certainly the atmosphere of the village that morning must have been +intolerable to Inspector Fyles, had he permitted himself to dwell upon +the indications, the derisive glances, the quiet laugh of men as he +chanced to pass. But public opinion and feeling were things he had +long since schooled himself to ignore. He was concerned with his +superiors, and his superiors only. At all times they were more than +sufficient to trouble with, and his whole anxiety was turned in their +direction now, in view of his terrible failure of the night before.</p> + +<p>Thus he was forced to witness the signs about him, and content himself +with the knowledge that he had been bluffed, while he cast about in +his troubled mind for a means of appeasing his superior’s official +wrath.</p> + +<p>The church committee was to assemble at Mrs. John Day’s house at ten +o’clock, and the hour passed without a shadow of a quorum being +formed. Kate Seton, the honorary secretary, was the only member, +besides the president, who put in an appearance at the appointed hour.</p> + +<p>So Mrs. Day thrust on her bonnet, and, with every artificial flower in +its crown shaking with indignation, set out to “round-up” the members.</p> + +<p>O’Brien was impossible. His trade was too overwhelming to be left in +the hands of a mere bartender, but there was less excuse for Billy +Unguin and Allan Dy, who were merely drinkers in the place. She +possessed herself of their persons and marched them off, and gathered +up two or three women friends of hers on the way home. Thus, by eleven +o’clock, she had the door of her parlor closed upon a more or less +efficient quorum.</p> + +<p>Then she sat her bulk down with a sigh of enforced content. Her florid +face was beaded with perspiration as a result of her efforts.</p> + +<p>She turned autocratically to her secretary.</p> + +<p>“We’ll dispense with the reading of the minutes of the last meeting,” +she declared half-defiantly. “We’ll take ’em as read and passed. This +liquor business is driving us all to perdition, as well as wasting our +time, which is more important in Rocky Springs. I’ve never seen the +like of this <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>place.” She glared directly at the two men. “And the +men—well, say, I s’pose they are men, these fellows who stand around +decorating that villain O’Brien’s saloon. If it was a christening, +they’d drink; if it was a wedding, they’d drink; if it was a funeral, +they’d drink; if they were going to stand before their Maker right +away, they’d call for rye first.”</p> + +<p>After which few opening remarks, given with all the scornful dignity +of one who knows she holds the leading position among her sex in the +village, she proceeded with the work in hand with a capacity for +detail that quite worried the absent minds of the only two male +members of the committee present.</p> + +<p>Such was the general yearning for a termination of the meeting, so +that its members might once more return to the gossip outside, that +Mrs. John Day was permitted to carry all her plans in her scheme of +salvation before her, with little or no discussion. And, in +consequence, her good nature quickly reasserted itself, and she became +more and more inclined to look leniently upon the defects of the +majority of her committee.</p> + +<p>The president disposed of several lesser complaints against the +construction of the church to her own satisfaction. The list of them +was an accumulation of opinions sent in by people who felt that it was +due to the community, and themselves, particularly, that the elected +committee were sufficiently harrassed by pin pricks, lest it became +too high-handed and autocratic.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Day’s methods of dealing with these was characteristic of her +social rule in the village. She rose with a look of contemptuous +defiance upon her fiery features. It was Helen who had once declared +that Mrs. John always reminded her of one of those very red-combed old +hens who never failed to cluck themselves very nearly into an +apoplectic fit over a helpless worm, and demanded that all eyes should +watch her marvelous display of prowess in its slaughter. A slip of +paper had been thrust into her hands by the undisturbed honorary +secretary.</p> + +<p>“I guess I’m not going to worry you folks with debating these fool +complaints sent in by some of the glory-seekers in this village,” she +began with enthusiastic heat. “I’ve settled them all myself. I’ll read +you the complaints and what I’ve <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>done in each case. First, there’s a +kick from Mrs. Morgan, upon the hill. She’s no account anyway, and +hasn’t given a bean toward the church—yet. Guess I’ll have to see to +that later. She says she saw two of the boys working on log hauling, +sitting around in the shade of the church wall, after doing their +work, swilling whisky out of the neck of a bottle, and guessed it +wasn’t decent. I’ve written her asking her to send two boys to do the +work in their place. Guess she hasn’t replied. Katherine L. Sherman, +who guesses she’s related to the real Shermans, and has had twins +twice in three years, writes: ‘When are we goin’ to arrange for a +christening font?’ I handed her this. ‘When folks needing it see their +way clear to unrolling their bank wads.’ Then there’s Mrs. Andy +Carlton, who’s felt high-toned ever since she bought that second-hand +top buggy from Mary Porson. She guesses we need a bell. I told her +that if the people of Rocky Springs tried ringing their way to glory, +it would be liable to alarm folks there. Best way would be to try and +sneak in, and not shout they were coming. Then I heard from Mary +Porson, herself. She wants to know who’s to keep the boys who’re drunk +out of service, and wouldn’t it be better to hold Meeting on Monday, +so’s the boys could get over the Saturday night souse in comfort. I +told her she seemed to have a wrong idea of the folks of this village. +I guessed if any feller got around to Meeting with liquor under his +belt, there was liable to be a lynching right away. The boys wouldn’t +stand for any ungentlemanly conduct at Meeting. Then there’s Mrs. +Annerly-Jones. Having a hyphen to her name, she’s all for white +surplices and organized singing. She figures to start up a full choir, +and sing the solos herself. I hinted that the choir racket wasn’t to +be despised, but solo work was liable to cause ill-feeling in the +village by making folks think the singer was getting the start of them +in the chase for glory. And, anyway, the old harmonium wasn’t a match +for her voice. Then there’s a suggestion for cuspidors for each bench, +and I must say, right here, I’m in favor of them. I’m not one to +interfere with the disgusting ways of men. Men are just men, and can’t +help it, anyway, and if they contract filthy habits, it’s not for +woman to put ’em right. But she’s got the right to refuse having her +skirts turned into floor swabs. I’ve fixed <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>all these things right, so +we don’t need to vote on ’em. But there’s one little matter that needs +discussing right here and now, seeing that the folks are present +who’ve brought it up.”</p> + +<p>The president paused and glared at the two men through her big, +steel-rimmed glasses, and Billy Unguin and Allan Dy found themselves +uncomfortably interested in various parts of well-varnished +appointments of the lady’s parlor.</p> + +<p>Kate Seton eyed the two men with some amusement. She felt that the +recent discussion, which took place in the new church itself, was +liable to assume a different complexion here. Besides, she knew these +two men, and felt it was best to have the suggestion of felling the +old pine, as a ridge pole for the church, definitely negatived by the +present meeting.</p> + +<p>Mrs. John Day was always a difficult woman, of very strong opinions. +Therefore it was not policy to suggest her course of action. So Kate +had merely warned her that the suggestion had been made.</p> + +<p>“It’s been said,” Mrs. Day went on, with an aggressive look in her hot +eyes, “that the design of the building is all wrong. That the main +body is too long, and that the ridge pole of the roof will have to be +joined in several places. This means a great weakness that’ll have to +be supported by central columns, which will obstruct the central +gangway and the general view. I’d like Mr. Unguin and Mr. Dy to +discuss the matter before the meeting.”</p> + +<p>Thus challenged, Allan Dy sprang to his feet.</p> + +<p>“It’s just as you say, ma’m,” he cried. “And I say right here that +ridge pole should be in one piece. It’s bad. In a few years’ time +we’ll surely have to rebuild that roof.”</p> + +<p>He sat down with a jolt, and glared fiercely at his friend beside him.</p> + +<p>Billy Unguin was on his feet in a moment.</p> + +<p>“I want to say right here that my friend’s been sorting mail so long +he’s got nervous. Furthermore, I’d add he don’t need to worry a thing. +It’s my opinion the new church is an elegant proposition which +reflects credit upon Rocky Springs, and our charming president more +than anybody. And, if there’s any liberties taken with the science of +architecture, the matter can be got over dead easy. If joining the +ridge pole means weakening the structure, then don’t join it. That +don’t beat us a little bit. With such a head as our president <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>has for +the management of big affairs I’m sure she’ll see a way out of the +trouble, ’specially when I draw her attention to the old pine, which +is tall enough to cut two ridge poles out of it for our church.”</p> + +<p>Like his friend, he sat down with a jolt. But he was smiling with +anticipated triumph. He felt that his long experience as a salesman of +dry goods had taught him how to reach the most vulnerable point in +feminine armor. When it came to winning over Mrs. John Day to his side +Allan Dy hadn’t an earthly chance with him.</p> + +<p>But his smile slowly disappeared when the honorary secretary promptly +rose to her feet.</p> + +<p>Kate Seton turned and addressed herself to the president.</p> + +<p>“I should like to put in a word of protest,” she began, while Allan Dy +smiled and breathed his thankfulness that he was not to remain +unsupported.</p> + +<p>Instantly Billy Unguin broke in.</p> + +<p>“Miss Seton, as secretary, is only ex-officio,” he cried.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Day shot a withering glance at him.</p> + +<p>“Miss Seton is <i>honorary</i> secretary.”</p> + +<p>Allan Dy smiled more broadly as the president promptly nodded for Kate +to proceed.</p> + +<p>“I wish to protest against the old pine being felled,” she said, with +some warmth. “It means disaster to Rocky Springs. There is the old +legend. There is a curse on the felling of that tree.”</p> + +<p>Her announcement was greeted by a murmur of approval from the women +present, all except Mrs. Day. Dy beamed. But Kate was less pleased. +She knew her president. She would always listen to the men, but when +her own sex ventured on thinking for themselves she was liable to +become restive.</p> + +<p>The president glanced round the room with a swift challenge shining +through her glasses, and her hard mouth closed tightly. Then she +turned sharply to the woman at her side.</p> + +<p>“I’m—I’m—astonished, Kate,” she cried, with difficulty suppressing +her inclination to domineer. “The matter is most simple. It is said +the best interests of the church are being jeopardized. There is the +obvious necessity of altering the design of the roof of our beautiful +building. You—whom I have always regarded as the essence of sanity, +and my chief support in the arduous work which has been flung upon my +shoulders, and which Mr. Unguin has been pleased <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>to say I’m not +incapable of carrying out—you would sacrifice those interests for a +lot of old Indian fool talk. I never would have believed it. Never! +Say,” she turned to the others, and her eyes challenged the rest of +the women, “This surely is a more serious matter than I thought. It +must be looked into. I’ll look into it myself. If things are as Mr. Dy +says, and it’s necessary, as Mr. Unguin points out, to cut down that +tree to fix our church right—why, it’s going to be cut down. That’s +all.”</p> + +<p>She paused dramatically, but not long enough for anybody to interrupt +her. Then, with a wave of her fat arm, which, to the women, became a +threat, and to the men appeared to be something like the gesticulation +of an animated sausage, she proceeded to terminate the debate.</p> + +<p>“Those in favor of <i>my</i> proposition will signify the same in the usual +manner,” she cried, with an air that brooked no sort of denial.</p> + +<p>Up went every right hand in the room except those of Kate and Allan +Dy. Then the “no’s” were taken. After which the result was announced +with all the triumph of Mrs. Day’s domineering personality.</p> + +<p>“Carried,” she cried.</p> + +<p>Then she turned upon her secretary without the least sympathy or +kindliness in her manner.</p> + +<p>“You’ll enter that resolution in the minutes of the meeting,” she +snapped.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>Some half-hour later the quorum dissolved itself and trickled out of +the oppressive precincts of Mrs. John Day’s highly polished parlor. +The trickling process only lasted until the front door was gained. +Then came a rush which had neither dignity nor politeness in it.</p> + +<p>The two men set off for the saloon without attempting to disguise +their purpose. The women hastily tripped off in the various directions +whither they knew their favorite gossips would be found. Even Kate +Seton failed to wait to exchange her usual few final words with the +president. Truth to tell, she was both disgusted and depressed, and +felt that somehow she had made a mess of things. She felt that she had +contrived to turn an unimportant matter into something of the first +magnitude. The question of felling the old pine had <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>merely been one +of those subjects for bickering between Billy and Allan Dy, who had +never been known to agree on any subject, and now, through bringing +their dispute before the committee, she knew that she had changed it +into a question upon which the whole village would take sides. She +only trusted that superstition would prevail, and the aged landmark +would be left standing. She somehow felt doubtful, however, now that +Mrs. Day had taken sides against her, and she hurried off to avoid +further discussion.</p> + +<p>Billy Unguin arrived at the saloon alone. Allan Dy’s course was +diverted when he came within sight of his post office. As he reached +the main trail of the village, he saw Inspector Fyles and Sergeant +McBain riding down from the west, and the sight of them reminded him +of his mail. So, leaving his friend to continue his way to the saloon +alone, he went on to his little office, arriving in time to take down +a telegraphic message from Amberley, and hand it, with his mail, to +the police officer.</p> + +<p>He rubbed his hands delightedly as he read the message over to himself +a second time before placing it in its envelope. It was from the +police headquarters, and its wording was full of significance in the +light of last night’s events. Allan Dy was glad he had not gone on to +the saloon.</p> + +<p>The message was desperately curt.</p> + +<p>“Wagon returned to Fort Allerton empty. Report. Jason.”</p> + +<p>The postmaster had just placed the message with the officers’ mail +when the two policemen entered. Fyles’s expression was morose, and his +manner repellent. McBain was grim and silent.</p> + +<p>“There’s a goodish mail, Mr. Fyles,” said Dy, without a trace of his +real feelings, as he held out the bulky packet of letters. “That +message has just come along over the wire.” He pointed at the tinted +envelope enclosing the telegram.</p> + +<p>While Fyles took his mail, McBain’s keen eyes were at work upon the +letters spread out on the counter.</p> + +<p>Fyles’s silent manner induced the curious official to go a step +further.</p> + +<p>“It’s from headquarters—Superintendent Jason,” he said, covertly +watching the policeman’s face.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>But the effect was not quite as satisfactory as he hoped. Fyles +smiled.</p> + +<p>“Thanks. I was expecting it.”</p> + +<p>Then he turned away, and, followed by McBain, passed out of the +building.</p> + +<p>Once outside, however, it was quite another matter. The officer tore +open the message and glanced at its contents. Then he passed it on to +McBain with a brief comment.</p> + +<p>“They’re wise,” he said. “Guess the band’s going to start +playing—right away.”</p> + +<p>McBain read the message. “We’re up against it, sir,” was his dry +comment.</p> + +<p>“Up against it, man?” Fyles cried, with sudden heat. “I tell you +that’s very nearly our sentence. We’ve failed—failed, do you +understand? And it’s not our first failure. Do you need me to tell you +anything? We may just as well stand right here and cut off the badges +of our various ranks. That’s what we may as well do,” he added +bitterly. “There’s no mercy in Jason, and devilish little reason.”</p> + +<p>But the Scot seemed to have very little sympathy for the other’s +feelings. He seemed to care less for his rank than something else, +and, in his next words, the real man shone out.</p> + +<p>“I don’t care a curse for my rank, sir,” he exclaimed. “We’ve been +bluffed and beaten like two babes in the game our lives are spent in +playing. That’s what hurts me. Have you seen ’em, sir? All the way +along as we came down here just now. We passed five or six women at +the doors of their miserable shacks, and they smiled as they saw us. +We passed four men, and their greeting was maddening in its jeer. Even +the damned kids looked up and grinned like the apes they are. They’ve +bluffed and beaten us, and I—hate ’em all.”</p> + +<p>For some moments Stanley Fyles made no answer. He was gazing out down +the village trail, and his eyes were on a small group of people +standing some way off talking together. He had recognized them. They +were Kate and Helen Seton, and with them was young Bryant, the +ingenuous brother of Charlie. He guessed, as well he might, the +subject of their talk. His failure. Was not everybody talking of it? +And were not most of them, probably all of them, rejoicing? His +bitterness grew, and at last he turned on his subordinate.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>“Bluffed, but not beaten,” he said, with a fierce oath which did the +Scot’s heart good. “We’re not beaten,” he reiterated, “if only Jason +will leave us alone, and trust us further. I’ve got to convince him. +I’ve got to tell him all that’s happened, and I’ve got to persuade him +to leave us here. We’ve got to go on. He can recommend my resignation, +he can do what he damn well pleases, so long as he leaves me here to +finish this work. I tell you, I’ve got to break up this gang of +hoodlums.”</p> + +<p>McBain’s eyes glittered.</p> + +<p>“That’s how I feel, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Feel? We’ve just got to do it—or clear out of the country. Man, I’d +give a thousand dollars to know how they got possession of our +signals. Those shots, that bluffed us, were fired by some of the gang. +How did they learn it? It’s been done by spying, but—say, get on back +to camp, and prepare the report of last night. Hold it up for me, and +I’ll enclose a private letter to Mr. Jason. I’ll be along later.”</p> + +<p>McBain nodded.</p> + +<p>“You fix it, sir, so we don’t get transferred back. We need another +chance badly. Maybe they won’t bluff us next time.”</p> + +<p>He swung himself into the saddle and rode away, while Fyles, linking +his arm through the faithful Peter’s reins, strolled leisurely on down +the track toward the group which included Kate Seton.</p> + +<p>As he drew near they ceased talking, and watched his approach. Their +attitude was such that Fyles could not refrain from a half-bitter, +half-laughing comment as he came up.</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t take much guessing to locate the subject of your talk, +Miss Kate,” he cried.</p> + +<p>Kate’s dark eyes had no smile in them as she replied to his challenge.</p> + +<p>“How’s that?” she inquired, while Bill and Helen watched his face.</p> + +<p>Fyles shrugged.</p> + +<p>“You stopped talking when you saw I was coming your way.” He laughed. +“However, I guess it’s only to be expected. The boys bluffed us all +right last night. It was a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>smartish trick. Still,” he added +thoughtfully, “it’s given us an elegant lever—when the time comes.”</p> + +<p>Kate made no answer. She was studying the man’s face, and there was a +certain regret and even pity in the depths of her regard. Bill and +Helen had no such feelings for him. They were frankly rejoiced at his +failure.</p> + +<p>Helen replied. “That’s so, Mr. Fyles,” she said, almost tartly, “but I +guess that lever needs to help them into your traps to do any real +good.”</p> + +<p>The officer’s smile was quite good-humored, in spite of the sharpness +of the girl’s reminder. What he really felt he was not likely to +display here.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” he said. “The spider weaves his web and it’s not worth a cent +if the flies aren’t foolish enough to make mistakes. The spider is a +student of winged insect nature, and he lays his plans accordingly. +The flies always come to him—in the end.”</p> + +<p>Bill laughed good-humoredly.</p> + +<p>“That’s dandy,” he cried. “There’s always fool flies around. But +sometimes that spider’s web gets all mussed up and broken. I’ve broke +’em myself—rather than see the fool things caught.”</p> + +<p>Kate’s eyes were turned on the great bulk of Charlie’s brother. Even +Helen looked up with bright admiration for her lover.</p> + +<p>Fyles’s gaze was leveled directly into the innocent looking blue eyes +laughing into his.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I dare say you and other folks have broken those things up, +often—but the spiders thrive and multiply. You see, when one net is +busted they—make another. They don’t seem to starve ever, do they? +Ever seen a spider dead of starvation?”</p> + +<p>“Can’t say I have.” Bill shook his great head. “But maybe they’d get a +bad time if they set their traps for any special flies—or fly.”</p> + +<p>Fyles raised his powerful shoulders coldly.</p> + +<p>“Guess the spider business doesn’t go far enough,” he said, talking +directly at Big Brother Bill. “When I spoke of that lever just now, +maybe you didn’t get my meaning quite clearly. That gang, who ran the +liquor in last night, put themselves further up against the law than +maybe they think. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>It was an armed attack on the police, which is +quite a different thing to just simple whisky-running. Get me? The +police are always glad when crooks do that. It pays them better—when +the time comes.”</p> + +<p>Bill had no reply. He suddenly experienced the chill of the cold steel +of police methods. A series of painful pictures rose up before his +mind’s eye, which held his tongue silent. Helen quickly came to his +rescue.</p> + +<p>“But who’s to say who did it?” she demanded.</p> + +<p>Fyles smiled down into her pretty face.</p> + +<p>“Those who want to save their skins—when the time comes.”</p> + +<p>It was Helen’s turn to realize something of the irresistible nature of +the work of the police. Somehow she felt that the defeat of the police +last night was but a shadowy success after all, for those concerned in +the whisky-running. Her thought flew at once to Charlie, and she +shuddered at the suggested possibilities in Fyles’s words.</p> + +<p>She turned away.</p> + +<p>“Well, all I can say is, I—I hate it all, and wish it was all over +and done with. Everybody’s talking, everybody’s gloating, and—and it +just makes me feel scared to death.” Then she turned again to Bill. +“Let’s go on,” she cried, a little desperately. “We’ll finish our +shopping, and—and get away from it all. It just makes me real ill.”</p> + +<p>She waved a farewell to Kate and moved away, and Bill, like some +faithful watchdog, followed at her heels. Fyles looked after them both +with serious, earnest eyes. Kate watched them smiling.</p> + +<p>Presently Fyles turned back to her.</p> + +<p>“Well?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>Kate’s eyes were slowly raised to his.</p> + +<p>“Well?” she echoed. “So——”</p> + +<p>She broke off. Her generous nature checked her in time. She had been +about to twit him with his defeat. She sympathized with his feelings +at the thought of his broken hopes.</p> + +<p>“Better say it,” said Fyles, with a smile, in which chagrin and +tenderness struggled for place. “You were going to say I have been +defeated, as you told me I should be defeated.”</p> + +<p>“I s’pose I was.” Kate glanced quickly up into his face, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>but the +feeling she beheld there made her turn her eyes away so that they +followed Bill and Helen moving down the trail. “Women are usually +ungenerous to—an adversary.” Then her whole manner changed to one of +kindly frankness. “Do you know my feelings are sort of mixed about +your—defeat——”</p> + +<p>“Not defeat,” put in Fyles. “Check.”</p> + +<p>Kate smiled.</p> + +<p>“Well, then, ‘check.’ I am glad—delighted—since you direct all your +suspicions against Charlie. Then I am full of regret for you, +because—because I know the rigor of police discipline. In the eyes of +the authorities you have failed—twice. Oh, if you would only attack +this thing with an open mind, and not start prejudiced against +Charlie. I wish you had never listened to local gossip. If that were +so I could be on your side, and—and with true sportsmanship, wish you +well. Besides that, I might be able to tell you things. You see, I +learn many things in the village that others do not—hear.”</p> + +<p>Fyles was studying the woman’s face closely as she spoke. And +something he beheld there robbed his defeat of a good deal of its +sting. Her words were the words of partisanship, and her partisanship +was for another as well as himself. Had this not been so, had her +partisanship been for him alone, he could well have abandoned himself +to an open mind, as she desired. As it was, she drove him to a dogged +pursuit of the man he was convinced was the real culprit.</p> + +<p>“Don’t let us reopen the old subject,” he said, with a shade of +irritability. “I have evidence you know nothing of, and I should be +mad indeed if I changed my objective at your desire, for the sake of +the unsupported belief and regard you have for this man. Let us be +content to be adversaries, each working out our little campaign as we +think best. Don’t waste regrets at my failures. I know the price I +have to pay for them—only too well. I know, and I tell you frankly, +but only you, that my career in the police may terminate in +consequence. That’s all right. The prestige of the force cannot be +maintained by—failures. The prestige of the force is very dear to me. +If you have anything to tell me that may lead me in the direction of +the real culprit, then tell me. If not—why let us be friends +until—until my work <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>has made that impossible. I—I want your +friendship very much.”</p> + +<p>Kate’s eyes were turned from him. The deep light in them was very +soft.</p> + +<p>“Do you?” she smiled. “Well—perhaps you have it, in spite of our +temporary antagonism. Oh, dear—it’s all so absurd.”</p> + +<p>Fyles laughed.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t it? But, then, anything out of the ordinary is generally +absurd, until we get used to it. Somehow, it doesn’t seem absurd that +I want your—friendship. At least, not to me.”</p> + +<p>Kate smiled up into his face.</p> + +<p>“And yet it is—absurd.”</p> + +<p>The man’s eyes suddenly became serious.</p> + +<p>“Why?”</p> + +<p>Kate shrugged.</p> + +<p>“That’s surely explained. We are—antagonists.”</p> + +<p>Again that look of impatience crossed the man’s keen features. As he +offered no reply, Kate went on.</p> + +<p>“About the armed attack on the police. You said it made all the +difference. What is the difference?”</p> + +<p>“Anything between twelve months in the penitentiary and twenty +years—when the gang is landed.”</p> + +<p>“Twenty years!” The woman gave a slight gasp.</p> + +<p>The man nodded.</p> + +<p>“And do you know the logical consequence of it all?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>“No.” Kate’s eyes were horrified.</p> + +<p>“Why, when next we come into conflict there will be shooting if these +people are pressed. They will have to shoot to save themselves. Then +there may be murder added to their list of—delinquencies. These +things follow in sequence. It is the normal progress of those who put +themselves on the side of crime.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h3>AT THE HIDDEN CORRAL</h3> + +<p>Charlie Bryant urged his horse at a dangerous pace along the narrow, +winding cattle tracks which threaded the upper reaches of the valley. +He gave no heed to anything—the lacerating thorns, the great, knotty +roots, with which the paths were studded, the overhanging boughs. His +sole object seemed to be a desperate desire to reach his destination.</p> + +<p>His horse often floundered and tripped, the man’s own clothes were +frequently ripped by the thorns, and the bleeding flesh beneath laid +bare, while it seemed a miracle that he successfully dodged the +threatening boughs overhead.</p> + +<p>There was a hunted look in his dark eyes, too. It was a look of +concern, almost of terror. His gaze was alert and roving. Now, he was +looking ahead, straining with anxiety, now he was turning this way and +that in response to the mysterious woodland sounds which greeted his +ears. Again, with a nervous jerk, he would rein in his horse and sit +listening, with eyes staring back over the way he had come, as though +fearing pursuit.</p> + +<p>Once he thrust a hand into an inside pocket as though to reassure +himself that something was there which he valued and feared to lose, +and with every movement, every look of his eyes, every turn of the +head, he displayed an unusual nervousness and apprehension.</p> + +<p>At last his horse swept into the clearing of the hidden corral, and he +reined it up with a jerk, and leaped from the saddle. Then he stood +listening, and the apprehension in his eyes deepened. But presently it +lessened, and he moved forward, and flung his reins over one of the +corral fence posts. Every woodland sound, every discordant note from +the heart of the valley was accounted for in his mind, so he hurried +toward the flat-roofed hut, that mysterious relic of a bygone age.</p> + +<p>He thrust the creaking door open and waited while the flight of birds +swarmed past him. Then he made his way within. Once inside he paused +again with that painful look of expectancy and fear in his eyes. Again +this passed, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>and he went on quickly to the far corner of the room, +and laid his hands upon the wooden lining of the wall. Then he +abruptly seemed to change his mind. He removed his hands, and withdrew +a largish, morocco pocketbook from an inner pocket.</p> + +<p>It was a rather fine case, bound in embossed silver, and ornamented +with a silver monogram. For some moments he looked at it as though in +doubt. He seemed to be definitely making up his mind, and his whole +attitude suggested his desire for its safety.</p> + +<p>While he was still gazing at it a startled look leaped into his eyes, +and his head turned as though at some suspicious sound. A moment later +he reached out and slid the wooden lining of the wall up, revealing +the cavity behind it, which still contained its odd assortment of +garments. Without hesitation he reached up to a dark jacket and thrust +the pocketbook into an inner pocket. Then, with a swift movement, he +replaced the paneling and turned about.</p> + +<p>It was the work of a moment, and as he turned about his right hand was +gripping the butt of a revolver, ready and pointing at the door.</p> + +<p>“Charlie!”</p> + +<p>The revolver was slipped back into the man’s pocket, and Charlie +Bryant’s furious face was turned toward the window opening, which now +framed the features of his great blundering brother.</p> + +<p>“You, Bill?” he cried angrily. “What in hell are you doing here?”</p> + +<p>But Bill ignored the challenge, he ignored the tone of it. His big +eyes were full of excitement.</p> + +<p>“Come out of there—quick!” he cried sharply.</p> + +<p>Charlie’s dark eyes had lost some of their anger in the inquiry now +replacing it.</p> + +<p>“Why?” But he moved toward the doorway.</p> + +<p>“Why? Because Fyles is behind me. I’ve seen him in the distance.”</p> + +<p>Charlie came around the corner of the building with the door firmly +closed behind him. Bill left the window and moved across to his horse, +which was standing beside that of his brother. Charlie followed him.</p> + +<p>Neither spoke again until the horses were reached, and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>Bill had +unhitched his reins from the corral fence. Then he turned his great +blue eyes, so full of trouble, upon the small figure beside him, and +he answered the other’s half-angry, half-curious challenge with a +question.</p> + +<p>“What’s this place?” he demanded. Then he added, “And what’s that +cupboard in there?” He jerked his head in the direction of the hut, “I +saw you close it.”</p> + +<p>Charlie seemed to have recovered from the apprehension which had +caused him to obey his brother unquestioningly. There was an angry +sparkle in his eyes as he gazed steadily into Bill’s face.</p> + +<p>“That’s none of your damn business,” he said, in a low tone of surly +truculence. “I’m not here to answer any questions till you tell me the +reason why you’ve had the impertinence to hunt me down. How did you +know where to find me?”</p> + +<p>Just for one moment a hot retort leaped to the other’s lips. But he +checked his rising temper. His journey in pursuit of his brother had +been taken after deep reflection and consultation with Helen. But the +mystery of that hut, that cupboard, did more to keep him calm than +anything else. His curiosity was aroused. Not mere idle curiosity, but +these things, this place, were a big link in the chain of evidence +that had been forged about his brother, and he felt he was on the +verge of a discovery. Then there was Fyles somewhere nearby in the +neighborhood. This last thought, and all it portended, destroyed his +feelings of resentment.</p> + +<p>“I s’pose you think I followed you for sheer curiosity. Guess I might +well enough do so, seeing we bear the same name, and that name’s +liable to stink—through you. But I didn’t, anyway. I came out here to +tell you something I heard this morning, and it’s about—last night. +Fyles says that the result of last night is that the gang, their +leader, is now wanted for an armed attack on the police, and that the +penalty is—anything up to twenty years in the penitentiary.”</p> + +<p>Charlie’s intense regard never wavered for one moment.</p> + +<p>“Who told you I was here?” he demanded angrily.</p> + +<p>“No one.”</p> + +<p>There was a sting in the sharpness of Bill’s reply. The big blue eyes +were growing hot again.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>“Then how did you know where to find me?” Charlie’s deep voice was +full of suppressed fury.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t know just where to find you,” Bill protested, with rising +heat. “The kid told me you’d gone up the valley, but didn’t say where. +I set out blindly and stumbled on your horse’s tracks. I chanced those +tracks, and they led me here. Will that satisfy you?”</p> + +<p>Charlie’s eyes were still glittering.</p> + +<p>“Not quite. I’ll ask you to get out of my ranch. And remember this, +you’ve seen me at this shack, and you’ve seen that cupboard. If you’d +been anybody but my brother I’d have shot you down in your tracks. +Fyles—anybody. That cupboard is my secret, and if anyone learns of it +through you—well, I’ll forget you’re my brother and treat you as +though you were—Fyles.”</p> + +<p>A sudden blaze of wrath flared up in the bigger man’s eyes. But, +almost as it kindled, it died out and he laughed. However, when he +spoke there was no mirth in his voice.</p> + +<p>“My God, Charlie,” he cried, holding out his big hands, “I could +almost take you in these two hands and—and wring your foolish, +obstinate, wicked neck. You stand there talking blasted melodrama like +a born actor on the one-night stands. Your fool talk don’t scare me a +little. What in the name of all that’s sacred do you think I want to +send you to the penitentiary for? Haven’t I come here to warn you? +Man, the rye whisky’s turned you crazy. I’m here to help, help, do you +understand? Just four letters, ‘help,’ a verb which means ‘support,’ +not ‘destroy.’”</p> + +<p>Charlie’s cold regard never wavered.</p> + +<p>“When will you clear out of—my ranch?”</p> + +<p>Bill started. The brothers’ eyes met in a long and desperate exchange +of regard. Then the big man brought his fist down upon the high cantle +of his saddle with startling force.</p> + +<p>“When I choose, not before,” he cried fiercely. “Do you understand? +Here, you foolish man. I know what I’m up against. I know what you’re +up against, and I tell you right here that if Fyles is going to hunt +you into the penitentiary he can hunt me, too. I’m not smart, like +you, on these crook games, but I’m determined that the man who lags +you will get it good and plenty. I sort of hate you, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>you foolish man. +I hate you and like you. You’ve got grit, and, by God, I like you for +it, and I don’t stand to see you go down for any twenty years—alone. +If Fyles gets you that way, you’re the last man he ever will get. Damn +you!”</p> + +<p>Charlie drew a deep breath. It was a sigh of pent feeling. He averted +his gaze, and it wandered over the old corral inside which the wagon +with its hay-rack was still standing, though its position was changed +slightly. His eyes rested upon it, and passed on to the hut, about +which the birds were once more gathering. They paused for some silent +moments in this direction. Then they came back to the angry, waiting +brother.</p> + +<p>“I wish you weren’t such a blunderer, Bill,” he said, and his manner +had become peevishly gentle. “Can’t you see I’ve got to play my own +game in my own way? You don’t know all that’s back of my head. You +don’t know a thing. All you know is that Fyles wants to send me down, +by way of cleaning up this valley. I want him to—if he can. But he +can’t. Not as long as the grass grows. He’s beaten—beaten before he +starts. I don’t want help. I don’t want help from anybody. Now, for +God’s sake, can’t you leave me alone?”</p> + +<p>The tension between the two was relaxed. Bill gave an exclamation of +impatience.</p> + +<p>“You want him to—send you down?”</p> + +<p>The warp of this man was too much for his common sense.</p> + +<p>“If he can.”</p> + +<p>Charlie smiled now. It was a smile of perfect confidence. Bill threw +up his hands.</p> + +<p>“Well, you’ve got me beat to a rag. I——”</p> + +<p>“The same as I have Fyles. But say——”</p> + +<p>Charlie broke off, and his smile vanished.</p> + +<p>“Maybe I’m a crook. Maybe I’m anything you, or anybody else likes to +call me. There’s one thing I’m not. I’m no bluff. You know of that +cupboard in that shack. The thought’s poison to me. If any other man +had found it, he wouldn’t be alive now to listen to me. Do you +understand me? Forget it. Forget you ever saw it. If you dream of it, +fancy it’s a nightmare and—turn over. Bill, I solemnly swear that +I’ll shoot the man dead, on sight, who gives that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>away, or dares to +look inside it. Now, we’ll get away from here.”</p> + +<p>He sprang into the saddle and waited while his brother mounted. Then +he held out his hand.</p> + +<p>“Do you get me?” he asked.</p> + +<p>Bill nodded, and took the outstretched hand in solemn compact.</p> + +<p>“What you say goes,” he said easily. “But your threat of shooting +doesn’t worry me a little bit.”</p> + +<p>He gathered up his reins and the two men rode out of the clearing.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>The last sound of speeding hoofs died away, and the clearing settled +once more to its mysterious quiet. Only the twittering of the swarming +birds on the thatched roof of the hut disturbed the silence, but, +somehow, even their chattering voices seemed really to intensify it.</p> + +<p>Thus a few minutes passed.</p> + +<p>Then a breaking of bush and rustling of leaves gave warning of a fresh +approach. A man’s head and shoulders were thrust forward, out from +amid the boughs of a wild cherry bush.</p> + +<p>His dark face peered cautiously around, and his keen eyes took in a +comprehensive survey of both corral and hut. A moment later he stood +clear of the bush altogether.</p> + +<p>Stanley Fyles swiftly crossed the intervening space and entered the +corral. He strode up to the wagon and examined it closely, studying +its position and the wheel tracks, with a minuteness that left him in +possession of every available fact. Having satisfied himself in this +direction, he passed out of the corral and went over to the hut.</p> + +<p>The screaming birds promptly protested, and flew once more from their +nesting quarters in panicky dudgeon. Fyles watched them go with +thoughtful eyes. Then he passed around to the door of the building and +thrust it open. Another rush of birds swept past him, and he passed +within. Again his searching eyes were brought into play. Not a detail +of that interior escaped him. But ten minutes later he left the +half-lit room for the broad light of day outside—disappointed.</p> + +<p>For a long time he moved around the building, examining <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>the walls, +their bases and foundations. His disappointment remained, however, +and, finally, with strong discontent in his expression, and an +unmistakable shrug of his shoulders, he moved away.</p> + +<p>Finally, he paused and gave a long, low whistle. He repeated it at +intervals, three times, and, after awhile, for answer, the wise face +of Peter appeared from among the bushes. The creature solemnly +contemplated the scene. It was almost as if he were assuring himself +of the safety of revealing himself. Then, with measured gait, he made +his way slowly toward his master.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<h3>A WAGER</h3> + +<p>The wild outbreak of excitement in Rocky Springs died out swiftly. +After all, whisky-running was a mere traffic. It was a general traffic +throughout the country. The successful “running” of a cargo of alcohol +was by no means an epoch-making event. But just now, in Rocky Springs, +it was a matter of more than usual interest, in that the police had +expressed their intention of “cleaning” the little township up. So the +excitement at their outwitting. So, more than ever, the excited +rejoicing became a cordial expression of delight at the fooling of the +purpose of a generally hated act.</p> + +<p>This sentiment was expressed by O’Brien before his bar full of men, +among whom were many of those responsible for the defeat of the +police. He addressed himself personally to Stormy Longton with the +certainty of absolute sympathy.</p> + +<p>“Guess when the boys here have done with the p’lice they’ll have the +prohibition law wiped out of the statute book, Stormy,” he said, with +a knowing wink. “Ther’s fellers o’ grit around this valley, eh? Good +boys and gritty. Guess it ain’t fer us to open our mouths wide, ’cep’ +to swallow prohibition liquor, but there’ll be some tales to tell of +these days later, eh, Stormy? An’,” he added slyly, “guess you’ll be +able to tell some of ’em.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>The badman displayed no enthusiasm at the personality. He considered +carefully before replying. When he did reply, however, he set the +saloonkeeper re-sorting some of his convictions, mixing them with a +doubt which had never occurred to him before.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Stormy, with a contemptuous shrug, “and I guess you, with +the rest, will do some of the listenin’. You’re all wise guys +hereabouts—mostly as wise as the p’lice. Best hand the company a +round of drinks. I’ve got money to burn.”</p> + +<p>He laughed, but no amount of questioning could elicit anything more of +interest to the curious minds about him.</p> + +<p>It was on the second day after the whisky-running that Kate Seton was +returning home after an arduous morning in the village. She was +feeling unusually depressed, and her handsome face was pathetically +lacking in the high spirits and delight of living usual to it. It was +not her way to indulge in the self-pitying joys of depression. On the +contrary, her buoyancy, her spirit, were such as to attract the weaker +at all times to lean on her for support.</p> + +<p>She was tired, too, physically tired. The day had been one of +sweltering heat, one of those sultry, oppressive days, which are +fortunately few enough in the brilliant Canadian summer.</p> + +<p>As she reached the wooden bridge across the river she paused and +leaned herself against the handrail, and, propping her elbow upon it, +leaned her chin upon the palm of her hand and abandoned herself to a +long train of troubled thought. It may have been chance; it may have +been that her thought inspired the direction of her gaze. It may have +been that her attitude had nothing whatsoever to do with her thought. +Certain it is, however, that her brooding eyes were turned, as they +were so often turned, upon that little ranch house perched so high up +on the valley slope.</p> + +<p>She remained thus for a while, her eyes almost unseeing in their +far-away gaze, but, later, without shifting her attitude, they glanced +off to the right in the direction of the old pine, rearing its +vagabond head high above the surrounding wealth of by no means +insignificant foliage.</p> + +<p>It was a splendid sight, and, to her imagination, it looked the +personification of the rascality of the village she had so <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>come to +love. Look at it. Its trunk, naked as the supports of a scarecrow, +suggesting mighty strength, indolence and poverty. There, above, its +ragged garments—unwholesome, dirty, like the garments of some +tramping, villainous, degraded loafer. And yet, with it all, the old +tree looked so mighty, so wise.</p> + +<p>To her it seemed like some ages-old creature looking down from its +immense height, and out of its experience of centuries, upon a world +of struggling beings, with the pitying contempt of a wisdom beyond the +understanding of man. It seemed to her the embodiment of evil, yet +withal of wisdom, too. And somehow she loved it. Its evil meant +nothing to her, nothing more than the evil of the life amid which she +lived. It was no mere passing sentiment with her. Her nature was too +strong for the softer, womanish sentiments, stirred in a moment and as +easily set aside. For her to yield her affections to any creature or +object, was to yield herself to a bondage more certain than any life +of slavery. To think of this valley without——</p> + +<p>Her thoughts were abruptly cut short as the sound of a cry reached her +from the direction of her house.</p> + +<p>She turned, and, for a moment, stared hard and alertly in the +direction whence it came. Her ears were straining, too. In a moment +she became aware of a faint confusion of sounds which she had no power +of interpreting. But somehow they conveyed an ominous suggestion to +her keen mind.</p> + +<p>She bestirred herself. She set off at a run for her home. The distance +was less than a hundred yards, and she covered it quickly. As she came +nearer the sounds grew, and became even more ominous. They proceeded +from somewhere in the direction of the barn behind the house.</p> + +<p>She darted into the house, and, after one comprehensive glance around +the sitting room, where she found the rocker upset, and a china +ornament fallen from its place on the table, and smashed in fragments +upon the floor, as though someone had knocked it down in a hasty +departure, she snatched a revolver from its holster upon the wall, and +rushed out of the house through the back door.</p> + +<p>She was not mistaken. Her hearing had accurately conveyed to her the +meaning of those sounds.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless she was wholly unprepared for the sight <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>which actually +greeted her as she turned the angle of the barn where the building +faced away from the house.</p> + +<p>She stood stock still, her big eyes wide with wonder and swift rising +anger. Twisting, struggling, writhing, cursing, two men lay upon the +ground held in a fierce embrace, much in the manner of two wildcats. +Beyond them, huddled upon the ground, her face covered with her hands, +a picture of abject terror, crouched her younger sister, Helen.</p> + +<p>All this she beheld at the first glance. Then, keeping clear of the +fighters she darted around to the terrified girl. With a cry Helen +scrambled to her feet and clung to her sister’s arm, and began to pour +out a stream of hysterical thankfulness.</p> + +<p>“Oh, stop them,” she cried. “Oh, thank God, thank God! Stop them, or +they’ll kill each other. Pete will kill him. He——”</p> + +<p>But Kate had no time for such feminine weakness. She dragged the girl +away out of sight, and left her while she returned to the affray.</p> + +<p>Once in full view of it she made no effort to stop it. She stood +looking on with the critical eye of an interested spectator, but her +hand was grasping her revolver, nor was her forefinger far from the +trigger of it.</p> + +<p>The men rolled this way and that, while deep-throated curses came up +from their midst with a breathless, muttered force. But through the +tangle of sprawling bodies and waving limbs Kate’s quick eyes +discovered all she required to satisfy herself. She saw no real life +and death struggle here. Maybe, had the circumstances been changed, it +would have been so, but one of the combatants was far too experienced +a rough and tumble fighter for those circumstances to mature.</p> + +<p>The man on top at the moment had the other in a vice-like grip by the +right wrist, keeping the heavy revolver, which the underman had in his +hand, from becoming a serious danger. With the other hand he was +dealing his adversary careful, well-timed smashes upon his bruised and +battered face, with the object of warding off a fierce attack of +strong, yellow teeth.</p> + +<p>The man on top had his adversary’s measure to a fraction. He was +dealing with him almost as he chose, and the onlooker knew that it +could only be moments before the other <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span>finally “squealed,” and +dropped the murderous weapon from his hand.</p> + +<p>Down came the fist, a great, white fist, with a soggy sound upon the +man’s pulpy features, its force increased a hundred per cent. by the +resistance of the hard ground on which his adversary lay. A fierce +curse was the response, and a wild upward slash at the big face above. +Then the big fist went up again.</p> + +<p>“Drop it, you son-of-a-moose,” Kate heard, in Big Brother Bill’s +fiercest tones. “Drop it, or I’ll kill you!”</p> + +<p>Down came his fist with a fearful smash on the other’s gaping mouth.</p> + +<p>A splutter of oaths was his reply, and an even greater effort to throw +the white man off.</p> + +<p>But the effort was unavailing. Then Kate saw something happen. The big +white man changed his tactics. He desisted quite suddenly from +belaboring his victim. He made no attempt to defend himself. He +reached out his disengaged hand and added a second grip upon the man’s +revolver arm. Then, with a terrific jolt, he flung himself backwards, +so that he was left in a kneeling position upon the other’s middle. +Then, in a second, with an agility absolutely staggering, he was on +his feet. The next moment the other was jerked to his feet with his +revolver arm twisted behind his back and nearly dislocated.</p> + +<p>With a frantic yell of agony the half-breed’s hand relaxed its grip +upon his revolver, and the weapon fell to the ground. The fight was +over. With a mighty throw Pete Clancy was hurled headlong, and fell +sprawling upon the ground at the foot of the barn wall, and his impact +was like the result of a shot from a catapult.</p> + +<p>“Lie there, you dirty dog!” cried Big Brother Bill, in a fury of +breathless indignation. “That’ll maybe learn you a lesson not to get +drinking rot gut, and, if you do, not to insult a white girl. You +damnation nigger, for two beans I’d kick the life out of you where you +lay.”</p> + +<p>The man was scrambling to his feet, glaring an eternity of hatred at +his white victor.</p> + +<p>“Did he insult—Helen?”</p> + +<p>Bill swung around with almost ludicrous abruptness. He had been +utterly unaware of Kate’s presence.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>He stared. Then, with a rush of passionate anger——</p> + +<p>“Yes; but by God, he’ll think some before he does it again.”</p> + +<p>Kate’s eyes were coldly commanding.</p> + +<p>“Go around to Helen, and—take that gun,” she said authoritatively. +“Leave Pete to me.”</p> + +<p>“Leave him——?” Bill’s protest remained uncompleted.</p> + +<p>“Do as I tell you—please.”</p> + +<p>“But he’ll——”</p> + +<p>Again Kate cut him short.</p> + +<p>“Please!” She pointed in the direction of the house.</p> + +<p>Bill was left with no alternative but to obey. He moved away, but his +movements were grudging, and he looked back as he went, ready to hurl +himself to Kate’s succor at the slightest sign.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later Kate entered the sitting room. Her handsome face was +pale, and her eyes were shining. The spirit of the woman was stirred. +There was no fear in her—only a sort of hard resentment that left her +expression one of cold determination.</p> + +<p>Helen ran to her at once. But, for perhaps the first time in her life, +she encountered something in the nature of a rebuff. Kate looked +straight into her sister’s eyes as she flung herself into a chair, and +laid her loaded revolver upon the table.</p> + +<p>“Tell me about it. Just the plain facts,” she said, and waited.</p> + +<p>Bill started up from his place in the rocker, but Kate signed him to +be silent.</p> + +<p>“Helen can tell me,” she said coldly.</p> + +<p>Helen, leaning against the table, glanced across at Bill. Her sister’s +attitude troubled her. She felt the resentment underlying it. She was +at a loss to understand it. After a moment’s hesitation she began to +explain. Nor could she quite keep the sharp edge of feeling out of her +tone.</p> + +<p>“It was my fault,” she began. “At least, I s’pose it was. I s’pose I +was doing a fool thing interfering, but I didn’t just think you’d +mind, seeing you’d ordered him to do work he hadn’t done. You see, he +hadn’t touched those potatoes you’d told him to dig. He’s been +drinking instead.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>Suddenly her sense of humor got the better of her resentful feelings, +and she began to laugh.</p> + +<p>“Well, I had to go and be severe with him. I tried to bully him, and +stamped my foot at him, and—and called him a drunken brute. I took a +chance. Being drunk, he might have proposed to me. Well, he didn’t +this time. It was far worse. He told me to go—to hell, first of all. +But, as I didn’t show signs of obeying him, he got sort of funny and +tried to kiss me.”</p> + +<p>“The swine!” muttered Bill, but was silenced by a look from Helen’s +humorous eyes.</p> + +<p>“That’s what I thought—first,” she said. Then, her eyes widening: +“But he meant doing it, and I got scared to death. Oh, dear, I was +frightened. Being a coward, I shouted for help. And Bill responded +like—like a great angry steer. Then I got worse scared, for, directly +Pete saw Bill coming, he pulled a gun, and there surely was murder in +his eye.”</p> + +<p>She breathed a deep sigh, and her eyes had changed their expression to +one of delight and pride.</p> + +<p>“But he hadn’t a dog’s chance of putting Bill’s lights out. He hadn’t, +true. Say, Kate, Bill was just like—like a whirlwind. Same as Charlie +said. He was so quick I hardly know how it happened. Bill dropped Pete +like a—a sack of wheat. He—he was on him like a tiger. Then I was +just worse scared than ever, and—and began to cry.”</p> + +<p>The girl’s mouth drooped, but her eyes were laughing. Then, as Kate +still remained quiet, she inquired:</p> + +<p>“Wasn’t I a fool?”</p> + +<p>Kate suddenly looked up from the brown study into which she had +fallen. Her big eyes looked straight across at Bill, and she ignored +Helen’s final remark.</p> + +<p>“Thanks, Bill,” she said quietly. And her last suggestion of +displeasure seemed to pass with her expression of gratitude. “I’m glad +you were here, and”—she smiled—“you can fight. You nearly killed +him.” Then, after a pause: “It’s been a lesson to me. I—shan’t forget +it.”</p> + +<p>“What have you—done to him?” cried Helen suddenly.</p> + +<p>But Kate shook her head.</p> + +<p>“Let’s talk of something else. There’s things far more important +than—him. Anyway, he won’t do <i>that</i> again.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>She rose from her seat and moved to the window, where she stood +looking out. But she had no interest in what she beheld. She was +thinking moodily of other things.</p> + +<p>Bill stirred in his chair. He was glad enough to put the episode +behind him.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said, taking up Kate’s remark at once. “There certainly are +troubles enough to go around.” He was thinking of his scene of the +previous day with his brother. “But—but what’s gone wrong with you, +Kate? What are the more important things?”</p> + +<p>“You haven’t fallen out with Mrs. Day?” Helen put in quickly.</p> + +<p>Kate shook her head.</p> + +<p>“No one falls out with Mrs. Day,” she said quietly. “Mrs. Day does the +falling out. It isn’t only Mrs. Day, it’s—it’s everybody. I think the +whole village is—is mad.” She turned back from the window and +returned to her seat. But she did not sit down. She stood resting her +folded arms on its back and leaned upon it. “They’re all mad. +Everybody. I’m mad.” She glanced from one to the other, smiling in the +sanest fashion, but behind her smile was obvious anxiety and trouble. +“They’ve practically decided to cut down the old pine.”</p> + +<p>Bill sat up. He laughed at the tone of her announcement.</p> + +<p>But Helen gasped.</p> + +<p>“The old pine?” She had caught some of her sister’s alarm.</p> + +<p>Kate nodded.</p> + +<p>“You can laugh, Bill,” she cried. “That’s what they’re all doing. +They’re laughing at—the old superstition. But—it’s not a laughing +matter to folks who think right along the lines of the essence of our +human natures, which is superstition. The worst of it is I’ve brought +it about. I told the meeting about a stupid argument about the +building of the church which Billy and Dy had. Billy wants the tree +for a ridge pole, because the church is disproportionately long. Well, +I told the folks because I thought they wouldn’t hear of the tree +being cut. But Mrs. Day rounded on me, and the meeting followed her +like a flock of sheep. Still, I wasn’t done by that. I’ve been +canvassing the village since, and, would you believe it, they all say +it’s a good job to cut the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>tree down. Maybe it’ll rid the place of +its evil influence, and so rid us of the attentions of the police. I +tell you, Billy and Dy are perfect fools, and the folks are all mad. +And I’m the greatest idiot ever escaped a home for imbeciles. There! +That’s how I feel. It’s—it’s scandalous.”</p> + +<p>Bill laughed good-naturedly.</p> + +<p>“Say, cheer up, Kate,” he cried. “You surely don’t need to worry any. +It can’t hurt you. Besides——.” He broke off abruptly, and, sitting +up, looked out of the window. “Say, here comes Fyles.” He almost +leaped out of his seat.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” demanded Kate sharply. Then she looked around at +her sister, who had moved away from the table.</p> + +<p>Bill laughed again in his inconsequent fashion.</p> + +<p>“Matter?” he cried. “Nothin’s the matter, only—only——. Say, did you +ever have folks get on your nerves?”</p> + +<p>“Plenty in Rocky Springs,” said Kate bitterly.</p> + +<p>Bill nodded.</p> + +<p>“That’s it. Say, I’ve just remembered I’ve got an appointment that was +never made with somebody who don’t exist. I’m going to keep it.”</p> + +<p>Helen laughed, and clapped her hands.</p> + +<p>“Say, that’s really funny. And I’ve just remembered something I’d +never forgotten, that’s too late to do anyway. Come on, Bill, let’s go +and see about these things, and,” she added slyly, “leave Kate to +settle Fyles—by herself.”</p> + +<p>“Helen!”</p> + +<p>But Kate’s remonstrance fell upon empty air. The lovers had fled +through the open doorway, and out the back way. Nor had she time to +call them back, for, at that moment, Fyles’s horse drew up at the +front door, and she heard the officer leap out of the saddle.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>“Have you made your peace with—headquarters?”</p> + +<p>Kate and Stanley Fyles were standing out in the warm shade of the +house. The woman’s hand was gently caressing the velvety muzzle of +Peter’s long, fiddle face. It was a different woman talking to the +police officer from the bitter, discontented creature of a few minutes +ago. For the time, at least, all regrets, all thoughts of an +unpleasant nature <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>seemed to have been lost in the delight of a woman +wholesomely in love.</p> + +<p>As she put her question her big eyes looked up into the man’s keen +face with just the faintest suspicion of raillery in their glowing +depths. But her rich tones were full of a genuine eagerness that +belied the look.</p> + +<p>The man was good to look upon. The strength of his face appealed to +her, as did the big, loose shoulders and limbs, as strength must +always appeal to a real woman. Her love inspired a subtle tenderness, +even anxiety.</p> + +<p>“I hope so, but—I don’t know yet.”</p> + +<p>Fyles made no attempt to conceal his doubts. Somehow the official side +of the man was becoming less and less sustained before this woman, who +had come to occupy such a big portion of his life.</p> + +<p>“You mean you’ve sent in your report, and are now awaiting +the—verdict?”</p> + +<p>Fyles nodded.</p> + +<p>“Like so many of the criminals I have brought before the courts,” he +said, bitterly.</p> + +<p>“And the chances?”</p> + +<p>“About equal to those of a convicted felon.”</p> + +<p>The smile died out of Kate’s eyes. They were full of regretful +sympathy.</p> + +<p>“It’s pretty tough,” she said, turning from him. “It isn’t as if you +had made a mistake, or neglected your duty.”</p> + +<p>“No, I was beaten.”</p> + +<p>The man turned away coldly. But his coldness was not for her.</p> + +<p>“Is there no hope?” Kate asked presently, in a low tone.</p> + +<p>Fyles shrugged.</p> + +<p>“There might be if I had something definite to promise for the future. +I mean a chance of—redeeming myself.”</p> + +<p>Kate made no answer. The whole thing to her mind seemed impossible if +it depended upon that. The thought of this strong man being broken +through the police system, for no particular fault of his own, seemed +very hard. Harder now than ever. She strove desperately to find a +gleam of light in the darkness of his future. She would have given +worlds to discover some light, and show him the way. But one thing +seemed impossible, and he—well, he only made it harder. His <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>very +decision and obstinacy, she considered, were his chief undoing.</p> + +<p>“If you could reasonably hold out a prospect to them,” she said, her +dark eyes full of thought—strong and earnest thought. “Can’t you?”</p> + +<p>She watched him closely. She saw him suddenly straighten himself up, +throwing back his powerful shoulders as though to rid himself of the +burden which had been oppressing him so long.</p> + +<p>He drew a step nearer. Kate’s heart beat fast. Then her eyes drooped +before the passion shining in his.</p> + +<p>“Maybe you don’t realize why I am here, Kate,” he said, in a low +thrilling voice, while a warm smile grew in his eyes. “You see, weeks +ago I made a mistake, a bad mistake—just such as I have made here. +The liquor was run under my nose, while I—well, I just stood around +looking on like some fool babe. That liquor was—for this place. After +that I asked the chief to give me a free hand, and to allow me to come +right along, and round this place up. My object was twofold. I knew I +had to make good, and—I knew you were here. Guess you don’t remember +our first meeting? I do. It was up on the hillside, near the old pine. +I’ve always wanted to get back here—ever since then. Well, I’ve had +my wish. I’m here, sure. But I’ve not made good. The folks, here, have +beaten me, and you—why, I’ve just contrived to make you my sworn +adversary. Failure, eh? Failure in my work, and in my—love.”</p> + +<p>For an instant the woman’s eyes were raised to his face. She was +trembling as no physical fear could have made her tremble. Peter +nuzzled the palm of her hand with his velvety nose, and she quickly +lowered her gaze, and appeared to watch his efforts.</p> + +<p>After a moment’s pause the man went on in a voice full of a great +passionate love. All the official side of him had gone utterly. He +stood before the woman he loved baring his soul. For the moment he had +put his other failures behind him. He wanted only her.</p> + +<p>“I came here because I loved you, Kate. I came here dreaming all those +dreams which we smile at in others. I dreamed of a life at your side, +with you ever before me to spur me on to the greater heights which I +have thought <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>about, dreamed about. And all my work, all my striving, +was to be for you. I saw visions of the days, when, together, we might +fill high office in our country’s affairs, with an ambition ever +growing, as, together, we mounted the ladder of success. Vain enough +thought, eh? Guess it was not long before I brought the roof of my +castle crashing about my ears. I have failed in my work a second time, +and only succeeded in making you my enemy.”</p> + +<p>Kate’s eyes were shining. A great light of happiness was in them. But +she kept them turned from him.</p> + +<p>“Not enemy—only adversary,” she said, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>The man shook his head.</p> + +<p>“It is such a small distinction,” he said bitterly. “Antagonists. How +can I ever hope that you can care for me? Kate, Kate,” he burst out +passionately, “if you would marry me, none of the rest would matter. I +love you so, dear. If you would marry me I should not care what the +answer from headquarters might be. Why should I? I should then have +all I cared for in the world, and the world itself would still be +before us. I have money saved. All we should need to start us. My God, +the very thought of it fills me with the lust of conquest. There would +be nothing too great to aspire to. Kate, Kate!” He held his arms out +toward her in supplication.</p> + +<p>The woman shook her head, but offered no verbal refusal. The man’s +arms dropped once more to his sides, and, for a moment, the silence +was only broken by the champing of Peter’s bit. Then once more the +man’s eyes lit.</p> + +<p>“Tell me,” he cried, almost fiercely. “Tell me, had we not come into +conflict over this man, Bryant, would—would it—could it have been +different?” Then his voice grew soft and persuasive. “I know you don’t +dislike me, Kate.” He smiled. “I know it, and you must forgive +my—vanity. I have watched, and studied you, and—convinced myself. I +felt I had the right to hope. The right of every decently honest man. +Our one disagreement has been this man, Bryant. I had thought maybe +you loved him, but that you have denied. You do not? There is no one +else?”</p> + +<p>Again Kate silently shook her head. The man was pressing her hard. All +her woman’s soul was crying out for her to fling every consideration +to the winds, and yield to the impulse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> of the love stirring within +her. But something held her back, something so strong as to be quite +irresistible.</p> + +<p>The man went on. He was fighting that last forlorn hope amid what, to +him, seemed to be a sea of disaster.</p> + +<p>“No. You have told me that before,” he said, almost to himself. “Then +why,” he went on, his voice rising with the intensity of his feelings. +“Why—why——? But no, it’s absurd. You tell me you don’t—you can’t +love me.”</p> + +<p>For one brief instant Kate’s eyes were shyly raised to his. They +dropped again at once to the brown head of the horse beside her.</p> + +<p>“I have told you nothing—yet,” she said, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>The man snatched a brief hope.</p> + +<p>“You mean——?”</p> + +<p>Kate looked up again, fearlessly now.</p> + +<p>“I mean just what I say.”</p> + +<p>“You have told me nothing—yet,” the man repeated. “Then you have +something—to tell me?”</p> + +<p>Kate nodded and pushed Peter’s head aside almost roughly.</p> + +<p>“The man I can care for, the man I marry must have no thought of hurt +for Charlie Bryant in his mind.”</p> + +<p>“Then you——”</p> + +<p>Kate made a movement of impatience.</p> + +<p>“Again, I mean just what I say—no more, no less.”</p> + +<p>But it was Fyles’s turn to become impatient.</p> + +<p>“Bryant—Charlie Bryant? It is always Charlie Bryant—before all +things!”</p> + +<p>Kate’s eyes looked steadily into his.</p> + +<p>“Yes—before even myself.”</p> + +<p>The man returned her look.</p> + +<p>“Yet you do not love him as—I would have you love me?”</p> + +<p>“Yet I do not love him, as you would have me love you.”</p> + +<p>The man thrust out his arms.</p> + +<p>“Then, for God’s sake, tell me some more.”</p> + +<p>The insistent Peter claimed Kate once more. His long face was once +more thrust against her arm, and his soft lips began to nibble at the +wrist frill of her sleeve. She turned to him with a laugh, and placed +an arm about his crested neck.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Peter, Peter,” she said smiling, and gently caressing the +friendly creature. “He wants me to tell him some more. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>Shall I? Shall +I tell him something of the many things I manage to learn in this +valley? Shall I try and explain that I contrive to get hold of secrets +that the police, with all their cleverness, can never hope to get hold +of? Shall I tell him, that, if only he will put Charlie out of his +mind, and leave him alone, and not try to fix this—this crime on him, +I can put him on the track of the real criminal? Shall I point out to +him the absurdity of fixing on this one man when there are such men as +O’Brien, and Stormy Longton, and my two boys, and Holy Dick, and Kid +Blaney in the place? Shall I? Shall I tell him of the things I’ve +found out? Yes, Peter, I will, if he’ll promise me to put Charlie out +of his mind. But not unless. Eh? Not unless.”</p> + +<p>The man shook his head.</p> + +<p>“You make the condition impossible,” he cried. “You have faith in that +man. Good. I have overwhelming evidence that he is the man we are +after. Until he is caught the whisky-running in this place will never +cease.”</p> + +<p>Kate refused to display impatience. She went on talking to the horse.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t he obstinate? Isn’t he? And here am I offering to show him how +he can get the real criminals.”</p> + +<p>Fyles suddenly broke into a laugh. It was not a joyous laugh. It was +cynical, almost bitter.</p> + +<p>“You are seeking to defend Bryant, and yet you can, and will, put me +on the track of the whisky-runners. It’s farcical. You would be +closing the door of the penitentiary upon your—friend.”</p> + +<p>Kate’s eyes flashed.</p> + +<p>“Should I? I don’t think so. The others I don’t care that for.” She +flicked her fingers. “They must look to themselves. I promise you I +shall not be risking Charlie’s liberty.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll wager if you show me how I can get these people, and I +succeed—you will.”</p> + +<p>The angry sparkle in the woman’s eyes died out, to be replaced with a +sudden light of inspiration.</p> + +<p>“You’ll wager?” she cried, with an excited laugh. “You will?”</p> + +<p>The policeman nodded.</p> + +<p>“Yes—anything you like.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>Kate’s laugh died out, and she stood considering.</p> + +<p>“But you said my conditions were—impossible. You will leave Charlie +alone until you capture him running the whisky? You will call your +men off his track—until you catch him red-handed? You will accept +that condition, if I show you how you can—make good with +your—headquarters?”</p> + +<p>The man suddenly found himself caught in the spirit of Kate’s mood.</p> + +<p>“But the conditions must not be all with you,” he cried, with a short +laugh. “You are too generous to make it that way. If I accept your +conditions, against my better judgment, will you allow me to make +one?”</p> + +<p>“But I am conferring the benefit,” Kate protested.</p> + +<p>“All of it? What about your desire to protect Bryant?”</p> + +<p>Kate nodded.</p> + +<p>“What is your condition?”</p> + +<p>Fyles drew a deep breath.</p> + +<p>“Will you marry me after I have caught the leader of the gang, if he +be this man, Bryant? That must be your payment—for being wrong.”</p> + +<p>In a moment all Kate’s lightness vanished. She stared at him for some +wide-eyed moments. Then, again, all in a moment, she began to laugh.</p> + +<p>“Done!” she cried. “I accept, and you accept! It’s a wager!”</p> + +<p>But her ready acceptance of his offer for the first time made the +police officer doubt his own convictions as to the identity of the +head of the gang.</p> + +<p>“You are accepting my condition because you believe Bryant is not the +man, and so you hope to escape marrying me,” he said almost roughly.</p> + +<p>“I accept your condition,” cried Kate staunchly.</p> + +<p>Slowly a deep flush mounted to the man’s cheeks and spread over his +brow. His eyes lit, and his strong mouth set firmly.</p> + +<p>“But you will marry me,” he cried, with sudden force. “Whatever lies +behind your condition, Kate, you’ll marry me, as a result of this. The +conditions are agreed. I take your wager. I shall get the man Bryant, +and he’ll get no mercy from me. He’s stood in my way long enough. I’m +going to win out, Kate,” he cried; “I know it, I feel it. Because I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>want you. I’d go through hell itself to do that. Quick. Tell me. Show +me how I can get these people, and I promise you they shan’t escape me +this time.”</p> + +<p>But Kate displayed no haste. Now that the wager was made she seemed +less delighted. After a moment’s thought, however, she gave him the +information he required.</p> + +<p>“I’ve learned definitely that on Monday next, that’s nearly a week +to-day, there’s a cargo coming in along the river trail, from the +east. The gang will set out to meet it at midnight, and will bring it +into the village about two o’clock in the morning. How, I can’t say.”</p> + +<p>Fyles’s desperate eyes seemed literally to bore their way through her.</p> + +<p>“That’s—the truth?”</p> + +<p>“True as—death.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + +<h3>BILL’S FRESH BLUNDERING</h3> + +<p>The change in the man that rode away from Kate Seton’s home as +compared with the man who had arrived there less than an hour earlier +was so remarkable as to be almost absurd in a man of Stanley Fyles’s +reputation for stern discipline and uncompromising methods. There was +an almost boyish light of excited anticipation and hope in the usually +cold eyes that looked out down the valley as he rode away. There was +no doubt, no question. His look suggested the confidence of the +victor. And so Charlie Bryant read it as he passed him on the trail.</p> + +<p>Charlie was in a discontented mood. He had seen Fyles approach Kate’s +home from his eyrie on the valley slope, and that hopeless impulse +belonging to a weakly nature, that self-pitying desire to further +lacerate his own feelings, had sent him seeking to intercept the man +whom he felt in his inmost heart was his successful rival for all that +which he most desired on earth.</p> + +<p>So he walked past Fyles, who was on the back of his faithful Peter, +and hungrily read the expression of his face, that he might further +assure himself of the truth of his convictions.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>The men passed each other without the exchange of a word. Fyles eyed +the slight figure with contempt and dislike. Nor could he help such +feelings for one whom he knew possessed so much of Kate’s warmest +sympathy and liking. Besides, was he not a man whose doings placed him +against the law, in the administration of which it was his duty to +share?</p> + +<p>Charlie’s eyes were full of an undisguised hatred. His interpretation +of the officer’s expression left him no room for doubting. Delight, +victory, were hall-marked all over it. And victory for Fyles could +only mean defeat for him.</p> + +<p>He passed on. His way took him along the main village trail, and, +presently, he encountered two people whom he would willingly have +avoided. Helen and his brother were returning toward the house across +the river.</p> + +<p>Helen’s quick eyes saw him at once, and she pointed him out to the big +man at her side.</p> + +<p>“It’s Charlie,” she cried, “let’s hurry, or he’ll give us the slip. I +must tell him.”</p> + +<p>“Tell him what?”</p> + +<p>But Helen deigned no answer. She hurried on, and called to the +dejected figure, which, to her imagination, seemed to shuffle rather +than walk along the trail.</p> + +<p>Charlie Bryant had no alternative. He came up. He felt a desperate +desire to curse their evident happiness in each other’s society. Why +should these two know nothing but the joys of life, while he—he was +forbidden even a shadow of the happiness for which he yearned?</p> + +<p>But Helen gave him little enough chance to further castigate himself +with self-pity. She was full of her desire to impart her news, and her +desire promptly set her tongue rattling out her story.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Charlie,” she cried, “I’ve had such a shock. Say, did you ever +have a cyclone strike you when—when there wasn’t a cyclone within a +hundred miles of you?” Then she laughed. “That surely don’t sound +right, does it? It’s—it’s kind of mixed metaphor. Anyway, you know +what I mean. I had that to-day. Bill’s nearly killed one of our +boys—Pete Clancy. Say, I once saw a dog fight. It was a terrier, and +one of those heavy, slow British bulldogs. Well, I guess when he +starts the bully is greased lightning. Bill’s that bully. That’s all. +Pete tried to kiss me. He was drunk. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>They’re always drunk when they +get gay like that. Bill guessed he wasn’t going to succeed, and now I +sort of fancy he’s sitting back there by our barn trying to sort out +his face. My, Bill nearly killed him!”</p> + +<p>But the girl’s dancing-eyed enjoyment found no reflection in Bill’s +brother. In a moment Charlie’s whole manner underwent a change, and +his dark eyes stared incredulously up into Bill’s face, which, surely +enough, still bore the marks of his encounter.</p> + +<p>“You—thrashed Pete?” he inquired slowly, in the manner of a man +painfully digesting unpleasant facts.</p> + +<p>But Bill was in no mood to accept any sort of chiding on the point.</p> + +<p>“I wish I’d—killed him,” he retorted fiercely.</p> + +<p>Charlie’s eyes turned slowly from the contemplation of his brother’s +war-scarred features.</p> + +<p>“I guess he deserved it—all right,” he said thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>Helen protested indignantly.</p> + +<p>“Deserved it? My word, he deserved—anything,” she cried. Then her +indignation merged again into her usual laughter. “Say,” she went on. +“I—I don’t believe you’re a bit glad, a bit thankful to Bill. I—I +don’t believe you mind that—that I was insulted. Oh, but if you’d +only seen it you’d have been proud of Big Brother Bill. He—he was +just greased lightning. I don’t think I’d be scared of anything with +him around.”</p> + +<p>But her praise was too much for the modest Bill. He flushed as he +clumsily endeavored to change the subject.</p> + +<p>“Where are you going, Charlie?” he inquired. “We’re going on over the +river. Kate’s there. You coming?”</p> + +<p>Just for a moment a look of hesitation crept into his brother’s eyes. +He glanced across the river as though he were yearning to accept the +invitation. But, a moment later, his eyes came back to his brother +with a look of almost cold decision.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid I can’t,” he said. Then he added, “I’ve got something to +see to—in the village.”</p> + +<p>Bill made no attempt to question him further, and Helen had no desire +to. She felt that she had somehow blundered, and her busy mind was +speculating as to how.</p> + +<p>They parted. And as Charlie moved on he called back to Bill.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>“I’ll be back soon. Will you be home?”</p> + +<p>“I can be. In an hour?”</p> + +<p>Charlie nodded and went on.</p> + +<p>The moment they were out of earshot Helen turned to her lover.</p> + +<p>“Say, Bill,” she exclaimed. “What have I done wrong?”</p> + +<p>The laughter had gone out of her eyes and left them full of anxiety.</p> + +<p>Bill shrugged gloomily.</p> + +<p>“Nothing,” he said. “It’s me—again.” Then he added, still more +gloomily, “Pete’s one of the whisky gang, and—I’m Charlie’s brother. +Say,” he finished up with a ponderous sigh. “I’ve mussed +things—surely.”</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>“I’m sorry for that scrap, Bill.”</p> + +<p>Charlie Bryant was leaning against a veranda post with his hands in +his pockets, and his gaze, as usual, fixed on the far side of the +valley. Bill completely filled a chair, where he basked in the evening +sunlight.</p> + +<p>“So am I—now, Charlie.”</p> + +<p>The big man’s agreement brought the other’s eyes to his battered face.</p> + +<p>“Why?” he demanded quickly.</p> + +<p>Bill looked up into the dark eyes above him, and his own were full of +concern.</p> + +<p>“Why? Is there need to ask that?”</p> + +<p>A shadowy smile spread slowly over the other’s face.</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t guess <i>you</i> need to ask why.”</p> + +<p>There was just the slightest emphasis on the pronoun.</p> + +<p>“You’ve remembered he’s one of the gang—my gang. You sort of feel +there’s danger ahead—in consequence. Yes, there is danger. That’s why +I’m sorry. But—somehow I wouldn’t have had you act different—even +though there’s danger. I’m glad it was you, and not me, though. You +could hammer him with your two big fists. I couldn’t. I should have +shot him—dead.”</p> + +<p>Bill stared incredulously at the other’s boyish face. His brother’s +tone had carried such cold conviction.</p> + +<p>“Charlie,” he cried, “you get me beat every time. I wouldn’t have +guessed you felt that way.”</p> + +<p>The other smiled bitterly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>“No,” he said. Then he shifted his position. “I’m afraid there’s going +to be trouble. I’ve thought a heap since Helen told me.”</p> + +<p>“Trouble—through me?” said Bill, sharply. “Say, there’s been nothing +but blundering through me ever since I came here. I’d best pull up +stakes and get out. I’m too big and foolish. I’m the worst blundering +idiot out. I wish I’d shot him up. But,” he added plaintively, “I +hadn’t got a gun. Say, I’m too foolishly civilized for this country. I +sure best get back to the parlors of the East where I came from.”</p> + +<p>Charlie shook his head, and his smile was affectionate.</p> + +<p>“Best stop around, Bill,” he said. “You haven’t blundered. You’ve +acted as—honesty demanded. If there’s trouble comes through it, it’s +no blame to you. There’s no blame to you anyway. You’re honest. Maybe +I’ve cursed you some, but it’s me who’s wrong—always. Do you get me? +It don’t make any difference to my real feelings. You just stop around +all you need, and don’t you act different from what you are doing.”</p> + +<p>Bill stirred his bulk uneasily.</p> + +<p>“But this trouble? Say, Charlie, boy,” he cried, his big face flushing +painfully, “it don’t matter to me a curse what you are. You’re my +brother. See? I wouldn’t do you a hurt intentionally. I’d—I’d chop my +own fool head off first. Can’t anything be done? Can’t I do anything +to fix things right?”</p> + +<p>The other had turned away. A grave anxiety was written all over his +youthful face.</p> + +<p>“Maybe,” he said.</p> + +<p>“How? Just tell me right now,” cried Bill eagerly.</p> + +<p>“Why——” Charlie broke off. His pause was one of deep consideration.</p> + +<p>“It don’t matter what it is, Charlie,” cried Bill, suddenly stirred to +a big pitch of enthusiasm. “Just count me on your side, and—and if +you need to have Fyles shot up, why—I’m your man.”</p> + +<p>Charlie shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Don’t worry that way,” he cried. “Just stop around. You needn’t ask a +whole heap of questions. Just stop around, and maybe you can bear a +hand—some day. I <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>shan’t ask you to do any dirty work. But if there’s +anything an honest man may do—why, I’ll ask you—sure.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2> + +<h3>THE COMMITTEE DECIDE</h3> + +<p>The earlier days of summer were passing rapidly. And with their +passage Kate Seton’s variations of mood became remarkable. There were +times when her excited cheerfulness astounded her sister, and there +were times when her depression caused her the greatest anxiety. Kate +was displaying a variableness and uncertainty to which Helen was quite +unaccustomed, and it left the girl laboring under a great strain of +worry.</p> + +<p>She strove very hard to, as she termed it, localize her sister’s +changes of mood, and in this she was not without a measure of success. +Whenever the doings of the church committee were discussed Kate’s mood +dropped to zero, and sometimes below that point. It was obvious that +the decision to demolish the old landmark in the service of the church +was causing her an alarm and anxiety which would far better have +fitted one of the old village wives, eaten up with superstition, than +a woman of Kate’s high-spirited courage. Then, too, the work of her +little farm seemed to worry her. Her attention to it in these days +became almost feverish. Whereas, until recently, all her available +time was given to church affairs, now these were almost entirely +neglected in favor of the farm. Kate was almost always to be found in +company of her two hired men, working with a zest that ill suited the +methods of her male helpers.</p> + +<p>On one occasion Helen ventured to remark upon it in her inconsequent +fashion, a fashion often used to disguise her real feelings, her real +interest.</p> + +<p>Kate had just returned from a long morning out on the wheat land. She +was weary, and dusty, and thirsty. And she had just thirstily drained +a huge glass of barley water.</p> + +<p>“For the Lord’s sake, Kate!” Helen cried in pretended dismay. “When I +see you drink like that I kind of feel I’m growing fins all over me.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>Kate smiled, but without lightness.</p> + +<p>“Get right out in this July sun and try to shame your hired men into +doing a man’s work, and see how you feel then,” she retorted. +“Fins?—why, you’d give right up walking, and grow a full-sized tail, +and an uncomfortable crop of scales.”</p> + +<p>Helen shook her head.</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t work that way. Say, you’re always chasing the boys up. Are +they slacking worse than usual? Are they on the ‘buck’?”</p> + +<p>Kate shot a swift glance into the gray eyes fixed on her so shrewdly.</p> + +<p>“No,” she said quite soberly. “Only—only work’s good for folks, +sometimes. The boys are all right. It just does me good to work. +Besides, I like to know what Pete’s doing.”</p> + +<p>“You mean——?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, it doesn’t matter what I mean,” Kate retorted, with a sudden +impatience. “Where’s dinner?”</p> + +<p>This was something of her sister’s mood more or less all the time, and +Helen found it very trying. But she made every allowance for it, also +the more readily as she watched the affairs of the church, and +understood how surely they were upsetting to her sister through her +belief in the old Indian legend of the fateful pine.</p> + +<p>But Kate’s occasional outbursts of delirious excitement were far more +difficult of understanding. Helen read them in the only way she +understood. Her observation warned her that they generally followed +talk of the doings of Inspector Fyles, or a distant view of him.</p> + +<p>As the days went by Kate seemed more and more wrapped up in the work +of the police. Every little item of news of them she hungrily +devoured. And frequently she went out on long solitary rides, which +Helen concluded were for the purpose of interested observation of +their doings.</p> + +<p>But all this display of interest was somewhat nullified by another +curious phase in her sister. It quickly became obvious that she was +endeavoring by every artifice to avoid coming into actual contact with +Stanley Fyles. Somehow this did not seem to fit in with Helen’s idea +of love, and again she found herself at a loss.</p> + +<p>Thus poor Helen found herself passing many troubled <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>hours. Things +seemed to be going peculiarly awry, and, for the life of her, she +could not follow their trend with any certainty of whither it was +leading. Even Bill was worse than of no assistance to her. Whenever +she poured out her long list of anxieties to him, he assumed a +perfectly absurd air of caution and denial that left her laboring +under the belief that he really was “one big fool,” or else he knew +something, and had the audacity to keep it from her. In Bill’s case, +however, the truth was he felt he had blundered so much already in his +brother’s interests that he was not prepared to take any more chances, +even with Helen.</p> + +<p>Then came one memorable and painful day for Helen. It was a Saturday +morning. She had just returned from a church committee meeting. Kate +had deliberately absented herself from her post as honorary secretary +ever since the decision to fell the old pine had been arrived at. It +was her method of protest against the outrage. But Mrs. John Day, +quite undisturbed, had appointed a fresh secretary, and Kate’s +defection had been allowed to pass as a matter of no great importance.</p> + +<p>The noon meal was on the table when Helen came in. Kate was at her +little bureau writing. The moment her sister entered the room she +closed the desk and locked it. Helen saw the action and almost +listlessly remarked upon it.</p> + +<p>“It’s all right, Kate,” she said. “Bluebeard’s chamber doesn’t +interest me—to-day.”</p> + +<p>Kate started up at the other’s depressed tone. She looked sharply into +the gray eyes, in which there was no longer any sign of their usual +laughter.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter, dear?” she asked, with affectionate concern. “Mrs. +John?”</p> + +<p>Helen nodded. Then at once she shook her head.</p> + +<p>“Yes—no. Oh, I don’t know. No, I don’t think it’s Mrs. John. +It’s—it’s everybody.”</p> + +<p>Kate had moved to the head of the table, and stood with her hands +gripping the back of her chair.</p> + +<p>“Everybody?” she said, with a quiet look of understanding in her big +eyes. “You mean—the tree?”</p> + +<p>Helen nodded. She was very near tears.</p> + +<p>But Kate rose to the occasion. She knew. She pointed at Helen’s chair.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>“Sit down, dear. We’ll have food,” she said, quietly. “I’m as hungry +as any coyote.”</p> + +<p>Helen obeyed. She was feeling so miserable for her sister, that she +had lost all inclination to eat. But Kate seemed to have entirely +risen above any of the feelings she had so lately displayed. She +laughed, and, with gentle insistence, forced the other to eat her +dinner. Strangely enough her manner had become that which Helen seemed +to have lost sight of for so long. All her actions, all her words, +were full of confident assurance, and quiet command.</p> + +<p>Gradually, under this new influence, the anxiety began to die out of +Helen’s eyes, and the watchful Kate beheld the change with +satisfaction. Then, when the girl had done full justice to the simple +meal, she pushed her own plate aside, planted her elbows upon the +table, and sat with her strong brown hands clasped.</p> + +<p>“Now tell me,” she commanded gently.</p> + +<p>In a moment Helen’s anxiety returned, and her lips trembled. The next +she was telling her story—in a confused sort of rush.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” she cried. “It’s—it’s too bad. You see, Kate, I +didn’t sort of think about it, or trouble anything, until you let me +know how you felt over that—that old story. It didn’t seem to me that +old tree mattered at all. It didn’t seem to me it could hurt cutting +it down, any more than any other. And now—now it just seems as if—as +if the world’ll come to an end when they cut it down. I believe I’m +more frightened than you are.”</p> + +<p>“Frightened?”</p> + +<p>Kate smiled. But the smile scarcely disguised her true feelings.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I’m scared—to death—now,” Helen went on, “because they’re +going to cut it down. They’ve fixed the time and—day.”</p> + +<p>“They’ve fixed the time—and day,” repeated Kate dully. “When?”</p> + +<p>Her smile had completely gone now. Her dark eyes were fixed on her +sister’s face with a curious straining.</p> + +<p>“Tuesday morning at—daybreak.”</p> + +<p>“Tuesday—daybreak? Go on. Tell me some more.”</p> + +<p>“There’s no more to tell, only—only there’s to be a ceremony. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>The +whole village is going to turn out and assist. Mrs. Day is going to +make an ad-dress. She said if she’d known there was a legend and curse +to that pine she’s have had it down at the start of building the +church. She’d have had it down ‘in the name of religion, honesty and +righteousness’—those were her words—‘as a fitting tribute at the +laying of the foundations of the new church.’ Again, in her own words, +she said, ‘It’s presence in the valley is a cloud obscuring the sun of +our civilization, a stumbling block to the progress of righteousness.’ +And—and they all agreed that she was right—all of them.”</p> + +<p>Kate was no longer looking at her sister. She was gazing out +straight ahead of her. It is doubtful even if she had listened +to the pronouncements of Mrs. John Day, with her self-satisfied +dictatorship of the village social and religious affairs. She was +thinking—thinking. And something almost like panic seemed suddenly +to have taken hold of her.</p> + +<p>“Tuesday—at daybreak,” she muttered. Then, in a moment, her eyes +flashed, and she sprang from her chair. “Daybreak? Why, that—that’s +practically Monday night! Do you hear? Monday night!”</p> + +<p>Helen was on her feet in a moment.</p> + +<p>“I—I don’t understand,” she stammered.</p> + +<p>“Understand? No, of course you don’t. Nobody understands but me,” Kate +cried fiercely. “I understand, and I tell you they’re all mad. +Hopelessly mad.” She laughed wildly. “Disaster? Oh, blind, blind, +fools. There’ll be disaster, sure enough. The old Indian curse will be +fulfilled. Oh, Helen, I could weep for the purblind skepticism of this +wretched people, this consequential old fool, Mrs. Day. And I—I am +the idiot who has brought it all about.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> + +<h3>ANTAGONISTS</h3> + +<p>Fyles endured perhaps the most anxious time that had ever fallen to +his lot, during the few days following his momentous interview with +Kate. An infinitesimal beam of daylight had lit up the black horizon +of his threatened future. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>It was a question, a painfully doubtful +question, as to whether it would mature and develop into a glorious +sunlight, or whether the threatening clouds would overwhelm it, and +thrust it back into the obscurity whence it had sprung.</p> + +<p>He dared not attempt to answer the question himself. Everything hung +upon that insecure thread of official amenability. Such was his own +experience that he was beset by the gravest doubts. His only hope lay +in the long record of exceptional work he possessed to his credit in +the books of the police. This, and the story he had to tell them of +future possibilities in the valley of Leaping Creek.</p> + +<p>Would Jason listen? Would he turn up the records, and count the +excellence of Inspector Fyles’s past work? Or would he, with that +callous severity of police regulations, only regard the failures, and +turn a deaf official ear to the promise of the future? Supersession +was so simple in the force, it was the usual routine. Would the +superintendent in charge interest himself sufficiently to get away +from it?</p> + +<p>These were some of the doubts with which the police officer was +assailed. These were some of the endless pros and cons he debated with +his lieutenant, Sergeant McBain, when they sat together planning their +next campaign, while awaiting Amberley’s reply to both the report of +failure, and plea for the future.</p> + +<p>But Fyles’s anxieties were far deeper than McBain’s, who was equally +involved in the failure. He had far more at stake. For one thing he +belonged to the commissioned ranks, and his fall, in conjunction with +his greater and wider reputation, would be far more disastrous. For +McBain, reduction in rank was of lesser magnitude. His rank could be +regained. For Fyles there was no such redemption. Resignation from the +force was his alternative to being dismissed, and from resignation +there was no recovery of rank.</p> + +<p>At one time this would have been his paramount, almost sole anxiety. +It would have meant the loss of all he had achieved in the past. Now, +curiously enough, it took a second place in his thoughts. A greater +factor than ambition had entered into his life, a factor to which he +had promptly become enslaved. Far above all thoughts of ambition, of +place, of power, of all sense of duty, the figure of a handsome +dark-eyed woman rose before his mind’s eye. Kate <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>Seton had become his +whole world, the idol of all his thoughts and ambitions, and longings, +which left every other consideration lost in the remotest shadows far +below.</p> + +<p>His earlier love for her had suddenly burst into a passionate flame +that seemed to be devouring his very soul. And he had a chance of +winning her. A chance. It seemed absurd—a mere chance. It was not his +way in life to wait for chances. It was for him to set out on a +purpose, and achieve or fail. Here—here, where his love was +concerned, he was committing himself to accepting chances, the +slightest chances, when the winning of Kate for his wife had become +the essence of all his hopes and ambitions.</p> + +<p>Chance? Yes, it was all chance. The decision of Superintendent Jason. +The leadership of this gang. His success in capturing the man, when +the time came. In a moment his whole life seemed to have become a +plaything to be tossed about at the whim of chance.</p> + +<p>So the days passed, swallowed up by feverish work and preparation. It +was work that might well be all thrown away should his recall be +insisted upon at Amberley, or, at best, might only pave the way to his +successor’s more fortunate endeavors. It was all very trying, very +unsatisfactory, yet he dared not relax his efforts, with the knowledge +which he now possessed, and the thought of Kate always before him.</p> + +<p>Several times, during those anxious days, he sought to salve his +troubled feelings by stealing precious moments of delight in the +presence of this woman he loved. But somehow Fate seemed to have +assumed a further perverseness, and appeared bent on robbing him of +even this slight satisfaction.</p> + +<p>At such times Kate was never to be found. Small as was that little +world in the valley, it seemed to Fyles that she had a knack of +vanishing from his sight as though she had been literally spirited +away. Nor for some time could he bring himself to realize that she was +deliberately avoiding him.</p> + +<p>She was never at home when he rode up to the house on the back of his +faithful Peter. And, furthermore, at such times as he found Helen +there, she never by any chance knew where her sister was. Even when he +chanced to discover Kate in the distance, on his rare visits to the +village, she was never to be found by the time he reached the spot at +which he had seen her. She was as elusive as a will-o’-th’-wisp.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>But this could not go on forever, and, after one memorable visit to +the postoffice, where he found a letter awaiting him from +headquarters, Fyles determined to be denied no longer.</p> + +<p>His task was less easy than he supposed, and it was not until evening +that he finally achieved his purpose.</p> + +<p>It was nearly eight o’clock in the evening. Up to that time his search +had been utterly unavailing, and he found himself riding down the +village trail at a loss, and in a fiercely impatient mood.</p> + +<p>He had just reached the point where the trail split in two. The one +way traveling due west, and the other up to the new church, and on, +beyond, to the Meeting House.</p> + +<p>The inspiration came to him as Peter, of his own accord, turned off up +the hill in the direction of the church. Then he remembered that the +day was Saturday, and on Saturday evening it was Kate’s custom to put +the Meeting House in order for the next day’s service.</p> + +<p>In a moment he bustled his faithful horse, and, taking the grassy side +of the trail for it, to muffle his approach, hurried on toward the +quaint old building.</p> + +<p>To his utmost delight he realized that, for once, Fate had decided to +be kind to him. There was a light in one of the windows, and he knew +that nobody but Kate had access to the place at times other than the +hours of service.</p> + +<p>In that moment of pleasant anticipation he was suddenly seized by an +almost childish desire to take her unawares. The thought appealed to +him strongly after his long and futile search, and, with this object, +he steadied his horse’s gait lest the sound of its plodding hoofs +should betray his approach. Twenty yards from the building he drew up +and dismounted.</p> + +<p>Once on foot he made his way across the intervening space and reached +the window. A thin curtain, however, was drawn across it, and, though +the light shone through, the interior remained hidden. So he pressed +on toward the door.</p> + +<p>Here he paused. And as he did so the sound of something heavy falling +reached him from within. Kate was evidently moving the heavy benches. +He hesitated only for an instant, then he placed his hand cautiously +on the latch and raised it. In spite of his precautions the heavy old +iron rattled noisily, and again he hesitated. Then, with a thrust, he +pushed the aged door open and passed within.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>He stood still, his eyes smiling. Kate was at the far end of the room +on her knees. She was looking round at him with a curious, startled +look in her eyes, which had somehow caught the reflection of the light +from the oil bracket lamp on the floor beside her, and set them +glowing a dull, golden copper. The long strip of coco-matting was +rolled back from the floor, and she seemed to be in the act of +resetting it in its place.</p> + +<p>Just for a moment they remained staring at each other. Then Kate +turned back to her work, and finished rolling out the matting.</p> + +<p>“I’ll be glad, mighty glad, when—when we discontinue service in this +place,” she said. “The dirt’s just—fierce.”</p> + +<p>Fyles moved up toward her. The matting was in its place.</p> + +<p>“Is it?” he said. Then, as he came to a halt, “Say, I’ve been chasing +the village through half the day to find you, Kate. Then Peter led me +here, and I remembered it was Saturday. I guessed I’d have a surprise +on you, and I thought I’d succeeded. But you don’t ‘surprise’ worth a +cent. Say, I’m to remain here till—after Monday.”</p> + +<p>Kate slowly rose to her feet. She was clad in a white shirtwaist and +old tailored skirt. She made a perfect figure of robust health and +vigorous purpose. Her eyes, too, were shining, and full of those +subtle depths of fire which held the man enthralled.</p> + +<p>“Monday?” she said. Then in a curiously reflective way she repeated +the word, “Monday.”</p> + +<p>Fyles waited, and, in a moment, Kate’s thought seemed to pass. She +looked fearlessly up into the man’s eyes, but there was no smile in +response to his.</p> + +<p>“I’m—going away until after—Monday,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Going away?”</p> + +<p>The man’s disappointment was too evident to be mistaken. “Why?” he +asked, after a moment’s pause.</p> + +<p>Quite suddenly the woman flung her arms out in a gesture of +helplessness, which somehow did not seem to fit her.</p> + +<p>“I can’t—bear the strain of waiting here,” she said, with an +impatient shrug. “It’s—it’s on my nerves.”</p> + +<p>The man began to smile again. “A wager like ours takes nerve to make, +but a bigger nerve to carry through. Still, say, I can’t see how +running from it’s going to help any. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>You’ll still be thinking. +Thoughts take a heap of getting clear of. Best stop around. It’ll be +exciting—some. I’m going to win out,” he went on, with confidence, +“and I guess it’ll be a game worth watching, even if you—lose.”</p> + +<p>Kate stooped and picked up the lamp. As she straightened up she sighed +and shook her head. It seemed to the man that a grave trouble was in +her handsome eyes.</p> + +<p>“It’s not that,” she cried, suddenly. “Lose my wager? I’m not going to +lose, but even if I were—I would pay up like a sportsman. No, it’s +not that. It’s these foolish folk here. It’s these stupid creatures +who’re just ready to fly at the throat of Providence and defy all—all +superstition. Oh, yes, I know,” she hurried on, as the man raised his +strongly marked brows in astonishment. “You’ll maybe think me a fool, +a silly, credulous fool. But I know—I feel it here.” She placed her +hands upon her bosom with a world of dramatic sincerity.</p> + +<p>“What—what’s troubling you, Kate? I don’t seem to get your meaning.”</p> + +<p>It was the woman’s turn to express surprise.</p> + +<p>“Why, you know what they’re going to do here, practically on Monday +night. You’ve heard? Why, the whole village is talking of it. It’s the +tree. The old pine. They’re going to cut it down.” Then she laughed +mirthlessly. “They’ll use it as a ridge pole for the new church. That +wicked old, cursed pine.”</p> + +<p>“Wicked—cursed? I don’t understand,” Fyles said perplexed. “I heard +about the felling of it all right—but, the other I don’t understand.”</p> + +<p>Kate set the lamp down on one of the benches.</p> + +<p>“Listen. I’ll tell you,” she cried. “Then maybe you’ll understand my +feelings—since making my wager with you. Oh, the old story wouldn’t +matter so much to me, only—only for that wager. Listen.”</p> + +<p>Then she hurriedly told him the outline of the curse upon the tree, +and further added an analysis of the situation in conjunction with the +matter which stood between themselves. At the finish she pointed her +argument.</p> + +<p>“Need I say any more? Need I tell you that no logic or reason of any +kind can put the conviction out of my mind that here, and now, we are +to be faced with some dreadful <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>tragedy as the price we must pay for +the—the felling of that tree? I can’t help it—I know calamity will +befall us.”</p> + +<p>Fyles shook his head. The woman’s obvious convictions left him quite +untouched. Had it been any other who spoke of it he would have derided +the whole idea. But since it was Kate’s distress, Kate’s belief in the +old legend, he refrained.</p> + +<p>“The only calamity that can affect you, Kate, is a calamity for young +Bryant,” he said seriously. “And yet you refuse to believe him +concerned with the affairs of—Monday night. Surely you can have no +misgivings on that score?”</p> + +<p>Kate shook her head.</p> + +<p>“Then what do you fear?” Fyles went on patiently.</p> + +<p>Quite slowly the woman raised her big eyes to her companion’s face. +For some moments they steadily looked into his. Then slowly into her +gaze there crept an inscrutable expression that was not wholly without +a shadow of a smile.</p> + +<p>“It is your reason against my—superstition,” she said slowly. “On +Monday night you will capture, or fail to capture, the gang you are +after. Maybe it will be within an hour of the cutting down of that +tree. Disaster will occur. Blood will flow. Death! Any, or all of +these things. For whom? I cannot—will not—wait to see. I shall leave +to-morrow morning after service—for Myrtle.”</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>Kate locked the door of the Meeting House behind them. Then she held +out her hand. Fyles took it and pressed it tenderly.</p> + +<p>“Why,” he asked gently, almost humbly, “have you so deliberately +avoided me lately?”</p> + +<p>The woman stroked Peter’s brown head as it was pushed forward beside +the man’s shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Why?” she echoed. Then she smiled up into the man’s face. “Because we +are—antagonists—until after Monday. Good-bye.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII</h2> + +<h3>TREACHERY</h3> + +<p>On his westward journey to camp Stanley Fyles did a good deal of +thinking. Generally speaking he was of that practical turn which has +no time for indulgence in the luxury of visions, and signs. Long +experience had made him almost severe in his practice.</p> + +<p>But, as he rode along pondering upon the few pleasant moments spent in +Kate’s presence, his imagination slowly began to stir, and he found +himself wondering; wondering, at first, at her credulity, and, +presently, wondering if it were really possible that an old curse, +uttered in the height of impotent human passion, could, by any occult +process, possess a real effect.</p> + +<p>He definitely and promptly denied it. He told himself more. He +believed that only women, highly emotional women, or creatures of +weaker intellect, could possibly put faith in such things. Kate +belonged to neither of these sections of her sex. Then how did this +strange belief come in a woman so keenly sensible, so full of +practical courage?</p> + +<p>Maybe it was the result of living so closely in touch with the soil. +Maybe the narrow life of such a village as Rocky Springs had had its +effect.</p> + +<p>However, her belief, so strong, so passionate, had left an +uncomfortable effect upon him. It was absurd, of course, but somehow +he wished he had not heard the story of the old pine. At least not +till after Monday. Kate had said they were to fell that tree at dawn. +It was certainly a curious coincidence that they should have selected, +as Kate had said, practically Monday night. The night of the +whisky-running.</p> + +<p>He smiled. However, the omen was surely in favor of his success. +According to the legend the felling of the tree meant the end of crime +in the valley, and the end of crime meant his——But blood would flow. +Death. Whose blood? Whose—death?</p> + +<p>His smile died out.</p> + +<p>In these contingencies it meant a—hand to hand conflict. It +meant——Who’s death did she dread? Surely she was not thinking of the +police? They always carried their lives <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>in their hands. It was part +of their profession. She denied Charlie Bryant’s leadership, so——But +in her own secret mind did she deny it? He wondered.</p> + +<p>So he rode on probing the problem. Later he smiled again. She was +thinking of himself. The vanity of the thought amused him, and he +found himself shaking his head. Not likely. It was not her regard for +him. He was certain in his mind that her wager was made in the full +conviction that he would not win, and, consequently, she would not +have to marry him. She certainly was a strange creature, +and—charming.</p> + +<p>However, she was concerned that somebody was to meet death, and she +dreaded it. Furthermore, now he came to think of it, a similar belief, +without the accompanying dread, was growing in him. He pulled himself +together. The old superstition must not get hold of him. That would +indeed be the height of folly.</p> + +<p>But once the seed had been sown in his imagination the roots quickly +strove to possess themselves of all the fertility such a rich soil +afforded. He could not shake clear of their tendrils. Maybe it was the +effect of his sympathy and regard for the woman. Maybe he was +discovering that he, too, deep down beneath the veneer in which his +work armored him, was possessed of that strange superstition which +seems to possess all human life. He hated the thought, and still more +hated the feeling the thought inspired.</p> + +<p>He touched Peter’s flank with his heels, and the unaccustomed spur +sent the highly strung beast plunging into a headlong gallop.</p> + +<p>He was far beyond the village now, and more than half way to the camp, +and presently he slowed down to that steady canter which eats up +distance so rapidly without undue exertion for either man or beast. He +strove to turn the course of his thoughts. He pondered upon the +ungracious official letter of his superior, begrudging, but yielding +to his persuasions. Things certainly were “coming his way.” At last he +was to be given his final chance, and it was something to obtain such +clemency in a force which existed simply by reason of its unfailing +success. He had much to be thankful for. McBain would have fresh heart +put into him. It would be something like a taste of hell for McBain to +find himself reduced <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span>to the rank of trooper again, after all his +years of successful service. Yes, he was glad for McBain’s——</p> + +<p>Suddenly he checked the willing Peter, and drew him down to a walk. +There was a horseman on the trail, some thirty or forty yards ahead. +He had just caught sight of his dim outline against the starlit sky +line. It was only for a moment. But it was sufficient for his trained +eyes. He had detected the upper part of the man’s body, and the +shadowy outline of a wide-brimmed prairie hat.</p> + +<p>Now, as Peter moved at that shuffling, restful amble which all prairie +horses acquire, he leaned down over the horn of his saddle and peered +ahead. The man was sitting stock still upon his horse.</p> + +<p>Instinctively Fyles’s hand went to his revolver, and remained there. +When a man waits upon a western trail at night, it is as well that the +traveler take no undue chances, particularly when he be one of the +none too well loved red coats.</p> + +<p>The policeman kept on. He displayed no hesitation. Finally he drew his +horse to a standstill with its nose almost touching the shoulder of +the stranger’s horse.</p> + +<p>Fyles was peering forward in the darkness, and his revolver was in +that position which, all unseen, kept its muzzle directly leveled at +the horseman’s middle.</p> + +<p>“Kind of lonesome sitting around here at night,” he said, with a +keenly satirical inflection.</p> + +<p>“You can put up your darn gun, inspector,” came the startling +response. “Guess I had you covered from way back there, if I’d had a +notion to shoot. Guess I ain’t in the ‘hold-up’ bizness. But I’ve been +waiting for you—anyway.”</p> + +<p>The man’s assurance had no effect upon the policeman. The latter +pressed his horse up closer, and peered into the other’s face. The +face he beheld startled him, although he gave no outward sign.</p> + +<p>“Ah, Pete—Pete Clancy,” he said quietly. “Guess my gun’s always +pretty handy. It won’t hurt where it is, unless I want it to. It’s +liable to be more effective than your’s would have been—way back +there.”</p> + +<p>The man seemed to resign himself.</p> + +<p>“Guess it don’t pay shootin’ up red coats,” he said, with a rough +laugh.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>“No.” Then in a moment Fyles put a sharp question. “You are waiting +for—me? Why?”</p> + +<p>Pete laughed, but his laugh was uneasy.</p> + +<p>“Because I’m sick to death being agin the law.”</p> + +<p>“Ah. Been taking a hand building the church back there?” The sarcasm +was unmistakable, but it passed the other by.</p> + +<p>“Ben takin’ a hand in most things—back there.”</p> + +<p>“Sure. Find some of ’em don’t pay?”</p> + +<p>The man shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Guess they pay—mostly. ’Tain’t that.”</p> + +<p>“What then?”</p> + +<p>“Sort o’ feel it’s time to quit—bizness.”</p> + +<p>“Oh. So you waited around for—me?”</p> + +<p>Fyles understood the type of man he was dealing with. The half-breed +was a life study of his. In the great West he was always of more +interest to the police than any white man.</p> + +<p>“We mostly wait around for the p’lice when we want to get out of +business,” the man replied with meaning.</p> + +<p>“Yes, some folks find it difficult getting out of business without the +help of the police.”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” returned Pete easily. “They need to do it right. They need to +make things square.”</p> + +<p>“For themselves?”</p> + +<p>“Jest so—for ’emselves.”</p> + +<p>The half-breed leaned over his horse’s shoulder and spat. Then he +ostentatiously returned the gun he was holding to its holster.</p> + +<p>“Maybe I’ll need him no more,” he said, with an obviously insincere +sigh.</p> + +<p>Fyles was quite undeceived.</p> + +<p>“Surely—if you’re going out of business. What’s your—business?”</p> + +<p>The man laughed.</p> + +<p>“I used to be runnin’ whisky.” Then he chuckled softly. “Y’see, that +chu’ch has got a hold on me. I’m feelin’ that pious I can’t bear the +thought of runnin’ whisky—an’ I can’t bear the thought of—other folk +runnin’ it. No, I’m quittin’ that bizness. I’m jest goin’ in fer +straight buyin’ and sellin’—inside the law.”</p> + +<p>Fyles was watching the man closely in the dim night light. He knew +exactly what the man was there for now. Furthermore <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>he knew precisely +how to deal with him. He was weighing in his mind the extent to which +he could trust him. His detestation of the race increased, while yet +every nerve was alert to miss no chance.</p> + +<p>“Straight buying and selling is good when you’ve found a buyer, and +got—something to sell,” he said.</p> + +<p>The man shrugged.</p> + +<p>“I sure got something to sell, an’ I guess you ought to be the buyer.”</p> + +<p>Fyles nodded.</p> + +<p>“I mostly buy—what I need. What’s your line?”</p> + +<p>Again the man laughed. His uneasiness had passed. He felt they +understood each other.</p> + +<p>“Mostly hot air,” he said carelessly.</p> + +<p>Fyles hated the man’s contemplated treachery. However, his duty was +plain.</p> + +<p>“Well, I might buy hot air—if it’s right, and the price is right.”</p> + +<p>The man turned with an alert look and peered into the police officer’s +face.</p> + +<p>“They’re both right,” he said sharply. Then his manner changed +abruptly to one of hot intensity. “Here let’s quit talkin’ fool stuff. +I can tell you what you’re needin’ to know. And I’ll tell you, if +you’ll pass me over, and let me quit clear without a question. I need +to get across the border—an’ I don’t want to see the inside of no +penitentiary, nor come up before any court. I want to get right away +quick. See? I can tell you just how a big cargo’s comin’ into Rocky +Springs. I know, because I’m one of ’em bringing it in. See? And when +I’ve told you I’ve still got to bring it in, or those who’re running +it with me would guess things, and get busy after me, or—or change +their plans. See? Give us your word of a free run for the border, an’ +I’ll put you wise. A free run clear, on your honor, in the name of the +Government.”</p> + +<p>“Why are you doing this?” demanded Fyles sharply.</p> + +<p>“That’s up to me.”</p> + +<p>“Why are you doing this?” Fyles insisted. “I need to know before I +make any deal.”</p> + +<p>“Do you?”</p> + +<p>Pete thought for some moments, and Fyles waited. At last <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>the man +looked up, and his evil face was full of the venom of his words.</p> + +<p>“I want to give ’em away,” he cried with bitter hatred. “I want to see +the boss pass on to the penitentiary. See? I want to see the boss rot +there for five good, dandy years.”</p> + +<p>“Who’s the boss?” demanded Fyles sharply.</p> + +<p>The man’s eyes grinned cunningly.</p> + +<p>“Why, the feller you’re going to get Monday night, with fifty gallons +of good rye.”</p> + +<p>Fyles sat up.</p> + +<p>“Monday night?” Then he went on. “Say, why do you want to put him +away?”</p> + +<p>“Ah.”</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>Again the half-breed hesitated. Then with a sudden exclamation of +impatience his desire for revenge urged him on.</p> + +<p>“Tcha! What’s the use?” he cried fiercely. “Say, have you ever had +hell smashed out of your features by a lousy dude? No. Well, I owe a +bit—a hell of a bit—to some one, and I guess I don’t owe nothing in +this world else but money. Debts o’ this sort I generally pay when I +get the chance. You’re goin’ to give me that chance.”</p> + +<p>Fyles had satisfied himself. The man sickened him. Now he wanted to be +done with him.</p> + +<p>“What’s your story? I’ll pay you the price,” he cried, with utter +contempt.</p> + +<p>But the man wanted added assurance.</p> + +<p>“Sure?” he cried eagerly. “You’re goin’ to get me with the rest? +Savee? You’re goin’ to get me, an’ when you get me, you’re goin’ to +give me twenty-four hours’ free run for the border?”</p> + +<p>“If I get you you can go free—for twenty-four hours.”</p> + +<p>The man’s face lit with a devilish grin of cruelty.</p> + +<p>“Good. You’ll shake on it?” He held out his hand.</p> + +<p>Fyles shook his hand.</p> + +<p>“Guess it’s not necessary. My word goes. You’ve got to take my word, +as I’ve got to take yours. Come on. I’ve no more time to waste.”</p> + +<p>Pete withdrew his hand. He understood. His venom against the white +race was only the further increased.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he growled, his eyes lighting with added ferocity. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>“That cargo +is to be run down the river on Monday night about midnight. There’ll +be a big rack of hay come in by trail—the river trail—and most of +the gang’ll be with it. If you locate it they calculate you’ll get +busy unloading to find the liquor. Meanwhile the cargo’ll slip through +on the river, in a small boat. Savee? Guess there’ll be jest one +feller with that boat, an’—he’ll be the feller that’s—that’s had you +red coats skinned a mile all these months an’ years.”</p> + +<p>Fyles gathered up his reins.</p> + +<p>“Just one word,” he said coldly. “I hate a traitor worse than poison, +but I’m paid to get these people. So my word goes, if your story’s +true. If it isn’t—well, take my advice and get out quick, or—you +won’t have time.”</p> + +<p>Before the half-breed had time to reply Peter threw up his head, and +set off at the touch of his master’s spurs.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2> + +<h3>PLAYING THE GAME</h3> + +<p>For some moments the two men faced each other in a sort of grim +silence. It was already daylight. Sunday morning was breaking under a +cloudless sky.</p> + +<p>At last McBain rose from his seat at the deal table which served him +for a desk. He reached out and turned out the lamp. Its light was no +longer needed. Then he stretched himself and yawned.</p> + +<p>“Had enough of it?” inquired Fyles, catching the infection and +stifling a yawn.</p> + +<p>“Just what you might notice, sir.” A shadowy smile played about the +Scot’s hard mouth, but it was gone in a moment.</p> + +<p>Fyles nodded.</p> + +<p>“So have I,” he agreed. “But we’ve broke the back of things. +And—you’ll be kept busy all day to—I was going to say to-morrow. I +mean to-day.”</p> + +<p>McBain sat down again.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir. A couple of hours’ sleep’ll do me, though. We daren’t spare +ourselves. It’s sort of life and death to us.”</p> + +<p>Fyles shot a keen look into the other’s face.</p> + +<p>“I shouldn’t be surprised if it were literally so.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>“You think, sir——?”</p> + +<p>McBain’s voice was sharply questioning.</p> + +<p>But Fyles only laughed. There was no mirth in his expression, and +McBain understood.</p> + +<p>“Never mind,” the officer went on, with a careless shrug. “Best turn +in. We’ll know all about it when the time comes.”</p> + +<p>He rose from his seat, and McBain, with a brief “Good night, sir,” +disappeared into the inner room.</p> + +<p>But Fyles did not follow his example for a few moments. He went to the +door and flung it open. Then he stood for awhile gazing out at the +wonderful morning daylight, and drinking in the pure prairie air. +While he stood thus his thoughts were busy, and a half smile was in +his eyes. He was thinking of the irony of the fact that Kate Seton’s +superstition had completely taken possession of him.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>Two hours after sunrise McBain and his superior were at work again. +They had snatched their brief sleep, but it was sufficient for these +hardy riders of the plains. The camp was full of activity. Each man of +the patrol had to be interviewed, and given minute instructions, also +instructions for the arising of unforeseen circumstances, where +individual initiative would require to be displayed. Then there were +rations to be served out, and, finally, messengers must be sent to the +supernumerary camp higher up the valley. But there was no undue bustle +or haste. It was simply activity.</p> + +<p>At ten o’clock Stanley Fyles left the camp. McBain would continue the +work, which, by this time, had returned to conditions of ordinary +routine.</p> + +<p>Peter ambled gently down the valley. His rider seemed in no hurry. +There was no need for hurry. The village was five miles away, and he +had no desire to reach it until just before eleven. So he could take +his leisure, sparing both himself and his horse for the great effort +of the morrow.</p> + +<p>Just for one brief moment he contemplated a divergence from his +course. It was at the moment when he left the cattle track which led +to his camp and joined the old Indian trail to the village. He reached +the branching cattle track on the other side of it which would have +led him to the mysterious corral, which was possessed of so much +interest and suspicion. But he remembered that a visit thither would +violate the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>conditions of his wager with Kate. The place belonged to +Charlie Bryant. So he pushed on.</p> + +<p>As he rode he thought of Kate Seton’s determination to absent herself +during the critical events about to happen in the village. On the +whole he was pleased with her decision. Somehow he felt he understood +her feelings. The grip of her superstition had left him more +understanding of her desire to get away.</p> + +<p>Then, too, he would rather she were away when his own big effort came. +Should he fail again, which now he believed impossible, he would +rather she were not there to witness that failure. He knew, only too +well, from bitter experience, how easy it was for the most complete +plans to go awry when made against the genius of crime. No, he did not +want her to witness his failure. Nor would he care to flaunt the +success he anticipated, and consequently the error she had fallen +into, before her distressed eyes. He felt very tender toward her. She +was so loyal, so courageous in her beliefs, such a great little +sportswoman. No, he must spare her all he could when he had won that +wager. He would not demand his pound of flesh. He would release her +from her debt, and just appeal to her through his love. And, somehow, +when he had caught this man, Bryant, and so proved how utterly +unworthy he was of her regard, he felt that possibly he would not have +to appeal in vain.</p> + +<p>He reached the old Meeting House as the earliest of the village folk +were gathering for service. He did not ride up, but left Peter, much +to that creature’s disquiet, tied in the bush some fifty yards from +the place.</p> + +<p>His interest became at once absorbed. He chatted pleasantly for a few +moments with Mr. Blundell, the traveling Methodist minister, and +greeted those of the villagers whom he had come to know personally. +But all the while his eyes and ears were fully alert for the things +concerning his purpose. He noted carefully all those who were present, +but the absentees were his greatest interest. Not one of those who +constituted the gang of smugglers was present, and particularly he +noted Charlie Bryant’s absence.</p> + +<p>Among the last to arrive were Big Brother Bill and Helen, and Fyles +smiled as he beheld the careful toilet of the big city man. Helen, as +usual, was clad in her best tailored <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>suit, and looked particularly +bright and smart when he greeted her.</p> + +<p>“Miss Kate not at—service?” he inquired, as they paused at the door +of the building.</p> + +<p>Helen shook her head, and her face fell.</p> + +<p>“No. She’s preparing for her journey to Myrtle,” said the girl. “How +she can do with that noisy old creature Mrs. Radley I—I—well, she +gets me beat every time. But Kate’s just as obstinate as a +fifty-year-old mule. She’s crazy to get away from here, and—and I +left her about to dope the wheels of the wretched old wagon she’s +going to drive this afternoon. Oh, dear! But come along, Bill, they’re +beginning service.”</p> + +<p>A moment later the police officer was left alone outside the building.</p> + +<p>It was not his way to take long arriving at a decision. He walked +briskly away, and vanished amid the bush. A minute later he was once +more in the saddle, heading for the bridge in front of Kate’s house.</p> + +<p>Kate was still at her wagon when Fyles arrived. At the sound of his +approach she straightened herself up with a smiling, half-embarrassed +welcome shining in her eyes.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you come too near,” she exclaimed. “I’m all over axle dope. It +truly is the messiest job ever. But what are you to do when the boys +clear out, and—and play you such a scurvy trick? I’ve been relying on +Nick to drive me out and bring the wagon back. Now I’ll have to drive +myself, and keep the wagon there, unless I can hire some one to bring +it back, so Charlie can haul his last hay to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>The policeman ran his eyes over the wagon. At the mention of Charlie +Bryant’s name, his manner seemed to freeze up. He recognized the +vehicle at once.</p> + +<p>“It’s Bryant’s wagon?” he said shortly.</p> + +<p>Kate nodded.</p> + +<p>“Sure. He always lends it me when I want one. I haven’t one of my +own.”</p> + +<p>“I see.”</p> + +<p>Fyles’s manner became more easy. Then he went on.</p> + +<p>“Where are your boys? Where’s Pete?”</p> + +<p>Kate’s eyes widened.</p> + +<p>“Gracious goodness only knows,” she said, in sheer exasperation. “I +only hope Nick turns up to drive me. I surely <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span>will have to get rid of +them both. I’ve had enough of Pete since he got drunk and insulted +Helen. Still, he got his med’cine from Bill all right. And he got the +rough side of my tongue, too. Yes, I shall certainly get rid of both. +Charlie’s always urging me to.” She wiped her hands on a cloth. +“There, thank goodness I’ve finished that messy job.”</p> + +<p>She released the jack under the axle, and the wheel dropped to the +ground.</p> + +<p>“Now I can load up my grips,” she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Fyles looked up from the brown study into which he had fallen.</p> + +<p>“This Bill—this Big Brother Bill hammered master Pete to a—pulp?” he +inquired, with a smile of interest.</p> + +<p>“He certainly did,” laughed Kate. “And when he’d done with him I’m +afraid my tongue completed the—good work. That’s why this has +happened.” She indicated the wagon with a humorous look of dismay.</p> + +<p>Fyles laughed. Then he sobered almost at once.</p> + +<p>“I came here for two reasons,” he said curiously. “I came +to—well—because I couldn’t stay away, for one thing. You see, I’m +not nearly so much of a police officer as I am a mere human creature. +So I came to see you before you went away. You see, so many things may +happen on—Monday. The other reason was to tell you I’ve had a +wonderful slice of—hateful good luck.”</p> + +<p>“Hateful good luck?”</p> + +<p>Kate raised a pair of wondering eyes to his face.</p> + +<p>“Yes, hateful.” The man’s emphasis left no sort of doubt as to his +feelings. “Of course,” he went on, “it’s ridiculous that sort of +attitude in a policeman, but I can admire a loyal crook. Yes, I could +have a friendly feeling for him. A traitor turns me sick in the +stomach. One of the gang has turned traitor. He’s told me that detail +you couldn’t give me. I’ve got their complete plan of campaign.”</p> + +<p>The wonder in Kate’s eyes had become one steady look of inquiry.</p> + +<p>“Their complete plan of campaign?” she echoed. Then in a moment a +great excitement seemed to rise up in her. It found expression in the +rapidity of her words.</p> + +<p>“Then you know that—Charlie is innocent? You know <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>now how wrong you +were? You know that I have been right all the way through, and that +you have been wrong? Tell me! Tell me!” she cried.</p> + +<p>Stanley Fyles shook his head.</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry. The man had the grace to refuse me the leader’s identity. +I only got their plan—but it’s more than enough.”</p> + +<p>Kate breathed a sigh as of regret.</p> + +<p>“That’s too bad,” she cried. “If he’d only told you that, it might—it +might have cleared up everything. We should have had no more of this +wretched suspicion of an innocent man. It might have altered your +whole plan of campaign. As it is——”</p> + +<p>“It leaves me more than ever convinced I am on a red-hot scent which +must now inevitably lead me to success.”</p> + +<p>For a few moments Kate looked into the man’s face as though waiting +for him to continue. Then, at last, she smiled, and the man thought he +had never beheld so alluring a picture of feminine persuasion.</p> + +<p>“Am I to—know any more?” she pleaded.</p> + +<p>The appeal became irresistible.</p> + +<p>“There can be no harm in telling you,” he said. “You gave me the first +help. It is to you I shall largely owe my success. Yes, you may as +well know, and I know I can rely on your discretion. You were able to +tell me of the coming of the liquor, but you could not tell me exactly +how it was coming. The man could tell me that—and did. It is coming +in down the river in a small boat. One man will bring it—the man who +runs the gang. While this is being done a load of hay, accompanied by +the whole gang, will come into the town as a blind. It is obvious to +me they will come in on the run, hoping to draw us. Then, when caught, +they rely on our search of the wagon to delay us—while the boat slips +through. It’s pretty smart, and,” he added ruefully, “would probably +have been successful—had I not been warned. Now it is different. Our +first attention will be that boat.”</p> + +<p>Kate’s eyes were alight with the warmest interest. She became further +excited.</p> + +<p>“It’s smart,” she cried enthusiastically. “They’re—they’re a clever +set of rascals.” Then, for a moment, she thought. “Of course, you must +get that boat. What a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>sell for them when you let the wagon go free. +Say, it’s—it’s the greatest fun ever.”</p> + +<p>Fyles smilingly agreed. This woman’s delight in the upsetting of the +“runners” plans was very pleasant to him. There could be no doubt as +to her sympathies being with him. If only she weren’t concerned for +Bryant he could have enjoyed the situation to the full.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she looked up into his face with just a shade of anxiety.</p> + +<p>“But this—informer,” she said earnestly. “They’ll—kill him.”</p> + +<p>Fyles laughed.</p> + +<p>“He’ll be over the border before they’re wise, and they’ll be held +safe—anyway.”</p> + +<p>Kate agreed.</p> + +<p>“I’d forgotten that,” she said thoughtfully. Then she gave a shiver of +disgust. “I—I loathe an informer.”</p> + +<p>“Everybody with any sense of honor—must,” agreed Fyles. “Informer? +I’d sooner shake hands with a murderer. And yet we have to deal and +bargain with them—in our work.”</p> + +<p>“I was just wondering,” said Kate, after another pause, “who he could +be. I—I’m not going to ask his name. But—do I know him?”</p> + +<p>The policeman laughingly shook his head.</p> + +<p>“I must play the game, even—with an informer. Say, there’s an old saw +in our force, ‘No names, no pack-drill.’ It fits the case now. When +the feller’s skipped the border, maybe you’ll know who he is by his +absence from the village.”</p> + +<p>Suddenly Kate turned to her wagon. She gazed at it for some moments. +Then she turned about, and, with a pathetic smile, gave vent to her +feelings.</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear,” she cried. “I—I wish it was after dinner. I should be +away then. I feel as if I never—never wanted to see this valley +again—ever. It all seems wrong. It all seems like a nightmare now. I +feel as if at any moment the ground might open up, and—and swallow me +right up. I—I feel like a dizzy creature standing at the edge of a +precipice. I—I feel as if I must fall, as if I wanted to fall. I +shall be so glad to get away.”</p> + +<p>“But you’ll come back,” the man cried urgently. “It’s—only <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span>till +after Monday.” Then he steadied himself, and smiled whimsically. +“Remember, we have our wager. Remember, in the end you either have +to—laugh at me, or—marry me. It’s a big stake for us both. For me +especially. Your mocking laughter would be hard to bear in conjunction +with losing you. Oh, Kate, we entered on this in a spirit of +antagonism, but—but I sort of think it’ll break my heart to—lose. +You see, if I lose, I lose you. You, I suppose, will feel glad—if you +win. It’s hard.” His eyes grew dark with the contemplation of his +possible failure. “If I could only hope it would be otherwise. If I +could only feel that you cared, in however slight a degree. It would +not seem so bad. If I win I have only won you. I have not won your +love. The whole thing is absurd, utterly ridiculous, and mad. I want +your love, not—not—just you.”</p> + +<p>Kate made no answer, and the man went on.</p> + +<p>“Do you know, Kate, as the days go on in this place, as the moment of +crisis approaches, I am growing less and less of a policeman. I’m even +beginning to repent of my wager with you, and but for the chance of +winning you, I should be glad to abandon it. Love has been a hidden +chapter in the book of life to me up till now, and now, reading it, it +quite overwhelms me. Do you know I’ve always despised people who’ve +put true love before all other considerations? I thought them weak +imbeciles, and quite unfit. Now I am realizing how much I had to learn +all the while, and have since learned.”</p> + +<p>He paused, and, after a moment’s thought, went on again.</p> + +<p>“Do you know a curious thought, desire, has grown up in me since our +compact. I know it’s utterly—utterly mad, but I can’t help it. +Believing now, as I do, that Bryant is no more to you than you say, I +feel that when I get him—I feel I cannot, dare not keep him. I feel a +crazy longing to let him go free. Do you know what that means to me? +It means giving up all I have struggled for all these years. Do you +know why I want to do it? Because I believe it would make you happy.”</p> + +<p>Kate’s eyes were turned from him. They were full of a great burning +joy and love. And the love was all for this man, so recklessly +desirous of her happiness.</p> + +<p>She shook her head without turning to him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span>“You must not,” she said, in deep thrilling tones. “You must not +forego the duty you owe yourself. If you capture Charlie he must pay +the price. No thought of me must influence you. And I—I am ready to +pay the forfeit. I made the wager with my eyes wide open—wide, wide.”</p> + +<p>Fyles stirred uneasily. He meant every word he had said, and somehow +he felt he was still beyond the barrier, still outside the citadel he +was striving to reduce.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know,” he said almost bitterly. “It is just a wager—a wager +between us. It is a wager whereby we can force our convictions upon +each other.”</p> + +<p>Kate nodded, and the warm light of her eyes had changed to a look of +anxiety.</p> + +<p>“There is a whole day and more before the—settlement, a day and night +which may be fraught with a world of disaster. Let us leave it at +that—for the present.” Then, with an effort, she banished the +seriousness from her manner. “But I am delaying. I must pack my grip, +and harness my team. You see, I must leave directly after dinner.”</p> + +<p>Fyles accepted his dismissal. He turned to his horse and prepared to +mount. Kate followed his every movement with a forlorn little smile. +She would have given anything if he could have stayed. But——.</p> + +<p>“Good luck,” she cried, in a low tone.</p> + +<p>“Good luck? Do you know what that means?” Fyles turned abruptly. “It +means my winning the wager, Kate.”</p> + +<p>“Does it?” Kate smiled tenderly across at him. “Well, good luck +anyway.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2> + +<h3>AN ENCOUNTER</h3> + +<p>Service was still proceeding at the Meeting House. The valley was +quiet. Scarcely a sound broke the perfect peace of the Sabbath +morning. The sun blazed down, a blistering fragrant heat, and the +laden atmosphere of the valley suggested only the rusticity, the +simple innocence of a pastoral world.</p> + +<p>At Kate Seton’s homestead a profound quiet reigned. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>There was the +occasional rattle of a collar chain to be heard proceeding from the +barn; the clucking of a foolish hen, fussing over a well-discovered +worm of plump proportions, sounded musically upon the air, and in +perfect harmony with the radiant, ripening sunlight. A stupid mongrel +pup stretched itself luxuriantly upon the ground in the shade of the +barn, and drowsily watched the busy hens, with one eye half open. +Another, evidently the brother of the former, was more actively +inclined. He was snuffing at the splashes of axle “dope” on the ground +beneath the wagon. He was young enough to eat, and appreciate, +anything he could get his baby teeth into.</p> + +<p>There was scarcely a sign of life about the place otherwise. The whole +valley was enjoying that perfect, almost holy, calm, to be found +pretty well all the world over, yielded by man to the hours of +worship.</p> + +<p>Inside the house there was greater activity. Kate Seton was in her +homely parlor. She was at her desk. That Bluebeard’s chamber, which +roused so much curiosity in her sister, was open. The drawers were +unlocked, and Kate was sorting out papers, and collecting the loose +paper money she kept there.</p> + +<p>She was very busy and profoundly occupied. But none of her movements +were hurried, or suggested anything but the simple preparations of one +about to leave home.</p> + +<p>Her work did not take her long. All the loose money was collected into +a pocketbook, bearing her initials in silver on its outer cover. This +she bestowed in the bosom of her dress. Then, very deliberately, she +tore up a lot of letters and loose papers, thrust them in the +cookstove, and watched them burn in the fragment of fire smouldering +there. Next she passed across to the wall where her loaded revolvers +were hanging, and took one of them from its nail. Then, with an air of +perfect calm and assurance, she passed out of the room to her bedroom, +where a grip lay open on the simple white coverlet of her bed.</p> + +<p>Her packing was proceeded with leisurely. Yet the precision of her +movements and the certainty with which she understood her needs made +the process rapid.</p> + +<p>Everything was completed. The grip was full to overflowing. She stood +looking at it speculatively. She was <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span>assuring herself that nothing +was forgotten for her few days’ sojourn away from home.</p> + +<p>In the midst of her contemplation she abruptly raised her eyes to the +window and inclined her head in an attitude of listening. A sound had +reached her, a sound which had nothing to do with the two puppies, or +the hens, outside. It was a sound that brought a swift, alert +expression into her handsome eyes, the look of one who belongs to a +world where the unusual is generally looked upon with suspicion.</p> + +<p>A moment later she was peering out of the window into the radiant +sunlight. The sound was plainer now, and she had recognized it. It was +the sound of a horse galloping, and approaching her home.</p> + +<p>Still the doubtful questioning was in her eyes.</p> + +<p>She left the window and passed out of the room. The next moment she +was standing in the doorway at the back of the house, and in front of +her stood the wagon that was to bear her to Myrtle. The slumberous pup +was on its feet standing alertly defiant. Its brother was already +yapping truculently in its baby fashion. The old hen had abandoned its +search for more delectable provender, and had fled incontinently.</p> + +<p>A horseman dashed up to the house. He had ignored the front door and +made straight for the barn. He drew up with a jerk, and sat looking at +the wagon standing there. Then, with an excited, impatient +ejaculation, he flung out of the saddle.</p> + +<p>The next moment he became aware of Kate’s presence in the doorway. +With eyes alight and half-angry, half-impatient, Charlie Bryant turned +upon her.</p> + +<p>“Why have you taken this wagon, Kate?” he demanded, going to the point +of his concern without preamble.</p> + +<p>The woman drew a sharp breath. It was as though she realized that a +vital moment had arrived, a moment when she must grip the situation, +and use all her power of domination over the questioner.</p> + +<p>“You’ve placed it at my disposal at all times,” she said, smiling into +his excited eyes.</p> + +<p>The man rushed on.</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes, I know; but why have you taken it now? You say you are +going to Myrtle. You don’t need it. You <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>could ride to Myrtle—in the +ordinary way. You are welcome to the wagon at all times. To anything I +have. But why are you taking it now? I only found out it had gone this +morning. I—” he averted his gaze—“I only happened to go over to the +corral this morning—and I found it—gone.”</p> + +<p>Quick as a shot Kate’s answer was formulated and fired at him.</p> + +<p>“Why did you go to the corral—this morning?”</p> + +<p>The man’s reply was slow in coming. His cheeks flushed, and it looked +as though he were seeking excuse.</p> + +<p>“I had to go there. I—needed my wagon for to-morrow’s work.”</p> + +<p>Kate smiled. She was feeling more confident.</p> + +<p>“For hauling your hay? Won’t it wait? You see, I can’t carry a grip on +the saddle.”</p> + +<p>Great beads of sweat were standing on Charlie’s youthful face. He +raised one nervous hand and brushed it across his forehead. He cleared +his throat.</p> + +<p>“Say, why—why must you go now, Kate? What is this absurd talk I have +heard? You going away because—because of that tree business? Kate, +Kate, such an idea isn’t worthy of you. You going? You flying from +superstition? No, no, it’s not worthy of you. Kate——” he paused. +Then, with a gulp: “You can’t have the wagon. I refuse to—lend it +you. I simply must have it.”</p> + +<p>Kate was leaning against the door casing. She made no move. Her smile +deepened, that was all. She understood all that lay behind the man’s +desperate manner, and—she had no intention of yielding.</p> + +<p>“If you must have it, you must,” she said, in her deep voice, so like +his own. “You had better send for it, but—” her look suddenly +hardened—“don’t ever speak to me again. That is all I have to say.”</p> + +<p>The man’s determination wavered before the woman’s coldness. He looked +into her dark eyes desperately. They were cold and hard. They had +never looked at him like that before.</p> + +<p>“D’you mean that, Kate?” he demanded desperately. “Do you mean that if +I take that wagon you have—done with me forever? Do you?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>“I meant precisely what I said.” Kate suddenly bestirred herself. The +coldness in her eyes turned to anger, a swift, hot anger, to which the +man was unused, and he shrank before it. “If you are sane you will +leave that wagon to me. You <i>do not</i> want it for your haying +to-morrow. Anyway, your haying excuse is far too thin for me. I know +why you want it. If you take it I wash my hands of you entirely. You +must choose now between these things, once and for all. I am in no +trifling mood. You must choose now—at once. And your choice must +stand for all time.”</p> + +<p>Kate watched the effect of every word she spoke, and she knew, long +before she finished speaking, she was to have her way. It was always +so. This man had no power to refuse her anything. It was only in her +absence, when his weakness overwhelmed him, that her influence lost +power over him.</p> + +<p>All the excitement had died out of his eyes. Anger gave way to +despair, decision to weakness and yielding. And through it all a great +despair and hopelessness sounded in his voice.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Kate,” he cried, “I can’t believe this is you—I can’t—I can’t. +You are cruel—crueller than ever I would have believed. You know why +I want to keep the wagon just now. I implore you not to do this thing. +I will do most anything else you ask me, but—leave that wagon.”</p> + +<p>Kate shook her head in cold decision.</p> + +<p>“My mind is quite made up,” she said. “There is nothing more to be +said. You must choose here—and now.”</p> + +<p>The man hesitated. Just for a moment a gleam of anger flashed into his +eyes, but it died almost at its birth, and he made a gesture of +something like despair.</p> + +<p>“You must do as you see fit,” he said, yielding. Then, in a moment, +his weakness was further displayed in an impotent obstinacy. “You must +do as you see fit, and I shall do the same. My mind, too, is made up. +I shall carry out the plans I have already made, and if harm +comes—blame yourself.”</p> + +<p>He turned away abruptly. He refused even to look in her direction +again. He sprang into the saddle with remarkable agility and galloped +off.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>Charlie Bryant raced back to his house. For the moment a sort of +frenzy was upon him. He flung out of the saddle, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>and left his horse +at the veranda. He rushed into his sitting room, and, in a sort of +impotent excitement and anger, he paced the floor.</p> + +<p>He went through the little house without object or reason. At the +kitchen door he stood staring out, lost in a troubled sea of racing +thought. Presently he returned to the sitting room. He was about to +pass out on to the veranda, but abruptly paused. With a gesture of +impatient defiance he returned to his bedroom and drew a black bottle +of rye whisky from beneath the mattress of his bed. Without waiting to +procure a glass he withdrew the cork, and, thrusting the neck of the +bottle into his mouth, took a long “pull” at the contents. After a +moment he removed it, and gasped with the scorch of the powerful +liquor. Then he took another long drink. Finally he replaced the cork +and returned the bottle to its hiding place.</p> + +<p>A few moments later he was on the veranda again looking out over the +village with brooding eyes. For a long while he stood thus, his +stimulated thought rushing madly through his brain. Then, later, he +became aware of movement down there in the direction of the Meeting +House. He realized that service was over. In a few moments Bill would +return for the mid-day meal which was all unprepared.</p> + +<p>With a short, hard laugh he left the veranda and mounted his patient +horse. Then, at another headlong gallop, he raced down toward the +village.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>It was sundown the following day. A horse stood grazing in the midst +of a small grass patch surrounded by a thick bush of spruce, and +maple, and blue gums. A velvet twilight was gathering over all, and +the sky above was melting to the softer hues of evening.</p> + +<p>The horse hobbled about in that eager equine fashion when in the midst +of a generous feed of sweet grass. Its saddle was slightly awry upon +its back, and its forelegs were through the bridle reins, which +trailed upon the ground. The creature seemed more than content with +its lot, and the saddle disturbed it not at all.</p> + +<p>Once or twice it looked up from its occupation. Then it went on +grazing. Then, quite suddenly, it raised its head with a start, and +the movement caused it to raise a foreleg <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>caught in the trailing +reins. Something was moving in the bushes.</p> + +<p>It stood thus for some moments. Its gaze was apprehensively fixed upon +the recumbent figure of a man just within the bush. The figure had +rolled over, and a pair of arms were raised above its head in the act +of stretching.</p> + +<p>Presently the figure sat up and stared stupidly about it.</p> + +<p>Charlie Bryant had awakened with a parching thirst, and a head racked +and bursting with pain. It was some minutes before his faculties took +in the meaning of his surroundings. Some minutes before they took in +anything but the certainty of his parched throat and racking head.</p> + +<p>He stared around him stupidly. Then, with a dazed sort of movement, he +rubbed his bloodshot eyes with the knuckles of his clenched fists. +After that he scrambled to his feet and stood swaying upon his aching +limbs. Then he moved uncertainly out into the open. He felt stiff, and +sore, and his head was aching maddeningly.</p> + +<p>Now he beheld his horse, and the animal’s wistful eyes were steadily +fixed upon him. Every moment now his mind was growing clearer. He was +striving to recollect. Striving to remember what had happened. He +remembered going to the saloon. Yes, he had stayed there all day. That +he was certain of, for he could recall the lamps being lit—and yet +now it was daylight.</p> + +<p>For a moment his dazed condition left him puzzled. How did this come +about? Then, all in a flash he understood. This must be Monday. He +must have left the saloon—drunk, blind drunk. He must have +ridden—where? Ah, yes, now it was all plain. He must have ridden till +he fell off his horse, and then slept where he fell. Monday—Monday. +He seemed to remember something about Monday. What was it—ah!</p> + +<p>In a moment the cobwebs of his debauch began to fall from him, and he +became alert. He felt ill—desperately ill—but the swift action of +his brain left him no time to dwell upon it. He moved across to his +horse, and set the saddle straight upon its back. Then he disentangled +the reins from about its feet, and threw them over its head. The next +moment he was in the saddle and riding away.</p> + +<p>It was some moments before he could make up his mind <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>as to his exact +whereabouts. He knew he was in the valley, but——. At that instant he +struck a cattle track and promptly followed it. It must lead +somewhere, and, sooner or later, he knew that he would definitely +locate his position.</p> + +<p>He rode on down the track, pondering upon all that must have occurred +to him. He must have slept for eighteen hours at least. He knew full +well he was not likely to have left O’Brien’s until the place was +closed, and now it was sundown—the next day. Sundown on Monday. He +quickened his pace. His nerves were shaking, and—he wondered in what +direction the river lay. He was consumed with a fierce thirst.</p> + +<p>Suddenly his horse threw up its head and pricked its ears. Charlie sat +up, startled, and peered out ahead. The next moment he had reduced his +horse’s gait to a walk. He knew where he was, and—he heard a sound +like a distant neigh.</p> + +<p>In a moment he was out of the saddle. He tied his horse just inside +the bush and then proceeded on foot. The old corral lay ahead of him. +That corral where he usually kept his wagon, and where the old hut +stood.</p> + +<p>He moved rapidly forward, and, as he neared the clearing, he left the +cattle track and took to the bush. That tell-tale sound, his horse’s +pricked ears, had aroused his suspicions.</p> + +<p>A few moments later he reached the fringe of the clearing. Keeping +himself well hidden, he pressed to the very edge, and peered out from +amid the bush. As he did so he breathed a sigh of thankfulness. Two +horses were tied to the corral fence, and the door of the little old +shack was wide open.</p> + +<p>One of the horses he recognized as belonging to Inspector Fyles—the +other didn’t matter. So he waited breathlessly, while one hand went to +his coat pocket, an unconscious movement, and rested on the revolver +it found there.</p> + +<p>He had not long to wait. The sound of voices reached him presently. +Then they grew louder. And presently he beheld two men appear from +within the hut. Inspector Fyles came first, closely followed by a +half-breed whom he recognized at once. It was Pete—Pete Clancy.</p> + +<p>In a moment the waiting man understood. A sort of blind fury mounted +to his brain and set his head swimming. Now, too, his right hand was +withdrawn from his gun pocket, and the weapon was gripped tightly, and +his finger was around the trigger.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span>But the men were talking, and the watcher strained to catch their +words. He felt he must know. He must know what treachery was afoot, +and how far it affected——</p> + +<p>“The game’s a pretty bright one,” Pete was saying; and the waiting man +ground his teeth as he realized the swagger in the man’s tones, and +the grin of triumph on his still scarred features. “Maybe it ain’t a +new sort of play, but I guess it ain’t none the worse for that. Y’see, +that wagon is kept here right along. It’s allers my work runnin’ it +back here, and fetchin’ it along when it’s needed. That’s how I know +about things here,” he added, with a jerk of the head in the direction +of the hut. “It’s far enough from the village for folks not to know +when it’s here or not. Then the feller runnin’ this layout keeps other +things here. Y’see, when a job’s on he don’t fancy folks gettin’ to +know him. So he keeps an outfit o’ stuff back in the hut there as ’ud +hide up a Dago ice-cream seller. Maybe he has other uses for that +shack. I ain’t wise. But that hidin’ hole I located dead easy. Guess +he figgers it’s a dead secret—but it ain’t.”</p> + +<p>Then Fyles’s voice, sharply imperious, carried to the listening man.</p> + +<p>“Who is he?” he demanded, turning suddenly upon his companion as they +reached the horses.</p> + +<p>The grin left the half-breed’s face, and Charlie held his breath.</p> + +<p>The half-breed halted. An ironical light possessed his discolored +eyes.</p> + +<p>“Why, the feller you’re getting to-night—in the boat.”</p> + +<p>Fyles eyed his man sternly.</p> + +<p>“That’s the second time you’ve answered me in that way. I’m not to be +played with. Who is this man?”</p> + +<p>A curious truculence grew in the half-breed’s face.</p> + +<p>“I’ve told you all I’m going to tell you. Guess you’ll be askin’ me to +lay hands on him for you, next. I’ve earned my freedom, and when you +get these folks I’ll be square with the game. You can’t bluff me on +this game. No, sir. I got the law clear. You can’t touch me for a +thing. It’s up to you to get your man. I showed you the way.”</p> + +<p>Charlie breathed again, though his fury at the miserable traitor was +no less.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>Fyles swung himself into the saddle. He bent down, and his voice was +harshly commanding.</p> + +<p>“Maybe I can’t touch you—now,” he cried. “But see you play the game +to-night. You get your free run, only if I get the man I’m after. The +rest of the gang don’t count a lot, nor the liquor. It’s the boss of +the gang I need. If you’ve lied to me you’ll get short shrift.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll get him all right.”</p> + +<p>The half-breed grinned insolently up into the officer’s face. Then +Fyles rode away, and, from the moment his horse began to move until it +vanished down the cattle track, the muzzle of Charlie Bryant’s gun was +covering him. His impulse was homicidal. To bring this man down might +be the best means of nullifying the effect of Pete’s treachery. Then, +in time, he remembered that there were others to replace him, and, in +all probability, they knew already the story Pete had told their +chief. There was one thing certain, however, that liquor must not be +run to-night.</p> + +<p>Urgent as was the moment Charlie had not yet finished here. The moment +Stanley Fyles had disappeared he turned back to the half-breed. He saw +Pete take his horse and lead it on to the grass some distance from the +corral fence, and his gun held him covered. Then he watched him go +back to the hut and carefully close the door. After that he watched +him disturb his own footmarks and those of the policeman in the +neighborhood of the doorway.</p> + +<p>Charlie moved. The bushes parted, and he made his way into the open. +The half-breed’s back was turned. Then, quite suddenly, a deep, harsh +challenge rang out, breaking up entirely the sylvan peace.</p> + +<p>“You damned traitor!”</p> + +<p>With a leap the half-breed swung about. As he did so the gleaming +barrel of his gun flashed with a sharp report. A bullet whistled +through Charlie Bryant’s hat, another tore its way through the sleeve +of his jacket. But before a third could find a vital spot in his body +his own gun spat out certain death. The half-breed flung up his hands, +and, with a sharp oath, his knees crumpled up under him, and he fell +in a heap on the ground.</p> + +<p>His face livid with passion, Charlie hurried across the intervening +space. For one moment he stood gazing down <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span>upon the fallen man. Then +he aimed a kick of spurning at the dead man’s body and moved away.</p> + +<p>It was some minutes before he left the precincts of the old corral +with its evil history. He went into the hut and opened the secret +cupboard. It was quite empty, and he closed it again. Then he passed +out, and removed the saddle and bridle from the half-breed’s horse, +and turned it loose. Then, after one last look of hatred and loathing +at the dead man, he moved away and vanished among the trees.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV</h2> + +<h3>ON MONDAY NIGHT</h3> + +<p>Big Brother Bill, after an evening of considerable worry, had retired +to his little lean-to bedroom with its low, camp bedstead. It was +useless sitting up any longer attempting one of those big worrying +“thinks” which, usually, he was rather proud of achieving.</p> + +<p>On this occasion thinking led him nowhither. His worries had come +swiftly and significantly. In the first place, on Sunday afternoon he +had been seriously concerned about Helen. It was not until Kate’s +going that either he or Helen had realized the girl’s lonely position +in the house on the river bank. It came home to them both as they +returned thither at about sundown, to find that neither of the hired +men had shown up again, and the work, even to the “chores” of the +homestead, was at a standstill.</p> + +<p>He really became angry in his anxiety. Angry with Kate, angry with the +men. However, his displeasure was not likely to help matters, so he +and Helen turned to and fed the few livestock, made them snug for the +night, and then proceeded to consider Helen’s position. After some +debate it was decided to appeal to Mrs. John Day. This was promptly +done, and the leading citizeness, after a closer cross-examination, +consented to take the girl under her brusque wing, and lodged her in +her own rather resplendent house.</p> + +<p>This was comparatively satisfactory, and Bill breathed his relief. But +hard upon this came the more alarming realization that Charlie did not +return home on Sunday night. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span>Not only that, but nothing was heard of +him the whole of Monday. All the alarmed brother was able to discover +was the fact that Charlie had left the saloon at the time O’Brien +closed it, about midnight on Sunday, in a hopelessly drunken +condition.</p> + +<p>So, what with assisting Helen with the work of her homestead, and +searching for his defaulting brother, Bill’s day was an anxious one. +Then, at nightfall, a further concern added fresh trouble to his +thought. Kid Blaney had defected as well, and, in consequence, the +work of Charlie’s little ranch had been completely at a standstill the +whole day.</p> + +<p>In the end, quite wearied out with his unusual exertions, Bill +abandoned all further attempt to get a grip on the situation and went +to bed. He knew he must be up early in the morning, at daylight, in +fact, for he had promised Helen to be at the ceremony of the felling +of the pine tree, for which all preparations had been duly made under +the watchful and triumphant eye of Mrs. John Day.</p> + +<p>Sleep, however, was long in coming. His brain was too busy, a sign he +was secretly pleased at. He felt that during the last two days he had +more than proved his ability in emergency. So, lying awake, waiting +patiently for sleep to come, he rather felt like a general in action, +perfectly assured of his own capacity to meet every situation +successfully.</p> + +<p>It was nearly midnight when he finally dropped off into a light and +rather disturbed slumber. How long he had slept, or even if he really +had slept at all, he was never quite sure, for, quite suddenly, he was +aroused, and wide awake, by the sound of his own name being called in +the darkness.</p> + +<p>“Bill! Bill!”</p> + +<p>At the second pronouncement of his name he was sitting up with his +bare feet on the bare floor, and his great pajamaed body foolishly +alert.</p> + +<p>“Who in——” he began. But in a moment Charlie’s voice cut him short.</p> + +<p>“You there? Thank God! Where’s the lamp? Quick, light it.”</p> + +<p>To Bill’s credit it must be admitted he offered no further attempt at +a blasphemous protest, but leaned over toward the Windsor chair on +which the lamp stood, and fumbled for the matches.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>The next moment he had struck a light, and the lamp was lit. He stood +up and looked across the room. Charlie’s slight figure was just inside +the doorway. His face was ghastly in the yellow lamplight. His clothes +were in a filthy condition, and, altogether, in Bill’s own words, he +looked like a priceless antique of some forgotten race.</p> + +<p>However, the hunted look in the man’s eyes smote his brother’s +generous heart, and a swift, anxious inquiry sprang to his lips.</p> + +<p>“What’s—what’s up, Charlie?” he cried, gathering his clothes +together, and beginning to dress himself.</p> + +<p>Charlie’s eyes glowed with a reflection of the lamplight.</p> + +<p>“The game’s up, Bill,” he cried hoarsely. “My God, it’s been given +away. Pete Clancy, the feller you hammered, has turned informer. I—I +shot him dead. Say, the gang’s out to-night. They’re coming in with a +cargo of liquor. Fyles is wise to their play, and knows just how it’s +coming in. They’ll be trapped to a man.”</p> + +<p>“You—shot Pete—dead?”</p> + +<p>In the overwhelming rush of his brother’s information, the death of +the informer at his, Charlie’s, hands seemed alone to penetrate +Bill’s, as yet, none too alert faculties.</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes,” cried the other impatiently. “I’d have shot him, or—or +anybody else for such treachery, but—but—it’s the other that +matters. I’ve got to get out and stop that cargo. It’s midnight now, +and—God! If the police get——”</p> + +<p>Bill’s brain was working more rapidly, and so were his hands. He was +almost dressed now.</p> + +<p>“But you, Charlie,” he cried, all his concern for his brother +uppermost. “They’ll get you. And—and they’ll hang you for killing +Pete—sure.”</p> + +<p>Suddenly a peal of hysterical laughter, which ended in a furious +curse, rang through the room.</p> + +<p>“God Almighty!” Charlie cried fiercely, “don’t stand there yapping +about me. Hang me? What in hell do I care what they do to me? I +haven’t come here about myself. Nothing that concerns me matters. +Here, it’s midnight. I’ve time to reach ’em and give ’em the word. +See, that’s why I’m here. I don’t know what’s happened by now, or what +may happen. You offered to help. Will you help me now? Bill, I’ve got +to get there, and warn ’em. The police <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>will try and stop us. If there +are two of us, one may get through—will you——?”</p> + +<p>Bill crushed his hat on his head. His eyes, big and blue, were +gleaming with the light of battle.</p> + +<p>“Give me a gun, and come on,” he cried. “I don’t understand it all, +but that don’t matter. I’ll think it out later. You’re up against it, +and that’s good enough for me. Somebody’s going to have to look bright +if he lays hands on you, if it’s Fyles, or McBain, or the devil knows +who. Come on.”</p> + +<p>Picking up the lamp, Bill took the lead. Here, in action, he had no +doubts or difficulties, Charlie was in trouble; Charlie was +threatened; Charlie, his foolish, but well-loved brother.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later two horsemen, regardless of rousing the +inhabitants, regardless of who might see and recognize them, galloped +headlong through the heart of the village.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI</h2> + +<h3>STILL MONDAY NIGHT</h3> + +<p>The little river wound its silvery way through the heart of the +valley. The broken summer clouds strove to shut out the brilliant +light of the moon, and signally failed. The swift-moving currents of +air kept them stirring, and breaking. So the tattered breaks through +which peeped the radiant lamp of night, illuminated each fringe of +mist with the sheen of burnished steel.</p> + +<p>In spite of the high wind above, the night was still in the heart of +the valley. So still. High up above, the racing wind kept up the +constant movement, but not a breath below disturbed one single +sun-scorched leaf. It was warm. The night air was heavy with the +fragrance of ripening vegetation, and the busy droning sounds of +stirring insect life chorused joyously and seductively with the +murmuring of speeding waters.</p> + +<p>The very stillness thrilled. It was the hush of portent, the hush of +watchfulness, the hush of a threatening tension.</p> + +<p>In the wide heart of the valley the waters of the river laughed, and +sang, and frollicked on their way, while under <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span>cover of the deep +night-shadows lurking figures waited, with nerves set, and weapons of +destruction ready to fulfill their deadly mission. Strife loomed heavy +amid the reigning peace, the ruthless, savage strife which seems ever +to center the purpose of all sentient life.</p> + +<p>So the moments passed. Minutes grew. With every passing minute the +threat weighed heavier and heavier, until it seemed, at last, that +only the smallest spark was needed to fire the train.</p> + +<p>The racing clouds melted. They gathered again. Again and again the +changes came and went. It was like one great, prolonged conflict +wherein the darkening veil strove to hide the criminal secrets upon +the earth below from the searching gaze.</p> + +<p>For awhile the moon held sway. The river lit, a perfect mirror. Only +the shadowed banks remained. Round the bend came a trifling object, +small, uncertain in its outline. A sigh of relief went up from many +lips. The tension was relaxed.</p> + +<p>Caught in the dazzling light the object shot across the water to the +sheltering bank. Then the clouds obscured the moonlight, and eyes +strove vainly to penetrate the shadow.</p> + +<p>The moments passed. Again the moon shone out. Again was the object +caught in the revealing light. Now it was closer, and as it raced once +more for the wood-lined bank the watching eyes made out a deep-laden +canoe, low in the water, with a solitary figure plying a skillful +paddle.</p> + +<p>It crept on under the bank. With a wonderful dexterity the man at the +paddle steered his course beneath the green of drooping foliage, while +now and then his narrow, evil, humorous eyes surveyed the heavy cargo +at his feet with a smile of satisfaction.</p> + +<p>But the shadows could not claim him for long. The full stream lay +beyond in the middle of the river. His cargo was heavy, and the +sluggish water under the bank made his progress slow and arduous. +Again he sought the stream, and the lesser effort, and the little +craft raced on.</p> + +<p>Then, of a sudden, the peace of the night was broken. A chorus of +night cries awoke to the sharp crack of a carbine. A voice shouted a +swift command, and the canoe was turned head on to the hither bank. In +a moment a ring of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span>metal was thrust into the face of the man with the +paddle, and the hard voice of Sergeant McBain bade him throw up his +hands.</p> + +<p>The boatman glanced swiftly about him. His evil eyes lit with a smile +of appreciation as he dropped his paddle and thrust his hands high +above his head. There were ten or twelve police troopers upon the +bank—and he was only one.</p> + +<p>“Haul him out o’ that, boys, and yank the boat up out o’ water. We’re +needin’ his cargo bad.”</p> + +<p>The man was dragged unceremoniously from the boat, and stood before +the hard-faced sergeant.</p> + +<p>“Name?” he snapped.</p> + +<p>“Holy Dick,” chuckled the prisoner.</p> + +<p>The sergeant peered into his face. At the moment the clouds had +obscured the moon.</p> + +<p>Was this the man they were waiting for? He made out the gray hair, the +smiling, evil eyes. He knew and recognized the features.</p> + +<p>The officer struggled with himself for a moment. Then his authority +returned.</p> + +<p>“You’re under arrest for—running this cargo of liquor,” he said +sharply.</p> + +<p>Holy Dick’s smile broadened.</p> + +<p>“But——”</p> + +<p>“If you’re going to make a statement I’m here to listen, but—it’ll be +used against you.”</p> + +<p>Sergeant McBain rapped out his formula without regard for the letter +of it. Then, while one of the troopers placed handcuffs upon the +prisoner’s wrists, he turned to those at the canoe.</p> + +<p>“How many kegs?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>For a moment there was no reply. Holy Dick sniggered. McBain glared +furiously, and his impatience rose.</p> + +<p>“How many?” he cried again, more sharply.</p> + +<p>One of the troopers approached him and spoke in a low voice.</p> + +<p>“None, sergeant,” he said, vainly striving to avoid the sharp ears of +their prisoner. “The boat’s loaded heavy with loose rocks. It’s——”</p> + +<p>A cunning laugh interrupted him. Holy Dick was holding out his +manacled arms.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span>“Guess you’d best grab these off, Sergeant; maybe you’ll need ’em for +someone else.”</p> + +<p>But the policeman’s reply became lost. A rattle of firearms far off on +the other side of the river left it unspoken. Something was happening +away over there, something they had not calculated upon. The rest of +the patrol, with Fyles, was divided between the other bank and the +more distant trail. He turned to his men.</p> + +<p>“Loose him and get into the saddle sharp!” he cried. “They’ve fooled +us. By God, they’ve fooled us—again!”</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>The uncertain moonlight revealed to Stanley Fyles a movement on the +distant rise of ground where the trail first mounted, and, beyond, +finally disappeared. His night glasses made out a rapidly oncoming +vehicle, accompanied by a small band of horsemen.</p> + +<p>The sight rejoiced him. Things were working out well. The man Pete had +not lied. McBain held the river. No boat could pass him. He would take +these men as part of the gang, working in conjunction with the boat. +All was well, and his spirits rose. A sharp order was passed back to +his men, ambushed in the bluff where he had taken up his position. The +thing would be simple as daylight. There would be no bloodshed. A few +shots fired to hold the gang up. Then the arrest.</p> + +<p>He waited. Then he backed into the ambush out of sight. The wagon came +on. Through his leafy screen he watched for the details of the +vehicle, the entire convoy. It would not be Bryant’s wagon; that he +knew would be elsewhere. It would probably be some hired conveyance +which did not belong to the village.</p> + +<p>Nearer drew the little convoy, nearer and nearer. It was less than one +hundred yards away. In the uncertain moonlight its pace seemed +leisurely, and he could hear the voices of the men escorting it. He +wanted it nearer. He wanted it under the very muzzles of his men’s +carbines. The rattle of wheels, the plod of horses’ hoofs were almost +abreast. A few seconds more, then——</p> + +<p>Half-a-dozen shots rang out, the bullets whistling across in front of +the wagon, and above the horses’ heads. The teamster reined up, +throwing his horses upon their haunches. Then, like a log, he fell +headlong from his driving seat.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span>Fyles turned with a bitter curse upon his lips for the criminal +carelessness of his men. But he was given no time to vent it. A cry +went up from the wagon’s escort, and a hail of bullets rained upon the +ambush.</p> + +<p>In a second the troopers charged the wagon, while two of their horses, +with empty saddles, raced from the cover, and vanished down the trail.</p> + +<p>Then the fight waged furiously.</p> + +<p>It lasted but a few moments. These savage men about the wagon had been +goaded beyond the power of their restraint, at no time great, by the +fall of their comrade. A wild fury at the wanton killing by the +troopers had fired the train of their passions. Retaliation had been +certain—certain as death itself.</p> + +<p>But, after that first furious assault, these untamed prairie souls +realized the inevitable result of their action. They broke and fled, +scattering across country, vanishing like shadows in the night. The +next moment, acting on a sharp command, the police were in red-hot +pursuit, like hounds breaking from leash. Only Fyles and three men +stayed behind with the fallen teamster and his one other dead comrade.</p> + +<p>But at the moment of the flight and pursuit, the sound of racing +wheels some distance away caught the officer’s ears. In a moment he +was at the wagon side. His men were close upon his heels. The wagon +was empty. It was the blind he had anticipated, but—that sound of +speeding wheels.</p> + +<p>He shouted to his men and set off across country in the direction. +Nothing must be left to chance. There was no doubt about the peculiar +rattle which sounded so plainly. It was a buckboard being driven at a +racing speed. Why?</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>As his horse ploughed through the low scrub his men followed hard upon +his heels. Farther on the country was open, and a wide stretch of +prairie grass spread out without cover of any sort. It was over this +the buckboard was racing.</p> + +<p>He strove to estimate its distance away, the start it had of him, by +the sound. It could not be much over a mile. A light buckboard and +team could travel very fast under the hands of a skilful teamster. It +would take a distance of five miles to overhaul it. The +direction—yes, it was the direction of the village. The buckboard +might get there ahead of them.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span>Fyles rammed both spurs into the flanks of the faithful Peter, and, as +he did so, he saw a party of horsemen converging on him from the left. +They drew on, and, in a moment, he recognized McBain and his men.</p> + +<p>He called out to the Scot as they came together.</p> + +<p>“You get the boat?”</p> + +<p>McBain shouted his reply.</p> + +<p>“Sure, but—there was nothing doing. It was loaded down with rocks.”</p> + +<p>Just for one brief instant a bitter imprecation hovered on the +officer’s lips. Then, in a wave of inspiration, he shouted his +conviction.</p> + +<p>“By God, then we’re on the right trail now. It’s the buckboard ahead. +We must get it. That’s the cargo, sure as fate. Come on!”</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>A light buckboard was moving leisurely over the open prairie. It was +just an ordinary, spidery buckboard drawn by an unusually fine team of +horses, and driven by a slightish man clad in a dark jacket and cord +riding-breeches, with a wide prairie hat drawn firmly down upon his +dark head, its brim deeply shading his boyish, good-looking face. +Running beside his team, tied to the neck yoke of the near-side +driver, was a saddle horse. It was a fine beast, with racehorse +quarters, and a shoulder laid back for speed.</p> + +<p>The buckboard was well loaded. Nor was its load disguised. It +consisted of a number of the small wooden kegs adopted for the purpose +of transporting contraband liquor.</p> + +<p>But though the vehicle moved over the rough grass in such a leisurely +fashion, the man’s eyes were alert and watchful. His ears, too, were +sharply set, and lost no sound, as his eyes lost no sight, in the +distant prospect of the country through which he was traveling.</p> + +<p>His gait was by no means the result of any reposeful sense. It was the +well-calculated result of caution. There was caution in his whole +poise. In the quick turn of the head at any predominating sound. In +the sharp glance of his dark eyes at any of the more fantastic shadows +cast by the searching moonlight. Then, too, a tight hand was upon the +reins, and there was an alert searching for those badger and gopher +holes so perilous for horses in the uncertain light of the moon.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>He was traveling in a parallel, a mile to the south of the river +trail, and, far ahead, to the right, he could see the bush which +marked the winding course of the river.</p> + +<p>Now he was listening to the faint rumble of a wagon moving along the +trail, and, with which, though so far away, he was carefully keeping +pace. This was his whole object—to keep pace, almost step for step, +with the rumbling movement of the distant wagon.</p> + +<p>At his present gait his wheels gave out practically no sound. They +gently, almost silently, crushed their way over the tufted grass, and +the sound of his horses’ hoofs suggested a muffling.</p> + +<p>So he made his way, stealthily, secretly. His was the brain which had +planned, and this vital work of convoying his smuggled liquor could be +entrusted to no other hand. The work he demanded of others was simple; +it was the background to his central purpose. He had no desire to risk +his helpers. His must be the risk, as, too, his must be the chief +profit.</p> + +<p>With all his caution he yet had time to think of those other things +which frequently brought a smile to his dark eyes. Why not? There was +a wild exhilaration in this work. He reveled in the thought of his +risk. He reveled in laying plans which could beat all the best brains +among the law officers. The excitement of the chances was as the +breath of life to him, and the cargo once safely secreted he could +feel that he had not lived in vain.</p> + +<p>He knew full well that the penitentiary doors were wide open waiting +to greet him, but he meant them to remain open, and spend their whole +time in a yearning which he vowed should never be fulfilled. Five +years. He smiled. Five years—wearing a striped——</p> + +<p>What was that?</p> + +<p>A shot! One single shot! Far away, there, by the river. Ah, yes. That +big bluff. Holy Dick was probably busy. Holy Dick in his boat. He +smiled. But all unconsciously he eased his hand upon the lines, and +his horses quickened their gait. It was just the slight, nervous +quickening as the critical moment of his effort drew near.</p> + +<p>The buckboard was less silent. The wheels began to rattle over the +hummocky surface of the prairie grass. He listened <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span>even more acutely +for the rumble of the wagon on the trail. He must definitely assure +himself he was still abreast of it. That was all important.</p> + +<p>He could plainly hear it. Was he abreast? For the moment he was not +quite sure. Therefore, he further permitted his horses to quicken +their pace. It was better to——</p> + +<p>He sat up, and a look of alarm peered out from under the brim of his +hat. The sound of a volley being fired over there on the trail +suddenly disconcerted him. This was something he had not reckoned on. +This was something he had wished to——</p> + +<p>Hark! Again! An answering volley! The first was the heavier. The +latter was the familiar note of revolvers. A definite alarm took hold +of him. What was the meaning of it? An attack? Were the men on the +trail resisting the police? He had warned them. He——. Listen! The +shouting! Now he could distinctly hear the sound of galloping horses.</p> + +<p>He leaned forward and grabbed the whip from its socket on the +dashboard, and brought it smartly down upon his horses’ backs.</p> + +<p>In an instant they leaped into a gallop, and he was racing over the +rough grass at a perilous pace.</p> + +<p>The fools. The mad, idiotic fools. Resisting the police. An armed +attack on the police. If they killed any of them——. Great God, was +there ever such a pack of fools and madmen? It was no longer simple +contraband. It was no longer playing up a ridiculous law. It was——</p> + +<p>Again he brought his whip down upon his horses. He must get through +now. He must get to the cache with the liquor, and trust to the luck +of the reckless to get away. Further concealment was out of the +question.</p> + +<p>Hark, what was that?</p> + +<p>Horsemen coming his way. Yes—horsemen. There could be no doubt of it. +The racing hoof-beats were unmistakable. Down came the whip again, and +the great team, with the saddle horse beside them, raced with bellies +low to the ground.</p> + +<p>Now he had no thought but for getting away. His mind ran over the +possibilities. If only he could get clear with the liquor there might +yet be a chance of his comrades’ and his own escape. He had no +knowledge of what had happened <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span>to the others, except that there was +shooting and pursuit. The only comfort to be drawn was from the +certainty in his mind that the first shooting he had heard was the +heavy firing of police carbines.</p> + +<p>Hark! Yes, there was no doubt of the pursuit. Furthermore, the pursuit +was hard behind him. Why? The police must have heard the buckboard. He +flogged his horses to a greater effort. They were the speediest team +in the country, and he had only three miles to go. They——</p> + +<p>“Hold up, you beast,” he cried, his deep voice hoarse with excitement.</p> + +<p>One of the horses lunged forward, stumbling in a badger hole. The +buckboard jolted terrifically. The driver was nearly thrown from his +seat. Under his firm hands, however, the beast managed to recover +itself. Then, as though he saw the gates of the penitentiary closing +upon him, a feeling of unutterable horror shivered through the man’s +body and settled upon his heart. The horse was dead lame.</p> + +<p>But there was no time now for feeling, no time for regrets. The +pursuers had found his trail, and were hard upon his heels. The cargo +must go. Everything must go. Personal safety was the only thing to be +considered. From the confidence of victory now he had fallen to the +zero of certain failure.</p> + +<p>He pulled his sweating team up and sprang to the ground. He ran up to +the saddle horse, and, casting the neck-rope loose from the neck yoke, +looped it over the horn of the saddle. The next moment he was in the +saddle and racing over the grassland in the direction of the village.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII</h2> + +<h3>THE NIGHT TRAIL</h3> + +<p>The trail declined over a long, gradual slope. At the bottom of it was +a broad, almost dried-out slough. A wooden culvert spanned the +reed-grown watercourse. Then the trail made a sharpish ascent beyond, +and lost itself behind a distant bush, beyond which again stretched +out a broad expanse of grass.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span>Two horsemen were speeding down the longer slope. Their horses were +fresh and full of speed. There was no speech passing between them. +Eyes and ears were alert, and their grimly set faces gave warning of +the anxious thought teeming through their brains.</p> + +<p>The indications of the night were nothing to them. The trail might +ring with the beat of their horses’ hoofs, or only reply with the soft +thud of a deep, sandy surface. They were not out to consider either +their horses or themselves. Each knew that his journey was one of +desperate emergency, and one of them, at least, cared nothing what +might be his sacrifice, even if it were life itself.</p> + +<p>The horses came down the hill with a headlong rush. Loose reins told +of the men’s feelings, and the creatures, themselves, as though imbued +with something of their riders’ spirits, abandoned themselves to the +race with equal recklessness.</p> + +<p>Halfway down the hill the foremost of the two, the smaller and +slighter, abruptly flung a word across his shoulder to his companion +behind.</p> + +<p>“Someone coming,” he said, in a deep, hoarse voice.</p> + +<p>The second man beat his horse’s flanks with his heels, and drew +abreast.</p> + +<p>“I can’t see,” he replied, shading his eyes from the light of the +moon, which, at that moment, shone out from behind a cloud.</p> + +<p>The other pointed beyond the culvert.</p> + +<p>“There. Riding like hell. Gee! Look—it’s—trouble.”</p> + +<p>Bill Bryant now discerned the hazy outline of a moving figure. It +seemed to him that whoever, or whatever it was, it was aware of their +approach and desirous of avoiding them. The moving object had suddenly +left the trail. It had taken to the grass, and was heading straight +for the miry slough.</p> + +<p>“The fool. The madman,” muttered Charlie. “Does he know what he’s +making for?”</p> + +<p>“Is it—a stream, Charlie?”</p> + +<p>Bill’s question seemed to irritate his brother.</p> + +<p>“Stream?—Damn it, it’s mire. His horse’ll throw himself. Who——?”</p> + +<p>He leaned forward in the saddle searching the distance for <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span>the +identity of the oncoming horseman. His horse shot forward, and Bill’s +was hard put to it to keep pace.</p> + +<p>“Can’t we shout a warning?” cried Bill, caught in his brother’s +anxious excitement.</p> + +<p>“Warning be damned,” snapped Charlie over his shoulder. “This is no +time to be shouting around. We don’t——Hallo! He’s realized where +he’s heading. He’s——. Oh, the hopeless, seven sorts of damned idiot. +Look! Look at that! There he goes. Poor devil, what a smash. Hurry +up!”</p> + +<p>The two men made a further call upon their horses, urged by the sight +of the horseman beyond the slough. He had crashed headlong into the +half-dry watercourse at the very edge of the culvert.</p> + +<p>The man’s disaster was quite plain, even at that distance. He had +evidently been unaware of his danger in leaving the trail for a +cross-country run to avoid those he saw approaching him. As he came +down to the slough, all too late he had realized whither he was +heading. Then, instead of keeping on, and taking his chances of +getting through the mire, he had made a frantic effort to swing his +horse aside and regain the culvert. His reckless speed had been his +undoing. His impetus had been so great that the poor beast under him +had only the more surely plunged to disaster, from the very magnitude +of its effort to avoid it.</p> + +<p>Charlie was the first to reach the culvert. In a moment he was out of +the saddle.</p> + +<p>The stranger’s floundering horse struggled, and finally scrambled to +its feet. The rider was close beside it, but lay quite still where he +had fallen. To Charlie’s critical eye there was little doubt as to +what had happened. The adjacency of the edge of the culvert warned him +of what had befallen. The rider must have struck it as he fell.</p> + +<p>As Bill dismounted he pointed at the stranger’s horse.</p> + +<p>“Grab it,” cried Charlie. The next moment was kneeling beside the +fallen man.</p> + +<p>Then, in a moment, the wondering Bill, looking on, beheld a sight he +would never forget.</p> + +<p>Charlie bent down over the silent figure. He reached out and placed an +arm under the man’s body and turned him over. The next instant a cry, +half-stifled in his throat, a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>cry as of some dumb creature mortally +wounded, a cry full of hopeless, dreadful pain rose from the kneeling +man, and its agony smote the sympathetic brother as though with a +mortal blow.</p> + +<p>Then came words, a rush of words, imploring, agonized.</p> + +<p>“Kate! Kate! Oh, Kate, why did you do it? Why? Oh, God, she’s dead! +Kate! Kate! Speak to me. For God’s sake speak to me. You’re not dead. +No, no. Not dead. It can’t be.”</p> + +<p>The man’s hand caressed the soft pale cheek under it. He had thrust +back the prairie hat which still retained its position, pressed low +upon the head, and a mass of dark, luxuriant hair fell away from its +place, coiled tightly about the small head.</p> + +<p>At that moment the horrified voice of Bill broke in.</p> + +<p>“Charlie! Charlie! I can hear horses galloping in the distance!” he +cried, alarmed, without actually realizing why. And some sort of +desperate instinct made him thrust his hand into his revolver pocket.</p> + +<p>For an instant only Charlie looked up at him in a dazed, only +half-understanding. Then his eyes lit with a stirring alarm as he +turned a listening ear to windward.</p> + +<p>The next moment his arms were flung about the body of the disguised +woman at his feet, and, with a great effort, he lifted her and +struggled to his feet.</p> + +<p>Bill stared in stupid wonderment when he beheld the figure of Kate +Seton clad in man’s clothing, but he continued to hold on to the +horses, and, with a hand on his revolver, awaited his brother’s +commands.</p> + +<p>At that moment Kate opened her eyes and gazed into the dark face above +her. In a moment the ardent eyes of Charlie smiled down at her. Then +the injured woman’s lips opened, and, as they formulated her halting +words, his smile gave place to something like panic. She was still in +a fainting condition, but power was vouchsafed her to impart a story +which drove him to something like a frenzy of activity.</p> + +<p>“It’s the police,” she gasped. “It’s—it’s shooting. They’re—behind. +They’re right after me—O-oh!”</p> + +<p>She had fainted again with her last word, and the dead weight in the +man’s arms became almost unsupportable.</p> + +<p>But now there was no longer any uncertainty. Kate was <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span>alive. The +police were behind. At all costs—the woman he loved must be saved.</p> + +<p>Charlie looked up at Bill, and his voice became harshly commanding.</p> + +<p>“Quick! On your horse, man,” he cried, almost fiercely. “That’s it,” +as Bill flung himself into the saddle without question. “Here, now +take her. You’re strong. Get her across your saddle in front of you. +There, that’s it—lift. So. Gently. Get her right across your lap. +That’s it. Now take my horse and lead it. So.”</p> + +<p>Bill obeyed like a well-disciplined child, and with equal enthusiasm. +He leaned down from the saddle and lifted the fainting woman out of +his brother’s arms. She was like a babe in his powerful arms. He laid +her across his knee. Then, as his brother passed the reins of his own +horse up to him, he took them and slung them over his supporting arm. +The command died out of Charlie’s tones, and his whole attitude became +an irresistible appeal.</p> + +<p>“Now, Bill,” he cried, urgently. “Down there, along the bank of the +slough.” He pointed away southwards. “Along there, into that bush. Get +into hiding and remain till the coast is clear. Then get her back to +her home. Leave the police to me, and—and remember she’s all I care +for—in the world.”</p> + +<p>Bill waited no further word. Once he understood what was required of +him he could do it—he would do it—with all his might. He moved off +with all the confident air of his simple, purposeful nature.</p> + +<p>Charlie watched him go. He saw him vanish amid the shadows of the +bush. Then he turned to Kate’s horse and sprang into the saddle.</p> + +<p>For a moment he sat there watching and listening. But his purpose was +not quite clear. It had not been clear to Bill, who had asked no +question, feeling such to be superfluous at the moment.</p> + +<p>But his own purpose was clear enough to Charlie’s devoted mind. There +must be no chance of Kate’s discovery by the police. Whatever had +happened before, there must be no chance of harm to her now. His mind +was quite clear. His thought flowed swiftly and keenly.</p> + +<p>The distant sound of galloping horses was growing. The <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span>summit of the +rising ground over which they must come was not more than two hundred +yards behind him.</p> + +<p>He waited. The clatter of hoofs was growing louder with each passing +second. The police must certainly be near the top of the rise now. +Bill was well away. He was well in the bush by this time.</p> + +<p>Hark! Yes. There they were. The moon was hidden just now, but even so +Charlie could see the bobbing figures at the hilltop.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he rammed his heels into his horse’s flanks and dashed off up +the slope which he had so recently descended. As he went he drew his +revolver and fired two shots in swift succession in the direction of +the horsemen approaching. Well enough he knew, as he raced on toward +the village, that the police were beyond his range, but his purpose +was that there should be no doubt in their minds that he—he was their +quarry—that he was the man they had already been pursuing so far.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>Ten men made up the tally of the pursuers riding with Inspector Fyles. +McBain was not among them. He had remained with the abandoned +buckboard while the rest of the police were scouring the neighborhood +for the fugitives from the first encounter.</p> + +<p>As Fyles came over the rise, and beheld the culvert below him, and +heard the two defiant shots hurled in his direction, a thrill of +satisfaction swept through him. The man was less than three hundred +yards ahead of him with a long hill to climb, and something over a +mile to go before the village, and the possibility of safety, was +reached.</p> + +<p>There was no match in the country for Peter when it came to a long, +uphill chase. He told himself the man hadn’t a dog’s chance with Peter +hard on his heels.</p> + +<p>“We’ve got him, boys,” he cried to his men, in his moment of +exuberance. “He ought to have been half a mile on by the start he got. +It’s the poor devil of a horse playing out. He’s beat—beat to death. +Now, boys, hard on my heels for a spurt.”</p> + +<p>Peter leaped ahead under the sharp reminder of the spur, and, in a few +moments, the clatter of iron-shod hoofs left the wooden culvert behind +it, and the race up the hill began.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span>The moon now blazed out, as though at last it had definitely decided +to throw its weight in against the fugitive. The summer clouds were +lifting and vanishing with that wonderful rapidity with which, once +the brilliant moon gains sway, she seems to sweep all obstruction from +her chilly path.</p> + +<p>The steely light poured down upon the slim back of the fugitive, and +left both horse and rider sharply outlined. The distance diminished +under the terrific spurt of the police horses, and a confident look +began to dawn in the eyes of their riders.</p> + +<p>They were gaining so rapidly that it seemed hardly necessary to press +their bronchos so hard. The top of the hill was still a quarter of a +mile away. The fugitive’s evidently wearying beast could never make +that last final incline. The man would be forced to turn and defend +himself or yield for very helplessness. The whole thing was too easy. +It was absurdly easy. Nor could there be any sort of a “scrap.” They +were ten to one. It was disappointing. These riders of the plains +reveled in a genuine fight.</p> + +<p>But Fyles’s contentment suddenly received a disconcerting shock. Peter +was stretching out like a greyhound. The pace at which they pursued +the hunted hare was terrific. But now, although they were, if +anything, traveling faster, they seemed to be no longer gaining. The +three hundred yards intervening had, in that first rush, been reduced +to nearly one hundred. But, somehow, to his disquiet Fyles now +realized that there was no further encroachment.</p> + +<p>He shook Peter up and left his companions behind. But it quickly +became evident he could make no further impression. If anything, his +quarry was gaining. An unpleasant conviction began to make itself felt +in the mind of the policeman. The man had been foxing. He had been +saving his horse up for that hill, calculating to a fraction the +distance he had yet to go.</p> + +<p>He called to his men to race for it.</p> + +<p>They came up on his heels. The man nearest to him was a corporal.</p> + +<p>“We’re not done with him yet, corporal,” he said grimly. “I wanted to +get him without trouble. Guess we’ll have to bail him up. Once over +the top of that hill, he runs into the bush on the outskirts of the +village. We daren’t risk it.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span>The corporal’s eyes lit.</p> + +<p>“Shall we open out and give him a round, sir?”</p> + +<p>Fyles nodded.</p> + +<p>“Let ’em fire low. Bring his horse down.”</p> + +<p>The corporal turned back to his men, and gave the necessary order.</p> + +<p>“Open out!” he cried. “It’s just over a hundred yards. Fire low, and +get his horse. We’ll be on him before he can pick himself up.”</p> + +<p>“There’s fifty dollars between you if you can bring him down and keep +his skin whole,” added Fyles.</p> + +<p>Still keeping their pace, the men spread out from the trail, +withdrawing the carbines from their leather buckets as they rode. Then +came the ominous clicking of the breeches as cartridges were thrust +home. Fyles, with Corporal Mooney, kept to the trail.</p> + +<p>A moment passed. Then the first carbine spat out its vicious pellet. +Fyles, watching, fancied that the fugitive had begun to flog his +horse. Now, in swift succession, the other carbines added their +chorus. There was no check in the pace of the pursuers. The +well-trained horses were used to the work.</p> + +<p>The first volley seemed ineffective. The men had not yet got their +sights. The fugitive had another fifty yards before he reached the top +of the long incline.</p> + +<p>The distance to the top of the hill was lessening rapidly. Fyles was +becoming anxious. It had become a matter of seconds before the man +would clear the ridge.</p> + +<p>“Keep low,” cried the corporal, warningly, in the excitement of the +moment. “A ricochet—anything will do. Get his horse.”</p> + +<p>The horseman was twenty yards from the crest of the hill. Fifteen. The +carbines again rattled out their hurried fire.</p> + +<p>Ten yards—in a moment he would be——</p> + +<p>A cloud of dust arose suddenly among the feet of the fugitive’s horse. +It cleared. Fyles gave a sigh of relief and raced Peter forward. The +man’s horse had crashed to the ground.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>Fyles was gazing down upon the body of the fallen man. The horse was +lying a few yards away, struggling to rise. A great welter of blood +flooded the sandy track all about it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span>A trooper walked up to the horse. He placed the muzzle of his carbine +close behind the poor creature’s ear. The next moment there was a +sharp report. The head dropped heavily to the ground and remained +quite still.</p> + +<p>The corporal looked up at his superior. He was kneeling beside the +body of Charlie Bryant.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid it’s all up with him, sir,” he said seriously. “But he +wasn’t hit. I can’t find a sign of a hit. I—think his neck’s +broken—or—or something. It was the fall. He’s dead, sir—sure.”</p> + +<p>The officer’s face never changed its stern expression. But the +suspicion of a sigh escaped him. He was by no means an unfeeling man, +but he had his duty to do. In this case there was more than his duty +concerned. Hence the sigh. Hence any lack of appreciation.</p> + +<p>“It’s the man I expected,” he said. “A foolish fellow, but—a smart +man. You’re sure he’s dead? Sure?”</p> + +<p>The corporal nodded.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Poor devil. I’m sorry.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII</h2> + +<h3>THE FALL OF THE OLD PINE</h3> + +<p>The gray of dawn was slowly gladdening toward the warmer hue of day. +The eastern skies lit with that pallid yellow which precedes the gold +and amber of the rising sun. Somewhere, far below the horizon, the +great day god was marching onward, ever onward, shedding its splendor +upon a refreshed and waking world.</p> + +<p>The valley of Leaping Creek was stirring.</p> + +<p>Whatever the shortcomings of the citizens of Rocky Springs, morning +activity was not one of them. But they knew, on this day of days, a +fresh era in the history of the village was about to begin. Every man +knew this. Every woman. Even every child who had power to understand +anything at all.</p> + +<p>So, as the golden light spread upward toward the vault of the eastern +heavens, the spirals of smoke curled up from among the trees on the +breathless air. Every cookstove in <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span>the village was lit by the +unwillingly busy hands of the men-folk, while the women bedecked +themselves and their offspring, as befitted the occasion and their +position.</p> + +<p>Breakfast ensued. It was not the leisurely breakfast of every day, +when men required an ample foundation to sustain their daily routine +of laborious indolence, but a meal at which coffee was drunk in +scalding gulps, and bread and butter, and some homely preserve, +replaced the more substantial fare of chops and steak, or bacon and +cereals.</p> + +<p>Then came the real business of the day. Doors opened and men looked +out. Children, with big bow ties upon their heads and sashes at their +waists, scuttled through, about the legs of their parents, and reached +the open. Neighborly voices hailed each other with a cheery greeting, +and the tone was unusual. It was the tone of those who anticipate +pleasantly, or are stirred by the excitement of uncertainty.</p> + +<p>Minutes later the footpaths and unpaved tracks lost their deserted +appearance. Solitary figures and groups lounged along them. Men +accompanied by their well-starched womenfolk, women striving vainly to +control their legions of offspring. They all began to move abroad, and +their ways were convergent. They were all moving upon a common goal, +as though drawn thither by the irresistible attraction of a magnet.</p> + +<p>From the lower reaches of the village, toward the eastern river, that +better class residential quarter, where the houses, four in number, of +Mrs. John Day, of Billy Unguin, of Allan Dy, and the local blacksmith +were located, an extremely decorous cortege emerged. Here there was +neither bustle nor levity. These were the chief folk of Rocky Springs, +and their position, as examples to their brethren of lesser degree, +weighed heavily upon them.</p> + +<p>Mrs. John was the light about which all social moths fluttered. The +women supporting her formed a bodyguard sufficiently impressive and +substantial. The men-folk were allowed no nearer than the fringe of +their bristling skirts. It was like the slow and stately progress of a +swollen, vastly overfed queen bee, moving on her round of the cells to +deposit her eggs. The women were the attendant bees, the men were the +guarding drones, whose habits in real life in no way detracted from +the analogy, while Mrs. John—well, Mrs. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span>John would have made a fine +specimen of a queen bee, except, perhaps, for the egg-laying business.</p> + +<p>They, too, were being drawn to the magnet point, but, as the distance +they had to travel was greater than that of the other villagers, they +would certainly be the last to arrive. This had been well calculated +by Mrs. John, who was nothing if not important. She had well seen to +it that the ceremony, so shortly to take place, was on no account to +begin until her august word had been given. To further insure this +trifling piece of self-aggrandizement she was defraying the whole of +the expenses for the demolishment of the aged landmark of the valley.</p> + +<p>The saloonkeeper, O’Brien, coldly cynical, but eager to miss nothing +of the doings of his fellow citizens, took up his position at an early +hour with two of the most faithful adherents of his business house.</p> + +<p>It was his way to observe. It was his way to watch, and read the signs +going on about him. This valley, and all that belonged to it, had +little enough attraction for him beyond its possibilities of profit to +himself. Therefore the signs about him were at all times important. +And the signs of the doings of the forthcoming day more particularly +so.</p> + +<p>Those who accompanied him were Danny Jarvis and “fighting” Mike. They +were entirely after his own heart, and, perhaps, if opportunity ever +chanced to offer, after his pocket as well. They accompanied him +because he insisted upon it, and with a more than tacit protest. As +yet they had not sufficiently slept off the fumes of their overnight +indulgence in rye whisky. But O’Brien, when it suited him, was quite +irresistible to his customers.</p> + +<p>Having roused these two inebriates from their drunken slumbers on the +hay in his barn with a healthy kick, he proceeded to herd them out +into the daylight with a whole-hearted enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>“Out you get, you lousy souses,” he enjoined them. “There’s a big play +up at the old tree goin’ to happen right away. Guess that old crow +bait, Ma Day’ll need all the youth an’ beauty o’ Rocky Springs +around to get eyes on her glory. I can’t say either o’ you boys fit in +with these things, but if you don’t git too near hoss soap and cold +water mebbe you’ll pass for the picturesque.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span>After a brief interval of blasphemous upbraiding and protest, after +these two men had exhausted their complimentary vocabulary on the +subject of the charms of the lumber merchant’s wife, to all of which +O’Brien turned a more or less deaf ear, the three set out for the +scene of action, and took up an obscure position whence they could +watch every detail of the proceedings without, themselves, being too +closely observed.</p> + +<p>As O’Brien looked out upon the preparations already made, and while +his two friends stood chewing the silent cud of angry discontent, with +a diluting of black plug tobacco, he had to admit that the moment +certainly was a moment, and the scene had assumed a fascination which +even contrived to take possession of his now somewhat rusty +imagination.</p> + +<p>There, in the center of all, stood the villainous old pine, clothed in +all its atmosphere of unconscionable evil. It stood out quite by +itself in the midst of a clearing, which had been carefully prepared. +Every tree and every bush had been cut away, so that nothing should +interfere with the impressive fall of the aged giant.</p> + +<p>O’Brien studied the position closely. His eye was measuring, and he +was forced to admit that the setting was impressive. More than that, +he felt constrained to appreciate the imagination of Mrs. John Day. +With a view to possibilities the approximate height of the tree had +been taken, and a corresponding radius had been cleared of all lesser +growths. This was excellent. But—and he contrived to find one +objection—the old Meeting House was well within the radius. It was +the preparation for its defense to which he took exception. He scorned +the surrounding of lesser trees which had been left to guard it from +the crushing impact should the tree fall that way. Nor was he slow to +air his opinions.</p> + +<p>He eyed the discontented features of his companions, and snorted +violently.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he cried, forcefully. “Look at that, you two bokays o’ beauty.” +He pointed at the Meeting House. “There—right there. If that +darnation stack o’ kindlin’ was to fall that aways, why, I guess them +vegetables wouldn’t amount to a mush o’ cabbige.”</p> + +<p>Fighting Mike deliberately spat.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span>“An’ who in hell cares?” he snarled.</p> + +<p>O’Brien turned on the other for a sign of interest. But Danny’s +stomach was in bad case.</p> + +<p>“Oh, hell!” he cried, and promptly turned his gaze in another +direction.</p> + +<p>O’Brien looked from one to the other, torn by feelings of pity and +anger, with a desire for bodily assault uppermost.</p> + +<p>“You sure are bright boys,” he said at last, a sort of sardonic humor +getting the better of his harsher feelings.</p> + +<p>He had no intention of having his enjoyment spoiled by what he termed +“bad bile,” so he yielded his full attention to the tree itself. It +certainly was a magnificent piece of Nature’s handiwork. Somehow he +regretted that he had never studied it carefully before. From the tree +he turned to a mild appreciation of the other preparations for its +fall. Long guide ropes had been set in place, high up the vast, bare +trunk. These, four of them in number, had been secured at the four +points of the compass to other trees of stout growth on the fringe of +the clearing. They were new ropes provided for the purpose. Then +again, a heavy cable chain had been girded about the lower trunk, and +to this, well out of range of the fall of the tree, were hitched two +teams of heavy draught horses. It was obvious that they were to haul +as the tree, steadied by the guides, began to fall.</p> + +<p>He summed up the result of his observations for the benefit of his +companions, in a pleasantly conversational manner.</p> + +<p>“Makes a dandy picture,” he said doubtfully, “but I guess there’s a +whole heap o’ things women don’t understand. Hand ’em a baby, an’ they +got men beat a mile, an’ they most gener’ly don’t forget to say so. +That’s all right, an’ we ain’t kickin’ a thing. Guess we ain’t +yearnin’ to share that glory—none of us. But babies and fellin’ trees +ain’t got a spark o’ resemblance far as I kin see, ’cep’ it is an axe +is a mighty useful thing dealing with ’em when they ain’t needed. What +I was comin’ to was this old sawdust bag, Ma Day’ll have a hell of a +mouthful to chew when that tree gets busy. These guides ain’t a +circumstance. They won’t hold nothin’. An’ I guess I don’t get a step +nearer things than I am now.”</p> + +<p>Mike gazed around on the speaker with billious scorn.</p> + +<p>“Don’t guess that’ll hurt nothin’,” he sneered.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span>Danny was beginning to revive.</p> + +<p>“Ain’t you goin’ to hand the leddy compliments?” he inquired +sarcastically. “You got an elegant tank o’ hot air laid on.”</p> + +<p>O’Brien remained quite unruffled.</p> + +<p>“She’ll hand herself all the compliments she’s yearnin’ for. Women +like her can’t do without bokays, an’ they don’t care a cuss how they +get ’em. Say——”</p> + +<p>He gazed up at the tattered crest of the tree. But the immensity of +its height, looking so directly up, turned him dizzy, and he was glad +to bring his gaze back to the unattractive faces of his companions.</p> + +<p>“——I’m gettin’ clear on to higher ground. You boys stop right ther’. +If the old tree gets busy your ways it won’t matter nothin’. Guess +your score’s overrun down at the saloon, but I lose that without a +kick. You’re too bright for me.”</p> + +<p>He turned away, and, moving up the hill, took up a fresh position.</p> + +<p>Here he had a better view. He had abandoned the pleasure of listening +to any speeches which he felt sure would be made, but his safety more +than compensated him. Without the distractions of his companions’ +society he was better able to concentrate his attention upon details. +He observed that the tree was already sawn more than half way through, +and he congratulated himself that he had not discovered it before. +Also he saw a number of huge, hardwood wedges lying on the ground, and +beside them two heavy wooden mauls.</p> + +<p>Their purpose was obvious, and he wondered who were the men who would +handle them. And, wondering, he cast an interested eye up at the sky +with the thought of wind in his mind. The possibility of such a +tragedy as the sudden rising of a breeze to upset calculations, and, +incidentally, the half-sawn tree, had no effect upon him. He was out +of range. Those gathering about the tree in the open were welcome to +their belief in the strength of the guide ropes.</p> + +<p>In a few moments all his interest was centered about the gathering of +the villagers. He knew them all, and watched them with the keenest +interest. He could hear the babel of tongues from his security. Nor +could he help feeling how much these people resembled a flock of +silly, curious sheep.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span>His eyes quickly searched for those whom he felt were really the more +important in the concern of the tree. Where were Charlie Bryant, and +those men who were concerned in his exploits? His eyes scanned every +face, and then, when his search was completed, something like +excitement took possession of him.</p> + +<p>Charlie Bryant was absent. So were his associates, Kid Blaney, Stormy +Longton, Holy Dick, and Cranky Herefer. Where were Pete Clancy and +Nick Devereux, Kate Seton’s hired men? They were all absent. So was +Kate herself. Ah, yes, he had heard she had gone to Myrtle. Anyway, +her sister, Helen, was there—with Mrs. John Day. Where was her +beau—Charlie Bryant’s brother?</p> + +<p>His excitement rose. The coincidence of these absences suggested +possibilities. The possibilities brought a fresh train of thought. He +suddenly realized that not a single policeman was present. This, of +course, might easily be accounted for on the score of duty. But their +absence, taken in conjunction with the absence of the others, +certainly was remarkable.</p> + +<p>But now the ceremony was beginning. Mrs. John Day had assumed command, +and, surrounded by her select bodyguard, she was haranguing the +villagers, and enjoying herself tremendously. Yes, there was no manner +of doubt about her enjoyment. O’Brien’s maliciously humorous eyes +watched her expression of smiling self-satisfaction, and estimated it +at its true worth. Her face was very red, and her arms swung about +like flails, beating the air in her efforts to carry conviction upon +an indifferent audience. He felt that the glory of that moment was +something she must have lived for for days, and a feeling of awful +anticipation swept over him as he considered her possible verbal and +physical antics at such time as the new church should be opened. He +felt that it would really be necessary to take a holiday on that +occasion.</p> + +<p>However, the speech terminated, as speeches sometimes do, and a chorus +of applause dutifully followed, as such choruses generally do. And now +the great interest of the day was to begin.</p> + +<p>Menfolk began to press the crowd back beyond the safety line, and two +of Mrs. Day’s lumbermen, evidently sent down <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span>for the occasion by her +husband from his camp, picked up the two wooden mauls. At the same +time a man took his place at each guide rope.</p> + +<p>O’Brien rubbed his hands. Now for the fun, and he thought of the old +legend. He wondered which of those silly-looking sheep, gazing in +open-mouthed expectation, were to be the victims of the old Indian +curse. And curiously enough, hard-headed, callous as he was, O’Brien +was convinced someone was to pay the penalty.</p> + +<p>The great wedges were placed in position, and the heavy stroke of one +of the mauls resounded through the valley. A second wedge was placed, +and a second stroke fell. Then several strokes in swift succession, +and the men stood clear, and gazed upward with measuring eye.</p> + +<p>O’Brien, too, looked up. The tree had begun to lean, and two of the +guides were straining taut. He wondered. He wondered if the men at the +guides were used to the work. Now, for the first time, he realized +that the crest of the tree had a vast overhang of foliage on one side, +and mighty misshapen limbs. He regarded it speculatively.</p> + +<p>Then he glanced at the lumbermen. They were still looking up at the +lean of the tree. Suddenly he found himself expressing his opinions +aloud, as he ominously shook his head.</p> + +<p>“They’re raw hands, or—jest mill hands,” he muttered. “They sure +ain’t sawyers.”</p> + +<p>And again his eyes lifted to the ominous overhang.</p> + +<p>A further scrutiny enlightened him. They were endeavoring to fell the +tree so that its crest should drop somewhere on or near the trail +toward the new church. This made its fall in the direction of, but to +the south of, the old Meeting House. This was obviously for the +purpose of simplifying haulage. Good enough—if all went well.</p> + +<p>The lumbermen seemed satisfied and turned again to their wedges. As +they did so a gleam of smiling irony began to grow in O’Brien’s eyes. +He had detected a slight swing in the overhang of the crest, and the +strain on the two guides was unequally distributed. The greater strain +was on the <i>wrong</i> guide.</p> + +<p>The swing of the tree was slightly out of its calculated direction, +and inclining a degree or two nearer the direction of the Meeting +House.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span>As the heavy strokes of the mauls fell he glanced over the faces of +the onlookers. What a picture of expectancy, what idiotic delight he +saw there!</p> + +<p>A crack, sharp and loud, echoed over the clearing. The double team +were straining mightily on their heavy tugs. The lumbermen had stood +clear. The strain on the <i>wrong</i> guide had increased.</p> + +<p>O’Brien looked up. The swing had changed several more degrees, further +out of its direction.</p> + +<p>The expression of the upturned faces had changed, too. Now it was +evident that others had realized what O’Brien had discovered already. +Loud voices began to point it out, and the lumbermen stared stupidly +upward. The tree was in the balance, and slowly moving, bearing all +its crushing weight upon that single <i>wrong</i> guide.</p> + +<p>There was a rapid movement near O’Brien, and Mike and Danny Jarvis +joined him hurriedly.</p> + +<p>“Say,” cried the latter, “the blamed galoots’ll bust up the whole +durned shootin’ match.”</p> + +<p>Which remark warned O’Brien that Danny had awakened to the threatening +danger to the Meeting House.</p> + +<p>“They done it,” returned O’Brien calmly, his eyes riveted upon the +leaning tree.</p> + +<p>Mike thrust his hands into the tops of his trousers.</p> + +<p>“It sure was time to quit,” he said with satisfaction.</p> + +<p>The saloonkeeper’s only comment was to rub his hands in a sort of +malicious glee. Then in a moment, he pointed at the straining guide. +“It’s got way,” he cried. “Look, she’s spinning. The rope. She’ll part +in half a tick. Get it? Say, might as well try to hold a house with +pure rubber, as a new rope. It’s got such a spring. It’s give the old +tree way. Now it’s——. Gee!”</p> + +<p>His final exclamation came as a terrific rending and cracking, far +louder than heavy gunshots, came from the base of the tree. There was +a vision of the lumbermen running clear. The next instant the +straining guide parted with a report that echoed far down the valley. +Then, caught by the other restraining guide, the whole tree swung +around, pivoting on its base, and fell with a roar of splitting and +rending, and a mighty final boom, along the whole length of the roof +of the Meeting House.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span>All O’Brien had anticipated had come to pass. Furthermore, the mush of +“vegetables” surrounding the house was more than fulfilled. The vast +trunk cut its way through the building, everything, like a knife +passing through butter, and finally came to rest upon the ruined +flooring inside.</p> + +<p>With the final crash an awful silence prevailed. Not a voice was +raised among the onlookers. The old superstitions were fully stirring. +Was this the beginning of some further disaster to come? Was this the +work of that old-time curse? Was this only a part of the evil +connected with that tree? It was not the destruction of the house +alone that filled them with awe. It was the character of the house +that had been destroyed.</p> + +<p>But in a moment the spell was broken, and O’Brien was the first to +help to break it. The tree had fallen. It lay there quite still, like +some great, dead, evil giant. Now his callous mind demanded to know +the full extent of the damage done.</p> + +<p>He left his post, followed closely by his companions, and ran down +toward the wrecked building. With his movement a rush came from other +directions among the spectators, and, in the twinkling of an eye, the +ruined Meeting House was swarmed with an eager, curious throng of men +and women clambering over the wreckage.</p> + +<p>What a gladdening result for the sensation-loving minds of the +callous! O’Brien and his companions were among the first to reach the +scene.</p> + +<p>There lay the fallen giant, the greater part of its colossal crest far +beyond the extreme end of the demolished building. Only a few of the +lower, bare branches, just beneath the foliage, had caught the house, +these and the trunk. But the wreckage was complete. The walls had +fallen as though they had been made of loose sand, walls that had +withstood the storms of years, and the old, heavy-timbered roof was +torn to shreds, and lay strewn about like matchwood.</p> + +<p>As the eager crowd swarmed over the <i>debris</i> an extraordinary sight +awaited them. The weight of the tree, and the falling roof timbers, +had almost completely destroyed the flooring, and there, in its place, +gaped an open cavity extending the length of the building. The place +was undermined by one huge cellar, divided by now crushed and broken +cross-supporting walls.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span>The searching eyes of the saloonkeeper and his companions lost no +detail. Nor did the prevailing astonishment at the discovery seem to +concern them. With some care they clambered among the <i>debris</i> to add +further to the discovery, if such additions were to be made. And their +efforts were rewarded without stint. The all-unsuspected and unknown +cellar was no simple relic of a bygone age, but displayed every sign +of recent usage. Furthermore, it was stocked with more than a hundred +liquor kegs, many of which were empty, but, also, many of which were +full of smuggled rye whisky.</p> + +<p>Within five minutes the entire village, from Mrs. John Day down to the +youngest child, knew that the cache of the whisky-runners had been +laid bare by the fall of the old pine.</p> + +<p>The wave of sentimental superstition again broke out and fastened +itself upon the minds of the people, and the miracle of it was spoken +of among them with almost bated breath.</p> + +<p>But O’Brien had no time to waste upon any such thought. He clambered +round through the cellars with eyes and wits alert. And he chuckled +delightedly, as, groping in the half-light among the kegs, he +discovered and recognized his own markings upon many of the empty +kegs.</p> + +<p>The whole thing amused him vastly, and he dilated upon his various +discoveries to those who accompanied him.</p> + +<p>“Say, Danny, boy, don’t it beat hell?” he cried gleefully. “While all +them psalm-smiters were busy to death sweepin’ the cobwebs out o’ +their muddy souls upstairs, the old wash-tub o’ sins was full to the +bung o’ good wholesome rye underneath ’em. Was it a bright notion? +Well, I’d smile. If it don’t beat the whole blamed circus. Is there a +p’liceman in the country ’ud chase up a Meetin’ House for liquor? Not +on your life. That dope was as safe right there from discovery as if +it was stored in the United States Treasury. Say, them guys was smart. +Smart? Hell—say—what’s that?”</p> + +<p>Excited voices were talking and calling loudly beyond the walls of the +ruined building. Even amid the dark surroundings of the cellars +O’Brien and his companions detected the words “police” and “patrol.”</p> + +<p>Ready for any fresh interest forthcoming, the saloonkeeper clambered +hurriedly out of the cellar with the other <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span>men close behind him. They +mounted the broken walls and looked out upon the crowd.</p> + +<p>All eyes were turned along the trail coming up from the village, and +O’Brien followed the direction of their gaze. A half-spring police +wagon, followed closely by a wagon, which many recognized as that of +Charlie Bryant, were coming up the trail, escorted by Inspector Fyles +and a patrol of police troopers. The horses were walking slowly, and +as they approached a hush fell upon the crowd of spectators.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Stanley Fyles urged his horse forward, and came on at a rapid +canter. He pulled up at the ruined building and looked about him, +first at the wreckage and then at the silent throng. Then, as he +beheld O’Brien standing on the wall, he pointed at the ruins.</p> + +<p>“An—accident?” he inquired sharply.</p> + +<p>O’Brien’s eyes twinkled.</p> + +<p>“A damn piece of foolish play by folks who orter know better,” he +said. “They tried wreckin’ this durned old tree an’ succeeded in +wreckin’ the soul laundry o’ this yer village. Mebbe, too, you’ll find +things down under it to interest you, inspector. I don’t guess you’d +be lookin’ for whisky an’ religion goin’ hand in hand, so to speak.”</p> + +<p>The officer’s eyes were sharply questioning.</p> + +<p>“How’s that?”</p> + +<p>“Why, the cellars are full o’ kegs of good rye—some full, some empty. +Gee, but I’d hate spilling it.”</p> + +<p>The wagons had come up, and now it was to be seen that coarse police +blankets were laid out over them, the soft material displaying +something of the ominous figures hidden under them.</p> + +<p>“Say——” cried the startled saloonkeeper, and paused, as his quick +eyes observed these signs. Then, in an excited voice, he went on. +“Say, them—wagons—are loaded some.”</p> + +<p>Fyles nodded.</p> + +<p>“I was bringing ’em along to have them laid out here—in the Meeting +House, before—burial.”</p> + +<p>“Burial?”</p> + +<p>O’Brien’s eyes opened wide. A sort of gasp went through the silent +crowd of onlookers, hanging on the police officer’s words.</p> + +<p>“Yes, it was a brush with—the runners,” Fyles said seriously. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span>“We +got them red-handed last night. It was a case of shooting, too. Two of +our boys were shot up. They’re in the wagons. There’s three of the +gang—dead, and the boss of it, Charlie Bryant. They’re all in the +wagons. The rest are across the border by now. Guess there’ll be no +more whisky run in this valley.”</p> + +<p>The hush which followed his announcement was far more eloquent than +words.</p> + +<p>It was O’Brien whose temerity was strong enough to break it.</p> + +<p>“That’s so,” he remarked thoughtfully. Then he sighed a world of +genuine regret, and his eyes glanced along the vast timber of the old +pine. “Guess the old cuss has worked out,” he went on. “No, there’ll +be no more whisky-running.” Then he climbed slowly down from the wall. +“I’ll have to get—moving on.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX</h2> + +<h3>FROM THE ASHES</h3> + +<p>The nine days’ wonder had come and passed. Never again could the +valley of Leaping Creek return to the conditions which had for so long +prevailed there. And strangely enough the victory won was far more a +moral than a physical one. True, one or two lives had paid for the +victory, but this was less than nothing compared with the effect +achieved.</p> + +<p>Within three weeks a process of emigration had set in which left the +police with scarcely an excuse for their presence in the valley at +all. All those who, for long years, had sought sanctuary within the +shelter of the vast, forest-clad slopes of the valley, began to +realize that the immunity which they had enjoyed for so long was +rapidly becoming doubtful. The forces of the police suddenly seemed to +have become possessed of a too-intimate knowledge of the shortcomings +which had driven them to shelter. In fact, the limelight of government +authority was shining altogether too brightly, searching out the +shadowed corners in the lives of the citizens, and yielding up secrets +so long and so carefully hidden.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span>The first definite result of the police raid apparent was the “moving +on” of Dirty O’Brien. It came quite suddenly, and unexpectedly. Rocky +Springs one morning awoke to find that the old saloon was closed. +Inquiry soon elicited the true facts. O’Brien had vanished. The barn +was empty. His team and spring wagon had gone, and the house, and bar, +had been stripped of everything worth taking. The night before O’Brien +had served his customers up to the usual hour, and there was nothing +unusual to be observed. Therefore, the removal must have been effected +swiftly and silently in the dead of night, performed as the result of +careful, well-laid plans.</p> + +<p>This was the first result of the definite establishment of police +authority. Evidently the future of Rocky Springs no longer appealed to +the shrewd saloonkeeper, and so he “moved on.”</p> + +<p>This was the cue for further goings. With the saloon closed, and the +police authority established, Rocky Springs was Rocky Springs no +longer. So, one by one, silently, without the least ostentation, men +began to yield up their claims as citizens, and, vanishing over the +distant horizon, were heard of no more.</p> + +<p>The sledgehammer of police methods had penetrated through the +case-hardening of the village, and the place became hopelessly +impossible for its population of undesirables.</p> + +<p>For Helen Seton those first three weeks left her with a dull, +apathetic feeling that quite suddenly her whole world had been turned +upside down. That somehow a complete wreckage of all the life about +her, her new life, had been consummated. Nor did she understand why, +or how. It seemed to her she was living in a new world where all was +misery and depression. Her usually bubbling spirit was weighted down +as with an avalanche of responsibility and unhappiness.</p> + +<p>For her the change had begun with almost the very moment of the +felling of the old pine, and, somehow, it seemed to her as if that +wicked, mischievous monument of bygone crimes were responsible.</p> + +<p>With the yielding up of the secrets of the Meeting House had started a +succession of shocks, each one harder than its predecessor to bear, +until she was left almost paralyzed and quite powerless to resist +them.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span>With Stanley Fyles heading the procession of death, with the man’s +brief outline of the circumstances attending his raid, her heart +seemed suddenly to have turned to stone. Her thought turned at once to +her sister. That sister, even now away from home, waiting in dreading +unconsciousness for the completion of the disaster she so terribly +feared. To Helen’s sympathetic heart the horror of the position was +magnified an hundredfold. Kate had been right. Kate had understood +where they had all been blind, and Kate, loyal, strong, brave Kate, +must learn that the very disaster she had prophesied had come, and, in +coming, had overtaken the one man they had all so earnestly desired to +shield—Charlie Bryant.</p> + +<p>Without waiting another moment she left the scene. She had blindly +rushed from the proximity of that gaping, awe-stricken, curious crowd. +And her way had taken her straight home. She had no thought for any +object. How could she? Her mind and heart were overflowing with fear +and concern, and a world of sympathy for Kate—the absent Kate. +Charlie was dead. Charlie had been caught red-handed. Charlie, that +poor, helpless, besotted drunkard. He—he—after all their faith in +his integrity, after all Kate’s lavish affection, he was the real +criminal, and—Fyles had run him to his death. She had no thought now +of Bill’s absence from her side. She had no thought of anything but +this one overwhelming disaster.</p> + +<p>So she ran on home. Nor did she pause till she flung herself upon the +coverlet of her little white bed in a passionate storm of weeping.</p> + +<p>How long she lay there she never knew. A merciful Providence finally +sent sleep to her weary brain and heart. And when she ultimately awoke +it was to start up dazedly, and find herself staring into the solemn, +dreadful eyes of her sister, Kate, who was standing just beyond the +open doorway of her bedroom, gazing in upon her.</p> + +<p>Then followed a scene never likely to be wholly forgotten.</p> + +<p>She sprang from her bed and ran toward that ominous figure. She was +prepared to fling herself upon that strong support which had never yet +failed her. But, for once, no such support was forthcoming. Long +before she reached her side Kate had stepped into the room and seemed +to collapse <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span>into the rocker beside the dressing bureau. The brave +Kate was reduced to a pitiful outburst of tearless sobs.</p> + +<p>For one brief instant Helen was again on the verge of tears, but she +remembered. With a great effort she forced them back, and held herself +in a strong grip. Then, slowly, a change began to creep over her. It +was not she who must look for support from Kate. It was she who must +yield support, and the memory of all those years when Kate, never by +word or act had failed her, came to her aid.</p> + +<p>But though she sought by every means in her power to comfort the +heartbroken woman, her efforts were wholly unavailing. They were +perhaps worse than unavailing. For Kate proved as unreasonable as any +weak, hysterical girl, and, rebuffing her at every turn, finally broke +into such a storm of bitter self-reviling as to leave her sister +helpless.</p> + +<p>“Leave me, Helen,” she cried, through her grievous sobs. “Don’t come +near me. Go, go. Don’t look at me; don’t come near. I’m not fit to +live. I’m a—murderess. It’s I—I who’ve killed him. Oh, God, was +there ever such punishment. No—no. Go away—go away. I—I can’t bear +it.”</p> + +<p>Horrified beyond words, stunned and confused, poor Helen knew not +where to turn, or what to do. She stood silently by—wondering. Then, +without reasoning or understanding, something came to her help just as +she was about to yield to her own woman’s weakness once more.</p> + +<p>She moved out of the room, nor did she know for what reason. Nor was +her next action any impulse of her own. Mechanically she set about the +housework of her home.</p> + +<p>It was her salvation, the salvation of the situation. She worked, and +gradually a great calm settled upon her. Thought began to flow. +Practical, helpful thought. And as she worked she saw all those things +she must do for poor Kate’s well-being.</p> + +<p>It was a long and terrible day. And when night fell she was utterly +wearied out in mind and body. She had already prepared a meal for +Kate, which had been left untouched, and now, as evening came, she +prepared another.</p> + +<p>But this, like the first, was never partaken of by her sister. When +she went into her own bedroom, where Kate had remained, to make her +second attempt, she found to her relief and joy that her sister was +lying on her bed sound asleep.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span>She stole out and closed up the house for the night.</p> + +<p>Nor was Helen prepared for the miracle of the next morning. When she +arose it was to find her bedroom empty, and her bed made up. She +hurriedly set out in search of her sister. She was nowhere in the +house. In rapidly rising dismay she hurried out to search the barn, +fearing she knew not what. But instant relief awaited her. Kate was +outside doing all those little necessary duties by the livestock of +her homestead, which she was accustomed to do, in the calm unruffled +fashion in which she always went about her work.</p> + +<p>Helen stared. She could scarcely believe her eyes. The miracle was +altogether beyond her comprehension. But her delight and relief were +profound. She greeted her sister and spoke. Then it was that she +realized that here was no longer the old Kate, but a changed, utterly +changed woman. The big eyes, so darkly ringed, no longer smiled. They +looked out at her so full of unutterable pain, as full of dull aching +regrets. There was such a depth of yearning and misery in them that +her greeting suddenly seemed to jar upon her own ears, and come back +to her in bitter mockery. In a moment, however, understanding came. +Intuitively she felt that her sister’s grief was her own, into which +she could never pry. She must ask no questions, she must offer no +sympathy. For the moment her sister’s mantle had fallen upon her +shoulders. Hers had suddenly become the strength, and it was for her +to use it in Kate’s support.</p> + +<p>So the days wore on, long dreary days of many heartaches and bitter +speculation. Kate remained the dark, brooding figure she had displayed +herself on that first morning after her return. She was utterly +unapproachable in those first days, while yet at the greatest pains to +conceal the sorrow she was enduring. No questions or explanations +passed between the two women, and Helen was left without the faintest +suspicion of the truth.</p> + +<p>Sometimes, Helen, in the long silent days, strove to solve the meaning +of everything for herself. She thought and thought till her poor head +ached. But she always began and ended with the same thought. It was +Charlie’s capture, Charlie’s death which had wrought this havoc in her +sister, and she felt that time alone could remove the shadow which had +settled itself so hopelessly upon her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span>Then she began to wonder and worry at the prolonged absence of +her—Bill.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>Kate had just finished removing the remains of the evening meal. Helen +had curled herself up in the old rocker. She was reading through the +numerous pages of a long letter, for perhaps the twentieth time. She +was tired, bodily and mentally, and her pretty face looked drawn under +its tanning.</p> + +<p>Her sister watched her, moving silently about, returning the various +articles to the cupboards where they belonged. Her eyes were shadowed. +The old assurance seemed to have gone entirely out of her. Her whole +manner was inclined to a curious air of humility, which, even now, +seemed to fit her so ill.</p> + +<p>She watched the girl turn page after page. Then she heard her draw a +long sigh as she turned the last page.</p> + +<p>Helen looked up and caught the eyes so yearningly regarding her.</p> + +<p>“I—I feel better now,” she declared, with a pathetic little smile. +“And—please—please don’t worry about me, Kate, dear. I’m tired. +We’re both tired. Tired to death. But—there’s no help for it. We +surely must keep going, and—and we’ve no one now to help us.” She +glanced down at the letter in her lap. Then she abruptly raised her +eyes, and went on quickly. “Say, Kate, I s’pose we’ll never see Nick +or Pete again? Shall we always have to do the work of our little patch +ourselves?” Then she smiled and something of her old lightness peeped +out of her pretty eyes. “Look at me,” she cried. “I—I haven’t put on +one of my nice suits since—since that day. I’m—a tramp.”</p> + +<p>Kate’s returning smile was of the most shadowy description. She shook +her head.</p> + +<p>“Maybe we’ll get some hired men soon,” she said, quietly. Then she +sighed. “I don’t know. I hope so. I guess we’ll never see Nick again. +He got away—I believe—across the border. As for Pete,” she +shuddered, “he was found by the police—shot dead.”</p> + +<p>Helen sat up.</p> + +<p>“You never told me,” she cried.</p> + +<p>Kate shook her head.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t want to distress you—any more.” Just for one <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span>moment she +averted her eyes. Then they came back to Helen’s face in an inquiry. +“When—when is—Bill coming back?”</p> + +<p>“Bill?” Helen’s eyes lighted up, and a warm smile shone in them as she +glanced down at her letter again. “He says he’ll be through with +Charlie’s affairs soon. He’s in Amberley. He’s had to see to things +through the police. He’s coming right on here the moment he’s through. +He’s—he’s going to wire me when he starts. Kate?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear.”</p> + +<p>Kate turned from the cook stove at the abruptness of her sister’s +tone. Helen began to speak rapidly, and as she talked she kept her +gaze fixed upon the window.</p> + +<p>“It’s—it’s a long while now, since—that day. We were both feeling +mighty bad ’bout things then. We,” she smiled whimsically, “sort of +didn’t know whether it was Rocky Springs, or Broadway, did we? And +there was such a lot I didn’t know or understand. And I never asked a +question. Did I?”</p> + +<p>Kate winced visibly. The moment she had always dreaded had come. She +had realized that it must eventually come, and for days she had +wondered vaguely how she would be able to meet it. The smile which +strove to reach her eyes was a failure, and, for a moment, a hunted +look threatened. In the end, however, she forced herself to perfect +calmness.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think I could have answered them then if you had,” she said +gently. “I don’t know that I can answer many now—for both our sakes.”</p> + +<p>Helen thought for some moments. Then she appeared to have arrived at a +determination.</p> + +<p>“How did you—come home that day—and why? I didn’t expect you until +the next day.”</p> + +<p>Kate drew a deep breath.</p> + +<p>“I came back—riding,” she said. “I came back because—because I had +to.”</p> + +<p>“Why?”</p> + +<p>“Because of the—disaster out there.”</p> + +<p>“You knew?”</p> + +<p>Kate nodded.</p> + +<p>“Pretty well everything. That is all I can tell you, dear.” Kate +crossed the room, and stood beside her sister’s chair. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span>She laid one +gentle hand upon her shoulder. “Don’t ask me any more about that. +It—it is like—like searing my very soul with red-hot irons. That +must be my secret, and you must forgive me for keeping it from you. +Ask me anything else, and I will tell you—but leave that alone. It +can do nobody any good.”</p> + +<p>Helen leaned her head on one side till her soft cheek rested +caressingly upon her sister’s hand.</p> + +<p>“Forgive me, Kate,” she said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ll never +mention it again—never.”</p> + +<p>For some moments neither spoke. But Kate was waiting. She knew there +were other questions that must be asked and answered.</p> + +<p>“Was it because of the felling of that tree you went away?” Helen +asked presently.</p> + +<p>Kate shook her head.</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>Helen started up.</p> + +<p>“I knew it wasn’t. Oh, Kate, I knew it wasn’t. It was so unlike you. I +know why you went. Listen,” she went on, almost excitedly. “You always +defended Charlie. You pretended to believe him straight. You—you +stuck to him through thick and thin. You flouted every charge made +against him. It was because of him you went away. You went to try and +help him—save him. All the time you knew he was against the law. +That’s why you went. Oh, Kate, I knew it—I knew it.”</p> + +<p>Helen was looking up into her sister’s shadowed face with loyal +enthusiasm shining in her admiring eyes.</p> + +<p>Kate gravely shook her head.</p> + +<p>“I believed every word I said of Charlie. As God is my witness I +believed it. And I tell you now, Helen, that as long as I live my +heart will be bowed down beneath a terrible weight of grief and +remorse at the death of a brave, honest, and loyal gentleman. I have +no more to say. I never shall have—on the subject. I love you, Helen, +and shall always love you. My one thought in life now is your welfare. +If you love me, dear, then leave those things. Leave them as part of a +cruel, evil, shadowed time, which must be put behind us. All I want +you to ever remember of it—when you are the happy wife of your Big +Brother Bill—is that Charlie was all <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span>we believed him, in spite of +all appearances, and he died the noblest, the most heroic death that +man ever died.”</p> + +<p>Kate bent down and tenderly kissed the beautiful head of fair, wavy +hair. Then, without waiting for the astonished sister’s reply, she +moved across to the door.</p> + +<p>“Some day,” she said, pausing with her hand on the catch, and, turning +back, smiling gently through the gathering tears, “Bill will tell you +it all. He knows it all—everything. Just now he is bound to secrecy, +but he will be released from that some day, and then—he will tell +you.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL</h2> + +<h3>THE DAWN</h3> + +<p>A girl was leaning against a solitary post, a hundred yards or so from +where the descent into the valley of Leaping Creek began. All about +her stretched the vast plains of grass, which seemed to know no end. +The wide flat trail, so bare and hard, passed her by, and vanished +into the valley behind her. In the opposite direction, at long +intervals, it showed up in sections as it passed over the rises in the +prairie ocean, until the limits of her vision were reached.</p> + +<p>Not a single object stood out to relieve the monotony of that desert +of grass. Any dwelling of man within reach of the searching eye must +have been hidden in the troughs between the crests of summer grass. It +was all so wide, so vast, so dreadful in its unspeakable solitude.</p> + +<p>Helen’s eyes were upon the last section of the trail, away to the +northwest, just as far as her bright eyes could see. She was +searching, searching. Her heart was beating with a great and buoyant +hope, and every little detail she beheld in that far-off distance she +searched, and sought to mould into the figure of the horseman she was +waiting for.</p> + +<p>The sun was hot. It’s relentless rays, freed from the wealth of shade +in the valley below, beat down upon the parching land with a fiery +intensity which must have been insupportable to unaccustomed human +life. But to Helen it meant nothing, nothing but the fact that its +brilliant light was in keeping with every beat of the warm, thrilling +heart within her bosom.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span>He was on the road. Bill—her Big Brother Bill. He was on the road, +and must be somewhere near now, for the telegram in her hand warned +her that he hoped to reach the valley by sundown.</p> + +<p>Four long weeks since the dreadful day. Four long weeks in which her +aching heart and weary thought had left her in wretched unhappiness. +Four weeks of doubt and trouble, in which her sister seemed to have +shut herself out of her life, leaving her to face all her doubts and +fears alone.</p> + +<p>Bill was away on his dead brother’s affairs. Loyal Bill, seeking by +every means in his lumbering power to shield the memory of the dead +man from the effects of the manner of his death. Helen honored her +lover for it. He was just the good, loyal soul she had believed. And +now, as she stood with the tinted paper message, announcing his return +in her hand, she smiled, and wondered tenderly what blunders he would +contrive in the process.</p> + +<p>Sundown. Sundown would not be for at least two hours. Two hours. Two +hours meant some fourteen or sixteen miles by horse upon the trail. +She told herself she could not see for sixteen miles, nor even for +eight. It was absurd waiting there. She had already been waiting there +over an hour. Then she smiled, laughing at herself for her absurd +yearning for this lover of hers. He was so big, so foolish, so honest +and loyal—and, he was just hers.</p> + +<p>She sat down again on the ground, as already she had seated herself +many times. She would restrain her impatience. She would not just get +up at every——</p> + +<p>She was on her feet again at the very moment of making her resolve. +This time her eyes were straining and wide open. Every nerve in her +body was at a tension. Some one was on the trail this time. Certain. +It was a horseman, too. There was no mistake, but he was near, quite +near, comparatively. How had she come to miss him in the far distance?</p> + +<p>She saw the figure as it came over a rising ground. She watched it +closely. Then she saw it was not on the trail, but was making for +it—across country. Now she knew. Now she was certain, and she laughed +and clapped her hands. It must be Bill, and—of course he had lost +himself, and now, at last, had found his way.</p> + +<p>The horseman came on at a great pace.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span>As he drew nearer a frown of doubt crossed the girl’s face. He did not +appear big enough—somehow.</p> + +<p>He dropped down into a hollow, and mounted the next crest. In a +moment, as he came into view, Helen felt like bursting into tears of +disappointment.</p> + +<p>The next moment, however, all thought of tears passed away and a +steady coldness grew in her eyes. She felt like hiding herself back +there in the valley. She had recognized the man. Without a doubt it +was Stanley Fyles. But he wore no uniform. He was clad in a civilian +costume, which pronouncedly smacked of the prairie.</p> + +<p>It was too late to hide. Besides, to hide would be undignified. What +was he coming to the valley for? Helen’s eyes hardened. Nor did she +know quite why she felt resentful at the sight of him. Yes, she did. +It was for poor Charlie, Bill’s brother. And Kate had sworn that +Charlie was innocent.</p> + +<p>She stood thinking, thinking, and then a further change came over her. +She remembered this man’s work. She remembered his duty. Ought she to +feel badly toward him?</p> + +<p>And Kate? What of Kate? Would she——What on earth brought him to the +valley—now?</p> + +<p>It was too late to avoid him now, if she had wanted to. And, somehow, +on reflection, she was not sure she did want to. So she stood her +ground as he came up.</p> + +<p>He reined Peter in as he came abreast, and his dark eyes expressed his +surprise at sight of the waiting girl.</p> + +<p>“Why—Miss Helen, this——” He broke off abruptly, and, turning in his +saddle, looked back over the long, long trail. When his eyes came back +to the girl’s face they were smiling. “It’s kind of hot out here,” he +said. “Aren’t you afraid of the sun?” Then he became silent +altogether, while he interpreted to himself the somewhat stony regard +in her eyes.</p> + +<p>In a moment something of the awkwardness of the encounter occurred to +him. His mind was full of other things, which before he had missed the +possibility of.</p> + +<p>“I don’t mind the sun, Mr. Fyles,” said Helen coldly. “Besides, I +guess I’m not standing around here for—fun. I’m waiting for some +one.”</p> + +<p>Fyles glanced back over the trail. Then he nodded. “He’s <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span>coming +along,” he said quietly. “Guess he started out from Amberley before +me. Say, he’s a bully feller, sure enough, and I like him. I’ve seen a +good deal of him in Amberley. But I guessed he wouldn’t be thanking me +for my company on the trail, so I came another way, and passed on +ahead. You see—I, well, I had to do my duty—here, and—well, he’s a +bully feller, Miss Helen, and—you’ll surely be happy with him.”</p> + +<p>While he was talking, just for a moment, a wild impulse stirred Helen +to some frigid and hateful retort. But the man’s evident sincerity won +the day and the girl’s eyes lit with a radiant smile.</p> + +<p>“He’s—on the trail?” she cried, banishing her last shadow of +coldness. “He is? Say, tell me where, and when he’ll get in. I—I had +this message which said he’d be here by sundown, and—and I thought +I’d just come right along and meet him. Have—have you seen him? +And—and——”</p> + +<p>Fyles shook his head. “Not until just now,” he said kindly. “He’s +about four miles back. Say,” he added, with less assurance, “maybe +your sister’s home?”</p> + +<p>For a moment Helen stared incredulously. “Yes,” she answered slowly. +Then in agitation: “You’re not going to——?”</p> + +<p>The man nodded, but his smile had died out. “Yes. That’s why I’ve come +along,” he said seriously. “Is—is she well? Is she——?”</p> + +<p>But Helen left him no time to finish his apprehensive inquiries. At +that moment she caught sight of a distant figure on the trail. It was +the figure of a big man—so big, and her woman’s heart cried out in +love and thankfulness.</p> + +<p>“Oh, look! It’s Bill—my Bill! Here he comes. Oh, thank God.”</p> + +<p>Stanley Fyles flung a glance over his shoulder. Then without a word he +lifted Peter’s reins. Then he seemed to glide off in the direction of +the setting sun.</p> + +<p>As he went he drew a long sigh. He was wondering—wondering if all the +happiness in the world lay there, behind him, in the warm heart of the +girl who was waiting to embrace her lover.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>Kate Seton was standing at the window of her parlor. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span>Her back was +turned upon the room, upon the powerful, loose-limbed figure of +Stanley Fyles.</p> + +<p>Her face was hidden, she wanted it to remain hidden—from him. She +felt that he must not see all that his sudden visit, without warning, +meant to her.</p> + +<p>The man was near the center table. One knee was resting upon the hard, +tilted seat of a Windsor chair, and his folded arms leaned upon the +back of it. His eyes were full of a deep fire as he gazed upon the +woman’s erect, graceful figure. A great longing was in him to seize +her, and crush her in arms that were ready to claim and hold her +against all the world.</p> + +<p>All the atmosphere of his calling seemed to have fallen from him. He +stood there just a plain, strong man of no great eloquence, facing a +position in which he might well expect certain defeat, but from which +there was no thought of shrinking.</p> + +<p>Silence had fallen since their first greeting. That painful silence +when realization of that which lies between them drives each to search +for a way to cross the barrier.</p> + +<p>It was Kate who finally spoke. She moved slightly. It was a movement +which might have suggested many things, among them uncertainty of +mind, perhaps of decision. Her voice came low and gentle. But it was +full of a great weariness and regret, even of pain.</p> + +<p>“Why—why did you come—now?” she asked plaintively. “It seems as +though I’ve lived through years in the last few weeks. I’ve tried to +forget so much. And now—you come here to remind me—to stir once more +the shadows which have nearly driven me crazy. Is it merciful—to do +that?”</p> + +<p>The woman’s tone was baffling. Fyles searched for its meaning. +Resentment he had anticipated. He had been prepared for it, and to +resist it, and break it down by the ardor of his appeal. That dreary +regret was more than he could bear, and he hastened to protest.</p> + +<p>“Say, Kate,” he cried, his sun-tanned features flushing with a quick +shame. “Don’t think I’ve come here to remind you. Don’t think I’ve +come along to taunt you with the loss of our—our mad wager. I want to +forget it. It became a gamble on a man’s life, and—and I hate the +thought. You’re free of it, and I wish to God it had never been made.”</p> + +<p>The bitter sincerity of his final words was not without its <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span>effect. +Kate stirred. Then she turned. Her beautiful eyes, so full of pathos, +so full of remorse, looked straight into his.</p> + +<p>“Then—why did you come here?” she asked.</p> + +<p>The man started up. The chair dropped back on to its four legs with a +clatter. His arms were outstretched, and the passionate fire of his +eyes blazed up as the quick, hot words escaped his lips.</p> + +<p>“Why? Why?” he demanded, his eyes widening, his whole body vibrant +with a consuming passion. “Don’t you know? Kate, Kate, I came because +I couldn’t stay away. I came because there’s just nothing in the world +worth living for but you. I came because I just love you to death, +and—there’s nothing else. Say, listen. I went right back from here +with one fixed purpose. Maybe it won’t tell you a thing. Maybe you +won’t understand. I went back to get quit of the force—honorably. I’d +made my peace with them. Oh, yes, I’d done that. Then I demanded leave +of absence pending my resignation. They had to grant it. I am never +going back. Oh, yes, I knew what I was up against. I wanted you. I +wanted you so that I couldn’t see a thing else in any other direction. +There is no other direction. So I came straight here to—to ask you to +forget. I came here to tell you all I feel about—the work I had to do +here. I came here with a wild sort of forlorn hope you could forgive. +You see, I even believed that but for—for that—there was just a +shadow of hope for me. Kate——!”</p> + +<p>The woman suddenly held up her hand. And when she spoke there was +nothing of the Kate he had always known in the humility of her tone.</p> + +<p>“It is not I who must forgive,” she said quickly. “If there is any +forgiveness on this earth it is I who need it.”</p> + +<p>“You? Forgiveness?”</p> + +<p>The man’s face wore blank incredulity.</p> + +<p>Kate sighed. It was the sigh of a broken-hearted woman.</p> + +<p>“Yes. If there is any forgiveness I pray that it may come my way. I +need it all—all. I can never forgive myself. It was I who caused +Charlie’s death.”</p> + +<p>Quite suddenly her whole manner changed. The humility, the sadness of +her tone rose quickly to a passionate self-denunciation.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span></p><p>“Yes, yes. I will tell you now. Oh, man, man. Your words—every one of +them, have only stabbed me more and more surely to the heart. You +don’t understand. You can’t, because you do not know what I mean. Oh, +yes,” she went on desperately, “why shouldn’t I admit it? I love you. +I always have loved you. Let me admit everything fully and freely.”</p> + +<p>“Kate!” The man stepped forward, his eyes alight with a world of +happiness, of overwhelming joy. But she waved him back.</p> + +<p>“No, no,” she cried, almost harshly. “I have told you that just to +show you how your words have well nigh crazed me. I can be nothing to +you. I can be nothing to anybody. It was I who brought about Charlie’s +death. He, the bravest, the loyalest man I ever knew, gave his life to +save me from the police, who were hunting me down. Oh,” she went on, +at sight of Fyles’s incredulous expression, “you don’t need to take my +word alone. Ask Charlie’s brother. Ask Bill. He was there. He, too, +shared in the sacrifice, although he did not understand that which lay +in the depths of his brother’s brave heart. And now—now I must live +on with the knowledge of what my wild folly has brought about. For +weeks the burden of thought and remorse has been almost insupportable, +and now you come to torture me further. Oh, God, I have paid for my +wanton folly and wickedness. Oh, God!”</p> + +<p>Kate buried her face in her hands, and abruptly flung herself into the +rocker close behind her.</p> + +<p>Fyles looked down upon her in amazed helplessness. He watched the +woman’s heaving shoulders as great, dry, hard sobs broke from her in +tearless agony. He waited, feeling for the moment that nothing he +could say or do but must add to her despair, to her pain. Her +self-accusation had so far left him untouched. He could not realize +all she meant. All that was plain to him was her suffering, and he +longed to comfort her, and help her, and defend her against herself.</p> + +<p>The moments slipped away, heavy moments of intense feeling and bitter +grief.</p> + +<p>Presently the grief-stricken woman’s sobs grew less, and with +something like a gesture of impatience she snatched her hands from her +face, and raised a pair of agonized eyes to his.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span></p><p>“Leave me,” she cried. “Go, please go. I—I can’t bear it.”</p> + +<p>Her appeal was so helpless. Again the impulse to take her in his arms +was almost too strong for the man, but with an effort he overcame it.</p> + +<p>“Won’t you—go on?” he said, in the gentlest possible tone. “It will +help you. And—you would rather tell me.”</p> + +<p>The firmness of his manner, the gentleness, had a heartbreaking +effect. In a moment the woman’s eyes were flooded with tears, which +coursed down her cheeks. It was the relief that her poor troubled +brain and nerves demanded, and so Fyles understood.</p> + +<p>He waited patiently until the passion of weeping was over. Then again +he urged his demand.</p> + +<p>“Now tell me, Kate. Tell me all. And remember I’m not here as your +judge. I am here to help—because—I love you.”</p> + +<p>The look from the woman’s eyes thanked him. Then she bowed her head +lest the sight of him should leave her afraid.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>“Must I tell it all?”</p> + +<p>Kate’s tone was firmer. There was a ring in it that reminded the other +of the woman he used to know.</p> + +<p>“Tell me just what you wish. No more—no less. You are telling it for +your own sake, remember. To me—it makes no difference.”</p> + +<p>“There’s no use in telling it you from the start. The things that led +up to it,” she began. “I have been smuggling whisky for nearly five +years. It’s a pretty admission, isn’t it? Yes, you may well be +horrified,” she went on, as Fyles started.</p> + +<p>But the man denied.</p> + +<p>“I am not horrified,” he said. “It is—the wonder of it.”</p> + +<p>“The wonder? It isn’t wonderful. It was so simple. A little ingenuity, +a little nerve and recklessness. The law itself makes it easy. You +cannot arrest on suspicion.” Kate sighed, and her eyes had become +reflective, so that their calmness satisfied the waiting man. “I must +tell you this,” she went on quickly. “My reasons were twofold. Helen +and I came here to farm. We came here because I was crazy for +adventure. We had money, but I soon found that we, two women, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span>could +never make our farm pay. We were here surrounded by outlaws, who were +already smuggling liquor, and their trade appealed to me. I was just +crazy to take a hand in it for the excitement of it, and—to replenish +our diminishing capital.”</p> + +<p>“Helen knows nothing about it,” she went on, her voice hardening as +though the shameful story she was about to tell were forcing the iron +deeper and deeper into her soul. “She has never guessed, or suspected, +and I could almost hope she never will. It didn’t take me long to make +up my mind. This was about the time Charlie came to the valley,” she +sighed. “Well, I quickly contrived to get at the men I wanted. I +talked to them carefully, and finally unfolded to them a plan I had +worked out to smuggle whisky on a large and profitable scale. It +doesn’t matter about the details. They all came in at once. It pleased +their sense of humor to be run by a woman. I was to disguise myself as +a man, which nature made easy for me, and my real personality was to +be our chief safeguard. No one would suspect unless we were caught +red-handed. And that—well, that was not a great chance, anyway, in +those days. I was responsible. I was to purchase cargoes across the +border. The others were only my helpers, under my absolute orders. And +I ruled them sharply.”</p> + +<p>The man nodded without other comment.</p> + +<p>“But Charlie had arrived, and very soon his coming began to complicate +matters,” Kate went on, after the briefest of pauses. “He came out +here to ranch. He was turned out of his home. And I—I just pitied +him, and strove to turn him from his drunken habits. This is where the +mischief was done. I liked him. I sort of felt like a mother to him. +He was so gentle and kind-hearted. He was clever, too—very clever. +Yes, I looked upon him as a son, or brother—but he didn’t look on me +in the same way. I don’t know. I suppose I didn’t think. I was +foolish. Anyway, Charlie asked me to marry him. I refused him, and he +drank himself into delirium tremens.”</p> + +<p>Again came a long-drawn sigh at the memory of that poor, wasted life.</p> + +<p>“Well, I nursed him, and finally he got better, and again I went on +with my work. Then, one day, I received a shock. Charlie came to me +and told me he’d found a mysterious old <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span>corral, away up, hidden in +the higher reaches of the valley. He begged me to let him show it me. +Feeling that I owed him something, I consented to go with him. So we +rode out. You know the place. But maybe you don’t know its secret.”</p> + +<p>Fyles nodded.</p> + +<p>“Yes—you mean the—cupboard in the lining of the wall.”</p> + +<p>“You know it?” Kate’s surprise was marked. However, she went on +rapidly. “Well, while we were there he showed it to me, and then, +looking me straight in the eyes, he said, ‘Wouldn’t it be a dandy +hiding place for things? Suppose I was a big whisky smuggler. Suppose +I wanted to disguise myself. I could keep my disguise here. No chance +of its being found by police or any one. It would be a great place.’ +Then he went on, enlarging enthusiastically upon his idea. He said, ‘A +feller wants to do things right if he’s going to beat the law. If I +were running liquor I’d take no chances. I’d run it on a big scale, +and I’d cache my stuff in the cellars under the Meeting House. No one +knows of ’em. I only lit on ’em by chance.</p> + +<p>“‘Not a soul even suspects they’re there. Guess they were used for +caches in the old days. Now, I’d take on the job of looking after the +place, keeping it clean, and all that. That would let me be seen there +without anybody getting suspicious.’ All this time his eyes were +watching me shrewdly, speculatively. Then, still pretending, he went +off in another direction. He told me he’d bought a good wagon. He +said, ‘I’d keep it here in the corral. It would be better than a +buckboard.’ Then I knew for certain that he was aware of my doings. +For I used a buckboard. It was a desperate moment. I waited. All of a +sudden he dropped his mask of lightness, and became serious. I can +never forget his poor, dear face as he gave me his final warning. +‘Kate,’ he said, ‘if there was anybody I—liked, and was anxious +about, running whisky in this place, I’d show them the corral and tell +them what I’ve told you. You see,’ he added ingenuously, ‘I’d give my +life for those I like, then how readily would I help them like this. +This is the safest scheme I can think of. And I’m rather proud of it. +Anyways, it’s better than keeping disguises kicking around for any one +to find, and caching liquor under bushes.’ He had discovered all my +secret. All—how? The thought set me nearly crazy.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span></p><p>“Did you—question him?” The man’s voice cut sharply into the +momentary silence.</p> + +<p>Kate shook her head.</p> + +<p>“No. I couldn’t. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t.” She drew a deep +breath. “The next thing I knew was that I was shadowed in all my work, +and I knew that shadow was—Charlie. Here came a memorable day. I +think the devil was in me that day. I remember Charlie came to me. He +smiled in his gentle, boyish fashion. He said, ‘No one’s adopted my +scheme yet—and I’ve left the wagon down at the old corral, too.’ It +was too much. I laughed. I told him that now no one could ever use his +scheme for I had secured the work—voluntarily—of seeing to the +Meeting House. His response was deadly serious. ‘I’m glad,’ he said. +‘That will end temptation for—others.’”</p> + +<p>“He thought of using it—on your behalf—himself!”</p> + +<p>“I fancy so.” Kate paused. Then, with an effort, she seemed to spur +herself to her task. “There seems so much of it. Such a long, dreary +story. I must skip to the time you came on the scene. It was then that +serious trouble began. Danger really increased. But I was used to it +by then. I loved it. I didn’t care. I was pleased to think I was +pitted against the police. You remember White Point? Like all the +rest, I planned that. I was there. We beat your men on the trail, too. +We contrived to temporarily cache the cargo, and afterward remove it +to the Meeting House. Then later. You remember the night that you +found Bill by the pine tree, which, by the way, served me as a mail +office for orders from my local customers? They placed money and +orders in one of the old crevices under the bark. You see, I never +came into personal contact with them. It was I you saw there. I had +just been there to get an order from O’Brien. Bill saw me—and mistook +me for Charlie. Charlie was probably there, but it was I you saw drop +down into hiding. That night was a great shock to me. I discovered +that, disguised as a man, by some evil chance I became the double of +Charlie. You can imagine my distress. In a flash I was made aware of +the reason that he was bearing the blame for all my doings. This +brought me another realization, too. My personality had been +discovered. People must have seen me before. I was known by, perhaps +distant, sight, and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span>Charlie was blamed for all my doings. It left me +with a resolve to defend him to my utmost, all the more so that I was +convinced in my mind that he was doing his utmost to divert suspicion +from me to himself. Even his own brother believed in his guilt.</p> + +<p>“When you opened your campaign against him, my cup of bitterness was +full. Then it was I resolved to run cargo after cargo in the wild hope +that some chance would reveal to you that Charlie was not your man. I +resolved this, knowing you—and—and liking you, and being aware that +every time I succeeded I was further helping to ruin you with your +superiors, and in your career. It had to be. I had to sacrifice all my +own feelings to—save Charlie.”</p> + +<p>The shining eyes of the man gazed admiringly on the sad face of the +loyal woman.</p> + +<p>“I think I see,” he said.</p> + +<p>Kate raised her shoulders.</p> + +<p>“I hardly expected any one would see, or understand, what I felt, and +the way I reasoned. You remember the cargo from Fort Allerton? It was +my two boys, acting under my command, who bound and gagged your +patrol, and fired the alarm. Pete brought me word of your plans. He +had spied on you in your camp. But there was very nearly disaster in +that affair. I dropped my pocketbook on the trail. It was full of +incriminating papers. I did not discover my loss till I returned my +disguise to the secret hut. You can imagine my horror at such a +discovery. It meant everything. I waited desperately, expecting it to +have been found by your men. Two days later, in a fever of +apprehension, I went to search my clothes again at the corral. I felt +it was useless. It could not be there. But my guardian angel had been +at work. It was in its place in my coat pocket. Then I knew that +Charlie was still watching over me. He had found it, and—returned +it.”</p> + +<p>Fyles nodded.</p> + +<p>“He was on the trail that night—I saw him.”</p> + +<p>“Do you want to know the rest?” Kate went on. “Is it necessary? The +heartless game I played on you. Do you understand it now? Oh, it was a +cruel thing to do. But you drove me crazy with your suspicions, your +obstinate suspicions, of Charlie. I was determined to pursue my +ruthless <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span>course in his defense to the end. It was my only hope of +relieving Charlie of suspicion—without betraying myself. But there +were things I had not calculated on. Two things happened after I had +offered you my challenge. I made my plans, and ordered my cargo, after +telling you when and where it was to arrive. Then the two things +happened. First? Bill ran foul of Pete. Pete was drunk and insulted +Helen. Bill was there, and thrashed him soundly, and I was glad. But I +feared for mischief. He knew my plans. I talked to him, and quickly +realized my fears were well-founded. There was no help for it. I +promptly changed my plans. The cargo was to come in by water. The +escorted empty wagon by trail. I left that disposition, except that I +decided the boat should be empty, too, and, unknown to any one but +Holy Dick, I should bring in the cargo on a buckboard myself. You see, +it left me free of any chance of treachery. When you told me of Pete’s +treachery I knew I had done well. Then the second thing happened, +which served me with an excuse for leaving the village, which had +become imperative to complete my change of plans. You remember. It was +the tree. You remember I feared the old superstition, and I went +to—Myrtle.</p> + +<p>“The rest. Yes, let me tell it quickly, while I still have the +courage. You must fill in the gaps which I leave for yourself. Before +I left, Charlie came here. He tried to stop me. I know why. He had +some premonition of disaster. I, too, had the same premonition, but—I +was quite reckless. He refused me his wagon, but I took it in spite of +him. I had to have it. We quarreled for the first time. He left me in +anger, and—I went. Everything was carried through successfully. I was +in the road on Monday night with the cargo. I was keeping abreast of +the wagon, in my buckboard, away to the south of it. I intended to +make a quiet dash while you were busy with the boat and wagon. But my +star was not in the ascendant.</p> + +<p>“While I was waiting for the moment to arrive I suddenly heard the +firing, and I knew at once that the game was up. It was no longer +simply smuggling. To me such shooting meant killing—and that——” she +shuddered. “Perhaps I lost my head. I don’t know. I raced for it. You +came after me. One of my horses stumbled, and when it recovered I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span>found it was dead lame. I had a saddle horse with me. You were hard +on my heels by then. I abandoned the buckboard and cargo, and took to +the saddle. I was keeping well ahead of you, and was only a short +distance from the village. I raced down the hill to the culvert over +the hay slough. As I did so I saw two horsemen coming in the opposite +direction. I believed them to be police. I swung out to the south, +intending to take the slough at a jump, and get away toward the +border. Too late I realized the slough’s miry state. I tried to get +back to the culvert, but my horse failed me. The troubled beast +floundered, then he fell, and my head struck the culvert.”</p> + +<p>Kate was breathing quickly. The horror of it all was getting hold of +her. But she went on in broken jerky sentences.</p> + +<p>“When I opened my eyes, Charlie was bending over me. I told him what +had happened. Then he passed me over to Bill, and I fainted again. +When I awoke I was here—at home. Bill had brought me here, and I know +now what Charlie must have done.”</p> + +<p>Fyles nodded.</p> + +<p>“He took your place, and drew us after him,” he said. Then, after a +pause. “Say, he did a big thing, Kate, and—he did it with his eyes +wide open.”</p> + +<p>But Kate was not listening. Tears were coursing down her cheeks, and +she sat a poor, suffering, bowed creature whose spirit could no longer +support the strain of her remorse. Her confession was complete, and +again the horrors of her earlier sufferings were assailing her +weakened spirit.</p> + +<p>Fyles waited for the storm to lessen. He no longer had doubts. His +pity was for the reckless heart so hopelessly crushed. He had no +blame, only pity, and—love. He knew now that all he had hoped and +longed for was to be his. Kate cared for him. She had loved him from +the start. His were the arms that would shelter her. His were the +caresses that must woo that warm, palpitating spirit back to its +confidence and strength.</p> + +<p>What was her past recklessness to him? He passed it by, and thanked +God that, for all its wrong against the laws, she assessed a courage +so fearless, and a brain so keen. There was no evil in her. She was a +woman to love and live for. To <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span>work, and—to die for. And his +feelings he knew had been shared by another.</p> + +<p>He rose from his chair and passed behind Kate’s rocker. He leaned down +and kissed her masses of beautiful dark hair.</p> + +<p>“Look up, Kate. Look up, dear. The old pine has fallen at last, and +now—now there is to be peace in the valley for all time. Peace for +you. Peace for me. We will go away together now, dear. And presently, +please God, we’ll come back to our—home.”</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>Two days later Stanley Fyles and Big Brother Bill were standing at the +doorway of Kate’s house. It was evening, and four saddle horses were +tied together in a bunch, ready saddled for the road.</p> + +<p>Bill stood chewing his thumb in silence. His thoughtful, blue eyes +were gazing out across the valley at the little ranch house on the +hill.</p> + +<p>Fyles was equally thoughtfully filling his pipe.</p> + +<p>“We haven’t talked much about things before,” he said, pressing the +tobacco firmly into the bowl of his pipe with his little finger. +“Guess there wasn’t much room for talk between—you and me. But we had +to say things sooner or later, on—account of—the girls. It’s bad +med’cine starting out brothers with any trouble sticking out between +us. That’s why I’ve started talking now—with the horses waiting +saddled.”</p> + +<p>Bill nodded.</p> + +<p>“I was desperate sore,” he said, his blue eyes coming back to the +other’s face. “You see, I couldn’t think right at first, back there in +Amberley, and I blamed you to death. Still, I’ve done a big think +since then. Yes, a huge big think. And—do you know I’m kind of sure +now Charlie was just glad to do what he did.” Then his voice dropped +to an awed undertone. “It’s queer how thinking makes you see things +right. I kind of feel now, if Charlie was here, he’d tell us right +away he’s gladder he is where he is than ever he was—here. I’m just +certain of it. That’s the best of thinking hard. You sort of +understand things better. I’m going to shake hands with you. Guess +Charlie ’ud like me to—now. And it’ll be a mighty hard shake, so +you’ll know I’ve thought hard, and—and just understood.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span></p><p>Fyles winced under the giant’s grip. But he smiled and nodded. Bill +smiled and nodded, too, and then released the injured limb. It was the +way of two men who understand.</p> + +<p>A sound came from within the house. It was the jingle of a spur and a +swish of skirts.</p> + +<p>Fyles indicated the direction with his pipe.</p> + +<p>“Best quit talking now,” he said. “It’s—it’s the girls.”</p> + +<p>Bill wagged a sapient head, and moved over to the horses.</p> + +<p>“Right ho, Stanley.”</p> + +<p>“Right ho, Bill.”</p> + +<p>The big blue eyes met the steady brown eyes in a final, smiling glance +of mutual understanding as Kate and Helen appeared in the doorway.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<div class="centerbox3 bbox3"> +<h2>Popular Copyright Novels</h2> + +<p class="center"><i>AT MODERATE PRICES</i></p> + +<p class="center">Ask Your Dealer for a Complete List of<br /> +A. L. Burt Company’s Popular Copyright Fiction</p> + +<p> +<b>Adventures of Jimmie Dale, The.</b> By Frank L. Packard.<br /> +<b>Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.</b> By A. Conan Doyle.<br /> +<b>After House, The.</b> By Mary Roberts Rinehart.<br /> +<b>Ailsa Paige.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>Alton of Somasco.</b> By Harold Bindloss.<br /> +<b>Amateur Gentleman, The.</b> By Jeffery Farnol.<br /> +<b>Anna, the Adventuress.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>Anne’s House of Dreams.</b> By L. M. Montgomery.<br /> +<b>Around Old Chester.</b> By Margaret Deland.<br /> +<b>Athalie.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>At the Mercy of Tiberius.</b> By Augusta Evans Wilson.<br /> +<b>Auction Block, The.</b> By Rex Beach.<br /> +<b>Aunt Jane of Kentucky.</b> By Eliza C. Hall.<br /> +<b>Awakening of Helena Richie.</b> By Margaret Deland.<br /></p> + +<p><b>Bab: a Sub-Deb.</b> By Mary Roberts Rinehart.<br /> +<b>Barrier, The.</b> By Rex Beach.<br /> +<b>Barbarians.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>Bargain True, The.</b> By Nalbro Bartley.<br /> +<b>Bar 20.</b> By Clarence E. Mulford.<br /> +<b>Bar 20 Days.</b> By Clarence E. Mulford.<br /> +<b>Bars of Iron, The.</b> By Ethel M. Dell.<br /> +<b>Beasts of Tarzan, The.</b> By Edgar Rice Burroughs.<br /> +<b>Beloved Traitor, The.</b> By Frank L. Packard.<br /> +<b>Beltane the Smith.</b> By Jeffery Farnol.<br /> +<b>Betrayal, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>Beyond the Frontier.</b> By Randall Parrish.<br /> +<b>Big Timber.</b> By Bertrand W. Sinclair.<br /> +<b>Black Is White.</b> By George Barr McCutcheon.<br /> +<b>Blind Man’s Eyes, The.</b> By Wm. MacHarg and Edwin<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Balmer.</span><br /> +<b>Bob, Son of Battle.</b> By Alfred Ollivant.<br /> +<b>Boston Blackie.</b> By Jack Boyle.<br /> +<b>Boy with Wings, The.</b> By Berta Ruck.<br /> +<b>Brandon of the Engineers.</b> By Harold Bindloss.<br /> +<b>Broad Highway, The.</b> By Jeffery Farnol.<br /> +<b>Brown Study, The.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.<br /> +<b>Bruce of the Circle A.</b> By Harold Titus.<br /> +<b>Buck Peters, Ranchman.</b> By Clarence E. Mulford.<br /> +<b>Business of Life, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.<br /></p> + +<p><b>Cabbages and Kings.</b> By O. Henry.<br /> +<b>Cabin Fever.</b> By B. M. Bower.<br /> +<b>Calling of Dan Matthews, The.</b> By Harold Bell Wright.<br /> +<b>Cape Cod Stories.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.<br /> +<b>Cap’n Abe, Storekeeper.</b> By James A. Cooper.<br /> +<b>Cap’n Dan’s Daughter.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.<br /> +<b>Cap’n Eri.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.<br /> +<b>Cap’n Jonah’s Fortune.</b> By James A. Cooper.<br /> +<b>Cap’n Warren’s Wards.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.<br /> +<b>Chain of Evidence, A.</b> By Carolyn Wells.<br /> +<b>Chief Legatee, The.</b> By Anna Katharine Green.<br /> +<b>Cinderella Jane.</b> By Marjorie B. Cooke.<br /> +<b>Cinema Murder, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>City of Masks, The.</b> By George Barr McCutcheon.<br /> +<b>Cleek of Scotland Yard.</b> By T. W. Hanshew.<br /> +<b>Cleek, The Man of Forty Faces.</b> By Thomas W. Hanshew.<br /> +<b>Cleek’s Government Cases.</b> By Thomas W. Hanshew.<br /> +<b>Clipped Wings.</b> By Rupert Hughes.<br /> +<b>Clue, The.</b> By Carolyn Wells.<br /> +<b>Clutch of Circumstance, The.</b> By Marjorie Benton Cooke.<br /> +<b>Coast of Adventure, The.</b> By Harold Bindloss.<br /> +<b>Coming of Cassidy, The.</b> By Clarence E. Mulford.<br /> +<b>Coming of the Law, The.</b> By Chas. A. Seltzer.<br /> +<b>Conquest of Canaan, The.</b> By Booth Tarkington.<br /> +<b>Conspirators, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>Court of Inquiry, A.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.<br /> +<b>Cow Puncher, The.</b> By Robert J. C. Stead.<br /> +<b>Crimson Gardenia, The, and Other Tales of Adventure.</b> By Rex<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beach.</span><br /> +<b>Cross Currents.</b> By Author of “Pollyanna.”<br /> +<b>Cry in the Wilderness, A.</b> By Mary E. Waller.</p> + +<p><b>Danger, And Other Stories.</b> By A. Conan Doyle.<br /> +<b>Dark Hollow, The.</b> By Anna Katharine Green.<br /> +<b>Dark Star, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>Daughter Pays, The.</b> By Mrs. Baillie Reynolds.<br /> +<b>Day of Days, The.</b> By Louis Joseph Vance.<br /> +<b>Depot Master, The.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.<br /> +<b>Desired Woman, The.</b> By Will N. Harben.<br /> +<b>Destroying Angel, The.</b> By Louis Jos. Vance.<br /> +<b>Devil’s Own, The.</b> By Randall Parrish.<br /> +<b>Double Traitor</b>, The. By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /></p> + +<p><b>Empty Pockets.</b> By Rupert Hughes.<br /> +<b>Eyes of the Blind</b>, The. By Arthur Somers Roche.<br /> +<b>Eye of Dread, The.</b> By Payne Erskine.<br /> +<b>Eyes of the World, The.</b> By Harold Bell Wright.<br /> +<b>Extricating Obadiah.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.</p> + +<p><b>Felix O’Day.</b> By F. Hopkinson Smith.<br /> +<b>54-40 or Fight.</b> By Emerson Hough.<br /> +<b>Fighting Chance, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>Fighting Shepherdess, The.</b> By Caroline Lockhart.<br /> +<b>Financier, The.</b> By Theodore Dreiser.<br /> +<b>Flame, The.</b> By Olive Wadsley.<br /> +<b>Flamsted Quarries.</b> By Mary E. Wallar.<br /> +<b>Forfeit, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.<br /> +<b>Four Million, The.</b> By O. Henry.<br /> +<b>Fruitful Vine, The.</b> By Robert Hichens.<br /> +<b>Further Adventures of Jimmie Dale, The.</b> By Frank L.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Packard.</span></p> + +<p><b>Girl of the Blue Ridge, A.</b> By Payne Erskine.<br /> +<b>Girl from Keller’s, The.</b> By Harold Bindloss.<br /> +<b>Girl Philippa, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>Girls at His Billet, The.</b> By Berta Ruck.<br /> +<b>God’s Country and the Woman.</b> By James Oliver Curwood.<br /> +<b>Going Some.</b> By Rex Beach.<br /> +<b>Golden Slipper, The.</b> By Anna Katharine Green.<br /> +<b>Golden Woman, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.<br /> +<b>Greater Love Hath No Man.</b> By Frank L. Packard.<br /> +<b>Greyfriars Bobby.</b> By Eleanor Atkinson.<br /> +<b>Gun Brand, The.</b> By James B. Hendryx.</p> + +<p><b>Halcyone.</b> By Elinor Glyn.<br /> +<b>Hand of Fu-Manchu</b>, The. By Sax Rohmer.<br /> +<b>Havoc.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>Heart of the Desert</b>, The. By Honoré Willsie.<br /> +<b>Heart of the Hills, The.</b> By John Fox, Jr.<br /> +<b>Heart of the Sunset.</b> By Rex Beach.<br /> +<b>Heart of Thunder Mountain, The.</b> By Edfrid A. Bingham.<br /> +<b>Her Weight in Gold.</b> By Geo. B. McCutcheon.<br /> +<b>Hidden Children, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>Hidden Spring, The.</b> By Clarence B. Kelland.<br /> +<b>Hillman, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>Hills of Refuge, The.</b> By Will N. Harben.<br /> +<b>His Official Fiancee.</b> By Berta Ruck.<br /> +<b>Honor of the Big Snows.</b> By James Oliver Curwood.<br /> +<b>Hopalong Cassidy.</b> By Clarence E. Mulford.<br /> +<b>Hound from the North, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.<br /> +<b>House of the Whispering Pines, The.</b> By Anna Katharine<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Green.</span><br /> +<b>Hugh Wynne, Free Quaker.</b> By S. Weir Mitchell, M.D.</p> + +<p><b>I Conquered.</b> By Harold Titus.<br /> +<b>Illustrious Prince, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>In Another Girl’s Shoes.</b> By Berta Ruck.<br /> +<b>Indifference of Juliet, The.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.<br /> +<b>Infelice.</b> By Augusta Evans Wilson.<br /> +<b>Initials Only.</b> By Anna Katharine Green.<br /> +<b>Inner Law, The.</b> By Will N. Harben.<br /> +<b>Innocent.</b> By Marie Corelli.<br /> +<b>Insidious Dr. Fu-Manchu, The.</b> By Sax Rohmer.<br /> +<b>In the Brooding Wild.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.<br /> +<b>Intriguers, The.</b> By Harold Bindloss.<br /> +<b>Iron Trail, The.</b> By Rex Beach.<br /> +<b>Iron Woman, The.</b> By Margaret Deland.<br /> +<b>I Spy.</b> By Natalie Sumner Lincoln.</p> + +<p><b>Japonette.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>Jean of the Lazy A.</b> By B. M. Bower.<br /> +<b>Jeanne of the Marshes.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>Jennie Gerhardt.</b> By Theodore Dreiser.<br /> +<b>Judgment House, The.</b> By Gilbert Parker.</p> + +<p><b>Keeper of the Door, The.</b> By Ethel M. Dell.<br /> +<b>Keith of the Border.</b> By Randall Parrish.<br /> +<b>Kent Knowles: Ouahaug.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.<br /> +<b>Kingdom of the Blind. The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>King Spruce.</b> By Holman Day.<br /> +<b>King’s Widow, The.</b> By Mrs. Baillie Reynolds.<br /> +<b>Knave of Diamonds, The.</b> By Ethel M. Dell.</p> + +<p><b>Ladder of Swords.</b> By Gilbert Parker.<br /> +<b>Lady Betty Across the Water.</b> By C. N. & A. M. Williamson.<br /> +<b>Land-Girl’s Love Story, A.</b> By Berta Ruck.<br /> +<b>Landloper, The.</b> By Holman Day.<br /> +<b>Land of Long Ago, The.</b> By Eliza Calvert Hall.<br /> +<b>Land of Strong Men, The.</b> By A. M. Chisholm.<br /> +<b>Last Trail, The.</b> By Zane Grey.<br /> +<b>Laugh and Live.</b> By Douglas Fairbanks.<br /> +<b>Laughing Bill Hyde.</b> By Rex Beach.<br /> +<b>Laughing Girl, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>Law Breakers, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.<br /> +<b>Lifted Veil, The.</b> By Basil King.<br /> +<b>Lighted Way, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>Lin McLean.</b> By Owen Wister.<br /> +<b>Lonesome Land.</b> By B. M. Bower.<br /> +<b>Lone Wolf, The.</b> By Louis Joseph Vance.<br /> +<b>Long Ever Ago.</b> By Rupert Hughes.<br /> +<b>Lonely Stronghold, The.</b> By Mrs. Baillie Reynolds.<br /> +<b>Long Live the King.</b> By Mary Roberts Rinehart.<br /> +<b>Long Roll, The.</b> By Mary Johnston.<br /> +<b>Lord Tony’s Wife.</b> By Baroness Orczy.<br /> +<b>Lost Ambassador.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>Lost Prince, The.</b> By Frances Hodgson Burnett.<br /> +<b>Lydia of the Pines.</b> By Honoré Willsie.</p> + +<p><b>Maid of the Forest, The.</b> By Randall Parrish.<br /> +<b>Maid of the Whispering Hills, The.</b> By Vingie E. Roe.<br /> +<b>Maids of Paradise, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>Major, The.</b> By Ralph Connor.<br /> +<b>Maker of History, A.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>Malefactor, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>Man from Bar 20, The.</b> By Clarence E. Mulford.<br /> +<b>Man in Grey, The.</b> By Baroness Orczy.<br /> +<b>Man Trail, The.</b> By Henry Oyen.<br /> +<b>Man Who Couldn’t Sleep, The.</b> By Arthur Stringer.<br /> +<b>Man with the Club Foot, The.</b> By Valentine Williams.<br /> +<b>Mary-’Gusta.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.<br /> +<b>Mary Moreland.</b> By Marie Van Vorst.<br /> +<b>Mary Regan.</b> By Leroy Scott.<br /> +<b>Master Mummer, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes.</b> By A. Conan Doyle.<br /> +<b>Men Who Wrought, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.<br /> +<b>Mischief Maker, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>Missioner, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>Miss Million’s Maid.</b> By Berta Ruck.<br /> +<b>Molly McDonald.</b> By Randall Parrish.<br /> +<b>Money Master, The.</b> By Gilbert Parker.<br /> +<b>Money Moon, The.</b> By Jeffery Farnol.<br /> +<b>Mountain Girl, The.</b> By Payne Erskine.<br /> +<b>Moving Finger, The.</b> By Natalie Sumner Lincoln.<br /> +<b>Mr. Bingle.</b> By George Barr McCutcheon.<br /> +<b>Mr. Grex of Monte Carlo.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>Mr. Pratt.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.<br /> +<b>Mr. Pratt’s Patients.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.<br /> +<b>Mrs. Belfame.</b> By Gertrude Atherton.<br /> +<b>Mrs. Red Pepper.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.<br /> +<b>My Lady Caprice.</b> By Jeffrey Farnol.<br /> +<b>My Lady of the North.</b> By Randall Parrish.<br /> +<b>My Lady of the South.</b> By Randall Parrish.<br /> +<b>Mystery of the Hasty Arrow, The.</b> By Anna K. Green.</p> + +<p><b>Nameless Man, The.</b> By Natalie Sumner Lincoln.<br /> +<b>Ne’er-Do-Well, The.</b> By Rex Beach.<br /> +<b>Nest Builders, The.</b> By Beatrice Forbes-Robertson Hale.<br /> +<b>Net, The.</b> By Rex Beach.<br /> +<b>New Clarion.</b> By Will N. Harben.<br /> +<b>Night Operator, The.</b> By Frank L. Packard.<br /> +<b>Night Riders, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.<br /> +<b>Nobody.</b> By Louis Joseph Vance.</p> + +<p><b>Okewood of the Secret Service.</b> By the Author of “The<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Man with the Club Foot.”</span><br /> +<b>One Way Trail, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.<br /> +<b>Open, Sesame.</b> By Mrs. Baillie Reynolds.<br /> +<b>Otherwise Phyllis.</b> By Meredith Nicholson.<br /> +<b>Outlaw, The.</b> By Jackson Gregory.</p> + +<p> +<b>Paradise Auction.</b> By Nalbro Bartley.<br /> +<b>Pardners.</b> By Rex Beach.<br /> +<b>Parrot & Co.</b> By Harold MacGrath.<br /> +<b>Partners of the Night.</b> By Leroy Scott.<br /> +<b>Partners of the Tide.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.<br /> +<b>Passionate Friends, The.</b> By H. G. Wells.<br /> +<b>Patrol of the Sun Dance Trail, The.</b> By Ralph Connor.<br /> +<b>Paul Anthony, Christian.</b> By Hiram W. Hays.<br /> +<b>Pawns Count, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>People’s Man, A.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>Perch of the Devil.</b> By Gertrude Atherton.<br /> +<b>Peter Ruff and the Double Four.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>Pidgin Island.</b> By Harold MacGrath.<br /> +<b>Place of Honeymoon, The.</b> By Harold MacGrath.<br /> +<b>Pool of Flame, The.</b> By Louis Joseph Vance.<br /> +<b>Postmaster, The.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.<br /> +<b>Prairie Wife, The.</b> By Arthur Stringer.<br /> +<b>Price of the Prairie, The.</b> By Margaret Hill McCarter.<br /> +<b>Prince of Sinners, A.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>Promise, The.</b> By J. B. Hendryx.<br /> +<b>Proof of the Pudding, The.</b> By Meredith Nicholson.</p> + +<p><b>Rainbow’s End, The.</b> By Rex Beach.<br /> +<b>Ranch at the Wolverine, The.</b> By B. M. Bower.<br /> +<b>Ranching for Sylvia.</b> By Harold Bindloss.<br /> +<b>Ransom.</b> By Arthur Somers Roche.<br /> +<b>Reason Why, The.</b> By Elinor Glyn.<br /> +<b>Reclaimers, The.</b> By Margaret Hill McCarter.<br /> +<b>Red Mist, The.</b> By Randall Parrish.<br /> +<b>Red Pepper Burns.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.<br /> +<b>Red Pepper’s Patients.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.<br /> +<b>Rejuvenation of Aunt Mary, The.</b> By Anne Warner.<br /> +<b>Restless Sex, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>Return of Dr. Fu-Manchu, The.</b> By Sax Rohmer.<br /> +<b>Return of Tarzan, The.</b> By Edgar Rice Burroughs.<br /> +<b>Riddle of Night, The.</b> By Thomas W. Hanshew.<br /> +<b>Rim of the Desert, The.</b> By Ada Woodruff Anderson.<br /> +<b>Rise of Roscoe Paine, The.</b> By J. C. Lincoln.<br /> +<b>Rising Tide, The.</b> By Margaret Deland.<br /> +<b>Rocks of Valpré, The.</b> By Ethel M. Dell.<br /> +<b>Rogue by Compulsion, A.</b> By Victor Bridges.<br /> +<b>Room Number 3.</b> By Anna Katharine Green.<br /> +<b>Rose in the Ring, The.</b> By George Barr McCutcheon.<br /> +<b>Rose of Old Harpeth, The.</b> By Maria Thompson Daviess.<br /> +<b>Round the Corner in Gay Street.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.</p> + +<p><b>Second Choice.</b> By Will N. Harben.<br /> +<b>Second Violin, The.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.<br /> +<b>Secret History.</b> By C. N. & A. M. Williamson.<br /> +<b>Secret of the Reef, The.</b> By Harold Bindloss.<br /> +<b>Seven Darlings, The.</b> By Gouverneur Morris.<br /> +<b>Shavings.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.<br /> +<b>Shepherd of the Hills, The.</b> By Harold Bell Wright.<br /> +<b>Sheriff of Dyke Hole, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.<br /> +<b>Sherry.</b> By George Barr McCutcheon.<br /> +<b>Side of the Angels, The.</b> By Basil King.<br /> +<b>Silver Horde, The.</b> By Rex Beach.<br /> +<b>Sin That Was His, The.</b> By Frank L. Packard.<br /> +<b>Sixty-first Second, The.</b> By Owen Johnson.<br /> +<b>Soldier of the Legion, A.</b> By C. N. & A. M. Williamson.<br /> +<b>Son of His Father, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.<br /> +<b>Son of Tarzan, The.</b> By Edgar Rice Burroughs.<br /> +<b>Source, The.</b> By Clarence Buddington Kelland.<br /> +<b>Speckled Bird, A.</b> By Augusta Evans Wilson.<br /> +<b>Spirit in Prison, A.</b> By Robert Hichens.<br /> +<b>Spirit of the Border, The.</b> (New Edition.) By Zane Grey.<br /> +<b>Spoilers, The.</b> By Rex Beach.<br /> +<b>Steele of the Royal Mounted.</b> By James Oliver Curwood.<br /> +<b>Still Jim.</b> By Honoré Willsie.<br /> +<b>Story of Foss River Ranch, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.<br /> +<b>Story of Marco, The.</b> By Eleanor H. Porter.<br /> +<b>Strange Case of Cavendish, The.</b> By Randall Parrish.<br /> +<b>Strawberry Acres.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.<br /> +<b>Sudden Jim.</b> By Clarence B. Kelland.</p> + +<p><b>Tales of Sherlock Holmes.</b> By A. Conan Doyle.<br /> +<b>Tarzan of the Apes.</b> By Edgar R. Burroughs.<br /> +<b>Tarzan and the Jewels of Opar.</b> By Edgar Rice Burroughs.<br /> +<b>Tempting of Tavernake, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>Tess of the D’Urbervilles.</b> By Thos. Hardy.<br /> +<b>Thankful’s Inheritance.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.<br /> +<b>That Affair Next Door.</b> By Anna Katharine Green.<br /> +<b>That Printer of Udell’s.</b> By Harold Bell Wright.<br /> +<b>Their Yesterdays.</b> By Harold Bell Wright.<br /> +<b>Thirteenth Commandment, The.</b> By Rupert Hughes.<br /> +<b>Three of Hearts, The.</b> By Berta Ruck.<br /> +<b>Three Strings, The.</b> By Natalie Sumner Lincoln.<br /> +<b>Threshold, The.</b> By Marjorie Benton Cooke.<br /> +<b>Throwback, The.</b> By Alfred Henry Lewis.<br /> +<b>Tish.</b> By Mary Roberts Rinehart.<br /> +<b>To M. L. G.; or, He Who Passed.</b> Anon.<br /> +<b>Trail of the Axe, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.<br /> +<b>Trail to Yesterday, The.</b> By Chas. A. Seltzer.<br /> +<b>Treasure of Heaven, The.</b> By Marie Corelli.<br /> +<b>Triumph, The.</b> By Will N. Harben.<br /> +<b>T. Tembarom.</b> By Frances Hodgson Burnett.<br /> +<b>Turn of the Tide.</b> By Author of “Pollyanna.”<br /> +<b>Twenty-fourth of June, The.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.<br /> +<b>Twins of Suffering Creek, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.<br /> +<b>Two-Gun Man, The.</b> By Chas. A. Seltzer.</p> + +<p><b>Uncle William.</b> By Jeannette Lee.<br /> +<b>Under Handicap.</b> By Jackson Gregory.<br /> +<b>Under the Country Sky.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.<br /> +<b>Unforgiving Offender, The.</b> By John Reed Scott.<br /> +<b>Unknown Mr. Kent, The.</b> By Roy Norton.<br /> +<b>Unpardonable Sin, The.</b> By Major Rupert Hughes.<br /> +<b>Up From Slavery.</b> By Booker T. Washington.</p> + +<p><b>Valiants of Virginia, The.</b> By Hallie Ermine Rives.<br /> +<b>Valley of Fear, The.</b> By Sir A. Conan Doyle.<br /> +<b>Vanished Messenger, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>Vanguards of the Plains.</b> By Margaret Hill McCarter.<br /> +<b>Vashti.</b> By Augusta Evans Wilson.<br /> +<b>Virtuous Wives.</b> By Owen Johnson.<br /> +<b>Visioning, The.</b> By Susan Glaspell.<br /> +</p> + +<p> +<b>Waif-o’-the-Sea.</b> By Cyrus Townsend Brady.<br /> +<b>Wall of Men, A.</b> By Margaret H. McCarter.<br /> +<b>Watchers of the Plans, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.<br /> +<b>Way Home, The.</b> By Basil King.<br /> +<b>Way of an Eagle, The.</b> By E. M. Dell.<br /> +<b>Way of the Strong, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.<br /> +<b>Way of These Women, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>We Can’t Have Everything.</b> By Major Rupert Hughes.<br /> +<b>Weavers, The.</b> By Gilbert Parker.<br /> +<b>When a Man’s a Man.</b> By Harold Bell Wright.<br /> +<b>When Wilderness Was King.</b> By Randall Parrish.<br /> +<b>Where the Trail Divides.</b> By Will Lillibridge.<br /> +<b>Where There’s a Will.</b> By Mary R. Rinehart.<br /> +<b>White Sister, The.</b> By Marion Crawford.<br /> +<b>Who Goes There?</b> By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>Why Not.</b> By Margaret Widdemer.<br /> +<b>Window at the White Cat, The.</b> By Mary Roberts Rinehart.<br /> +<b>Winds of Chance, The.</b> By Rex Beach.<br /> +<b>Wings of Youth, The.</b> By Elizabeth Jordan.<br /> +<b>Winning of Barbara Worth, The.</b> By Harold Bell Wright.<br /> +<b>Wire Devils, The.</b> By Frank L. Packard.<br /> +<b>Winning the Wilderness.</b> By Margaret Hill McCarter.<br /> +<b>Wishing Ring Man, The.</b> By Margaret Widdemer.<br /> +<b>With Juliet in England.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.<br /> +<b>Wolves of the Sea.</b> By Randall Parrish.<br /> +<b>Woman Gives, The.</b> By Owen Johnson.<br /> +<b>Woman Haters, The.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.<br /> +<b>Woman in Question, The.</b> By John Reed Scott.<br /> +<b>Woman Thou Gavest Me, The.</b> By Hall Caine.<br /> +<b>Woodcarver of ’Lympus, The.</b> By Mary E. Waller.<br /> +<b>Wooing of Rosamond Fayre, The.</b> By Berta Ruck.<br /> +<b>World for Sale, The.</b> By Gilbert-Parker.</p> + +<p><b>Years for Rachel, The.</b> By Berta Ruck.<br /> +<b>Yellow Claw, The.</b> By Sax Rohmer.<br /> +<b>You Never Know Your Luck.</b> By Gilbert Parker.</p> + +<p><b>Zeppelin’s Passenger, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p></div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Transcriber’s Note</span></h3> + +<p>Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters’ errors; otherwise, +every effort has been made to remain true to the author’s words and intent.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Law-Breakers, by Ridgwell Cullum + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAW-BREAKERS *** + +***** This file should be named 29958-h.htm or 29958-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/9/5/29958/ + +Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Law-Breakers + +Author: Ridgwell Cullum + +Release Date: September 10, 2009 [EBook #29958] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAW-BREAKERS *** + + + + +Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + THE + LAW-BREAKERS + + By RIDGWELL CULLUM + + AUTHOR OF + "The Story of the Foss River Ranch," "In the Brooding + Wild," "The Way of the Strong," Etc. + + With Frontispiece in Colors + + A. L. BURT COMPANY + Publishers New York + Published by Arrangement with GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO. + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY + GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY + + ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + PRINTED IN U. S. A. + + + + + BY THE SAME AUTHOR + + THE WAY OF THE STRONG + THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK + THE NIGHT-RIDERS + THE ONE-WAY TRAIL + THE TRAIL OF THE AXE + THE SHERIFF OF DYKE HOLE + THE WATCHERS OF THE PLAINS + + + + + [Illustration: "WHAT IS THIS MAN TO YOU?" HE DEMANDED + _The Law-Breakers._ _Frontispiece._] + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I WATCHING THE LINE 1 + + II WHITE POINT 5 + + III THE HOLD-UP 11 + + IV AT THE FOOT OF AN AGED PINE 18 + + V BOUND FOR THE SOUTHERN TRAIL 25 + + VI THE MAN-HUNTERS 35 + + VII CHARLIE BRYANT 43 + + VIII THE SOUL-SAVERS 53 + + IX THE "STRAY"-HUNTER 64 + + X THE BROTHERS 73 + + XI THE UNREGENERATE 79 + + XII THE DISCOMFITURE OF HELEN 91 + + XIII LIGHT-HEARTED SOULS 100 + + XIV THE HOUSE OF DIRTY O'BRIEN 110 + + XV ADVENTURES IN THE NIGHT 120 + + XVI FURTHER ADVENTURES 128 + + XVII BILL PEEPS UNDER THE SURFACE 137 + + XVIII THE ARM OUTREACHING 142 + + XIX BILL MAKES THREE DISCOVERIES 155 + + XX IN THE FAR REACHES 166 + + XXI WORD FROM HEADQUARTERS 176 + + XXII MOVES IN THE GAME OF LOVE 184 + + XXIII STORM CLOUDS 195 + + XXIV THE SOUL OF A MAN 206 + + XXV THE BROKEN CHAIN 215 + + XXVI ROCKY SPRINGS HEARS THE NEWS 221 + + XXVII AT THE HIDDEN CORRAL 235 + + XXVIII A WAGER 241 + + XXIX BILL'S FRESH BLUNDERING 256 + + XXX THE COMMITTEE DECIDE 261 + + XXXI ANTAGONISTS 265 + + XXXII TREACHERY 272 + + XXXIII PLAYING THE GAME 278 + + XXXIV AN ENCOUNTER 286 + + XXXV ON MONDAY NIGHT 296 + + XXXVI STILL MONDAY NIGHT 299 + + XXXVII THE NIGHT TRAIL 307 + + XXXVIII THE FALL OF THE OLD PINE 315 + + XXXIX FROM THE ASHES 327 + + XL THE DAWN 335 + + + + +THE LAW-BREAKERS + + + + +CHAPTER I + +WATCHING THE LINE + + +There was no shade anywhere. The terrible glare of the summer sun beat +down upon the whole length of the wooden platform at Amberley. Hot as +was the dry, bracing air, it was incomparable with the blistering +intensity of heat reflected from the planking, which burned through +to the soles of the feet of the uniformed man who paced its length, +slowly, patiently. + +This sunburnt, gray-eyed man, with his loose, broad shoulders, +his powerful, easy-moving limbs, seemed quite indifferent to the +irritating climatic conditions of the moment. Even the droning of the +worrying mosquitoes had no power to disturb him. Like everything else +unpleasant in this distant northwestern land, he accepted these things +as they came, and brushed them aside for the more important affairs he +was engaged upon. + +He gazed out across the wide monotony of prairie with its undulating +wavelets, a tawny green beneath the scorching summer sun. He was +thinking deeply; perhaps dreaming, although dreaming had small enough +place in his busy life. His lot was a stern fight against crime, and, +in a land so vast, so new, where crime flourished upon virgin soil, it +left him little time for the more pleasant avenues of thought. + +Inspector Stanley Fyles came to a halt at the eastern end of the long +platform. Miles of railroad track stretched away in a dead straight +line toward the distant, shimmering horizon. For miles ahead the road +was unbroken by a single moving object, and, after a long, keen +survey, the man abruptly turned his back upon it. + +In a moment he became aware of a hollow-chested man hurrying toward +him. He was coming from the direction of the only building upon the +platform--the railroad office, or, as it was grandiloquently called, +the "booking hall." + +Fyles recognized the man as the railroad agent, Huntly, who controlled +the affairs of his company in this half-fledged prairie town. + +He came up in a flurry of unusual excitement. + +"She's past New Camp, inspector," he cried. "Guess she's in the Broken +Hills, an' gettin' near White Point. I'd say she'd be along in an +hour--sure." + +"Damn!" + +For once in his life Stanley Fyles's patience gave way. + +The man grinned. + +"It ain't no use cussin'," he protested, with a suggestion of +malicious delight. "Y'see, she's just a bum freight. Ain't even a +'through.' I tell you, these sort have emptied a pepper box of gray +around my head. Yes, sir, there's more gray to my head by reason of +their sort than a hired man could hoe out in half a year." + +"Twenty minutes ago you told me she'd be in in half an hour." + +There was resentment as well as distrust in the officer's protest. + +"Sure," the man responded glibly. "That was accordin' to schedule. +Guess Ananias must have been the fellow who invented schedules for +local freights." + +The toe of Fyles's well-polished riding-boot tapped the superheated +platform. + +His gray eyes suddenly fixed and held the ironical eyes of the other. + +"See here, Huntly," he said at last, in that tone of quiet authority +which never deserted him for long. "I can rely on that? There's +nothing to stop her by the way--now? Nothing at all?" + +But the agent shook his head, and his eyes still shone with their +ironical light. + +"I'd say the prophet business petered out miser'bly nigh two thousand +years ago. I wouldn't say this dogone prairie 'ud be the best place +to start resurrectin' it. No, sir! There's too many chances for +that--seein' we're on a branch line. There's the track--it might give +way. You never can tell on a branch line. The locomotive might drop +dead of senile decay. Maybe the train crew's got drunk, and is +raisin' hell at some wayside city. You never can tell on a branch +line. Then there's that cargo of liquor you're yearnin' to----" + +"Cut it out, man," broke in the officer sharply. "You are sure about +the train? You know what you're talking about?" + +The agent grinned harder than ever. + +"This is a prohibition territory----" he began. + +But again Fyles cut him short. The man's irrepressible love of +fooling, half good-humored, half malicious, had gone far enough. + +"Anyway you don't usually get drunk before sundown, so I guess I'll +have to take your word for it." + +Then Inspector Fyles smiled back into the other's face, which had +abruptly taken on a look of resentment at the charge. + +"I tell you what it is," he went on. "You boys get mighty close to +the wind swilling prohibited liquor. It's against the spirit of the +law--anyway." + +But the agent's good humor warmed again under the officer's admission +of his difficulties. He was an irrepressible fellow when opportunity +offered. Usually he lived in a condition of utter boredom. In fact, +there were only two things that made life tolerable for him in +Amberley. These were the doings of the Mounted Police, and the doings +of those who made their existence a necessity in the country. + +Even while weighted down with the oppressive routine of his work, it +was an inspiriting thing to watch the war between law and lawlessness. +Here in Amberley, situated in the heart of the Canadian prairie lands, +was a handful of highly trained men pitted against almost a world of +crime. Perhaps the lightest of their duties was the enforcing of the +prohibition laws, formulated by a dear, grandmotherly government in an +excess of senile zeal for the welfare of the health and morals of +those far better able to think for themselves. + +The laws of prohibition! The words stuck with Mr. Huntly as they stuck +with every full-grown man and woman in the country outside the narrow +circle of temperance advocates. The law was anathema to him. Under its +influence the bettering, the purification of life in the Northwestern +Territories had received a setback, which optimistic antagonists +of the law declared was little less than a quarter of a century. +Drunkenness had increased about one hundred per cent, since human +nature had been forbidden the importation and consumption of alcohol +in any form stronger than four per cent. beer. + +Huntly knew that Inspector Fyles was almost solely at work upon the +capture of contraband liquor. Also he knew, and hated the fact, that +his own duty required that he must give any information concerning +this traffic upon his railroad which the police might require. +Therefore there was an added vehemence in his reply to the officer's +warning. + +"Sakes, man! What 'ud you have us do?" he cried, with a laugh that was +more than half angry. "Do you think we're goin' to sit around this +darned diagram of a town readin' temperance tracts, just because +somebody guesses we haven't the right to souse liquor? Think we're +goin' to suck milk out of a kid's feeder, just because you boys in red +coats figure that way? No, sir. Guess that ain't doin'--anyway. I'm +sousing all the liquor I can get my hooks on, an' it's all the sweeter +because of you boys. Outside my duty to the railroad company I +wouldn't raise a finger to stop a gallon of good rye comin' into town, +no, not if the penitentiary was yearnin' to swallow me right up." + +Fyles's purposeful eyes surveyed the man with a thoughtful smile. + +"Just so," he said coolly. "That clause about 'duty' squares the rest. +You'll need to do your duty about these things. That's all we want. +That's all we intend to have. Do you get me? I'm right here to see +that duty done. The first trip, my friend, and you won't talk of +penitentiary so--easily." The quietness with which he spoke did not +rob his words of their significance. Then he went on, just a shade +more sharply. "Now, see here. When that freight gets in I hold you +responsible that the hindmost car--next the caboose--is dropped here, +and the seals are intact. It's billed loaded with barrels of cube +sugar, for Calford. Get me? That's your duty just now. See you do it." + +Huntly understood Fyles. Everybody in Amberley understood him. And the +majority recognized the deliberate purpose lying behind his calmest +assurance. The agent knew that his protest had touched the limit, +consequently there was nothing left him but to carry out instructions +to the letter. He hated the position. + +His face twisted into a wry grin. + +"Guess you don't leave much to the imagination, inspector," he said +sourly. + +Fyles was moving away. He replied over his shoulder. + +"No. Just the local color of the particular penitentiary," he said, +with a laugh. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +WHITE POINT + + +Mr. Moss was the sole employe of the railroad company at White Point +flag station. His official hours were long. They extended round the +dial of the clock twice daily. Curiously enough, his leisure extended +to practically the same limits. The truth was, in summer, anyway, he +had no duties that could seriously claim him. Thus the long summer +days were spent chiefly among his vegetables, and the bits of flowers +at the back of the shanty, which was at once his home and his office, +in short, White Point. + +Jack Huntly at Amberley grumbled at the unenlivening conditions of his +existence, but compared with those of Mr. Moss he lived in a perfect +whirlwind of gaiety. + +There was no police station at White Point. There were no farms in the +neighborhood. There was not even a half-breed camp, with its +picturesque squalor, to break up the deadly drear of the surrounding +plains. The only human diversion that ever marred the calm serenity of +the neighborhood was the rare visit of some lodge of Indians, straying +from the reservation, some sixty miles to the south, on a hunting +pass. + +But if White Point lacked interest from human associations its setting +at least was curiously arresting. Nature's whim was the inspiration +which had brought the station into existence. To the north, south, and +west the prairie stretched away in the distance for untold miles; but +immediately to the east quite another aspect prevailed. Here lay the +reason of White Point station. + +Almost from the very foot of the walls of Mr. Moss's shanty the land +rose up with, as it were, a jolt. Great forest-clad hills reared their +torn and barren crests to enormous heights out of the dead level of +the prairie. A tumbled sea of Nature's wreckage lay strewn about +unaccountably, for a distance of something like two miles, east and +west, and double that distance from north to south. It was an oasis of +natural splendor in the heart of a calm sea of green grass. + +These strange hills necessitated a watchful eye upon the railroad +track, which pierced their heart, in winter and spring. In summer +there was nothing to exercise the mind of Mr. Moss. But in winter the +track was constantly becoming blocked with snow, while during the +spring thaw there was always the dread of a "wash-out" to disturb his +nightly dreams. At such times these things kept the agent far more +alive than he cared about. + +Just now, however, it was the height of summer, and no such anxieties +prevailed. Therefore Mr. Moss fell back upon the less exciting pastime +of a perspiry afternoon among his potatoes and other vegetable +luxuries. + +He was hoeing the rows of potatoes with a sort of dogged determination +to find interest in the work. He believed that physical effort was the +only safety-valve for healthy feelings all too long bottled up. Even +the streaming sweat suggested to him a feeling that it was at least +hygienic, although the moist mixture of muddy consistency upon his +face, merging with the growth of three days' beard, left his +appearance something more than a blot upon the general view. + +Just now he had nothing to disturb the blank of his mind. The only +possible interruption to the work in hand, of an official character, +was the passing of a local freight train. However, a local freight was +a matter of no importance whatever. It might come to-day, or it might +come to-morrow. He would signal it through in due course, after that +he didn't much care what happened to it. + +The potatoes fully occupied him, and as he came to the end of each row +he took the opportunity of straightening out the crick in his back, +and gazing upon his handiwork with the look of a man who feels he has +surely earned his own admiration. + +Once he varied this procedure by glancing up while still in the middle +of a row. His glance was sharp and startled. He had heard an +unaccustomed sound, distinct but distant. It seemed to him that a +horse had neighed. There came an answering neigh. It was quite +disturbing. + +A long and careful scrutiny of the plains in every direction, however, +left him with a feeling of doubt. There was no horse in sight +anywhere, and the great hills adjacent offered no inducement +whatsoever for any straying quadruped. He assured himself that the +solitude of his life was rendering him fanciful, and forthwith +returned to his work. + +For some time the measured stroke of his hoe clanked upon the baking +soil, and later on he paused to fill and light his pipe. He had just +cut the flakes of tobacco from his plug, and was rolling them in the +palms of his hands, when the thought occurred to him to glance at the +time. His great coin-silver timepiece pointed the hour when he felt he +might safely signal the freight train through. + +Lounging round to the front of the station building he walked down the +track to the foot of the semaphore, and flung the rusty lever over. +His action expressed something of the contempt in which he held all +"local freights." Then he sauntered back to his work with his pipe +under full blast. + +But his day has yet surprises in store. In half an hour's time he +received his second start. A distant rumble and grinding warned him +that the freight was approaching through the hills. He smiled at the +sound, and his smile was largely satirical. He glanced up once, but +promptly continued his work. But it was only for a few moments. The +sound which had been growing had almost died out and was being +replaced by the hammering of the cars as they closed up against each +other. The train was stopping. + +He was looking up now full of interest, and one hand went up to his +head, and its fingers raked among the roots of his hair. Suddenly the +engine bell began to clang violently. There was distinctly a note of +protest in the sound. Something was wrong. He swung round and looked +at his signal. Say--was he dreaming? What on earth----? Half an hour +ago he had lowered the semaphore, at least he had set the lever over, +and now--now it was set against the train! + +For a second he stared at the offending arm, then, as the bell clanged +still more violently, he dashed across the intervening space to remedy +his mistake. + +But now incident crowded upon him. He was quite right. The lever was +set as it should be set. His practiced eye glanced rapidly down the +connecting rod to discover the source of the trouble, and further +amazement waited upon him. The explanation of the mystery lay before +his eyes. There at the triangular junction, where the connecting rod +linked with the down-haul of the semaphore, the bolt had fallen out, +and the whole thing was disconnected. The bolt with its screw nut and +washer were lying on the ground, where, apparently, they had fallen. + +The furious clanging of the engine bell, where the head of the train +stood just in view round the bend of the track where it entered the +hills, left him no time for consideration of the mishap. The +protesting train must be passed on without further delay. Therefore, +with deft hands, he quickly readjusted the bolt, and once again set +the lever. This time the arm of the signal dropped. + +It was not until these things were accomplished that he had time to +study the cause of the disconnection. Then, at once, a curious feeling +of incredulity swept over him. It was an impossibility for the thing +to have happened. The bolt fitted horizontally, and the washered nut +had full two inches to unscrew! Besides this, the whole thing was well +rusted with years of exposure. Yet the impossible had happened! + +He stood gazing at the bolt with a sort of uncanny feeling stirring +within him. The engine at the head of its long string of box cars +approached. It passed him, and he heard its driver hurl some +uncomplimentary remark at him as the rattling old kettle clanked by. +Then, as the last car passed him, and rapidly grew smaller as the +distance swallowed it up, he turned back to his vegetable patch with +the mystery still unsolved. + + * * * * * + +The journey through the hills was nearly over, and White Point was but +a short distance ahead. The conductor and crew of the local freight +were lounging comfortably in the caboose. + +The brakeman's life is full of risk and little comfort, and such +moments as these were all too few. When they came they were more than +gratefully received. Now the men were spread out in various attitudes +of repose, and, for the most part, were half asleep. + +Suddenly, without the least warning, they were startled into full +wakefulness by the familiar clatter, beginning at the head of the +train and passing rapidly down its full length, as the cars closed up +on each other. The resting men knew that the locomotive was either +stopping, or had already come to a halt. + +The conductor, or head brakeman, sat up with a jolt. + +"Hey, you, Jack!" he cried peevishly. "Get up aloft an' get a peek +out. Say, we sure ain't goin' to get held up at a bum flag layout." + +His contempt was no less for the flag station than Mr. Moss's for a +local freight. + +The man addressed as "Jack" sprang alertly to the roof of the caboose. +A moment later his voice echoed through the car below him. + +"Can't see a thing," he cried. "We're on the last bend, just outside +White Point. She's stopped--dead sure. Guess the flag has got us held +up." With a few added curses he clambered down into the car again. + + * * * * * + +As the brakeman left the roof of the caboose the enactment of a +strange scene began at the fore part of the car immediately in front +of it. + +A glance down at the coupling would have revealed the cautious +appearance of a shock of rough hair covering a man's head from under +the last box car. Slowly it twisted round till a grimy, dust-covered +face was turned upward, and a pair of expectant eyes peered up at the +tops of the two cars. + +Apparently the preliminary survey was satisfactory, for, in a moment, +the head was withdrawn, only to be replaced by an outstretched bare +hand and forearm. The hand reached up and caught the iron foot rail, +gripping it firmly. Then another hand appeared, and with it came the +same head again and part of a man's body. The second hand reached +toward the coupling-pin, which, with a dexterous movement, was slowly +and noiselessly removed. The pin was lowered to the length of its +chain. Then, once more the hand reached toward the coupling. This time +it seized the great iron link. This, without a moment's delay, was +lifted from its hook and noiselessly lowered till it swung suspended +from the car in front. Then both arms, head, and body vanished once +more under the car, beneath which the man must have traveled for +miles. + + * * * * * + +A few moments later the welcome jolting of couplings reached the crew +in the caboose, who promptly settled themselves down to await the next +call of duty. The conductor's relief at the brevity of the delay was +expressed in smiling contempt at the expense of all flag stations. + +"Trust a darned outfit like that to hold you up," he cried +witheringly. "They got to act fresh, or the company 'ud get wise they +ain't no sort o' use on the line. Say----" + +But he broke off listening. + +The jolting had ceased. The grinding of wheels of the moving train was +plainly heard. But--the caboose remained stationary. + +He leaped to his feet. + +"Hell!" he cried. "What the----" + +But the brakeman, Jack, was on his feet, too. With a bound he sprang +at the door of the caboose. But instantly he fell back with a cry. + +Four gun muzzles were leveled at his body, and, behind them, stood the +figures of two masked men. + +One of the two spoke in the slow easy drawl of the West, which lacked +nothing in conviction. + +"Jest keep dead still--all o' you," he said. "Don't move--nor nothin', +or we'll blow holes through your figgers that'll cause a hell of a +draught. We ain't yearning to make no sort o' mess in this yer +caboose. But we're going to do it--'cep' you keep quite still, an' +don't worry any." + +The conductor was a man of wide experience on the railroad. He had +seen many "hold-ups." So many, he was almost used to them. But without +being absolutely sure of the purpose of these men he thanked his +genius of good luck that he had not seen the "pay train" for nearly a +month. He was quite ready to obey. For all he cared the raiders could +take locomotive, train, caboose and all, provided he was left with a +whole skin. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE HOLD-UP + + +Just beyond the flag station at White Point, where the forest-clad +slopes of the great hills crowded in upon the railroad track, a scene +of utter lawlessness was being silently enacted. + +The spot was a lonely one, lonely with that oppressive solitude always +to be found where the great hills of ages rear their towering heads. +It was utterly cut off, too, from the outer world, by a monstrous +abutment of hill which left the track a mere ribbon, like the track of +some invertebrate, laboriously making its way through surroundings all +uncongenial and antagonistic. Yet the station was but a few hundred +yards beyond this point, where it lay open to the sweep of at least +three of the four winds of Heaven. But even so, the two places were as +effectually separated as though miles, and not yards, intervened. + +No breath of air stirred the generous spruce and darkening pinewoods. +The drooping, westering sun, already athwart the barren crown of the +hill tops, left a false, velvety suggestion of twilight in the heart +of the valley, while a depressing superheat enervated all life, except +the profusion of vegetation which beautified the rugged slopes. For +the most part the stillness was profound, only the most trifling +sounds disturbing it. There was an uneasy shuffle of moving feet; +there was the occasional crisp clip of a driven axe; then, too, +weighty articles being dropped into the bottom of a heavy wagon sent +up their dull boom at long intervals. + +The outlaws worked swiftly, but without apparent haste. The success of +their efforts depended upon rapidity of execution, that and the most +exact care for the detail of their organization. Provided these things +were held foremost in their minds there was small enough chance of +interruption. Had not the train, with its all unconscious driver, +passed upon its rumbling way toward Amberley? Had not all suspicion +been lulled in the mind of the bucolic agent, who was even now +laboriously expending a maximum of energy for a minimum return of +culinary delicacies in his vegetable patch? What was there to +interfere? Nothing. These men well knew that except for the flag +station there was not a habitation within ten miles, and the +ruggedness of the hills barred them to every form of traffic except +the irresistible impulse of railroad enterprise. + +Three men carried out the work of unloading the box car, while the two +others held the train crew at bay. All were masked with one exception, +and he, from his evident authority and mode of dress, was obviously +the leader of the gang. + +He was a slight, dark man, of somewhat remarkable refinement of +appearance. He was good looking, and almost boyish in the lack of hair +upon his face. But this was more than counterbalanced by the +determined set of his features, and the keen, calculating glance of +his eyes. The latter, particularly, were darkly luminous and lit with +an expression of lawless exhilaration as the work proceeded. Compared +with his fellows, who were of the well-known type of ruffian, in whom +the remoter prairie lands abound, he looked wholly out of place in +such a transaction. His air was that of a town-bred man, and his +clothing, too, suggested a refinement of tailoring, particularly the +rather loose cord riding breeches he affected. The others, masked as +they were, with their coatless bodies, and loose, unclean shirts, +their leather chapps, and the guns they wore upon their hips--well, +they made an exquisite picture of that ruffianism which bows to no law +of civilization, but that which they carry in the leather holsters +hanging at their waists. + +The trackside was strewn with disemboweled whitewood barrels. The +wreckage was grotesque. The ground was strewn in every direction with +a litter of white cube sugar, like the wind-swept drifts of a summer +snowfall. Barrels were still being dragged out of the car and dropped +roughly to the ground, where the sharp stroke of an axe ripped out the +head, revealing within the neatly packed keg of spirit, embedded so +carefully in its setting of sugar. The cargo had been well shipped by +men skilled in the subtle art of contraband. It was billed, and the +barrels were addressed, to a firm in Calford whose reputation for +integrity was quite unimpeachable. Herein was the cunning of the +smugglers. The sugar barrels were never intended to reach Calford. +They were not robbing the consignees in this raid upon the freight +train. They were simply possessing themselves, in unorthodox fashion, +of an illicit cargo that belonged to their leader. + +Fifteen kegs of spirit had been removed and bestowed in the wagon. +There were still five more to complete the tally. + +The leader, in easy tones, urged his men to greater speed. + +"Get a hustle, boys," he said, in a deep, steady voice, while he +strove with his somewhat delicate hands to lift a keg into the wagon. + +The effort was too great for him single-handed, and one of his +assistants came to his aid. + +"There's no time to spare," he went on a moment later, breathing hard +from his exertion. "Maybe the loco driver'll whistle for brakes." He +laughed with a pleasant, half humorous chuckle. "If that happens, +why--why I guess the train'll be chasing back on its tracks to pick up +its lost tail." + +He spoke with a refined accent of the West. The man nearest him +guffawed immoderately. + +"Gee!" he exclaimed delightedly. "This game's a cinch. Guess Fyles'll +kick thirteen holes in himself when that train gets in." + +"Thirteen?" inquired the leader smilingly. + +"Sure. Guess most folks reckon that figure unlucky." + +The third man snorted as he shouldered a keg and moved toward the +Wagon. + +"Holes? Thirteen?" he cried, as he dropped his burden into the +vehicle. Then he hawked and spat. "When that blamed train gets around +Amberley he'll hate hisself wuss'n a bank clerk with his belly awash +wi' boardin' house wet hash." + +Again came the leader's dark smile. But he had nothing to add. + +Presently the last keg was hoisted into the wagon. The leader of the +enterprise sighed. + +It was a sigh of pent feeling, the sigh of a man laboring under great +stress. Yet it was not wholly an expression of relief. If anything, +there was regret in it, regret that work he delighted in was finished. + +One of the men was removing his mask, and he watched him. Then, as the +face of the man who had been concealed under the car was revealed, he +signed to him. + +"Get busy on the wagon," he said. + +The man promptly mounted to the driving seat, and gathered up the +reins. + +"Hit the south trail for the temporary cache," the leader went on. +"Guess we'll need to ride hard if Fyles is feeling as worried as you +fellows--hope." + +The man winked abundantly. + +"That's all right, all right. He'll need to hop some when we get busy. +Ho, boys!" And he chirrupped his horses out of the shallow cutting, +and the wagon crushed its way into the smaller bush. + +The leader stood for a moment looking after it. Then he turned to the +other man, still awaiting orders. + +"Get the other boys' horses up," he said sharply. "Then stand by on +horseback, and hold the train crew while they tumble into the saddle. +Then make for the cache." + +The man hurried to obey. There were no questions asked when this man +gave his orders. Long experience had taught these men that there was +no necessity to question. Hardy ruffians as they were they knew well +enough that if they had the bodies for this work, he had a head that +was far cleverer even than that of Inspector Fyles himself. + +Meanwhile the leader had moved out into the center of the track, and +his eyes were turned westward, toward the bend round the great hill. +They were pensive eyes, almost regretful, and somehow his whole face +had changed from its look of daring to match them. The exhilaration +had gone out of it; the command, even the determination had merged +into something like weakness. His look was soft--even tender. + +He stood there while the final details of his enterprise were +completed. He heard the horses come up; he heard the two men clamber +from the caboose and get into the saddle. Then, at last, he turned, +and moved off the track. + +Once more the old look of reckless daring was shining in his luminous +eyes. He dashed off into the bush to mount his horse, leaving his +softer mood somewhere behind him--in the West. + +There was a clatter and rattle of speeding hoofs, which rapidly died +out. Then again the hills returned to their brooding silence. + +The withdrawal of the outlaws was the cue for absurd activity on the +part of the train crew. A whirlwind of heated blasphemy set in, which +might well have scorched the wooden sides of the car. They cursed +everybody and everything, but most of all they cursed the bucolic +agent at White Point. + +Then came a cautious reconnoitering beyond the door. This was promptly +followed by a pell-mell dash for the open. In a moment they were +crowding the trackside, staring with stupid eyes and mouths agape at +the miniature snowfall of sugar, and the wreckage of whitewood +barrels. + +The conductor was the first to gather his scattered faculties. + +"The lousy bums!" he cried fiercely. Then he added, with less ferocity +and more regret, "The--lousy--bums!" + +A moment later he turned upon his comrades in the aggrieved fashion of +one who would like to accuse. + +"'Taint no use in gawkin' around here," he cried sharply. "We're up +agin it. That's how it is." Then his face went scarlet, as a memory +occurred to him. "Say, White Point's around the corner. And that's +where we'll find that hop-headed agent--if he ain't done up. Anyways, +if he ain't--why, I guess we'll just set him playin' a miser-arey over +his miser'ble wires, that'll set 'em diggin' out a funeral hearse and +mournin' coaches in that dogasted prairie sepulcher--Amberley." + + * * * * * + +Mr. Moss was disentangling the crick in his back for the last time +that day. His stomach had forced on him the conviction that his +evening meal was a necessity not lightly to be denied. + +His back eased, he shouldered his hoe and moved off toward his shanty +with the dispirited air of the man who must prepare his own meal. As +he passed the lean-to, where his kindling and fuel were kept, he flung +the implements inside it, as though glad to be rid of the burden of +his labors. Then he passed on round to the front of the building with +the lagging step of indifference. There was little enough in his life +to encourage hopeful anticipation. + +At the door he paused. Such was his habit that his eyes wandered to +the track which had somehow become the highway of his life, and he +glanced up and down it. The far-reaching plains to the west offered +him too wide a focus. There was nothing to hold him in its breadth of +outlook. But as his gaze came in contact with the frowning crags to +the east, a sudden light of interest, even apprehension, leaped into +his eyes. In a moment he became a creature transformed. His bucolic +calm had gone. The metamorphosis was magical. + +In one bound he leaped within the hut. Then, in a moment, he was back +at the door again, his tensely poised figure filling up the opening. +His powerful hands were gripping his Winchester, and he stood ready. +The farmer in him had disappeared. His eyes were alight with the +impulse of battle. + +Along the track, from out of the hills, ran four unkempt human +figures. They were rushing for the flag station, gesticulating as they +came. In the loneliness of the spot there was only one interpretation +of their attitude for the waiting man. + +Mr. Moss's voice rang out violently, and caught the echo of the hills. + +"What in hell----?" he shouted, raising the deadly Winchester swiftly +to his shoulder. "Hold up!" he went on, "or I'll let daylight into +some of you." + +The effect of this challenge was instantaneous and almost ludicrous. +The oncoming figures stopped, and nearly fell over each other in their +haste to thrust their hands above their heads. Then the eager, anxious +shout of the gray-headed brakeman came back to him. + +"Fer Gawd's sake don't shoot!" he cried, in terrified tones. "We're +the train crew! The freight crew! We bin held up! Say----!" + +But the lowering of the threatening gun saved him further explanation +at such a distance. + +The light of battle had entirely died out of Mr. Moss's eyes, but it +was the brakeman's uniform, rather than his explanation, that had +inspired the white flag of peace. + +The man came hastily up. + +"What the----?" began the agent. But he was permitted to proceed no +further. + +The angry eyes of the brakeman snapped, and his blasphemous tongue +poured out its protesting story as rapidly as his stormy feelings +could drive him. Then, with an added violence, he came to his final +charge of the agent himself. + +"What in hell did you flag us for?" he cried. "You, on this bum +layout? Do you stand in with these 'hold-ups'? I tell you right here +this thing's goin' to be just as red-hot for you as I can make it. +That train was flagged _without official reason_," he went on with +rising heat. "Get me? An' you're responsible." + +Having delivered himself of his threat, he assumed the hectoring air +which the moral support of his companions afforded him. + +"Now, you just start right in and get busy on the wires. You can just +hammer seven sorts of hell into your instruments and call up Amberley +quick. You're goin' to put 'em wise right away. Macinaw! When I'm done +with this thing you're goin' to hate White Point wuss'n hell, an' wish +to Gawd they'd cut 'flag station' right out o' the conversation of the +whole durned American continent." + +Mr. Moss had listened in a perfect daze. It was his blank acceptance +of the brakeman's hectoring which had so encouraged that individual. +But now that all had been told, and the man's harsh tones ceased to +disturb the peace of their surroundings, his mind cleared, and hot +resentment leaped to his tongue. + +He sat down at his instrument and pounded the key, calling up +Amberley; and as the Morse sign clacked its metallic, broken note he +verbally replied to his accuser. + +"You've talked a whole heap that sounds to me like hot air," he cried, +with bitter feeling. "Maybe you're old, so it don't amount to +anything. As for your bum freight it was late--as usual. It wasn't my +duty to pass it through till you shouted for signals. There ain't any +schedule for bum freights. When they're late it's up to them." + +But for all Mr. Moss's contempt, and righteous indignation, the +brakeman's charge had had its effect. Well enough he remembered the +disjointed connecting rod, and he wondered how these "hold-ups" had +contrived it under his very nose. In his own phraseology, he felt +"sore." But his ill humor was not alone due to the brakeman's abuse. +He was thinking of something far more vital. He knew well enough that +his explanation would never satisfy the heads of his department. Then, +too, always hovering somewhere in the background, was the, to him, +sinister figure of Inspector Fyles of the Mounted Police. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +AT THE FOOT OF AN AGED PINE + + +Waiting for word from the agent, Huntly, Inspector Fyles had retreated +to the insignificant wooden shack which served the police as a Town +Station in Amberley. It consisted of two rooms and a loft in the pitch +of the roof. Its furniture was reduced to a minimum, and everything, +except the loft above where the two troopers and the corporal in +charge slept, was a matter of bare boards and bare wooden chairs. + +The officer sat in the smaller inner room where the telephone was +close to his hand, while the non-commissioned officer and his men +occupied the outer room. + +Fyles faced the window with his hard Windsor chair close beside the +office table. His elbow rested upon its chipped and discolored +surface, and his chin was supported on the palm of his hand. Just now +his busy thoughts were free to wander whithersoever they listed. This +was an interim of waiting, when all preparations were made for the +work in hand, and there was nothing to do but await developments. So +used was he to this work of seizing contraband spirits that its +contemplation had not power enough to quicken one single beat of his +pulse. And in this, too, he displayed that wondrous patience which was +so much a part of his nature. + +Stanley Fyles's reputation in these wild regions was decidedly unique. +Scarcely a day passed but what some strenuous emergency arose +demanding quick thought and quicker action, where life, frequently his +own, hung in the balance. Yet the most strenuous of them found him +always easy, always deliberate, and, as his subordinates loved to +declare, he always managed to "beat the game by a second." + +There were people outside, civilians, who confidently and +contemptuously declared him to be a bungler; a patient, hard-working +bungler. These were the men who saw few of his successes, and always +contrived to smell out his failures. These people were those who had +no understanding of the difficulties of a handful of men pitted +against a country eaten up with every form of criminal disease. There +were others, again, who insisted that far more crime slipped through +his well "oiled" hands than ever was held by them. These were the +people who sneered at his reputation for stern discipline, and +declared it to be a mere pose to cover his tracks, while he patiently +piled up a fortune through the shady channels of "graft." A small +minority admitted his ability, but averred that his patience erred on +the side of slackness, which was one of the causes that the flood of +prohibited liquor in the country showed no abatement. + +Nevertheless, one and all admitted his patience, whether it was in +bungling, in harvesting his graft, or whether it was a form of +slackness. Nor could they help doing so, for patience, a wonderful +purposeful patience, was his greatest characteristic. Every other +feature of his personality was subservient to it, and so it was that +the most hardened criminals began at once a nervous scrutiny of their +tracks the moment the news reached them that the lean nose of Stanley +Fyles had caught their scent. + +Those who knew Fyles best ignored the patience which caught the public +mind so readily. They saw something more beneath it, something much +more to their liking. His patience only masked a keen, swift-moving, +scheming brain, packed to the uttermost with a wonderful instinct for +detection. He worked on no rule-of-thumb method as so many of his +comrades did. He was the fortunate possessor of an imagination, and, +long since, he had learned its value in his crusade against crime. + +But this man was by no means a mere detection machine. He was full of +ambition. Police work was merely serving its purpose in his scheme of +things. He saw advancement in it--advancement in the right direction. +In five years he had raised himself from the lowest rung of the police +ladder to a commissioned rank, and from this rank he knew he could +reach out in any of the directions in which he required to proceed. + +There were several directions in which his ambitious eyes gazed. There +were politics, with their multifarious opportunities for fortune and +place. There was the land, crying aloud of the fortunes lying hidden +within its bosom. There was official service upon higher planes, from +which so many names were drawn to fill the roll of fame to be handed +down to an adoring posterity. He was not yet thirty years of age, and +he felt that any one of these things lay well within the focus his +present position presented. + +But the time for his next move was not yet; and herein was the real +man. In his mind there were still purposes which required complete +fulfilment before that further upward movement began. It was the more +human side of the man dictating its will upon him, that will which can +never be denied when once it rouses from its slumbers amid the living +fires which course through the veins of healthy manhood. + +Just now, as he leaned back in his unyielding chair, luxuriating in a +comfort which only a man as hard as he could have extracted from it, +the hot, living fires were stirring in his veins. His mind had gone +back to a picture, one of the many pictures which so often held him in +his scant leisure, that represented the first waking of those dormant +fires of manhood. + +The scene was a memory forming the starting point of a long series of +other pictures, which aways came with a rush, changing and changing +with kaleidoscopic rapidity till they developed into a stream of +swiftly flowing thought. + +It was the picture of a quaint, straggling prairie village, half +hidden in the multi-hued foliage of a deep valley, as viewed from his +saddle where his horse stood upon the shoulder of land which dropped +away at his feet. It was one of those wondrous fairy scenes with which +the prairie, in her friendlier moods, delights to charm the eye. +Perhaps "mock" would better express her whim, for many of these fair +settlements in the days of the Prohibition Laws were veritable +sepulchers of crime, only whitewashed by the humorous mood of nature. + +Ten yards below him an aged pine reared its hoary, time-worn head +toward the gleaming azure of a noonday summer sky. It was a landmark +known throughout the land; it was the landmark which had guided him to +this obscure village of Rocky Springs. It had been in his eye all the +morning as he rode toward it, and as he drew near curiosity had +impelled him to leave the trail he was on and examine more closely +this wonderful specimen of a far, far distant age. + +But his inspection was never fully made. Instead, his interest was +abruptly diverted to that which he beheld reposing beneath its +shadow. A girl was sitting, half reclining, against the dark old +trunk, with a sewing basket at her side, and a perfect maze of white +needlework in her lap. + +She was not sewing, however, as he drew near. She was gazing out over +the village below, with a pair of eyes so deep and darkly beautiful +that the man caught his breath. Just for one unconscious moment +Stanley Fyles had followed the direction of her gaze, then his own +eyes came back to her face and riveted themselves upon it. + +She was very, very beautiful. Her hair was abundant and dark. Yet it +was quite devoid of that suggestion of great weight so often found in +very dark hair. There was a melting luster in the velvet softness of +her deeply fringed eyes. Her features were sufficiently irregular to +escape the accusation of classic form, and possessed a firmness and +decision quite remarkable. At that moment the solitary horseman +decided in his mind that here was the most beautiful creature he had +ever looked upon. + +She was dressed in a light summer frock, through the delicate texture +of which peeped the warm tint of beautifully rounded arms and +shoulders. She was hatless, too, in spite of the summer blaze. To his +fired imagination she belonged to a canvas painted by some old master +whose portrayals suggested a strength and depth of character rarely +seen in life. Even the beautiful olive of her complexion suggested +those southern climes whence alone, he had always been led to believe, +old masters hailed. + +To him it was the face of a woman whose heart and mind were crowding +with a yearning for something--something unattainable. Such was her +look of strength and virility that he almost regretted them, fearing +that her character might belie her wondrous femininity. + +But in a moment he had denial forced upon him. The girl turned slowly, +and gazed up into his face with smiling frankness. Her eyes took him +in from his prairie hat to his well-booted feet. They passed swiftly +over his dark patrol jacket, with its star upon its shoulder, and down +the yellow stripe of his riding breeches. There was nothing left him +but to salute, which he did as her voice broke the silence. + +"You're Inspector Stanley Fyles?" she said, with a rising inflection +in her deep musical voice. + +The man answered bluntly. He was taken aback at the unconventional +greeting. + +"Yes----" He cleared his throat in his momentary confusion. Then he +responded to her still smiling eyes. "And--that's Rocky Springs?" he +inquired, pointing down the valley. The information was quite +unnecessary. + +The girl nodded. + +"Yes," she said, "a prairie village that's full of everything +interesting--except, perhaps, honesty." + +The man smiled broadly. + +"That's why I'm here." + +The girl laughed a merry, rippling laugh. + +"Sure," she nodded. "We heard you were coming. You're going to fix a +police station here, aren't you?" Then, as he nodded, her smile died +out and her eyes became almost earnest. "It's surely time," she +declared. "I've heard of bad places, I've read of them, I guess. But +all I've heard of, or read of, are heavens of righteousness compared +with this place. Look," she cried, rising from the ground and reaching +out one beautifully rounded arm in the direction of the nestling +houses, amid their setting of green woods, with the silvery gleam of +the river peeping up as it wound its sluggish summer way through the +heart of the valley. "Was there ever such a mockery? The sweetest +picture human eyes could rest on. Fair--far, far fairer than any +artist's fancy could paint it. It's a fit resting place for everything +that's good, and true, and beautiful in life, and--and yet--I'd say +that Rocky Springs, very nearly to a man, is--against the law." + +For a moment Fyles had no reply. He was thinking of the charm of the +picture she made standing there silhouetted against the green slope of +the far side of the valley. Then, as she suddenly dropped her arm, and +began to gather up the sewing she had tumbled upon the ground when she +stood up, he pulled himself together. He beamed an unusually genial +smile. + +"Guess there are things we police need to be thankful for, and places +like Rocky Springs are among 'em," he said, cheerfully. "I'd say if it +wasn't for your Rocky Springs, and its like, we should be chasing +around as uselessly as hungry coyotes in winter. The Government +wouldn't fancy paying us for nothing." + +By the time he had finished speaking the girl's work was gathered in +her arms. + +"That's the trail," she said abruptly, pointing at the path which +Fyles had left for his inspection of the tree. "It goes right on down +to the saloon. You see," she added slyly, "the saloon's about the most +important building in the town. Good-bye." + +Without another word she walked off down the slope, and, in a moment, +was lost among the generous growth of shrubs. + +This was the scene to which his mind always reverted. But there were +others, many of them, and in each this beautiful girl's presence was +always the center of his focus. He had seen and spoken to her many +times since then, for his duty frequently took him into the +neighborhood of that aged pine. But in spite of her frankness at their +first meeting she quickly proved far more elusive than he would have +believed possible, and consequently his intimacy with her had +progressed very little. + +The result was a natural one. The man's interest in her was still +further whetted, till, in time, he finally realized that the long +anticipated move upwards, which he was preparing for, could no longer +be made--alone. + +These were the thoughts occupying him now as he stared out through the +dusty window at the scattered houses which lined Amberley's main +street. These were the thoughts which conjured on his bronzed, strong +features, that pleasant half-smile of satisfaction. He wanted her very +much. He wanted her so much that all impulse to rush headlong and make +her his was thrust aside. He must wait--wait with the same patience +which he applied to all that which was important in his life, and, +when opportunity offered, when the moment was ripe, he would make the +great effort upon which he knew so much of his future happiness +depended. + +Thus he was dreaming on pleasantly, hopefully, and yet not without +doubts, when a sharp knock at his door banished the last vestige of +romance from his mind. In an instant he was on his feet, alert and +waiting. + +"Come!" + +His summons was promptly answered, and the tall figure of the corporal +stood framed in the doorway. + +"Well?" + +The question came with the sharp ring of authority. + +"It's Huntly, sir," the man explained briefly. "He's got a message. +There's been a 'hold-up' of the freight, just beyond White Point. The +'jumpers' have dropped off the two hindermost cars and held the crew +prisoners. Seems the train was flagged on the bend out of the hills +and then allowed to pass. While it was standing the cars were cut +loose. Then the train came on without them. She's in sight now. +Huntly's outside." + +The Inspector gave no sign while his subordinate talked. His eyes were +lowered at a point of interest on the floor. At the conclusion of the +man's brief outline he glanced up. + +"Has Huntly got the message with him?" + +"Yes, sir." + +Fyles made a move, and the other stepped back to let him pass out. + +The agent was waiting in the outer office. His eyes were wide with +excitement. + +"Well? Where's the message?" the officer demanded. + +Huntly thrust a paper into his hand. + +"It just came through." + +Fyles took it, and his strong brows drew together as he read the long +story of the "hold-up" which the man had taken down from his +instrument. + +A deep silence prevailed while the officer read the news which so +completely frustrated all his plans. + +At last he looked up. Favoring the man Huntly with one inquiring +glance, he turned to the corporal. + +"It says here the brakeman heard the leader tell his men to make for +the south trail. That was either bluff--or a mistake. They sometimes +make mistakes, and that's how we get our chances. The south trail is +the road into Rocky Springs. Rocky Springs is twenty-two miles from +White Point. They've probably had an hour's start with a heavily +loaded wagon. Rocky Springs is twenty-six from here by trail. Good. +Say, tell the boys to get on the move quick. They'll strike the south +trail about seven miles northeast of Rocky Springs. If they ride hard +they should cut them off, or, any way, hit their trail close behind +them." + +"Yes, sir." + +As Fyles turned back to the inner room and picked up the telephone, +ignoring the still waiting agent, the corporal hurried away. + +In a moment the telephone bell rang out and the officer was speaking. + +"Yes, sir, Fyles. Yes, at the Town Station. I'm coming up to barracks +right away. It's most important. I must see you. The whisky-runners +have--doubled on us." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +BOUND FOR THE SOUTHERN TRAIL + + +Three uniformed men rode hard across the tawny plains. They rode +abreast. Their horses were a-lather; their lean sides tuckered, but +their gait remained unslackening. It was a gait they would keep as +long as daylight lasted. + +Sergeant McBain's horse kept its nose just ahead of the others. It was +as though the big, rawboned animal appreciated its rider's rank. + +Quite abruptly the non-commissioned officer raised an arm and pointed. + +"Yon's the Cypress Hills, boys," he cried. "See, they're getting up +out of the heat haze on the skyline. We're heading too far south." + +He spoke without for a moment withdrawing the steady gaze of his hard +blue eyes. + +One of the troopers answered him. + +"Sure, sergeant," he agreed. "We need to head away to the left." + +The horses swung off the line, beating the sun-scorched grass with +their iron-shod hoofs with a vigor that felt good to the riders. + +The bronzed faces of the men were eager. Their widely gazing eyes were +alert and watchful. They were trailing a hot scent, a pastime as well +as a work that was their life. They needed no greater incentive to put +forth the best efforts of bodily and mental energies. + +The uniform of these riders of the western plains was unassuming. +Their brown canvas tunics, their prairie hats, their black, hard +serge breeches, with broad, yellow stripes down the thighs, possessed +a businesslike appearance not to be found in a modern soldier's +uniform. These things were for sheer hard service. + +The life of these men was made up of hard service. It was demanded of +them by the Government; it was also demanded of them by the conditions +of the country. Lawlessness prevailed on these fair, sunlit plains; +lawlessness of man, lawlessness of Nature. Between the two they were +left with scarce a breathing space for those comforts which only found +existence in dreams that were all too brief and transitory. + +Nominally, these men were military police, yet their methods were far +enough removed from all matters martial. Theirs it was to obey orders, +but all similarity ended there. Each man was left free to think and +act for himself. Brief orders, with little detail, were hurled at him. +For the rest his superiors demanded one result--achievement. A crime +was committed; a criminal was at large; information of a contemplated +breach of the peace was to hand. Then go--and see to it. Investigate +and arrest. The individual must plan and carry out, whatever the odds. +Success would meet with cool approval; failure would be promptly +rewarded with the utmost rigor of the penal code governing the force. +The work might take days, weeks, months. It mattered not. Nor did it +matter the expense, provided success crowned the effort. But with +failure resulting--ah, there must be no failure. The prestige of the +force could not stand failure, for its seven hundred men were required +to dominate and cleanse a territory in which half a dozen European +countries could be comfortably lost. + +Presently Sergeant McBain spoke again. His steady eyes were still +fixed upon the horizon. + +"Say, that's her," he said. "There she is. Coming right up like a mop +head. That's the pine at Rocky Springs. Further away to the left +still, boys." + +He turned his horse, and the race against time was continued. +Somewhere ahead, on the southern trail, a gang of whisky smugglers +were plying their trade. Inspector Fyles had said, "Go, and--round +them up." + +The odds were all against these men, yet no one considered the +matter. Each, with eyes and brain alert, was ready to do all of which +human effort was capable. + +Now that definite direction over those wastes of grass had been +finally located, the sergeant, a rough, hard-faced Scot, relaxed his +vigilance. His mind drifted to the purpose in hand, and a dry humor +lit his eyes. + +"Eh, man, but it's a shameful waste, spilling good spirit," he said, +addressing no one in particular. "Governments are always +prodigal--except with pay." + +One of the troopers sniggered. + +"Guess we could spill some of it, sergeant," he declared meaningly. + +"Spill it!" The sergeant grinned. "That isn't the word, boy. Spill +don't describe the warm trickle of good liquor down a man's throat. +Say, I mind----" + +The other trooper broke in. + +"Fyles 'ud spill champagne," he cried in disgust. "A man like that +needs seeing to." + +The sergeant shook his head. + +"Fyles would spill anything or anybody that required spilling, so he +gets his nose to windward of the game. He's right, too, in this +God-forgotten land. If we didn't spill, we'd be right down and out, +and our lives wouldn't be worth a second's purchase. No, boys, it +breaks our hearts to spill--but we got to do it--or be spilt +ourselves." + +The man shook his reins and bustled the great sorrel under him. The +animal's response was a lengthening of stride which left his +companions hard put to it to keep pace. + +The brief talk was closed. It had been a moment of relaxed tension. +Now, once more, every eye was fixed on the shimmering skyline. They +were eagerly looking out for the southern trail. + +Half an hour later its yellow, sandy surface lay beneath their feet, +an open book for the reading. + +All three leaped from the saddle and began a close examination of it, +while their sweating horses promptly regaled themselves with the ripe, +tufty grass at the trail side. + +Sergeant McBain narrowly scrutinized the wheel tracks, estimating the +speed at which the last vehicle to pass had been traveling. The +blurred hoofmarks of the horses warned him they had been driven hard. + +"We're behind 'em, boys," he declared promptly, "an' their gait says +they're taking no chances." + +Further down the trail one of the troopers answered him: + +"There's four saddle horses with 'em," he said thoughtfully. "Two +shod, and two shod on the forefeet only. Guess, with the teamster, +that makes five men. Prairie toughs, I'd guess." + +The sergeant concurred, while they continued their examination. + +Then the third man exclaimed sharply-- + +"Here!" he cried, picking something up at the side of the trail. + +The others joined him at once. + +He was quietly tearing open a half-burned cigarette, the tobacco +inside of which was still moist. + +"Prairie toughs don't smoke _made_ cigarettes around here. It's a +Caporal. Get it? That's bought in a town." + +"Ay," said McBain quickly. "Rocky Springs, I'd say. It's the Rocky +Springs gang, sure as hell. It's the foulest hole of crime in the +northwest. Come on, boys. We need to get busy." + +Two minutes later a moving cloud of dust marked their progress down +the trail in the direction of Rocky Springs. Presently, however, the +dust subsided. The astute riders of the plains were giving no chances +away; they had left the tell-tale trail and rode on over the grass at +its edge. + + * * * * * + +The westering sun was low on the horizon. The air was still. Not a +cloud was visible anywhere in the sky. The world was silent. The +drowsing birds, even, had finished their evensong. + +Low bush-grown hills lined the trail where it entered the wide valley +of Leaping Creek, which, six miles further on, ran through the heart +of the hamlet of Rocky Springs. + +It was a beauty spot of no mean order. The smaller hills were broken +and profuse, with dark woodland gorges splitting them in every +direction, crowded with such a density of foliage as to be almost +impassable. Farther on, as the valley widened and deepened, its aspect +became more rugged. The land rose to greater heights, the lighter +vegetation gave way to heavier growths of spruce and blue gum and +maple. These too, in turn, became sprinkled with the darker and +taller pines. Then, as the distance gained, a still further change met +the eye. Vast patches of virgin pine woods, with their mournful, +tattered crowns, toned the brighter greens to the somber grandeur of +more mountainous regions. + +The breathless hush of evening lay upon the valley. There was even a +sense of awe in the silence. It was peace, a wonderful natural peace, +when all nature seems at rest, nor could the chastened atmosphere of a +cloister have conveyed more perfectly the sense of repose. + +But the human contradiction lay in the heart of the valley. It was the +abiding place of the hamlet of Rocky Springs, and Rocky Springs was +accredited with being the very breeding ground of prairie crime. + +Just now, however, the chastened atmosphere was perfect. Rocky +Springs, so far away, was powerless to affect it. Even the song of the +tumbling creek, which coursed through the heart of the valley, was +powerless to awaken discordant echoes. Its music was low and soft. It +was like the drone of the stirring insects, part of that which went to +make up the atmosphere of perfect peace. + +The sun dropped lower in the western sky. A velvet twilight seemed to +rise out of the heart of the valley. Slowly the glowing light vanished +behind a bluff of woodland. In a few minutes the trees and undergrowth +were lit up as though a mighty conflagration were devouring them. Then +the fire died down, and the sun sank. + +But as the sun sank, a low, deep note grew softly out of the distance. +For a time it blended musically with the murmuring of the bustling +creek and the wakeful insect life. Then it dominated both, and its +music lessened. Its note changed rapidly, so rapidly that its softer +tone was at once forgotten, and only the harshness it now assumed +remained in the mind. Louder and harsher it grew till from a mere +rumble it jumped to a rattle and clatter which suggested speed, +violence, and a dozen conflicting emotions. + +Almost immediately came a further change, and one which left no doubt +remaining. The clatter broke up into distinct and separate sounds. The +swift beat of speeding hoofs mingled with the fierce rattle of light +wheels, racing over the surface of a hard road. + +All sense of peace vanished from the valley. Almost it seemed as if +its very aspect had changed. A sense of human strife had suddenly +possessed it, and left its painful mark indelibly set upon the whole +scene. + +The climax was reached as a hard driven team and wagon, escorted by +four mounted men, precipitated themselves into the picture. They came +over the shoulder of the valley and plunged headlong down the +dangerous slope, regardless of all consequences, regardless both of +life and limb. The teamster was leaning forward in his seat, his arms +outstretched, grasping a rein in each hand. He was urging his horses +to their utmost. In his face was that stern, desperate expression that +told of perfect cognizance of his position. It said as plainly as +possible, however great the danger he saw before him, it must be +chanced for the greater danger behind. + +Two of the horsemen detached themselves from the escort and remained +hidden behind some bush at the shoulder of the hill. They were there +to watch the approach to the valley. The others kept pace with the +racing vehicle as the surefooted team tore down the slope. + +Rocking and swaying and skidding, the vehicle seemed literally to +precipitate itself to the depths below, and, as the horses, with necks +outstretched and mouths beginning to gape, with ears flattened and +streaming flanks, reached the bottom, the desperate nature of the +journey became even more apparent. There was neither wavering nor +mercy in the eyes of the teamster and his escort as they pressed on +down the valley. + +One of the escort called sharply to the teamster. + +"Can we make it?" he shouted. + +"Got to," came back the answer through clenched jaws. "If we got +twenty minutes on the gorl darned p'lice they won't see us for dust. +Heh!" + +The man's final exclamation came as one of his horses stumbled. But he +kept the straining beast on its legs by the sheer physical strength of +his hands upon the reins. The check was barely an instant, but he +picked up the rawhide whip lying in the wagon and plied it +mercilessly. + +The exhausted beasts responded and the vehicle flew down the trail, +swaying and yawing the whole breadth of the road. The dust in its wake +rose up in a dense cloud. Into this the escort plunged and quickly +became lost to view behind the bush which lined the sharply twisting +trail. + +Faster and faster the horses sped under the iron hand of the teamster, +till distance took hold of the clatter and finally diminished it to a +rumble. In a few minutes even the rising cloud of dust, like smoke +above the tree tops, thinned and finally melted away, and so, once +more, peace returned to the twilit valley. + + * * * * * + +A wagon was lumbering slowly toward Rocky Springs. It was less than a +mile beyond the outskirts of the village, and already an occasional +flash of white paint through the trees revealed the sides of some +outlying house in the distance ahead. + +The horses were dejected-looking creatures, and their flanks were +streaked with gray lines of caking sweat. They were walking, and the +teamster on the wagon sat huddled down in the driving seat, an +exquisite picture of unclean ease. + +He was a hard-faced, unwashed creature, whose swarthy features were +ingrained with sweat and dirt. He was clad in typical prairie costume, +his loose cotton shirt well matching the unclean condition of his +face. One cheek was bulging with a big chew of tobacco, while the +other sank in over the hollows left by absent back teeth. + +He certainly was unprepossessing. Even his contented smile only added +to the evil of his expression. His contentment, however, was by no +means his whole atmosphere. In fact, it was rather studied, for his +eyes were alight and watchful with the furtive watchfulness so easy to +detect in those of partial color. They suggested that his ears, too, +were no less alert, and now and again this suggestion received +confirmation in the quick turn of the head in a direction which said +plainly he was listening for any unusual sound from behind him. + +One of these turns of the head remained longer than usual. Then, with +quite a sharp movement of the body, he swung one of the great pistols +hanging at his waist, so that its barrel rested across his thigh, and +its butt was ready to his hand. Then, with a malicious chuckle, he +took a firmer grip of his reins, and his jaded horses raised their +drooping heads. + +The object of his change of attitude quickly became apparent, for, a +few moments later, the distant sound of hoof-beats, far behind him, +echoed through the still valley. + +He checked his horses still more, and it became evident that he wished +those who were behind him to come up before he reached the village. +The smile on his evil face became more humorous, and he spat out a +stream of tobacco juice with great enjoyment. + +The sounds grew louder, and he turned about and peered down the +darkening valley. There was nothing and no one in sight yet amid the +woodland shadows. Only the clatter of hoofs was growing with each +moment. He finally turned back and resettled himself. His attitude now +became one of even more studied indifference, but his gun remained +close to his hand. + +The sounds behind him were drawing nearer. His tired horses pricked +their ears. They, too, seemed to become interested. The pursuers came +on. They were less than a hundred yards behind. In a few moments they +were directly behind. Then the man lazily turned his head. For some +moments he stared stupidly at the three uniformed figures who had +descended upon him. Then he suddenly sat up and brought his horses to +a standstill. The policemen were surrounding his wagon. + +Sergeant McBain was abreast of him on one side, one trooper drew up +his horse at the other side, while the third came to a halt at the +rear of the wagon and peered into it. + +"Evenin', sergeant," cried the teamster, with deliberate cheeriness. +"Makin' Rocky Springs?" + +McBain's hard blue eyes looked straight into the half-breed's face. He +was endeavoring to fix and hold those dark, furtive eyes. But it was +not easy. + +"Maybe," he said curtly. + +Then he glanced swiftly over the outfit. The sweat-streaked horses +interested him. The nature of the wagon. Then, finally, the contents +of the wagon covered with a light canvas protection against the dust. + +"Where you from?" he demanded peremptorily. + +"Just got through from Myrtle," replied the man, quite undisturbed by +the other's manner. + +"Fourteen miles," said McBain sharply. "Guess your plugs sweated +some. What's your name, and who do you work for?" + +"Guess I'm Pete Clancy, an' I'm Kate Seton's 'hired' man. Been across +to Myrtle for fixin's for her." + +"Fixings?" + +The sergeant's eyes at last compelled the other's. There was something +like insolence in the way Pete Clancy returned his stare. There was +also humor. + +"Sure," he returned easily. "Guess you'll find 'em in the wagon ef you +raise that cover. There's one of them fakes fer sewin' with. There's a +deal o' fancy canned truck, an' say, the leddy's death on notions. Get +a peek at the colors o' them silk duds. On'y keep dirty hands off'n +'em, or she'll cuss me to hell for a fust-class hog." + +McBain signed to the trooper at the rear of the wagon and the man +stripped the cover off. The first thing the officer beheld was a +sewing machine in its shining walnut case. Beside this was an open +packing case filled with canned fruits and meats, and a large supply +of groceries. In another box, packed under layers of paper, were +materials for dressmaking, and a roll of white lawn for other articles +of a woman's apparel. + +With obvious disgust he signed again to the trooper to replace the +cover. Then Clancy broke in. + +"Say," he cried ironically, "ain't they dandy? I tell you, sergeant, +when it comes to fancy things, women ha' got us skinned to death. +Fancy us wearin' skirts an' things made o' them flimsies! We'd fall +right through 'em an' break our dirty necks. An' the colors, too. +Guess they'd shame a dago wench, an' set a three-year old stud bull +shakin' his sides with a puffic tempest of indignation. But when it +comes to canned truck, well, say, prairie hash ain't nothin' to it, +an' if I hadn't been raised in a Bible class, an' had the feel o' the +cold water o' righteousness in my bones, I'd never ha' hauled them all +this way without gettin' a peek into them cans. I----" + +"Cut it out, man," cried the officer sharply. "I need a straight word +with you. Get me? Straight. Your bluff'll do for other folks. You +haven't been to Myrtle. You come from White Point, where you helped +hold up a freight. You ran a big cargo of liquor in this wagon, which +is why your plugs are tuckered out. You've cached that liquor in this +valley, at the place you gathered up this truck. I don't say you +aren't 'hired man' to Miss Seton in Rocky Springs, but you're playing +a double game. You fetched her goods and dumped 'em at the cache, only +to pick 'em up when you were through with your other game." + +The man laughed insolently. + +"Gee! I must be a ter'ble bad feller, sergeant," he cried. "Me, as was +raised in a Bible class." His eyes twinkled as he went on. "An' I done +all that? All that you sed, sergeant? Say, I'm a real bright feller. +Guess I'll get a drink o' that liquor, won't I? It 'ud be a bum +trick----" + +The sergeant's eyes snapped. + +"You'll get the penitentiary before we're through with you. You and +the boys with you. We've followed your trail all the way, and that +trail ends right here. We're wise to you----" + +"But you ain't wise where the liquor's cached," retorted the man with +a chuckle. + +Then he looked straight into the officer's eyes. + +"Say," he cried with his big laugh. "You can talk penitentiary till +you're sick. Ther' ain't no liquor in my wagon, an' if there ever has +been any, as you kind o' fancy, it's right up to you to locate it, and +spill it, an' not set right there keepin' me from my work." + +As he finished speaking, with elaborate display, he shook his reins +and shouted at his horses, which promptly moved on. + +As the wagon rolled away he turned his head and spoke over his +shoulder. + +"You can't spill canned truck an' sewin' machines, sergeant," he +called back derisively. "That penitentiary racket don't fizz nothin'. +Guess you best think again." + +The officer's chagrin was complete. It was the start the outlaws had +had that had beaten him. This was the wagon; this was one of the men. +Of these things he was convinced. There were others in it, too, but +they----. He turned to his troopers. + +"I'd give a month's pay to get bracelets on that feller," he said with +a grin that had no mirth in it. Then he added grimly, as he gazed +after the receding wagon: "And I'm a Scotchman." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE MAN-HUNTERS + + +The girl's handsome face was turned toward the valley below her. She +was staring with eyes of dreaming, half regretful, yet not without a +faint light of humor, at the nestling village in the lap of the +woodlands, which crowded the heart of the valley, where the silvery +thread of river wound its way. + +The wide foliage of the maple tree, beneath which she sat, sheltered +her bare head from the burning noonday sun. And here, so high up on +the shoulder of the valley, she felt there was at least air to +breathe. + +The book on the ground beside her had only just been laid there; its +pages, wide open, had been turned face downward upon the dry, +grassless patch surrounding the tree trunk. + +Only a few feet away another girl, slight and fair-haired, was nimbly +plying her needle upon a pile of white lawn, as to the object of which +there could be small enough doubt. She was working with the care and +obvious appreciation which most women display toward the manufacture +of delicate underclothing. + +As her companion laid her book aside and turned toward the valley, the +pretty needlewoman raised a pair of gray, speculative eyes. But almost +at once they dropped again to her work. It was only for a moment, +however. She reached the end of her seam and began to fold the +material up, and, as she did so, her eyes were once more raised in the +direction of her sister, only now they were full of laughter. + +"Kate," she said, in a tone in which mirth would not be denied, "do +you know, it's five years to-day since we first came to Rocky Springs? +Five years." She breathed a profound sigh, which was full of mockery. +"You were twenty-three when we came. You are twenty-eight now, and I +am twenty-two. We'll soon be old maids. The folks down there," she +went on, nodding at the village below, "will soon be speaking of us as +'them two old guys,' or 'them funny old dears, the Seton sisters.' +Isn't it awful to think of? We came out West to find husbands for +ourselves, and here we are very nearly--old maids." + +Kate Seton's eyes wore a responsive twinkle, but she did not turn. + +"You're a bit of a joke, Hel," she replied, in the slow musical +fashion of a deep contralto voice. + +"But I'm not a joke," protested the other, with pretended severity. +"And I won't be called 'Hel,' just because my name's Helen. It--it +sounds like the way Pete and Nick swear at each other when they've +been spending their pay at Dirty O'Brien's. Besides, it doesn't alter +facts at all. It won't take much more climbing to find ourselves right +on the shelf, among the frying pans and other cooking utensils. +I'm--I'm tired of it--I--really am. It's no use talking. I'm a woman, +and I'd sooner see a pair of trousers walking around my house than +another bunch of skirts--even if they belong to my beloved sister. +Trousers go every time--with me." + +Kate withdrew her gaze from the village below and looked into her +sister's pretty face with smiling, indulgent eyes. + +"Well?" she said. + +The other shook her fair head. Her eyes were still laughing, but their +expression did not hide the seriousness which lay behind them. + +"It's not 'well' at all," she cried. She drew herself up from the +ground into a kneeling position, which left her sitting on the heels +of shoes that could never have been bought in Rocky Springs. "Now, +listen to me," she went on, holding up a warning finger. "I'm just +going to state my case right here and now, and--and you've got to +listen to me. Five years ago, Kate Seton, aged twenty-three, and her +sister, Helen Seton, were left orphans, with the sum of two thousand +dollars equally divided between them. You get that?" + +Her sister nodded amusedly. "Well," the girl went on deliberately. +"Kate Seton was no ordinary sort of girl. Oh, no. She was most +_un_ordinary, as Nick would say. She was a sort of headstrong girl +with an absurd notion of woman's independence. I--I don't mean she was +masculine, or any horror like that. But she believed that when it came +to doing the things she wanted to do she could do them just as well, +and deliberately, as any man. That she could think as well as any man. +In fact, she didn't believe in the superiority of the male sex over +hers. The only superiority she did acknowledge was that a man could +ask a woman to marry, while the privilege of asking a man was denied +to Kate's sex. But even in acknowledging this she reserved to herself +an alternative. She believed that every woman had the right to make a +man ask her." + +The patient Kate mildly protested. "You're making me out a perfectly +awful creature," she said, without the least umbrage. "Hadn't I better +stand up for the--arraignment?" + +But her sister's mock seriousness remained quite undisturbed. + +"There's no necessity," she said, airily. "Besides, you'll be tired +when I'm through. Now listen. Kate Seton is a very kind and lovable +creature--really. Only--only she suffers from--notions." + +The dark-eyed Kate, with her handsome face so full of decision and +character, eyed her sister with the indulgence of a mother. + +"You do talk, child," was all she said. + +Helen nodded. "I like talking. It makes me feel clever." + +"Ye--es. People are like that," returned the other ironically. "Go +on." + +Helen folded her hands in her lap, and for a moment gazed +speculatively at the sister she knew she adored. + +"Well," she went on presently. "Let us keep to the charge. Five years +ago this spirit of independence and adventure was very strong in Kate +Seton. Far, far stronger than it is now. That's by the way. Say, +anyhow, it was so strong then that when these two found themselves +alone in the world with their money, it was her idea to break through +all convention, leave her little village in New England, go out west, +and seek 'live' men and fortune on the rolling plains of Canada. The +last part of that's put in for effect." + +The girl paused, watching her sister as she turned again toward the +valley below. + +With a sigh of resignation Helen was forced to proceed. "That's five +years--ago," she said. Then, dropping her voice to a note of pathos, +and with the pretense of a sob: "Five long years ago two lonely girls, +orphans, set out from their conventional home in a New England +village, after having sold it out--the home, not the village--and +turned wistful faces toward the wild green plains of the western +wilderness, the home of the broncho, the gopher, and the merciless +mosquito." + +"Oh, do get on," Kate's smile was good to see. + +"It's emotion," said Helen, pretending to dab her eyes. "It's emotion +mussing up the whole blamed business, as Nick would say." + +"Never mind Nick," cried her sister. "Anyway, I don't think he swears +nearly as much as you make out. I'll soon have to go and get the +Meeting House ready for to-morrow's service. So----" + +"Ah, that's just it," broke in Helen, with a great display of triumph +in her laughing eyes. "Five years ago Kate Seton would never have said +that. She'd have said, 'bother the old Meeting House, and all the old +cats who go there to slander each other in--in the name of religion.' +That's what she'd have said. It's all different now. Gone is her love +of adventure; gone is her defiance of convention; gone is--is her +independence. What is she now? A mere farmer, a drudging female, +spinster farmer, growing cabbages and things, and getting her +manicured hands all mussed up, and freckles on her otherwise handsome +face." + +"A successful--female, spinster farmer," put in Kate, in her deep, +soft voice. + +Helen nodded, and there was a sort of helplessness in her admission. + +"Yes," she sighed, "and that's the worst of it. We came to find +husbands--'live' husbands, and we only find--cabbages. The +man-hunters. That's what we called ourselves. It sounded--uncommon, +and so we used the expression." Suddenly she scrambled to her feet in +undignified haste, and shook a small, clenched fist in her sister's +direction. "Kate Seton," she cried, "you're a fraud. An +unmitigated--fraud. Yes, you are. Don't glare at me. 'Live' men! +Adventure! Poof! You're as tame as any village cat, and just +as--dozy." + +Kate had risen, too. She was not glaring. She was laughing. Her dark, +handsome face was alight with merriment at her sister's characteristic +attack. She loved her irresponsible chatter, just as she loved the +loyal heart that beat within the girl's slight, shapely body. Now she +came over and laid a caressing hand upon the girl's shoulder. In a +moment it dropped to the slim waist about which her arm was quickly +placed. + +"I wish I could get cross with you, Helen," she said happily. "But I +simply--can't. You know you get very near the mark in your funny +fashion--in some things. Say, I wonder. Do you know we have more than +our original capital in the bank? Our farm is a flourishing concern. +We employ labor. Two creatures that call themselves men, and who +possess the characters of--hogs, or tigers, or something pretty +dreadful. We can afford to buy our clothes direct from New York or +Montreal. Think of that. Isn't that due to independence? I admit the +villagy business. I seem to love Rocky Springs. It's such a whited +sepulcher, and its inhabitants are such blackguards with great big +hearts. Yes, I love even the unconventional conventions of the place. +But the spirit of adventure. Well, somehow I don't think that has +really gone." + +"Just got mired--among the cabbages," said Helen, slyly. Then she +released herself from her sister's embrace and stood off at arm's +length, assuming an absurdly accusing air. "But wait a moment, Kate +Seton. This is all wrong. I'm making the charge, and you're doing all +the talking. There's no defense in the case. You've--you've just got +to listen, and--accept the sentence. Guess this isn't a court of +men--just women. Now, we're man-hunters. That's how we started, and +that's what I am--still. We've been five years at it, with what +result? I'll just tell you. I've been proposed to by everything +available in trousers in the village--generally when the 'thing' is +drunk. The only objects that haven't asked me to marry are our two +hired men, Nick and Pete, and that's only because their wages aren't +sufficient to get them drunk enough. As for you, most of the boys sort +of stand in awe of you, wouldn't dare talk marrying to you even in the +height of delirium tremens. The only men who have ever had courage to +make any display in that direction are Inspector Fyles, when his duty +brings him in the neighborhood of Rocky Springs, and a dypsomaniac +rancher and artist, to wit, Charlie Bryant. And how do you take it? +You--a man-hunter? Why, you run like a rabbit from Fyles. Courage? +Oh, dear. The mention of his name is enough to send you into +convulsions of trepidation and maidenly confusion. And all the time +you secretly admire him. As for the other, you have turned yourself +into a sort of hospital nurse and temperance reformer. You've taken +him up as a sort of hobby, until, in his lucid intervals, he takes +advantage of your reforming process to acquire the added disease of +love, which has reduced him to a condition of imbecile infatuation +with your charming self." + +Kate was about to break in with a laughing protest, but Helen stayed +her with a gesture of denial. + +"Wait," she cried, grandly. "Hear the whole charge. Look at your +village life, which you plead guilty to. You, a high-spirited woman of +independence and daring. You are no better than a sort of hired +cleaner to a Meeting House you have adopted, and which is otherwise +run by a lot of cut-throats and pirates, whose wives and offspring are +no better than themselves. You attend the village social functions +with as much appreciation of them as any village mother with an +unwashed but growing family. You gossip with them and scandalize as +badly as any of them, and, in your friendliness and charity toward +them, I verily believe, for two cents, you'd go among the said +unwashed offspring with a scrub-brush. What--what is coming to you, +Kate? You--a man-hunter? No--no," she went on, with a hopeless shake +of her pretty head, "'tis no use talking. The big, big spirit of early +womanhood has somehow failed you. It's failed us both. We are no +longer man-hunters. The soaring Kate, bearing her less brave sister in +her arms, has fallen. They have both tumbled to the ground. The early +seed, so full of promise, has germinated and grown--but it's come up +cabbages. And--and they're getting old. There you are, I can't help +it. I've tripped over the agricultural furrow we've ploughed, and----. +There!" + +She flung out an arm dramatically, pointing down at the slight figure +of a man coming toward them, slowly toiling up the slope of the +valley. + +"There he is," she cried. "Your artist-patient. Your dypsomaniac +rancher. A symbol, a symbol of the bonds which are crushing the brave +spirits of our--ahem!--young hearts." + +But Kate ignored the approaching man. She had eyes only for the bright +face before her. + +"You're a great child," she declared warmly. "I ought to be angry. I +ought to be just mad with you. I believe I really am. But--but the +cabbage business has broken up the storm of my feelings. Cabbage? Oh, +dear." She laughed softly. "You, with your soft, wavy hair, dressed as +though we had a New York hairdresser in the village. You, with your +great gray eyes, your charming little nose and cupid mouth. You, with +your beautiful new frock, only arrived from New York two days ago, and +which, by the way, I don't think you ought to wear sprawling upon +dusty ground. You--a cabbage! It just robs all you've said of, I won't +say truth, but--sense. There, child, you've said your say. But you +needn't worry about me. I'm not changed--really. Maybe I do many +things that seem strange to you, but--but--I know what I'm doing. Poor +old Charlie. Look at him. I often wonder what'll be the end of him." + +Kate Seton sighed. It seemed as though there were a great depth of +motherly tenderness in her heart, and just now that tenderness was +directed toward the man approaching them. + +But the lighter-minded Helen was less easily stirred. She smiled +amusedly in her sister's direction. Then her bright eyes glanced +swiftly down at the man. + +"If all we hear is true, his end will be the penitentiary," she +declared with decision. + +Kate glanced round quickly, and her eyes suddenly became quite hard. + +"Penitentiary?" she questioned sharply. + +Helen shrugged. + +"Everybody says he's the biggest whisky smuggler in the country, +and--and his habits don't make things look much--different. Say, Kate, +O'Brien told me the other day that the police had him marked down. +They were only waiting to get him--red-handed." + +The hardness abruptly died out of Kate's eyes. A faint sigh, perhaps +of relief, escaped her. + +"They'll never do that," she declared firmly. "Everybody's making a +mistake about Charlie. I'm--sure. With all his failings Charlie's no +whisky-runner. He's too gentle. He's too--too honest to descend to +such a traffic." + +Suddenly her eyes lit. She came close to Helen, and one firm hand +grasped the soft flesh of the girl's arm, and closed tightly upon it. + +"Say, child," she went on, in a deep, thrilling tone, "do you know +what these whisky-runners risk? Do you? No. Of course you don't. They +risk life as well as liberty. They're threatened every moment of their +lives. The penalty is heavy, and when a man becomes a whisky-runner he +has no intention of being taken--alive. Think of all that, and see +where your imagination carries you. Then think of Charlie--as we know +him. An artist. A warm-hearted, gentle creature, whose only sins +are--against himself." + +But the younger girl's face displayed skepticism. + +"Yes--as we know him," she replied quickly. "I've thought of it while +he's been giving me lessons in painting, when I've watched him with +you, with that wonderful look of dog-like devotion in his eyes, while +hanging on every word you uttered. I've thought of it all. And always +running through my mind was the title of a book I once read--'Dr. +Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.' You are sure, and I--I only wonder." + +Kate's hand relaxed its hold upon her sister's arm. Her whole +expression changed with a suddenness which, had she observed it, must +have startled the other. Her eyes were cold, very cold, as she +surveyed the sister to whom she was so devoted, and who could find it +in her heart to think so harshly of one whom she regarded as a sick +and ailing creature, needing the utmost support from natures morally +stronger than his own. + +"You must think as you will, Helen," she said coldly. "I know. I know +Charlie. I understand the gentle heart that guides his every action, +and I warn you you are wrong--utterly wrong. Everybody is wrong, the +police--everybody." + +She turned away and moved a few steps down the slope toward the +approaching figure. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +CHARLIE BRYANT + + +As Kate stood out from the shadow of the trees, the man approaching, +looking up, beheld her, and his dark eyes gladdened with a smile of +delight. His greeting came up to her on the still air in a tone +thrilling with warmth and deep feeling. + +"Ho, Kate," he cried, in his deeply musical voice. "I saw you and +Helen making this way, and guessed I'd just get around." + +He was breathing hard as he came up the hill, his slight figure was +bending forward with the effort of his climb. Kate watched him, much +as an anxious mother might watch, with doubtful eyes, some effort of +her ailing child. He reached her level and stood breathing heavily +before her. + +"I was around watching the boys at work down there on the new church," +he went on. His handsome boyish face was flushing. The delicate, +smooth, whiskerless skin was almost womanish in its texture, and +betrayed almost every emotion stirring behind it. "Allan Dy came along +with my mail. When I'd read it I felt I had to come and tell you the +news right away. You see, I had to tell someone, and wanted you--two +to be the first to hear it." + +Kate's eyes were full of a smiling tender amusement at the +ingenuousness of the man. Helen was looking on with less tenderness +than amusement. He had not come to tell her the news--only Kate. The +Kate whom she knew he worshipped, and who was the only rival in his +life to his passionate craving for drink. + +She surveyed the man now with searching eyes. What was it that +inspired in her such mixed feeling? She knew she had a dislike and +liking for him, all in the same moment. There was something +fascinating about him. Yes, there certainly was. He was darkly +handsome. Unusually so. He had big, soft, almost womanish eyes, full +of passionate possibilities. The delicate moulding of his features was +certainly beautiful. They were too delicate. Ah, that was it. They +were womanish. Yes, he was womanish, and nothing womanish in a man +could ever appeal to the essentially feminine heart of Helen. His +figure was slight, but perfectly proportioned, and quite lacking in +any suggestion of mannish strength. Again the thought of it brought +Helen a feeling of repugnance. She hated effeminacy in a man. And yet, +how could she associate effeminacy with a man of his known character? +Was he not the most lawless of this lawless village? Then there was +his outward seeming of gentleness. Yes, she had never known him +otherwise, even in his moments of dreadful drunkenness, and she had +witnessed those frequently enough during the past few years. + +The whole personality of the man was an enigma to her. Nor was it +altogether a pleasant enigma. She felt that somehow there was an ugly +streak in him which her sister had utterly missed, and she only half +guessed at. Furthermore, somehow in the back of her mind, she knew +that she was not without fear of him. + +In spite of Kate's denial, when the man came under discussion between +them, her conviction always remained. She knew she liked him, and she +knew she disliked him. She knew she despised him, and she knew she +feared him. And through it all she looked on with eyes of amusement at +the absurd, dog-like devotion he yielded to her strong, reliant, +big-hearted, handsome sister. + +"What's your news, Charlie?" she demanded, as Kate remained silent, +waiting for him to continue. "Good, I'll bet five dollars, or you +wouldn't come rushing to us." + +The man turned to her as though it were an effort to withdraw his gaze +from the face of the woman he loved. + +"Good? Why, yes," he said quickly. "I'd surely hate to bring you two +anything but good news." Then a shadow of doubt crossed his smiling +features. "Maybe it won't be of much account to you, though," he went +on, almost apologetically. "You see, it's just my brother. My big +brother Bill. He's coming along out here to--to join me. He--he wants +to ranch, so--he's coming here, and going to put all his money into my +ranch, and suggests we run it together." Then he laughed shortly. "He +says I've got experience and he's got dollars, and between us we ought +to make things hum. He's a hustler, is Bill. Say, he's as much sense +as a two-year-old bull, and just about as much strength. He can't see +the difference between a sharp and a saint. They're all the same to +him. He just loves everybody to death, till they kick him on the +shins, then he hits out, and something's going to break. He's just the +bulliest feller this side of life." + +Kate was still smiling at the man's enthusiasm, but she had no answer +for him. It was Helen who did the talking now, as she generally did, +while Kate listened. + +"Oh, Charlie," Helen cried impulsively, "you will let me see him, +won't you? He's big--and--and manly? Is he good looking? But then he +must be if he's your--I'm just dying to see this Big Brother Bill," +she added hastily. + +Charlie shook his head, laughing in his silent fashion. + +"Oh, you'll see him all right. This village'll just be filled right up +with him." Then his dark eyes became serious, and a hopeless shadow +crept into them. "I'm glad he's coming," he went on, adding simply, +"maybe he'll keep me straight." + +Kate's smile died out in an instant. "Don't talk like that Charlie," +she cried almost sharply. "Do you know what your words imply? Oh, it's +too dreadful, and--and I won't have it. You don't need anybody's +support. You can fight yourself. You can conquer yourself. I know it." + +The man's eyes came back to the face he loved, and, for a moment, they +looked into it as though he would read all that which lay hidden +behind. + +"You think so?" he questioned presently. + +"I'm sure; sure as--as Fate," Kate cried impulsively. + +"You think that all--all weakness can be conquered?" + +Kate nodded. "If the desire to conquer lies behind it." + +"Ah, yes." + +The man's eyes had become even more thoughtful. There was a look in +them which suggested to Helen that he was not wholly thinking of the +thing Kate had in her mind. + +"If the desire to conquer is there," he went on, "I suppose the +habits--diseases of years, even--could be beaten. But--but----" + +"But what?" Kate's demand came almost roughly. + +Charlie shrugged his slim shoulders. "Nothing," he said. "I--I was +just thinking. That's all." + +"But it isn't all," cried Kate, in real distress. + +Helen saw Charlie smile in a half-hearted fashion. For some moments +his patience remained. Then, as Kate still waited for him to speak, +his eyes abruptly lit with the deep fire of passion. + +"Why? Why?" he cried suddenly. "Why must we conquer and fight with +ourselves? Why beat down the nature given to us by a power beyond our +control? Why not indulge the senses that demand indulgence, when, in +such indulgence, we injure no one else? Oh, I argue it all with +myself, and I try to reason, too. I try to see it all from the +wholesome point of view from which you look at it, Kate. And I can't +see it. I just can't see it. All I know is that the only thing that +makes me attempt to deny myself is that I want your good opinion. Did +I not want that I should slide down the road to hell, which I am told +I am on, with all the delight of a child on a toboggan slide. Yes, I +would. I surely would, Kate. I'm a drunkard, I know. A drunkard by +nature. I have not the smallest desire to be otherwise, from any moral +scruple. It's you that makes me want to straighten up, and you only. +When I'm sober I'd be glad if I weren't. And when I'm not sober I'd +hate being otherwise. Why should I be sober, when in such moments I +suffer agonies of craving? Is it worth it? What does it matter if +drink eases the craving, and lends me moments of peace which I am +otherwise denied? These are the things I think all the time, and these +are the thoughts which send me tumbling headlong--sometimes. But I +know--yes, I know I am all wrong. I know that I would rather suffer +all the tortures of hell than forfeit your--good will." + +Kate sighed. She had no answer. She knew all that lay behind the man's +passionate appeal. She knew, too, that he spoke the truth. She knew +that the only reason he made any effort at all was because his +devotion to herself was something just a shade stronger than this +awful disease with which he was afflicted. + +The hopelessness of the position for a moment almost overwhelmed her. +She knew that she had no love--love such as he required--to give him +in return. And when that finally became patent to him away would go +the last vestige of self-restraint, and his fall would be headlong. + +She knew his early story, and it was a pitiful one. She knew he was +born of good parents, rich parents, in New York, that he was well +educated. He had been brought up to become an artist, and therein had +lain the secret of his fall. In Paris, and Rome, and other European +cities, he had first tasted the dregs of youthful debauchery, and +disaster had promptly set in. Then, after his student days, had come +the final break. His parents abandoned him as a ne'er-do-well, and, +setting him up as a rancher in a small way, had sent him out west, +another victim of that over-indulgence which helps to populate the +fringes of civilization. + +The moment was a painful one, and Helen was quick to perceive her +sister's distress. She came to her rescue with an effort at lightness. +But her pretty eyes had become very gentle. + +She turned to the man who had just taken a letter from his pocket. + +"Tell us some more about Big Brother Bill," she said, with the +pretense of a sigh. Then, with a little daring in her manner: "Do you +think he'll like me? Because if he don't I'll sure go into mourning, +and order my coffin, and bury me on the hillside with my face to the +beautiful east--where I come from." + +The man's moment of passionate discontent had passed, and he smiled +into the girl's questioning eyes in his gentle fashion. + +"He'll just be crazy about you, Helen," he said. "Say, when he gets +his big, silly blue eyes on to you in that swell suit, why, he'll just +hustle you right off to the parson, and you'll be married before you +get a notion there's such a whirlwind around Rocky Springs." + +"Is he--such a whirlwind?" the girl demanded with appreciation. + +"He surely is," the man asserted definitely. + +Helen sighed with relief. "I'm glad," she said. "You see, a +whirlwind's a sort of summer storm. All sunshine--and--and well, a +whirlwind don't suggest the cold, vicious, stormy gales of the folks +in this village, nor the dozy summer zephyrs of the women in this +valley. Yes, I'd like a whirlwind. His eyes are blue, and--silly?" + +Charlie smiled more broadly as he nodded again. "His eyes are blue. +And big. The other's a sort of term of endearment. You see, he's my +big brother Bill, and I'm kind of fond of him." + +Helen laughed joyously. "I'm real glad he's not silly," she cried. +"Let's see. He's big. He's got blue eyes. He's good looking. +He's--he's like a whirlwind. He's got lots of money." She counted the +attractions off on her fingers. "Guess I'll sure have to marry him," +she finished up with a little nod of finality. + +Kate turned a flushed face in her direction. + +"For goodness sake, Helen!" she cried in horror. + +Helen's gray eyes opened to their fullest extent. + +"Why, whatever's the matter, Kate?" she exclaimed. "Of course, I'll +have to marry Big Brother Bill. Why, his very name appeals to me. May +I, Charlie?" she went on, turning to the smiling man. "Would you like +me for--a--a sister? I'm not a bad sort, am I, Kate?" she appealed +mischievously. "I can sew, and cook, and--and darn. No, I don't mean +curse words. I leave that to Kate's hired men. They're just dreadful. +Really, I wasn't thinking of anything worse than Big Brother Bill's +socks. When'll he be getting around? Oh, dear, I hope it won't be +long. 'Specially if he's a--whirlwind." + +Charlie was scanning the open pages of his letter. + +"No. Guess he won't be long," he said, amusedly. "He says he'll be +right along here the 16th. That's the day after to-morrow." + +Helen ran to her sister's side, and shook her by the arm. + +"Say, Kate," she cried, her eyes sparkling with pretended excitement. +"Isn't that just great? Big Brother Bill's coming along day after +to-morrow. Isn't it lucky I've just got my new suits? They'll last me +three months, and by the time I have to get my fall suits he'll have +to marry me." Then the dancing light in her eyes sobered. "Now, where +shall we live?" she went on, with a pretense of deep consideration. +"Shall we go east, or--or shall we live at Charlie's ranch? Oh, dear. +It's so important not to make any mistake. And yet--you see, Charlie's +ranch wants some one _capable_ to look after it, doesn't it? It's kind +of mousy. Big Brother Bill is sure to be particular--coming from the +east." + +Her audience were smiling broadly. Kate understood now that her +irresponsible sister was simply letting her bubbling spirits overflow. +Charlie had no other feelings than frank amusement at the girl's +gaiety. + +"Oh, he's most particular," he said readily. "You see, he's accustomed +to Broadway restaurants." + +Helen pulled a long face. + +"I'm afraid your shack wouldn't make much of a Broadway restaurant." +She shook her head with quaint solemnity. "Guess I never could get you +right. Here you run a ranch, and make quite big with it, yet you never +eat off a china plate, or spread your table with anything better than +a newspaper. True, Charlie, you've got me beaten to death. Why, how +you manage to run a ranch and make it pay is a riddle that 'ud put the +poor old Sphinx's nose plump out of joint. I----" + +Kate suddenly turned a pair of darkly frowning eyes upon her sister. + +"You're talking a whole heap of nonsense," she declared severely. +"What has the care of a home to do with making a ranch pay?" + +Helen's eyes opened wide with mischief. + +"Say, Kate," she cried with a great air of patronage, "you have a +whole heap to learn. Big Brother Bill's coming right along from +Broadway, with money and--notions. He's just bursting with them. +Charlie's a prosperous rancher. What does B. B. B. expect? Why, he'll +get around with fancy clothes and suitcases and trunks. He'll dream of +rides over the boundless plains, of cow-punchers with guns and things. +He'll have visions of big shoots, and any old sport, of a +well-appointed ranch house, with proper fixings, and baths, and swell +dinners and servants. But they're all visions. He'll blow in to Rocky +Springs--he's a whirlwind, mind--and he'll find a prosperous rancher +living in a tumbled-down shanty that hasn't been swept this side of +five years, a blanket-covered bunk, and a table made of packing cases +with the remains of last week's meals on it. That's what he'll find. +Prosperous rancher, indeed. Say, Charlie," she finished up with fine +scorn, "you know as much about living as Kate's two hired men, and +dear knows they only exist." Suddenly she broke out into a rippling +laugh. "And this is what my future husband is coming to. It's--it's an +insult to me." + +The girl paused, looking from one to the other with dancing eyes. But +the more sober-minded Kate slipped her arm about her waist and began +to move down the hill. + +"Come along, dear," she said. "I must get right on down to the +Meeting House. I--have work to do. You would chatter on all day if I +let you." + +In a moment Helen was all indignant protest. + +"I like that. Say, did you hear, Charlie? She's accusing me, and all +the time it's you doing the talking. But there, I'm always +misjudged--always. She'll accuse me of trying to trap your +brother--next. Anyway, I've got work to do, too. I've got to be at +Mrs. John's for the new church meeting. So Kate isn't everybody. Come +along." + +Helen's laughter was good to hear as she dashed off in an attempt to +drag her elder sister down the hill at a run. The man looked on +happily as he kept pace with them. Helen was always privileged. Her +sister adored her, and the whole village of Rocky Springs yielded her +a measure of popularity which made her its greatest favorite. Even the +women had nothing but smiles for her merry irresponsibility, and, as +for the men, there was not one who would not willingly have sacrificed +even his crooked ways for her smile. + +Halfway down to the village Charlie again reverted to his news. + +"Helen put the rest of it out of my head," he said, and his manner of +speaking had lost the enjoyment of his earlier announcement. "It's +about the police. They're going to set a station here. A corporal and +two men. Fyles is coming, too. Inspector Fyles." His eyes were +studying Kate's face as he made the announcement. Helen, too, was +looking at her with quizzical eyes. "It's over that whisky-running a +week ago. They're going to clean the place up. Fyles has sworn to do +it. O'Brien told me this morning." + +For some moments after his announcement neither of the women spoke. +Kate was thinking deeply. Nor, from her expression, would it have been +possible to have guessed the trend of her thoughts. + +Helen, watching her, was far more expressive. She was thinking of her +sister's admiration for the officer. She was speculating as to what +might happen with Fyles stationed here in Rocky Springs. Would her +beautiful sister finally yield to his very evident admiration, or +would she still keep that barrier of aloofness against him? She +wondered. And, wondering, there came the memory of what Fyles's coming +would mean to Charlie Bryant. + +To her mind there was no doubt but that the law would quickly direct +its energies against him. But she was also wondering what would happen +to him should time, and a man's persistence, finally succeed in +breaking down the barrier Kate had set up against the officer. Quite +suddenly this belated news assumed proportions far more significant +than the coming of Big Brother Bill. + +Her tongue could not remain silent for long, however. Something of her +doubt had to find an outlet. + +"I knew it would come sooner or later," she declared hopelessly. + +She glanced quickly at Charlie, across her sister, beside whom he was +walking. The man was staring out down at the village with gloomy eyes. +She read into his expression a great dread of this officer's coming to +Rocky Springs. She knew she was witnessing the outward signs of a +guilty conscience. Suddenly she made up her mind. + +"What--ever is to be done?" she cried, half eagerly, half fearfully. +"Say, I just can't bear to think of it. All these men, men we've +known, men we've got accustomed to, even--men we like, to be herded to +the penitentiary. It's awful. There's some I shouldn't be sorry to see +put away. They're scallywags, anyway. They aren't clean, and they chew +tobacco, and--and curse like railroaders. But they aren't all +like--that--are they, Kate?" She paused. Then, in a desperate appeal, +"Kate, I'd fire your two boys, Nick and Pete. They're mixed up in +whisky-running, I know. When Stanley Fyles gets around they'll be +corralled, sure, and I'd hate him to think we employed such men. Don't +you think that, Charlie?" she demanded, turning sharply and looking +into the man's serious face. + +Then, quite suddenly, she changed her tone and relapsed into her less +responsible manner, and laughed as though something humorous had +presented itself to her cheerful fancy. + +"Guess I'd have to laugh seeing those two boys doing the chores around +a penitentiary for--five years. They'd be cleaner then. Guess they get +bathed once a week. Then the funny striped clothes they wear. Can't +you see Nick, with his long black hair all cut short, and his vulture +neck sticking out of the top end of his clothes, like--like a thread +of sewing cotton in a darning needle? Wouldn't he look queer? And the +work, too! Say, it would just break his heart. My, but they get most +killed by the warders. And then for drink. Five years without tasting +a drop of liquor. No--they'd go mad. Anybody would. And all for the +sake of making a few odd dollars against the law. I wouldn't do it. I +wouldn't do it, not if I'd got to starve--else." + +The man made no answer. His eyes remained upon the village below, and +their expression had become lost to the anxious Helen. She was talking +at him. But she was thinking not of him so much as her sister. She +knew how much it would mean to Kate if Charlie Bryant were brought +into direct conflict with the police. So she was offering her warning. + +Kate turned to her quietly. She ignored the reference to her hired +men. She knew at whom her sister's remarks were directed. She shook +her head. + +"Why worry about things, Sis?" she said, in her deliberate fashion. +"Lawbreakers need to be cleverer folks than those who live within the +law. I guess there won't be much whisky run into Rocky Springs with +Fyles around, and the police can do nothing unless they catch the boys +at it. You're too nervous about things." She laughed quietly. "Why, +the sight of a red coat scares you worse than getting chased by a +mouse." + +The sound of Kate's voice seemed to rouse Charlie from his gloomy +contemplation of the village. He turned his eyes on the woman at his +side--and encountered the half-satirical smile of hers--which were as +dark as his own. + +"Maybe Helen's right, though," he said. "Maybe you'd do well to fire +your boys." He spoke deliberately, but with a shade of anxiety in his +voice. "They're known whisky-runners." + +Kate drew Helen to her side as though for moral support. "And what of +the other folks who are known--or believed--to be whisky-runners--with +whom we associate. Are they to be turned down, too? No, Charlie," she +went on determinedly, "I stand by my boys. I'll stand by my friends, +too. Maybe they'll need all the help I can give them. Then it's up to +me to give it them. Fyles must do his duty as he sees it. Our duty is +by our friends here, in Rocky Springs. Whatever happens in the crusade +against this place, I am against Fyles. I'm only a woman, and, maybe, +women don't count much with the police," she said, with a confident +smile, "but such as I am, I am loyal to all those who have helped me +in my life here in Rocky Springs, and to my--friends." + +The man drew a deep breath. Nor was it easy to fathom its meaning. + +Helen, eyeing her well-loved sister, could have thrown her young arms +about her neck in enthusiasm. This was the bold sister whom she had so +willingly followed to the western wilds. This was the spirit she had +deplored the waning of. All her apprehensions for Charlie Bryant +vanished, merged in a newly awakened confidence, since her brave +sister was ready to help and defend him. + +She felt that Fyles's coming to Rocky Springs was no longer to be +feared. Only was it a source of excitement and interest. She felt that +though, perhaps, he might never have met his match during the long +years of his duties as a police officer, he had yet to pit himself +against Rocky Springs--with her wonderful sister living in the +village. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE SOUL-SAVERS + + +Helen parted from her sister at the little old Meeting House. But +first she characteristically admonished her for offering herself a +sacrifice on the altar of the moral welfare of a village which reveled +in every form of iniquity within its reach. Furthermore, she threw in +a brief homily on the subject of the outrageous absurdity of turning +herself into a sort of "hired woman" in the interests of a sepulcher +whose whitewash was so obviously besmirched. + +With the departure of the easy-going Kate, Charlie Bryant suddenly +awoke to the claims of the work at his ranch. He must return at once, +or disaster would surely follow. + +Helen smiled at his sudden access of zeal, and welcomed his going +without protest. Truth to tell, she never failed to experience a +measure of relief at the avoidance of being alone with him. + +Left to herself she moved on down toward the village without haste. +Her enthusiasm for the new church meeting at the house of Mrs. John +Day, who was the leading woman in the village, and, incidentally, the +wife of its chief citizen, who also owned a small lumber yard, was of +a lukewarm character. She had much more interest in the building +itself, and the motley collection of individuals in whose hands its +practical construction lay. + +She possessed none of her sister's interest in Rocky Springs. Her +humor denied her serious contemplation of anything in it but the +opposite sex. And even here it frequently trapped her into pitfalls +which demanded the utmost exercise of her ready wit to extricate her +from. No, serious contemplation of her surroundings would have +certainly bored her, had it been possible to shadow her sunny nature. +Fortunately, the latter was beyond the reach of the sordid life in the +midst of which she found herself, and she never failed to laugh her +merry way to those plains of delight belonging to an essentially happy +disposition. + +As she walked down the narrow trail, with the depths of green woods +lining it upon either hand, she remembered how beautiful the valley +really was. Of course, it was beautiful. She knew it. Was she not +always being told it? She was never allowed to forget it. Sometimes +she wished she could. + +Down the trail a perfect vista of riotous foliage opened out before +her eyes. There, too, in the distance, peeping through the trees, were +scattered profiles of oddly designed houses, possessing a wonderful +picturesqueness to which they had no real claims. They borrowed their +beauty from the wealth of the valley, she told herself. Like the +people who lived in them, they had no claims to anything bordering on +the refinements or virtues of life. No, they were mockeries, just as +was the pretense of virtue which inspired the building of the new +church by a gathering of men and women, who, if they had their +deserts, would be attending divine service within the four walls of +the penitentiary. + +She laughed. Really it was absurdly laughable. Life in this wonderful +valley was something in the nature of a tragic farce. The worst thing +was that the farce of it all could only be detected by the looker-on. +There was no real farce in these people, only tragedy--a very painful +and hideous tragedy. + +On her way down she passed the great pine which for years had served +as a beacon marking the village. It was higher up on the slope of the +valley, but its vast trunk and towering crest would not be denied. + +Helen gazed up at it, wondering, as many times she had gazed and +wondered before. It was a marvelous survival of primaeval life. It was +so vast, so forbidding. Its torn crown, so sparse and weary looking, +its barren trunk, too, dark and forbidding against the dwarfed +surroundings of green, were they not a fit beacon for the village +below? It suggested to her imagination a giant, mouldering skeleton of +some dreadfully evil creature. How could virtue maintain in its +vicinity? + +She laughed again as she thought. She knew there was some weird old +legend associated with it, some old Indian folklore. But that left no +impression of awe upon her laughter-loving nature. + +Farther on the new church came into view. It was in the course of +construction, and at once her attention became absorbed. Here was a +scene which thoroughly appealed to her. Here was movement, and--life. +Here was food for her most appreciative observation. + +It was a Church. Not a Meeting House. Not even a Chapel. She felt +quite sure, had the villagers had their way, it would have been called +a Cathedral. There was nothing half-hearted about these people. They +recognized the necessity of giving their souls a lift up, with a view +to an after life, and they meant to do it thoroughly. + +They had no intention of mending their ways. They had no thought of +abandoning any of their pursuits or pleasures, be they never so +deplorable. But they felt that something had better be done toward +assurance of their futures. A Meeting House suggested something too +inadequate to meet their special case. It was right enough as far as +it went, but it didn't go far enough. They realized the journey might +be very long and the ultimate destination uncertain. A Chapel had its +claims in their minds, but Church seemed much stronger, bigger, more +powerful to help them in those realms of darkness to which they must +all eventually descend. Of course, Cathedral would have been _the_ +thing. With a cathedral in Rocky Springs they would have felt certain +of their hereafter. But the difficulties of laying hands on a bishop, +and claiming him for their own, seemed too overwhelming. So they +accepted Church as being the best they could do under the +circumstances. + +Quite a number of men were standing idly around the structure, +watching others at work. It was a weakness of the citizens of Rocky +Springs to watch others work. They had no desire to help. They rarely +were beset with any desire to help anybody. They simply clustered +together in small groups, chewing tobacco, or smoking, and, to a man, +their hands were indolently thrust into the tops of their trousers, +which, in every case, were girdled with a well-laden ammunition belt, +from which was suspended at least one considerable revolver. + +There was no doubt in Helen's mind but that these weapons were loaded +in every chamber, and the thought set her merry eyes dancing again. + +These men wanted a church, and were there to see they had it. Woe +betide--but, was there ever such a gathering of unclean, unholy +humanity? She thought not. + +Helen knew that every man and woman in the village had had some voice +in the erection of the new church. There was not a citizen--they all +possessed the courtesy title of "citizens"--in Rocky Springs, who had +not contributed something toward it. Those who had wherewithal to give +in money or kind, had given. Those who had nothing else to give gave +their labor. She guessed the present onlookers had already done their +share of giving, and were now there to see that their less fortunate +brethren did not attempt to shirk their responsibilities. + +For a moment, as the girl drew near, she abandoned her study of the +men for a rapid survey of the building itself, and, in a way, it held +her flattering attention. As yet there was no roof on it, but the +walls were up, and the picturesqueness of the design of the building +was fully apparent. Then she remembered that Charlie Bryant had +designed the building, and somehow the thought lessened her interest. + +The whole thing was constructed of lateral, raw pine logs, carefully +dovetailed, with the ends protruding at the angles. There was no great +originality of design, merely the delightful picturesqueness which +unstripped logs never fail to yield. She knew that every detail of the +building was to be carried out in the same way. The roof, the spire, +the porches, even the fence which was ultimately to enclose the +churchyard. + +Then the inside was to be lined throughout with polished red pine. +There was not a brick or stone to be used in the whole construction, +except in the granite foundations, which did not appear above ground. +The lumber was hewn in the valley and milled in John Day's yard. The +entire labor of hauling and building was to be done by the citizens of +Rocky Springs. The draperies, necessary for the interior, would be +made by the busy needles of the women of the village, and the +materials would be supplied by Billy Unguin, the dry goods +storekeeper. As for the stipend of the officiating parson, that would +be scrambled together in cash and kind from similar sources. + +The church was to be a monument, a tribute to a holy zeal, which the +methods of life in Rocky Springs denied. Its erection was an attempt +to steal absolution for the sins of its citizens. It was the pouring +of a flood of oil upon the turbulent waters of an after life which +Rocky Springs knew was waiting to engulf its little craft laden with +tattered souls. It was a practical bribe to the Deity its people had +so long outraged, were still outraging, and had every intention of +continuing to outrage. + +Helen's merry eyes glanced from group to group of the men, until they +finally came to rest upon an individual standing apart from the rest. + +She walked on toward him. + +He was a forbidding-looking creature, with a hard face, divided in its +expression between evil thoughts and a malicious humor. His general +appearance was much that of the rest of the men, with the exception +that he made no display of offensive weapons. It was not this, +however, that drew Helen in his direction, for she well enough knew +that, in fact, he was a perfect gunpark of concealed firearms. She +liked him because he never failed to amuse her. + +"Good morning, Dirty," she greeted him cheerfully, as she came up, +smiling into his bearded face. + +Dirty O'Brien turned. In a moment his wicked eyes were smiling. With +an adept twist of the tongue his chew of tobacco ceased to bulge one +cheek, and promptly distended the other. + +"Howdy," he retorted, with as much amiability as it was possible for +him to display. + +The girl nodded in the direction of the other onlookers. + +"It's wonderful the interest you all take in the building of this +church." + +"Int'rest?" The man's eyes opened wide. Then a gleam of scorn replaced +the surprise in them. "Guess you'd be mighty int'rested if you was +sittin' on a roof with the house afire under you, an' you just got a +peek of a ladder wagon comin' along, an' was guessin' if it 'ud get +around in time." + +Helen's eyes twinkled. + +"I s'pose I should," she admitted. + +"S'pose nuthin'." The saloonkeeper laughed a short, hard laugh. "It's +dead sure. But most of them boys are feelin' mighty good. You see, the +ladders mostly fixed for 'em. I'd say they reckon that fire's as good +as out." + +The interest of the onlookers was purely passive. They displayed none +of the enthusiasm one might have expected in men who considered that +the safety of their souls was assured. Helen remarked upon the fact. + +"Their enthusiasm's wonderful," she declared, with a satirical laugh. +"Do you think they'll ever be able to use swear words again?" + +Dirty O'Brien grinned till his discolored teeth parted the hair upon +his face. + +"Say, I don't reckon to set myself up as a prophet at most things," he +replied, "but I'd like to say right here, the fixin' of that all-fired +chu'ch is jest about the limit fer the morals of this doggone city. +Standin' right here I seem to sort o' see a vision o' things comin' on +like a pernicious fever. I seem to see all them boys--good boys, mind +you, as far as they go--only they don't travel more'n 'bout an +inch--lyin', an' slanderin', an' thievin', an' shootin', an'--an' +committin' every blamed sin ever invented since Pharo's daughter got +busy makin' up fairy yarns 'bout them bulrushes----" + +"I don't think you ought to talk like that," Helen protested hastily. +"There's no necessity to make----" + +But Dirty O'Brien was not to be denied. He promptly cut her short +without the least scruple. + +"No necessity?" he cried, with a sarcasm that left the girl +speechless. "How in hell would you have me talk standin' around a +swell chu'ch like that? I tell you what, Miss Helen, you ain't got +this thing right. Within a month this durned city'll all be that +mussed up with itself an' religion, the folks'll grow a crop o' wings +enough to stock a chicken farm, an' the boys'll get scratchin' around +for worms, same as any other feathered fowl. They'll get that out o' +hand with their own glory, they'll get shootin' up creation in the +name of religion by way o' pastime, and robbin' the stages an' +smugglin' liquor fer the fun o' gettin' around this blamed church an' +braggin' of it to the parson. Say, if I know anything o' the boys, in +a week they'll be shootin' craps with the parson fer his wages, an', +in a month, they'll set up tables around in the body o' the chu'ch so +they ken play 'draw' while the old man argues the shortest cut to +everlastin' glory. You ain't got the boys in this city right, miss. +Indeed, you ain't. Chu'ch? Why they got as much notion how to act +around a chu'ch as an unborn babe has of shellin' peanuts. Folks needs +eddicatin' to a chu'ch like that. Eddicatin'? An' that's a word as +ain't a cuss word, and as the boys of this yer city ain't wise to." + +"It seems rather hopeless, doesn't it?" said Helen, stifling a violent +inclination to laugh outright. + +Dirty O'Brien was less scrupulous. He laughed with a vicious snort. + +"Hopeless?--well, say, hopeless ain't a circumstance. Guess you've +never seen a 'Jonah-man' buckin' a faro bank run by a Chinaman sharp?" + +Helen shook her head while the saloonkeeper spat out his chew of +tobacco with all the violence of his outraged feelings. + +"He surely is a gilt-edged winner beside it," he finally admitted +impressively, before clipping off a fresh chew from his plug with his +strong teeth. + +Helen turned away, partly to hide the laugh that would no longer be +denied, and partly to watch the approach of a team of horses hauling a +load of logs. In a moment swift anger shone in her pretty eyes. + +"Why!" she cried, pointing at them. "Look, Dirty! That's our team; and +Pete Clancy is driving it." + +The man followed the direction in which she was pointing. + +"Sure," he agreed indifferently. + +"Sure? Of course it's sure," retorted Helen sharply; "but +what--what--impertinence!" + +Dirty O'Brien saw nothing remarkable in the matter, and his face +displayed a waning interest. + +"Don't he most gener'ly drive your team?" he inquired without +enthusiasm. + +"Of course he does. But he's s'posed to be right out in the hay +sloughs--cutting. I heard Kate tell him this morning." + +O'Brien's eyes twinkled, and a deep chuckle came from somewhere in the +depths of his beard. + +"Ken you beat it?" he inquired, with cordial appreciation. "Do you get +his play?" + +"Play?" The girl turned a pair of angry, bewildered eyes upon her +companion. "Impertinence!" + +The man nodded significantly. + +"Sure. Them two scallywags of yours ain't got nothin' to give to the +building of the chu'ch. Which means they'll need to get busy workin' +on it. Guess work never did come welcome to Mister Peter Clancy and +Nick. They hate work worse'n washin'--an' that's some. Guess they +borrowed your team to do a bit o' haulin', which--kind o' squares +their account. They're bright boys." + +"Bright? They're impertinent rascals and--and--oh!" + +Helen's exasperation left her almost speechless. + +"Which is mighty nigh a compliment to them," observed the man. + +But Helen's sense of humor utterly failed her now. + +"It's--too bad, Dirty," she cried. "And poor Kate thinks they're out +cutting our winter hay. I begged of her only this morning to 'fire' +them both. I'm--I'm sure they're going to get us into trouble +when--when the police come here. I hate the sight of them both. Last +time Pete got drunk he--he very nearly asked me to marry him. I +believe he would have, only I had a bucket of boiling water in my +hand." + +Again came the man's curious chuckle. + +"It won't be you folks they get into trouble," he declared +enigmatically. "An' I guess it ain't goin' to be 'emselves, neither. +But when the p'lice get hot after 'em, why, they'll shift the +scent--sure." + +Helen's eyes had suddenly become anxious. + +"You mean--Charlie Bryant," she half whispered. + +The man nodded. + +"Sure. An' anybody else, so--_they_ get clear." O'Brien's eyes +hardened as they contemplated the distant teamster. "Say," he went on, +after a brief pause, "there are some low-down bums in this city. +There's Shorty Solon, the Jew boy. He's wanted across the border fer +shootin' up a bank manager, and gettin' off with the cash. Ther's +Crank Heufer, the squarehead stage robber, shot up more folks, women, +too, in Montana than 'ud populate a full-sized city. Ther's Kid +Blaney, the faro sharp, who broke penitentiary in Dakota twelve months +back. Ther's Macaddo, the train 'hold-up,' mighty badly wanted in +Minnesota. Ther's Stormy Longton, full of scalps to his gun, a bad man +by nature. Ther's Holy Dick, over there," he went on, pointing at a +gray-bearded, mild-looking man, sitting on a log beside a small group +of lounging spectators. "He owes the States Government seven good +years for robbing a church. Ther's Danny Jarvis and Fighting Mike, +both of 'em dodgin' the law, an' would shoot their own fathers up fer +fi' cents. It's a dandy tally of crooks, but they ain't a circumstance +beside them two boys of yours. They're bred bad 'uns, an' they +couldn't play even the crook's game right. I'd sure say they'd be a +fortune to Fyles, when he gets busy cleaning up this place. They'd +give Satan away if they see things gettin' busy their way." + +The anxiety deepened in Helen's eyes as the man denounced the two men +who were her sister's hired help. She knew that all he said of them +was true. She had known it for months. Now she was thinking of Charlie +Bryant and Kate. If Fyles ever got hold of Charlie it would break poor +Kate's heart. + +"You think they'd give--any one away?" + +The man shook his head. + +"I don't think. Guess I know." Then, after a pause, he went on, +speaking rapidly and earnestly. "See here, Miss Helen, I don't hold no +brief fer nobody but myself, an' I guess that brief needs a hell of a +piece of studyin' right. There's things in it I don't need to shout +about, and anyway I don't fancy Fyles's long nose smudging the ink on +it. You an' Miss Kate are jest about two o' the most wholesome bits +o' women in this township, an' there ain't many of us as wouldn't fix +ourselves up clean an' neat to pay our respec's to either of you. Wal, +Miss Kate's got a hell of a notion for that drunken bum, Charlie +Bryant. That bein' so, tell her to keep a swift eye on her two boys. +They're in with him, sure, an' they'll put him away if it suits 'em. +Savee? Tell her I said so--since Fyles is goin' to butt in around +here. I don't want to see Charlie Bryant in a stripe soot, +penitentiary way. I need him. An' I need the liquor he runs." + +The man turned away abruptly. He had broken the unwritten law of Rocky +Springs, where it was understood that no man spoke of another man's +past, or questioned his present doings, or even admitted knowledge of +them. But like all the rest of the male portion of Rocky Springs, he +possessed a soft spot in his vicious heart for the two sisters, who, +in the mire of iniquity which flooded the township, contrived a clean, +wholesome living out of the soil, and were womanly enough to find +interest, and even pleasure, in their sordid surroundings. Now, he +hurried off down to his saloon, much in the manner of a man who fears +the consequences of feelings which have been allowed to run away with +him. + +Left to herself, Helen only remained long enough to pass a few cheery +greetings with the rest of the onlookers; then she, too, took her +departure. + +For some moments she certainly was troubled by the direct warning of a +man like Dirty O'Brien. With all the many criminal attainments of the +other citizens of Rocky Springs, she knew him to be the shrewdest man +in the place. A warning from him was more than significant. What +should she do? Tell her sister? Certainly she would do that, but she +felt it to be well-nigh useless. Kate was the gentlest soul in the +world. She was the essence of kindliness, of sympathy, of loyalty to +her friends, but she was determined to a degree. She saw always with +her own eyes, and would go the way she saw. + +Had she not warned her herself before? Had she not endeavored to +persuade her a dozen times? It was all quite useless. Kate was +something of an enigma, a contradiction. For all her gentleness Helen +knew she could be as hard as iron. + +Finally, with a sigh, she dismissed the matter from her mind until +such time as opportunity served. Meanwhile she must put in an +appearance at Mrs. John Day's house. Mrs. John Day was the social +pivot of Rocky Springs, and, to disobey her summons, Helen knew would +be to risk a displeasure which would find reflection in every woman in +the place. + +That was a catastrophe she had no desire to face. It was enough for +her to remember that she had imprisoned herself in such a place. She +had no desire to earn the ill-will of the wardresses. + +She laughed to herself. But she really felt that it was very dreadful +that her life must be passed among these people. She wanted to be +free--to live all these good years of her life. She wanted to attend +parties, and--and dances among those people amid whom she had been +brought up. She craved for the society of cultured folks--of men. Yes, +she admitted it, she wanted all those things which make a young girl's +life enjoyable--theatres, dances, skating, hockey and--and, yes, +flirtations. Instead of those things what had she--what was she? That +was it. What was she? She had been planted in the furrows of life a +decorative flower, and some terrible botanical disaster had brought +her up a--cabbage. + +She laughed outright, and in the midst of her laugh, looking out +across the valley, she beheld her sister leaving the Meeting House, +which stood almost in the shadow of the great pine, far up on the +distant slope. + +Her laugh sobered. Her thoughts passed from herself to Kate with a +feeling which was almost resentment. Her high-spirited, +adventure-loving, handsome sister. What of her? It was terrible. So +full of promise, so full of possibilities. Look at her. She was clad +in a big gingham apron. No doubt her beautiful, artistic hands were +all messed up with the stains of scrubbing out a Meeting House, which, +in turn, right back to the miserable Indian days, had served the +purposes of saloon, a trader's store, the home of a bloodthirsty +badman, and before that goodness knows what. Now it was a house of +worship for people, beside whom the scum of the earth was as the froth +of whipped cream. It was--outrageous. It was so terrible to her that +she felt as if she must cry, or--or laugh. + +The issue remained in doubt for some moments. Then, just as she +reached the pretentious portals of Mrs. John Day's home, her real +nature asserted itself, and a radiant smile lit her pretty face as she +passed within. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE "STRAY"-HUNTER + + +The real man is nearest the surface after a long period of idle +solitude. + +So it was with Stanley Fyles, riding over the even, sandy trail of the +prairies which stretched away south of the Assiniboine River. His +sunburnt face was sternly reposeful, and in his usually keen gray eyes +was that open staring light which belongs to the man who gropes his +way over Nature's trackless wastes, and whose mind is ever asking the +question of direction. But there was no question of such a nature in +his mind now. His look was the look of habit, when the call of the +trail is heard. + +He sat his horse with the easy grace of a man whose life is mostly +spent in the saddle. His loose shoulders and powerful frame swayed +with that magical rhythm which gives most ease to both horse and +rider. His was the seat of a horseman whose poise is the poise of +perfect balance rather than the set attitude of the riding school. + +The bit hung lightly in the horse's mouth, but lightly as the reins +were held in the man's hand there was a firmness and decision in the +feeling of them that communicated the necessary confidence between +horse and rider. + +Stanley Fyles was as nearly a perfect horseman as the prairie could +produce. + +Just now the man beneath the officer's habit was revealed. His +military training was set aside, perhaps all thought of it had been +left behind with his uniform, and just the "man" was reassumed with +the simple prairie kit he had adopted for the work in hand. + +To look at him now he might have been a ranch hand out on the work of +the spring round-up. He was dressed in plain leather chapps over his +black cloth riding breeches, and, from his waist up, his clothing was +a gray flannel shirt, over which he wore an open waistcoat of ordinary +civilian make. About his neck was tied a silk handkerchief of modest +hue, and about his waist was strapped a revolver belt. The only +visible detail that could have marked him as a police officer was the +glimpse of military spurs beneath his chapps. + +His thoughts and feelings as he covered the dreary miles of grass were +of a conflicting nature, and, roaming at will, they centered, as +thoughts so roaming will center, chiefly upon those things which +concerned his most cherished ambitions. + +At first a feeling of something bordering on anxious resentment pretty +fully occupied him. There was still in his mind the memory of an +interview he had had with his immediate superior, Superintendent +Jason, just before the time of his setting out. It had been an +uncomfortable half-hour spent listening to the sharp criticisms of his +chief, whose mind was saturated with the spirit of his official +capacity, almost to the exclusion of common sense. + +Superintendent Jason was still angry at the manner in which the great +whisky-running coup had been effected, and of the manner in which the +perpetrators of it had slipped through the official fingers. He blamed +everybody, and particularly Inspector Fyles, in whose hands the case +had been placed. + +Nor had he been wholly appeased by the inspector's final offer. Goaded +by the merciless pin-prick of his superior's tongue, Fyles had finally +offered to set out for Rocky Springs, the place, both were fully +agreed, whence the trouble emanated, and bring all those concerned in +the smuggling to book. + +At first Jason had been inclined to sneer, nor was it until Fyles +unfolded something of his scheme that he began to take it seriously. +Finally, however, the younger man had had his way, and the necessary +permission was granted. Then the superintendent dealt with the matter +as the cold discipline of police methods demanded. + +Fyles remembered his words well. They meant far more to him than they +expressed. They were full of a cold threat, which, to a man of his +experience, could not be mistaken. + +The picture remained in his mind for many a long day. It was doubtful +if he would ever forget it. It was a moment of crisis in his official +life, a crisis when it became necessary to back himself against all +odds--or ultimately sacrifice his position. + +He was standing beside the superintendent, and both men were bending +over one of those secret official charts of the district surrounding +Rocky Springs. They were alone in Jason's bare, even mean office. +Fyles's long, firm forefinger was pointing along a trail, and his +sharp, incisive words were explaining something of his convictions as +his finger moved. The other was listening without interruption. At +last, as the quiet, confident tones ceased, the superintendent +straightened himself up, and his small, quick-moving, dark eyes shot +their gleam of cold authority into his companion's. + +"It's up to you," he said, with a callous upraising of his shoulders. +"You've talked a good deal to me here, and you've made your talk sound +right. But talk doesn't put these men in the penitentiary. You've made +a mess of this job so far. Guess it's up to you to make good. You've +got your chance now. See you don't miss it. The authorities don't +stand for two mistakes on one job, not even when they're made by +Inspector Fyles. You get me? You've _got_ to make good." + +Fyles left the office fully aware that sentence had been passed on +him, just as surely as though he had stood before the Commissioner, a +prisoner. + +Thus, at the outset of his journey, his feelings had been scarcely +pleasant, but, as the distance between him and headquarters increased, +his confidence and sense of responsibility returned, and the shadow of +threat retreated into the background. His plans were carefully laid, +and all the support he could need was arranged for. This time the work +before him was no mere capture of whisky-runners, but to make all +whisky-running, as associated with Rocky Springs, impossible, and to +break up the gang who had for so long defied the law. Yes, he felt +confident in the result, and, as the long miles were put behind him, +his thoughts wandered into more pleasant channels. + +Rocky Springs certainly offered him inducement. And curiously enough +he found himself wondering how much he was influenced by that +inducement in accepting the odds against him in cleaning up the place, +and dusting the cobwebs of crime from its corners. + +Kate Seton. He had not seen her for something running into weeks. The +thought that he was to renew an acquaintance, which, though almost +slight, still had extraordinary power to hold him, was a delightful +one. Sometimes he had found himself wondering at the phenomenon of her +attraction for him. But he was incapable of analyzing his feelings +closely. His life had been spent on these fringes of civilization so +long, and the generality of the women he had come into contact with +had been so much a part of the life of the country, that their appeal +had been weakened almost to the vanishing point. + +Then here, in Rocky Springs, where he might reasonably expect to find +only the dregs of society, he suddenly discovered a woman obviously +belonging to an utterly different and more cultured life. A woman of +uncommon beauty and distinction; a woman, who, to his mind, fulfilled +some essentially mannish ideal, an ideal that, in idle moments, had +stolen in upon a wholly reposeful mind. A woman who---- + +But the thread of his pleasant reflections was suddenly broken, and +his mechanically watchful eyes warned him that a horseman was riding +along the trail ahead of him, and that he was rapidly overtaking this +stranger. + +In a moment all other interests were forgotten. To the solitary rider +of the plains a fellow-creature ever becomes a matter of considerable +moment. In Fyles's case he possessed the added interest of a possible +giver of information. + +As he gently urged his horse to lengthen its stride, his keen eyes +took in the details of the man's figure, and the points of the horse +he was riding. The man was of unusual stature, so unusual, in fact, +that his horse, although a big raking creature, became dwarfed under +him. Even from that distance the officer obtained a suggestion of fair +hair beneath the brim of the prairie hat, which was tilted forward at +an unusual angle. The great square shoulders of the stranger were clad +in a tweed jacket, and, from what he could make out, he wore no +chapps. + +Just for a moment Fyles guessed he might be some farmer, and the tweed +jacket suggested he was out to pay a visit to friends. Then, quite +abruptly, he changed his mind, and further increased his pace. He had +detected the city-fashioned top-boots the man was wearing. + +Without further speculation he pressed on to overtake the stranger, +whom, presently, he saw turn round and look back. Evidently he had +become aware of the approach. Equally evidently he either welcomed or +resented the intrusion upon his solitude. For he reined in his horse, +and waited for the officer to come up. + +The greeting between the men was widely different. The stranger's face +was abeam with smiling good nature. His big blue eyes were wide with +frank welcome. + +"I've been just bursting with a painful longing for the sight of a +living man with two arms and two legs, and anything else that goes to +make up a human companion," he said delightedly. "Say, how far do you +guess a fellow could ride by himself without needing to be sent into a +home to be looked after?" + +Fyles's manner was more guarded. The police officer was uppermost in +him now, but he smiled a certain cordiality at the other's frankly +unconventional greeting. + +"That mostly depends on how many things there are chasing around in +his brain-box to keep the works busy," he said gently. + +The stranger's smile broadened into a laugh. + +"That don't offer much hope," he replied dryly. "I've been riding +around this eternal grass for nigh a week. God knows where I haven't +been during that time. Nobody ever did brag about the ideas I've got +in my head, not even my mother, and any I have got have just been +chewed right up to death till there isn't a blamed thing left to chew. +For the past ten miles I've been reviewing the attractions of every +nursing home I've ever heard of, with a view to becoming an inmate. I +think I've almost decided on one I know of in Toronto. You see there +are a few human beings there." + +Fyles's eyes had taken in the stranger from head to foot. Even the +horse did not escape his closest attention. He recognized this man as +being a stranger in the country. He was obviously direct from some +eastern city, though not aggressively so. Furthermore, the beautiful +chestnut horse he was riding was no prairie-bred animal, and +suggested, in combination with the man's general get-up, the +possession of ample means. + +"A week riding about--trying to find yourself?" + +Fyles's question was one of amused speculation. + +"Sure," the man nodded, with a buoyant amusement in his eyes. "That, +and finding some forgotten hole of a place called Rocky Springs." + +Fyles lifted his reins and his horse moved on. + +"We'd best ride together. I'm going to Rocky Springs, and--you've +certainly hit the trail at last." + +The fair-haired giant jumped at the suggestion, and even his horse +seemed to welcome the companionship, for it ambled on in the +friendliest manner by the side of the police horse. + +"How did you manage to--lose yourself?" Fyles inquired presently. "Did +you start out from Amberley?" + +The stranger's look of chagrin was almost comical. He shook his head. + +"That's where I ought to've started from," he said. Then he shrugged +his great shoulders. "Here, I'll tell you. I come from down East, and +I'm on my way to join a brother of mine at Rocky Springs. He's a +rancher. Sort of artist, too. His name's Charlie Bryant. My name's +Bill--Bill Bryant. Well, I ought to have got off at Black Cross, and +changed trains for the Amberley branch. Instead of that I was sleeping +peacefully in the car and went right on to a place called Moosemin. +Well, some torn fool told me if I got off at Moosemin I would get +across country to Amberley, and thus get on to the Rocky Springs road. +Maybe he was right enough, if the feller getting off had got any horse +sense. But I guess they forgot to hand any out my way. Anyhow, I kind +of took to the idea. Guessed I'd make a break that way and get used to +the country. So I just bought the best horse I could find in the town +from the worst thief that ever dodged penitentiary, and since then +have spent seven whole days getting on intimate terms with every blade +of grass in the country, and trying to convince various settlers that +I wasn't a murderer or horse thief, and didn't want to shoot 'em in +their beds, but just needed food and sleep, all of which I was ready +to pay for at any fancy prices they liked to ask. How I eventually got +here I don't know, and haven't a desire to know, and I'll stake my +oath you won't find any two people in the country with the same ideas +of direction. And I want to say that I hate grass worse than poison, +and as for sun it's an abomination. Horse riding's overrated, and +tailors don't know a thing about making pants that are comfortable +riding. I could write a book on the subject of boils and saddle +chafes, and when I get off this blamed saddle I don't intend to sit +down for a week. I think a rancher's life is just the dandiest thing +to read about I ever knew, and beans--those things the shape of an +immature egg and as hard as rocks--are most nourishing; and I don't +think I shall need nourishing ever again. Also the West is the +greatest country ever forgotten by God or men, but the remark applies +only to its size. The best thing I know of, just now, is a full-sized +human being going the same way I am." + +Bill Bryant finished up with a great laugh of the happiest good +nature, which quite robbed Fyles of his last shadow of aloofness. No +one could have looked into the man's humorously smiling eyes, or +listened to the frank admissions of his own blundering, and felt it +necessary to entertain the least question as to his perfect honesty. + +Fyles accepted the introduction in the spirit in which it was made. + +"My name's Fyles--Stanley Fyles," he said cordially. "Glad to meet +you, Mr. Bryant." + +"Bill Bryant," corrected the other, grasping and wringing the +policeman's proffered hand with painful cordiality. "That's a good +name--Fyles," he went on, releasing the other's hand. "Suggests all +sorts of things--nails, chisels--something in the hardware line. Good +name for this country, too." Then his big blue eyes scanned the +officer's outfit. "Rancher?" he suggested. + +Fyles smiled, shaking his head. + +"Hardly a--rancher," he deprecated. + +"Ah. I know. Cowpuncher. You're dressed that way. I've read about 'em. +Chasing cattle. Rounding 'em up. Branding, and all that sort of thing. +Fine. Exciting." + +Fyles shook his head again. + +"My job's not just that, either," he said, his smile broadening. "You +see, I just round up 'strays,' and send 'em to their right homes. I'm +out after 'strays' now." + +Bill nodded with ready understanding. + +"I get it," he cried. "They just break out in spring, and go chasing +after fancy grass. Then they get lost, or mussed up with ether cattle, +and--and need sorting out. Must be a mighty lonesome job--always +hunting 'strays.'" + +Inspector Fyles's eyes twinkled, but his sunburned face remained +serious. + +"Yes, I'd say it's lonesome--at times. You see, it isn't easy locating +their tracks. And when you do locate 'em maybe you've got a long piece +to travel before you come up with 'em. They get mighty wild running +loose that way, and, hate being rounded up. Some of 'em show fight, +and things get busy. No, it's not dead easy--and it doesn't do making +mistakes. Guess a mistake is liable to snuff your light out when +you're up against 'strays.'" + +A sudden enthusiasm lit Bill Bryant's interested eyes. + +"That sounds better than ranching," he said quickly. "You see, I've +lived a soft sort of life, and it kind of seems good to get upsides +with things. I've got a notion that it's better to hand a feller a +nasty bunch of knuckles, square on the most prominent part of his +face, than taking dollars out of him to pay legal chin waggers. That's +how I've always felt, but living in luxury in a city makes you act +otherwise. I've quit it though, now, and, in consequence, I'm just +busting to hand some fellow that bunch of knuckles." He raised one +great clenched fist and examined it with a sort of mild enthusiasm. +"I'm going to ranch," he went on simply, while the police officer +surveyed him as he might some big, boisterous child. "My brother's got +a ranch at Rocky Springs. He's done pretty well, I guess--for an +artist fellow. He's making money--oh, yes, he's making good money, and +seems to like the life. + +"The fact is," he went on eagerly, "Charlie was a bit of a bad +boy--he's a dandy good fellow, really he is; but I guess he got gay +when he was an art student, and the old man got rattled over it and +sent him along out here to raise cattle and wheat. Well, when dad died +he left me most of his dollars. There were plenty, and it's made me +feel sick he forgot Charlie's existence. So I took a big think over +things. You see it makes a fellow think, when he finds himself with a +lot of dollars that ought to be shared with another fellow. + +"Well, I don't often think hard," he went on ingenuously. "But I did +that time, and it's queer how easy it is to think right when you +really try--hard. Guess you don't need to think much in your work--but +maybe sometimes you'll have to, and then you'll find how easy it +comes." + +He turned abruptly in the saddle and looked straight into the +officer's interested face. His eyes were alight, and he emitted a +deep-throated guffaw. + +"Say," he went on, "it came to me all of a sudden. It was in the +middle of the night. I woke up thinking it. I was saying it to myself. +Why not go out West? Join Charlie. Put all your money into his ranch. +Turn it into a swell affair, and run it together. That way it'll seem +as if you were doing it for yourself. That way Charlie'll never know +you're handing him a fortune. Can you beat it?" he finished up +triumphantly. + +Stanley Fyles had not often met men in the course of his sordid work +with whom he really wanted to shake hands. But somehow this great, +soft-hearted, simple giant made him feel as he had never felt before. +He abruptly thrust out a hand, forgetful of the previous handshakes he +had endured, and, in a moment, it was seized in a second vice-like +grip. + +"It's fine," he said. Then as an afterthought: "No, you can't beat +it." + +The unconscious Bill beamed his satisfaction. + +"That's how I thought," he said enthusiastically. "And I'll be mighty +useful to him, myself, too--in a way. Don't guess I know much about +wheat or cattle, but I can ride anything with hair on it, and I've +never seen the feller I couldn't pound to a mush with the gloves on. +That's useful, seeing Charlie's sort of small, and--and mild." +Suddenly he pointed out ahead. "What's that standing right up there? +See, over there. A tree--or--something." + +Fyles abruptly awoke to their whereabouts. Bill Bryant was pointing at +the great pine marking Rocky Springs. + +"That's the landmark of Rocky Springs," he told him. This stranger had +so interested and amused him that he had quite lost reckoning of the +distance they had ridden together. + +"I don't see any town," complained his companion. + +"It's in the valley. You see, that tree is on the shoulder of the +valley of Leaping Creek." + +Bill's eyes widened. + +"Oh, that's a valley, eh? And Charlie's ranch is down below. I see." + +The man's eyes became thoughtful, and he relapsed into silence as they +drew on toward the aged signpost. He was thinking--perhaps hard--of +that brother whom he had not seen for years. Maybe, now that the time +had come for the meeting, some feeling of nervousness was growing. +Perhaps he was wondering if he would be as welcome as he hoped. Had +Charlie changed much? Would his coming be deemed an impertinence? +Charlie had not answered his letter. He forgot his brother had not had +time to answer his impulsive epistle. + +As they drew near the valley his eyes lost their enthusiastic light. +His great, honest face was grave, almost to the point of anxiety. + +Fyles, watching him furtively, observed every change of expression, +and the meaning of each was plain enough to him. He, too, was +wondering about that meeting. It would have interested him to have +witnessed it. He was thinking about that brother in Rocky Springs. He +knew him slightly, and knew his reputation better, and, in +consequence, the two words "drunkard" and "crook" drifted through his +mind, and left him regretfully wondering. Somehow he felt sorry, +inexpressibly sorry, for this great big babe of a man whom he found +himself unusually glad to have met. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE BROTHERS + + +The valley of Leaping Creek gaped at Bill Bryant's feet and the man's +ready delight bubbled over. + +"Say," he demanded of his guide, "and this is where my brother's ranch +is? Gee," he went on, while Fyles nodded a smiling affirmative, "it +surely is the dandiest ditch this side of creation. It makes me want +to holler." + +As Fyles offered no further comment they rode on down the hill in +silence, while Bill Bryant's shining eyes drank in the beauties which +opened out in every direction. + +The police officer, by virtue of his knowledge of the valley, led the +way. Nor was he altogether sorry to do so. He felt that the moment for +answering questions had passed. Any form of cross-examination now +might lead him into imparting information that might hurt this +stranger, and he had no desire to be the one to cast a shadow upon his +introduction to the country he intended to make his home. + +However, beyond this first expression of delight, Bill Bryant made no +further attempt at speech. Once more doubt had settled upon his mind, +and he was thinking--hard. + +Ten minutes later the village came into view. Then it was that Bill +was abruptly aroused from his somewhat troubled thought. They were +just approaching the site of the new church, and sounds of activity +broke the sylvan peace of the valley. But these things were of a +lesser interest. A pedestrian, evidently leaving the neighborhood of +the new building, was coming toward them along the trail. It was a +girl--a girl clad in a smart tailored costume, which caught and held +the stranger's most ardent attention. + +She came on, and as they drew abreast of her, just for one brief +instant the girl's smiling gray eyes were raised to the face of the +stranger. The smile was probably unconscious, but it was nevertheless +pronounced. In a moment, off came Bill's hat in a respectful salute, +and only by the greatest effort could he refrain from a verbal +greeting. Then, in another moment, as she passed like a ray of April +sun, he had drawn up beside his guide. + +"Say," he cried, with a deep breath of enthusiasm, "did you get that +pretty girl?" Then with a burst of impetuosity: "Are they all like +that in--this place? If so, I'm surely up to my neck in the valley of +Leaping Creek. Who is she? How did she get here? I'll bet a thousand +dollars to a bad nickel this place didn't raise her." + +The officer's reply to the volley of questions came with +characteristic directness. + +"That's Miss Seton, Miss Helen Seton, sister of the one they +call--Kate. They're sort of farmers, in a small way. Been here five +years." + +"Farmers?" Bill's scorn was tremendous. "Why, that girl might have +stepped off Broadway, New York, yesterday. Farmers!" + +"Nevertheless they _are_ farmers," replied Fyles, "and they've been +farming here five years." + +"Five years! They've been here five years, and that girl--with her +pretty face and dandy eyes--not married? Say, the boys of this place +need seeing to. They ought to be lynched plumb out of hand." + +Fyles smiled as he drew his horse up at the point where the trail +merged into the main road of the village. + +"Maybe it's not--their fault," he said dryly. + +But Bill's indignation was sweeping him on. + +"Then I'd like to know whose it is." + +Fyles laughed aloud. + +"Maybe she's particular. Maybe she knows them. They surely do need +lynching--most of 'em--but not for that. When you know 'em better +you'll understand." + +He shrugged his shoulders and pointed down the trail, away from the +village. + +"That's your way," he went on, "along west. Just keep right along the +trail for nearly half a mile till you come to a cattle track on the +right, going up the hill again." + +Then he shifted the direction of his pointing finger to a distant +house on the hillside, which stood in full view. + +"The track'll take you to that shanty there, with the veranda facing +this way. That's Charlie Bryant's place, and, unless I'm mistaken, +that's your brother standing right there on the veranda looking out +this way. For a rancher--he don't seem busy. Guess I'm going right on +down to the saloon. I'll see you again some time. So long." + +The police officer swung his horse round, and set off at a sharp +canter before Bill could give expression to any of the dozen questions +which leaped to his lips. The truth was Fyles had anticipated them, +and wished to avoid them. + + * * * * * + +Charlie Bryant was standing on the veranda of his little house up on +the hillside. He was watching with eyes of anxious longing for the +sight of a familiar figure emerging from a house, almost as diminutive +as his own, standing across the river on the far side of the valley. + +There was never any question as to the longing in his dark eyes when +they were turned upon the house of Kate Seton, but the anxiety in them +now was less understandable. + +It was his almost constant habit to watch for her appearance leaving +her home each morning. But to-day she had remained invisible. He +wondered why. It was her custom to be abroad early, and here it was +long past mid-day, and, so far, there had been no sign of her going. + +He wondered was she ill. Helen had long since made her appearance. He +knew well enough that the new church building, and the many other +small activities of the village, usually claimed Helen's morning. That +was the difference, one of the many differences between the sisters. +Helen must always be a looker on at life--the village life. Kate--Kate +was part of it. + +He sighed, and a look of almost desperate worry crossed his dark, +good-looking face. His thoughts seemed to disturb him painfully. Ever +since he had heard of Inspector Fyles's coming to the village a sort +of depression had settled like a cloud upon him--a depression he could +not shake off. Fyles was the last man he wished to see in Rocky +Springs--for several reasons. + +He was reluctantly about to turn away, and pass on down to his +corrals, which were situated on the slope beside the house. There was +work to be done there, some repairs, which he had intended to start +early that morning. They had been neglected so long, as were many +things to do with his ranch. + +With this intention he moved toward the end of the veranda, but his +progress was abruptly arrested by the sight of two horsemen in the +distance making their way down toward the village. For awhile he only +caught odd glimpses of them through the trees, but at last they +reached the main road of the village, and halted in full, though +somewhat distant, view of his house. + +In a moment the identity of one of the men became certain in his mind. +In spite of the man's civilian clothing he recognized the easy poise +in the saddle of Inspector Fyles. He had seen him so many times at +comparatively close range that he was sure he could not be mistaken. + +The sight of the police officer banished all his interest in the +identity of the second horseman. A dark look of bitter, anxious +resentment crept into his eyes, and all the mildness, all the +gentleness vanished out of his expressive features. They had suddenly +grown hard and cold. He knew that trouble was knocking at the door of +Rocky Springs. He knew that his own peace of mind could never be +restored so long as the shadow of Stanley Fyles hovered over the +village. + +Presently he saw the two horsemen part. Fyles rode on down toward the +village while the other turned westwards, but the now hot eyes of the +watching man followed only the figure of the unwelcome policeman until +it was lost to view beyond the intervening bush. + +As the officer disappeared the rancher made a gesture of fierce anger. + +"Kate, Kate," he cried, raising his clenched fists as though about to +strike the unconscious horseman, "if I lose you through him, +I'll--I'll kill him." + +Now he hurried away down to the corrals with the air of a man who is +endeavoring to escape from himself. He suddenly realized the necessity +of a vent for his feelings. + +But his work had yet to suffer a further delay. He had scarcely +reached the scene of operations when the sound of galloping hoofs +caught and held his attention. He had quite forgotten the second +horseman in his bitter interest in the policeman. Now he remembered +that he had turned westward, which was in the direction of his ranch. +The sounds were rapidly approaching up the track toward him. His eyes +grew cold and almost vicious as he thought. Was this another of the +police force? The force to which Fyles belonged? + +He stood waiting at the head of the trail. And the look in his eyes +augured ill for the welcome of the newcomer. + +The sounds grew louder. Then he heard a voice, a somewhat familiar +voice. It was big, and cheerful, and full of a cordial good humor. + +"By Judas! he was a thief, and an outrageous robber, but you can go, +my four-footed monument to a blasted rogue's perfidy. Five hundred +good dollars--now, at it for a final spurt." + +Charlie Bryant understood. The man was talking to his horse. Had he +needed evidence it came forthwith, for, with a rush, at a headlong +gallop, a horseman dashed from amid the bushes and drew up with a jolt +almost on top of him. + +"Charlie!" + +"Bill! Good old--Bill!" + +The greetings came simultaneously. The next instant Big Brother Bill +flung out of the saddle, and stood wringing his brother's hand with +great force. + +"Gee! It's good to see you, Charlie," he cried joyously. + +"Good? Why, it's great, and--and I took you for one of the damned +p'lice." + +Charlie's face was wreathed in such a smile of welcome and relief, +that all Big Brother Bill's doubts in that direction were flung +pell-mell to the winds. + +Charlie caught something of the other's beaming enthusiasm. + +"Why, I've been expecting you for days, old boy. Thought maybe you'd +changed your mind. Say, where's your baggage? Coming on behind? You +haven't lost it?" he added anxiously, as Bill's face suddenly fell. + +"I forgot. Say, was there ever such a tom-fool trick?" Bill cried, +with a great laugh at his own folly. "Why, I left it checked at +Moosemin--without instructions." + +Charlie's smiling eyes suddenly widened. + +"Moosemin? What in the name of all that's----?" + +"I'll have to tell you about it later," Bill broke in hastily. "I've +had one awful journey. If it hadn't been for a feller I met on the +road I don't know when I'd have landed here." + +Charlie nodded, and the smile died out of his eyes. + +"I saw him. You certainly were traveling in good company." + +Bill nodded, towering like some good-natured St. Bernard over a +mild-eyed water spaniel. + +"Good company's a specialty with me. But I didn't come alongside any +of it, since I set out to make here 'cross country from Moosemin on +the advice of the only bigger fool than myself I've ever met, until I +ran into him. Say, Charlie, I s'pose its necessary to have a deal of +grass around to run a ranch on?" + +Charlie's eyes lit with the warmest amusement. This great brother of +his was the brightest landmark in his memory of the world he had said +good-bye to years ago. + +"You can't graze cattle on bare ground," he replied watchfully. "Why?" + +Bill's shoulders went up to the accompaniment of a chuckle. + +"Nothing--only I hate grass. I seem to have gone over as much grass +in the last week as a boarding-house spring lamb. But for that feller, +I surely guess I'd still be chasing over it, like those 'strays' he +spends his life rounding-up." + +A quick look of inquiry flashed in the rancher's eyes. + +"Strays?" he inquired. + +Bill nodded gravely. "Yes, he's something in the ranching line. Rounds +up 'strays,' and herds 'em to their right homes. His name's +Fyles--Stanley Fyles." + +Just for an instant Charlie's face struggled with the more bitter +feelings Fyles's name inspired. Then he gave way to the appeal of a +sort of desperate humor, and broke into an uncontrolled fit of +laughter. + +Bill looked on wondering, his great blue eyes widely open. Then he +caught the infection, and began to laugh, too, but without knowing +why. + +After some moments, however, Charlie sobered and choked back a final +gurgle. + +"Oh, dear!" he exclaimed. "You've done me a heap of good, Bill. That's +the best laugh I've had in weeks. That fellow a rancher? +Fyles--Stanley Fyles a--rancher? Well, p'raps you're right. That's his +job all right--rounding up 'strays,' and herding 'em to their right +homes. But the 'strays' are 'crooks,' and their homes the +penitentiary. That's Inspector Stanley Fyles, of the Mounted Police, +and just about the smartest man in the force. He's come out here to +start his ranching operations on Rocky Springs, which has the +reputation of being the busiest hive of crooks in Western Canada. +You're going to see things hum, Bill--you've just got around in time." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE UNREGENERATE + + +Later in the afternoon the two brothers found themselves seated on the +veranda talking together, as only devoted relationship will permit +after years of separation. + +They had just returned from a brief inspection of the little ranch for +Bill's edification. The big man's enthusiasm had demanded immediate +satisfaction. His headlong nature impelled him to the earliest +possible digestion of the life he was about to enter. So he had +insisted on a tour of inspection. + +The inspection was of necessity brief. There was so little to be seen +in the way of an outward display of the prosperity his elder brother +claimed. In consequence, as it proceeded, the newcomer's spirits fell. +His radiant dreams of a rancher's life tumbled about his big +unfortunate head, and, for the moment, left him staggered. + +His first visit was to the barn, where Kid Blaney, his brother's +ranchman, was rubbing down two well saddle-marked cow-ponies, after +his morning out on the fences. It was a crazy sort of a shanty, built +of sod walls with a still more crazy door frame, and a thatched roof +more than a foot thick. It was half a dug-out on the hillside, and +suggested as much care as a hog pen. The floor was a mire of +accumulations of manure and rotted bedding, and the low roof gave the +place a hovelish suggestion such as Bill could never have imagined in +the breezy life of a rancher, as he understood it. + +There were one or two other buildings of a similar nature. One was +used for a few unhealthy looking fowls; another, by the smell and +noise that emanated therefrom, housed a number of pigs. Then there was +a small grain storehouse. These were the buildings which comprised the +ranch. They were just dotted about in the neighborhood of the house, +at points most convenient for their primitive construction. + +The corrals, further down the slope, offered more hope. There were +three of them, all well enough built and roomy. There was one with a +branding "pinch," outside which stood a small hand forge and a number +of branding irons. At the sight of these things Bill's spirit +improved. + +When questioned as to pastures and grazing, Charlie led him along a +cattle track, through the bush up the slope, to the prairie level +above. Here there were three big pastures running into a hundred acres +or more, all well fenced, and the wire in perfect order. Bill's +improving spirits received a further fillip. The grazing, Charlie told +him, lay behind these limits upon the open plains, over which the +newcomer had spent so much time riding. + +"You see, Bill," he said, half apologetically, "I'm only a very small +rancher. The land I own is this on which the house stands, and these +pastures, and another pasture or two further up the valley. For +grazing, I simply rent rights from the Government. It answers well +enough, and I only have to keep one regular boy in consequence. Spring +and fall I hire extra hands for round-up. It pays me better that way." + +Bill nodded with increasing understanding. His original dreams had +received a bad jolt, but he was beginning a readjustment of focus. +Besides, his simple mind was already formulating fresh plans, and he +began to talk of them with that whole-hearted enthusiasm which seemed +to be the foundation of his nature. + +"Sure," he said cordially. "And--and you've done a big heap, Charlie. +Say, how much did dad start you out with? Five thousand dollars? Yes, +I remember, five thousand, and our mother gave you another two +thousand five hundred. It was all she had. She'd saved it up in years. +It wasn't much to turn bare land into a money-making proposition, +specially when you'd had no experience. But we're going to alter all +that. We're going to own our grazing, if it can be bought. Yes, sir, +we're going to own a lot more, and I've got nearly one hundred +thousand dollars to do it with. We're going to turn these barns into +barns, and we're going to run horses as well as cattle. We're going to +grow wheat, too. That's the coming game. All the boys say so down +East--that is, the real bright boys. We're just going to get busy, you +and me, Charlie. We're going to have a deed of partnership drawn up +all square and legal, and I'm going to blow my stuff in it against +what you've got already, and what you know. That's what I'm here for." + +By the aid of his big voice and aggressive bulk Bill strove to conceal +his obvious desire to benefit his brother under an exterior of strong +business methods. And he felt the result to be all he could desire. He +told himself that a man of Charlie's unbusiness-like nature was quite +easy to impress. When it came to a proper understanding of business he +was much his brother's superior. + +Charlie, however, was in no way deceived, but such was his regard for +this simple-minded creature that his protest was of the mildest. + +"Of course we could do a great deal with your money, Bill, but--but +it's all you've got, and----" + +His protest was hastily thrust aside. + +"See here, Charlie, boy, that's right up to me," Bill cried, with a +buoyant laugh. "I'm out here to ranch. That's what I've come for, +that's what I've worn my skin to the bone for on the most outrageously +uncomfortable saddle I've ever thrown a leg over. That's why I took +the trouble to keep on chasing up this place when my brain got plumb +addled at the sight of so much grass. That's why I didn't go back to +find the feller--and shoot him--for advising me to get off at Moosemin +instead of hitting back on my tracks for the right place to change +trains. You see, maybe I haven't all the horse sense in some things +you have, but I've got my back teeth into the idea of this ranching +racket, and my dollars are going to talk all they know. I tell you, +when my mind's made up, I can't be budged an inch. It's no use your +trying. I know you, Charlie. You're scared to death I'll lose my +money--well, I'm ready to lose it, if things go that way. Meanwhile, +I've a commercial proposition. I'm out to make good, and I'm looking +for you to help me." + +Charlie looked into the earnest, good-natured face with eyes that read +deep down into the open heart beneath. A great regret lay behind them, +a regret which made him hate and despise himself in a way he had never +felt before. He was thinking whither his own follies had driven him; +he was thinking of his own utter failure as a man, a strong, +big-principled man. He was wondering, too, what this kindly soul would +think and feel when he realized how little he was changed from the +contemptible creature his father had turned out of doors, and when he +finally learned of the horrors of degradation his life really +concealed. + +He had no alternative but to acquiesce before the strong determination +of his brother, and though his words were cordial, his fears, his +qualms of conscience underlying them, were none the less. + +So they came back to the house, and finally foregathered on two +uncomfortable, rawhide-seated, home-made chairs, while Bill enlarged +upon his plans. It was not until these were completely exhausted that +their talk drifted to more personal matters. Then it was that Charlie +himself opened up the way, with a bitter reference to the reasons +that saved him from completely going under when their father shipped +him out to this forlorn spot to regenerate. + +He talked earnestly, leaning forward in his chair. His delicate hands +were tightly clasped, as his eyes gazed out across the valley at a +spot where Kate Seton's house stood beyond the river. + +Bill sat listening. He wanted Charlie to talk. He wanted to learn all +those little things, sometimes even very big things, which can only be +read between the lines when the tongue runs on unguardedly. He knew +his brother's many weaknesses, and it was his ardent desire to +discover those signs of betterment and strengthening he fondly hoped +had taken place in the passing of years. + +He lolled back with the luxury of an utterly saddle-weary man. His +heavy bent pipe hung loosely from the corner of his mouth. His big +blue eyes were steady and earnest. + +"Yes," Charlie went on, after a moment's thought, "I'm glad, mighty +glad, I came here when I did." He gave a short mirthless laugh. "I +doubt if my satisfaction is inspired by any moral scruple," he added +hastily, as the other nodded. "Say, can you understand how I feel when +I say I believe all moral scruple has somehow decayed, rotted, died in +me? I don't mean that I don't want to be decent. I do; but that's +because decency appeals to me from some sort of artistic feelings +which have survived the wreck I made of life years ago. No, moral +scruples were killed stone dead when I was chasing through Europe +hunting Art, searching for it with eyes too young to gaze upon +anything more beautiful than a harsh life of strict discipline. + +"Now I have to follow inclinations that have somehow got the better of +all the best qualities in me. That's how I'm fixed now. And, queer as +it may seem, that's been my salvation--if you can call it salvation. +When I first came here I was ready to drift any old way. I did drift +into every muck-hole that appealed to me. I didn't care. As I said, +moral scruples were dead in me. Then this same self-indulgence did me +a good turn. The only good turn it's ever done me." + +The eyes gazing across the valley grew very soft. + +"Say, Bill," he began again, after a brief, reflective pause, "I came +here, and--and found a woman. The greatest, the best woman God ever +created. She was strong, big-spirited, beautiful. She'd come out here +to earn a living with her sister. She'd left the East for no better +reason than her big spirit of independence, and a desire to live +beyond the narrow confines of convention. Say, I think I went crazy +about that woman." + +The man was smiling very softly. All Bill's senses were alert. His +slow brain was groping for the subtle comprehension which he felt was +needed for a full understanding. + +"That woman came near to saving me--from myself," Charlie went on, +with a tenderness he was unaware of. "And it was through that very +weakness of self-indulgence. I love her that bad it's bigger than +anything else in my life. Say, I'd rather have her good opinion, +and--and liking--than anything in life. It's more to me than any of +those desires that have always claimed me. But there are times when +even her influence isn't quite big enough. There are times when even +she can't hold me up. There are things back of my head I can't +beat--even through her--at times. That's why I say she's come near +saving me. Not quite--but near. + +"Bill, guess you can't understand. Guess no one can. I fight, fight, +fight. She fights, too. She fights without knowing it, too, because +always in my mind is a picture of her handsome face, and eyes of +disapproval. That picture wins most times--but not always. Wait till +you see Kate, Bill, then you'll understand. I just love her to +death--and that's all there is to it. She only likes me. She'll never +feel for me same as I do for her. How can she?--I'm--but I guess you +know what I am. Everybody who knows me knows that I'm a hopeless +drunkard." + +The man's final admission came without any self-pity or bitterness. It +is doubtful if there was any shame in him at the acknowledgment. Bill +marveled. He could not understand. He tried to picture himself making +such an admission, and to estimate his feelings at it. Shame, +unutterable shame, was all he could think of, and his good-natured +face flushed with shame for his brother, who had somehow so squandered +all his better feelings. + +Charlie saw the flush, and the tenderness died out of his eyes. He +shook his head. + +"Don't feel that way about it," he cried bitterly. "I'm not worth it. +Besides, I can't stand it from--you. Only--from Kate. I know what +you're thinking. You're bound to think that way. You were born with a +man's body--a big, strong man's body. I was born weak and puny. I was +born all wrong. I don't say it in excuse. I merely state a fact. Look +at me beside you, both children of the same parents. I'm like a woman, +I can't even grow the hair of a man on my face. My mother reveled in +what she regarded as the artistic beauty of my features, my hands"--he +held out his thin hands with their long tapering fingers--"and my love +for all those softer things of life that should only be found in +female nature. She gloried in those things and fostered them. She did +her best, all unknowingly, bless her, to kill the last vestige of +manhood in me. And all the time it was crying out, crying out +bitterly. It was growing stronger and stronger, as my physique +remained undeveloped. Finally it became too great to withstand. Then, +when it turned loose, I was without power to check it. My moral +strength was not equal to the tide, and all my passions swayed me +whithersoever they chose. Again I say this is no excuse; it is merely +fact as I see it. I was powerless to resist temptation. The woman who +once looses her hold on her moral nature can never recover herself. +That is nature--her nature--and, by the curse of fate, it is also +mine." + +For the moment Bill had no answer. He sat with his eyes averted. All +his affection for his erring brother was uppermost, all his sympathy +and pity. But he dared not display them. All that Charlie had said was +true. His whole appearance was effeminate. He was a man without the +physical support belonging to his sex. As he said, he was left +powerless by nature and upbringing to fight a man's battle on the +plains of moral integrity. His fall had been drink, with its +accompanying vices, and Bill realized now, after five years' absence, +how hopeless his brother's reformation had become. If his love for +this woman could not save him, then surely nothing on earth could. For +Bill, in his simple fashion, believed that such an appeal was above +all in its claims upon any real man. + +He groped for something to say, for something that might show Charlie +that his affection remained utterly unaltered, but he had no great +cleverness, and the right thing refused to come to his aid. As the +silence lengthened between them his groping thoughts took their own +course, which led him to the name, "Kate," which the other had used. +He remembered he had heard it that day once before. + +"Kate?" he inquired lamely. "Kate--who?" + +"Kate Seton." + +In an instant Bill's whole attitude underwent a change. He sat up, +and, removing his pipe, dashed the charred ashes from its bowl. + +"Why, that's the sister of--Helen Seton." + +Charlie nodded, his eyes lighting with a sharp question. + +"Sure. But--you don't know--Helen?" + +Bill's face beamed. + +"Met her on the trail," he cried triumphantly. "No end of a pretty +girl. Gray eyes and fair hair. Might have been walking on Broadway, +New York--from her style. Fyles told me about her." + +"Fyles?" + +Charlie's eyes suddenly darkened with resentment. He rose abruptly +from his chair, and began to pace the veranda. Then he halted, and +looked coldly down into his brother's eyes. + +"What did he say?" he demanded shortly. + +Bill's eyes answered him with question for question. + +"Just told me who Helen was. Said she had a sister--Kate. Said they +were farmers--of a sort. Said they'd been here five years. Why?" + +Charlie ignored the question. + +"That's all?" he demanded. + +"Sure." Bill nodded. + +Then the hardness died out of Charlie's eyes to be replaced once more +by his usual gentle smile. + +"I'm glad. You see, I don't want him--around Kate. Say----" he +hesitated. Then he moved toward the door of the house. "Guess I'll get +supper. I forgot, you must be starving." + + * * * * * + +Kate Seton had spent the whole morning at home. The work of her little +farm had claimed her. She had been out with her two disreputable boys +around the grain, now rapidly turning from its fresh green to that +delicate tint of yellow so welcome to the farmer. It was a +comparatively anxious time, for the cattle grazing at large upon the +prairie loved the sweet flavor of the growing grain, and had no +scruples at breaking their way through the carelessly constructed +barbed wire fencing, and wrecking all that came within their reach. +The fences needed "top railing," and Kate could not trust the work to +her two men without supervision. So she spent the morning in their +company. + +After the mid-day meal, as soon as Helen had left the house on a +journey to Billy Unguin's drapery store, she sat herself down at a +small bureau in their kitchen-parlor and drew a couple of books, +suspiciously like account books, from one of its locked drawers, and +settled herself for an hour's work upon them. + +The room, though not large, was comfortable. It was full of odd, +feminine knick-knacks contrived by Helen's busy hands. The walls were +dotted with a number of unframed water colors, also the work of the +younger of the two women. There were three comfortable rockers, so +dear to the heart of the women of the country. Besides these, there +was a biggish dining table, and, in one corner of the room, beside a +china and store cupboard, a square iron cook stove stood out, on which +a tin kettle of water was pleasantly simmering. + +It was a homely room which had been gradually furnished into its +present atmosphere of comfort by two pairs of busy hands, and both +Kate and Helen loved it far more, in consequence, than if it had borne +the hall-mark of lavish expenditure. + +But Kate, as she sat before her bureau, had no thought of these things +just now. She was anxious to complete her work before Helen returned. +It was always impossible to deal with figures while her sister was in +the room. And her figures now needed careful attention. + +She opened her books, and soon her busy pen was at work. From a pocket +in her underskirt she drew a number of papers, and these she carefully +sorted out. + +Having arranged them to her satisfaction the task of entering figures +in her book was resumed. Finally she performed the operation of many +sums, the accurate working out of which took considerable time and +pains. Then, from the same pocket, she drew a bundle of notes which +she carefully counted and checked by the figures in the books. + +This work completed she sat back idly in her chair with a thoughtful, +ironical smile in her dark eyes, and the holder of her pen poised in +the grip of her even white teeth. + +She was thinking pleasantly, with a half humorous vein running through +her thought. She was dreaming, day-dreaming, of many things dear to +her woman's heart. Now and again her look changed. Now a quick flash +leaped into her slumberous eyes, only to die out almost immediately, +hidden under that softer gleam which had so much humor in it. At +another time a grave look replaced all other expression; then, again, +a quick frown would occasionally mar the fair, smooth brow. But always +the dominating note of humorous thoughtfulness would return, as if +this were her chief characteristic. + +Her day-dreaming did not last long, however. It was abruptly +dispelled, as such moods generally are. The sound of hurrying feet +brought a quick look that was one almost of anxiety into her usually +confident eyes. With one comprehensive movement she scrambled her +books and papers together and heaped them into the still open drawer. +Then she gathered up the money, and flung it in after the other +things. + +As the door burst open and Helen ran into the room, her eyes bright +with excitement, and her breathing hurried and short from her run, +Kate was in the act of locking the drawer. + +Helen halted as she came abreast of the table, and her dancing eyes +challenged her sister. + +"At your Bluebeard's chamber again, Kate?" she cried, in mock +reproval. Then she raised a warning finger. "One of these days--mind, +one of these days, I surely will have a duplicate key made and get a +peek into that drawer, which you never open in my presence. I believe +you're carrying on an intrigue with some man. Maybe it's full of +letters from--Dirty O'Brien." + +Kate straightened herself up laughing. + +"Dirty O'Brien? Well, he's all sorts of a sport anyway, and I like +'sports,'" she said lightly. + +Helen took up the challenge. + +"'Sports'? Why, yes, there are plenty of 'sports'--of a kind--in this +place. I'll have to see if I can find one who can make skeleton keys. +I'd surely say that sort of 'sport' should be going round the village +all right, all right." + +She nodded her threat at her sister, who was in no way disconcerted. +She only laughed. + +"What's brought you back on the run?" she inquired. + +"Why, what d'you s'pose?" + +Kate shrugged, still smiling. + +"I'd say the only thing that could fix you that way was a--man." + +"Right. Right in once. A man, Kate, not a mouse," Helen declared, +"although I allow they're both motive forces calculated to set me +running. The only thing is, one attracts, and the other repels. This +is distinctly a matter of attraction." + +"Who's the man?" demanded the practical Kate, with a look of real +interest in her handsome eyes. + +"Why, Big Brother Bill, of course, the man I promised you all I'd +marry." + +Helen suddenly dashed at her sister and caught her by the arm in +pretended excitement. + +"I've seen him, Kate, seen him!" she cried. "And--and he raised his +hat to me. He's big--ever so big, and he's got the loveliest, most +foolish blue eyes I've ever seen. That's how I knew him. Say, and when +I saw him with Inspector Fyles, I remembered what Charlie said about +him having no sense, and I had to laugh, and I think he thought I was +grinning at him, and that's why he raised his hat to me. It seemed so +comical--looked just as if he was being brought in charge of a +policeman for fear he'd lose himself, and would never find himself +again. He's surely a real live man, and I've fallen in love with him +right away, and, if you don't find something to send me up to see +Charlie about right away, I'll--I'll go crazy--or--or faint, or do +something equally foolish." + +Kate's amusement culminated in a peal of laughter. She knew Helen so +well, and was so used to her wild outbursts of enthusiasm, which +generally lasted for five minutes, finally dying out in some whimsical +admission of her own irresponsibility. + +She promptly entered into the spirit of the thing. + +"Let's see," she cried, gazing thoughtfully about the room, while +Helen still clung to her arm. "An excuse--an excuse." + +"No, no," cried the impetuous Helen. "Not an excuse. I never make any +excuse for wanting to be in a man's company. Besides----" + +"Hush, child," retorted Kate. "How can I think with you chattering? +I've got to find you an excuse for going across to Charlie's place. +Now what shall it be? I know," she cried, suddenly darting across the +room, followed by the clinging Helen. "I've got it." + +"Got what?" cried the other, with difficulty retaining her hold. + +"Why, the excuse, of course," cried Kate, grabbing up two books from a +chair under the window. "Here, I promised to send these to Charlie +days ago. That's it," she went on. "Take these, and," she added +mischievously, "I'll write a note telling him to be sure and introduce +you to Big Brother Bill, as you're dying to--to make love to him!" + +"Don't you dare, Kate Seton, don't you ever dare," cried Helen +threateningly. "I'll shoot you clean up to death with one of your own +big guns if you do. I never heard such a thing, never. How dare you +say I want to make love to him? I--I don't think I even want to see +him now--I'm sure I don't. Still, I'll take the books up if +you--really want Charlie to have them. You see, I sure don't mind what +I do to--to help you out." + +Kate's eyes opened wide. Then, in a moment, she stood convulsed. + +"Well, of all the sauce," she cried. "Helen, you're a perfect--imp. +Now for your pains you shan't take those books till after supper." + +Helen's merry eyes sobered, and her face fell. + +"Kate--I----" + +"No," returned the other, with pretended severity. "It's no use +apologizing. It's too late. After supper." + +Helen promptly left her side, and, with a laugh, ran to the wall where +a pair of revolvers were hanging suspended from an ammunition belt. + +She seized one of the weapons by the butt, and was about to withdraw +it from its holster. But, in a flash, Kate was at her side. + +"Don't Helen!" she cried, in real alarm. "Let go of that gun. They're +both loaded." + +Helen withdrew her hand in a panic, her pretty face blanching. + +"My, Kate!" she cried horrified. "They're--loaded?" + +The other nodded. + +"Whatever do you keep them loaded for? I--I never knew. You--you +wouldn't dare to--use them?" + +Kate's dark eyes were smiling, but the smile was forced. + +"Wouldn't I?" she said, with a curious set to her firm lips. Then she +added in a lighter tone: "They're all that stand between us and--the +ruffians of Rocky Springs." + +For a moment Helen looked into her sister's eyes as though searching +for something she had lost. + +"I--I thought you'd changed, Kate," she said at last, almost +apologetically. "I thought you'd forgotten all--that. I--thought you'd +become a sort of 'hired girl' in this village. Guess I'll have to wait +until after supper--seeing you want me to." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE DISCOMFITURE OF HELEN + + +It was well past six o'clock in the evening when the two brothers +completed the discussion of their future plans. It had been a great +day for Bill. A day such as one may look forward to in long +anticipatory moments of dreaming, but the ultimate realization of +which often falls so desperately short of the anticipation. In the +present instance, however, no such calamity had befallen. He felt that +his weary journeyings, with their many discomforts and trials, had not +proved vain. Many of his hopes had been fully realized. + +The unselfishness of the man was supreme. He wanted nothing for +himself, but the delight of sharing in the life of his less fortunate +brother, and changing the course of that fortune into the happier +channels wherein his own lay. And Charlie seemed to accept the +position. He certainly offered no opposition, and, if his manner of +acceptance was undemonstrative, even to an excess of reserve, at least +it was sufficiently cordial to satisfy the unsuspicious mind of Big +Brother Bill. + +Had the big man's wide, blue eyes been less ready to accept all they +beheld, had his mind been more versed in the study of human nature, +and those shadowy, inexpressible feelings glancing furtively out of +eyes intended only to express carefully controlled thoughts, then Bill +must have detected reluctance in his brother. There were moments, too, +when only a half-heartedness found vent in the man's verbal acceptance +of his brother's proposals, which should have been significant, and +certainly invited investigation. + +But even if he observed these things Bill undoubtedly misread them. He +had no reason to doubt that his presence, and all his enthusiastic +plans were welcome, and so he was left blinded to any other feelings +on the part of his brother than those which he verbally expressed. +That Charlie delighted in his presence there could be no doubt, but as +to those other things, well, a close observer might well have been +forgiven had he felt sorry for the bigger man's single-minded +generosity. To the end Bill felt confident, and remained quite +undisturbed. + +There were still fully two hours of daylight left when Charlie finally +rose from his seat upon the veranda. + +He smiled down at the big figure of the brother he so affectionately +regarded. + +"We'll need to set about getting your baggage sent through from +Moosemin to-morrow," he said. Then he added with a quizzical gleam in +his eyes: "Guess you've got the checks all right?" + +Bill nodded with profound gravity, and dived into one of his pockets. + +"Sure," he replied, dragging forth a bunch of metal discs on a strap. +"Five pieces." + +"Good." Charlie nodded. His brother's unconsciousness amused him. +Then, after a moment, his gaze drifted across the valley, and came to +rest on the little home of the Setons, and he went on reflectively, "I +need to get around a piece before dark," he said. Then with an +unmistakable question in his dark eyes: "Maybe you'll fancy a walk +around--meantime?" + +Bill's eyes lit good humoredly. + +"Which means I'm not wanted," he said with a laugh. + +Then he, too, rose. He stretched himself like some great contented +dog. + +"I've a notion to get a peek at the village," he said. "I'll call +along down at the saloon and hunt Fyles up. Guess I owe him a drink +for--finding me." + +At the mention of Fyles's name a curious look changed the expression +of his brother's regard. A short laugh that had no mirth in it was the +prompt reply. + +"You can't buy Fyles a drink in Rocky Springs," Charlie exclaimed. +"Maybe you can buy all the drink _you_ want. But there's not a +saloonkeeper in the Northwest Territories would hand you one for +Fyles. This is prohibition territory, and I guess Fyles is hated to +death--hereabouts." + +For a moment Bill's eyes looked absurdly serious. + +"I see," he demurred. "You--hate him--too?" + +Charlie nodded. + +"For--that?" suggested Bill. + +Charlie shrugged. "I certainly have no use for Inspector Fyles," he +declared. "Maybe it's for his work, maybe it isn't. It don't matter +either way." + +The manner of Charlie's reply reminded his brother that his question +had been unnecessarily pointed, and he hastened to make amends. + +"I'm kind of sorry, Charlie," he said, his face flushing with +contrition. "I didn't think. You see, I hadn't----" + +But the other waved his regret aside. + +"Don't worry," he said quickly. "Guess you can't hurt me that way. I +was thinking on other lines. What does matter, and matters pretty +badly, is that some day, if you stop around Rocky Springs, you'll find +it up to you to take sides between Fyles and----" + +"And?" Bill's interest had become suddenly absorbed as his brother +paused, his gaze once more drifting away beyond the river. Finally, +Charlie turned back to him. + +"Me," he said quietly. And the two stood facing each other, eye to +eye. + +It was some moments before Bill's slow-moving wit came to his aid. He +was so startled that it was even slower than usual. + +"You and--Fyles?" he said at last, his eyes full of absurd wonder. "I +don't understand. You--you are not against the law?" + +Bill's wonder had changed to apprehension, and the sight of it +distracted his brother's more serious mood. + +"Does a fellow always need to be against the law to get up against a +police officer?" he inquired, with a smile of amusement. Then his +smile died out, and he went on enigmatically. "Men can scrap about +most anything," he said slowly. "Men who _are_ men. I may be a poor +example, but----Say, when Fyles takes hold of things in Rocky Springs, +I guess he isn't likely to feel kindly disposed my way. That being so, +you'll surely be fixed one way or the other. Get me, Bill?" + +Bill nodded dubiously. + +"I get that, but--I don't understand----" he began. + +But Charlie gave him no time to finish. + +"Don't worry to," he said quickly. Then he gripped the other's +muscular arm affectionately. "See you later," he added, smiling +whimsically up into the troubled blue eyes as he moved off the +veranda. + +Bill was left puzzled. He was thinking very hard and very slowly as he +looked after the departing man. He watched him till he reached the +barn and disappeared within it to get his horse. Then he, too, moved +away, but it was in the direction of the trail which led ultimately to +the village. + +Bill's nature was too recklessly happy to long remain a prey to +disquieting thoughts. Once the avenue of spruce trees swallowed him up +he abandoned all further contemplation of his disquietude, and gave +himself up to the full enjoyment of his new surroundings. + + * * * * * + +It was in the gayest possible mood and highest spirits that Helen, +with her "two-book" excuse tucked under her arm, set out for Charlie +Bryant's ranch. + +When she appeared at supper time Kate's dark eyes shone with +admiration and a lurking mischief. At the sight of Helen she clapped +her hands delightedly. The younger girl's smart, tailored suit had +made way for the daintiest of summer frocks, diaphanous, seductive, +and wholly fascinating. + +"A vision of fluffy whiteness," cried Kate delightedly, as Helen sat +down at the table. "Helen," she went on, mischievously, "as a man +hunter you are just too dreadful. Poor Big Brother Bill, why, he +hasn't the chance of a rat in a corner. He surely is as good as +engaged, married, and--done for." + +Helen's eyebrows went up in lofty resentment. + +"Katherine Seton, I--don't understand you--thank goodness. If I did I +should want to box your ears," she added, in mild scorn. "You're a +perfectly ridiculous woman, and of no account at all." + +Kate's amusement was good to see. + +"Oh, Hel----" she cried. + +But her sister cut her short. + +"Don't use bad language, please. My name's 'Helen'--unless you've got +something pleasant to say." + +Kate poured out the coffee, and helped herself to cold meat. The +supper was the characteristic evening meal of the village. Cakes, and +sweets, and cold meat. + +"How could I have anything but something pleasant to say, with you +looking such a vision?" Kate went on, quite undisturbed. "Why, I +hadn't a notion you had such a pretty frock." + +Helen's attitude modified, as she helped herself to home-made scones +and butter. + +"I've been saving it up," she deigned to explain. "Do I look all +right? How's my hair?" + +She beamed on her sister, waiting for an expected compliment. + +"Lovely!" exclaimed Kate. Then with added mischief: "And your hair is +simply as fluffy as--as a feather duster." + +Helen laughed. Her eyes were dancing with that merriment she could +never long restrain. + +"I--I simply hate you, Kate," she cried. "I'm so upset I can't eat a +thing. Feather duster indeed. Well, it's better than the mop Pete +swabs up the floors with. If you'd said that, I'd sure have gone +straight off into a trance, and--and got buried alive. But your +appetite's awful, Kate, and I can't sit here forever. I'd say food's +mighty important, but it's nothing beside a _man_ waiting for you +somewhere, and you don't know where. Guess I'll have something to eat +before I go to bed. Please, Kate--please may I go?" + +The humility of the final request was quite too much for Kate, who +laughed immoderately while she gave the required permission. + +"Yes, off with you, bless your heart," she cried joyously. "And don't +you dare come back here without bringing your future husband with +you. Remember, I want to see him, too, and--and if you're not mighty +good, and nice to me, I'll see what I can do cutting you out. +Remember, too, I'm not quite on the shelf yet--in spite of what folks +may say. Off with you!" + +Helen needed no second bidding. She snatched up her books, took a +swift glance at herself in the small mirror on the wall, and hastened +out of the house. + +"So long, Kitty," she cried lightly; "my nets are spread for the big +fish, my dear. He's there, slumbering peacefully in the shady pool, +waiting to be caught. Do you think he's ever been fished before? I +hope he's not wily. You see, I'm so out of practice. That's the worst +of living in a place where men have to get drunk before they have the +courage to become attentive. And, Kitty, dear----" + +"Off with you, you man hunter," cried Kate, from her place at the +table, "and don't you dare ever to call me 'Kitty' again. I----" + +But the door was closed, and further expostulation was useless. The +next moment Kate beheld a waving hand through the window. She +responded, and, a moment later, as her sister passed from view, the +smile died out of her eyes. + +She sat on at the table, although her meal was finished. And somehow +all her gaiety had dropped like a mask from her face, leaving her +handsome eyes strangely thoughtful and something hard. + + * * * * * + +Meanwhile Helen crossed the river by the quaint log footbridge which +had been one of the first efforts at construction upon which Kate had +embarked on arrival at Rocky Springs. It was stout, and, from a +distance, picturesque. Close to it was a trap for the unwary. For the +two sisters, and their hired men, it was a simple matter for +negotiation. They were used to its pitfalls, which increased with +every spring flood. + +Beyond this the track wound through the bush on its way to the village +main trail, but Helen had no thought of adopting such a circuitous +route when the bush offered her a far more direct one. She vanished +into the wood like a flitting shadow, nor did she reappear until half +the slope up to Charlie Bryant's house had been negotiated. + +Her reappearance was in the midst of a small clearing, whence she had +an uninterrupted view of Charlie's house, and a less clear view of the +winding track leading up to it. + +Somehow, by the time she reached this spot, a marked change had come +over her. Her pretty, even brows were slightly drawn together in an +odd, thoughtful pucker. Her usually merry eyes were watchful and +sober. It may have been the gradient of the hills, but somehow her +gait had lost something of its buoyancy. Her steps were lagging, even +hesitating, and, when she finally halted, it was almost with an air of +relief. + +There were several fallen tree trunks about, and, though they must +have been sufficiently inviting if she were weary with her effort, she +quite ignored them. She stood quite still, looking first ahead at her +goal, and then back over the valley toward the little house where her +sister was probably still watching her. Her eyes slowly became +expressive of doubt and indecision. It seemed as though she found it +hard to make up her mind about something. + +After a moment or two she removed the two books from under her arm, +and idly read their titles. She knew them quite well, and promptly +returned them to their place with an impatient sigh. + +Again her look had changed. Now her cheeks suddenly flushed a burning, +shamefaced crimson. Then they paled, and something like a panic grew +in her eyes. But this, too, passed, all but the panic, and, with a +little vicious stamp of her foot, she half determinedly faced the +ranch house on the hill. Her determination, however, was evidently +insufficient, for she did not move on, and, presently, she laughed a +short mirthless laugh. It was her belated sense of humor mocking her. +Her courage, she knew, had failed her. She could not live up to her +boasted claims as a man hunter. + +But her laugh died almost at its birth. Something moving down the hill +among the trees caught her troubled eyes. Then, too, the sound of a +whistle reached her. Some one was approaching from the direction of +Charlie's house, whistling a tune which somehow seemed familiar. She +promptly warned herself it could not be Charlie. She never remembered +to have heard Charlie whistling so blithe an air. + +Now she distinctly heard the sound of heavy, rapid footsteps drawing +nearer. The panic in her eyes deepened. They were staring intently at +the surrounding bush, searching for a definite sight of the intruder. +Nor had she to wait long. The path was just beyond the clearing, and +she had fixed her gaze upon a narrow gap in the foliage. She felt +almost safe in doing so, for the stranger must pass that way if he +were on the path, and the gap was so narrow that it would probably +escape his notice. + +The whistling came nearer, so, too, the rapid footsteps. Then followed +realization. A figure passed the gap. She saw it quite plainly. The +big, broad-shouldered figure of a man with fair hair and blue eyes. It +was Big Brother Bill. Instinctively she drew back, entirely forgetful +of the fallen tree trunks. Then tragedy came upon her. + +How it happened she didn't know. She afterward felt she never wanted +to know. Something seemed to hit her sharply at the back of the knees. +She remembered that they bent under her. Then, in a second, she found +herself sitting upon the ground with her feet sticking up in the air +in a perfectly ridiculous manner, and, by some horribly mysterious +means, with the support of a fallen sapling pine holding them there. + +At the moment of impact she was too paralyzed with fear to move, then +as a sharp exclamation in a man's deep voice reached her, a wild +terror seized upon her, and, with a violent effort she rolled herself +clear of the log, scrambled to her feet, her dainty frock stained and +torn with her tumble, and fled for dear life down the hill. + +Faster and faster she ran, breaking her way through all obstructing +foliage utterly regardless of the rents she was making in the soft +material of her frock. She felt she dared not pause for anything with +that man behind her. She felt that she hated him worse than anybody in +the world. To think that he must have witnessed her discomfiture, and +worse than all her two absurd feet sticking up in the air like--like +signposts. It was too awful to contemplate. + +She did not pause for breath until she reached the footbridge. Then a +fresh panic set in. She had left the books behind. They were at the +place where she had fallen. + +Oh dear, oh dear! He would find them. He would find her name in them. +He would take them back to Charlie, and her last hope would be gone. +She would undoubtedly be recognized! + +She wanted to burst into tears, then and there, but something inside +her would not permit her such relief. Instead a whimsical humor came +to her aid and she laughed. + +At first her laugh was pathetically near to tears, but the moment of +doubt passed, and the whole humor of the situation took hold of her. +She hurried on home, laughing as she went; and, desperately near +hysterics, she at last burst into her sister's presence. + +Kate was on her feet in an instant. + +"Oh, Kate," she cried, with a wild sort of laughter. "Behold the man +hunter--hunted!" Then she flung herself into a chair, gasping for +breath. + +Kate's anxious eyes took in something of the situation at a glance. + +"Stop that laughing," she cried severely. + +Helen's laugh died out, and she sighed deeply. The next moment she +stood up, and began to smooth out her tattered frock. + +"I'm--all right now--Kate," she said almost humbly. "But----" + +Again Kate took charge of the situation. + +"Go and change your frock before you tell me anything," she said +decidedly. + +Helen was about to protest, but the quiet command of her sister had +its effect. She moved toward the door, and Kate's serious tones +further composed her. + +"Take your time," she said. "You can tell me later." + +Helen left the room, and Kate remained gazing after her at the closed +door. + +But it was only for a few moments. The sound of footsteps approaching +the house startled her. She remembered the torn condition of her +sister's dress. The poor girl had been on the verge of hysterics. "The +man hunter hunted!" she had cried. + +Kate glanced at her revolvers hanging on the wall. Then, with a shrug, +she flung open the door. + +Big Brother Bill was standing outside it. He had removed his hat, and +the evening light was shining on his good-looking fair head. His wide +blue eyes were smiling their most persuasive smile as he held two +books out toward her. + +"I'm fearfully sorry to trouble you, but I was just coming along down +from up there," he pointed back across the river, "and saw a--a lady +suddenly jump up as though she was scared some, and run on down the +hill toward this house. I guessed it must have been a--a rattler +or--or maybe a bear, or something had scared her, so I jumped in +to--to find it. I was too late, however. Couldn't find it. Only found +these two books instead. I just followed the lady on down here, +and--well, I brought 'em along." + +The man's manner was so frankly ingenuous, and his whole air so +hopelessly that of a tenderfoot that Kate recognized him at once. +Instantly she held out her hand with a smile. + +"Thanks, Mr. Bryant. They're my sister's. She was taking them up to +your brother. It's very kind of you to take so much trouble. Won't you +come in, and let her thank you herself? You see, we're great friends +of your brother's. I am Kate Seton, and--the lady you so gallantly +sought to help is my sister--Helen." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +LIGHT-HEARTED SOULS + + +A pair of gray eyes were struggling to glare coldly into a pair of +amiably smiling blue eyes. It was a battle of one against an opponent +who had no idea battle was intended. From the vantage ground of only +partial understanding a pair of dark eyes looked on, smiling with the +wisdom which is ever the claim of the onlooker. + +"This is my sister, Helen, Mr. Bryant," Kate said, with quiet +enjoyment, as her sister, perfectly composed once more, but still +angry with the world in general, abruptly entered the room from that +part of the house where her bedroom was situated. + +As the words fell upon her ears, and she looked into the good-looking, +cheerful face of the man, all Helen's feelings underwent a shock, as +though a mighty seismological upheaval were going on inside her. + +The man who had witnessed her discomfiture--the man who had dared to +be within one hundred miles of her when her daintily shod feet, with +a display of diaphanous stocking, had been waving in the air like two +wobbly semaphores celebrating Dominion Day or the Fourth of July, +or--or something. Those silly looking prying eyes had seen. How dared +he? What right had he to be walking down that particular trail at that +particular moment? How dared he whistle, any way? What right had he in +Rocky Springs? Why--why was he on earth at all? + +At that moment Helen felt that if there was one combination in the +world she disliked more than another it was blue eyes and fair hair. +Yes, and long noses were hateful, too; they were always poking +themselves into other people's business. Big men were always clumsy. +If this man hadn't been clumsy he--he--wouldn't have been there to +see. Yes, she hated this man, and she hated her sister for standing +there looking on, grinning like--like a Cheshire cat. She didn't know +what a Cheshire cat was like, but she was certain it resembled Kate at +that moment. + +"How d'you do?" + +The frigidity of Helen's greeting was a source of dismay to the man, +who had suddenly become aware that she was again dressed in the +tailored suit which had so caught his fancy earlier in the day. His +dismay became evident to Kate, the onlooker. Helen, too, noted the +effect in his sobering eyes, and was resentfully glad. + +"It was a lucky chance my coming along," Bill blundered. "You see, if +the dew had got on these books they'd have got all mussed. Must have +been a sort of fate about my being around, and--and finding 'em for +you." + +"Fate?" sniffed Helen, with the light of battle in her eyes, while +Kate began to laugh. + +"Why, sure," said Bill eagerly. "Don't you believe in fate? I do. +Say," he went on, gaining confidence from the sound of his own voice, +"it was like this. Charlie and I had been talking a piece, and then he +had to go off, and didn't want me. If he had, I should have gone with +him. Instead, I set off by myself, making toward the village. Being a +sort of feller who never sees much but what's straight ahead of him, +it didn't occur to me to look around at things. That's how it was I +didn't see you till I caught sight of your----" + +"You needn't go into details," broke in Helen icily. "I just think it +was hateful your standing there looking on while I fell over that tree +trunk." + +Bill's eyes took on a sudden blank look of bewilderment, which raised +a belated hope in Helen's broken heart, and set Kate chuckling +audibly. + +"Tree trunk?" he exclaimed. "Did you fall? Say, I'm real sorry, +Miss Helen. I surely am. You see, I just caught sight of"--again +came Helen's warning glance, but the man went on without +understanding--"somebody in white, disappearing through the bushes, +on the run. I guessed a rattler, or a bear, or--or something had +got busy scaring you to death. So I jumped right in to fix him. +That's how I found these books," he finished up rather regretfully. +"And I was just feeling good enough to scrap a--a house." + +A thaw had abruptly set in in Helen's frozen feelings. The memory of +those unfortunate feet of hers no longer waved before her mind's eye. +It was fading--fading rapidly. _He had not seen--them._ And as the +frozen particles melted, she could not help noticing what splendidly +cut features the man really had. His nose was really beautifully +shaped. She was glad, too, that his eyes were blue; it was her +favorite color, and went so well with fair hair, especially when it +was slightly wavy. + +She smiled. + +"Won't you sit down awhile?" she inquired, with a sudden access of +graciousness. "You see, we're very unconventional here, and your +brother's a great friend of ours." Then, out of the corners of her +eyes she detected Kate's satirically smiling eyes. She promptly +resolved to get even with her. "Especially Kate's, and--I'll let you +into a secret. A great secret, mind. We knew you were coming +to-day--had arrived, in fact--and Kate's been dying to see you all +day. Said she really couldn't rest till she'd seen Charlie's brother. +Truth." + +Bill lumbered heavily into an ample rocker, and Helen propped herself +upon the table, while Kate, upon whom had descended an avalanche of +displeasure, suddenly bestirred herself. + +"How dare you, Helen?" she cried, in an outraged tone. "You--mustn't +take any notice of her, Mr. Bryant. You see, she isn't +altogether--responsible. She has a naturally truth-loving nature, but +she has somehow become corrupted by contamination with this--this +dreadful village. I--I feel very sorry for her at times," she added, +laughing. "But really it can't be helped. She keeps awful company." + +"Well, I like that," protested Helen, now thoroughly restored to good +humor by the conviction that Big Brother Bill had not witnessed her +shameful trouble. "Mr. Bryant will soon know which of us to believe, +after a statement like that." + +"I always believe everybody." The man laughed heartily. "It saves an +awful lot of trouble." + +"Does it?" inquired Kate, as she slipped quietly into the other +rocker. + +Helen shook her head decidedly. + +"Not when you're living in this 'dump' of a village. Say, Mr. Bryant, +you've heard of Mr. Ananias in the Bible? If you haven't you ought to +have. Well, the people who wrote about him never guessed there was +such a place as Rocky Springs, or they'd sure have choked rather than +have written about such a milk-and-water sort of liar as Mr. Ananias. +Truth, he's not a--circumstance. All you need to believe in Rocky +Springs is what you come up against, and then you don't need to be too +sure you haven't got--visions." + +"Yes, and generally mighty unpleasant--visions," chimed in Kate, with +a laugh. + +Bill's smiling eyes refused to become serious under the portent of +these warnings. + +"Guess I've been around Rocky Springs about five hours, and the +visions I've had, so far, don't seem to worry me a thing," he said. + +Helen smiled. She remembered her first meeting with this man. + +"What were you doing with Fyles to-day?" she inquired unguardedly. + +Bill suddenly brought his fist down on the arm of his rocker. + +"There," he cried, as though he had suddenly made a great discovery. +"I knew it was you I saw on the trail. Why," he added, with guileful +simplicity, "you were wearing that very suit you have on now. Say, +was there ever such a fool, not recognizing you before?" + +Helen was deceived--and so easily. + +"I didn't think you really saw me," she said, without the least shame. +"You were so busy with the--sights." Bill nodded. + +"Yes, we'd just come along down past that mighty big pine. Fyles had +told me it was the landmark. I--I was just thinking about things." + +"Thinking about the old pine?" inquired Helen. + +"Well, not exactly," replied Bill. "Though it's worth it. I mean +thinking about----. You see, a fellow like me don't need to waste many +big thinks. Guess I haven't got 'em to waste," he added deprecatingly. + +Helen shook her head, but her laughing eyes belied the seriousness of +her denial. + +"That's not a bit fair to--yourself," she said. "I just don't believe +you haven't got any big 'thinks.'" + +Bill's manner warmed. + +"Say, that makes me feel sort of glad, Miss Helen. You see, I'm not +such a duffer really. I think an awful lot, and it don't come hard +either. But folks have always told me I'm such a fool, that I've kind +of got into the way of believing it. Now, when I saw that pine and +the valley I felt sort of queer. It struck me then it was sort of +mysterious. Just as though the hand of Fate was groping around and +trying to grab me." + +He reached out one big hand to illustrate his words, and significantly +pawed the air. + +Helen's face wreathed itself in smiles. + +"I know," she declared. "You felt your fate was somehow linked with it +all." + +Kate was gently rocking herself, listening to the light-hearted +inconsequent talk of these two. Now she checked the movement of the +rocker and leaned forward. + +Her eyes were smiling, but her manner was half serious. + +"It's not at all strange to me that that old pine inspired you +with--superstitious feelings," she said. "It has the same effect on +most folks--right back to the old Indian days. You know, there's a +legend attached to it. I don't know where it comes from. Maybe it's +really Indian. Maybe it belongs to the time when King Fisher used to +live in the old Meeting House, before it was a--saloon. I don't know." + +Helen suddenly raised herself to a seat upon the table. Her eyes lit, +and Big Brother Bill, watching her, reveled in the picture she made. +Now he knew her, his first feelings at sight of her on the trail had +received ample confirmation. She surely was one of the most delightful +creatures he had ever met. + +"Oh, Kate, a legend," cried the girl, as she settled herself on the +table. "However did you know about it? You--you never told me." + +Kate shook her head indulgently. + +"I don't tell you everything," she said with mock severity. "You're +too imaginative, too young--too altogether irresponsible. Besides, you +might have nightmare. Anyway most folk know it in the village." + +"Oh, Kate!" + +"Say, tell us, Miss Seton," cried Bill, his big eyes alight with +interest. "If there's one thing I'm crazy on it is legends. I just +love 'em to death." + +"I don't think I ought to tell it in front of Helen," Kate said +mischievously. "She's----" + +Helen sprang from her seat and stood threateningly before her sister. + +"Kate Seton," she cried, "I demand your story." Then she went on +melodramatically, "You've said too much or too little. You've got to +tell it right here and now, or--or I'll never speak to you +again--never," she finished up feebly. + +Kate smiled. + +"What a dreadful threat!" Then she turned to Bill. "Mr. Bryant, I +s'pose I'll have to tell her. You don't know what an awful tempered +woman it is. I really believe it would actually carry out its threat +for--five minutes." + +Bill's good-natured guffaw came readily. + +"I'll back Miss Helen up," he declared promptly. "If you don't tell us +we'll both refrain from speech for--five minutes." + +Kate sighed. + +"Oh, dear. Then I'll have to tell. It's bullying. That's what it is. +But--here goes." + +Helen beamed upon Bill, and the man's blue eyes beamed back again. +While he settled himself in his chair Helen returned to her less +dignified seat upon the table. + +"Let's see," began Kate thoughtfully. "Now, just where does it begin? +Oh, I know. There's a longish rhyme about it, but I can't remember +that. The story of it goes like this. + + "Somewhere away back, a young chief broke away from his + tribe with a number of braves. The young chief had fallen in + love with the squaw of the chief of the tribe, and she with + him. Well, they decided to elope together, and the young + chief's followers decided to go with them, taking their + squaws with them, too. It was decided at their council that + they would break away from the old chief and form themselves + into a sort of nomadic tribe, and wander over the plains, + fighting their way through, until they conquered enough + territory on which to settle, and found a new great race. + + "Well, I guess the young chief was a great warrior, and so + were his braves, and, for awhile, wherever they went they + were victorious, devastating the country by massacre too + terrible to think of. But the chief of the tribe, from which + these warriors had broken away, was also a great and savage + warrior, and when he discovered that his wife was faithless + and had eloped with another, stealing all his best war paint + and fancy bead work, he rose up and used dreadful language, + and gathered his braves together. They set out in pursuit of + the absconders, determined to kill both the wife and her + paramour. + + "To follow the young chief's trail was an easy matter, for + it was a trail of blood and fire, and, after long days of + desperate riding, the pursuers came within striking + distance. Then came the first pitched battle. Both sides + lost heavily, but the fight was indecisive. The result of + it, however, showed the pursuers that they had no light task + before them. The chief harangued his braves, and prepared to + follow up the attack next day. The fugitives, though their + losses had been only proportionate with those of their + pursuers, were not in such good case. Their original numbers + were less than half of their opponents. + + "However, they were great fighters, and took no heed, but + got ready at once for more battle. The young chief, however, + had a streak of caution in him. Maybe he saw what the braves + all missed. If in a fight he lost as many men as his + opponents, and the opponents persisted, why, by the process + of elimination, he would be quietly but surely wiped out. + + "Now, it so happened, he had long since made up his mind to + make his permanent home in the valley of Leaping Creek. He + knew it by repute, and where it lay, and he felt that once + in the dense bush of the valley he would have a great + advantage over the attacks of all pursuers. + + "Therefore, all that night, leaving his dead and wounded + upon the plains, he and his men rode hard for the valley. At + daybreak he saw the great pine that stood up on the horizon, + and he knew that he was within sight of his goal, and, in + consequence, he and his men felt good. + + "But daybreak showed him something else, not so pleasant. He + had by no means stolen a march upon his pursuers. They, too, + had traveled all night, and the second battle began at + sunrise. + + "Again was the fight indecisive, and the young chief was + buoyant, and full of hope. He told himself that that night + should see him and his squaw and his braves safely housed in + the sheltering bush of the valley. But when he came to count + up his survivors he was not so pleased. He had lost nearly + three-quarters of his original numbers, and still there + seemed to be hordes of the pursuers. + + "However, with the remnant of his followers, he set out for + the final ride to the valley that night. Hard on his heels + came the pursuers. Then came the tragedy. Daylight showed + them the elusive pine still far away on the horizon, and his + men and horses were exhausted. He was too great a warrior + not to realize what this meant. There were his pursuers + making ready for the attack, seemingly hundreds of them. + Disaster was hard upon him. + + "So, before the battle began, he took his paramour, and, + before all eyes, he slew her so that his enemy should not + wholly triumph, and incidentally torture her. Then he rose + up, and, in a loud voice, cursed the pine and the valley of + the pine. He called down his gods and spirits to witness + that never, so long as the pine stood, should there be peace + in the valley. Forever it should be the emblem of crime and + disaster beneath its shadow. There should be no happiness, + no prosperity, no peace. So, too, with its final fall should + go the lives of many of those who lived beneath its shadow, + and only with their blood should the valley be purified and + its people washed clean. + + "By the time his curse was finished his enemies had + performed a great enveloping movement. When the circle was + duly completed, then, like vultures swooping down upon their + prey, the attacking Indians fell upon their victims and + completed the massacre. + +"There!" Kate exclaimed. "That's about as I remember it. And a pretty +parlor story it is, isn't it?" + +"I like that feller," declared Bill, with wholesome appreciation. "He +was good grit. A bit of a mean cuss--but good grit." + +But Helen promptly crushed him. + +"I don't think he was at all nice," she cried scornfully. "He deserved +all he got, and--and the woman, too. And anyway, I don't think his +curse amounts to small peas. A man like that--not even his heathen +gods would take any notice of." + +Kate rose from her chair laughing. + +"Tell the boys of this village that. Ask them what they think of the +pine." + +"I've heard Dirty O'Brien say he loves it," protested Helen +obstinately. "Doesn't know how he could get on without it." + +"There, Mr. Bryant, didn't I tell you she kept bad company? Dirty +O'Brien! What a name." Kate looked at the clock. "Good gracious, it's +nearly eight o'clock, and I have--to go out." + +Bill was on his feet in a moment. + +"And all the time I'm supposed to be investigating the village and +making the acquaintance of this very Dirty O'Brien," he said. "You +see, Charlie had to go out, as I told you. He didn't say when he'd +get back. So----." He held out his hand to the elder sister. + +"Did Charlie say--where he was going?" she inquired quickly, as she +shook hands. + +Bill laughed, and shook his head. + +"No," he replied. "And somehow he didn't invite me to ask--either." + +Helen had slid herself off the table. + +"That's what I never can understand about men. If Kate were going +out--and told me she was going, why--I should just demand to know +where, when, how, and why, and every other old thing a curious +feminine mind could think of in the way of cross-examination. But +there, men surely are queer folks." + +"Good-bye, Mr. Bryant," said Kate. She had suddenly lost something of +her lightness. Her dark eyes had become very thoughtful. + +Helen, on the contrary, was bubbling over with high spirits, and was +loath to part from their new acquaintance. + +"I hated your coming, Mr. Bryant," she explained radiantly. "I tell +you so frankly. Some day, when I know you a heap better, I'll tell you +why," she added mysteriously. "But I'm glad now you came. And thank +you for bringing the books. You'll like Dirty O'Brien. He's an awful +scallywag, but he's--well, he's so quaint. I like him--and his +language is simply awful. Good night." + +"Good night." + +Bill held the girl's hand a moment or two longer than was necessary. +It was such a little brown hand, and seemed almost swamped in his +great palm. He released it at last, however, and smiled into her sunny +gray eyes. + +"I'm glad you feel that way. You know I have a sort of sneaking regard +for the feller who can forget good talk, and--and explode a bit. I--I +can do it myself--at times." + +Helen stood at the door as the man took his departure. The evening was +still quite light, and Bill, looking back to wave a farewell, fell +further as a victim to the picture she made in the framing of the +doorway. + +Helen turned back as he passed from view. + +"You going out, Kate, dear?" she asked quickly. + +Kate nodded. + +"Where?" + +"Out." + +And somehow Helen forgot all the other inquiries she might have made. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE HOUSE OF DIRTY O'BRIEN + + +It was late at night. The yellow lamplight left hard faces almost +repulsive under the fantastic shadows it so fitfully impressed upon +them. The low-ceiled room, too, gained in its sordid aspect. An +atmosphere of moral degradation looked out from every shadowy corner, +claiming the features of everybody who came within the dull radiance +of the two cheap oil lamps swinging from the rafters. + +Dirty O'Brien's saloon was a fitting setting for a proprietor with +such a name. Crime of every sort was suggested in its atmosphere at +all time; but at night, when the two oil lamps, with their smoky +chimneys, were burning, when drink was flowing, when the room was full +of rough bechapped men belonging to the valley, with their long hair, +their unwashed skins, their frowsy garments, and the firearms adorning +their persons, when strident voices kept up an almost continual +babel of coarse oaths, interlarded with rough laughter, or deadly +quarrelings, when the permeation of alcohol had done its work and left +its victims in a condition when self-control, at all times weak enough +in these untamed citizens, was at its lowest ebb, then indeed the +stranger, unaccustomed to such sights and sounds, might well feel that +at last a cesspool of civilization had been reached. + +The room was large in floor space, but the bark-covered rafters, +frowsy with cobwebs, were scarcely more than two feet above the head +of a six-foot man. The roof was on a gradual, flat slope from the bar +to the front door, which was flanked by windows on either side of it. +So low were the latter set, and so small were they, that a well-grown +man must have stooped low to peer through the befouled glass panes. +The walls of the building were of heavy lateral logs bare as the day +they were set up, except for a coating of whitewash which must have +stood the wear of at least ten years. + +The evening had been a long and noisy one; longer and noisier than +usual. For a note of alarm had swept through the town--an alarm +which, in natures as savage and unscrupulous as those of the citizens +of the valley, promptly aroused the desperate fighting spirit always +pretty near the surface. + +The gathering was pretty well representative of the place. The bar had +been crowded all night. Some of the men were plain townsmen belonging +to the purely commercial side of the place, and these were clad as +became citizens of any little western township. But they were the very +small minority, and had no particularly elevating effect upon the +aspect of the gathering. Far and away the majority were of the +prairie, men from outlying farms and ranches, whose hard, bronzed +features and toil-stained kits, marked them out as legitimate workers +who found their recreation in the foul purlieus of this drinking +booth merely from lack of anything more enticing. Then, too, a few +dusky-visaged, lank-haired creatures wearing the semi-barbaric costume +of the prairie half-breed found a place in the gathering. + +But none of these were the loud-voiced, hard-swearing complainants. +That was left to a section of the citizens of the town who had +everything in the world to lose by the coming of the police. As the +evening wore on these gradually drew everybody's interest in the +matter, until the stirring of passions raised the babel of tongues to +an almost intolerable clamor. + +Dirty O'Brien, sinister and cynical, stood behind his bar serving +every customer with a rapidity and nonchalance which the presence of +the police in the place could never disturb. But the situation was +well within his grasp. On this particular night his mandate had gone +forth, and, in his own bar, he was an absolute autocrat. Each drink +served must be devoured at once, and the empty glass promptly passed +back across the counter. These were hastily borne off by an assistant +to an adjoining room, where, in secret cupboards let into the sod +partition wall, the kegs of smuggled spirit were secreted. All drinks +were poured out in this room, and, on the first alarm, the secret +cupboards could be hidden up, and all sign of the traffic concealed. +Then there was nothing left to be seen but the musty display of +temperance drinks on the shelves behind the bar, and a barrel of four +per cent. beer, for the dispensing of which the existence of these +prohibition saloons was tolerated and licensed by the Government. + +Dirty O'Brien knew the law to the last word. He only came up against +it when caught in the act of selling spirits. This was scarcely likely +to happen. He was far too astute. His only danger was a trap customer, +and the difficulties and dangers of attempting such a course, even the +most foolhardy would scarcely dare to risk in a place as untamed as +Rocky Springs. + +Even the wildest spirits, however, were bound to reach their limit +of protest against this new move of the authorities, and by midnight +the majority of the customers had taken their departure from Dirty +O'Brien's booth. Thus, when the small hours crept on, only a trifling +gathering of his regular patrons still remained behind. + +The air of the place was utterly foul. The stench of tobacco smoke +blending with the fumes of liquor left it nauseating. In the farthest +corner of the room, just beside one of the windows, a group of four +men were playing draw poker, and with these were Kate's two hired men, +Nick Devereux, with his vulture head and long lean neck, and Pete +Clancy, the half-breed, whose cadaverous cheeks and furtive eye marked +him out as a man of desperate purpose. + +At another table Kid Blaney was amusing himself with a pack of cards, +betting on the turn-up with the well-known badman, Stormy Longton. For +the rest there was a group of citizens lounging against the bar, still +discussing with the proprietor the possibilities of the newly created +situation. These were the postmaster, Allan Dy, and Billy Unguin, the +dry-goods man, and the patriarch church robber known as Holy Dick. The +only other occupant of the bar was Charlie Bryant. + +He had come there earlier in the evening for no other purpose than to +hear how the town was taking the arrival of the police, and to glean, +if possible, any news of the contemplated movements of Stanley Fyles. +This had been his purpose, and for some time he had resisted all other +temptation. Nor, apart from his weakness, was he without considerable +added temptation. Dirty O'Brien displayed a marked geniality toward +him the moment he came in, and, by every consummate art of which he +was master, sought to break through the man's resolve. + +Charlie fell. Of course he fell, as in the end O'Brien knew he would. +And, once having fallen, he lingered on and on, drinking all that came +his way with that insatiable craving, which, once indulged, never left +him a moment's peace. + +Now, silent, resentful, but only partially under the influence of +liquor, he was sitting upon the edge of the wooden coal box which +stood against the wall at the end of the counter. His legs were +outspread along the top of its side, and his back was resting against +the counter itself. His eyes were bright with that peculiar luster +inspired by a brain artificially stimulated. They were slightly +puffed, but otherwise his boyish features bore no sign of his +libations. One peculiarity, however, suggested a change in him. The +womanish delicacy of his lips had somehow gone, and now they protruded +sensually as he sucked at a cheap cigarette. + +Although these were only slight changes in Charlie's appearance, they +nevertheless possessed a strangely brutalizing effect upon the +refinement of his handsome face. And, added to them was an air of +moroseness, of cold reserve, that suggested nothing so much as +impotent resentment at the conditions under which he found himself. + +Without any appearance of interest he was listening to the talk of +those at the bar. And somehow, though his back was turned toward him, +O'Brien, judging by the frequency with which his quick-moving eyes +flashed in his direction, was aware of his real interest, and was +looking for some sign whereby he might draw him into the talk. But the +sign did not come, and the saloonkeeper was left without the least +encouragement. + +Finally, however, O'Brien made a direct attempt. He was standing a +round of drinks and included in his invitation the man on the coal +box. He passed him a glass of whisky. + +"Have another," he said, in his short way. Then he added: "On me." + +Charlie thanked him curtly, and took the drink. He drank it at a gulp +and passed the glass back. But his general attitude underwent no +change. His eyes remained morosely fixed upon the poker players. + +Billy Unguin winked significantly at O'Brien and glanced at Charlie. + +"Queer cuss," he said, under his breath. Then he turned to Allen Dy, +as though imparting news: "Drinks alone--always alone." + +Dy nodded comprehendingly. + +"Sure sign of a drunkard," he returned wisely, in a similar undertone. + +O'Brien smiled. He was about to give vent to one of his coldest +cynicisms, when Nick Devereux looked over from the card table and +claimed him. + +"Say, Dirty," he drawled, in his rather musical southern accent, +"wher' in hell is Fyles located anyhow? There's been a mighty piece +of big talk goin' on, but none of us ain't seen him. Big talk makes +me sick." He spat on the floor as though to emphasize his disgust. + +"He's around anyways," O'Brien returned coldly. "I've seen him right +here. After that he rode east. One of the boys see him pick up +Sergeant McBain an' two troopers. Will that do you?" he inquired +sarcastically. + +Nick picked up a fresh hand of cards. + +"Have to--till I see him," he said savagely. + +"Oh, you'll see him all right--all right," O'Brien returned with a +laugh, while the men at the bar grinned over at the card players. +"Guess you boys'll see him later--all you need." Then his eyes flashed +in Charlie's direction, and he winked at those near him. "Maybe some +folks around here'll hate the sight of him before long." + +Pete looked up, turning his cruel eyes with a malicious grin on +O'Brien. + +"Guess there's more than us boys goin' to see him if there's trouble +busy. Say, I don't guess there's a heap of folk 'ud fancy Fyles +sittin' around their winter stoves in this city." + +"Or summer stoves either," chuckled Holy Dick, craning round so that +his gray hair revealed the dirty collar on his soft shirt. + +Stormy Longton glanced over quickly, while the kid shuffled the cards. + +"Who cares a curse for red-coats?" he snorted fiercely, his keen, +scarred face flushing violently, his steel-gray eyes shining like +silver tinsel. "If Fyles and his boys butt in there'll be a dandy +bunch of lead flying around Rocky Springs. Maybe it won't drop from +the sky neither. There's fools who reckon when it comes to shooting +that fair play's a jewel. Wal, when I'm up against police butters-in, +or any vermin like that, I leave my jewelry right home." + +O'Brien chuckled voicelessly. + +"Gas," he cried, in his cutting way. "Hot air, an'--gas. I tell you +right here, Fyles and his crowd have got crooks beat to death in this +country. I'll tell you more, it's only because this country's so +mighty wide and big, crooks have got any chance of dodging the +penitentiary at all. I tell you, you folks ain't got an eye open at +all, if you can't see how things are. If I was handing advice, I'd say +to crooks, quit your ways an' run straight awhiles, if you don't fancy +a striped suit. The red-coats are jest runnin' this country through a +sieve, and when they're done they'll grab the odd rock, which are the +crooks, and hide 'em away a few years. You can't beat 'em, and Fyles +is the daddy of the outfit. No, sir, crooks are beat--beat to death." + +Then his eyes shot a furtive look in Charlie's direction. + +"The sharps ain't in such bad case," he went on. "I'd say it's the +sharps are worrying the p'lice about now. The prohibition law has got +'em plumb on edge. The other things are dead easy to 'em. You see, a +feller shoots up another and they're after him, red hot on his trail. +They'll get him sure--in the end, because he's wanted at any time or +place. It's different running whisky. They got to get the fellow in +the act o' running it. They can't touch him five minutes after he's +cached it safe--not if they know he's run it. If they find his cache +they can spill the liquor, but still they can't touch him. That's +where the sharps ha' got Fyles beat." + +He chuckled sardonically. + +"Guess I'd sooner be a whisky-running sharp than be a crook with Fyles +on my trail," he added as an afterthought. + +"An' he's after the sharps most now," suggested Holy Dick, with a +contemplative eye on Charlie. + +A laugh came from the poker table. Holy Dick glanced round as a harsh +voice commented---- + +"Feelin' glad, ain't you, Holy?" it said. + +Holy Dick spat. + +"I'd feel gladder, Pete Clancy, if I could put him wise to some o' the +whisky sharps," said the old man vindictively. "Maybe it would sheer +him off Rocky Springs." + +The man's eyes were snapping for all the mildness of his words. + +O'Brien replied before Pete could summon his angry retort. + +"There's a good many sharps in the game in this town, and I don't +guess it would be a gay day for the feller that put any of 'em away. +Not that I think anybody could, by reason of the feller that runs the +gang. Look at that train 'hold-up' at White Point. Was there ever such +a bright play? I tell you, whoever runs that gang is a wise guy. He's +ten points flyer than Master Stanley Fyles. Say, Fyles was waiting for +that cargo at Amberley, and here are you boys, drinking some of it +right here, and with him around the town, too. Say, the boss of that +gang is a bright boy." + +He sighed as though regretful that so much cleverness should have +passed him by in favor of another, and again his gaze wandered in +Charlie's direction. + +"Well, I'm glad I'm not a--sharp," said Billy Unguin, preparing to +depart. "Come on, Allan," he went on to the postmaster. "It's past +midnight and----" + +O'Brien chuckled. + +"There's the old woman waiting." + +Billy nodded good-naturedly, and the two passed out with a brief "good +night." + +When they had gone Holy Dick leaned across the bar confidentially. + +"Who'd _you_ guess is the boss of the gang?" he inquired. + +O'Brien shook his head. + +"Can't say," he said, with a knowing wink. "All I know is I can lay +hands on all the liquor I need right here in this town, and I'm +dealing direct with the boss. When the money's up right, the liquor's +laid any place you select. He don't give himself away to any customer. +He's the smartest guy this side of hell. He's right here all the time, +jest one of the boys, and we don't know who he is." + +"No one's ever seen him--except his gang," murmured Holy, with a +smile. "Guess they wouldn't give him away neither." + +Stormy Longton and the Kid arose from their table and demanded a final +drink. O'Brien served them and they took their departure. + +"I sort of fancy I saw him once," said O'Brien, in answer to Holy +Dick's remark. + +He spoke loudly, and his eyes again took in the silent Charlie in +their roving glance. At that instant the poker game broke up, and the +men gathered at the bar. + +"What's he like?" demanded Nick derisively. + +"Guess he's a hell of a man," laughed Pete sarcastically. + +O'Brien eyed his interlocutors coldly. He had no liking for men with +color in them. They always roused the worst side of his none too easy +nature. + +"Wal," he said frigidly, "I ain't sure. But, if I'm right, he ain't +such a hell of a feller. He ain't a giant. Kind o' small. All his +smartness wrapped in a little bundle. Sort o' refined-looking. Make a +dandy fine angel--to look at. Bit of a swell sharp. Got education bad. +But he ain't got swells around him. Not by a sight. His gang are the +lowest down bums I ever heard tell of. Say, they're that low I'd hate +to drink out of the same glass as any one of them." He picked up +Pete's glass and dipped it in water, and began to wipe it. "It 'ud +need to be mighty well cleaned first--like I'm doing this one." + +His manner and action were a studied insult, which neither Pete nor +Nick attempted to take up. But Holy Dick's grin drew threatening +glances. Somehow, however, even in his direction neither made any +more aggressive movement. Toughs as they were, these two men fully +appreciated the company they were in. Holy Dick was one of the most +desperate men in Rocky Springs, and, as for O'Brien, well, no one had +ever been known to get "gay" with Dirty O'Brien and come off best. + +Pete strove to grin the insult aside. + +"Wal," he said, with a yawn, "I guess Fyles has 'some' feller to +handle, if your yarn's right, Dirty. Blankets fer mine and--right now. +Comin', Nick? An' you boys? Nick an' me are hayin' bright an' early +to-morrer mornin'," he added with a laugh, as he moved toward the +door. + +The others slouched after him and with them went the cold voice of +O'Brien. + +"You an' Nick hayin' is good--mighty good," he said, with a sneer. +"Nigh as good as Satin poppin' corn at a Sunday School tea." + +"Or Dirty O'Brien handin' out scripture readin's in the same layout," +retorted Pete, as he followed his companions out of the door. + +Holy Dick ordered a "night-cap." + +"Them two fellers make me hot as hell," cried O'Brien fiercely, as he +dashed the whisky into Holy's glass from a bottle under the counter. + +"Ther', Holy, drink up, and git. I'm quittin' right now," he added. +"Say, I'm just sick to death handin' out drinks this day." + +Holy Dick grinned, his bloodshot eyes twinkling with an evil leer, +which was never far from their expression. + +"With things sportin' busy as they done to-day, guess you won't need +to keep at it long. Say, Fyles has brought you dollars an' dollars." + +The old rascal gulped down his drink and slouched out of the bar +chuckling. He was always an amiable villain--until roused. + +As the door closed behind him O'Brien leaned on his bar, and looked +over at the back view of the still recumbent figure of Charlie Bryant. + +"I was thinkin' of closin' down, Charlie," he said quietly. + +Charlie looked around. Then, when he became aware that the room was +entirely empty, he sprang up with a sudden start. + +He looked dazed. But, after a moment, his confusion slowly faded out, +and he looked into the grinning eyes of probably the shrewdest man in +the valley. + +"Feelin' good?" suggested the saloonkeeper. "Have a 'night-cap'?" + +Charlie raised one delicate hand and passed it wearily across his +forehead. As it passed once more that eager craving lit his eyes. His +reply came almost roughly. + +"Hell--yes," he cried. Then he laughed idiotically. + +O'Brien poured out a double drink and passed it across to him. He took +a drink himself. He watched the other as he greedily swallowed the +spirit. Then he drank his more slowly. It was only the second drink he +had taken that day. + +"Say, I'm runnin' out of rye and brandy," he said, setting his glass +in the bucket under the counter, and picking up Charlie's. "Guess I +need 10 brandy and 20 rye--right away." + +He was wiping the glasses deliberately, and paused as though in some +doubt before he went on. But Charlie made no effort to encourage him. +Only in his eyes was a faint, growing smile, the meaning of which was +not quite apparent. + +"I left the order--with the dollars--same place," O'Brien went on +presently. "Same old spot," he added with a grin. + +Charlie's smile had broadened. A whimsical humor was peeping out of +his half-drunken eyes. + +"Sure," he nodded. "Same old spot." + +O'Brien set his glasses aside. + +"I need it right away. I'd like it laid in my barn, 'stead of +the--usual spot. I wrote that on my order. Makes it easier--with Fyles +around." + +Again Charlie nodded. + +"Sure," he agreed briefly. + +O'Brien found himself responding to the other's smile. + +These whisky-runners meant everything to him, and he felt it incumbent +upon him to display his most amiable side. + +"Say," he chuckled, "the bark of the old tree's held some dollars of +mine in its time. It's a hell of a good thing that tree has a yarn to +it. The folks 'ud sure fetch it down for the new church if it hadn't. +I'd say it would be awkward. We'd need a new cache for our orders +and--dollars." + +Charlie shook his head. + +"Guess they won't cut it down," he said easily. "They're scared of the +superstition." + +O'Brien abandoned his smile and became confidential. + +"Ain't you--worried some, Fyles gettin' around?" + +For a moment Charlie made no answer. The smile abruptly died out of +his eyes, and a marked change came over his whole expression. He +suddenly seemed to be making an effort to throw off the effects of the +whisky he had consumed. He straightened himself up, and his mouth +hardened. The cigarette lolling between his lips became firmly +gripped. O'Brien, watching the change in him, suddenly saw his hands +clench at his sides, and understood the sudden access of resentment +which the mention of Fyles's name stirred in the man. He read into +what he beheld something of the real character of the "sharp," as he +understood it. + +Charlie's reply came at last. It came briefly and coldly, and O'Brien +felt the sting of the rebuff. + +"Guess I can look after myself," he said. + +Then, without another word, he turned away, and walked out of the +saloon. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +ADVENTURES IN THE NIGHT + + +Big Brother Bill changed his mind after all. He did not go to +O'Brien's saloon. At least not when he left the Seton's house. Truth +to tell, his unanticipated visit to Helen Seton's home had inspired +him with a distaste for exploring the less savory corners of this +beautiful valley. For the time, at least, it had become a sort of +Garden of Eden, in which he had discovered his Eve, and he had no +desire to dispel the illusion by unnecessary contact with a grade of +creatures whose existence therein could only mar the beauties and +delights of his dream. + +So, instead of carrying out his original intention, full of pleasant +dreaming, he made his way back toward his brother's home, hoping to +find him returned so that he could pour out his enthusiastic feelings +for the benefit of ears he felt would be sympathetic. + +As he came to the clearing where he had first discovered Helen, +however, his purpose underwent a further modification. His sentimental +feelings getting the better of him, he sat down upon the very log over +which the girl had fallen, and turned his face toward where the little +home of the girls, with its single twinkling light, was rapidly losing +itself in the deep of the gathering twilight. + +He had no thought for the elder girl as he sat there. Her bolder +beauty had no attraction for him, her big, dark eyes, so full of +reliant spirit were scarcely the type he admired. She might be +everything a woman should be, strong, sympathetic, generous, big in +spirit, and of unusual courage; she might be all these and more, but, +even so, she was incomparable to the fair delight of Helen's bright, +inconsequent prettiness. No, serious-minded people did not appeal to +him, and, in his blundering way, he told himself that life itself was +far too serious to be taken seriously. + +Now Helen was full to the brim of a flippant, girlish humor that +appealed to him monstrously. He felt that it was a man's place to +think seriously, if serious thought were needed. And he intended when +he married to do the thinking. His wife must be wholly delightful and +feminine, in fact, just as Helen was. Pretty, laughing, smartly +dressed, and always preferring to lean on his decisions rather than +indulge in the manufacture of wrinkles on her pretty forehead striving +to find them for herself. + +He felt sure that Helen would make a perfect wife for a man like +himself. Particularly now, as she was used to the life of the valley. +And, furthermore, he felt that a wife such as she would be essential +to him, since he had definitely come to live as a rancher. + +She certainly would be an ideal rancher's wife. He could picture her +quite well mounted upon a high-spirited prairie-bred horse, riding +over the plains, or round the fences, since that seemed necessary, at +his side. He would listen to her merry chatter as he inspected the +work that was going forward, while she, simply bubbling with the joy +of living, looked on with a perfect sense of humor for those things +which her more sober-minded sister would have regarded as matters only +for serious consideration. + +Thus he went on dreaming, his eyes fixed upon the distant, lamp-lit +window, all utterly regardless of the fall of night, and the passing +of the hours. Nor was it until he suddenly awoke to the chill of the +falling dew that he remembered that he was on his way home to tell +Charlie of all his pleasant adventures. + +Stirring with that swift impulse which always seemed to actuate him, +he rose from his seat on the log and stumbled across the clearing, +floundering among the fallen logs with a desperate energy that cost +him many more bruises than were necessary, even in the profound +darkness of the, as yet, moonless night. + +Finally, however, he reached the track which led up to the house and +hurried on. + +A few minutes later he was wandering through the house searching in +the darkened rooms for his brother. It was characteristic of him that +he did not confine his search to the house, but sought the missing man +in every unlikely spot his vigorous and errant imagination could +suggest. He visited the corrals, he visited the barn, he visited the +hog pens and the chicken roosts. Then he brought up to a final halt +upon the veranda and sought to solve the problem by thought. + +There was, of course, an obvious solution which did not occur to +him. He might reasonably have sought his bed, and waited until +morning--since Charlie had survived five years of life in the valley. +That was not his way, however. Instead, a great inspiration came to +him. It was an inspiration which he viewed with profound admiration. +Of course, he ought to have gone at once to the village, as he had +intended, and have visited O'Brien's saloon. + +Forthwith he once more set out, and this time, his purpose being +really definite, after much unnecessary wandering he finally achieved +it. + +He reached the saloon as O'Brien was in the act of turning out the two +swing lamps. Already one of them was turned low, and the saloonkeeper, +with distended cheeks, was in the act of putting an end to its +flickering life when Bill flung open the door. + +O'Brien turned abruptly. He turned with that air which is never far +from his class, living on the fringe of civilization. His whole look, +his attitude, was a truculent demand, and had it found its equivalent +in words he would have asked sharply: "What in hell d'you want here?" + +But the significance of his attitude quite passed Big Brother Bill by. +Had he understood it, it would have made no difference to him +whatever. But that was his way. He never saw much more than a single +purpose ahead of him, and possessed an indestructible conviction of +his ability to carry it out, even in the face of superlative or even +overwhelming odds. + +He walked into the meanly lighted saloon, while O'Brien reluctantly +turned up the light again. For a moment the saloonkeeper's shrewd eyes +surveyed the newcomer, and, as they did so, a quiet, derisive contempt +slowly curled his thin lips. + +"Wal?" he inquired, in the harsh drawl Bill was beginning to get +accustomed to since he had traveled so far from his eastern home. + +Bill laughed. He always seemed ready to laugh. + +"Guess I don't seem to have come along at the best time," he said, +glancing at the lamp above O'Brien. "Say, I'm sorry to have troubled +you. I thought maybe my brother was down here. I'm Bill Bryant, and +I'm looking for Charlie--my brother. Has--has he been along here +to-night?" + +The man's big blue eyes glanced swiftly around the squalid, empty +interior. It was the first time he had been inside a western saloon of +this class, and he was interested. + +Meanwhile O'Brien had taken him in from head to foot, and the growing +smile in his eyes expressed his opinion of what he beheld. + +"You're Charlie Bryant's brother, eh?" he said contemplatively. "Guess +I sure heard you was around. Wal, since you're lookin' fer Charlie, +you'd better go lookin' a bit farther. He was around, but he's quit +half an hour since. I'd surely say ef you ain't built in the natur' of +a cat, or you ain't a walkin' microscope, you best wait till daylight +to find Charlie. There's more folks than you'd like to find Charlie at +night, but most of 'em ain't gifted with second sight. Say, seein' +you're his brother, an' ain't one of them other folk, I'll admit +you're more likely to find him somewhere around the old pine just now +than anywhere else. And, likewise, seein' you're his brother, you'd +better not open your face wider than Providence makes necessary--till +you've found him." + +O'Brien's manner rather pleased the simple easterner, for his unspoken +contempt was beyond the reach of the latter's understanding. He smiled +his perfect amiability. + +"Thanks," he cried readily. "I've got to go that way back, so I'll +chase around there." He half turned away, as though about to depart, +but turned again immediately. "It's that pine up on the side of the +valley, isn't it?" he questioned doubtfully. + +"There's only one pine in this valley--yes." + +O'Brien's hand was again raised toward the lamp. + +"I see." Bill nodded. Then, "What's he doing there?" he asked sharply. +A thought had occurred to him. It was one which contained a faint +suspicion. + +The other looked him squarely in the eyes. Then a sort of voiceless +chuckle shook his broad shoulders. + +"Doin'? Wal, I guess he ain't sparkin' any lady friend, and I don't +calc'late he's holdin' any conversazione with Fyles and his crew." +O'Brien's amusement had spread to his features, and Bill found himself +wondering as to what internal trouble he was suffering from. "Charlie +Bryant, bein' a rancher, guess he's roundin' up a bunch of 'strays.' +Y'see, he's got a few greenback stock he's mighty pertickler about. +They was last seen around that pine." + +Bill stared. + +"Greenbacked--cattle?" he exclaimed incredulously. + +O'Brien laughed outright, and Bill was no longer left in doubt as to +his malady. + +"They're a fancy breed," the saloonkeeper declared, "and kind of rare +hereabouts. They come from Ottawa way. The States breed 'em, too. +Guess I'll say good night." + +Bill was left with no alternative but to take his departure, for +O'Brien, with scant courtesy, extinguished the light overhead and +crossed to the second lamp. His visitor made for the door, and, as he +reached it, a flash of inspiration came to him. This man was making +fun of him, of his inexperience. Of course. He was half inclined to +get angry, but changed his mind, and, instead, turned with a +good-natured laugh as he reached the door. + +"I see," he cried. "You mean dollars, eh? Charlie's collecting some +dollars--some one owes him? For the moment I thought you were talking +of cattle--greenbacked cattle. Guess you surely have the laugh on me." + +O'Brien nodded. + +"That's so," he admitted, and Bill closed the door behind him as the +saloonkeeper extinguished the second lamp. + +Big Brother Bill hurried away in the darkness. He swung along with +long, powerful strides that roused dull echoes as he moved down the +wide, wood-lined trail. It seemed to him that he had been wandering +around the village for hours, the place was growing so ridiculously +familiar. + +Nor was it until he reached the spot where the trail divided that +he realized what a perfect fool the saloonkeeper had made of him. +It always took a long time for such things to filter through his +good-natured brain. Now, however, he grew angry--really very angry, +and, for a moment, even considered the advisability of turning back to +tell the man what he thought of him. + +After a few moments' consideration better counsel prevailed, and he +continued on his way, his thoughts filled with a great pity for a mind +so small as to delight in such a cheap sort of humor. No doubt it was +his own fault. Somehow or other he generally managed to impress people +with the conviction that he was a fool. But he wasn't a fool by any +means. No, not by any means. What was more, before he had done with +Rocky Springs he would show some of them. He would show Mr. O'Brien. +Greenbacked cattle! The thought thoroughly annoyed him. + +But, as he clambered up the hill toward the pine, his heat moderated, +and his thoughts turned upon Charlie again. He remembered that he was +collecting money, and quite suddenly it occurred to him as strange +that he should be doing so as this time of night, and in the +neighborhood of the pine. In the light of greenbacked cattle, that, +too, seemed like perfect nonsense, unless, of course, some one were +living in the neighborhood of the tree. He could not remember to have +seen a house there. Wait a minute. Yes, there was. A smallish log +building, not far from the new church. + +Of course. That was it. Why hadn't that fool O'Brien said so right out +instead of leaving him guessing? Yes, he would call at that house +on----. Hallo, what was that? + +A great dull yellow light was gleaming through the foliage ahead. A +beautiful golden light. Bill laughed abruptly. It was the full moon +just appearing on the horizon. For the moment he had not recognized +it. + +Now it held his attention completely. What a beautiful scene it made, +lighting up the shadowy foliage. His mind went back to the Biblical +story of the burning bush. He found himself wondering if it were like +that. Much brighter, of course. But how green it looked, and how +intensely it threw the thinner foliage into relief. What a pity Helen +Seton wasn't there to see it! It would appeal to her, he was sure. +Pretty name, Helen Seton. + +From this point, as he toiled up the hill, his thoughts became +engrossed with the girl who had been so angry with him at first. He +wished he could find some excuse for seeing her again that night. But, +of course, that was---- + +He suddenly stopped dead, and his train of thought ended. There was +the great pine ahead of him right in the back of the moonlight. +There, too, was the figure of a man standing silhouetted against the +great ball of golden light as it rose slowly above the horizon. + +Charlie! Yes, of course it was Charlie. There could be no doubt. The +slight figure was unmistakable. Even at that distance he was certain +he could make out his dark hair. + +In a moment he was hailing the distant figure. + +"Ho, Charlie!" he cried. + +But his greeting met with an unexpected result. The figure vanished as +if by magic, and he was left at a loss to understand. + +Then further astonishment came to him. There was a sharp rustling of +bush, and breaking of twigs close by, and the sound of heavy, plodding +hoofs. The next moment two horsemen broke from the dense cover about +him, and flung out of the saddle. + +"Darnation take it, what in blazes are you shouting around for at this +hour of the night?" + +Inspector Fyles stood confronting the astounded man. Beside him stood +another man in uniform, with three gold stripes on his arm. It was +Sergeant McBain. + +In spite of his recognition of the Inspector, Bill's anger rose +swiftly, and his great muscles were set tingling at the man's words +and tone. + +"'Struth!" he cried in exasperation. "This is a free country, isn't +it? If I need to shout it's none of your damn business. What in the +name of all that's holy has it got to do with you? I saw my brother +ahead, and was hailing him. Well?" + +Bill's eyes were fiercely alight. He and Fyles stood eye to eye for a +moment. Then the latter's resentment seemed to suddenly die out. + +"Say, I'm sorry, Mr. Bryant," he apologized. "I just didn't recognize +you in the darkness. Guess I thought you were some tough from the +saloon. That was your brother--ahead?" + +Fyles's calm, clean-cut features were in strong contrast to his +subordinate's. He was smiling slightly, too. Sergeant McBain was +wholly grim. + +Bill glanced from one to the other. + +"Of course it was my brother," he said, promptly, mollified by the +officer's expression of regret. "I've been chasing him half the night. +You see, O'Brien told me he was up this way, and when I sighted him +yonder by the pine, I----" + +He broke off. He had suddenly remembered O'Brien's warning. He had an +uncomfortable feeling that he had opened his mouth very wide. Far +wider than Providence had made necessary. + +"You----?" + +Fyles was distinctly smiling as he urged him. + +But Bill had no intention of blundering further. He laughed, but +without his usual buoyancy. + +"Say, what are _you_ doing up here?" he demanded, seeking to turn the +tables on the officer. "Rounding up 'strays'?" + +At that moment a black cloud swept swiftly across the face of the +moon. And though Fyles's smile had broadened at the other's clumsy +attempt at subterfuge, it was quite lost upon Bill in the darkness. + +Fyles glanced quickly at the sky. + +"Storm," he said. Then he turned back to his questioner. "Why, I guess +I'm always chasing 'strays.' They're toughs mostly--pretty bad 'uns, +too." Then he laughed audibly. "Makes me laugh," he went on. "I've +been tracking the fellow for quite a piece. And all the time he's your +brother. You're sure?" + +Bill nodded. He was still feeling uncomfortable. + +"I'm glad you saw him," Fyles went on at once. "It's put us wise. We +don't need to waste any more time. It's lucky, with a storm coming on. +Guess we'll get right back, McBain," he added, turning to his +companion. + +Fyles had no more difficulty in fooling the guileless Bill than +O'Brien had. + +"Going home?" Bill inquired of the officer as the latter turned to his +horse. + +"Sure." + +"Me, too." + +Fyles leaped into the saddle. McBain, too, had mounted. + +"Best hurry," said Fyles, with another quick glance at the sky. "We +get sharpish storms hereabouts in summer. You'll be drowned else. So +long." + +Bill moved away. + +"So long," he cried, relieved at the parting. "I haven't far to go, +but since you reckon a storm's getting busy I'll take a cut through +the bush. It'll be quicker that way." + +As he thrust his way into the bush he glanced back at the two +policemen. They were both in the saddle watching him. Neither made any +attempt at the hasty departure the Inspector had suggested. + +However, their attitudes gave him no uneasiness. Truth to tell, he did +not realize any significance. The one thing that did concern him and +trouble him was that he somehow felt convinced that he had committed +the very indiscretion O'Brien had warned him against. + +The whole thing was very disquieting. An air of mystery seemed to have +suddenly surrounded him, and he hated mystery. Why should there be any +mystery? If there was one thing he delighted in more than another, it +was the thought that his life was all in the open. The broad daylight +could search the innermost corners of his every action. He had nothing +in the world to hide. Why then should he suddenly find himself +actively concerned with this atmosphere of mystery which had suddenly +closed about him? + +But Bill had not done with the mistakes of the evening. He made +another one now--in leaving the trail. + +Within five minutes of leaving the two police officers he found +himself blindly floundering his way through an inky forest. The sky +was jet black. The moon had long since switched off her light. The +last star had concealed its twinkle behind the banking clouds of the +summer storm. Now great warm splashes of rain had begun to fall. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +FURTHER ADVENTURES + + +Half an hour later tragedy befell. + +Drenched to the skin, blinded by the deluge of torrential rain, +thoroughly confused beyond all recognition of his whereabouts in the +tangle of bush through which he was thrusting his way, all his senses +dazed by the fierce overhead detonations, and the streams of blazing +fire splitting the black vault above, Big Brother Bill beat his way +along the path of least resistance by sheer physical might. + +All idea of direction had left him. Up hill or down hill had become +one and the same to him. He felt he must keep moving, must press on, +and, in the end, he would reach his destination. + +At last, almost wearied out by his efforts, he came to a definite halt +in a bush that seemed to afford no outlet whatsoever. Even the way he +had entered it was lost, for the heavy foliaged boughs had closed in +behind him in the darkness, utterly cutting off his retreat. + +For a moment he stood like an infuriated steer at bay, caught in the +narrow branding "pinch." He waited for a revealing flash of lightning +in the hope that it would show him a way out. He should have realized +the futility of his hope, but, if he were soaked by the downpour, his +spirit of optimism was as yet by no means drowned. + +The flash he awaited came. The whole valley seemed to be lit from end +to end. Then it was gone as swiftly as it had come, leaving a pitchy +blackness behind it. But in that brief flash Bill told himself he had +seen the trail just beyond the clump of bush in the midst of which he +stood. Summoning all his strength he hurled himself to thrust his way +toward it. He fought the resisting boughs with all his great strength, +backed by every ounce of his buoyant spirits. Then, in a moment, Fate +stepped in, and--released him. + +His sensations were brief but tumultuous. He had a feeling that an +earthquake had opened the ground at his feet. With all his might he +sought to save himself from the yawning chasm. But the sudden jolt of +his great weight was more than his muscles could withstand. His hands +relaxed their grip upon the foliage and he fell with a great +splash--into the river. + +He had driven his way through the overhanging foliage of the river. + +Big Brother Bill was not easily disconcerted by any physical +catastrophe to himself. Nor did his sudden immersion now add one +single pulse beat. The obvious thing, being a strong swimmer, was to +strike out and get clear of the dripping trees, which he promptly +proceeded to do, and, reaching the middle of the stream, and +discovering that the rain had ceased, he philosophically consoled +himself with the thought that, at least, he knew where he was. + +Five minutes later he climbed up the opposite bank out of the water. +His first object at once became the ascertaining of his bearings. With +a serious effort of argument he finally concluded he was on the wrong +side of the river, which meant, of course, that the matter must be put +right without delay. Seeing that the water was cold, in spite of the +warmth of the summer evening, he was reminded of the footbridge +opposite the Setons' house. Consequently, the further problem became +the whereabouts of that bridge. + +Glancing up at the sky, possibilities presented themselves. The clouds +were breaking almost as rapidly as they had gathered, and, with great +decision, he concluded that the best thing to do would be to await the +return of the moonlight, and occupy the interim by wringing some of +the uncomfortable moisture out of his clothes. + +Ten minutes later his patience was rewarded. The moon shone out upon +the stream at his feet, and there, less than one hundred yards to the +west of him, the ghostly outline of the bridge loomed up. He really +felt that Fate, at last, was doing her best. + +He set off at once at as swinging a gait as his damp condition would +permit, and he even found it possible to whistle an air as he moved +along, to the accompanying squelch of his water-logged boots. + +But, as the footbridge was approached, his purpose received a setback. +The home of the Setons loomed up in the moonlight and promptly +absorbed his attention. The moon was at its full once more, and the +last clouds of the summer storm had passed away, leaving the +wonderful, velvety night sky a-shimmer with twinkling diamonds. + +The front of the house was in full light, so pale, so distinct, that +no detail of it escaped his interested eyes. There was the door with +its rain-water barrel, there was the shingle roof. The lateral logs of +its walls were most picturesque. The only thing that struck him as +ordinary was, perhaps, the window----. Hallo! What was that at the +window? + +He paused abruptly, and stared hard. + +He started. It was a woman! A woman sitting on the sill of the open +window! Of all the----. Well, if that wasn't luck he felt he would +like to know what was. He wondered which of the sisters it was--Kate +or Helen. He was confident it was one of them. He would soon find out. + +With a tumultuously beating heart he promptly diverged from his +course, and set off straight for the house. It was always his way to +act on impulse. Rarely did he give things a second thought where his +inclinations were concerned. + +As he drew near, Kate Seton's deep voice greeted him. Its tone was +velvety in its richness, nor was there the least inflection of +astonishment in its tone. + +"That you, Mr. Bryant?" she said, without stirring from her attitude +of luxurious enjoyment. + +Bill came up hurriedly. + +"I s'pose it is," he said with a laugh. "All that the river hasn't +washed away. Say," he went on, with amiable inconsequence, "there's +just two things puzzling my fool head, Miss Seton: Why Fate takes a +particular delight in handing me so many pleasant moments with so many +unpleasant kicks? And what wild streak of good luck finds you sitting +in the moonlight this hour of the night? It surely was a scurvy trick +of Fate dumping me in the creek, when there's a bridge to walk over, +just to land me right here, where you're handing up fancy dreams to a +very chilly but beautiful moon. Guess I'm kind of spoiling the picture +for you though. I may be some picture to look at, but I wouldn't say +it's worth framing--would you?" + +Kate smiled up at him. His dripping condition was obvious enough. Nor +could she help her amusement. Knowing something of the man, he became +doubly grotesque in her eyes. + +"It needs courage to put things nicely under such adverse conditions," +she said, with a laugh. "And I like courage." Then she went on in her +easy, pleasant way: "It was the storm fetched me out of bed. I never +can resist a storm. So I just had to dress and come right out here to +watch it. Why are you around, anyway? Tell me about--about the river, +and how you got into it." + +Bill laughed joyously. + +"Guess that's an easy one," he said lightly. "I was on my way home +when I met that policeman, Fyles. He put me wise to the storm coming +up--which I guessed was bright and friendly of him. You see, I hadn't +located it. It was up to me to make Charlie's place quick, so I got +busy on a short cut. Say, did you ever take a short cut--in a hurry? +Don't ever do it. 'Tisn't worth it--if you're in a hurry. Of course, I +lost myself in the storm, and Fate began handing me one or two. Fate's +always tricky. She likes to wait till she gets you by the back of the +neck, so you can't do a thing, and then passes you all that's coming +to you. Guess she's had me by the neck quite awhile now, what with one +thing and another. However, I mustn't blame her too much. You see, I +lost myself, and it was she who found me, though I don't think +anything of the way she did it. I was boosting through what I thought +was a reasonable sort of bush, and found it wasn't. It was the +overhang of the river, and when I dropped through I found myself in +the water. Still, I knew that water was the river, and I knew where +the river was. I'm grateful, in a way, but I can't help feeling Fate's +got a dirty side to her nature, and bridges are fool things anyway, +for always being where they aren't wanted." + +Kate's laugh was one of whole-hearted amusement. Big Brother Bill's +whimsical manner appealed to her. + +"Maybe Fate thought you were out later than you ought to be," she +said. "You--a stranger." + +But the girl's remark had a different effect upon Bill than might have +been expected. His smile died out, and all his lightness vanished. +Once more he was feeling that atmosphere of mystery closing about him. +It had oppressed him before, and now again it was oppressing him. + +For a moment he made no answer. He was debating with himself in his +blundering way. Finally, with a quick, reckless plunge, he made up his +mind. + +"I--was looking for Charlie," he said. "I've been trying to find him +ever since I left here." + +The girl's smile had passed, too. A growing trouble was in her eyes. + +"Charlie--is still out?" she demanded sharply. "And Fyles--where did +you meet Inspector Fyles?" + +The dark eyes were full of anxiety now. Kate's voice had lost its +softness. Nor could Bill help noticing the wonderful strength that +seemed to lie behind it. + +"I can't say where Charlie is now," the man went on, a little +helplessly. "I saw Fyles close by that big pine tree." + +"Close by the pine tree?" Kate repeated the words after him, and her +repetition of them suddenly endowed them with a strange significance +for Bill. + +With an air of having suddenly abandoned all prudence, all caution, +Bill flung out his arms. + +"Say, Miss Seton," he said, in a sort of desperation, "I'm +troubled--troubled to death. I can't tell the top-side from the +bottom-side of anything, it seems to me. There's things I can't +understand hereabouts, a sort of mystery that gets me by the neck and +nearly chokes me. Maybe you can help me. It seems different, too, +talking to you. I don't seem to be opening my mouth too wide--as I've +been warned not to." + +"Who warned you?" + +The question came sharp and direct. + +"Why, O'Brien. You see, I went down to the saloon after I'd searched +the ranch for Charlie, and asked if he had been there. O'Brien was +shutting up. He said he had been there, but had gone. Then he told me +where I'd be likely to find him, but warned me not to open my mouth +wide--till I'd found him. Said I'd likely find him somewhere around +that pine. Said he'd likely be collecting some money around there. + +"Well, I set out to make the pine, and I didn't wonder at things for +awhile. It wasn't till I got near it, and I saw the moon get up, and, +in its light, saw Charlie in the distance near the pine, that this +mystery thing got hold of me. It came on me when I hollered to him, +and, as a result of it, saw him vanish like a ghost. But----" + +"You called to him?" + +The girl's question again came sharply, but this time with an air of +deep contemplation. + +"Yes. But I didn't get time to think about it. Just as I'd shouted two +horsemen scrambled out of the bush beside me. One of 'em was Fyles. +The other I didn't know. He'd got three stripes on his arm." + +"Sergeant McBain," put in the woman quietly. + +"You know him?" + +Kate shrugged. + +"We all know him about here." + +Bill nodded. + +"Fyles cursed me for a fool for hollering out. Said he'd been watching +that 'tough,' and didn't want to lose sight of him. I got riled. I +told him a few things, and said I'd a right to hail my brother any old +time. Then he changed around and said he was sorry, and asked me if I +was sure it was my brother. When I told him 'yes,' he thanked me for +putting him wise, and said I'd saved him a deal of unnecessary +trouble. Said there was no more need to watch him--seeing he was my +brother. That's when he told me about the storm, and I hit my short +cut, and, finally, reached--the river. Now, what was he watching for, +and who did he mistake Charlie for? What's the meaning of the whole +thing? Why did O'Brien warn me? These are the things that get me +puzzled to death. Maybe you can tell me--can help me out?" + +He waited, confidently expecting an explanation that would clear up +all the mystery, but none was forthcoming. Instead, when Kate finally +replied, there was an almost peevish complaint in her tone. + +"I wish you had taken O'Brien's warning more to heart," she said. +"Maybe you've done a lot of harm to-night. I can't tell--not yet." + +"Harm?" Bill stood aghast. + +"Yes--harm, man, harm." Kate's whole manner had suddenly undergone +a change. She seemed to be laboring under an apprehension that +almost unnerved her. "Don't you know who Fyles is after? He's after +whisky-runners. Don't you know why O'Brien warned you? Because he +believes, as pretty nearly everybody believes--Fyles, too--that your +brother Charlie is the head of a big gang of them. Mystery? Mystery? +There is no mystery at all--only danger, danger for your brother, +Charlie, while Fyles is on his track. You don't know Fyles. We, in +this valley, do. It is his whole career to bring whisky-runners under +the hammer of the law. If he can fix this thing on Charlie he will do +it." + +The girl sprang from her seat in her agitation, and began to pace the +wet ground. + +"Charlie? Though he's your brother, I tell you Charlie's the most +impossible creature alive. Everything he does, or is, somehow fosters +the conviction that he is against the law. He drinks. Oh, how he +drinks! And at night he's always on the prowl. His associates are +known whisky-runners, men whom the police, everybody, knows have not +the wit to inspire the schemes that are carried out under the very +noses of the authorities. What is the result? The police look for the +brain behind them. Charlie is clever, unusually clever; he drinks, his +movements are suspicious. He's asking for trouble, and God knows he's +going to find it." + +A sudden panic was swiftly overwhelming Big Brother Bill. Though he +knew no fear for himself it was altogether a different matter where +his brother was concerned. He ran the great fingers of one hand +through his wet, fair hair, an action that expressed to the full his +utter helplessness. + +"Say," he cried desperately, "Charlie's no crook. By God, I'll swear +it! He's just a weak, helpless babe, with a heart as big as a house. +Charlie a crook? Say, Miss Seton, you don't believe it, do you?" + +Kate shook her head. + +"I know he's not," she said gently. Then in a moment all her fierce +agitation returned. "But what's the use? Tell the folks in the valley +he isn't, and they'll laugh at you. Tell that to Fyles." She laughed +wildly. "Man, man, there's only one thing can save Charlie from this +stigma, from Fyles. Let him leave the valley. It's the only way." She +sighed and then went on, her manner becoming suddenly subdued and +rather hopeless. "But nothing on earth could move him from here, +unless it were a police escort taking him to the penitentiary." + +She returned to her seat in the window, and when she spoke again her +whole manner had undergone a further change. It was full of that +womanly gentleness which fitted her so well. + +"Mr. Bryant," she said, with a pathetic smile lighting her handsome +features, and softening them to an almost maternal tenderness, "I'm +fonder of Charlie than any creature in the world--except Helen. Don't +make any mistake. I'm not in love with him. He's just a dear, dear, +erring, ailing brother to me. He can't, or won't help himself. What +can we do to save him? Oh, I'm glad you've come here. It's taken a +load from my heart. What--what can we do?" + +Again the big fingers raked through the man's wet hair. + +"I--wish I knew," Bill lamented helplessly. But a moment later a +quick, bright look lit his big blue eyes. "I know," he almost shouted. +"Let's hunt this gang down--ourselves." + +Kate's gaze had been steadily fixed upon the far side of the valley, +where Charlie Bryant's house stood. Now, in response to the man's wild +suggestion, it came slowly back to his face. + +"I hadn't thought of--that," she said, after a pause. + +In a wild burst of enthusiasm Bill warmed to his inspiration. + +"No," he cried. "Of course not. That's because you aren't used to +scrapping." He laughed. "But why not? I'll do the scrapping, and +you--you just do the thinking. See? We'll share up. It's dead easy." + +"Yes--it would be dead easy," Kate demurred. + +"Easy? Of course it's easy. I'm pretty hot when it comes to a scrap," +Bill ran on with added confidence. "And a bunch of whisky-runners +don't amount to a heap anyway." + +Suddenly Kate rose from her seat. She moved a step toward him and laid +one brown hand gently on his arm. She was smiling as she had smiled at +the thought of her regard for this man's brother. There was something +almost motherly now in her whole attitude. + +"You're a big, brave soul, and like all brave souls you're ready at +all times to act--act first and think afterwards," she said very +gently. "You said I was to think. Let me think now. You see, I know +this place. I know this class of man. It's the life of the police to +deal with these whisky-runners, and they--they can do nothing against +them. Then what are we, you, with your brave inexperience, I, with my +woman's helplessness, going to do against them? Believe me, the men +who carry on this traffic are absolutely desperate creatures who would +give their lives at any moment rather than go to the penitentiary. +Life to them, their own and their enemy's, means nothing. They set +no value on it whatsoever. The trade is profitable, and"--she +sighed--"against the law. Those engaged in it live for the excitement +of fighting the law. That's one of the reasons which makes it +impossible that Charlie could be one of them. No, Mr. Bryant, I guess +it's not for us to do this thing. We just couldn't do a thing. But we +must think of Charlie, and, when we've thought, and the time comes, +why, then--we'll act. Fyles is a brave man, and a just man," she went +on, with a slight warmth. "He's a man of unusual capacity, and worth +admiration. But he is a police officer," she added regretfully. "In +saving Charlie from him we shall prevent one good man wronging +another, and I guess that should be good service. Let's content +ourselves with that. Will you help?" + +Big Brother Bill had no hesitation at any time. He was carried away by +the enthusiasm Kate's words inspired. He thrust out one great hand and +crushed the woman's in its palm. + +"Sure I'll help. I've just got two hands and a straight eye, and when +fight's around I don't care if it snows. My head's the weak spot. But, +anyway, what you say goes. We'll save Charlie, or--or--Say, a real +bright woman's just about the grandest thing God ever made." + +Kate winced under the crushing force of his handshake, but she smiled +bravely and thankfully up into his face as she bade him "good night." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +BILL PEEPS UNDER THE SURFACE + + +The surprises of the night were not yet over for Big Brother Bill. It +almost seemed as if a lifetime of surprises were to be crowded into +his first night in the valley of Leaping Creek. + +Still thoroughly moist, he finally reached home to find his brother +there, waiting for him. + +Of course, the big man promptly blundered. + +Charlie was in the living room, sitting in a dilapidated rocking +chair. An unopen book was in his lap, and his dark, clever face was +turned toward the single window the room possessed, as the heavy tread +of Bill sounded on the veranda. + +It was obvious he was still laboring under the influence of the +drink; it was also obvious, though less apparent, that he was laboring +under an emotion, which unusually disturbed him. His eyes were shining +with a gleaming light which might have expressed anger, excitement, +or even simply the effect of his libations. Whatever it was, Bill +recognized, without appreciating its meaning, a definite change from +the man he had so cordially greeted earlier in the day; a recognition +which made his blundering now, more hopelessly than ever, an +expression of his utter lack of discretion. + +"Say, Charlie, boy," he cried, as he entered the little room, filling +it almost to overflowing with his robust personality, "I've chased +half over the valley looking for you. Then I saw you at the old pine +and shouted, and you sort of faded away. I thought I'd 'got' 'em. What +with that, and then falling into the river, and one or two minor, but +more or less unpleasant accidents, I've had one awful time. Say, this +valley's got me beat to death." + +The simplicity of the man was monumental. No one else could have +looked upon that slight figure, huddled down in the big old rocker, +without having experienced a feeling of restraint; no one could have +observed the drawn, frowning brows, and the hard lines about the still +somewhat sensual mouth, without using an added caution in approaching +him. There were fires stirring behind Charlie's dark eyes which were +certainly ominous. + +Now, as he listened to his brother's greeting, swift anger leaped into +them. His words came sharply, and almost without restraint. Big +Brother Bill was confronted by another side of his nature, a side of +which he had no knowledge whatever. + +"You always were a damned fool," Charlie cried, starting heatedly +forward in his chair. "I told you I was going out. If you had any sort +of horse sense you'd have understood I wasn't in need of a wet-nurse. +What the devil do you want smelling out my trail as if you were one of +the police?" Then he suddenly broke into an unpleasant laugh. "You +came here in Fyles's company. Maybe you caught the police infection +from him." + +Bill stared in wide-eyed astonishment at the harsh injustice of the +attack. For one second his blood ran hot, and a wild desire to +retaliate leaped. But the moment passed. Though he was not fully aware +of Charlie's condition, something of it now forced itself upon him, +and his big-hearted regret saved him from his more rampant feelings. + +He sat himself on the edge of the table. + +"Easy, Charlie," he said quietly, "you're kind of talking recklessly. +I'm no wet-nurse to anybody. Certainly it's not my wish to interfere +with you. I'm--sorry if I've hurt you. I just looked around to tell +you my adventures, I'm no--spy." + +Charlie rose from his seat. He stood swaying slightly. The sight of +this outward sign of his drunken condition smote the good-natured Bill +to the heart. It was nothing new to him in his erring brother. He had +seen it all before, years ago, so many, many times. But through all +these years apart he had hoped for that belated reforming which meant +so much. He had hoped and believed it had set in. Now he knew, and his +last hopes were dashed. Kate Seton had warned him, but her warning had +not touched him as the exhibition he now beheld did. Why, why had +Charlie done this thing, and done it to-night--their first night +together in the new world? He could have cried out in his bitterness +of disappointment. + +As he looked upon the man's unsteady poise he felt as though he could +have picked him up in his two strong hands and shaken sober senses +into him. + +But Charlie's mood had changed at the sound of the big man's regrets. +They had penetrated the mists of alcohol, and stirred a belated +contrition. + +"I don't want any apologies from you, Bill," he said thickly. "Guess +I'm not worth it. You couldn't spy on a soul. It's not that----." He +broke off, and it became evident to the other that he was making a +supreme effort at concentration. "You saw me at the pine?" he suddenly +inquired. + +Bill nodded. He had no desire to say anything more now. He felt sick +with himself, with everything. He almost regretted his own coming to +the valley at all. For a moment his optimism was utterly obscured. +Added to what he now beheld, all that Kate Seton had said was +revolving in his brain, an oppressive cloud depriving him of every joy +the reunion with his brother had inspired. The two thoughts paramount, +and all pervading, were suggested by the words "drunkard" and "crook." +Nor, in that moment of terrible disappointment, would they be denied. + +Charlie sat down in his chair again, and, to the onlooker, his +movement was almost involuntary. + +"I was there," he said, a moment later, passing one hand across his +frowning brows as though to clear away the cobwebs impeding the +machinery of his thought. "Why--why didn't you come and speak to me? I +was just--around." + +Again Bill's eyes opened to their fullest extent. + +"I hollered to you," he said. "When you heard me you just--vanished." + +Again Charlie smoothed his brow. + +"Yes--I'd forgotten. It was you hollered, eh! You see, I didn't know +it was you." + +Bill sat swinging one leg thoughtfully. A sort of bewilderment was +getting hold of him. + +"You didn't recognize my voice?" he asked. Then he added thoughtfully, +"No--and it might have been Fyles, or the other policemen. They were +there." + +Charlie suddenly sat up. His hands were grasping the arms of the +rocker. + +"The police were there--with you?" he demanded. "What--what were they +doing there--with you?" + +The sharp questions, flung at him so quickly, so soberly, suddenly +lifted Bill out of his vain and moody regrets. + +In spite of all Kate had told him, in spite of her assurance that +Fyles, and all the valley, believed Charlie to be the head of the +smuggling gang, the full significance of Fyles's presence in the +neighborhood of the pine had not penetrated to his slow understanding +before. Now an added light was thrown upon the matter in a flash of +greater understanding. Fyles was not watching any chance crook. He was +watching Charlie, and he knew it was Charlie, and the assurance of +Charlie's identity extracted from him, Bill, had been a simple blind. +What a fool he had made of himself. Kate was right. The harm he had +done now became appalling. + +He promptly became absorbed in a strongly restrained excitement. He +leaned forward and talked rapidly. He had forgotten Charlie's +condition, he had forgotten everything but the danger threatening. + +"Here, Charlie," he cried, "I'll tell you just all that happened after +I left here, when you went out. Guess it's a long yarn, but I think +you need to know it for your own safety." + +Charlie leaned back in his chair and nodded. + +"Go ahead," he said. Then he closed his eyes as Bill rushed into his +narrative. + +The big man told it all as far as it concerned his first meeting with +the Setons, his subsequent visit to the saloon, and, afterwards, his +meeting with Fyles. The only thing he kept to himself was his final +meeting with Kate Seton. + +At the end of this story Charlie reopened his eyes, and, to any one +more observant than Big Brother Bill, it was plain that his condition +had improved. A keen light was shining in them, a light of interest +and perfectly clear understanding. + +"Thanks, Bill," he said, "I'm glad you've told me all that." Then he +rose from his chair, and his movements had become more certain, more +definite. "Guess I'll get off to bed. It's no use discussing all this. +It can lead nowhere. Still, there is one thing I'd like to say before +we quit. I'm glad, I'm so mighty glad you've come along out here to +join me I can't just say it all to you. I'm ready to tumble headlong +into any schemes you've got in your head. But there's things in my +life I've got to work out in my own way. Things I can't and don't want +to talk about. Maybe I'll often be doing things that seem queer to +you. But I want to do 'em, and intend to do 'em. Drink is not one +of 'em. You'll find I'm a night bird, too. But, again, my night +wanderings are my own. You'll hear folks say all sorts of things about +me. You'll see Fyles very busy. Well, it's up to you to listen or not. +All I say is don't fight my battles. I can fight them in my own way. +Two of us are liable to mess them all up. Get me? I live my life, and +you can share as much in it as you like, except in that--well, that +part of it I need to keep to myself. There's just one thing I promise +you, Fyles'll never get me inside any penitentiary. I promise you +that, sure, because I know from your manner that's the trouble in the +back of your silly old head. Good night." + +He passed out of the room without giving the astonished Bill any +opportunity to do more than respond to his "good night." Anyway, the +latter had nothing else to say. He was too taken aback, too painfully +startled at the tacit admission to all the charges he had been warned +the people and police of Leaping Creek were making against his +brother. What could he say? What could he do? Nothing--simply nothing. + +He remained where he was against the table. He had forgotten his wet +clothes. He had forgotten everything in the overwhelming nature of +his painful feelings. His own beliefs, Kate's loyally expressed +convictions, had been utterly negatived. It was all true. All +painfully, dreadfully true. Charlie was not only a drunkard still, but +the "crook" he was supposed to be. He was a whisky-runner. He was +against the law. His ultimate goal was the penitentiary. Good God, the +thought was appalling! This was where drink had led him. This was the +end of his spoiled and wayward brother's career. What a cruel waste of +a promising life. His good-natured, gentle-hearted brother. The boy he +had always admired and loved in those early days. It was cruel, +terrible. By his own admission he was against the law, a "crook," +and--the penitentiary was looming. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE ARM OUTREACHING + + +The morning was gloriously fine. It was aglow with the fulness of +summer. Far as the eye could see the valley was bathed in a golden +light which the myriad shades of green made intoxicating to senses +drinking in this glory of nature's splendor. Leaping Creek gamboled +its tortuous way through the heart of a perfect garden. + +A veritable Eden thought Stanley Fyles--complete to the last detail. + +But his thought was without cynicism. He had no time for cynicism. +Besides, the goal of his career lay yet before him. + +His thought drifted further. His whole fate had suddenly become bound +up in that valley. Nor was the fact without a certain irony. For him +it was the valley of destiny. Within its spacious confines lay the +two great factors of life--his life--love and duty. They were +confronting him. They were standing there waiting for him to possess +himself of his victorious hold. + +Stanley Fyles felt rather like a ticket-of-leave criminal, instead of +a law officer, as he gazed out from the doorway of the frame hut, +which formed the temporary quarters of the police, far out on the +western reaches of the valley, five miles above the village of Rocky +Springs. He knew he was there to prove himself. His mistakes, or his +bad luck, of the past must be remedied before he could return to his +superiors with a clean sheet. His hands were free, he knew. But in +that freedom he was more surely a prisoner on parole than any man on +his given word. He was pitting himself like the gambler against the +final throw. It was all, or--ruin. To leave the valley with the work +undone, with another mistake to his credit, and his present career +must terminate. + +Then there was that other side. That wonderful--other side. The human +nature in him made the valley more surely his destiny than any charges +of his superior officer. The woman was there. The Eve in his Eden. +More than all else the thought of her inspired him to the big effort +of his life. + +He was thinking of Kate Seton now as his gaze roamed at will over the +ravishing summer tints. He was thinking wholly of her when his mind +might well have been contemplating the terms of the despatches he had +just written, the orders he had sent to his troopers, even the events +and clues he had obtained on the previous night, pointing the work he +had in hand. + +A door opened and closed behind him. He was aware of it, but did not +turn. A voice addressed him. It was the cold voice of Sergeant McBain. + +"The men are saddled up, sir." + +Fyles glanced around without changing his position. + +"The despatches are on the table," he replied, with a sharp +inclination of the head in the direction. + +"Any other instructions, sir?" + +Fyles thought a moment. + +"Yes," he said at last. "When they return here it must be after dark. +The patrol and horses they bring with 'em are to be camped over at +Winter's Crossing, five miles higher up the valley. This before they +come in to report. That's all." + +"Very good, sir." + +Sergeant McBain departed, and presently the clatter of hoofs told the +officer that the two troopers had ridden away. As they went he drew +out a pipe and began to fill it. + +When McBain re-entered the room Fyles bestirred himself. He turned +back and flung himself into an uncomfortable, rawhide-seated, +home-made chair, and lit his pipe. McBain took up a position at the +small table which served the purpose of a desk. + +McBain and his men had taken up their quarters here several weeks ago. +It was a mere shed, possibly an implement shed on an abandoned farm. +It was a frame, weather-boarded shanty with a dilapidated shingle +roof. Quite a reasonable shelter till it chanced to rain. The +handiness of the troopers had made it comparatively habitable with +oddments of furnishing, and a partition, which left an inner room for +sleeping quarters. There was a partial wooden lining covering the +timbers supporting the roof, which was an open pitch, without any +ceiling. There were several wooden brackets projecting from the walls, +which had probably, at one time, been used to support harness. Now +they served the purpose of carrying police saddles and uniform +overcoats. + +There was obviously no attempt at establishing a permanent station +there. These men were, as was their custom, merely utilizing the +chance finding as an added comfort in their strenuous lives. + +Fyles lit his pipe, and, for some moments, smoked thoughtfully, while +McBain's pen scratched a series of entries in his diary. + +Fyles watched him through a cloud of smoke, and when his subordinate +returned his pen to the home-made rack on the table, he began to talk. + +"There's two things puzzling me about that tree, McBain," he said, +following out his train of thought. "Your reckoning has justification +all right. We saw enough last night for that. Besides, you have seen +the same sort of thing several times before. It surely has a big play +in the affairs of these 'runners.' But I can't get a focus of that +play. Suppose that the tree is in some mysterious way a sort of means +of communication, why is it necessary? And, why in thunder, when +everybody knows who the boss of the gang is, don't they deal direct +with him?" + +Fyles smiled into the grim face of McBain, and sat back waiting to +hear the Scot's reply. His keen face was alight with expectancy. He +wanted this shrewd man's ideas as well as his facts obtained by +observation. + +The sergeant's face was obstinately set. He had already asserted +certain convictions about the old pine, and now he detected skepticism +in his superior. + +"Three times in the last two weeks I have seen the same figure in the +shadow of that tree late at night. It hasn't needed any guessing to +locate his identity. Very well, starting with the supposition that the +village folk are right, and Charlie Bryant is our man, then his +movements about that tree at that hour of the night become more than +suspicious. Especially since we know he's run a big cargo in lately. +But while I figger on that tree there's something else, as I've told +you. I've tracked him into the neighborhood of the old Meeting House +and back again to the tree. Now, I've seen this play three times, and +would have seen the whole of it again last night if that damned coyote +of a tenderfoot hadn't butted in. That's that, sir." + +Fyles nodded. The older man's earnestness was not without its weight. +But to a man like Fyles, definite proof, or reasonable probabilities, +were necessary. Clearing his throat, McBain went on. + +"Let's come to another argument, sir," he said, setting himself with +his arms on the table. "Every man or woman in the place reckons this +tough, Charlie Bryant, runs the gang. They can lay their tongues to +the names of the men who form the gang. Guess this is the list, and a +certain one sure, knowing the men. There's Pete Clancy, Nick Devereux, +both hired men to Miss Seton. There's Kid Blaney, hired to Bryant +himself. There's Stormy Longton, the gambler and--murderer. Then +there's another I believe to be Macaddo, the train hold-up, and the +fellow they call "Holy" Dick. That's the gang with Bryant at their +head, but there may be more of them. I've got the names indirectly +from the village folk. But this is my point. Never a soul in the +village has seen them at work. Never a soul has seen them buy, or +sell, or handle, one drop of drink, except what they buy in the saloon +to consume. The gang don't do one single thing to give itself away, +and there's not a man or woman could give them away in the village, +except from their talk when they're drunk." + +The man was making his point, and Fyles remained interested. + +"Now, this is the argument, an' you'll admit, sir, experience carries +a lot of it out. Crooks are scared to death of each other, you know +that, sir, better than I do. It's the basis of their methods. They've +got to make safe. To do this they have to resort to schemes which hide +their identity. They'll trust each other engaged in the crime because +all are involved. But they daren't trust those who're under no +penalty. What do they do? They've got to blind the outside world, the +police, and they do it by making a mystery. Now, in this case, the +pine is the heart of their mystery. It must give the key to the cache. +It must lead us to getting the lot red-handed--running a cargo. That's +what I know and feel, and it's up to you, sir, to show us the way. +I've worked on the lines you gave me, sir, and I've done all a man can +do. I've had the whole village watched, and worked inquiry by a farmer +outlying the valley. But now we're plumb at a deadlock till they run +another cargo, which I'm calculating, at the rate liquor's consumed, +they'll soon have to do. Maybe that'll give us a week or so for fixing +our plans. I've watched each member of the gang, and we've got their +movements written down here, from the time we missed that cargo on the +trail. Maybe you'll read my notes on them." + +Fyles took the diary the man held out. + +"It's a tough proposition, McBain," he said with a sigh, which had no +weakening in it. "But I think we'll make good this time, if only we +can get the news of the shipment when it comes along well ahead. +Superintendent Jason is in communication with every local police force +east, and should get it all right. If we get that, the rest should be +easy. Rocky Springs only has three roads, and it's a small place. I've +got a pretty wide scheme ready for them when we get word. In the +meantime our present work must be to endeavor to locate their cache. +That discovered, and left alone, our work will be simple pie. I'll +read these notes now. Then I'm going into the village. Later on I've +a notion to see just how busy Master Bryant is on his--ranch." + + * * * * * + +Kate gave a final glance round at the walls of green logs, and noted +with appreciation the picturesque dovetailing of every angle. + +"Well," she declared, after a moment's thought, "all I can say is that +the design's working out in truly elegant fashion. Charlie's done his +work well--and so have the boys." She beamed pleasantly upon her +audience, two men balancing themselves upon the open floor joists of +the new church. "It's a real work of art. It's going to be swell, and +the folks should be just proud of it." + +Billy Unguin smiled confidently. + +"Oh, the folks'll be proud of it all right, all right," he said. +"They'll yap about this place, and how they built it, till you'll wish +it was swallowed up by that kingdom they guess they're going to get +boosted into by means of it. They'll have one hell of a burst at the +saloon when the work's done, and every feller'll be guessin' he could +have done the other feller's job better than he could have done it +himself, and the women folk'll just say what elegant critturs their +men are, till they get home sossled. Then they'll beat hell out of +'em. They'll sure be proud of it, but I don't guess the church'll be +proud of them. It'll have hard work helpin' most of 'em into the +kingdom. Ain't that so, Allan?" + +Billy asked for confirmation of his opinions merely as a matter of +form. But Allan Dy displayed little interest in them. He had some of +his own. + +"Guess so," he murmured indifferently. + +"Course it's so," said Billy sharply. + +"Dessay you're right," replied Dy, with still less interest. "But +I ain't got time thinking conundrums. I get too many, running the +mail. Still, I'd like to say right here this doggone church ain't +architecture. Maybe it's art, as Miss Kate says. But it ain't +architecture. That's what it ain't," he finished up, with decided +emphasis. + +Kate smiled upon him. She was interested in what lay behind the +remark. + +"How--how do you make that out, Allan?" she inquired. + +The postmaster felt sorry for her and showed it. + +"It's easy," he declared. Then he gathered his opinions in a bunch, +and metaphorically hurled them at her. "Where's the steel girders an' +stone masonry?" he demanded. "It's just wood--pine. Wher's the figures +an' measurements? Who knows the breakin' strain o' them green logs? +Maybe it's art, but it ain't architecture. I ain't so sure about the +art, neither. It's to be lined with red pine. Ther' ain't no art to +red pine. Now maple--bird's-eye maple, an' we got forests of it. +Ther's art in bird's-eye maple. It's mighty pleasing to the eye. It +'ud make the folks feel good. Red pine? Red?" He shook his head +ominously. "Not in this city. You see, red's a shoutin' color. Sets +folk gropin' fer trouble. But white's different. It--it sort o' sets +folks thinking o' them days when their little souls was white enough, +even if their bodies wasn't rid of a month's dirt. I tell you, Rocky +Springs 'ud get pious right away under the influence of bird's-eye +maple. Maybe they'd be fighting drunk later, but that don't cut no +ice. You see, it's sort o' natural to 'em. Still, the church would +have done 'em some good if only it kept 'em a few seconds from doing +somebody or something a personal injury." + +Billy was chafing at his friend's monopoly of the talk and promptly +seized the opportunity of belittling his opinions. + +"What's the use," he cried. "I'm with Miss Kate. Charlie's done right +in fixing on red pine lining. Art's art, an' if you're goin' to be +artistic, why, you just got to match things same as you'd match a team +of horses, same as a woman does her fixings. 'Tain't good to mix +anything. Not even drinks. Red pine goes with raw logs. Say, there's +art in everything. Beans goes with pork; cabbage with corned beef. But +you don't never eat ice cream with sowbelly. Everybody hates winter. +Why for do folks fix 'emselves like funeral mutes in winter? It's just +the artistic mind in 'em. They'd hate flying in the face of Providence +by cheerin' themselves up with a bit of color. Art is art, Dy, my boy; +maybe art ain't in your line, seein' you're a Government servant. +Ther' ain't nothin' but red pine for the inside of that church, or all +art's bust to hell. Start the folks in this city off on notions +inspired by anemic woodwork, an' the sight o' so much purity would set +'em off sniveling on their women-folk's bosoms, and give 'emselves +internal chills shoutin' fer ice water at O'Brien's bar. You'd set +the boys so all-fired good-natured they'd give 'emselves up fer the +crimes they never committed, or they'd be startin' up a weekly funeral +club so as to be sure of a Christian burial anyway. You'd upset the +harmony o' Rocky Springs something terrible. Bird's-eye +maple--nothin'. Ain't that so, Miss Kate?" + +Kate laughed outright. + +"I can't quite follow all the arguments," she said, cautiously. +"But--but--it sounds all right." + +"Sure," agreed Billy, complacently. + +But Dy was not yet defeated. + +"I'm arguin' architecture," he said doggedly. "Here," he indicated +the length of the main building, "I don't care a cuss about your art. +What about this? Where's the tree grown hereabouts tall enough to +give us a ridge pole for this roof? It means a join in the ridge +pole. That's what it means. And that ain't architecture, Master +Billy--smarty--Unguin." + +Kate ran her eye over the offending length. The man's point seemed +obvious. + +"It certainly looks like a join," she admitted unwillingly. + +For a moment Billy was disconcerted. But his inventive faculties +quickly supplied him with a way out. Anyway, he could break up the +other's argument. + +"Isn't nothin'!" he cried, with fine scorn. "That don't need to worry +you. Ain't we got the tallest pine in creation right here on the +spot?" + +The postmaster's eyes widened. Even Kate was startled at the +suggestion. + +"You'd cut down the old tree?" she inquired. + +"Wher's your sense?" demanded Dy roughly. "Cut down the old pine? +Who's goin to do it? Who's got the grit?" + +"It don't need grit to saw that tree--only a saw," smiled Billy, +provokingly. + +But Dy had no sense of humor at the moment. + +"Pshaw! What about the Indian cuss on it?" he demanded. "Ther' ain't +a boy in this valley 'ud drive a saw into that tree. You're talking +foolish." + +Billy grew very red. + +"Am I?" he cried, angrily. "Well, I ain't no sawyer, but I'll say +right here if the church needs that pine I'll fetch it down if it's +only to show you that Charlie Bryant's notions are better than yours. +I'll do it if the work kills me." + +"Which it surely will," said Dy significantly. + +But Kate had no liking for the turn the conversation had taken, and +attempted to divert it. + +"No, no," she cried, with a laugh that was a trifle forced. "That's +the worst of you men when you begin to argue. You generally get +spiteful. Just like women. Art or architecture, it doesn't matter a +bit. We're all proud of this lovely little church. But I must be off. +I've a committee meeting to attend. Then there's a church sewing bee. +See you again." + +She turned away and began to pick her way from joist to joist toward +the doorway in the wall. Her progress occupied all her attention and +careful balance. Thus she was left wholly unaware of the man who was +standing framed in the opening watching her. Her first realization +came with the sound of his voice. And so startling was its effect that +she lost her balance, and must have taken an undignified fall between +the joists, had not a pair of strong hands been thrust out to save +her. + +"I'm sorry, Miss Kate," cried Fyles earnestly, as, aided by his +supporting arms, she regained her balance. "I thought you knew I was +here--had seen me." + +Kate freed herself as quickly as she could. Her action was almost a +rebuff, and suggested small enough thanks. Probably none of the +villagers would have met with similar treatment. + +She felt angry. She did not know why, and her words of thanks had no +thanks in their tone. + +"Thank you," she said coldly. Then she looked up into the keen face +before her and beheld its easy confident smile. "It was real stupid +of me. But--you see, I didn't guess anybody was there." + +"No." + +Kate stepped down through the doorway, and stood beside the officer, +whose horse was grazing a few yards away upon a trifling patch of +weedy grass. Her annoyance was passing. + +"I'd heard you'd come into Rocky Springs," she said. "Everybody is--is +excited about it." + +Inspector Fyles was still smiling as he returned her glance. He was +thinking, at that moment, that the passing of time only added to Kate +Seton's attractiveness. His quick eyes took in the simplicity of her +costume, while he realized its comparative costliness for a village +like Rocky Springs. + +"I don't guess there's much to be excited about--yet," he said. "Maybe +that'll come later, for--some of them. I'm going to be around for +quite a while." + +Kate was looking ahead down the trail. She was half-heartedly seeking +an excuse for leaving him. Perhaps the man read something of her +thought, for he abruptly nodded in the direction of the village. + +"You're going on down?" he inquired casually. + +"Yes. I've a church committee to attend. I am rather late." + +"Then maybe I may walk with you?" + +The man's manner was perfectly deferential, and something about it +pleased his companion more than she would have admitted. Somehow she +resented him and liked him at the same time. She was half afraid of +him, too. But her fear was wholly sub-conscious, and would certainly +have been promptly denied had she been made aware of it. + +"Your horse?" she protested. "You--you are riding." + +But Fyles only shook his head. + +"We needn't bother about him," he declared easily. "You see, he'll +just walk right on." + +They moved on toward the mouth of the trail at the edge of the +clearing, and Kate, watching the horse, saw it suddenly throw up its +head and begin to follow in that indifferent manner so truly equine, +picking at the blades of grass as it came. + +"What a dear creature," she exclaimed impulsively. "Did--did you train +him that way?" + +Fyles smilingly shook his head. + +"Taught himself," he said. "Poor Peter's a first-class baby. He hates +to be left alone. Guess if I went on walking miles he'd never be more +than ten yards behind me." + +They walked on. Kate for the most part seemed interested only in the +horse following so close behind, while Fyles made small secret of his +interest in her. But for awhile talk seemed difficult. + +Finally it was Kate who was forced to take the initiative with this +big, loose-limbed man of the plains. She searched her brains for an +appropriate subject, and, finally, blundered into the very matter she +had intended to avoid. + +"I suppose there's going to be a very busy time about here, now you've +come around?" she said. "I suppose the lawlessness of this place will +receive a check that's liable to make some folks pretty +uncomfortable?" + +She smiled up at her companion with just a suspicion of irony in her +dark eyes, and the man who had to rely on his wits so much in his +life's work found it necessary to think hard before replying. + +The result of his thought was less than he could have hoped, for he +had already learned, with some misgiving, of her friendliness with +Charlie Bryant. However, the opportunity seemed a suitable one, so he +added a gravity of tone to his reply. + +"There are people in this valley to whom my presence will make no +difference. There are others--well, others whose company is worth +avoiding. Say, Miss Kate, maybe you haven't a notion of a policeman's +work--and penalties. Maybe you know nothing of the meaning of crime, +as we understand it. Maybe you think us just paid machines, without +feelings, without sentiment, cold, ruthless creatures who are here to +run down criminals, as the old-time Indians ran down the buffalo, in +a wanton love of destroying life. Believe me, it isn't so. We're +particularly humane, and would far rather see folks well within the +law and prospering, the same as we want to prosper ourselves. We don't +fancy the work of shutting up our fellow creatures from all enjoyment +of the life about us, or curtailing that life for them by so much as a +second. Still, if folks obstinately refuse to come within the law of +their own free will, then, for the sake of all other law-abiding folk, +they must be forced to do so, or be made to suffer. Yes, I am here to +do certain work, and what's more, I don't quit till it's done. It may +cost me nothing but a deal of work, and some regret, it may cost me my +life, it may cost other lives. But the work will go on till it is +finished, and though I may not see that finish, there will be others +to take my place. That is the work of the police in this country. It +has always been so, and, finally, we always achieve our purpose. In +the end a criminal hasn't a dog's chance of escape." + +The man's calmly spoken words were not without their effect. The irony +in Kate's glance had merged into a gravity of expression that was +not without admiration for the speaker. Furtively she took in the +clean-cut profile, the square jaw, the strongly marked brows of the +man under his prairie hat, then his powerful active frame. He was +strikingly powerful in his suggestion of manhood. + +"It seems all different when you put it that way," she said +thoughtfully. "Yes, I guess you're right, we folks sort of get other +ideas of the police. Maybe it's living among a people who are +notoriously--well, human. You don't hear nice things about the police +in this valley, and I s'pose one gets in the same way of thinking. +But----" + +Kate broke off, and her dark eyes gazed half wistfully out over the +valley. + +"But?" + +Fyles urged her. Nor did his manner suggest any of his official +capacity. He was interested. He simply wanted her to go on talking. +It was pleasant to listen to her rich thrilling voice, it was more +pleasant than he could have believed possible. + +Kate laughed quietly. + +"Maybe what I was going to say will--will hurt you," she said. "And I +don't want to hurt you." + +Fyles shook his head. + +"We police don't consider our official feelings. They, and any damage +done to them, are simply part of our work." + +They had reached the main village trail. The girl deliberately halted +and stood facing him. + +"I was thinking it a pity you came here in--time of peace," she said +quickly. "I was thinking how much better it would have been to wait +until a cargo of liquor was being run, and then get the culprits +red-handed. You see," she went on naively, "you've got time to look +around you now, and--and listen to the gossip of the village, and form +opinions which--which may put you on a false scent. Believe me," she +cried, with sudden warmth, "I'd be glad to see you measure your wits +against the real culprits. Maybe you'd be successful. Who can say? +Anyway, you'd get a sound idea of whom you were after, and would not +be chasing a phantom, as you are likely to be now, if you listen to +the talk of this place. Believe me, I hold no brief for wrongdoers. +They must take their chances. If they are discovered and captured they +must pay the penalty. But I know how deceptive appearances may be in +this valley, and--and it would break my heart if--a great wrong were +done, however inadvertently." + +The wide reaches of the valley were spread out before them. Kate was +gazing away out westward, where, high up on the hillside, Charlie +Bryant's house was perched like an eagle's eyrie. Even at that +distance two figures could be seen standing on the veranda, and +neither she nor Fyles, who was following the direction of her gaze, +needed a second thought as to their identity. + +"You're thinking of Charlie Bryant," the man said after a pause. +"You're warning me--off him." + +"Maybe I am." + +Kate's eyes challenged the officer fearlessly. + +"Why?" + +The man's searching eyes were not seeking those secrets which might +help his official capacity. Other feelings were stirring. + +"Why? Because Charlie is a weak, sick creature, deserving all the pity +and help the strong can give him. Because he is a gentle, ailing man +who has only contrived to earn the contempt of most, for his weakness, +and the blame of those who are strong enough to help. Because he is, +for all his weaknesses, an--honest man." + +Fyles gazed up at the house on the hillside again, and Kate's anxious +eyes watched him. + +"Is that all?" he inquired presently. Nor could there be any mistake +as to the thought behind the question. + +A dash of recklessness, that recklessness which her sister had +deplored the absence of, now drove Kate headlong. + +"No. It is not all," she cried. "For five years I have been striving +to help him to escape from the demon which possesses him. Oh, and I +know how hopeless it has all been. I love Charlie, Mr. Fyles. I love +him as though he were my brother, or even my own son. I would do +anything in the world to save him, and I tell you frankly, openly, if +the police seek to fix any crime this valley is accused of upon him, I +will strive, by every possible means, whether right or wrong, to +defeat their ends." + +The woman's face was aglow with reckless courage. Her eyes were +shining with an enthusiasm which the man before her delighted in. All +her defiance of him, of the law, only made her appeal the more surely. +But he was not thinking of her words. He was thinking of her beauty, +her courage, while he repeated her words mechanically. + +"Your brother--or even your own son?" + +"Yes, yes," Kate cried. Then she caught a sharp breath, and a deep +flush suffused her cheeks and brow. The significance of the man's +thoughtful words and tone had come home to her. She knew he was not +thinking of anything else she had said. Only of her regard for that +other man. + +She abruptly held out her hand and Stanley Fyles took it. Her good-bye +came with a curtness that might well have inspired consternation. But +the policeman replied to it without any such feeling, and passed on +with his faithful Peter trailing leisurely behind him. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +BILL MAKES THREE DISCOVERIES + + +It was Big Brother Bill's third morning in the valley of Leaping +Creek, and in that brief time his optimism and enthusiasm for the +affairs of life in general had suffered shocks from which, at the +moment, recovery seemed altogether doubtful. + +Like all simple natures, once mental disquiet set in it was not +easily shaken off. So, about nine o'clock in the morning, he found +himself sitting on the sill of the barn doorway, his broad back +propped against the casing, hugging his troubles to himself, and, +incidentally, smoking like a miniature smoke-stack. + +The place was quite still under the blazing morning sun; a +collar-chain rattled inside the barn where a few horses stood +impatiently swishing off the attacks of troublesome flies with their +long tails; a hen, somewhere nearby, clucked to her brood of wandering +chicks; an occasional grunt, and curious snuffing, came from the +regions of the dilapidated hog pen. These were the only signs of +life about the place. For Charlie, after displaying an unusual +taciturnity, had taken himself off for the day, upon work which he had +declared to be imperative, and Kid Blaney, after feeding and watering +his horses, had done the same thing, on a similar excuse. + +Now, Bill felt he must do one of those very big "thinks," which, on +occasion, he had been known to achieve. He felt that the time had come +when something must really be done to ease the pressure upon his +mental endurance. + +The previous night had furnished the climax, a painful climax, to all +he had learned of his brother's doings, of his brother's guilt. Yes, +he no longer shrank from using that hideous word. All suspected +Charlie, the police, everybody, except Kate Seton, and Charlie had +practically admitted his guilt to him personally, without any apparent +shame or regret. But since then, since Bill had listened to the loyal +defense of Kate, he had seen for himself the smugglers and their chief +at work upon their nefarious trade, and thus further proof was no +longer necessary. + +All mystery was banished. The whole thing, in spite of Kate's denial, +was as plain as daylight. Charlie was a whisky-runner. The head of +the gang. His little "one-eyed" ranch was the merest blind. His +prosperity, if prosperity he possessed at all, was the prosperity of +successful defiance of the law. To the simple brother this realization +was a terrible one. Charlie, the brother to whom he had always been so +devoted, was a crook, a mere common crook. + +His discovery of the previous evening had come as a far greater shock +than might have been expected, considering all Bill had heard and +witnessed of his brother's doings. But then it is the way of things to +make the witnessing of a disaster far more terrible than listening to +the story told in language however lurid. Last night he had watched +his brother supplying contraband liquor to the saloonkeeper. + +It had happened in this way. After his first experiences on the night +of his arrival he had been determined to avoid so unpleasant a +sequence of occurrences on the second. Charlie had ridden off directly +after supper, and Bill took the opportunity of paying an evening call +upon Kate and Helen Seton. The chance he had deemed too good to miss. +At least there was nothing of mystery and suspicion there, and he +desired more than anything to breathe a wholesome air of frank +honesty. These girls, particularly Helen, were the one bright spot in +this crime-shadowed valley. To his mind Helen was a perfect ray of +sunshine, which made the shadows in the place something more than +possible of endurance. + +His call was welcomed in a manner that was obvious, even to his +simple mind. And never in his life had he spent an evening of more +whole-hearted enjoyment than he did with Helen, while her less +volatile sister considerately kept herself more or less out of the +way. + +Had his evening ended there his peace of mind might have suffered no +further shock, but, as it was, the comparatively natural desire to +celebrate his successful evening with a drink at O'Brien's sent him +off in the direction of the village. + +Proceeding rapidly along the trail, full of happy thoughts of Helen, +with her ready wit and gaiety, he was dreaming pleasantly all those +delightful dreams, which every man at some time in his life, finds +running through his head. Then suddenly he was aroused to the scene +about him by the yellow light of a back window of O'Brien's saloon, +just ahead of him. + +He was approaching the saloon from the rear! How had this happened? +Then he discovered that, by some strange chance, he had left the main +trail, and was proceeding up a wagon track, which evidently led to the +barn behind the saloon. + +He turned off to seek a way round to the front of the building, and +soon became so involved that he finally drew up at a low wire fence, +enclosing the rear buildings, with the lamp-lit window still directly +ahead of him. He was about to step over the wire when a movement, and +the sound of hushed voices, caught and held his attention. + +He stood quite still. It was still fairly early, and the moon had not +yet risen. The outbuildings rose up in shadowy outline against the +starlit sky, and only the lamplight in the window made anything clear +at all. It was this window, and the shaft of light it threw across the +intervening space that held his attention, for it was somewhere in the +shadow, to the right of it, he heard the movement and the voices. + +The movement continued, and then, quite suddenly, a figure stepped +into the light. Bill drew back farther into the shadow. It was a +man's figure, tall and lean. He was carrying something on his +shoulder, which the watcher had no difficulty in recognizing as a +small barrel. Close behind him followed a second man. He, too, was +tall and spare, and he, too, was burdened with a keg upon his +shoulder. In a moment Bill knew he was witnessing a transaction in +contraband liquor between the whisky-runners and the saloonkeeper. + +His interest became absorbed. He had recognized neither of the men, +and a wild hope stirred within him that perhaps he was to gain +definite proof that Kate Seton's belief was right, and that Charlie +had nothing to do with these people. His excitement and hope became +intense. + +For the moment the men had vanished through the darkened doorway of +the barn. Their voices were still hoarsely whispering, and though he +could not catch a word of what was said, he felt that they were merely +discussing their work. He waited for them to reappear. It was his +anxious desire to finally assure himself that Charlie was not with +them. + +He had not long to wait. The voices drew nearer. First one man emerged +from the barn. It was one of the two he had seen go in. Then the other +followed. They crossed the light once more. He was absolutely certain +now, and a great thankfulness swept over him. + +But his relief was short-lived. A third man now appeared from the +barn. He was smaller, much smaller, and very slight. His face and hair +were undistinguishable beneath his prairie hat, but his dark jacket, +and loose riding breeches were plain enough to the onlooker. In a +moment Bill's heart sank. Even in that dim light he knew he was gazing +upon the figure he had seen the night before at the old pine. There +could be no mistake. Though he could not see the man's face, his +figure was sufficient. He felt convinced that it was his brother. Kate +was wrong, and everybody else was right. Charlie was indeed the +whisky-runner whom the police were after. + +Any purpose he had had before was promptly abandoned. He hurried away, +sick at heart, and hastily returned to the ranch to find +Charlie--still out. + +After what he had witnessed he had no desire to meet Charlie that +night, so he went straight to bed, but not to sleep. For a long time +he lay awake thinking, thinking of his discovery. Then at last, +thoroughly weary with thinking, he fell into a troubled sleep and +dreamed that Inspector Fyles and his men were pursuing him over a +plain, upon which there was no cover, and over which he made no +progress whatsoever. + +Now, as he sat at the door of the barn, brooding over all he had seen +and discovered, he felt that there were but two courses open to him. +He must either, in his own phraseology, "get out or go on." And by +that he meant he must either renounce all his affection for his erring +brother, and leave him to his fate, or, like Kate, he must stand by to +help him in the time of trouble, and do all in his power to save him +from himself. There was not much doubt as to which direction his +inclinations took, but he felt it was no time for permitting his +feelings to rule him. He must think a big "think," and adopt its +verdict. + +But the "think" would not come. Only would his inclinations obtrude. +There was nothing mean or petty in this big creature. He loved his +brother frankly and freely, and his absurd heart would not permit him +to thrust those feelings aside. + +Groping and struggling, and undecided, yet convinced, he finally rose +from his seat and stretched and shook himself like some great dog. +Then he looked about rather helplessly. At that moment his eyes came +to rest on the distant house of the Setons', and, as he beheld a woman +emerge from its door, a great inspiration came to him. + +In a moment his dilemma disentangled itself. He laughed in very +triumph as the idea swept through his brain. It permeated his whole +being with a sense of delight. He only wondered he had not thought of +it before. It was the very thing. How the devil had he managed to miss +it? Helen was as full of plain wisdom and sense, as her pretty gray +eyes were full of laughter. She was tremendously clever. She was +always reading books. Hadn't he picked them up? Why, of course. He +would go and catch her up, and--do a big powwow and "think" with her. + +His enthusiasm once more at high pressure, Big Brother Bill set off +hot foot to intercept the girl he had seen just leaving her home. She +would have to cross the bridge, that was certain--then----Ah, yes, +the church. The new church. She generally took that in on her way to +the village. She had told him that. Well, that was quite easy. He +would cut across to the old pine, he couldn't lose himself doing that, +then the trail would run right on down by the church. + +For once he made no mistake in taking a short cut. He reached the +old pine safely, and felt like congratulating himself. Then a +disconcerting thought occurred to him as he contemplated the trail +down which he must proceed. The girl had a long way to go, and he had +hurried desperately. She wouldn't be up at the church for some time +yet. He felt annoyed with himself for always doing things in such a +hurry. It was quite absurd. Now he would have either to remain where +he was, kicking his heels about, or go on down to the church, and make +it look as though he were purposely lying in wait for her. + +He felt that would be a mistake. She might resent it. She might regard +it as an impertinence. He couldn't afford to offend her, he was much +too anxious for her approval. He remembered her resentment at their +first meeting, and--laughed. But he told himself she was quite right. +She thought he had been spying on her. If he had been it would have +been a low-down trick. Anyway he would take no chance now. He would +wait right there, and---- + +A sudden commotion in the scrub beside him abruptly changed the trend +of his thought. He was startled. The commotion went on. Then with a +rush and whirr of wings, and a hoarse-throated squawk, a large bird +flew up, clutching the ruffled body of a lesser one in its fierce +claws, its great flapping wings brushing his sleeve as it swept on +past him. + +His wondering blue eyes followed the bird's flight until it passed +beyond the tree tops, and became hidden by the trunk of the old pine. +Then he looked down into the bush, searching for the nest of +fledglings he felt sure the hawk had robbed of a mother. + +He was absurdly grieved that his gun was still with his missing +baggage. It would have delighted him to have brought the lawless +pirate to book, and restored the mother to her panic stricken chicks. + +He peered into the bush searching for the nest, but the foliage was +dense, and though he groped the boughs aside he could discover no +signs of it. Still, the thought of those motherless chicks had stirred +him, and he persisted. + +Breaking his way in among the boughs he searched more carefully. +But at last, after wasting nearly a quarter of an hour upon his +tender-hearted sympathy, he finally decided that he must be wrong. +There was no nest of fledglings. He really felt quite disappointed. +Just as he was about to abandon his search something fluttered at the +very roots of the bush. It was of a grayish blue. With a lunge he made +a grab, caught it, and stood up. It was a ball of paper, loosely +crumpled. + +With an exclamation of disgust he made his way out of the bush and +found himself confronted by the laughing gray eyes of Helen Seton. + +"For goodness' sake, Mr. Bryant!" the girl exclaimed, "whatever are +you playing at? Is it Injuns, or--or are you busy on one of your short +cuts? I'm nearly scared to death. I surely am." + +Bill looked into that laughing face, and slowly one great hand went up +to his perspiring brow. It was the action of a man at a loss. + +"Guess you aren't half as scared as I am," he blurted out. "I've just +had the life scared right out of me. It was a pirate hawk. A big one +flapped up out of that bush, with a small bird in its claws. I--I was +looking for the little feller's fledglings, and the nest. Sort of +birds' nesting. You see, I guessed they'd need feeding--with their +mother gone." + +Helen looked into the eyes of this absurd creature, and--wondered. Was +there--was there ever a man quite so simple and--soft hearted? Her +eyes became very gentle. + +"And did you--find them?" she asked quietly. + +Bill shook his head, and looked ruefully down at the paper in his +hand. + +"Only this," he said, almost dejectedly. + +His air was too much for the girl's sense of humor. She laughed as she +shifted the folded easel, and japanned tin box she was carrying, from +one hand to the other. + +"Oh, dear, oh, dear," she cried, stifling her mirth. "And--and I do so +hate hawks. They're such villains, and--and the valley's full of them. +But there, the valley is full of everything bad--isn't it?" + +Bill was smoothing out the paper absent mindedly. Helen's reference +had reminded him of his purpose. Her presence somehow made it +difficult. + +But Helen went on without apparently noticing his awkwardness. + +"Tell me, Mr. Bryant, what was it brought you out this way, when you +ought to be worrying around getting wise to--to the ranching +business?" she demanded. + +Bill flung back his broad shoulders, and, with the movement, seemed to +fling off every care. He laughed cordially. + +"Say, you make me laugh," he cried. "Now if I was to tell you what +had brought me this way, you'd sure get mad." Then he discovered the +things she was carrying for the first time. "Say, can't I carry those +things?" he cried, reaching out and possessing himself of them without +ceremony. "Why, it's a paint box, and--and easel," he cried in +awe-struck tones. "I didn't guess you--painted." + +Helen was frankly delighted with him, but she promptly denied the +charge. + +"Paint? 'Daub,' you mean. Guess Charlie tried to knock painting into +my--my thick head. But he had to quit it after I reached the daubing +stage. I don't think he guesses I'll ever win prizes at it," she went +on, moving up toward the pine. "Still, I might sell some of my daubs +among the worst drinking cases in the village." + +But Bill felt the outrage of such possibilities. + +"I'll buy 'em all," he cried. "Just name your price, I'd--I'd like to +collect works of art," he added enthusiastically. + +Helen turned abruptly and glared. + +"How dare you laugh at me?" she cried, in mock anger. "I--I might have +paid you to take one away, but I just won't--now. So there. Works of +art! How dare you? And what are you hugging that old piece of paper to +death for? Give it to me. Perhaps it's somebody's love letter. Though +folks don't generally write love letters on blue paper. It suggests +something too legal." + +Bill yielded up the paper with a good-natured smile. + +"It's all mussed and dirty," he said, in a sort of apology. + +"That's up to me," cried Helen. "Anyway a woman's curiosity don't mind +dirt." + +She smoothed the paper carefully as she paused at the foot of the +pine. Bill looked around. + +"Is this where you paint?" he asked. + +Helen nodded. She was busy with the paper. Bill occupied himself by +thoroughly entangling the legs of the folded easel, in an endeavor to +set it up for her. He tried it every way without success, and finally +desisted with a regretful sigh. + +"Was there ever----?" he began. + +But Helen broke in with a sharp exclamation, which promptly drew him +to her side. + +"This--this isn't a love letter at all," she cried amazedly. +"It's--it's--listen! 'Please have ten gallons of Brandy and twenty +Rye laid in the manger in my barn. Money enclosed. O'B!'" + +Helen looked up at the man beside her. All her laughter had gone. +There was something like tragedy in her serious eyes. + +Bill was staring at the paper. + +"Why that's--that's an order for--liquor from O'Brien," he said, with +the air of having made a discovery. + +His brilliancy passed the girl by. She merely nodded. + +"How--how did it get there?" she ejaculated. + +"Why, some one must have thrown it there," Bill declared deliberately. + +Again the man's shrewdness lacked an appreciative audience. The girl +made no answer. She was thinking. She moved aside and leaned against +the rough trunk of the mighty pine. She was still staring at the +paper. + +But her movement caught the man's attention, and the sudden +realization of the proximity of the pine recalled many things to his +mind. The pine. That was where he had seen Charlie, his first night in +the valley. That was where the police were watching him. That was +where he vanished. It was at the pine that O'Brien had warned him +Charlie had gone to collect "greenbacks"--dollars. That was O'Brien's +order, money enclosed. Charlie had found the order and money. Then, +when he was interrupted by his, Bill's, shout he had thrown the order +away. + +The realization was like a douche of cold water, in spite of all he +had seen and knew. Then he did a thing he hardly understood the reason +of. It was the result of impulse--a sort of sub-conscious impulse. He +reached out and took the weather-stained paper from the girl's +yielding hands and deliberately tore it up. + +"Why--why are you doing that?" Helen asked sharply. + +Bill forced himself to a smile, and shrugged his shoulders. + +"I don't know," he said. Then, after a pause: "I guess that order has +been filled." A bitterness found expression in the quality of his +smile. "I saw the liquor delivered at O'Brien's last night. I saw the +'runners' at work. Charlie was with them. Say, where d'you paint from? +Right here?" + +Helen looked up into the man's face. The last vestige of levity had +passed from her. Her cheeks had paled, and she was striving +desperately to read behind the ill-fitting smile she beheld. Bill +knew. Bill knew all that everybody believed in the valley. He had +done what nobody else had done. He had seen Charlie at his work. A +desperate feeling of tragedy was tugging at her heart. This great big +soul had received the full force of the blow, and somehow she felt +that it had been a staggering blow. + +All her sympathy went out to him. Now she utterly ignored his +question. She sat down at the foot of the tree and signed to him. + +"Sit here," she said soberly. "Sit here, and--talk to me. You came out +here this morning because--because you wanted to find some one to talk +to. Well?" + +Bill obeyed her. There was no question in his mind. She had fathomed +his purpose, and he was glad. He replied to her challenge without +hesitation, and strove to speak lightly. But as he went on all +lightness passed out of his manner, and the girl was left with a full +view of those stirring feelings which he had not the wit nor +inclination to secrete for long. + +"Say," he began, "you asked what I was doing here, and guessed +right--first time. Only, maybe you didn't guess it was you I came out +to find. I saw you leave your house, and figured you'd make the new +church. I was going right on down to the new church. Yes, I wanted to +talk--to you. You see, I came here full of a--a sort of hope, and--and +in two days I find the arm of the law reaching out to grab up my +brother. I've given up everything to come and--join. Now I'm up +against it, and I can't just think right. I sort of need some one to +help me think--right. You see, I guessed you could do it." + +The man was sitting with his arms clasped about his knees. His big +blue eyes were staring out over the valley. But he saw nothing of it. + +Helen, watching him, remained quite unconscious of the tribute to +herself. She was touched. She was filled with a tender feeling she had +never known before. She found herself longing to reach out and take +hold of one of those big, strong hands, and clasp it tightly and +protectingly in her own. She longed to tell him that she understood +his grief, and was yearning to share it with him, that she might +lighten the burden which had fallen upon him. But she did neither of +these things. She just waited for him to continue. + +"You see," he went on, slowly, with almost painful deliberation, "I +kind of feel we can think two ways. One with our heads, and the other +with our hearts. That's how I seem to be thinking now. And between the +two I'm all mussed up." + +The girl nodded. + +"I--I think I know," she said quietly. + +The man's face lit for a moment. + +"I knew you would," he cried, in a burst of enthusiasm. Then the light +died out of his eyes again, and he shook his head. "But you can't," he +said hopelessly. "Nobody can, but--me. I love old Charlie." + +"What does your head say?" asked Helen abruptly. + +"My head?" The man released his knees and pushed back his hat, as +though for her to read for herself. "Guess my head says I best get +aboard a train quick, and get right back East where I came from, +and--stop there." + +"And leave Charlie to his--fate?" suggested the girl. + +The man nodded. + +"That's what my head says." + +"And your heart?" + +Helen's gray eyes were very tender as they looked into the troubled +face beside her. + +Bill's broad shoulders lifted, with the essence of nonchalance. + +"Oh, that says get right up, and shut off the life of every feller at +the main who tries to do Charlie any hurt." + +A sudden emotion stirred the girl at his side, and she turned her head +away lest he should see that which her eyes betrayed. + +"The head is the wisest," she said without conviction. + +But she was wholly unprepared for the explosion her words invoked. + +"Then the head can be--damned!" Bill cried fiercely. And in a moment +the shadows seemed to fall from about him. He suddenly sprang up and +stood towering before her. "I knew if I talked to you about things +you'd fix me right," he cried, with passionate enthusiasm. "I tell you +my head's just a fool thing that generally butts in all wrong. You've +just made me see right. You're that wise and clever. And--and when I +get fixed like I've been, I'll always need to come to you. Say, there +isn't another girl in all the world as bright as you. I'm going to +stop right here, and I'll smash every blamed policeman to a pulp if he +lays hands on Charlie. Charlie may be what he is. I don't care. If he +needs help I'm here to give it. I tell you if Charlie goes to the +penitentiary I go with him. If they hang him, they'll hang me, too. +That's how your sister feels. That's how I feel. That's how----" + +"I feel, too," put in Helen quickly. "Oh, you great Big Brother Bill," +she went on, in her sudden joy and enthusiasm. "You're the loyalest +and best thing I ever knew. And--and if you aren't careful I'll--I'll +give you one of my daubs after all. Come along. Let's go and look at +the new church. Let's go and see how all the pious, whited sepulchers +of this valley are getting on with their soul-saving business. I--I +couldn't paint a thing to-day." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +IN THE FAR REACHES + + +Charlie Bryant's horse was a good one, far better than a rancher of +his class might have been expected to ride. It was a big, compact +animal with the long sloping pasterns of a horse bred for speed. It +possessed those wonderful rounded ribs, which seemed to run right up +to quarters let down like those of a racehorse. It was a beautiful +creature, and as it chafed under the gentle, restraining hand of its +rider its full veins stood out like ropes, and its shoulders and +flanks were a-lather of sweat. + +They were traveling over a broken country a few miles up the valley. +There was no road of any sort, only cattle tracks, which, amid the +wild tangle of bush, made progress difficult and slow. + +The man's eyes were brooding, and his effeminate face was overcast as +he rode. The wild scene about him went for nothing, even to his artist +eyes. His thoughts were full to the brim with things that held them +concentrated to the exclusion of all else. And, for all he thought, +or saw, or felt, of his surroundings, he might have been footing the +superheated plains of a tropical desert. + +He was thinking of a woman. She was never really out of his thoughts, +and his heart was torn with the hopelessness of the passion consuming +him. No overshadowing threat could give him the least disquiet, no +physical fear ever seemed to touch him. But every thought of the one +woman whose image was forever before him could sear and lacerate his +heart almost beyond endurance. + +He had no blame for her at any time. He had no protest to offer that +her love, the love of a wife for a husband, was utterly beyond his +reach. How could it be otherwise? He knew himself so well for what he +was, he had so subtle an appreciation of all he must lack in the eyes +of a big spirited, human woman, that, to his troubled mind, the +situation as it was had almost become inevitable. + +Now as he rode, he thought, too, of his newly arrived brother, and the +hatefulness of personal comparison made him almost cringe beneath +their flagellations. Bill, so big of heart and body, so lacking in the +many abilities which go to make up the man in men's eyes, but which +count for so little in a woman's, so strong in the buoyancy and +fearlessness that was his. He felt he could almost hate him for these +things. Bill had not one ugly thought or feeling in the whole of his +nature. Temptation? He barely understood the word, because he was so +naturally wholesome. + +But more than these things it was the memory of that which, since his +earliest youth, had looked back at him out of the mirror, that robbed +Charlie Bryant of so much peace now. That, and the weakness which +seemed to fit the vision so well. Whereas Bill, this child of the same +parents, was all that might be, his own form and manner made him +shudder as he thought of them. Then there was that devil haunting him, +and from whom there seemed to be no escape. + +How could he ever hope that Kate Seton would do more than lend her +strong, pitying affection for his support? How could she ever look to +him for support and guidance? His sense of proportion was far too +acute to permit so grievous an error. + +In some perverse way his mentality was abnormally acute. He saw +with eyes which were inspired by a brain capable of vast achievement, +but which possessed none of that equipoise so necessary for a +well-balanced manhood. And it told him all that, and forced conviction +upon him. It told him so much of that which no man should believe +until it be thrust upon him overwhelmingly by the bitter experiences +of life. His whole brain was permeated by a pessimism forced upon him +by a morbid introspection, resulting from an undue appreciation of his +own physical and moral shortcomings. + +Yet with it all he bore no resentment except against the perversity of +such a lot as his. And in this lay the germ of a self-pity, which is a +specter to be dreaded more than anything else in life. While deploring +the conditions under which he must live, robbed, as he believed he was +robbed, of the possibility of winning for himself all those things +which belong to the manhood really existing beneath his exterior of +denial, he yet felt he would rather have his bread divided than be +denied that trifling food which made it possible for him to go on +living. + +Kate's tender pity, Kate's warmth of affection, an affection she might +even bestow upon some pet animal, was preferable to that she should +shut him entirely out of her life. It left him free to drink in the +dregs of happiness, although the nectar itself was denied him. + +He could accept such conditions. Yes, he could almost be satisfied +with them, since he believed no others to be forthcoming. But, and a +dark fury of jealousy flooded his heart as he thought, he could not +witness another drinking the nectar while he was condemned to the +dregs. He felt that that way lay madness. That way was more than could +be endured. He could endure all else, whatever life had in store for +him, but the thought that he must stand by while Kate be given to +another was more than his fate, for all its perversity, could expect +of him. + +From his veranda that morning, as on the morning before, Charlie had +seen Kate and Stanley Fyles walking together. More than that he had +heard from Kate herself of her admiration of the police officer. And, +in these things, so trifling perhaps, so commonplace, he had read the +forecast of a mind naturally dreading, and eaten up by suspicion. He +would have been ready to suspect his own brother, had not a merciful +providence made it plain to him that Bill possessed interest solely in +the laughing gray eyes of Kate's sister. + +Now, as he rode along, he saw dull visions of a future in which Kate +no longer played a part. A demon of jealousy was driving him. He +longed impotently for the power to rob the man of the possibility of +winning that which was dearest to him. In the momentary madness which +his jealousy invoked he felt that the death of this man, his life +crushed out between his own lean hands, would be something approaching +a joy worth living for. + +But such murderous thoughts were merely passing. They fled again +before the pessimism so long his habit. It would not help him one +iota. It would rob Kate of a happiness which he felt was her due, +which he desired for her; it would rob him of the last vestige of even +her pitying regard. + +Then he laughed to himself, a laugh full of a hatefulness that somehow +did not seem to fit him. It was inspired by the thought of how easy it +would be to shoot the heart out of the man he deemed his rival. Others +had done such things, he told himself. Then, with a world of +bitterness, he added, far better men than himself. + +But he knew that no such intention was really his. He knew that +beneath all his bitterness of feeling, and before all things, he +desired Kate's happiness and security. A strange magnanimity, in a +nature so morally weak, so lacking in all that the world regards as +the signs of true manhood, was his. Even his life, he felt, would be +small enough price to pay for the happiness and security of the only +woman who had ever held out the strong arm of support and affection +for him to lean upon, the only woman he had ever truly loved. + +So a nightmare of thought teemed through his brain as he rode. Now he +would fall into a sweat of panic as fantastic specters of hideous +possibilities arose and confronted him, now only a world of grief +would overwhelm him. Again a passion of jealousy would drive him to +the verge of madness, only to be followed swiftly by that lurking +self-pity which robbed him of the wholesome human instincts inspired +by the spirit of battle in affairs of life. Then would come that +overwhelming depression, bred of the long sapping of his moral +strength, while through it all, a natural gentleness strove to soar +above the ashes of baser fires. + +It was with a sigh of relief, as his horse finally cleared a close +growing bush, he emerged upon a small clearing. In the midst of this +stood a corral. But, for the moment, he passed this by, and rode +toward a log hut of ancient construction and design. + +He drew the restive creature up and dismounted. Then he flung the +reins over one of the posts of the old corral. The place was beyond +the boundary of his homestead and belonged to a time when the valley +knew few inhabitants beyond half-breeds and Indians. He had discovered +it, and had turned it into the service of a storage for those things +which were required only rarely upon his ranch, and at the more remote +parts of it. + +Inside the corral stood a wagon. It was an ordinary box wagon, but +nearby stood a hay-rack, which signified its uses. Then there was a +mower, and horse rake. There were other odds and ends, too, but it +appeared obvious that haying operations were carried on in this +direction, and this old corral so found its uses. + +After glancing casually in the direction of these things Charlie +passed round to the door of the hut. And herein his purpose became +more obscure. + +The place was heavily thatched and suggested long disuse. Its air was +less of dilapidation than desertion, and lichen and fungus played a +large part in such an aspect. The walls were low, and the heavy roof +was flat and sloping. As the man drew near a flight of birds streamed +from its eaves, screaming their resentment at such intrusion. + +Charlie appeared not to notice them, so intent was he upon his +purpose. He walked hurriedly, and finally paused at the doorway. For a +moment he almost seemed in doubt. Then, with a thrust, he pushed the +door, the hinges of which creaked protestingly as it opened inwards. + +Another fluttering of wings, another chorus of harsh screams, and a +further flight of birds poured from within and rushed headlong into +the brilliant sunshine. + +The place was certainly very old. A dreadful mustiness pervaded the +atmosphere. The dirt, too, the heavy deposit of guano upon the floor, +made it almost revolting. There was no furniture of any sort, while +yet it conveyed the suggestion that, at some remote period, it had +been the habitation of man. + +A rough boarding lined the walls of logs very nearly up to the sloping +roof. Rusty nails protruded here and there, suggesting hangers for +utensils. A circular aperture in the roof denoted the presence, at one +time, of a stove, possibly a cooking stove. And these things might +well have raised in the mind a picture of a lean, black-haired, +cadaverous man of low type, living a secret life amid the wilderness +of this valley, with crime, crime against the laws of both God and Man +as his object. Just such a man as is the notorious half-breed cattle +thief. + +Stepping over to the far end of the room, where the light shone down +through the stovepipe hole in the roof, Charlie halted before the +rough boarding at the angle of the wall. Then he reached out and +caught the upper edge of the wooden lining, which, here, was much +lower than at any other point, and exerted some strength. Four of the +upright plankings slid upward together in a sort of rough panel, and +revealed a shallow cupboard hewn out of the old logs behind them. + +Within this opening a number of garments were hanging. There were +several pairs of riding breeches, and an odd coat or two, besides +other articles of man's outer attire. Added to these were two +ammunition belts with holsters and revolvers. + +Charlie stood gazing at the contents of the cupboard for some moments. +Then he examined them, pulling each article aside as though to assure +himself that nothing was missing. Each revolver, too, he withdrew from +its holster and examined closely. The chambers were fully loaded. And +having satisfied himself of these things he slid the boards back +into their place. As they dropped back his expression was one of +appreciation. No one could possibly have guessed, even from a narrow +examination, what lay behind those rough, time-worn boards. Their fit +was in perfect keeping with the rest of the wall lining. + +He stood back and gave a final glance about him. Then he turned toward +the door. + +As he did so the sound of a soft whinny reached him. It came from his +horse outside. A quick, startled light leaped into his dark eyes, and +the next moment his movements became almost electrical. He reached the +door on the run and looked out. His horse was standing with head held +high and ears pricked. The creature was gazing fixedly in the +direction from which it had approached the clearing. + +Charlie needed nothing more. Something was approaching. Probably +another horse. If so there was equally the probability of a rider upon +its back. + +He closed the door quickly and carefully behind him, and hurried +toward the corral. He threw down the poles that barred it, and made +his way to the side of the wagon. Then his movements became more +leisurely. + +Opening the wagon box he drew out a jack and a tin of grease. Then, +still with an easy, leisurely air he jacked up one wheel and removed +an axle cap. + +He was intent upon his work now--curiously intent. He removed the +wheel and smeared the inside of the hub with the filthy looking +grease. His horse beyond the fence gave another whinny, which ended in +a welcoming neigh. The man did not even look up. He replaced the wheel +and spun it round. Then he examined the felloes which had shrunk in +the summer heat. An answering neigh, and a final equine duet still +failed to draw his attention. Nor, until a voice beyond the fence +greeted him, did he look up. + +"Getting ready for a journey?" said the voice casually. + +Charlie looked round into the keen face of Stanley Fyles. He smiled +pleasantly. + +"Not exactly a journey," he said. Then he glanced quickly at the +hay-rack standing on its side. "Say, doing anything?" he cried, and +his smile was not without derision. + +"Nothing particular," replied the police officer, "unless you reckon +getting familiar with the geography of the valley particular." + +Charlie nodded. + +"I'd say that's particular for--a police officer." His rich voice was +at curious variance with his appearance. It was not unlike a terrier +with the bay of a bloodhound. + +The phenomenon was not lost upon Fyles. He was studying this meager +specimen of a prairie "crook." He had never before met one quite like +him. He felt that here was a case of brain rather than physical +outlawry. It might be harder to deal with than the savage, illiterate +toughs he was used to. + +"Yes," returned Fyles, "we need to learn things." + +"Sure." + +Charlie pointed at the hay-rack. + +"Guess you don't feel like giving us a hand tipping that on to the +wagon? I'm going haying to-morrow." + +"Sure," cried Fyles, with an easy smile, as he leaped out of the +saddle. He passed into the old corral and his quick eyes took in +every detail at a glance. They came to rest on the slight figure of +the man and noted his costume. Charlie Bryant was clad in loose riding +breeches, but was coatless. Nor did he display any firearms. "Two-man +job, isn't it?" he said lightly. "And you guessed to do it--single?" + +Charlie's smile was blandly disarming. + +"No. I hadn't thought to get it on to-day. The Kid'll be with me +to-morrow, or maybe my brother, Bill." + +"Ah. Brother Bill could about eat that rack on his own," Fyles +declared, as the two men set about the task. + +It was a far lighter affair than it looked, and, in less than five +minutes was resting perfectly balanced in its place on the wagon. +Fyles looked on while Charlie went round and bolted the rack securely +in its place. + +"Your wagon?" the officer observed casually, while his sharp eyes took +in its last details. + +Charlie nodded. + +"Yes. Folks borrow it some. You see, I don't need it a heap, except at +hay time." + +"No, I don't guess you need it a heap. Say, this is a queer place +tucked away up here. Old cattle station, I guess." + +Fyles's remarks had no question in them. But he intended them to +elicit a response. Charlie appeared to have nothing to conceal. + +"Well, of a sort, I'd say," he replied. "You see, this was King +Fisher's corral. There's others around the valley, though I don't know +just where. King Fisher reigned nearly twenty years ago. He lived in +the building the folks in Rocky Springs use as a Meeting House. He was +pretty tough. One of the worst badmen ever hit this part. Had a +signboard set up on the trail down from the prairie. He wrote it. +'This is King Fisher's trail, take any other old trail.' I believe +most folks used to take 'any other old trail.' There was one feller +didn't though. And that was the end of King Fisher's reign. These +secret corrals have always been used by toughs." + +Fyles was smiling. + +"Yes." + +Charlie laughed and pointed at the hut beyond the corral. + +"I'd awfully like to know some of the games that went on in there. +Birds and things nest in its roof now. I guess they didn't come within +a mile of it one time. They say King Fisher was mad--blood mad. If +that's so, I daresay this place could tell a few yarns." + +Again came Fyles's monosyllabic agreement. + +Charlie turned to his wagon and went on with his greasing. And while +he worked and listened to the other's talk, the memory of having seen +him with Kate gathered stormily in his mind. But he still smiled when +he looked up. He still replied in the light-hearted fashion in which +he had accepted the police officer's coming. He was perfectly aware of +the reason of the man's presence there. And, equally, he was +indifferent to it. + +"Where are you haying now?" Fyles inquired presently. + +Charlie answered without turning from his work. + +"Half a mile down stream. Guess we all hay that way. There's no other +sloughs handy on the west side of the village." + +"That's why the wagon's kept here?" + +"Sure. Saves the horses. They'll come out here to-morrow, and stop +right here till we quit." + +Charlie spun the last wheel round after replacing the cap. + +"Where are you stopping with your men?" he demanded abruptly, as he +let the jack down. + +"Just around," said Fyles evasively. + +"I see. On the prowl." Charlie smiled up into the man's shrewd, +good-looking face. "You need to do some prowling around this valley if +you're going to clean things up. Yes, and I'd say you need a mighty +big broom." + +"We've got the broom, and I guess we'll do the work," replied Fyles +nodding. "We generally do--in the end." + +Charlie's eyes had become thoughtful. + +"Yes," he agreed. "I s'pose you do. Guess I'll have to be moving." + +He returned the grease and jack to the wagon box, and moved toward the +gate of the corral. + +"Coming my way?" he asked casually. + +"Not just now. I'm looking around--some." + +Charlie laughed. + +"Ah. I'd forgotten that broom." + +"Most folks do," replied Fyles, "--until they fall over it." + +Charlie had reached his horse's side. He unhooked the reins from the +fence, and flung them over its head. Then, with an agility quite +remarkable, he vaulted into the saddle. + +"Well, I hope that broom won't come my way," he laughed. "I'd hate +falling around." + +"I hope it won't," said Fyles, in the same light manner, as he +followed out of the corral. "That's a dandy plug of yours," he said +with admiration, as his appreciative eyes noted the chestnut's points. + +"He surely is," returned Charlie. "He can go some, too. I'll give you +a run one day--if you fancy yours." + +Fyles was hooking his reins over the post Charlie had vacated. + +"Mine?" he said. "Peter's the quickest thing west of Winnipeg. He'll +sure give you a run when--the time comes." + +Charlie laughed. The drift of the talk, its hidden meaning, amused +him. + +"We'll have to make a time, eh?" + +"Sure," said Fyles, looking him squarely in the eyes. + +Charlie moved his horse away. + +"Well, so long, for the present. Guess I'll remember that challenge. +Thanks for helping me with the rack. You're stopping?" + +Fyles nodded. + +"Yes--for awhile." + +Charlie rode away with the air of a man with not a care in the world. +But he was thinking swiftly, and his thoughts were of that hidden +cupboard, and what it contained. Hope and fear struggled for paramount +place in his heart. Was the secret of that hiding place sufficiently +simple to defy Stanley Fyles, or was it not? Was he the man he +was reputed to be, or was he merely a clever man backed by a big +authority? In the end he abandoned the troublesome point. Time alone +would give him his answer. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +WORD FROM HEADQUARTERS + + +Two horses ambled complacently, side by side, down the village trail. +Each was ridden by the man it knew best, and was most willing to +serve. Peter's affection for Stanley Fyles was probably little less +than his master's affection for him. The same thing applied to +Sergeant McBain, whose hard face suggested little enough of the +tenderer emotions. But both men belonged to the prairie, and the long +prairie trail inspires a wonderful sympathy between man and beast. + +The men were talking earnestly in low voices, but their outward +seeming had no suggestion of anything beyond ordinary interest. + +"He's surely leaving a trail all over the valley," said Sergeant +McBain, after listening to his superior's talk for some moments. "It's +a clear trail, too--but it don't ever seem to lead anywhere--definite. +You've made nothing of that corral place, sir?" + +Fyles's eyes roamed over the scene about him in the quick, uneasy +fashion of a groping mind. + +"I don't know yet," he said slowly, "I've got to windward of that +haying business. The fellow's haying all right. He's got a permit for +cutting, and he generally puts up fifty tons. Maybe he keeps that +wagon out there all the time for convenience. I can't say. But even if +he doesn't I can't see where it points." + +"We can watch the place," said McBain quickly. + +"That's better than speculation, but--it's clumsy." + +"How, sir?" + +"Why, man alive," replied Fyles sharply. "Do you think we're going to +fool a crook like him by just watching? Besides----" + +"Yes, sir?" + +Fyles had broken off. A woman was moving down the trail ahead of them. +She was a good distance away, but he had recognized the easy gait and +trim figure of Kate Seton. After a moment's pause he withdrew his gaze +and went on. + +"I've got all I need out of that place--for the present. You've seen +the wagon and--recognized it. It's the wagon they ran that last cargo +in. The man who drove it was Pete Clancy. Clancy is one of Charlie +Bryant's gang. I don't think we need any more--yet. We've centralized +the running of that last cargo. The rest of the work is for the +future. My plans are all ready. The patrol comes in from Amberley +to-night. It will be ample reinforcement. We're just one move ahead of +these boys, here, and we've got to keep that way. You can get right +back to quarters, and wait for my return. I'm going in to the mail +office to run my eye over local mail. The envelopes of a local mail +make good reading--when a man's used to it." + +McBain grinned in a manner that seemed to give his hard face pain. + +"You get more out of the ad-dress on an envelope than any one I ever +see, sir," he observed shrewdly. + +Fyles shrugged, not ill pleased at the compliment. + +"It's practice, and--imagination. Those things, and--a good memory for +handwriting, also postmarks. Say, who's that coming down the southern +trail? Looks like----" + +He broke off, shading his eyes from the burning sunlight of the +valley. + +McBain needed no such protection. His mahogany face screwed itself up +until his eyes were mere slits. + +"It ain't part of the patrol?" he said questioningly. "Yet it's one of +our fellers. Maybe it's a--despatch." + +Fyles's brows drew sharply together in a frown of annoyance. + +"If the chief's sent me the word I'm waiting for that way he's--a damn +fool. I asked him for cipher mail." + +"Mr. Jason don't ever reckon on what those who do the work want. If +that feller's riding despatch, the whole valley will know it." + +McBain's disgust was no less than that of Fyles. His hard face was +coldly set, and the despatch rider, if he were one, seemed likely to +get a rough reception. + +"He'll make for the mail office," said Fyles shortly. "We'll go and +meet him." + +He lifted Peter's reins, and the horse responded at a jump. In a +moment the two men were galloping down to Dy's office. Fyles was the +first out of the saddle, and the two stood waiting in silence for the +arrival of the horseman. + +There was not much doubt as to the publicity of the man's arrival. +As if by magic a number of men, and as many women, appeared in the +vicinity of the saloon, farther down the trail. They, too, had seen +the newcomer, and they, too, were consumed with interest, though it +was based on quite a different point of view from that of Stanley +Fyles and Sergeant McBain. + +To them a despatch rider meant important news, and probable action on +the part of the authorities. Important action meant, to their minds, +something detrimental to the shady side of their village life. Every +man was searching his brain for an explanation, a reason for the man's +coming, and every woman, sparing herself mental effort, was asking +pointed questions of those who should think for her. + +The man rode into the village at full gallop, and, seeing the two +police horses outside the mail office, came straight on toward them. + +He flung out of the saddle and saluted the inspector. Then he began +fumbling in an inner pocket. Fyles understood his intention and +sharply warned him. + +"Not here. Now, in one word. Is it news from down East?" + +The man nodded. + +"Yes, sir. I believe so." + +"You believe so?" + +"Yes, sir. Mr. Jason told me I'd to make here to-day--mid-day. Said +you were waiting for this letter to act. He also said I was to avoid +speaking to any one in the place till I'd delivered the despatch into +your hands. He also said I was to remain here under your orders." + +"Damnation! And we've had letters through the mail every day." + +"Beg pardon, sir----" + +McBain made a sign for silence, and the man broke off. But Fyles bade +him go on. + +"Mr. Jason warned me to be very careful, as it was a despatch he could +not trust to the mail." + +Fyles gave a short laugh. + +"That'll do. Now, get mounted, and ride back the way you came into the +valley. When you get out of it keep along the edge of it westwards. +You'll come to our camp five miles out. It's in a bluff. It's a shack +on an abandoned farm. I can't direct you better, except it's just +under the shoulder in the valley, and is approached by a cattle track. +You'll have to ride around till you locate it. McBain will be coming +back soon. Maybe he'll pick you up. Avoid questions, and still +more--answers. Keep the letter till McBain gets in." + +"Very good, sir." + +The man remounted and rode away. His coming had been so sudden, his +stay so brief, and his departure so rapid, that Fyles had achieved +something of his purpose in repairing any damage Superintendent Jason +had done to his plans in acting contrary to his subordinate's wishes. + +The sharp-eyed villagers had witnessed the interview with suspicions +lulled. There had been no despatch delivered, and the man was off +again the way he had come. Surely nothing very significant had taken +place. Possibly, after all, the man was merely a patrol from some +outlying station. + +Fyles turned to his lieutenant. + +"We're going to get busy," he said, with a shadowy smile. + +The older man could not conceal his appreciation. + +"Looks that way, sir." + +"I'll look over the mail myself," Fyles went on. "You best get back to +camp, and see to that letter. Guess you'll wait for me to take action. +You can get out across the valley south. Ride on west and ford the +river up at the crossing--Winter's Crossing. See if the patrol's in. +Then make camp--and keep an eye skinned for that boy. I'll get along +later." + +The sergeant saluted and sprang into the saddle. Fyles passed into the +mail office as the man rode off. + +Allan Dy was used to these visits of the inspector. There were very +few country postmasters who were not used to such visits. It was a +process of espionage which was never acknowledged, yet one that was +carried on extensively in suspected districts. There was never any +verbal demand, or acquiescence, in the manner in which it was carried +out. When the police officer appeared the day's mail was usually in +the process of being sorted, and was generally to be found spread out +lying in full view of the searching eyes. + +Fyles walked in. Passed the time of day. Collected his own mail and +that of the men under him. Chatted pleasantly with the subservient +official, and started to pass out again. In those brief moments he had +seen all he wanted to see, which on this occasion was little enough. + +There were only four letters from the East, The rest were all of local +origin. One of the eastern letters was for O'Brien, and it carried an +insurance firm's superscription. There were two letters for Kate +Seton, both from New York, and both carrying the firm styles of +well-known retail traders in women's clothing. The fourth was +addressed to Charlie Bryant, and bore no trader's imprint. + +As he neared the door of the little office he had to stand aside as +Kate Seton made her way in. + +Fyles felt that his luck was certainly in. The news he had awaited +with so much impatience had been received at last, and now--well, his +quick appreciative eyes took in the delightfully fresh, wholesome +appearance of this woman, who had made such inroads upon his usually +unemotional heart. There was not a detail escaped him. The rounded +figure suggesting virility and physical well-being. Her delightful, +purposeful face full of a wide intelligence and strength. Those +wonderful dark eyes of such passionate, tender depth, which yet held +possibilities for every emotion which finds its place in the depth of +a strong heart. + +She was clad, too, so differently from the general run of the +villagers. Like her sister, though in a lesser degree, she breathed +the air of a city--a city far from these western regions, a city where +refinement and culture inspires a careful regard for outward +appearance. + +She smiled upon him as he stood aside. Somehow the shyness which her +sister had accused her of seemed to have gone. Her whole atmosphere +was that of a cordial welcome. + +"You're early down for your mail, Mr. Fyles," she said, after greeting +him. "I'm generally right on the spot before Allan Dy is through. +Still, I dare say your mail is more important, and stands for no +delay." + +"It's the red tape of our business, Miss Seton," Fyles replied, with a +light shrug. "We're always getting orders that should rightly be +executed before they can possibly reach us. It's up to us to get them +the moment they arrive." + +Kate's smile was good to see. There was just that dash of ironical +challenge in her eyes which Fyles was beginning to associate with her. + +"Still working out impossible problems which don't really--exist?" + +The man returned her smile. + +"Still working out problems," he said. Then he added slyly, "Problems +which must be solved, in spite of assurances of their non-existence." + +"You mean--what I said to you the other day?" + +Fyles nodded. + +Kate's eyes sobered, and the change in their expression came near to +melting the officer's heart. + +"I'm sorry," she said simply. Then she sighed. "But I s'pose you must +see things your own way." She glanced at the mail counter. "You had a +despatch rider in this morning. I saw him coming down the trail. +Everybody saw him." + +Just for a moment Fyles's strong brows drew together. He was reluctant +to deliberately lie to this woman. He felt that to do so was not +worthy. He felt that a lie to her was a thing to be despised. + +"We had a patrol in," he said guardedly. + +Kate smiled. + +"A patrol from--Amberley?" + +Again was that ironical challenge in Kate's eyes. Fyles's responsive +smile was that of the fencer. + +"You are too well informed." + +But the woman shook her head. + +"Not so well informed as I could wish," she said. Then she laughed as +her merry sister might have laughed, and the policeman wanted to join +in it by reason of its very infection. "There's a whole heap of things +I'd like to know. I'd like to know why a government of the people +makes a law nobody wants, and spends the public's money in enforcing +it. Also I'd like to know why they take a vicious delight in striving +to make criminals of honest enough people in the process. Also I'd +like to know how your people intend to trip up certain people for a +crime which they have never committed, and don't intend to commit, +and, anyway, before they can be punished must be caught red-handed. +You've got your problems sure enough, and--and these are some of the +simplest of mine. Oh, dear--it almost makes my head whirl when I think +of them. But I must do so, because," her smile died out, and the man +watched the sudden determined setting of her lips, "I'm against you as +long as you are--against him. Good-bye. I must get my mail." + + * * * * * + +It was a long circuitous route which took Stanley Fyles back to his +camp. But it seemed short enough on the back of the faithful, +fleet-footed Peter. Then, too, the man's thoughts were more than +merely pleasant. Satisfaction that his news was awaiting him at the +camp left him free to indulge in the happy memory of his brief passage +of arms with Kate Seton. + +What a staunch creature she was! He wondered if the day would ever +come when she would exercise the same loyalty and staunchness on his +behalf. To him it seemed an extraordinary, womanish perversity that +made her cling to a poor creature so obviously a wrongdoer. Was she +truly blind to his doings, or was she merely blinding herself to them? +She was not in love with Charlie Bryant, he felt sure. Her avowal of +regard had been too open and sincere to have been of any other nature +than the one she had claimed for it. Yes, he could understand that +attitude in her. Anything he had ever seen of her pointed the big +woman nature in her. She felt herself strong, and, like other strong +people, it was a passion with her to help the weak and erring. + +Fyles's knowledge of women was slight enough, but he had that keen +observation which told him many things instinctively. And all the best +and truest that was in him had been turned upon this woman from the +very first time he had seen her. + +He told himself warmly, now, that she was the most lovable creature on +earth, and nothing but marriage with her could ever bring him the +necessary peace of mind that would permit him to continue his work +with that zeal and hope of achievement with which he had set about a +career. + +He saw so many things now, through the eyes of a great passion, that +seemed utterly different, rendered transcendentally attractive through +the glamor of a strong, deep love. They were things which, before, had +always been viewed dispassionately, almost coldly, yet not without +satisfaction. They had always been part of his scheme, but had no +greater attraction than the mere fact that they were integral parts of +one great whole. Now they became oases, restful shades in the sunlight +of his effort. + +He had always contemplated marriage as an ultimately necessary adjunct +to the main purpose. No man, he felt, could succeed adequately, after +a certain measure had been achieved, without a woman at his side, a +woman's influence to keep the social side of a career in balance with +the side which depended upon his direct effort. Now he saw there was +more in it than that. Something more human. Something which made +success a thousand times more pleasing to contemplate. He felt that +with Kate at his side giant's work would become all too easy. Her +ravishing smile of encouragement would be a gentle spur to the most +jaded energies. The delight of bearing her upon his broad shoulders in +his upward career, would be bliss beyond words, and, in the interim of +his great efforts, the care and happiness of her loyally courageous +heart would be a delight almost too good to be true. + +His keen mind and straining energies were bathed in the wonderful +fount of love. He was looking for the first time into the magic mirror +which every human creature must, at some time, gaze into. He was +discovering all those pictures which had been discovered countless +millions of times before, and which other coming countless millions +had yet to discover for themselves. + +So he rode on dreaming to the rhythmic beat of Peter's willing hoofs. +So he came at last to the distant camp of his subordinate comrades. + +He was greeted by the harsh voice and hard, weather-stained features +of McBain wreathed in a smile which was a mere distortion, yet which +augured well. + +"I haven't opened the letters, sir," he said, "but I've questioned +Jones close. I guess it's right, all right." + +Fyles was once more the man of business. He nodded as he flung off his +horse and handed it over to a waiting trooper. + +"Where's the despatch?" he demanded sharply. + +McBain produced a long, official envelope. The other tore it open +hastily. He ran his eyes over its contents, and passed it back to the +sergeant. + +"Good," he exclaimed. "There's a cargo left Fort Allerton, on the +American side, bound for Rocky Springs by trail. It's a big cargo of +rye whisky. We'll have to get busy." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +MOVES IN THE GAME OF LOVE + + +Stanley Fyles's extreme satisfaction was less enduring than might have +been expected. Success, and the prospect of success, were matters +calculated to affect him more nearly than anything else in his life. +That was the man, as he always had been; that was the man, who, in so +brief a time, had raised himself to the commissioned ranks of his +profession. But, somehow, just now a slight undercurrent of thought +and feeling had set in. It was scarcely perceptible at first, but +growing rapidly, it quickly robbed the tide of his satisfaction of +quite half its strength, and came near to reducing it to the condition +of slack water. + +McBain was in the quarters attending to the detail which fell to his +lot. A messenger from Winter's Crossing had come in announcing the +arrival, at that camp, of the reinforcing patrol. This was the +culminating point of Fyles's satisfaction. From that moment the +undercurrent set in. + +The inspector had moved out of the bluff, which screened the temporary +quarters from chance observation, and had taken up a position on the +shoulder of the valley, where he sat himself upon a fallen fence post +to consider the many details of the work he had in mind. + +The sun was setting in a ruddy cauldron of summer cloud, and, already, +the evening mists were rising from the heart of the superheated +valley. The wonderful peace of the scene might well have been a +sedative to the stream of rapid thought pouring through his busy +brain. + +But its soothing powers seemed to have lost virtue, and, as his almost +unconscious gaze took in the beauties spread out before it, a curious +look of unrest replaced the satisfaction in his keen eyes. His brows +drew together in a peevish frown. A discontent set the corners of +his tightly compressed lips drooping, and once or twice he stirred +impatiently, as though his irritation of mind had communicated itself +to his physical nerves. + +Once more the image of Kate Seton had risen up before his mind's eye, +and, for the first time it brought him no satisfaction. For the first +time he had associated the probable object of his plans with her. +Charlie Bryant was no longer a mere offender against the law in his +mind. In concentrating his official efforts against him he realized +the jeopardy in which his own regard for Kate Seton placed him. He saw +that his success now in ridding the district of the whisky-runner +would, at the same time, rob him of all possible chance of ever +obtaining the regard of this woman he loved. It meant an ostracism +based upon the strongest antipathy--the antipathy of a woman wounded +in her tenderest emotions, that wonderful natural instinct which is +perhaps beyond everything else in her life. + +The more than pity of it. Kate's interest in Charlie Bryant had +assumed proportions which threatened to overwhelm his whole purpose. +It became almost a tragedy. Pondering upon this ominous realization a +sort of panic came near to taking hold of him. Apart from his own +position, the pain and suffering he knew he must inflict upon her set +him flinching. + +Her protestations of Charlie's innocence were very nearly absurd. To +a mind trained like his there was little enough doubt of the man's +offense. He was a rank "waster," but, as in the case of all such +creatures, there was a woman ready to believe in him with all the +might of feminine faith. It was a bitter thought that in this case +Kate Seton should be the woman. She did believe. He was convinced of +her honesty in her declaration. She believed from the bottom of her +heart, she, a woman of such keen sense and intelligence. It was--yes, +it was maddening. Through it all he saw his duty lying plainly before +him. His whole career was at stake, that career for which only he had +hitherto lived, and which, eventually, he had hoped to lay at Kate's +feet. + +What could he do? There was no other way. He--must--go--on. His dream +was wrecking. It was being demolished before his eyes. It was not +being sent crushing at one mighty stroke, but was being torn to shreds +and destroyed piecemeal. + +He strove to stiffen himself before the blow, and his very attitude +expressed something of his effort. He told himself a dozen times that +he must accept the verdict, and carry his duty through, his duty to +himself as well as to his superiors. But conviction was lacking. The +human nature in him was rebelling. For all his discipline it would not +be denied. And with each passing moment it was gaining in its power to +make itself felt and heard. + +Its promptings came swiftly, and in a direction hardly conceivable in +a man of his balance of mind. But the more sure the strength of the +man, the more sure the strength of the old savage lurking beneath the +sanest thought. The savage rose up in him now in a reckless challenge +to all that was best and most noble in him. A cruel suspicion swept +through his mind and quickly permeated his whole outlook. What if he +had read Kate's regard for the man Bryant wrong? What if he had read +it as she intended him to read it, seeking to blind him to the true +facts? He knew her for a clever woman, a shrewd woman, even a daring +woman. What if she had read through his evident regard for her, and +had determined to turn it to account in saving her lover from +disaster, by posing with a maternal, or sisterly regard for his +welfare? Such things he felt had been done. He was to be a tool, a +mere tool in her hands, the poor dupe whose love had betrayed him. + +He sprang from his seat. + +No, a thousand times no, he told himself. His memory of her beautiful, +dark, fearless eyes was too plainly in his mind for that. The honesty +of her concern and regard for the man was too simply plain to hold +any trace of the perfidy which his thought suggested. He told +himself these things. He told himself again and again, and--remained +unconvinced. The savage in him, the human nature was gaining an +ascendancy that would not be denied, and from the astute, disciplined +man he really was, at a leap, he became the veriest doubting lover. + +He threw his powerful arms out, and stretched himself. His movements +were the movements of unconcern, but there was no unconcern within +him. A teeming, harassing thought was urging him, driving him to the +only possible course whereby he could hope to obtain a resumption of +his broken peace of mind. + +He must see Kate. He must see her again, without delay. + + * * * * * + +Kate Seton was sitting in the northern shadow of her little house the +following morning when Stanley Fyles rode down the southern slope of +the valley toward the old footbridge. She had just dispatched Big +Brother Bill on an errand to the village, and, with feminine tact, had +requested him to discover Helen's whereabouts, and send her, or bring +her home. She had no particular desire that Helen should return home. +In fact, she would rather she didn't until mid-day dinner. But she +felt she was giving the man the excuse he evidently needed. + +As a matter of fact, she had a good deal of work to do. And the first +hour after Bill had taken his departure she was fully occupied with +her two villainous hired men. After that she returned to the house, +and wrote several letters, and, finally, took up her position in the +shade, and devoted herself to a basket of long-neglected sewing. + +At the sound of the approaching horseman she looked up with a start. +She had no expectation of a visitor, she had no desire for one just +now. Nevertheless, when she discovered the officer's identity, she +displayed no surprise, and more interest, than might have been +expected. + +She did not disguise from herself the feelings this man inspired. On +the contrary she rather reveled in them, especially as, in a way, just +now, all her actions must be in direct antagonism to his efforts. + +She felt that a battle, a big battle, must be fought and won between +them. It was a battle to be fought out openly and frankly. It was her +determination that this man should not wrong himself by committing a +great wrong upon Charlie Bryant. + +Kate was very busy at the moment Fyles rode up. She was intent upon +fitting a piece of lace, obviously too small, upon a delicate white +garment of her sister's, which was obviously too big. + +For a moment, as she did not look up, Fyles sat leaning forward in the +saddle with his arms resting upon its horn. He was watching her with +a smiling interest which was not without anxiety. + +"There's surely not a dandier picture in the world than a girl sitting +in the shade sewing--white things," he said at last, by way of +greeting. + +Kate glanced up for the briefest of smiling glances. Then her dark +head bent over her sewing again. + +"And there's surely nothing calculated to upset things more than a man +butting in, where the same girl's fragment of brain is worrying to fit +something that doesn't fit anyway." + +"Meaning me?" + +Fyles smiled in his confident way. + +"Seeing there's no one else around, I must have meant some other +fellow." + +Kate laid the lace aside, and looked up with a sigh. A gentle +amusement shone in her fine dark eyes. + +"Have you ever tried to make things fit that--just won't?" she +demanded. + +Fyles shook his head. + +"Maybe I can help, though," he hazarded. + +"Help?" Kate's amusement merged into a laugh. "Say, when it comes to +fitting things that don't fit, two heads generally muss things right +up. All my life I've been trying to fit things that don't fit, and I +find, if you're to succeed, you've got to do it to yourself, and by +yourself. It always takes a big lot of thinking which nobody else can +follow. Maybe your way of thinking is different from other folks, and +so they can't understand, and that's why they can't follow it. Now +here's a bit of lace, and there's a sleeve. The lace is short by an +inch. Still there's ways and ways of fixing it, but only one right +way. If I make the sleeve smaller the lace will fit, but poor Helen +won't get her arm through it. If I tack on a bit more lace it'll muss +the job, and make it look bad. Then there's other ways, too, +but--there's only one right way." She dropped the lace in her basket +and began to fold the garment. "I'll get some new lace that does fit," +she declared emphatically. + +Fyles nodded, but the amusement died out of his eyes. + +"All of which is sound sense," he said seriously, "and is leading us +toward controversial--er--subjects. Eh?" + +Kate raised a pair of shoulders with pretended indifference. But her +eyes were smiling that challenge which Stanley Fyles always associated +with her. + +"Not a bad thing when the police are getting so very busy, and--you +are their chief in the district," she said. + +"I must once more remark, you are well informed," smiled Fyles. + +"And I must once more remark not as well informed as I could wish," +retorted Kate quickly. + +Fyles had permitted his gaze to wander down the wooded course of the +river. Kate was watching him closely, speculatively. And curious +enough she was thinking more of the man than his work at that moment. + +The man's eyes came back abruptly to her face, and her expression was +instantly changed to one of smiling irony. + +"Well?" she demanded. + +Fyles shook his head. + +"It isn't," he said. "May I ask how you know we are--so very busy?" + +"Sure," cried Kate, with a frank laugh. "You see, I have two of the +worst scamps in the valley working for me, and they seem to think it +more than necessary that they keep themselves posted as to--your +movements." + +"I see." Fyles's lighter mood had entirely passed, and with its going +Kate's became more marked. "I s'pose they spy out everything for the +benefit of their--chief." + +Kate clapped her hands. + +"What reasoning. I s'pose they have a chief?" she added slyly. + +A frown of irritation crossed the policeman's brow. + +"Must we open up that old sore, Miss Kate?" he, asked almost sharply. +"They are known to be--when not occupied with the work of your +farm--assisting Charlie Bryant in his whisky-running schemes. They are +two of his lieutenants." + +"And so, because they are so known among the village people here, you +are prosecuting this campaign against a man whom you hope to catch +red-handed." + +"I have sufficient personal evidence to--prosecute my campaign," said +Fyles quickly. "As you said just now, we are not idle." + +"Yes, I know," Kate sighed, and her gaze was turned upon the western +reaches of the valley. "Your camp out there is full of activity. So +is Winter's Crossing. And the care with which you mask your coming and +going is known to everybody. It is a case of the hunter being hunted. +Yes, I say it without resentment, I am glad of these things, because +I--must know." + +"If we are against each other--it is only natural you should wish to +know." + +Kate's eyes opened wider. + +"Of course we are against each other, as long as you are against +Charlie. But only in our--official capacities." A whimsical smile +stole into the woman's eyes. "Oh, you are so--so obstinate," she cried +in mock despair. "In this valley it is no trouble for me to watch your +every move, and, in Charlie's interests, to endeavor to frustrate +them. But the worst of it is I'd--I'd like to see you win out. Instead +of that I know you won't. You've had some news. You had it yesterday, +I suppose, by that patrol. Maybe it's news of another cargo coming in, +and you are getting ready to capture it, and--Charlie. I'm not here to +give any one away, I'm not here to tell you all I know, must know, +living in the valley, but you are doomed, utterly doomed to failure, +if you count the capture of Charlie success." + +In spite of the lightness of Kate's manner her words were not without +their effect upon Fyles. There was a ring of sincerity in them that +would not be denied. But its effect upon him was not that which she +could have wished. His face set almost sternly. The challenge of the +woman had stirred him out of his calm assurance, but it was in a +direction which she could scarcely have expected. He thrust his +sunburned face forward more aggressively, and challenged her in +return. + +"What is this man to you?" he demanded, his square jaws seeming to +clip his question the more shortly. + +In a moment Kate's face was flushing her resentment. Her dark eyes +were sparkling with a sudden leaping anger. + +"You have no right to--ask me that," she cried. But Fyles had +committed himself. Nor would he draw back. + +"Haven't I?" he laughed harshly. "All's fair in love and--war. We are +at war--officially." + +The woman's flushing cheeks remained, but the sparkle of her eyes had +changed again to an ironical light. + +"War--yes. Perhaps you're right. The only courtesies recognized in war +are observed in the prize ring, and in international warfare. Our +warfare must be less exalted, and permits hitting--below the belt. +I've told you what Charlie is to me, and I have told you truly. I am +trying to defend an innocent man, who is no more to me than a brother, +or--or son. I am doing so because of his peculiar ailments which make +him well-nigh incapable of helping himself. You see, he does not care. +His own safety, his own welfare, are nothing to him. It is for that +reason, for the way he acts in consequence of these things, that all +men believe him a rogue, and a--a waster. I tell you he is neither." + +She finished up a little breathlessly. She had permitted her loyalty +and anxiety to carry her beyond the calm fencing she had intended. + +But Fyles remained unmoved, except that the harshness had gone out of +his manner. + +"It is not I who am obstinate," he said soberly. "It is you, Miss +Kate. What if I told you I had irrefutable circumstantial evidence +against him? Would that turn you from your faith in him?" + +The woman shook her head. + +"It would be merely circumstantial evidence," she said. "God knows how +circumstance has filled our penitentiaries wrongfully," she added +bitterly. + +"And but for circumstance our population of wrongdoers at large would +be greater by a thousand per cent.," retorted the officer. + +"That is supposition," smiled Kate. + +"Which does not rob it of its possibility in fact." + +The two sat looking at each other, silently defiant. Kate was smiling. +A great excitement was thrilling her, and she liked this man all the +better for his blunt readiness for combat, even with her. + +Fyles was wondering at this woman, half angry, half pleased. Her +strength and readiness appealed to him as a wonderful display. + +He was the first to speak, and, in doing so, he felt he was +acknowledging his worsting in the encounter. + +"It's--it's impossible to fight like this," he said lamely. "I am not +accustomed to fight with women." + +"Does it matter, so long as a woman can fight?" Kate cried quickly. +"Chivalry?" she went on contemptuously. "That's surely a survival of +ages when the old curfew rang, and a lot of other stupid notions +filled folks' minds. I--I just love to fight." + +Her smile was so frankly infectious that Fyles found himself +responding. He heaved a sigh. + +"It's no good," he said almost hopelessly. "You must stick to your +belief, and I to mine. All I hope, Miss Kate, is that when I've done +with this matter the pain I've inflicted on you will not be +unforgivable." + +The woman's eyes were turned away. They had become very soft as she +gazed over at the distant view of Charlie's house. + +"I don't think it will be," she said gently. Then with a quick return +to her earlier manner: "You see, you will never get the chance of +hurting Charlie." A moment later she inquired naively: "When is the +cargo coming in?" + +But Fyles's exasperation was complete. + +"When?" he cried. "Why, when this scamp is ready for it. It's--it's no +use, Miss Kate. I can't stop, or--or I'll be forgetting you are a +woman, and say 'Damn!' I admit you have bested me, but--young Bryant +hasn't. I----" he broke off, laughing in spite of his annoyance, and +Kate cordially joined in. + +"But he will," she cried, as Peter began to move away. "Good-bye, Mr. +Fyles," she added, in her ironical fashion as she picked up her +sewing. "I can get on with these important matters--now." + +The man's farewell was no less cordial, and his better sense told him +that in accepting his defeat at her hands he had won a good deal in +another direction where he hoped to finally achieve her capitulation. + + * * * * * + +While the skirmish between Stanley Fyles and Kate Seton was going on, +the object of it was discussing the doings of the police and the +prospect of the coming struggle with Big Brother Bill on the veranda +of his house. + +He was leaning against one of its posts while Bill reposed on the hard +seat of a Windsor chair, seeking what comfort he could find in the +tremendous heat by abandoning all superfluous outer garments. + +Charlie's face was darkly troubled. His air was peevishly irritable. + +"Bill," he said, with a deep thrill of earnestness in his voice, as he +thrust his brown, delicate hands into the tops of his trousers. "All +the trouble in the world's just about to start, if I'm a judge of the +signs of things. There's a whole crowd of the police in the valley +now. They're camped higher up. They think we don't know, but we +do--all of us. I wonder what they think they're going to do?" + +His manner became more excited, and his voice grew deeper and deeper. + +"They think they're going to get a big haul of liquor. They think +they're going to get me. I tell you, Bill, that for men trained to +smelling things out, they're blunderers. Their methods are clumsy as +hell. I could almost laugh, if--if I didn't feel sick at their coming +around." + +Bill stirred uneasily. + +"If there were no whisky-running here they wouldn't be around," he +said pointedly. + +Charlie eyed him curiously. + +"No," he said. Then he added, "And if there were no whisky-running +there'd be no village here. If there were no village here we shouldn't +be here. Kate and her sister wouldn't be here. Nothing would be here, +but the old pine--that goes on forever. This village lives on the +prohibition law. Fyles may have a reputation, but he's clumsy--damned +clumsy. I'd like to see ahead--the next few days." + +"He's smelling a cargo--coming in, isn't he?" Bill's tact was holding +him tight. + +Again Charlie looked at him curiously before he replied. + +"That's how they reckon," he said guardedly, at last. + +Bill had turned away, vainly searching his unready wit for the best +means of carrying on the discussion. Suddenly his eyes lit, and he +pointed across at the Seton's house. + +"Say, who's that--on that horse? Isn't it Fyles? He's talking to some +one. Looks like----" + +He broke off. Charlie was staring out in the direction indicated, and, +in a moment, his excitement passed, swallowed up in a frowning, +brooding light that had suddenly taken possession of his dark eyes. + +Bill finally broke the uncomfortable silence. + +"It's--Fyles?" he said. + +"Yes, it's Fyles," said Charlie, with a sudden suppressed fury. "It's +Fyles--curse him, and he's talking to--Kate." + +At the sound of his brother's tone, even Bill realized his blundering. +He knew he had fired a train of passion that was to be deplored, even +dreaded in his brother. He blamed himself bitterly for his lack of +forethought, his absurd want of discretion. + +But the mischief was done. Charlie had forgotten everything else. + +Bill stirred again in his chair. + +"What does he want down there?" he demanded, for lack of something +better to say. + +"What does he want?" Charlie laughed. It was an unpleasant laugh, a +savage laugh. It was a laugh that spoke of sore heart, and feelings +crowding with bitterness. "I guess he wants something he'll never +get--while I'm alive." + +He relapsed into moody silence, and a new expression grew in his eyes +till it even dominated that which had shone in them before. Bill +thought he recognized it. The word "funk" flashed through his mind, +and left him wondering. What could Charlie have to fear from Fyles +talking to Kate? Did he believe that Kate would let the officer pump +her with regard to his, Charlie's, movements! + +Yes, that must be it. + +"He won't get more than five cents for his dollar out of her," he +said, in an effort to console. + +Charlie was round on him in a flash. + +"Five cents for a dollar? No," he cried, "nor one cent, nor a fraction +of a cent. Fyles is dealing with the cleverest, keenest woman I've +ever met in all my life. I'm not thinking that way. I'm thinking how +almighty easy it is for a man walking a broken trail to trip and +smash himself right up. The more sure he is the worse is his fall, +because--he takes big chances, and big chances mean big falls. You've +hit it, Bill, I'm scared--scared to death just now. If I know Fyles +there's going to be one hell of a time around here, and, if you value +your future, get clear while you can. I'm scared, Bill, scared and +mad. I can't stand to watch that man talking to Kate. I'm not scared +of man or devil, but I'm scared--scared to death when I see that. I +must get out of this. I must get away, or----" + +He moved off the veranda in a frantic state of nervous passion. + +Bill sprang from his seat and was at his brother's side in two great +strides, and his big hand fell with no little force upon the latter's +arm and held it. + +"What do you mean?" he cried apprehensively. "Where--where are you +going?" + +With surprising strength Charlie flung him off. He turned, facing him +with angry eyes and flushed face. + +"Don't you dare lay hand on me like that again, Bill," he cried +dangerously. "I don't stand for that from--anybody. I'm going down the +village, since you want to know. I'm going down to O'Brien's. And you +can get it right now that I wouldn't stand the devil himself butting +in to stop me." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +STORM CLOUDS + + +A dispirited creature made its way down to the Setons' house that same +evening. Big Brother Bill felt there was not one single clear thought +in his troubled head, at least, not one worth thinking. He was +weighted down by a hazy conception of the position of things, in a +manner that came near to destroying the very root of his optimism. + +One or two things settled upon his mind much in the manner of mental +vampires. He knew that Charlie was threatened, and he knew that +Charlie knew it, and made no attempt to protect himself. He knew that +Charlie was also scared--frightened out of all control of himself in a +manner that was absurdly contradictory. He knew that he was now at the +saloon for the purpose of drowning his hopeless feelings in the +maddening spirit O'Brien dispensed. He knew that his own baggage had +at last arrived from Heaven only knew where, and he wished it hadn't, +for it left him feeling even more burdened than ever with the +responsibilities of the pestilential valley. He knew that he was +beginning to hate the police, and Fyles, almost as much as Charlie +did. He knew that if prevailing conditions weren't careful he would +lose his temper with them, and make things hot for somebody or +something. But, more than all else, he knew that Helen Seton was more +than worth all the worry and anxiety he was enduring. + +In consequence of all this he arrayed himself in a light tweed suit, a +clean, boiled shirt and collar, a tie, that might well have startled +the natives of his home city, and a panama hat which he felt was +necessary to improve the tropical appearance of his burnt and +perspiring features, and hastened to Helen's presence for comfort and +support. + +The girl had been waiting for him. She looked the picture of +diaphanous coolness in the shade of the house, lounging in an old +wicker chair, with its fellow, empty, drawn up beside her. There were +no feminine eyes to witness her little schemes, and Bill?--why, Bill +was delighted beyond words that she was there, also the empty chair, +also, that, as he believed, while she was wholly unconscious of the +fact, the girl's attitude and costume were the most innocently +pleasing things he had ever beheld with his two big, blue, +appreciative eyes. + +He promptly told her so. + +"Say, Hel," he cried, "you don't mind me calling you 'Hel,' do +you?--you see, everything delightful seems to be associated with +'Hell' nowadays. If you could see yourself and the dandy picture +you make you'd kind of understand how I feel just about now." + +The girl smiled her delight. + +"Maybe I do understand," she said. "You see, I don't always sit around +in this sort of fancy frock. Then, no girl of sense musses herself +into an awkward pose when six foot odd of manhood's getting around her +way. No, no Big Brother Bill. That chair didn't get there by itself. +Two carefully manicured hands put it there, after their owner had +satisfied herself that her mirror hadn't made a mistake, and that she +was looking quite her most attractive. You see, you'd promised to come +to see me this evening, and--well, I'm woman enough to be very +pleased. That's all." + +Bill's sun-scorched face deepened its ruddy hue with youthful delight. + +"Say, you did all this for--for me?" + +Helen laughed. + +"Why, yes, and told you the various details to be appreciated, because +I was scared to death you wouldn't get them right." + +Bill sat himself down, and set the chair creaking as he turned it +about facing her. He held out his hands. + +"I haven't seen the manicuring racket right, yet," he laughed. + +Helen stretched out her two hands toward him for inspection. He +promptly seized them in his, and pretended to examine them. + +"The prettiest, softest, jolliest----" + +But the girl snatched them away. + +"That's not inspection. That's----" + +"Sure it's not," retorted Bill easily. "It's true." + +"And absurd." + +"What--the truth?" + +Bill's blue eyes were widely inquiring. + +"Sometimes." + +The smile died out of the man's eyes, and his big face became doleful. + +"Yes, I s'pose it is." + +Helen set up. + +"What's gone wrong--now? What truth is--absurd?" she demanded. + +The man shrugged. + +"Oh, everything. Say, have you ever heard of a disease of the--the +brain called 'partly hatched'?" + +The girl's eyes twinkled. + +"I don't kind of remember it." + +"No, I don't s'pose you do. I don't think anybody ever has it but me. +I've got it bad. This valley's given it me, and--and if it isn't +careful it's going to get fatal." + +Helen looked around at him in pretended sympathy. + +"What's the symptoms? Nothing outward? I mean that tie--that's not a +symptom, is it?" + +Bill shook his head. He was smiling, but beneath his smile there was a +certain seriousness. + +"No. There's no outward signs--yet. I got it through thinking too--too +young. You see, I've done so much thinking in the last week. If it had +been spread over, say six months, the hatching might have got fixed +right. But it's been too quick, and things have got addled. You see, +if a hen turned on too much pressure of heat her eggs would get +fried--or addled. That's how my brain is. It's addled." + +Helen nodded with a great show of seriousness which the twitching +corners of her pretty mouth belied. + +"I always thought you'd got a trouble back of your--head. But you'd +best tell me. You see, I don't get enough pressure of thinking to +hatch anything. Maybe between us we can fix your mental eggs right." + +Bill's big eyes lit with relief and hope. + +"That's bright of you. You surely are the cutest girl ever. You must +have got a heap of brain to spare." + +Helen could no longer restrain her laughter. + +"It's mostly all--spare. Now, then, tell me all your troubles." + +The great creature at her side looked doubtful and puzzled. + +"I don't know just where to begin. There's such a heap, and I've +worried thinking about it, till--till----" + +Helen sat up and propped her chin in her hands with her elbows on her +knees. + +"When you don't know where to begin just start with the first thought +in your head, and--and--ramble." + +Bill brightened up. + +"Sure that's best?" + +"Sure." + +The man sighed in relief. + +"That's made a heap of difference," he cried. Then he took a +handkerchief from his pocket, removed his panama and mopped his +forehead. He gave a big gulp in the midst of the process, and spoke as +though he were defying an enemy. "Will you marry me?" he demanded, and +sat up glaring at her, with his hat and handkerchief poised in either +hand. + +The girl gave him a quick look. Then she flung herself back in her +chair and laughed. + +"We--we are talking of troubles," she protested. + +Bill replaced his hat, and restored his handkerchief to its pocket. + +"Troubles? Troubles? Isn't that trouble enough to start with? +It's--it's the root of it all," he declared. "I'm--I'm just crazy +about you. And every time I try to think about Charlie and the police, +and--and the scallywags of the valley, I--I find you mixed up with it +all, and get so tangled up that I don't know where I am, or--or why. +Say, have you ever been crazy about anybody? Some feller, for +instance? It's the worst worrying muddle ever happened. First you're +pleased--then you cuss them. Then you sort of sit dreaming all sorts +of fool things that haven't any sense at all. Then you want to make +rhymes and things about eyes, and flowers, and moons, and feet, and +laces and bits. You feel all over that everything else has got no +sense to it, and is just so much waste of time thinking about it. You +sort of feel that all men are fools but yourself, and other females +aren't women, but just images. You sort of get the notion the world's +on a pivot, and that pivot's just yourself, and if you weren't there +there'd be a bust up, and most everything would get chasing glory, and +you don't care a darn, anyway, if they did. Say, when you get clean +crazy about anybody, same as I am about you, you find yourself hating +everybody that comes near them. You get notions that every man is +conspiring to tell the girl what a perfect fool you are, that they're +worrying to boost you right out with her. You hate her, because you +think she thinks you are a simpleton, and can't see your good points, +which are so obvious to yourself. You hate yourself, you hate life, +you hate the sunlight and the trees, and your food, and--and +everything. And you wouldn't have things different, or stop making +such a fool of yourself, no--not if hell froze over. Will--will you +marry me?" + +Helen's humor suddenly burst the bonds of all restraint. She sat there +laughing until she nearly choked. + +Bill waited with a patience that seemed inexhaustible. Then, as the +girl's mirth began to lessen, he put his question again with dogged +persistence. + +"Will you marry me?" + +"Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Of all the----" + +"Will you marry me?" the man persisted, his great face flushing. + +Helen abruptly sobered. The masterful tone somehow sent a delighted +thrill through her nerves. + +She nodded. + +"Of course I will. I--intended to from the first moment I saw your +big, funny face with Stanley----" + +"You mean that, Hel? You really--meant to marry me? You did?" + +The man's happy excitement was something not easily to be forgotten. +He sprang from his chair, reached out his powerful hands, caught the +girl about the waist, and picked her up in his arms as he might have +picked up a child. His great bear-like hug was a monstrous thing to +endure, but Helen was more than willing to endure it, as also his +kisses, which he rained upon her happy, laughing face. + +But the girl's sense of the fitness of things soon came to her rescue. +The ridiculousness, the undignified figure she must appear, held in +her great lover's arms, set her struggling to free herself, and, in a +few moments, he set her once more upon her feet, and stood laughing +down into her blushing face. + +"Say," he cried, with a great laugh, "I don't care a cuss if my brains +never hatch out. You're going to be my wife. You, the girl I'm crazy +to death about. Fyles and all the rest can go hang. Gee!" + +Helen looked up at him. Then she smoothed out her ruffled frock, and +patted her hair into its place. + +"Well," she cried, with a happy laugh, "I've heard some queer +proposals from the boys of this valley when they were drunk, but for a +sober, educated man, I think you've made the funniest proposal that +any one ever listened to. Oh, Bill, Bill, you've done a foolish thing. +I'm a shameless man-hunter. I came out west to find a husband, and +I've found one. I wanted to marry you all along. I meant to marry +you." + +Bill's laugh rang out in a great guffaw. + +"Bully!" he cried. "What's the use of marrying a girl who doesn't want +to marry you?" + +"But she ought to pretend--at first." + +"Not on your life. No pretense for me, Hel. Give me the girl who's +honest enough to love me, and let me know it." + +"Bill! How--dare you? How dare you say I loved you and told you so? +I've--I've a good mind not to marry----Say, Bill, you are a--joke. +Now, sit right down, and tell me all about those--those other things +worrying you." + +In a moment a shadow crossed the man's cheerful face. But he +obediently resumed his seat, and somehow, when Helen sat down, their +chairs were as close together as their manufacturer had made possible. + +"It's Charlie--Charlie, and the police," said Bill, in a despondent +tone. "And Kate, too. I don't know. Say, Hel, what's--what's going to +happen? Fyles is hot after Charlie. Charlie don't care a curse. But +there's something scaring him that bad he's nearly crazy. Then there's +Kate. He saw Kate talking to Fyles, and he got madder than--hell. And +now he's gone off to O'Brien's, and it don't even take any thinking to +guess what for. I tell you he's so queer I can't do a thing with him. +I'm not smart enough. I could just break him in my two hands if I took +hold of him to keep him home and out of trouble, but what's the use? +He's crazy about Kate, he's crazy about drink, he's crazy about +everything, but keeping clear of the law. That's what I came to tell +you about--that, and to fix up about getting married." + +The man's words left a momentary dilemma in the girl's mind. For a +moment she was at a loss how to answer him. It seemed impossible to +accept seriously his tale of anxiety and worry, and yet----. The same +tale from any other would have seemed different. But coming from Bill, +and just when she was so full of an almost childish happiness at the +thought that this great creature loved her, and wanted to marry her, +it took her some moments to reduce herself to a condition of judicial +calm, sufficient to obtain the full significance of his anxious +complaint. + +When at last she spoke her eyes were serious, so serious that Bill +wondered at it. He had never seen them like that before. + +"It's dreadful," she said in a low tone. "Dreadful." + +Bill jumped at the word. + +"Dreadful? My God, it's awful when you think he's my brother, and--and +Kate's your sister. I can't see ahead. I can't see where things +are--are drifting. That's the devil of it. I wish to goodness they'd +given me less beef and more brain," he finished up helplessly. + +Helen displayed no inclination to laugh. Somehow now that this simple +man was here, now that the responsibility of him had devolved upon +her, a delightful feeling of gentle motherliness toward him rose up in +her heart, and made her yearn to help him. It was becoming quite easy +to take him seriously. + +"P'r'aps it's a good thing you've got all that--beef. P'r'aps it's for +the best, you're so--so strong, and so ready to help. You can't see +ahead. Neither can I. Maybe no one can, but--Fyles. Suppose you and +I were standing at the foot of a cliff--a big, high cliff, very +dangerous, very dreadful, and some one we both loved was climbing its +face, and we saw them reach a point where it looked impossible to go +on, or turn back. What could we do? I'll tell you. We could remain +standing there looking on, praying to Providence that they might get +through, and holding ourselves ready to bear a hand when opportunity +offered, and, failing that, do our utmost to _break their fall_." + +Bill's appreciation suddenly illuminated his ingenuous face. + +"Say," he cried admiringly. "You've hit it. Sure, we can't climb up +and help. It would mean disaster to both, with no one left to help. +Say, I'm glad I'm big and strong. That's it, we'll stand--by. You'll +think, and I'll do what you tell me. By Jing! That's made everything +different. We'll stand by, and break their fall. I could never have +thought of that--I couldn't, sure." + +It was Helen's turn to display enthusiasm. It was an enthusiasm +inspired by her lover's acceptance of her suggestion. + +"But we're not going to just watch and watch and do nothing. We must +keep on Fyles's trail. We must keep close behind Charlie, and when we +see the fall coming on we must be ready to thrust out a hand. You +never know, we may beat the whole game in spite of Charlie. We may be +able to save him in spite of himself. No harm must come to Kate +through him. I can't see where it can come, except--that he is mad +about her, and she is mad about--some one else." + +"Fyles?" Bill hazarded. + +Helen looked around at him in amused admiration. She nodded. + +"You're getting too clever for me. You will be thinking for us both +soon." + +Bill denied the accusation enthusiastically. + +"Never," he exclaimed. And after that he drifted into a lover's +rhapsody of his own inferiority and unworthiness. + +Thus, for a while, the more serious cares were set aside for that +brief lover's paradise when two people find their focus filled to +overflowing with that precious Self, which we are told always to deny. +Fortunately human nature does not readily yield to such behests, and +so life is not robbed of its mainspring, and the whole machinery of +human nature is not reduced to a chaotic bundle of useless wheels. + +For all Helen's boasted scheming, for all Bill's lack of brilliancy, +these two were just a pair of simple creatures, loyal and honest, and +deeply in love. So they dallied as all true lovers must dally with +those first precious moments which a Divine Providence permits to flow +in full tide but once in a lifetime. + + * * * * * + +Charlie Bryant was standing at the bar of O'Brien's saloon. One hand +rested on the edge of the counter as though to steady himself. His +eyes were bloodshot, a strange pallor left his features ghastly, and +the combination imparted a subtle appearance of terror which the +shrewd saloonkeeper interpreted in his own fashion as he unfolded his +information, and its deductions. + +The bar was quite empty otherwise, and the opportunity had been too +good for O'Brien to miss. + +"Say, I was mighty glad to get them kegs the other night safely. But +I'm takin' no more chances. It'll see me through for awhile," he said, +as he refilled Charlie's glass at his own expense. "There's a big play +coming right now, and, if you'll take advice, you'll lie low--desprit +low." + +"You mean Fyles--as usual," said Charlie thickly. Then he added as an +afterthought: "To hell with Fyles, and all his damned red-coats." + +O'Brien's quick eyes surveyed his half-drunken customer with a shrewd, +contemptuous speculation. + +"That sounds like bluff. Hot air never yet beat the p'lice. It needs a +darnation clear head, and big acts, to best Fyles. A half-soused bluff +ain't worth hell room." + +Charlie appeared to take no umbrage. His bloodshot eyes were still +fixed upon O'Brien's hard face as he raised his glass with a shaking +hand and drained it. + +"I don't need to bluff with no one around worth bluffing," he said, +setting the empty glass down on the counter. + +O'Brien's response was to fold his arms aggressively, and lean forward +upon the counter, peering into the delicate, pale face before him. + +"See here," he cried, "a fellow mostly bluffs when he's scared, or +he's in a corner--like a rat. See? Now it's to my interest to see +Fyles beat clean out of Rocky Springs. It's that set me gassin'. Get +me? So just keep easy, and take what I got to hand out. I'm wise to +the game. It's my business to keep wise. Those two crooks of yours, +Pete and Nick, were in this morning, and I heard 'em talkin'. Then I +got 'em yarning to me. They've got every move Fyles is making dead +right. They're smartish guys, and I feel they're too smart for you by +a sight. If things go their way you're safe. If there's a chance of +trouble for them you're up against it." + +Charlie licked his dry lips as the saloonkeeper paused. Then he +replaced the sodden end of his cigarette between them. But he remained +silent. + +"I've warned you of them boys before," O'Brien went on. "But that's by +the way. Now, see here, Fyles has got your play. The boys know that, +and in turn have got his play. Fyles knows that to-morrow night you're +running in a big cargo of liquor. The only thing he don't know is +where you cache it. Anyways, he's got a big force of boys around, and +Rocky Springs'll have a complete chain of patrols around it, to-morrow +night. Each man's got a signal, and when that signal's given it means +he's located the cargo. Then the others'll crowd in, and your gang's +to be overwhelmed. Get it? You'll all be taken--red-handed. I'm +guessin' you know all this all right, all right, and I'm only telling +it so you can get the rest clear. How you and your boys get these +things I'm not guessing. It's smart. But here's the bad stuff. It's my +way to watch folks and draw 'em when I want to get wise. I drew them +boys. They're reckonin' things are getting hot for 'emselves. They're +scared. They're reckonin' the game's played out, and ain't worth hell +room, with Fyles smelling around. Those boys'll put you away to Fyles, +if they see the pinch coming. And that's where my interests come in. +They'll put you away sure as death." + +If O'Brien were looking for the effect of his solemn warning he was +disappointed. Charlie's expression remained unchanged. The ghastly +white of his features suggested fear, but it was not added to by so +much as a flicker of an eyelid. + +"That all?" he asked, with a deliberate pause between the words to +obtain clear diction. + +O'Brien shrugged, but his eyes snapped angrily at this lack of +appreciation. + +"Ain't it enough? Say," his manner had become almost threatening, "I'm +not doing things for hoss-play. The folks around can build any old +church to ease their souls and make a show. Rocky Springs ain't the +end of all things for me. I'm out after the stuff. I'll soothe my soul +with dollars. That's why I'm around telling you, because your game's +the thing that's to give 'em to me. When your game's played I hit the +trail, but as long as you make good Rocky Springs is for me. If you +can't handle your proposition right then I quit you." + +Charlie suddenly shifted his position, and leaned his body against +the counter. The saloonkeeper looked for that sign which was to +re-establish his confidence. It was not forthcoming. For a moment +the half-drunken man leaned his head upon one hand, and his face +was turned from the other behind the bar. + +O'Brien became impatient. + +"Wal?" he demanded. + +His persistence was rewarded at last. But it was rewarded with a shock +which left him startled beyond retort. + +Charlie suddenly brought a clenched fist down upon the counter with a +force that set the glasses ringing. + +"Fyles!" he cried fiercely, "Fyles! It's always Fyles! God's truth, am +I never to hear, or see, the last of him? Say, you know. You think you +know. But you don't. Damn you, you don't!" + +Before the astonished saloonkeeper could recover himself and formulate +the angry retort which rose to his lips, Charlie staggered out of the +place. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE SOUL OF A MAN + + +It was growing dark. Away in the west a pale stream of light was +fading smoothly out, absorbed by the velvet softness of the summer +night. There was no moon, but the starlit vault shone dazzlingly upon +the shadowed valley. Already among the trees the yellow oil lamps were +shining within the half-hidden houses. + +From within a dense clump of trees, high up the northern slope of the +valley, a man's slight figure made its way. His movements were slow, +deliberate, even furtive. For some moments he stood peering out at a +point below where a woman's figure was rapidly making its way up the +steep trail toward the old Meeting House. + +The man's eyes were straining in the darkness for the outline of the +woman's figure was indistinct, only just discernible in the starlight. +She came on, and he could distinctly hear her voice humming an old, +familiar air. She evidently had no thought of the possibility that her +movements could be of any interest to anybody but herself. + +She reached the Meeting House and paused. Then the watching man heard +the rattle of a key in the lock. The humming had ceased. The next +moment there was the sound of a turning handle, and a tight-fitting +door being thrust open. The woman's figure had disappeared within the +building. + +The man left the sheltering bush and moved out on to the trail. He +passed one thin hand across his brow, as though to clear the thoughts +behind of their last murkiness after a drunken slumber. He stretched +himself wearily as though stiff from his unyielding bed of sun-baked +earth. Then he moved down the trail toward the Meeting House, +selecting the scorched grass at the side of it to muffle the sound of +his footsteps. + +His weariness seemed to have entirely passed now, and all his +attention was fixed upon the rough exterior of the old building, which +had passed through such strange vicissitudes to finally become the +house of worship it now was. With its old, heavy-plastered walls, and +its long, reed-thatched roof, so heavy and vastly thick, it was a +curiosity; the survival of days when men and beasts met upon a common +arena and played out the game of life and death, each as it suited +him, with none but the victor in the game to say him nay. + +The man felt something of the influence of the place now as he drew +near. Nor could he help feeling that the game that went on about it +now had changed little enough in its purpose. The rules may have +received modification, but the spirit was still the same. Men were +still struggling for victory over some one else, and beneath the +veneer of a growing civilization, passions, just as untamed, raged and +worked their will upon their ill-starred possessors. + +Reaching the building, he moved cautiously around the walls till he +came to a window. It was closed, and a curtain was drawn across it. He +passed on till he came to another window. It was partially open, and, +though the curtain was drawn across it, the opening had disarranged +the curtain, and a beam of light shone through. + +He pressed his face toward the opening so that his mouth was at its +level. Then he spoke softly, in a voice that was little more than a +whisper---- + +"Kate!" he called. "Kate! It is I--Charlie. I've--I've been waiting +for you, and want to speak to you." + +For answer there was a sound of hurrying footsteps across the floor of +the room. The next moment the curtain was pulled aside. Kate stood at +the other side of the window in the dim lamplight. Her handsome eyes +were startled and full of inquiry, and her rounded bosom rose and fell +quickly. When she saw the pale face peering in at her a gentle smile +crept into her eyes. + +"You scared the life out of me," she said calmly. Then, with a quick +look into his bloodshot eyes, she went on: "Why did you wait for +me--here?" + +Charlie lowered his eyes. "I--guessed you'd be along some time this +evening. I wanted to speak to you--alone." + +Kate studied him for a moment. His averted, almost shifty, eyes seemed +to hold her attention. She was thinking rapidly. + +Presently his eyes came back to her face; a deep passion was shining +in them. + +"Can I come around to the door?" + +There was just the smallest hesitation before Kate replied. + +"Yes, if you must see me here." + +Charlie waited for no more. The door was on the other side of the +building, overlooking the village below. He hurried thither, and when +he thrust it open the place was in darkness. + +Kate's voice greeted him promptly. "The draught has blown the lamp +out. Have you a match?" + +Charlie closed the door behind him, and produced and struck a match. +The lamp flared up and Kate replaced the glass chimney. Then she moved +over to the wall and placed the lamp in its bracket. + +It was a curious interior. In their unevenness the white kalsomined +walls displayed their primitive workmanship. The windows were small, +framed, and set deep in the ponderous walls. They looked almost like +the arrow slits in a mediaeval fortress. The long, pitched roof was +supported, and collared, by heavy, untrimmed logs, which, at some +time, had formed the floor-supports of a sort of loft. This had been +done away with since, for the purpose of giving air to the suppliants +at a prayer meeting below. + +At the far end of the room were two reading desks and a sort of +communion table. While in one corner, behind one of the reading desks, +was a cheap-looking harmonium. Here and there, upon the rough walls, +were nailed cardboard streamers, conveying, amid a wealth of +illumination, sundry appropriate texts of a non-committal religious +flavor, and down the narrow body of the building were stretched rows +of hard-seated, hard-backed benches for the accommodation of the +congregation. + +One swift glance sufficed for Charlie, and his eyes came back to the +woman's smiling face. Her good looks were undoubted, but to him they +were of an almost celestial order. There was no creature in the whole +wide world to compare with her. + +His eyes devoured every detail of her expression, of her personality, +with the hungry greed of a soul-starved man. It was almost an +impossibility for him to seize upon and hold the thoughts that so +swiftly poured through his brain. So the moments passed and Kate found +her patience ebbing. + +"Well?" she demanded, her smile slowly fading. + +The man breathed a sigh, and swallowed as with a dry throat. The spell +of her charm had been broken. + +"I had to come," he cried, with a nervous rush. "I had to find you. I +had to speak to you--to tell you." + +The woman's eyes, so steadily fixed upon his face, were wearing an +almost hard look. + +"Was it necessary to stimulate your nerve to come, and--speak to me? +Charlie, Charlie," Kate went on more gently, her fine eyes softening, +"when is this all to cease? Why must you drink? It seems so hopeless. +Oh, man, where is your backbone, your grit. You tell me you long to be +free of your curse, yet you plunge headlong the moment you are +disturbed." + +Her moment of passionate remonstrance passed and a subtle coolness +superseded it, as the scarlet flushed into the man's pale cheeks. + +"Tell it me all," she went on, "tell me what it is you had to see me +about. Remember, to-morrow is Sunday, and this place must be put in +order for meeting. As it is, I am late. I was kept." + +The flush of shame died out of the man's face, and his eyes became +questioning. But his manner was almost humble. + +"I know," he said. "I knew I had no right to disturb you--now. I knew +you would resent it. But I had to see you--while I had the chance. +To-morrow it might be too late." + +"Too late?" + +The woman's question came with a sharp, rising inflection. + +"Oh, Kate, Kate, won't you understand what has brought me? Can't you +understand all that I feel now that the shadow of the law is so +threatening here in this valley? All the time I'm thinking of you; +thinking of all you mean in my life; thinking of the love which would +make it a happiness to lay down my life for you, the love which to me +is the whole, whole world." + +He ceased speaking with a curious abruptness. It was as though there +were much more to be said, but he feared to give it expression. + +Kate seized upon his pause to remonstrate. + +"Hush, Charlie," she cried almost vehemently, "you mustn't tell me all +this. You mustn't. I am not worthy of such a love from any man. +Besides," she went on, with a sigh, "it is all so useless. I have no +love to return you. You know that. You have known it so long. Our +friendship has been precious to me. It will always be precious. I +feel, somehow, that you belong to me, are part of me, but not in the +way you would have it. Oh, Charlie, the one thought in my mind, the +one desire in my heart, is for your welfare. I desire that more than I +could ever desire the love of any man. You love me, and yet by every +act of yours that jeopardizes that welfare you stab me to the heart +as surely as you add another nail to the coffin of your moral and +physical well-being. You come here to tell me of these things, +straight from one of your mad debauches, the signs of which are even +now in your eyes, and in your shaking, nervous hands. Oh, Charlie, why +must it all be? What madness is it with which you are possessed?" + +The man looked into her big eyes, so full of strength and courage. The +yellow lamplight left them shining darkly. He sought in them something +that always seemed to baffle. Something he knew was there, but which +ever eluded him. And the while he cried out in bitterness at her +challenge. + +"What does it matter--these things?" he said hoarsely. "What does it +matter what I am if--I can't be anything to you?" + +Then his bitterness was redoubled, and an almost savage light shone in +his usually gentle eyes. + +"Oh, God, I know I can never be anything to you but a sort of puling +weakling, who must be nursed, and petted, and cared for. I know," he +went on, his words coming with a rush in the height of his protesting +passion, "if your thoughts, your secret thoughts and feelings, were +put into words, I know what they would say of me, must say of me. Do I +need to tell you? No, I think not. Look at me. It is sufficient." + +He paused, his great dark eyes alight as Kate had never seen them +before. Then he went on, and his tone had become subdued, and its rich +note thrilled with the depths of passion stirring him. + +"But for all that I am a man, Kate. For all my weakness I have +strength to feel, to love, to fight. I have all that, besides, which +goes to make a man, just as surely as has the man, Fyles, whom you +love. I know, Kate. Denial would be useless, and in denying, you would +be untrue to yourself. Fyles is the man for you, and no one knows it +better than I. Fyles! The irony of it. The man who represents the law +is the man who stands between me and all I desire on earth. I have +seen it. I have watched. Nothing that concerns your life escapes me. +How could it, when my whole thought is for you--you? But the agony of +mind I suffer is no less. I cannot help it, Kate. The knowledge and +sight of things drives me nearly crazy, and I suffer the tortures of +hell. But even so, if your happiness lies at Fyles's side, then--I +would have it so. If I were sure--sure that this happiness were +awaiting you. Is it, Kate? Think. Think of it in--every aspect. Is it? +Happiness with this--Fyles?" + +It was some moments before Kate made any reply. Her eyes were fixed +upon the old Communion Table, so shadowy in the single lamplight. She +was asking herself many questions; almost as many as he could have +asked her. She had permitted herself to drift on the tide of her +feelings. Whither? She knew she was beyond her depth. Her life was in +the hands of a Providence which would inevitably work its will. All +she knew was that she loved. She had known it from the first. She +loved, and rejoiced that it was so. Again, there were moments when she +feared as cordially. She knew the work that lay before this lover of +hers. She knew in what direction it pointed. And in obedience to her +thoughts her eyes came back to the drunkard's eager face. + +"You--you came to tell me--all this?" she said, in a low tone. "You +came to assure yourself of my--happiness?" Then she shook her head. +"Tell me the rest." + +It was Charlie's turn to hesitate now. The demand had robbed him of +the small enough confidence he possessed. + +But Kate was waiting and he had no power to deny her anything. + +"I came to tell you of--things, while I still have the chance. +To-morrow? Who knows what to-morrow may bring forth?" + +A keen, hard light suddenly flashed into the woman's eyes. + +"What of--to-morrow?" she demanded sharply, while she studied the +man's pale features, with their boyish good looks. + +For answer Charlie reached out and caught one of her hands in both of +his. She strove to release it, but he clung to it despairingly. + +"No, no, Kate. Don't take it away," he cried passionately. "It is for +the last--the very last time. Tell me, dear, is--is there no hope for +me? None? Kate, I love you so. I do--dear. I will give up everything +for you, dear, everything. I can do it. I will do it. I swear it, +if--only you'll love me. Tell me. Is there----?" + +Kate shook her head, and the man dropped her hand with a gesture of +utter hopelessness. + +"My love is given, Charlie. Believe me, I have not given it. It--it is +simply gone from me." + +Kate sighed. Then her mood changed again. That sharp alert look came +into her eyes once more. + +"Tell me--of to-morrow," she urged him. + +The second demand had a pronounced effect upon Charlie. The air of the +suppliant fell from him, even the signs of his recent debauch seemed +to give way before a startling alertness of mentality. In his curious +way he seemed suddenly to have become the man of action, full of a +keenness of perception and shrewdness which might well have carried an +added conviction to Stanley Fyles, had he witnessed the display. + +"Listen," he said, with a thrill of excitement. "Maybe it's not +necessary to tell you. Maybe it's stale news. Anyway, to-morrow is to +be the day of Fyles's coup." He paused, watching for the effect of his +words. + +Just for an instant the woman's eyes flashed, but whether in fear, or +merely excited interest, it would have been impossible to say. + +"Go on," she said. + +"To-morrow the village is to be surrounded by a chain of police +patrols. Every entry will be closely watched for the incoming cargo of +whisky. Fyles reckons to get me red-handed." + +"You?" + +Kate's eyes flashed again. + +"Sure. That's how he reckons." + +They looked into each other's eyes steadily. Charlie's were lit by a +curious baffling irony. + +It was finally Charlie who spoke. + +"Fyles's plans are not likely to disconcert--anybody. There is no fear +of legitimate capture. It is treachery--that is to be feared." + +Kate started. + +"Treachery?" + +The man nodded. And the woman gave a sharp exclamation of disgust. + +"Treachery! I hate it. I despise it. I--I could kill a traitor. +You--fear treachery?" + +"I have been warned of it. That's all," he said, in a hard biting +voice. "It is because of this I've come to you to-night. Who can tell +the outcome of to-morrow if there's treachery? So I came to you to +make my--last appeal." In a moment his passion was blazing forth +again. "Say the word, dear. Forget this man. Give me one little grain +of hope. We can leave this place, and all the treachery in the world +doesn't matter. We can leave that, and everything else, behind +us--forever." + +Kate shook her head. It almost seemed as though his pleading had +passed her by. + +"It can't be," she said, almost coldly. "It's too late." + +"Too late?" + +The woman nodded, but her thoughts seemed far away. + +"Tell me," she said, after a pause, while she avoided the man's +despairing eyes, "where does the treachery--lie?" + +The man turned away. His slim shoulders lifted with seeming +indifference. + +"Pete Clancy and Nick Devereux--your two boys. But I don't know yet. +I'm not sure." + +Suddenly Kate moved toward him. The coldness had passed out of her +manner. Her eyes had softened, and a smile, a tender smile, shone in +their depths. She held out her two hands. + +"Charlie, boy," she said, "you needn't fear for treachery for +to-morrow. Leave Pete and Nick to me. I can deal with them. I promise +you Fyles will gain nothing in the game he's playing, through them. +Now, you must go. Give up all thought of me. We cannot help things. We +can never be anything to each other, more than we are now, so why +endure the pain and misery of a hope than can never be fulfilled. As +long as I live I shall pray for your welfare. So long as I can I shall +strive for it. It is for you to be strong. You must set your heart +upon living down this old past, and--forgetting me. I am not worth +the love you give me. Indeed--indeed I am not." + +But her outstretched hands were ignored. Charlie made a slight, +impatient movement, and turned toward the door. Finally he looked +back, and, for a moment, his gaze encountered the appeal in Kate's +eyes. Then he passed on swiftly as though he could not endure the +sight of all that which he knew to be slipping from beyond his reach. + +One hand reached the door handle, then he hunched his shoulders +obstinately. + +"I give up nothing, Kate. Nothing," he said doggedly. "I love you, and +I shall go on loving you to--the end." + + * * * * * + +It was late when Kate returned to her home. The house was in darkness, +and the moon brought it out in silvery, frigid relief. Thrusting the +front door open, she paused for a moment upon the threshold. She might +have been listening; she might merely have been thinking. Finally she +sat down and removed her shoes and gently tip-toed to her sister's +room. + +Helen's door was ajar, and she pushed it open and looked in. The +moonlight was shining across her sister's fair features, and the mass +of loose fair hair which framed them. She was sound asleep in that +wonderful dreamless land of rest, far from the turbulent little world +in which her waking hours were spent. + +Kate as softly withdrew. Now she made her way back to the familiar +kitchen parlor, and, in the dark, took up her position at the open +window. Her whole attention was centered upon the ranch house of +Charlie Bryant across the valley, which stood out in the moonlight +almost as clearly as in daylight. A light was shining in one of its +windows. + +She sat there waiting with infinite patience, and at last the light +was extinguished. Then she rose, and, going to her bureau, picked up a +pair of night glasses. She leveled these at the distant house and +continued her watch. + +Her vigil, however, did not last long. In a few minutes she distinctly +beheld a figure move out on to the veranda. Its identity, at that +distance, she was left to conjecture. But she saw it leave the veranda +and make its way round to the barn. A few minutes later, again, it +reappeared, this time mounted upon a horse. + +She sighed. It was a sigh of impatience, it was also a sigh of +resignation. Then she rose from her seat, and returned her night +glasses to the bureau. Again she looked out of the window, but this +time she remained standing. Nor were her eyes turned upon the distant +ranch house. Her whole attitude was one of deep pensiveness. + +At last, however, she stirred, and, quite suddenly, her movements +became quick and decided. It almost seemed as though she had finally +reached a definite resolve. + +She passed out of the room, and then out of the house through the back +way. The little barn was within a hundred yards of the house. She was +still in the shadow of the house when she became aware of figures +moving just outside the barn. In a moment she recognized them. They +were her two hired men in the act of riding away on their horses. + +She let them get well away. Then she drew the door close after her and +crossed over to the barn. + +The door was open and she went in. Passing the two empty stalls where +the men's horses were kept, she went on to another, where her own +horse, hearing her approach, set its collar chains rattling and +greeted her with a suppressed whinny. + +It was the work of but a few minutes to saddle him and bring him out +into the moonlight. Then she mounted him and rode off in the wake of +those who had gone on before. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE BROKEN CHAIN + + +The peace of Sunday evening merged into the calm of night. Service was +long since over in the old Meeting House. The traveling parson had +come and gone. He had done his duty. He had read the service to the +lounging, unkempt congregation, he had prayed over them, he had +preached at them. He had done all these things because it was his duty +to do so, but he had done them without the least hope of improving the +morals of his unworthy flock, or of penetrating one single fraction +through their crime-stained armor of self-satisfaction. Rocky Springs +was one of the shadowed corners upon his tour, into which, he felt, +it was beyond his power to impart light. + +There were those in the valley who viewed the Sabbath calm with a +derisive smile. There were those who sat upon their little verandas +and smoked, and talked in hushed voices, lest listening ears might +catch the ominous purport of their words. There were others who went +to their beds with a shrug of pretended indifference, feeling glad +that for once, at least, their homes were a haven of safety for +themselves. + +Rocky Springs as a whole knew that something was afoot--some play in +which some one was to be worsted, in which, maybe, a life or two would +be lost. Anyway, the players were Law _versus_ Outlaw, and those who +were not actually concerned with the game felt glad that they still +had another night under their own roofs. + +It was truly extraordinary how unspoken news spread. It was +extraordinary the scent of battle, the scent of a struggle against the +law, that was possessed by this people. Everybody seemed to know that +to-night something like history was to be made in the annals of the +crime of the valley. + +So the peace of the valley was almost remarkable. An undoubted air of +studied indifference prevailed, but surely it was carefully studied. + +Neither Fyles nor any of his police had been seen the whole day. None +of them had attended divine service. It was almost as if they had +entirely vanished from the precincts of the valley. + +So the sun sank, and the ruddy clouds rose up from the west like the +fiery splash of the molten contents of the cauldron into which the +great ball of fire had plunged. They rose up, and then dispersed, +vanishing into thin air, and making way for the soft sheen of a myriad +stars, and leaving clear a perfect night for the great summer moon to +illuminate. + + * * * * * + +Two by two a large number of horsemen rode out of the valley of +Leaping Creek. Once away from the starting point, their movements, +their figures became elusive and shadowy. They passed out from among +the trees, on to the wide plains above, and each couple split up, +taking their individual ways with a certainty which displayed their +perfect prairie craft. + +Far out into the night they rode, each with clear instructions filling +his mind, each with the certainty that one or more of their number +must be brought face to face with a crisis before morning, which would +need all their nerve and wit to bring to a successful issue. + +The moon rose up, a great golden globe, slowly changing to a cold +silvery light as it mounted the starlit vault. Then came a change. +Instead of leaving a starry track behind it, a bank of cloud followed +hard upon its heels, threatening to overtake it and hide its splendor +behind a pall of summer storm. + +Stanley Fyles watched with satisfaction the signs of the night. + + * * * * * + +A solitary horseman sat leaning forward upon the horn of his saddle, +his eyes searching, searching, with aching intensity, that dim, +shadowed skyline now almost lost against its backing of cloud. He was +half-hidden in the shadow of a small bluff of spruce, with the depths +of the valley hard behind him. + +Not only were his eyes searching with an almost unblinking +watchfulness, but his ears, too, were busy with that intense, +nerve-racking straining which leaves them ever ready to carry the +phantom sounds of imagination to the impatient brain above. + +It was a long, intense vigil, and a hundred times the waiting man saw +movements and heard sounds which set him ready to give the final +signal which was to complete the carefully laid plans of his chief. +But, in each case, he was spared the false alarm to which tricks of +imagination so nearly drove him. + +Midnight came and passed. The sky grew more threatening. The man's +eyes were upon that distant, southern upland which marked the skyline. +Something seemed to be moving in the hazy distance, but as yet there +was no sound accompanying the movement. + +Was there not? Hark, what was that? + +The man sighed. It was the rustle of the trees about him, stirred +by a gentle rising breeze. But was it? Hark! That sounded like a +footfall. But a footfall was not wanted. It was the sound of wheels +for which his ears were straining. Ah, that was surely the wind. +And--yes--listen. A rumble. It might be the wheels at last, or was it +thunder? He sat up. The strain was hard to bear. It was thunder. And +his eyes, for a moment, left the horizon for the clouds above. He +regretted the absence of the moon. It left his work doubly difficult. +He wondered---- + +But his wonder ceased, and he fell like a stone out of the saddle. He +struggled fiercely, but his arms were held to his sides immovable. He +had a vague recollection of a swift whirring sound, but that was all. +Then he found himself struggling furiously on the ground with his +horse vanished. + + * * * * * + +Inspector Fyles was thinking of many things. His post was at a point +overlooking the Fort Alberton trail, which wound its way in the wide +trough of two great, still waves of prairieland directly in front of +him. Nothing could pass that way and remain unobserved, excepting +under cover of the storm which seemed to be gathering. + +He patted Peter's arched neck, and the well-mannered, amiable creature +responded by champing its bit impatiently. Fyles smiled. He knew that +Peter loved to be traveling far and fast. + +He turned his eyes skywards. Perhaps it was not a storm. There were +breaks here and there, and occasionally a star peeped out and twinkled +mockingly at him. Still, he must hope for the best. A storm would +favor his quarry, besides being----. Hark! + +A shot rang out in the distance, away to the east. One--two! Wait. A +third! There it was. To the east. They were coming on over the +southern trail, and that was in McBain's section! + +He lifted his reins, and Peter promptly laid his swift heels to the +ground. Three shots. Fyles hoped the fourth would not be fired until +he was within striking distance of the spot. + + * * * * * + +Four horsemen were converging upon the bluff whence the shots had +proceeded. Each of the four had heard the three shots fired, each was +executing the tactical arrangement agreed upon, and each was waiting +as he rode, laboring under a high nervous tension, for the fourth +shot, which was to confirm the alarm and notify the definite discovery +of the contraband. + +It was withheld. + +Fyles was the first to reach the bluff, but, almost at the same +moment, McBain's great horse drew up with a jolt. The inspector saw +the approach of his subordinate while his eyes were still searching +the skirts of the bluff for the patrol who had given the signal. + +"He should be on the southeast side," said McBain, and rode off in +that direction. Fyles followed hard upon his heels. + +They had gone less than two hundred yards when the officer saw the +shadowy form of the Scot throw itself back in the saddle, and pull his +great horse back upon its haunches. Fyles swept up on the swift-footed +Peter. He, too, reined up with a jolt and leaped out of the saddle. + +McBain was on his knees beside the prostrate form of the sentry. The +man was bound hand and foot, and a heavy gag was secured in his widely +forced open mouth. + +At that moment two troopers dashed up. And the sounds of others +foregathering could be plainly heard. + +As Fyles regarded the prostrate man he realized that once more he had +been defeated. He did not require to wait for the gag to be removed. +He understood. + +He leaped into the saddle, as McBain cut the gag from the man's mouth. +A sharp inquiry broke the silence. + +"Say, did you fire that--alarm?" Fyles cried almost fiercely. + +The man had struggled to a sitting posture, and began to explain. + +"No, sir. I was dragged----" + +"Never mind what happened. You didn't give the alarm?" + +"No, sir." + +"Quick, McBain!" Fyles almost shouted. "They've done us. Cut him +loose, and follow me. They're on the Fort Allerton trail--or my +name's not Fyles." + + * * * * * + +Peter led the race for the Fort Allerton trail. The dark night clouds +were breaking when they reached the spot where the inspector had +originally stationed himself. They passed on, and a glimmer of +moonlight peeped out at them as they reached the trail side. + +Fyles and McBain leaped from their saddles and examined the sandy +surface of it. Two of the troopers joined them. + +At length the officer spoke, and his voice had lost something of its +sharp tone of authority. + +"They've beaten us, McBain," he cried. "God's curse on them, they've +played us at our own game, and--beaten us. A wagon and team's passed +here less than five minutes ago. Look at the dust track they've left." + +Fyles stood up. Then he started, and an angry glitter shone in his +gray eyes. A horseman was silently looking on at the group of +dismounted men, deliberately watching their movements. In the heat of +the hunt no one had heard his approach. He sat there looking on in +absolute silence. + +Fyles moved clear of his men and strode up to the horseman. He halted +within a yard of him, while the rest of the party looked on in +amazement. McBain was the only one to make any move. He followed hard +on his chief's heels. + +Fyles looked up into the horseman's face. The sky had cleared and the +moon was shining once more. A sudden fury leaped to the officer's +brain, and, for a moment, all discretion was very nearly flung to the +winds. By a great effort, however, he checked his mad impulse. + +"What are you doing here, Mr. Bryant?" he demanded sharply. + +Charlie Bryant leaned forward upon the horn of his saddle. His dark +eyes were smiling, but it was not a pleasant smile. + +"Why, wondering what you fellows are doing here," he said calmly. + +Fyles stared, and again his fury nearly got the better of him. + +"That's no answer to my question," he snapped. + +"Isn't it?" A subtle change was in Charlie Bryant's manner. His smile +remained, but it was full of a burning dislike, and even insolence. +"Guess it's all you'll get from a free citizen. I've as much right +here looking on at the escapades of the police, as they have +to--indulge in 'em. Guess I've had a mighty long day and need to get +home. Say, I'm tired. So long." + +He urged his horse forward and passed on down the trail. And as he +went a trooper followed him, with orders to track him till daylight. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +ROCKY SPRINGS HEARS THE NEWS + + +The news which greeted early morning ears in Rocky Springs was of a +quality calculated to upset the entire affairs of the day, and bring +a perfect surfeit of grist to O'Brien's insatiable mill. It even +jeopardized the all-important church affairs. No one was inclined to +work at all, let alone voluntarily work. + +Then, too, there were the difficulties of gathering together a quorum +of the Church Construction Committee, and Mrs. John Day, full of +righteous indignation and outraged pride, as president, felt and +declared that it was a scandal that the degraded doings of a parcel of +low-down whisky-runners should be allowed to interfere with the noble +cause which the hearts of the valley were set upon. But, being a woman +of considerable energy, she by no means yielded to circumstances. + +However, her difficulties were considerable. The percolation of the +news of the police failure had reduced the male population to the +condition of a joyful desire to celebrate in contraband drink. The +female population became obsessed with a love of their own doorsteps, +whence they could greet each other and exchange loud-voiced opinions +with their neighbors, while their household "chores" awaited their +later convenience. The children, too, were robbed of their delight in +more familiar mischief, and turned their inventive faculties toward +something newer and more in keeping with prevailing conditions and +sentiments. Thus, a new game was swiftly arranged, and some brighter +soul among them christened it the D. I. F. game. The initials were +popularly believed to represent "Done is Fyles," but the enlightened +among the boys understood that they stood for "Damn Idjut Fyles," an +interpretation quite in keeping with the general opinion of the people +of the valley. + +Certainly the atmosphere of the village that morning must have been +intolerable to Inspector Fyles, had he permitted himself to dwell upon +the indications, the derisive glances, the quiet laugh of men as he +chanced to pass. But public opinion and feeling were things he had +long since schooled himself to ignore. He was concerned with his +superiors, and his superiors only. At all times they were more than +sufficient to trouble with, and his whole anxiety was turned in their +direction now, in view of his terrible failure of the night before. + +Thus he was forced to witness the signs about him, and content himself +with the knowledge that he had been bluffed, while he cast about in +his troubled mind for a means of appeasing his superior's official +wrath. + +The church committee was to assemble at Mrs. John Day's house at ten +o'clock, and the hour passed without a shadow of a quorum being +formed. Kate Seton, the honorary secretary, was the only member, +besides the president, who put in an appearance at the appointed hour. + +So Mrs. Day thrust on her bonnet, and, with every artificial flower in +its crown shaking with indignation, set out to "round-up" the members. + +O'Brien was impossible. His trade was too overwhelming to be left in +the hands of a mere bartender, but there was less excuse for Billy +Unguin and Allan Dy, who were merely drinkers in the place. She +possessed herself of their persons and marched them off, and gathered +up two or three women friends of hers on the way home. Thus, by eleven +o'clock, she had the door of her parlor closed upon a more or less +efficient quorum. + +Then she sat her bulk down with a sigh of enforced content. Her florid +face was beaded with perspiration as a result of her efforts. + +She turned autocratically to her secretary. + +"We'll dispense with the reading of the minutes of the last meeting," +she declared half-defiantly. "We'll take 'em as read and passed. This +liquor business is driving us all to perdition, as well as wasting our +time, which is more important in Rocky Springs. I've never seen the +like of this place." She glared directly at the two men. "And the +men--well, say, I s'pose they are men, these fellows who stand around +decorating that villain O'Brien's saloon. If it was a christening, +they'd drink; if it was a wedding, they'd drink; if it was a funeral, +they'd drink; if they were going to stand before their Maker right +away, they'd call for rye first." + +After which few opening remarks, given with all the scornful dignity +of one who knows she holds the leading position among her sex in the +village, she proceeded with the work in hand with a capacity for +detail that quite worried the absent minds of the only two male +members of the committee present. + +Such was the general yearning for a termination of the meeting, so +that its members might once more return to the gossip outside, that +Mrs. John Day was permitted to carry all her plans in her scheme of +salvation before her, with little or no discussion. And, in +consequence, her good nature quickly reasserted itself, and she became +more and more inclined to look leniently upon the defects of the +majority of her committee. + +The president disposed of several lesser complaints against the +construction of the church to her own satisfaction. The list of them +was an accumulation of opinions sent in by people who felt that it was +due to the community, and themselves, particularly, that the elected +committee were sufficiently harrassed by pin pricks, lest it became +too high-handed and autocratic. + +Mrs. Day's methods of dealing with these was characteristic of her +social rule in the village. She rose with a look of contemptuous +defiance upon her fiery features. It was Helen who had once declared +that Mrs. John always reminded her of one of those very red-combed +old hens who never failed to cluck themselves very nearly into an +apoplectic fit over a helpless worm, and demanded that all eyes should +watch her marvelous display of prowess in its slaughter. A slip of +paper had been thrust into her hands by the undisturbed honorary +secretary. + +"I guess I'm not going to worry you folks with debating these fool +complaints sent in by some of the glory-seekers in this village," she +began with enthusiastic heat. "I've settled them all myself. I'll read +you the complaints and what I've done in each case. First, there's a +kick from Mrs. Morgan, upon the hill. She's no account anyway, and +hasn't given a bean toward the church--yet. Guess I'll have to see to +that later. She says she saw two of the boys working on log hauling, +sitting around in the shade of the church wall, after doing their +work, swilling whisky out of the neck of a bottle, and guessed it +wasn't decent. I've written her asking her to send two boys to do the +work in their place. Guess she hasn't replied. Katherine L. Sherman, +who guesses she's related to the real Shermans, and has had twins +twice in three years, writes: 'When are we goin' to arrange for a +christening font?' I handed her this. 'When folks needing it see their +way clear to unrolling their bank wads.' Then there's Mrs. Andy +Carlton, who's felt high-toned ever since she bought that second-hand +top buggy from Mary Porson. She guesses we need a bell. I told her +that if the people of Rocky Springs tried ringing their way to glory, +it would be liable to alarm folks there. Best way would be to try and +sneak in, and not shout they were coming. Then I heard from Mary +Porson, herself. She wants to know who's to keep the boys who're drunk +out of service, and wouldn't it be better to hold Meeting on Monday, +so's the boys could get over the Saturday night souse in comfort. I +told her she seemed to have a wrong idea of the folks of this village. +I guessed if any feller got around to Meeting with liquor under his +belt, there was liable to be a lynching right away. The boys wouldn't +stand for any ungentlemanly conduct at Meeting. Then there's Mrs. +Annerly-Jones. Having a hyphen to her name, she's all for white +surplices and organized singing. She figures to start up a full choir, +and sing the solos herself. I hinted that the choir racket wasn't to +be despised, but solo work was liable to cause ill-feeling in the +village by making folks think the singer was getting the start of them +in the chase for glory. And, anyway, the old harmonium wasn't a match +for her voice. Then there's a suggestion for cuspidors for each bench, +and I must say, right here, I'm in favor of them. I'm not one to +interfere with the disgusting ways of men. Men are just men, and can't +help it, anyway, and if they contract filthy habits, it's not for +woman to put 'em right. But she's got the right to refuse having her +skirts turned into floor swabs. I've fixed all these things right, so +we don't need to vote on 'em. But there's one little matter that needs +discussing right here and now, seeing that the folks are present +who've brought it up." + +The president paused and glared at the two men through her big, +steel-rimmed glasses, and Billy Unguin and Allan Dy found themselves +uncomfortably interested in various parts of well-varnished +appointments of the lady's parlor. + +Kate Seton eyed the two men with some amusement. She felt that the +recent discussion, which took place in the new church itself, was +liable to assume a different complexion here. Besides, she knew these +two men, and felt it was best to have the suggestion of felling the +old pine, as a ridge pole for the church, definitely negatived by the +present meeting. + +Mrs. John Day was always a difficult woman, of very strong opinions. +Therefore it was not policy to suggest her course of action. So Kate +had merely warned her that the suggestion had been made. + +"It's been said," Mrs. Day went on, with an aggressive look in her hot +eyes, "that the design of the building is all wrong. That the main +body is too long, and that the ridge pole of the roof will have to be +joined in several places. This means a great weakness that'll have to +be supported by central columns, which will obstruct the central +gangway and the general view. I'd like Mr. Unguin and Mr. Dy to +discuss the matter before the meeting." + +Thus challenged, Allan Dy sprang to his feet. + +"It's just as you say, ma'm," he cried. "And I say right here that +ridge pole should be in one piece. It's bad. In a few years' time +we'll surely have to rebuild that roof." + +He sat down with a jolt, and glared fiercely at his friend beside him. + +Billy Unguin was on his feet in a moment. + +"I want to say right here that my friend's been sorting mail so long +he's got nervous. Furthermore, I'd add he don't need to worry a thing. +It's my opinion the new church is an elegant proposition which +reflects credit upon Rocky Springs, and our charming president more +than anybody. And, if there's any liberties taken with the science of +architecture, the matter can be got over dead easy. If joining the +ridge pole means weakening the structure, then don't join it. That +don't beat us a little bit. With such a head as our president has for +the management of big affairs I'm sure she'll see a way out of the +trouble, 'specially when I draw her attention to the old pine, which +is tall enough to cut two ridge poles out of it for our church." + +Like his friend, he sat down with a jolt. But he was smiling with +anticipated triumph. He felt that his long experience as a salesman of +dry goods had taught him how to reach the most vulnerable point in +feminine armor. When it came to winning over Mrs. John Day to his side +Allan Dy hadn't an earthly chance with him. + +But his smile slowly disappeared when the honorary secretary promptly +rose to her feet. + +Kate Seton turned and addressed herself to the president. + +"I should like to put in a word of protest," she began, while Allan Dy +smiled and breathed his thankfulness that he was not to remain +unsupported. + +Instantly Billy Unguin broke in. + +"Miss Seton, as secretary, is only ex-officio," he cried. + +Mrs. Day shot a withering glance at him. + +"Miss Seton is _honorary_ secretary." + +Allan Dy smiled more broadly as the president promptly nodded for Kate +to proceed. + +"I wish to protest against the old pine being felled," she said, with +some warmth. "It means disaster to Rocky Springs. There is the old +legend. There is a curse on the felling of that tree." + +Her announcement was greeted by a murmur of approval from the women +present, all except Mrs. Day. Dy beamed. But Kate was less pleased. +She knew her president. She would always listen to the men, but when +her own sex ventured on thinking for themselves she was liable to +become restive. + +The president glanced round the room with a swift challenge shining +through her glasses, and her hard mouth closed tightly. Then she +turned sharply to the woman at her side. + +"I'm--I'm--astonished, Kate," she cried, with difficulty suppressing +her inclination to domineer. "The matter is most simple. It is said +the best interests of the church are being jeopardized. There is the +obvious necessity of altering the design of the roof of our beautiful +building. You--whom I have always regarded as the essence of sanity, +and my chief support in the arduous work which has been flung upon my +shoulders, and which Mr. Unguin has been pleased to say I'm not +incapable of carrying out--you would sacrifice those interests for a +lot of old Indian fool talk. I never would have believed it. Never! +Say," she turned to the others, and her eyes challenged the rest of +the women, "This surely is a more serious matter than I thought. It +must be looked into. I'll look into it myself. If things are as Mr. Dy +says, and it's necessary, as Mr. Unguin points out, to cut down that +tree to fix our church right--why, it's going to be cut down. That's +all." + +She paused dramatically, but not long enough for anybody to interrupt +her. Then, with a wave of her fat arm, which, to the women, became a +threat, and to the men appeared to be something like the gesticulation +of an animated sausage, she proceeded to terminate the debate. + +"Those in favor of _my_ proposition will signify the same in the usual +manner," she cried, with an air that brooked no sort of denial. + +Up went every right hand in the room except those of Kate and Allan +Dy. Then the "no's" were taken. After which the result was announced +with all the triumph of Mrs. Day's domineering personality. + +"Carried," she cried. + +Then she turned upon her secretary without the least sympathy or +kindliness in her manner. + +"You'll enter that resolution in the minutes of the meeting," she +snapped. + + * * * * * + +Some half-hour later the quorum dissolved itself and trickled out of +the oppressive precincts of Mrs. John Day's highly polished parlor. +The trickling process only lasted until the front door was gained. +Then came a rush which had neither dignity nor politeness in it. + +The two men set off for the saloon without attempting to disguise +their purpose. The women hastily tripped off in the various directions +whither they knew their favorite gossips would be found. Even Kate +Seton failed to wait to exchange her usual few final words with the +president. Truth to tell, she was both disgusted and depressed, and +felt that somehow she had made a mess of things. She felt that she had +contrived to turn an unimportant matter into something of the first +magnitude. The question of felling the old pine had merely been one +of those subjects for bickering between Billy and Allan Dy, who had +never been known to agree on any subject, and now, through bringing +their dispute before the committee, she knew that she had changed it +into a question upon which the whole village would take sides. She +only trusted that superstition would prevail, and the aged landmark +would be left standing. She somehow felt doubtful, however, now that +Mrs. Day had taken sides against her, and she hurried off to avoid +further discussion. + +Billy Unguin arrived at the saloon alone. Allan Dy's course was +diverted when he came within sight of his post office. As he reached +the main trail of the village, he saw Inspector Fyles and Sergeant +McBain riding down from the west, and the sight of them reminded him +of his mail. So, leaving his friend to continue his way to the saloon +alone, he went on to his little office, arriving in time to take down +a telegraphic message from Amberley, and hand it, with his mail, to +the police officer. + +He rubbed his hands delightedly as he read the message over to himself +a second time before placing it in its envelope. It was from the +police headquarters, and its wording was full of significance in the +light of last night's events. Allan Dy was glad he had not gone on to +the saloon. + +The message was desperately curt. + +"Wagon returned to Fort Allerton empty. Report. Jason." + +The postmaster had just placed the message with the officers' mail +when the two policemen entered. Fyles's expression was morose, and his +manner repellent. McBain was grim and silent. + +"There's a goodish mail, Mr. Fyles," said Dy, without a trace of his +real feelings, as he held out the bulky packet of letters. "That +message has just come along over the wire." He pointed at the tinted +envelope enclosing the telegram. + +While Fyles took his mail, McBain's keen eyes were at work upon the +letters spread out on the counter. + +Fyles's silent manner induced the curious official to go a step +further. + +"It's from headquarters--Superintendent Jason," he said, covertly +watching the policeman's face. + +But the effect was not quite as satisfactory as he hoped. Fyles +smiled. + +"Thanks. I was expecting it." + +Then he turned away, and, followed by McBain, passed out of the +building. + +Once outside, however, it was quite another matter. The officer tore +open the message and glanced at its contents. Then he passed it on to +McBain with a brief comment. + +"They're wise," he said. "Guess the band's going to start +playing--right away." + +McBain read the message. "We're up against it, sir," was his dry +comment. + +"Up against it, man?" Fyles cried, with sudden heat. "I tell you +that's very nearly our sentence. We've failed--failed, do you +understand? And it's not our first failure. Do you need me to tell you +anything? We may just as well stand right here and cut off the badges +of our various ranks. That's what we may as well do," he added +bitterly. "There's no mercy in Jason, and devilish little reason." + +But the Scot seemed to have very little sympathy for the other's +feelings. He seemed to care less for his rank than something else, +and, in his next words, the real man shone out. + +"I don't care a curse for my rank, sir," he exclaimed. "We've been +bluffed and beaten like two babes in the game our lives are spent in +playing. That's what hurts me. Have you seen 'em, sir? All the way +along as we came down here just now. We passed five or six women at +the doors of their miserable shacks, and they smiled as they saw us. +We passed four men, and their greeting was maddening in its jeer. Even +the damned kids looked up and grinned like the apes they are. They've +bluffed and beaten us, and I--hate 'em all." + +For some moments Stanley Fyles made no answer. He was gazing out down +the village trail, and his eyes were on a small group of people +standing some way off talking together. He had recognized them. They +were Kate and Helen Seton, and with them was young Bryant, the +ingenuous brother of Charlie. He guessed, as well he might, the +subject of their talk. His failure. Was not everybody talking of it? +And were not most of them, probably all of them, rejoicing? His +bitterness grew, and at last he turned on his subordinate. + +"Bluffed, but not beaten," he said, with a fierce oath which did the +Scot's heart good. "We're not beaten," he reiterated, "if only Jason +will leave us alone, and trust us further. I've got to convince him. +I've got to tell him all that's happened, and I've got to persuade him +to leave us here. We've got to go on. He can recommend my resignation, +he can do what he damn well pleases, so long as he leaves me here to +finish this work. I tell you, I've got to break up this gang of +hoodlums." + +McBain's eyes glittered. + +"That's how I feel, sir." + +"Feel? We've just got to do it--or clear out of the country. Man, +I'd give a thousand dollars to know how they got possession of our +signals. Those shots, that bluffed us, were fired by some of the gang. +How did they learn it? It's been done by spying, but--say, get on back +to camp, and prepare the report of last night. Hold it up for me, and +I'll enclose a private letter to Mr. Jason. I'll be along later." + +McBain nodded. + +"You fix it, sir, so we don't get transferred back. We need another +chance badly. Maybe they won't bluff us next time." + +He swung himself into the saddle and rode away, while Fyles, linking +his arm through the faithful Peter's reins, strolled leisurely on down +the track toward the group which included Kate Seton. + +As he drew near they ceased talking, and watched his approach. Their +attitude was such that Fyles could not refrain from a half-bitter, +half-laughing comment as he came up. + +"It doesn't take much guessing to locate the subject of your talk, +Miss Kate," he cried. + +Kate's dark eyes had no smile in them as she replied to his challenge. + +"How's that?" she inquired, while Bill and Helen watched his face. + +Fyles shrugged. + +"You stopped talking when you saw I was coming your way." He laughed. +"However, I guess it's only to be expected. The boys bluffed us all +right last night. It was a smartish trick. Still," he added +thoughtfully, "it's given us an elegant lever--when the time comes." + +Kate made no answer. She was studying the man's face, and there was a +certain regret and even pity in the depths of her regard. Bill and +Helen had no such feelings for him. They were frankly rejoiced at his +failure. + +Helen replied. "That's so, Mr. Fyles," she said, almost tartly, "but I +guess that lever needs to help them into your traps to do any real +good." + +The officer's smile was quite good-humored, in spite of the sharpness +of the girl's reminder. What he really felt he was not likely to +display here. + +"Sure," he said. "The spider weaves his web and it's not worth a cent +if the flies aren't foolish enough to make mistakes. The spider is a +student of winged insect nature, and he lays his plans accordingly. +The flies always come to him--in the end." + +Bill laughed good-humoredly. + +"That's dandy," he cried. "There's always fool flies around. But +sometimes that spider's web gets all mussed up and broken. I've broke +'em myself--rather than see the fool things caught." + +Kate's eyes were turned on the great bulk of Charlie's brother. Even +Helen looked up with bright admiration for her lover. + +Fyles's gaze was leveled directly into the innocent looking blue eyes +laughing into his. + +"Yes, I dare say you and other folks have broken those things up, +often--but the spiders thrive and multiply. You see, when one net is +busted they--make another. They don't seem to starve ever, do they? +Ever seen a spider dead of starvation?" + +"Can't say I have." Bill shook his great head. "But maybe they'd get a +bad time if they set their traps for any special flies--or fly." + +Fyles raised his powerful shoulders coldly. + +"Guess the spider business doesn't go far enough," he said, talking +directly at Big Brother Bill. "When I spoke of that lever just now, +maybe you didn't get my meaning quite clearly. That gang, who ran the +liquor in last night, put themselves further up against the law than +maybe they think. It was an armed attack on the police, which is +quite a different thing to just simple whisky-running. Get me? The +police are always glad when crooks do that. It pays them better--when +the time comes." + +Bill had no reply. He suddenly experienced the chill of the cold steel +of police methods. A series of painful pictures rose up before his +mind's eye, which held his tongue silent. Helen quickly came to his +rescue. + +"But who's to say who did it?" she demanded. + +Fyles smiled down into her pretty face. + +"Those who want to save their skins--when the time comes." + +It was Helen's turn to realize something of the irresistible nature of +the work of the police. Somehow she felt that the defeat of the police +last night was but a shadowy success after all, for those concerned in +the whisky-running. Her thought flew at once to Charlie, and she +shuddered at the suggested possibilities in Fyles's words. + +She turned away. + +"Well, all I can say is, I--I hate it all, and wish it was all over +and done with. Everybody's talking, everybody's gloating, and--and it +just makes me feel scared to death." Then she turned again to Bill. +"Let's go on," she cried, a little desperately. "We'll finish our +shopping, and--and get away from it all. It just makes me real ill." + +She waved a farewell to Kate and moved away, and Bill, like some +faithful watchdog, followed at her heels. Fyles looked after them both +with serious, earnest eyes. Kate watched them smiling. + +Presently Fyles turned back to her. + +"Well?" he demanded. + +Kate's eyes were slowly raised to his. + +"Well?" she echoed. "So----" + +She broke off. Her generous nature checked her in time. She had been +about to twit him with his defeat. She sympathized with his feelings +at the thought of his broken hopes. + +"Better say it," said Fyles, with a smile, in which chagrin and +tenderness struggled for place. "You were going to say I have been +defeated, as you told me I should be defeated." + +"I s'pose I was." Kate glanced quickly up into his face, but the +feeling she beheld there made her turn her eyes away so that they +followed Bill and Helen moving down the trail. "Women are usually +ungenerous to--an adversary." Then her whole manner changed to one of +kindly frankness. "Do you know my feelings are sort of mixed about +your--defeat----" + +"Not defeat," put in Fyles. "Check." + +Kate smiled. + +"Well, then, 'check.' I am glad--delighted--since you direct all your +suspicions against Charlie. Then I am full of regret for you, +because--because I know the rigor of police discipline. In the eyes of +the authorities you have failed--twice. Oh, if you would only attack +this thing with an open mind, and not start prejudiced against +Charlie. I wish you had never listened to local gossip. If that were +so I could be on your side, and--and with true sportsmanship, wish you +well. Besides that, I might be able to tell you things. You see, I +learn many things in the village that others do not--hear." + +Fyles was studying the woman's face closely as she spoke. And +something he beheld there robbed his defeat of a good deal of its +sting. Her words were the words of partisanship, and her partisanship +was for another as well as himself. Had this not been so, had her +partisanship been for him alone, he could well have abandoned himself +to an open mind, as she desired. As it was, she drove him to a dogged +pursuit of the man he was convinced was the real culprit. + +"Don't let us reopen the old subject," he said, with a shade of +irritability. "I have evidence you know nothing of, and I should be +mad indeed if I changed my objective at your desire, for the sake of +the unsupported belief and regard you have for this man. Let us be +content to be adversaries, each working out our little campaign as we +think best. Don't waste regrets at my failures. I know the price I +have to pay for them--only too well. I know, and I tell you frankly, +but only you, that my career in the police may terminate in +consequence. That's all right. The prestige of the force cannot be +maintained by--failures. The prestige of the force is very dear to me. +If you have anything to tell me that may lead me in the direction of +the real culprit, then tell me. If not--why let us be friends +until--until my work has made that impossible. I--I want your +friendship very much." + +Kate's eyes were turned from him. The deep light in them was very +soft. + +"Do you?" she smiled. "Well--perhaps you have it, in spite of our +temporary antagonism. Oh, dear--it's all so absurd." + +Fyles laughed. + +"Isn't it? But, then, anything out of the ordinary is generally +absurd, until we get used to it. Somehow, it doesn't seem absurd that +I want your--friendship. At least, not to me." + +Kate smiled up into his face. + +"And yet it is--absurd." + +The man's eyes suddenly became serious. + +"Why?" + +Kate shrugged. + +"That's surely explained. We are--antagonists." + +Again that look of impatience crossed the man's keen features. As he +offered no reply, Kate went on. + +"About the armed attack on the police. You said it made all the +difference. What is the difference?" + +"Anything between twelve months in the penitentiary and twenty +years--when the gang is landed." + +"Twenty years!" The woman gave a slight gasp. + +The man nodded. + +"And do you know the logical consequence of it all?" he inquired. + +"No." Kate's eyes were horrified. + +"Why, when next we come into conflict there will be shooting if these +people are pressed. They will have to shoot to save themselves. Then +there may be murder added to their list of--delinquencies. These +things follow in sequence. It is the normal progress of those who put +themselves on the side of crime." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +AT THE HIDDEN CORRAL + + +Charlie Bryant urged his horse at a dangerous pace along the narrow, +winding cattle tracks which threaded the upper reaches of the valley. +He gave no heed to anything--the lacerating thorns, the great, knotty +roots, with which the paths were studded, the overhanging boughs. His +sole object seemed to be a desperate desire to reach his destination. + +His horse often floundered and tripped, the man's own clothes were +frequently ripped by the thorns, and the bleeding flesh beneath laid +bare, while it seemed a miracle that he successfully dodged the +threatening boughs overhead. + +There was a hunted look in his dark eyes, too. It was a look of +concern, almost of terror. His gaze was alert and roving. Now, he was +looking ahead, straining with anxiety, now he was turning this way and +that in response to the mysterious woodland sounds which greeted his +ears. Again, with a nervous jerk, he would rein in his horse and sit +listening, with eyes staring back over the way he had come, as though +fearing pursuit. + +Once he thrust a hand into an inside pocket as though to reassure +himself that something was there which he valued and feared to lose, +and with every movement, every look of his eyes, every turn of the +head, he displayed an unusual nervousness and apprehension. + +At last his horse swept into the clearing of the hidden corral, and he +reined it up with a jerk, and leaped from the saddle. Then he stood +listening, and the apprehension in his eyes deepened. But presently it +lessened, and he moved forward, and flung his reins over one of the +corral fence posts. Every woodland sound, every discordant note from +the heart of the valley was accounted for in his mind, so he hurried +toward the flat-roofed hut, that mysterious relic of a bygone age. + +He thrust the creaking door open and waited while the flight of birds +swarmed past him. Then he made his way within. Once inside he paused +again with that painful look of expectancy and fear in his eyes. Again +this passed, and he went on quickly to the far corner of the room, +and laid his hands upon the wooden lining of the wall. Then he +abruptly seemed to change his mind. He removed his hands, and withdrew +a largish, morocco pocketbook from an inner pocket. + +It was a rather fine case, bound in embossed silver, and ornamented +with a silver monogram. For some moments he looked at it as though in +doubt. He seemed to be definitely making up his mind, and his whole +attitude suggested his desire for its safety. + +While he was still gazing at it a startled look leaped into his eyes, +and his head turned as though at some suspicious sound. A moment later +he reached out and slid the wooden lining of the wall up, revealing +the cavity behind it, which still contained its odd assortment of +garments. Without hesitation he reached up to a dark jacket and thrust +the pocketbook into an inner pocket. Then, with a swift movement, he +replaced the paneling and turned about. + +It was the work of a moment, and as he turned about his right hand was +gripping the butt of a revolver, ready and pointing at the door. + +"Charlie!" + +The revolver was slipped back into the man's pocket, and Charlie +Bryant's furious face was turned toward the window opening, which now +framed the features of his great blundering brother. + +"You, Bill?" he cried angrily. "What in hell are you doing here?" + +But Bill ignored the challenge, he ignored the tone of it. His big +eyes were full of excitement. + +"Come out of there--quick!" he cried sharply. + +Charlie's dark eyes had lost some of their anger in the inquiry now +replacing it. + +"Why?" But he moved toward the doorway. + +"Why? Because Fyles is behind me. I've seen him in the distance." + +Charlie came around the corner of the building with the door firmly +closed behind him. Bill left the window and moved across to his horse, +which was standing beside that of his brother. Charlie followed him. + +Neither spoke again until the horses were reached, and Bill had +unhitched his reins from the corral fence. Then he turned his great +blue eyes, so full of trouble, upon the small figure beside him, and +he answered the other's half-angry, half-curious challenge with a +question. + +"What's this place?" he demanded. Then he added, "And what's that +cupboard in there?" He jerked his head in the direction of the hut, "I +saw you close it." + +Charlie seemed to have recovered from the apprehension which had +caused him to obey his brother unquestioningly. There was an angry +sparkle in his eyes as he gazed steadily into Bill's face. + +"That's none of your damn business," he said, in a low tone of surly +truculence. "I'm not here to answer any questions till you tell me the +reason why you've had the impertinence to hunt me down. How did you +know where to find me?" + +Just for one moment a hot retort leaped to the other's lips. But he +checked his rising temper. His journey in pursuit of his brother had +been taken after deep reflection and consultation with Helen. But the +mystery of that hut, that cupboard, did more to keep him calm than +anything else. His curiosity was aroused. Not mere idle curiosity, but +these things, this place, were a big link in the chain of evidence +that had been forged about his brother, and he felt he was on the +verge of a discovery. Then there was Fyles somewhere nearby in the +neighborhood. This last thought, and all it portended, destroyed his +feelings of resentment. + +"I s'pose you think I followed you for sheer curiosity. Guess I might +well enough do so, seeing we bear the same name, and that name's +liable to stink--through you. But I didn't, anyway. I came out here to +tell you something I heard this morning, and it's about--last night. +Fyles says that the result of last night is that the gang, their +leader, is now wanted for an armed attack on the police, and that the +penalty is--anything up to twenty years in the penitentiary." + +Charlie's intense regard never wavered for one moment. + +"Who told you I was here?" he demanded angrily. + +"No one." + +There was a sting in the sharpness of Bill's reply. The big blue eyes +were growing hot again. + +"Then how did you know where to find me?" Charlie's deep voice was +full of suppressed fury. + +"I didn't know just where to find you," Bill protested, with rising +heat. "The kid told me you'd gone up the valley, but didn't say where. +I set out blindly and stumbled on your horse's tracks. I chanced those +tracks, and they led me here. Will that satisfy you?" + +Charlie's eyes were still glittering. + +"Not quite. I'll ask you to get out of my ranch. And remember this, +you've seen me at this shack, and you've seen that cupboard. If you'd +been anybody but my brother I'd have shot you down in your tracks. +Fyles--anybody. That cupboard is my secret, and if anyone learns of it +through you--well, I'll forget you're my brother and treat you as +though you were--Fyles." + +A sudden blaze of wrath flared up in the bigger man's eyes. But, +almost as it kindled, it died out and he laughed. However, when he +spoke there was no mirth in his voice. + +"My God, Charlie," he cried, holding out his big hands, "I could +almost take you in these two hands and--and wring your foolish, +obstinate, wicked neck. You stand there talking blasted melodrama like +a born actor on the one-night stands. Your fool talk don't scare me a +little. What in the name of all that's sacred do you think I want to +send you to the penitentiary for? Haven't I come here to warn you? +Man, the rye whisky's turned you crazy. I'm here to help, help, do you +understand? Just four letters, 'help,' a verb which means 'support,' +not 'destroy.'" + +Charlie's cold regard never wavered. + +"When will you clear out of--my ranch?" + +Bill started. The brothers' eyes met in a long and desperate exchange +of regard. Then the big man brought his fist down upon the high cantle +of his saddle with startling force. + +"When I choose, not before," he cried fiercely. "Do you understand? +Here, you foolish man. I know what I'm up against. I know what you're +up against, and I tell you right here that if Fyles is going to hunt +you into the penitentiary he can hunt me, too. I'm not smart, like +you, on these crook games, but I'm determined that the man who lags +you will get it good and plenty. I sort of hate you, you foolish man. +I hate you and like you. You've got grit, and, by God, I like you for +it, and I don't stand to see you go down for any twenty years--alone. +If Fyles gets you that way, you're the last man he ever will get. Damn +you!" + +Charlie drew a deep breath. It was a sigh of pent feeling. He averted +his gaze, and it wandered over the old corral inside which the wagon +with its hay-rack was still standing, though its position was changed +slightly. His eyes rested upon it, and passed on to the hut, about +which the birds were once more gathering. They paused for some silent +moments in this direction. Then they came back to the angry, waiting +brother. + +"I wish you weren't such a blunderer, Bill," he said, and his manner +had become peevishly gentle. "Can't you see I've got to play my own +game in my own way? You don't know all that's back of my head. You +don't know a thing. All you know is that Fyles wants to send me down, +by way of cleaning up this valley. I want him to--if he can. But he +can't. Not as long as the grass grows. He's beaten--beaten before he +starts. I don't want help. I don't want help from anybody. Now, for +God's sake, can't you leave me alone?" + +The tension between the two was relaxed. Bill gave an exclamation of +impatience. + +"You want him to--send you down?" + +The warp of this man was too much for his common sense. + +"If he can." + +Charlie smiled now. It was a smile of perfect confidence. Bill threw +up his hands. + +"Well, you've got me beat to a rag. I----" + +"The same as I have Fyles. But say----" + +Charlie broke off, and his smile vanished. + +"Maybe I'm a crook. Maybe I'm anything you, or anybody else likes to +call me. There's one thing I'm not. I'm no bluff. You know of that +cupboard in that shack. The thought's poison to me. If any other man +had found it, he wouldn't be alive now to listen to me. Do you +understand me? Forget it. Forget you ever saw it. If you dream of it, +fancy it's a nightmare and--turn over. Bill, I solemnly swear that +I'll shoot the man dead, on sight, who gives that away, or dares to +look inside it. Now, we'll get away from here." + +He sprang into the saddle and waited while his brother mounted. Then +he held out his hand. + +"Do you get me?" he asked. + +Bill nodded, and took the outstretched hand in solemn compact. + +"What you say goes," he said easily. "But your threat of shooting +doesn't worry me a little bit." + +He gathered up his reins and the two men rode out of the clearing. + + * * * * * + +The last sound of speeding hoofs died away, and the clearing settled +once more to its mysterious quiet. Only the twittering of the swarming +birds on the thatched roof of the hut disturbed the silence, but, +somehow, even their chattering voices seemed really to intensify it. + +Thus a few minutes passed. + +Then a breaking of bush and rustling of leaves gave warning of a fresh +approach. A man's head and shoulders were thrust forward, out from +amid the boughs of a wild cherry bush. + +His dark face peered cautiously around, and his keen eyes took in a +comprehensive survey of both corral and hut. A moment later he stood +clear of the bush altogether. + +Stanley Fyles swiftly crossed the intervening space and entered the +corral. He strode up to the wagon and examined it closely, studying +its position and the wheel tracks, with a minuteness that left him in +possession of every available fact. Having satisfied himself in this +direction, he passed out of the corral and went over to the hut. + +The screaming birds promptly protested, and flew once more from their +nesting quarters in panicky dudgeon. Fyles watched them go with +thoughtful eyes. Then he passed around to the door of the building and +thrust it open. Another rush of birds swept past him, and he passed +within. Again his searching eyes were brought into play. Not a detail +of that interior escaped him. But ten minutes later he left the +half-lit room for the broad light of day outside--disappointed. + +For a long time he moved around the building, examining the walls, +their bases and foundations. His disappointment remained, however, +and, finally, with strong discontent in his expression, and an +unmistakable shrug of his shoulders, he moved away. + +Finally, he paused and gave a long, low whistle. He repeated it at +intervals, three times, and, after awhile, for answer, the wise face +of Peter appeared from among the bushes. The creature solemnly +contemplated the scene. It was almost as if he were assuring himself +of the safety of revealing himself. Then, with measured gait, he made +his way slowly toward his master. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +A WAGER + + +The wild outbreak of excitement in Rocky Springs died out swiftly. +After all, whisky-running was a mere traffic. It was a general traffic +throughout the country. The successful "running" of a cargo of alcohol +was by no means an epoch-making event. But just now, in Rocky Springs, +it was a matter of more than usual interest, in that the police had +expressed their intention of "cleaning" the little township up. So +the excitement at their outwitting. So, more than ever, the excited +rejoicing became a cordial expression of delight at the fooling of the +purpose of a generally hated act. + +This sentiment was expressed by O'Brien before his bar full of men, +among whom were many of those responsible for the defeat of the +police. He addressed himself personally to Stormy Longton with the +certainty of absolute sympathy. + +"Guess when the boys here have done with the p'lice they'll have the +prohibition law wiped out of the statute book, Stormy," he said, with +a knowing wink. "Ther's fellers o' grit around this valley, eh? Good +boys and gritty. Guess it ain't fer us to open our mouths wide, 'cep' +to swallow prohibition liquor, but there'll be some tales to tell of +these days later, eh, Stormy? An'," he added slyly, "guess you'll be +able to tell some of 'em." + +The badman displayed no enthusiasm at the personality. He considered +carefully before replying. When he did reply, however, he set the +saloonkeeper re-sorting some of his convictions, mixing them with a +doubt which had never occurred to him before. + +"Sure," said Stormy, with a contemptuous shrug, "and I guess you, with +the rest, will do some of the listenin'. You're all wise guys +hereabouts--mostly as wise as the p'lice. Best hand the company a +round of drinks. I've got money to burn." + +He laughed, but no amount of questioning could elicit anything more of +interest to the curious minds about him. + +It was on the second day after the whisky-running that Kate Seton was +returning home after an arduous morning in the village. She was +feeling unusually depressed, and her handsome face was pathetically +lacking in the high spirits and delight of living usual to it. It was +not her way to indulge in the self-pitying joys of depression. On the +contrary, her buoyancy, her spirit, were such as to attract the weaker +at all times to lean on her for support. + +She was tired, too, physically tired. The day had been one of +sweltering heat, one of those sultry, oppressive days, which are +fortunately few enough in the brilliant Canadian summer. + +As she reached the wooden bridge across the river she paused and +leaned herself against the handrail, and, propping her elbow upon it, +leaned her chin upon the palm of her hand and abandoned herself to a +long train of troubled thought. It may have been chance; it may have +been that her thought inspired the direction of her gaze. It may have +been that her attitude had nothing whatsoever to do with her thought. +Certain it is, however, that her brooding eyes were turned, as they +were so often turned, upon that little ranch house perched so high up +on the valley slope. + +She remained thus for a while, her eyes almost unseeing in their +far-away gaze, but, later, without shifting her attitude, they glanced +off to the right in the direction of the old pine, rearing its +vagabond head high above the surrounding wealth of by no means +insignificant foliage. + +It was a splendid sight, and, to her imagination, it looked the +personification of the rascality of the village she had so come to +love. Look at it. Its trunk, naked as the supports of a scarecrow, +suggesting mighty strength, indolence and poverty. There, above, its +ragged garments--unwholesome, dirty, like the garments of some +tramping, villainous, degraded loafer. And yet, with it all, the old +tree looked so mighty, so wise. + +To her it seemed like some ages-old creature looking down from its +immense height, and out of its experience of centuries, upon a world +of struggling beings, with the pitying contempt of a wisdom beyond the +understanding of man. It seemed to her the embodiment of evil, yet +withal of wisdom, too. And somehow she loved it. Its evil meant +nothing to her, nothing more than the evil of the life amid which she +lived. It was no mere passing sentiment with her. Her nature was too +strong for the softer, womanish sentiments, stirred in a moment and as +easily set aside. For her to yield her affections to any creature or +object, was to yield herself to a bondage more certain than any life +of slavery. To think of this valley without---- + +Her thoughts were abruptly cut short as the sound of a cry reached her +from the direction of her house. + +She turned, and, for a moment, stared hard and alertly in the +direction whence it came. Her ears were straining, too. In a moment +she became aware of a faint confusion of sounds which she had no power +of interpreting. But somehow they conveyed an ominous suggestion to +her keen mind. + +She bestirred herself. She set off at a run for her home. The distance +was less than a hundred yards, and she covered it quickly. As she came +nearer the sounds grew, and became even more ominous. They proceeded +from somewhere in the direction of the barn behind the house. + +She darted into the house, and, after one comprehensive glance around +the sitting room, where she found the rocker upset, and a china +ornament fallen from its place on the table, and smashed in fragments +upon the floor, as though someone had knocked it down in a hasty +departure, she snatched a revolver from its holster upon the wall, and +rushed out of the house through the back door. + +She was not mistaken. Her hearing had accurately conveyed to her the +meaning of those sounds. + +Nevertheless she was wholly unprepared for the sight which actually +greeted her as she turned the angle of the barn where the building +faced away from the house. + +She stood stock still, her big eyes wide with wonder and swift rising +anger. Twisting, struggling, writhing, cursing, two men lay upon the +ground held in a fierce embrace, much in the manner of two wildcats. +Beyond them, huddled upon the ground, her face covered with her hands, +a picture of abject terror, crouched her younger sister, Helen. + +All this she beheld at the first glance. Then, keeping clear of the +fighters she darted around to the terrified girl. With a cry Helen +scrambled to her feet and clung to her sister's arm, and began to pour +out a stream of hysterical thankfulness. + +"Oh, stop them," she cried. "Oh, thank God, thank God! Stop them, or +they'll kill each other. Pete will kill him. He----" + +But Kate had no time for such feminine weakness. She dragged the girl +away out of sight, and left her while she returned to the affray. + +Once in full view of it she made no effort to stop it. She stood +looking on with the critical eye of an interested spectator, but her +hand was grasping her revolver, nor was her forefinger far from the +trigger of it. + +The men rolled this way and that, while deep-throated curses came up +from their midst with a breathless, muttered force. But through the +tangle of sprawling bodies and waving limbs Kate's quick eyes +discovered all she required to satisfy herself. She saw no real life +and death struggle here. Maybe, had the circumstances been changed, it +would have been so, but one of the combatants was far too experienced +a rough and tumble fighter for those circumstances to mature. + +The man on top at the moment had the other in a vice-like grip by the +right wrist, keeping the heavy revolver, which the underman had in his +hand, from becoming a serious danger. With the other hand he was +dealing his adversary careful, well-timed smashes upon his bruised and +battered face, with the object of warding off a fierce attack of +strong, yellow teeth. + +The man on top had his adversary's measure to a fraction. He was +dealing with him almost as he chose, and the onlooker knew that it +could only be moments before the other finally "squealed," and +dropped the murderous weapon from his hand. + +Down came the fist, a great, white fist, with a soggy sound upon the +man's pulpy features, its force increased a hundred per cent. by the +resistance of the hard ground on which his adversary lay. A fierce +curse was the response, and a wild upward slash at the big face above. +Then the big fist went up again. + +"Drop it, you son-of-a-moose," Kate heard, in Big Brother Bill's +fiercest tones. "Drop it, or I'll kill you!" + +Down came his fist with a fearful smash on the other's gaping mouth. + +A splutter of oaths was his reply, and an even greater effort to throw +the white man off. + +But the effort was unavailing. Then Kate saw something happen. The big +white man changed his tactics. He desisted quite suddenly from +belaboring his victim. He made no attempt to defend himself. He +reached out his disengaged hand and added a second grip upon the man's +revolver arm. Then, with a terrific jolt, he flung himself backwards, +so that he was left in a kneeling position upon the other's middle. +Then, in a second, with an agility absolutely staggering, he was on +his feet. The next moment the other was jerked to his feet with his +revolver arm twisted behind his back and nearly dislocated. + +With a frantic yell of agony the half-breed's hand relaxed its grip +upon his revolver, and the weapon fell to the ground. The fight was +over. With a mighty throw Pete Clancy was hurled headlong, and fell +sprawling upon the ground at the foot of the barn wall, and his impact +was like the result of a shot from a catapult. + +"Lie there, you dirty dog!" cried Big Brother Bill, in a fury of +breathless indignation. "That'll maybe learn you a lesson not to get +drinking rot gut, and, if you do, not to insult a white girl. You +damnation nigger, for two beans I'd kick the life out of you where you +lay." + +The man was scrambling to his feet, glaring an eternity of hatred at +his white victor. + +"Did he insult--Helen?" + +Bill swung around with almost ludicrous abruptness. He had been +utterly unaware of Kate's presence. + +He stared. Then, with a rush of passionate anger---- + +"Yes; but by God, he'll think some before he does it again." + +Kate's eyes were coldly commanding. + +"Go around to Helen, and--take that gun," she said authoritatively. +"Leave Pete to me." + +"Leave him----?" Bill's protest remained uncompleted. + +"Do as I tell you--please." + +"But he'll----" + +Again Kate cut him short. + +"Please!" She pointed in the direction of the house. + +Bill was left with no alternative but to obey. He moved away, but his +movements were grudging, and he looked back as he went, ready to hurl +himself to Kate's succor at the slightest sign. + +Ten minutes later Kate entered the sitting room. Her handsome face was +pale, and her eyes were shining. The spirit of the woman was stirred. +There was no fear in her--only a sort of hard resentment that left her +expression one of cold determination. + +Helen ran to her at once. But, for perhaps the first time in her life, +she encountered something in the nature of a rebuff. Kate looked +straight into her sister's eyes as she flung herself into a chair, and +laid her loaded revolver upon the table. + +"Tell me about it. Just the plain facts," she said, and waited. + +Bill started up from his place in the rocker, but Kate signed him to +be silent. + +"Helen can tell me," she said coldly. + +Helen, leaning against the table, glanced across at Bill. Her sister's +attitude troubled her. She felt the resentment underlying it. She was +at a loss to understand it. After a moment's hesitation she began to +explain. Nor could she quite keep the sharp edge of feeling out of her +tone. + +"It was my fault," she began. "At least, I s'pose it was. I s'pose I +was doing a fool thing interfering, but I didn't just think you'd +mind, seeing you'd ordered him to do work he hadn't done. You see, he +hadn't touched those potatoes you'd told him to dig. He's been +drinking instead." + +Suddenly her sense of humor got the better of her resentful feelings, +and she began to laugh. + +"Well, I had to go and be severe with him. I tried to bully him, and +stamped my foot at him, and--and called him a drunken brute. I took a +chance. Being drunk, he might have proposed to me. Well, he didn't +this time. It was far worse. He told me to go--to hell, first of all. +But, as I didn't show signs of obeying him, he got sort of funny and +tried to kiss me." + +"The swine!" muttered Bill, but was silenced by a look from Helen's +humorous eyes. + +"That's what I thought--first," she said. Then, her eyes widening: +"But he meant doing it, and I got scared to death. Oh, dear, I was +frightened. Being a coward, I shouted for help. And Bill responded +like--like a great angry steer. Then I got worse scared, for, directly +Pete saw Bill coming, he pulled a gun, and there surely was murder in +his eye." + +She breathed a deep sigh, and her eyes had changed their expression to +one of delight and pride. + +"But he hadn't a dog's chance of putting Bill's lights out. He hadn't, +true. Say, Kate, Bill was just like--like a whirlwind. Same as Charlie +said. He was so quick I hardly know how it happened. Bill dropped Pete +like a--a sack of wheat. He--he was on him like a tiger. Then I was +just worse scared than ever, and--and began to cry." + +The girl's mouth drooped, but her eyes were laughing. Then, as Kate +still remained quiet, she inquired: + +"Wasn't I a fool?" + +Kate suddenly looked up from the brown study into which she had +fallen. Her big eyes looked straight across at Bill, and she ignored +Helen's final remark. + +"Thanks, Bill," she said quietly. And her last suggestion of +displeasure seemed to pass with her expression of gratitude. "I'm glad +you were here, and"--she smiled--"you can fight. You nearly killed +him." Then, after a pause: "It's been a lesson to me. I--shan't forget +it." + +"What have you--done to him?" cried Helen suddenly. + +But Kate shook her head. + +"Let's talk of something else. There's things far more important +than--him. Anyway, he won't do _that_ again." + +She rose from her seat and moved to the window, where she stood +looking out. But she had no interest in what she beheld. She was +thinking moodily of other things. + +Bill stirred in his chair. He was glad enough to put the episode +behind him. + +"Yes," he said, taking up Kate's remark at once. "There certainly are +troubles enough to go around." He was thinking of his scene of the +previous day with his brother. "But--but what's gone wrong with you, +Kate? What are the more important things?" + +"You haven't fallen out with Mrs. Day?" Helen put in quickly. + +Kate shook her head. + +"No one falls out with Mrs. Day," she said quietly. "Mrs. Day does the +falling out. It isn't only Mrs. Day, it's--it's everybody. I think the +whole village is--is mad." She turned back from the window and +returned to her seat. But she did not sit down. She stood resting her +folded arms on its back and leaned upon it. "They're all mad. +Everybody. I'm mad." She glanced from one to the other, smiling in the +sanest fashion, but behind her smile was obvious anxiety and trouble. +"They've practically decided to cut down the old pine." + +Bill sat up. He laughed at the tone of her announcement. + +But Helen gasped. + +"The old pine?" She had caught some of her sister's alarm. + +Kate nodded. + +"You can laugh, Bill," she cried. "That's what they're all doing. +They're laughing at--the old superstition. But--it's not a laughing +matter to folks who think right along the lines of the essence of our +human natures, which is superstition. The worst of it is I've brought +it about. I told the meeting about a stupid argument about the +building of the church which Billy and Dy had. Billy wants the tree +for a ridge pole, because the church is disproportionately long. Well, +I told the folks because I thought they wouldn't hear of the tree +being cut. But Mrs. Day rounded on me, and the meeting followed her +like a flock of sheep. Still, I wasn't done by that. I've been +canvassing the village since, and, would you believe it, they all say +it's a good job to cut the tree down. Maybe it'll rid the place of +its evil influence, and so rid us of the attentions of the police. I +tell you, Billy and Dy are perfect fools, and the folks are all mad. +And I'm the greatest idiot ever escaped a home for imbeciles. There! +That's how I feel. It's--it's scandalous." + +Bill laughed good-naturedly. + +"Say, cheer up, Kate," he cried. "You surely don't need to worry any. +It can't hurt you. Besides----." He broke off abruptly, and, sitting +up, looked out of the window. "Say, here comes Fyles." He almost +leaped out of his seat. + +"What's the matter?" demanded Kate sharply. Then she looked around at +her sister, who had moved away from the table. + +Bill laughed again in his inconsequent fashion. + +"Matter?" he cried. "Nothin's the matter, only--only----. Say, did you +ever have folks get on your nerves?" + +"Plenty in Rocky Springs," said Kate bitterly. + +Bill nodded. + +"That's it. Say, I've just remembered I've got an appointment that was +never made with somebody who don't exist. I'm going to keep it." + +Helen laughed, and clapped her hands. + +"Say, that's really funny. And I've just remembered something I'd +never forgotten, that's too late to do anyway. Come on, Bill, let's go +and see about these things, and," she added slyly, "leave Kate to +settle Fyles--by herself." + +"Helen!" + +But Kate's remonstrance fell upon empty air. The lovers had fled +through the open doorway, and out the back way. Nor had she time to +call them back, for, at that moment, Fyles's horse drew up at the +front door, and she heard the officer leap out of the saddle. + + * * * * * + +"Have you made your peace with--headquarters?" + +Kate and Stanley Fyles were standing out in the warm shade of the +house. The woman's hand was gently caressing the velvety muzzle of +Peter's long, fiddle face. It was a different woman talking to the +police officer from the bitter, discontented creature of a few +minutes ago. For the time, at least, all regrets, all thoughts of +an unpleasant nature seemed to have been lost in the delight of a +woman wholesomely in love. + +As she put her question her big eyes looked up into the man's keen +face with just the faintest suspicion of raillery in their glowing +depths. But her rich tones were full of a genuine eagerness that +belied the look. + +The man was good to look upon. The strength of his face appealed to +her, as did the big, loose shoulders and limbs, as strength must +always appeal to a real woman. Her love inspired a subtle tenderness, +even anxiety. + +"I hope so, but--I don't know yet." + +Fyles made no attempt to conceal his doubts. Somehow the official side +of the man was becoming less and less sustained before this woman, who +had come to occupy such a big portion of his life. + +"You mean you've sent in your report, and are now awaiting +the--verdict?" + +Fyles nodded. + +"Like so many of the criminals I have brought before the courts," he +said, bitterly. + +"And the chances?" + +"About equal to those of a convicted felon." + +The smile died out of Kate's eyes. They were full of regretful +sympathy. + +"It's pretty tough," she said, turning from him. "It isn't as if you +had made a mistake, or neglected your duty." + +"No, I was beaten." + +The man turned away coldly. But his coldness was not for her. + +"Is there no hope?" Kate asked presently, in a low tone. + +Fyles shrugged. + +"There might be if I had something definite to promise for the future. +I mean a chance of--redeeming myself." + +Kate made no answer. The whole thing to her mind seemed impossible if +it depended upon that. The thought of this strong man being broken +through the police system, for no particular fault of his own, seemed +very hard. Harder now than ever. She strove desperately to find a +gleam of light in the darkness of his future. She would have given +worlds to discover some light, and show him the way. But one thing +seemed impossible, and he--well, he only made it harder. His very +decision and obstinacy, she considered, were his chief undoing. + +"If you could reasonably hold out a prospect to them," she said, her +dark eyes full of thought--strong and earnest thought. "Can't you?" + +She watched him closely. She saw him suddenly straighten himself up, +throwing back his powerful shoulders as though to rid himself of the +burden which had been oppressing him so long. + +He drew a step nearer. Kate's heart beat fast. Then her eyes drooped +before the passion shining in his. + +"Maybe you don't realize why I am here, Kate," he said, in a low +thrilling voice, while a warm smile grew in his eyes. "You see, weeks +ago I made a mistake, a bad mistake--just such as I have made here. +The liquor was run under my nose, while I--well, I just stood around +looking on like some fool babe. That liquor was--for this place. After +that I asked the chief to give me a free hand, and to allow me to come +right along, and round this place up. My object was twofold. I knew I +had to make good, and--I knew you were here. Guess you don't remember +our first meeting? I do. It was up on the hillside, near the old pine. +I've always wanted to get back here--ever since then. Well, I've had +my wish. I'm here, sure. But I've not made good. The folks, here, have +beaten me, and you--why, I've just contrived to make you my sworn +adversary. Failure, eh? Failure in my work, and in my--love." + +For an instant the woman's eyes were raised to his face. She was +trembling as no physical fear could have made her tremble. Peter +nuzzled the palm of her hand with his velvety nose, and she quickly +lowered her gaze, and appeared to watch his efforts. + +After a moment's pause the man went on in a voice full of a great +passionate love. All the official side of him had gone utterly. He +stood before the woman he loved baring his soul. For the moment he had +put his other failures behind him. He wanted only her. + +"I came here because I loved you, Kate. I came here dreaming all those +dreams which we smile at in others. I dreamed of a life at your side, +with you ever before me to spur me on to the greater heights which I +have thought about, dreamed about. And all my work, all my striving, +was to be for you. I saw visions of the days, when, together, we might +fill high office in our country's affairs, with an ambition ever +growing, as, together, we mounted the ladder of success. Vain enough +thought, eh? Guess it was not long before I brought the roof of my +castle crashing about my ears. I have failed in my work a second time, +and only succeeded in making you my enemy." + +Kate's eyes were shining. A great light of happiness was in them. But +she kept them turned from him. + +"Not enemy--only adversary," she said, in a low voice. + +The man shook his head. + +"It is such a small distinction," he said bitterly. "Antagonists. How +can I ever hope that you can care for me? Kate, Kate," he burst out +passionately, "if you would marry me, none of the rest would matter. I +love you so, dear. If you would marry me I should not care what the +answer from headquarters might be. Why should I? I should then have +all I cared for in the world, and the world itself would still be +before us. I have money saved. All we should need to start us. My God, +the very thought of it fills me with the lust of conquest. There would +be nothing too great to aspire to. Kate, Kate!" He held his arms out +toward her in supplication. + +The woman shook her head, but offered no verbal refusal. The man's +arms dropped once more to his sides, and, for a moment, the silence +was only broken by the champing of Peter's bit. Then once more the +man's eyes lit. + +"Tell me," he cried, almost fiercely. "Tell me, had we not come into +conflict over this man, Bryant, would--would it--could it have been +different?" Then his voice grew soft and persuasive. "I know you don't +dislike me, Kate." He smiled. "I know it, and you must forgive +my--vanity. I have watched, and studied you, and--convinced myself. I +felt I had the right to hope. The right of every decently honest man. +Our one disagreement has been this man, Bryant. I had thought maybe +you loved him, but that you have denied. You do not? There is no one +else?" + +Again Kate silently shook her head. The man was pressing her hard. All +her woman's soul was crying out for her to fling every consideration +to the winds, and yield to the impulse of the love stirring within +her. But something held her back, something so strong as to be quite +irresistible. + +The man went on. He was fighting that last forlorn hope amid what, to +him, seemed to be a sea of disaster. + +"No. You have told me that before," he said, almost to himself. "Then +why," he went on, his voice rising with the intensity of his feelings. +"Why--why----? But no, it's absurd. You tell me you don't--you can't +love me." + +For one brief instant Kate's eyes were shyly raised to his. They +dropped again at once to the brown head of the horse beside her. + +"I have told you nothing--yet," she said, in a low voice. + +The man snatched a brief hope. + +"You mean----?" + +Kate looked up again, fearlessly now. + +"I mean just what I say." + +"You have told me nothing--yet," the man repeated. "Then you have +something--to tell me?" + +Kate nodded and pushed Peter's head aside almost roughly. + +"The man I can care for, the man I marry must have no thought of hurt +for Charlie Bryant in his mind." + +"Then you----" + +Kate made a movement of impatience. + +"Again, I mean just what I say--no more, no less." + +But it was Fyles's turn to become impatient. + +"Bryant--Charlie Bryant? It is always Charlie Bryant--before all +things!" + +Kate's eyes looked steadily into his. + +"Yes--before even myself." + +The man returned her look. + +"Yet you do not love him as--I would have you love me?" + +"Yet I do not love him, as you would have me love you." + +The man thrust out his arms. + +"Then, for God's sake, tell me some more." + +The insistent Peter claimed Kate once more. His long face was once +more thrust against her arm, and his soft lips began to nibble at the +wrist frill of her sleeve. She turned to him with a laugh, and placed +an arm about his crested neck. + +"Oh, Peter, Peter," she said smiling, and gently caressing the +friendly creature. "He wants me to tell him some more. Shall I? Shall +I tell him something of the many things I manage to learn in this +valley? Shall I try and explain that I contrive to get hold of secrets +that the police, with all their cleverness, can never hope to get hold +of? Shall I tell him, that, if only he will put Charlie out of his +mind, and leave him alone, and not try to fix this--this crime on him, +I can put him on the track of the real criminal? Shall I point out to +him the absurdity of fixing on this one man when there are such men as +O'Brien, and Stormy Longton, and my two boys, and Holy Dick, and Kid +Blaney in the place? Shall I? Shall I tell him of the things I've +found out? Yes, Peter, I will, if he'll promise me to put Charlie out +of his mind. But not unless. Eh? Not unless." + +The man shook his head. + +"You make the condition impossible," he cried. "You have faith in that +man. Good. I have overwhelming evidence that he is the man we are +after. Until he is caught the whisky-running in this place will never +cease." + +Kate refused to display impatience. She went on talking to the horse. + +"Isn't he obstinate? Isn't he? And here am I offering to show him how +he can get the real criminals." + +Fyles suddenly broke into a laugh. It was not a joyous laugh. It was +cynical, almost bitter. + +"You are seeking to defend Bryant, and yet you can, and will, put me +on the track of the whisky-runners. It's farcical. You would be +closing the door of the penitentiary upon your--friend." + +Kate's eyes flashed. + +"Should I? I don't think so. The others I don't care that for." She +flicked her fingers. "They must look to themselves. I promise you I +shall not be risking Charlie's liberty." + +"I'll wager if you show me how I can get these people, and I +succeed--you will." + +The angry sparkle in the woman's eyes died out, to be replaced with a +sudden light of inspiration. + +"You'll wager?" she cried, with an excited laugh. "You will?" + +The policeman nodded. + +"Yes--anything you like." + +Kate's laugh died out, and she stood considering. + +"But you said my conditions were--impossible. You will leave Charlie +alone until you capture him running the whisky? You will call your +men off his track--until you catch him red-handed? You will accept +that condition, if I show you how you can--make good with +your--headquarters?" + +The man suddenly found himself caught in the spirit of Kate's mood. + +"But the conditions must not be all with you," he cried, with a short +laugh. "You are too generous to make it that way. If I accept your +conditions, against my better judgment, will you allow me to make +one?" + +"But I am conferring the benefit," Kate protested. + +"All of it? What about your desire to protect Bryant?" + +Kate nodded. + +"What is your condition?" + +Fyles drew a deep breath. + +"Will you marry me after I have caught the leader of the gang, if he +be this man, Bryant? That must be your payment--for being wrong." + +In a moment all Kate's lightness vanished. She stared at him for some +wide-eyed moments. Then, again, all in a moment, she began to laugh. + +"Done!" she cried. "I accept, and you accept! It's a wager!" + +But her ready acceptance of his offer for the first time made the +police officer doubt his own convictions as to the identity of the +head of the gang. + +"You are accepting my condition because you believe Bryant is not the +man, and so you hope to escape marrying me," he said almost roughly. + +"I accept your condition," cried Kate staunchly. + +Slowly a deep flush mounted to the man's cheeks and spread over his +brow. His eyes lit, and his strong mouth set firmly. + +"But you will marry me," he cried, with sudden force. "Whatever lies +behind your condition, Kate, you'll marry me, as a result of this. The +conditions are agreed. I take your wager. I shall get the man Bryant, +and he'll get no mercy from me. He's stood in my way long enough. I'm +going to win out, Kate," he cried; "I know it, I feel it. Because I +want you. I'd go through hell itself to do that. Quick. Tell me. Show +me how I can get these people, and I promise you they shan't escape me +this time." + +But Kate displayed no haste. Now that the wager was made she seemed +less delighted. After a moment's thought, however, she gave him the +information he required. + +"I've learned definitely that on Monday next, that's nearly a week +to-day, there's a cargo coming in along the river trail, from the +east. The gang will set out to meet it at midnight, and will bring it +into the village about two o'clock in the morning. How, I can't say." + +Fyles's desperate eyes seemed literally to bore their way through her. + +"That's--the truth?" + +"True as--death." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +BILL'S FRESH BLUNDERING + + +The change in the man that rode away from Kate Seton's home as +compared with the man who had arrived there less than an hour earlier +was so remarkable as to be almost absurd in a man of Stanley Fyles's +reputation for stern discipline and uncompromising methods. There was +an almost boyish light of excited anticipation and hope in the usually +cold eyes that looked out down the valley as he rode away. There was +no doubt, no question. His look suggested the confidence of the +victor. And so Charlie Bryant read it as he passed him on the trail. + +Charlie was in a discontented mood. He had seen Fyles approach Kate's +home from his eyrie on the valley slope, and that hopeless impulse +belonging to a weakly nature, that self-pitying desire to further +lacerate his own feelings, had sent him seeking to intercept the man +whom he felt in his inmost heart was his successful rival for all that +which he most desired on earth. + +So he walked past Fyles, who was on the back of his faithful Peter, +and hungrily read the expression of his face, that he might further +assure himself of the truth of his convictions. + +The men passed each other without the exchange of a word. Fyles eyed +the slight figure with contempt and dislike. Nor could he help such +feelings for one whom he knew possessed so much of Kate's warmest +sympathy and liking. Besides, was he not a man whose doings placed him +against the law, in the administration of which it was his duty to +share? + +Charlie's eyes were full of an undisguised hatred. His interpretation +of the officer's expression left him no room for doubting. Delight, +victory, were hall-marked all over it. And victory for Fyles could +only mean defeat for him. + +He passed on. His way took him along the main village trail, and, +presently, he encountered two people whom he would willingly have +avoided. Helen and his brother were returning toward the house across +the river. + +Helen's quick eyes saw him at once, and she pointed him out to the big +man at her side. + +"It's Charlie," she cried, "let's hurry, or he'll give us the slip. I +must tell him." + +"Tell him what?" + +But Helen deigned no answer. She hurried on, and called to the +dejected figure, which, to her imagination, seemed to shuffle rather +than walk along the trail. + +Charlie Bryant had no alternative. He came up. He felt a desperate +desire to curse their evident happiness in each other's society. Why +should these two know nothing but the joys of life, while he--he was +forbidden even a shadow of the happiness for which he yearned? + +But Helen gave him little enough chance to further castigate himself +with self-pity. She was full of her desire to impart her news, and her +desire promptly set her tongue rattling out her story. + +"Oh, Charlie," she cried, "I've had such a shock. Say, did you ever +have a cyclone strike you when--when there wasn't a cyclone within a +hundred miles of you?" Then she laughed. "That surely don't sound +right, does it? It's--it's kind of mixed metaphor. Anyway, you know +what I mean. I had that to-day. Bill's nearly killed one of our +boys--Pete Clancy. Say, I once saw a dog fight. It was a terrier, and +one of those heavy, slow British bulldogs. Well, I guess when he +starts the bully is greased lightning. Bill's that bully. That's all. +Pete tried to kiss me. He was drunk. They're always drunk when they +get gay like that. Bill guessed he wasn't going to succeed, and now I +sort of fancy he's sitting back there by our barn trying to sort out +his face. My, Bill nearly killed him!" + +But the girl's dancing-eyed enjoyment found no reflection in Bill's +brother. In a moment Charlie's whole manner underwent a change, and +his dark eyes stared incredulously up into Bill's face, which, surely +enough, still bore the marks of his encounter. + +"You--thrashed Pete?" he inquired slowly, in the manner of a man +painfully digesting unpleasant facts. + +But Bill was in no mood to accept any sort of chiding on the point. + +"I wish I'd--killed him," he retorted fiercely. + +Charlie's eyes turned slowly from the contemplation of his brother's +war-scarred features. + +"I guess he deserved it--all right," he said thoughtfully. + +Helen protested indignantly. + +"Deserved it? My word, he deserved--anything," she cried. Then her +indignation merged again into her usual laughter. "Say," she went on. +"I--I don't believe you're a bit glad, a bit thankful to Bill. I--I +don't believe you mind that--that I was insulted. Oh, but if you'd +only seen it you'd have been proud of Big Brother Bill. He--he was +just greased lightning. I don't think I'd be scared of anything with +him around." + +But her praise was too much for the modest Bill. He flushed as he +clumsily endeavored to change the subject. + +"Where are you going, Charlie?" he inquired. "We're going on over the +river. Kate's there. You coming?" + +Just for a moment a look of hesitation crept into his brother's eyes. +He glanced across the river as though he were yearning to accept the +invitation. But, a moment later, his eyes came back to his brother +with a look of almost cold decision. + +"I'm afraid I can't," he said. Then he added, "I've got something to +see to--in the village." + +Bill made no attempt to question him further, and Helen had no desire +to. She felt that she had somehow blundered, and her busy mind was +speculating as to how. + +They parted. And as Charlie moved on he called back to Bill. + +"I'll be back soon. Will you be home?" + +"I can be. In an hour?" + +Charlie nodded and went on. + +The moment they were out of earshot Helen turned to her lover. + +"Say, Bill," she exclaimed. "What have I done wrong?" + +The laughter had gone out of her eyes and left them full of anxiety. + +Bill shrugged gloomily. + +"Nothing," he said. "It's me--again." Then he added, still more +gloomily, "Pete's one of the whisky gang, and--I'm Charlie's brother. +Say," he finished up with a ponderous sigh. "I've mussed +things--surely." + + * * * * * + +"I'm sorry for that scrap, Bill." + +Charlie Bryant was leaning against a veranda post with his hands in +his pockets, and his gaze, as usual, fixed on the far side of the +valley. Bill completely filled a chair, where he basked in the evening +sunlight. + +"So am I--now, Charlie." + +The big man's agreement brought the other's eyes to his battered face. + +"Why?" he demanded quickly. + +Bill looked up into the dark eyes above him, and his own were full of +concern. + +"Why? Is there need to ask that?" + +A shadowy smile spread slowly over the other's face. + +"No, I don't guess _you_ need to ask why." + +There was just the slightest emphasis on the pronoun. + +"You've remembered he's one of the gang--my gang. You sort of feel +there's danger ahead--in consequence. Yes, there is danger. That's why +I'm sorry. But--somehow I wouldn't have had you act different--even +though there's danger. I'm glad it was you, and not me, though. You +could hammer him with your two big fists. I couldn't. I should have +shot him--dead." + +Bill stared incredulously at the other's boyish face. His brother's +tone had carried such cold conviction. + +"Charlie," he cried, "you get me beat every time. I wouldn't have +guessed you felt that way." + +The other smiled bitterly. + +"No," he said. Then he shifted his position. "I'm afraid there's going +to be trouble. I've thought a heap since Helen told me." + +"Trouble--through me?" said Bill, sharply. "Say, there's been nothing +but blundering through me ever since I came here. I'd best pull up +stakes and get out. I'm too big and foolish. I'm the worst blundering +idiot out. I wish I'd shot him up. But," he added plaintively, "I +hadn't got a gun. Say, I'm too foolishly civilized for this country. I +sure best get back to the parlors of the East where I came from." + +Charlie shook his head, and his smile was affectionate. + +"Best stop around, Bill," he said. "You haven't blundered. You've +acted as--honesty demanded. If there's trouble comes through it, it's +no blame to you. There's no blame to you anyway. You're honest. Maybe +I've cursed you some, but it's me who's wrong--always. Do you get me? +It don't make any difference to my real feelings. You just stop around +all you need, and don't you act different from what you are doing." + +Bill stirred his bulk uneasily. + +"But this trouble? Say, Charlie, boy," he cried, his big face flushing +painfully, "it don't matter to me a curse what you are. You're my +brother. See? I wouldn't do you a hurt intentionally. I'd--I'd chop my +own fool head off first. Can't anything be done? Can't I do anything +to fix things right?" + +The other had turned away. A grave anxiety was written all over his +youthful face. + +"Maybe," he said. + +"How? Just tell me right now," cried Bill eagerly. + +"Why----" Charlie broke off. His pause was one of deep consideration. + +"It don't matter what it is, Charlie," cried Bill, suddenly stirred to +a big pitch of enthusiasm. "Just count me on your side, and--and if +you need to have Fyles shot up, why--I'm your man." + +Charlie shook his head. + +"Don't worry that way," he cried. "Just stop around. You needn't ask a +whole heap of questions. Just stop around, and maybe you can bear a +hand--some day. I shan't ask you to do any dirty work. But if there's +anything an honest man may do--why, I'll ask you--sure." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE COMMITTEE DECIDE + + +The earlier days of summer were passing rapidly. And with their +passage Kate Seton's variations of mood became remarkable. There were +times when her excited cheerfulness astounded her sister, and there +were times when her depression caused her the greatest anxiety. Kate +was displaying a variableness and uncertainty to which Helen was quite +unaccustomed, and it left the girl laboring under a great strain of +worry. + +She strove very hard to, as she termed it, localize her sister's +changes of mood, and in this she was not without a measure of success. +Whenever the doings of the church committee were discussed Kate's mood +dropped to zero, and sometimes below that point. It was obvious that +the decision to demolish the old landmark in the service of the church +was causing her an alarm and anxiety which would far better have +fitted one of the old village wives, eaten up with superstition, than +a woman of Kate's high-spirited courage. Then, too, the work of her +little farm seemed to worry her. Her attention to it in these days +became almost feverish. Whereas, until recently, all her available +time was given to church affairs, now these were almost entirely +neglected in favor of the farm. Kate was almost always to be found in +company of her two hired men, working with a zest that ill suited the +methods of her male helpers. + +On one occasion Helen ventured to remark upon it in her inconsequent +fashion, a fashion often used to disguise her real feelings, her real +interest. + +Kate had just returned from a long morning out on the wheat land. She +was weary, and dusty, and thirsty. And she had just thirstily drained +a huge glass of barley water. + +"For the Lord's sake, Kate!" Helen cried in pretended dismay. "When I +see you drink like that I kind of feel I'm growing fins all over me." + +Kate smiled, but without lightness. + +"Get right out in this July sun and try to shame your hired men into +doing a man's work, and see how you feel then," she retorted. +"Fins?--why, you'd give right up walking, and grow a full-sized tail, +and an uncomfortable crop of scales." + +Helen shook her head. + +"I wouldn't work that way. Say, you're always chasing the boys up. Are +they slacking worse than usual? Are they on the 'buck'?" + +Kate shot a swift glance into the gray eyes fixed on her so shrewdly. + +"No," she said quite soberly. "Only--only work's good for folks, +sometimes. The boys are all right. It just does me good to work. +Besides, I like to know what Pete's doing." + +"You mean----?" + +"Oh, it doesn't matter what I mean," Kate retorted, with a sudden +impatience. "Where's dinner?" + +This was something of her sister's mood more or less all the time, and +Helen found it very trying. But she made every allowance for it, also +the more readily as she watched the affairs of the church, and +understood how surely they were upsetting to her sister through her +belief in the old Indian legend of the fateful pine. + +But Kate's occasional outbursts of delirious excitement were far more +difficult of understanding. Helen read them in the only way she +understood. Her observation warned her that they generally followed +talk of the doings of Inspector Fyles, or a distant view of him. + +As the days went by Kate seemed more and more wrapped up in the work +of the police. Every little item of news of them she hungrily +devoured. And frequently she went out on long solitary rides, which +Helen concluded were for the purpose of interested observation of +their doings. + +But all this display of interest was somewhat nullified by another +curious phase in her sister. It quickly became obvious that she was +endeavoring by every artifice to avoid coming into actual contact with +Stanley Fyles. Somehow this did not seem to fit in with Helen's idea +of love, and again she found herself at a loss. + +Thus poor Helen found herself passing many troubled hours. Things +seemed to be going peculiarly awry, and, for the life of her, she +could not follow their trend with any certainty of whither it was +leading. Even Bill was worse than of no assistance to her. Whenever +she poured out her long list of anxieties to him, he assumed a +perfectly absurd air of caution and denial that left her laboring +under the belief that he really was "one big fool," or else he knew +something, and had the audacity to keep it from her. In Bill's case, +however, the truth was he felt he had blundered so much already in his +brother's interests that he was not prepared to take any more chances, +even with Helen. + +Then came one memorable and painful day for Helen. It was a Saturday +morning. She had just returned from a church committee meeting. Kate +had deliberately absented herself from her post as honorary secretary +ever since the decision to fell the old pine had been arrived at. It +was her method of protest against the outrage. But Mrs. John Day, +quite undisturbed, had appointed a fresh secretary, and Kate's +defection had been allowed to pass as a matter of no great importance. + +The noon meal was on the table when Helen came in. Kate was at her +little bureau writing. The moment her sister entered the room she +closed the desk and locked it. Helen saw the action and almost +listlessly remarked upon it. + +"It's all right, Kate," she said. "Bluebeard's chamber doesn't +interest me--to-day." + +Kate started up at the other's depressed tone. She looked sharply into +the gray eyes, in which there was no longer any sign of their usual +laughter. + +"What's the matter, dear?" she asked, with affectionate concern. "Mrs. +John?" + +Helen nodded. Then at once she shook her head. + +"Yes--no. Oh, I don't know. No, I don't think it's Mrs. John. +It's--it's everybody." + +Kate had moved to the head of the table, and stood with her hands +gripping the back of her chair. + +"Everybody?" she said, with a quiet look of understanding in her big +eyes. "You mean--the tree?" + +Helen nodded. She was very near tears. + +But Kate rose to the occasion. She knew. She pointed at Helen's chair. + +"Sit down, dear. We'll have food," she said, quietly. "I'm as hungry +as any coyote." + +Helen obeyed. She was feeling so miserable for her sister, that she +had lost all inclination to eat. But Kate seemed to have entirely +risen above any of the feelings she had so lately displayed. She +laughed, and, with gentle insistence, forced the other to eat her +dinner. Strangely enough her manner had become that which Helen seemed +to have lost sight of for so long. All her actions, all her words, +were full of confident assurance, and quiet command. + +Gradually, under this new influence, the anxiety began to die out +of Helen's eyes, and the watchful Kate beheld the change with +satisfaction. Then, when the girl had done full justice to the +simple meal, she pushed her own plate aside, planted her elbows +upon the table, and sat with her strong brown hands clasped. + +"Now tell me," she commanded gently. + +In a moment Helen's anxiety returned, and her lips trembled. The next +she was telling her story--in a confused sort of rush. + +"Oh, I don't know," she cried. "It's--it's too bad. You see, Kate, I +didn't sort of think about it, or trouble anything, until you let me +know how you felt over that--that old story. It didn't seem to me that +old tree mattered at all. It didn't seem to me it could hurt cutting +it down, any more than any other. And now--now it just seems as if--as +if the world'll come to an end when they cut it down. I believe I'm +more frightened than you are." + +"Frightened?" + +Kate smiled. But the smile scarcely disguised her true feelings. + +"Yes, I'm scared--to death--now," Helen went on, "because they're +going to cut it down. They've fixed the time and--day." + +"They've fixed the time--and day," repeated Kate dully. "When?" + +Her smile had completely gone now. Her dark eyes were fixed on her +sister's face with a curious straining. + +"Tuesday morning at--daybreak." + +"Tuesday--daybreak? Go on. Tell me some more." + +"There's no more to tell, only--only there's to be a ceremony. The +whole village is going to turn out and assist. Mrs. Day is going to +make an ad-dress. She said if she'd known there was a legend and curse +to that pine she's have had it down at the start of building the +church. She'd have had it down 'in the name of religion, honesty and +righteousness'--those were her words--'as a fitting tribute at the +laying of the foundations of the new church.' Again, in her own words, +she said, 'It's presence in the valley is a cloud obscuring the sun of +our civilization, a stumbling block to the progress of righteousness.' +And--and they all agreed that she was right--all of them." + +Kate was no longer looking at her sister. She was gazing out +straight ahead of her. It is doubtful even if she had listened +to the pronouncements of Mrs. John Day, with her self-satisfied +dictatorship of the village social and religious affairs. She was +thinking--thinking. And something almost like panic seemed suddenly +to have taken hold of her. + +"Tuesday--at daybreak," she muttered. Then, in a moment, her eyes +flashed, and she sprang from her chair. "Daybreak? Why, that--that's +practically Monday night! Do you hear? Monday night!" + +Helen was on her feet in a moment. + +"I--I don't understand," she stammered. + +"Understand? No, of course you don't. Nobody understands but me," Kate +cried fiercely. "I understand, and I tell you they're all mad. +Hopelessly mad." She laughed wildly. "Disaster? Oh, blind, blind, +fools. There'll be disaster, sure enough. The old Indian curse will be +fulfilled. Oh, Helen, I could weep for the purblind skepticism of this +wretched people, this consequential old fool, Mrs. Day. And I--I am +the idiot who has brought it all about." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +ANTAGONISTS + + +Fyles endured perhaps the most anxious time that had ever fallen to +his lot, during the few days following his momentous interview with +Kate. An infinitesimal beam of daylight had lit up the black horizon +of his threatened future. It was a question, a painfully doubtful +question, as to whether it would mature and develop into a glorious +sunlight, or whether the threatening clouds would overwhelm it, and +thrust it back into the obscurity whence it had sprung. + +He dared not attempt to answer the question himself. Everything hung +upon that insecure thread of official amenability. Such was his own +experience that he was beset by the gravest doubts. His only hope lay +in the long record of exceptional work he possessed to his credit in +the books of the police. This, and the story he had to tell them of +future possibilities in the valley of Leaping Creek. + +Would Jason listen? Would he turn up the records, and count the +excellence of Inspector Fyles's past work? Or would he, with that +callous severity of police regulations, only regard the failures, and +turn a deaf official ear to the promise of the future? Supersession +was so simple in the force, it was the usual routine. Would the +superintendent in charge interest himself sufficiently to get away +from it? + +These were some of the doubts with which the police officer was +assailed. These were some of the endless pros and cons he debated with +his lieutenant, Sergeant McBain, when they sat together planning their +next campaign, while awaiting Amberley's reply to both the report of +failure, and plea for the future. + +But Fyles's anxieties were far deeper than McBain's, who was equally +involved in the failure. He had far more at stake. For one thing he +belonged to the commissioned ranks, and his fall, in conjunction with +his greater and wider reputation, would be far more disastrous. For +McBain, reduction in rank was of lesser magnitude. His rank could be +regained. For Fyles there was no such redemption. Resignation from the +force was his alternative to being dismissed, and from resignation +there was no recovery of rank. + +At one time this would have been his paramount, almost sole anxiety. +It would have meant the loss of all he had achieved in the past. Now, +curiously enough, it took a second place in his thoughts. A greater +factor than ambition had entered into his life, a factor to which he +had promptly become enslaved. Far above all thoughts of ambition, of +place, of power, of all sense of duty, the figure of a handsome +dark-eyed woman rose before his mind's eye. Kate Seton had become his +whole world, the idol of all his thoughts and ambitions, and longings, +which left every other consideration lost in the remotest shadows far +below. + +His earlier love for her had suddenly burst into a passionate flame +that seemed to be devouring his very soul. And he had a chance of +winning her. A chance. It seemed absurd--a mere chance. It was not his +way in life to wait for chances. It was for him to set out on a +purpose, and achieve or fail. Here--here, where his love was +concerned, he was committing himself to accepting chances, the +slightest chances, when the winning of Kate for his wife had become +the essence of all his hopes and ambitions. + +Chance? Yes, it was all chance. The decision of Superintendent Jason. +The leadership of this gang. His success in capturing the man, when +the time came. In a moment his whole life seemed to have become a +plaything to be tossed about at the whim of chance. + +So the days passed, swallowed up by feverish work and preparation. +It was work that might well be all thrown away should his recall be +insisted upon at Amberley, or, at best, might only pave the way to his +successor's more fortunate endeavors. It was all very trying, very +unsatisfactory, yet he dared not relax his efforts, with the knowledge +which he now possessed, and the thought of Kate always before him. + +Several times, during those anxious days, he sought to salve his +troubled feelings by stealing precious moments of delight in the +presence of this woman he loved. But somehow Fate seemed to have +assumed a further perverseness, and appeared bent on robbing him of +even this slight satisfaction. + +At such times Kate was never to be found. Small as was that little +world in the valley, it seemed to Fyles that she had a knack of +vanishing from his sight as though she had been literally spirited +away. Nor for some time could he bring himself to realize that she was +deliberately avoiding him. + +She was never at home when he rode up to the house on the back of his +faithful Peter. And, furthermore, at such times as he found Helen +there, she never by any chance knew where her sister was. Even when he +chanced to discover Kate in the distance, on his rare visits to the +village, she was never to be found by the time he reached the spot at +which he had seen her. She was as elusive as a will-o'-th'-wisp. + +But this could not go on forever, and, after one memorable visit to +the postoffice, where he found a letter awaiting him from +headquarters, Fyles determined to be denied no longer. + +His task was less easy than he supposed, and it was not until evening +that he finally achieved his purpose. + +It was nearly eight o'clock in the evening. Up to that time his search +had been utterly unavailing, and he found himself riding down the +village trail at a loss, and in a fiercely impatient mood. + +He had just reached the point where the trail split in two. The one +way traveling due west, and the other up to the new church, and on, +beyond, to the Meeting House. + +The inspiration came to him as Peter, of his own accord, turned off up +the hill in the direction of the church. Then he remembered that the +day was Saturday, and on Saturday evening it was Kate's custom to put +the Meeting House in order for the next day's service. + +In a moment he bustled his faithful horse, and, taking the grassy side +of the trail for it, to muffle his approach, hurried on toward the +quaint old building. + +To his utmost delight he realized that, for once, Fate had decided to +be kind to him. There was a light in one of the windows, and he knew +that nobody but Kate had access to the place at times other than the +hours of service. + +In that moment of pleasant anticipation he was suddenly seized by an +almost childish desire to take her unawares. The thought appealed to +him strongly after his long and futile search, and, with this object, +he steadied his horse's gait lest the sound of its plodding hoofs +should betray his approach. Twenty yards from the building he drew up +and dismounted. + +Once on foot he made his way across the intervening space and reached +the window. A thin curtain, however, was drawn across it, and, though +the light shone through, the interior remained hidden. So he pressed +on toward the door. + +Here he paused. And as he did so the sound of something heavy falling +reached him from within. Kate was evidently moving the heavy benches. +He hesitated only for an instant, then he placed his hand cautiously +on the latch and raised it. In spite of his precautions the heavy old +iron rattled noisily, and again he hesitated. Then, with a thrust, he +pushed the aged door open and passed within. + +He stood still, his eyes smiling. Kate was at the far end of the room +on her knees. She was looking round at him with a curious, startled +look in her eyes, which had somehow caught the reflection of the light +from the oil bracket lamp on the floor beside her, and set them +glowing a dull, golden copper. The long strip of coco-matting was +rolled back from the floor, and she seemed to be in the act of +resetting it in its place. + +Just for a moment they remained staring at each other. Then Kate +turned back to her work, and finished rolling out the matting. + +"I'll be glad, mighty glad, when--when we discontinue service in this +place," she said. "The dirt's just--fierce." + +Fyles moved up toward her. The matting was in its place. + +"Is it?" he said. Then, as he came to a halt, "Say, I've been chasing +the village through half the day to find you, Kate. Then Peter led me +here, and I remembered it was Saturday. I guessed I'd have a surprise +on you, and I thought I'd succeeded. But you don't 'surprise' worth a +cent. Say, I'm to remain here till--after Monday." + +Kate slowly rose to her feet. She was clad in a white shirtwaist and +old tailored skirt. She made a perfect figure of robust health and +vigorous purpose. Her eyes, too, were shining, and full of those +subtle depths of fire which held the man enthralled. + +"Monday?" she said. Then in a curiously reflective way she repeated +the word, "Monday." + +Fyles waited, and, in a moment, Kate's thought seemed to pass. She +looked fearlessly up into the man's eyes, but there was no smile in +response to his. + +"I'm--going away until after--Monday," she said. + +"Going away?" + +The man's disappointment was too evident to be mistaken. "Why?" he +asked, after a moment's pause. + +Quite suddenly the woman flung her arms out in a gesture of +helplessness, which somehow did not seem to fit her. + +"I can't--bear the strain of waiting here," she said, with an +impatient shrug. "It's--it's on my nerves." + +The man began to smile again. "A wager like ours takes nerve to make, +but a bigger nerve to carry through. Still, say, I can't see how +running from it's going to help any. You'll still be thinking. +Thoughts take a heap of getting clear of. Best stop around. It'll be +exciting--some. I'm going to win out," he went on, with confidence, +"and I guess it'll be a game worth watching, even if you--lose." + +Kate stooped and picked up the lamp. As she straightened up she sighed +and shook her head. It seemed to the man that a grave trouble was in +her handsome eyes. + +"It's not that," she cried, suddenly. "Lose my wager? I'm not going to +lose, but even if I were--I would pay up like a sportsman. No, it's +not that. It's these foolish folk here. It's these stupid creatures +who're just ready to fly at the throat of Providence and defy all--all +superstition. Oh, yes, I know," she hurried on, as the man raised his +strongly marked brows in astonishment. "You'll maybe think me a fool, +a silly, credulous fool. But I know--I feel it here." She placed her +hands upon her bosom with a world of dramatic sincerity. + +"What--what's troubling you, Kate? I don't seem to get your meaning." + +It was the woman's turn to express surprise. + +"Why, you know what they're going to do here, practically on Monday +night. You've heard? Why, the whole village is talking of it. It's the +tree. The old pine. They're going to cut it down." Then she laughed +mirthlessly. "They'll use it as a ridge pole for the new church. That +wicked old, cursed pine." + +"Wicked--cursed? I don't understand," Fyles said perplexed. "I heard +about the felling of it all right--but, the other I don't understand." + +Kate set the lamp down on one of the benches. + +"Listen. I'll tell you," she cried. "Then maybe you'll understand my +feelings--since making my wager with you. Oh, the old story wouldn't +matter so much to me, only--only for that wager. Listen." + +Then she hurriedly told him the outline of the curse upon the tree, +and further added an analysis of the situation in conjunction with the +matter which stood between themselves. At the finish she pointed her +argument. + +"Need I say any more? Need I tell you that no logic or reason of any +kind can put the conviction out of my mind that here, and now, we are +to be faced with some dreadful tragedy as the price we must pay for +the--the felling of that tree? I can't help it--I know calamity will +befall us." + +Fyles shook his head. The woman's obvious convictions left him quite +untouched. Had it been any other who spoke of it he would have derided +the whole idea. But since it was Kate's distress, Kate's belief in the +old legend, he refrained. + +"The only calamity that can affect you, Kate, is a calamity for young +Bryant," he said seriously. "And yet you refuse to believe him +concerned with the affairs of--Monday night. Surely you can have no +misgivings on that score?" + +Kate shook her head. + +"Then what do you fear?" Fyles went on patiently. + +Quite slowly the woman raised her big eyes to her companion's face. +For some moments they steadily looked into his. Then slowly into her +gaze there crept an inscrutable expression that was not wholly without +a shadow of a smile. + +"It is your reason against my--superstition," she said slowly. "On +Monday night you will capture, or fail to capture, the gang you are +after. Maybe it will be within an hour of the cutting down of that +tree. Disaster will occur. Blood will flow. Death! Any, or all of +these things. For whom? I cannot--will not--wait to see. I shall leave +to-morrow morning after service--for Myrtle." + + * * * * * + +Kate locked the door of the Meeting House behind them. Then she held +out her hand. Fyles took it and pressed it tenderly. + +"Why," he asked gently, almost humbly, "have you so deliberately +avoided me lately?" + +The woman stroked Peter's brown head as it was pushed forward beside +the man's shoulder. + +"Why?" she echoed. Then she smiled up into the man's face. "Because we +are--antagonists--until after Monday. Good-bye." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +TREACHERY + + +On his westward journey to camp Stanley Fyles did a good deal of +thinking. Generally speaking he was of that practical turn which has +no time for indulgence in the luxury of visions, and signs. Long +experience had made him almost severe in his practice. + +But, as he rode along pondering upon the few pleasant moments spent in +Kate's presence, his imagination slowly began to stir, and he found +himself wondering; wondering, at first, at her credulity, and, +presently, wondering if it were really possible that an old curse, +uttered in the height of impotent human passion, could, by any occult +process, possess a real effect. + +He definitely and promptly denied it. He told himself more. He +believed that only women, highly emotional women, or creatures of +weaker intellect, could possibly put faith in such things. Kate +belonged to neither of these sections of her sex. Then how did this +strange belief come in a woman so keenly sensible, so full of +practical courage? + +Maybe it was the result of living so closely in touch with the soil. +Maybe the narrow life of such a village as Rocky Springs had had its +effect. + +However, her belief, so strong, so passionate, had left an +uncomfortable effect upon him. It was absurd, of course, but somehow +he wished he had not heard the story of the old pine. At least not +till after Monday. Kate had said they were to fell that tree at dawn. +It was certainly a curious coincidence that they should have selected, +as Kate had said, practically Monday night. The night of the +whisky-running. + +He smiled. However, the omen was surely in favor of his success. +According to the legend the felling of the tree meant the end of crime +in the valley, and the end of crime meant his----But blood would flow. +Death. Whose blood? Whose--death? + +His smile died out. + +In these contingencies it meant a--hand to hand conflict. It +meant----Who's death did she dread? Surely she was not thinking of the +police? They always carried their lives in their hands. It was part +of their profession. She denied Charlie Bryant's leadership, so----But +in her own secret mind did she deny it? He wondered. + +So he rode on probing the problem. Later he smiled again. She was +thinking of himself. The vanity of the thought amused him, and he +found himself shaking his head. Not likely. It was not her regard for +him. He was certain in his mind that her wager was made in the full +conviction that he would not win, and, consequently, she would not +have to marry him. She certainly was a strange creature, +and--charming. + +However, she was concerned that somebody was to meet death, and she +dreaded it. Furthermore, now he came to think of it, a similar belief, +without the accompanying dread, was growing in him. He pulled himself +together. The old superstition must not get hold of him. That would +indeed be the height of folly. + +But once the seed had been sown in his imagination the roots quickly +strove to possess themselves of all the fertility such a rich soil +afforded. He could not shake clear of their tendrils. Maybe it was +the effect of his sympathy and regard for the woman. Maybe he was +discovering that he, too, deep down beneath the veneer in which his +work armored him, was possessed of that strange superstition which +seems to possess all human life. He hated the thought, and still more +hated the feeling the thought inspired. + +He touched Peter's flank with his heels, and the unaccustomed spur +sent the highly strung beast plunging into a headlong gallop. + +He was far beyond the village now, and more than half way to the camp, +and presently he slowed down to that steady canter which eats up +distance so rapidly without undue exertion for either man or beast. +He strove to turn the course of his thoughts. He pondered upon the +ungracious official letter of his superior, begrudging, but yielding +to his persuasions. Things certainly were "coming his way." At last he +was to be given his final chance, and it was something to obtain such +clemency in a force which existed simply by reason of its unfailing +success. He had much to be thankful for. McBain would have fresh heart +put into him. It would be something like a taste of hell for McBain to +find himself reduced to the rank of trooper again, after all his +years of successful service. Yes, he was glad for McBain's---- + +Suddenly he checked the willing Peter, and drew him down to a walk. +There was a horseman on the trail, some thirty or forty yards ahead. +He had just caught sight of his dim outline against the starlit sky +line. It was only for a moment. But it was sufficient for his trained +eyes. He had detected the upper part of the man's body, and the +shadowy outline of a wide-brimmed prairie hat. + +Now, as Peter moved at that shuffling, restful amble which all prairie +horses acquire, he leaned down over the horn of his saddle and peered +ahead. The man was sitting stock still upon his horse. + +Instinctively Fyles's hand went to his revolver, and remained there. +When a man waits upon a western trail at night, it is as well that the +traveler take no undue chances, particularly when he be one of the +none too well loved red coats. + +The policeman kept on. He displayed no hesitation. Finally he drew his +horse to a standstill with its nose almost touching the shoulder of +the stranger's horse. + +Fyles was peering forward in the darkness, and his revolver was in +that position which, all unseen, kept its muzzle directly leveled at +the horseman's middle. + +"Kind of lonesome sitting around here at night," he said, with a +keenly satirical inflection. + +"You can put up your darn gun, inspector," came the startling +response. "Guess I had you covered from way back there, if I'd had a +notion to shoot. Guess I ain't in the 'hold-up' bizness. But I've been +waiting for you--anyway." + +The man's assurance had no effect upon the policeman. The latter +pressed his horse up closer, and peered into the other's face. The +face he beheld startled him, although he gave no outward sign. + +"Ah, Pete--Pete Clancy," he said quietly. "Guess my gun's always +pretty handy. It won't hurt where it is, unless I want it to. It's +liable to be more effective than your's would have been--way back +there." + +The man seemed to resign himself. + +"Guess it don't pay shootin' up red coats," he said, with a rough +laugh. + +"No." Then in a moment Fyles put a sharp question. "You are waiting +for--me? Why?" + +Pete laughed, but his laugh was uneasy. + +"Because I'm sick to death being agin the law." + +"Ah. Been taking a hand building the church back there?" The sarcasm +was unmistakable, but it passed the other by. + +"Ben takin' a hand in most things--back there." + +"Sure. Find some of 'em don't pay?" + +The man shook his head. + +"Guess they pay--mostly. 'Tain't that." + +"What then?" + +"Sort o' feel it's time to quit--bizness." + +"Oh. So you waited around for--me?" + +Fyles understood the type of man he was dealing with. The half-breed +was a life study of his. In the great West he was always of more +interest to the police than any white man. + +"We mostly wait around for the p'lice when we want to get out of +business," the man replied with meaning. + +"Yes, some folks find it difficult getting out of business without the +help of the police." + +"Sure," returned Pete easily. "They need to do it right. They need to +make things square." + +"For themselves?" + +"Jest so--for 'emselves." + +The half-breed leaned over his horse's shoulder and spat. Then he +ostentatiously returned the gun he was holding to its holster. + +"Maybe I'll need him no more," he said, with an obviously insincere +sigh. + +Fyles was quite undeceived. + +"Surely--if you're going out of business. What's your--business?" + +The man laughed. + +"I used to be runnin' whisky." Then he chuckled softly. "Y'see, that +chu'ch has got a hold on me. I'm feelin' that pious I can't bear the +thought of runnin' whisky--an' I can't bear the thought of--other folk +runnin' it. No, I'm quittin' that bizness. I'm jest goin' in fer +straight buyin' and sellin'--inside the law." + +Fyles was watching the man closely in the dim night light. He knew +exactly what the man was there for now. Furthermore he knew precisely +how to deal with him. He was weighing in his mind the extent to which +he could trust him. His detestation of the race increased, while yet +every nerve was alert to miss no chance. + +"Straight buying and selling is good when you've found a buyer, and +got--something to sell," he said. + +The man shrugged. + +"I sure got something to sell, an' I guess you ought to be the buyer." + +Fyles nodded. + +"I mostly buy--what I need. What's your line?" + +Again the man laughed. His uneasiness had passed. He felt they +understood each other. + +"Mostly hot air," he said carelessly. + +Fyles hated the man's contemplated treachery. However, his duty was +plain. + +"Well, I might buy hot air--if it's right, and the price is right." + +The man turned with an alert look and peered into the police officer's +face. + +"They're both right," he said sharply. Then his manner changed +abruptly to one of hot intensity. "Here let's quit talkin' fool stuff. +I can tell you what you're needin' to know. And I'll tell you, if +you'll pass me over, and let me quit clear without a question. I need +to get across the border--an' I don't want to see the inside of no +penitentiary, nor come up before any court. I want to get right away +quick. See? I can tell you just how a big cargo's comin' into Rocky +Springs. I know, because I'm one of 'em bringing it in. See? And when +I've told you I've still got to bring it in, or those who're running +it with me would guess things, and get busy after me, or--or change +their plans. See? Give us your word of a free run for the border, an' +I'll put you wise. A free run clear, on your honor, in the name of the +Government." + +"Why are you doing this?" demanded Fyles sharply. + +"That's up to me." + +"Why are you doing this?" Fyles insisted. "I need to know before I +make any deal." + +"Do you?" + +Pete thought for some moments, and Fyles waited. At last the man +looked up, and his evil face was full of the venom of his words. + +"I want to give 'em away," he cried with bitter hatred. "I want to see +the boss pass on to the penitentiary. See? I want to see the boss rot +there for five good, dandy years." + +"Who's the boss?" demanded Fyles sharply. + +The man's eyes grinned cunningly. + +"Why, the feller you're going to get Monday night, with fifty gallons +of good rye." + +Fyles sat up. + +"Monday night?" Then he went on. "Say, why do you want to put him +away?" + +"Ah." + +"Well?" + +Again the half-breed hesitated. Then with a sudden exclamation of +impatience his desire for revenge urged him on. + +"Tcha! What's the use?" he cried fiercely. "Say, have you ever had +hell smashed out of your features by a lousy dude? No. Well, I owe a +bit--a hell of a bit--to some one, and I guess I don't owe nothing in +this world else but money. Debts o' this sort I generally pay when I +get the chance. You're goin' to give me that chance." + +Fyles had satisfied himself. The man sickened him. Now he wanted to be +done with him. + +"What's your story? I'll pay you the price," he cried, with utter +contempt. + +But the man wanted added assurance. + +"Sure?" he cried eagerly. "You're goin' to get me with the rest? +Savee? You're goin' to get me, an' when you get me, you're goin' to +give me twenty-four hours' free run for the border?" + +"If I get you you can go free--for twenty-four hours." + +The man's face lit with a devilish grin of cruelty. + +"Good. You'll shake on it?" He held out his hand. + +Fyles shook his hand. + +"Guess it's not necessary. My word goes. You've got to take my word, +as I've got to take yours. Come on. I've no more time to waste." + +Pete withdrew his hand. He understood. His venom against the white +race was only the further increased. + +"Say," he growled, his eyes lighting with added ferocity. "That cargo +is to be run down the river on Monday night about midnight. There'll +be a big rack of hay come in by trail--the river trail--and most of +the gang'll be with it. If you locate it they calculate you'll get +busy unloading to find the liquor. Meanwhile the cargo'll slip through +on the river, in a small boat. Savee? Guess there'll be jest one +feller with that boat, an'--he'll be the feller that's--that's had you +red coats skinned a mile all these months an' years." + +Fyles gathered up his reins. + +"Just one word," he said coldly. "I hate a traitor worse than poison, +but I'm paid to get these people. So my word goes, if your story's +true. If it isn't--well, take my advice and get out quick, or--you +won't have time." + +Before the half-breed had time to reply Peter threw up his head, and +set off at the touch of his master's spurs. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +PLAYING THE GAME + + +For some moments the two men faced each other in a sort of grim +silence. It was already daylight. Sunday morning was breaking under a +cloudless sky. + +At last McBain rose from his seat at the deal table which served him +for a desk. He reached out and turned out the lamp. Its light was no +longer needed. Then he stretched himself and yawned. + +"Had enough of it?" inquired Fyles, catching the infection and +stifling a yawn. + +"Just what you might notice, sir." A shadowy smile played about the +Scot's hard mouth, but it was gone in a moment. + +Fyles nodded. + +"So have I," he agreed. "But we've broke the back of things. +And--you'll be kept busy all day to--I was going to say to-morrow. I +mean to-day." + +McBain sat down again. + +"Yes, sir. A couple of hours' sleep'll do me, though. We daren't spare +ourselves. It's sort of life and death to us." + +Fyles shot a keen look into the other's face. + +"I shouldn't be surprised if it were literally so." + +"You think, sir----?" + +McBain's voice was sharply questioning. + +But Fyles only laughed. There was no mirth in his expression, and +McBain understood. + +"Never mind," the officer went on, with a careless shrug. "Best turn +in. We'll know all about it when the time comes." + +He rose from his seat, and McBain, with a brief "Good night, sir," +disappeared into the inner room. + +But Fyles did not follow his example for a few moments. He went to the +door and flung it open. Then he stood for awhile gazing out at the +wonderful morning daylight, and drinking in the pure prairie air. +While he stood thus his thoughts were busy, and a half smile was in +his eyes. He was thinking of the irony of the fact that Kate Seton's +superstition had completely taken possession of him. + + * * * * * + +Two hours after sunrise McBain and his superior were at work again. +They had snatched their brief sleep, but it was sufficient for these +hardy riders of the plains. The camp was full of activity. Each man of +the patrol had to be interviewed, and given minute instructions, also +instructions for the arising of unforeseen circumstances, where +individual initiative would require to be displayed. Then there were +rations to be served out, and, finally, messengers must be sent to the +supernumerary camp higher up the valley. But there was no undue bustle +or haste. It was simply activity. + +At ten o'clock Stanley Fyles left the camp. McBain would continue the +work, which, by this time, had returned to conditions of ordinary +routine. + +Peter ambled gently down the valley. His rider seemed in no hurry. +There was no need for hurry. The village was five miles away, and he +had no desire to reach it until just before eleven. So he could take +his leisure, sparing both himself and his horse for the great effort +of the morrow. + +Just for one brief moment he contemplated a divergence from his +course. It was at the moment when he left the cattle track which led +to his camp and joined the old Indian trail to the village. He reached +the branching cattle track on the other side of it which would have +led him to the mysterious corral, which was possessed of so much +interest and suspicion. But he remembered that a visit thither would +violate the conditions of his wager with Kate. The place belonged to +Charlie Bryant. So he pushed on. + +As he rode he thought of Kate Seton's determination to absent herself +during the critical events about to happen in the village. On the +whole he was pleased with her decision. Somehow he felt he understood +her feelings. The grip of her superstition had left him more +understanding of her desire to get away. + +Then, too, he would rather she were away when his own big effort came. +Should he fail again, which now he believed impossible, he would +rather she were not there to witness that failure. He knew, only too +well, from bitter experience, how easy it was for the most complete +plans to go awry when made against the genius of crime. No, he did not +want her to witness his failure. Nor would he care to flaunt the +success he anticipated, and consequently the error she had fallen +into, before her distressed eyes. He felt very tender toward her. She +was so loyal, so courageous in her beliefs, such a great little +sportswoman. No, he must spare her all he could when he had won that +wager. He would not demand his pound of flesh. He would release her +from her debt, and just appeal to her through his love. And, somehow, +when he had caught this man, Bryant, and so proved how utterly +unworthy he was of her regard, he felt that possibly he would not have +to appeal in vain. + +He reached the old Meeting House as the earliest of the village folk +were gathering for service. He did not ride up, but left Peter, much +to that creature's disquiet, tied in the bush some fifty yards from +the place. + +His interest became at once absorbed. He chatted pleasantly for a few +moments with Mr. Blundell, the traveling Methodist minister, and +greeted those of the villagers whom he had come to know personally. +But all the while his eyes and ears were fully alert for the things +concerning his purpose. He noted carefully all those who were present, +but the absentees were his greatest interest. Not one of those who +constituted the gang of smugglers was present, and particularly he +noted Charlie Bryant's absence. + +Among the last to arrive were Big Brother Bill and Helen, and Fyles +smiled as he beheld the careful toilet of the big city man. Helen, as +usual, was clad in her best tailored suit, and looked particularly +bright and smart when he greeted her. + +"Miss Kate not at--service?" he inquired, as they paused at the door +of the building. + +Helen shook her head, and her face fell. + +"No. She's preparing for her journey to Myrtle," said the girl. "How +she can do with that noisy old creature Mrs. Radley I--I--well, +she gets me beat every time. But Kate's just as obstinate as a +fifty-year-old mule. She's crazy to get away from here, and--and I +left her about to dope the wheels of the wretched old wagon she's +going to drive this afternoon. Oh, dear! But come along, Bill, they're +beginning service." + +A moment later the police officer was left alone outside the building. + +It was not his way to take long arriving at a decision. He walked +briskly away, and vanished amid the bush. A minute later he was once +more in the saddle, heading for the bridge in front of Kate's house. + +Kate was still at her wagon when Fyles arrived. At the sound of his +approach she straightened herself up with a smiling, half-embarrassed +welcome shining in her eyes. + +"Don't you come too near," she exclaimed. "I'm all over axle dope. It +truly is the messiest job ever. But what are you to do when the boys +clear out, and--and play you such a scurvy trick? I've been relying on +Nick to drive me out and bring the wagon back. Now I'll have to drive +myself, and keep the wagon there, unless I can hire some one to bring +it back, so Charlie can haul his last hay to-morrow." + +The policeman ran his eyes over the wagon. At the mention of Charlie +Bryant's name, his manner seemed to freeze up. He recognized the +vehicle at once. + +"It's Bryant's wagon?" he said shortly. + +Kate nodded. + +"Sure. He always lends it me when I want one. I haven't one of my +own." + +"I see." + +Fyles's manner became more easy. Then he went on. + +"Where are your boys? Where's Pete?" + +Kate's eyes widened. + +"Gracious goodness only knows," she said, in sheer exasperation. "I +only hope Nick turns up to drive me. I surely will have to get rid of +them both. I've had enough of Pete since he got drunk and insulted +Helen. Still, he got his med'cine from Bill all right. And he got the +rough side of my tongue, too. Yes, I shall certainly get rid of both. +Charlie's always urging me to." She wiped her hands on a cloth. +"There, thank goodness I've finished that messy job." + +She released the jack under the axle, and the wheel dropped to the +ground. + +"Now I can load up my grips," she exclaimed. + +Fyles looked up from the brown study into which he had fallen. + +"This Bill--this Big Brother Bill hammered master Pete to a--pulp?" he +inquired, with a smile of interest. + +"He certainly did," laughed Kate. "And when he'd done with him I'm +afraid my tongue completed the--good work. That's why this has +happened." She indicated the wagon with a humorous look of dismay. + +Fyles laughed. Then he sobered almost at once. + +"I came here for two reasons," he said curiously. "I came +to--well--because I couldn't stay away, for one thing. You see, I'm +not nearly so much of a police officer as I am a mere human creature. +So I came to see you before you went away. You see, so many things may +happen on--Monday. The other reason was to tell you I've had a +wonderful slice of--hateful good luck." + +"Hateful good luck?" + +Kate raised a pair of wondering eyes to his face. + +"Yes, hateful." The man's emphasis left no sort of doubt as to his +feelings. "Of course," he went on, "it's ridiculous that sort of +attitude in a policeman, but I can admire a loyal crook. Yes, I could +have a friendly feeling for him. A traitor turns me sick in the +stomach. One of the gang has turned traitor. He's told me that detail +you couldn't give me. I've got their complete plan of campaign." + +The wonder in Kate's eyes had become one steady look of inquiry. + +"Their complete plan of campaign?" she echoed. Then in a moment a +great excitement seemed to rise up in her. It found expression in the +rapidity of her words. + +"Then you know that--Charlie is innocent? You know now how wrong you +were? You know that I have been right all the way through, and that +you have been wrong? Tell me! Tell me!" she cried. + +Stanley Fyles shook his head. + +"I'm sorry. The man had the grace to refuse me the leader's identity. +I only got their plan--but it's more than enough." + +Kate breathed a sigh as of regret. + +"That's too bad," she cried. "If he'd only told you that, it might--it +might have cleared up everything. We should have had no more of this +wretched suspicion of an innocent man. It might have altered your +whole plan of campaign. As it is----" + +"It leaves me more than ever convinced I am on a red-hot scent which +must now inevitably lead me to success." + +For a few moments Kate looked into the man's face as though waiting +for him to continue. Then, at last, she smiled, and the man thought he +had never beheld so alluring a picture of feminine persuasion. + +"Am I to--know any more?" she pleaded. + +The appeal became irresistible. + +"There can be no harm in telling you," he said. "You gave me the first +help. It is to you I shall largely owe my success. Yes, you may as +well know, and I know I can rely on your discretion. You were able to +tell me of the coming of the liquor, but you could not tell me exactly +how it was coming. The man could tell me that--and did. It is coming +in down the river in a small boat. One man will bring it--the man who +runs the gang. While this is being done a load of hay, accompanied by +the whole gang, will come into the town as a blind. It is obvious to +me they will come in on the run, hoping to draw us. Then, when caught, +they rely on our search of the wagon to delay us--while the boat slips +through. It's pretty smart, and," he added ruefully, "would probably +have been successful--had I not been warned. Now it is different. Our +first attention will be that boat." + +Kate's eyes were alight with the warmest interest. She became further +excited. + +"It's smart," she cried enthusiastically. "They're--they're a clever +set of rascals." Then, for a moment, she thought. "Of course, you must +get that boat. What a sell for them when you let the wagon go free. +Say, it's--it's the greatest fun ever." + +Fyles smilingly agreed. This woman's delight in the upsetting of the +"runners" plans was very pleasant to him. There could be no doubt as +to her sympathies being with him. If only she weren't concerned for +Bryant he could have enjoyed the situation to the full. + +Suddenly she looked up into his face with just a shade of anxiety. + +"But this--informer," she said earnestly. "They'll--kill him." + +Fyles laughed. + +"He'll be over the border before they're wise, and they'll be held +safe--anyway." + +Kate agreed. + +"I'd forgotten that," she said thoughtfully. Then she gave a shiver of +disgust. "I--I loathe an informer." + +"Everybody with any sense of honor--must," agreed Fyles. "Informer? +I'd sooner shake hands with a murderer. And yet we have to deal and +bargain with them--in our work." + +"I was just wondering," said Kate, after another pause, "who he could +be. I--I'm not going to ask his name. But--do I know him?" + +The policeman laughingly shook his head. + +"I must play the game, even--with an informer. Say, there's an old saw +in our force, 'No names, no pack-drill.' It fits the case now. When +the feller's skipped the border, maybe you'll know who he is by his +absence from the village." + +Suddenly Kate turned to her wagon. She gazed at it for some moments. +Then she turned about, and, with a pathetic smile, gave vent to her +feelings. + +"Oh, dear," she cried. "I--I wish it was after dinner. I should be +away then. I feel as if I never--never wanted to see this valley +again--ever. It all seems wrong. It all seems like a nightmare now. I +feel as if at any moment the ground might open up, and--and swallow me +right up. I--I feel like a dizzy creature standing at the edge of a +precipice. I--I feel as if I must fall, as if I wanted to fall. I +shall be so glad to get away." + +"But you'll come back," the man cried urgently. "It's--only till +after Monday." Then he steadied himself, and smiled whimsically. +"Remember, we have our wager. Remember, in the end you either have +to--laugh at me, or--marry me. It's a big stake for us both. For me +especially. Your mocking laughter would be hard to bear in conjunction +with losing you. Oh, Kate, we entered on this in a spirit of +antagonism, but--but I sort of think it'll break my heart to--lose. +You see, if I lose, I lose you. You, I suppose, will feel glad--if you +win. It's hard." His eyes grew dark with the contemplation of his +possible failure. "If I could only hope it would be otherwise. If I +could only feel that you cared, in however slight a degree. It would +not seem so bad. If I win I have only won you. I have not won your +love. The whole thing is absurd, utterly ridiculous, and mad. I want +your love, not--not--just you." + +Kate made no answer, and the man went on. + +"Do you know, Kate, as the days go on in this place, as the moment of +crisis approaches, I am growing less and less of a policeman. I'm even +beginning to repent of my wager with you, and but for the chance of +winning you, I should be glad to abandon it. Love has been a hidden +chapter in the book of life to me up till now, and now, reading it, it +quite overwhelms me. Do you know I've always despised people who've +put true love before all other considerations? I thought them weak +imbeciles, and quite unfit. Now I am realizing how much I had to learn +all the while, and have since learned." + +He paused, and, after a moment's thought, went on again. + +"Do you know a curious thought, desire, has grown up in me since our +compact. I know it's utterly--utterly mad, but I can't help it. +Believing now, as I do, that Bryant is no more to you than you say, I +feel that when I get him--I feel I cannot, dare not keep him. I feel a +crazy longing to let him go free. Do you know what that means to me? +It means giving up all I have struggled for all these years. Do you +know why I want to do it? Because I believe it would make you happy." + +Kate's eyes were turned from him. They were full of a great burning +joy and love. And the love was all for this man, so recklessly +desirous of her happiness. + +She shook her head without turning to him. + +"You must not," she said, in deep thrilling tones. "You must not +forego the duty you owe yourself. If you capture Charlie he must pay +the price. No thought of me must influence you. And I--I am ready to +pay the forfeit. I made the wager with my eyes wide open--wide, wide." + +Fyles stirred uneasily. He meant every word he had said, and somehow +he felt he was still beyond the barrier, still outside the citadel he +was striving to reduce. + +"Yes, I know," he said almost bitterly. "It is just a wager--a wager +between us. It is a wager whereby we can force our convictions upon +each other." + +Kate nodded, and the warm light of her eyes had changed to a look of +anxiety. + +"There is a whole day and more before the--settlement, a day and night +which may be fraught with a world of disaster. Let us leave it at +that--for the present." Then, with an effort, she banished the +seriousness from her manner. "But I am delaying. I must pack my grip, +and harness my team. You see, I must leave directly after dinner." + +Fyles accepted his dismissal. He turned to his horse and prepared to +mount. Kate followed his every movement with a forlorn little smile. +She would have given anything if he could have stayed. But----. + +"Good luck," she cried, in a low tone. + +"Good luck? Do you know what that means?" Fyles turned abruptly. "It +means my winning the wager, Kate." + +"Does it?" Kate smiled tenderly across at him. "Well, good luck +anyway." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +AN ENCOUNTER + + +Service was still proceeding at the Meeting House. The valley was +quiet. Scarcely a sound broke the perfect peace of the Sabbath +morning. The sun blazed down, a blistering fragrant heat, and the +laden atmosphere of the valley suggested only the rusticity, the +simple innocence of a pastoral world. + +At Kate Seton's homestead a profound quiet reigned. There was the +occasional rattle of a collar chain to be heard proceeding from the +barn; the clucking of a foolish hen, fussing over a well-discovered +worm of plump proportions, sounded musically upon the air, and in +perfect harmony with the radiant, ripening sunlight. A stupid mongrel +pup stretched itself luxuriantly upon the ground in the shade of the +barn, and drowsily watched the busy hens, with one eye half open. +Another, evidently the brother of the former, was more actively +inclined. He was snuffing at the splashes of axle "dope" on the ground +beneath the wagon. He was young enough to eat, and appreciate, +anything he could get his baby teeth into. + +There was scarcely a sign of life about the place otherwise. The whole +valley was enjoying that perfect, almost holy, calm, to be found +pretty well all the world over, yielded by man to the hours of +worship. + +Inside the house there was greater activity. Kate Seton was in her +homely parlor. She was at her desk. That Bluebeard's chamber, which +roused so much curiosity in her sister, was open. The drawers were +unlocked, and Kate was sorting out papers, and collecting the loose +paper money she kept there. + +She was very busy and profoundly occupied. But none of her movements +were hurried, or suggested anything but the simple preparations of one +about to leave home. + +Her work did not take her long. All the loose money was collected into +a pocketbook, bearing her initials in silver on its outer cover. This +she bestowed in the bosom of her dress. Then, very deliberately, she +tore up a lot of letters and loose papers, thrust them in the +cookstove, and watched them burn in the fragment of fire smouldering +there. Next she passed across to the wall where her loaded revolvers +were hanging, and took one of them from its nail. Then, with an air of +perfect calm and assurance, she passed out of the room to her bedroom, +where a grip lay open on the simple white coverlet of her bed. + +Her packing was proceeded with leisurely. Yet the precision of her +movements and the certainty with which she understood her needs made +the process rapid. + +Everything was completed. The grip was full to overflowing. She stood +looking at it speculatively. She was assuring herself that nothing +was forgotten for her few days' sojourn away from home. + +In the midst of her contemplation she abruptly raised her eyes to the +window and inclined her head in an attitude of listening. A sound had +reached her, a sound which had nothing to do with the two puppies, +or the hens, outside. It was a sound that brought a swift, alert +expression into her handsome eyes, the look of one who belongs to a +world where the unusual is generally looked upon with suspicion. + +A moment later she was peering out of the window into the radiant +sunlight. The sound was plainer now, and she had recognized it. It was +the sound of a horse galloping, and approaching her home. + +Still the doubtful questioning was in her eyes. + +She left the window and passed out of the room. The next moment she +was standing in the doorway at the back of the house, and in front of +her stood the wagon that was to bear her to Myrtle. The slumberous pup +was on its feet standing alertly defiant. Its brother was already +yapping truculently in its baby fashion. The old hen had abandoned its +search for more delectable provender, and had fled incontinently. + +A horseman dashed up to the house. He had ignored the front door and +made straight for the barn. He drew up with a jerk, and sat looking at +the wagon standing there. Then, with an excited, impatient +ejaculation, he flung out of the saddle. + +The next moment he became aware of Kate's presence in the doorway. +With eyes alight and half-angry, half-impatient, Charlie Bryant turned +upon her. + +"Why have you taken this wagon, Kate?" he demanded, going to the point +of his concern without preamble. + +The woman drew a sharp breath. It was as though she realized that a +vital moment had arrived, a moment when she must grip the situation, +and use all her power of domination over the questioner. + +"You've placed it at my disposal at all times," she said, smiling into +his excited eyes. + +The man rushed on. + +"Yes, yes, I know; but why have you taken it now? You say you are +going to Myrtle. You don't need it. You could ride to Myrtle--in the +ordinary way. You are welcome to the wagon at all times. To anything I +have. But why are you taking it now? I only found out it had gone this +morning. I--" he averted his gaze--"I only happened to go over to the +corral this morning--and I found it--gone." + +Quick as a shot Kate's answer was formulated and fired at him. + +"Why did you go to the corral--this morning?" + +The man's reply was slow in coming. His cheeks flushed, and it looked +as though he were seeking excuse. + +"I had to go there. I--needed my wagon for to-morrow's work." + +Kate smiled. She was feeling more confident. + +"For hauling your hay? Won't it wait? You see, I can't carry a grip on +the saddle." + +Great beads of sweat were standing on Charlie's youthful face. He +raised one nervous hand and brushed it across his forehead. He cleared +his throat. + +"Say, why--why must you go now, Kate? What is this absurd talk I have +heard? You going away because--because of that tree business? Kate, +Kate, such an idea isn't worthy of you. You going? You flying from +superstition? No, no, it's not worthy of you. Kate----" he paused. +Then, with a gulp: "You can't have the wagon. I refuse to--lend it +you. I simply must have it." + +Kate was leaning against the door casing. She made no move. Her smile +deepened, that was all. She understood all that lay behind the man's +desperate manner, and--she had no intention of yielding. + +"If you must have it, you must," she said, in her deep voice, so like +his own. "You had better send for it, but--" her look suddenly +hardened--"don't ever speak to me again. That is all I have to say." + +The man's determination wavered before the woman's coldness. He looked +into her dark eyes desperately. They were cold and hard. They had +never looked at him like that before. + +"D'you mean that, Kate?" he demanded desperately. "Do you mean that if +I take that wagon you have--done with me forever? Do you?" + +"I meant precisely what I said." Kate suddenly bestirred herself. The +coldness in her eyes turned to anger, a swift, hot anger, to which +the man was unused, and he shrank before it. "If you are sane you +will leave that wagon to me. You _do not_ want it for your haying +to-morrow. Anyway, your haying excuse is far too thin for me. I know +why you want it. If you take it I wash my hands of you entirely. You +must choose now between these things, once and for all. I am in no +trifling mood. You must choose now--at once. And your choice must +stand for all time." + +Kate watched the effect of every word she spoke, and she knew, long +before she finished speaking, she was to have her way. It was always +so. This man had no power to refuse her anything. It was only in her +absence, when his weakness overwhelmed him, that her influence lost +power over him. + +All the excitement had died out of his eyes. Anger gave way to +despair, decision to weakness and yielding. And through it all a great +despair and hopelessness sounded in his voice. + +"Oh, Kate," he cried, "I can't believe this is you--I can't--I can't. +You are cruel--crueller than ever I would have believed. You know why +I want to keep the wagon just now. I implore you not to do this thing. +I will do most anything else you ask me, but--leave that wagon." + +Kate shook her head in cold decision. + +"My mind is quite made up," she said. "There is nothing more to be +said. You must choose here--and now." + +The man hesitated. Just for a moment a gleam of anger flashed into his +eyes, but it died almost at its birth, and he made a gesture of +something like despair. + +"You must do as you see fit," he said, yielding. Then, in a moment, +his weakness was further displayed in an impotent obstinacy. "You must +do as you see fit, and I shall do the same. My mind, too, is made up. +I shall carry out the plans I have already made, and if harm +comes--blame yourself." + +He turned away abruptly. He refused even to look in her direction +again. He sprang into the saddle with remarkable agility and galloped +off. + + * * * * * + +Charlie Bryant raced back to his house. For the moment a sort of +frenzy was upon him. He flung out of the saddle, and left his horse +at the veranda. He rushed into his sitting room, and, in a sort of +impotent excitement and anger, he paced the floor. + +He went through the little house without object or reason. At the +kitchen door he stood staring out, lost in a troubled sea of racing +thought. Presently he returned to the sitting room. He was about to +pass out on to the veranda, but abruptly paused. With a gesture of +impatient defiance he returned to his bedroom and drew a black bottle +of rye whisky from beneath the mattress of his bed. Without waiting to +procure a glass he withdrew the cork, and, thrusting the neck of the +bottle into his mouth, took a long "pull" at the contents. After a +moment he removed it, and gasped with the scorch of the powerful +liquor. Then he took another long drink. Finally he replaced the cork +and returned the bottle to its hiding place. + +A few moments later he was on the veranda again looking out over the +village with brooding eyes. For a long while he stood thus, his +stimulated thought rushing madly through his brain. Then, later, he +became aware of movement down there in the direction of the Meeting +House. He realized that service was over. In a few moments Bill would +return for the mid-day meal which was all unprepared. + +With a short, hard laugh he left the veranda and mounted his patient +horse. Then, at another headlong gallop, he raced down toward the +village. + + * * * * * + +It was sundown the following day. A horse stood grazing in the midst +of a small grass patch surrounded by a thick bush of spruce, and +maple, and blue gums. A velvet twilight was gathering over all, and +the sky above was melting to the softer hues of evening. + +The horse hobbled about in that eager equine fashion when in the midst +of a generous feed of sweet grass. Its saddle was slightly awry upon +its back, and its forelegs were through the bridle reins, which +trailed upon the ground. The creature seemed more than content with +its lot, and the saddle disturbed it not at all. + +Once or twice it looked up from its occupation. Then it went on +grazing. Then, quite suddenly, it raised its head with a start, and +the movement caused it to raise a foreleg caught in the trailing +reins. Something was moving in the bushes. + +It stood thus for some moments. Its gaze was apprehensively fixed upon +the recumbent figure of a man just within the bush. The figure had +rolled over, and a pair of arms were raised above its head in the act +of stretching. + +Presently the figure sat up and stared stupidly about it. + +Charlie Bryant had awakened with a parching thirst, and a head racked +and bursting with pain. It was some minutes before his faculties took +in the meaning of his surroundings. Some minutes before they took in +anything but the certainty of his parched throat and racking head. + +He stared around him stupidly. Then, with a dazed sort of movement, he +rubbed his bloodshot eyes with the knuckles of his clenched fists. +After that he scrambled to his feet and stood swaying upon his aching +limbs. Then he moved uncertainly out into the open. He felt stiff, and +sore, and his head was aching maddeningly. + +Now he beheld his horse, and the animal's wistful eyes were steadily +fixed upon him. Every moment now his mind was growing clearer. He was +striving to recollect. Striving to remember what had happened. He +remembered going to the saloon. Yes, he had stayed there all day. That +he was certain of, for he could recall the lamps being lit--and yet +now it was daylight. + +For a moment his dazed condition left him puzzled. How did this come +about? Then, all in a flash he understood. This must be Monday. He +must have left the saloon--drunk, blind drunk. He must have +ridden--where? Ah, yes, now it was all plain. He must have ridden till +he fell off his horse, and then slept where he fell. Monday--Monday. +He seemed to remember something about Monday. What was it--ah! + +In a moment the cobwebs of his debauch began to fall from him, and he +became alert. He felt ill--desperately ill--but the swift action of +his brain left him no time to dwell upon it. He moved across to his +horse, and set the saddle straight upon its back. Then he disentangled +the reins from about its feet, and threw them over its head. The next +moment he was in the saddle and riding away. + +It was some moments before he could make up his mind as to his exact +whereabouts. He knew he was in the valley, but----. At that instant he +struck a cattle track and promptly followed it. It must lead +somewhere, and, sooner or later, he knew that he would definitely +locate his position. + +He rode on down the track, pondering upon all that must have occurred +to him. He must have slept for eighteen hours at least. He knew full +well he was not likely to have left O'Brien's until the place was +closed, and now it was sundown--the next day. Sundown on Monday. He +quickened his pace. His nerves were shaking, and--he wondered in what +direction the river lay. He was consumed with a fierce thirst. + +Suddenly his horse threw up its head and pricked its ears. Charlie sat +up, startled, and peered out ahead. The next moment he had reduced his +horse's gait to a walk. He knew where he was, and--he heard a sound +like a distant neigh. + +In a moment he was out of the saddle. He tied his horse just inside +the bush and then proceeded on foot. The old corral lay ahead of him. +That corral where he usually kept his wagon, and where the old hut +stood. + +He moved rapidly forward, and, as he neared the clearing, he left the +cattle track and took to the bush. That tell-tale sound, his horse's +pricked ears, had aroused his suspicions. + +A few moments later he reached the fringe of the clearing. Keeping +himself well hidden, he pressed to the very edge, and peered out from +amid the bush. As he did so he breathed a sigh of thankfulness. Two +horses were tied to the corral fence, and the door of the little old +shack was wide open. + +One of the horses he recognized as belonging to Inspector Fyles--the +other didn't matter. So he waited breathlessly, while one hand went to +his coat pocket, an unconscious movement, and rested on the revolver +it found there. + +He had not long to wait. The sound of voices reached him presently. +Then they grew louder. And presently he beheld two men appear from +within the hut. Inspector Fyles came first, closely followed by a +half-breed whom he recognized at once. It was Pete--Pete Clancy. + +In a moment the waiting man understood. A sort of blind fury mounted +to his brain and set his head swimming. Now, too, his right hand was +withdrawn from his gun pocket, and the weapon was gripped tightly, and +his finger was around the trigger. + +But the men were talking, and the watcher strained to catch their +words. He felt he must know. He must know what treachery was afoot, +and how far it affected---- + +"The game's a pretty bright one," Pete was saying; and the waiting man +ground his teeth as he realized the swagger in the man's tones, and +the grin of triumph on his still scarred features. "Maybe it ain't a +new sort of play, but I guess it ain't none the worse for that. Y'see, +that wagon is kept here right along. It's allers my work runnin' it +back here, and fetchin' it along when it's needed. That's how I know +about things here," he added, with a jerk of the head in the direction +of the hut. "It's far enough from the village for folks not to know +when it's here or not. Then the feller runnin' this layout keeps other +things here. Y'see, when a job's on he don't fancy folks gettin' to +know him. So he keeps an outfit o' stuff back in the hut there as 'ud +hide up a Dago ice-cream seller. Maybe he has other uses for that +shack. I ain't wise. But that hidin' hole I located dead easy. Guess +he figgers it's a dead secret--but it ain't." + +Then Fyles's voice, sharply imperious, carried to the listening man. + +"Who is he?" he demanded, turning suddenly upon his companion as they +reached the horses. + +The grin left the half-breed's face, and Charlie held his breath. + +The half-breed halted. An ironical light possessed his discolored +eyes. + +"Why, the feller you're getting to-night--in the boat." + +Fyles eyed his man sternly. + +"That's the second time you've answered me in that way. I'm not to be +played with. Who is this man?" + +A curious truculence grew in the half-breed's face. + +"I've told you all I'm going to tell you. Guess you'll be askin' me to +lay hands on him for you, next. I've earned my freedom, and when you +get these folks I'll be square with the game. You can't bluff me on +this game. No, sir. I got the law clear. You can't touch me for a +thing. It's up to you to get your man. I showed you the way." + +Charlie breathed again, though his fury at the miserable traitor was +no less. + +Fyles swung himself into the saddle. He bent down, and his voice was +harshly commanding. + +"Maybe I can't touch you--now," he cried. "But see you play the game +to-night. You get your free run, only if I get the man I'm after. The +rest of the gang don't count a lot, nor the liquor. It's the boss of +the gang I need. If you've lied to me you'll get short shrift." + +"You'll get him all right." + +The half-breed grinned insolently up into the officer's face. Then +Fyles rode away, and, from the moment his horse began to move until it +vanished down the cattle track, the muzzle of Charlie Bryant's gun was +covering him. His impulse was homicidal. To bring this man down might +be the best means of nullifying the effect of Pete's treachery. Then, +in time, he remembered that there were others to replace him, and, in +all probability, they knew already the story Pete had told their +chief. There was one thing certain, however, that liquor must not be +run to-night. + +Urgent as was the moment Charlie had not yet finished here. The moment +Stanley Fyles had disappeared he turned back to the half-breed. He saw +Pete take his horse and lead it on to the grass some distance from the +corral fence, and his gun held him covered. Then he watched him go +back to the hut and carefully close the door. After that he watched +him disturb his own footmarks and those of the policeman in the +neighborhood of the doorway. + +Charlie moved. The bushes parted, and he made his way into the open. +The half-breed's back was turned. Then, quite suddenly, a deep, harsh +challenge rang out, breaking up entirely the sylvan peace. + +"You damned traitor!" + +With a leap the half-breed swung about. As he did so the gleaming +barrel of his gun flashed with a sharp report. A bullet whistled +through Charlie Bryant's hat, another tore its way through the sleeve +of his jacket. But before a third could find a vital spot in his body +his own gun spat out certain death. The half-breed flung up his hands, +and, with a sharp oath, his knees crumpled up under him, and he fell +in a heap on the ground. + +His face livid with passion, Charlie hurried across the intervening +space. For one moment he stood gazing down upon the fallen man. Then +he aimed a kick of spurning at the dead man's body and moved away. + +It was some minutes before he left the precincts of the old corral +with its evil history. He went into the hut and opened the secret +cupboard. It was quite empty, and he closed it again. Then he passed +out, and removed the saddle and bridle from the half-breed's horse, +and turned it loose. Then, after one last look of hatred and loathing +at the dead man, he moved away and vanished among the trees. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +ON MONDAY NIGHT + + +Big Brother Bill, after an evening of considerable worry, had retired +to his little lean-to bedroom with its low, camp bedstead. It was +useless sitting up any longer attempting one of those big worrying +"thinks" which, usually, he was rather proud of achieving. + +On this occasion thinking led him nowhither. His worries had come +swiftly and significantly. In the first place, on Sunday afternoon he +had been seriously concerned about Helen. It was not until Kate's +going that either he or Helen had realized the girl's lonely position +in the house on the river bank. It came home to them both as they +returned thither at about sundown, to find that neither of the hired +men had shown up again, and the work, even to the "chores" of the +homestead, was at a standstill. + +He really became angry in his anxiety. Angry with Kate, angry with the +men. However, his displeasure was not likely to help matters, so he +and Helen turned to and fed the few livestock, made them snug for the +night, and then proceeded to consider Helen's position. After some +debate it was decided to appeal to Mrs. John Day. This was promptly +done, and the leading citizeness, after a closer cross-examination, +consented to take the girl under her brusque wing, and lodged her in +her own rather resplendent house. + +This was comparatively satisfactory, and Bill breathed his relief. But +hard upon this came the more alarming realization that Charlie did not +return home on Sunday night. Not only that, but nothing was heard of +him the whole of Monday. All the alarmed brother was able to discover +was the fact that Charlie had left the saloon at the time O'Brien +closed it, about midnight on Sunday, in a hopelessly drunken +condition. + +So, what with assisting Helen with the work of her homestead, and +searching for his defaulting brother, Bill's day was an anxious one. +Then, at nightfall, a further concern added fresh trouble to his +thought. Kid Blaney had defected as well, and, in consequence, the +work of Charlie's little ranch had been completely at a standstill the +whole day. + +In the end, quite wearied out with his unusual exertions, Bill +abandoned all further attempt to get a grip on the situation and went +to bed. He knew he must be up early in the morning, at daylight, in +fact, for he had promised Helen to be at the ceremony of the felling +of the pine tree, for which all preparations had been duly made under +the watchful and triumphant eye of Mrs. John Day. + +Sleep, however, was long in coming. His brain was too busy, a sign he +was secretly pleased at. He felt that during the last two days he had +more than proved his ability in emergency. So, lying awake, waiting +patiently for sleep to come, he rather felt like a general in action, +perfectly assured of his own capacity to meet every situation +successfully. + +It was nearly midnight when he finally dropped off into a light and +rather disturbed slumber. How long he had slept, or even if he really +had slept at all, he was never quite sure, for, quite suddenly, he was +aroused, and wide awake, by the sound of his own name being called in +the darkness. + +"Bill! Bill!" + +At the second pronouncement of his name he was sitting up with his +bare feet on the bare floor, and his great pajamaed body foolishly +alert. + +"Who in----" he began. But in a moment Charlie's voice cut him short. + +"You there? Thank God! Where's the lamp? Quick, light it." + +To Bill's credit it must be admitted he offered no further attempt at +a blasphemous protest, but leaned over toward the Windsor chair on +which the lamp stood, and fumbled for the matches. + +The next moment he had struck a light, and the lamp was lit. He stood +up and looked across the room. Charlie's slight figure was just inside +the doorway. His face was ghastly in the yellow lamplight. His clothes +were in a filthy condition, and, altogether, in Bill's own words, he +looked like a priceless antique of some forgotten race. + +However, the hunted look in the man's eyes smote his brother's +generous heart, and a swift, anxious inquiry sprang to his lips. + +"What's--what's up, Charlie?" he cried, gathering his clothes +together, and beginning to dress himself. + +Charlie's eyes glowed with a reflection of the lamplight. + +"The game's up, Bill," he cried hoarsely. "My God, it's been given +away. Pete Clancy, the feller you hammered, has turned informer. I--I +shot him dead. Say, the gang's out to-night. They're coming in with a +cargo of liquor. Fyles is wise to their play, and knows just how it's +coming in. They'll be trapped to a man." + +"You--shot Pete--dead?" + +In the overwhelming rush of his brother's information, the death of +the informer at his, Charlie's, hands seemed alone to penetrate +Bill's, as yet, none too alert faculties. + +"Yes, yes," cried the other impatiently. "I'd have shot him, or--or +anybody else for such treachery, but--but--it's the other that +matters. I've got to get out and stop that cargo. It's midnight now, +and--God! If the police get----" + +Bill's brain was working more rapidly, and so were his hands. He was +almost dressed now. + +"But you, Charlie," he cried, all his concern for his brother +uppermost. "They'll get you. And--and they'll hang you for killing +Pete--sure." + +Suddenly a peal of hysterical laughter, which ended in a furious +curse, rang through the room. + +"God Almighty!" Charlie cried fiercely, "don't stand there yapping +about me. Hang me? What in hell do I care what they do to me? I +haven't come here about myself. Nothing that concerns me matters. +Here, it's midnight. I've time to reach 'em and give 'em the word. +See, that's why I'm here. I don't know what's happened by now, or what +may happen. You offered to help. Will you help me now? Bill, I've got +to get there, and warn 'em. The police will try and stop us. If there +are two of us, one may get through--will you----?" + +Bill crushed his hat on his head. His eyes, big and blue, were +gleaming with the light of battle. + +"Give me a gun, and come on," he cried. "I don't understand it all, +but that don't matter. I'll think it out later. You're up against it, +and that's good enough for me. Somebody's going to have to look bright +if he lays hands on you, if it's Fyles, or McBain, or the devil knows +who. Come on." + +Picking up the lamp, Bill took the lead. Here, in action, he had no +doubts or difficulties, Charlie was in trouble; Charlie was +threatened; Charlie, his foolish, but well-loved brother. + +Five minutes later two horsemen, regardless of rousing the +inhabitants, regardless of who might see and recognize them, galloped +headlong through the heart of the village. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +STILL MONDAY NIGHT + + +The little river wound its silvery way through the heart of the +valley. The broken summer clouds strove to shut out the brilliant +light of the moon, and signally failed. The swift-moving currents of +air kept them stirring, and breaking. So the tattered breaks through +which peeped the radiant lamp of night, illuminated each fringe of +mist with the sheen of burnished steel. + +In spite of the high wind above, the night was still in the heart of +the valley. So still. High up above, the racing wind kept up the +constant movement, but not a breath below disturbed one single +sun-scorched leaf. It was warm. The night air was heavy with the +fragrance of ripening vegetation, and the busy droning sounds of +stirring insect life chorused joyously and seductively with the +murmuring of speeding waters. + +The very stillness thrilled. It was the hush of portent, the hush of +watchfulness, the hush of a threatening tension. + +In the wide heart of the valley the waters of the river laughed, and +sang, and frollicked on their way, while under cover of the deep +night-shadows lurking figures waited, with nerves set, and weapons of +destruction ready to fulfill their deadly mission. Strife loomed heavy +amid the reigning peace, the ruthless, savage strife which seems ever +to center the purpose of all sentient life. + +So the moments passed. Minutes grew. With every passing minute the +threat weighed heavier and heavier, until it seemed, at last, that +only the smallest spark was needed to fire the train. + +The racing clouds melted. They gathered again. Again and again the +changes came and went. It was like one great, prolonged conflict +wherein the darkening veil strove to hide the criminal secrets upon +the earth below from the searching gaze. + +For awhile the moon held sway. The river lit, a perfect mirror. Only +the shadowed banks remained. Round the bend came a trifling object, +small, uncertain in its outline. A sigh of relief went up from many +lips. The tension was relaxed. + +Caught in the dazzling light the object shot across the water to the +sheltering bank. Then the clouds obscured the moonlight, and eyes +strove vainly to penetrate the shadow. + +The moments passed. Again the moon shone out. Again was the object +caught in the revealing light. Now it was closer, and as it raced once +more for the wood-lined bank the watching eyes made out a deep-laden +canoe, low in the water, with a solitary figure plying a skillful +paddle. + +It crept on under the bank. With a wonderful dexterity the man at the +paddle steered his course beneath the green of drooping foliage, while +now and then his narrow, evil, humorous eyes surveyed the heavy cargo +at his feet with a smile of satisfaction. + +But the shadows could not claim him for long. The full stream lay +beyond in the middle of the river. His cargo was heavy, and the +sluggish water under the bank made his progress slow and arduous. +Again he sought the stream, and the lesser effort, and the little +craft raced on. + +Then, of a sudden, the peace of the night was broken. A chorus of +night cries awoke to the sharp crack of a carbine. A voice shouted a +swift command, and the canoe was turned head on to the hither bank. In +a moment a ring of metal was thrust into the face of the man with the +paddle, and the hard voice of Sergeant McBain bade him throw up his +hands. + +The boatman glanced swiftly about him. His evil eyes lit with a smile +of appreciation as he dropped his paddle and thrust his hands high +above his head. There were ten or twelve police troopers upon the +bank--and he was only one. + +"Haul him out o' that, boys, and yank the boat up out o' water. We're +needin' his cargo bad." + +The man was dragged unceremoniously from the boat, and stood before +the hard-faced sergeant. + +"Name?" he snapped. + +"Holy Dick," chuckled the prisoner. + +The sergeant peered into his face. At the moment the clouds had +obscured the moon. + +Was this the man they were waiting for? He made out the gray hair, the +smiling, evil eyes. He knew and recognized the features. + +The officer struggled with himself for a moment. Then his authority +returned. + +"You're under arrest for--running this cargo of liquor," he said +sharply. + +Holy Dick's smile broadened. + +"But----" + +"If you're going to make a statement I'm here to listen, but--it'll be +used against you." + +Sergeant McBain rapped out his formula without regard for the letter +of it. Then, while one of the troopers placed handcuffs upon the +prisoner's wrists, he turned to those at the canoe. + +"How many kegs?" he demanded. + +For a moment there was no reply. Holy Dick sniggered. McBain glared +furiously, and his impatience rose. + +"How many?" he cried again, more sharply. + +One of the troopers approached him and spoke in a low voice. + +"None, sergeant," he said, vainly striving to avoid the sharp ears of +their prisoner. "The boat's loaded heavy with loose rocks. It's----" + +A cunning laugh interrupted him. Holy Dick was holding out his +manacled arms. + +"Guess you'd best grab these off, Sergeant; maybe you'll need 'em for +someone else." + +But the policeman's reply became lost. A rattle of firearms far off on +the other side of the river left it unspoken. Something was happening +away over there, something they had not calculated upon. The rest of +the patrol, with Fyles, was divided between the other bank and the +more distant trail. He turned to his men. + +"Loose him and get into the saddle sharp!" he cried. "They've fooled +us. By God, they've fooled us--again!" + + * * * * * + +The uncertain moonlight revealed to Stanley Fyles a movement on the +distant rise of ground where the trail first mounted, and, beyond, +finally disappeared. His night glasses made out a rapidly oncoming +vehicle, accompanied by a small band of horsemen. + +The sight rejoiced him. Things were working out well. The man Pete had +not lied. McBain held the river. No boat could pass him. He would take +these men as part of the gang, working in conjunction with the boat. +All was well, and his spirits rose. A sharp order was passed back to +his men, ambushed in the bluff where he had taken up his position. The +thing would be simple as daylight. There would be no bloodshed. A few +shots fired to hold the gang up. Then the arrest. + +He waited. Then he backed into the ambush out of sight. The wagon came +on. Through his leafy screen he watched for the details of the +vehicle, the entire convoy. It would not be Bryant's wagon; that he +knew would be elsewhere. It would probably be some hired conveyance +which did not belong to the village. + +Nearer drew the little convoy, nearer and nearer. It was less than +one hundred yards away. In the uncertain moonlight its pace seemed +leisurely, and he could hear the voices of the men escorting it. He +wanted it nearer. He wanted it under the very muzzles of his men's +carbines. The rattle of wheels, the plod of horses' hoofs were almost +abreast. A few seconds more, then---- + +Half-a-dozen shots rang out, the bullets whistling across in front of +the wagon, and above the horses' heads. The teamster reined up, +throwing his horses upon their haunches. Then, like a log, he fell +headlong from his driving seat. + +Fyles turned with a bitter curse upon his lips for the criminal +carelessness of his men. But he was given no time to vent it. A cry +went up from the wagon's escort, and a hail of bullets rained upon the +ambush. + +In a second the troopers charged the wagon, while two of their horses, +with empty saddles, raced from the cover, and vanished down the trail. + +Then the fight waged furiously. + +It lasted but a few moments. These savage men about the wagon had been +goaded beyond the power of their restraint, at no time great, by the +fall of their comrade. A wild fury at the wanton killing by the +troopers had fired the train of their passions. Retaliation had been +certain--certain as death itself. + +But, after that first furious assault, these untamed prairie souls +realized the inevitable result of their action. They broke and fled, +scattering across country, vanishing like shadows in the night. The +next moment, acting on a sharp command, the police were in red-hot +pursuit, like hounds breaking from leash. Only Fyles and three men +stayed behind with the fallen teamster and his one other dead comrade. + +But at the moment of the flight and pursuit, the sound of racing +wheels some distance away caught the officer's ears. In a moment he +was at the wagon side. His men were close upon his heels. The wagon +was empty. It was the blind he had anticipated, but--that sound of +speeding wheels. + +He shouted to his men and set off across country in the direction. +Nothing must be left to chance. There was no doubt about the peculiar +rattle which sounded so plainly. It was a buckboard being driven at a +racing speed. Why? + + * * * * * + +As his horse ploughed through the low scrub his men followed hard upon +his heels. Farther on the country was open, and a wide stretch of +prairie grass spread out without cover of any sort. It was over this +the buckboard was racing. + +He strove to estimate its distance away, the start it had of him, +by the sound. It could not be much over a mile. A light buckboard +and team could travel very fast under the hands of a skilful +teamster. It would take a distance of five miles to overhaul it. The +direction--yes, it was the direction of the village. The buckboard +might get there ahead of them. + +Fyles rammed both spurs into the flanks of the faithful Peter, and, as +he did so, he saw a party of horsemen converging on him from the left. +They drew on, and, in a moment, he recognized McBain and his men. + +He called out to the Scot as they came together. + +"You get the boat?" + +McBain shouted his reply. + +"Sure, but--there was nothing doing. It was loaded down with rocks." + +Just for one brief instant a bitter imprecation hovered on the +officer's lips. Then, in a wave of inspiration, he shouted his +conviction. + +"By God, then we're on the right trail now. It's the buckboard ahead. +We must get it. That's the cargo, sure as fate. Come on!" + + * * * * * + +A light buckboard was moving leisurely over the open prairie. It was +just an ordinary, spidery buckboard drawn by an unusually fine team of +horses, and driven by a slightish man clad in a dark jacket and cord +riding-breeches, with a wide prairie hat drawn firmly down upon his +dark head, its brim deeply shading his boyish, good-looking face. +Running beside his team, tied to the neck yoke of the near-side +driver, was a saddle horse. It was a fine beast, with racehorse +quarters, and a shoulder laid back for speed. + +The buckboard was well loaded. Nor was its load disguised. It +consisted of a number of the small wooden kegs adopted for the purpose +of transporting contraband liquor. + +But though the vehicle moved over the rough grass in such a leisurely +fashion, the man's eyes were alert and watchful. His ears, too, were +sharply set, and lost no sound, as his eyes lost no sight, in the +distant prospect of the country through which he was traveling. + +His gait was by no means the result of any reposeful sense. It was the +well-calculated result of caution. There was caution in his whole +poise. In the quick turn of the head at any predominating sound. In +the sharp glance of his dark eyes at any of the more fantastic shadows +cast by the searching moonlight. Then, too, a tight hand was upon the +reins, and there was an alert searching for those badger and gopher +holes so perilous for horses in the uncertain light of the moon. + +He was traveling in a parallel, a mile to the south of the river +trail, and, far ahead, to the right, he could see the bush which +marked the winding course of the river. + +Now he was listening to the faint rumble of a wagon moving along the +trail, and, with which, though so far away, he was carefully keeping +pace. This was his whole object--to keep pace, almost step for step, +with the rumbling movement of the distant wagon. + +At his present gait his wheels gave out practically no sound. They +gently, almost silently, crushed their way over the tufted grass, and +the sound of his horses' hoofs suggested a muffling. + +So he made his way, stealthily, secretly. His was the brain which had +planned, and this vital work of convoying his smuggled liquor could be +entrusted to no other hand. The work he demanded of others was simple; +it was the background to his central purpose. He had no desire to risk +his helpers. His must be the risk, as, too, his must be the chief +profit. + +With all his caution he yet had time to think of those other things +which frequently brought a smile to his dark eyes. Why not? There was +a wild exhilaration in this work. He reveled in the thought of his +risk. He reveled in laying plans which could beat all the best brains +among the law officers. The excitement of the chances was as the +breath of life to him, and the cargo once safely secreted he could +feel that he had not lived in vain. + +He knew full well that the penitentiary doors were wide open waiting +to greet him, but he meant them to remain open, and spend their whole +time in a yearning which he vowed should never be fulfilled. Five +years. He smiled. Five years--wearing a striped---- + +What was that? + +A shot! One single shot! Far away, there, by the river. Ah, yes. That +big bluff. Holy Dick was probably busy. Holy Dick in his boat. He +smiled. But all unconsciously he eased his hand upon the lines, and +his horses quickened their gait. It was just the slight, nervous +quickening as the critical moment of his effort drew near. + +The buckboard was less silent. The wheels began to rattle over the +hummocky surface of the prairie grass. He listened even more acutely +for the rumble of the wagon on the trail. He must definitely assure +himself he was still abreast of it. That was all important. + +He could plainly hear it. Was he abreast? For the moment he was not +quite sure. Therefore, he further permitted his horses to quicken +their pace. It was better to---- + +He sat up, and a look of alarm peered out from under the brim of his +hat. The sound of a volley being fired over there on the trail +suddenly disconcerted him. This was something he had not reckoned on. +This was something he had wished to---- + +Hark! Again! An answering volley! The first was the heavier. The +latter was the familiar note of revolvers. A definite alarm took hold +of him. What was the meaning of it? An attack? Were the men on the +trail resisting the police? He had warned them. He----. Listen! The +shouting! Now he could distinctly hear the sound of galloping horses. + +He leaned forward and grabbed the whip from its socket on the +dashboard, and brought it smartly down upon his horses' backs. + +In an instant they leaped into a gallop, and he was racing over the +rough grass at a perilous pace. + +The fools. The mad, idiotic fools. Resisting the police. An armed +attack on the police. If they killed any of them----. Great God, was +there ever such a pack of fools and madmen? It was no longer simple +contraband. It was no longer playing up a ridiculous law. It was---- + +Again he brought his whip down upon his horses. He must get through +now. He must get to the cache with the liquor, and trust to the luck +of the reckless to get away. Further concealment was out of the +question. + +Hark, what was that? + +Horsemen coming his way. Yes--horsemen. There could be no doubt of it. +The racing hoof-beats were unmistakable. Down came the whip again, and +the great team, with the saddle horse beside them, raced with bellies +low to the ground. + +Now he had no thought but for getting away. His mind ran over the +possibilities. If only he could get clear with the liquor there might +yet be a chance of his comrades' and his own escape. He had no +knowledge of what had happened to the others, except that there was +shooting and pursuit. The only comfort to be drawn was from the +certainty in his mind that the first shooting he had heard was the +heavy firing of police carbines. + +Hark! Yes, there was no doubt of the pursuit. Furthermore, the pursuit +was hard behind him. Why? The police must have heard the buckboard. He +flogged his horses to a greater effort. They were the speediest team +in the country, and he had only three miles to go. They---- + +"Hold up, you beast," he cried, his deep voice hoarse with excitement. + +One of the horses lunged forward, stumbling in a badger hole. The +buckboard jolted terrifically. The driver was nearly thrown from his +seat. Under his firm hands, however, the beast managed to recover +itself. Then, as though he saw the gates of the penitentiary closing +upon him, a feeling of unutterable horror shivered through the man's +body and settled upon his heart. The horse was dead lame. + +But there was no time now for feeling, no time for regrets. The +pursuers had found his trail, and were hard upon his heels. The cargo +must go. Everything must go. Personal safety was the only thing to be +considered. From the confidence of victory now he had fallen to the +zero of certain failure. + +He pulled his sweating team up and sprang to the ground. He ran up to +the saddle horse, and, casting the neck-rope loose from the neck yoke, +looped it over the horn of the saddle. The next moment he was in the +saddle and racing over the grassland in the direction of the village. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +THE NIGHT TRAIL + + +The trail declined over a long, gradual slope. At the bottom of it +was a broad, almost dried-out slough. A wooden culvert spanned the +reed-grown watercourse. Then the trail made a sharpish ascent beyond, +and lost itself behind a distant bush, beyond which again stretched +out a broad expanse of grass. + +Two horsemen were speeding down the longer slope. Their horses were +fresh and full of speed. There was no speech passing between them. +Eyes and ears were alert, and their grimly set faces gave warning of +the anxious thought teeming through their brains. + +The indications of the night were nothing to them. The trail might +ring with the beat of their horses' hoofs, or only reply with the soft +thud of a deep, sandy surface. They were not out to consider either +their horses or themselves. Each knew that his journey was one of +desperate emergency, and one of them, at least, cared nothing what +might be his sacrifice, even if it were life itself. + +The horses came down the hill with a headlong rush. Loose reins told +of the men's feelings, and the creatures, themselves, as though imbued +with something of their riders' spirits, abandoned themselves to the +race with equal recklessness. + +Halfway down the hill the foremost of the two, the smaller and +slighter, abruptly flung a word across his shoulder to his companion +behind. + +"Someone coming," he said, in a deep, hoarse voice. + +The second man beat his horse's flanks with his heels, and drew +abreast. + +"I can't see," he replied, shading his eyes from the light of the +moon, which, at that moment, shone out from behind a cloud. + +The other pointed beyond the culvert. + +"There. Riding like hell. Gee! Look--it's--trouble." + +Bill Bryant now discerned the hazy outline of a moving figure. It +seemed to him that whoever, or whatever it was, it was aware of their +approach and desirous of avoiding them. The moving object had suddenly +left the trail. It had taken to the grass, and was heading straight +for the miry slough. + +"The fool. The madman," muttered Charlie. "Does he know what he's +making for?" + +"Is it--a stream, Charlie?" + +Bill's question seemed to irritate his brother. + +"Stream?--Damn it, it's mire. His horse'll throw himself. Who----?" + +He leaned forward in the saddle searching the distance for the +identity of the oncoming horseman. His horse shot forward, and Bill's +was hard put to it to keep pace. + +"Can't we shout a warning?" cried Bill, caught in his brother's +anxious excitement. + +"Warning be damned," snapped Charlie over his shoulder. "This is no +time to be shouting around. We don't----Hallo! He's realized where +he's heading. He's----. Oh, the hopeless, seven sorts of damned idiot. +Look! Look at that! There he goes. Poor devil, what a smash. Hurry +up!" + +The two men made a further call upon their horses, urged by the sight +of the horseman beyond the slough. He had crashed headlong into the +half-dry watercourse at the very edge of the culvert. + +The man's disaster was quite plain, even at that distance. He had +evidently been unaware of his danger in leaving the trail for a +cross-country run to avoid those he saw approaching him. As he came +down to the slough, all too late he had realized whither he was +heading. Then, instead of keeping on, and taking his chances of +getting through the mire, he had made a frantic effort to swing his +horse aside and regain the culvert. His reckless speed had been his +undoing. His impetus had been so great that the poor beast under him +had only the more surely plunged to disaster, from the very magnitude +of its effort to avoid it. + +Charlie was the first to reach the culvert. In a moment he was out of +the saddle. + +The stranger's floundering horse struggled, and finally scrambled to +its feet. The rider was close beside it, but lay quite still where he +had fallen. To Charlie's critical eye there was little doubt as to +what had happened. The adjacency of the edge of the culvert warned him +of what had befallen. The rider must have struck it as he fell. + +As Bill dismounted he pointed at the stranger's horse. + +"Grab it," cried Charlie. The next moment was kneeling beside the +fallen man. + +Then, in a moment, the wondering Bill, looking on, beheld a sight he +would never forget. + +Charlie bent down over the silent figure. He reached out and placed an +arm under the man's body and turned him over. The next instant a cry, +half-stifled in his throat, a cry as of some dumb creature mortally +wounded, a cry full of hopeless, dreadful pain rose from the kneeling +man, and its agony smote the sympathetic brother as though with a +mortal blow. + +Then came words, a rush of words, imploring, agonized. + +"Kate! Kate! Oh, Kate, why did you do it? Why? Oh, God, she's dead! +Kate! Kate! Speak to me. For God's sake speak to me. You're not dead. +No, no. Not dead. It can't be." + +The man's hand caressed the soft pale cheek under it. He had thrust +back the prairie hat which still retained its position, pressed low +upon the head, and a mass of dark, luxuriant hair fell away from its +place, coiled tightly about the small head. + +At that moment the horrified voice of Bill broke in. + +"Charlie! Charlie! I can hear horses galloping in the distance!" he +cried, alarmed, without actually realizing why. And some sort of +desperate instinct made him thrust his hand into his revolver pocket. + +For an instant only Charlie looked up at him in a dazed, only +half-understanding. Then his eyes lit with a stirring alarm as he +turned a listening ear to windward. + +The next moment his arms were flung about the body of the disguised +woman at his feet, and, with a great effort, he lifted her and +struggled to his feet. + +Bill stared in stupid wonderment when he beheld the figure of Kate +Seton clad in man's clothing, but he continued to hold on to the +horses, and, with a hand on his revolver, awaited his brother's +commands. + +At that moment Kate opened her eyes and gazed into the dark face above +her. In a moment the ardent eyes of Charlie smiled down at her. Then +the injured woman's lips opened, and, as they formulated her halting +words, his smile gave place to something like panic. She was still in +a fainting condition, but power was vouchsafed her to impart a story +which drove him to something like a frenzy of activity. + +"It's the police," she gasped. "It's--it's shooting. They're--behind. +They're right after me--O-oh!" + +She had fainted again with her last word, and the dead weight in the +man's arms became almost unsupportable. + +But now there was no longer any uncertainty. Kate was alive. The +police were behind. At all costs--the woman he loved must be saved. + +Charlie looked up at Bill, and his voice became harshly commanding. + +"Quick! On your horse, man," he cried, almost fiercely. "That's it," +as Bill flung himself into the saddle without question. "Here, now +take her. You're strong. Get her across your saddle in front of you. +There, that's it--lift. So. Gently. Get her right across your lap. +That's it. Now take my horse and lead it. So." + +Bill obeyed like a well-disciplined child, and with equal enthusiasm. +He leaned down from the saddle and lifted the fainting woman out of +his brother's arms. She was like a babe in his powerful arms. He laid +her across his knee. Then, as his brother passed the reins of his own +horse up to him, he took them and slung them over his supporting arm. +The command died out of Charlie's tones, and his whole attitude became +an irresistible appeal. + +"Now, Bill," he cried, urgently. "Down there, along the bank of the +slough." He pointed away southwards. "Along there, into that bush. Get +into hiding and remain till the coast is clear. Then get her back to +her home. Leave the police to me, and--and remember she's all I care +for--in the world." + +Bill waited no further word. Once he understood what was required of +him he could do it--he would do it--with all his might. He moved off +with all the confident air of his simple, purposeful nature. + +Charlie watched him go. He saw him vanish amid the shadows of the +bush. Then he turned to Kate's horse and sprang into the saddle. + +For a moment he sat there watching and listening. But his purpose was +not quite clear. It had not been clear to Bill, who had asked no +question, feeling such to be superfluous at the moment. + +But his own purpose was clear enough to Charlie's devoted mind. There +must be no chance of Kate's discovery by the police. Whatever had +happened before, there must be no chance of harm to her now. His mind +was quite clear. His thought flowed swiftly and keenly. + +The distant sound of galloping horses was growing. The summit of the +rising ground over which they must come was not more than two hundred +yards behind him. + +He waited. The clatter of hoofs was growing louder with each passing +second. The police must certainly be near the top of the rise now. +Bill was well away. He was well in the bush by this time. + +Hark! Yes. There they were. The moon was hidden just now, but even so +Charlie could see the bobbing figures at the hilltop. + +Suddenly he rammed his heels into his horse's flanks and dashed off up +the slope which he had so recently descended. As he went he drew his +revolver and fired two shots in swift succession in the direction of +the horsemen approaching. Well enough he knew, as he raced on toward +the village, that the police were beyond his range, but his purpose +was that there should be no doubt in their minds that he--he was their +quarry--that he was the man they had already been pursuing so far. + + * * * * * + +Ten men made up the tally of the pursuers riding with Inspector Fyles. +McBain was not among them. He had remained with the abandoned +buckboard while the rest of the police were scouring the neighborhood +for the fugitives from the first encounter. + +As Fyles came over the rise, and beheld the culvert below him, and +heard the two defiant shots hurled in his direction, a thrill of +satisfaction swept through him. The man was less than three hundred +yards ahead of him with a long hill to climb, and something over a +mile to go before the village, and the possibility of safety, was +reached. + +There was no match in the country for Peter when it came to a long, +uphill chase. He told himself the man hadn't a dog's chance with Peter +hard on his heels. + +"We've got him, boys," he cried to his men, in his moment of +exuberance. "He ought to have been half a mile on by the start he got. +It's the poor devil of a horse playing out. He's beat--beat to death. +Now, boys, hard on my heels for a spurt." + +Peter leaped ahead under the sharp reminder of the spur, and, in a few +moments, the clatter of iron-shod hoofs left the wooden culvert behind +it, and the race up the hill began. + +The moon now blazed out, as though at last it had definitely decided +to throw its weight in against the fugitive. The summer clouds were +lifting and vanishing with that wonderful rapidity with which, once +the brilliant moon gains sway, she seems to sweep all obstruction from +her chilly path. + +The steely light poured down upon the slim back of the fugitive, and +left both horse and rider sharply outlined. The distance diminished +under the terrific spurt of the police horses, and a confident look +began to dawn in the eyes of their riders. + +They were gaining so rapidly that it seemed hardly necessary to press +their bronchos so hard. The top of the hill was still a quarter of a +mile away. The fugitive's evidently wearying beast could never make +that last final incline. The man would be forced to turn and defend +himself or yield for very helplessness. The whole thing was too easy. +It was absurdly easy. Nor could there be any sort of a "scrap." They +were ten to one. It was disappointing. These riders of the plains +reveled in a genuine fight. + +But Fyles's contentment suddenly received a disconcerting shock. Peter +was stretching out like a greyhound. The pace at which they pursued +the hunted hare was terrific. But now, although they were, if +anything, traveling faster, they seemed to be no longer gaining. The +three hundred yards intervening had, in that first rush, been reduced +to nearly one hundred. But, somehow, to his disquiet Fyles now +realized that there was no further encroachment. + +He shook Peter up and left his companions behind. But it quickly +became evident he could make no further impression. If anything, his +quarry was gaining. An unpleasant conviction began to make itself felt +in the mind of the policeman. The man had been foxing. He had been +saving his horse up for that hill, calculating to a fraction the +distance he had yet to go. + +He called to his men to race for it. + +They came up on his heels. The man nearest to him was a corporal. + +"We're not done with him yet, corporal," he said grimly. "I wanted to +get him without trouble. Guess we'll have to bail him up. Once over +the top of that hill, he runs into the bush on the outskirts of the +village. We daren't risk it." + +The corporal's eyes lit. + +"Shall we open out and give him a round, sir?" + +Fyles nodded. + +"Let 'em fire low. Bring his horse down." + +The corporal turned back to his men, and gave the necessary order. + +"Open out!" he cried. "It's just over a hundred yards. Fire low, and +get his horse. We'll be on him before he can pick himself up." + +"There's fifty dollars between you if you can bring him down and keep +his skin whole," added Fyles. + +Still keeping their pace, the men spread out from the trail, +withdrawing the carbines from their leather buckets as they rode. Then +came the ominous clicking of the breeches as cartridges were thrust +home. Fyles, with Corporal Mooney, kept to the trail. + +A moment passed. Then the first carbine spat out its vicious pellet. +Fyles, watching, fancied that the fugitive had begun to flog his +horse. Now, in swift succession, the other carbines added their +chorus. There was no check in the pace of the pursuers. The +well-trained horses were used to the work. + +The first volley seemed ineffective. The men had not yet got their +sights. The fugitive had another fifty yards before he reached the top +of the long incline. + +The distance to the top of the hill was lessening rapidly. Fyles was +becoming anxious. It had become a matter of seconds before the man +would clear the ridge. + +"Keep low," cried the corporal, warningly, in the excitement of the +moment. "A ricochet--anything will do. Get his horse." + +The horseman was twenty yards from the crest of the hill. Fifteen. The +carbines again rattled out their hurried fire. + +Ten yards--in a moment he would be---- + +A cloud of dust arose suddenly among the feet of the fugitive's horse. +It cleared. Fyles gave a sigh of relief and raced Peter forward. The +man's horse had crashed to the ground. + + * * * * * + +Fyles was gazing down upon the body of the fallen man. The horse was +lying a few yards away, struggling to rise. A great welter of blood +flooded the sandy track all about it. + +A trooper walked up to the horse. He placed the muzzle of his carbine +close behind the poor creature's ear. The next moment there was a +sharp report. The head dropped heavily to the ground and remained +quite still. + +The corporal looked up at his superior. He was kneeling beside the +body of Charlie Bryant. + +"I'm afraid it's all up with him, sir," he said seriously. "But he +wasn't hit. I can't find a sign of a hit. I--think his neck's +broken--or--or something. It was the fall. He's dead, sir--sure." + +The officer's face never changed its stern expression. But the +suspicion of a sigh escaped him. He was by no means an unfeeling man, +but he had his duty to do. In this case there was more than his duty +concerned. Hence the sigh. Hence any lack of appreciation. + +"It's the man I expected," he said. "A foolish fellow, but--a smart +man. You're sure he's dead? Sure?" + +The corporal nodded. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Poor devil. I'm sorry." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +THE FALL OF THE OLD PINE + + +The gray of dawn was slowly gladdening toward the warmer hue of day. +The eastern skies lit with that pallid yellow which precedes the gold +and amber of the rising sun. Somewhere, far below the horizon, the +great day god was marching onward, ever onward, shedding its splendor +upon a refreshed and waking world. + +The valley of Leaping Creek was stirring. + +Whatever the shortcomings of the citizens of Rocky Springs, morning +activity was not one of them. But they knew, on this day of days, a +fresh era in the history of the village was about to begin. Every man +knew this. Every woman. Even every child who had power to understand +anything at all. + +So, as the golden light spread upward toward the vault of the eastern +heavens, the spirals of smoke curled up from among the trees on the +breathless air. Every cookstove in the village was lit by the +unwillingly busy hands of the men-folk, while the women bedecked +themselves and their offspring, as befitted the occasion and their +position. + +Breakfast ensued. It was not the leisurely breakfast of every day, +when men required an ample foundation to sustain their daily routine +of laborious indolence, but a meal at which coffee was drunk in +scalding gulps, and bread and butter, and some homely preserve, +replaced the more substantial fare of chops and steak, or bacon and +cereals. + +Then came the real business of the day. Doors opened and men looked +out. Children, with big bow ties upon their heads and sashes at their +waists, scuttled through, about the legs of their parents, and reached +the open. Neighborly voices hailed each other with a cheery greeting, +and the tone was unusual. It was the tone of those who anticipate +pleasantly, or are stirred by the excitement of uncertainty. + +Minutes later the footpaths and unpaved tracks lost their deserted +appearance. Solitary figures and groups lounged along them. Men +accompanied by their well-starched womenfolk, women striving vainly to +control their legions of offspring. They all began to move abroad, and +their ways were convergent. They were all moving upon a common goal, +as though drawn thither by the irresistible attraction of a magnet. + +From the lower reaches of the village, toward the eastern river, that +better class residential quarter, where the houses, four in number, of +Mrs. John Day, of Billy Unguin, of Allan Dy, and the local blacksmith +were located, an extremely decorous cortege emerged. Here there was +neither bustle nor levity. These were the chief folk of Rocky Springs, +and their position, as examples to their brethren of lesser degree, +weighed heavily upon them. + +Mrs. John was the light about which all social moths fluttered. The +women supporting her formed a bodyguard sufficiently impressive and +substantial. The men-folk were allowed no nearer than the fringe of +their bristling skirts. It was like the slow and stately progress of a +swollen, vastly overfed queen bee, moving on her round of the cells to +deposit her eggs. The women were the attendant bees, the men were the +guarding drones, whose habits in real life in no way detracted from +the analogy, while Mrs. John--well, Mrs. John would have made a fine +specimen of a queen bee, except, perhaps, for the egg-laying business. + +They, too, were being drawn to the magnet point, but, as the distance +they had to travel was greater than that of the other villagers, they +would certainly be the last to arrive. This had been well calculated +by Mrs. John, who was nothing if not important. She had well seen to +it that the ceremony, so shortly to take place, was on no account to +begin until her august word had been given. To further insure this +trifling piece of self-aggrandizement she was defraying the whole of +the expenses for the demolishment of the aged landmark of the valley. + +The saloonkeeper, O'Brien, coldly cynical, but eager to miss nothing +of the doings of his fellow citizens, took up his position at an early +hour with two of the most faithful adherents of his business house. + +It was his way to observe. It was his way to watch, and read the signs +going on about him. This valley, and all that belonged to it, had +little enough attraction for him beyond its possibilities of profit to +himself. Therefore the signs about him were at all times important. +And the signs of the doings of the forthcoming day more particularly +so. + +Those who accompanied him were Danny Jarvis and "fighting" Mike. They +were entirely after his own heart, and, perhaps, if opportunity ever +chanced to offer, after his pocket as well. They accompanied him +because he insisted upon it, and with a more than tacit protest. As +yet they had not sufficiently slept off the fumes of their overnight +indulgence in rye whisky. But O'Brien, when it suited him, was quite +irresistible to his customers. + +Having roused these two inebriates from their drunken slumbers on the +hay in his barn with a healthy kick, he proceeded to herd them out +into the daylight with a whole-hearted enthusiasm. + +"Out you get, you lousy souses," he enjoined them. "There's a big +play up at the old tree goin' to happen right away. Guess that old +crow bait, Ma Day'll need all the youth an' beauty o' Rocky Springs +around to get eyes on her glory. I can't say either o' you boys fit +in with these things, but if you don't git too near hoss soap and +cold water mebbe you'll pass for the picturesque." + +After a brief interval of blasphemous upbraiding and protest, after +these two men had exhausted their complimentary vocabulary on the +subject of the charms of the lumber merchant's wife, to all of which +O'Brien turned a more or less deaf ear, the three set out for the +scene of action, and took up an obscure position whence they could +watch every detail of the proceedings without, themselves, being too +closely observed. + +As O'Brien looked out upon the preparations already made, and while +his two friends stood chewing the silent cud of angry discontent, with +a diluting of black plug tobacco, he had to admit that the moment +certainly was a moment, and the scene had assumed a fascination which +even contrived to take possession of his now somewhat rusty +imagination. + +There, in the center of all, stood the villainous old pine, clothed in +all its atmosphere of unconscionable evil. It stood out quite by +itself in the midst of a clearing, which had been carefully prepared. +Every tree and every bush had been cut away, so that nothing should +interfere with the impressive fall of the aged giant. + +O'Brien studied the position closely. His eye was measuring, and he +was forced to admit that the setting was impressive. More than that, +he felt constrained to appreciate the imagination of Mrs. John Day. +With a view to possibilities the approximate height of the tree had +been taken, and a corresponding radius had been cleared of all lesser +growths. This was excellent. But--and he contrived to find one +objection--the old Meeting House was well within the radius. It was +the preparation for its defense to which he took exception. He scorned +the surrounding of lesser trees which had been left to guard it from +the crushing impact should the tree fall that way. Nor was he slow to +air his opinions. + +He eyed the discontented features of his companions, and snorted +violently. + +"Say," he cried, forcefully. "Look at that, you two bokays o' beauty." +He pointed at the Meeting House. "There--right there. If that +darnation stack o' kindlin' was to fall that aways, why, I guess them +vegetables wouldn't amount to a mush o' cabbige." + +Fighting Mike deliberately spat. + +"An' who in hell cares?" he snarled. + +O'Brien turned on the other for a sign of interest. But Danny's +stomach was in bad case. + +"Oh, hell!" he cried, and promptly turned his gaze in another +direction. + +O'Brien looked from one to the other, torn by feelings of pity and +anger, with a desire for bodily assault uppermost. + +"You sure are bright boys," he said at last, a sort of sardonic humor +getting the better of his harsher feelings. + +He had no intention of having his enjoyment spoiled by what he termed +"bad bile," so he yielded his full attention to the tree itself. It +certainly was a magnificent piece of Nature's handiwork. Somehow he +regretted that he had never studied it carefully before. From the tree +he turned to a mild appreciation of the other preparations for its +fall. Long guide ropes had been set in place, high up the vast, bare +trunk. These, four of them in number, had been secured at the four +points of the compass to other trees of stout growth on the fringe of +the clearing. They were new ropes provided for the purpose. Then +again, a heavy cable chain had been girded about the lower trunk, and +to this, well out of range of the fall of the tree, were hitched two +teams of heavy draught horses. It was obvious that they were to haul +as the tree, steadied by the guides, began to fall. + +He summed up the result of his observations for the benefit of his +companions, in a pleasantly conversational manner. + +"Makes a dandy picture," he said doubtfully, "but I guess there's a +whole heap o' things women don't understand. Hand 'em a baby, an' they +got men beat a mile, an' they most gener'ly don't forget to say so. +That's all right, an' we ain't kickin' a thing. Guess we ain't +yearnin' to share that glory--none of us. But babies and fellin' trees +ain't got a spark o' resemblance far as I kin see, 'cep' it is an axe +is a mighty useful thing dealing with 'em when they ain't needed. What +I was comin' to was this old sawdust bag, Ma Day'll have a hell of a +mouthful to chew when that tree gets busy. These guides ain't a +circumstance. They won't hold nothin'. An' I guess I don't get a step +nearer things than I am now." + +Mike gazed around on the speaker with billious scorn. + +"Don't guess that'll hurt nothin'," he sneered. + +Danny was beginning to revive. + +"Ain't you goin' to hand the leddy compliments?" he inquired +sarcastically. "You got an elegant tank o' hot air laid on." + +O'Brien remained quite unruffled. + +"She'll hand herself all the compliments she's yearnin' for. Women +like her can't do without bokays, an' they don't care a cuss how they +get 'em. Say----" + +He gazed up at the tattered crest of the tree. But the immensity of +its height, looking so directly up, turned him dizzy, and he was glad +to bring his gaze back to the unattractive faces of his companions. + +"----I'm gettin' clear on to higher ground. You boys stop right ther'. +If the old tree gets busy your ways it won't matter nothin'. Guess +your score's overrun down at the saloon, but I lose that without a +kick. You're too bright for me." + +He turned away, and, moving up the hill, took up a fresh position. + +Here he had a better view. He had abandoned the pleasure of listening +to any speeches which he felt sure would be made, but his safety more +than compensated him. Without the distractions of his companions' +society he was better able to concentrate his attention upon details. +He observed that the tree was already sawn more than half way through, +and he congratulated himself that he had not discovered it before. +Also he saw a number of huge, hardwood wedges lying on the ground, and +beside them two heavy wooden mauls. + +Their purpose was obvious, and he wondered who were the men who would +handle them. And, wondering, he cast an interested eye up at the sky +with the thought of wind in his mind. The possibility of such a +tragedy as the sudden rising of a breeze to upset calculations, and, +incidentally, the half-sawn tree, had no effect upon him. He was out +of range. Those gathering about the tree in the open were welcome to +their belief in the strength of the guide ropes. + +In a few moments all his interest was centered about the gathering of +the villagers. He knew them all, and watched them with the keenest +interest. He could hear the babel of tongues from his security. Nor +could he help feeling how much these people resembled a flock of +silly, curious sheep. + +His eyes quickly searched for those whom he felt were really the more +important in the concern of the tree. Where were Charlie Bryant, and +those men who were concerned in his exploits? His eyes scanned every +face, and then, when his search was completed, something like +excitement took possession of him. + +Charlie Bryant was absent. So were his associates, Kid Blaney, Stormy +Longton, Holy Dick, and Cranky Herefer. Where were Pete Clancy and +Nick Devereux, Kate Seton's hired men? They were all absent. So was +Kate herself. Ah, yes, he had heard she had gone to Myrtle. Anyway, +her sister, Helen, was there--with Mrs. John Day. Where was her +beau--Charlie Bryant's brother? + +His excitement rose. The coincidence of these absences suggested +possibilities. The possibilities brought a fresh train of thought. He +suddenly realized that not a single policeman was present. This, of +course, might easily be accounted for on the score of duty. But their +absence, taken in conjunction with the absence of the others, +certainly was remarkable. + +But now the ceremony was beginning. Mrs. John Day had assumed command, +and, surrounded by her select bodyguard, she was haranguing the +villagers, and enjoying herself tremendously. Yes, there was no manner +of doubt about her enjoyment. O'Brien's maliciously humorous eyes +watched her expression of smiling self-satisfaction, and estimated it +at its true worth. Her face was very red, and her arms swung about +like flails, beating the air in her efforts to carry conviction upon +an indifferent audience. He felt that the glory of that moment was +something she must have lived for for days, and a feeling of awful +anticipation swept over him as he considered her possible verbal and +physical antics at such time as the new church should be opened. He +felt that it would really be necessary to take a holiday on that +occasion. + +However, the speech terminated, as speeches sometimes do, and a chorus +of applause dutifully followed, as such choruses generally do. And now +the great interest of the day was to begin. + +Menfolk began to press the crowd back beyond the safety line, and two +of Mrs. Day's lumbermen, evidently sent down for the occasion by her +husband from his camp, picked up the two wooden mauls. At the same +time a man took his place at each guide rope. + +O'Brien rubbed his hands. Now for the fun, and he thought of the old +legend. He wondered which of those silly-looking sheep, gazing in +open-mouthed expectation, were to be the victims of the old Indian +curse. And curiously enough, hard-headed, callous as he was, O'Brien +was convinced someone was to pay the penalty. + +The great wedges were placed in position, and the heavy stroke of one +of the mauls resounded through the valley. A second wedge was placed, +and a second stroke fell. Then several strokes in swift succession, +and the men stood clear, and gazed upward with measuring eye. + +O'Brien, too, looked up. The tree had begun to lean, and two of the +guides were straining taut. He wondered. He wondered if the men at the +guides were used to the work. Now, for the first time, he realized +that the crest of the tree had a vast overhang of foliage on one side, +and mighty misshapen limbs. He regarded it speculatively. + +Then he glanced at the lumbermen. They were still looking up at the +lean of the tree. Suddenly he found himself expressing his opinions +aloud, as he ominously shook his head. + +"They're raw hands, or--jest mill hands," he muttered. "They sure +ain't sawyers." + +And again his eyes lifted to the ominous overhang. + +A further scrutiny enlightened him. They were endeavoring to fell the +tree so that its crest should drop somewhere on or near the trail +toward the new church. This made its fall in the direction of, but to +the south of, the old Meeting House. This was obviously for the +purpose of simplifying haulage. Good enough--if all went well. + +The lumbermen seemed satisfied and turned again to their wedges. As +they did so a gleam of smiling irony began to grow in O'Brien's eyes. +He had detected a slight swing in the overhang of the crest, and the +strain on the two guides was unequally distributed. The greater strain +was on the _wrong_ guide. + +The swing of the tree was slightly out of its calculated direction, +and inclining a degree or two nearer the direction of the Meeting +House. + +As the heavy strokes of the mauls fell he glanced over the faces of +the onlookers. What a picture of expectancy, what idiotic delight he +saw there! + +A crack, sharp and loud, echoed over the clearing. The double team +were straining mightily on their heavy tugs. The lumbermen had stood +clear. The strain on the _wrong_ guide had increased. + +O'Brien looked up. The swing had changed several more degrees, further +out of its direction. + +The expression of the upturned faces had changed, too. Now it was +evident that others had realized what O'Brien had discovered already. +Loud voices began to point it out, and the lumbermen stared stupidly +upward. The tree was in the balance, and slowly moving, bearing all +its crushing weight upon that single _wrong_ guide. + +There was a rapid movement near O'Brien, and Mike and Danny Jarvis +joined him hurriedly. + +"Say," cried the latter, "the blamed galoots'll bust up the whole +durned shootin' match." + +Which remark warned O'Brien that Danny had awakened to the threatening +danger to the Meeting House. + +"They done it," returned O'Brien calmly, his eyes riveted upon the +leaning tree. + +Mike thrust his hands into the tops of his trousers. + +"It sure was time to quit," he said with satisfaction. + +The saloonkeeper's only comment was to rub his hands in a sort of +malicious glee. Then in a moment, he pointed at the straining guide. +"It's got way," he cried. "Look, she's spinning. The rope. She'll part +in half a tick. Get it? Say, might as well try to hold a house with +pure rubber, as a new rope. It's got such a spring. It's give the old +tree way. Now it's----. Gee!" + +His final exclamation came as a terrific rending and cracking, far +louder than heavy gunshots, came from the base of the tree. There was +a vision of the lumbermen running clear. The next instant the +straining guide parted with a report that echoed far down the valley. +Then, caught by the other restraining guide, the whole tree swung +around, pivoting on its base, and fell with a roar of splitting and +rending, and a mighty final boom, along the whole length of the roof +of the Meeting House. + +All O'Brien had anticipated had come to pass. Furthermore, the mush of +"vegetables" surrounding the house was more than fulfilled. The vast +trunk cut its way through the building, everything, like a knife +passing through butter, and finally came to rest upon the ruined +flooring inside. + +With the final crash an awful silence prevailed. Not a voice was +raised among the onlookers. The old superstitions were fully stirring. +Was this the beginning of some further disaster to come? Was this the +work of that old-time curse? Was this only a part of the evil +connected with that tree? It was not the destruction of the house +alone that filled them with awe. It was the character of the house +that had been destroyed. + +But in a moment the spell was broken, and O'Brien was the first to +help to break it. The tree had fallen. It lay there quite still, like +some great, dead, evil giant. Now his callous mind demanded to know +the full extent of the damage done. + +He left his post, followed closely by his companions, and ran down +toward the wrecked building. With his movement a rush came from other +directions among the spectators, and, in the twinkling of an eye, the +ruined Meeting House was swarmed with an eager, curious throng of men +and women clambering over the wreckage. + +What a gladdening result for the sensation-loving minds of the +callous! O'Brien and his companions were among the first to reach the +scene. + +There lay the fallen giant, the greater part of its colossal crest far +beyond the extreme end of the demolished building. Only a few of the +lower, bare branches, just beneath the foliage, had caught the house, +these and the trunk. But the wreckage was complete. The walls had +fallen as though they had been made of loose sand, walls that had +withstood the storms of years, and the old, heavy-timbered roof was +torn to shreds, and lay strewn about like matchwood. + +As the eager crowd swarmed over the _debris_ an extraordinary sight +awaited them. The weight of the tree, and the falling roof timbers, +had almost completely destroyed the flooring, and there, in its place, +gaped an open cavity extending the length of the building. The place +was undermined by one huge cellar, divided by now crushed and broken +cross-supporting walls. + +The searching eyes of the saloonkeeper and his companions lost no +detail. Nor did the prevailing astonishment at the discovery seem to +concern them. With some care they clambered among the _debris_ to add +further to the discovery, if such additions were to be made. And their +efforts were rewarded without stint. The all-unsuspected and unknown +cellar was no simple relic of a bygone age, but displayed every sign +of recent usage. Furthermore, it was stocked with more than a hundred +liquor kegs, many of which were empty, but, also, many of which were +full of smuggled rye whisky. + +Within five minutes the entire village, from Mrs. John Day down to the +youngest child, knew that the cache of the whisky-runners had been +laid bare by the fall of the old pine. + +The wave of sentimental superstition again broke out and fastened +itself upon the minds of the people, and the miracle of it was spoken +of among them with almost bated breath. + +But O'Brien had no time to waste upon any such thought. He clambered +round through the cellars with eyes and wits alert. And he chuckled +delightedly, as, groping in the half-light among the kegs, he +discovered and recognized his own markings upon many of the empty +kegs. + +The whole thing amused him vastly, and he dilated upon his various +discoveries to those who accompanied him. + +"Say, Danny, boy, don't it beat hell?" he cried gleefully. "While all +them psalm-smiters were busy to death sweepin' the cobwebs out o' +their muddy souls upstairs, the old wash-tub o' sins was full to the +bung o' good wholesome rye underneath 'em. Was it a bright notion? +Well, I'd smile. If it don't beat the whole blamed circus. Is there a +p'liceman in the country 'ud chase up a Meetin' House for liquor? Not +on your life. That dope was as safe right there from discovery as if +it was stored in the United States Treasury. Say, them guys was smart. +Smart? Hell--say--what's that?" + +Excited voices were talking and calling loudly beyond the walls of the +ruined building. Even amid the dark surroundings of the cellars +O'Brien and his companions detected the words "police" and "patrol." + +Ready for any fresh interest forthcoming, the saloonkeeper clambered +hurriedly out of the cellar with the other men close behind him. They +mounted the broken walls and looked out upon the crowd. + +All eyes were turned along the trail coming up from the village, and +O'Brien followed the direction of their gaze. A half-spring police +wagon, followed closely by a wagon, which many recognized as that of +Charlie Bryant, were coming up the trail, escorted by Inspector Fyles +and a patrol of police troopers. The horses were walking slowly, and +as they approached a hush fell upon the crowd of spectators. + +Suddenly Stanley Fyles urged his horse forward, and came on at a rapid +canter. He pulled up at the ruined building and looked about him, +first at the wreckage and then at the silent throng. Then, as he +beheld O'Brien standing on the wall, he pointed at the ruins. + +"An--accident?" he inquired sharply. + +O'Brien's eyes twinkled. + +"A damn piece of foolish play by folks who orter know better," he +said. "They tried wreckin' this durned old tree an' succeeded in +wreckin' the soul laundry o' this yer village. Mebbe, too, you'll find +things down under it to interest you, inspector. I don't guess you'd +be lookin' for whisky an' religion goin' hand in hand, so to speak." + +The officer's eyes were sharply questioning. + +"How's that?" + +"Why, the cellars are full o' kegs of good rye--some full, some empty. +Gee, but I'd hate spilling it." + +The wagons had come up, and now it was to be seen that coarse police +blankets were laid out over them, the soft material displaying +something of the ominous figures hidden under them. + +"Say----" cried the startled saloonkeeper, and paused, as his quick +eyes observed these signs. Then, in an excited voice, he went on. +"Say, them--wagons--are loaded some." + +Fyles nodded. + +"I was bringing 'em along to have them laid out here--in the Meeting +House, before--burial." + +"Burial?" + +O'Brien's eyes opened wide. A sort of gasp went through the silent +crowd of onlookers, hanging on the police officer's words. + +"Yes, it was a brush with--the runners," Fyles said seriously. "We +got them red-handed last night. It was a case of shooting, too. Two +of our boys were shot up. They're in the wagons. There's three of the +gang--dead, and the boss of it, Charlie Bryant. They're all in the +wagons. The rest are across the border by now. Guess there'll be no +more whisky run in this valley." + +The hush which followed his announcement was far more eloquent than +words. + +It was O'Brien whose temerity was strong enough to break it. + +"That's so," he remarked thoughtfully. Then he sighed a world of +genuine regret, and his eyes glanced along the vast timber of the old +pine. "Guess the old cuss has worked out," he went on. "No, there'll +be no more whisky-running." Then he climbed slowly down from the wall. +"I'll have to get--moving on." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +FROM THE ASHES + + +The nine days' wonder had come and passed. Never again could the +valley of Leaping Creek return to the conditions which had for so long +prevailed there. And strangely enough the victory won was far more a +moral than a physical one. True, one or two lives had paid for the +victory, but this was less than nothing compared with the effect +achieved. + +Within three weeks a process of emigration had set in which left the +police with scarcely an excuse for their presence in the valley at +all. All those who, for long years, had sought sanctuary within the +shelter of the vast, forest-clad slopes of the valley, began to +realize that the immunity which they had enjoyed for so long was +rapidly becoming doubtful. The forces of the police suddenly seemed to +have become possessed of a too-intimate knowledge of the shortcomings +which had driven them to shelter. In fact, the limelight of government +authority was shining altogether too brightly, searching out the +shadowed corners in the lives of the citizens, and yielding up secrets +so long and so carefully hidden. + +The first definite result of the police raid apparent was the "moving +on" of Dirty O'Brien. It came quite suddenly, and unexpectedly. Rocky +Springs one morning awoke to find that the old saloon was closed. +Inquiry soon elicited the true facts. O'Brien had vanished. The barn +was empty. His team and spring wagon had gone, and the house, and bar, +had been stripped of everything worth taking. The night before O'Brien +had served his customers up to the usual hour, and there was nothing +unusual to be observed. Therefore, the removal must have been effected +swiftly and silently in the dead of night, performed as the result of +careful, well-laid plans. + +This was the first result of the definite establishment of police +authority. Evidently the future of Rocky Springs no longer appealed to +the shrewd saloonkeeper, and so he "moved on." + +This was the cue for further goings. With the saloon closed, and the +police authority established, Rocky Springs was Rocky Springs no +longer. So, one by one, silently, without the least ostentation, men +began to yield up their claims as citizens, and, vanishing over the +distant horizon, were heard of no more. + +The sledgehammer of police methods had penetrated through the +case-hardening of the village, and the place became hopelessly +impossible for its population of undesirables. + +For Helen Seton those first three weeks left her with a dull, +apathetic feeling that quite suddenly her whole world had been turned +upside down. That somehow a complete wreckage of all the life about +her, her new life, had been consummated. Nor did she understand why, +or how. It seemed to her she was living in a new world where all was +misery and depression. Her usually bubbling spirit was weighted down +as with an avalanche of responsibility and unhappiness. + +For her the change had begun with almost the very moment of the +felling of the old pine, and, somehow, it seemed to her as if that +wicked, mischievous monument of bygone crimes were responsible. + +With the yielding up of the secrets of the Meeting House had started a +succession of shocks, each one harder than its predecessor to bear, +until she was left almost paralyzed and quite powerless to resist +them. + +With Stanley Fyles heading the procession of death, with the man's +brief outline of the circumstances attending his raid, her heart +seemed suddenly to have turned to stone. Her thought turned at once to +her sister. That sister, even now away from home, waiting in dreading +unconsciousness for the completion of the disaster she so terribly +feared. To Helen's sympathetic heart the horror of the position was +magnified an hundredfold. Kate had been right. Kate had understood +where they had all been blind, and Kate, loyal, strong, brave Kate, +must learn that the very disaster she had prophesied had come, and, in +coming, had overtaken the one man they had all so earnestly desired to +shield--Charlie Bryant. + +Without waiting another moment she left the scene. She had blindly +rushed from the proximity of that gaping, awe-stricken, curious crowd. +And her way had taken her straight home. She had no thought for any +object. How could she? Her mind and heart were overflowing with fear +and concern, and a world of sympathy for Kate--the absent Kate. +Charlie was dead. Charlie had been caught red-handed. Charlie, that +poor, helpless, besotted drunkard. He--he--after all their faith in +his integrity, after all Kate's lavish affection, he was the real +criminal, and--Fyles had run him to his death. She had no thought now +of Bill's absence from her side. She had no thought of anything but +this one overwhelming disaster. + +So she ran on home. Nor did she pause till she flung herself upon the +coverlet of her little white bed in a passionate storm of weeping. + +How long she lay there she never knew. A merciful Providence finally +sent sleep to her weary brain and heart. And when she ultimately awoke +it was to start up dazedly, and find herself staring into the solemn, +dreadful eyes of her sister, Kate, who was standing just beyond the +open doorway of her bedroom, gazing in upon her. + +Then followed a scene never likely to be wholly forgotten. + +She sprang from her bed and ran toward that ominous figure. She was +prepared to fling herself upon that strong support which had never yet +failed her. But, for once, no such support was forthcoming. Long +before she reached her side Kate had stepped into the room and seemed +to collapse into the rocker beside the dressing bureau. The brave +Kate was reduced to a pitiful outburst of tearless sobs. + +For one brief instant Helen was again on the verge of tears, but she +remembered. With a great effort she forced them back, and held herself +in a strong grip. Then, slowly, a change began to creep over her. It +was not she who must look for support from Kate. It was she who must +yield support, and the memory of all those years when Kate, never by +word or act had failed her, came to her aid. + +But though she sought by every means in her power to comfort the +heartbroken woman, her efforts were wholly unavailing. They were +perhaps worse than unavailing. For Kate proved as unreasonable as any +weak, hysterical girl, and, rebuffing her at every turn, finally broke +into such a storm of bitter self-reviling as to leave her sister +helpless. + +"Leave me, Helen," she cried, through her grievous sobs. "Don't come +near me. Go, go. Don't look at me; don't come near. I'm not fit to +live. I'm a--murderess. It's I--I who've killed him. Oh, God, was +there ever such punishment. No--no. Go away--go away. I--I can't bear +it." + +Horrified beyond words, stunned and confused, poor Helen knew not +where to turn, or what to do. She stood silently by--wondering. Then, +without reasoning or understanding, something came to her help just as +she was about to yield to her own woman's weakness once more. + +She moved out of the room, nor did she know for what reason. Nor was +her next action any impulse of her own. Mechanically she set about the +housework of her home. + +It was her salvation, the salvation of the situation. She worked, and +gradually a great calm settled upon her. Thought began to flow. +Practical, helpful thought. And as she worked she saw all those things +she must do for poor Kate's well-being. + +It was a long and terrible day. And when night fell she was utterly +wearied out in mind and body. She had already prepared a meal for +Kate, which had been left untouched, and now, as evening came, she +prepared another. + +But this, like the first, was never partaken of by her sister. When +she went into her own bedroom, where Kate had remained, to make her +second attempt, she found to her relief and joy that her sister was +lying on her bed sound asleep. + +She stole out and closed up the house for the night. + +Nor was Helen prepared for the miracle of the next morning. When she +arose it was to find her bedroom empty, and her bed made up. She +hurriedly set out in search of her sister. She was nowhere in the +house. In rapidly rising dismay she hurried out to search the barn, +fearing she knew not what. But instant relief awaited her. Kate was +outside doing all those little necessary duties by the livestock of +her homestead, which she was accustomed to do, in the calm unruffled +fashion in which she always went about her work. + +Helen stared. She could scarcely believe her eyes. The miracle was +altogether beyond her comprehension. But her delight and relief were +profound. She greeted her sister and spoke. Then it was that she +realized that here was no longer the old Kate, but a changed, utterly +changed woman. The big eyes, so darkly ringed, no longer smiled. They +looked out at her so full of unutterable pain, as full of dull aching +regrets. There was such a depth of yearning and misery in them that +her greeting suddenly seemed to jar upon her own ears, and come back +to her in bitter mockery. In a moment, however, understanding came. +Intuitively she felt that her sister's grief was her own, into which +she could never pry. She must ask no questions, she must offer no +sympathy. For the moment her sister's mantle had fallen upon her +shoulders. Hers had suddenly become the strength, and it was for her +to use it in Kate's support. + +So the days wore on, long dreary days of many heartaches and bitter +speculation. Kate remained the dark, brooding figure she had displayed +herself on that first morning after her return. She was utterly +unapproachable in those first days, while yet at the greatest pains to +conceal the sorrow she was enduring. No questions or explanations +passed between the two women, and Helen was left without the faintest +suspicion of the truth. + +Sometimes, Helen, in the long silent days, strove to solve the meaning +of everything for herself. She thought and thought till her poor head +ached. But she always began and ended with the same thought. It was +Charlie's capture, Charlie's death which had wrought this havoc in her +sister, and she felt that time alone could remove the shadow which had +settled itself so hopelessly upon her. + +Then she began to wonder and worry at the prolonged absence of +her--Bill. + + * * * * * + +Kate had just finished removing the remains of the evening meal. Helen +had curled herself up in the old rocker. She was reading through the +numerous pages of a long letter, for perhaps the twentieth time. She +was tired, bodily and mentally, and her pretty face looked drawn under +its tanning. + +Her sister watched her, moving silently about, returning the various +articles to the cupboards where they belonged. Her eyes were shadowed. +The old assurance seemed to have gone entirely out of her. Her whole +manner was inclined to a curious air of humility, which, even now, +seemed to fit her so ill. + +She watched the girl turn page after page. Then she heard her draw a +long sigh as she turned the last page. + +Helen looked up and caught the eyes so yearningly regarding her. + +"I--I feel better now," she declared, with a pathetic little smile. +"And--please--please don't worry about me, Kate, dear. I'm tired. +We're both tired. Tired to death. But--there's no help for it. We +surely must keep going, and--and we've no one now to help us." She +glanced down at the letter in her lap. Then she abruptly raised her +eyes, and went on quickly. "Say, Kate, I s'pose we'll never see Nick +or Pete again? Shall we always have to do the work of our little patch +ourselves?" Then she smiled and something of her old lightness peeped +out of her pretty eyes. "Look at me," she cried. "I--I haven't put on +one of my nice suits since--since that day. I'm--a tramp." + +Kate's returning smile was of the most shadowy description. She shook +her head. + +"Maybe we'll get some hired men soon," she said, quietly. Then she +sighed. "I don't know. I hope so. I guess we'll never see Nick again. +He got away--I believe--across the border. As for Pete," she +shuddered, "he was found by the police--shot dead." + +Helen sat up. + +"You never told me," she cried. + +Kate shook her head. + +"I didn't want to distress you--any more." Just for one moment she +averted her eyes. Then they came back to Helen's face in an inquiry. +"When--when is--Bill coming back?" + +"Bill?" Helen's eyes lighted up, and a warm smile shone in them as she +glanced down at her letter again. "He says he'll be through with +Charlie's affairs soon. He's in Amberley. He's had to see to things +through the police. He's coming right on here the moment he's through. +He's--he's going to wire me when he starts. Kate?" + +"Yes, dear." + +Kate turned from the cook stove at the abruptness of her sister's +tone. Helen began to speak rapidly, and as she talked she kept her +gaze fixed upon the window. + +"It's--it's a long while now, since--that day. We were both feeling +mighty bad 'bout things then. We," she smiled whimsically, "sort of +didn't know whether it was Rocky Springs, or Broadway, did we? And +there was such a lot I didn't know or understand. And I never asked a +question. Did I?" + +Kate winced visibly. The moment she had always dreaded had come. She +had realized that it must eventually come, and for days she had +wondered vaguely how she would be able to meet it. The smile which +strove to reach her eyes was a failure, and, for a moment, a hunted +look threatened. In the end, however, she forced herself to perfect +calmness. + +"I don't think I could have answered them then if you had," she said +gently. "I don't know that I can answer many now--for both our sakes." + +Helen thought for some moments. Then she appeared to have arrived at a +determination. + +"How did you--come home that day--and why? I didn't expect you until +the next day." + +Kate drew a deep breath. + +"I came back--riding," she said. "I came back because--because I had +to." + +"Why?" + +"Because of the--disaster out there." + +"You knew?" + +Kate nodded. + +"Pretty well everything. That is all I can tell you, dear." Kate +crossed the room, and stood beside her sister's chair. She laid one +gentle hand upon her shoulder. "Don't ask me any more about that. +It--it is like--like searing my very soul with red-hot irons. That +must be my secret, and you must forgive me for keeping it from you. +Ask me anything else, and I will tell you--but leave that alone. It +can do nobody any good." + +Helen leaned her head on one side till her soft cheek rested +caressingly upon her sister's hand. + +"Forgive me, Kate," she said. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I'll never +mention it again--never." + +For some moments neither spoke. But Kate was waiting. She knew there +were other questions that must be asked and answered. + +"Was it because of the felling of that tree you went away?" Helen +asked presently. + +Kate shook her head. + +"No." + +Helen started up. + +"I knew it wasn't. Oh, Kate, I knew it wasn't. It was so unlike you. I +know why you went. Listen," she went on, almost excitedly. "You always +defended Charlie. You pretended to believe him straight. You--you +stuck to him through thick and thin. You flouted every charge made +against him. It was because of him you went away. You went to try and +help him--save him. All the time you knew he was against the law. +That's why you went. Oh, Kate, I knew it--I knew it." + +Helen was looking up into her sister's shadowed face with loyal +enthusiasm shining in her admiring eyes. + +Kate gravely shook her head. + +"I believed every word I said of Charlie. As God is my witness I +believed it. And I tell you now, Helen, that as long as I live my +heart will be bowed down beneath a terrible weight of grief and +remorse at the death of a brave, honest, and loyal gentleman. I have +no more to say. I never shall have--on the subject. I love you, Helen, +and shall always love you. My one thought in life now is your welfare. +If you love me, dear, then leave those things. Leave them as part of a +cruel, evil, shadowed time, which must be put behind us. All I want +you to ever remember of it--when you are the happy wife of your Big +Brother Bill--is that Charlie was all we believed him, in spite of +all appearances, and he died the noblest, the most heroic death that +man ever died." + +Kate bent down and tenderly kissed the beautiful head of fair, wavy +hair. Then, without waiting for the astonished sister's reply, she +moved across to the door. + +"Some day," she said, pausing with her hand on the catch, and, turning +back, smiling gently through the gathering tears, "Bill will tell you +it all. He knows it all--everything. Just now he is bound to secrecy, +but he will be released from that some day, and then--he will tell +you." + + + + +CHAPTER XL + +THE DAWN + + +A girl was leaning against a solitary post, a hundred yards or so from +where the descent into the valley of Leaping Creek began. All about +her stretched the vast plains of grass, which seemed to know no end. +The wide flat trail, so bare and hard, passed her by, and vanished +into the valley behind her. In the opposite direction, at long +intervals, it showed up in sections as it passed over the rises in the +prairie ocean, until the limits of her vision were reached. + +Not a single object stood out to relieve the monotony of that desert +of grass. Any dwelling of man within reach of the searching eye must +have been hidden in the troughs between the crests of summer grass. It +was all so wide, so vast, so dreadful in its unspeakable solitude. + +Helen's eyes were upon the last section of the trail, away to the +northwest, just as far as her bright eyes could see. She was +searching, searching. Her heart was beating with a great and buoyant +hope, and every little detail she beheld in that far-off distance she +searched, and sought to mould into the figure of the horseman she was +waiting for. + +The sun was hot. It's relentless rays, freed from the wealth of shade +in the valley below, beat down upon the parching land with a fiery +intensity which must have been insupportable to unaccustomed human +life. But to Helen it meant nothing, nothing but the fact that its +brilliant light was in keeping with every beat of the warm, thrilling +heart within her bosom. + +He was on the road. Bill--her Big Brother Bill. He was on the road, +and must be somewhere near now, for the telegram in her hand warned +her that he hoped to reach the valley by sundown. + +Four long weeks since the dreadful day. Four long weeks in which her +aching heart and weary thought had left her in wretched unhappiness. +Four weeks of doubt and trouble, in which her sister seemed to have +shut herself out of her life, leaving her to face all her doubts and +fears alone. + +Bill was away on his dead brother's affairs. Loyal Bill, seeking by +every means in his lumbering power to shield the memory of the dead +man from the effects of the manner of his death. Helen honored her +lover for it. He was just the good, loyal soul she had believed. And +now, as she stood with the tinted paper message, announcing his return +in her hand, she smiled, and wondered tenderly what blunders he would +contrive in the process. + +Sundown. Sundown would not be for at least two hours. Two hours. Two +hours meant some fourteen or sixteen miles by horse upon the trail. +She told herself she could not see for sixteen miles, nor even for +eight. It was absurd waiting there. She had already been waiting there +over an hour. Then she smiled, laughing at herself for her absurd +yearning for this lover of hers. He was so big, so foolish, so honest +and loyal--and, he was just hers. + +She sat down again on the ground, as already she had seated herself +many times. She would restrain her impatience. She would not just get +up at every---- + +She was on her feet again at the very moment of making her resolve. +This time her eyes were straining and wide open. Every nerve in her +body was at a tension. Some one was on the trail this time. Certain. +It was a horseman, too. There was no mistake, but he was near, quite +near, comparatively. How had she come to miss him in the far distance? + +She saw the figure as it came over a rising ground. She watched it +closely. Then she saw it was not on the trail, but was making for +it--across country. Now she knew. Now she was certain, and she laughed +and clapped her hands. It must be Bill, and--of course he had lost +himself, and now, at last, had found his way. + +The horseman came on at a great pace. + +As he drew nearer a frown of doubt crossed the girl's face. He did not +appear big enough--somehow. + +He dropped down into a hollow, and mounted the next crest. In a +moment, as he came into view, Helen felt like bursting into tears of +disappointment. + +The next moment, however, all thought of tears passed away and a +steady coldness grew in her eyes. She felt like hiding herself back +there in the valley. She had recognized the man. Without a doubt it +was Stanley Fyles. But he wore no uniform. He was clad in a civilian +costume, which pronouncedly smacked of the prairie. + +It was too late to hide. Besides, to hide would be undignified. What +was he coming to the valley for? Helen's eyes hardened. Nor did she +know quite why she felt resentful at the sight of him. Yes, she did. +It was for poor Charlie, Bill's brother. And Kate had sworn that +Charlie was innocent. + +She stood thinking, thinking, and then a further change came over her. +She remembered this man's work. She remembered his duty. Ought she to +feel badly toward him? + +And Kate? What of Kate? Would she----What on earth brought him to the +valley--now? + +It was too late to avoid him now, if she had wanted to. And, somehow, +on reflection, she was not sure she did want to. So she stood her +ground as he came up. + +He reined Peter in as he came abreast, and his dark eyes expressed his +surprise at sight of the waiting girl. + +"Why--Miss Helen, this----" He broke off abruptly, and, turning in his +saddle, looked back over the long, long trail. When his eyes came back +to the girl's face they were smiling. "It's kind of hot out here," +he said. "Aren't you afraid of the sun?" Then he became silent +altogether, while he interpreted to himself the somewhat stony regard +in her eyes. + +In a moment something of the awkwardness of the encounter occurred to +him. His mind was full of other things, which before he had missed the +possibility of. + +"I don't mind the sun, Mr. Fyles," said Helen coldly. "Besides, I +guess I'm not standing around here for--fun. I'm waiting for some +one." + +Fyles glanced back over the trail. Then he nodded. "He's coming +along," he said quietly. "Guess he started out from Amberley before +me. Say, he's a bully feller, sure enough, and I like him. I've seen a +good deal of him in Amberley. But I guessed he wouldn't be thanking me +for my company on the trail, so I came another way, and passed on +ahead. You see--I, well, I had to do my duty--here, and--well, he's a +bully feller, Miss Helen, and--you'll surely be happy with him." + +While he was talking, just for a moment, a wild impulse stirred Helen +to some frigid and hateful retort. But the man's evident sincerity won +the day and the girl's eyes lit with a radiant smile. + +"He's--on the trail?" she cried, banishing her last shadow of +coldness. "He is? Say, tell me where, and when he'll get in. I--I had +this message which said he'd be here by sundown, and--and I thought +I'd just come right along and meet him. Have--have you seen him? +And--and----" + +Fyles shook his head. "Not until just now," he said kindly. "He's +about four miles back. Say," he added, with less assurance, "maybe +your sister's home?" + +For a moment Helen stared incredulously. "Yes," she answered slowly. +Then in agitation: "You're not going to----?" + +The man nodded, but his smile had died out. "Yes. That's why I've come +along," he said seriously. "Is--is she well? Is she----?" + +But Helen left him no time to finish his apprehensive inquiries. At +that moment she caught sight of a distant figure on the trail. It was +the figure of a big man--so big, and her woman's heart cried out in +love and thankfulness. + +"Oh, look! It's Bill--my Bill! Here he comes. Oh, thank God." + +Stanley Fyles flung a glance over his shoulder. Then without a word he +lifted Peter's reins. Then he seemed to glide off in the direction of +the setting sun. + +As he went he drew a long sigh. He was wondering--wondering if all the +happiness in the world lay there, behind him, in the warm heart of the +girl who was waiting to embrace her lover. + + * * * * * + +Kate Seton was standing at the window of her parlor. Her back was +turned upon the room, upon the powerful, loose-limbed figure of +Stanley Fyles. + +Her face was hidden, she wanted it to remain hidden--from him. She +felt that he must not see all that his sudden visit, without warning, +meant to her. + +The man was near the center table. One knee was resting upon the hard, +tilted seat of a Windsor chair, and his folded arms leaned upon the +back of it. His eyes were full of a deep fire as he gazed upon the +woman's erect, graceful figure. A great longing was in him to seize +her, and crush her in arms that were ready to claim and hold her +against all the world. + +All the atmosphere of his calling seemed to have fallen from him. He +stood there just a plain, strong man of no great eloquence, facing a +position in which he might well expect certain defeat, but from which +there was no thought of shrinking. + +Silence had fallen since their first greeting. That painful silence +when realization of that which lies between them drives each to search +for a way to cross the barrier. + +It was Kate who finally spoke. She moved slightly. It was a movement +which might have suggested many things, among them uncertainty of +mind, perhaps of decision. Her voice came low and gentle. But it was +full of a great weariness and regret, even of pain. + +"Why--why did you come--now?" she asked plaintively. "It seems as +though I've lived through years in the last few weeks. I've tried to +forget so much. And now--you come here to remind me--to stir once more +the shadows which have nearly driven me crazy. Is it merciful--to do +that?" + +The woman's tone was baffling. Fyles searched for its meaning. +Resentment he had anticipated. He had been prepared for it, and to +resist it, and break it down by the ardor of his appeal. That dreary +regret was more than he could bear, and he hastened to protest. + +"Say, Kate," he cried, his sun-tanned features flushing with a quick +shame. "Don't think I've come here to remind you. Don't think I've +come along to taunt you with the loss of our--our mad wager. I want to +forget it. It became a gamble on a man's life, and--and I hate the +thought. You're free of it, and I wish to God it had never been made." + +The bitter sincerity of his final words was not without its effect. +Kate stirred. Then she turned. Her beautiful eyes, so full of pathos, +so full of remorse, looked straight into his. + +"Then--why did you come here?" she asked. + +The man started up. The chair dropped back on to its four legs with a +clatter. His arms were outstretched, and the passionate fire of his +eyes blazed up as the quick, hot words escaped his lips. + +"Why? Why?" he demanded, his eyes widening, his whole body vibrant +with a consuming passion. "Don't you know? Kate, Kate, I came because +I couldn't stay away. I came because there's just nothing in the world +worth living for but you. I came because I just love you to death, +and--there's nothing else. Say, listen. I went right back from here +with one fixed purpose. Maybe it won't tell you a thing. Maybe you +won't understand. I went back to get quit of the force--honorably. I'd +made my peace with them. Oh, yes, I'd done that. Then I demanded leave +of absence pending my resignation. They had to grant it. I am never +going back. Oh, yes, I knew what I was up against. I wanted you. I +wanted you so that I couldn't see a thing else in any other direction. +There is no other direction. So I came straight here to--to ask you to +forget. I came here to tell you all I feel about--the work I had to do +here. I came here with a wild sort of forlorn hope you could forgive. +You see, I even believed that but for--for that--there was just a +shadow of hope for me. Kate----!" + +The woman suddenly held up her hand. And when she spoke there was +nothing of the Kate he had always known in the humility of her tone. + +"It is not I who must forgive," she said quickly. "If there is any +forgiveness on this earth it is I who need it." + +"You? Forgiveness?" + +The man's face wore blank incredulity. + +Kate sighed. It was the sigh of a broken-hearted woman. + +"Yes. If there is any forgiveness I pray that it may come my way. I +need it all--all. I can never forgive myself. It was I who caused +Charlie's death." + +Quite suddenly her whole manner changed. The humility, the sadness of +her tone rose quickly to a passionate self-denunciation. + +"Yes, yes. I will tell you now. Oh, man, man. Your words--every one +of them, have only stabbed me more and more surely to the heart. You +don't understand. You can't, because you do not know what I mean. Oh, +yes," she went on desperately, "why shouldn't I admit it? I love you. +I always have loved you. Let me admit everything fully and freely." + +"Kate!" The man stepped forward, his eyes alight with a world of +happiness, of overwhelming joy. But she waved him back. + +"No, no," she cried, almost harshly. "I have told you that just to +show you how your words have well nigh crazed me. I can be nothing to +you. I can be nothing to anybody. It was I who brought about Charlie's +death. He, the bravest, the loyalest man I ever knew, gave his life to +save me from the police, who were hunting me down. Oh," she went on, +at sight of Fyles's incredulous expression, "you don't need to take my +word alone. Ask Charlie's brother. Ask Bill. He was there. He, too, +shared in the sacrifice, although he did not understand that which lay +in the depths of his brother's brave heart. And now--now I must live +on with the knowledge of what my wild folly has brought about. For +weeks the burden of thought and remorse has been almost insupportable, +and now you come to torture me further. Oh, God, I have paid for my +wanton folly and wickedness. Oh, God!" + +Kate buried her face in her hands, and abruptly flung herself into the +rocker close behind her. + +Fyles looked down upon her in amazed helplessness. He watched the +woman's heaving shoulders as great, dry, hard sobs broke from her in +tearless agony. He waited, feeling for the moment that nothing he +could say or do but must add to her despair, to her pain. Her +self-accusation had so far left him untouched. He could not realize +all she meant. All that was plain to him was her suffering, and he +longed to comfort her, and help her, and defend her against herself. + +The moments slipped away, heavy moments of intense feeling and bitter +grief. + +Presently the grief-stricken woman's sobs grew less, and with +something like a gesture of impatience she snatched her hands from her +face, and raised a pair of agonized eyes to his. + +"Leave me," she cried. "Go, please go. I--I can't bear it." + +Her appeal was so helpless. Again the impulse to take her in his arms +was almost too strong for the man, but with an effort he overcame it. + +"Won't you--go on?" he said, in the gentlest possible tone. "It will +help you. And--you would rather tell me." + +The firmness of his manner, the gentleness, had a heartbreaking +effect. In a moment the woman's eyes were flooded with tears, which +coursed down her cheeks. It was the relief that her poor troubled +brain and nerves demanded, and so Fyles understood. + +He waited patiently until the passion of weeping was over. Then again +he urged his demand. + +"Now tell me, Kate. Tell me all. And remember I'm not here as your +judge. I am here to help--because--I love you." + +The look from the woman's eyes thanked him. Then she bowed her head +lest the sight of him should leave her afraid. + + * * * * * + +"Must I tell it all?" + +Kate's tone was firmer. There was a ring in it that reminded the other +of the woman he used to know. + +"Tell me just what you wish. No more--no less. You are telling it for +your own sake, remember. To me--it makes no difference." + +"There's no use in telling it you from the start. The things that led +up to it," she began. "I have been smuggling whisky for nearly five +years. It's a pretty admission, isn't it? Yes, you may well be +horrified," she went on, as Fyles started. + +But the man denied. + +"I am not horrified," he said. "It is--the wonder of it." + +"The wonder? It isn't wonderful. It was so simple. A little ingenuity, +a little nerve and recklessness. The law itself makes it easy. You +cannot arrest on suspicion." Kate sighed, and her eyes had become +reflective, so that their calmness satisfied the waiting man. "I must +tell you this," she went on quickly. "My reasons were twofold. Helen +and I came here to farm. We came here because I was crazy for +adventure. We had money, but I soon found that we, two women, could +never make our farm pay. We were here surrounded by outlaws, who were +already smuggling liquor, and their trade appealed to me. I was just +crazy to take a hand in it for the excitement of it, and--to replenish +our diminishing capital." + +"Helen knows nothing about it," she went on, her voice hardening as +though the shameful story she was about to tell were forcing the iron +deeper and deeper into her soul. "She has never guessed, or suspected, +and I could almost hope she never will. It didn't take me long to make +up my mind. This was about the time Charlie came to the valley," she +sighed. "Well, I quickly contrived to get at the men I wanted. I +talked to them carefully, and finally unfolded to them a plan I had +worked out to smuggle whisky on a large and profitable scale. It +doesn't matter about the details. They all came in at once. It pleased +their sense of humor to be run by a woman. I was to disguise myself as +a man, which nature made easy for me, and my real personality was to +be our chief safeguard. No one would suspect unless we were caught +red-handed. And that--well, that was not a great chance, anyway, in +those days. I was responsible. I was to purchase cargoes across the +border. The others were only my helpers, under my absolute orders. And +I ruled them sharply." + +The man nodded without other comment. + +"But Charlie had arrived, and very soon his coming began to complicate +matters," Kate went on, after the briefest of pauses. "He came out +here to ranch. He was turned out of his home. And I--I just pitied +him, and strove to turn him from his drunken habits. This is where the +mischief was done. I liked him. I sort of felt like a mother to him. +He was so gentle and kind-hearted. He was clever, too--very clever. +Yes, I looked upon him as a son, or brother--but he didn't look on me +in the same way. I don't know. I suppose I didn't think. I was +foolish. Anyway, Charlie asked me to marry him. I refused him, and he +drank himself into delirium tremens." + +Again came a long-drawn sigh at the memory of that poor, wasted life. + +"Well, I nursed him, and finally he got better, and again I went on +with my work. Then, one day, I received a shock. Charlie came to me +and told me he'd found a mysterious old corral, away up, hidden in +the higher reaches of the valley. He begged me to let him show it me. +Feeling that I owed him something, I consented to go with him. So we +rode out. You know the place. But maybe you don't know its secret." + +Fyles nodded. + +"Yes--you mean the--cupboard in the lining of the wall." + +"You know it?" Kate's surprise was marked. However, she went on +rapidly. "Well, while we were there he showed it to me, and then, +looking me straight in the eyes, he said, 'Wouldn't it be a dandy +hiding place for things? Suppose I was a big whisky smuggler. Suppose +I wanted to disguise myself. I could keep my disguise here. No chance +of its being found by police or any one. It would be a great place.' +Then he went on, enlarging enthusiastically upon his idea. He said, 'A +feller wants to do things right if he's going to beat the law. If I +were running liquor I'd take no chances. I'd run it on a big scale, +and I'd cache my stuff in the cellars under the Meeting House. No one +knows of 'em. I only lit on 'em by chance. + +"'Not a soul even suspects they're there. Guess they were used for +caches in the old days. Now, I'd take on the job of looking after the +place, keeping it clean, and all that. That would let me be seen there +without anybody getting suspicious.' All this time his eyes were +watching me shrewdly, speculatively. Then, still pretending, he went +off in another direction. He told me he'd bought a good wagon. He +said, 'I'd keep it here in the corral. It would be better than a +buckboard.' Then I knew for certain that he was aware of my doings. +For I used a buckboard. It was a desperate moment. I waited. All of a +sudden he dropped his mask of lightness, and became serious. I can +never forget his poor, dear face as he gave me his final warning. +'Kate,' he said, 'if there was anybody I--liked, and was anxious +about, running whisky in this place, I'd show them the corral and tell +them what I've told you. You see,' he added ingenuously, 'I'd give my +life for those I like, then how readily would I help them like this. +This is the safest scheme I can think of. And I'm rather proud of it. +Anyways, it's better than keeping disguises kicking around for any one +to find, and caching liquor under bushes.' He had discovered all my +secret. All--how? The thought set me nearly crazy." + +"Did you--question him?" The man's voice cut sharply into the +momentary silence. + +Kate shook her head. + +"No. I couldn't. I don't know why, but I couldn't." She drew a deep +breath. "The next thing I knew was that I was shadowed in all my work, +and I knew that shadow was--Charlie. Here came a memorable day. I +think the devil was in me that day. I remember Charlie came to me. He +smiled in his gentle, boyish fashion. He said, 'No one's adopted my +scheme yet--and I've left the wagon down at the old corral, too.' It +was too much. I laughed. I told him that now no one could ever use his +scheme for I had secured the work--voluntarily--of seeing to the +Meeting House. His response was deadly serious. 'I'm glad,' he said. +'That will end temptation for--others.'" + +"He thought of using it--on your behalf--himself!" + +"I fancy so." Kate paused. Then, with an effort, she seemed to spur +herself to her task. "There seems so much of it. Such a long, dreary +story. I must skip to the time you came on the scene. It was then that +serious trouble began. Danger really increased. But I was used to it +by then. I loved it. I didn't care. I was pleased to think I was +pitted against the police. You remember White Point? Like all the +rest, I planned that. I was there. We beat your men on the trail, too. +We contrived to temporarily cache the cargo, and afterward remove it +to the Meeting House. Then later. You remember the night that you +found Bill by the pine tree, which, by the way, served me as a mail +office for orders from my local customers? They placed money and +orders in one of the old crevices under the bark. You see, I never +came into personal contact with them. It was I you saw there. I had +just been there to get an order from O'Brien. Bill saw me--and mistook +me for Charlie. Charlie was probably there, but it was I you saw drop +down into hiding. That night was a great shock to me. I discovered +that, disguised as a man, by some evil chance I became the double of +Charlie. You can imagine my distress. In a flash I was made aware of +the reason that he was bearing the blame for all my doings. This +brought me another realization, too. My personality had been +discovered. People must have seen me before. I was known by, perhaps +distant, sight, and Charlie was blamed for all my doings. It left me +with a resolve to defend him to my utmost, all the more so that I was +convinced in my mind that he was doing his utmost to divert suspicion +from me to himself. Even his own brother believed in his guilt. + +"When you opened your campaign against him, my cup of bitterness was +full. Then it was I resolved to run cargo after cargo in the wild hope +that some chance would reveal to you that Charlie was not your man. I +resolved this, knowing you--and--and liking you, and being aware that +every time I succeeded I was further helping to ruin you with your +superiors, and in your career. It had to be. I had to sacrifice all my +own feelings to--save Charlie." + +The shining eyes of the man gazed admiringly on the sad face of the +loyal woman. + +"I think I see," he said. + +Kate raised her shoulders. + +"I hardly expected any one would see, or understand, what I felt, and +the way I reasoned. You remember the cargo from Fort Allerton? It was +my two boys, acting under my command, who bound and gagged your +patrol, and fired the alarm. Pete brought me word of your plans. He +had spied on you in your camp. But there was very nearly disaster in +that affair. I dropped my pocketbook on the trail. It was full of +incriminating papers. I did not discover my loss till I returned my +disguise to the secret hut. You can imagine my horror at such a +discovery. It meant everything. I waited desperately, expecting it +to have been found by your men. Two days later, in a fever of +apprehension, I went to search my clothes again at the corral. I felt +it was useless. It could not be there. But my guardian angel had been +at work. It was in its place in my coat pocket. Then I knew that +Charlie was still watching over me. He had found it, and--returned +it." + +Fyles nodded. + +"He was on the trail that night--I saw him." + +"Do you want to know the rest?" Kate went on. "Is it necessary? The +heartless game I played on you. Do you understand it now? Oh, it was a +cruel thing to do. But you drove me crazy with your suspicions, your +obstinate suspicions, of Charlie. I was determined to pursue my +ruthless course in his defense to the end. It was my only hope of +relieving Charlie of suspicion--without betraying myself. But there +were things I had not calculated on. Two things happened after I had +offered you my challenge. I made my plans, and ordered my cargo, after +telling you when and where it was to arrive. Then the two things +happened. First? Bill ran foul of Pete. Pete was drunk and insulted +Helen. Bill was there, and thrashed him soundly, and I was glad. But I +feared for mischief. He knew my plans. I talked to him, and quickly +realized my fears were well-founded. There was no help for it. I +promptly changed my plans. The cargo was to come in by water. The +escorted empty wagon by trail. I left that disposition, except that I +decided the boat should be empty, too, and, unknown to any one but +Holy Dick, I should bring in the cargo on a buckboard myself. You see, +it left me free of any chance of treachery. When you told me of Pete's +treachery I knew I had done well. Then the second thing happened, +which served me with an excuse for leaving the village, which had +become imperative to complete my change of plans. You remember. It was +the tree. You remember I feared the old superstition, and I went +to--Myrtle. + +"The rest. Yes, let me tell it quickly, while I still have the +courage. You must fill in the gaps which I leave for yourself. Before +I left, Charlie came here. He tried to stop me. I know why. He had +some premonition of disaster. I, too, had the same premonition, but--I +was quite reckless. He refused me his wagon, but I took it in spite of +him. I had to have it. We quarreled for the first time. He left me in +anger, and--I went. Everything was carried through successfully. I was +in the road on Monday night with the cargo. I was keeping abreast of +the wagon, in my buckboard, away to the south of it. I intended to +make a quiet dash while you were busy with the boat and wagon. But my +star was not in the ascendant. + +"While I was waiting for the moment to arrive I suddenly heard the +firing, and I knew at once that the game was up. It was no longer +simply smuggling. To me such shooting meant killing--and that----" she +shuddered. "Perhaps I lost my head. I don't know. I raced for it. You +came after me. One of my horses stumbled, and when it recovered I +found it was dead lame. I had a saddle horse with me. You were hard +on my heels by then. I abandoned the buckboard and cargo, and took to +the saddle. I was keeping well ahead of you, and was only a short +distance from the village. I raced down the hill to the culvert over +the hay slough. As I did so I saw two horsemen coming in the opposite +direction. I believed them to be police. I swung out to the south, +intending to take the slough at a jump, and get away toward the +border. Too late I realized the slough's miry state. I tried to get +back to the culvert, but my horse failed me. The troubled beast +floundered, then he fell, and my head struck the culvert." + +Kate was breathing quickly. The horror of it all was getting hold of +her. But she went on in broken jerky sentences. + +"When I opened my eyes, Charlie was bending over me. I told him what +had happened. Then he passed me over to Bill, and I fainted again. +When I awoke I was here--at home. Bill had brought me here, and I know +now what Charlie must have done." + +Fyles nodded. + +"He took your place, and drew us after him," he said. Then, after a +pause. "Say, he did a big thing, Kate, and--he did it with his eyes +wide open." + +But Kate was not listening. Tears were coursing down her cheeks, and +she sat a poor, suffering, bowed creature whose spirit could no longer +support the strain of her remorse. Her confession was complete, and +again the horrors of her earlier sufferings were assailing her +weakened spirit. + +Fyles waited for the storm to lessen. He no longer had doubts. His +pity was for the reckless heart so hopelessly crushed. He had no +blame, only pity, and--love. He knew now that all he had hoped and +longed for was to be his. Kate cared for him. She had loved him from +the start. His were the arms that would shelter her. His were the +caresses that must woo that warm, palpitating spirit back to its +confidence and strength. + +What was her past recklessness to him? He passed it by, and thanked +God that, for all its wrong against the laws, she assessed a courage +so fearless, and a brain so keen. There was no evil in her. She was a +woman to love and live for. To work, and--to die for. And his +feelings he knew had been shared by another. + +He rose from his chair and passed behind Kate's rocker. He leaned down +and kissed her masses of beautiful dark hair. + +"Look up, Kate. Look up, dear. The old pine has fallen at last, and +now--now there is to be peace in the valley for all time. Peace for +you. Peace for me. We will go away together now, dear. And presently, +please God, we'll come back to our--home." + + * * * * * + +Two days later Stanley Fyles and Big Brother Bill were standing at the +doorway of Kate's house. It was evening, and four saddle horses were +tied together in a bunch, ready saddled for the road. + +Bill stood chewing his thumb in silence. His thoughtful, blue eyes +were gazing out across the valley at the little ranch house on the +hill. + +Fyles was equally thoughtfully filling his pipe. + +"We haven't talked much about things before," he said, pressing the +tobacco firmly into the bowl of his pipe with his little finger. +"Guess there wasn't much room for talk between--you and me. But we had +to say things sooner or later, on--account of--the girls. It's bad +med'cine starting out brothers with any trouble sticking out between +us. That's why I've started talking now--with the horses waiting +saddled." + +Bill nodded. + +"I was desperate sore," he said, his blue eyes coming back to the +other's face. "You see, I couldn't think right at first, back there in +Amberley, and I blamed you to death. Still, I've done a big think +since then. Yes, a huge big think. And--do you know I'm kind of sure +now Charlie was just glad to do what he did." Then his voice dropped +to an awed undertone. "It's queer how thinking makes you see things +right. I kind of feel now, if Charlie was here, he'd tell us right +away he's gladder he is where he is than ever he was--here. I'm just +certain of it. That's the best of thinking hard. You sort of +understand things better. I'm going to shake hands with you. Guess +Charlie 'ud like me to--now. And it'll be a mighty hard shake, so +you'll know I've thought hard, and--and just understood." + +Fyles winced under the giant's grip. But he smiled and nodded. Bill +smiled and nodded, too, and then released the injured limb. It was the +way of two men who understand. + +A sound came from within the house. It was the jingle of a spur and a +swish of skirts. + +Fyles indicated the direction with his pipe. + +"Best quit talking now," he said. "It's--it's the girls." + +Bill wagged a sapient head, and moved over to the horses. + +"Right ho, Stanley." + +"Right ho, Bill." + +The big blue eyes met the steady brown eyes in a final, smiling glance +of mutual understanding as Kate and Helen appeared in the doorway. + + + + + Popular Copyright Novels + + _AT MODERATE PRICES_ + + Ask Your Dealer for a Complete List of A. L. Burt Company's Popular + Copyright Fiction + + + =Adventures of Jimmie Dale, The.= By Frank L. Packard. + =Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.= By A. Conan Doyle. + =After House, The.= By Mary Roberts Rinehart. + =Ailsa Paige.= By Robert W. Chambers. + =Alton of Somasco.= By Harold Bindloss. + =Amateur Gentleman, The.= By Jeffery Farnol. + =Anna, the Adventuress.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Anne's House of Dreams.= By L. M. Montgomery. + =Around Old Chester.= By Margaret Deland. + =Athalie.= By Robert W. Chambers. + =At the Mercy of Tiberius.= By Augusta Evans Wilson. + =Auction Block, The.= By Rex Beach. + =Aunt Jane of Kentucky.= By Eliza C. Hall. + =Awakening of Helena Richie.= By Margaret Deland. + + =Bab: a Sub-Deb.= By Mary Roberts Rinehart. + =Barrier, The.= By Rex Beach. + =Barbarians.= By Robert W. Chambers. + =Bargain True, The.= By Nalbro Bartley. + =Bar 20.= By Clarence E. Mulford. + =Bar 20 Days.= By Clarence E. Mulford. + =Bars of Iron, The.= By Ethel M. Dell. + =Beasts of Tarzan, The.= By Edgar Rice Burroughs. + =Beloved Traitor, The.= By Frank L. Packard. + =Beltane the Smith.= By Jeffery Farnol. + =Betrayal, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Beyond the Frontier.= By Randall Parrish. + =Big Timber.= By Bertrand W. Sinclair. + =Black Is White.= By George Barr McCutcheon. + =Blind Man's Eyes, The.= By Wm. MacHarg and Edwin Balmer. + =Bob, Son of Battle.= By Alfred Ollivant. + =Boston Blackie.= By Jack Boyle. + =Boy with Wings, The.= By Berta Ruck. + =Brandon of the Engineers.= By Harold Bindloss. + =Broad Highway, The.= By Jeffery Farnol. + =Brown Study, The.= By Grace S. Richmond. + =Bruce of the Circle A.= By Harold Titus. + =Buck Peters, Ranchman.= By Clarence E. Mulford. + =Business of Life, The.= By Robert W. Chambers. + + =Cabbages and Kings.= By O. Henry. + =Cabin Fever.= By B. M. Bower. + =Calling of Dan Matthews, The.= By Harold Bell Wright. + =Cape Cod Stories.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =Cap'n Abe, Storekeeper.= By James A. Cooper. + =Cap'n Dan's Daughter.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =Cap'n Eri.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =Cap'n Jonah's Fortune.= By James A. Cooper. + =Cap'n Warren's Wards.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =Chain of Evidence, A.= By Carolyn Wells. + =Chief Legatee, The.= By Anna Katharine Green. + =Cinderella Jane.= By Marjorie B. Cooke. + =Cinema Murder, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =City of Masks, The.= By George Barr McCutcheon. + =Cleek of Scotland Yard.= By T. W. Hanshew. + =Cleek, The Man of Forty Faces.= By Thomas W. Hanshew. + =Cleek's Government Cases.= By Thomas W. Hanshew. + =Clipped Wings.= By Rupert Hughes. + =Clue, The.= By Carolyn Wells. + =Clutch of Circumstance, The.= By Marjorie Benton Cooke. + =Coast of Adventure, The.= By Harold Bindloss. + =Coming of Cassidy, The.= By Clarence E. Mulford. + =Coming of the Law, The.= By Chas. A. Seltzer. + =Conquest of Canaan, The.= By Booth Tarkington. + =Conspirators, The.= By Robert W. Chambers. + =Court of Inquiry, A.= By Grace S. Richmond. + =Cow Puncher, The.= By Robert J. C. Stead. + =Crimson Gardenia, The, and Other Tales of Adventure.= By Rex Beach. + =Cross Currents.= By Author of "Pollyanna." + =Cry in the Wilderness, A.= By Mary E. Waller. + + =Danger, And Other Stories.= By A. Conan Doyle. + =Dark Hollow, The.= By Anna Katharine Green. + =Dark Star, The.= By Robert W. Chambers. + =Daughter Pays, The.= By Mrs. Baillie Reynolds. + =Day of Days, The.= By Louis Joseph Vance. + =Depot Master, The.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =Desired Woman, The.= By Will N. Harben. + =Destroying Angel, The.= By Louis Jos. Vance. + =Devil's Own, The.= By Randall Parrish. + =Double Traitor=, The. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + + =Empty Pockets.= By Rupert Hughes. + =Eyes of the Blind=, The. By Arthur Somers Roche. + =Eye of Dread, The.= By Payne Erskine. + =Eyes of the World, The.= By Harold Bell Wright. + =Extricating Obadiah.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + + =Felix O'Day.= By F. Hopkinson Smith. + =54-40 or Fight.= By Emerson Hough. + =Fighting Chance, The.= By Robert W. Chambers. + =Fighting Shepherdess, The.= By Caroline Lockhart. + =Financier, The.= By Theodore Dreiser. + =Flame, The.= By Olive Wadsley. + =Flamsted Quarries.= By Mary E. Wallar. + =Forfeit, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Four Million, The.= By O. Henry. + =Fruitful Vine, The.= By Robert Hichens. + =Further Adventures of Jimmie Dale, The.= By Frank L. Packard. + + =Girl of the Blue Ridge, A.= By Payne Erskine. + =Girl from Keller's, The.= By Harold Bindloss. + =Girl Philippa, The.= By Robert W. Chambers. + =Girls at His Billet, The.= By Berta Ruck. + =God's Country and the Woman.= By James Oliver Curwood. + =Going Some.= By Rex Beach. + =Golden Slipper, The.= By Anna Katharine Green. + =Golden Woman, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Greater Love Hath No Man.= By Frank L. Packard. + =Greyfriars Bobby.= By Eleanor Atkinson. + =Gun Brand, The.= By James B. Hendryx. + + =Halcyone.= By Elinor Glyn. + =Hand of Fu-Manchu=, The. By Sax Rohmer. + =Havoc.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Heart of the Desert=, The. By Honore Willsie. + =Heart of the Hills, The.= By John Fox, Jr. + =Heart of the Sunset.= By Rex Beach. + =Heart of Thunder Mountain, The.= By Edfrid A. Bingham. + =Her Weight in Gold.= By Geo. B. McCutcheon. + =Hidden Children, The.= By Robert W. Chambers. + =Hidden Spring, The.= By Clarence B. Kelland. + =Hillman, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Hills of Refuge, The.= By Will N. Harben. + =His Official Fiancee.= By Berta Ruck. + =Honor of the Big Snows.= By James Oliver Curwood. + =Hopalong Cassidy.= By Clarence E. Mulford. + =Hound from the North, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =House of the Whispering Pines, The.= By Anna Katharine Green. + =Hugh Wynne, Free Quaker.= By S. Weir Mitchell, M.D. + + =I Conquered.= By Harold Titus. + =Illustrious Prince, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =In Another Girl's Shoes.= By Berta Ruck. + =Indifference of Juliet, The.= By Grace S. Richmond. + =Infelice.= By Augusta Evans Wilson. + =Initials Only.= By Anna Katharine Green. + =Inner Law, The.= By Will N. Harben. + =Innocent.= By Marie Corelli. + =Insidious Dr. Fu-Manchu, The.= By Sax Rohmer. + =In the Brooding Wild.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Intriguers, The.= By Harold Bindloss. + =Iron Trail, The.= By Rex Beach. + =Iron Woman, The.= By Margaret Deland. + =I Spy.= By Natalie Sumner Lincoln. + + =Japonette.= By Robert W. Chambers. + =Jean of the Lazy A.= By B. M. Bower. + =Jeanne of the Marshes.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Jennie Gerhardt.= By Theodore Dreiser. + =Judgment House, The.= By Gilbert Parker. + + =Keeper of the Door, The.= By Ethel M. Dell. + =Keith of the Border.= By Randall Parrish. + =Kent Knowles: Ouahaug.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =Kingdom of the Blind. The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =King Spruce.= By Holman Day. + =King's Widow, The.= By Mrs. Baillie Reynolds. + =Knave of Diamonds, The.= By Ethel M. Dell. + + =Ladder of Swords.= By Gilbert Parker. + =Lady Betty Across the Water.= By C. N. & A. M. Williamson. + =Land-Girl's Love Story, A.= By Berta Ruck. + =Landloper, The.= By Holman Day. + =Land of Long Ago, The.= By Eliza Calvert Hall. + =Land of Strong Men, The.= By A. M. Chisholm. + =Last Trail, The.= By Zane Grey. + =Laugh and Live.= By Douglas Fairbanks. + =Laughing Bill Hyde.= By Rex Beach. + =Laughing Girl, The.= By Robert W. Chambers. + =Law Breakers, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Lifted Veil, The.= By Basil King. + =Lighted Way, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Lin McLean.= By Owen Wister. + =Lonesome Land.= By B. M. Bower. + =Lone Wolf, The.= By Louis Joseph Vance. + =Long Ever Ago.= By Rupert Hughes. + =Lonely Stronghold, The.= By Mrs. Baillie Reynolds. + =Long Live the King.= By Mary Roberts Rinehart. + =Long Roll, The.= By Mary Johnston. + =Lord Tony's Wife.= By Baroness Orczy. + =Lost Ambassador.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Lost Prince, The.= By Frances Hodgson Burnett. + =Lydia of the Pines.= By Honore Willsie. + + =Maid of the Forest, The.= By Randall Parrish. + =Maid of the Whispering Hills, The.= By Vingie E. Roe. + =Maids of Paradise, The.= By Robert W. Chambers. + =Major, The.= By Ralph Connor. + =Maker of History, A.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Malefactor, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Man from Bar 20, The.= By Clarence E. Mulford. + =Man in Grey, The.= By Baroness Orczy. + =Man Trail, The.= By Henry Oyen. + =Man Who Couldn't Sleep, The.= By Arthur Stringer. + =Man with the Club Foot, The.= By Valentine Williams. + =Mary-'Gusta.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =Mary Moreland.= By Marie Van Vorst. + =Mary Regan.= By Leroy Scott. + =Master Mummer, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes.= By A. Conan Doyle. + =Men Who Wrought, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Mischief Maker, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Missioner, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Miss Million's Maid.= By Berta Ruck. + =Molly McDonald.= By Randall Parrish. + =Money Master, The.= By Gilbert Parker. + =Money Moon, The.= By Jeffery Farnol. + =Mountain Girl, The.= By Payne Erskine. + =Moving Finger, The.= By Natalie Sumner Lincoln. + =Mr. Bingle.= By George Barr McCutcheon. + =Mr. Grex of Monte Carlo.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Mr. Pratt.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =Mr. Pratt's Patients.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =Mrs. Belfame.= By Gertrude Atherton. + =Mrs. Red Pepper.= By Grace S. Richmond. + =My Lady Caprice.= By Jeffrey Farnol. + =My Lady of the North.= By Randall Parrish. + =My Lady of the South.= By Randall Parrish. + =Mystery of the Hasty Arrow, The.= By Anna K. Green. + + =Nameless Man, The.= By Natalie Sumner Lincoln. + =Ne'er-Do-Well, The.= By Rex Beach. + =Nest Builders, The.= By Beatrice Forbes-Robertson Hale. + =Net, The.= By Rex Beach. + =New Clarion.= By Will N. Harben. + =Night Operator, The.= By Frank L. Packard. + =Night Riders, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Nobody.= By Louis Joseph Vance. + + =Okewood of the Secret Service.= By the Author of "The Man with the + Club Foot." + =One Way Trail, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Open, Sesame.= By Mrs. Baillie Reynolds. + =Otherwise Phyllis.= By Meredith Nicholson. + =Outlaw, The.= By Jackson Gregory. + + =Paradise Auction.= By Nalbro Bartley. + =Pardners.= By Rex Beach. + =Parrot & Co.= By Harold MacGrath. + =Partners of the Night.= By Leroy Scott. + =Partners of the Tide.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =Passionate Friends, The.= By H. G. Wells. + =Patrol of the Sun Dance Trail, The.= By Ralph Connor. + =Paul Anthony, Christian.= By Hiram W. Hays. + =Pawns Count, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =People's Man, A.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Perch of the Devil.= By Gertrude Atherton. + =Peter Ruff and the Double Four.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Pidgin Island.= By Harold MacGrath. + =Place of Honeymoon, The.= By Harold MacGrath. + =Pool of Flame, The.= By Louis Joseph Vance. + =Postmaster, The.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =Prairie Wife, The.= By Arthur Stringer. + =Price of the Prairie, The.= By Margaret Hill McCarter. + =Prince of Sinners, A.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Promise, The.= By J. B. Hendryx. + =Proof of the Pudding, The.= By Meredith Nicholson. + + =Rainbow's End, The.= By Rex Beach. + =Ranch at the Wolverine, The.= By B. M. Bower. + =Ranching for Sylvia.= By Harold Bindloss. + =Ransom.= By Arthur Somers Roche. + =Reason Why, The.= By Elinor Glyn. + =Reclaimers, The.= By Margaret Hill McCarter. + =Red Mist, The.= By Randall Parrish. + =Red Pepper Burns.= By Grace S. Richmond. + =Red Pepper's Patients.= By Grace S. Richmond. + =Rejuvenation of Aunt Mary, The.= By Anne Warner. + =Restless Sex, The.= By Robert W. Chambers. + =Return of Dr. Fu-Manchu, The.= By Sax Rohmer. + =Return of Tarzan, The.= By Edgar Rice Burroughs. + =Riddle of Night, The.= By Thomas W. Hanshew. + =Rim of the Desert, The.= By Ada Woodruff Anderson. + =Rise of Roscoe Paine, The.= By J. C. Lincoln. + =Rising Tide, The.= By Margaret Deland. + =Rocks of Valpre, The.= By Ethel M. Dell. + =Rogue by Compulsion, A.= By Victor Bridges. + =Room Number 3.= By Anna Katharine Green. + =Rose in the Ring, The.= By George Barr McCutcheon. + =Rose of Old Harpeth, The.= By Maria Thompson Daviess. + =Round the Corner in Gay Street.= By Grace S. Richmond. + + =Second Choice.= By Will N. Harben. + =Second Violin, The.= By Grace S. Richmond. + =Secret History.= By C. N. & A. M. Williamson. + =Secret of the Reef, The.= By Harold Bindloss. + =Seven Darlings, The.= By Gouverneur Morris. + =Shavings.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =Shepherd of the Hills, The.= By Harold Bell Wright. + =Sheriff of Dyke Hole, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Sherry.= By George Barr McCutcheon. + =Side of the Angels, The.= By Basil King. + =Silver Horde, The.= By Rex Beach. + =Sin That Was His, The.= By Frank L. Packard. + =Sixty-first Second, The.= By Owen Johnson. + =Soldier of the Legion, A.= By C. N. & A. M. Williamson. + =Son of His Father, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Son of Tarzan, The.= By Edgar Rice Burroughs. + =Source, The.= By Clarence Buddington Kelland. + =Speckled Bird, A.= By Augusta Evans Wilson. + =Spirit in Prison, A.= By Robert Hichens. + =Spirit of the Border, The.= (New Edition.) By Zane Grey. + =Spoilers, The.= By Rex Beach. + =Steele of the Royal Mounted.= By James Oliver Curwood. + =Still Jim.= By Honore Willsie. + =Story of Foss River Ranch, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Story of Marco, The.= By Eleanor H. Porter. + =Strange Case of Cavendish, The.= By Randall Parrish. + =Strawberry Acres.= By Grace S. Richmond. + =Sudden Jim.= By Clarence B. Kelland. + + =Tales of Sherlock Holmes.= By A. Conan Doyle. + =Tarzan of the Apes.= By Edgar R. Burroughs. + =Tarzan and the Jewels of Opar.= By Edgar Rice Burroughs. + =Tempting of Tavernake, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Tess of the D'Urbervilles.= By Thos. Hardy. + =Thankful's Inheritance.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =That Affair Next Door.= By Anna Katharine Green. + =That Printer of Udell's.= By Harold Bell Wright. + =Their Yesterdays.= By Harold Bell Wright. + =Thirteenth Commandment, The.= By Rupert Hughes. + =Three of Hearts, The.= By Berta Ruck. + =Three Strings, The.= By Natalie Sumner Lincoln. + =Threshold, The.= By Marjorie Benton Cooke. + =Throwback, The.= By Alfred Henry Lewis. + =Tish.= By Mary Roberts Rinehart. + =To M. L. G.; or, He Who Passed.= Anon. + =Trail of the Axe, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Trail to Yesterday, The.= By Chas. A. Seltzer. + =Treasure of Heaven, The.= By Marie Corelli. + =Triumph, The.= By Will N. Harben. + =T. Tembarom.= By Frances Hodgson Burnett. + =Turn of the Tide.= By Author of "Pollyanna." + =Twenty-fourth of June, The.= By Grace S. Richmond. + =Twins of Suffering Creek, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Two-Gun Man, The.= By Chas. A. Seltzer. + + =Uncle William.= By Jeannette Lee. + =Under Handicap.= By Jackson Gregory. + =Under the Country Sky.= By Grace S. Richmond. + =Unforgiving Offender, The.= By John Reed Scott. + =Unknown Mr. Kent, The.= By Roy Norton. + =Unpardonable Sin, The.= By Major Rupert Hughes. + =Up From Slavery.= By Booker T. Washington. + + =Valiants of Virginia, The.= By Hallie Ermine Rives. + =Valley of Fear, The.= By Sir A. Conan Doyle. + =Vanished Messenger, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =Vanguards of the Plains.= By Margaret Hill McCarter. + =Vashti.= By Augusta Evans Wilson. + =Virtuous Wives.= By Owen Johnson. + =Visioning, The.= By Susan Glaspell. + + =Waif-o'-the-Sea.= By Cyrus Townsend Brady. + =Wall of Men, A.= By Margaret H. McCarter. + =Watchers of the Plans, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Way Home, The.= By Basil King. + =Way of an Eagle, The.= By E. M. Dell. + =Way of the Strong, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. + =Way of These Women, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + =We Can't Have Everything.= By Major Rupert Hughes. + =Weavers, The.= By Gilbert Parker. + =When a Man's a Man.= By Harold Bell Wright. + =When Wilderness Was King.= By Randall Parrish. + =Where the Trail Divides.= By Will Lillibridge. + =Where There's a Will.= By Mary R. Rinehart. + =White Sister, The.= By Marion Crawford. + =Who Goes There?= By Robert W. Chambers. + =Why Not.= By Margaret Widdemer. + =Window at the White Cat, The.= By Mary Roberts Rinehart. + =Winds of Chance, The.= By Rex Beach. + =Wings of Youth, The.= By Elizabeth Jordan. + =Winning of Barbara Worth, The.= By Harold Bell Wright. + =Wire Devils, The.= By Frank L. Packard. + =Winning the Wilderness.= By Margaret Hill McCarter. + =Wishing Ring Man, The.= By Margaret Widdemer. + =With Juliet in England.= By Grace S. Richmond. + =Wolves of the Sea.= By Randall Parrish. + =Woman Gives, The.= By Owen Johnson. + =Woman Haters, The.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. + =Woman in Question, The.= By John Reed Scott. + =Woman Thou Gavest Me, The.= By Hall Caine. + =Woodcarver of 'Lympus, The.= By Mary E. Waller. + =Wooing of Rosamond Fayre, The.= By Berta Ruck. + =World for Sale, The.= By Gilbert-Parker. + + =Years for Rachel, The.= By Berta Ruck. + =Yellow Claw, The.= By Sax Rohmer. + =You Never Know Your Luck.= By Gilbert Parker. + + =Zeppelin's Passenger, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + + + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES: + +1. Minor changes have been made to correct typesetter's errors; + otherwise every effort has been made to remain true to the author's + words and intent. + +2. 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