initial commit of ebook 30485HEADmain

8 files changed, 30622 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/old/30485-8.txt b/old/30485-8.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e4617f3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/30485-8.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,10026 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Rustler of Wind River, by G. W. Ogden
+
+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 Rustler of Wind River
+
+Author: G. W. Ogden
+
+Illustrator: Frank E. Schoonover
+
+Release Date: November 16, 2009 [EBook #30485]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RUSTLER OF WIND RIVER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "Ride Low--They're Coming!"]
+
+
+
+
+THE RUSTLER OF WIND RIVER
+
+By G. W. OGDEN
+
+WITH FRONTISPIECE
+
+By FRANK E. SCHOONOVER
+
+A. L. BURT COMPANY
+
+Publishers--New York
+
+Published by Arrangement with A. C. McClurg & Company
+
+
+
+
+Copyright
+
+A. C. McClurg & Co.
+
+1917
+
+Published March, 1917
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+  CHAPTER                                                         PAGE
+        I Strange Bargainings                                        1
+       II Beef Day                                                  11
+      III The Ranchhouse by the River                               28
+       IV The Man in the Plaid                                      41
+        V If He was a Gentleman                                     55
+       VI A Bold Civilian                                           66
+      VII Throwing the Scare                                        81
+     VIII Afoot and Alone                                           89
+       IX Business, not Company                                    102
+        X "Hell's a-goin' to Pop"                                  119
+       XI The Señor Boss Comes Riding                              131
+      XII "The Rustlers!"                                          147
+     XIII The Trail at Dawn                                        160
+      XIV When Friends Part                                        182
+       XV One Road                                                 196
+      XVI Danger and Dignity                                       215
+     XVII Boots and Saddles                                        227
+    XVIII The Trail of the Coffee                                  240
+      XIX "I Beat Him to It"                                       252
+       XX Love and Death                                           268
+      XXI The Man in the Door                                      280
+     XXII Paid                                                     298
+    XXIII Tears in the Night                                       303
+     XXIV Banjo Faces Into the West                                312
+      XXV "Hasta Luego"                                            322
+
+
+
+
+THE RUSTLER OF WIND RIVER
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+STRANGE BARGAININGS
+
+
+When a man came down out of the mountains looking dusty and gaunt as
+the stranger did, there was no marvel in the matter of his eating five
+cans of cove oysters. The one unaccountable thing about it was that
+Saul Chadron, president of the Drovers' Association, should sit there
+at the table and urge the lank, lean starveling to go his limit.
+
+Usually Saul Chadron was a man who picked his companions, and was a
+particular hand at the choosing. He could afford to do that, being of
+the earth's exalted in the Northwest, where people came to him and put
+down their tribute at his feet.
+
+This stranger, whom Chadron treated like a long-wandering friend, had
+come down the mountain trail that morning, and had been hanging about
+the hotel all day. Buck Snellin, the proprietor--duly licensed for a
+matter of thirty years past by the United States government to conduct
+his hostelry in the corner of the Indian reservation, up against the
+door of the army post--did not know him. That threw him among
+strangers in that land, indeed, for Buck knew everybody within a
+hundred miles on every side.
+
+The stranger was a tall, smoky man, hollow-faced, grim; adorned with a
+large brown mustache which drooped over his thin mouth; a bony man
+with sharp shoulders, and a stoop which began in the region of the
+stomach, as if induced by drawing in upon himself in times of poignant
+hunger, which he must have felt frequently in his day to wear him down
+to that state of bones; with the under lid of his left eye caught at a
+point and drawn down until it showed red, as if held by a fishhook to
+drain it of unimaginable tears.
+
+There was a furtive look in his restless, wild-animal eyes, smoky like
+the rest of him, and a surliness about his long, high-ridged nose
+which came down over his mustache like a beak. He wore a cloth cap
+with ear flaps, and they were down, although the heat of summer still
+made the September air lively enough for one with blood beneath his
+skin. He regaled himself with fierce defiance, like a captive eagle,
+and had no word in return for the generous importunities of the man
+who was host to him in what evidently was a long-deferred meal.
+
+Chadron paid the bill when the man at last finished packing his
+internal cavities, and they went together into the hotel office which
+adjoined the dining-room.
+
+The office of this log hotel was a large, gaunt room, containing a few
+chairs along the walls, a small, round table under the window with the
+register upon it, a pen in a potato, and a bottle of ink with trickled
+and encrusted sides. The broad fireplace was bleak and black,
+blank-staring as a blind eye, and the sun reached through the window
+in a white streak across the mottled floor.
+
+There was the smell of old pipes, old furs, old guns, in the place,
+and all of them were present to account for themselves and dispel any
+shadow of mystery whatever--the guns on their pegs set in auger-holes
+in the logs of the walls, the furs of wild beasts dangling from like
+supports in profusion everywhere, and the pipes lying on the mantel
+with stems hospitably extended to all unprovided guests. Some of them
+had been smoked by the guests who had come and gone for a generation
+of men.
+
+The stranger stood at the manteltree and tried the pipes' capacity
+with his thick-ended thumb, finding one at last to his requirements.
+Tall as Saul Chadron stood on his own proper legs, the stranger at his
+shoulder was a head above him. Seven feet he must have towered, his
+crown within a few inches of the smoked beams across the ceiling, and
+marvelously thin in the running up. It seemed that the wind must break
+him some blustering day at that place in his long body where hunger,
+or pain, or mischance had doubled him over in the past, and left him
+creased. The strong light of the room found pepperings of gray in his
+thick and long black hair.
+
+Chadron himself was a gray man, with a mustache and beard like a
+cavalier. His shrewd eyes were sharp and bright under heavy brows, his
+brown face was toughened by days in the saddle through all seasons of
+weather and wind. His shoulders were broad and heavy, and even now,
+although not dressed for the saddle, there was an up-creeping in the
+legs of his trousers, and a gathering at the knees of them, for they
+were drawn down over his tall boots.
+
+That was Chadron's way of doing the nice thing when he went abroad in
+his buckboard. He had saddle manners and buckboard manners, and even
+office manners when he met the cattle barons in Cheyenne. No matter
+what manners he chanced to be wearing, one remembered Saul Chadron
+after meeting him, and carried the recollection of him to the sundown
+of his day.
+
+"We can talk here," said Chadron, giving the other a cigar.
+
+The tall man broke the cigar and ground part of it in his palm,
+looking with frowning thoughtfulness into the empty fireplace as the
+tobacco crushed in his hard hand. He filled the pipe that he had
+chosen, and sat with his long legs stretched out toward the
+chimney-mouth.
+
+"Well, go on and talk," said he.
+
+His voice came smothered and hoarse, as if it lay beneath all the
+oysters which he had rammed into his unseen hollow. It was a voice in
+strange harmony with the man, such a sound as one would have expected
+to come out of that surly, dark-lipped, thin mouth. There was nothing
+committal about it, nothing exactly identifying; an impersonal voice,
+rather, and cold; a voice with no conscience behind it, scarcely a
+soul.
+
+"You're a business man, Mark--"
+
+"Huh!" said Mark, grunting a little cloud of smoke from the bowl of
+his pipe in his sarcastic vehemence.
+
+"And so am I," continued Chadron, unmoved. "Words between us would be
+a waste of time."
+
+"You're right; money talks," said Mark.
+
+"It's a man's job, or I wouldn't have called you out of your hole to
+do it," said Chadron, watching the man slyly for the effect.
+
+"Pay me in money," suggested Mark, unwarmed by the compliment. "Is it
+nesters ag'in?"
+
+"Nesters," nodded the cattleman, drawing his great brows in a frown.
+"They're crowdin' in so thick right around me that I can't breathe
+comfortable any more; the smell of 'em's in the wind. They're runnin'
+over three of the biggest ranches up here besides the Alamito, and the
+Drovers' Association wants a little of your old-time holy scare
+throwed into the cussed coyotes."
+
+Mark nodded in the pause which seemed to have been made for him to
+nod, and Chadron went on.
+
+"We figger that if a dozen or two of 'em's cleaned out, quick and
+mysterious, the rest'll tuck tail and sneak. It's happened that way in
+other places more than once, as you and I know. Well, you're the man
+that don't have to take lessons."
+
+"Money talks," repeated Mark, still looking into the chimney.
+
+"There's about twenty of them that counts, the rest's the kind you can
+drive over a cliff with a whip. These fellers has strung their cussed
+bob-wire fences crisscross and checkerboard all around there up the
+river, and they're gittin' to be right troublesome. Of course they're
+only a speck up there yet, but they'll multiply like fleas on a hot
+dog if we let 'em go ahead. You know how it is."
+
+There was a conclusiveness in Chadron's tone as he said that. It spoke
+of a large understanding between men of a kind.
+
+"Sure," grunted the man Mark, nodding his head at the chimney. "You
+want a man to work from the willers, without no muss or gun-flashin',
+or rough houses or loud talk."
+
+"Twenty of them, their names are here, and some scattered in between
+that I haven't put down, to be picked up as they fall in handy, see?"
+
+"And you're aimin' to keep clear, and stand back in the shadder, like
+you always have done," growled Mark. "Well, I ain't goin' to ram my
+neck into no sheriff's loop for nobody's business but my own from now
+on. I'm through with resks, just to be obligin'."
+
+"Who'll put a hand on you in this country unless we give the word?"
+Chadron asked, severely.
+
+"How do I know who's runnin' the law in this dang country now? Maybe
+you fellers is, maybe you ain't."
+
+"There's no law in this part of the country bigger than the Drovers'
+Association," Chadron told him, frowning in rebuke of Mark's doubt of
+security. "Well, maybe there's a little sheriff here and there, and a
+few judges that we didn't put in, but they're down in the farmin'
+country, and they don't cut no figger at all. If you _was_ fool enough
+to let one of them fellers git a hold on you we wouldn't leave you in
+jail over night. You know how it was up there in the north."
+
+"But I don't know how it is down here." Mark scowled in surly
+unbelief, or surly simulation.
+
+"There's not a judge, federal or state, that could carry a bale of hay
+anywhere in the cattle country, I tell you, Mark, that we don't draw
+the chalk line for."
+
+"Then why don't you do the job yourselves, 'stead of callin' a
+peaceable man away from his ranchin'?"
+
+"You're one kind of a gentleman, Mark, and I'm another, and there's
+different jobs for different men. That ain't my line."
+
+"Oh hell!" said Mark, laying upon the words an eloquent stress.
+
+"All you've got to do is keep clear of the reservation; don't turn a
+card here, no matter how easy it looks. We can't jerk you out of the
+hands of the army if you git mixed up with it; that's one place where
+we stop. The reservation's a middle ground where we meet the
+nesters--rustlers, every muddy-bellied wolf of 'em, and we can prove
+it--and pass 'em by. They come and go here like white men, and nothing
+said. Keep clear of the reservation; that's all you've got to do to be
+as safe as if you was layin' in bed on your ranch up in Jackson's
+Hole."
+
+Chadron winked as he named that refuge of the hunted in the Northwest.
+Mark appeared to be considering something weightily.
+
+"Oh, well, if they're rustlers--nobody ain't got no use for a
+rustler," he said.
+
+"There's men in that bunch of twenty"--tapping the slip of paper with
+his finger--"that started with two cows a couple of years ago that's
+got fifty and sixty head of two-year-olds now," Chadron feelingly
+declared.
+
+"How much're you willin' to go?" Mark put the question with a
+suddenness which seemed to betray that he had been saving it to shoot
+off that way, as a disagreeable point over which he expected a
+quarrel. He squinted his draggled left eye at Chadron, as if he was
+taking aim, while he waited for a reply.
+
+"Well, you have done it for fifty a head," Chadron said.
+
+"Things is higher now, and I'm older, and the resk's bigger," Mark
+complained. "How fur apart do they lay?"
+
+"You ought to get around in a week or two."
+
+"But that ain't figgerin' the time a feller has to lay out in the
+bresh waitin' and takin' rheumatiz in his j'ints. I couldn't touch the
+job for the old figger; things is higher."
+
+"Look here, Mark"--Chadron opened the slip which he had wound round
+his finger--"this one is worth ten, yes, all, the others. Make your
+own price on him. But I want it _done_; no bungled job."
+
+Mark took the paper and laid his pipe aside while he studied it.
+
+"Macdonald?"
+
+"Alan Macdonald," nodded Chadron. "That feller's opened a ditch from
+the river up there on my land and begun to _irrigate!_"
+
+"Irrigatin', huh?" said Mark, abstractedly, moving his finger down the
+column of names.
+
+"He makes a blind of buyin' up cattle and fattenin' 'em on the hay and
+alfalfer he's raisin' up there on my good land, but he's the king-pin
+of the rustlers in this corner of the state. He'll be in here tomorrow
+with cattle for the Indian agent--it's beef day--and you can size him
+up. But you've got to keep your belly to the ground like a snake when
+you start anything on that feller, and you've got to make sure you've
+got him dead to rights. He's quick with a gun, and he's sure."
+
+"Five hundred?" suggested Mark, with a crafty sidelong look.
+
+"You've named it."
+
+"And something down for expenses; a feller's got to live, and livin's
+high."
+
+Chadron drew out his wallet. Money passed into Mark's hand, and he put
+it away in his pocket along with the list of names.
+
+"I'll see you in the old place in Cheyenne for the settlement, if you
+make good," Chadron told him.
+
+Mark waved his hand in lofty depreciation of the hint that failure for
+him was a possible contingency. He said no more. For a little while
+Chadron stood looking down on him as he leaned with his pipe over the
+dead ashes in the fireplace, his hand in the breast of his coat, where
+he had stored his purse. Mark treated the mighty cattleman as if he
+had become a stranger to him, along with the rest of the world in that
+place, and Chadron turned and went his way.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+BEEF DAY
+
+
+Fort Shakie was on its downhill way in those days, and almost at the
+bottom of the decline. It was considered a post of penance by enlisted
+men and officers alike, nested up there in the high plateau against
+the mountains in its place of wild beauty and picturesque charm.
+
+But natural beauty and Indian picturesqueness do not fill the place in
+the soldierly breast of fair civilian lady faces, nor torrential
+streams of cold mountain water supply the music of the locomotive's
+toot. Fort Shakie was being crept upon by civilization, true, but it
+was coming all too slow for the booted troopers and belted officers
+who must wear away the months in its lonely silences.
+
+Within the memory of officers not yet gray the post had been a hundred
+and fifty miles from a railroad. Now it was but twenty; but even that
+short leap drowned the voice of the locomotive, and the dot at the
+rails' end held few of the endearments which make soldiering sweet.
+
+Soon the post must go, indeed, for the need of it had passed. The
+Shoshones, Arapahoes, and Crows had forgotten their old animosities,
+and were traveling with Buffalo Bill, going to college, and raising
+alfalfa under the direction of a government farmer. The Indian police
+were in training to do the soldiers' work there. Soon the post must
+stand abandoned, a lonely monument to the days of hard riding, long
+watches, and bleak years. Not a soldier in the service but prayed for
+the hastening of the day.
+
+No, there was not much over at Meander, at the railroad's end, to
+cheer a soldier's heart. It was an inspiring ride, in these autumn
+days, to come to Meander, past the little brimming lakes, which seemed
+to lie without banks in the green meadows where wild elk fed with the
+shy Indian cattle; over the white hills where the earth gave under the
+hoofs like new-fallen snow. But when one came to it through the
+expanding, dusty miles, the reward of his long ride was not in keeping
+with his effort.
+
+Certainly, privates and subalterns could get drunk there, as speedily
+as in the centers of refinement, but there were no gentlemanly
+diversions at which an officer could dispel the gloom of his sour days
+in garrison.
+
+The rough-cheeked girls of that high-wind country were well enough for
+cowboys to swing in their wild dances; just a rung above the squaws on
+the reservation in the matter of loquacity and of gum. Hardly the sort
+for a man who had the memory of white gloves and gleaming shoulders,
+and the traditions of the service to maintain.
+
+Of course there was the exception of Nola Chadron, but she was not of
+Meander and the railroad's end, and she came only in flashes of summer
+brightness, like a swift, gay bird. But when Nola was at the
+ranchhouse on the river the gloom lifted over the post, and the sour
+leaven in the hearts of unmarried officers became as sweet as manna in
+the cheer of the unusual social outlet thus provided.
+
+Nola kept the big house in a blaze of joy while she nested there
+through the summer days. The sixteen miles which stretched between it
+and the post ran out like a silver band before those who rode into the
+smile of her welcome, and when she flitted away to Cheyenne,
+champagne, and silk hats in the autumn, a grayness hovered again over
+the military post in the corner of the reservation.
+
+Later than usual Nola had lingered on this fall, and the social outlet
+had remained open, like a navigable river over which the threat of ice
+hung but had not yet fallen. There were not lacking those who held
+that the lodestone which kept her there at the ranchhouse, when the
+gaieties of the season beckoned elsewhere, was in the breast of Major
+Cuvier King. Fatal infatuation, said the married ladies at the post,
+knowing, as everybody knew in the service, that Major King was
+betrothed to Frances Landcraft, the colonel's daughter.
+
+No matter for any complications which might come of it, Nola had
+remained on, and the major had smiled on her, and ridden with her, and
+cut high capers in the dance, all pending the return of Frances and
+her mother from their summering at Bar Harbor in compliance with the
+family traditions. Now Frances was back again, and fortune had thrown
+a sunburst of beauty into the post by centering her and Nola here at
+once. Nola was the guest of the colonel's daughter, and there were
+flutterings in uniformed breasts.
+
+Beef day was an event at the agency which never grew old to the people
+at the post. Without beef day they must have dwindled off to acidulous
+shadows, as the Indians who depended upon it for more solid sustenance
+would have done in the event of its discontinuation by a paternal
+government.
+
+There were phases of Indian life and character which one never saw
+save on beef day, which fell on Wednesday of each week. Guests at the
+post watched the bright picture with the keen interest of a pageant on
+the stage; tourists came over by stage from Meander in the summer
+months by the score to be present; the resident officers, and their
+wives and families--such as had them--found in it an ever-recurring
+source of interest and relief from the tedium of days all alike.
+
+This beef day, the morning following the meeting between Saul Chadron
+and his mysterious guest, a chattering group stood on the veranda of
+Colonel Landcraft's house in the bright friendly sun. They were
+waiting for horses to make the short journey to the agency--for one's
+honesty was questioned, his sanity doubted, if he went afoot in that
+country even a quarter of a mile--and gayest among them was Nola
+Chadron, the sun in her fair, springing hair.
+
+Nola's crown reached little higher than a proper soldier's heart, but
+what she lacked in stature she supplied in plastic perfection of body
+and vivacity of face. There was a bounding joyousness of life in her;
+her eager eyes reflecting only the anticipated pleasures of today.
+There was no shadow of yesterday's regret in them, no cloud of
+tomorrow's doubt.
+
+On the other balance there was Frances Landcraft, taller by half a
+head, soldierly, too, as became her lineage, in the manner of lifting
+her chin in what seemed a patrician scorn of small things such as a
+lady should walk the world unconscious of. The brown in her hair was
+richer than the clear agate of her eyes; it rippled across her ear
+like the scroll of water upon the sand.
+
+There was a womanly dignity about her, although the threshold of
+girlhood must not have been far behind her that bright autumnal
+morning. Her nod was equal to a stave of Nola's chatter, her smile
+worth a league of the light laughter from that bounding little lady's
+lips. Not that she was always so silent as on that morning, there
+among the young wives of the post, at her own guest's side. She had
+her hours of overflowing spirits like any girl, but in some company
+she was always grave.
+
+When Major King was in attendance, especially, the seeing ones made
+note. And there were others, too, who said that she was by nature a
+colonel among women, haughty, cold and aloof. These wondered how the
+major ever had made headway with her up to the point of gaining her
+hand. Knowing ones smiled at that, and said it had been arranged.
+
+There were ambitions on both sides of that match, it was known--ambition
+on the colonel's part to secure his only child a station of dignity, and
+what he held to be of consequence above all achievements in the
+world. Major King was a rising man, with two friends in the cabinet.
+It was said that he would be a brigadier-general before he reached
+forty.
+
+On the major's side, was the ambition to strengthen his political
+affiliations by alliance with a family of patrician strain, together
+with the money that his bride would bring, for Colonel Landcraft was a
+weighty man in this world's valued accumulations. So the match had
+been arranged.
+
+The veranda of the colonel's house gave a view of the parade grounds
+and the long avenue that came down between the officers' houses,
+cottonwoods lacing their limbs above the road. There was green in
+the lawns, the flash of flowers between the leaves and shrubs,
+white-gleaming walls, trim walks, shorn hedges. It seemed a pleasant
+place of quiet beauty that bright September morning, and a pity to
+give it up by and by to dust and desolation; a place where men and
+women might be happy, but for the gnawing fire of ambition in their
+hearts.
+
+Mrs. Colonel Landcraft was not going. Indians made her sick, she said,
+especially Indians sitting around in the tall grass waiting for the
+carcasses to be cut up and apportioned out to them in bloody chunks.
+But there seemed to be another source of her sickness that morning,
+measuring by the grave glances with which she searched her daughter's
+face. She wondered whether the major and Frances had quarreled; and if
+so, whether Nola Chadron had been the cause.
+
+They were off, with the colonel and a lately-assigned captain in the
+lead. There was a keener pleasure in this beef day than usual for the
+colonel, for he had new ground to sow with its wonders, which were
+beginning to pale in his old eyes which had seen so much of the
+world.
+
+"Very likely we'll see the minister's wife there," said he, as they
+rode forward, "and if so, it will be worth your while to take special
+note of her. St. John Mathews, the Episcopalian minister over there at
+the mission--those white buildings there among the trees--is a
+full-blooded Crow. One of the pioneer missionaries took him up and
+sent him back East to school, where in time he entered the ministry
+and married this white girl. She was a college girl, I've been told,
+glamoured by the romance of Mathews' life. Well, it was soon over."
+
+The colonel sighed, and fell silent. The captain, feeling that it was
+intended that he should, made polite inquiry.
+
+"The trouble is that Mathews is an Indian out of his place," the
+colonel resumed. "He returned here twenty years or so ago, and took up
+his work among his people. But as he advanced toward civilization, his
+wife began to slip back. Little by little she adopted the Indian ways
+and dress, until now you couldn't tell her from a squaw if you were to
+meet her for the first time. She presents a curious psychological
+study--or perhaps biological example of atavism, for I believe there's
+more body than soul in the poor creature now. It's nature maintaining
+the balance, you see. He goes up; she slips back.
+
+"If she's there, she'll be squatting among the squaws, waiting to
+carry home her husband's allotment of warm, bloody beef. She doesn't
+have to do it, and it shames and humiliates Mathews, too, even though
+they say she cuts it up and divides it among the poorer Indians. She's
+a savage; her eyes sparkle at the sight of red meat."
+
+They rounded the agency buildings and came upon an open meadow in
+which the slaughterhouses stood at a distance from the road. Here,
+in the grassy expanse, the Indians were gathered, waiting the
+distribution of the meat. The scene was barbarically animated. Groups
+of women in their bright dresses sat here and there on the grass, and
+apart from them in gravity waited old men in moccasins and blankets
+and with feathers in their hair. Spry young men smoked cigarettes
+and talked volubly, garbed in the worst of civilization and the
+most useless of savagery.
+
+One and all they turned their backs upon the visitors, the nearest
+groups and individuals moving away from them with the impassive
+dignity of their race. There is more scorn in an Indian squaw's back,
+turned to an impertinent stranger, than in the faces of six matrons of
+society's finest-sifted under similar conditions.
+
+Colonel Landcraft led his party across the meadow, entirely
+unconscious of the cold disdain of the people whom he looked down upon
+from his superior heights. He could not have understood if any there
+had felt the trespass from the Indians' side--and there was one, very
+near and dear to the colonel who felt it so--and attempted to explain.
+The colonel very likely would have puffed up with military consequence
+almost to the bursting-point.
+
+Feeling, delicacy, in those smeared, smelling creatures! Surliness in
+excess they might have, but dignity, not at all. Were they not there
+as beggars to receive bounty from the government's hand?
+
+"Oh, there's Mrs. Mathews!" said Nola, with the eagerness of a child
+who has found a quail's nest in the grass. She was off at an angle,
+like a hunter on the scent. Colonel Landcraft and his guest followed
+with equal rude eagerness, and the others swept after them, Frances
+alone hanging back. Major King was at Nola's side. If he noted the
+lagging of his fiancée he did not heed.
+
+The minister's wife, a shawl over her head, her braided hair in front
+of her shoulders like an Indian woman, rose from her place in startled
+confusion. She looked as if she would have fled if an avenue had been
+open, or a refuge presented. The embarrassed creature was obliged to
+stand in their curious eyes, and stammer in a tongue which seemed to
+be growing strange to her from its uncommon use.
+
+She was a short woman, growing heavy and shapeless now, and there was
+gray in her black hair. Her skin was browned by sun, wind, and smoke
+to the hue of her poor neighbors and friends. When she spoke in reply
+to the questions which poured upon her, she bent her head like a timid
+girl.
+
+Frances checked her horse and remained behind, out of range of
+hearing. She was cut to the heart with shame for her companions, and
+her cheek burned with the indignation that she suffered with the
+harried woman in their midst. A little Indian girl came flying past,
+ducking and dashing under the neck of Frances' horse, in pursuit of a
+piece of paper which the wind whirled ahead of her. At Frances'
+stirrup she caught it, and held it up with a smile.
+
+"Did you lose this, lady?" she asked, in the very best of mission
+English.
+
+"No," said Frances, bending over to see what it might be. The little
+girl placed it in her hand and scurried away again to a beckoning
+woman, who stood on her knees and scowled over her offspring's dash
+into the ways of civilized little girls.
+
+It was a narrow strip of paper that she had rescued from the wind,
+with the names of several men written on it in pencil, and at the head
+of the list the name of Alan Macdonald. Opposite that name some crude
+hand had entered, with pen that had flowed heavily under his pressure,
+the figures "$500."
+
+Frances turned it round her finger and sat waiting for the others to
+leave off their persecution of the minister's wife and come back to
+her, wondering in abstracted wandering of mind who Alan Macdonald
+might be, and for what purpose he had subscribed the sum of five
+hundred dollars.
+
+"I think she's the most romantic little thing in the world!" Nola was
+declaring, in her extravagant surface way as they returned to where
+Frances sat her horse, her wandering eyes on the blue foothills, the
+strip of paper prominent about her finger. "Oh, honey! what's the
+matter? Did you cut your finger?"
+
+"No," said Frances, her serious young face lighting with a smile,
+"it's a little subscription list, or something, that somebody lost.
+Alan Macdonald heads it for five hundred dollars. Do you know Alan
+Macdonald, and what his charitable purpose may be?"
+
+Nola tossed her head with a contemptuous sniff.
+
+"They call him the 'king of the rustlers' up the river," said she.
+
+"Oh, he _is_ a man of consequence, then?" said Frances, a quickening
+of humor in her brown eyes, seeing that Nola was up on her high horse
+about it.
+
+"We'd better be going down to the slaughter-house if we want to see
+the fun," bustled the colonel, wheeling his horse. "I see a movement
+setting in that way."
+
+"He's just a common thief!" declared Nola, with flushed cheek and
+resentful eye, as Frances fell in beside her for the march against the
+abattoir.
+
+Frances still carried the paper twisted about her finger, reserving
+her judgment upon Alan Macdonald, for she knew something of the feuds
+of that hard-speaking land.
+
+"Anyway, I suppose he'd like to have his paper back," she suggested.
+"Will you hand it to him the next time you meet him?"
+
+Frances was entirely grave about it, although it was only a piece of
+banter which she felt that Nola would appreciate. But Nola was not in
+an appreciative mood, for she was a full-blooded daughter of the
+baronial rule. She jerked her head like a vicious bronco and reined
+hurriedly away from Frances as she extended the paper.
+
+"I'll not touch the thing!" said Nola, fire in her eyes.
+
+Major King was enjoying the passage between the girls, riding at
+Nola's side with his cavalry hands held precisely.
+
+"If I'm not mistaken, the gentleman in question is there talking to
+Miller, the agent," said he, nodding toward two horsemen a little
+distance ahead. "But I wouldn't excite him, Miss Landcraft, if I were
+you. He's said to be the quickest and deadliest man with a weapon on
+this range."
+
+Major King smiled over his own pleasantry. Frances looked at Nola with
+brows lifted inquiringly, as if waiting her verification. Then the
+grave young lady settled back in her saddle and laughed merrily,
+reaching across and touching her friend's arm in conciliating caress.
+
+"Oh, you delightful little savage!" she said. "I believe you'd like to
+take a shot at poor Mr. Macdonald yourself."
+
+"We never start anything on the reservation," Nola rejoined, quite
+seriously.
+
+Miller, the Indian agent, rode away and left Macdonald sitting there
+on his horse as the military party approached. He spurred up to meet
+the colonel, and to present his respects to the ladies--a hard matter
+for a little round man with a tight paunch, sitting in a Mexican
+saddle. The party halted, and Frances looked across at Macdonald, who
+seemed to be waiting for Miller to rejoin him.
+
+Macdonald was a supple, sinewy man, as he appeared across the few rods
+intervening. His coat was tied with his slicker at the cantle of his
+saddle, his blue flannel shirt was powdered with the white dust of the
+plain. Instead of the flaring neckerchief which the cowboys commonly
+favored, Macdonald wore a cravat, the ends of it tucked into the bosom
+of his shirt, and in place of the leather chaps of men who ride
+breakneck through brush and bramble, his legs were clad in tough brown
+corduroys, and fended by boots to his knees. There were revolvers in
+the holsters at his belt.
+
+Not an unusual figure for that time and place, but something uncommon
+in the air of unbending severity that sat on him, which Frances felt
+even at that distance. He looked like a man who had a purpose in his
+life, and who was living it in his own brave way. If he was a cattle
+thief, as charged, thought she, then she would put her faith against
+the world that he was indeed a master of his trade.
+
+They were talking around Miller, who was going to give them places of
+vantage for the coming show. Only Frances and Major King were left
+behind, where she had stopped her horse to look curiously across at
+Alan Macdonald, king of the rustlers, as he was called.
+
+"It may not be anything at all to him, and it may be something
+important," said Frances, reaching out the slip to Major King. "Would
+you mind handing it to him, and explaining how it came into my
+hands?"
+
+"I'll not have anything to do with the fellow!" said the major,
+flushing hotly. "How can you ask such a thing of _me?_ Throw it away,
+it's no concern of yours--the memorandum of a cattle thief!"
+
+Frances drew herself straight. Her imperious chin was as high as Major
+King ever had carried his own in the most self-conscious moment of his
+military career.
+
+"Will you take it to him?" she demanded.
+
+"Certainly not!" returned the major, haughtily emphatic. Then,
+softening a little, "Don't be silly, Frances; what a row you make over
+a scrap of blowing paper!"
+
+"Then I'll take it myself!"
+
+"Miss Landcraft!"
+
+"_Major_ King!"
+
+It was the steel of conventionality against the flint of womanly
+defiance. Major King started in his saddle, as if to reach out and
+restrain her. It was one of those defiantly foolish little things
+which women and men--especially women--do in moments of pique, and
+Frances knew it at the time. But she rode away from the major with a
+hot flush of insubordination in her cheeks, and Alan Macdonald
+quickened from his pensive pose when he saw her coming.
+
+His hand went to his hat when her intention became unmistakable to
+him. She held the little paper out toward him while still a rod away.
+
+"A little Indian girl gave me this; she found it blowing along--they
+tell me you are Mr. Macdonald," she said, her face as serious as his
+own. "I thought it might be a subscription list for a church, or
+something, and that you might want it."
+
+"Thank you, Miss Landcraft," said he, his voice low-modulated, his
+manner easy.
+
+Her face colored at the unexpected way of this man without a coat, who
+spoke her name with the accent of refinement, just as if he had known
+her, and had met her casually upon the way.
+
+"I have seen you a hundred times at the post and the agency," he
+explained, to smooth away her confusion. "I have seen you from afar."
+
+"Oh," said she, as lame as the word was short.
+
+He was scanning the written paper. Now he looked at her, a smile
+waking in his eyes. It moved in slow illumination over his face, but
+did not break his lips, pressed in their stern, strong line. She saw
+that his long hair was light, and that his eyes were gray, with sandy
+brows over them which stood on end at the points nearest his nose,
+from a habit of bending them in concentration, she supposed, as he had
+been doing but a moment before he smiled.
+
+"No, it isn't a church subscription, Miss Landcraft, it's for a
+cemetery," said he.
+
+"Oh," said she again, wondering why she did not go back to Major King,
+whose horse appeared restive, and in need of the spur, which the major
+gave him unfeelingly.
+
+At the same time she noted that Alan Macdonald's forehead was broad
+and deep, for his leather-weighted hat was pushed back from it where
+his fair, straight hair lay thick, and that his bony chin had a little
+croft in it, and that his face was long, and hollowed like a
+student's, and that youth was in his eyes in spite of the experience
+which hardships of unknown kind had written across his face. Not a
+handsome man, but a strong one in his way, whatever that way might
+be.
+
+"I am indebted to you for this," said he, drawing forth his watch with
+a quick movement as he spoke, opening the back cover, folding the
+little paper carefully away in it, "and grateful beyond words."
+
+"Good-bye, Mr. Macdonald," said she, wheeling her horse suddenly,
+smiling back at him as she rode away to Major King.
+
+Alan Macdonald sat with his hat off until she was again at the major's
+side, when he replaced it over his fair hair with slow hand, as if he
+had come from some holy presence. As for Frances, her turn of defiance
+had driven her clouds away. She met the major smiling and radiant, a
+twinkling of mischief in her lively eyes.
+
+The major was a diplomat, as all good soldiers, and some very
+indifferent ones, are. Whatever his dignity and gentler feelings had
+suffered while she was away, he covered the hurt now with a smile.
+
+"And how fares the bandit king this morning?" he inquired.
+
+"He seems to be in spirits," she replied.
+
+The others were out of sight around the buildings where the carcasses
+of beef had been prepared. Nobody but the major knew of Frances'
+little dash out of the conventional, and the knowledge that it was so
+was comfortable in his breast.
+
+"And the pe-apers," said he, in melodramatic whisper, "were they the
+thieves' muster roll?"
+
+"He isn't a thief," said she, with quiet dignity, "he's a gentleman.
+Yes, the paper _was_ important."
+
+"Ha! the plot deepens!" said Major King.
+
+"It was a matter of life and death," said she, with solemn rebuke for
+his levity, speaking a truer word than she was aware.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE RANCHHOUSE BY THE RIVER
+
+
+Saul Chadron had built himself into that house. It was a solid and
+assertive thing of rude importance where it stood in the great plain,
+the river lying flat before it in its low banks like a gray thread
+through the summer green. There was a bold front to the house, and a
+turret with windows, standing like a lighthouse above the sea of
+meadows in which his thousand-numbered cattle fed.
+
+As white as a dove it sat there among the cottonwoods at the
+riverside. A stream of water led into its gardens to gladden them and
+give them life. Years ago, when Chadron's importance was beginning to
+feel itself strong upon its legs, and when Nola was a little thing
+with light curls blowing about her blue eyes, the house had grown up
+under the wand of riches in that barren place.
+
+The post at Fort Shakie had been the nearest neighbor in those days,
+and it remained the nearest neighbor still, with the exception of one
+usurper and outcast homesteader, Alan Macdonald by name, who had
+invaded the land over which Chadron laid his extensive claim. Fifteen
+miles up the river from the grand white house Macdonald had strung his
+barbed wire and carried in the irrigation ditch to his alfalfa field.
+He had chosen the most fertile spot in the vast plain through which
+the river swept, and it was in the heart of Saul Chadron's domain.
+
+After the lordly manner of the cattle "barons," as they were called in
+the Northwest, Chadron set his bounds by mountains and rivers.
+Twenty-five hundred square miles, roughly measured, lay within his
+lines, the Alamito Ranch he called it--the Little Cottonwood. He had
+no more title to that great sweep of land than the next man who might
+come along, and he paid no rental fee to nation nor state for grazing
+his herds upon it. But the cattle barons had so apportioned the land
+between themselves, and Saul Chadron, and each member of the Drovers'
+Association, had the power of their mighty organization to uphold his
+hand. That power was incontestable in the Northwest in its day; there
+was no higher law.
+
+This Alan Macdonald was an unaccountable man, a man of education, it
+was said, which made him doubly dangerous in Saul Chadron's eyes. Saul
+himself had come up from the saddle, and he was not strong on letters,
+but he had seen the power of learning in lawyers' offices, and he
+respected it, and handled it warily, like a loaded gun.
+
+Chadron had sent his cowboys up the river when Macdonald first came,
+and tried to "throw a holy scare into him," as he put it. The old
+formula did not work in the case of the lean, long-jawed, bony-chinned
+man. He was polite, but obdurate, and his quick gray eyes seemed to
+read to their inner process of bluff and bluster as through tissue
+paper before a lamp. When they had tried to flash their guns on him,
+the climax of their play, he had beaten them to it. Two of them were
+carried back to the big ranchhouse in blankets, with bullets through
+their fleshy parts--not fatal wounds, but effective.
+
+The problem of a fighting "nester" was a new one to the cattlemen of
+that country. For twenty years they had kept that state under the
+dominion of the steer, and held its rich agricultural and mineral
+lands undeveloped. The herbage there, curing in the dry suns of summer
+as it stood on the upland plains, provided winter forage for their
+herds. There was no need for man to put his hand to the soil and
+debase himself to a peasant's level when he might live in a king's
+estate by roaming his herds over the untamed land.
+
+Homesteaders who did not know the conditions drifted there on the
+westward-mounting wave, only to be hustled rudely away, or to pay the
+penalty of refusal with their lives. Reasons were not given, rights
+were not pleaded by the lords of many herds. They had the might to
+work their will; that was enough.
+
+So it could be understood what indignation mounted in the breast of
+tough old Saul Chadron when a pigmy homesteader put his firm feet down
+on the ground and refused to move along at his command, and even
+fought back to maintain what he claimed to be his rights. It was an
+unprecedented stand, a dangerous example. But this nester had held out
+for more than two years against his forces, armed by some invisible
+strength, it seemed, guarded against ambuscades and surprises by some
+cunning sense which led him whole and secure about his nefarious
+ways.
+
+Not alone that, but other homesteaders had come and settled near him
+across the river on two other big ranches which cornered there against
+Chadron's own. These nesters drew courage from Macdonald's example,
+and cunning from his counsel, and stood against the warnings,
+persecutions, and attempts at forceful dislodgment. The law of might
+did not seem to apply to them, and there was no other source equal to
+the dignity of the Drovers' Association--at least none to which it
+cared to carry its grievances and air them.
+
+So they cut Alan Macdonald's fences, and other homesteaders' fences,
+in the night and drove a thousand or two cattle across his fields,
+trampling the growing grain and forage into the earth; they persecuted
+him in a score of harassing, quick, and hidden blows. But this
+homesteader was not to be driven away by ordinary means. Nature seemed
+to lend a hand to him, he made crops in spite of the cattlemen, and
+was prospering. He had taken root and appeared determined to remain,
+and the others were taking deep root with him, and the free, wide
+range was coming under the menace of the fence and the lowly plow.
+
+That was the condition of things in those fair autumn days when
+Prances Landcraft returned to the post. The Drovers' Association, and
+especially the president of it, was being defied in that section,
+where probably a hundred homesteaders had settled with their families
+of long-backed sons and daughters. They were but a speck on the land
+yet, as Chadron had told the smoky stranger when he had engaged him to
+try his hand at throwing the "holy scare." But they spread far over
+the upland plain, having sought the most favored spots, and they were
+a blight and a pest in the eyes of the cattlemen.
+
+Nola had flitted back to the ranchhouse, carrying Frances with her to
+bring down the curtain on her summer's festivities there in one last
+burst of joy. The event was to be a masquerade, and everybody from the
+post was coming, together with the few from Meander who had polish
+enough to float them, like new needles in a glass of water, through
+frontier society's depths. Some were coming from Cheyenne, also, and
+the big house was dressed for them, even to the bank of palms to
+conceal the musicians, in the polite way that society has of standing
+something in front of what it cannot well dispense with, yet of which
+it appears to be ashamed.
+
+It was the afternoon of the festal day, and Nola sighed happily as she
+stood with Frances in the ballroom, surveying the perfection of every
+detail. Money could do things away off there in that corner of the
+world as well as it could do them in Omaha or elsewhere. Saul Chadron
+had hothouses in which even oranges and pineapples grew.
+
+Mrs. Chadron was in the living-room, with its big fireplace and homely
+things, when they came chattering out of the enchanted place. She was
+sitting by the window which gave her a view of the dim gray road where
+it came over the grassy swells from Meander and the world, knitting a
+large blue sock.
+
+Mrs. Chadron was a cow-woman of the unimproved school. She was a heavy
+feeder on solids, and she liked plenty of chili peppers in them, which
+combination gave her a waist and a ruddiness of face like a brewer.
+But she was a good woman in her fashion, which was narrow, and
+intolerant of all things which did not wear hoofs and horns, or live
+and grow mighty from the proceeds of them. She never had expanded
+mentally to fit the large place that Saul had made for her in the
+world of cattle, although her struggle had been both painful and
+sincere.
+
+Now she had given it up, and dismissed the troubles of high life from
+her fat little head, leaving Nola to stand in the door and do the
+honors with credit to the entire family. She had settled down to her
+roasts and hot condiments, her knitting and her afternoon naps, as
+contentedly as an old cat with a singed back under a kitchen stove.
+She had no desire to go back to the winter home in Cheyenne, with its
+grandeur, its Chinese cook, and furniture that she was afraid to use.
+There was no satisfaction in that place for Mrs. Chadron, beyond the
+swelling pride of ownership. For comfort, peace, and a mind at ease,
+give her the ranchhouse by the river, where she could set her hand to
+a dish if she wanted to, no one thinking it amiss.
+
+"Well, I declare! if here don't come Banjo Gibson," said she, her hand
+on the curtain, her red face near the pane like a beacon to welcome
+the coming guest. There was pleasure in her voice, and anticipation.
+The blue sock slid from her lap to the floor, forgotten.
+
+"Yes, it's Banjo," said Nola. "I wonder where he's been all summer? I
+haven't seen him in an age."
+
+"Who is he?" Frances inquired, looking out at the approaching figure,
+
+"The troubadour of the North Platte, I call him," laughed Nola; "the
+queerest little traveling musician in a thousand miles. He belongs
+back in the days of romance, when men like him went playing from
+castle to court--the last one of his kind."
+
+Frances watched him with new interest as he drew up to the big gate,
+which was arranged with weights and levers so that a horseman could
+open and close it without leaving the saddle. The troubadour rode a
+mustang the color of a dry chili pepper, but with none of its spirit.
+It came in with drooping head, the reins lying untouched on its neck,
+its mane and forelock platted and adorned fantastically with
+vari-colored ribbons. Rosettes were on the bridle, a fringe of leather
+thongs along the reins.
+
+The musician himself was scarcely less remarkably than the horse. He
+looked at that distance--now being at the gate--to be a dry little man
+of middle age, with a thirsty look about his throat, which was long,
+with a lump in it like an elbow. He was a slender man and short, with
+gloves on his hands, a slight sandy mustache on his lip, and wearing a
+dun-colored hat tilted a little to one side, showing a waviness almost
+curly in his glistening black hair. He carried a violin case behind
+his saddle, and a banjo in a green covering slung like a carbine over
+his shoulder.
+
+"He'll know where to put his horse," said Mrs. Chadron, getting up
+with a new interest in life, "and I'll just go and have Maggie stir
+him up a bite to eat and warm the coffee. He's always hungry when he
+comes anywhere, poor little man!"
+
+"Can he play that battery of instruments?" Prances asked.
+
+"Wait till you hear him," nodded Nola, a laugh in her merry eyes.
+
+Then they fell to talking of the coming night, and of the trivial
+things which are so much to youth, and to watching along the road
+toward Meander for the expected guests from Cheyenne, who were to come
+up on the afternoon train.
+
+Regaled at length, Banjo Gibson, in the wake of Mrs. Chadron, who
+presented him with pride, came into the room where the young ladies
+waited with impatience the waning of the daylight hours. Banjo
+acknowledged the honor of meeting Miss Landcraft with extravagant
+words, which had the flavor of a manual of politeness and a ready
+letter-writer in them. He was on more natural terms with Nola, having
+known her since childhood, and he called her "Miss Nola," and held her
+hand with a tender lingering.
+
+His voice was full and rich, a deep, soft note in it like a rare
+instrument in tune. His small feet were shod in the shiningest of
+shoes, which he had given a furbishing in the barn, and a flowing
+cravat tied in a large bow adorned his low collar. There were stripes
+in the musician's shirt like a Persian tent, but it was as clean and
+unwrinkled as if he had that moment put it on.
+
+Banjo Gibson--if he had any other christened name, it was unknown to
+men--was an original. As Nola had said, he belonged back a few hundred
+years, when musical proficiency was not so common as now. The
+profession was not crowded in that country, happily, and Banjo
+traveled from ranch to ranch carrying cheer and entertainment with him
+as he passed.
+
+He had been doing that for years, having worked his way westward from
+Nebraska with the big cattle ranches, and his art was his living.
+Banjo's arrival at a ranch usually resulted in a dance, for which he
+supplied the music, and received such compensation as the generosity
+of the host might fix. Banjo never quarreled over such matters. All he
+needed was enough to buy cigarettes and shirts.
+
+Banjo seldom played in company with any other musician, owing to
+certain limitations, which he raised to distinguishing virtues. He
+played by "air," as he said, despising the unproficiency of all such
+as had need of looking on a book while they fiddled. Knowing nothing
+of transposition, he was obliged to tune his banjo--on those rare
+occasions when he stooped to play "second" at a dance--in the key of
+each fresh tune. This was hard on the strings, as well as on the
+patience of the player, and Banjo liked best to go it single-handed
+and alone.
+
+When he heard that musicians were coming from Cheyenne--a day's
+journey by train--to play for Nola's ball, his face told that he was
+hurt, but his respect of hospitality curbed his words. He knew that
+there was one appreciative ear in the mansion by the river that no
+amount of "dago fiddlin'" ever would charm and satisfy like his own
+voice with the banjo, or his little brown fiddle when it gave out the
+old foot-warming tunes. Mrs. Chadron was his champion in all company,
+and his friend in all places.
+
+"Well, sakes alive! Banjo, I'm as tickled to see you as if you was one
+of my own folks," she declared, her face as warm as if she had just
+gorged on the hottest of hot dishes which her Mexican cook, Maggie,
+could devise.
+
+"I'm glad to be able to make it around ag'in, thank you, mom," Banjo
+assured her, sentiment and soul behind the simple words. "I always
+carry a warm place in my heart for Alamito wherever I may stray."
+
+Nola frisked around and took the banjo from its green cover, talking
+all the time, pushing and placing chairs, and settling Banjo in a
+comfortable place. Then she armed him with the instrument, making
+quite a ceremony of it, and asked him to play.
+
+Banjo twanged the instrument into tune, hooked the toe of his left
+foot behind the forward leg of his chair, and struck up a song which
+he judged would please the young ladies. Of Mrs. Chadron he was sure;
+she had laughed over it a hundred times. It was about an adventure
+which the bard had shared with his gal in a place designated in
+Banjo's uncertain vocabulary as "the big cook-quari-um." It began:
+
+    Oh-h-h, I stopped at a big cook-quari-um
+      Not very long ago,
+    To see the bass and suckers
+      And hear the white whale blow.
+
+The chorus of it ran:
+
+    Oh-h-h-h, the big sea-line he howled and he growled,
+      The seal beat time on a drum;
+    The whale he swallered a den-vereel
+      In the big cook-quari-um.
+
+From that one Banjo passed to "The Cowboy's Lament," and from tragedy
+to love. There could be nothing more moving--if not in one direction,
+then in another--than the sentimental expression of Banjo's little
+sandy face as he sang:
+
+    I know you were once my true-lov-o-o-o,
+      But such a thing it has an aind;
+    My love and my transpo'ts are ov-o-o-o,
+      But you may still be my fraind-d-d.
+
+Sundown was rosy behind the distant mountains, a sea of purple shadows
+laved their nearer feet, when Banjo got out his fiddle at Mrs.
+Chadron's request and sang her "favorite" along with the moving tones
+of that instrument.
+
+    Dau-ling I am growing-a o-o-eld,
+    Seel-vo threads a-mong tho go-o-ld--
+
+As he sang, Nola slipped from the room. He was finishing when she sped
+by the window and came sparkling into the room with the announcement
+that the guests from far Cheyenne were coming. Frances was up in
+excitement; Mrs. Chadron searched the floor for her unfinished sock.
+
+"What was that flashed a-past the winder like a streak a minute ago?"
+Banjo inquired.
+
+"Flashed by the window?" Nola repeated, puzzled.
+
+Frances laughed, the two girls stopping in the door, merriment
+gleaming from their young faces like rays from iridescent gems.
+
+"Why, that was Nola," Frances told him, curious to learn what the
+sentimental eyes of the little musician foretold.
+
+"I thought it was a star from the sky," said Banjo, sighing softly,
+like a falling leaf.
+
+As they waited at the gate to welcome the guests, who were cantering
+up with a curtain of dust behind them, they laughed over Banjo's
+compliment.
+
+"I knew there was something behind those eyes," said Frances.
+
+"No telling how long he's been saving it for a chance to work it off
+on somebody," Nola said. "He got it out of a book--the Mexicans all
+have them, full of _brindies_, what we call toasts, and silly soft
+compliments like that."
+
+"I've seen them, little red books that they give for premiums with the
+Mexican papers down in Texas," Frances nodded, "but Banjo didn't get
+that out of a book--it was spontaneous."
+
+"I must write it down, and compare it with the next time he gets it
+off."
+
+"Give him credit for the way he delivered it, no matter where he got
+it," Frances laughed. "Many a more sophisticated man than your desert
+troubadour would have broken his neck over that. He's in love with
+you, Nola--didn't you hear him sigh?"
+
+"Oh, he has been ever since I was old enough to take notice of it,"
+returned Nola, lightly.
+
+"Oh, my luv's like a falling star," paraphrased Frances.
+
+"Not much!" Nola denied, more than half serious. "Venus is ascendant;
+you keep your eye on her and see."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE MAN IN THE PLAID
+
+
+There was no mistaking the assiduity with which Major King waited upon
+Nola Chadron that night at the ball, any more than there was a chance
+for doubt of that lively little lady's identity. He sought her at the
+first, and hung by her side through many dances, and promenaded her in
+the garden walks where Japanese lanterns glimmered dimly in the soft
+September night, with all the close attention of a farrier cooling a
+valuable horse.
+
+Perhaps it was punishment--or meant to be--for the insubordination of
+Frances Landcraft in speaking to the outlawed Alan Macdonald on last
+beef day. If so, it was systematically and faithfully administered.
+
+Nola was dressed like a cowgirl. Not that there were any cowgirls in
+that part of the country, or anywhere else, who dressed that way,
+except at the Pioneer Week celebration at Cheyenne, and in the
+romantic dramas of the West. But she was so attired, perhaps for the
+advantage the short skirt gave her handsome ankles--and something in
+silk stockings which approached them in tapering grace.
+
+She was improving her hour, whether out of exuberant mischief or in
+deadly earnest the ladies from the post were puzzled to understand,
+and if headway toward the already pledged heart of Major King was any
+indication of it, her star was indeed ascendant.
+
+Frances Landcraft appeared at the ball as an Arabian lady, meaning in
+her own interpretation of the masking to stand as a representation of
+the "Thou," who is endearingly and importantly capitalized in the
+verses of the ancient singer made famous by Irish-English Fitzgerald.
+Her disguise was sufficient, only that her hair was so richly
+assertive. There was not any like it in the cattle country; very
+little like it anywhere. It was a telltale, precious possession, and
+Major King never could have made good a plea of hidden identity
+against it in this world.
+
+Frances had consolation enough for his alienation and absence from her
+side if numbers could compensate for the withdrawal of the fealty of
+one. She distributed her favors with such judicial fairness that the
+tongue of gossip could not find a breach. At least until the tall
+Scotsman appeared, with his defiant red hair and a feather in his
+bonnet, his plaid fastened across his shoulder with a golden clasp.
+
+Nobody knew when he arrived, or whence. He spoke to none as he walked
+in grave stateliness among the merry groups, acknowledging bold
+challenges and gay banterings only with a bow. The ladies from the
+post had their guesses as to who he might be, and laid cunning little
+traps to provoke him into betrayal through his voice. As cunningly he
+evaded
+
+them, with unsmiling courtesy, his steady gray eyes only seeming to
+laugh at them behind his green mask.
+
+Frances had finished a dance with a Robin Hood--the slender one in
+billiard-cloth green--there being no fewer than four of them,
+variously rounded, diversely clad, when the Scot approached her where
+she stood with her gallant near the musicians' brake of palms.
+
+    A flask of wine, a book of verse--and Thou
+    Beside me singing in the wilderness--
+
+said the tall Highlandman, bending over her shoulder, his words low in
+her ear. "Only I could be happy without the wine," he added, as she
+faced him in quick surprise.
+
+"Your penetration deserves a reward--you are the first to guess it,"
+said she.
+
+"Three dances, no less," said he, like a usurer demanding his toll.
+
+He offered his arm, and straightway bore her off from the astonished
+Robin Hood, who stood staring after them, believing, perhaps, that he
+was the victim of some prearranged plan.
+
+The spirit of his free ancestors seemed to be in the lithe, tall
+Highlander's feet. There was no dancer equal to him in that room. A
+thistle on the wind was not lighter, nor a wheeling swallow more
+graceful in its flight.
+
+Many others stopped their dancing to watch that pair; whisperings ran
+round like electrical conjectures. Nola steered Major King near the
+whirling couple, and even tried to maneuver a collision, which
+failed.
+
+"Who is that dancing with Frances Landcraft?" she breathed in the
+major's ear.
+
+"I didn't know it was Miss Landcraft," he replied, although he knew it
+very well, and resolved to find out who the Scotsman was, speedily and
+completely.
+
+"My enchanted hour will soon pass," said the Scot, when that dance was
+done, "and I have been looking the world over for you."
+
+"Dancing all the way?" she asked him lightly.
+
+"Far from it," he answered, his voice still muffled and low.
+
+They were standing withdrawn a little from the press in the room after
+their second dance, when Major King came by. The major was a cavalier
+in drooping hat, with white satin cape, and sword by his side, and
+well enough known to all his friends in spite of the little spat of
+mustache and beard. As the major passed he jostled the Scot with his
+shoulder with a rudeness openly intentional.
+
+The major turned, and spoke an apology. Frances felt the Highlander's
+muscles swell suddenly where her hand lay on his arm, but whatever had
+sprung into his mind he repressed, and acknowledged the major's
+apology with a lofty nod.
+
+The music for another dance was beginning, and couples were whirling
+out upon the floor.
+
+"I don't care to dance again just now, delightfully as you carry a
+clumsy one like me through--"
+
+"A self-disparagement, even, can't stand unchallenged," he interrupted.
+
+"Mr. Macdonald," she whispered, "your wig is awry."
+
+They were near the door opening to the illumined garden, with its late
+roses, now at their best, and hydrangea clumps plumed in foggy bloom.
+They stepped out of the swirl of the dance like particles thrown from
+a wheel, not missed that moment even by those interested in keeping
+them in sight.
+
+"You knew me!" said he, triumphantly glad, as they entered the
+garden's comparative gloom.
+
+"At the first word," said she.
+
+"I came here in the hope that you would know me, and you alone--I came
+with my heart full of that hope, and you knew me at the first word!"
+
+There was not so much marvel as satisfaction, even pride for her
+penetration, in it.
+
+"Somebody else may have recognized you, too--that man who brushed
+against you--"
+
+"He's one of your officers."
+
+"I know--Major King. Do you know him?"
+
+"No, and he doesn't know me. He can have no interest in me at all."
+
+"Very well; set your beautiful red wig straight and then tell me why
+you wanted to come here among your enemies. It seems to me a hardy
+challenge, a most unnecessary risk."
+
+"No risk is unnecessary that brings me to you," he said, his voice
+trembling in earnestness. "I dared to come because I hoped to meet you
+on equal ground."
+
+"You're a bold man--in more ways than one." She shook her head as in
+rebuke of his temerity.
+
+"But you don't believe I'm a thief," said he, conclusively.
+
+"No; I have made public denial of it." She laughed lightly, but a
+little nervously, an uneasiness over her that she could not define.
+
+"An angel has risen to plead for Alan Macdonald, then!"
+
+"Why should you need anybody to plead for you if there's no truth in
+their charges? What is a man like you doing in this wild place,
+wasting his life in a land where he isn't wanted?"
+
+They had turned into a path that branched beyond the lanterns. The
+white gravel from the river bars with which it was paved glimmered
+among the shadowy shrubs. Macdonald unclasped his plaid from his
+shoulders and transferred it to hers. She drew it round her, wrapping
+her arms in it like a squaw, for the wind was coming chill from the
+mountains now.
+
+"It is soon said," he answered, quite willingly. "I am not hiding
+under any other man's name--the one they call me by here is my own. I
+was a 'son of a family,' as they say in Mexico, and looked for
+distinction, if not glory, in the diplomatic service. Four years I
+grubbed, an under secretary in the legation at Mexico City, then
+served three more as consul at Valparaiso. An engineer who helped put
+the railroad through this country told me about it down there when the
+rust of my inactive life was beginning to canker my body and brain. I
+threw up my chance for diplomatic distinction and came off up here
+looking for life and adventure, and maybe a copper mine. I didn't find
+the mine, but I've had some fun with the other two. Sometimes I'd like
+to lose the adventure part of it now--it gets tiresome to be hunted,
+after a while."
+
+"What else?" she asked, after a little, seeing that he walked slowly,
+his head up, his eyes far away on the purple distances of the night,
+as if he read a dream.
+
+"I settled in this valley quite innocently, as others have done,
+before and after me, not knowing conditions. You've heard it said that
+I'm a rustler--"
+
+"King of the rustlers," she corrected.
+
+"Yes, even that. But I am not a rustler. Everybody up here is a
+rustler, Miss Landcraft, who doesn't belong to, or work for, the
+Drovers' Association. They can't oust us by merely charging us with
+homesteading government land, for that hasn't been made a statutory
+crime yet. They have to make some sort of a charge against us to give
+the color of justification to the crimes they practice on us, and
+rustler is the worst one in the cattlemen's dictionary. It stands
+ahead of murder and arson in this country. I'm not saying there are no
+rustlers around the edges of these big ranches, for there are some.
+But if there are any among the settlers up our way we don't know
+it--and I think we'd pretty soon find out."
+
+They turned and walked back toward the house.
+
+"I don't see why you should trouble about it; this plainly isn't your
+place," she said.
+
+"First, I refused to be driven out by Chadron and the rest because the
+thing got on my mettle. I knew that I was right, and that they were
+simply stealing the public domain. Then, as I hung on, it became
+apparent that there was a man's work cut out for somebody up here.
+I've taken the ready-made job."
+
+"Tell me about it."
+
+"There's a monstrous injustice being practiced, systematically and
+cruelly, against thousands of homeless people who come to this country
+in innocent hope every year. They come here believing it's the great
+big open-handed West they've heard so much about, carrying everything
+with them that they own. They cut the strings that hold them to the
+things they know when they face this way, and when they try to settle
+on the land that is their inheritance, this copper-bottomed
+combination of stockmen drives them out. If they don't go, they shoot
+them. You've heard of it."
+
+"Not just that way," said she, thoughtfully.
+
+"No, they never shoot anybody but a rustler, the way the world hears
+of it," said he, in resentment. "But they'll hear another story on the
+outside one of these days. I'm in this fight up to the eyes to break
+the back of this infernal combination that's choking this state to
+death. It's the first time in my life that I ever laid my hand to
+anything for anybody but myself, and I'm going to see it through to
+daylight."
+
+"But there must be millions behind the cattlemen, Mr. Macdonald."
+
+"There are. It seems just about hopeless that a handful of ragged
+homesteaders ever can make a stand against them. But they're usurping
+the public domain, and they'll overreach themselves one of these days.
+Chadron has title to this homestead, but that's every inch of land
+that he's got a legal right over. In spite of that, he lays the claim
+of ownership to the land fifteen miles north of here, where I've
+nested. He's been telling me for more than two years that I must clear
+out."
+
+"You could give it up, and go back to your work among men, where it
+would count," she said.
+
+"There are things here that count. I couldn't put a state on the
+map--an industrial and progressive one, I mean--back home in
+Washington, or sitting with my feet on the desk in some sleepy
+consulate. And I'm going to put this state on the map where it
+belongs. That's the job that's cut out for me here, Miss Landcraft."
+
+He said it without boast, but with such a stubborn note of determination
+that she felt something lift within her, raising her to the plane of
+his aspirations. She knew that Alan Macdonald was right about it,
+although the thing that he would do was still dim in her perception.
+
+"Even then, I don't see what a ranch away off up here from anywhere
+ever will be worth to you, especially when the post is abandoned. You
+know the department is going to give it up?"
+
+"And then you--" he began in consternation, checking himself to add,
+slowly, "no, I didn't know that."
+
+"Perhaps in a year."
+
+"It can't make much difference in the value of land up this valley,
+though," he mused. "When the railroad comes on through--and that will
+be as soon as we break the strangle hold of Chadron and men like
+him--this country will develop overnight. There's petroleum under the
+land up where I am, lying shallow, too. That will be worth something
+then."
+
+The music of an old-style dance was being played. Now the piping
+cowboy voice of some range cavalier rose, calling the figures. The two
+in the garden path turned with one accord and faced away from the
+bright windows again.
+
+"They'll be unmasking at midnight?" he asked.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I'm afraid I can't go in again, then. The hour of my enchantment is
+nearly at its end."
+
+"You shouldn't have come," she chided, yet not in severity, rather in
+subdued admiration for his reckless bravery. "Suppose they--"
+
+"Mac! O Mac!" called a cautious, low voice from a hydrangea bush close
+at hand.
+
+"Who's there?" demanded Macdonald, springing forward.
+
+"They're onto you, Mac," answered the voice from the shrub, "they're
+goin' to do you hurt. They're lookin' for you now!"
+
+There was a little rustling in the leaves as the unseen friend moved
+away. The voice was the voice of Banjo Gibson, but not even the shadow
+of the messenger had been seen.
+
+"You should have gone before--hurry!" she whispered in alarm.
+
+"Never mind. It was a risk, and I took it, and I'd take it again
+tomorrow. It gave me these minutes with you, it was worth--"
+
+"You must go! Where's your horse?"
+
+"Down by the river in the willows. I can get to him, all right."
+
+"They may come any minute, they--"
+
+"No, they're dancing yet. I expected they'd find me out; they know me
+too well. I'll get a start of them, before they even know I'm gone."
+
+"They may be waiting farther on--why don't you go--go! There--listen!
+
+"They're saddling," he whispered, as low sounds of haste came from the
+barnyard corral.
+
+"Go--quick!" she urged, flinging his plaid across his arm.
+
+"I'm going--in one moment more. Miss Landcraft, I'll ride away from
+you tonight perhaps never to see you again, and if I speak impetuously
+before I leave you, forgive me before you hear the words--they'll not
+hurt you--I don't believe they'll shame you."
+
+"Don't say anything more, Mr. Macdonald--even this delay may cost your
+life!"
+
+"They'll kill me if they can; they've tried it more than once. I never
+know when I ride away whether I'll ever return. It isn't a new
+experience, just a little graver than usual--only that. I came here
+tonight because I--I came to--in the hope--" he stammered, putting out
+his hands as if supplicating her to understand, his plaid falling to
+the ground.
+
+"Go!" she whispered, her hand on his arm in appeal, standing near him,
+dangerously near.
+
+"I've got a right to love you--I've got a right!" he said, the torrent
+of his passion leaping all curbing obstacles of delicacy, confusion,
+fear. He flung the words from him in wild vehemence, as if they eased
+a pang.
+
+"No--no, you have no right! you--"
+
+"I'll leave you in a minute, Frances, without the expectation of ever
+seeing you again--only with the hope. It's mine to love you, mine to
+have you if I come through this night. If you're pledged to another
+man it can't be because you love him, and I'll tear the right away
+from him--if I come through this night!"
+
+He spoke rapidly, bending so near that his breath moved the hair on
+her temple. She stood with arms half lifted, her hands clenched, her
+breath laboring in her bosom. She did not know that love--she had not
+known that love--could spring up that way, and rage like a flame
+before a wind.
+
+"If you're pledged to another man, then I'll defy him, man to man--I
+do defy him, I challenge him!"
+
+As he spoke he stooped, suddenly, like a wind-bent flame, clasped her,
+kissed her, held her enfolded in his arms one moment against his
+breast. He released her then, and stepped back, standing tall and
+silent, as if he waited for her blast of scorn. It did not come. She
+was standing with hands pressed to her face, as if to cover some shame
+or sorrow, or ease the throbbing of a soul-deep pain.
+
+The sound of men and horses came from the corral. He stood, waiting
+for judgment.
+
+"Go now," she said, in a sad, small voice.
+
+"Give me a token to carry away, to tell me I have not broken my golden
+hope," he said.
+
+"No, I'll give you nothing!" she declared, with the sharpness of one
+wronged, and helpless of redress. "You have taken too much--you have
+taken--"
+
+"What?" he asked, as if he exulted in what he heard, his blood singing
+in his ears.
+
+"Oh, go--go!" she moaned, stripping off one long white glove and
+throwing it to him.
+
+He caught it, and pressed it to his lips; then snatching off his
+bonnet, hid it there, and bent among the shrubbery and was gone, as
+swiftly and silently as a wolf. Frances flew to the house and up the
+stairs to her room. There she threw up the window and sat panting in
+it, straining, listening, for sounds from the river road.
+
+From below the voices of the revelers came, and the laughter over the
+secrets half-guessed before masks were snatched away around the
+banquet table. There was a dash of galloping hoofs from the corral,
+the clatter of the closing gate. The sound grew dimmer, was lost, in
+the sand of the hoof-cut trail.
+
+After a little, a shot! two! a silence; three! and one as if in reply.
+Frances slipped to her knees beside the open window, a sob as bitter
+as the pang of death rising from her breast. She prayed that Alan
+Macdonald might ride fast, and that the vindictive hands of his
+enemies might be unsteady that night by the gray riverside.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+IF HE WAS A GENTLEMAN
+
+
+"Don't you think we'd better drop it now, Frances, and be good?"
+
+Major King reined his horse near hers as he spoke, and laid his hand
+on the pommel of her saddle as if he expected to meet other fingers
+there.
+
+"You puzzle me, Major King," she returned, not willing to understand.
+
+They were bringing up the rear of the tired procession which was
+returning to the post from the ball. Already the east was quickening.
+The stars near the horizon were growing pale; the morning wind was
+moving, with a warmth in it from the low places, like a tide toward
+the mountains.
+
+"Oh, I mean this play acting of estrangement," said he, impatiently.
+"Let's forget it--it doesn't carry naturally with either you or me."
+
+"Why, Major King!" Her voice was lively with mild surprise; she was
+looking at him as if for verification of his words. Then, slowly: "I
+hadn't thought of any estrangement, I hadn't intended to bring you to
+task for one flirtatious night. Be sure, sir, if it has given you
+pleasure, it has brought me no pain."
+
+"You began it," said he, petulantly. It is almost unbelievable how
+boyishly silly a full-grown man can be.
+
+"I began it, Major King? It's too early in the morning for a joke!"
+
+"You were wilful and contrary; you would speak to the fellow that
+day."
+
+"Oh!" deprecatingly.
+
+"Never mind it, though. Wilfulness doesn't become either of us,
+Frances. I've tried my turn at it tonight, and it has left me cold."
+
+"Poor man!" said she, in low voice, like a sigh. Perhaps it was not
+all for Major King; perhaps not all assumed.
+
+"Let's not quarrel, Frances."
+
+"Not now, I'm too tired for a real good one. Leave it for tomorrow."
+
+He rode on in silence, not sure, maybe, how much of it she meant.
+Covertly she looked at him now and then, thinking better of him for
+his ingenuous confession of failure to warm himself at little Nola
+Chadron's heart-flame. She extended her hand.
+
+"Forgive me, Major King," she said, very softly, not far removed,
+indeed, from tenderness.
+
+For a little while Major King left his horse to keep the road its own
+way, his cavalry hands quite regardless of manuals, regulations, and
+military airs. Both of them were enfolding her one. He might have held
+it until they reached the post, but that she drew it away.
+
+There were some qualms of uneasiness in her breast that hour, some
+upbraidings of conscience for treason to Major King, of whom she had
+been girlishly fond, girlishly proud, womanly selfish. That quick,
+wild scene in the garden was not to be put away for all those
+arraignments of her honest heart, although it seemed impossible,
+recalled there in the thin hours of that long and eventful night, like
+something remembered of another, not of herself.
+
+Her cheeks grew hot, her heart leaped again, at the recollection of
+that strong man's wild, bold words, his defiant kiss upon her lips.
+She had yielded them in the recklessness of that moment, in the force
+of his all-carrying demand, when she might have denied them, or sped
+away from him, as innocence is believed to know from instinct when to
+fly from a destructive lure.
+
+Closing her eyes against the gray-creeping morning, she saw him again,
+standing that moment with her glove to his lips; saw him bend and
+speed away, the cunning of his hunted ancestors in his swift feet and
+self-eliminating form. A wild fear struck her, a cold dread fell like
+ashes into her heart, as she wondered how well he had ridden that
+night, and how far.
+
+Perhaps he was lying in his blood that hour, never to come back to her
+again. Yet, why should it matter so much to her? Only that it was a
+gallant life gone out, whatever its faults had been; only the interest
+that she might have in any man who had danced with her, and told her
+his story, and spoken of his designs. So she said, confessing with the
+same breath that it was a poor, self-deluding lie.
+
+Back again in her home at the post, the day awake around her, reveille
+sounding in the barracks, she turned the key in her door as if to shut
+the secret in with her, and bent beneath the strain of her long
+suspense. She no longer tried to conceal, or to deny to her own heart,
+the love she bore that man, which had come so suddenly, and so
+fiercely sweet.
+
+No longer past than the evening before her heart had ached with
+jealous pain over the little triumph that Nola Chadron had thought she
+was making of Major King. Now Nola might have Major King, and all the
+world beside that her little head might covet. There was no
+reservation in the surrender that she made of him in her conscience,
+no regret.
+
+She reproached herself for it in one breath, and glowed with a strange
+new gladness the next, clasping the great secret fearfully in her
+breast, in the world-old delusion that she had come into possession of
+a treasure uniquely and singularly her own. One thing she understood
+plainly now; she never had loved Major King. What a revolution it was
+to overturn a life's plans thus in a single night! thought she.
+
+How easily we are astounded by the eruptions in our own affairs, and
+how disciplined in the end to find that the foundations of the world
+have withstood the shock!
+
+Chadron himself had not gone out after Macdonald. He had been merry
+among his guests long after the shots had sounded up the river.
+Frances believed that the old man had put the matter into the hands of
+his cowboys and ranch foreman, having no sons, no near male relatives
+of his own in that place. She did not know how many had gone in
+pursuit of Macdonald, but several horses were in the party which rode
+out of the gate. None had returned, she was certain, at the time the
+party dispersed. The chase must have led them far.
+
+There was no way of knowing what the result of that race had been. If
+he had escaped, Frances believed that he would let her know in some
+way; if he had fallen, she knew that the news of his death, important
+as it would be to Chadron, would fly as if it had wings. There was
+nothing to do but wait, and in any event hide away that warm sweet
+thing that had unfolded in beautiful florescence in her soul.
+
+She told herself that he must have escaped, or the pursuers would have
+returned long before the party from the post left the Chadron house.
+He had led them a long ride in his daring way, and doubtless was
+laughing at them now in his own house, among his friends. She wondered
+what his surroundings were, and what his life was like on that ranch
+for which he risked it. In the midst of this speculation she fell
+asleep, and lay wearily in dreamless repose for many hours.
+
+Sleep is a marvelous clarifier of the mind. It is like the saleratus
+which the pioneers used to cast into their barrels of Missouri River
+water, to precipitate the silt and make it clear. Frances rose out of
+her sleep with readjusted reasoning; in fear, and in doubt.
+
+She was shocked by the surrender that she had made to that unknown
+man. Perhaps he was nothing more than a thief, as charged, and this
+story fixing his identification had been only a fabrication. An honest
+man would have had no necessity for such haste, such wild insistence
+of his right to love her. It seemed, in the light of due reflection,
+the rude way of an outlawed hand.
+
+Then there came the soft pleading of something deeper to answer for
+Alan Macdonald, and to justify his rash deed. He had risked life to
+see her and set himself right in her eyes, and he had doubled the risk
+in standing there in the garden, defiantly proud, unbent, and
+unrepentant, refusing to leave her without some favor to carry away.
+
+There was only a sigh to answer it, after all; only a hope that time
+would bring her neither shame nor regret for that romantic passage in
+the dusky garden path. That she had neither shame nor regret in that
+hour was her sweetest consolation. More, she was comfortable in the
+security that the secret of that swift interlude was her own. Honest
+man or thief, Alan Macdonald was not the man to speak of that.
+
+Frances was surprised to find that she had slept into the middle of
+the afternoon. Major King had called an hour ago, with inquiries, the
+maid reported. There! that must be the major's ring again--she hoped
+she might know it by this time, indeed. In case it was the major,
+would miss--
+
+Yes; miss would see him. Ask him to wait. The maid's ear was true; it
+was the major's ring. She came bounding upstairs to report on it, her
+breath short, her eyes big.
+
+"Oh, miss! I think something must 'a' happened to him, he looks all
+shook!" she said.
+
+"Nonsense!" said Frances, a little flutter of apprehension,
+indefinable, cold, passing through her nerves in spite of her bearing
+and calm face.
+
+Major King had remained standing, waiting her. He was handsome and
+trim in his uniform, dark-eyed, healthy-skinned, full of the vigor of
+his young manhood. The major's face was pale, his carriage stiff and
+severe. He appeared as if something might have happened to him,
+indeed, or to somebody in whom he was deeply concerned.
+
+Frances knew that her face was a picture of the worriment and
+straining of her past night, for it was a treacherous mirror of her
+soul. She smiled as she made a little pause in the reception-room
+door. Major King bowed, with formal, almost official, dignity. His
+hand was in the bosom of his coat, and he drew it forth with something
+white in it as she approached.
+
+"I'm dreadfully indolent to belong to a soldiering family, Major
+King," she said, offering her hand in greeting.
+
+"Permit me," said he, placing the folded white thing in her
+outstretched fingers.
+
+"What is it? Not--it isn't--" she stammered, something deeper than
+surprise, than foreboding, in her eyes and colorless cheeks.
+
+"Unmistakably yours," he said; "your name is stamped in it."
+
+"It must be," she owned, her spirits sinking low, her breath weak
+between her lips. "Thank you, Major King."
+
+The glove was soiled with earth-marks; it was wrinkled and drawn, as
+if it had come back to her through conflict and tragedy. She rolled it
+deliberately, in a compact little wad, her fingers as cold as her hope
+for the life of the man who had borne it away. She knew that Major
+King was waiting for a word; she was conscious of his stern eyes upon
+her face. But she did not speak. As far as Major King's part in it
+went, the matter was at an end.
+
+"Miss Landcraft, I am waiting."
+
+Major King spoke with imperious suggestion. She started, and looked
+toward him quickly, a question in her eyes.
+
+"I sha'n't keep you then," she returned, her words little more than a
+whisper.
+
+"Don't try to read a misunderstanding into my words," said he, his
+voice shaking. Then he seemed to break his stiff, controlled pose as
+if it had been a coating of ice, and expand into a trembling,
+white-hot man in a moment. "God's name, girl! Say something, say
+something! You know where that glove was found?"
+
+"No; and I shall not ask you, Major King."
+
+"But I demand of you to know how it came in that man's possession!
+Tell me that--tell me!"
+
+He stood before her, very near to her. His hands were shaking, his
+eyes gleaming with fury.
+
+"I might ask you with as much reason how it came in yours," she told
+him, resentful of his angry demand.
+
+"A messenger arrived with it an hour ago."
+
+"For you, Major King?"
+
+"For me, certainly."
+
+She had no need to ask him whence the messenger came. She could see
+the horsemen returning to the ranchhouse by the river in the gray
+morning light, in the triumph of their successful hunt. Alan Macdonald
+had fallen. It had been Nola's hand that had dispatched this evidence
+of what she could but guess to be the disloyalty of Frances to her
+betrothed. If Nola had hoped to make a case with the major, Frances
+felt she had succeeded better than she knew.
+
+"Then there is nothing more to be said, Major King," said she, after a
+little wait.
+
+"There is much more," he insisted. "Tell me that he snatched the glove
+from you, tell me that you lost it--tell me anything, and I'll believe
+you--but tell me something!"
+
+"There is nothing to tell you," said she, resentful of the meddling of
+Nola Chadron, which his own light conduct with her had in a manner
+justified.
+
+"Then I can only imagine the truth," he told her, bitterly. "But
+surely you didn't give him the glove, surely you cannot love that wolf
+of the range, that cattle thief, that murderer!"
+
+"You have no right to ask me that," she said, flashing with
+resentment.
+
+"I have a right to ask you that, to ask you more; not only to ask, but
+to demand. And you must answer. You forget that you are my affianced
+wife."
+
+"But you are not my confessor, for all that."
+
+"God's name!" groaned King, his teeth set, his eyes staring as if he
+had gone mad. "Will you shame us both? Do you forget you are _my
+affianced wife?_"
+
+"That is ended--you are free!"
+
+"Frances!" he cried, sharply, as in despair of one sinking, whom he
+was powerless to save.
+
+"It is at an end between us, Major King. My 'necessity' of explaining
+everything, or anything, to you is wiped away, your responsibility for
+my acts relieved. Lift your head, sir. You need not blush before the
+world for me!"
+
+Sweat was springing on the major's forehead; he drew his breath
+through open lips.
+
+"I refuse to humor your caprice--you are irresponsible, you don't know
+what you are doing," he declared. "You are forcing the issue to this
+point, Frances, I haven't demanded this."
+
+"You have demanded too much. You may go now, Major King."
+
+"It's only the infatuation of a moment. You can't care for a man like
+that, Frances," he argued, shaken out of his passion by her determined
+stand.
+
+"This is not a matter for discussion between you and me, sir."
+
+Major King bowed his head as if the rebuke had crushed him. She stood
+aside to let him pass. When he reached the door she turned to him. He
+paused, expectantly, hopefully, as if he felt that a reconciliation
+was dawning.
+
+"If it hadn't been for you they wouldn't have discovered him last
+night," she charged. "You betrayed him to his enemies. Can you tell
+me, then--will you tell me--is Alan Macdonald--dead?"
+
+Major King stood, his stern eyes on the glove, unrolled again, now
+dangling in her hand.
+
+"If he was a gentleman, as you said of him once, then he is dead,"
+said he.
+
+He turned and left her. She did not look after him, but stood with the
+soiled glove spread in her hands, gazing upon it in sad tenderness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+A BOLD CIVILIAN
+
+
+Colonel Landcraft was a slight man, and short of stature for a
+soldierly figure when out of the saddle. His gray hair was thinning in
+front, and his sharp querulous face was seamed in frowning pattern
+about the eyes. His forehead was fashioned on an intention of
+massiveness out of keeping with his tapering face, which ran out in a
+disappointing chin, and under the shadow of that projecting brow his
+cold blue eyes seemed as unfriendly as a winter sky.
+
+Early in his soldiering days the colonel had felt the want of inches
+and pounds, a shortage which he tried to overcome by carrying himself
+pulled up stiffly, giving him a strutting effect that had fastened
+upon him and become inseparable from his mien. This air of superior
+brusqueness was sharpened by the small fierceness of his visage, in
+which his large iron-gray mustache branched like horns.
+
+Smallness of stature, disappointment in his ambition for preferment,
+and a natural narrowness of soul, had turned Colonel Landcraft into a
+military martinet of the most pronounced character. He was the
+grandfather of colonels in the service, rank won in the old Indian
+days. That he was not a brigadier-general was a circumstance puzzling
+only to himself. He was a man of small bickerings, exactions, forms.
+He fussed with civilians as a regular thing when in command of posts
+within the precincts of civilization, and to serve under him, as
+officer or man, was a chafing and galling experience.
+
+If ever there was an unpopular man in the service, then that man was
+Colonel John Hancock Landcraft, direct descendant--he could figure it
+out as straight as a bayonet--of the heavy-handed signer himself. His
+years and his empty desires bore heavily on the colonel. The trespass
+of time he resented; the barrenness of his hope he grieved.
+
+There he was in those Septembral days, galloping along toward the age
+limit and retirement. Within a few weeks he would be subject to call
+before the retiring board any day, and there was nothing in his
+short-remaining time of service to shore up longer the hope of
+advancement in rank as compensatory honor in his retirement. He was a
+testy little old man, charged for instant explosion, and it was
+generally understood by everybody but the colonel himself that the
+department had sent him off to Fort Shakie to get him out of the way.
+
+On the afternoon of the day following Nola Chadron's ball, when Major
+King returned to Frances the glove that Alan Macdonald had carried
+away from the garden, Colonel Landcraft was a passenger on the mail
+stage from Meander to the post. The colonel had been on official
+business to the army post at Cheyenne. Instead of telegraphing to his
+own post the intelligence of his return, and calling for a proper
+equipage to meet him at the railroad end, he had chosen to come back
+in this secret and unexpected way.
+
+That was true to the colonel's manner. Perhaps he hoped to catch
+somebody overstepping the line of decorum, regulations, forms, either
+in the conduct of the post's business or his own household. For the
+colonel was as much a tyrant in one place as the other. So he
+eliminated himself, wrapped to the bushy eyebrows in his greatcoat,
+for there was a chilliness in the afternoon, and clouds were driving
+over the sun.
+
+His austerity silenced the talkative driver, and when the stage
+reached the hotel the colonel parted from him without a word and
+clicked away briskly on his military heels--built up to give him
+stature--to see what he might surprise out of joint at the post.
+
+Perhaps it was a shock to his valuation of his own indispensability to
+find everything in proper form at the post. The sentry paced before
+the flagstaff, decorum prevailed. There was not one small particular
+loose to give him ground for flying at the culpable person and raking
+him with his blistering fire.
+
+Colonel Landcraft turned into his own house with a countenance
+somewhat fallen as a consequence of this discovery. It seemed to bear
+home to him the fact that the United States Army would get along very
+neatly and placidly without him.
+
+The colonel occupied one wing of his sprawling, commodious, and
+somewhat impressive house as official headquarters. This room was full
+of stiff bookcases, letter files, severe chairs. The colonel's desk
+stood near the fireplace in a strong light, with nothing ever
+unfinished left upon it. It was one of the colonel's greatest
+satisfactions in life that he always was ready to snap down the cover
+of that desk at a moment's notice and march away upon a campaign to
+the world's end--and his own--leaving everything clear behind him.
+
+A private walk led up to a private door in the colonel's quarters,
+where a private in uniform, with a rifle on his shoulder, made a
+formal parade when the colonel was within, and accessible to the
+military world for the transaction of business. This sentinel was not
+on duty now, the return of the colonel being unlooked-for, and nobody
+was the wiser in that household when the master of it let himself into
+the room with his key.
+
+The day was merging into dusk, or the colonel probably would have been
+aware that a man was hastening after him along the leaf-strewn walk as
+he passed up the avenue to his home. He was not many rods behind the
+colonel, and was gaining on him rapidly, when the crabbed old
+gentleman closed his office door softly behind him.
+
+The unmilitary visitor--this fact was betrayed by both his gait and
+his dress--turned sharply in upon the private walk and followed the
+colonel to his door. He was turning through the letters and telegrams
+which had arrived during his absence when the visitor laid hand to the
+bell.
+
+No sound of ringing followed this application to the thumbscrew
+arrangement on the door, for the colonel had taken the bell away long
+ago. But there resulted a clucking, which brought the colonel to the
+portal frowning and alert, warming in the expectation of having
+somebody whom he might dress down at last.
+
+"Colonel Landcraft, I beg the favor of a word in private," said the
+stranger at the door.
+
+The colonel opened the door wider, and peered sharply at the visitor,
+a frown gathering on his unfriendly face.
+
+"I haven't the honor"--he began stiffly, seeing that it was an
+inferior civilian, for all civilians, except the president, were
+inferior to the colonel.
+
+"Macdonald is my name. I am a rancher in this country; you will have
+heard of me," the visitor replied.
+
+"Nothing to your credit, young man," said the colonel, tartly. "What
+do you want?"
+
+"A man's chance," said Macdonald, earnestly. "Will you let me
+explain?"
+
+Colonel Landcraft stood out of the doorway; Macdonald entered.
+
+"I'll make a light," said the colonel, lowering the window-shades
+before he struck the match. When he had the flame of the student's
+lamp on top of his desk regulated to conform to his exactions, the
+colonel faced about suddenly.
+
+"I am listening, sir."
+
+"At the beginning, sir, I want you to know who I am," said Macdonald,
+producing papers. "My father, Senator Hampden Macdonald of Maine, now
+lives in Washington. You have heard of him. I am Alan Macdonald, late
+of the United States consular service. It is unlikely that you ever
+heard of me in that connection."
+
+"I never heard of you before I came here," said the colonel,
+unfavorably, unfolding the credentials which the visitor had placed on
+his desk, and skimming them with cursory eye. Now he looked up from
+his reading with a sudden little jerk of the head, and stood at severe
+attention. "And the purpose of this visit, sir?"
+
+"First, to prove to you that the notorious character given me by the
+cattlemen of this country is slanderous and unwarranted; secondly, to
+ask you to give me a man's chance, as I have said, in a matter to
+which I shall come without loss of words. I am a gentleman, and the
+son of a gentleman; I do not acknowledge any moral or social superiors
+in this land."
+
+The colonel, drew himself up a notch, and seemed to grow a little at
+that. He looked hard at the tall, fair-haired, sober-faced man in
+front of him, as if searching out his points to justify the bold claim
+upon respectability that he had made. Macdonald was dressed in almost
+military precision; the colonel could find no fault with that. His
+riding-breeches told that they had been cut for no other legs, his
+coat set to his shoulders with gentlemanly ease. Only his rather
+greasy sombrero, with its weighty leather band, and the bulging
+revolvers under his coat seemed out of place in the general trimness
+of his attire.
+
+"Go on, sir," the colonel said.
+
+"I had the honor of meeting Miss Landcraft last night at the
+masquerade given by Miss Chadron--"
+
+"How was that, sir? Did you have the effrontery to force yourself into
+a company which despises you, at the risk of your life and the decorum
+of the assemblage?"
+
+"I was drawn there," Macdonald spoke slowly, meeting the colonel's
+cold eye with steady gaze, "by a hope that was miraculously realized.
+I did risk my life, and I almost lost it. But that is nothing
+unusual--I risk it every day."
+
+"You saw Miss Landcraft at the ball, danced with her, I suppose,
+talked with her," nodded the colonel, understandingly. "Macdonald, you
+are a bold, a foolishly bold, man."
+
+"I saw Miss Landcraft, I danced with her, I talked with her, and I
+have come to you, sir, after a desperate ride through the night to
+save my life as the penalty of those few minutes of pleasure, to
+request the privilege of calling upon Miss Landcraft and paying my
+court to her. I ask you to give me a man's chance to win her hand."
+
+The audacity of the request almost tied the colonel's sharp old
+tongue. For a moment he stood with his mouth open, his face red in the
+gathering storm of his sudden passion.
+
+"Sir!" said he, in amazed, unbelieving voice.
+
+"There are my credentials--they will bear investigation," Macdonald
+said.
+
+"Damn your credentials, sir! I'll have nothing to do with them, you
+blackguard, you scoundrel!"
+
+"I ask you to consider--"
+
+"I can consider nothing but the present fact that you are accused of
+deeds of outlawry and violence, and are an outcast of society, even
+the crude society of this wild country, sir. No matter who you are or
+whence you sprung, the evidence in this country is against you. You
+are a brigand and a thief, sir--this act of barbaric impetuosity in
+itself condemns you--no civilized man would have the effrontery to
+force himself into my presence in such a manner and make this insane
+demand."
+
+"I am exercising a gentleman's prerogative, Colonel Landcraft."
+
+"You are a vulture aspiring to soar among eagles, sir!"
+
+"You have heard only the cattlemen's side of the story, Colonel
+Landcraft," said Macdonald, with patience and restraint. "You know
+that every man who attempts to build a fence around his cabin in this
+country, and strikes a furrow in the ground, is a rustler according to
+their creed."
+
+"I am aware that there is narrowness, injustice even, on the drovers'
+side," the colonel admitted, softening a little, it seemed. "But for
+all that, even if you were an equal, and an honest man, the road to
+Miss Landcraft's heart is closed to assault, no matter how wild and
+sudden. She is plighted to another man."
+
+"Sir--"
+
+"It is true; she will be married in the Christmas holidays. Go your
+way now, Macdonald, and dismiss this romantic dream. You build too
+high on the slight favor of a thoughtless girl. A dance or two is
+nothing, sir; a whispered word is less. If you were the broad man of
+the world that you would have me believe, you have known this.
+Instead, you come dashing in here like a savage and claim the right to
+woo her. Preposterous! She is beyond your world, sir. Go back to your
+wild riding, Macdonald, and try to live an honest man."
+
+Macdonald stood with his head bent, brows gathered in stubborn
+expression of resistance. Colonel Landcraft could read in his face
+that there was no surrender, no acknowledgment of defeat, in that wild
+rider's heart. The old warrior felt a warming of admiration for him,
+as one brave man feels for another, no matter what differences lie
+between them. Now Macdonald lifted his face, and there was that deep
+movement of laughter in his eyes that Frances had found so marvelous
+on the day of their first meeting.
+
+"Perhaps her heart is untouched, sir, in spite of the barricade that
+has been raised between it and the world," he said.
+
+The colonel studied him shrewdly a little while before replying.
+
+"Macdonald, you're a strange man, a stubborn man, and a strong one.
+There is work for a man like you in this life; why are you wasting it
+here?"
+
+"If I live six months longer the world beyond these mountains will
+know," was all that Macdonald said, taking up the papers which he had
+submitted to the colonel, and placing them again in his pocket.
+
+Colonel Landcraft shook his head doubtfully.
+
+"Running off other men's cattle never will do it, Macdonald."
+
+The door of the colonel's room which gave into the hall of the main
+entrance opened without the formality of announcement. Frances drew
+back in quick confusion, speaking her apology from behind the door.
+
+"I ask your pardon, father. I heard voices here and wondered who it
+could be--I didn't know you had come home."
+
+"Your appearance is opportune, Miss Landcraft," her father told her,
+with no trace of ill-humor. "Come in. Here is this wild Alan Macdonald
+come bursting in upon us from his hills."
+
+The colonel indicated him with a wave of the hand, and Macdonald
+bowed, his heart shrinking when he saw how coldly she returned his
+greeting from her place at the door.
+
+"He has come riding," the colonel continued, "with a demand on me to
+be allowed to woo you, and carry you off to his cave among the rocks.
+Show him the door, and add your testimony to my assurance--which seems
+inadequate to satisfy the impetuous gentleman--that his case is
+hopeless."
+
+The colonel waved them away with that, and turned again, with his
+jerky suddenness, to his telegrams and letters. The colonel had not
+meant for Macdonald to pass out of the door through which he had
+entered. That was the military portal; the other one, opening into the
+hall from which Frances came, was the world's door for entering that
+house. And it was in that direction Colonel Landcraft had waved them
+when he ordered Frances to take the visitor away.
+
+"This way, Mr. Macdonald, please," said she, politely cold,
+unfeelingly formal. For all the warmth that he could discover in her
+voice and eyes, or in her white face, so unaccountably severe and
+hard, there might never have been a garden with white gravel path, or
+a hot hasty kiss given in it--and received.
+
+In the hall the gloom of evening was deepened into darkness that made
+her face indistinct, like the glimmering whiteness of the hydrangea
+blooms in that past romantic night. She marched straight to the street
+door and opened it, and he had no strength in his words to lift even a
+small one up to stay her. He believed that he had taken the man's
+course and the way of honor in the matter. That it had not been
+indorsed by her was evident, he believed.
+
+"There was nothing for me to conceal," said he, as the door opened
+upon the gray twilight and glooming trees along the street; "I came in
+a man's way, as I thought--"
+
+"You came in a man's way, Mr. Macdonald, to ask the privilege of
+attempting to win a woman's hand, when you lack the man's strength or
+the man's courage to defend even the glove that covers it," she said.
+Her voice was low; it was accusingly scornful.
+
+Macdonald started. "Then it has come back to you?"
+
+"It has come back to me, through a channel that I would have given the
+hand that wore it"--she stretched it out as she spoke; it glimmered
+like a nebulous star in misty skies there in the gloom before his
+eyes--"to have kept the knowledge from!"
+
+"I lost it," said he, drawing himself up as if to withstand a blow,
+"and in this hour I can plead no mitigation. A man should have put his
+life down for it."
+
+"It might have been expected--of a man," said she.
+
+"But I ask you not to borrow trouble over the circumstance of its
+return to you, Miss Landcraft," he said, cold now in his word, and
+lofty. "You dropped it on the ballroom floor or in the garden path,
+and I, the cattle thief, found it and carried it away, to show it as
+evidence of a shadowy conquest, maybe, among my wild and lawless kind.
+Beyond that you know nothing--you lost it, that was all."
+
+In the door he turned.
+
+"Good-bye, Mr. Macdonald," she said.
+
+"If time and events prove so unkind to me that I never come to a
+vindication in this country," he said, "just go on thinking of me as a
+thief and a wild rider, and a man of the night. Good-bye, Miss
+Landcraft."
+
+She closed the door, and stood cooling from her sudden resentment at
+seeing him there alive when her heart had told her that he must be
+lying dead in the dust of the river trail. She should not have been so
+suddenly resentful, she now believed. Perhaps there were mitigating
+circumstances which he would not stoop to explain unasked. Her heart
+bounded with the thought; warm blood came spreading in her cheeks.
+
+But Alan Macdonald was gone; misjudged and unjustly condemned, she now
+believed, remorse assailing her. Now the fault could not be repaired,
+for he was not the man to come back. But there was much in knowing
+that she had not been mistaken in the beginning; comfort and pride in
+the full knowledge that he was a _man!_ Only a man would have come,
+bravely and sincerely, in that manner to her father; only a man would
+have put his hurt behind him like that and marched away from her, too
+proud to stoop to the mean expedient of begging her to allow him to
+explain.
+
+She sighed as she turned back into the room where the colonel sat at
+his desk, but her cheek was hot, her bosom agitated by an uplifting of
+pride. The colonel turned, with inquiring impatience, a letter in his
+hand.
+
+"He is gone," she said.
+
+"Very well," he nodded, shortly.
+
+"I have just come back to tell you, father, that I have broken my
+engagement with Major King, to--"
+
+"Impossible! nonsense!"
+
+"To save you embarrassment in your future relations with him," she
+concluded, unshaken.
+
+The colonel was standing now; his face reflecting the anger that
+boiled in his breast.
+
+"I tell you, miss, you can't break your engagement to Major King! That
+is out of your power, beyond you, entirely. It rests with me, and with
+me solely, to terminate any such obligation. I have pledged a
+soldier's word and a soldier's honor in this matter, miss. It is
+incumbent on you to see that both are redeemed."
+
+"I'm in a mind to do my own thinking now, father; I'm old enough."
+
+"A woman is never old enough to know her own mind! What's the occasion
+of this change in the wind? Surely not--"
+
+Colonel Landcraft's brows drew together over his thin nose, making
+small glaring points of his blue eyes among the gathered wrinkles and
+bristling hair. He held his words suspended while he searched her face
+for justification of his pent arraignment.
+
+"Nonsense!" said he at last, letting his breath go with the word, as
+if relief had come. "Put the notion out of your head, for you are
+going to marry Major King."
+
+"I tell you, father, you must adjust yourself to my decision in this
+matter. I am not going to marry Major King. I have told him so, and it
+is final."
+
+His own stubbornness, his own fire, was reflected in her as she spoke.
+But Colonel Landcraft was not to be moved from what he considered his
+right to dispose of her in a way that he believed would be an honor to
+the army and a glory to the nation.
+
+"You'll marry Major King, or die a maid!" he declared.
+
+"Very well, father," she returned, in ambiguous concession.
+
+She left him frowning among his papers. In his small, tyrannical way
+he had settled that case, finally and completely, to his own thinking,
+as he had disposed of wild-riding Alan Macdonald and his bold,
+outlandish petition.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THROWING THE SCARE
+
+
+Banjo Gibson arrived at Macdonald's place the following day, from
+Sam Hatcher's ranch across the river, bringing news that three
+homesteaders on that side had been killed in the past two days. They
+had been shot from the willow thickets as they worked in their
+fields or rode along the dim-marked highways. Banjo could not give
+any further particulars; he did not know the victims' names.
+
+Macdonald understood what it meant, and whose hand was behind the
+slaying of those home-makers of the wilderness. It was not a new
+procedure in the cattle barons' land; this scourge had been
+fore-shadowed in that list of names which Frances Landcraft had given
+him.
+
+The word had gone out to them to be on guard. Now death had begun to
+leap upon them from the roadside grass. Perhaps his own turn would
+come tonight or tomorrow. He could not be more watchful than his
+neighbors had been; no man could close all the doors.
+
+The price of life in that country for such men as himself always had
+been unceasing vigilance. When a man stood guard over himself day and
+night he could do no more, and even at that he was almost certain,
+some time or other, to leave a chink open through which the waiting
+blow might fall. After a time one became hardened to this condition of
+life. The strain of watching fell away from him; it became a part of
+his daily habit, and a man grew careless about securing the safeguards
+upon his life by and by.
+
+"Them fellers," said Banjo, feeling that he had lowered himself
+considerably in carrying the news involving their swift end to
+Macdonald, "got about what was comin' to 'em I reckon, Mac. Why don't
+a man like you hitch up with Chadron or Hatcher, or one of the good
+men of this country, and git out from amongst them runts that's nosin'
+around in the ground for a livin' like a drove of hogs?"
+
+"Every man to his liking, Banjo," Macdonald returned, "and I don't
+like the company you've named."
+
+They never quarreled over the point, but Banjo never ceased to urge
+the reformation, such as he honestly believed it to be, upon Macdonald
+at every visit. The little troubadour felt that he was doing a
+generous and friendly turn for a fallen man, and squaring his own
+account with Macdonald in thus laboring for his redemption.
+
+Banjo was under obligation to Macdonald for no smaller matter than his
+life, the homesteader having rescued him from drowning the past spring
+when the musician, heading for Chadron's after playing for a dance,
+had mistaken the river for the road and stubbornly urged his horse
+into it. On that occasion Banjo's wits had been mixed with liquor, but
+his sense of gratitude had been perfectly clear ever since.
+Macdonald's door was the only one in the nesters' colony that stress
+or friendship ever had constrained him to enter. Even as it was, with
+all the big debt of gratitude owing, his intimacy with a man who had
+opened an irrigation ditch was a thing of which he did not boast
+abroad.
+
+Banjo made but a night's stop of it with Macdonald. Early in the
+morning he was in the saddle again, with a dance ahead of him to play
+for that night at a ranch twenty miles or more away. He lingered a
+little after shaking hands with his host, trying the violin case as if
+to see that it was secure, and fidgeting in his saddle, and holding
+back on the start. Macdonald could see that there was something unsaid
+in the little man's mind which gave him an uneasiness, like
+indigestion.
+
+"What is it, Banjo?" he asked, to let it be known that he understood.
+
+"Mac, did you ever hear tell of a feller named Mark Thorn?" Banjo
+inquired, looking about him with fearful caution, lowering his voice
+almost to a whisper.
+
+"Yes, I've heard of him."
+
+"Well, he's in this country."
+
+"Are you sure about that, Banjo?" Macdonald's face was troubled; he
+moved nearer the musician as he made the inquiry, and laid his hand on
+his arm.
+
+"He's here. He's the feller you've got to watch out for. He cut
+acrosst the road yisterday afternoon when I was comin' down here, and
+when he seen me he stopped, for I used to know him up north and he
+knew it wasn't no use to try to duck and hide his murderin' face from
+me. He told me he was ranchin' up in Montany, and he'd come down here
+to collect some money Chadron owed him on an old bill."
+
+"Pretty slim kind of a story. But he's here to collect money from
+Chadron, all right, and give him value received. What kind of a
+looking man is he?"
+
+"He's long and lean, like a rail, with a kind of a bend in him when he
+walks, and the under lid of his left eye drawed like you'd pulled it
+down and stuck a tack in it. He's wearin' a cap, and he's kind of
+whiskered up, like he'd been layin' out some time."
+
+"I'd know him," Macdonald nodded.
+
+"You couldn't miss him in a thousand, Mac. Well, I must be rackin'
+along."
+
+Banjo scarcely had passed out of sight when three horsemen came
+galloping to Macdonald's gate. They brought news of a fresh tragedy,
+and that in the immediate neighborhood. A boy had been shot down that
+morning while doing chores on a homestead a little way across the
+river. He was the son of one of the men on the death-list, and these
+men, the father among them, had come to enlist Macdonald's aid in
+running down the slayer.
+
+The boy's mother had seen the assassin hastening away among the scant
+bushes on the slope above the house. The description that she gave of
+him left no doubt in Macdonald's mind of his identity. It was Mark
+Thorn, the cattlemen's contract killer, the homesteaders' scourge.
+
+It was a fruitless search that day, seeking old Mark Thorn among the
+hills which rose brokenly a few miles back from the river and climbed
+to the knees of the mountains in ever-mounting surge. A devil's
+darning-needle in a cornfield would have been traced and cornered as
+quickly as that slippery thin old killer of men, it seemed.
+
+As if to show his contempt for those who hunted him, and to emphasize
+his own feeling of security, he slipped down to the edge of the fenced
+lands and struck down another homesteader that afternoon, leaving him
+dead at the handles of his plow.
+
+Those homesteaders were men of rare courage and unbending persistency
+in the ordinary affairs of life, but three days of empty pursuit of
+this monster left them out of heart. The name of Mark Thorn in itself
+was sufficient to move a thrill of terror and repulsion. He had left
+his red mark in many places through the land dominated by the cattle
+interests of the Northwest, where settlers had attempted to find
+lodgment. He had come at length to stand for an institution of
+destruction, rather than an individual, which there was no power
+strong enough to circumvent, nor force cunning enough to entrap.
+
+There never was a tale of monsters, wolf-men, bloody-muzzled great
+beasts of dark forests, that struck deeper fear into the hearts of
+primitive peasantry than this modern ogre moved in the minds and
+hearts of those striving settlers in the cattle lands. Mark Thorn was
+a shadowy, far-reaching thing to them, distorted in their imaginings
+out of the semblance of a man. He had grown, in the stories founded on
+facts horrible enough without enlargement, into a fateful destroyer,
+from whom no man upon whom he had set his mark could escape.
+
+Little wonder, then, that fear for the safety of their wives and
+children made the faces of these men gray as they rode the sage,
+combing the hollows and hills for the sight of old Mark Thorn. One by
+one they began to drop out of the posse, until of the fourteen besides
+Macdonald who had ridden in the hunt on the second day, only five
+remained on the evening of the third.
+
+It was no use looking for Mark Thorn, they said, shaking gloomy heads.
+When he came into a country on a contract to kill, it was like a curse
+predestined which the power of man could not turn aside. He had the
+backing of the Drovers' Association, which had an arm as long in that
+land as the old Persian king's. He would strike there, like the ghost
+of all the devils in men that ever had lived on their fellows' blood,
+and slink away as silently as a wolf out of the sheepfold at dawn when
+his allotted task was done.
+
+Better to go home and guard what was left, they said. All of them were
+men for a fight, but it was one thing to stand up to something that a
+man could see, and quite another to fight blindfolded, and in the
+dark. Catching Mark Thorn was like trying to ladle moonlight with a
+sieve. The country wasn't worth it, they were beginning to believe.
+When Mark Thorn came in, it was like the vultures flying ahead of the
+last, devastating plague.
+
+The man whose boy had been shot down beside the little grass-roofed
+barn was the last to leave.
+
+"I'll stick to it for a year, Alan, if you think it's any use," he
+said.
+
+He was a gaunt man, with sunken cheeks and weary eyes; gray, worn,
+unwashed, and old; one of the earth's disinherited who believed that
+he had come into his rood of land at last. Now the driving shadow of
+his restless fate was on him again. Macdonald could see that it was
+heavy in his mind to hitch up and stagger on into the west, which was
+already red with the sunset of his day.
+
+Macdonald was moved by a great compassion for this old man, whose hope
+had been snatched away from him by the sting of a bullet in the dawn.
+He laid his hand on the old homesteader's sagging thin shoulder and
+poured the comfort of a strong man's sympathy into his empty eyes.
+
+"Go on back, Tom, and look after the others," he said. "Do your chores
+by dark, morning and night, and stick close to cover all days and
+watch for him. I'll keep on looking. I started to get that old hyena,
+and I'll get him. Go on home."
+
+
+The old man's eyes kindled with admiration. But it died as quickly as
+it had leaped up, and he shook his long hair with a sigh.
+
+"You can't do nothin' agin him all alone, Alan."
+
+"I think I'll have a better chance alone than in a crowd, Tom. There's
+no doubt that there were too many of us, crashing through the brush
+and setting ourselves up against the sky line every time we rode up a
+hill. I'll tackle him alone. Tell the neighbors to live under cover
+till they hear I've either got him or he's got me. In case it turns
+out against me, they can do whatever seems best to them."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+AFOOT AND ALONE
+
+
+Mark Thorn had not killed anybody since shooting the man at the plow.
+There were five deaths to his credit on that contract, although none
+of the fallen was on the cattlemen's list of desirables to be
+removed.
+
+Five days had passed without a tragedy, and the homesteaders were
+beginning to draw breath in the open again, in the belief that
+Macdonald must have driven the slayer out of the country. Nothing had
+been seen or heard of Macdonald since the evening that he parted
+company with Tom Lassiter, father of the murdered boy.
+
+Macdonald, in the interval, was hard on the old villain's trail. He
+had picked it up on the first day of his lone-handed hunt, and once he
+had caught a glimpse of Thorn as he dodged among the red willows on
+the river, but the sight had been too transitory to put in a shot. It
+was evident now that Thorn knew that he was being hunted by a single
+pursuer. More than that, there were indications written in the loose
+earth where he passed, and in the tangled brushwood where he skulked,
+that he had stopped running away and had turned to hunt the hunter.
+
+For two days they had been circling in a constantly tightening ring,
+first one leading the hunt, then the other. Trained and accustomed as
+he was to life under those conditions, Thorn had not yet been able to
+take even a chance shot at his clinging pursuer.
+
+Macdonald was awake to the fact that this balance in his favor could
+not be maintained long. As it was, he ascribed it more to luck than
+skill on his part. This wild beast in human semblance must possess all
+the wild beast's cunning; there would be a rift left open in this
+straining game of hide and seek which his keen eyes would be sure to
+see at no distant hour.
+
+The afternoon of that day was worn down to the hock. Macdonald had
+been creeping and stooping, running, panting, and lying concealed from
+the first gleam of dawn. Whether by design on the part of Thorn, or
+merely the blind leading of the hunt, Macdonald could not tell, the
+contest of wits had brought them within sight of Alamito ranchhouse.
+
+Resting a little while with his back against a ledge which insured him
+from surprise, Macdonald looked out from the hills over the
+wide-spanning valley, the farther shore of which was laved in a purple
+mist as rich as the dye of some oriental weaving. He felt a surge of
+indignant protest against the greedy injustice of that manorial
+estate, the fair house glistening in the late sun among the
+white-limbed cottonwoods. There Saul Chadron sat, like some distended
+monster, his hands spread upon more than he could honestly use, or his
+progeny after him for a thousand years, growling and snapping at all
+whose steps lagged in passing, or whose weary eyes turned longingly
+toward those grassy vales.
+
+There had been frost for many nights past; the green of the summerland
+had merged into a yellow-brown, now gold beneath the slanting
+sunbeams. A place of friendly beauty and sequestered peace, where a
+man might come to take up his young dreams, or stagger under the
+oppression of his years to put them down, and rest. It seemed so, in
+the light of that failing afternoon.
+
+But the man who sat with his back against the ledge, his ears strained
+to find the slightest hostile sound, his roaming eyes always coming
+back with unconscious alertness and frowning investigation to the
+nearer objects in the broken foreground, had tasted beneath the
+illusive crust of that land, and the savor was bitter upon his lips.
+He questioned what good there was to be got out of it, for him or
+those for whom he had taken up the burden, for many a weary year to
+come.
+
+The gloom of the situation bore heavily upon him; he felt the
+uselessness of his fight. He recalled the words of Frances Landcraft:
+"There must be millions behind the cattlemen." He felt that he never
+had realized the weight of millions, iniquitous millions, before that
+hour. They formed a barrier which his shoulder seemed destined never
+to overturn.
+
+There he was, on that broad heath, afoot and alone, hunting, and
+hunted by a slayer of men, one who stalked him as he would a wolf or a
+lion for the bounty upon his head. And in the event that a lucky shot
+should rid the earth of that foul thing, how much would it strengthen
+his safety, and his neighbors', and fasten their weak hold upon the
+land?
+
+Little, indeed. Others could be hired out of those uncounted millions
+of the cattlemen's resources to finish what Mark Thorn had begun. The
+night raids upon their fields would continue, the slanders against
+them would spread and grow. Colonel Landcraft believed him to be what
+malicious report had named him; there was not a doubt of that. And
+what Frances thought of him since that misadventure of the glove, it
+was not hard to guess.
+
+But that was not closed between them, he told himself, as he had told
+himself before, times unnumbered. There was a final word to be said,
+at the right time and place. The world would turn many times between
+then and the Christmas holidays, when Frances was to become the bride
+of another, according to the colonel's plans.
+
+Macdonald was weary from his night vigils and stealthy prowlings by
+day, and hungry for a hot meal. Since he had taken the trail of Mark
+Thorn alone he had not kindled a fire. Now the food that he had
+carried with him was done; he must turn back home for a fresh supply,
+and a night's rest.
+
+It did not matter much, anyway, he said, feeling the uselessness of
+his life and strife in that place. It was a big and unfriendly land, a
+hard and hopeless place for a man who tried to live in defiance of the
+established order there. Why not leave it, with its despair and
+heart-emptiness? The world was full enough of injustices elsewhere if
+he cared to set his hand to right them.
+
+But a true man did not run away under fire, nor a brave one block out
+a task and then shudder and slink away, when he stood off and saw the
+immensity of the thing that he had undertaken. Besides all these
+considerations, which in themselves formed insuperable reasons against
+retreat, there had been some big talk into the ear of Frances
+Landcraft. There was no putting down what he had begun. His dream had
+taken root there; it would be cruel cowardice to wrench it up.
+
+He got up, the sun striking him on the face, from which the west wind
+pressed back his hat brim as if to let the daylight see it. The dust
+of his travels was on it, and the roughness of his new beard, and it
+was harsh in some of its lines, and severe as an ashlar from the
+craftsman's tool. But it was a man's face, with honor in it; the sun
+found no weakness there, no shame concealed under the sophistries and
+wiles by which men beguile the world.
+
+Macdonald looked away across the valley, past the white ranchhouse,
+beyond the slow river which came down from the northwest in toilsome
+curves, whose gray shores and bars were yellow in that sunlight as the
+sands of famed Pactolus. His breast heaved with the long inspiration
+which flared his thin nostrils like an Arab's scenting rain; he
+revived with a new vigor as the freedom of the plains met his eyes and
+made them glad. That was his place, his land; its troubles were his to
+bear, its peace his to glean when it should ripen. It was his
+inheritance; it was his place of rest. The lure of that country had a
+deep seat in his heart; he loved it for its perils and its pains. It
+was like a sweetheart to bind and call him back. A man makes his own
+Fortunate Isles, as that shaggy old gray poet knew so well.
+
+For a moment Mark Thorn was forgotten as Macdonald repeated, in low
+voice above his breath:
+
+    Lo! These are the isles of the watery miles
+    That God let down from the firmament.
+    Lo! Duty and Love, and a true man's trust;
+    Your forehead to God and your feet in the dust--
+
+Yes, that was his country; it had taken hold of him with that grip
+which no man ever has shaken his heart free from, no matter how many
+seas he has placed between its mystic lure and his back-straining
+soul. Its fight was his fight, and there was gladness in the thought.
+
+His alertness as he went down the slope, and the grim purpose of his
+presence in that forbidden place, did not prevent the pleading of a
+softer cause, and a sweeter. That rare smile woke in his eyes and
+unbent for a moment the harshness of his lips as he thought of brown
+hair sweeping back from a white forehead, and a chin lifted
+imperiously, as became one born to countenance only the exalted in
+this life. There was something that made him breathe quicker in the
+memory of her warm body held a transitory moment in his arms; the
+recollection of the rose-softness of her lips. All these were waiting
+in the world that he must win, claimed by another, true. But that was
+immaterial, he told his heart, which leaped and exulted in the memory
+of that garden path as if there was no tomorrow, and no such shadow in
+man's life as doubt.
+
+Of course, there remained the matter of the glove. A man might have
+been expected to die before yielding it to another, as she had said,
+speaking out of a hot heart, he knew. There was a more comfortable
+thought for Alan Macdonald as he went down the long slope with the
+western sun on his face; not a thought of dying for a glove, but of
+living to win the hand that it had covered.
+
+Chadron's ranchhouse was several miles to the westward of him,
+although it appeared nearer by the trickery of that clear light. He
+cut his course to bring himself into the public highway--a government
+road, it was--that ran northward up the river, the road along which
+Chadron's men had pursued him the night of the ball. He meant to
+strike it some miles to the north of Chadron's homestead, for he was
+not looking for any more trouble than he was carrying that day.
+
+He proceeded swiftly, but cautiously, watching for his man. But Mark
+Thorn did not appear to be abroad in that part of the country. Until
+sundown Macdonald walked unchallenged, when he struck the highway a
+short distance south of the point where the trail leading to Fort
+Shakie branched from it.
+
+Saul Chadron and his daughter Nola came riding out of the Fort Shakie
+road, their horses in that tireless, swinging gallop which the animals
+of that rare atmosphere can maintain for hours. As he rode, Chadron
+swung his quirt in unison with the horse's undulations, from side to
+side across its neck, like a baton. He sat as stiff and solid in his
+saddle as a carved image. Nola came on neck and neck with him, on the
+side of the road nearer Macdonald.
+
+Macdonald was carrying a rifle in addition to his side arms, and he
+was a dusty grim figure to come upon suddenly afoot in the high road.
+Chadron pulled in his horse and brought it to a stiff-legged stop when
+he saw Macdonald, who had stepped to the roadside to let them pass.
+The old cattleman's high-crowned sombrero was pinched to a peak; the
+wind of his galloping gait had pressed its broad brim back from his
+tough old weathered face. His white mustache and little dab of pointed
+beard seemed whiter against the darkness of passion which mounted to
+his scowling eyes.
+
+"What in the hell're you up to now?" he demanded, without regard for
+his companion, who was accustomed, well enough, to his explosions and
+expletives.
+
+Macdonald gravely lifted his hand to his hat, his eyes meeting Nola's
+for an instant, Chadron's challenge unanswered. Nola's face flared at
+this respectful salutation as if she had been insulted. She jerked her
+horse back a little, as if she feared that violence would follow the
+invasion of her caste by this fallen and branded man, her pliant waist
+weaving in graceful balance with every movement of her beast.
+
+Macdonald lowered his eyes from her blazingly indignant face. Her
+horse was slewed across the narrow road, and he considered between
+waiting for them to ride on and striking into the shoulder-high sage
+which grew thick at the roadside there. He thought that she was very
+pretty in her fairness of hair and skin, and the lake-clear blueness
+of her eyes. She was riding astride, as all the women in that country
+rode, dressed in wide pantaloonish corduroys, with twinkling little
+silver spurs on her heels.
+
+"What're you prowlin' down here around my place for?" Chadron asked,
+spurring his horse as he spoke, checking its forward leap with rigid
+arm, which made a commotion of hoofs and a cloud of dust.
+
+"This is a public highway, and I deny your right to question my
+motives in it," Macdonald returned, calmly.
+
+"Sneakin' around to see if you can lay hands on a horse, I suppose,"
+Chadron said, leaning a little in towering menace toward the man in
+the road.
+
+Macdonald felt a hot surge of resentment rise to his eyes, so suddenly
+and so strongly that it dimmed his sight. He shut his mouth hard on
+the words which sprang into it, and held himself in silence until he
+had command of his anger.
+
+"I'm hunting," said he, meeting Chadron's eye with meaning look.
+
+"On foot, and waitin' for dark!" the cattleman sneered.
+
+"I'm going on foot because the game I'm after sticks close to the
+ground. There's no need of naming that game to you--you know what it
+is."
+
+Macdonald spoke with cutting severity. Chadron's dark face reddened
+under his steady eyes, and again the big rowels of his spurs slashed
+his horse's sides, making it bound and trample in threatening charge.
+
+"I don't know anything about your damn low business, but I'll tell you
+this much; if I ever run onto you ag'in down this way I'll do a little
+huntin' on my own accord."
+
+"That would be squarer, and more to my liking, than hiring somebody
+else to do it for you, Mr. Chadron. Ride on--I don't want to stand
+here and quarrel with you."
+
+"I'm goin' to clear you nesters out of there up the river"--Chadron
+waved his hand in the direction of which he spoke--"and put a stop to
+your rustlin' before another month rolls around. I've stood your
+fences up there on my land as long as I'm goin' to!"
+
+"I've never had a chance to tell you before, Mr. Chadron"--Macdonald
+spoke as respectfully as his deep detestation of the cattleman would
+allow--"but if you've got any other charge to bring against me except
+that of homesteading, bring it in a court. I'm ready to face you on
+it, any day."
+
+"I carry my court right here with me," said Chadron, patting his
+revolver.
+
+"I deny its jurisdiction," Macdonald returned, drawing himself up, a
+flash of defiance in his clear eyes.
+
+Chadron jerked his head in expression of lofty disdain.
+
+"Go on! Git out of my sight!" he ordered.
+
+"The road is open to you," Macdonald replied.
+
+"I'm not goin' to turn my back on you till you're out of sight!"
+
+Chadron bent his great owlish brows in a scowl, laid his hand on his
+revolver and whirled his horse in the direction that Macdonald was
+facing.
+
+Macdonald did not answer. He turned from Chadron, something in his act
+of going that told the cattleman he was above so mean suspicion on his
+part. Nola shifted her horse to let him pass, her elbows tight at her
+sides, scorn in her lively eyes.
+
+Again Macdonald's hand went to his hat in respectful salute, and again
+he saw that flash of anger spread in the young woman's cheeks. Her
+fury blazed in her eyes as she looked at him a moment, and a dull
+color mounted in his own face as he beheld her foolish and unjustified
+pride.
+
+Macdonald would have passed her then, but she spurred her horse upon
+him with sudden-breaking temper, forcing him to spring back quickly to
+the roadside to escape being trampled. Before he could collect himself
+in his astonishment, she struck him a whistling blow with her
+long-thonged quirt across the face.
+
+"You dog!" she said, her clenched little white teeth showing in her
+parted lips.
+
+Macdonald caught the bridle and pushed her horse back to its haunches,
+and she, in her reckless anger, struck him across the hand in sharp
+quick blows. Her conduct was comparable to nothing but that of an
+ill-bred child striking one whose situation, he has been told, is the
+warrant of his inferiority.
+
+The struggle was over in a few seconds, and Macdonald stood free of
+the little fury, a red welt across his cheek, the back of his hand cut
+until the blood oozed through the skin in heavy black drops. Chadron
+had not moved a hand to interfere on either side. Only now that the
+foolish display of Nola's temper was done he rocked in his saddle and
+shook the empty landscape with his loud, coarse laugh.
+
+He patted his daughter on the shoulder, like a hunter rewarding a dog.
+Macdonald walked away from them, the only humiliation that he felt for
+the incident being that which he suffered for her sake.
+
+It was not so much that a woman had debased herself to the level of a
+savage, although that hurt him, too, but that her blows had been the
+expression of the contempt in which the lords of that country held him
+and his kind. Bullets did not matter so much, for a man could give
+them back as hot as they came. But there was no answer, as he could
+see it in that depressing hour, for such a feudal assertion of
+superiority as this.
+
+It was to the work of breaking the hold of this hard-handed
+aristocracy which had risen from the grass roots in the day of its
+arrogant prosperity--a prosperity founded on usurpation of the rights
+of the weak, and upheld by murder--that he had set his soul. The need
+of hastening the reformation never had seemed greater to him than on
+that day, or more hopeless, he admitted in his heart.
+
+For hour by hour the work ahead of him appeared to grow greater.
+Little could be expected, judging by the experiences of the past few
+days, from those who suffered most. The day of extremest pressure in
+their poor affairs was being hastened by the cattlemen, as Chadron's
+threat had foretold. Would they when the time came to fight do so, or
+harness their lean teams and drive on into the west? That was the big
+question upon which the success or the failure of his work depended.
+
+As he had come down from the hillside out of the sunshine and peace to
+meet shadow and violence, so his high spirits, hopes, and intentions
+seemed this bitter hour steeped in sudden gloom. In more ways than one
+that evening on the white river road, Alan Macdonald felt that he was
+afoot and alone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+BUSINESS, NOT COMPANY
+
+
+Saul Chadron was at breakfast next morning when Maggie the cook
+appeared in the dining-room and announced a visitor for the señor
+boss. Maggie's eyes were bulging, and she did a great deal of
+pantomime with her shapely shoulders to express her combined fright,
+disgust, and indignation.
+
+Chadron looked up from his ham and eggs, with a considerable portion
+of the eggs on the blade of his knife, handle-down in one fist, his
+fork standing like a lightning rod in the other, and asked her who the
+man was and what he wanted at that hour of the day. Chadron was eating
+by lamplight, and alone, according to his thrifty custom of slipping
+up on the day before it was awake, as if in the hope of surprising it
+at a vast disadvantage to itself, after his way of handling men and
+things.
+
+"_Es un extranjero_," replied Maggie, forgetting her English in her
+excitement.
+
+"Talk white man, you old sow!" Chadron growled.
+
+"He ees a es-trenger, I do not knowed to heem."
+
+"Tell him to go to the barn and wait, I'll be out there in a minute."
+
+"He will not a-goed. I told to heem--whee!" Maggie clamped her hands
+to her back as if somebody had caught her in a ticklish spot, as she
+squealed, and jumped into the room where the grand duke of the
+cattlemen's nobility was taking his refreshment.
+
+Chadron had returned to his meal after ordering her to send his
+visitor to the barn. He was swabbing his knife in the fold of a
+pancake when Maggie made that frightful, shivering exclamation and
+jumped aside out of the door. Now he looked up to reprove her, and met
+the smoky eyes of Mark Thorn peering in from the kitchen.
+
+"What're you doin' around here, you old--come in--shut that door! Git
+him some breakfast," he ordered, turning to Maggie.
+
+Maggie hung back a moment, until Thorn had come into the room, then
+she shot into the kitchen like a cat through a fence, and slammed the
+door behind her.
+
+"What in the hell do you mean by comin' around here?" Chadron demanded
+angrily. "Didn't I tell you never to come here? you blink-eyed old
+snag-shin!"
+
+"You told me," Thorn admitted, putting his rifle down across a chair,
+drawing another to the table, and seating himself in readiness for the
+coming meal.
+
+"Then what'd you sneak--"
+
+"News," said Thorn, in his brief way.
+
+"Which news?" Chadron brightened hopefully, his implements, clamped in
+his hairy fists, inviting the first bolt from the heavens.
+
+
+"I got him last night."
+
+"You got--_him?_" Chadron lifted himself from his chair on his bent
+legs in the excitement of the news.
+
+"And I'm through with this job. I've come to cash in, and quit."
+
+"The hell you say!"
+
+"I'm gittin' too old for this kind of work. That feller chased me
+around till my tongue was hangin' out so fur I stepped on it. I tell
+you he was--"
+
+"How did you do it?"
+
+Thorn looked at him with a scowl. "Well, I never used a club on a man
+yit," he said.
+
+"Where did it happen at?"
+
+"Up there at his place. He'd been chasin' me for two days, and when he
+went back--after grub, I reckon--I doubled on him. Just as he went in
+the door I got him. I left him with his damn feet stickin' out like a
+shoemaker's sign."
+
+"How fur was you off from him, Mark?"
+
+"Fifty yards, more 'r less."
+
+"Did you go over to him to see if he was finished, or just creased?"
+
+"I never creased a man in my life!" Thorn was indignant over the
+imputation.
+
+Chadron shook his head, in doubt, in discredit, in gloomy disbelief.
+
+"If you didn't go up to him and turn him over and look at the whites
+of his eyes, you ain't sure," he protested. "That man's as slippery as
+wet leather--he's fooled more than one that thought they had him, and
+I'll bet you two bits he's fooled you."
+
+"Go and see, and settle it yourself, then," Thorn proposed, in surly
+humor.
+
+Chadron had suspended his breakfast, as if the news had come between
+him and his appetite. He sat in a study, his big hand curved round his
+cup, his gaze on the cloth. At that juncture Maggie came in with a
+platter of eggs and ham, which she put down before Mark Thorn
+skittishly, ready to jump at the slightest hostile start. Thorn began
+to eat, as calmly as if there was not a stain on his crippled soul.
+
+Unlike the meal of canned oysters which he had consumed as Chadron's
+guest not many days before, Thorn was not welcomed to this by friendly
+words and urging to take off the limit. Chadron sat watching him, in
+divided attention and with dark face, as if he turned troubles over in
+his mind.
+
+Thorn cleaned the platter in front of him, and looked round hungrily,
+like a cat that has half-satisfied its stomach on a stolen bird. He
+said nothing, only he reached his foul hand across the table and took
+up the dish containing the remnant of Chadron's breakfast. This he
+soon cleared up, when he rasped the back of his hand across his harsh
+mustache, like a vulture preening its filthy plumage, and leaned back
+with a full-stomached sigh.
+
+"He makes six," said he, looking hard at Chadron.
+
+"Huh!" Chadron grunted, noncommittally.
+
+"I want the money, down on the nail, a thousand for the job. I'm
+through."
+
+"I'll have to look into it. I ain't payin' for anything sight 'nseen,"
+Chadron told him, starting out of his speculative wanderings.
+
+"Money down, on the nail," repeated Thorn, as if he had not heard. His
+old cap was hovering over his long hair, its flaps down like the wings
+of a brooding hen. There were clinging bits of broken sage on it, and
+burrs, which it had gathered in his skulking through the brush.
+
+"I'll send a man up the river right away, and find out about this last
+one," Chadron told him, nodding slowly. "If you've got Macdonald--"
+
+"If hell's got fire in it!"
+
+"If you've got him, I'll put something to the figure agreed on between
+you and me. The other fellers you've knocked over don't count."
+
+"I'll hang around--"
+
+"Not here! You'll not hang around here, I tell you!" Chadron cut him
+off harshly, fairly bristling. "Snake along out of here, and don't let
+anybody see you. I'll meet you at the hotel in the morning."
+
+"Gittin' peticlar of your company, ain't you?" sneered Thorn.
+
+"You're not company--you're business," Chadron told him, with stern
+and reproving eyes.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Chadron found Mark Thorn smoking into the chimney in the hotel office
+next morning, apparently as if he had not moved from that spot since
+their first meeting on that peculiar business. The old man-killer did
+not turn his head as Chadron entered the room with a show of caution
+and suspicion in his movements, and closed the door after him.
+
+He crossed over to the fire and stood near Thorn, who was slouching
+low in his chair, his long legs stretched straight, his heels crossed
+before the low ashy fire that smoldered in the chimney. For a little
+while Chadron stood looking down on his hired scourge, a knitting of
+displeasure in his face, as if he waited for him to break the silence.
+Thorn continued his dark reverie undisturbed, it seemed, his pipestem
+between his fingers.
+
+"Yes, it was his damn hired hand!" said Chadron, with profound
+disgust.
+
+"That's what I heard you say," acknowledged Thorn, not moving his
+head.
+
+"You knew it all the time; you was tryin' to work me for the money, so
+you could light out!"
+
+"I didn't even know he had a hired hand!" Thorn drew in his legs,
+straightened his back, and came with considerable spirit to the
+defense of his evil intent.
+
+"Well, he ain't got none now, but _he's_ alive and kickin'. You've
+bungled on this job worse than an old woman. I didn't fetch you in
+here to clean out hired hands and kids; we can shake a blanket and
+scare that kind out of the country!"
+
+"Well, put him in at fifty then, if he was only a hired hand," said
+Thorn, willing to oblige.
+
+"When you go ahead and do what you agreed to, then we'll talk money,
+and not a red till then."
+
+Thorn got up, unlimbering slowly, and laid the pipe on the mantel-shelf.
+He seemed unmoved, indifferent; apathetic as a toothless old lion.
+After a little silence he shook his head.
+
+"I'm done, I tell you," he said querulously, as if raising the
+question crossed him. "Pay me for that many, and call it square."
+
+"Bring in Macdonald," Chadron demanded in firm tones.
+
+"I ain't a-goin' to touch him! If I keep on after that man he'll git
+_me_--it's on the cards, I can see it in the dark."
+
+"Yes, you're lost your nerve, you old wildcat!" There was a taunt in
+Chadron's voice, a sneer.
+
+Thorn turned on him, a savage, smothered noise in his throat.
+
+"You can say that because you owe me money, but you know it's a damn
+lie! If you didn't owe me money, I'd make you swaller it with hot
+lead!"
+
+"You're talkin' a little too free for a man of your trade, Mark."
+While Chadron's tone was tolerant, even friendly, there was an
+undercurrent of warning, even threat, in his words.
+
+"You're the feller that's lettin' his gab outrun his gumption. How
+many does that make for me, talkin' about nerve, how many? Do you
+know?"
+
+"I don't care how many, it lacks one of bein' enough to suit me."
+
+"Twenty-eight, and I've got 'em down in m' book and I can prove it!"
+
+"Make it twenty-nine, and then quit if you want to."
+
+"Maybe I will." Thorn leaned forward a little, a glitter in his smoky
+eyes.
+
+Chadron fell back, his face growing pale. His hand was on his weapon,
+his eyes noting narrowly every move Thorn made.
+
+"If you ever sling a gun on me, you old devil, it'll be--"
+
+"I ain't a-goin' to sling no gun on you as long as you owe me money.
+I ain't a-goin' to cut the bottom out of m' own money-poke, Chad;
+you don't need to swivel up in your hide, you ain't marked for
+twenty-nine."
+
+"Well, don't throw out any more hints like that; I don't like that
+kind of a joke."
+
+"No, I wouldn't touch a hair of your head," Thorn ran on, following
+a vein which seemed to amuse him, for he smiled, a horrible,
+face-drawing contortion of a smile, "for if you and me ever had a
+fallin' out over money I might git so hard up I couldn't travel, and
+one of them sheriff fellers might slip up on me."
+
+"What's all this fool gab got to do with business?" Chadron was
+impatient; he looked at his watch.
+
+"Well, I'd be purty sure to make a speech from the gallers--I always
+intended to--and lay everything open that ever took place between me
+and you and the rest of them big fellers. There's a newspaper feller
+in Cheyenne that wants to make a book out of m' life, with m' pict're
+in the inside of the lid, to be sold when I'm dead. I could git money
+for tellin' that feller what I know."
+
+"Go on and tell him then,"--Chadron spoke with a dare in his words,
+and derision--"that'll be easy money, and it won't call for any nerve.
+But you don't need to be plannin' any speech from the gallus--you'll
+never go that fur if you try to double-cross me!"
+
+"I ain't aimin' to double-cross no man, but you can call it that if it
+suits you. You can call it whatever you purty damn well care to--I'm
+done!"
+
+Chadron made no reply to that. He was pulling on his great gloves,
+frowning savagely, as if he meant to close the matter with what he had
+said, and go.
+
+"Do I git any money, or don't I?" Thorn asked, sharply.
+
+"When you bring in that wolf's tail."
+
+"I ain't a-goin' to touch that feller, I tell you, Chad. That man
+means bad luck to me--I can read it in the cards."
+
+"Maybe you call that kind of skulkin' livin' up to your big name?"
+Chadron spoke in derision, playing on the vanity which he knew to be
+as much a part of that old murderer's life as the blood of his
+merciless heart.
+
+"I've got glory enough," said Thorn, satisfaction in his voice; "what
+I want right now's money."
+
+"Earn it before you collect it."
+
+"Twenty-eight 'd fill a purty fair book, countin' in what I could tell
+about the men I've had dealin's with," Thorn reflected, as to himself,
+leaning against the mantel, frowning down at the floor with bent
+head.
+
+"Talk till you're empty, you old fool, and who'll believe you? Huh!
+you couldn't git yourself hung if you was to try!" Chadron's dark face
+was blacker for the spreading flood of resentful blood; he pointed
+with his heavy quirt at Thorn, as if to impress him with a sense of
+the smallness of his wickedness, which men would not credit against
+the cattlemen's word, even if he should publish it abroad. "You'll
+never walk onto the scaffold, no matter how hard you try--there'll be
+somebody around to head you off and give you a shorter cut than that,
+I'm here to tell you!"
+
+"Huh!" said Thorn, still keeping his thoughtful pose.
+
+Man-killing is a trade that reacts differently on those who follow it,
+according to their depth and nature. It makes black devils of some who
+were once civil, smiling, wholesome men, whether the mischance of
+life-taking has fallen to them in their duty to society or in outlawed
+deeds. It plunges some into dark taciturnity and brooding coldness, as
+if they had eaten of some root which blunted them to all common relish
+of life.
+
+There are others of whom the bloody trade makes gabbling fools,
+light-headed, wild-eyed wasters of words, full of the importance of
+their mind-wrecking deeds. Like the savage whose reputation mounts
+with each wet scalp, each fresh head, these kill out of depravity,
+glorying in the growing score. To this class Mark Thorn belonged.
+
+There was but one side left to that depraved man's mind; his bloody,
+base life had smothered the rest under the growing heap of his
+horrible deeds. Thorn had killed twenty-eight human beings for hire,
+of whom he had tally, but there was one to be included of whom he had
+not taken count--himself.
+
+As he stood here against the chimney-shelf he was only the outside
+husk of a man. His soul had been judged already, and burned out of him
+by the unholy passion which he had indulged. He was as simple in his
+garrulous chatter of glory and distinction as a half-fool. His warped
+mind ran only on the spectacular end that he had planned for himself,
+and the speech from the gallows that was to be the black, damning seal
+at the end of his atrocious life's record.
+
+Thorn looked up from his study; he shook his head decisively.
+
+"I ain't a-goin' to go back over there in your country and give you a
+chance at me. If you git me, you'll have to git me here. I ain't
+a-goin' to sling a gun down on nobody for the money that's in it, I
+tell you. I'm through; I'm out of the game; my craw's full. It's a bad
+sign when a man wastes a bullet on a hired hand, takin' him for the
+boss, and I ain't a-goin' to run no more resks on that feller. When my
+day for glory comes I'll step out on the gallers and say m' piece, and
+they'll be some big fellers in this country huntin' the tall grass
+about that time, I guess."
+
+Chadron had taken up his quirt from the little round table where the
+hotel register lay. He turned now toward the outer door, as if in
+earnest about going his way and leaving Mark Thorn to follow his own
+path, no matter to what consequences it might lead.
+
+"If you're square enough to settle up with me for this job," said
+Thorn, "and pay me five hundred for what I've done, I'll leave your
+name out when I come to make that little speech."
+
+Chadron turned on him with a sneer. "You seem to have your hangin' all
+cut and dried, but you'll never go ten miles outside of this
+reservation if you don't turn around and put that job through. You'll
+never hang--you ain't cut out in the hangin' style."
+
+"I tell you I will!" protested Thorn hotly. "I can see it in the
+cards."
+
+"Well, you'd better shuffle 'em ag'in."
+
+"I know what kind of a day it's goin' to be, and I know just adzackly
+how I'll look when I hold up m' hands for them fellers to keep still.
+Shucks! you can't tell me; I've seen that day a thousand times. It'll
+be early in the mornin', and the sun bright--"
+
+The door leading to the dining-room opened, and Thorn left his
+description of that great and final day in his career hanging like a
+broken bridge. He turned to see who it was, squinting his old eyes up
+sharply, and in watching the stranger he failed to see the whiteness
+that came over Chadron's face like a rushing cloud.
+
+"Grab your gun!" Chadron whispered.
+
+"Just let it stay where it is, Thorn," advised the stranger, his quick
+hand on his own weapon before Thorn could grasp what it was all about,
+believing, as he did, in the safety of the reservation's neutral
+ground. "Macdonald is my name; I've been looking for you." The
+stranger came on as he spoke.
+
+He was but a few feet away from Thorn, and the old man-killer had his
+revolvers buckled around him in their accustomed place, while his
+death-spreading rifle stood near his hand, leaning its muzzle against
+the chimney-jamb. Thorn seemed to be measuring all the chances which
+he had left to him in that bold surprise, and to conclude in the same
+second that they were not worth taking.
+
+Macdonald had not drawn his revolver. His hand was on the butt of it,
+and his eye held Thorn with a challenge that the old slayer was in no
+mind to accept.
+
+Thorn was not a close-fighting man. He never had killed one of his
+kind in a face-to-face battle in all his bloody days. At the bottom he
+was a coward, as his skulking deeds attested, and in that moment he
+knew that he stood before his master. Slowly he lifted his long arms
+above his head, without a word, and stood in the posture of complete
+surrender.
+
+Nearer the outer door stood Chadron, to whom Macdonald seemed to give
+little attention, as if not counting him in the game. The big
+cattleman was "white to the gills," as his kind expressed that state.
+Macdonald unbuckled Thorn's belt and hung his revolvers over his arm.
+
+"I knowed you'd git me, Macdonald," the old scoundrel said.
+
+Macdonald, haggard and dusty, and grim as the last day that old Mark
+Thorn had pictured for himself, pushed his prisoner away from the
+chimney, out of reach of the rifle, and indicated that he was to march
+for the open door, through which the tables in the dining-room could
+be seen. At Macdonald's coming Chadron had thrown his hand to his
+revolver, where he still held it, as if undecided how far to go.
+
+"Keep your gun where it is, Chadron," Macdonald advised. "This isn't
+my day for you. Clear out of here--quick!"
+
+Chadron backed toward the front door, his hand still dubiously on his
+revolver. Still suspicious, his face as white as it would have been in
+death, he reached back with his free hand to open the door.
+
+"I told you he'd git me," nodded Thorn, with something near to
+exultation in the vindication of his reading of the cards. "I give you
+a chance--no man's money ain't a-goin' to shut my mouth now!"
+
+"I'll shut it, damn you!" Chadron's voice was dry-sounding and far
+up in his throat. He drew his revolver with a quick jerk that
+seemed nothing more than a slight movement of the shoulder. Quick
+as he was--and few in the cattlemen's baronies were ahead of him
+there--Macdonald was quicker. The muzzle of Chadron's pistol was
+still in the leather when Macdonald's weapon was leveled at his eyes.
+
+"Drop that gun!"
+
+A moment Chadron's arm hung stiffly in that half-finished movement,
+while his eyes gave defiance. He had not bent before any man in many a
+year of growing power. But there was no other way; it was either bend
+or break, and the break would be beyond repair.
+
+Chadron's fingers were damp with sudden sweat as he unclasped them
+from the pistol-butt and let the weapon fall; sweat was on his
+forehead, and a heaviness on his chest as if a man sat on him. He felt
+backwards through the open door with one foot, like an old man
+distrustful of his limbs, and steadied himself with his shoulder
+against the jamb, for there was a trembling in his knees. He knew that
+he had saved himself from the drop into eternal inconsequence by the
+shading of a second, for there was death in dusty Alan Macdonald's
+face. The escape left Chadron shaken, like a man who has held himself
+away from death by his finger-ends at the lip of a ledge.
+
+"I knowed you'd git me, Macdonald," Thorn repeated. "You don't need no
+handcuffs nor nothin' for me. I'll go along with you as gentle as a
+fish."
+
+Macdonald indicated that Thorn might lower his arms, having taken
+possession of the rifle. "Have you got a horse?" he asked.
+
+Thorn said that he had one in the hotel stable. "But don't you try to
+take me too fur, Macdonald," he advised. "Chadron he'll ride a streak
+to git his men together and try to take me away from you--I could see
+it in his eye when he went out of that door."
+
+Macdonald knew that Thorn had read Chadron's intentions right. He
+nodded, to let him know that he understood the cattleman's motives.
+
+"Well, don't you run me off to no private rope party, neither,
+Macdonald, for I can tell you things that many a man'd pay me big
+money to keep my mouth shut on."
+
+"You'll have a chance, Thorn."
+
+"But I want it done in the right way, so's I'll git the credit and the
+fame."
+
+Macdonald was surprised to find this man, whose infamous career had
+branded him as the arch-monster of modern times, so vain and
+garrulous. He could account for it by no other hypothesis than that
+much killing had indurated the warped mind of the slayer until the
+taking of a human life was to him a commonplace. He was not capable of
+remorse, any more than he had been disposed to pity. He was not a man,
+only the blighted and cursed husk of a man, indeed, but doubly
+dangerous for his irresponsibility, for his atrophied small
+understanding.
+
+Twenty miles lay between the prisoner and the doubtful security of the
+jail at Meander, and most of the distance was through the grazing
+lands within Chadron's bounds. On the other hand, it was not more than
+twelve miles to his ranch on the river. He believed that he could
+reach it before Chadron could raise men to stop him and take the
+prisoner away.
+
+Once home with Thorn, he could raise a posse to guard him until the
+sheriff could be summoned. Even then there was no certainty that the
+prisoner ever would see the inside of the Meander jail, for the
+sheriff of that county was nothing more than one of Chadron's cowboys,
+elevated to office to serve the unrighteous desires of the men who had
+put him there.
+
+But Macdonald was determined that there should be no private rope
+party for Thorn, neither at the hands of the prisoner's employers nor
+at those of the outraged settlers. Thorn must be brought to trial
+publicly, and the story of his employment, which he appeared ready
+enough to tell for the "glory" in it, must be told in a manner that
+would establish its value.
+
+The cruelly inhuman tale of his contracts and killings, his
+engagements and rewards, must be sown by the newspapers far and wide.
+Out of this dark phase of their oppression their deliverance must
+rise.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+"HELL'S A-GOIN' TO POP"
+
+
+Chance Dalton, foreman of Alamito Ranch, was in charge of the
+expedition that rode late that afternoon against Macdonald's homestead
+to liberate Mark Thorn, and close his mouth in the cattlemen's
+effective way upon the bloody secrets which he might in vainglorious
+boast reveal. Chadron had promised rewards for the successful outcome
+of the venture, and Chance Dalton rode with his three picked men in a
+sportsman's heat.
+
+He was going out on a hunt for game such as he had run down more than
+once before in his many years under Chadron's hand. It was better
+sport than running down wolves or mountain lions, for there was the
+superior intelligence of the game to be considered. No man knew what
+turn the ingenuity of desperation might give the human mind. The
+hunted might go out in one last splendid blaze of courage, or he might
+cringe and beg, with white face and rolling eyes. In the case of
+Macdonald, Dalton anticipated something unusual. He had tasted that
+unaccountable homesteader's spirit in the past.
+
+Dalton was a wiry, tough man who rode with his elbows out, like an
+Indian. His face was scarred by old knife-wounds, making it hard for
+him to shave, in consequence of which he allowed his red beard to grow
+to inch-length, where he kept it in subjugation with shears. The
+gutters of his scars were seen through it, and the ends of them ran
+up, on both cheeks, to his eyes. A knife had gone across one of these,
+missing the bright little pupil in its bony cave, but slashing the
+eyebrow and leaving him leering on that side.
+
+The men who came behind him were cowboys from the Texas Panhandle,
+lean and tough as the dried beef of their native plains. It was the
+most formidable force, not in numbers, but in proficiency, that ever
+had proceeded against Macdonald, and the most determined.
+
+Chadron himself had bent to the small office of spy to learn
+Macdonald's intention in reference to his prisoner. From a sheltered
+thicket in the foothills the cattleman had watched the homesteader
+through his field glasses, making certain that he was returning Thorn
+to the scene of his latest crimes, instead of risking the long road to
+the Meander jail.
+
+Chadron knew that Macdonald would defend the prisoner's life with his
+own, even against his neighbors. Macdonald would be as eager to have
+Thorn tell the story of his transactions with the Drovers' Association
+as they would be to have it shut off. The realization of this threw
+Chadron into a state which he described to himself as the "fantods."
+Another, with a more extensive and less picturesque vocabulary, would
+have said that the president of the Drovers' Association was in a
+condition of panic.
+
+So he had despatched his men on this silencing errand, and now, as the
+sun was dipping over the hills, all red with the presage of a frosty
+night, Chance Dalton and his men came riding in sight of Macdonald's
+little nest of buildings fronting the road by the river.
+
+Macdonald had secured his prisoner with ropes, for there was no
+compartment in his little house, built of boards from the mountain
+sawmill, strong enough to confine a man, much less a slippery one like
+Mark Thorn. The slayer had lapsed into his native taciturnity shortly
+after beginning the trip from the reservation to Macdonald's
+homestead, and now he lay on the floor trussed up like a hog for
+market, looking blackly at Macdonald. Macdonald was considering the
+night ride to Meander with his prisoner that he had planned, with the
+intention of proceeding from there to Cheyenne and lodging him in
+jail. He believed there might be a better chance of holding him for
+trial there, and some slight hope of justice.
+
+A hail from the gate startled Macdonald. It was the custom of the
+homesteaders in that country, carried with them from the hills of
+Missouri and Arkansas, to sit in their saddles at a neighbor's gate
+and call him to the door with a long "hello-o-oh!" It was the password
+of friendship in that raw land; a cowboy never had been known to stoop
+to its use. Cowboys rode up to a homesteader's door when they had
+anything to say to him, and hammered on it with their guns.
+
+Macdonald went to the door and opened it unhesitatingly. The horseman
+at the gate was a stranger to him. He wore a little derby hat, such as
+the cowpunchers despised, and the trappings of his horse proclaimed
+him as a newcomer to that country. He inquired loudly of the road to
+Fort Shakie, and Macdonald shouted back the necessary directions,
+moving a step away from his open door.
+
+The stranger put his hand to his ear and leaned over.
+
+"Which?" said he.
+
+At that sound of that distinctly-cowboy vernacular, Macdonald sprang
+back to regain the shelter of his walls, sensing too late the trap
+that the cowboy's unguarded word had betrayed. Chance Dalton at one
+corner of the rude bungalow, his next best man at the other, had been
+waiting for the decoy at the gate to draw Macdonald away from his
+door. Now, as the homesteader leaped back in sudden alarm, they closed
+in on him with their revolvers drawn.
+
+There was the sound of a third man trying the back door at the same
+time, and the disguised cowboy at the gate slung his weapon out and
+sent a wild shot into the lintel above Macdonald's head. The two of
+them on the ground had him at a disadvantage which it would have been
+fatal to dispute, and Macdonald, valuing a future chance more than a
+present hopeless struggle, flung his hands out in a gesture of
+emptiness and surrender.
+
+"Put 'em up--high!" Dalton ordered.
+
+Dalton watched him keenly as the three in that picture before the door
+stood keyed to such tension as the human intelligence seldom is called
+upon to withstand. Macdonald stood with one foot on the low threshold,
+the door swinging half open at his back. He was bareheaded, his rough,
+fair hair in wisps on temples and forehead. Dalton's teeth were
+showing between his bearded lips, and his quick eyes were scowling,
+but he held his companion back with a command of his free hand.
+
+Macdonald lifted his hands slowly, holding them little above a level
+with his shoulders.
+
+"Give up your prisoner, Macdonald, and we'll deal square with you,"
+Dalton said.
+
+"Go in and take him," offered Macdonald, stepping aside out of the
+door.
+
+"Go ahead of us, and put 'em up higher!" Dalton made a little
+expressive flourish with his gun, evidently distrustful of the
+homesteader's quick hand, even at his present disadvantage.
+
+The man at the back door was using the ax from Macdonald's wood pile,
+as the sound of splintering timber told. Between three fires,
+Macdonald felt his chance stretching to the breaking point, for he had
+no faith at all in Chance Dalton's word. They had come to get him, and
+it looked now as if they had won.
+
+When Macdonald entered the house he saw Thorn sitting in the middle of
+the floor, where he had rolled and struggled in his efforts to see
+what was taking place outside.
+
+"You've played hell now, ain't you? lettin' 'em git the drop on you
+that way!" he said to Macdonald, angrily. "They'll swing--"
+
+"Hand over that gun, Macdonald," Dalton demanded. They were standing
+near him, one on either hand, both leveling their guns at his head.
+Macdonald could see the one at the back door of his little two-roomed
+bungalow through the hole that he had chopped.
+
+"I don't hand my gun to any man; if you want it, come and take it,"
+Macdonald said, feeling that the end was rushing upon him, and
+wondering what it would be. A bullet was better than a rope, which
+Chadron had publicly boasted he had laid up for him. There was a long
+chance if Dalton reached for that gun--a long and desperate chance.
+
+The man at the back door was shouting something, his gun thrust
+through the hole. Dalton made a cross-reach with his left hand for
+Macdonald's revolver. On the other side the cowboy was watching his
+comrade's gun pointing through the kitchen door; Macdonald could see
+the whites of his eyes as he turned them.
+
+"Don't shoot in here! we've got 'em," he called.
+
+His shifted eye told Macdonald that he was trusting to Dalton, and
+Dalton at that moment was leaning forward with a strain, cautiously,
+his hand near Macdonald's holster.
+
+Macdonald brought his lifted arms down, like a swimmer making a mighty
+stroke, with all the steam behind them that he could raise. His
+back-handed blow struck the cowboy in the face; Macdonald felt the
+flame of his shot as it spurted past his forehead. The other arm fell
+short of the nimbler and more watchful Dalton, but the duck that he
+made to escape it broke the drop that he had held over Macdonald.
+
+Macdonald's hand flashed up with his own gun. He drove a disabling
+shot through Dalton's wrist as the ranch foreman was coming up to
+fire, and kicked the gun that he dropped out of reach of his other
+hand. The cowboy who had caught Macdonald's desperate blow had
+staggered back against the foot of the bed and fallen. Now he had
+regained himself, and was crouching behind the bed, trying to cover
+himself, and from there as he shrank down he fired. The next flash he
+sprawled forward with hands outstretched across the blanket, as if he
+had fallen on his knees to pray.
+
+Macdonald caught Dalton by the shirt collar as he went scrambling on
+his knees after the revolver. Dalton was splashing blood from his
+shattered wrist over the room, but he was senseless to pain and blind
+to danger. He sprang at Macdonald, cursing and striking.
+
+"Keep off, Dalton! I don't want to kill you, man!" Macdonald warned.
+
+Careless of his life Dalton fought, and as they struggled Mark Thorn
+undoubled himself from his hunched position on the floor and snatched
+Dalton's revolver in his bound hands from the floor. His long legs
+free of his binding ropes, Thorn sprang for the door. He reached it at
+the moment that the man in the disguise of a homesteader pushed it
+open.
+
+Macdonald did not see what took place there, for it was over by the
+time he had struck Dalton into a limp quiet heap at his feet by a blow
+with his revolver across the eyes. But there had been a shot at the
+door, and Macdonald had heard the man from the back come running
+around the side of the house. There were more shots, but all done
+before Macdonald could leap to the door.
+
+There, through the smoke of many quick shots that drifted into the
+open door, he saw the two cowboys fallen with outflung arms. In the
+road a few rods distant Mark Thorn was mounting one of Chadron's
+horses. The old outlaw flung himself flat along the horse's neck, and
+presented little of his vital parts as a target. As he galloped away
+Macdonald fired, but apparently did not hit. In a moment Thorn rode
+down the river-bank and out of sight.
+
+Macdonald stood a little while in the middle of the disordered room
+after re-entering the house, a feeling of great silence about him, and
+a numbness in his ears and over his senses. It was a sensation such as
+he had experienced once after standing for hours under the spell of
+Niagara. Something seemed to have been silenced in the world.
+
+He was troubled over the outcome of that treacherous assault. He felt
+that the shadow of the resultant tragedy was already stretching away
+from there like the penumbra of an eclipse which must soon engulf
+those homesteads on the river, and exact a terrible, blasting toll.
+
+Dalton was huddled there, his life wasting through the wound in his
+wrist, blood on his face from the blow that had laid him still. The
+dead man across the bed remained as he had fallen, his arms stretched
+out in empty supplication. There was a pathos in the fellow's pose
+that touched Macdonald with a pity which he knew to be undeserved. He
+had not meant to take his life away in that hasty shot, but since it
+had happened so, he knew that it had been his own deliverance.
+
+Macdonald stripped the garment back and looked at Dalton's hurt. There
+would be another one to take toll for in the cattlemen's list unless
+the drain of blood could be checked at once. Dalton moved, opening his
+eyes.
+
+It seemed unlikely that Dalton ever would sling a gun with that member
+again, if he should be so lucky, indeed, as to come through with his
+life. The bone was shattered, the hand hung limp, like a broken wing.
+Dalton sat up, yielding his arm to his enemy's ministrations, as
+silent and ungracious as a dog. In a little while Macdonald had done
+all that he could do, and with a hand under the hollow of Dalton's arm
+he lifted him to his feet.
+
+"Can you ride?" he asked. Dalton did not reply. He looked at the
+figure on the bed, and stood turning his eyes around the room in the
+manner of one stunned, and completely confounded by the failure of a
+scheme counted infallible.
+
+"You made a botch of this job, Dalton," Macdonald said. "The rest of
+your crowd's outside where Thorn dropped them--he snatched your gun
+from the floor and killed both of them."
+
+Dalton went weakly to the door, where he stood a moment, steadying
+himself with a hand on the jamb. Macdonald eased him from there to the
+gate, and brought the horses which the gang had hidden among the
+willows.
+
+"Tell Chadron to send a wagon up here after these dead men," Macdonald
+said, leading a horse to the gate.
+
+He helped the still silent Dalton into the saddle, where he sat
+weakly. The man seemed to be debating something to say to this
+unaccountably fortunate nester, who came untouched through all their
+attempts upon his life. But whatever it was that he cogitated he kept
+to himself, only turning his eyes back toward the house, where his two
+men lay on the ground. The face of one was turned upward. In the
+draining light of the spent day it looked as white as innocence.
+
+As Dalton drew his eyes away from the fearful evidence of his plan's
+miscarriage, the sound of hard riding came from the direction of the
+settlement up the river. Macdonald listened a moment as the sound
+grew.
+
+"That will be no friend of yours, Dalton. Get out of this!"
+
+He cut Dalton's horse a sharp blow. The beast bounded away with a
+start that almost unseated its dizzy rider; the two free animals
+galloped after it. Chance Dalton was on his way to Chadron with his
+burden of disgrace and disastrous news. It seemed a question to
+Macdonald, as he watched him weaving in the saddle as the gloom closed
+around him and shut him from sight, whether he ever would reach the
+ranchhouse to recount his story, whatever version of the tragedy he
+had planned.
+
+Tom Lassiter drew up before Macdonald's gate while the dust of
+Dalton's going was still hanging there. The gaunt old homesteader with
+the cloud of sorrows in his eyes said that he had been on his way over
+to see what had become of Macdonald in his lone hunt for Mark Thorn.
+He had heard the shooting, and the sound had hurried him forward.
+
+Macdonald told him what had happened, and took him in to see the
+wreckage left after that sudden storm. Tom shook his head as he stood
+in the yard looking down at the two dead men.
+
+"Hell's a-goin' to pop now!" he said.
+
+"I think you've said the word, Tom," Macdonald admitted. "They'll come
+back on me hard for this."
+
+"You'll never have to stand up to 'em alone another time, I'll give
+you a guarantee on that, Mac."
+
+"I'm glad to hear it," Macdonald replied, but wearily, and with no
+warmth or faith in his words.
+
+"And they let that old scorpeen loose to skulk and kill ag'in!"
+
+"Yes, he got away."
+
+"They sure did oncork a hornet's nest when they come here this time,
+though, they sure did!" Tom stood in the door, looking into the
+darkening room and at the figure sprawled across the bed. "He-ell's
+a-goin' to pop now!" he said again, in slow words scarcely above his
+breath.
+
+He turned his head searchingly, as if he expected to see the cloud of
+it already lowering out of the night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE SEÑOR BOSS COMES RIDING
+
+
+Nola Chadron had been a guest overnight at the post. She had come the
+afternoon before, bright as a bubble, and Frances had met her with a
+welcome as warm as if there never had been a shadow between them.
+
+Women can do such things so much better than men. Balzac said they
+could murder under the cover of a kiss. Perhaps somebody else said it
+ahead of him; certainly a great many of us have thought it after.
+There is not one out of the whole world of them but is capable of
+covering the fire of lies in her heart with the rose leaves of her
+smiles.
+
+Nola had come into Frances' room to do her hair, and employ her busy
+tongue while she plied the brush. She was a pretty bit of a figure in
+her fancily-worked Japanese kimono and red Turkish slippers--harem
+slippers, she called them, and thought it deliciously wicked to wear
+them--as she sat shaking back her bright hair like a giver of
+sunbeams.
+
+Frances, already dressed in her soft light apparel of the morning,
+stood at the window watching the activity of the avenue below,
+answering encouragingly now and then, laughing at the right time, to
+keep the stream of her little guest's words running on. Frances seemed
+all softness and warmth, all youth and freshness, as fair as a
+camellia in a sunny casement, there at the window with the light
+around her. Above that inborn dignity which every line of her body
+expressed, there was a domestic tranquillity in her subdued beauty
+that moved even irresponsible Nola with an admiration that she could
+not put into words.
+
+"Oh, you soldiers!" said Nola, shaking her brush at Frances' placid
+back, "you get up so early and you dress so fast that you're always
+ahead of everybody else."
+
+Frances turned to her, a smile for her childish complaint.
+
+"You'll get into our soldiering ways in time, Nola. We get up early
+and live in a hurry, I suppose, because a soldier's life is
+traditionally uncertain, and he wants to make the most of his time."
+
+"And love and ride away," said Nola, feigning a sigh.
+
+"Do they?" asked Frances, not interested, turning to the window
+again.
+
+"Of course," said Nola, positively.
+
+    "Like the guardsmen of old England,
+    Or the beaux sabreurs of France--"
+
+that's an old border song, did you ever hear it?"
+
+"No, I never did."
+
+"It's about the Texas rangers, though, and not real soldiers like you
+folks. A cavalryman's wife wrote it; I've got it in a book."
+
+"Maybe they do that way in Texas, Nola."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Love and ride away, as you said. I never heard of any of them doing
+it, except figuratively, in the regular army."
+
+Nola suspended her brushing and looked at Frances curiously, a deeper
+color rising and spreading in her animated face.
+
+"Oh, you little goose!" said she.
+
+"Mostly they hang around and make trouble for people and fools of
+themselves," said Frances, in half-thoughtful vein, her back to her
+visitor, who had stopped brushing now, and was winding, a comb in her
+mouth.
+
+Nola held her quick hand at the half-finished coil of hair while she
+looked narrowly at the outline of Frances' form against the window. A
+little squint of perplexity was in her eyes, and furrows in her smooth
+forehead. Presently she finished the coil with dextrous turn, and held
+it with outspread hand while she reached to secure it with the comb.
+
+"I can't make you out sometimes, Frances, you're so funny," she
+declared. "I'm afraid to talk to you half the time"--which was in no
+part true--"you're so nunnish and severe."
+
+"Oh!" said Frances, fully discounting the declaration.
+
+No wonder that Major King was hard to wean from her, thought Nola,
+with all that grace of body and charm of word. Superiority had been
+born in Frances Landcraft, not educated into her in expensive schools,
+the cattleman's daughter knew. It spoke for itself in the carriage of
+her head there against the light of that fair new day, with the
+sunshine on the dying cottonwood leaves beyond the windowpane; in the
+lifting of her neck, white as King David's tower of shields.
+
+"Well, I _am_ half afraid of you sometimes," Nola persisted. "I draw
+my hand back from touching you when you've got one of your soaring
+fits on you and walk along like you couldn't see common mortals and
+cowmen's daughters."
+
+"Well, everybody isn't like you, Nola; there are some who treat me
+like a child."
+
+Frances was thinking of her father and Major King, both of whom had
+continued to overlook and ignore her declaration of severance from her
+plighted word. The colonel had brushed it aside with rough hand and
+sharp word; the major had come penitent and in suppliance. But both of
+them were determined to marry her according to schedule, with no
+weight to her solemn denial.
+
+"Mothers do that, right along," Nola nodded.
+
+"Here's somebody else up early"--Frances held the curtain aside as she
+spoke, and leaned a little to see--"here's your father, just turning
+in."
+
+"The señor boss?" said Nola, hurrying to the window.
+
+Saul Chadron was mounting the steps booted and dusty, his revolvers
+belted over his coat. "I wonder what's the matter? I hope it isn't
+mother--I'll run down and see."
+
+The maid had let Chadron in by the time Nola opened the door of the
+room, and there she stood leaning and listening, her little head out
+in the hall, as if afraid to run to meet trouble. Chadron's big voice
+came up to them.
+
+"It's all right," Nola nodded to Frances, who stood at her elbow, "he
+wants to see the colonel."
+
+Frances had heard the cattleman's loud demand for instant audience.
+Now the maid was explaining in temporizing tones.
+
+"The colonel he's busy with military matters this early in the day,
+sir, and nobody ever disturbs him. He don't see nobody but the
+officers. If you'll step in and wait--"
+
+"The officers can wait!" Chadron said, in loud, assertive voice that
+made the servant shiver. "Where's he at?"
+
+Frances could see in her lively imagination the frightened maid's
+gesture toward the colonel's office door. Now the girl's feet sounded
+along the hall in hasty retreat as Chadron laid his hearty knock
+against the colonel's panels.
+
+Frances smiled behind her friend's back. The impatient disregard by
+civilians of the forms which her father held in such esteem always was
+a matter of humor to her. She expected now to hear explosions from
+within her father's sacred place, and when the sound failed to reach
+her she concluded that some subordinate hand had opened the door to
+Chadron's summons.
+
+"I'll hurry"--Nola dashed into her own room, finishing from the
+door--"I want to catch him before he goes and find out what's wrong."
+
+Frances went below to see about breakfast for her tardy guest, a
+little fluttering of excitement in her own breast. She wondered what
+could have brought the cattleman to the post so early--he must have
+left long before dawn--and in such haste to see her father, all
+buckled about with his arms. She trusted that it might not be that
+Alan Macdonald was involved in it, for it was her constant thought to
+hope well for that bold young man who had heaved the homesteaders'
+world to his shoulders and stood straining, untrusted and uncheered,
+under its weight.
+
+True, he had not died in defense of her glove, but she had forgiven
+him in her heart for that. A reasonable man would not have imperiled
+his life for such a trifle, and a reasonable woman would not have
+expected it. There was a great deal more sense in Alan Macdonald
+living for his life's purpose than in dying for a foolish little
+glove. So she said.
+
+The white gossamer fichu about her throat moved as with a breath in
+the agitation of her bosom as she passed down the stairs; her
+imperious chin was lowered, and her strong brown eyes were bent like a
+nun's before the altar. Worthy or unworthy, her lips moved in a prayer
+for Alan Macdonald, strong man in his obscure place; worthy or
+unworthy, she wished him well, and her heart yearned after him with a
+great tenderness, like a south wind roaming the night in gentle
+quest.
+
+Major King, in attendance upon his chief, had opened the door to Saul
+Chadron at the colonel's frowning nod. Without waiting for the
+password into the mysteries of that chamber, Chadron had entered, his
+heavy quirt in hand, gauntlets to his elbows, dusty boots to his
+knees. Colonel Landcraft stood at his desk to receive him, his brows
+bent in a disfavoring frown.
+
+"I've busted in on you, colonel, because my business is business, not
+a mess of reportin' and signin' up on nothing, like your fool army
+doin's." Chadron clamped with clicking spurs across the severe bare
+floor as he made this announcement, the frown of his displeasure in
+having been stopped at the door still dark on his face.
+
+"I'm waiting your pleasure, sir," Colonel Landcraft returned,
+stiffly.
+
+"I want twenty-five troopers and a cannon, and somebody that knows how
+to use it, and I want 'em right away!"
+
+Chadron gave the order with a hotness about him, and an impatience not
+to be denied.
+
+"Sir!" said Colonel Landcraft, throwing his bony shoulders back, his
+little blue eyes growing very cold and unfriendly.
+
+"Them damn rustlers of Macdonald's are up and standin' agin us, and I
+tell you I want troopers, and I want 'em on the spot!"
+
+Colonel Landcraft swallowed like an eagle gorging a fish. His face
+grew red, he clamped his jaw, and held his mouth shut. It took him
+some little time to suppress his flooding emotions, and his voice
+trembled even when he ventured to trust himself to speak.
+
+"That's a matter for your civil authorities, sir; I have nothing to do
+with it at all."
+
+"You ain't got--nothing--?" Chadron's amazement seemed to overcome
+him. He stopped, his eyes big, his mouth open; he turned his head from
+side to side in dumbfounded way, as if to find another to bear witness
+to this incredible thing.
+
+"I tell you they're threatenin' my property, and the property of my
+neighbors!" protested Chadron, stunned, it seemed, that he should have
+to stop for details and explanations. "We've got millions invested--if
+them fellers gobbles up our land we're ruined!"
+
+"Sir, I can sympathize with you in your unfortunate business, but if I
+had millions of my own at stake under similar conditions I would be
+powerless to employ, on my own initiative, the forces of the United
+States army to drive those brigands away."
+
+Chadron looked at him hard, his hat on his head, where it had remained
+all the time, his eyes staring in unspeakable surprise.
+
+"The hell you would!" said he.
+
+"You and your neighbors surely can raise enough men to crush the
+scoundrels, and hang their leader to a limb," the colonel suggested.
+"Call out your men, Chadron, and ride against him. I never took you
+for a man to squeal for help in a little affair like this."
+
+"He's got as many as a hundred men organized, maybe twice that"--Chadron
+multiplied on the basis of damage that his men had suffered--"and my
+men tell me he's drillin' 'em like soldiers."
+
+"I'm not surprised to hear that," nodded the colonel; "that man
+Macdonald's got it in him to do that, and fight like the devil, too."
+
+"A gang of 'em killed three of my men a couple of days ago when I sent
+'em up there to his shack to investigate a little matter, and
+Macdonald shot my foreman up so bad I guess he'll die. I tell you,
+man, it's a case for troopers!"
+
+"What has the sheriff and the rest of you done to restore order?"
+
+"I took twenty of my men up there yisterday, and a bunch of Sam
+Hatcher's from acrosst the river was to join us and smoke that wolf
+out of his hole and hang his damn hide on his cussed bob-wire fence.
+But hell! they was ditched in around that shack of his'n, I tell you,
+gentlemen, and he peppered us so hard we had to streak out of there. I
+left two of my men, and Hatcher's crew couldn't come over to help us,
+for them damn rustlers had breastworks throwed up over there and drove
+'em away from the river. They've got us shut out from the only ford in
+thirty miles."
+
+"Well, I'll be damned!" said the colonel, warming at this warlike
+news.
+
+"Macdonald's had the gall to send me notice to keep out of that
+country up the river, and to run my cattle out of there, and it's my
+own land, by God! I've been grazin' it for eighteen years!"
+
+"It looks like a serious situation," the colonel admitted.
+
+"Serious!" There was scorn for the word and its weakness in Chadron's
+stress. "It's hell, I tell you, when a man can't set foot on his own
+land!"
+
+"Are they all rustlers up there in the settlement? are there no honest
+homesteaders among them who would combine with you against this wild
+man and his unlawful followers?" the colonel wanted to know.
+
+"Not a man amongst 'em that ain't cut the brand out of a hide,"
+Chadron declared. "They've been nestin' up there under that man
+Macdonald for the last two years, and he's the brains of the pack. He
+gits his rake-off out of all they run off and sell. Me and the other
+cattlemen we've been feedin' and supportin' 'em till the drain's
+gittin' more'n we can stand. We've got to put 'em out, like a fire, or
+be eat up. We've got to hit 'em, and hit 'em hard."
+
+"It would seem so," the colonel agreed.
+
+"It's a state of war, I tell you, colonel; you're free to use your
+troops in a state of war, ain't you? Twenty-five troopers, with a
+little small cannon"--Chadron made illustration of the caliber that he
+considered adequate for the business with his hands--"to knock 'em out
+of their ditches so we could pick 'em off as they scatter, would be
+enough; we can handle the rest."
+
+"If there is anything that I can do for you in my private capacity, I
+am at your command," offered Colonel Landcraft, with official
+emptiness, "but I regret that I am powerless to grant your request for
+troops. I couldn't lift a finger in a matter like this without a
+department order; you ought to understand that, Chadron."
+
+"Oh, if that's all that's bitin' you, go ahead--I'll take care of the
+department," Chadron told him, with the relieved manner of one who had
+seen a light.
+
+"Sir!"
+
+If Chadron had proposed treason the colonel could not have compressed
+more censure into that word.
+
+"That's all right," Chadron assured him, comfortably; "I've got two
+senators and five congressmen back there in Washington that jigger
+when I jerk the gee-string. You can cut loose and come into this thing
+with a free hand, and go the limit, the department be damned if they
+don't like it!"
+
+Colonel Landcraft's face was flaming angrily. He snapped his dry old
+eyelids like flints over the steel of his eyes, and stood as straight
+as the human body could be drawn, one hand on his sword hilt, the
+other pointing a trembling finger at Chadron's face.
+
+"You cattlemen run this state, and one or two others here in the
+Northwest, I'm aware of that, Chadron. But there's one thing that you
+don't run, and that's the United States army! I don't care a damn how
+many congressmen dance to your tune, you're not big enough to move
+even one trooper out of my barracks, sir! That's all I've got to say
+to you."
+
+Chadron stood a little while, glowering at the colonel. It enraged him
+to be blocked in that manner by a small and inconsequential man. This
+he felt Colonel Landcraft to be, measured against his own strength and
+importance in that country. Himself and the other two big cattlemen in
+that section of the state lorded it over an area greater than two or
+three of the old states where the slipping heritage of individual
+liberty was born. Now here was a colonel in his way; one little old
+gray colonel!
+
+"All right," Chadron said at length, charging his words with what he
+doubtless meant to be a significant foreboding, measuring Colonel
+Landcraft with contemptuous eye. "I can call out an army of my own. I
+came to you because we pay you fellers to do what I'm askin' of you,
+and because I thought it'd save me time. That's all."
+
+"You came to me because you have magnified your importance in this
+country until you believe you're the entire nation," the colonel
+replied, very hot and red.
+
+Chadron made no answer to that. He turned toward the military door,
+but Colonel Landcraft would not permit his unsanctified feet, great as
+they were and free to come and go as they liked in other places, to
+pass that way. He frowned at Major King, who had stood by in silence
+all the time, like a good soldier, his eyes straight ahead. Major King
+touched Chadron's arm.
+
+"This way, sir, if you please," he said.
+
+Chadron started out, wrathfully and noisily. Half-way to the door he
+turned, his dark face sneering in contemptuous scorn.
+
+"Yes, you're one hell of a colonel!" he said.
+
+Major King was holding the door open; Chadron swung his big body
+around to face it, and passed out. Major King saluted his superior
+officer and followed the cattleman into the hall, closing the sacred
+door behind him on the wrathful little old soldier standing beside his
+desk. King extended his hand, sympathy in gesture and look.
+
+"If I was in command of this post, sir, you'd never have to ask twice
+for troops," he said.
+
+Chadron's sudden interest seemed to give him the movement of a little
+start. His grip on the young officer's hand tightened as he bent a
+searching look into his eyes.
+
+"King, I believe you!" he said.
+
+Nola came pattering down the stairs. Chadron stood with open arms, and
+swallowed her in them as she leaped from the bottom tread. Major King
+did not wait to see her emerge again, rosy and lip-tempting. There was
+unfinished business within the colonel's room.
+
+A few minutes later Nola, excited to her finger-ends, was retailing
+the story of the rustlers' uprising to Frances.
+
+"Mother's all worked up over it; she's afraid they'll burn us out and
+murder us, but of course we'd clean them up before they'd ever get
+_that_ far down the river."
+
+"It looks to me like a very serious situation for everybody
+concerned," Frances said. "If your father brings in the men that you
+say he's gone to Meander to telegraph for, there's going to be a lot
+of killing done on both sides."
+
+"Father says he's going to clean them out for good this time--they've
+cost us thousands of dollars in the past three years. Oh, you can't
+understand what a low-down bunch of scrubs those rustlers are!"
+
+"Maybe not," Frances said, giving it up with a little sigh.
+
+"I've got to go back to mother this morning, right away, but that
+little fuss up the river doesn't need to keep you from going home with
+me as you promised, Frances."
+
+"I shouldn't mind, but I don't believe father will want me to go out
+into your wild country. I really want to go--I want to look around in
+your garden for a glove that I lost there on the night of the ball."
+
+"Oh, why didn't you tell me?" Nola's face seemed to clear of
+something, a shadow of perplexity, it seemed, that Frances had seen in
+it from time to time since her coming there. She looked frankly and
+reprovingly at Frances.
+
+"I didn't miss it until I was leaving, and I didn't want to delay the
+rest of them to look for it. It really doesn't matter."
+
+"It's a wonder mother didn't find it; she's always prowling around
+among the flowers," said Nola, her eyes fixed in abstracted stare, as
+if she was thinking deeply of something apart from what her words
+expressed.
+
+What she was considering, indeed, was that her little scheme of
+alienation had failed. Major King, she told herself, had not returned
+the glove to Frances. For all his lightness in the matter, perhaps he
+cared deeply for Frances, and would be more difficult to wean than she
+had thought. It would have to be begun anew. That Frances was ignorant
+of her treachery, as she now fully believed, made it easier. So the
+little lady told herself, surveying the situation in her quick brain,
+and deceiving herself completely, as many a shrewder schemer than she,
+when self-entangled in the devious plottings of this life.
+
+On the other hand there sat Frances across the table--they were
+breakfasting alone, Mrs. Landcraft being a strict militarist, and
+always serving the colonel's coffee with her own hand--throwing up a
+framework of speculation on her own account. Perhaps if she should go
+to the ranch she might be in some manner instrumental in bringing this
+needless warfare to a pacific end. Intervention at the right time, in
+the proper quarter, might accomplish more than strife and bloodshed
+could bring out of that one-sided war.
+
+No matter for the justice of the homesteaders' cause, and the
+sincerity of their leader, neither of which she doubted or questioned,
+the weight of numbers and resources would be on the side of the
+cattlemen. It could result only in the homesteaders being driven from
+their insecure holdings after the sacrifice of many lives. If she
+could see Macdonald, and appeal to him to put down this foolish, even
+though well-intended strife, something might result.
+
+It was an inconsequential turmoil, it seemed to her, there in that
+sequestered land, for a man like Alan Macdonald to squander his life
+upon. If he stood against the forces which Chadron had gone to summon,
+he would be slain, and the abundant promise of his life wasted like
+water on the sand.
+
+"I'll go with you, Nola," she said, rising from the table in quick
+decision.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+"THE RUSTLERS!"
+
+
+"I've stood up for that man, and I've stood by him," said Banjo
+Gibson, "but when a man shoots a friend of my friend he ain't no
+friend of mine. I'm done with him; I won't never set a boot-heel
+inside of his door ag'in."
+
+Banjo was in Mrs. Chadron's south sitting-room, with its friendly
+fireplace and homely things, including Mrs. Chadron and her apparently
+interminable sock. Only now it was a gray sock, designed not for the
+mighty foot of Saul, but for Chance Dalton, lying on his back in the
+bunkhouse in a fever growing out of the handling that he had gone
+through at Macdonald's place.
+
+Banjo had arrived at the ranch the previous evening. He was sitting
+now with his fiddle on his knee, having gone through the repertory
+most favored by his hostess, with the exception of "Silver Threads."
+That was an afternoon melody, Banjo maintained, and one would have
+strained his friendship and shaken his respect if he had insisted upon
+the musician putting bow to it in the morning hours.
+
+"Yes," sighed Mrs. Chadron, "it was bad enough when he just shot
+cowboys, but when it come to Chance we felt real grieved. Chance he
+ain't much to look at, but he's worth his weight in gold on the
+ranch."
+
+"Busted his right arm all to pieces, they tell me?"
+
+"Right here." Mrs. Chadron marked across her wrist with her knitting
+needle, and shook her head in heavy sadness.
+
+"That'll kind of spile him, won't it?"
+
+"Well, Saul says it won't make so much difference about him not havin'
+the use of his hand on that side if it don't break his nerve. A man
+loses confidence in himself, Saul says, most always when he loses the
+hand or arm he's slung his gun with all his life. He takes the notion
+that everybody's quicker'n he is, and just kind of slinges back and
+drops out of the game."
+
+"Do you expect Saul he'll come back here with them soldiers he went
+after?"
+
+"I expect he'll more'n likely order 'em right up the river to clear
+them rustlers out before he stops or anything," she replied, in high
+confidence.
+
+"The gall of them low-down brand-burners standin' up to fight a man on
+his own land!" Banjo's indignation could not have been more pointed if
+he had been a lord of many herds himself.
+
+"There comes them blessed girls!" reported Mrs. Chadron from her
+station near the window. Banjo crossed over to see, his fiddle held to
+his bosom like an infant. Nola and Frances were nearing the gate.
+
+"That colonel girl she's a up-setter, ain't she?" Banjo admired.
+
+"She's as sweet as locus' blooms," Mrs. Chadron declared, unstintingly.
+
+"But she's kind of distant; nothing friendly and warm-hearted like
+your little Nola, mom."
+
+"She's a little cool to strangers, but when she knows a body she comes
+out."
+
+Banjo nodded, drawing little whispers of melody from his fiddle-strings
+by fingering them against the neck.
+
+"I noticed when she smiles she seems to change," he said. "It's like
+puttin' bow to the strings. A fiddle's a glum kind of a thing till you
+wake it up; she's that way, I reckon."
+
+"Well, git ready for dinner--or lunch, as Nola calls it--they'll be
+starved by this time, ridin' all the way from the post in this chilly
+wind. I'm mighty afraid we're goin' to have some weather before
+long."
+
+"Can't put it off much longer," Banjo agreed, thinking of the hardship
+of being caught out in one of those sweeping blizzards, when the
+sudden cold grew so sharp that a man's banjo strings broke in the
+tense contraction. That had happened to him more than once, and it
+only seemed to sharpen the pleasure of being snowed in at a place like
+Alamito, where the kitchen was fat and the hand of the host free. He
+smiled as he turned to the kitchen to wash his face and soap his
+hair.
+
+They passed a very pleasant afternoon at the ranchhouse, in spite of
+Mrs. Chadron's uneasiness on account of their defenseless state. At
+that season Chadron and his neighbors could not draw very heavily on
+their scattered forces following the divided herds spread out over the
+vast territory for the winter grazing.
+
+The twenty men gathered in a hurry-call by Chadron to avenge the
+defeat of Chance Dalton, who had in their turn been met and
+unexpectedly repulsed by the homesteaders, as Chadron had related in
+his own way to Colonel Landcraft, were lying in camp several miles up
+the river. That is, all that were left of them fit for duty after the
+fight. A good many of them were limping, and would limp for many a
+day.
+
+They were waiting the arrival of the troops, which they expected with
+the same confidence Mrs. Chadron had held before Nola brought her an
+explanation that covered the confusion of refusal.
+
+Neither of the young women knew of the tiff between the colonel and
+Chadron, for the colonel was a man who kept his family apart from his
+business. Chadron had not seen fit to uncover his humiliation to his
+daughter, but had told her that he was acting on the advice of Colonel
+Landcraft in sending to his friends in Cheyenne for men to put down
+the uprising of rustlers himself.
+
+So there were comfortable enough relations between them all at the
+ranch as the day bent to evening and the red sunset changed to gray.
+Banjo played for them, as he had done that other afternoon, and sang
+his sentimental songs in voice that quavered in the feeling passages.
+Chadron had not left anybody to guard the house, because he knew very
+well that Macdonald considered nothing beyond defense, and that he
+would as quickly burn his own mother's roof above her head as he would
+set torch to that home by the riverside.
+
+"Sing us that dreamy one, Banjo," Nola requested, "the one that begins
+'Come sit by my side little--' you know the one I mean."
+
+A sentimental tenderness came into Banjo's face. He turned his head so
+that he could look out of the window into the thickening landscape
+beyond the corral gate, gray and mysterious and unfriendly now as a
+twilight sea. Nola touched Frances' arm to prime her for the treat.
+
+"Watch his face," she whispered, smiling behind her hand.
+
+Banjo struck the chords of his accompaniment; the sentimental cast of
+his face deepened, until it seemed that he was about to come to tears.
+He sang:
+
+    Come sit by my side litt-ul dau-ling,
+      And lay your brown head on my breast,
+    Whilse the angels of twilight o-round us
+      Are singing the flow-ohs to rest.
+
+Banjo must have loved many ladies in many lands, for that is the gift
+and the privilege of the troubadour. Now he seemed calling up their
+vanished faces out of the twilight as he sang his little song. What
+feeling he threw into the chorus, what shaking of the voice, what soft
+sinking away of the last notes, the whang of the banjo softened by
+palm across the strings!
+
+The chorus:
+
+    O, what can be sweet-o than dreaming
+      Tho dream that is on us tonight!
+    Pre-haps do you know litt-ul dau-ling,
+      Tho future lies hidded from sight.
+
+There was a great deal more of that song, which really was not so bad,
+the way Banjo sang it, for he exalted it on the best qualities that
+lived in his harmless breast; not so bad that way, indeed, as it looks
+in print. Frances could not see where the joke at the little
+musician's expense came in, although Nola was laughing behind his
+unsuspecting back as the last notes died.
+
+Mrs. Chadron wiped her eyes. "I think it's the sweetest song that ever
+was sung!" she said, and meant it, every word.
+
+Banjo said nothing at all, but put away his instrument with reverent
+hands, as if no sound was worthy to come out of it after that sweet
+agony of love.
+
+Mrs. Chadron got up, in her large, bustling, hospitable way,
+sentimentally satisfied, and withal grossly hungry.
+
+"Supper'll be about ready now, children," she said, putting her sock
+away in its basket, "and while you two are primpin' I'll run down to
+the bunkhouse and take some chicken broth to Chance that Maggie made
+him."
+
+"Oh, poor old Chance!" Nola pitied, "I've been sitting here enjoying
+myself and forgetting all about him. I'll take it down to him,
+mother--Banjo he'll come with me."
+
+Banjo was alert on the proposal, and keen to go. He brought Nola's
+coat at her mother's suggestion, for the evening had a feeling of
+frost in it, and attended her to the kitchen after the chicken broth
+as gallantly as if he wore a sword.
+
+Mrs. Chadron came back from her investigations in the kitchen in a
+little while to Frances, who waited alone before the happy little fire
+in the chimney. She sighed as she resumed her rocking-chair by the
+window, and crossed her seldom idle hands over her comfortably
+inelegant front.
+
+"It'll be some little time before supper's ready to set down to," she
+announced regretfully. "Maggie's makin' stuffed peppers, and they're
+kind of slow to bake. We can talk."
+
+"Of course," Frances agreed, her mind running on the hope that had
+brought her to the ranch; the hope of seeing Macdonald, and appealing
+to him in pity's name for peace.
+
+"That thievin' Macdonald's to blame for Chance, our foreman, losin'
+the use of his right hand," Mrs. Chadron said, with asperity. "Did
+Nola tell you about the fight they had with him?"
+
+"Yes, she told me about it as we came."
+
+"It looks like the devil's harnessed up with that man, he does so much
+damage without ever gittin' hurt himself. He had a crowd of rustlers
+up there with him when Chance went up there to trace some stock, and
+they up and killed three of our cowboys. Ain't it terrible?"
+
+"It is terrible!" Frances shuddered, withholding her opinion on which
+side the terror lay, together with the blame.
+
+"Then Saul went up there with some more of the men to burn that
+Macdonald's shack and drive him off of our land, and they run into a
+bunch of them rustlers that Macdonald he'd fetched over there, and two
+more of our men was killed. It looks like a body's got to fight night
+and day for his rights now, since them nesters begun to come in here.
+Well, we was here first, and Saul says we'll be here last. But I think
+it's plumb scan'lous the way them rustlers bunches together and
+fights. They never was known to do it before, and they wouldn't do it
+now if it wasn't for that black-hearted thief, Macdonald!"
+
+"Did you ever see him?" Frances asked.
+
+"No, I never did, and don't never want to!"
+
+"I just asked you because he doesn't look like a bad man."
+
+"They say he sneaked in here the night of Nola's dance, but I didn't
+see him. Oh, what 'm I tellin' you? Course you know _that_--you danced
+with him!"
+
+"Yes," said Frances, neither sorry nor ashamed.
+
+"But you wasn't to blame, honey," Mrs. Chadron comforted, "you didn't
+know him from Adamses off ox."
+
+Frances sat leaning forward, looking into the fire. The light of the
+blaze was on her face, appealingly soft and girlishly sweet. Mrs.
+Chadron laid a hand on her hair in motherly caress, moved by a
+tenderness quite foreign to the vindictive creed which she had
+pronounced against the nesters but a little while before.
+
+"I'm afraid you're starved, honey," she said, in genuine solicitude,
+thus expressing the nearest human sympathy out of her full-feeding
+soul.
+
+"I'm hungry, but far from starving," Frances told her, knowing that
+the confession to an appetite would please her hostess better than a
+gift. "When do you expect Mr. Chadron home?"
+
+"I don't know, honey, but you don't need to worry; them rustlers can't
+pass our men Saul left camped up the valley."
+
+"I wasn't thinking of that; I'm not afraid."
+
+Mrs. Chadron chuckled. "Did I tell you about Nola?" she asked. Then,
+answering herself, before Frances could more than turn her head
+inquiringly; "No, of course, I never. It was too funny for anything!"
+
+"What was it?" Frances asked, in girlish eagerness. Mrs. Chadron's
+smile was reflected in her face as she sat straight, and turned
+expectantly to her hostess.
+
+"The other evening when she and her father was comin' home from the
+postoffice over at the agency they run acrosst that sneak Macdonald,
+afoot in the road, guns so thick on him you couldn't count 'em. Saul
+asked him what he was skulkin' around down this way for, and the
+feller he was kind of sassy about it, and tried to pass Nola and go
+on. He had the gall to tip his hat to her, just like she was low
+enough to notice a brand-burner! Well, she give him a larrup over the
+face with her whip that cut the hide! He took hold of her bridle to
+shove her horse out of the way so he could run, I reckon, and she
+switched him till he squirmed like a puppy-dog! I laughed till I
+nearly split when Saul told me!"
+
+Mrs. Chadron surrendered again to her keen appreciation of the humor
+in that situation. Frances felt now that she understood the attitude
+of the cattlemen toward the homesteaders as she never had even sensed
+it before. Here was this motherly woman, naturally good at heart and
+gentle, hardened and blinded by her prejudices until she could discuss
+murder as a thing desired, and the extirpation of a whole community as
+a just and righteous deed.
+
+There was no feeling of softness in her breast for the manful
+strivings of Alan Macdonald to make a home in that land, not so much
+for himself--for it was plain that he would grace a different world to
+far better advantage--but for the disinherited of the earth. To Mrs.
+Chadron he was a thing apart from her species, a horrible, low, grisly
+monster, to whom the earth should afford no refuge and man no
+hiding-place. There was no virtue in Alan Macdonald; his fences had
+killed his right to human consideration.
+
+In a moment Mrs. Chadron was grave again. She put out her hand in that
+gentle, motherly way and touched Frances' hair, smoothing it from her
+forehead, pleased with the irrepressible life of it which sprung it
+back after the passage of her palm like water in a vessel's wake.
+
+"I let on to you a little while ago that I wasn't uneasy, honey," she
+said, "but I ain't no hand at hidin' the truth. I am uneasy, honey,
+and on pins, for I don't trust them rustlers. I'm afraid they'll hear
+that Saul's gone, and come sneakin' down here and burn us out before
+morning, and do worse, maybe. I don't know why I've got that feelin',
+but I have, and it's heavy in me, like raw dough."
+
+"I don't believe they'd do anything like that," Frances told her.
+
+"Oh, you don't know 'em like we do, honey, the low-down thieves! They
+ort to be hunted like wolves and shot, wherever they're found."
+
+"Some of them have wives and children, haven't they?" Frances asked,
+thinking aloud, as she sat with her chin resting in her hand.
+
+"Oh, I suppose they litter like any other wolves," Mrs. Chadron
+returned, unfeelingly.
+
+"_Si a tu ventana llega una paloma_," sang Maggie in the kitchen, the
+snapping of the oven door coming in quite harmoniously as she closed
+it on the baking peppers. Mrs. Chadron sighed.
+
+"_Tratala con cariña que es mi persona_," sounded Maggie, a degree
+louder. Mrs. Chadron sat upright, with a new interest in life apart
+from her uneasy forebodings about the rustlers. Maggie was in the
+dining-room, spreading the cloth. The peppers were coming along.
+
+Somebody burst into the kitchen; uncertain feet came across it; a cry
+broke Maggie's song short as she jingled the silver in place on the
+cloth. Banjo Gibson stumbled into the room where the low fire twinkled
+in the chimney, reeling on his legs, his breath coming in groans.
+
+Maggie was behind him, holding the door open; the light from the big
+lamp on the dining-table fell on the musician, who weaved there as if
+he might fall. His hat was off, blood was in his eyes and over his
+face from a wound at the edge of his hair.
+
+"Nola--Nola!" he gasped.
+
+Mrs. Chadron, already beside him, laid hold of him now and shook him.
+
+"Tell it, you little devil--tell it!" she screamed.
+
+Frances, with gentler hand, drew Banjo from her.
+
+"What's happened to Nola?" she asked.
+
+"The rustlers!" he said, his voice falling away in horror.
+
+"The rustlers!" Mrs. Chadron groaned, her arms lifted above her head.
+She ran in wild distraction into the dining-room, now back to the
+chimney to take down a rifle that hung in its case on a deer prong
+over the mantel.
+
+"Nola, Nola!" she called, running out into the garden. Her wild voice
+came back from there in a moment, crying her daughter's name in
+agony.
+
+Banjo had sunk to the floor, his battered face held in his hands.
+
+"My God! they took her!" he groaned. "The rustlers, they took her, and
+I couldn't lift a hand!"
+
+Frances beckoned to Maggie, who had followed her mistress to the
+kitchen door.
+
+"Give him water; stop the blood," she ordered sharply.
+
+In a moment she had dashed out after Mrs. Chadron, and was running
+frantically along the garden path toward the river.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE TRAIL AT DAWN
+
+
+Frances stopped at the high wire fence along the river bank. It was
+dark there between the shrubs of the garden on one hand and the tall
+willows on the other, but nothing moved in them but her own leaping
+heart. She called Mrs. Chadron, running along the fence as she cried
+her name.
+
+Mrs. Chadron answered from the barn. Frances found her saddling a
+horse, while Maggie's husband, an old Mexican with a stiff leg,
+muttered prayers in his native tongue as he tightened the girths on
+another.
+
+Mrs. Chadron was for riding in pursuit of Nola's abductors, although
+she had not mounted a horse in fifteen years. There was no man about
+the place except crippled old Alvino, and wounded Dalton lying in the
+men's quarters near at hand. Neither of them was serviceable in such
+an emergency, and Banjo, willing as he would be, seemed too badly hurt
+to be of any use.
+
+Frances pressed her to dismiss this intention. Even if they knew which
+way to ride, it would be a hopeless pursuit.
+
+"There's only one way to go--towards the rustlers' settlement," Mrs.
+Chadron grimly returned.
+
+She was over her hysterical passion now, and steadied down into a
+state of desperate determination to set out after the thieves and
+bring Nola back. She did not know how it was to be accomplished, but
+she felt her strength equal to any demand in the pressure of her
+despair. She was lifting her foot to the stirrup, thinly dressed as
+she was, her head bare, the rifle in her hand, when Frances took her
+by the arm.
+
+"You can't go alone with Alvino, Mrs. Chadron."
+
+"I've got to go, I tell you--let loose of me!"
+
+She shook off Frances' restraining hand and turned to her horse again.
+With her hand on the pommel of the saddle she stopped, and turned to
+Alvino.
+
+"Go and fetch me Chance's guns out of the bunkhouse," she ordered.
+
+Alvino hitched away, swinging his stiff leg, with laborious, slow
+gait.
+
+"You couldn't do anything against a crowd of desperate men--they might
+kill you!" Frances said.
+
+"Let 'em kill me, then!" She lifted her hand, as if taking an oath.
+"They'll pay for this trick--every man, woman, and child of them'll
+bleed for what they've done to me tonight!"
+
+"Let Alvino go to the camp up the river where Mr. Chadron left the
+men, and tell them; they can do more than you."
+
+"You couldn't drive him alone out of sight of the lights in the house
+with fire. He'd come back with some kind of a lie before he'd went a
+mile. I'll go to 'em myself, honey--I didn't think of them."
+
+"I'll go with you."
+
+"Wait till Alvino comes with them guns--I can use 'em better than I
+can a rifle. Oh, why don't the man hurry!"
+
+"I'll run down and see what--"
+
+But Alvino came around the corral at that moment. He had stopped to
+light a lantern, in his peculiar Mexican mode of estimating the
+importance of time and occasion, and came flashing it in short,
+violent arcs as he swayed to swing his jointless leg.
+
+Frances led out the other horse and was waiting to mount when Alvino
+came panting up, the belt with its two revolvers over his arm. Mrs.
+Chadron jerked it from him with something hard and sharp on her tongue
+like a curse. Banjo Gibson came into the circle of light, a bandage on
+his head.
+
+"I didn't even see 'em. They knocked me down, and when I come to she
+was gone!"
+
+Banjo's voice was full of self-censure, and his feet were weak upon
+the ground. He began to talk the moment the light struck him, and when
+he had finished his little explanation he was standing beside Mrs.
+Chadron's saddle.
+
+"Go to the house and lie down, Banjo," Mrs. Chadron said; "I ain't
+time to fool with you!"
+
+"Are you two aimin' to go to the post after help?" Banjo steadied
+himself on his legs by clinging to the horse's mane as he spoke.
+
+"We're goin' up the river after the men," Mrs. Chadron told him.
+
+"No, I'll go after the men; that's a man's job," Banjo insisted. "I
+know right where they're camped at, you couldn't find 'em between now
+and morning."
+
+There was no arguing Banjo out of it, no brushing the little man
+aside. He was as firm as a man three times his weight, and he took
+Mrs. Chadron by the arm, like a son, and led her away from the horse
+with a manner at once so firm and yet considerate that it softened her
+stern heart and plunged her into tears.
+
+"If you bring Nola back to me I'll give her to you, Banjo! I'll give
+her to you!" she sobbed, as she belted him with Chance Dalton's guns.
+
+"If any reward in this world could drive me through hell fire to lay
+my hands on it, you've named it," he said.
+
+Frances saw that Mrs. Chadron could be reasoned with now, and she was
+grateful to Banjo for his opportune arrival. For the night was vast
+and unfriendly over that empty land, and filled with a thousand
+shudderful dangers. She was afraid of it, afraid to leave the lights
+of the house behind her and ride out into it, no matter for all the
+peril that poor little Nola might be facing in that cruel hour.
+
+Banjo rode away. They stood clinging to each other in the dim circle
+of Alvino's lantern-light, listening to his horse until the distance
+muffled its feet on the road.
+
+Frances was chilled with the horror of that brigandish act. Every
+movement of the wind in the bushes made her skin crinkle and creep;
+every sound of animals in barn and corral was magnified into some new
+danger. Mrs. Chadron was in far worse state, with reason, certainly,
+for being so. Now that the stimulation of her first wild outburst had
+been exhausted, she stood wilted and weak, shivering with her hands
+over her eyes, moaning and moaning in piteous low wail.
+
+Frances took the lantern from old Alvino's shaking hand.
+
+"Let's go and look for their tracks," she suggested, forcing a note of
+eagerness into her words, "so we can tell the men, when they come back
+to pick up the trail, how many there were and which way they went."
+
+"Oh, if Chance was only able to go after them, if he was only able!"
+Mrs. Chadron wailed, following Frances as she hurried along the wire
+fence that cut the garden from the river.
+
+"It was somebody that knowed the lay of the land," Mrs. Chadron said,
+"for that gate down there back of the house is open. That's the way
+they come and went--somebody that knowed the lay of the land."
+
+Frances felt her heart die within her as the recollection of another
+night in that garden flashed like red fire in her mind. There was a
+picture, as she stopped with closed eyes, struck cold and shuddering
+by a fear she dared not own, of one flying, bent into the shadows,
+along the garden path toward that gate. Someone who knew the "lay of
+the land!"
+
+"Did you hear something?" Mrs. Chadron whispered, leaning close to her
+where she had stopped, stock-still, as if she had struck a wall.
+
+"I thought I--I--saw something," Frances answered, in faint, sick
+voice.
+
+The white gate was swinging as the invaders had left it, and in the
+soft ground beyond it they found tracks.
+
+"Only one man!" said Mrs. Chadron, bending over.
+
+"There's only one track," said Frances, her breath so feeble, her
+heart laboring so weakly that she believed that she must die.
+
+Alvino came up, and took the lead in tracking, with the aptness for
+that trick that goes with primitive minds such as his. Even in the
+farthest glimmer of the light he could pick up the trail, and soon he
+led them to the willows where the ravisher's horse had been
+concealed.
+
+"One shoe was lost," said he, pointing, "left one, hind foot."
+
+Mrs. Chadron stood looking in the direction that the rider had gone
+with his precious burden, her eyes straining into the dark.
+
+"Oh, if I'd 'a' come down here place of saddlin' that horse!" she
+lamented, with a pang for her lost opportunity.
+
+"He'd have been gone, even then--I was past here and didn't hear him,"
+Frances said.
+
+Still the vision persisted in her disturbed imagination of that other
+night, of one leaning low in the saddle, his fleet horse stretching
+its neck in desperation for the distant refuge; the dash of pursuing
+hoofs; the sound of shots up the river; the prayer that she sent to
+heaven in his behalf.
+
+"Well, it was somebody that knowed the lay of the land," Mrs. Chadron
+was repeating, with accusing conviction.
+
+They returned to the house, having done all that they could do. It was
+doubtful whether the dumb, plethoric nature of Mrs. Chadron made her
+capable of suffering as Frances suffered, even with her greater reason
+for pain of that cruel bereavement. Imaginative, refined, sensitive as
+a harp, Frances reflected every wild wrench of horror that Nola
+herself must have been suffering as the horseman bore her along in the
+thick night. She felt that she must scream, but that some frightful
+thing smothered the voice that struggled in her throat; that she must
+leap and flee away, but a cloying power was heavy on her limbs,
+binding her as if her feet were set in lava.
+
+Somebody that knew the "lay of the land." Great God! could he fight
+that way, was it in Alan Macdonald to make a hawk's dash like that? It
+was hard to admit the thought, to give standing to the doubtful
+accusation. But those whom they called "rustlers" must have borne Nola
+away. Beyond the homesteaders up the river were the mountains and the
+wild country where no man made his home; except them and the cattlemen
+and the cowboys attending the herds, that country was unpeopled. There
+was nobody to whom the deed could be charged but the enemies that
+Chadron had made in his persecution of the homesteaders.
+
+Perhaps they were not of the type that Macdonald described; maybe the
+cattlemen were just in their arraignment of them for thieves and
+skulking rascals, and Macdonald was no better than the reputation that
+common report gave him. The mere fact of his defense of them in words,
+and his association with them, seemed to convict him there in the
+silence of that black-walled court of night.
+
+It was either that he was blinded to the deviltries of his associates
+by his own high intentions, or as shrewdly dishonest as any scoundrel
+that ever rode the wilds. He could be that, and carry it off before a
+sharper judge than she. So she said, finding it hard to excuse his
+blindness, if blindness it might be; unable to mitigate in any degree
+the blame, even passive knowledge of the intent, of that base
+offense.
+
+At length, through all the fog of her groping and piecing together,
+she reached what she believed to be the motive which lay behind the
+deed. The rustlers doubtless were aware of the blow that Chadron was
+preparing to deliver upon them in retaliation for his recent losses.
+They had carried off his daughter to make her the price of their own
+immunity, or else to extract from him a ransom that would indemnify
+them for quitting their lairs in the land upon which they preyed.
+
+She explained this to Mrs. Chadron when it became clear to her own
+mind. Mrs. Chadron seemed to draw considerable hope from it that she
+should receive her daughter back again unharmed in a little while.
+
+The rest of the night the two women spent at the gate, and in the road
+up and down in front of it, straining for the sound of a hoof that
+might bring them tidings. Mrs. Chadron kept up a moaning like an
+infant whose distress no mind can read, no hand relieve. Now and then
+she burst into a shrill and sudden cry, and time and again she
+imagined that she heard Nola calling her, and dashed off along the
+road with answering shout, to come back to her sad vigil at the gate
+by and by on Frances' arm, crushed by this one great and sudden sorrow
+of her life.
+
+Frances cheered her as much as might be with promises of the coming
+day. At the first streak of dawn, she told Mrs. Chadron, she would
+ride to the post and engage her father in the quest for the stolen
+girl. Soldiers would be thrown out over the country for miles on every
+side; the cowards would be hemmed in within a matter of hours, and
+Nola would be at home, laughing over the experiences of her tragic
+night.
+
+Frances was in the saddle at daybreak. She had left Mrs. Chadron in an
+uneasy sleep, watched over by Maggie. Banjo had not returned; no word
+had reached them from any source. Alvino let Frances out through the
+gate at the back of the garden, for it was her intention to follow the
+abductor's trail as far as possible without being led into strange
+country. Somebody, or some wandering herd of cattle, might pass that
+way and obliterate the traces before pursuers could be brought there.
+
+The tracks of the raider's horse were deep in the soft soil. She
+followed them as they cut across the open toward the river road,
+angling northward. At a place where the horse had stopped and made a
+trampling in the lose earth--testimony of the fight that Nola had made
+to get away--Frances started at the sight of something caught on a
+clump of bull-berry bushes close at hand. She drew near the object
+cautiously, leaning and looking in the half light of early morning.
+Presently assured, she reached out and picked it up, and rode on with
+it in her hand.
+
+Presently the trail merged into the river road, where hoofprints were
+so numerous that Frances was not skilful enough to follow it farther.
+But it was something to have established that the scoundrel was
+heading for the homesteaders' settlement, and that he had taken the
+road openly, as if he had nothing to fear. Also, that bit of evidence
+picked from the bushes might serve its purpose in the right time and
+place.
+
+She felt again that surge of indignation that had fired her heart
+early in the sad night past. The man who had lurked in the garden
+waiting his chance to snatch Nola away, was certain of the protection
+to which he fled. It was the daring execution of one man, but the
+planning of many, and at the head of them one with fire in his wild
+soul, quick passion in his eyes, and mastery over his far-riding band.
+It could be no other way.
+
+When she came to the branching of the roads she pulled up her horse
+and sat considering her course a little while. Presently she rode
+forward again, but not on the road that led to the army post.
+
+She had proceeded a mile, perhaps, along the road branching to the
+homesteaders' settlement, upon which she knew Macdonald's claim to lie
+somewhere up the river, when she rounded an elbow screened by
+tall-growing greasewood and came face to face with a small cavalcade
+of dusty men. At the head of them Alan Macdonald rode, beside an old
+man whose neck was guttered like a wasted candle and his branching
+great mustache gray as the dust on his bony shoulders.
+
+She halted when she saw them, and they jerked up their horses also,
+with startled suddenness, like men riding in the expectation of danger
+and surprise. Macdonald came forward in a moment, with respectful
+salute, a look amounting almost to frightened questioning in his face.
+For the sun was not up yet, although its flame was on the heavens, and
+it was a strange, wild place to meet a woman of Frances Landcraft's
+caste unattended, and with the shadow of a trouble in her face that
+made it old, like misery.
+
+But there was no question of the unfriendliness of that face for Alan
+Macdonald and the men who came riding at his back. It was as cold as
+the gray earth beneath her horse's hoofs, and its severity was
+reflected in the very pose of her body, even in the grip of her
+slender thighs as they clasped her saddle, sitting there like a
+dragoon outrider who had appeared to bar their way.
+
+Frances was wearing the brown corduroy riding-habit that she had worn
+on the day when she first spoke to him. Her brown hair had fallen down
+until it hid her ears, for she had ridden hard, and a strand of it
+blew from beneath her cowboy hat in unheeded caress across her cheek.
+
+Macdonald saw her stiffen in the saddle and lift herself a little from
+her seat as he drew near, his companions stopping a little distance
+back. Her eyes were stern and reproachful; a little frown troubled her
+white forehead.
+
+"I was starting out to find you, Mr. Macdonald," she said, severely.
+
+"If there is any service, Miss Landcraft--"
+
+"Don't talk emptiness, and don't pretend!" she said, a flash of anger
+in her face. "It isn't a man's way to fight, it's a coward's! Bring
+her back home!"
+
+"I don't know what you mean." There was such an astonished helplessness
+in his manner that it would have convinced any unprejudiced mind of
+his innocence in itself.
+
+"Oh!"--impatiently--"I can't hurt you, I'm alone. You'd just as well
+tell me how much money you're going to demand, so I can set their
+minds at rest."
+
+Macdonald's face was hot; his eyes felt as if they swam in fire. He
+put out his hand in a gesture almost a command, his heavy eyebrows
+gathered in a frown, an expression of sternness in his homely face
+that made it almost majestic.
+
+"If you'll be good enough to tell me what your veiled accusations
+point to, Miss Landcraft, then I can answer you by either yes or no."
+
+She unbent so far as to relate briefly what she believed they knew
+better than herself already. But behind her high air as she talked
+there was a secret warm feeling for the strength of this man. It was a
+quality of fine steel in the human mind and body such as she never had
+seen so beautifully blended before. In her own father there was
+something of it, but only a reflection on water compared to this. It
+seemed the temper of the desert, she thought, like that oriental
+spirit which spread Islam's dark creed over half the world.
+
+When she had finished the relation of Nola's ravishment, he sat with
+head drooped in dusty silence a moment. Then he looked her in the eyes
+with such a steady blaze of indignation that she felt her own rage
+kindle to meet it. His clear, steady gaze was an arraignment, an
+accusation on the ugly charge of perversion of the truth as she knew
+it to be in the bottom of her conscience when she had laid the crime
+at the homesteaders' hands. If he saw her at all, she thought, it was
+as some small despicable thing, for his eyes were so unflinching, as
+they poured their steady fire into her own, that he seemed to be
+summing up the final consequences which lay behind her, along the
+dusty highway to the ranchhouse by the river.
+
+"In the first place," said he, speaking slowly, "there are no cattle
+thieves among the homesteaders in the settlement up the river, Miss
+Landcraft. I have told you this before. Here, I want you to meet some
+of them, and judge for yourself."
+
+He beckoned to Tom Lassiter and the three with him, and they joined
+him there before her. In a few words he told them who she was and the
+news that she carried, as well as the accusation that went with it.
+
+"These men, their neighbors, and myself not only had no hand in this
+deed, but there's not one among us that wouldn't put down his life to
+keep that young woman from harm and give her back to her home. We have
+our grievances against Saul Chadron, God knows! and they are grave
+enough. But we don't fight that way, Miss Landcraft."
+
+"If you're innocent, then prove it by forcing the men that carried her
+off, or the man, if there was only one, to bring her back home. Then
+I'll believe you. Maybe others will, too. What are you riding the road
+so early for, all armed and suspicious, if you're such honest men?"
+
+"We're goin' to the agency after ammunition to defend our homes, and
+our wives and children--such of us as Saul Chadron and his hired
+hounds has left children to, colonel's daughter," Tom Lassiter
+answered, reproof in his kind old eyes.
+
+Frances had unrolled the bit of evidence that she had picked up from
+the bushes, and was holding it on the horn of her saddle now, quite
+unconscious of what her hands were doing, for she had forgotten the
+importance of her find in the heat of that meeting. Macdonald spurred
+forward, pointing to the thing in her hand.
+
+"Where did you get that?" he asked, a sharp note of concern in his
+voice that made her start.
+
+She told him. He took it from her and turned to his comrades.
+
+"It's Mark Thorn's cap!" he said, holding it up, his fingers in the
+crown.
+
+Tom Lassiter nodded his slow head as the others leaned to look.
+
+"Saul Chadron's chickens has come home to roost," he said.
+
+Frances understood nothing of the excitement that sprung out of the
+mention of the outlaw's name, for Mark Thorn and his bloody history
+were alike unknown to her. Her resentment mounted at being an outsider
+to their important or pretended secret.
+
+"Well, if you know whose cap it is, it ought to be easy for you to
+find the owner," she said, unable to smother the sneer in her words.
+
+"He isn't one of us," said a homesteader, with grim shortness.
+
+"Oh!" said she, tossing her lofty head.
+
+There was a pallor in Macdonald's weathered face, as if somebody near
+and dear to himself was in extreme peril.
+
+"She may never see home again," he said. Then quickly: "Which way did
+he go, do you know?"
+
+She told him what she knew, not omitting the lost horseshoe. Tom
+Lassiter bent in his saddle with eagerness as she mentioned that
+particular, and ran his eyes over the road like one reading the pages
+of a book.
+
+"There!" he said, pointing, "I've been seein' it all the way down,
+Alan. He was headin' for the hills."
+
+Frances could not see the print of the shoeless hoof, nor any
+peculiarity among the scores of tracks that would tell her of Nola's
+abductor having ridden that far along the road. She flushed as the
+thought came to her that this was a trick to throw her attention from
+themselves and the blame upon some fictitious person, when they knew
+whose hands were guilty all the time. The men were leaning in their
+saddles, riding slowly back on their trail, talking in low voices and
+sharp exclamations among themselves. She spurred hotly after them.
+
+"Mr. Chadron hasn't come home yet," she said, addressing Macdonald,
+who sat straight in his saddle to hear, "but they expect him any hour.
+If you'll say how much you're going to demand, and where you want it
+paid, I'll carry the word to him. It might hurry matters, and save her
+mother's life."
+
+"I'm sorry you repeated that," said Macdonald, touching his hat in
+what he plainly meant a farewell salute. He turned from her and drew
+Tom Lassiter aside. In a moment he was riding back again the way that
+he had come.
+
+Frances looked at the unaccountable proceeding with the eyes of doubt
+and suspicion. She did not believe any of them, and had no faith in
+their mysterious trackings and whisperings aside, and mad gallopings
+off to hidden ends. As for Tom Lassiter and his companions, they
+ranged themselves preparatory to continuing their journey.
+
+"If you're goin' our way, colonel's daughter," said Tom, gathering up
+his bridle-reins, "we'll be proud to ride along with you."
+
+Frances was looking at the dust-cloud that rose behind Macdonald. He
+was no longer in sight.
+
+"Where has he gone?" she inquired, her suspicion growing every
+moment.
+
+"He's gone to find that cowman's child, young lady, and take her home
+to her mother," Tom replied, with dignity. He rode on. She followed,
+presently gaining his side.
+
+"Is there such a man as Mark Thorn?" she asked after a little, looking
+across at Lassiter with sly innuendo.
+
+"No, there ain't no man by that name, but there's a devil in the shape
+of a human man called that," he answered.
+
+"Is he--what does he do?" She reined a little nearer to Lassiter,
+feeling that there was little harm in him apart from the directing
+hand.
+
+"He hires out to kill off folks that's in the way of the cattlemen at
+so much a head, miss; like some hires out to kill off wolves. The
+Drovers' Association hires him, and sees that he gits out of jail if
+anybody ever puts him in, and fixes it up so he walks safe with the
+blood of no knowin' how many innocent people on his hands. That's what
+Mark Thorn does, ma'am. Chadron brought him in here a couple of weeks
+ago to do some killin' off amongst us homesteaders so the rest 'd take
+a scare and move out. He give that old devil a list of twenty men he
+wanted shot, and Alan Macdonald's got that paper. His own name's at
+the top of it, too."
+
+"Oh!" said she, catching her breath sharply, as if in pain. Her face
+was white and cold. "Did he--did he--kill anybody here?"
+
+"He killed my little boy; he shot him down before his mother's eyes!"
+
+Tom Lassiter's guttered neck was agitated; the muscles of his bony jaw
+knotted as he clamped his teeth and looked straight along the road
+ahead of him.
+
+"Your little boy! Oh, what a coward he must be!"
+
+"He was a little tow-headed feller, and he had his mother's eyes, as
+blue as robins' eggs," said Tom, his reminiscent sorrow so poignant
+that tears sprung to her eyes in sympathy and plashed down unheeded
+and unchecked. "He'd 'a' been fifteen in November. Talkin' about
+fightin', ma'am, that's the way some people fights."
+
+"I'm sorry I said that, Mr. Lassiter," she confessed, hanging her head
+like a corrected child.
+
+"He can't hear you now," said Tom.
+
+They rode on a little way. Tom told her of the other outrages for
+which Thorn was accountable in that settlement. She was amazed as
+deeply as she was shocked to hear of this, for if any word of it had
+come to the post, it had been kept from her. Neither was it ever
+mentioned in Chadron's home.
+
+"No," said Tom, when she mentioned that, "it ain't the kind of news
+the cattlemen spreads around. But if we shoot one of them in defendin'
+our own, the news runs like a pe-rairie fire. They call us rustlers,
+and come ridin' up to swipe us out. Well, they's goin' to be a
+change."
+
+"But if Chadron brought that terrible man in here, why should the
+horrible creature turn against him?" she asked, doubt and suspicion
+grasping the seeming fault in Lassiter's tale.
+
+"Chadron refused to make settlement with him for the killin' he done
+because he didn't git Macdonald. Thorn told Alan that with his own
+bloody tongue."
+
+Lassiter retailed to her eager ears the story of Macdonald's capture
+of Thorn, and his fight with Chadron's men when they came to set the
+old slayer free, as Lassiter supposed.
+
+"They turned him loose," said he, "and you know now what I meant when
+I said Chadron's chickens has come home to roost."
+
+"Yes, I know now." She turned, and looked back. Remorse was heavy on
+her for the injustice she had done Macdonald that day, and shame for
+her sharp words bowed her head as she rode at old Tom Lassiter's
+hand.
+
+"He'll run the old devil down ag'in," Tom spoke confidently, as of a
+thing that admitted no dispute, "and take that young woman home if he
+finds her livin'. Many thanks he'll git for it from them and her. Like
+as not she'll bite the hand that saves her, for she's a cub of the old
+bear. Well, let me tell you, colonel's daughter, if she was to live a
+thousand years, and pray all her life, she wouldn't no more than be
+worthy at the end to wash that man's feet with her tears and dry 'em
+on her hair, like that poor soul you've read about in the Book."
+
+Frances slowed her horse as if overcome by a sudden indecision, and
+turned in her saddle to look back again. Again she had let him go away
+from her misunderstood, his high pride hurt, his independent heart too
+lofty to bend down to the mean adjustment to be reached through
+argument or explanation. One must accept Alan Macdonald for what his
+face proclaimed him to be. She knew that now. He was not of the
+mean-spirited who walk among men making apology for their lives.
+
+"He's gone on," said Lassiter, slowing his horse to her pace.
+
+"I'm afraid I was hasty and unjust," she confessed, struggling to hold
+back her tears.
+
+"Yes, you was," said Lassiter, frankly, "but everybody on the outside
+is unjust to all of us up here. We're kind of outcasts because we
+fence the land and plow it. But I want to tell you, Macdonald's a man
+amongst men, ma'am. He's fed the poor and lifted up the afflicted, and
+he's watched with us beside our sick and prayed with us over our dead.
+We know him, no matter what folks on the outside say. Well, we'll have
+to spur up a little, ma'am, for we're in a hurry to git back."
+
+They approached the point where the road to the post branched.
+
+"There's goin' to be fightin' over here if Chadron tries to drive us
+out," Tom said, "and we know he's sent for men to come in and help him
+try it. We don't want to fight, but men that won't fight for their
+homes ain't the kind you'd like to ride along the road with, ma'am."
+
+"Maybe the trouble can be settled some other way," she suggested,
+thinking again of the hope that she had brought with her to the ranch
+the day before.
+
+"When we bring the law in here, and elect officers to see it put in
+force for every man alike, then this trouble it'll come to an end.
+Well, if you ever feel like we deserve a good word, colonel's
+daughter, we'd be proud to have you say it, for the feller that stands
+up for the law and the Lord and his home agin the cattlemen in this
+land, ma'am, he's got a hard row to hoe. Yes, we'll count any good
+words you might say for us as so much gold. 'And the Levite, thou
+shalt not forsake him, for he hath no part nor inheritance with
+thee.'"
+
+Tom's voice was slow and solemn when he quoted that Mosaic injunction.
+The appeal of the disinherited was in it, and the pain of lost years.
+It touched her like a sorrow of her own. Tears were on her cheeks
+again as she parted from him, giving him her hand in token of trust
+and faith, and rode on toward the ranchhouse by the river.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+WHEN FRIENDS PART
+
+
+Banjo had returned, with fever in his wound. Mrs. Chadron was putting
+horse liniment on it when Frances entered the sitting-room where the
+news of the tragedy had visited them the night past.
+
+"I didn't go to the post--I saw some men in the road and turned back,"
+Frances told them, sinking down wearily in a chair before the fire.
+
+"I'm glad you turned back, honey," Mrs. Chadron said, shaking her head
+sadly, "for I was no end worried about you. Them rustlers they're
+comin' down from their settlement and gatherin' up by Macdonald's
+place, the men told Banjo, and no tellin' what they might 'a' done if
+they'd seen you."
+
+Mrs. Chadron's face was not red with the glow of peppers and much food
+this morning. One night of anxiety had racked her, and left hollows
+under her eyes and a flat grayness in her cheeks.
+
+Banjo had brought no other news. The men had scattered at daybreak to
+search for the trail of the man who had carried Nola away, but Banjo,
+sore and shaken, had come back depressed and full of pains. Mrs.
+Chadron said that Saul surely would be home before noonday, and urged
+Frances to go to her room and sleep.
+
+"I'm steadier this morning, I'll watch and wait," she said, pressing
+the liniment-soaked cloth to Banjo's bruised forehead.
+
+Banjo contracted his muscles under the application, shriveling up on
+himself like a snail in a fire, for it was hot and heroic liniment,
+and strong medicine for strong beasts and tougher men. Banjo's face
+was a picture of patient suffering, but he said nothing, and had not
+spoken since Frances entered the room, for the treatment had been
+under way before her arrival and there was scarcely enough breath left
+in him to suffice for life, and none at all for words. Frances had it
+in mind to suggest some milder remedy, but held her peace, feeling
+that if Banjo survived the treatment he surely would be in no danger
+from his hurt.
+
+The door of Nola's room was open as Frances passed, and there was a
+depression in the counterpane which told where the lost girl's mother
+had knelt beside it and wet it with her tears. Frances wondered
+whether she had prayed, lingering compassionately a moment in the
+door.
+
+The place was like Nola in its light and brightness and surface
+comfort and assertive color notes of happiness, hung about with the
+trophies of her short but victorious career among the hearts of men.
+There were photographs of youths on dressing-table, chiffonier, and
+walls, and flaring pennants of eastern universities and colleges.
+Among the latter, as if it was the most triumphant trophy of them all,
+there hung a little highland bonnet with a broken feather, of the
+plaid Alan Macdonald had worn on the night of Nola's mask.
+
+Frances went in for a nearer inspection, and lifted the little saucy
+bit of headgear from its place in the decorations of Nola's wall.
+There could be no doubting it; that was Alan Macdonald's bonnet, and
+there was a bullet hole in it at the stem of the little feather. The
+close-grazing lead had sheared the plume in two, and gone on its
+stinging way straight through the bonnet.
+
+An exclamation of tender pity rose above her breath. She fondled the
+little headdress and pressed it to her bosom; she laid it against her
+cheek and kissed it in consolation for its hurt--the woman's balsam
+for all sufferings and heartbreaks, and incomparable among the
+panaceas of all time.
+
+In spite of her sympathy for Nola in her grave situation, facing or
+undergoing what terrors no one knew, there was a bridling of
+resentment against her in Frances' breast as she hung the marred
+bonnet back in its place. It seemed to her that Nola had exulted over
+both herself and Alan Macdonald when she had put his bonnet on her
+wall, and that she had kept it there after the coming of Frances to
+that house in affront to friendship and mockery of the hospitality
+that she professed to extend.
+
+Nola had asked her to that house so that she might see it hanging
+there; she had arranged it and studied it with the cunning intent of
+giving her pain. And how close that bullet had come to him! It must
+have sheared his fair hair as it tore through and dashed the bonnet
+from his head.
+
+How she suffered in picturing his peril, happily outlived! How her
+heart trembled and her strong young limbs shook as she lived over in
+breathless agony the crisis of that night! He had carried her glove in
+his bonnet--she remembered the deft little movement of stowing it
+there just the moment before he bent and flashed away among the
+shadows. Excuse enough for losing it, indeed!
+
+But he had not told her of his escape to justify the loss; proudly he
+had accepted the blame, and turned away with the hurt of it in his
+unbending heart.
+
+She went back and took down the jaunty little cap again, and kissed it
+with compensatory tenderness, and left a jewel trembling on its crown
+from the well of her honest brown eye. If ever amends were made to any
+little highland bonnet in this world, then Alan Macdonald's was that
+bonnet, hanging there among the flaring pennants and trivial little
+schoolgirl trophies on Nola Chadron's wall.
+
+Chadron came home toward evening at the head of sixty men. He had
+raised his army speedily and effectively. These men had been gathered
+by the members of the Drovers' Association and sent to Meander by
+special train, horses, guns, ammunition, and provisions with them,
+ready for a campaign.
+
+The cattlemen had made a common cause of this sectional difficulty.
+Their indignation had been voiced very thoroughly by Mrs. Chadron when
+she had spoken to Frances with such resentment of the homesteaders
+standing up to fight. That was an unprecedented contingency. The "holy
+scare," such as Mark Thorn and similar hired assassins spread in
+communities of homesteaders, had been sufficient up to that day. Now
+this organized front of self-defense must be broken, and the bold
+rascals involved must be destroyed, root and branch.
+
+Press agents of the Drovers' Association in Cheyenne were sowing
+nation-wide picturesque stories of the rustlers' uprising. The ground
+was being prepared for the graver news that was to come; the
+cattlemen's justification was being carefully arranged in advance.
+
+Frances shuddered for the homesteaders when she looked out of her
+window upon this formidable force of lean-legged, gaunt-cheeked
+gun-fighters. They were men of the trade, cowboys who had fought their
+employers' battles from the Rio Grande to the Little Missouri. They
+were grim and silent men as they pressed round the watering troughs at
+the windmill with their horses, with flapping hats and low-slung
+pistols, and rifles sheathed in leather cases on their saddles.
+
+She hurried down when she saw Chadron dismount at the gate. Mrs.
+Chadron was there to meet him, for she had stood guard at her window
+all day watching for his dust beyond the farthest hill. Frances could
+hear her weeping now, and Chadron's heavy voice rising in command as
+she came to the outer door.
+
+Chadron was in the saddle again, and there was hurrying among his men
+at barn and corral as they put on bridles which they had jerked off,
+and tightened girths and gathered up dangling straps. Chadron was
+riding among them, large and commanding as a general, with a cloud in
+his dark face that seemed a threat of death.
+
+Mrs. Chadron was hurrying in to make a bundle of some heavy clothing
+for Nola to protect her against the night chill on her way home, which
+the confident soul believed her daughter would be headed upon before
+midnight. Saul the invincible was taking the trail; Saul, who smashed
+his way to his desires in all things. She gave Frances a hurried word
+of encouragement as they passed outside the door.
+
+Chadron was talking earnestly to his men. "I'll give fifty dollars
+bonus to the man that brings him down," she heard him say as she drew
+near, "and a hundred to the first man to lay eyes on my daughter."
+
+Frances was hurrying to him with the information that she had kept for
+his ear alone. She was flushed with excitement as she came among the
+rough horsemen like a bright bloom tossed among rusty weeds. They fell
+back generously, not so much to give her room as to see her to better
+advantage, passing winks and grimaces of approval between themselves
+in their free and easy way. Chadron gave his hand in greeting as she
+spoke some hasty words of comfort.
+
+"Thank you, Miss Frances, for your friendship in this bad business,"
+he said, heartily, and with the best that there was in him. "You've
+been a great help and comfort to her mother, and if it wouldn't be
+askin' too much I'd like for you to stay here with her till we bring
+my little girl back home."
+
+"Yes, I intended to stay, Mr. Chadron; I didn't come out to tell you
+that." She looked round at the admiring faces, too plainly expressive
+of their approbation, some of them, and plucked Chadron's sleeve.
+"Bend down--I want to tell you something," she said, in low, quick
+voice.
+
+Chadron stooped, his hand lightly on her shoulder, in attitude of
+paternal benediction.
+
+"It wasn't Macdonald, it was Mark Thorn," she whispered.
+
+Chadron's face displayed no surprise, shadowed no deeper concern. Only
+there was a flitting look of perplexity in it as he sat upright in his
+saddle again.
+
+"Who is he?" he asked.
+
+"Don't you know?" She watched him closely, baffled by his unmoved
+countenance.
+
+"I never heard of anybody in this country by that name," he returned,
+shaking his head with a show of entire sincerity. "Who was tellin' you
+about him--who said he was the man?"
+
+A little confused, and more than a little disappointed over the
+apparent failure of her news to surprise from Chadron a betrayal of
+his guilty connection with Mark Thorn, she related the adventure of
+the morning, the finding of the cap, the meeting with Macdonald and
+his neighbors. She reserved nothing but what Lassiter had told her of
+Thorn's employers and his bloody work in that valley.
+
+Chadron shook his head with an air of serious concern. There was a
+look of commiseration in his eyes for her credulity, and shameful
+duping by the cunning word of Alan Macdonald.
+
+"That's one of Macdonald's lies," he said, something so hard and
+bitter in his voice when he pronounced that name that she shuddered.
+"I never heard of anybody named Thorn, here or anywheres else. That
+rustler captain he's a deep one, Miss Frances, and he was only
+throwin' dust in your eyes. But I'm glad you told me."
+
+"But they said--the man he called Lassiter said--that Macdonald would
+find Nola, and bring her home," she persisted, unwilling yet to accept
+Chadron's word against that old man's, remembering the paper with the
+list of names.
+
+"He's bald-faced enough to try even a trick like that!" he said.
+
+Chadron looked impatiently toward the house, muttering something about
+the slowness of "them women," avoiding Frances' eyes. For she did not
+believe Saul Chadron, and her distrust was eloquent in her face.
+
+"You mean that he'd pretend a rescue and bring her back, just to make
+sympathy for himself and his side of this trouble?"
+
+"That's about the size of it," Chadron nodded, frowning sternly.
+
+"Oh, it seems impossible that anybody could be so heartless and low!"
+
+"A man that'd burn brands is low enough to go past anything you could
+imagine in that little head of yours, Miss Frances. Do you mind
+runnin' in and tellin'--no, here she comes."
+
+"Couldn't this trouble between you and the homesteaders--"
+
+
+"Homesteaders! They're cattle thieves, born in 'em and bred in 'em,
+and set in the hide and hair of 'em!"
+
+"Couldn't it be settled without all this fighting and killing?" she
+went on, pressing her point.
+
+"It's all over now but the shoutin'," said he. "There's only one way
+to handle a rustler, Miss Frances, and that's to salt his hide."
+
+"I'd be willing--I'd be glad--to go up there myself, alone, and take
+any message you might send," she offered. "I think they'd listen to
+reason, even to leaving the country if you want them to, rather than
+try to stand against a ga--force like this."
+
+"You can't understand our side of it, Miss Frances,"--Chadron spoke
+impatiently, reaching out for the bundle that his wife was bringing
+while she was yet two rods away--"for you ain't been robbed and
+wronged by them nesters like we have. You've got to live it to know
+what it means, little lady. We've argued with 'em till we've used up
+all our words, but their fences is still there. Now we're goin' to
+clear 'em out."
+
+"But Macdonald seemed hurt when I asked him how much money they wanted
+you to pay as Nola's ransom," she said.
+
+"He's deep, and he's tricky--too deep and too slick for you." Chadron
+gathered up his reins, leaned over and whispered: "Don't say anything
+about that Thorn yarn to her"--a sideways jerk of the head toward his
+wife--"her trouble's deep enough without stirrin' it."
+
+Chadron had the bundle now, and Mrs. Chadron was helping him tie it
+behind his saddle, shaking her head sadly as she handled the
+belongings of her child with gentle touch. Tears were running down her
+cheeks, but her usually ready words seemed dead upon her tongue.
+
+From the direction of the barn a little commotion moved forward among
+the horsemen, like a wave before a breeze. Banjo Gibson appeared on
+his horse as the last thong was tied about Nola's bundle, his hat
+tilted more than its custom to spare the sore place over his eye.
+
+The cowboys looked at his gaudy trappings with curious eyes. Chadron
+gave him a short word of greeting, and bent to kiss his wife
+good-bye.
+
+"I'm with you in this here thing, Saul," said Banjo; "I'll ride to
+hell's back door to help you find that little girl!"
+
+Chadron slewed in his saddle with an ugly scowl.
+
+"We don't want any banjo-pickers on this job, it's men's work!" he
+said.
+
+Banjo seemed to droop with humiliation. Chuckles and derisive words
+were heard among Chadron's train. The little musician hung his
+bandaged head.
+
+"Oh, you ortn't be hard on Banjo, he means well," Mrs. Chadron
+pleaded.
+
+"He can stay here and scratch the pigs," Chadron returned, in his
+brutal way. "We've got to go now, old lady, but we'll be back before
+morning, and we'll bring Nola. Don't you worry any more; she'll be all
+right--they wouldn't dare to harm a hair of her head."
+
+Mrs. Chadron looked at him with large hope and larger trust in her
+yearning face, and Banjo slewed his horse directly across the gate.
+
+"Before you leave, Saul, I want to tell you this," he said. "You've
+hurt me, and you've hurt me _deep_! I'll leave here before another
+hour passes by, and I'll never set a boot-heel inside of your door
+ag'in as long as you live!"
+
+"Oh hell!" said Chadron, spurring forward into the road.
+
+Chadron's men rode away after him, except five whom he detailed to
+stay behind and guard the ranch. These turned their horses into the
+corral, made their little fire of twigs and gleaned brush in their
+manner of wood-scant frugality, and over it cooked their simple
+dinner, each man after his own way.
+
+Banjo led his horse to the gate in front of the house and left it
+standing there while he went in to get his instruments. Mrs. Chadron
+was moved to a fresh outburst of weeping by his preparations for
+departure, and the sad, hurt look in his simple face.
+
+"You stay here, Banjo; don't you go!" she begged. "Saul he didn't mean
+any harm by what he said--he won't remember nothing about it when he
+comes back."
+
+"I'll remember it," Banjo told her, shaking his head in unbending
+determination, "and I couldn't be easy here like I was in the past. If
+I was to try to swaller a bite of Saul Chadron's grub after this it'd
+stick in my throat and choke me. No, I'm a-goin', mom, but I'm
+carryin' away kind thoughts of you in my breast, never to be forgot."
+
+Banjo hitched the shoulder strap of the instrument from which he took
+his name with a jerking of the shoulder, and settled it in place; he
+took up his fiddle box and hooked it under his arm, and offered Mrs.
+Chadron his hand. She was crying, her face in her apron, and did not
+see. Frances took the extended hand and clasped it warmly, for the
+little musician and his homely small sentiments had found a place in
+her heart.
+
+"You shouldn't leave until your head gets better," she said; "you're
+hardly able to take another long ride after being in the saddle all
+night, hurt like you are."
+
+Banjo looked at her with pain reflected in his shallow eyes.
+
+"The hurt that gives me my misery is where it can't be seen," he
+said.
+
+"Where are you goin', Banjo, with the country riled up this way, and
+you li'ble to be shot down any place by them rustlers?" Mrs. Chadron
+asked, looking at him appealingly, her apron ready to stem her gushing
+tears.
+
+"I'll go over to the mission and stay with Mother Mathews till I'm
+healed up. I'll be welcome in that house; I'd be welcome there if I
+was blind, and had m' back broke and couldn't touch a string."
+
+"Yes, you would, Banjo," Mrs. Chadron nodded.
+
+"She's married to a Injun, but she's as white as a angel's robe."
+
+"She's a good soul, Banjo, as good as ever lived."
+
+Frances took advantage of Banjo's trip to the reservation to send a
+note to her father apprising him of the tragedy at the ranch. Banjo
+buttoned it inside his coat, mounted his horse, and rode away.
+
+Mrs. Chadron watched him out of sight with lamentations.
+
+"I wish he'd 'a' stayed--it 'd 'a' been all right with Saul; Saul
+didn't mean any harm by what he said. He's the tender-heartedest man
+you ever saw, he wouldn't hurt a body's feelin's for a farm."
+
+"I don't believe Banjo is a man to hold a grudge very long," Frances
+told her, looking after the retreating musician, her thoughts on him
+but hazily, but rather on a little highland bonnet with a bullet hole
+in its crown.
+
+"No, he ain't," Mrs. Chadron agreed, plucking up a little brightness.
+"But it's a bad sign, a mighty bad sign, when a friend parts from you
+with a hurt in his heart that way, and leaves your house in a huff and
+feels put out like Banjo does."
+
+"Yes," said Frances, "we let them go away from us too often that way,
+with sore hearts that even a little word might ease."
+
+She spoke with such wistful regret that the older woman felt its note
+through her own deep gloom. She groped out, tears blinding her, until
+her hand found her young friend's, and then she clasped it, and stood
+holding it, no words between them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+ONE ROAD
+
+
+Twenty-four hours after Banjo's departure a messenger arrived at the
+ranchhouse. It was one of the cowboys attached to the ranch, and he
+came with his right arm in a sling. He was worn, and beaten out by
+long hours in the saddle and the pain of his wound.
+
+He said they had news of Nola, and that Chadron sent word that she
+would be home before another night passed. This intelligence sent Mrs.
+Chadron off to bedroom and kitchen to make preparations for her
+reception and restoration.
+
+As she left the room Frances turned to the messenger, who stood
+swinging his big hat awkwardly by the brim. She untied the sling that
+held his wounded arm and made him sit by the table while she examined
+his injury, concerning which Mrs. Chadron, in her excitement, had not
+even inquired.
+
+The shot had gone through the forearm, grazing the bone. When Frances,
+with the aid of Maggie, the Mexican woman with tender eyes, had
+cleansed and bound up the wound, she turned to him with a decisive air
+of demand.
+
+"Now, tell me the truth," she said.
+
+He was a bashful man, with a long, sheepish nose and the bluest of
+harmless eyes. He started a little when she made that demand, and
+blushed.
+
+"That's what the boss told me to say," he demurred.
+
+"I know he did; but what's happening?"
+
+"Well, we ain't heard hide nor hair of her"--he looked round
+cautiously, lest Mrs. Chadron surprise him in the truth--"and them
+rustlers they're clean gone and took everything but their houses and
+fences along--beds and teams and stock, and everything."
+
+"Gone!" she repeated, staring at him blankly; "where have they gone?"
+
+"Macdonald's doin' it; that man's got brainds," the cowboy yielded,
+with what he knew to be unlawful admiration of the enemy's parts.
+"He's herdin' 'em back in the hills where they've built a regular
+fort, they say. Some of us fellers caught up to a few of the
+stragglers last night, and that's when I got this arm put on me."
+
+"Have any of the rustlers been killed?"
+
+"No," he admitted, disgustedly, "they ain't! We've burnt all the
+shacks we come to, and cut their fences, but they all got slick and
+clean away, down to the littlest kid. But the boss's after 'em," he
+added, with brisk hopefulness, "and you'll have better news by
+mornin'."
+
+Chadron himself was the next rider to arrive at that anxious house,
+and he came as the messenger of disaster. He arrived between midnight
+and morning, his horse spur-gashed, driven to the limit, himself
+sunken-eyed from his anxiety and hard pursuit of his elusive enemy.
+
+Mrs. Chadron was asleep when he entered the living-room where Frances
+was keeping lonely watch before the chimney fire.
+
+"What's happened?" she asked, hastening to meet him.
+
+Chadron stood there gray and dusty, his big hat down hard on his head,
+his black eyes shooting inquiry into the shadowed room.
+
+"Where is she?" he whispered.
+
+"Upstairs, asleep--I've only just been able to persuade her to lie
+down and close her eyes."
+
+"Well, there's no use to wake her up for bad news."
+
+"You haven't found Nola?"
+
+"I know right where she is. I could put my hand on her if I could
+reach her."
+
+"Then why--?"
+
+"Hell!" said Chadron, bursting into a fire of passion, "why can't I
+fly like an eagle? Young woman, I've got to tell you I've been beat
+and tricked for the first time in my life! They've got my men hemmed
+in, I tell you--they've got 'em shut up in a cañon as tight as if they
+was nailed in their coffins!"
+
+If Chadron had been clearer of sight and mind in that moment of his
+towering anger, he would have seen her cheeks flush at his words, and
+her nostrils dilate and her breath come faster. But he was blind; his
+little varnish of delicacy was gone. He was just a ranting, roaring,
+dark-visaged brute with murder in his heart.
+
+"That damned Macdonald done it, led 'em into it like they was blind!
+He's a wolf, and he's got the tricks of a wolf, he skulked ahead of
+'em with a little pack of his rustlers and led 'em into his trap, then
+the men he had hid there and ready they popped up as thick as grass.
+They've got fifty of my men shut up there where they can't git to
+water, and where they can't fight back. Now, what do you think of
+that?"
+
+"I'll tell you what I think," she said, throwing up her head, her eyes
+as quick and bright as water in the sun, "I think it's the judgment of
+God! I glory in the trick Alan Macdonald played you, and I pray God he
+can shut your hired murderers there till the last red-handed devil
+dies of thirst!"
+
+Chadron fell back from her a step, his eyes staring, his mouth open,
+his hand lifted as if to silence her. He stood so a moment, casting
+his wild look around, fearful that somebody else had heard her
+passionate denunciation.
+
+"What in the hell do you mean?" he asked, crouching as he spoke, his
+teeth clenched, his voice smothered in his throat.
+
+"I mean that I know you're a murderer--and worse! You hired those men,
+like you hired Mark Thorn, to come here and murder those innocent men
+and their families!"
+
+"Well, what if I did?" he said, standing straight again, his composure
+returning. "They're thieves; they've been livin' off of my cattle for
+years. Anybody's got a right to kill a rustler--that's the only cure.
+Well, they'll not pen them men of mine up there till they crack for
+water, I'll bet you a purty on that! I'm goin' after soldiers, and
+this time I'll git 'em, too."
+
+"Soldiers!" said she, in amazement. "Will you ask the United States
+government to march troops here to save your hired assassins? Well,
+you'll not get troops--if there's anything that I can say against you
+to keep you from it!"
+
+"You keep out of it, my little lady; you ain't got no call to mix up
+with a bunch of brand-burnin' thieves!"
+
+"They're not thieves, and you know it! Macdonald never stole an animal
+from you or anybody else; none of the others ever did."
+
+"What do you know about it?" sharply.
+
+"I know it, as well as I know what's in your mind about the troops.
+You'll go over father's head to get them. Well, by the time he wires
+to the department the facts I'm going to lay before him, I'd like to
+see the color of the trooper you'll get!"
+
+"You'll keep your mouth shut, and hold your finger out of this pie
+before you git it burnt!"
+
+"I'll not keep my mouth shut!" She began moving about the room,
+picking up her belongings. "I'm going to saddle my horse and go to the
+post right now, and the facts of your bloody business will be in
+Washington before morning."
+
+"You're not goin'--to the--post!" Chadron's words were slow and hard.
+He stood with his back to the door. "This house was opened to you as a
+friend, not as a traitor and a spy. You're not goin' to put your foot
+outside of it into any business of mine, no matter which way you
+lean."
+
+All day she had been dressed ready to mount and ride in any emergency,
+her hat, gloves and quirt on the table before the fireplace. In that
+sober habit she appeared smaller and less stately, and Saul Chadron,
+with his heavy shoulders against the closed door, towered above her,
+dark and angrily determined.
+
+"I'm going to get my horse," said she, standing before him, waiting
+for him to quit the door.
+
+"You're goin' to stay right in this house, there's where you're goin'
+to stay; and you'll stay till I've cleaned out Macdonald and his gang,
+down to the last muddy-bellied wolf!"
+
+"You'll answer for detaining me here, sir!"
+
+"There ain't no man in this country that I answer to!" returned
+Chadron, not without dignity, for power undisputed for so long, and in
+such large affairs, had given him a certain manner of imperialism.
+
+"You'll find out where your mistake is, to your bitter cost, before
+many days have gone over your head. Your master is on the way; you'll
+meet him yet."
+
+"You might as well ca'm down, and take that hat off and make yourself
+easy, Miss Frances; you ain't goin' to the post tonight."
+
+"Open that door, Mr. Chadron! For the memory of your daughter, be a
+man!"
+
+"I'm actin' for the best, Miss Frances." Chadron softened in speech,
+but unbent in will. "You must stay here till we settle them fellers. I
+ain't got time to bring any more men up from Cheyenne--I've got to
+have help within the next twenty-four hours. You can see how your
+misplaced feelin's might muddle and delay me, and hold off the
+troopers till they've killed off all of my men in that cañon back
+yonder in the hills. It's for the best, I tell you; you'll see it that
+way before daylight."
+
+"It's a pity about your gallant cutthroats! It's time the rest of this
+country knew something about the methods of you cattlemen up here, and
+the way you harass and hound and murder honest men that are trying to
+make homes!"
+
+"Oh, Miss Frances! ca'm down, ca'm down!" coaxed Chadron, spreading
+his hands in conciliatory gesture, as if to smooth her troubled
+spirits, and calm her down by stroking her, like a cat.
+
+"Now you want to call out the army to rescue that pack of villains,
+you want to enlist the government to help you murder more children!
+Well, I'm a daughter of the army; I'm not going to stand around and
+see you pull it down to any such business as yours!"
+
+"You'd better make up your mind to take it easy, now, Miss Frances.
+Put down your hat and things, now, and run along off to bed like a
+good little girl."
+
+She turned from him with a disdainful toss of the head, and walked
+across to the window where Mrs. Chadron's great chair stood beside her
+table.
+
+"Do you want it known that I was forced to leave your house by the
+window?" she asked, her hand on the sash.
+
+"It won't do you any good if you do," Chadron growled, turning and
+throwing the door open with gruff decision. He stood a moment
+glowering at her, his shoulders thrust into the room. "You can't leave
+here till I'm ready for you to go--I'm goin' to put my men on the
+watch for you. If you try it afoot they'll fetch you back, and if you
+git stubborn and try to ride off from 'em, they'll shoot your horse.
+You take my word that I mean it, and set down and be good."
+
+He closed the door. She heard his heavy tread, careless, it seemed,
+whether he broke the troubled sleep of his wife, pass out by way of
+the kitchen. She returned to the fire, surging with the outrage of it,
+and sat down to consider the situation.
+
+There was no doubt that Chadron meant what he had said. This was only
+a mild proceeding to suppress evidence compared to his usual methods,
+as witnessed by the importation of Mark Thorn, and now his wholesale
+attempt with this army of hired gunslingers. But above the anger and
+indignation there was the exultant thought of Macdonald's triumph over
+the oppressor of the land. It glowed like a bright light in the
+turmoil of her present hour.
+
+She had told Chadron that his master was on the way, and she had seen
+him swell with the cloud of anger that shrouded his black heart. And
+she knew that he feared that swift-footed man Macdonald, who had
+outgeneraled him and crippled him before he had struck a blow. Well,
+let him have his brutal way until morning; then she would prevail on
+Mrs. Chadron to rescind his order and let her go home.
+
+There being nothing more to be hoped or dreaded in the way of news
+that night, Frances suppressed her wrath and went upstairs and to bed.
+But not to sleep; only to lie there with her hot cheeks burning like
+fever, her hot heart triumphing in the complete confidence and
+justification of Macdonald that Chadron's desperate act had
+established. She glowed with inner warmth as she told herself that
+there would be no more doubting, no more swaying before the wind of
+her inclination. Her heart had read him truly that night in the garden
+close.
+
+She heard Chadron ride away as she watched there for the dawn, and saw
+the cowboy guard that he had established rouse themselves while the
+east was only palely light and kindle their little fires. Soon the
+scent of their coffee and bacon came through her open window. Then she
+rose and dressed herself in her saddle garb again, and went tiptoeing
+past Mrs. Chadron's door.
+
+Since going to bed Mrs. Chadron bad not stirred. She seemed to have
+plunged over the precipice of sleep and to be lying stunned at the
+bottom. Frances felt that there was no necessity for waking her out of
+that much-needed repose, for the plan that she had formulated within
+the past few minutes did not include an appeal for Mrs. Chadron's
+assistance in it.
+
+Experience told her that Mrs. Chadron would accept unquestioningly the
+arrangements and orders of her husband, in whom her faith was
+boundless and her confidence without bottom. She would advance a
+hundred tearful pleas to take the edge off Frances' indignant anger,
+and weep and implore, but ten to one remain as steadfast as a ledge in
+her fealty to Saul. So Frances was preparing to proceed without her
+help or hindrance.
+
+She went softly into the room where she had faced Chadron a few hours
+before, and crossed to the fireplace, where the last coals of the fire
+that had kept her company were red among the ashes. It was dark yet,
+only a little grayness, like murky water, showing under the rim of the
+east, but she knew where the antlers hung above the mantel, with the
+rifle in its case, and the two revolvers which Alvino had brought to
+his mistress from the wounded foreman in the bunkhouse.
+
+But the antlers were empty. She felt them over with contracting heart,
+then struck a match to make sure. The guns were gone. Saul Chadron had
+removed them, foreseeing that they might stand her in the place of a
+friend.
+
+She lit a lamp and began a search of the lower part of the house for
+arms. There was not a single piece left in any of the places where
+they commonly were a familiar sight. Even the shotgun was gone from
+over the kitchen door. She returned to the sitting-room and laid some
+sticks on the coals, and sat leaning toward the blaze in that sense of
+comradeship that is as old between man and fire as the servitude of
+that captive element.
+
+Her elbows were on her knees, and her gloved hands were clasped, and
+the merry little fire laughed up into her fixed and thoughtful eyes.
+
+Fire has but one mood, no matter what it cheers or destroys. It always
+laughs. There is no melancholy note in it, no drab, dull color of
+death such as the flood comes tainted with. Even while it eats away
+our homes and possessions, it has a certain comfort in its touch and
+glow if we stand far enough away.
+
+Dawn broadened; the watery light came in like cold. Frances got up,
+shivering a little at the unfriendly look of the morning. She thought
+she heard a cautious foot stealing away from the window, and turned
+from it with contemptuous recollection of Chadron's threat to set
+spies over her.
+
+Frances left the house with no caution to conceal her movements, and
+went to the barn. Alvino was hobbling about among the horses with his
+lantern. He gave her an open and guileless good-morning, and she told
+him to saddle her horse.
+
+She was determined to ride boldly out of the gate and away, hardly
+convinced that even those seasoned ruffians would take a chance of
+hitting her by firing at her horse. None of the imported shooters was
+in sight as she mounted before the barn door, but two of them lounged
+casually at the gate as she approached.
+
+"Where was you aimin' to go so early?" asked one of them, laying hand
+on her bridle.
+
+"I'm the daughter of Colonel Landcraft, commanding officer at
+Fort Shakie, and I'm going home," she answered, as placidly and
+good-humoredly as if it might be his regular business to inquire.
+
+"I'm sorry to have to edge in on your plans, sissy," the fellow
+returned, familiarly, "but nobody goes away from this ranch for some
+little time to come. That's the boss's orders. Don't you know them
+rustlers is shootin' up the country ever' which way all around here?
+Shucks! It ain't safe for no lady to go skylarkin' around in."
+
+"They wouldn't hurt me--they know there's a regiment of cavalry at the
+post standing up for me."
+
+"I don't reckon them rustlers cares much more about them troopers than
+we do, sis."
+
+"Will you please open the gate?"
+
+"I hate to refuse a lady, but I dasn't do it." He shook his head in
+exaggerated gravity, and his companion covered a sputtering laugh with
+his hand.
+
+Frances felt her resolution to keep her temper dissolving. She shifted
+her quirt as the quick desire to strike him down and ride over his
+ugly grinning face flashed through her. But the wooden stock was light
+under the braided leather; she knew that she could not have knocked a
+grunt out of the tough rascal who barred her way with his insolent
+leer in his mean squint eyes. He was a man who had nothing to lose,
+therefore nothing to fear.
+
+"If it's dangerous for me to go alone, get your horse and come with
+me. I'll see that you get more out of it than you make working for
+Chadron."
+
+The fellow squinted up at her with eyes half-shut, in an expression of
+cunning.
+
+"Now you trot along back and behave you'self, before I have to take
+you down and spank you," he said.
+
+The other three men of the ranch guard came waddling up in that
+slouching gait of saddle-men, cigarettes dangling from their lips.
+Frances saw that she would not be allowed to pass that way. But they
+were all at that spot; none of them could be watching the back gate.
+She wheeled her long-legged cavalry horse to make a dash for it, and
+came face to face with Mrs. Chadron, who was hurrying from the house
+with excited gesticulations, pointing up the road.
+
+"Somebody's comin', it looks like one of the boys, I saw him from the
+upstairs winder!" she announced, "Where was you goin', honey?"
+
+"I was starting home, Mrs. Chadron, but these men--"
+
+"There he comes!" cried Mrs. Chadron, hastening to the gate.
+
+A horseman had come around the last brush-screened turn of the road,
+and was drawing near. Frances felt her heart leap like a hare, and a
+delicious feeling of triumph mingle with the great pride that swept
+through her in a warm flood. Tears were in her eyes, half-blinding
+her; a sob of gladness rose in her breast and burst forth a little
+happy cry.
+
+For that was Alan Macdonald coming forward on his weary horse, bearing
+something in his arms wrapped in a blanket, out of which a shower of
+long hair fell in bright cascade over his arm.
+
+Mrs. Chadron pressed her lips tight. Neither cry nor groan came out of
+them as she stood steadying herself by a straining grip on the gate,
+watching Macdonald's approach. None of them knew whether the burden
+that he bore was living or dead; none of them in the group at the gate
+but Frances knew the rider's face.
+
+One of the cowboys opened the gate wide, without a word, to let him
+enter. Mrs. Chadron lifted her arms appealingly, and hurried to his
+side as he stopped. Stiffly he leaned over, his inert burden held
+tenderly, and lowered what he bore into Mrs. Chadron's outstretched
+arms.
+
+With that change of position there was a sharp movement in the
+muffling blanket, two arms reached up with the quick clutching of a
+falling child, and clasped him about the neck. Then a sharp cry of
+waking recognition, and Nola was sobbing on her mother's breast.
+
+Alan Macdonald said no word. The light of the sunrise was strong on
+his face, set in the suffering of great weariness; the stiffness of
+his long and burdened ride was in his limbs. He turned his dusty
+horse, with its head low-drooping, and rode out the way that he had
+come. No hand was lifted to stop him, no voice raised in either
+benediction or curse.
+
+Mrs. Chadron was soothing her daughter, who was incoherent in the joy
+of her delivery, holding her clasped in her arms. Beyond that bright
+head there was no world for that mother then; save for the words which
+she crooned in the child's ears there was no message in her soul.
+
+Frances felt tears streaking her face in hot rivulets as she sat in
+her saddle, struck inactive by the great admiration, the boundless
+pride, that this unselfish deed woke in her. She never had, in her
+life of joyousness, experienced such a high sense of human admiration
+before.
+
+The cowboy who had opened the gate still held it so, the spell of
+Macdonald's dramatic arrival still over him. With his comrades he
+stood speechless, gazing after the departing horseman.
+
+Frances touched her horse lightly and rode after him. Mother and
+daughter were so estranged from all the world in that happy moment of
+reunion that neither saw her go, and the guards at the gate, either
+forgetful of their charge or softened by the moving scene, did not
+interpose to stop her.
+
+Macdonald raised his drooping head with quick start as she came
+dashing to his side. She was weeping, and she put out her hand with a
+motion of entreaty, her voice thick with sobs.
+
+"I wronged you and slandered you," she said, in bitter confession,
+"and I let you go when I should have spoken! I'm not worthy to ride
+along this road with you, Alan Macdonald, but I need your protection,
+I need your help. Will you let me go?"
+
+He checked his horse and looked across at her, a tender softening
+coming into his tired face.
+
+"Why, God bless you! there's only one road in the world for you and
+me," said he. His hand met hers where it fluttered like a dove between
+them; his slow, translating smile woke in his eyes and spread like a
+sunbeam over his stern lips.
+
+Behind them Mrs. Chadron was calling. Frances turned and waved her
+hand.
+
+"Come back, Frances, come back here!" Mrs. Chadron's words came
+distinctly to them, for they were not more than a hundred yards from
+the gate, and there was a note of eagerness in them, almost a command.
+Both of them turned.
+
+There was a commotion among the men at the gate, a hurrying and loud
+words. Nola was beckoning to Frances to return; now she called her
+name, with fearful entreaty.
+
+"That's Chance Dalton with his arm in a sling," said Macdonald,
+looking at her curiously. "What's up?"
+
+"Chadron has made them all believe that you stole Nola for the sole
+purpose of making a pretended rescue to win sympathy for your cause,"
+she said. "Even Nola will believe it--maybe they've told her. Chadron
+has offered a reward of fifty dollars--a bonus, he called it, so maybe
+there is more--to the man that kills you! Come on--quick! I'll tell
+you as we go."
+
+Macdonald's horse was refreshed in some measure by the diminishing of
+its burden, but the best that it could do was a tired, hard-jogging
+gallop. In a little while they rounded the screen of brush which hid
+them from the ranchhouse and from those who Frances knew would be
+their pursuers in a moment. Quickly she told him of her reason for
+wanting to go to the post, and Chadron's reason for desiring to hold
+her at the ranch.
+
+Macdonald looked at her with new life in his weary eyes.
+
+"We'll win now; you were the one recruit I lacked," he said.
+
+"But they'll kill you--Mrs. Chadron can't hold them back--she doesn't
+want to hold them back--for she's full of Chadron's lies about you.
+Your horse is worn out--you can't outrun them."
+
+"How many are there besides the five I saw?"
+
+"Only Dalton, and he's supposed to be crippled."
+
+"Oh, well," he said, easily, as if only five whole men and a cripple
+didn't amount to so much, taken all in the day's work.
+
+"Your men up there need your leadership and advice. Take my horse and
+go; he can outrun them."
+
+He looked at her admiringly, but with a little reproving shake of the
+head.
+
+"There's neither mercy nor manhood in any man that rides in Saul
+Chadron's pay," he told her. "They'd overtake you on this old plug
+before you'd gone a mile. The one condition on which I part company
+with you is that you ride ahead, this instant, and that you put your
+horse through for all that's in him."
+
+"And leave you to fight six of them!"
+
+"Staying here would only put you in unnecessary danger. I ask you to
+go, and go at once."
+
+"I'll not go!" She said it finally and emphatically.
+
+Macdonald checked his horse; she held back her animal to the slow pace
+of his. Now he offered his hand, as in farewell.
+
+"You can assure them at the post that we'll not fire on the
+soldiers--they can come in peace. Good-bye."
+
+"I'm not going!" she persisted.
+
+"They'll not consider you, Frances--they'll not hold their fire on
+your account. You're a rustler now, you're one of us."
+
+"You said--there--was--only--one--road," she told him, her face turned
+away.
+
+"It's that way, then, to the left--up that dry bed of Horsethief
+Cañon." He spoke with a lift of exultation, of pride, and more than
+pride. "Ride low--they're coming!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+DANGER AND DIGNITY
+
+
+"Did you carry her that way all the way home?"
+
+Frances asked the question abruptly, like one throwing down some
+troublesome and heavy thing that he has labored gallantly to conceal.
+It was the first word that she had spoken since they had taken refuge
+from their close-pressing pursuers in the dugout that some old-time
+homesteader had been driven away from by Chadron's cowboys.
+
+Macdonald was keeping his horse back from the door with the barrel of
+his rifle, while he peered out cautiously again, perplexed to
+understand the reason why Dalton had not led his men against them in a
+charge.
+
+"Not all the way, Frances. She rode behind me till she got so cold and
+sleepy I was afraid she'd fall off."
+
+"Yes, I'll bet she put on half of it!" she said, spitefully. "She
+looked strong enough when you put her down there at the gate."
+
+This unexpected little outburst of jealousy was pleasant to his ears.
+Above the trouble of that morning, and of the future which was charged
+with it to the blackness of complete obscuration, her warrant of
+affection was like a lifting sunbeam of hope.
+
+"I can't figure out what Dalton and that gang mean by this," said he,
+the present danger again pressing ahead of the present joy.
+
+"I saw a man dodge behind that big rock across there a minute ago,"
+she said.
+
+"You keep back away from that door--don't lean over out of that
+corner!" he admonished, almost harshly. "If you get where you can see,
+you can be seen. Don't forget that."
+
+He resumed his watch at the little hole that he had drilled beside the
+weight-bowed jamb of the door in the earth front of their refuge. She
+sat silent in her dark corner across from him, only now and then
+shaking her glove at the horses when one of them pricked up his ears
+and shewed a desire to dodge out into the sunlight and pleasant
+grazing spread on the hillside.
+
+It was cold and moldy in the dugout, and the timbers across the roof
+were bent under the weight of the earth. It looked unsafe, but there
+was only one place in it that a bullet could come through, and that
+was the open door. There was no way to shut that; the original battens
+of the homesteader lay under foot, broken apart and rotting.
+
+"Well, it beats me!" said he, his eye to the peephole in the wall.
+
+"If I'd keep one of the horses on this side it wouldn't crowd your
+corner so," she suggested.
+
+"It would be better, only they'll cut loose at anything that passes
+the door. They'll show their hand before long." He enlarged the hole
+to admit his rifle barrel. She watched him in silence. Which was just
+as well, for she had no words to express her admiration for his
+steadiness and courage under the trying pressure of that situation.
+Her confidence in him was so entire that she had no fear; it did not
+admit a question of their safe deliverance. With him at her side, this
+dangerous, grave matter seemed but a passing perplexity. She left it
+to him with the confidence and up-looking trust of a child.
+
+While she understood the peril of their situation, fear, doubt, had no
+place in her mind. She was under the protection of Alan Macdonald, the
+infallible.
+
+No matter what others may think of a man's infallibility, it is only a
+dangerous one who considers himself endowed with that more than human
+attribute. Macdonald did not share her case of mind as he stood with
+his eye to the squint-hole that he had bored beside the rotting jamb.
+
+"How did you find her? where was she?" she asked, her thoughts more on
+the marvel of Nola's return than her own present danger.
+
+"I lost Thorn's trail that first day," he returned, "and then things
+began to get so hot for us up the valley that I had to drop the search
+and get those people back to safety ahead of Chadron's raid. Yesterday
+afternoon we caught a man trying to get through our lines and down
+into the valley. He was a half-breed trapper who lives up in the
+foothills, carrying a note down to Chadron. I've got that curious
+piece of writing around me somewhere--you can read it when this blows
+by. Anyway, it was from Thorn, demanding ten thousand dollars in gold.
+He wanted it sent back by the messenger, and he prescribed some
+picturesque penalties in case of failure on Chadron's part."
+
+"And then you found her?"
+
+"I couldn't very well ask anybody else to go after her," he admitted,
+with a modest reticence that amounted almost to being ashamed. "After
+I made sure that we had Chadron's raiders cooped up where they
+couldn't get out, I went up and got her. Thorn wasn't there, nobody
+but the Indian woman, the 'breed's wife. She was the jailer--a regular
+wildcat of a woman."
+
+That was all there was to be told, it seemed, as far as Macdonald was
+concerned. He had the hole in the wall--at which he had worked as he
+talked--to his liking now, and was squinting through it like a
+telescope.
+
+"Nola wasn't afraid to come with you," she said, positively.
+
+"She didn't appear to be, Frances."
+
+"No; she _knew_ she was safe, no matter how little she deserved any
+kindness at your hands. I know what she did--I know how she--how
+she--_struck_ you in the face that time!"
+
+"Oh," said he, as if reminded of a trifle that he had forgotten.
+
+"Did she--put her arms around your neck that way _many_ times while
+you were carrying her home?"
+
+"She did _not_! Many times! why, she didn't do it even once."
+
+"Oh, at the gate--I saw her!"
+
+He said nothing for a little while, only stood with head bent, as if
+thinking it over.
+
+"Well, she didn't get very far with it," he said, quite seriously.
+"Anyway, she was asleep then, and didn't know what she was doing. It
+was just the subconscious reaching up of a falling, or dreaming,
+child."
+
+She was not a little amused, in a quick turn from her serious bent of
+jealousy, at his long and careful explanation of the incident. She
+laughed, and the little green cloud that had troubled her blew away on
+the gale of her mirth.
+
+"Oh, well!" said she, from her deep corner across the bright oblong of
+the door, tossing it all away from her. "Do you think they'll go away
+and let us come out after a while?"
+
+"I don't believe they've got any such intention. If it doesn't come to
+a fight before then, I believe we'll have to drive the horses out
+ahead of us after dark, and try to get away under the confusion. You
+should have gone on, Frances, when I told you."
+
+The horses were growing restive, moving, stamping, snorting, and
+becoming quarrelsome together. Macdonald's little range animal had a
+viciousness in it, and would not make friends with the chestnut
+cavalry horse. It squealed and bit, and even tried to use its heels,
+at every friendly approach.
+
+Macdonald feared that so much commotion might bring the shaky, rotten
+roof down on them. A hoof driven against one of the timbers which
+supported it might do the trick, and bring them to a worse end than
+would the waiting bullets of Dalton and his gang.
+
+"I'll have to risk putting that horse of yours over on your side," he
+told her. "Stand ready to catch him, but don't lean a hair past the
+door."
+
+He turned the horse and gave it a slap. As it crossed the bar of light
+falling through the door, a shot cracked among the rocks. The bullet
+knocked earth over him as it smacked in the facing of the door. The
+man who had fired had shot obliquely, there being no shelter directly
+in front, and that fact had saved the horse.
+
+Macdonald peered through his loophole. He could not see the smoke, but
+he let them know that he was primed by answering the shot at random.
+The shot drew a volley, a bullet or two striking the rear wall of the
+cave.
+
+After that they waited for what might come between then and night.
+They said little, for each was straining with unpleasant thoughts and
+anxieties, and put to constant watchfulness to keep the horses from
+slewing around into the line of fire. Every time a tail switched out
+into the streak of light a bullet came nipping in. Sometimes Macdonald
+let them go unanswered, and again he would spring up and drive away at
+the rocks which he knew sheltered them, almost driven to the point of
+rushing out and trying to dislodge them by storm.
+
+So the day wore by. They had been in the dugout since a little after
+sunrise. Sunset was pale on the hilltops beyond them when Macdonald,
+his strained and tired eyes to the loophole, saw Dalton and two of his
+men slipping from rock to rock, drawing nearer for what he expected to
+be the rush.
+
+"Can you shoot?" he asked her, his mouth hot and dry as if his blood
+had turned to liquid fire.
+
+"Yes, I can shoot," she answered, steadily.
+
+He tossed one of his revolvers across to her, dimly seen now in the
+deepening gloom of the cave, and flung a handful of cartridges after
+it.
+
+"They're closing in on us for the rush, and I'm going to try to stop
+them. Keep back there where you are, and hold your horse under cover
+as long as you hear me shooting. If I stop first, call Dalton and tell
+him who you are. I believe in that case he'll let you go."
+
+"I'm going to help you," she said, rising resolutely. "When you--stop
+shooting--" she choked a little over the words, her voice caught in a
+dry little sob--"then I'll stop shooting, too!"
+
+"Stay back there, Frances! Do you hear--stay back!"
+
+Somebody was on the roof of the dugout; under his weight clods of
+earth fell, and then, with a soft breaking of rotten timber, a booted
+foot broke through. It was on Frances' side, and the fellow's foot
+almost touched her saddle as her frightened horse plunged.
+
+The man was tugging to drag his foot through the roof now, earth and
+broken timber showering down. Macdonald only glanced over his
+shoulder, as if leaving that trapped one to her. He was set for their
+charge in front. She raised her revolver to fire as the other leg
+broke through, and the fellow's body dropped into the enlarged hole.
+At that moment the men in front fired a volley through the gaping
+door. Frances saw the intruder drop to the ground, torn by the heavy
+bullets from his companions' guns.
+
+The place was full of smoke, and the turmoil of the frightened horses,
+and the noise of quick shots from Macdonald's station across the door.
+She could not make anything out in the confusion as she turned from
+the dead man to face the door, only that Macdonald was not at his
+place at the loophole now.
+
+She called him, but her voice was nothing in the sound of firing. A
+choking volume of smoke was packing the cave. She saw Macdonald's
+horse lower its head and dash out, with a whip of its tail like a
+defiance of her authority. Then in a moment everything was still out
+there, with a fearful suddenness.
+
+She flung herself into the cloud of smoke that hung in the door,
+sobbing Macdonald's name; she stumbled into the fresh sweet air,
+almost blind in her anxiety, and the confusion of that quickly enacted
+scene, her head bent as if to run under the bullets which she
+expected.
+
+She did not see how it happened, she did not know that he was there;
+but his arm was supporting her, his cool hand was on her forehead,
+stroking her face as if he had plucked her drowning from the sea.
+
+"Where are they?" she asked, only to exclaim, and shrink closer to him
+at the sight of one lying a few rods away, in that sprawling limp
+posture of those who fall by violence.
+
+"There were only four of them--there the other two go." He pointed
+down the little swale where the tall grass was still green.
+Macdonald's horse had fallen to grazing there, his master's perils and
+escapes all one to him now. It threw its head up and stood listening,
+trotted a little way and stopped, ears stiff, nostrils stretched.
+
+"There's somebody coming," she said.
+
+"Yes--Chadron and a fresh gang, maybe."
+
+He sprang to the dugout door, where Frances' horse stood with its head
+out inquiringly.
+
+"Jump up--quick!" he said, bringing the horse out. "Go this time,
+Frances; don't hang back a second more!"
+
+"Never mind, Alan," she said, from the other side of the horse, "it's
+the cavalry--I guess they've come after me."
+
+Major King was at the head of the detail of seven men which rode up,
+horses a lather of sweat. He threw himself from the saddle and hurried
+to Frances, his face full of the liveliest concern. Macdonald stepped
+around to meet him.
+
+"Thank heaven! you're not hurt," the major said.
+
+"No, but we thought we were in for another fight," she told him,
+offering him her hand in the gratefulness of her relief. He almost
+snatched it in his eagerness, and drew her toward him, and stood
+holding it in his haughty, proprietary way. "Mr. Macdonald--"
+
+"The scoundrels heard us coming and ran--we got a glimpse of them down
+there. Chadron will have to answer for this outrage!" the major said.
+
+"Major King, this is Mr. Macdonald," said she, firmly, breaking down
+the high manner in which the soldier persisted in overlooking and
+eliminating the homesteader.
+
+Major King's face flushed; he drew back a hasty step as Macdonald
+offered his hand, in the frank and open manner of an equal man who
+raised no thought nor question on that point.
+
+"Sir, I've been hearing of the gallant _rescue_ that you made of
+another young lady this morning," he said, with sneering emphasis.
+"You are hardly the kind of a man I shake hands with!"
+
+The troopers, sitting their blowing horses a rod away, made their
+saddles creak as they shifted to see this little dash of melodrama.
+Macdonald's face was swept by a sudden paleness, as if a sickness had
+come over him. He clenched his lean jaw hard; the firmness of his
+mouth was grimmer still as his hand dropped slowly to his side.
+Frances looked her indignation and censure into Major King's hot
+eyes.
+
+"Mr. Macdonald has defended me like a gallant gentleman, sir! Those
+ruffians didn't run because they heard you coming, but because he
+faced them out here in the open, single-handed and alone, and drove
+them to their horses, Major King!"
+
+The troopers were looking Macdonald over with favor. They had seen the
+evidence of his stand against Chadron's men.
+
+"You're deceived in your estimation of the fellow, Miss Landcraft,"
+the major returned, red to the eyes in his offended dignity. "I
+arrived at the ranch not an hour ago, detailed to escort you back to
+the post. Will you have the kindness to mount at once, please?"
+
+He stepped forward to give her a hand into the saddle. But Macdonald
+was before him in that office, urged to it by the quick message of her
+eyes. From the saddle she leaned and gave him her warm, soft hand.
+
+"Your men need you, Mr. Macdonald--go to them," she said. "My prayers
+for your success in this fight for the right will follow you."
+
+Macdonald was standing bareheaded at her stirrup. Her hand lingered a
+moment in his, her eyes sounded the bottom of his soul. Major King,
+with his little uprising of dignity, was a very small matter in the
+homesteader's mind just then, although a minute past he had fought
+with himself to keep from twisting the arrogant officer's neck.
+
+She fell in beside Major King, who was sitting grim enough in his way
+now, in the saddle, and they rode away. Macdonald stood, hat in hand,
+the last sunbeams of that day over his fair tangled hair, the smoke of
+his conflict on his face, the tender light of a man's most sacred fire
+in his eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+BOOTS AND SADDLES
+
+
+When Major King delivered Frances--his punctilious military observance
+made her home-coming nothing less--to Colonel Landcraft, they found
+that grizzled warrior in an electrical state of excitement. He was
+moving in quick little charges, but with a certain grim system in all
+of them, between desk and bookcases, letter files, cabinets, and back
+to his desk again. He drew a document here, tucked one away there,
+slipped an elastic about others assembled on his desk, and clapped a
+sheaf of them in his pocket.
+
+Major King saluted within the door.
+
+"I have the honor to report the safe return of the detachment
+dispatched to Alamito Ranch for the convoy of Miss Landcraft," he
+said.
+
+Colonel Landcraft returned the salute, and stood stiffly while his
+officer spoke.
+
+"Very well, sir," said he. Then flinging away his official stiffness,
+he met Frances half-way as she ran to meet him, and enfolded her to
+his breast, just as if his dry old heart knew that she had come to him
+through perils.
+
+Breathlessly she told him the story, leaving no word unsaid that would
+mount to the credit of Alan Macdonald. Colonel Landcraft was as hot as
+blazing straw over the matter. He swore that he would roast Saul
+Chadron's heart on his sword, and snatched that implement from the
+chair where it hung as he spoke, and buckled it on with trembling
+hand.
+
+King interposed to tell him that Chadron was not at the ranch, and
+begged the colonel to delegate to him the office of avenger of this
+insult and hazard that Frances had suffered at the hands of his men.
+For a moment Colonel Landcraft held the young officer's eye with
+thankful expression of admiration, then he drew himself up as if in
+censure for wasted time, saluted, took a paper from his desk, and said
+with grave dignity:
+
+"It must fall to you, Major King, to demand the reparation for this
+outrage that I shall not be here to enforce. I am ordered to
+Washington, sir, to make my appearance before the retiring board. The
+department has vested the command of this post in you, sir--here is
+the order. My soldiering days are at an end."
+
+He handed the paper to Major King, with a salute. With a salute the
+young officer took it from his hand, an eager light in his eyes, a
+flush springing to his pale face. Frances clung to her father's arm, a
+little trembling moan on her lips as if she had received a mortal
+hurt.
+
+"Never mind, never mind, dear heart," said the old man, a shake in his
+own voice. Frances, looking up with her great pity into his stern, set
+face, saw a tear creeping down his cheek, toughened by the fires of
+thirty years' campaigns.
+
+"I'll never soldier any more," he said, "the politicians have got me.
+They've been after me a long time, and they've got me. But there is
+one easement in my disgrace--"
+
+"Don't speak of it on those terms, sir!" implored Major King, more a
+man than a soldier as he laid a consoling hand on the old man's arm.
+
+"No, no!" said Frances, clinging to her father's hand.
+
+Colonel Landcraft smiled, looking from one to the other of them, and a
+softness came into his face. He took Major King's hand and carried it
+to join Frances', and she, in her softness for her father, allowed it
+to remain in the young soldier's grasp.
+
+"There is one gleam of joy in the sundown of my life," the colonel
+said, "and that is in seeing my daughter pledged to a soldier. I must
+live in the reflection of your achievements, if I live beyond this
+disgrace, sir."
+
+"I will try to make them worthy of my mentor, sir," Major King
+returned.
+
+Frances stood with bowed head, the major still holding her hand in his
+ardent grasp.
+
+"It's a crushing blow, to come before the preferment in rank that I
+have been led to expect would be my retiring compensation!" The
+colonel turned from them sharply, as if in pain, and walked in
+marching stride across the room. Frances withdrew her hand, with a
+little struggle, not softened by the appeal in the major's eyes.
+
+"My poor wife is bowed under it," the colonel spoke as he marched back
+and forth. "She has hoped with me for some fitting reward for the
+years of service I have unselfishly given to my country, sir, for the
+surrender of my better self to the army. I'll never outlive it, I feel
+that I'll never outlive it!"
+
+Colonel Landcraft had no thought apart from what he felt to be his
+hovering disgrace. He had forgotten his rage against Chadron,
+forgotten that his daughter had lived through a day as hazardous as
+any that he had experienced in the Apache campaigns, or in his bleak
+watches against the Sioux. He turned to her now, where she stood
+weeping softly with bowed head, the grime of the dugout on her habit,
+her hair, its bonds broken, straying over her face.
+
+"I had counted pleasurably on seeing you two married," he said, "but
+something tells me I shall never come back from this journey, never
+resume command of this post." He turned back to his marching, stopped
+three or four paces along, turned sharply, a new light in his face.
+"Why shouldn't it be before I leave--tonight, within the hour?"
+
+"Oh, father!" said Frances, in terrified voice, lifting her face in
+its tear-wet loveliness.
+
+"I must make the train that leaves Meander at four o'clock tomorrow
+morning, I shall have to leave here within--" he flashed out his watch
+with his quick, nervous hand--"within three-quarters of an hour. What
+do you say, Major King? Are you ready?"
+
+"I have been ready at any time for two years," Major King replied, in
+trembling eagerness.
+
+Frances was thrown into such a mental turmoil by the sudden proposal
+that she could not, at that moment, speak a further protest. She stood
+with white face, her heart seeming to shrivel, and fall away to
+laboring faintness. Colonel Landcraft was not considering her. He was
+thinking that he must have three hours' sleep in the hotel at Meander
+before the train left for Omaha.
+
+"Then we shall have the wedding at once, just as you stand!" he
+declared. "We'll have the chaplain in and--go and tell your mother,
+child, and--oh, well, throw on another dress if you like."
+
+Frances found her tongue as her danger of being married off in that
+hot and hasty manner grew imminent.
+
+"I'm not going to marry Major King, father, now or at any future
+time," said she, speaking slowly, her words coming with coldness from
+her lips.
+
+"Silence! you have nothing to say, nothing to do but obey!" Colonel
+Landcraft blazed up in sudden explosion, after his manner, and set his
+heel down hard on the floor, making his sword clank in its scabbard on
+his thigh.
+
+"I have not had much to say," Frances admitted, bitterly, "but I am
+going to have a great deal to say in this matter now. Both of you have
+gone ahead about this thing just as if I was irresponsible, both of
+you--"
+
+"Hold your tongue, miss! I command you--hold your tongue!"
+
+"It's the farthest thing from my heart to give you pain, or disappoint
+you in your calculations of me, father," she told him, her voice
+gathering power, her words speed, for she was a warrior like himself,
+only that her balance was not so easily overthrown; "but I am not
+going to marry Major King."
+
+"Heaven and hell!" said Colonel Landcraft, stamping up and down.
+
+"Heaven _or_ hell," said she, "and not hell--if I can escape it."
+
+"I'll not permit this insubordination in a member of my family!"
+roared the colonel, his face fiery, his rumpled eyebrows knitted in a
+scowl. "I'll have obedience, with good grace, and at once, or damn my
+soul, you'll leave my house!"
+
+"Major King, if you are a gentleman, sir, you will relieve me of this
+unwelcome pressure to force me against my inclination. It is quite
+useless, sir, I tell you most earnestly. I would rather die than marry
+you--I would rather die!"
+
+"Sir, I have no wish to coerce the lady"--Major King's voice shook,
+his words were low--"as she seems to have no preference for me, sir.
+Miss Landcraft perhaps has placed her heart somewhere else."
+
+"She has no right to act with such treachery to me and you, sir," the
+colonel said. "I'll not have it! Where else, sir--who?"
+
+"Spare me the humiliation of informing you," begged Major King, with
+averted face, with sorrow in his voice.
+
+"Oh, you slanderous coward!" Frances assailed him with scorn of word
+and look. Colonel Landcraft was shaking a trembling finger at her, his
+face thrust within a foot of her own.
+
+"I'll not have it! you'll not--who is the fellow, who?"
+
+"There is nothing to conceal, there is no humiliation on my part in
+speaking his name, but pride--the highest pride of my heart!"
+
+She stood back from them a little, her lofty head thrown back, her
+face full of color now, the strength of defense of the man she loved
+in her brave brown eyes.
+
+"Some low poltroon, some sneaking civilian--"
+
+"He is a man, father--you have granted that. His name is--"
+
+"Stop!" thundered the colonel. "Heaven and hell! Will you disgrace me
+by making public confession of your shame? Leave this room, before you
+drive me to send you from it with a curse!"
+
+In her room Frances heard the horses come to the door to carry her
+father away. She had sat there, trembling and hot, sorry for his
+foolish rage, hurt by his narrow injustice. Yet she had no bitterness
+in her heart against him, for she believed that she knew him best.
+When his passion had fallen he would come to her, lofty still, but
+ashamed, and they would put it behind them, as they had put other
+differences in the past.
+
+Her mother had gone to him to share the last moments of his presence
+there, and to intercede for her. Now Frances listened, her hot cheek
+in her hand, her eyes burning, her heart surging in fevered stroke.
+There was a good deal of coming and going before the house; men came
+up and dismounted, others rode away. Watching, her face against the
+cool pane, she did not see her father leave. Yet he had not come to
+her, and the time for his going was past.
+
+Her heart was sore and troubled at the thought that perhaps he had
+gone without the word of pacification between them. It was almost
+terrifying to her to think of that. She ran down the stairs and stood
+listening at his closed door.
+
+That was not his voice, that heavy growl, that animal note. Saul
+Chadron's; no other. Her mother came in through the front door,
+weeping, and clasped Frances in her arms as she stood there, shadowy
+in the light of the dim hall lamp.
+
+"He is gone!" she said.
+
+Frances did not speak. But for the first time in her life a feeling of
+bitterness against her father for his hardness of heart and unbending
+way of injustice lifted itself in her breast. She led her mother to
+her own room, giving her such comfort as she could put into words.
+
+"He said he never marched out to sure defeat before," Mrs. Landcraft
+told her. "I've seen him go many a time, Frances, but never with such
+a pain in my heart as tonight!"
+
+And Saul Chadron was the man who had caused his going, Frances knew, a
+new illumination having come over the situation since hearing his
+voice in the colonel's office a few minutes past. Chadron had been at
+Meander, telegraphing to the cattlemen's servants in Washington all
+the time. He had demanded the colonel's recall, and the substitution
+of Major King, because he wanted a man in authority at the post whom
+he could use.
+
+This favoritism of Chadron made her distrustful at once of Major King.
+There must be some scheming and plotting afoot. She went down and
+stood in the hall again, not even above bending to listen at the
+keyhole. Chadron was talking again. She felt that he must have been
+talking all the time that she had been away. It must be an unworthy
+cause that needed so much pleading, she thought.
+
+"Well, he'll not shoot, I tell you, King; he's too smart for that.
+He'll have to be trapped into it. If you've got to have an excuse to
+fire on them--and I can't see where it comes in, King, damn my neck if
+I can--we've got to set a trap."
+
+"Leave that to me," returned Major King, coldly.
+
+"How much force are you authorized to use?"
+
+"The order leaves that detail to me. 'Sufficient force to restore
+order,' it says."
+
+"I think you ort to take a troop, at the least, King, and a
+cannon--maybe two."
+
+"I don't think artillery will be necessary, sir."
+
+"Well, I'll leave it to you, King, but I'd hate like hell to take you
+up there and have that feller lick you. You don't know him like I do.
+I tell you he'd lay on his back and fight like a catamount as long as
+he had a breath left in him."
+
+"Can you locate them in the night?"
+
+"I think we'd have to wait up there somewheres for daybreak. I'm not
+just sure which cañon they are in."
+
+There was silence. Frances peeped through the keyhole, but could see
+nothing except thick smoke over bookcases and files.
+
+"Well, we'll not want to dislodge them before daylight, anyway," said
+King.
+
+"If Macdonald can back off without a fight, he'll do it," Chadron
+declared, "for he knows as well as you and I what it'd mean to fire on
+the troops. And I want you to git him, King, and make sure you've got
+him."
+
+"It depends largely on whether the fellow can be provoked into firing
+on us, Chadron. You think he can be; so do I. But in case he doesn't,
+the best we can do will be to arrest him."
+
+"What good would he be to me arrested, King? I tell you I want his
+scalp, and if you bring that feller out of there in a sack you'll come
+back a brigadier. I put you where you're at. Well, I can put you
+higher just as easy. But the purty I want for my trouble is that
+feller's scalp."
+
+There was the sound of somebody walking about, in quick, nervous
+strides. Frances knew that Major King had got up from his usurped
+place at the desk--place unworthily filled, this low intrigue with
+Chadron aside, she knew--and was strutting in the shadow of his
+promised glory.
+
+"Leave it to me, Chadron; I've got my own account to square with that
+wolf of the range!"
+
+A sharp little silence, in which Frances could picture Chadron looking
+at King in his covert, man-weighing way. Then Chadron went on:
+
+"King, I've noticed now and then that you seemed to have a soft spot
+in your gizzard for that little girl of mine. Well, I'll throw her in
+to boot if you put this thing through right. Is it a go?"
+
+"I'd hesitate to bargain for the young lady without her being a party
+to the business," King replied, whether from wisdom born of his recent
+experience, or through lack of interest in the proposal Frances could
+not read in his even, well-pitched voice.
+
+"Oh, she'd jump at you like a bullfrog at red flannel," Chadron
+assured him. "I could put your uniform on a wooden man and marry him
+off to the best girl in seven states. They never think of lookin'
+under a soldier's vest."
+
+"You flatter me, Mr. Chadron, and the uniform of the United States
+army," returned King, with barely covered contempt. "Suppose we allow
+events to shape themselves in regard to Miss Chadron. She'll hardly be
+entertaining marriage notions yet--after her recent experience."
+
+Chadron got up so quickly he overturned his chair.
+
+"By God, sir! do you mean to intimate you wouldn't have her after what
+she's gone through? Well, I'll put a bullet through any man that
+says--"
+
+"Oh, hold yourself in, Chadron; there's no call for this."
+
+King's cold contempt would have been like a lash to a man of finer
+sensibilities than Saul Chadron. As it was, Frances could hear the
+heavy cattleman breathing like a mad bull.
+
+"When you talk about my little girl, King, go as easy as if you was
+carryin' quicksilver in a dish. You told me she was all right a little
+while ago, and I tell you I don't like--"
+
+"Miss Chadron was as bright as a redbird when I saw her this
+afternoon," King assured him, calmly. "She has suffered no harm at the
+hands of Macdonald and his outlaws."
+
+"He'll dance in hell for that trick before the sun goes down on
+another day!"
+
+"His big play for sympathy fell flat," said King, with a contemptuous
+laugh. "There wasn't much of a crowd on hand when he arrived at the
+ranch."
+
+Silence. A little shifting of feet, a growl from Chadron, and a
+curse.
+
+"But as for your proposal involving Miss Chadron, I am honored by it,"
+said King.
+
+"Any man would be!" Chadron declared.
+
+"And we will just let it stand, waiting the lady's sanction."
+
+That brightened Chadron up. He moved about, and there was a sound as
+if he had slapped the young officer on the back in pure comradeship
+and open admiration.
+
+"What's your scheme for drawin' that feller into firin' on your men?"
+he asked.
+
+"We'll talk it over as we go," said King.
+
+A bugle lifted its sharp, electrifying note in the barracks.
+
+"Boots and saddles!" Chadron said.
+
+"Yes; we march at nine o'clock."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE TRAIL OF THE COFFEE
+
+
+"You done right to come to the mission after me, for I'd ride to the
+gatepost of hell to turn a trick agin Saul Chadron!"
+
+Banjo's voice had a quaver of earnestness in it that needed no
+daylight to enforce. The pitchy night made a bobbing blur of him as he
+rode his quick-stepping little horse at Frances Landcraft's side.
+
+"Yes, you owe him one," Frances admitted.
+
+"And I'll pay him before mornin' or it won't be no fault of mine. That
+there little ten-cent-size major he'd 'a' stopped you if he'd 'a'
+known you was goin', don't you suppose?"
+
+"I'm sure he would have, Mr. Gibson."
+
+"Which?" said Banjo.
+
+"Banjo," she corrected.
+
+"Now, that sounds more comfortabler," he told her. "I didn't know for
+a minute who you meant, that name's gittin' to be a stranger to me."
+
+"Well, we don't want a stranger along tonight," said she, seriously.
+
+"You're right, we don't. That there horse you're ridin' he's a good
+one, as good as any in the cavalry, even if he ain't as tall. He was
+an outlaw till Missus Mathews tamed him down."
+
+"How did she do it--not break him like a bronco-buster?"
+
+"No, she done it like she tames Injuns and other folks, by gentle
+words and gentler hands. Some they'll tell you she's sunk down to the
+ways of Injuns, clean out of a white man's sight in the dirt and
+doin's of them dead-horse eatin' 'Rapahoes. But I know she ain't. She
+lets herself down on a level to reach 'em, and git her hands under 'em
+so she can lift 'em up, the same as she puts herself on my level when
+she wants to reach me, or your level, or anybody's level, mom."
+
+"Her eyes and her soft ways tell you that, Banjo, as plain as any
+words."
+
+"She's done ten times as much as that big-backed buffalo of a preacher
+she's married to ever done for his own people, or ever will. He's clim
+above 'em with his educated ways; the Injun's ironed out of that man.
+You can't reach down and help anybody up, mom, if you go along through
+this here world on stilts."
+
+"Not very well, Banjo."
+
+"You need both of your hands to hold your stilts, mom; you ain't got
+even a finger to spare for a low-down feller like me."
+
+"You're not a low-down fellow, Banjo. Don't be calling yourself
+names."
+
+"I was low-down enough to believe what they told me about Macdonald
+shootin' up Chance Dalton. I believed it till Missus Mathews give me
+the straight of it. One of them Injun police fellers told her how that
+job was put up, and how it failed to work."
+
+"A man named Lassiter told me about it."
+
+They rode along in silence a long time after that. Then Banjo--
+
+"Well, I hope we don't bust out onto them cavalry fellers too sudden
+and meet a flock of bullets. I'd never forgive the man that put a
+bullet through my fiddle."
+
+"We'll go slowly, and keep listening; I can tell cavalry from cowboys
+as far as I can hear."
+
+"I bet a purty you can, brought up with 'em like you was."
+
+"They'll not be able to do anything before daylight, and when we
+overtake them we'll ride around and get ahead while they're waiting
+for morning. I don't know where the homesteaders are, but they'll be
+sending out scouts to locate them, and we can watch."
+
+They were following the road that the cavalry had taken an hour in
+advance of them. Listening now, they rode on without words. Now and
+then a bush at the roadside flipped a stirrup, now and again Banjo's
+little horse snorted in short impatience, as if expressing its
+disapproval of this journey through the dark. Night was assertive in
+its heaviness, but communicative of its mysteries in its wild
+scents--the silent music of its hour.
+
+There are those who, on walking in the night, can tell the hour by the
+smell, the taste, the elusive fine aroma of the quiet air. Before
+midnight it is like a new-lit censer; in the small hours the smell of
+old camp fires comes trailing, and the scent of rain upon embers.
+
+But Frances Landcraft was not afraid of the night as she rode silently
+through it with Banjo Gibson at her side. There was no shudder in it
+for her as there had been on the night that Nola was stolen; it could
+not have raised up a terror grim enough to turn her back upon the
+road.
+
+Her one thought was that she must reach Macdonald before Chadron and
+King could find him, and tell him that the troops were coming, and
+that he was to be trapped into firing upon them. She knew that many
+lives depended upon her endurance, courage, and strategy; many lives,
+but most of all Alan Macdonald's life. He must be warned, at the cost
+of her own safety, her own life, if necessary.
+
+To that end the troops must be followed, and a desperate dash at
+daylight must be made into Macdonald's camp. Perhaps it would be a
+race with the cavalry at the last moment.
+
+Banjo said it was beginning to feel like morning. An hour past they
+had crossed the river at the ford near Macdonald's place, and the
+foothills stood rough and black against the starry horizon. They were
+near them now, so near that the deeper darkness of their timbered
+sides fell over them like a cold shadow.
+
+Suddenly she checked Banjo with a sharp word.
+
+"I heard them!" she whispered.
+
+Banjo's little horse, eager for the fellowship of its kind as his
+master was for his own in his way, threw up its head and whinnied.
+Banjo churned it with his heels, slapped it on the side of the head,
+and shut off the shrill call in a grunt, but the signal had gone
+abroad. From the blackness ahead it was answered, and the slow wind
+prowling down from the hills ahead of dawn carried the scent of
+cigarettes to them as they waited breathlessly for results.
+
+"They're dismounted, and waiting for daylight," she said. "We must
+ride around them."
+
+They were leaving the road, the low brush rasping harshly on their
+stirrups--as loud as a bugle-call, it seemed to Frances--when a dash
+of hoofs from ahead told that a detachment was coming to investigate.
+Now there came a hail. Frances stopped; Banjo behind her whispered to
+know what they should do.
+
+"Keep that little fool horse still!" she said.
+
+Now the patrol, which had stopped to hail, was coming on again.
+Banjo's horse was not to be sequestered, nor his craving for
+companionship in that lonesome night suppressed. He lifted his shrill
+nicker again, and a shot from the outriders of cavalry was the
+answer.
+
+"Answer them, tell them who you are Banjo--they all know you--and I'll
+slip away. Good-bye, and thank you for your brave help!"
+
+"I'll go with you, they'll hear one as much as they'll hear two."
+
+"No, no, you can help me much better by doing as I tell you. Tell them
+that a led horse got away from you, and that's the noise of it running
+away."
+
+She waited for no more words, for the patrol was very near, and now
+and then one of them fired as he rode. Banjo yelled to them.
+
+"Say, you fellers! Stop that fool shootin' around here, I tell you!"
+
+"Who are you?" came the answer.
+
+"Banjo, you darned fool! And I tell you right now, pardner, the first
+man that busts my fiddle with a bullet'll have to mix with me!"
+
+The soldiers came up laughing, and heard Banjo's explanation of the
+horse, still dimly heard, galloping off. Frances stopped to listen.
+Presently she heard them coming on again, evidently not entirely
+satisfied with Banjo's story. But the parley with him had delayed
+them; she had a good lead now.
+
+In a little swale, where the greasewood reached above her head, she
+stopped again to listen. She heard the troopers beating the bushes
+away off to one side, and knew that they soon would give it up. When
+they passed out of her hearing, she rode on, slowly, and with
+caution.
+
+She was frontiersman enough to keep her direction by the north
+star--Colonel Landcraft had seen to that particular of her education
+himself--but Polaris would not tell her which way to go to find Alan
+Macdonald and his dusty men standing their vigil over their cooped-up
+enemies. Nothing but luck, she knew, could lead her there, for she was
+in a sea of sage-brush, with the black river valley behind her, the
+blacker hills ahead, and never a mark of a trail to follow anywhere.
+
+She had rounded the cavalry troop and left it far behind; the silence
+which immersed the sleeping land told her this. No hoof but her own
+mount's beat the earth within sound, no foot but hers strained
+saddle-leather within reach of her now, she believed.
+
+There was only one thing to do; ride slowly in the direction that she
+had been holding with Banjo, and keep eyes, ears, and nose all on the
+watch. The ways of the range were early; if there was anybody within a
+mile of her to windward she would smell the smoke of his fire when he
+lit it, and see the wink of it, too, unless he built it low.
+
+But it was neither the scent of fire nor the red eye of it winking on
+the hill that at length gave her despairing heart a fresh handful of
+hope--nothing less indeed than the aroma of boiling coffee. It had
+such a feeling of comfort and welcome, of domesticity and peace in it
+that she felt as if she approached a door with a friend standing ready
+to take her horse.
+
+Her horse was not insensible to the cheer that somebody was brewing
+for himself in that wild place. She felt him quicken under her, and
+put up his head eagerly, and go forward as if he was nearing home. She
+wondered how far the smell of coffee would carry, and subsequent
+experience was a revelation on that point.
+
+She had entered the hills, tracking back that wavering scent of
+coffee, which rose fresh and sudden now, and trailed away the next
+moment to the mere color of a smell. Now she had it, now she lost it,
+as she wound over rugged ridges and through groves of quaking-asp and
+balm of Gilead trees, always mounting among the hills, her eager horse
+taking the way without guidance, as keen on the scent as she.
+
+It must have taken her an hour to run down that coffee pot. Morning
+was coming among the fading stars when she mounted a long ridge, the
+quick striding of her horse indicating that there was something ahead
+at last, and came upon the camp fire, the coffee, and the cook, all
+beside a splintered gray rock that rose as high as a house out of the
+barrenness of the hill.
+
+The coffee-maker was a woman, and her pot was of several gallons'
+capacity. She was standing with the cover of the boiler in one hand, a
+great spoon in the other, her back half bent over her beverage, in the
+position that the sound of Frances' coming had struck her. She did not
+move out of that alert pose of suspicion until Frances drew rein
+within a few feet of her and gave her good-morning. When the poor
+harried creature saw that the visitor was a woman, her fright gave
+place to wonder.
+
+Frances introduced herself without parley, and made inquiry for
+Macdonald.
+
+"Why, bless your heart, you don't aim to tell me you rode all the way
+from the post in the night by yourself?" the simple, friendly creature
+said. "Well, Mr. Macdonald and most of the men they've left to take
+them scoun'rels sent in here by the cattlemen to murder all of us over
+to the jail at Meander."
+
+"How long have they been gone?"
+
+"Why, not so very long. I reckon you must 'a' missed meetin' 'em by a
+hair."
+
+"I've got to catch up with them, right away! Is there anybody here
+that can guide me?"
+
+"My son can, and he'll be glad. He's just went to sleep back there in
+the tent after guardin' them fellers all night. I'll roust him out."
+
+The pioneer woman came back almost at once, and pressed a cup of her
+coffee upon Frances. Frances took the tin vessel eagerly, for she was
+chilled from her long ride. Then she dismounted to rest her horse
+while her guide was getting ready, and warm her numb feet at the fire.
+She told the woman how the scent of her coffee had led her out of her
+groping like a beacon light on the hill.
+
+"It's about three miles from here down to the valley," the woman said.
+"Coffee will carry on the mornin' air that way."
+
+"Do you think your son--?"
+
+"He's a-comin'," the woman replied.
+
+The boy came around the rock, leading a horse. He was wide awake and
+alert, bare-footed, bareheaded, and without a coat. He leaped nimbly
+onto his bare-backed beast, and Frances got into her saddle as fast as
+her numb limbs would lift her.
+
+As she road away after the recklessly riding youth, she felt the hope
+that she had warmed in her bosom all night paling to a shadow. It
+seemed that, circumstances were ranging after a chart marked out for
+them, and that her own earnest effort to interfere could not turn
+aside the tragedy set for the gray valley below her.
+
+Morning was broadening now; she could see her guide distinctly even
+when he rode many rods ahead. Dawn was the hour for treacherous men
+and deeds of stealth; Chadron would be on the way again before now,
+with the strength of the United States behind him to uphold his
+outlawed hand.
+
+When they came down into the valley there was a low-spreading mist
+over the gray sage, which lent a warmth to the raw morning wind. There
+was a sense of indistinctness through the mist which was an ally to
+Chadron. Ten rods away, even in the growing morning, it would have
+been impossible to tell a cowboy from a cavalryman.
+
+Here a haystack smoldered in what had been a farmstead yard; its thin
+blue smoke wavered up in the morning, incense over the dead hope of
+the humble heart that had dreamed it had found a refuge in that spot.
+At the roadside a little farther on the burned ruins of a cabin lay.
+It had stood so near the wheel track that the heat of its embers was
+warm on Frances' face as she galloped by. The wire fence was cut
+between each post, beyond splicing or repair; the shrubs which some
+home-hungry woman had set in her dooryard were trampled; the well curb
+was overthrown.
+
+Over and over again as they rode that sad picture was repeated.
+Destruction had swept the country, war had visited it. Side by side
+upon the adjoining lines many of the homesteaders had built their
+little houses, for the comfort of being near their kind. In the corner
+of each quarter section on either side of the road along the fertile
+valley, a little home had stood three days ago. Now all were gone,
+marked only by little heaps of embers which twinkled a dying glow in
+the breath of the morning wind.
+
+Day was spreading now. From the little swells in the land as she
+mounted them Frances could see the deeper mist hovering in the low
+places, the tops of tall shrubs and slender quaking-asp showing above
+it as if they stood in snow. The band of sunrise was broadening across
+the east; far down near the horizon a little slip of lemon-rind moon
+was faltering out of sight.
+
+But there was no sight, no sound, of anybody in the road ahead. She
+spurred up beside her guide and asked him if there was any other way
+that they might have taken. No, he said; they would have to go that
+way, for there was only one fordable place in the river for many
+miles. He pointed to the road, fresh-turned by many hoofs, and clamped
+his lean thighs to his bare horse, galloping on.
+
+"We'll take a cut acrosst here, and maybe head 'em off," he said,
+dashing away through the stirrup-high sage, striking close to the
+hills again, and into rougher going.
+
+The ache of the most intense anxiety that she ever had borne was upon
+Frances; hope was only a shred in her hand. She believed now that all
+her desperate riding must come to nothing in the end.
+
+She never had been that long in the saddle before in her life. Her
+body was numb with cold and fatigue; she felt the motion of her horse,
+heard its pounding feet in regular beat as it held to its long,
+swinging gallop, but with the detached sense of being no party to it.
+All that was sharp in her was the pain of her lost struggle. For she
+expected every moment to hear firing, and to come upon confusion and
+death at the next lift of the hill.
+
+In their short cut across the country they had mounted the top of a
+long, slender ridge, which reached down into the valley like a finger.
+Now her guide pulled up his horse so suddenly that it slid forward on
+stiff legs, its hoofs plowing the loose shale.
+
+"You'd better go back--there's goin' to be a fight!" he said, a look
+of shocked concern in his big wild eyes.
+
+"Do you see them? Where--"
+
+"There they are!"--he clutched her arm, leaning and pointing--"and
+there's a bunch of fellers comin' to meet 'em that they don't see! I
+tell you there's goin' to be a fight!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+"I BEAT HIM TO IT"
+
+
+The last dash of that long ride was only a whirlwind of emotions to
+Frances. It was a red streak. She did not know what became of the boy;
+she left him there as she lashed her horse past him on the last
+desperate stretch.
+
+The two forces were not more than half a mile apart, the cavalry just
+mounting at the ruins of a homestead where she knew they had stopped
+for breakfast at the well. A little band of outriders was setting off,
+a scouting party under the lead of Chadron, she believed. Macdonald's
+men, their prisoners under guard between two long-strung lines of
+horsemen, were proceeding at a trot. Between the two forces the road
+made a long curve. Here it was bordered by brushwood that would hide a
+man on horseback.
+
+When Frances broke through this screen which had hidden the cavalry
+from Macdonald, she found the cavalcade halted, for Macdonald had seen
+her coming down the hill. She told him in few words what her errand to
+him was, Tom Lassiter and those who rode with him at the head of the
+column pressing around.
+
+The question and mystification in Macdonald's face at her coming
+cleared with her brisk words. There was no wonder to him any more in
+her being there. It was like her to come, winging through the night
+straight to him, like a dove with a message. If it had been another
+woman to take up that brave and hardy task, then there would have been
+marvel in it. As it was, he held out his hand to her, silently, like
+one man to another in a pass where words alone would be weak and
+lame.
+
+"I was looking for Chadron to come with help and attempt a rescue, and
+I was moving to forestall him, but we were late getting under way.
+They"--waving his hand toward the prisoners--"held out until an hour
+ago."
+
+"You must think, and think fast!" she said. "They're almost here!"
+
+"Yes. I'm going ahead to meet them, and offer to turn these prisoners
+over to Major King. They'll have no excuse for firing on us then."
+
+"No, no! some other way--think of some other way!"
+
+He looked gravely into her anxious, pleading eyes. "Why, no matter,
+Frances. If they've come here to do that, they'll do it, but this way
+they'll have to do it in the open, not by a trick."
+
+"I'll go with you," she said.
+
+"I think perhaps--"
+
+"I'll go!"
+
+Macdonald turned to Lassiter in a few hurried words. She pressed to
+his side as the two rode away alone to meet the troops, repeating as
+if she had been denied:
+
+"I'll go!"
+
+There was a dash of hoofs behind them, and a man who rode like a sack
+of bran came bouncing up, excitement over his large face.
+
+"What's up, Macdonald--where're you off to?" he inquired.
+
+Macdonald told him in a word, riding forward as he spoke. He
+introduced the stranger as a newspaper correspondent from Chicago, who
+had arrived at the homesteaders' camp the evening past.
+
+"So they got troops, did they?" the newspaper man said, riding forward
+keenly. "Yes, they told me down in Cheyenne they'd put that trick
+through. Here they come!"
+
+Macdonald spurred ahead, holding up his right hand in the Indian sign
+of peace. Major King was riding with Chadron at the head of the
+vanguard. They drew rein suddenly at sight of what appeared to be such
+a formidable force at Macdonald's back, for at that distance, and with
+the dimness of the scattering mist, it appeared as if several hundred
+horsemen were approaching.
+
+Distrustful of Chadron, fearing that he might induce Major King to
+shoot Macdonald down as he sat there making overtures of peace,
+Frances rode forward and joined him, the correspondent coming jolting
+after her in his horn-riding way. After a brief parley among
+themselves Chadron and King, together with three or four officers,
+rode forward. One remained behind, and halted the column as it came
+around the brushwood screen at the turn of the road.
+
+Major King greeted Frances as he rode up, scowling in high dignity.
+Chadron could not cover his surprise so well as Major King at seeing
+her there, her horse in a sweat, her habit torn where the brambles had
+snatched at her in her hard ride to get ahead of the troops. He gave
+her a cold good-morning, and sat in the attitude of a man pricking up
+his ears as he leaned a little to peer into the ranks of the force
+ahead.
+
+The homesteaders had come to a halt a hundred yards behind Macdonald;
+about the same distance behind Major King and his officers the cavalry
+had drawn up across the road. Major King sat in brief silence, as if
+waiting for Macdonald to begin. He looked the homesteader captain over
+with severe eyes.
+
+"Well, sir?" said he.
+
+"We were starting for Meander, Major King, to deliver to the sheriff
+fifty men whom we have taken in the commission of murder and arson,"
+Macdonald replied, with dignity. "Up to a few minutes ago we had no
+information that martial law had superseded the civil in this troubled
+country, but since that is the case, we will gladly turn our prisoners
+over to you, with the earnest request that they be held, collectively
+and individually, to answer for the crimes they have committed here."
+
+"Them's my men, King--they've got 'em there!" said Chadron, boiling
+over the brim.
+
+"This expedition has come to the relief of certain men, attacked and
+surrounded in the discharge of their duty by a band of cattle thieves
+of which you are the acknowledged head," replied Major King.
+
+"Then you have come on a mistaken errand, sir," Macdonald told him.
+
+"I have come into this lawless country to restore order and insure the
+lives and safety of property of the people to whom it belongs."
+
+"The evidence of these hired raiders' crimes lies all around you,
+Major King," Macdonald said. "These men swept in here in the employ of
+the cattle interests, burned these poor homes, and murdered such of
+the inhabitants as were unable to fly to safety in the hills ahead of
+them. We are appealing to the law; the cattlemen never have done
+that."
+
+"Say, Mr. Soldier, let me tell you something"--the newspaper
+correspondent, to whom one man's dignity was as much as another's,
+kicked his horse forward--"these raiders that bloody-handed Chadron
+sent in here have murdered children and women, do you know that?"
+
+"Who in the hell are you?" Chadron demanded, bristling with rage,
+whirling his horse to face him.
+
+"This is Chadron," Macdonald said, a little flash of humor in his eyes
+over Chadron's hearing the truth about himself from an unexpected
+source.
+
+"Well, I'm glad I've run into you, Chadron; I've got a little list of
+questions to ask you," the correspondent told him, far from being
+either impressed or cowed. "Neel is my name, of the _Chicago Tribune_,
+I've--"
+
+"You'd just as well keep your questions for another day--you'll send
+nothing out of here!" said Major King, sharply.
+
+Neel looked across his nose at King with triumphant leer.
+
+"I've sent out something, Mr. Soldier-man," said he; "it was on the
+wire by midnight last night, rushed to Meander by courier, and it's
+all over the country this morning. It's a story that'll give the other
+side of this situation up here to the war department, and it'll make
+this whole nation climb up on its hind legs and howl. Murder? Huh,
+murder's no name for it!"
+
+Chadron was growling something below his breath into King's ear.
+
+"Forty-three men and boys--look at them, there they are--rounded up
+fifty of the cutthroats the Drovers' Association rushed up here from
+Cheyenne on a special train to wipe the homesteaders out," Neel
+continued, rising to considerable heat in the partisanship of his new
+light. "Five dollars a day was the hire of that gang, and five dollars
+bonus for every man, woman, or baby that they killed! Yes, I've got
+signed statements from them, Chadron, and I'd like to know what you've
+got to say, if anything?"
+
+"Disarm that rabble," said Major King, speaking to a subordinate
+officer, "and take charge of the men they have been holding."
+
+"Sir, I protest--" Macdonald began.
+
+"I have no words to waste on you!" Major King cut him off shortly.
+
+"I'd play a slow hand on that line, King, and a careful one, if I were
+you," advised Neel. "If you take these men's guns away from them
+they'll be at the mercy of Chadron's brigands. I tell you, man, I know
+the situation in this country!"
+
+"Thank you," said King, in cold hauteur.
+
+Chadron's eyes were lighting with the glitter of revenge. He sat
+grinding his bridle-reins in his gloved hand, as if he had the bones
+of the nesters in his palm at last.
+
+"You will proceed, with the rescued party under guard, to Meander,"
+continued Major King to his officer, speaking as if he had plans for
+his own employment aside from the expedition. "There, Mr. Chadron will
+furnish transportation to return them whence they came."
+
+"I'll furnish--" began Chadron, in amazement at this unexpected turn.
+
+"Transportation, sir," completed Major King, in his cold way.
+
+"These men should be held to the civil authorities for trial in this
+county, and not set free," Macdonald protested, indignant over the
+order.
+
+Major King ignored him. He was still looking at Chadron, who was
+almost choking on his rage.
+
+"Hell! Do you mean to tell me the whole damn thing's goin' to fizzle
+out this way, King? I want something done, I tell you--I want
+something done! I didn't bring you up here--"
+
+"Certainly not, sir!" snapped King.
+
+"My orders to you--" Chadron flared.
+
+"It happens that I am not marching under your orders at--"
+
+"The hell you ain't!" Chadron exploded.
+
+"It's an outrage on humanity to turn those scoundrels loose, Major
+King!" Neel said. "Why, I've got signed statements, I tell you--"
+
+"Remove this man to the rear!" Major King addressed a lieutenant, who
+communicated the order to the next lowest in rank immediately at hand,
+who passed it on to two troopers, who came forward briskly and rode
+the protesting correspondent off between them.
+
+Other troopers were collecting the arms of the homesteaders, a
+proceeding which Macdonald witnessed with a sick heart. Frances,
+sitting her horse in silence through all that had passed, gave him
+what comfort and hope she could express with her eyes.
+
+"Detail a patrol of twenty men," Major King continued his instructions
+to his officer, "to keep the roads and disarm all individuals and
+bands encountered."
+
+"That don't apply to my men!" declared Chadron, positively. In his
+face there was a dark threat of disaster for Major King's future hopes
+of advancement.
+
+"It applies to everybody as they come," said King. "Troops have come
+in here to restore order, and order will be restored."
+
+Chadron was gaping in amazement. That feeling in him seemed to smother
+every other, even his hot rage against King for this sudden shifting
+of their plans and complete overthrow of the cattlemen's expectations
+of the troops. The one little comfort that he was to get out of the
+expedition was that of seeing his raiders taken out of Macdonald's
+hands and marched off to be set free.
+
+Macdonald felt that he understood the change in King. The major had
+come there full of the intention of doing Chadron's will; he had not a
+doubt of that. But murder, even with the faint color of excuse that
+they would have contrived to give it, could not be done in the eyes of
+such a witness as Frances Landcraft. Subserviency, a bending of
+dignity even, could not be stooped to before one who had been schooled
+to hold a soldier's honor his most precious endowment.
+
+Major King had shown a hand of half-fairness in treating both sides
+alike. That much was to his credit, at the worst. But he had not done
+it because he was a high-souled and honorable man. His eyes betrayed
+him in that, no matter how stern he tried to make them. The coming of
+that fair outrider in the night had turned aside a great tragedy, and
+saved Major King partly to himself, at least, and perhaps wholly to
+his career.
+
+Macdonald tried to tell her in one long and earnest look all this. She
+nodded, seeming to understand.
+
+"You've double-crossed me, King," Chadron accused, in the flat voice
+of a man throwing down his hand. "I brought you up here to throw these
+nesters off of our land."
+
+"The civil courts must decide the ownership of that," returned King,
+sourly. "Disarm that man!" He indicated Macdonald, and turned his
+horse as if to ride back and join his command.
+
+The lieutenant appeared to feel that it would be no lowering of his
+dignity to touch the weapons of a man such as Macdonald's bearing that
+morning had shown him to be. He approached with a smile half
+apologetic. Chadron was sitting by on his horse watching the
+proceeding keenly.
+
+"Pardon me," said the officer, reaching out to receive Macdonald's
+guns.
+
+A swift change swept over Macdonald's face, a flush dyeing it to his
+ears. He sat motionless a little while, as if debating the question,
+the young officer's hand still outstretched. Macdonald dropped his
+hand, quickly, as if moved to shorten the humiliation, to the buckle
+of his belt, and opened it with deft jerk. At that moment Chadron, ten
+feet away, slung a revolver from his side and fired.
+
+Macdonald rocked in his saddle as Frances leaped to the ground and ran
+to his side. He wilted forward, his hat falling, and crumpled into her
+arms. The lieutenant relieved her of her bloody burden, and eased
+Macdonald to the ground.
+
+Major King came riding back. At his sharp command troopers surrounded
+Chadron, who sat with his weapon still poised, like one gazing at the
+mark at which he had fired, the smoke of his shot around him.
+
+"In a second he'd 'a' got me! but I beat him to it, by God! I beat him
+to it!" he said.
+
+Macdonald's belt had slipped free of his body. With its burden of
+cartridges and its two long pistols it lay at Frances' feet. She
+stooped, a little sound in her throat between a sob and a cry, jerked
+one of the guns out, wheeled upon Chadron and fired. The lieutenant
+struck up her arm in time to save the cattleman's life. The blow sent
+the pistol whirling out of her hand.
+
+"They will go off that way, sometimes," said the young officer, with
+apology in his soft voice.
+
+The soldiers closed around Chadron and hurried him away. A moment
+Major King sat looking at Macdonald, whose blood was wasting in the
+roadside dust from a wound in his chest. Then he flashed a look into
+Frances' face that had a sneer of triumph in it, wheeled his horse and
+galloped away.
+
+In a moment the lieutenant was summoned, leaving Frances alone between
+the two forces with Macdonald. She did not know whether he was dead.
+She dropped to her knees in the dust and began to tear frantically at
+his shirt to come to the wound. Tom Lassiter came hurrying up with
+others, denouncing the treacherous shot, swearing vengeance on the
+cowardly head that had conceived so murderous a thing.
+
+Lassiter said that he was not dead, and set to work to stem the blood.
+It seemed to Frances that the world had fallen away from her, leaving
+her alone. She stood aside a little, her chin up in her old imperious
+way, her eyes on the far hills where the tender sunlight was just
+striking among the white-limbed aspen trees. But her heart was bent
+down to the darkness of despair.
+
+She asked no questions of the men who were working so earnestly after
+their crude way to check that precious stream; she stood in the
+activity of passing troopers and escorted raiders insensible of any
+movement or sound in all the world around her. Only when Tom Lassiter
+stood from his ministrations and looked at her with understanding in
+his old weary eyes she turned her face back again, slowly resolute, to
+see if he had died.
+
+Her throat was dry. It took an effort to bring a sound from it, and
+then it was strained and wavering.
+
+"Is he--dead?"
+
+"No, miss, he ain't dead," Tom answered. But there was such a shadow
+of sorrow and pain in his eyes that tears gushed into her own.
+
+"Will--will--"
+
+Tom shook his head. "The Lord that give him alone can answer that," he
+said, a feeling sadness in his voice.
+
+The troops had moved on, save the detail singled for police duty.
+These were tightening girths and trimming for the road again a little
+way from the spot where Macdonald lay. The lieutenant returned
+hastily.
+
+"Miss Landcraft, I am ordered to convey you to Alamito Ranch--under
+guard," said he.
+
+Banjo Gibson, held to be harmless and insignificant by Major King, had
+been set free. Now he came up, leading his horse, shocked to the
+deepest fibers of his sensitive soul by the cowardly deed that Saul
+Chadron had done.
+
+"It went clean through him!" he said, rising from his inspection of
+Macdonald's wound. And then, moved by the pain in Frances' tearless
+eyes, he enlarged upon the advantages of that from a surgical view.
+"The beauty of a hole in a man's chest like that is that it lets the
+pizen dreen off," he told her. "It wouldn't surprise me none to see
+Mac up and around inside of a couple of weeks, for he's as hard as old
+hick'ry."
+
+"Well, I'm not going to Alamito Ranch and leave him out here to die of
+neglect, orders or no orders!" said she to the lieutenant.
+
+The young officer's face colored; he plucked at his new mustache in
+embarrassment. Perhaps the prospect of carrying a handsome and
+dignified young lady in his arms for a matter of twenty-odd miles was
+not as alluring to him as it might have been to another, for he was a
+slight young man, only a little while out of West Point. But orders
+were orders, and he gave Frances to understand that in diplomatic and
+polite phrasing.
+
+She scorned him and his veneration for orders, and turned from him
+coldly.
+
+"Is there no doctor with your detachment?" she asked.
+
+"He has gone on with the main body, Miss Landcraft. They have several
+wounded."
+
+"Wounded murderers and burners of homes! Well, I'm not going to
+Alamito Ranch with you, sir, unless you can contrive an ambulance of
+some sort and take this gentleman too."
+
+The officer brightened. He believed it could be arranged. Inside of an
+hour he had Tom Lassiter around with a team and spring wagon, in which
+the homesteaders laid Macdonald tenderly upon a bed of hay.
+
+Banjo waited until they were ready to begin their slow march to the
+ranch, when he led his little horse forward.
+
+"I'll go on to the agency after the doctor and send him over to
+Alamito as quick as he can go," he said. "And I'll see if Mother
+Mathews can go over, too. She's worth four doctors when it comes to
+keep the pizen from spreadin' in a wound."
+
+Frances gave him her benediction with her eyes, and farewell with a
+warm handclasp, and Banjo's beribboned horse frisked off on its long
+trip, quite refreshed from the labors of the past night.
+
+Frances was carrying Macdonald's cartridge belt and revolvers, the
+confiscation of which had been overlooked by Major King in the
+excitement of the shooting. The young lieutenant hadn't the heart to
+take the weapons from her. Orders had been carried out; Macdonald had
+been disarmed. He let it go at that.
+
+Frances rode in the wagon with Macdonald, a canteen of water slung
+over her shoulders. Now and then she moistened his lips with a little
+of it, and bathed his eyes, closed in pathetic weariness. He was
+unconscious still from the blow of Saul Chadron's big bullet. As she
+ministered to him she felt that he would open his eyes on this world's
+pains and cruel injustices nevermore.
+
+And why had Major King ordered her, virtually under arrest, to Alamito
+Ranch, instead of sending her in disgrace to the post? Was it because
+he feared that she would communicate with her father from the post,
+and discover to him the treacherous compact between Chadron and King,
+or merely to take a mean revenge upon her by humiliating her in Nola
+Chadron's eyes?
+
+He had taken the newspaper correspondent with him, and certainly would
+see that no more of the truth was sent out by him from that
+flame-swept country for several days. With her at the ranch, far from
+telegraphic communication with the world, nothing could go out from
+her that would enlighten the department on the deception that the
+cattlemen had practiced to draw the government into the conflict on
+their side. In the meantime, the Drovers' Association would be at
+work, spreading money with free hand, corrupting evidence with the old
+dyes of falsehood.
+
+Major King had seen his promised reward withdrawn through her
+intervention, and had made a play of being fair to both sides in the
+controversy, except that he kept one hand on Chadron's shoulder, so to
+speak, in making martyrs of those bloody men whom he had sent there to
+burn and kill. They were to be shipped safely back to their place,
+where they would disperse, and walk free of all prosecution
+afterwards. For that one service to the cattlemen Major King could
+scarcely hope to win his coveted reward.
+
+She believed that Alan Macdonald would die. It seemed that the fever
+which would consume his feeble hope of life was already kindling on
+his lips. But she had no tears to pour out over him now. Only a great
+hardness in her heart against Saul Chadron, and a wild desire to lift
+her hand and strike him low.
+
+Whether Major King would make her attempt against Chadron's life, or
+her interference with his military expedition his excuse for placing
+her under guard, remained for the future to develop. She turned these
+things in her mind as they proceeded along the white river road toward
+the ranch.
+
+It came noontime, and decline of sun; the shadow of the mountains
+reached down into the valley, the mist came purple again over the
+foothills, the fire of sunset upon the clouds. Alan Macdonald still
+lived, his strong harsh face turned to the fading skies, his tired
+eyelids closed upon his dreams.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+LOVE AND DEATH
+
+
+Maggie and Alvino had the ranch to themselves when the military party
+from the upper valley arrived, Mrs. Chadron and Nola having driven to
+Meander that morning. It had been their intention to return that
+evening, Maggie said. Mrs. Chadron had gone after chili peppers, and
+other things, but principally chili peppers. There was not one left in
+the house, and the mistress could not live without them, any more than
+fire could burn without wood.
+
+Dusk had settled when they reached the ranch, and night thickened
+fast. The lieutenant dropped two men at the corral gate--her guard,
+Frances understood--and went back to his task of watching for armed
+men upon the highroads.
+
+Under the direction of Frances, Maggie had placed a cot in Mrs.
+Chadron's favored sitting-room with the fireplace. There Macdonald lay
+in clean sheets, a blaze on the hearth, and Maggie was washing his
+wound with hot water, groaning in the pity which is the sweetest part
+of the women of her homely race.
+
+"I think that he will live, miss," she said hopefully. "See, he has a
+strong breath on my damp hand--I can feel it like a little wind."
+
+She spoke in her native tongue, which Frances understood thoroughly
+from her years in Texas and Arizona posts. Frances shook her head
+sorrowfully.
+
+"I am afraid his breath will fail soon, Maggie."
+
+"No, if they live the first hour after being shot, they get well,"
+Maggie persisted, with apparent sincerity. "Here, put your hand on his
+heart--do you feel it? What a strong heart he has to live so well!
+what a strong, strong heart!"
+
+"Yes, a strong, strong heart!" Tears were falling for him now that
+there was none to see them, scalding their way down her pale cheeks.
+
+"He must have carried something sacred with him to give him such
+strength, such life."
+
+"He carried honor," said Frances, more to herself than to Maggie,
+doubting that she would understand.
+
+"And love, maybe?" said Maggie, with soft word, soft upward-glancing
+of her feeling dark eyes.
+
+"Who can tell?" Frances answered, turning her head away.
+
+Maggie drew the sheet over him and stood looking down into his severe
+white face.
+
+"If he could speak he would ask for his mother, and for water then,
+and after that the one he loves. That is the way a man's mind carries
+those three precious things when death blows its breath in his face."
+
+"I do not know," said Frances, slowly.
+
+There was such stress in waiting, such silence in the world, and such
+emptiness and pain! Reverently as Maggie's voice was lowered, soft and
+sympathetic as her word, Frances longed for her to be still, and go
+and leave her alone with him. She longed to hold the dear spark of his
+faltering life in her own hands, alone, quite alone; to warm it back
+to strength in her own lone heart. Surely her name could not be the
+last in his remembrance, no matter for the disturbing breath of
+death.
+
+"I will bring you some food," said Maggie. "To give him life out of
+your life you must be strong."
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Frances started out of her sleep in the rocking-chair before the fire.
+She had turned the lamp low, but there was a flare of light on her
+face. Her faculties were so deeply sunk in that insidious sleep which
+had crept upon her like a bindweed upon wheat that she struggled to
+rise from it. She sprang up, her mind groping, remembering that there
+was something for which she was under heavy responsibility, but unable
+for a moment to bring it back to its place.
+
+Nola was in the door with a candle, shading the flame from her eyes
+with her hand. Her hair was about her shoulders, her feet were bare
+under the hem of her long dressing-robe. She was staring, her lips
+were open, her breath was quick, as if she had arrived after a run.
+
+"Is he--alive?" she whispered.
+
+"Why should you come to ask? What is his life to you?" asked Frances,
+sorrowfully bitter.
+
+"Oh, Maggie just woke and came up to tell me, mother doesn't
+know--she's just gone to bed. Isn't it terrible, Frances!"
+
+Nola spoke distractedly, as if in great agony, or great fear.
+
+"He can't harm any of you now, you're safe." Frances was hard and
+scornful. She turned from Nola and laid her hand on Macdonald's brow,
+drawing her breath with a relieved sigh when she felt the warmth of
+life still there.
+
+"Oh, Frances, Frances!" Nola moaned, with expression of despair,
+"isn't this terrible!"
+
+"If you mean it's terrible to have him here, I can't help it. I'm a
+prisoner, here against my will. I couldn't leave him out there alone
+to die."
+
+Nola lowered her candle and stared at Frances, her eyes big and blank
+of everything but a wild expression that Frances had read as fear.
+
+"Will he die?" she whispered.
+
+"Yes; you are to have your heartless way at last. He will die, and his
+blood will be on this house, never to be washed away!"
+
+"Why didn't you come back when we called you--both of you?" Nola drew
+near, reaching out an appealing hand. Frances shrank from her, to bend
+quickly over Macdonald when he groaned and moved his head.
+
+"Put out that light--it's in his eyes!" she said.
+
+Nola blew out the candle and came glimmering into the room in her soft
+white gown.
+
+"Don't blame me, Frances, don't blame any of us. Mother and I wanted
+to save you both, we tried to stop the men, and we could have held
+them back if it hadn't been for Chance. Chance got three of them to
+go, the others--"
+
+"They paid for that!" said Frances, a little lift of triumph in her
+voice.
+
+"Yes, but they--"
+
+"Chance didn't do it, I tell you! If he says he did it he lies! It
+was--somebody else."
+
+"The soldiers?"
+
+"No, not the soldiers."
+
+"I thought maybe--I saw one of them on guard in front of the house as
+we came in."
+
+"He's guarding me, I'm under arrest, I tell you. The soldiers have
+nothing to do with him."
+
+Nola stood looking down at Macdonald, who was deathly white in the
+weak light of the low, shaded lamp. With a little timid outreaching, a
+little starting and drawing back, she touched his forehead, where a
+thick lock of his shaggy hair fell over it, like a sheaf of ripe wheat
+burst from its band.
+
+"Oh, it breaks my heart to see him dying--it--breaks--my--heart!" she
+sobbed.
+
+"You struck him! You're not--you're not fit to touch him--take your
+hand away!"
+
+Frances pushed her hand away roughly. Nola drew back, drenched with a
+sudden torrent of penitential tears.
+
+"I know it, I know it!" she confessed in bitterness, "I knew it when
+he took me away from those people in the mountains and brought me
+home. He carried me in his arms when I was tired, and sang to me as we
+rode along there in the lonesome night! He sang to me, just like I was
+a little child, so I wouldn't be afraid--afraid--of him!"
+
+"Oh, and you struck him, you struck him like a dog!"
+
+"I've suffered more for that than I hurt him, Frances--it's been like
+fire in my heart!"
+
+"I pray to God it will burn up your wicked pride!"
+
+"We believed him, mother and I believed him, in spite of what Chance
+said. Oh, if you'd only come back then, Frances, this thing wouldn't
+have happened!"
+
+"I can't see what good that would have done," said Frances, wearily;
+"there are others who don't believe him. They'd have got him some
+time, just like they got him--in a coward's underhanded way, never
+giving him a chance for his life."
+
+"We went to Meander this morning thinking we'd catch father there
+before he left. We wanted to tell him about Mr. Macdonald, and get him
+to drop this feud. If we could have seen him I know he'd have done
+what we asked, for he's got the noblest heart in the world!"
+
+Whatever Frances felt on the noble nature of Saul Chadron she held
+unexpressed. She did not feel that it fell to her duty to tell Nola
+whose hand had struck Macdonald down, although she believed that the
+cattleman's daughter deserved whatever pain and humiliation the
+revelation might bring. For it was as plain as if Nola had confessed
+it in words that she had much more than a friendly feeling of
+gratitude for the foeman of her family.
+
+Her heart was as unstable as mercury, it seemed. Frances despised her
+for her fickleness, scorned her for the mean face of friendship over
+the treachery of her soul. Not that she regretted Major King. Nola was
+free to take him and make the most of him. But she was not to come in
+as a wedge to rive her from this man.
+
+Let her pay her debt of gratitude in something else than love. Living
+or dead, Alan Macdonald was not for Nola Chadron. Her penance and her
+tears, her meanings and sobs and her broken heart, even that, if it
+should come, could not pay for the humiliation and the pain which that
+house had brought upon him.
+
+"When did it happen?" asked Nola, the gust of her weeping past.
+
+"This morning, early."
+
+"Who did it--how did it happen? You got away from Chance--you said it
+wasn't Chance."
+
+"We got away from that gang yesterday; this happened this morning,
+miles from that place."
+
+"Who was it? Why don't you tell me, Frances?"
+
+They were standing at Macdonald's side. A little spurt of flame among
+the ends of wood in the chimney threw a sudden illumination over them,
+and played like water over a stone upon Macdonald's face, then sank
+again, as if it had been plunged in ashes. Frances remained silent,
+her vindictiveness, her hardness of heart, against this vacillating
+girl dying away as the flame had died. It was not her desire to hurt
+her with that story of treachery and cowardice which must leave its
+stain upon her name for many a year.
+
+"The name of the man who shot him is a curse and a blight on this
+land, a mockery of every holy human thought. I'll not speak it."
+
+Nola stared at her, horror speaking from her eyes. "He must be a
+monster!"
+
+"He is the lowest of the accursed--a coward!" Frances said.
+
+Nola shuddered, standing silently by the couch a little while. Then:
+"But I want to help you, Frances, if you'll let me."
+
+"There's nothing that you can do. I'm waiting for Mrs. Mathews and the
+doctor from the agency."
+
+"You can go up and rest until they come, Frances, you look so tired
+and pale. I'll watch by him--you can tell me what to do, and I'll call
+you when they come."
+
+"No; I'll stay until--I'll stay here."
+
+"Oh, please go, Frances; you're nearly dead on your feet."
+
+"Why do you want me to leave him?" Frances asked, in a flash of
+jealous suspicion. She turned to Nola, as if to search out her hidden
+intention.
+
+"You were asleep in your chair when I came in, Frances," Nola chided
+her, gently.
+
+Again they stood in silence, looking down upon the wounded man.
+Frances was resentful of Nola's interest in him, of her presence in
+the room. She was on the point of asking her to leave when Nola
+spoke.
+
+"If he hadn't been so proud, if he'd only stooped to explain things to
+us, to talk to us, even, this could have been avoided, Frances."
+
+"What could he have said?" Frances asked, wondering, indeed, what
+explanation could have lessened his offense in Saul Chadron's eyes.
+
+"If I had known him, I would have understood," Nola replied, vaguely,
+in soft low voice, as if communing with herself.
+
+"You! Well, perhaps--perhaps even you would have understood."
+
+"Look--he moved!"
+
+"Sh-h-h! your talking disturbs him, Nola. Go to bed--you can't help me
+any here."
+
+"And leave him all to you!"
+
+The words flashed from Nola, as if they had sprung out of her mouth
+before her reason had given them permission to depart.
+
+"Of course with me; he's mine!"
+
+"If he's going to die, Frances, can't I share him with you till the
+end--can't I have just a little share in the care of him here with
+you?"
+
+Nola laid her hand on Frances' arm as she pleaded, turning her white
+face appealingly in the dim light.
+
+"Don't talk that way, girl!" said Frances, roughly; "you have no part
+in him at all--he is nothing to you."
+
+"He is all to me--everything to me! Oh, Frances! If you knew, if you
+knew!"
+
+"What? If I knew what?" Frances caught her arm in fierce grip, and
+shook her savagely.
+
+"Don't--don't--hurt me, Frances!" Nola cringed and shrank away, and
+lifted her arms as if to ward a blow.
+
+"What did you mean by that? Tell me--tell me!"
+
+"Oh, the way it came to me, the way it came to me as he carried me in
+his arms and sang to me so I wouldn't be afraid!" moaned Nola, her
+face hidden in her hands. "I never knew before what it was to care for
+anybody that way--I never, never knew before!"
+
+"You can't have this man, nor any share in him, living or dead! I gave
+up Major King to you; be satisfied."
+
+"Oh, Major King!"
+
+"Poor shadow that he is in comparison with a man, he'll have to serve
+for you. Living or dead, I tell you, this man is mine. Now go!"
+
+Nola was shaking again with sudden gust of weeping. She had sunk to
+the floor at the head of the couch, a white heap, her bare arms
+clasping her head.
+
+"It breaks my heart to see him die!" she moaned, rocking herself in
+her grief like a child.
+
+And child Frances felt her to be in her selfishness, a child never
+denied, and careless and unfeeling of the rights of others from this
+long indulgence. She doubted Nola's sincerity, even in the face of
+such demonstrative evidence. There was no pity for her, and no
+softness.
+
+"Get up!" Frances spoke sternly--"and go to your room."
+
+"He must not be allowed to die--he must be saved!" Nola reached out
+her hands, standing now on her knees, as if to call back his
+struggling soul.
+
+"Belated tears will not save him. Get up--it's time for you to go."
+
+Nola bent forward suddenly, her hair sweeping the wounded man's face,
+her lips near his brow. Frances caught her with a sound in her throat
+like a growl, and flung her back.
+
+"You'll not kiss him--you'll never kiss him!" she said.
+
+Nola sprang up, not crying now, but hot with sudden anger.
+
+"If you were out of the way he'd love me!"
+
+"Love _you!_ you little cat!"
+
+"Yes, he'd love me--I'd take him away from you like I've taken other
+men! He'd love me, I tell you--he'd love _me!_"
+
+Frances looked at her steadily a moment, contempt in her eloquent
+face. "If you have no other virtue in you, at least have some respect
+for the dying," she said.
+
+"He's not dying, he'll not die!" Nola hotly denied. "He'll live--live
+to love me!"
+
+"Go! This room--"
+
+"It's my house; I'll go and come in it when I please."
+
+"I'm a prisoner in it, not a guest. I'll force you out of the room if
+I must. This disgraceful behavior must end, and end this minute. Are
+you going?"
+
+"If you were out of the way, he'd love me," said Nola from the door,
+spiteful, resentful, speaking slowly, as if pressing each word into
+Frances' brain and heart; "if you were out of the way."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+THE MAN IN THE DOOR
+
+
+When the doctor from the agency arrived at dawn, hours after Mrs.
+Mathews, he found everything done for the wounded man that skill and
+experience could suggest. Mrs. Mathews had carried instruments,
+antiseptics, bandages, with her, and she had no need to wait for
+anybody's directions in their use. So the doctor, who had been
+reinforced by the same capable hands many a time before, took a cup of
+hot coffee and rode home.
+
+Mrs. Mathews moved about as quietly as a nun, and with that humility
+and sense of self-effacement that comes of penances and pains, borne
+mainly for others who have fallen with bleeding feet beside the way.
+
+She was not an old woman, only as work and self-sacrifice had aged
+her. Her abundant black hair--done up in two great braids which hung
+in front of her shoulders, Indian-wise, and wrapped at their ends with
+colored strings--was salted over with gray, but her beautiful small
+hands were as light and swift as any girl's. Good deeds had blessed
+them with eternal youth, it seemed.
+
+She wore a gray dress, sprinkled over with twinkling little Indian
+gauds and bits of finery such as the squaws love. This barbaric
+adornment seemed unaccountable in the general sobriety of her dress,
+for not a jewel, save her wedding-ring alone, adorned her. Frances did
+not marvel that she felt so safe in this gentle being's presence, safe
+for herself, safe for the man who was more to her than her own soul.
+
+When the doctor had come and gone, Mrs. Mathews pressed Frances to
+retire and sleep. She spoke with soft clearness, none of that
+hesitation in her manner that Frances had marked on the day that they
+rode up and surrounded her where the Indians were waiting their
+rations of beef.
+
+"You know how it happened--who did it?" Frances asked. She was willing
+to leave him with her, indeed, but reluctant to go until she had given
+expression to a fear that hung over her like a threat.
+
+"Banjo told me," Mrs. Mathews said, nodding her graceful little head.
+
+"I'm afraid that when Chadron comes home and finds him here, he'll
+throw him out to die," Frances whispered. "I've been keeping Mr.
+Macdonald's pistols ready to--to--make a fight of it, if necessary.
+Maybe you could manage it some other way."
+
+Frances was on her knees beside her new friend, her anxiety speaking
+from her tired eyes, full of their shadows of pain. Mrs. Mathews drew
+her close, and smoothed back Frances' wilful, redundant hair with
+soothing touch. For a little while she said nothing, but there was
+much in her delicate silence that told she understood.
+
+"No, Chadron will not do that," she said at last. "He is a violent,
+blustering man, but I believe he owes me something that will make him
+do in this case as I request. Go to sleep, child. When he wakes he'll
+be conscious, but too weak for anything more than a smile."
+
+Frances went away assured, and stole softly up the stairs. The sun was
+just under the hill; Mrs. Chadron would be stirring soon. Nola was up
+already, Frances heard with surprise as she passed her door, moving
+about her room with quick step. She hesitated there a moment, thinking
+to turn back and ask Mrs. Mathews to deny her the hospital room. But
+such a request would seem strange, and it would be difficult to
+explain. She passed on into the room that she had lately occupied.
+Soothed by her great confidence in Mrs. Mathews, she fell asleep, her
+last waking hope being that when she stood before Alan Macdonald's
+couch again it would be to see him smile.
+
+Frances woke toward the decline of day, with upbraidings for having
+yielded to nature's ministrations for so long. Still, everything must
+be progressing well with Alan Macdonald, or Mrs. Mathews would have
+called her. She regretted that she hadn't something to put on besides
+her torn and soiled riding habit to cheer him with the sight of when
+he should open his eyes to smile.
+
+Anxious as she was, and fast as her heart fluttered, she took time to
+arrange her hair in the way that she liked it best. It seemed warrant
+to her that he must find her handsomer for that. People argue that
+way, men in their gravity as well as women in their frivolity, each
+believing that his own appraisement of himself is the incontestable
+test, none rightly understanding how ridiculous pet foibles frequently
+make us all.
+
+But there was nothing ridiculous in the coil of serene brown hair
+drawn low against a white neck, nor in the ripples of it at the
+temples, nor in the stately seriousness of the face that it shadowed
+and adorned. Frances Landcraft was right, among thousands who were
+wrong in her generation, in her opinion of what made her fairer in the
+eyes of men.
+
+Her hand was on the door when a soft little step, like a wind in
+grass, came quickly along the hall, and a light hand struck a signal
+on the panel. Frances knew that it was Mrs. Mathews before she flung
+the door open and disclosed her. She was dressed to take the road
+again, and Frances drew back when she saw that, her blood falling away
+from her heart. She believed that he stood in need of her gentle
+ministrations no longer, and that she had come to tell her that he was
+dead.
+
+Mrs. Mathews read her thought in her face, and shook her head with an
+assuring smile. She entered the room, still silent, and closed the
+door.
+
+"No, he is far from dead," she said.
+
+"Then why--why are you leaving?"
+
+"The little lady of the ranch has stepped into my place--but you need
+not be afraid for yours." Mrs. Mathews smiled again as she said that.
+"He asked for you with his first word, and he knows just how matters
+stand."
+
+The color swept back over Frances' face, and ran down to hide in her
+bosom, like a secret which the world was not to see. Her heart leaped
+to hear that Maggie had been wrong in her application of the rule that
+applies to men in general when death is blowing its breath in their
+faces.
+
+"But that little Nola isn't competent to take care of him--she'll kill
+him if she's left there with him alone!"
+
+"With kindness, then," said Mrs. Mathews, not smiling now, but shaking
+her head in deprecation. "A surgeon is here, sent back by Major King,
+he told me, and he has taken charge of Mr. Macdonald, along with Miss
+Chadron and her mother. I have been dismissed, and you have been
+barred from the room where he lies. There's a soldier guarding the
+door to keep you away from his side."
+
+"That's Nola's work," Frances nodded, her indignation hot in her
+cheek, "she thinks she can batter her way into his heart if she can
+make him believe that I am neglecting him, that I have gone away."
+
+"Rest easy, my dear, sweet child," counseled Mrs. Mathews, her hand on
+Frances' shoulder. "Mr. Macdonald will get well, and there is only one
+door to his heart, and somebody that I know is standing in that."
+
+"But he--he doesn't understand; he'll think I've deserted him!"
+Frances spoke with trembling lips, tears darkling in her eyes.
+
+"He knows how things stand; I had time to tell him that before they
+ousted me. I'd have taken time to tell him, even if I'd had to--pinch
+somebody's ear."
+
+The soft-voiced little creature laughed when she said that. Frances
+felt her breath go deeper into her lungs with the relief of this
+assurance, and the threatening tears came falling over her fresh young
+cheeks. But they were tears of thankfulness, not of suspense or pain.
+
+Frances did not trouble the soldier at the door to exercise his
+unwelcome and distasteful authority over her. But she saw that he was
+there, indeed, as she went out to give Mrs. Mathews farewell at the
+door.
+
+Nola came pattering to her as she turned back in the house again to
+find Maggie, for her young appetite was clamoring. Nola's eyes were
+round, her face set in an expression of shocked protest.
+
+"Isn't this an outrage, this high-handed business of Major King's?"
+She ran up all flushed and out of breath, as if she had been wrestling
+with her indignation and it had almost obtained the upper hand.
+
+"What fresh tyranny is he guilty of?" Frances inquired, putting last
+night's hot words and hotter feelings behind her.
+
+"Ordering a soldier to guard the door of Mr. Macdonald's room, with
+iron-clad instructions to keep you away from him! He sent his orders
+back by Doctor Shirley--isn't it a petty piece of business?"
+
+"Mrs. Mathews told me. At least you could have allowed her to stay."
+
+"I?" Nola's eyes seemed to grow. She gazed and stared, injury,
+disbelief, pain, in her mobile expression. "Why, Frances, I didn't
+have a thing to do with it, not a thing! Mother and I protested
+against this military invasion of our house, but protests were
+useless. The country is under martial law, Doctor Shirley says."
+
+"How did Major King know that Mr. Macdonald had been brought here? He
+rode away without giving any instructions for his disposal or care. I
+believe he wanted him to die there where he fell."
+
+"I don't know how he came to hear it, unless the lieutenant here sent
+a report to him. But I ask you to believe me, Frances"--Nola put her
+hand on Frances' arm in her old wheedling, stroking way--"when I tell
+you I hadn't anything to do with it. In spite of what I said last
+night, I hadn't. I was wild and foolish last night, dear; I'm sorry
+for all of that."
+
+"Never mind," Frances said.
+
+"Don't you worry, we'll take care of him, mother and I. Major King's
+orders are that you're not to leave this house, but I tell you,
+Frances, if I wanted to go home I'd go!"
+
+"So would I," returned Frances, with more meaning in her manner of
+speaking than in her words. "Does Major King's interdiction extend to
+the commissary? Am I going to be allowed to eat?"
+
+"Maggie's got it all ready; I ran up to call you." Nola slipped her
+arm round Frances' waist and led her toward the kitchen, where Maggie
+had the table spread. "You'll not mind the kitchen? The house is so
+upset by those soldiers in it that we have no privacy left."
+
+"Prisoners and pensioners should eat in the kitchen," Frances
+returned, trying to make a better appearance of friendliness for Nola
+than she carried in her heart.
+
+Maggie was full of apologies for the poor service and humble
+surroundings. "It is the doings of miss," she whispered, in her native
+sibilant Mexican, when Nola found an excuse to leave Frances alone at
+her meal.
+
+"It doesn't matter, Maggie; you eat in the kitchen, both of us are
+women."
+
+"Yes, and some saints' images are made of lead, some of gold."
+
+"But they are all saints' images, Maggie."
+
+"The kitchen will be brighter from this day," Maggie declared, in the
+extravagant way of her race, only meaning more than usually carries in
+a Castilian compliment.
+
+She backed away from the table, never having it in her delicate nature
+to be so rude as to turn her back upon her guest, and admired Frances
+from a distance. The sun was reaching through a low window, moving
+slowly up the cloth as if stealing upon the guest to give her a
+good-night kiss.
+
+"Ah, miss!" sighed Maggie, her hands clasped as in adoration, "no
+wonder that he lives with a well in his body. He has much to live for,
+and that is the truth from a woman's lips."
+
+"It is worth more because of its rarity, then, Maggie," Frances said,
+warming over with blushes at this ingenuous praise. "Do they let you
+go into his room?"
+
+"The door is open to the servant," Maggie replied, with solemn nod.
+
+"It is closed to me--did you know?"
+
+"I know. Miss tells you it is orders from some captain, some general,
+some soldier I do not know what"--a sweeping gesture to include all
+soldiers, great and small and far away--"but that is a lie. It came
+out of her own heart. She is a traitor to friendship, as well as a
+thief."
+
+"Yes, I believed that from the beginning, Maggie."
+
+"This house of deceit is not a place for me, for even servant that I
+am, I am a true servant. But I will not lie for a liar, nor be traitor
+for one who deceives a friend. I shall go from here. Perhaps when you
+are married to Mr. Macdonald you will have room in your kitchen for
+me?"
+
+"We must not build on shadows, Maggie."
+
+"And there is that Alvino, a cunning man in a garden. You should see
+how he charms the flowers and vegetables--but you have seen, it is his
+work here, all this is his work."
+
+"If there is ever a home of my own--if it ever comes to that
+happiness--"
+
+"God hasten the day!"
+
+"Then there will be room for both of you, Maggie."
+
+Frances rose from the table, and stood looking though the window where
+the sun's friendly hand had reached in to caress her a few minutes
+gone. There was no gleam of it now, only a dull redness on the horizon
+where it had fallen out of sight, the red of iron cooling upon the
+anvil.
+
+"In four weeks he will be able to kneel at the altar with you," said
+Maggie, making a clatter with the stove lids in her excitement, "and
+in youth that is only a day. And I have a drawn piece of fine linen,
+as white as your bosom, that you must wear over your heart on that
+day. It will bring you peace, far it was made by a holy sister and it
+has been blessed by the bishop at Guadalupe."
+
+"Thank you, Maggie. If that day ever comes for me, I will wear it."
+
+Maggie came nearer the window, concern in her homely face, and stood
+off a little respectful distance.
+
+"You want to be with him, you should be there at his side, and I will
+open the door for you," she said.
+
+"You will?" Frances started hopefully.
+
+"Once inside, no man would lift a hand to put you out."
+
+"But how am I going to get inside, Maggie, with that sentry at the
+door?"
+
+"I have been thinking how it could be done, miss. Soon it will be
+dark, and with night comes fear. Miss is with him now; she is there
+alone."
+
+Frances turned to her, such pain in her face as if she had been
+stabbed.
+
+"Why should you go over that again? I know it!" she said, crossly.
+"That has nothing to do with my going into the room."
+
+"It has much," Maggie declared, whispering now, treasuring her plot.
+"The old one is upstairs, sleeping, and she will not wake until I
+shake her. Outside the soldiers make their fires and cook, and Alvino
+in the barn sings 'La Golondrina'--you hear him?--for that is sad
+music, like his soul. Very well. You go to your room, but leave the
+door open to let a finger in. When it is just creeping dark, and the
+soldiers are eating, I will run in where the one sits beside the door.
+My hair will be flying like the mane of a wild mare, my eyes
+bi-i-i-g--so. In the English way I will shout 'The rustlers, the
+rustlers! He ees comin'--help, help!' When you hear this, fly to me,
+quick, like a soul set free. The soldier at the door will go to see;
+miss will come out; I will stand in the door, I will draw the key in
+my hand. Then you will fly to him, and lock the door!"
+
+"Why, Maggie! what a general you are!"
+
+"Under the couch where he lies," Maggie hurried on, her dark eyes
+glowing with the pleasure of this manufactured romance, "are the
+revolvers which he wore, just where we placed them last night. I
+pushed them back a little, quite out of sight, and nobody knows. Strap
+the belt around your waist, and defy any power but death to move you
+from the man you love!"
+
+"Maggie, you are magnificent!"
+
+"No," Maggie shook her head, sadly, "I am the daughter of a peon, a
+servant to bear loads. But"--a flash of her subsiding grandeur--"I
+would do that--ah, I would have done that in youth--for the man of my
+heart. For even a servant in the back of a house has a heart, dear
+miss."
+
+Frances took her work-rough hands in her own; she pressed back the
+heavy black hair--mark of a vassal race--from the brown forehead and
+looked tenderly into her eyes.
+
+"You are my sister," she said.
+
+Poor Maggie, quite overcome by this act of tenderness, sank to her
+knees, her head bowed as if the bell had sounded the elevation of the
+host.
+
+"What benediction!" she murmured.
+
+"I will go now, and do as you have said."
+
+"When it is a little more dark," said Maggie, softly, looking after
+her tenderly as she went away.
+
+Frances left her door ajar as Maggie had directed, and stood before
+the glass to see if anything could be done to make herself more
+attractive in his eyes. It did not seem so, considering the lack of
+embellishments. She turned from the mirror sighing, doubtful of the
+success of Maggie's scheme, but determined to do her part in it, let
+the result be what it might. Her place was there at his side, indeed;
+none had the right to bar her his presence.
+
+The joy of seeing him when consciousness flashed back into his shocked
+brain had been stolen from her by a trick. Nola had stood in her place
+then. She wondered if that slow smile had kindled in his eyes at the
+sight of her, or whether they had been shadowed with bewilderment and
+disappointment. It was a thing that she should never know.
+
+She heard Mrs. Chadron leave her room and pass heavily downstairs.
+Hope sank lower as she descended; it seemed that their simple plot
+must fail. Well, she sighed, at the worst it could only fail. As she
+sat there waiting while twilight blended into the darker waters of
+night, she reflected the many things which had overtaken her in the
+two days past. Two incidents stood out above all the haste, confusion,
+and pain which gave her sharp regret. One was that her father had
+parted from her to meet his life's heaviest disappointment with anger
+and unforgiving heart; the other that the shot which she had aimed at
+Saul Chadron had been cheated of its mark.
+
+There came a trampling of hoofs from the direction of the post,
+unmistakably cavalry. She strained from the window to see, but it was
+at that period between dusk and dark when distant objects were
+tantalizingly indefinite. Nothing could be made of the number, or who
+came in command. But she believed that it must be Major King's troops
+returning from escorting the raiders to Meander.
+
+Of course there would be no trying out of Maggie's scheme now. New
+developments must come of the arrival of Major King, perhaps her own
+removal to the post. Surely he could not sustain an excuse that she
+was dangerous to his military operations now.
+
+Doors opened, and heavy feet passed the hall. Presently all was a
+tangle of voices there, greetings and warm words of welcome, and the
+sound of Mrs. Chadron weeping on her husband's breast for joy at his
+return.
+
+Nola's light chatter rose out of the sound of the home-coming like a
+bright thread in a garment, and the genteel voice of Major King
+blended into the bustle of welcome with its accustomed suave
+placidity. Frances felt downcast and lonely as she listened to them,
+and the joyous preparations for refreshing the travelers which Mrs.
+Chadron was pushing forward. They had no regard, no thought it seemed,
+for the wounded man who lay with only the thickness of a door dividing
+him from them.
+
+She was moved with concern, also, regarding Chadron's behavior when he
+should learn of Macdonald's presence in that house. Would Nola have
+the courage to own her attachment then, and stand between the wrath of
+her father and his wounded enemy?
+
+She was not to be spared the test long. There was the noise of Chadron
+moving heavily about, bestowing his coat, his hat, in their accustomed
+places. He came now into the dining-room, where the sentinel kept
+watch at Macdonald's door. Frances crept softly, fearfully, into the
+hall and listened.
+
+Chadron questioned the soldier, in surprise. Frances heard the man's
+explanation of his presence before the door given in low voice, and in
+it the mention of Macdonald's name. Chadron stalked away, anger in the
+sound of his step. His loud voice now sounded in the room where the
+others were still chattering in the relief of speech after long
+silence. Now he came back to the guarded door, Nola with him; Mrs.
+Chadron following with pleading words and moanings.
+
+"Dead or alive, I don't care a damn! Out of this house he goes this
+minute!" Chadron said.
+
+"Oh, father, surely you wouldn't throw a man at death's door out in
+the night!"
+
+It was Nola, lifting a trembling voice, and Frances could imagine her
+clinging to his arm.
+
+"Not after what he's done for us, Saul--not after what he's done!"
+Mrs. Chadron sounded almost tearful in her pleading. "Why, he brought
+Nola home--didn't you know that, Saul? He brought her home all safe
+and sound!"
+
+"Yes, he stole her to make that play!" Chadron said, either still
+deceived, or still stubborn, but in any case full of bitterness.
+
+"I'll never believe that, father!" Nola spoke braver than Frances had
+expected of her. "But friend or enemy, common charity, common decency,
+would--"
+
+"Common hell! Git away from in front of that door! I'm goin' to throw
+his damned carcass out of this house--I can't breathe with that man in
+it!"
+
+"Oh, Saul, Saul! don't throw the poor boy out!" Mrs. Chadron begged.
+
+"Will I have to jerk you away from that door by the hair of the head?
+Let me by, I tell you!"
+
+Frances ran down stairs blindly, feeling that the moment for her
+interference, weak as it might be, and ineffectual, had come. Now
+Major King was speaking, his voice sounding as if he had placed
+himself between Chadron and the door.
+
+"I think you'd better listen to your wife and daughter, Chadron. The
+fellow can't harm anybody--let him alone."
+
+"No matter for the past, he's our guest, father, he's--"
+
+"Hell! Haven't they told you fool women the straight of it yet? I tell
+you I had to shoot him to save my own life--he was pullin' a gun on
+me, but I beat him to it!"
+
+"Oh Saul, my Saul!" Mrs. Chadron moaned.
+
+"Was it you that--oh, was it you!" There was accusation, disillusionment,
+sorrow--and more than words can define--in Nola's voice. Frances waited
+to hear no more. In a moment she was standing in the open door beside
+Nola, who blocked it against her father with outstretched arms.
+
+Chadron was facing his wife, his back to Frances as she passed.
+
+"Yes, it was me, and all I'm sorry for is that I didn't finish him on
+the spot. Here, you fellers"--to some troopers who crowded about the
+open door leading to the veranda--"come in here and carry out this
+cot."
+
+But it wasn't their day to take orders from Chadron; none of them
+moved. Frances touched Nola's arm; she withdrew it and let her pass.
+
+Macdonald, alone in the room, had lifted himself to his elbow,
+listening. Frances pressed him back to his pillow with one hand,
+reaching with the other under the cot for his revolvers. Her heart
+jumped with a great, glad bound, as if it had leaped from death to
+safety, when she touched the weapons. A cold steadiness settled over
+her. If Saul Chadron entered that room, she swore in her heart that
+she would kill him.
+
+"Don't interfere with me, King," said Chadron, turning again to the
+door, "I tell you he goes, alive or dead. I can't breathe--"
+
+"Stop where you are!" Frances rose from her groping under the cot, a
+revolver in her hand.
+
+Chadron, who had laid hold of Nola to tear her from the door, jumped
+like a man startled out of his sleep. In the heat of his passion he
+had not noticed one woman more or less.
+
+"Oh, it's you, is it?" he said, catching himself as his hand reached
+for his gun.
+
+"Frances will take him away as soon as he's able to be moved," said
+Nola, pleading, fearful, her eyes great with the terror of what she
+saw in Frances' face.
+
+"Yes, she'll go with him, right now!" Chadron declared. "I'll give you
+just ten seconds to put down that gun, or I'll come in there and take
+it away from you! No damn woman--"
+
+A loud and impatient summons sounded on the front door, drowning
+Chadron's words. He turned, with an oath, demanding to know who it
+was. Frances, still covering him with her steady hand, heard hurrying
+feet, the door open, and Mrs. Chadron exclaiming and calling for Saul.
+The man at the door had entered, and was jangling his spurs through
+the hall in hasty stride. Chadron stood as if frozen in his boots, his
+face growing whiter than wounded, blood-drained Macdonald's on his cot
+of pain.
+
+Now the sound of the newcomer's voice rose in the hall, loud and
+stern. But harsh as it was, and unfriendly to that house, the sound of
+it made Frances' heart jump, and something big and warm rise in her
+and sweep over her; dimming her eyes with tears.
+
+"Where's my daughter, Chadron, you cutthroat! Where's Miss Landcraft?
+If the lightest hair of her head has suffered, by God! I'll burn this
+house to the sills!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+PAID
+
+
+Colonel Landcraft stood before Chadron in his worn regimentals, his
+old campaign hat turned back from his forehead as if he had been
+riding in the face of a wind. Macdonald, looking up at Frances from
+his couch, spoke to her with his eyes. There was satisfaction in them,
+a triumphant glow. She moved a step toward the door, and the colonel,
+seeing her there, rushed to her and clasped her against his dusty
+breast.
+
+"Standing armed against you in your own house, before your own wife
+and daughter!" said he, turning like the old tiger that he was upon
+Chadron again. "And in the presence of an officer of the United States
+Army--my daughter, armed to protect herself! By heaven, sir! you've
+disgraced the uniform you wear!"
+
+Major King, scowling darkly, dropped his hand in suggestive gesture to
+his sword. Colonel Landcraft, his slight, bony old frame drawn up to
+its utmost inch, marched to him, fire in his eye.
+
+"Unbuckle that sword! You're not fit to wear it," said he.
+
+Chadron had drawn away from the door of Macdonald's room a little, and
+stood apart from Major King with his wife and daughter. The cattleman
+had attempted no defense, had said no word. In the coming of Colonel
+Landcraft, full of authority, strong and certain of hand, Chadron
+appeared to know that his world was beginning to tumble about his
+ears.
+
+Now he stepped forward to interpose in behalf of his tool and
+co-conspirator, in one last big bluff. Major King fell back a stride
+before the charge of the infuriated old colonel, which seemed to have
+a threat of personal violence in it, the color sinking out of his
+face, his hand still on his sword.
+
+"What authority have you got to come into my house givin' orders?"
+Chadron wanted to know. "Maybe your bluffin' goes with some people,
+but it don't go with me. You git to hell out of here!"
+
+"In your place and time I'll talk to you, you sneaking hound!" Colonel
+Landcraft answered, throwing Chadron one blasting look. "Take off that
+sword, surrender those arms! You are under arrest." This to Major
+King, who stood scowling, watching the colonel as if to ward an
+attack.
+
+"By whose authority do you make this demand?" questioned Major King,
+insolently. "I am not aware that any command--"
+
+Colonel Landcraft turned his back upon him and strode to the open
+door, through which the dismounted troopers could be seen standing
+back a respectful distance in the shaft of light that fell through it.
+At his appearance there, at the sight of that old battered hat and
+familiar uniform, the men lifted a cheer. Little tyrant that he was,
+hard-handed and exacting, they knew him for a soldier and a man. They
+knew, too, that their old colonel had not been given a square deal in
+that business, and they were glad to see him back.
+
+The colonel acknowledged the greeting with a salute, his old head held
+prouder at that moment than he ever had carried it in his life.
+
+"Sergeant Snow!" he called.
+
+The sergeant hurried forward, stepped out into the light, came up at
+salute with the alacrity of a man who found pleasure in the service to
+be demanded of him.
+
+"Bring a detail of six men into this room, disarm Major King, and
+place him under guard."
+
+The colonel wheeled again to face Chadron and King.
+
+"I am not under the obligation of explaining my authority to enter
+this house to any man," said he, "but for your satisfaction, madam,
+and in deference to you, Miss Chadron, I will tell you that I was
+recalled by the department on my way to Washington and sent back to
+resume command of Fort Shakie."
+
+Chadron was biting his mustache like an angry horse mouthing the bit.
+In the background a captain and two lieutenants, who had arrived with
+Chadron and King, stood doubtful, it seemed, of their part in that
+last act of the cattleman's rough melodrama.
+
+Frances had returned to Macdonald's side, fearful that the excitement
+might bring on a hemorrhage in his wound. She stood soothing him with
+low, soft, and unnecessary words, unconscious of their tenderness,
+perhaps, in the stress of her anxiety. But that they were appreciated
+was evident in the slow-stealing smile that came over his worn, rugged
+face like a breaking sun.
+
+Major King surrendered his arms to the sergeant with a petulant, lofty
+shrug of his shoulders.
+
+"I'm not through with you yet, you old cuss!" said Chadron. "I never
+started out to git a man but what I got him, and I'll git you.
+I'll--"
+
+Chadron's voice caught in his throat. He stood there looking toward
+the outside door, drawing his breath like a man suffocating.
+Stealthily his hand moved toward his revolver, while his wife and
+daughter, even Frances, struck by a thrill of some undefined terror,
+leaned and looked as Chadron was looking, toward the open door.
+
+A tall, gaunt, dark shaggy man was standing there, an old flapping hat
+drooping over his scowling eyes. He was a man with a great branching
+mustache, and the under lid of one eye was drawn down upon his cheek
+in a little point, as if caught by a surgical hook and held ready for
+the knife; a man who bent forward from the middle, as if from long
+habit of skulking under cover of low-growing shrubs; an evil man,
+whose foul soul cried of bloody deeds through every feature of his
+leering face.
+
+"Oh, that man! that man!" cried Nola, in fearful, wild scream.
+
+Mrs. Chadron clasped her in her arms and turned her defiant face
+toward the man in the door. He was standing just as he had stood when
+they first saw him, silent, still; as grim as the shadow of Saul
+Chadron's sins.
+
+The soldiers who stood around Major King looked on with puzzled eyes;
+Colonel Landcraft frowned. Macdonald from his cot could not see the
+door, but he felt the sharp striking of those charged seconds. Chadron
+moved to one side a little, his fixed eyes on the man in the door, his
+hand nearer his revolver now; so near that his fingers touched it, and
+now it was in his hand with a sudden bright flash into the light.
+
+Two shots in that quiet room, one following the other so closely that
+they seemed but a divided one; two shots, delivered so quickly after
+Nola's awful scream that no man could whip up his shocked nerves to
+obedience fast enough to interpose. Saul Chadron pitched forward, his
+hands clutching, his arms outspread, and fell dead, his face groveling
+upon the floor. Outside, the soldiers lifted Mark Thorn, a bullet
+through his heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+TEARS IN THE NIGHT
+
+
+They buried Saul Chadron next day in a corner of the garden by the
+river. And there was the benediction of tender autumn sunshine over
+the place where they laid him down, away from the turmoil of his life,
+and the tangle of injustices that he left behind.
+
+But there was none to come forward and speak for the body of Mark
+Thorn. The cowboys hid him in the sage at the foot of a butte, as men
+go silently and shadow-like to bury away a shame.
+
+There seemed to be a heart-soreness over the ranchhouse by the river
+as night fell upon it again. Saul Chadron had been a great and noble
+man to some who wept in its silent rooms as the gloaming deepened into
+darkness over the garden, where the last leaves of autumn were tugging
+at their anchorage to sail away. Even Frances Landcraft in her vigil
+beside Macdonald's cot felt pity for Chadron's fall. She regretted, at
+least, that he had not gone out of life more worthily.
+
+Colonel Landcraft had gone up the river to carry a new message to the
+homesteaders whose houses lay in ashes. He had ridden to tell them
+that they could build in security and live in peace. The surgeon had
+returned to the post, but was coming again tomorrow. Behind him he had
+left the happy assurance that Macdonald would live.
+
+Macdonald himself had added his own brave word to bear out the
+doctor's prediction, as far as Frances would permit him to speak. That
+was not above ten words, whispered into her ear, inclined low to hear.
+When he attempted to go beyond that, soft warm fingers made a latch
+upon his lips.
+
+Mrs. Chadron came down a little after dark, and whispered at the door.
+Macdonald was sleeping, and Frances went softly to tell her.
+
+"Nola's askin' for you," Mrs. Chadron told her, "she's all heartbroke
+and moanin' in her bed. If you'll go to her, and comfort her a little,
+honey, I'll take as good care of him as if he was my own."
+
+Frances was touched by the appeal for sympathy. She could picture
+Nola, little fashioned by nature or her life's experiences to bear
+grief, shuddering and sobbing alone in the dark, and her heart went
+out to her in all its generosity and large forgivingness.
+
+Nola's room was dark for all except the night sky at her window.
+Frances stood a moment in her door, listening, believing from the
+silence that she must have gone to sleep.
+
+"Nola," she whispered, softly.
+
+A little shivering sob was the answer. Frances went in, and closed the
+door. Nola was lying face downward on her pillow, like a child, and
+Frances found on putting out her comforting hand that the fickle
+little lady's bolster was wet with tears. She sat on the bedside and
+tried gently to turn Nola's face toward her. That brought on a storm
+of tears and moanings, and agonized burrowing of her face into the
+pillow.
+
+"Oh, I feel so mean and wicked!" she cried. "If I hadn't been so
+deceitful and treacherous and--and--and everything, maybe all this
+sorrow wouldn't have come to us!"
+
+Frances said nothing. She had found one hot hand, tear-wet from lying
+under Nola's cheek, and this she held tenderly, feeling it best to let
+the tears of penitence purge the sufferer's soul in their world-old
+way. After a time Nola became quieter. She shifted in the bed, and
+moved over to give Frances more room, and put up her arms to draw her
+friend down for the kiss of forgiveness which she knew would not be
+denied.
+
+Afterwards she sat up in bed, and brushed her hair back from her
+throbbing forehead with her palms.
+
+"Oh, it aches and aches--_so!_" she said.
+
+"I'll bind a cold towel around it, dear; that always used to ease it,
+you remember?"
+
+"Not my head, Frances--my heart, my heart!"
+
+It was better so, Frances understood. Penitence that brings only a
+headache is like plating over brass; it cannot long conceal the
+baseness of the thing that lies beneath.
+
+"Time is the only remedy for that, Nola," she said, her own words slow
+and sad.
+
+"Do you think I've sinned past forgiveness because I--because--I love
+him?" Nola's voice trembled with earnestness.
+
+"He is free, to love and be loved as it may fall, Nola. I told you he
+was mine, but I thought then that I was claiming him from death. He
+will live. He never has asked me to marry him; maybe he never will.
+When he recovers, he may turn to you--who can tell?"
+
+"No, it's only you that he thinks of, Frances. When I was watching by
+him he opened his eyes, and you should have seen the look in them when
+he saw me instead of you. He struggled to sit up and look for you, and
+he called your name, sharp and frightened, as if he thought somebody
+had taken you away from him forever."
+
+Frances did not need that assurance to quiet any fear of his loyalty.
+She had spoken the truth, only because it was the truth, but not to
+give Nola hope. For hope she knew there was not any, nor any love, to
+come to Nola out of that man's heart.
+
+"We'll not talk of it," Frances said.
+
+"I must, I can't let anything stand between us, Frances. If I'd been
+fair, all the way through--but I wasn't. I wasn't fair about Major
+King, and I wasn't fair this time. I was fool enough to think that if
+you were out of the way for a little while I could make him love me!
+He'd never love me, never in a million years!"
+
+Frances said nothing. But she was beginning to doubt the sincerity of
+Nola's repentance. There, under the shadow of her bereavement, she
+could think of nothing but the hopelessness of love.
+
+"But I didn't want you to come up just to pet me and be good to me,
+Frances--I wanted to give you something."
+
+Nola felt under her pillow, and groped for Frances' hand, in which she
+placed a soft something with a stub of a feather in it.
+
+"I have no right to keep it," said Nola. "Do you know what it is?"
+
+"Yes, I know."
+
+Much of the softness which Frances had for the highland bonnet was in
+her voice as she replied, and the little bonnet itself was being
+nestled against her cheek, as a mother cuddles a baby's hand.
+
+"The best that's in me goes out to that man," said Nola solemnly--and
+truthfully, Frances knew--"but I wouldn't take him from you now,
+Frances, even if I could. I don't want to care for him, I don't want
+to think of him. I just want to think of poor father lying out there
+under the ground."
+
+"It's best for you to think of him."
+
+"Only a day ago he was alive and warm, like you and me, and now he's
+dead! Mother never will want to leave this place again now, and I
+don't feel like I want to either. I just want to lie down and die--oh,
+I just want to die!"
+
+Pity for herself brought Nola's tears gushing again, and her choking
+sobs into her throat. Her voice was hoarse from her lamentations;
+there seemed to be only sorrow for her in every theme. Frances held
+her shivering slim body in her supporting arm, and Nola's face bent
+down upon her shoulder. It seemed that her renunciation was complete,
+her regeneration undeniable. But Frances knew that a great flood of
+tears was required to put out the fire of passion in a woman's heart.
+One spark, one little spark, might live through the deluge to spring
+into the heat of the past under the breath of memory.
+
+Again the heaving breast grew calm, and the tear-wet face was lifted
+to shake back the fallen hair.
+
+"This has emptied everything out for me," Nola sighed. "I'm going to
+be serious in everything, with everybody, after this. Do you suppose
+Mrs. Mathews would let me help her over at the mission--if I went to
+her meek and humble and asked her?"
+
+"If she saw that it would help _you_, she would, Nola."
+
+"Just think how lonesome it will be here when the post's abandoned and
+everybody but the Indians gone! You'll be away--maybe long before
+that--and I'll not see anybody but Indians and cowboys from year's
+beginning to year's end. Oh, it will be so dreary and lonesome here!"
+
+"There's work up the river in the homesteaders' settlement, Nola;
+there's suffering to be relieved, and bereaved hearts to be comforted.
+There's your work, it seems to me, for you and those nearest to you
+are to blame for the desolation of those poor homes, excuse it as
+charitably as we may."
+
+Frances felt a shudder run through the girl's body as her arm clasped
+the pliant waist.
+
+"Why, Frances! You can't mean that! They're terrible--just think what
+they've done--oh, the underhanded thieves! By the law of the range
+it's my fight now, instead of my work to help them!"
+
+"The law of the range isn't the law any longer here, Nola, and it
+never will be again. Alan Macdonald has done the work that he put his
+lone hand to. You have no quarrel with anybody, child, no feud to
+carry on to a bloody end. Put it out of your mind. If you are sincere
+in your heart, and truly penitent, you can prove it best by beginning
+to do good in the place where your house has done a terrible, sad
+wrong."
+
+"They started it!" said Nola, vindictively, the lifelong hatred for
+those who encroached upon the range so deep in her breast, it seemed,
+that the soil of her life must come away on its roots.
+
+"There's no use talking to you about it, then," said Frances, coldly.
+
+Nola seemed hurt by her tone. She began to cry again, and plead her
+cause in moaning, broken words. "It's our country, we were here
+first--father always said that!"
+
+"I know."
+
+"But I don't blame Mr. Macdonald, they deceived him, the rustlers
+deceived him and told him lies. He didn't belong to this country, he
+couldn't know at first, or understand. Frances"--she put her hand on
+her friend's shoulder, and lifted her head as if trying to pierce the
+dark and look into her eyes--"don't you know how it was with him? He
+was too much of a man to turn his back on them, even when he found he
+was on the wrong side. A man like him _must_ have understood it our
+way."
+
+"What he has done in this country calls for no excuse," returned
+Frances, loftily.
+
+"In your eyes and mine he wouldn't need any excuse for anything he
+might do," said Nola, with a sagacity unexpected. "We love him, and
+we'd love him, right or wrong. Well"--a sigh--"you've got a right to
+love him, and I haven't. I wouldn't try to make him care for me now if
+I could, for I'm different; I'm all emptied out."
+
+"It takes more than you've gone through to empty a human life, Nola.
+But you have no right to love him; honor and honesty are in the way,
+friendship not considered at all. You'll spring up in the sun again
+after a little while, like fresh grass that's trodden on, just as
+happy and light-hearted as before. Let me have this one without any
+more interference--there are plenty in the world that you would stand
+heart-high to with your bright little head, just as well as Alan
+Macdonald."
+
+"I can't give him up, the thought of him, and the longing for him,
+without regret, Frances; I can't!"
+
+"I wouldn't have you do it. I want you to have regret, and pain--not
+too deep nor too lasting, but some corrective pain. Now, go to
+sleep."
+
+Frances pressed her back to the pillow, and touched her head with
+light caress.
+
+"Frances," she whispered, a new gladness dawning in her voice, "I'll
+go and see those poor people, and try to help them--if they'll let me.
+Maybe we _were_ wrong--partly, anyhow."
+
+"That's better," Frances encouraged.
+
+"And I'll try not to care for him, or think about him, even one little
+bit."
+
+Frances bent and kissed her. Nola's arms clung to her neck a little,
+holding her while she whispered in her ear.
+
+"For I'm going to be different, I'm going to be good--abso-_lutely_
+good!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+BANJO FACES INTO THE WEST
+
+
+"You don't tell me? So the old colonel's got what his heart's been
+pinin' for many a year. Well, well!"
+
+Mrs. Chadron was beside her window in her favored rocker again, less
+assertive of bulk in her black dress, not so florid of face, and with
+lines of sadness about her mouth and eyes. A fire was snapping in the
+chimney, for the gray sky was driving a bitter wind, and the first
+snowflakes of winter were straying down.
+
+Banjo Gibson was before the fire, his ears red, his cheeks redder,
+just in from a brisk ride over from the post. His instruments lay
+beside him on the floor, and he was limbering his fingers close to the
+blaze.
+
+"Yes, he's a brigamadier now," said he.
+
+"Brigadier-General Landcraft," said she, musingly, looking away into
+the grayness of the day; "well, maybe he deserves it. Fur as I'm
+concerned, he's welcome to it, and I'm glad for Frances' sake."
+
+"He's vinegar and red pepper, that old man is! Takin' him up both
+sides and down the middle, as the feller said, I reckon the
+colonel--or brigamadier, I guess they'll call him now--he's about as
+good as they make 'em. I always did have a kind of a likin' for that
+old feller--he's something like me."
+
+"It was nice of you to come over and tell me the news, anyhow, Banjo;
+you're always as obligin' and thoughtful as you can be."
+
+"It's always been a happiness and a pleasure, mom, and I've come a
+good many times with news, sad and joyful, to your door. But I reckon
+it'll be many a long day before I come ridin' to Alamito with news
+ag'in; many a long, long day."
+
+"What do you mean, Banjo? You ain't goin'--"
+
+"To Californy; startin' from here as soon as my horse blows a spell
+and eats his last feed at your feed box, mom. I've got to make it to
+Meander to ketch the mornin' train."
+
+"Oh, Banjo! you don't tell me!" Tears gushed to Mrs. Chadron's eyes,
+used to so much weeping now, and her lips trembled as she pressed them
+hard to keep back a sob. "You're the last friend of the old times, the
+last face outside of this house belongin' to the old days. When you're
+gone my last friend, the very last one I care about outside of my own,
+'ll be gone!"
+
+Banjo cleared his throat unsteadily, and looked very hard at the fire
+for quite a spell before he spoke.
+
+"The best of friends must part," he said.
+
+"Yes, they must part," she admitted, her handkerchief pressed to her
+eyes, her voice muffled behind it.
+
+"But they ain't no use of me stayin' around in this country and pinin'
+for what's gone, and starvin' on the edge," said Banjo, briskly.
+"Since you've sold out the cattle and the boys is all gone, scattered
+ever-which-ways and to Texas, and the homesteaders is comin' into this
+valley as thick as blackbirds, it ain't no place for me. I don't mix
+with them kind of people, I never did. You've give it all up to 'em,
+they tell me, but this homestead, mom?"
+
+"All but the homestead," she sighed, her tears checked now, her eyes
+on the farthest hill, where she had watched the crest many and many a
+time for Saul to rise over it, riding home from Meander.
+
+"You hadn't ort to let it go," said he, shaking his sad head.
+
+"I couldn't'a'held it, the lawyers and Mr. Macdonald told me that.
+It's public land, Banjo, it belongs to them folks, I reckon. But we
+was here first!" A futile sigh, a regretful sigh, a sigh bitter with
+old recollections.
+
+"I reckon that's so, down to the bottom of it, but you folks made this
+country what it was, and by rights it's yourn. Well, I stopped in to
+say good-bye to the old brigamadier-colonel over at the post as I come
+through. He tells me Alan and that little girl of hisn that stuck to
+him and stood up for him through thick and thin 're goin' to be
+married at Christmas time."
+
+"Then they'll be leavin', too," she said.
+
+"No, they're goin' to build on his ranch up the river and stay here,
+and that old brigamadier-colonel he's goin' to take up land next to
+'em, or has took it up, one of the two, and retire from the army when
+they're married. He says this country's the breath of his body and he
+couldn't live outside of it, he's been here so long."
+
+"Well, well!" said she, her face brightening a little at the news.
+
+"How's Alan by now?"
+
+"Up and around--he's goin' to leave us in the morning."
+
+"Frances here?" he asked.
+
+"No, she went over home this morning--I thought maybe you met her--but
+she's comin' back for him in the morning."
+
+Banjo sat musing a little while. Then--
+
+"Yes, you'll have neighbors, mom, plenty of 'em. A colony of nesters
+is comin' here, three or four hundred of 'em, they tell me, all ready
+to go to puttin' up schoolhouses and go to plowin' in the spring. And
+they're goin' to run that hell-snortin' railroad right up this valley.
+I reckon it'll cut right along here somewheres a'past your place."
+
+"Yes, changes'll come, Banjo, changes is bound to come," she sighed.
+
+"All over this country, they say, the nesters'll squat now wherever
+they want to, and nobody won't dast to take a shot at 'em to drive 'em
+off of his grass. They put so much in the papers about this rustlers'
+war up here that folks has got it through 'em the nesters ain't been
+gittin' what was comin' to 'em. The big ranches 'll all be split up to
+flinders inside of five years."
+
+"Yes, the cattle days is passin', along with the folks that was
+somebody in this country once. Well, Banjo, we had some good times in
+the old days; we can remember them. But changes will come, we must
+expect changes. You don't need to pack up and go on account of that. I
+ain't goin' to leave."
+
+"I've made up my mind. I'm beginnin' to feel tight in the chist
+already for lack of air."
+
+Both sat silent a little while. Banjo's elbows were across his knees,
+his face lifted toward the window. The wind was falling, and there was
+a little breaking among the low clouds, baring a bit of blue sky here
+and there. Banjo viewed this brightening of the day with gladness.
+
+"I guess it's passin'," he said, going to the window and peering round
+as much of the horizon as he could see, "it wasn't nothing but a
+little shakin' out of the tablecloth after breakfast."
+
+"I'm glad of it, for I don't think it's good luck to start out on a
+trip in a storm. That there Nola she's out in it, too."
+
+"Gone up the river?"
+
+"Yes. It beats all how she's takin' up with them people, and them with
+her. She's even bought lumber with her own money to help some of 'em
+build."
+
+"She's got a heart like a dove," he sighed.
+
+"As soft as a puddin'," Mrs. Chadron nodded.
+
+"But I never could git to it." Banjo sighed again.
+
+Mrs. Chadron shook her head, with an expression of sadness for his
+failure which was deeper than any words she knew.
+
+"The loss of her pa bore down on her terrible; she's pinin' and
+grievin' too hard for a body so young. I hear her cryin' and moanin'
+in the night sometimes, and I know it ain't no use goin' to her, for
+I've tried. She seems to need something more than an old woman like me
+can give, but I don't know what it is."
+
+"Maybe she needs a change--a change of air," Banjo suggested, with
+what vague hope only himself could tell.
+
+"Maybe, maybe she does. Well, you're goin' to take a change of air,
+anyhow, Banjo. But what're you goin' to do away out there amongst
+strangers?"
+
+"I was out there one time, five years ago, and didn't seem to like it
+then. But since I've stood off and thought it over, it seems to me
+that's a better place for me than here, with my old friends goin' or
+gone, and things changin' this a-way. Out there around them hop and
+fruit ranches they have great times at night in the camps, and a man
+of my build can keep busy playin' for dances. I done it before, and
+they took to me, right along."
+
+"They do everywheres, Banjo."
+
+"Some don't," he sighed, watching out of the window in the direction
+that Nola must come.
+
+"She's not likely to come back before morning--I think she aims to go
+to the post tonight and stay with Frances," she said, reading his
+heart in his face.
+
+"Maybe it's for the best," said Banjo.
+
+"I guess everything that comes to us is for the best, if we knew how
+to take it," she said. "Well, you set there and be comfortable, and
+I'll stir Maggie up and have her make you something nice for dinner.
+After that I want you to play me the old songs over before you go.
+Just to think I'll never hear them songs no more breaks my heart,
+Banjo--plumb breaks my heart!"
+
+As she passed Banjo she laid her hand on his head in a manner of
+benediction, and tears were in her eyes.
+
+The sun was out again when they had finished lunch, coaxing autumn on
+into November at the peril of frosted toes. Mrs. Chadron had
+brightened considerably, also. Even bereavement and sorrow could not
+shake her fealty to chili, and now it was rewarding her by a rubbing
+of her old color in her face as she sat by the window and waited for
+Banjo to tune his instruments for the parting songs.
+
+Her workbasket was beside her, the bright knitting-needles in the
+unfinished sock. It never would be completed now, she knew, but she
+kept it by her to cry over in the twilight hours, when thoughts of
+Saul came over her with their deep-harrowing pangs.
+
+Banjo sang the touching old ballads over to her appreciative ear,
+watching the shadows outside, as he played, for three o'clock. That
+was the hour set for him to go. "Silver Threads" was saved for the
+end, and when its last strain died Mrs. Chadron's face was hidden in
+her hands. She was rocking gently, her handkerchief fallen to the
+floor.
+
+Banjo put his bow in its place in the lid of the case, the rosin in
+its little box. But the fiddle he still held on his knee, stroking its
+smooth back with loving hand, as if he would soothe Mrs. Chadron's
+regrets and longings and back-tugging pains by that vicarious caress.
+So he sat petting his instrument, and after a little she looked at
+him, her eyes red, and tear-streaks on her face.
+
+"Don't put it away just yet, Banjo," she requested; "there's another
+one I want you to sing, and that will be the last. It's the saddest
+one you play--one that I couldn't stand one time--do you remember?"
+Banjo remembered; he nodded. "I can stand it now, Banjo; I want to
+hear it now."
+
+Banjo drew bow again, no more words on either side, and began his
+song:
+
+    All o-lone and sad he left me,
+      But no oth-o's bride I'll be;
+    For in flow-os he bedecked me,
+      In tho cottage by tho sea.
+
+When he finished, Mrs. Chadron's head was bent upon her arm across the
+little workstand where her basket stood. Her shoulders were moving in
+piteous convulsions, but no sound of crying came from her. Banjo knew
+that it was the hardest kind of weeping that tears the human heart.
+
+He put away his fiddle, and strapped the case. Then he went to her and
+laid his hand on her shoulder.
+
+"I'll have to be saddlin' up, mom," said he, his own voice thick, "and
+I'll say _adios_ to you now."
+
+"Good-bye, Banjo, and may God bless you in that country you're goin'
+to so fur away from the friends you used to know!"
+
+Banjo's throat moved as he gulped his sorrow. "I'll not come back in
+the house, but I'll wave you good-bye from the gate," said he.
+
+"I had hopes you might change your mind, Banjo," she said, as she took
+his hand and held it a little while.
+
+"If I could'a'got to somebody's heart that I've pined for many a day,
+I would'a'changed my mind, mom. But it wasn't to be."
+
+"It wasn't to be, Banjo," she said, shaking her head. "I don't think
+she'll ever marry--she's changed, she's so changed!"
+
+"Well, _adios_ to you, mom, and the best of luck."
+
+"_Adios_, Banjo, boy; good-bye!"
+
+She waited at the window for him to pass the gate. He appeared there
+leading his horse, and bent to examine the girths before putting foot
+to the stirrup. She hoped that he was coming back, to tell her that he
+could not find it in his heart to go. But no; the change that was
+coming over the cattle country was like an unfriendly wind to the
+little troubadour. His way was staked into the west where new ties
+waited him, where new hearts were to be won. He mounted, turned to the
+window, waved his hat and rode away.
+
+Mrs. Chadron sat in her old place and watched him until he passed
+beyond the last hill line and out of her sight. Her last glimpse of
+him had been in water lines through tears. Now she reached for her
+basket and took out her unfinished knitting. Broken off there, like
+her own life it was, she thought, never to be completed as designed.
+The old days were done; the promise of them only partly fulfilled. She
+was bidding farewell to more than Banjo, parting with more than
+friends.
+
+"Good-bye, Banjo," she murmured, looking dimly toward the farthest
+hill; "_adios!_"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+"HASTA LUEGO"
+
+
+Frances came into the room as fresh as a morning-glory. Her cheeks
+were like peonies, and the fire of her youth and strength danced in
+her happy eyes. Macdonald rose to greet her, tall, gaunt, and pale
+from the drain that his wound had made upon his life. He had been
+smoking before the fireplace, and he reached up now to put his pipe
+away on the manteltree.
+
+"And how are things at the post?" he asked, as she stood before him in
+her saddle dress, her sombrero pressing down her hair, her quirt
+swinging by its thong from her gloved wrist.
+
+Before replying she intercepted the hand that was reaching to stow the
+pipe away, pressed it firmly back, inserted the stem between his close
+lips.
+
+"In this family, the man smokes," she said.
+
+His slow smile, which was reward enough to her for all the trouble
+that it took to wake it, twinkled in his eyes like someone coming to
+the window with a light.
+
+"Then the piece of a man will go ahead and smoke," said he, drawing a
+chair up beside his own and leading her to it with gentle pressure
+upon her hand.
+
+"Has Mrs. Chadron been overfeeding you while I was gone? Did she give
+you chili?"
+
+"She _offered_ me chili, in five different dishes, which I,
+remembering the injunction, regretfully put aside."
+
+"Well, they're coming with the ambulance, I rode on ahead, and you'll
+soon be beyond the peril of chili." She smiled as she looked up into
+his face, and the smile broadened into an outright laugh when she saw
+the little flitting cloud of vexation there.
+
+"I could well enough ride," said he.
+
+"The doctor says you could not."
+
+"I'm as fit for the saddle this minute as I ever was in my life," he
+declared.
+
+She made no reply to that in words. But there was tender pity in her
+caressing eyes as they measured the weakness of his thin arms, wasted
+down to tendon and bone now, it seemed. He would ride to the post, she
+knew very well, if permitted, and come through it without a murmur.
+But the risk would be foolish, no matter what his pride must suffer by
+going in a wagon.
+
+"Have you heard the news from Meander?" she inquired.
+
+"No, news comes slowly to Alamito Ranch, and will come slower now that
+Banjo is gone, Mrs. Chadron says. What's been happening at Meander?"
+
+"They held their conventions there last week to nominate county
+officers, and what do you think? They've nominated you for something,
+for--for _what_ do you suppose?"
+
+"Nominated me? Who's nominated me?"
+
+"Oh, one party or the other began it, and the other indorsed you,
+for--oh, it's--"
+
+"For what, Frances?" he asked, laughter in his eyes at her unaccountable
+way of holding back on the secret.
+
+"Why, for _sheriff!_" said she, with magnificent scorn.
+
+Macdonald leaned back in his chair and laughed, the first audible
+sound of merriment that she ever had heard come from those stern lips.
+She looked at him with reproach.
+
+"It should have been governor, the very least they could have done,
+decently!" She was full of feeling on the subject of what she believed
+to be his undervaluation.
+
+Macdonald took her hand, the laughter dying out of his sober face.
+
+"That's all in the different ways of looking at a man, _palomita_," he
+said to her.
+
+"But you look bigger than _sheriff_ to anybody!" she replied,
+indignation large in her heart.
+
+"In this country, Frances, a sheriff is a pretty sizable man," he
+said, his thoughtful eyes on the fire, "about the biggest man they can
+conceive, next only to the president himself. Up here in the cattle
+country the greatness of men is dimmed, their magnitude being measured
+by appreciable results. The offices of lawmaker, governor, and such as
+the outside world invest with their peculiar dignity, are incidental,
+indefinite--all but negative, here. It's different with a sheriff.
+He's the man who comes riding with his guns at his side; they can see
+him perform. All the law that they know centers in him; all branches
+of government, as they understand his powers. Yes, a sheriff is
+something of a figure in this county, Frances, and to be nominated for
+that office by one party and indorsed by another is just about the
+biggest compliment a man can receive."
+
+"But surely, Alan, you'll not accept it?"
+
+"Why, I think so," he returned, thoughtfully. "I think I'd be worth
+more to this county as sheriff than I would be as--as governor, let us
+say."
+
+"Yes, but they go shooting sheriffs," she protested.
+
+"They'll not be doing so much careless and easy shooting around here
+since Colonel--Brigadier-General Landcraft--and that sounds more like
+his size, too--gave them a rubdown with the iron hand. The cattle
+barons' day is over; their sun went down when Mark Thorn brought the
+holy scare to Saul Chadron's door."
+
+"Father is of the same opinion. Do you know, Alan, the whole story
+about that horrible old man Thorn is in the eastern papers?"
+
+"Is it possible?"
+
+"With a Cheyenne date-line," she nodded, "the whole story--who hired
+him to skulk and kill, and a list of his known crimes. Father says if
+there was anything lacking in the fight you made on the cattlemen,
+this would finish them. It's a terrible story--poor Nola read it, and
+learned for the first time her father's connection with Thorn. She's
+humiliated and heartbroken over it all."
+
+"With sufficient reason," he nodded.
+
+"She's afraid her mother will hear of it in some way."
+
+"She'll find it out in time, Frances; a thing like that walks on a
+man's grave."
+
+"It will not matter so much after a while, after her first grief
+settles."
+
+"Did Nola come back with you?"
+
+"No, she went on to take some things to poor old Mrs. Lassiter. She
+never has recovered from the loss of her son--it's killing her by
+inches, Tom says. And you considering that office of sheriff!" She
+turned to him with censorious eyes as she spoke, as if struck with a
+pain of which he was the cause. "I tell you, you men don't know, you
+don't know! It's the women that suffer in all this shooting and
+killing--we are the ones that have to bear the sorrows in the night
+and watch through the uncertain days!"
+
+"Yes," said he gently, "the poor women must bear most of this world's
+pain. That is why God made them strong above all his created things."
+
+They sat in silence, thinking it over between them. Outside there was
+sunshine over the brown rangeland; within there dwelt the lifting
+confidence that their feet had passed the days of trouble and were
+entering the bounds of an enlarging peace.
+
+"And Major King?" said he.
+
+"Father has relented, as I knew he would, out of regard for their
+friendship of the past, and will not bring charges based on Major
+King's plottings with Chadron."
+
+"It's better that way," he nodded. "Do you suppose there's nothing
+between him and Nola?"
+
+"I think she'll have him after her grief passes, Alan."
+
+"Better than he deserves," said he. "There's a lump of gold in that
+little lady's heart, Frances."
+
+"There is, Alan; I'm glad to hear you say that." There was moisture in
+her tender eyes.
+
+"There was something in that man, too," he reflected. "It's
+unfortunate that he allowed his desire to humiliate you and me to
+drive him into such folly. If he'd only have held those brigands here
+for the civil authorities, as I requested, we could have forgotten the
+rest."
+
+"Yes, father says that would have saved him in his eyes, in spite of
+his scheming with Chadron against your life, and against father's
+honor and all that he holds sacred. But it's done, and he's genuinely
+despised in the service for it. And there's the ambulance coming over
+the hill."
+
+"Ambulance for me!" said he, in disgust of his slow mending.
+
+"Be glad that it isn't--oh, I shouldn't say that!"
+
+"I am," said he, nodding his slow, grave head.
+
+"We'll have to say good-bye to Mrs. Chadron," said she, bustling
+around, or making a show of doing so to hide the tears which had
+sprung into her eyes at the thought that it might have been a
+different sort of conveyance coming to Alamito to take Alan Macdonald
+away.
+
+"And to Alamito," said he, looking out into the frost-stricken garden
+with a tenderness in his eyes. "I shall always have a softness in my
+heart for Alamito, because it gave me you. That garden out there
+yielded me the dearest flower that any garden ever gave a man"--he
+took her hands, and folded them above his heart--"a flower with a soul
+in it to keep it alive forever."
+
+She bowed her head as he spoke, as if receiving a benediction.
+
+"I hate saying good-bye to Mrs. Chadron," she said, her voice
+trembling, "for she'll cry, and I'm afraid I'll cry, too."
+
+"It will not be farewell, only _hasta luego_[A] we can assure her of
+that. We'll be neighbors to her, for this is home, dear heart, this is
+our _val paraiso_."
+
+"Our valley of paradise," she nodded, her hands reaching up to his
+shoulders and clinging there a moment in soft caress, "our home!"
+
+His arm about her shoulders, he faced her to the window, and pointed
+to the hills, asleep now in their brown winter coat behind a clear
+film of smoky blue.
+
+"I stood up there one evening, weighted down with guns and ammunition,
+hunting and hunted in the most desperate game I ever played," he said.
+"The sun was low over this valley, and Alamito was a gleam of white
+among the autumn gold. I was tired, hungry, dusty, thirsty and sore,
+and my heart was all but dead in its case. That was after you had sent
+me away from the post, scorned and half despised."
+
+"Don't rebuke me for that night now, Alan," she pleaded, turning her
+pained eyes to his. "I have suffered for my injustice."
+
+"It wasn't injustice, it was discipline, and it was good for both of
+us. We must come to confidence through misunderstandings and false
+charges very frequently in this life. Never mind that; I was telling
+you about that evening on the side of the hill. I had been sitting
+with my back to a rock, watching the brush for Mark Thorn, but I was
+thinking more of you than of him. For he meant only death, and you
+were life. But I thought that I had lost you that day."
+
+She drew nearer to him as they stood, in the unequivocal consolation
+of her presence, in the most comforting refutation of that sad hour's
+dark forebodings.
+
+"I thought that, until I stood up and started down the slope to go my
+lone-handed way. The sun struck me in the face then, and it was yellow
+over the valley, and the wind was glad. I knew then, when I looked out
+over it, that it held something for me, that it was my country, and my
+home. The lines of gray old Joaquin Miller came to me, and lifted my
+heart in a new vision. I said them over to myself:
+
+    Lo! these are the isles of the watery miles
+    That God let down from the firmament.
+    Lo! Duty and Love, and a true man's trust;
+    Your forehead to God and your feet in the dust--
+
+only, there were two lines which I did not repeat, I dared not repeat,
+even in my heart. My vision halted short of their fulfillment."
+
+"What are the words--do you remember them?" she asked.
+
+"Yes; I can repeat them now, for my vision is broader, it is a better
+dream:
+
+    Lo! Duty and Love, and a sweet babe's smiles,
+    And there, O friend, are the Fortunate Isles."
+
+He pressed her closer, and kissed her hair. They stood, unmindful of
+the waiting ambulance, their vision fusing in the blue distances of
+the land their hearts held dear. It was home.
+
+"Come on, Alan"--she started from her reverie and drew him by the
+hand--"there's Mrs. Chadron on the porch, waiting for _hasta luego_."
+
+"For _hasta luego_," said he.
+
+-----
+[A] For a little while.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Rustler of Wind River, by G. W. Ogden
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RUSTLER OF WIND RIVER ***
+
+***** This file should be named 30485-8.txt or 30485-8.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/4/8/30485/
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://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.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+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
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/old/30485-8.zip b/old/30485-8.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9470e8c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/30485-8.zip
diff --git a/old/30485-h.zip b/old/30485-h.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e31fb26
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/30485-h.zip
diff --git a/old/30485-h/30485-h.htm b/old/30485-h/30485-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e9c4768
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/30485-h/30485-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,10570 @@
+<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN"
+    "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd">
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" >
+<head>
+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Rustler of Wind River, by G. W. Ogden.</title>
+<style type="text/css">
+    body              {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+
+    p                 {margin-top: 0.1em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.1em;}
+    p.tp              {font-size:1em; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-align:center;}
+    p.caption         {font-size:smaller;}
+    div.text          {}
+    div.text p        {text-indent: 1.0em;}
+    div.text p.ni     {text-indent: 0em;}
+    p.center          {text-align: center;}
+    h1,h2             {text-align:center; font-weight:normal;}
+    h1                {font-size:1.6em;}
+    h2                {font-size:1.4em;}
+    .figcenter        {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center; width: auto;}
+    .figtag           {height: 1px;}
+    a                 {text-decoration: none;}
+    p.dropcap, p.noindent {text-indent: 0em;}
+    span.dropcapt {margin-left: -0.5em;}
+    div.figcenter p   {text-align: center;}
+    hr.spcl           {border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; margin-left:45%; margin-right:45%;}
+
+    div.poem          {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;}
+    div.poem .stanza  {margin: 1em 0em;}
+    div.poem p        {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    hr.fn             {width:3em; text-align:left; margin-left: 0; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; height:1px; border: none; border-bottom: 1px solid black;}
+    hr.tb             {border: none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width: 33%; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;}
+    hr.toprule        {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; clear:both;}
+    span.indent2      {text-indent:0; width: 0.8em; display: block; float: left;}
+    table             {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;}
+    td.chalgn         {text-align:right; margin-top:0; padding-right:1em;}
+
+    /* defaults for epub and print */
+    hr.pb             {border: none; page-break-after: always; margin-top: 4em;}
+    .pagenum          {display: none;}
+    .pncolor          {color: inherit;}
+
+    /* override for browser */
+    @media screen     {
+      hr.pb           {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none; border-top:thin dashed silver;}
+      .pagenum        {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; text-indent: 0;
+                       position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal;
+                       font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none;
+                       background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;}
+      .pncolor        {color: silver;}
+    }
+</style>
+
+</head>
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Rustler of Wind River, by G. W. Ogden
+
+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 Rustler of Wind River
+
+Author: G. W. Ogden
+
+Illustrator: Frank E. Schoonover
+
+Release Date: November 16, 2009 [EBook #30485]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RUSTLER OF WIND RIVER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class='figtag'>
+<a  id='linki_1'></a>
+</div>
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<img src='images/f0001-img.jpg' alt='' title='' width='357' height='515' /><br />
+<p class='caption'>
+&ldquo;Ride Low&mdash;They&rsquo;re Coming!&rdquo;<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:2.0em;margin-bottom:20px;'>THE RUSTLER<br />OF WIND RIVER</p>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:larger'>By G. W. OGDEN</p>
+
+<div style='margin:60px auto; text-align:center;'>
+<img alt='emblem' src='images/illus-emb.png' />
+</div>
+
+<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:30px;'>WITH FRONTISPIECE<br />By FRANK E. SCHOONOVER</p>
+
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.2em;'>A. L. BURT COMPANY</p>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.2em;'>Publishers&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;New York</p>
+
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:smaller;'>Published by Arrangement with A. C. M<span class='sc'>c</span>C<span class='sc'>lurg</span> &amp; C<span class='sc'>ompany</span></p>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:smaller;'>Copyright<br />A. C. McClurg &amp; Co.<br />1917</p>
+<hr class='spcl' />
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:smaller;'>Published March, 1917</p>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.4em;'>CONTENTS</p>
+<hr class='spcl' />
+<table border='0' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'><span style='font-size:0.8em'>CHAPTER</span></td>
+  <td />
+  <td valign='top' align='right'><span style='font-size:0.8em'>PAGE</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>I</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>Strange Bargainings</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_I_STRANGE_BARGAININGS'>1</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>II</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>Beef Day</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_II_BEEF_DAY'>11</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>III</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>The Ranchhouse by the River</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_III_THE_RANCHHOUSE_BY_THE_RIVER'>28</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>IV</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>The Man in the Plaid</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_IV_THE_MAN_IN_THE_PLAID'>41</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>V</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>If He was a Gentleman</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_V_IF_HE_WAS_A_GENTLEMAN'>55</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VI</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>A Bold Civilian</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_VI_A_BOLD_CIVILIAN'>66</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VII</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>Throwing the Scare</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_VII_THROWING_THE_SCARE'>81</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VIII</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>Afoot and Alone</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_VIII_AFOOT_AND_ALONE'>89</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>IX</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>Business, not Company</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_IX_BUSINESS_NOT_COMPANY'>102</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>X</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>&ldquo;Hell&rsquo;s a-goin&rsquo; to Pop&rdquo;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_X_HELLS_AGOIN_TO_POP'>119</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XI</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>The Se&ntilde;or Boss Comes Riding</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XI_THE_SEOR_BOSS_COMES_RIDING'>131</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XII</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>&ldquo;The Rustlers!&rdquo;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XII_THE_RUSTLERS'>147</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIII</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>The Trail at Dawn</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XIII_THE_TRAIL_AT_DAWN'>160</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIV</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>When Friends Part</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XIV_WHEN_FRIENDS_PART'>182</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XV</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>One Road</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XV_ONE_ROAD'>196</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XVI</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>Danger and Dignity</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XVI_DANGER_AND_DIGNITY'>215</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XVII</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>Boots and Saddles</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XVII_BOOTS_AND_SADDLES'>227</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XVIII</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>The Trail of the Coffee</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XVIII_THE_TRAIL_OF_THE_COFFEE'>240</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIX</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>&ldquo;I Beat Him to It&rdquo;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XIX_I_BEAT_HIM_TO_IT'>252</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XX</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>Love and Death</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XX_LOVE_AND_DEATH'>268</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXI</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>The Man in the Door</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXI_THE_MAN_IN_THE_DOOR'>280</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXII</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>Paid</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXII_PAID'>298</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXIII</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>Tears in the Night</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXIII_TEARS_IN_THE_NIGHT'>303</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXIV</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>Banjo Faces Into the West</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXIV_BANJO_FACES_INTO_THE_WEST'>312</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXV</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>&ldquo;Hasta Luego&rdquo;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXV_HASTA_LUEGO'>322</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<h1>THE RUSTLER OF WIND RIVER</h1>
+<div class='chsp' style='padding-top:0'>
+<a  id='CHAPTER_I_STRANGE_BARGAININGS'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER I<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'>STRANGE BARGAININGS</span></h2>
+</div>
+<div class='text'><p class='ni'>When a man came down out of the mountains
+looking dusty and gaunt as the stranger did,
+there was no marvel in the matter of his eating five
+cans of cove oysters. The one unaccountable thing
+about it was that Saul Chadron, president of the
+Drovers&rsquo; Association, should sit there at the table
+and urge the lank, lean starveling to go his limit.</p>
+<p>Usually Saul Chadron was a man who picked his
+companions, and was a particular hand at the
+choosing. He could afford to do that, being of
+the earth&rsquo;s exalted in the Northwest, where people
+came to him and put down their tribute at his feet.</p>
+<p>This stranger, whom Chadron treated like a long-wandering
+friend, had come down the mountain trail
+that morning, and had been hanging about the
+hotel all day. Buck Snellin, the proprietor&mdash;duly
+licensed for a matter of thirty years past by the
+United States government to conduct his hostelry in
+the corner of the Indian reservation, up against the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2' ></a>2</span>
+door of the army post&mdash;did not know him. That
+threw him among strangers in that land, indeed, for
+Buck knew everybody within a hundred miles on every
+side.</p>
+<p>The stranger was a tall, smoky man, hollow-faced,
+grim; adorned with a large brown mustache which
+drooped over his thin mouth; a bony man with
+sharp shoulders, and a stoop which began in the
+region of the stomach, as if induced by drawing in
+upon himself in times of poignant hunger, which he
+must have felt frequently in his day to wear him down
+to that state of bones; with the under lid of his left
+eye caught at a point and drawn down until it showed
+red, as if held by a fishhook to drain it of unimaginable
+tears.</p>
+<p>There was a furtive look in his restless, wild-animal
+eyes, smoky like the rest of him, and a surliness about
+his long, high-ridged nose which came down over his
+mustache like a beak. He wore a cloth cap with ear
+flaps, and they were down, although the heat of
+summer still made the September air lively enough
+for one with blood beneath his skin. He regaled himself
+with fierce defiance, like a captive eagle, and had
+no word in return for the generous importunities of
+the man who was host to him in what evidently was a
+long-deferred meal.</p>
+<p>Chadron paid the bill when the man at last finished
+packing his internal cavities, and they went together
+into the hotel office which adjoined the dining-room.</p>
+<p>The office of this log hotel was a large, gaunt
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3' ></a>3</span>
+room, containing a few chairs along the walls, a small,
+round table under the window with the register upon
+it, a pen in a potato, and a bottle of ink with trickled
+and encrusted sides. The broad fireplace was bleak
+and black, blank-staring as a blind eye, and the sun
+reached through the window in a white streak across
+the mottled floor.</p>
+<p>There was the smell of old pipes, old furs, old
+guns, in the place, and all of them were present to
+account for themselves and dispel any shadow of
+mystery whatever&mdash;the guns on their pegs set in
+auger-holes in the logs of the walls, the furs of wild
+beasts dangling from like supports in profusion
+everywhere, and the pipes lying on the mantel with
+stems hospitably extended to all unprovided guests.
+Some of them had been smoked by the guests who
+had come and gone for a generation of men.</p>
+<p>The stranger stood at the manteltree and tried the
+pipes&rsquo; capacity with his thick-ended thumb, finding
+one at last to his requirements. Tall as Saul
+Chadron stood on his own proper legs, the stranger
+at his shoulder was a head above him. Seven feet he
+must have towered, his crown within a few inches of
+the smoked beams across the ceiling, and marvelously
+thin in the running up. It seemed that the wind
+must break him some blustering day at that place in
+his long body where hunger, or pain, or mischance
+had doubled him over in the past, and left him
+creased. The strong light of the room found pepperings
+of gray in his thick and long black hair.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4' ></a>4</span></div>
+<p>Chadron himself was a gray man, with a mustache
+and beard like a cavalier. His shrewd eyes were
+sharp and bright under heavy brows, his brown face
+was toughened by days in the saddle through all seasons
+of weather and wind. His shoulders were broad
+and heavy, and even now, although not dressed for
+the saddle, there was an up-creeping in the legs of
+his trousers, and a gathering at the knees of them,
+for they were drawn down over his tall boots.</p>
+<p>That was Chadron&rsquo;s way of doing the nice thing
+when he went abroad in his buckboard. He had
+saddle manners and buckboard manners, and even
+office manners when he met the cattle barons in Cheyenne.
+No matter what manners he chanced to be
+wearing, one remembered Saul Chadron after meeting
+him, and carried the recollection of him to the
+sundown of his day.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We can talk here,&rdquo; said Chadron, giving the other
+a cigar.</p>
+<p>The tall man broke the cigar and ground part of it
+in his palm, looking with frowning thoughtfulness
+into the empty fireplace as the tobacco crushed in his
+hard hand. He filled the pipe that he had chosen,
+and sat with his long legs stretched out toward the
+chimney-mouth.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, go on and talk,&rdquo; said he.</p>
+<p>His voice came smothered and hoarse, as if it lay
+beneath all the oysters which he had rammed into his
+unseen hollow. It was a voice in strange harmony
+with the man, such a sound as one would have
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' ></a>5</span>
+expected to come out of that surly, dark-lipped, thin
+mouth. There was nothing committal about it, nothing
+exactly identifying; an impersonal voice, rather,
+and cold; a voice with no conscience behind it,
+scarcely a soul.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re a business man, Mark&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Huh!&rdquo; said Mark, grunting a little cloud of
+smoke from the bowl of his pipe in his sarcastic
+vehemence.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And so am I,&rdquo; continued Chadron, unmoved.
+&ldquo;Words between us would be a waste of time.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re right; money talks,&rdquo; said Mark.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a man&rsquo;s job, or I wouldn&rsquo;t have called you
+out of your hole to do it,&rdquo; said Chadron, watching
+the man slyly for the effect.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Pay me in money,&rdquo; suggested Mark, unwarmed
+by the compliment. &ldquo;Is it nesters ag&rsquo;in?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nesters,&rdquo; nodded the cattleman, drawing his
+great brows in a frown. &ldquo;They&rsquo;re crowdin&rsquo; in so
+thick right around me that I can&rsquo;t breathe comfortable
+any more; the smell of &rsquo;em&rsquo;s in the wind.
+They&rsquo;re runnin&rsquo; over three of the biggest ranches up
+here besides the Alamito, and the Drovers&rsquo; Association
+wants a little of your old-time holy scare throwed
+into the cussed coyotes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mark nodded in the pause which seemed to have
+been made for him to nod, and Chadron went on.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We figger that if a dozen or two of &rsquo;em&rsquo;s cleaned
+out, quick and mysterious, the rest&rsquo;ll tuck tail and
+sneak. It&rsquo;s happened that way in other places more
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' ></a>6</span>
+than once, as you and I know. Well, you&rsquo;re the man
+that don&rsquo;t have to take lessons.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Money talks,&rdquo; repeated Mark, still looking into
+the chimney.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s about twenty of them that counts, the
+rest&rsquo;s the kind you can drive over a cliff with a whip.
+These fellers has strung their cussed bob-wire fences
+crisscross and checkerboard all around there up the
+river, and they&rsquo;re gittin&rsquo; to be right troublesome.
+Of course they&rsquo;re only a speck up there yet, but
+they&rsquo;ll multiply like fleas on a hot dog if we let &rsquo;em
+go ahead. You know how it is.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There was a conclusiveness in Chadron&rsquo;s tone as
+he said that. It spoke of a large understanding
+between men of a kind.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sure,&rdquo; grunted the man Mark, nodding his head
+at the chimney. &ldquo;You want a man to work from
+the willers, without no muss or gun-flashin&rsquo;, or rough
+houses or loud talk.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Twenty of them, their names are here, and some
+scattered in between that I haven&rsquo;t put down, to be
+picked up as they fall in handy, see?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you&rsquo;re aimin&rsquo; to keep clear, and stand back
+in the shadder, like you always have done,&rdquo; growled
+Mark. &ldquo;Well, I ain&rsquo;t goin&rsquo; to ram my neck into no
+sheriff&rsquo;s loop for nobody&rsquo;s business but my own from
+now on. I&rsquo;m through with resks, just to be
+obligin&rsquo;.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who&rsquo;ll put a hand on you in this country unless
+we give the word?&rdquo; Chadron asked, severely.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' ></a>7</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;How do I know who&rsquo;s runnin&rsquo; the law in this dang
+country now? Maybe you fellers is, maybe you
+ain&rsquo;t.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s no law in this part of the country bigger
+than the Drovers&rsquo; Association,&rdquo; Chadron told him,
+frowning in rebuke of Mark&rsquo;s doubt of security.
+&ldquo;Well, maybe there&rsquo;s a little sheriff here and there,
+and a few judges that we didn&rsquo;t put in, but they&rsquo;re
+down in the farmin&rsquo; country, and they don&rsquo;t cut no
+figger at all. If you <i>was</i> fool enough to let one of
+them fellers git a hold on you we wouldn&rsquo;t leave you
+in jail over night. You know how it was up there in
+the north.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I don&rsquo;t know how it is down here.&rdquo; Mark
+scowled in surly unbelief, or surly simulation.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s not a judge, federal or state, that could
+carry a bale of hay anywhere in the cattle country,
+I tell you, Mark, that we don&rsquo;t draw the chalk line
+for.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then why don&rsquo;t you do the job yourselves, &rsquo;stead
+of callin&rsquo; a peaceable man away from his ranchin&rsquo;?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re one kind of a gentleman, Mark, and I&rsquo;m
+another, and there&rsquo;s different jobs for different men.
+That ain&rsquo;t my line.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh hell!&rdquo; said Mark, laying upon the words an
+eloquent stress.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All you&rsquo;ve got to do is keep clear of the reservation;
+don&rsquo;t turn a card here, no matter how easy it
+looks. We can&rsquo;t jerk you out of the hands of the
+army if you git mixed up with it; that&rsquo;s one place
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' ></a>8</span>
+where we stop. The reservation&rsquo;s a middle ground
+where we meet the nesters&mdash;rustlers, every muddy-bellied
+wolf of &rsquo;em, and we can prove it&mdash;and pass
+&rsquo;em by. They come and go here like white men, and
+nothing said. Keep clear of the reservation; that&rsquo;s
+all you&rsquo;ve got to do to be as safe as if you was layin&rsquo;
+in bed on your ranch up in Jackson&rsquo;s Hole.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Chadron winked as he named that refuge of the
+hunted in the Northwest. Mark appeared to be
+considering something weightily.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, well, if they&rsquo;re rustlers&mdash;nobody ain&rsquo;t got
+no use for a rustler,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s men in that bunch of twenty&rdquo;&mdash;tapping
+the slip of paper with his finger&mdash;&ldquo;that started
+with two cows a couple of years ago that&rsquo;s got fifty
+and sixty head of two-year-olds now,&rdquo; Chadron feelingly
+declared.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How much&rsquo;re you willin&rsquo; to go?&rdquo; Mark put the
+question with a suddenness which seemed to betray
+that he had been saving it to shoot off that way, as a
+disagreeable point over which he expected a quarrel.
+He squinted his draggled left eye at Chadron, as if he
+was taking aim, while he waited for a reply.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, you have done it for fifty a head,&rdquo; Chadron
+said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Things is higher now, and I&rsquo;m older, and the
+resk&rsquo;s bigger,&rdquo; Mark complained. &ldquo;How fur apart
+do they lay?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You ought to get around in a week or two.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But that ain&rsquo;t figgerin&rsquo; the time a feller has to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' ></a>9</span>
+lay out in the bresh waitin&rsquo; and takin&rsquo; rheumatiz in
+his j&rsquo;ints. I couldn&rsquo;t touch the job for the old figger;
+things is higher.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Look here, Mark&rdquo;&mdash;Chadron opened the slip
+which he had wound round his finger&mdash;&ldquo;this one is
+worth ten, yes, all, the others. Make your own price
+on him. But I want it <i>done</i>; no bungled job.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mark took the paper and laid his pipe aside while
+he studied it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Macdonald?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Alan Macdonald,&rdquo; nodded Chadron. &ldquo;That
+feller&rsquo;s opened a ditch from the river up there on my
+land and begun to <i>irrigate!</i>&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Irrigatin&rsquo;, huh?&rdquo; said Mark, abstractedly,
+moving his finger down the column of names.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He makes a blind of buyin&rsquo; up cattle and fattenin&rsquo;
+&rsquo;em on the hay and alfalfer he&rsquo;s raisin&rsquo; up there
+on my good land, but he&rsquo;s the king-pin of the
+rustlers in this corner of the state. He&rsquo;ll be in here
+tomorrow with cattle for the Indian agent&mdash;it&rsquo;s beef
+day&mdash;and you can size him up. But you&rsquo;ve got to
+keep your belly to the ground like a snake when you
+start anything on that feller, and you&rsquo;ve got to make
+sure you&rsquo;ve got him dead to rights. He&rsquo;s quick with
+a gun, and he&rsquo;s sure.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Five hundred?&rdquo; suggested Mark, with a crafty
+sidelong look.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve named it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And something down for expenses; a feller&rsquo;s got
+to live, and livin&rsquo;s high.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' ></a>10</span></div>
+<p>Chadron drew out his wallet. Money passed into
+Mark&rsquo;s hand, and he put it away in his pocket along
+with the list of names.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll see you in the old place in Cheyenne for the
+settlement, if you make good,&rdquo; Chadron told him.</p>
+<p>Mark waved his hand in lofty depreciation of the
+hint that failure for him was a possible contingency.
+He said no more. For a little while Chadron stood
+looking down on him as he leaned with his pipe over
+the dead ashes in the fireplace, his hand in the breast
+of his coat, where he had stored his purse. Mark
+treated the mighty cattleman as if he had become a
+stranger to him, along with the rest of the world in
+that place, and Chadron turned and went his way.</p></div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' ></a>11</span>
+<a  id='CHAPTER_II_BEEF_DAY'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER II<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'>BEEF DAY</span></h2>
+</div>
+<div class='text'><p class='ni'>Fort Shakie was on its downhill way in those
+days, and almost at the bottom of the decline.
+It was considered a post of penance by enlisted men
+and officers alike, nested up there in the high plateau
+against the mountains in its place of wild beauty and
+picturesque charm.</p>
+<p>But natural beauty and Indian picturesqueness do
+not fill the place in the soldierly breast of fair civilian
+lady faces, nor torrential streams of cold mountain
+water supply the music of the locomotive&rsquo;s toot.
+Fort Shakie was being crept upon by civilization,
+true, but it was coming all too slow for the booted
+troopers and belted officers who must wear away the
+months in its lonely silences.</p>
+<p>Within the memory of officers not yet gray the
+post had been a hundred and fifty miles from a railroad.
+Now it was but twenty; but even that short
+leap drowned the voice of the locomotive, and the
+dot at the rails&rsquo; end held few of the endearments
+which make soldiering sweet.</p>
+<p>Soon the post must go, indeed, for the need of it
+had passed. The Shoshones, Arapahoes, and Crows
+had forgotten their old animosities, and were traveling
+with Buffalo Bill, going to college, and raising
+alfalfa under the direction of a government farmer.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' ></a>12</span>
+The Indian police were in training to do the soldiers&rsquo;
+work there. Soon the post must stand abandoned,
+a lonely monument to the days of hard riding, long
+watches, and bleak years. Not a soldier in the
+service but prayed for the hastening of the day.</p>
+<p>No, there was not much over at Meander, at the
+railroad&rsquo;s end, to cheer a soldier&rsquo;s heart. It was an
+inspiring ride, in these autumn days, to come to
+Meander, past the little brimming lakes, which
+seemed to lie without banks in the green meadows
+where wild elk fed with the shy Indian cattle; over
+the white hills where the earth gave under the hoofs
+like new-fallen snow. But when one came to it
+through the expanding, dusty miles, the reward of his
+long ride was not in keeping with his effort.</p>
+<p>Certainly, privates and subalterns could get drunk
+there, as speedily as in the centers of refinement, but
+there were no gentlemanly diversions at which an
+officer could dispel the gloom of his sour days in
+garrison.</p>
+<p>The rough-cheeked girls of that high-wind country
+were well enough for cowboys to swing in their wild
+dances; just a rung above the squaws on the reservation
+in the matter of loquacity and of gum. Hardly
+the sort for a man who had the memory of white
+gloves and gleaming shoulders, and the traditions of
+the service to maintain.</p>
+<p>Of course there was the exception of Nola
+Chadron, but she was not of Meander and the railroad&rsquo;s
+end, and she came only in flashes of summer
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' ></a>13</span>
+brightness, like a swift, gay bird. But when Nola
+was at the ranchhouse on the river the gloom lifted
+over the post, and the sour leaven in the hearts of
+unmarried officers became as sweet as manna in the
+cheer of the unusual social outlet thus provided.</p>
+<p>Nola kept the big house in a blaze of joy while
+she nested there through the summer days. The sixteen
+miles which stretched between it and the post
+ran out like a silver band before those who rode
+into the smile of her welcome, and when she flitted
+away to Cheyenne, champagne, and silk hats in the
+autumn, a grayness hovered again over the military
+post in the corner of the reservation.</p>
+<p>Later than usual Nola had lingered on this fall,
+and the social outlet had remained open, like a
+navigable river over which the threat of ice hung
+but had not yet fallen. There were not lacking those
+who held that the lodestone which kept her there at
+the ranchhouse, when the gaieties of the season beckoned
+elsewhere, was in the breast of Major Cuvier
+King. Fatal infatuation, said the married ladies at
+the post, knowing, as everybody knew in the service,
+that Major King was betrothed to Frances Landcraft,
+the colonel&rsquo;s daughter.</p>
+<p>No matter for any complications which might come
+of it, Nola had remained on, and the major had
+smiled on her, and ridden with her, and cut high
+capers in the dance, all pending the return of
+Frances and her mother from their summering at Bar
+Harbor in compliance with the family traditions.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' ></a>14</span>
+Now Frances was back again, and fortune had thrown
+a sunburst of beauty into the post by centering her
+and Nola here at once. Nola was the guest of the
+colonel&rsquo;s daughter, and there were flutterings in
+uniformed breasts.</p>
+<p>Beef day was an event at the agency which never
+grew old to the people at the post. Without beef
+day they must have dwindled off to acidulous shadows,
+as the Indians who depended upon it for more
+solid sustenance would have done in the event of its
+discontinuation by a paternal government.</p>
+<p>There were phases of Indian life and character
+which one never saw save on beef day, which fell on
+Wednesday of each week. Guests at the post
+watched the bright picture with the keen interest of
+a pageant on the stage; tourists came over by stage
+from Meander in the summer months by the score to
+be present; the resident officers, and their wives and
+families&mdash;such as had them&mdash;found in it an ever-recurring
+source of interest and relief from the tedium
+of days all alike.</p>
+<p>This beef day, the morning following the meeting
+between Saul Chadron and his mysterious guest, a
+chattering group stood on the veranda of Colonel
+Landcraft&rsquo;s house in the bright friendly sun. They
+were waiting for horses to make the short journey to
+the agency&mdash;for one&rsquo;s honesty was questioned, his
+sanity doubted, if he went afoot in that country even
+a quarter of a mile&mdash;and gayest among them was
+Nola Chadron, the sun in her fair, springing hair.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' ></a>15</span></div>
+<p>Nola&rsquo;s crown reached little higher than a proper
+soldier&rsquo;s heart, but what she lacked in stature she
+supplied in plastic perfection of body and vivacity
+of face. There was a bounding joyousness of life in
+her; her eager eyes reflecting only the anticipated
+pleasures of today. There was no shadow of yesterday&rsquo;s
+regret in them, no cloud of tomorrow&rsquo;s doubt.</p>
+<p>On the other balance there was Frances Landcraft,
+taller by half a head, soldierly, too, as became her
+lineage, in the manner of lifting her chin in what
+seemed a patrician scorn of small things such as a
+lady should walk the world unconscious of. The
+brown in her hair was richer than the clear agate of
+her eyes; it rippled across her ear like the scroll of
+water upon the sand.</p>
+<p>There was a womanly dignity about her, although
+the threshold of girlhood must not have been far
+behind her that bright autumnal morning. Her nod
+was equal to a stave of Nola&rsquo;s chatter, her smile worth
+a league of the light laughter from that bounding
+little lady&rsquo;s lips. Not that she was always so silent
+as on that morning, there among the young wives of
+the post, at her own guest&rsquo;s side. She had her hours
+of overflowing spirits like any girl, but in some
+company she was always grave.</p>
+<p>When Major King was in attendance, especially,
+the seeing ones made note. And there were others,
+too, who said that she was by nature a colonel among
+women, haughty, cold and aloof. These wondered
+how the major ever had made headway with her up to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' ></a>16</span>
+the point of gaining her hand. Knowing ones smiled
+at that, and said it had been arranged.</p>
+<p>There were ambitions on both sides of that match,
+it was known&mdash;ambition on the colonel&rsquo;s part to
+secure his only child a station of dignity, and what
+he held to be of consequence above all achievements
+in the world. Major King was a rising man, with
+two friends in the cabinet. It was said that he would
+be a brigadier-general before he reached forty.</p>
+<p>On the major&rsquo;s side, was the ambition to strengthen
+his political affiliations by alliance with a family of
+patrician strain, together with the money that his
+bride would bring, for Colonel Landcraft was a
+weighty man in this world&rsquo;s valued accumulations.
+So the match had been arranged.</p>
+<p>The veranda of the colonel&rsquo;s house gave a view of
+the parade grounds and the long avenue that came
+down between the officers&rsquo; houses, cottonwoods lacing
+their limbs above the road. There was green in the
+lawns, the flash of flowers between the leaves and
+shrubs, white-gleaming walls, trim walks, shorn
+hedges. It seemed a pleasant place of quiet beauty
+that bright September morning, and a pity to give it
+up by and by to dust and desolation; a place where
+men and women might be happy, but for the gnawing
+fire of ambition in their hearts.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Colonel Landcraft was not going. Indians
+made her sick, she said, especially Indians sitting
+around in the tall grass waiting for the carcasses to
+be cut up and apportioned out to them in bloody
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' ></a>17</span>
+chunks. But there seemed to be another source of
+her sickness that morning, measuring by the grave
+glances with which she searched her daughter&rsquo;s face.
+She wondered whether the major and Frances had
+quarreled; and if so, whether Nola Chadron had been
+the cause.</p>
+<p>They were off, with the colonel and a lately-assigned
+captain in the lead. There was a keener
+pleasure in this beef day than usual for the colonel,
+for he had new ground to sow with its wonders, which
+were beginning to pale in his old eyes which had seen
+so much of the world.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very likely we&rsquo;ll see the minister&rsquo;s wife there,&rdquo;
+said he, as they rode forward, &ldquo;and if so, it will be
+worth your while to take special note of her. St.
+John Mathews, the Episcopalian minister over there
+at the mission&mdash;those white buildings there among
+the trees&mdash;is a full-blooded Crow. One of the pioneer
+missionaries took him up and sent him back East
+to school, where in time he entered the ministry and
+married this white girl. She was a college girl, I&rsquo;ve
+been told, glamoured by the romance of Mathews&rsquo;
+life. Well, it was soon over.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The colonel sighed, and fell silent. The captain,
+feeling that it was intended that he should, made
+polite inquiry.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The trouble is that Mathews is an Indian out of
+his place,&rdquo; the colonel resumed. &ldquo;He returned here
+twenty years or so ago, and took up his work among
+his people. But as he advanced toward civilization,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' ></a>18</span>
+his wife began to slip back. Little by little she
+adopted the Indian ways and dress, until now you
+couldn&rsquo;t tell her from a squaw if you were to meet
+her for the first time. She presents a curious psychological
+study&mdash;or perhaps biological example of
+atavism, for I believe there&rsquo;s more body than soul in
+the poor creature now. It&rsquo;s nature maintaining the
+balance, you see. He goes up; she slips back.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If she&rsquo;s there, she&rsquo;ll be squatting among the
+squaws, waiting to carry home her husband&rsquo;s allotment
+of warm, bloody beef. She doesn&rsquo;t have to do
+it, and it shames and humiliates Mathews, too, even
+though they say she cuts it up and divides it among
+the poorer Indians. She&rsquo;s a savage; her eyes sparkle
+at the sight of red meat.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They rounded the agency buildings and came upon
+an open meadow in which the slaughterhouses stood
+at a distance from the road. Here, in the grassy
+expanse, the Indians were gathered, waiting the distribution
+of the meat. The scene was barbarically
+animated. Groups of women in their bright dresses
+sat here and there on the grass, and apart from them
+in gravity waited old men in moccasins and blankets
+and with feathers in their hair. Spry young men
+smoked cigarettes and talked volubly, garbed in the
+worst of civilization and the most useless of savagery.</p>
+<p>One and all they turned their backs upon the
+visitors, the nearest groups and individuals moving
+away from them with the impassive dignity of their
+race. There is more scorn in an Indian squaw&rsquo;s back,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' ></a>19</span>
+turned to an impertinent stranger, than in the faces
+of six matrons of society&rsquo;s finest-sifted under similar
+conditions.</p>
+<p>Colonel Landcraft led his party across the meadow,
+entirely unconscious of the cold disdain of the people
+whom he looked down upon from his superior heights.
+He could not have understood if any there had felt
+the trespass from the Indians&rsquo; side&mdash;and there was
+one, very near and dear to the colonel who felt it so&mdash;and
+attempted to explain. The colonel very likely
+would have puffed up with military consequence
+almost to the bursting-point.</p>
+<p>Feeling, delicacy, in those smeared, smelling creatures!
+Surliness in excess they might have, but
+dignity, not at all. Were they not there as beggars
+to receive bounty from the government&rsquo;s hand?</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, there&rsquo;s Mrs. Mathews!&rdquo; said Nola, with the
+eagerness of a child who has found a quail&rsquo;s nest in
+the grass. She was off at an angle, like a hunter on
+the scent. Colonel Landcraft and his guest followed
+with equal rude eagerness, and the others swept after
+them, Frances alone hanging back. Major King was
+at Nola&rsquo;s side. If he noted the lagging of his fianc&eacute;e
+he did not heed.</p>
+<p>The minister&rsquo;s wife, a shawl over her head, her
+braided hair in front of her shoulders like an Indian
+woman, rose from her place in startled confusion.
+She looked as if she would have fled if an avenue had
+been open, or a refuge presented. The embarrassed
+creature was obliged to stand in their curious eyes,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' ></a>20</span>
+and stammer in a tongue which seemed to be growing
+strange to her from its uncommon use.</p>
+<p>She was a short woman, growing heavy and shapeless
+now, and there was gray in her black hair. Her
+skin was browned by sun, wind, and smoke to the
+hue of her poor neighbors and friends. When she
+spoke in reply to the questions which poured upon
+her, she bent her head like a timid girl.</p>
+<p>Frances checked her horse and remained behind,
+out of range of hearing. She was cut to the heart
+with shame for her companions, and her cheek burned
+with the indignation that she suffered with the harried
+woman in their midst. A little Indian girl came
+flying past, ducking and dashing under the neck of
+Frances&rsquo; horse, in pursuit of a piece of paper which
+the wind whirled ahead of her. At Frances&rsquo; stirrup
+she caught it, and held it up with a smile.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Did you lose this, lady?&rdquo; she asked, in the very
+best of mission English.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Frances, bending over to see what it
+might be. The little girl placed it in her hand and
+scurried away again to a beckoning woman, who
+stood on her knees and scowled over her offspring&rsquo;s
+dash into the ways of civilized little girls.</p>
+<p>It was a narrow strip of paper that she had rescued
+from the wind, with the names of several men written
+on it in pencil, and at the head of the list the name
+of Alan Macdonald. Opposite that name some crude
+hand had entered, with pen that had flowed heavily
+under his pressure, the figures &ldquo;$500.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' ></a>21</span></div>
+<p>Frances turned it round her finger and sat waiting
+for the others to leave off their persecution of the
+minister&rsquo;s wife and come back to her, wondering in
+abstracted wandering of mind who Alan Macdonald
+might be, and for what purpose he had subscribed
+the sum of five hundred dollars.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think she&rsquo;s the most romantic little thing in
+the world!&rdquo; Nola was declaring, in her extravagant
+surface way as they returned to where Frances sat
+her horse, her wandering eyes on the blue foothills,
+the strip of paper prominent about her finger. &ldquo;Oh,
+honey! what&rsquo;s the matter? Did you cut your
+finger?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Frances, her serious young face lighting
+with a smile, &ldquo;it&rsquo;s a little subscription list, or
+something, that somebody lost. Alan Macdonald
+heads it for five hundred dollars. Do you know
+Alan Macdonald, and what his charitable purpose
+may be?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Nola tossed her head with a contemptuous sniff.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They call him the &lsquo;king of the rustlers&rsquo; up the
+river,&rdquo; said she.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, he <i>is</i> a man of consequence, then?&rdquo; said
+Frances, a quickening of humor in her brown eyes,
+seeing that Nola was up on her high horse about it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;d better be going down to the slaughter-house
+if we want to see the fun,&rdquo; bustled the colonel,
+wheeling his horse. &ldquo;I see a movement setting in that
+way.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s just a common thief!&rdquo; declared Nola, with
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' ></a>22</span>
+flushed cheek and resentful eye, as Frances fell in
+beside her for the march against the abattoir.</p>
+<p>Frances still carried the paper twisted about her
+finger, reserving her judgment upon Alan Macdonald,
+for she knew something of the feuds of that
+hard-speaking land.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Anyway, I suppose he&rsquo;d like to have his paper
+back,&rdquo; she suggested. &ldquo;Will you hand it to him
+the next time you meet him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances was entirely grave about it, although it
+was only a piece of banter which she felt that Nola
+would appreciate. But Nola was not in an appreciative
+mood, for she was a full-blooded daughter of the
+baronial rule. She jerked her head like a vicious
+bronco and reined hurriedly away from Frances as
+she extended the paper.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll not touch the thing!&rdquo; said Nola, fire in her
+eyes.</p>
+<p>Major King was enjoying the passage between
+the girls, riding at Nola&rsquo;s side with his cavalry hands
+held precisely.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If I&rsquo;m not mistaken, the gentleman in question
+is there talking to Miller, the agent,&rdquo; said he, nodding
+toward two horsemen a little distance ahead.
+&ldquo;But I wouldn&rsquo;t excite him, Miss Landcraft, if I
+were you. He&rsquo;s said to be the quickest and deadliest
+man with a weapon on this range.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Major King smiled over his own pleasantry.
+Frances looked at Nola with brows lifted inquiringly,
+as if waiting her verification. Then the grave young
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' ></a>23</span>
+lady settled back in her saddle and laughed merrily,
+reaching across and touching her friend&rsquo;s arm in
+conciliating caress.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, you delightful little savage!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I
+believe you&rsquo;d like to take a shot at poor Mr. Macdonald
+yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We never start anything on the reservation,&rdquo;
+Nola rejoined, quite seriously.</p>
+<p>Miller, the Indian agent, rode away and left Macdonald
+sitting there on his horse as the military party
+approached. He spurred up to meet the colonel,
+and to present his respects to the ladies&mdash;a hard
+matter for a little round man with a tight paunch,
+sitting in a Mexican saddle. The party halted, and
+Frances looked across at Macdonald, who seemed to
+be waiting for Miller to rejoin him.</p>
+<p>Macdonald was a supple, sinewy man, as he appeared
+across the few rods intervening. His coat
+was tied with his slicker at the cantle of his saddle,
+his blue flannel shirt was powdered with the white
+dust of the plain. Instead of the flaring neckerchief
+which the cowboys commonly favored, Macdonald
+wore a cravat, the ends of it tucked into the bosom
+of his shirt, and in place of the leather chaps of
+men who ride breakneck through brush and bramble,
+his legs were clad in tough brown corduroys, and
+fended by boots to his knees. There were revolvers
+in the holsters at his belt.</p>
+<p>Not an unusual figure for that time and place,
+but something uncommon in the air of unbending
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' ></a>24</span>
+severity that sat on him, which Frances felt even at
+that distance. He looked like a man who had a
+purpose in his life, and who was living it in his own
+brave way. If he was a cattle thief, as charged,
+thought she, then she would put her faith against
+the world that he was indeed a master of his trade.</p>
+<p>They were talking around Miller, who was going
+to give them places of vantage for the coming show.
+Only Frances and Major King were left behind,
+where she had stopped her horse to look curiously
+across at Alan Macdonald, king of the rustlers, as
+he was called.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It may not be anything at all to him, and it may
+be something important,&rdquo; said Frances, reaching out
+the slip to Major King. &ldquo;Would you mind handing
+it to him, and explaining how it came into my
+hands?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll not have anything to do with the fellow!&rdquo;
+said the major, flushing hotly. &ldquo;How can you ask
+such a thing of <i>me?</i> Throw it away, it&rsquo;s no concern
+of yours&mdash;the memorandum of a cattle thief!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances drew herself straight. Her imperious
+chin was as high as Major King ever had carried
+his own in the most self-conscious moment of his
+military career.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will you take it to him?&rdquo; she demanded.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly not!&rdquo; returned the major, haughtily
+emphatic. Then, softening a little, &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be silly,
+Frances; what a row you make over a scrap of blowing
+paper!&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' ></a>25</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Then I&rsquo;ll take it myself!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Landcraft!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Major</i> King!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It was the steel of conventionality against the flint
+of womanly defiance. Major King started in his
+saddle, as if to reach out and restrain her. It was
+one of those defiantly foolish little things which
+women and men&mdash;especially women&mdash;do in moments
+of pique, and Frances knew it at the time. But she
+rode away from the major with a hot flush of insubordination
+in her cheeks, and Alan Macdonald
+quickened from his pensive pose when he saw her
+coming.</p>
+<p>His hand went to his hat when her intention became
+unmistakable to him. She held the little paper out
+toward him while still a rod away.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A little Indian girl gave me this; she found it
+blowing along&mdash;they tell me you are Mr. Macdonald,&rdquo;
+she said, her face as serious as his own. &ldquo;I
+thought it might be a subscription list for a church,
+or something, and that you might want it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you, Miss Landcraft,&rdquo; said he, his voice
+low-modulated, his manner easy.</p>
+<p>Her face colored at the unexpected way of this
+man without a coat, who spoke her name with the
+accent of refinement, just as if he had known her,
+and had met her casually upon the way.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have seen you a hundred times at the post and
+the agency,&rdquo; he explained, to smooth away her confusion.
+&ldquo;I have seen you from afar.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' ></a>26</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said she, as lame as the word was short.</p>
+<p>He was scanning the written paper. Now he
+looked at her, a smile waking in his eyes. It moved
+in slow illumination over his face, but did not break
+his lips, pressed in their stern, strong line. She saw
+that his long hair was light, and that his eyes were
+gray, with sandy brows over them which stood on
+end at the points nearest his nose, from a habit of
+bending them in concentration, she supposed, as he
+had been doing but a moment before he smiled.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, it isn&rsquo;t a church subscription, Miss Landcraft,
+it&rsquo;s for a cemetery,&rdquo; said he.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said she again, wondering why she did not
+go back to Major King, whose horse appeared
+restive, and in need of the spur, which the major
+gave him unfeelingly.</p>
+<p>At the same time she noted that Alan Macdonald&rsquo;s
+forehead was broad and deep, for his leather-weighted
+hat was pushed back from it where his fair, straight
+hair lay thick, and that his bony chin had a little
+croft in it, and that his face was long, and hollowed
+like a student&rsquo;s, and that youth was in his eyes in
+spite of the experience which hardships of unknown
+kind had written across his face. Not a handsome
+man, but a strong one in his way, whatever that
+way might be.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am indebted to you for this,&rdquo; said he, drawing
+forth his watch with a quick movement as he spoke,
+opening the back cover, folding the little paper carefully
+away in it, &ldquo;and grateful beyond words.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' ></a>27</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Good-bye, Mr. Macdonald,&rdquo; said she, wheeling
+her horse suddenly, smiling back at him as she rode
+away to Major King.</p>
+<p>Alan Macdonald sat with his hat off until she was
+again at the major&rsquo;s side, when he replaced it over
+his fair hair with slow hand, as if he had come from
+some holy presence. As for Frances, her turn of
+defiance had driven her clouds away. She met the
+major smiling and radiant, a twinkling of mischief
+in her lively eyes.</p>
+<p>The major was a diplomat, as all good soldiers,
+and some very indifferent ones, are. Whatever his
+dignity and gentler feelings had suffered while she
+was away, he covered the hurt now with a smile.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And how fares the bandit king this morning?&rdquo;
+he inquired.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He seems to be in spirits,&rdquo; she replied.</p>
+<p>The others were out of sight around the buildings
+where the carcasses of beef had been prepared. Nobody
+but the major knew of Frances&rsquo; little dash out
+of the conventional, and the knowledge that it was
+so was comfortable in his breast.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And the pe-apers,&rdquo; said he, in melodramatic
+whisper, &ldquo;were they the thieves&rsquo; muster roll?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He isn&rsquo;t a thief,&rdquo; said she, with quiet dignity,
+&ldquo;he&rsquo;s a gentleman. Yes, the paper <i>was</i> important.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ha! the plot deepens!&rdquo; said Major King.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was a matter of life and death,&rdquo; said she,
+with solemn rebuke for his levity, speaking a truer
+word than she was aware.</p></div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' ></a>28</span>
+<a  id='CHAPTER_III_THE_RANCHHOUSE_BY_THE_RIVER'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER III<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'>THE RANCHHOUSE BY THE RIVER</span></h2>
+</div>
+<div class='text'><p class='ni'>Saul Chadron had built himself into that
+house. It was a solid and assertive thing of
+rude importance where it stood in the great plain,
+the river lying flat before it in its low banks like a
+gray thread through the summer green. There was
+a bold front to the house, and a turret with windows,
+standing like a lighthouse above the sea of meadows
+in which his thousand-numbered cattle fed.</p>
+<p>As white as a dove it sat there among the cottonwoods
+at the riverside. A stream of water led into
+its gardens to gladden them and give them life. Years
+ago, when Chadron&rsquo;s importance was beginning to
+feel itself strong upon its legs, and when Nola was
+a little thing with light curls blowing about her blue
+eyes, the house had grown up under the wand of
+riches in that barren place.</p>
+<p>The post at Fort Shakie had been the nearest
+neighbor in those days, and it remained the nearest
+neighbor still, with the exception of one usurper and
+outcast homesteader, Alan Macdonald by name, who
+had invaded the land over which Chadron laid his
+extensive claim. Fifteen miles up the river from
+the grand white house Macdonald had strung his
+barbed wire and carried in the irrigation ditch to
+his alfalfa field. He had chosen the most fertile spot
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' ></a>29</span>
+in the vast plain through which the river swept, and
+it was in the heart of Saul Chadron&rsquo;s domain.</p>
+<p>After the lordly manner of the cattle &ldquo;barons,&rdquo;
+as they were called in the Northwest, Chadron set
+his bounds by mountains and rivers. Twenty-five
+hundred square miles, roughly measured, lay within
+his lines, the Alamito Ranch he called it&mdash;the Little
+Cottonwood. He had no more title to that great
+sweep of land than the next man who might come
+along, and he paid no rental fee to nation nor state
+for grazing his herds upon it. But the cattle barons
+had so apportioned the land between themselves, and
+Saul Chadron, and each member of the Drovers&rsquo;
+Association, had the power of their mighty organization
+to uphold his hand. That power was incontestable
+in the Northwest in its day; there was no
+higher law.</p>
+<p>This Alan Macdonald was an unaccountable man,
+a man of education, it was said, which made him
+doubly dangerous in Saul Chadron&rsquo;s eyes. Saul himself
+had come up from the saddle, and he was not
+strong on letters, but he had seen the power of learning
+in lawyers&rsquo; offices, and he respected it, and handled
+it warily, like a loaded gun.</p>
+<p>Chadron had sent his cowboys up the river when
+Macdonald first came, and tried to &ldquo;throw a holy
+scare into him,&rdquo; as he put it. The old formula did
+not work in the case of the lean, long-jawed, bony-chinned
+man. He was polite, but obdurate, and his
+quick gray eyes seemed to read to their inner process
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' ></a>30</span>
+of bluff and bluster as through tissue paper before
+a lamp. When they had tried to flash their guns on
+him, the climax of their play, he had beaten them to
+it. Two of them were carried back to the big ranchhouse
+in blankets, with bullets through their fleshy
+parts&mdash;not fatal wounds, but effective.</p>
+<p>The problem of a fighting &ldquo;nester&rdquo; was a new one
+to the cattlemen of that country. For twenty years
+they had kept that state under the dominion of the
+steer, and held its rich agricultural and mineral lands
+undeveloped. The herbage there, curing in the dry
+suns of summer as it stood on the upland plains,
+provided winter forage for their herds. There was
+no need for man to put his hand to the soil and
+debase himself to a peasant&rsquo;s level when he might
+live in a king&rsquo;s estate by roaming his herds over the
+untamed land.</p>
+<p>Homesteaders who did not know the conditions
+drifted there on the westward-mounting wave, only
+to be hustled rudely away, or to pay the penalty of
+refusal with their lives. Reasons were not given,
+rights were not pleaded by the lords of many herds.
+They had the might to work their will; that was
+enough.</p>
+<p>So it could be understood what indignation
+mounted in the breast of tough old Saul Chadron
+when a pigmy homesteader put his firm feet down
+on the ground and refused to move along at his
+command, and even fought back to maintain what he
+claimed to be his rights. It was an unprecedented
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' ></a>31</span>
+stand, a dangerous example. But this nester had
+held out for more than two years against his forces,
+armed by some invisible strength, it seemed, guarded
+against ambuscades and surprises by some cunning
+sense which led him whole and secure about his nefarious
+ways.</p>
+<p>Not alone that, but other homesteaders had come
+and settled near him across the river on two other
+big ranches which cornered there against Chadron&rsquo;s
+own. These nesters drew courage from Macdonald&rsquo;s
+example, and cunning from his counsel, and stood
+against the warnings, persecutions, and attempts at
+forceful dislodgment. The law of might did not seem
+to apply to them, and there was no other source equal
+to the dignity of the Drovers&rsquo; Association&mdash;at least
+none to which it cared to carry its grievances and
+air them.</p>
+<p>So they cut Alan Macdonald&rsquo;s fences, and other
+homesteaders&rsquo; fences, in the night and drove a thousand
+or two cattle across his fields, trampling the
+growing grain and forage into the earth; they persecuted
+him in a score of harassing, quick, and
+hidden blows. But this homesteader was not to be
+driven away by ordinary means. Nature seemed to
+lend a hand to him, he made crops in spite of the
+cattlemen, and was prospering. He had taken root
+and appeared determined to remain, and the others
+were taking deep root with him, and the free, wide
+range was coming under the menace of the fence
+and the lowly plow.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' ></a>32</span></div>
+<p>That was the condition of things in those fair
+autumn days when Prances Landcraft returned to
+the post. The Drovers&rsquo; Association, and especially
+the president of it, was being defied in that section,
+where probably a hundred homesteaders had settled
+with their families of long-backed sons and daughters.
+They were but a speck on the land yet, as
+Chadron had told the smoky stranger when he had
+engaged him to try his hand at throwing the &ldquo;holy
+scare.&rdquo; But they spread far over the upland plain,
+having sought the most favored spots, and they were
+a blight and a pest in the eyes of the cattlemen.</p>
+<p>Nola had flitted back to the ranchhouse, carrying
+Frances with her to bring down the curtain on her
+summer&rsquo;s festivities there in one last burst of joy.
+The event was to be a masquerade, and everybody
+from the post was coming, together with the few from
+Meander who had polish enough to float them, like
+new needles in a glass of water, through frontier society&rsquo;s
+depths. Some were coming from Cheyenne,
+also, and the big house was dressed for them, even
+to the bank of palms to conceal the musicians, in
+the polite way that society has of standing something
+in front of what it cannot well dispense with,
+yet of which it appears to be ashamed.</p>
+<p>It was the afternoon of the festal day, and Nola
+sighed happily as she stood with Frances in the ballroom,
+surveying the perfection of every detail.
+Money could do things away off there in that corner
+of the world as well as it could do them in Omaha
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' ></a>33</span>
+or elsewhere. Saul Chadron had hothouses in which
+even oranges and pineapples grew.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Chadron was in the living-room, with its big
+fireplace and homely things, when they came chattering
+out of the enchanted place. She was sitting
+by the window which gave her a view of the dim gray
+road where it came over the grassy swells from
+Meander and the world, knitting a large blue sock.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Chadron was a cow-woman of the unimproved
+school. She was a heavy feeder on solids, and she
+liked plenty of chili peppers in them, which combination
+gave her a waist and a ruddiness of face like a
+brewer. But she was a good woman in her fashion,
+which was narrow, and intolerant of all things which
+did not wear hoofs and horns, or live and grow mighty
+from the proceeds of them. She never had expanded
+mentally to fit the large place that Saul had made
+for her in the world of cattle, although her struggle
+had been both painful and sincere.</p>
+<p>Now she had given it up, and dismissed the troubles
+of high life from her fat little head, leaving Nola
+to stand in the door and do the honors with credit
+to the entire family. She had settled down to her
+roasts and hot condiments, her knitting and her afternoon
+naps, as contentedly as an old cat with a
+singed back under a kitchen stove. She had no
+desire to go back to the winter home in Cheyenne,
+with its grandeur, its Chinese cook, and furniture
+that she was afraid to use. There was no satisfaction
+in that place for Mrs. Chadron, beyond the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' ></a>34</span>
+swelling pride of ownership. For comfort, peace,
+and a mind at ease, give her the ranchhouse by the
+river, where she could set her hand to a dish if she
+wanted to, no one thinking it amiss.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I declare! if here don&rsquo;t come Banjo Gibson,&rdquo; said she,
+her hand on the curtain, her red face
+near the pane like a beacon to welcome the coming
+guest. There was pleasure in her voice, and anticipation.
+The blue sock slid from her lap to the floor,
+forgotten.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, it&rsquo;s Banjo,&rdquo; said Nola. &ldquo;I wonder where
+he&rsquo;s been all summer? I haven&rsquo;t seen him in an age.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who is he?&rdquo; Frances inquired, looking out at
+the approaching figure,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The troubadour of the North Platte, I call him,&rdquo;
+laughed Nola; &ldquo;the queerest little traveling musician
+in a thousand miles. He belongs back in the days
+of romance, when men like him went playing from
+castle to court&mdash;the last one of his kind.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances watched him with new interest as he drew
+up to the big gate, which was arranged with weights
+and levers so that a horseman could open and close
+it without leaving the saddle. The troubadour rode
+a mustang the color of a dry chili pepper, but with
+none of its spirit. It came in with drooping head,
+the reins lying untouched on its neck, its mane and
+forelock platted and adorned fantastically with vari-colored
+ribbons. Rosettes were on the bridle, a fringe
+of leather thongs along the reins.</p>
+<p>The musician himself was scarcely less remarkably
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' ></a>35</span>
+than the horse. He looked at that distance&mdash;now
+being at the gate&mdash;to be a dry little man of middle
+age, with a thirsty look about his throat, which was
+long, with a lump in it like an elbow. He was a
+slender man and short, with gloves on his hands, a
+slight sandy mustache on his lip, and wearing a dun-colored
+hat tilted a little to one side, showing a waviness
+almost curly in his glistening black hair. He
+carried a violin case behind his saddle, and a banjo
+in a green covering slung like a carbine over his
+shoulder.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;ll know where to put his horse,&rdquo; said Mrs.
+Chadron, getting up with a new interest in life, &ldquo;and
+I&rsquo;ll just go and have Maggie stir him up a bite to
+eat and warm the coffee. He&rsquo;s always hungry when
+he comes anywhere, poor little man!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Can he play that battery of instruments?&rdquo;
+Prances asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Wait till you hear him,&rdquo; nodded Nola, a laugh
+in her merry eyes.</p>
+<p>Then they fell to talking of the coming night,
+and of the trivial things which are so much to youth,
+and to watching along the road toward Meander for
+the expected guests from Cheyenne, who were to come
+up on the afternoon train.</p>
+<p>Regaled at length, Banjo Gibson, in the wake of
+Mrs. Chadron, who presented him with pride, came
+into the room where the young ladies waited with
+impatience the waning of the daylight hours. Banjo
+acknowledged the honor of meeting Miss Landcraft
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' ></a>36</span>
+with extravagant words, which had the flavor of a
+manual of politeness and a ready letter-writer in
+them. He was on more natural terms with Nola,
+having known her since childhood, and he called her
+&ldquo;Miss Nola,&rdquo; and held her hand with a tender lingering.</p>
+<p>His voice was full and rich, a deep, soft note in
+it like a rare instrument in tune. His small feet
+were shod in the shiningest of shoes, which he had
+given a furbishing in the barn, and a flowing cravat
+tied in a large bow adorned his low collar. There
+were stripes in the musician&rsquo;s shirt like a Persian
+tent, but it was as clean and unwrinkled as if he had
+that moment put it on.</p>
+<p>Banjo Gibson&mdash;if he had any other christened
+name, it was unknown to men&mdash;was an original. As
+Nola had said, he belonged back a few hundred years,
+when musical proficiency was not so common as now.
+The profession was not crowded in that country,
+happily, and Banjo traveled from ranch to ranch
+carrying cheer and entertainment with him as he
+passed.</p>
+<p>He had been doing that for years, having worked
+his way westward from Nebraska with the big cattle
+ranches, and his art was his living. Banjo&rsquo;s arrival
+at a ranch usually resulted in a dance, for which he
+supplied the music, and received such compensation
+as the generosity of the host might fix. Banjo never
+quarreled over such matters. All he needed was
+enough to buy cigarettes and shirts.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' ></a>37</span></div>
+<p>Banjo seldom played in company with any other
+musician, owing to certain limitations, which he
+raised to distinguishing virtues. He played by &ldquo;air,&rdquo;
+as he said, despising the unproficiency of all such as
+had need of looking on a book while they fiddled.
+Knowing nothing of transposition, he was obliged to
+tune his banjo&mdash;on those rare occasions when he
+stooped to play &ldquo;second&rdquo; at a dance&mdash;in the key
+of each fresh tune. This was hard on the strings, as
+well as on the patience of the player, and Banjo liked
+best to go it single-handed and alone.</p>
+<p>When he heard that musicians were coming from
+Cheyenne&mdash;a day&rsquo;s journey by train&mdash;to play for
+Nola&rsquo;s ball, his face told that he was hurt, but his
+respect of hospitality curbed his words. He knew
+that there was one appreciative ear in the mansion
+by the river that no amount of &ldquo;dago fiddlin&rsquo;&rdquo; ever
+would charm and satisfy like his own voice with the
+banjo, or his little brown fiddle when it gave out the
+old foot-warming tunes. Mrs. Chadron was his
+champion in all company, and his friend in all places.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, sakes alive! Banjo, I&rsquo;m as tickled to see
+you as if you was one of my own folks,&rdquo; she declared,
+her face as warm as if she had just gorged on the
+hottest of hot dishes which her Mexican cook, Maggie,
+could devise.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m glad to be able to make it around ag&rsquo;in, thank
+you, mom,&rdquo; Banjo assured her, sentiment and soul
+behind the simple words. &ldquo;I always carry a warm
+place in my heart for Alamito wherever I may stray.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' ></a>38</span></div>
+<p>Nola frisked around and took the banjo from its
+green cover, talking all the time, pushing and placing
+chairs, and settling Banjo in a comfortable place.
+Then she armed him with the instrument, making
+quite a ceremony of it, and asked him to play.</p>
+<p>Banjo twanged the instrument into tune, hooked
+the toe of his left foot behind the forward leg of his
+chair, and struck up a song which he judged would
+please the young ladies. Of Mrs. Chadron he was
+sure; she had laughed over it a hundred times. It
+was about an adventure which the bard had shared
+with his gal in a place designated in Banjo&rsquo;s uncertain
+vocabulary as &ldquo;the big cook-quari-um.&rdquo; It
+began:</p>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p>Oh-h-h, I stopped at a big cook-quari-um</p>
+<p><span class='indent2'>&nbsp;</span>Not very long ago,</p>
+<p>To see the bass and suckers</p>
+<p><span class='indent2'>&nbsp;</span>And hear the white whale blow.</p>
+</div></div>
+<p class='ni'>The chorus of it ran:</p>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p>Oh-h-h-h, the big sea-line he howled and he growled,</p>
+<p><span class='indent2'>&nbsp;</span>The seal beat time on a drum;</p>
+<p>The whale he swallered a den-vereel</p>
+<p><span class='indent2'>&nbsp;</span>In the big cook-quari-um.</p>
+</div></div>
+<p class='ni'>From that one Banjo passed to &ldquo;The Cowboy&rsquo;s
+Lament,&rdquo; and from tragedy to love. There could be
+nothing more moving&mdash;if not in one direction, then
+in another&mdash;than the sentimental expression of
+Banjo&rsquo;s little sandy face as he sang:</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' ></a>39</span></div>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p>I know you were once my true-lov-o-o-o,</p>
+<p><span class='indent2'>&nbsp;</span>But such a thing it has an aind;</p>
+<p>My love and my transpo&rsquo;ts are ov-o-o-o,</p>
+<p><span class='indent2'>&nbsp;</span>But you may still be my fraind-d-d.</p>
+</div></div>
+<p class='ni'>Sundown was rosy behind the distant mountains,
+a sea of purple shadows laved their nearer feet, when
+Banjo got out his fiddle at Mrs. Chadron&rsquo;s request
+and sang her &ldquo;favorite&rdquo; along with the moving tones
+of that instrument.</p>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p>Dau-ling I am growing-a o-o-eld,</p>
+<p>Seel-vo threads a-mong tho go-o-ld&mdash;</p>
+</div></div>
+<p class='ni'>As he sang, Nola slipped from the room. He was
+finishing when she sped by the window and came
+sparkling into the room with the announcement that
+the guests from far Cheyenne were coming. Frances
+was up in excitement; Mrs. Chadron searched the
+floor for her unfinished sock.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What was that flashed a-past the winder like a
+streak a minute ago?&rdquo; Banjo inquired.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Flashed by the window?&rdquo; Nola repeated, puzzled.</p>
+<p>Frances laughed, the two girls stopping in the
+door, merriment gleaming from their young faces like
+rays from iridescent gems.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, that was Nola,&rdquo; Frances told him, curious
+to learn what the sentimental eyes of the little musician
+foretold.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I thought it was a star from the sky,&rdquo; said
+Banjo, sighing softly, like a falling leaf.</p>
+<p>As they waited at the gate to welcome the guests,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' ></a>40</span>
+who were cantering up with a curtain of dust behind
+them, they laughed over Banjo&rsquo;s compliment.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I knew there was something behind those eyes,&rdquo;
+said Frances.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No telling how long he&rsquo;s been saving it for a
+chance to work it off on somebody,&rdquo; Nola said. &ldquo;He
+got it out of a book&mdash;the Mexicans all have them,
+full of <i>brindies</i>, what we call toasts, and silly soft
+compliments like that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve seen them, little red books that they give
+for premiums with the Mexican papers down in
+Texas,&rdquo; Frances nodded, &ldquo;but Banjo didn&rsquo;t get that
+out of a book&mdash;it was spontaneous.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I must write it down, and compare it with the
+next time he gets it off.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Give him credit for the way he delivered it, no
+matter where he got it,&rdquo; Frances laughed. &ldquo;Many
+a more sophisticated man than your desert troubadour
+would have broken his neck over that. He&rsquo;s
+in love with you, Nola&mdash;didn&rsquo;t you hear him sigh?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, he has been ever since I was old enough to
+take notice of it,&rdquo; returned Nola, lightly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, my luv&rsquo;s like a falling star,&rdquo; paraphrased
+Frances.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not much!&rdquo; Nola denied, more than half serious.
+&ldquo;Venus is ascendant; you keep your eye on her and
+see.&rdquo;</p></div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' ></a>41</span>
+<a  id='CHAPTER_IV_THE_MAN_IN_THE_PLAID'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER IV<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'>THE MAN IN THE PLAID</span></h2>
+</div>
+<div class='text'><p class='ni'>There was no mistaking the assiduity with
+which Major King waited upon Nola Chadron
+that night at the ball, any more than there was a
+chance for doubt of that lively little lady&rsquo;s identity.
+He sought her at the first, and hung by her side
+through many dances, and promenaded her in the
+garden walks where Japanese lanterns glimmered
+dimly in the soft September night, with all the close
+attention of a farrier cooling a valuable horse.</p>
+<p>Perhaps it was punishment&mdash;or meant to be&mdash;for
+the insubordination of Frances Landcraft in
+speaking to the outlawed Alan Macdonald on last
+beef day. If so, it was systematically and faithfully
+administered.</p>
+<p>Nola was dressed like a cowgirl. Not that there
+were any cowgirls in that part of the country, or
+anywhere else, who dressed that way, except at the
+Pioneer Week celebration at Cheyenne, and in the
+romantic dramas of the West. But she was so
+attired, perhaps for the advantage the short skirt
+gave her handsome ankles&mdash;and something in silk
+stockings which approached them in tapering grace.</p>
+<p>She was improving her hour, whether out of exuberant
+mischief or in deadly earnest the ladies from
+the post were puzzled to understand, and if headway
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' ></a>42</span>
+toward the already pledged heart of Major King
+was any indication of it, her star was indeed ascendant.</p>
+<p>Frances Landcraft appeared at the ball as an
+Arabian lady, meaning in her own interpretation of
+the masking to stand as a representation of the
+&ldquo;Thou,&rdquo; who is endearingly and importantly capitalized
+in the verses of the ancient singer made famous
+by Irish-English Fitzgerald. Her disguise was sufficient,
+only that her hair was so richly assertive.
+There was not any like it in the cattle country; very
+little like it anywhere. It was a telltale, precious
+possession, and Major King never could have made
+good a plea of hidden identity against it in this
+world.</p>
+<p>Frances had consolation enough for his alienation
+and absence from her side if numbers could compensate
+for the withdrawal of the fealty of one. She
+distributed her favors with such judicial fairness that
+the tongue of gossip could not find a breach. At
+least until the tall Scotsman appeared, with his defiant
+red hair and a feather in his bonnet, his plaid
+fastened across his shoulder with a golden clasp.</p>
+<p>Nobody knew when he arrived, or whence. He
+spoke to none as he walked in grave stateliness among
+the merry groups, acknowledging bold challenges and
+gay banterings only with a bow. The ladies from
+the post had their guesses as to who he might be,
+and laid cunning little traps to provoke him into betrayal
+through his voice. As cunningly he evaded</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' ></a>43</span></div>
+<p>them, with unsmiling courtesy, his steady gray eyes
+only seeming to laugh at them behind his green
+mask.</p>
+<p>Frances had finished a dance with a Robin Hood&mdash;the
+slender one in billiard-cloth green&mdash;there being
+no fewer than four of them, variously rounded, diversely
+clad, when the Scot approached her where
+she stood with her gallant near the musicians&rsquo; brake
+of palms.</p>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p>A flask of wine, a book of verse&mdash;and Thou</p>
+<p>Beside me singing in the wilderness&mdash;</p>
+</div></div>
+<p class='ni'>said the tall Highlandman, bending over her shoulder,
+his words low in her ear. &ldquo;Only I could be
+happy without the wine,&rdquo; he added, as she faced him
+in quick surprise.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Your penetration deserves a reward&mdash;you are
+the first to guess it,&rdquo; said she.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Three dances, no less,&rdquo; said he, like a usurer
+demanding his toll.</p>
+<p>He offered his arm, and straightway bore her off
+from the astonished Robin Hood, who stood staring
+after them, believing, perhaps, that he was the victim
+of some prearranged plan.</p>
+<p>The spirit of his free ancestors seemed to be in
+the lithe, tall Highlander&rsquo;s feet. There was no dancer
+equal to him in that room. A thistle on the wind
+was not lighter, nor a wheeling swallow more graceful
+in its flight.</p>
+<p>Many others stopped their dancing to watch that
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' ></a>44</span>
+pair; whisperings ran round like electrical conjectures.
+Nola steered Major King near the whirling
+couple, and even tried to maneuver a collision, which
+failed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who is that dancing with Frances Landcraft?&rdquo;
+she breathed in the major&rsquo;s ear.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t know it was Miss Landcraft,&rdquo; he replied,
+although he knew it very well, and resolved to find
+out who the Scotsman was, speedily and completely.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My enchanted hour will soon pass,&rdquo; said the
+Scot, when that dance was done, &ldquo;and I have been
+looking the world over for you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Dancing all the way?&rdquo; she asked him lightly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Far from it,&rdquo; he answered, his voice still muffled
+and low.</p>
+<p>They were standing withdrawn a little from the
+press in the room after their second dance, when
+Major King came by. The major was a cavalier
+in drooping hat, with white satin cape, and sword
+by his side, and well enough known to all his friends
+in spite of the little spat of mustache and beard. As
+the major passed he jostled the Scot with his shoulder
+with a rudeness openly intentional.</p>
+<p>The major turned, and spoke an apology. Frances
+felt the Highlander&rsquo;s muscles swell suddenly where
+her hand lay on his arm, but whatever had sprung
+into his mind he repressed, and acknowledged the
+major&rsquo;s apology with a lofty nod.</p>
+<p>The music for another dance was beginning, and
+couples were whirling out upon the floor.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' ></a>45</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care to dance again just now, delightfully
+as you carry a clumsy one like me through&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A self-disparagement, even, can&rsquo;t stand unchallenged,&rdquo;
+he interrupted.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Macdonald,&rdquo; she whispered, &ldquo;your wig is
+awry.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They were near the door opening to the illumined
+garden, with its late roses, now at their best, and
+hydrangea clumps plumed in foggy bloom. They
+stepped out of the swirl of the dance like particles
+thrown from a wheel, not missed that moment even
+by those interested in keeping them in sight.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You knew me!&rdquo; said he, triumphantly glad, as
+they entered the garden&rsquo;s comparative gloom.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;At the first word,&rdquo; said she.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I came here in the hope that you would know
+me, and you alone&mdash;I came with my heart full of
+that hope, and you knew me at the first word!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There was not so much marvel as satisfaction, even
+pride for her penetration, in it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Somebody else may have recognized you, too&mdash;that
+man who brushed against you&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s one of your officers.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know&mdash;Major King. Do you know him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, and he doesn&rsquo;t know me. He can have no interest
+in me at all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very well; set your beautiful red wig straight
+and then tell me why you wanted to come here among
+your enemies. It seems to me a hardy challenge, a
+most unnecessary risk.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' ></a>46</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;No risk is unnecessary that brings me to you,&rdquo;
+he said, his voice trembling in earnestness. &ldquo;I dared
+to come because I hoped to meet you on equal
+ground.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re a bold man&mdash;in more ways than one.&rdquo;
+She shook her head as in rebuke of his temerity.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But you don&rsquo;t believe I&rsquo;m a thief,&rdquo; said he, conclusively.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; I have made public denial of it.&rdquo; She
+laughed lightly, but a little nervously, an uneasiness
+over her that she could not define.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;An angel has risen to plead for Alan Macdonald,
+then!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why should you need anybody to plead for you
+if there&rsquo;s no truth in their charges? What is a man
+like you doing in this wild place, wasting his life in
+a land where he isn&rsquo;t wanted?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They had turned into a path that branched beyond
+the lanterns. The white gravel from the river bars
+with which it was paved glimmered among the
+shadowy shrubs. Macdonald unclasped his plaid
+from his shoulders and transferred it to hers. She
+drew it round her, wrapping her arms in it like a
+squaw, for the wind was coming chill from the mountains
+now.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is soon said,&rdquo; he answered, quite willingly.
+&ldquo;I am not hiding under any other man&rsquo;s name&mdash;the
+one they call me by here is my own. I was a &lsquo;son of
+a family,&rsquo; as they say in Mexico, and looked for distinction,
+if not glory, in the diplomatic service. Four
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' ></a>47</span>
+years I grubbed, an under secretary in the legation
+at Mexico City, then served three more as consul at
+Valparaiso. An engineer who helped put the railroad
+through this country told me about it down there
+when the rust of my inactive life was beginning to
+canker my body and brain. I threw up my chance for
+diplomatic distinction and came off up here looking
+for life and adventure, and maybe a copper mine. I
+didn&rsquo;t find the mine, but I&rsquo;ve had some fun with the
+other two. Sometimes I&rsquo;d like to lose the adventure
+part of it now&mdash;it gets tiresome to be hunted, after
+a while.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What else?&rdquo; she asked, after a little, seeing that
+he walked slowly, his head up, his eyes far away on
+the purple distances of the night, as if he read a
+dream.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I settled in this valley quite innocently, as others
+have done, before and after me, not knowing conditions.
+You&rsquo;ve heard it said that I&rsquo;m a rustler&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;King of the rustlers,&rdquo; she corrected.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, even that. But I am not a rustler. Everybody
+up here is a rustler, Miss Landcraft, who
+doesn&rsquo;t belong to, or work for, the Drovers&rsquo; Association.
+They can&rsquo;t oust us by merely charging us
+with homesteading government land, for that hasn&rsquo;t
+been made a statutory crime yet. They have to
+make some sort of a charge against us to give the
+color of justification to the crimes they practice on
+us, and rustler is the worst one in the cattlemen&rsquo;s
+dictionary. It stands ahead of murder and arson in
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' ></a>48</span>
+this country. I&rsquo;m not saying there are no rustlers
+around the edges of these big ranches, for there are
+some. But if there are any among the settlers up
+our way we don&rsquo;t know it&mdash;and I think we&rsquo;d pretty
+soon find out.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They turned and walked back toward the house.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t see why you should trouble about it; this
+plainly isn&rsquo;t your place,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;First, I refused to be driven out by Chadron
+and the rest because the thing got on my mettle. I
+knew that I was right, and that they were simply
+stealing the public domain. Then, as I hung on, it
+became apparent that there was a man&rsquo;s work cut
+out for somebody up here. I&rsquo;ve taken the ready-made
+job.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Tell me about it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s a monstrous injustice being practiced,
+systematically and cruelly, against thousands of
+homeless people who come to this country in innocent
+hope every year. They come here believing it&rsquo;s the
+great big open-handed West they&rsquo;ve heard so much
+about, carrying everything with them that they
+own. They cut the strings that hold them to the
+things they know when they face this way, and when
+they try to settle on the land that is their inheritance,
+this copper-bottomed combination of stockmen drives
+them out. If they don&rsquo;t go, they shoot them. You&rsquo;ve
+heard of it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not just that way,&rdquo; said she, thoughtfully.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, they never shoot anybody but a rustler, the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' ></a>49</span>
+way the world hears of it,&rdquo; said he, in resentment.
+&ldquo;But they&rsquo;ll hear another story on the outside one
+of these days. I&rsquo;m in this fight up to the eyes to
+break the back of this infernal combination that&rsquo;s
+choking this state to death. It&rsquo;s the first time in
+my life that I ever laid my hand to anything for
+anybody but myself, and I&rsquo;m going to see it through
+to daylight.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But there must be millions behind the cattlemen,
+Mr. Macdonald.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There are. It seems just about hopeless that a
+handful of ragged homesteaders ever can make a
+stand against them. But they&rsquo;re usurping the public
+domain, and they&rsquo;ll overreach themselves one of these
+days. Chadron has title to this homestead, but that&rsquo;s
+every inch of land that he&rsquo;s got a legal right over.
+In spite of that, he lays the claim of ownership to
+the land fifteen miles north of here, where I&rsquo;ve nested.
+He&rsquo;s been telling me for more than two years that I
+must clear out.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You could give it up, and go back to your work
+among men, where it would count,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There are things here that count. I couldn&rsquo;t put
+a state on the map&mdash;an industrial and progressive
+one, I mean&mdash;back home in Washington, or sitting
+with my feet on the desk in some sleepy consulate.
+And I&rsquo;m going to put this state on the map where it
+belongs. That&rsquo;s the job that&rsquo;s cut out for me here,
+Miss Landcraft.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He said it without boast, but with such a stubborn
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' ></a>50</span>
+note of determination that she felt something lift
+within her, raising her to the plane of his aspirations.
+She knew that Alan Macdonald was right about it,
+although the thing that he would do was still dim in
+her perception.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Even then, I don&rsquo;t see what a ranch away off up
+here from anywhere ever will be worth to you, especially
+when the post is abandoned. You know the
+department is going to give it up?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And then you&mdash;&rdquo; he began in consternation,
+checking himself to add, slowly, &ldquo;no, I didn&rsquo;t know
+that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps in a year.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It can&rsquo;t make much difference in the value of
+land up this valley, though,&rdquo; he mused. &ldquo;When the
+railroad comes on through&mdash;and that will be as soon
+as we break the strangle hold of Chadron and men
+like him&mdash;this country will develop overnight.
+There&rsquo;s petroleum under the land up where I am,
+lying shallow, too. That will be worth something
+then.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The music of an old-style dance was being played.
+Now the piping cowboy voice of some range cavalier
+rose, calling the figures. The two in the garden path
+turned with one accord and faced away from the
+bright windows again.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They&rsquo;ll be unmasking at midnight?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid I can&rsquo;t go in again, then. The hour
+of my enchantment is nearly at its end.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' ></a>51</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;You shouldn&rsquo;t have come,&rdquo; she chided, yet not
+in severity, rather in subdued admiration for his reckless
+bravery. &ldquo;Suppose they&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mac! O Mac!&rdquo; called a cautious, low voice from
+a hydrangea bush close at hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who&rsquo;s there?&rdquo; demanded Macdonald, springing
+forward.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They&rsquo;re onto you, Mac,&rdquo; answered the voice from
+the shrub, &ldquo;they&rsquo;re goin&rsquo; to do you hurt. They&rsquo;re
+lookin&rsquo; for you now!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There was a little rustling in the leaves as the
+unseen friend moved away. The voice was the voice
+of Banjo Gibson, but not even the shadow of the
+messenger had been seen.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You should have gone before&mdash;hurry!&rdquo; she
+whispered in alarm.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Never mind. It was a risk, and I took it, and
+I&rsquo;d take it again tomorrow. It gave me these minutes
+with you, it was worth&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You must go! Where&rsquo;s your horse?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Down by the river in the willows. I can get to
+him, all right.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They may come any minute, they&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, they&rsquo;re dancing yet. I expected they&rsquo;d find
+me out; they know me too well. I&rsquo;ll get a start of
+them, before they even know I&rsquo;m gone.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They may be waiting farther on&mdash;why don&rsquo;t
+you go&mdash;go! There&mdash;listen!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They&rsquo;re saddling,&rdquo; he whispered, as low sounds
+of haste came from the barnyard corral.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' ></a>52</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Go&mdash;quick!&rdquo; she urged, flinging his plaid across
+his arm.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going&mdash;in one moment more. Miss Landcraft,
+I&rsquo;ll ride away from you tonight perhaps never
+to see you again, and if I speak impetuously before
+I leave you, forgive me before you hear the words&mdash;they&rsquo;ll
+not hurt you&mdash;I don&rsquo;t believe they&rsquo;ll shame
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t say anything more, Mr. Macdonald&mdash;even
+this delay may cost your life!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They&rsquo;ll kill me if they can; they&rsquo;ve tried it more
+than once. I never know when I ride away whether
+I&rsquo;ll ever return. It isn&rsquo;t a new experience, just a
+little graver than usual&mdash;only that. I came here
+tonight because I&mdash;I came to&mdash;in the hope&mdash;&rdquo; he
+stammered, putting out his hands as if supplicating
+her to understand, his plaid falling to the ground.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Go!&rdquo; she whispered, her hand on his arm in
+appeal, standing near him, dangerously near.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got a right to love you&mdash;I&rsquo;ve got a right!&rdquo;
+he said, the torrent of his passion leaping all curbing
+obstacles of delicacy, confusion, fear. He flung the
+words from him in wild vehemence, as if they eased
+a pang.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;no, you have no right! you&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll leave you in a minute, Frances, without the
+expectation of ever seeing you again&mdash;only with the
+hope. It&rsquo;s mine to love you, mine to have you if I
+come through this night. If you&rsquo;re pledged to another
+man it can&rsquo;t be because you love him, and I&rsquo;ll
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' ></a>53</span>
+tear the right away from him&mdash;if I come through
+this night!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He spoke rapidly, bending so near that his breath
+moved the hair on her temple. She stood with arms
+half lifted, her hands clenched, her breath laboring
+in her bosom. She did not know that love&mdash;she had
+not known that love&mdash;could spring up that way, and
+rage like a flame before a wind.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you&rsquo;re pledged to another man, then I&rsquo;ll defy
+him, man to man&mdash;I do defy him, I challenge him!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As he spoke he stooped, suddenly, like a wind-bent
+flame, clasped her, kissed her, held her enfolded in
+his arms one moment against his breast. He released
+her then, and stepped back, standing tall and
+silent, as if he waited for her blast of scorn. It did
+not come. She was standing with hands pressed to
+her face, as if to cover some shame or sorrow, or
+ease the throbbing of a soul-deep pain.</p>
+<p>The sound of men and horses came from the corral.
+He stood, waiting for judgment.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Go now,&rdquo; she said, in a sad, small voice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Give me a token to carry away, to tell me I have
+not broken my golden hope,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, I&rsquo;ll give you nothing!&rdquo; she declared, with
+the sharpness of one wronged, and helpless of redress.
+&ldquo;You have taken too much&mdash;you have taken&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What?&rdquo; he asked, as if he exulted in what he
+heard, his blood singing in his ears.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, go&mdash;go!&rdquo; she moaned, stripping off one
+long white glove and throwing it to him.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' ></a>54</span></div>
+<p>He caught it, and pressed it to his lips; then
+snatching off his bonnet, hid it there, and bent among
+the shrubbery and was gone, as swiftly and silently
+as a wolf. Frances flew to the house and up the
+stairs to her room. There she threw up the window
+and sat panting in it, straining, listening, for sounds
+from the river road.</p>
+<p>From below the voices of the revelers came, and
+the laughter over the secrets half-guessed before
+masks were snatched away around the banquet table.
+There was a dash of galloping hoofs from the corral,
+the clatter of the closing gate. The sound grew
+dimmer, was lost, in the sand of the hoof-cut trail.</p>
+<p>After a little, a shot! two! a silence; three! and
+one as if in reply. Frances slipped to her knees beside
+the open window, a sob as bitter as the pang of
+death rising from her breast. She prayed that Alan
+Macdonald might ride fast, and that the vindictive
+hands of his enemies might be unsteady that night by
+the gray riverside.</p></div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' ></a>55</span>
+<a  id='CHAPTER_V_IF_HE_WAS_A_GENTLEMAN'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER V<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'>IF HE WAS A GENTLEMAN</span></h2>
+</div>
+<div class='text'><p class='ni'>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you think we&rsquo;d better drop it now,
+Frances, and be good?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Major King reined his horse near hers as he spoke,
+and laid his hand on the pommel of her saddle as if
+he expected to meet other fingers there.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You puzzle me, Major King,&rdquo; she returned, not
+willing to understand.</p>
+<p>They were bringing up the rear of the tired procession
+which was returning to the post from the
+ball. Already the east was quickening. The stars
+near the horizon were growing pale; the morning
+wind was moving, with a warmth in it from the low
+places, like a tide toward the mountains.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I mean this play acting of estrangement,&rdquo;
+said he, impatiently. &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s forget it&mdash;it doesn&rsquo;t
+carry naturally with either you or me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, Major King!&rdquo; Her voice was lively with
+mild surprise; she was looking at him as if for verification
+of his words. Then, slowly: &ldquo;I hadn&rsquo;t
+thought of any estrangement, I hadn&rsquo;t intended to
+bring you to task for one flirtatious night. Be sure,
+sir, if it has given you pleasure, it has brought me
+no pain.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You began it,&rdquo; said he, petulantly. It is almost
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' ></a>56</span>
+unbelievable how boyishly silly a full-grown man
+can be.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I began it, Major King? It&rsquo;s too early in the
+morning for a joke!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You were wilful and contrary; you would speak
+to the fellow that day.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; deprecatingly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Never mind it, though. Wilfulness doesn&rsquo;t become
+either of us, Frances. I&rsquo;ve tried my turn at it
+tonight, and it has left me cold.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Poor man!&rdquo; said she, in low voice, like a sigh.
+Perhaps it was not all for Major King; perhaps not
+all assumed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s not quarrel, Frances.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not now, I&rsquo;m too tired for a real good one.
+Leave it for tomorrow.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He rode on in silence, not sure, maybe, how much
+of it she meant. Covertly she looked at him now and
+then, thinking better of him for his ingenuous confession
+of failure to warm himself at little Nola
+Chadron&rsquo;s heart-flame. She extended her hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Forgive me, Major King,&rdquo; she said, very softly,
+not far removed, indeed, from tenderness.</p>
+<p>For a little while Major King left his horse to
+keep the road its own way, his cavalry hands quite
+regardless of manuals, regulations, and military airs.
+Both of them were enfolding her one. He might
+have held it until they reached the post, but that
+she drew it away.</p>
+<p>There were some qualms of uneasiness in her breast
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' ></a>57</span>
+that hour, some upbraidings of conscience for treason
+to Major King, of whom she had been girlishly fond,
+girlishly proud, womanly selfish. That quick, wild
+scene in the garden was not to be put away for all
+those arraignments of her honest heart, although it
+seemed impossible, recalled there in the thin hours
+of that long and eventful night, like something remembered
+of another, not of herself.</p>
+<p>Her cheeks grew hot, her heart leaped again, at
+the recollection of that strong man&rsquo;s wild, bold words,
+his defiant kiss upon her lips. She had yielded them
+in the recklessness of that moment, in the force of
+his all-carrying demand, when she might have denied
+them, or sped away from him, as innocence is believed
+to know from instinct when to fly from a destructive
+lure.</p>
+<p>Closing her eyes against the gray-creeping morning,
+she saw him again, standing that moment with
+her glove to his lips; saw him bend and speed away,
+the cunning of his hunted ancestors in his swift feet
+and self-eliminating form. A wild fear struck her, a
+cold dread fell like ashes into her heart, as she wondered
+how well he had ridden that night, and how
+far.</p>
+<p>Perhaps he was lying in his blood that hour, never
+to come back to her again. Yet, why should it
+matter so much to her? Only that it was a gallant
+life gone out, whatever its faults had been; only the
+interest that she might have in any man who had
+danced with her, and told her his story, and spoken
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' ></a>58</span>
+of his designs. So she said, confessing with the same
+breath that it was a poor, self-deluding lie.</p>
+<p>Back again in her home at the post, the day awake
+around her, reveille sounding in the barracks, she
+turned the key in her door as if to shut the secret in
+with her, and bent beneath the strain of her long
+suspense. She no longer tried to conceal, or to
+deny to her own heart, the love she bore that man,
+which had come so suddenly, and so fiercely sweet.</p>
+<p>No longer past than the evening before her heart
+had ached with jealous pain over the little triumph
+that Nola Chadron had thought she was making of
+Major King. Now Nola might have Major King,
+and all the world beside that her little head might
+covet. There was no reservation in the surrender
+that she made of him in her conscience, no regret.</p>
+<p>She reproached herself for it in one breath, and
+glowed with a strange new gladness the next, clasping
+the great secret fearfully in her breast, in the
+world-old delusion that she had come into possession
+of a treasure uniquely and singularly her own. One
+thing she understood plainly now; she never had
+loved Major King. What a revolution it was to
+overturn a life&rsquo;s plans thus in a single night! thought
+she.</p>
+<p>How easily we are astounded by the eruptions in
+our own affairs, and how disciplined in the end to find
+that the foundations of the world have withstood the
+shock!</p>
+<p>Chadron himself had not gone out after Macdonald.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' ></a>59</span>
+He had been merry among his guests long after
+the shots had sounded up the river. Frances believed
+that the old man had put the matter into the
+hands of his cowboys and ranch foreman, having no
+sons, no near male relatives of his own in that place.
+She did not know how many had gone in pursuit of
+Macdonald, but several horses were in the party
+which rode out of the gate. None had returned, she
+was certain, at the time the party dispersed. The
+chase must have led them far.</p>
+<p>There was no way of knowing what the result of
+that race had been. If he had escaped, Frances
+believed that he would let her know in some way;
+if he had fallen, she knew that the news of his death,
+important as it would be to Chadron, would fly
+as if it had wings. There was nothing to do but
+wait, and in any event hide away that warm sweet
+thing that had unfolded in beautiful florescence in
+her soul.</p>
+<p>She told herself that he must have escaped, or the
+pursuers would have returned long before the party
+from the post left the Chadron house. He had led
+them a long ride in his daring way, and doubtless
+was laughing at them now in his own house, among
+his friends. She wondered what his surroundings
+were, and what his life was like on that ranch for
+which he risked it. In the midst of this speculation
+she fell asleep, and lay wearily in dreamless repose
+for many hours.</p>
+<p>Sleep is a marvelous clarifier of the mind. It is
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' ></a>60</span>
+like the saleratus which the pioneers used to cast into
+their barrels of Missouri River water, to precipitate
+the silt and make it clear. Frances rose out of her
+sleep with readjusted reasoning; in fear, and in
+doubt.</p>
+<p>She was shocked by the surrender that she had
+made to that unknown man. Perhaps he was nothing
+more than a thief, as charged, and this story
+fixing his identification had been only a fabrication.
+An honest man would have had no necessity for such
+haste, such wild insistence of his right to love her.
+It seemed, in the light of due reflection, the rude way
+of an outlawed hand.</p>
+<p>Then there came the soft pleading of something
+deeper to answer for Alan Macdonald, and to justify
+his rash deed. He had risked life to see her and set
+himself right in her eyes, and he had doubled the
+risk in standing there in the garden, defiantly proud,
+unbent, and unrepentant, refusing to leave her without
+some favor to carry away.</p>
+<p>There was only a sigh to answer it, after all; only
+a hope that time would bring her neither shame nor
+regret for that romantic passage in the dusky garden
+path. That she had neither shame nor regret in
+that hour was her sweetest consolation. More, she
+was comfortable in the security that the secret of
+that swift interlude was her own. Honest man or
+thief, Alan Macdonald was not the man to speak
+of that.</p>
+<p>Frances was surprised to find that she had slept
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' ></a>61</span>
+into the middle of the afternoon. Major King had
+called an hour ago, with inquiries, the maid reported.
+There! that must be the major&rsquo;s ring again&mdash;she
+hoped she might know it by this time, indeed. In
+case it was the major, would miss&mdash;</p>
+<p>Yes; miss would see him. Ask him to wait. The
+maid&rsquo;s ear was true; it was the major&rsquo;s ring. She
+came bounding upstairs to report on it, her breath
+short, her eyes big.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, miss! I think something must &rsquo;a&rsquo; happened
+to him, he looks all shook!&rdquo; she said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nonsense!&rdquo; said Frances, a little flutter of apprehension,
+indefinable, cold, passing through her
+nerves in spite of her bearing and calm face.</p>
+<p>Major King had remained standing, waiting her.
+He was handsome and trim in his uniform, dark-eyed,
+healthy-skinned, full of the vigor of his young manhood.
+The major&rsquo;s face was pale, his carriage stiff
+and severe. He appeared as if something might have
+happened to him, indeed, or to somebody in whom
+he was deeply concerned.</p>
+<p>Frances knew that her face was a picture of the
+worriment and straining of her past night, for it was
+a treacherous mirror of her soul. She smiled as she
+made a little pause in the reception-room door.
+Major King bowed, with formal, almost official,
+dignity. His hand was in the bosom of his coat,
+and he drew it forth with something white in it as she
+approached.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m dreadfully indolent to belong to a soldiering
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' ></a>62</span>
+family, Major King,&rdquo; she said, offering her hand in
+greeting.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Permit me,&rdquo; said he, placing the folded white
+thing in her outstretched fingers.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is it? Not&mdash;it isn&rsquo;t&mdash;&rdquo; she stammered,
+something deeper than surprise, than foreboding, in
+her eyes and colorless cheeks.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Unmistakably yours,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;your name is
+stamped in it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It must be,&rdquo; she owned, her spirits sinking low,
+her breath weak between her lips. &ldquo;Thank you,
+Major King.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The glove was soiled with earth-marks; it was
+wrinkled and drawn, as if it had come back to her
+through conflict and tragedy. She rolled it deliberately,
+in a compact little wad, her fingers as cold as
+her hope for the life of the man who had borne it
+away. She knew that Major King was waiting for a
+word; she was conscious of his stern eyes upon her
+face. But she did not speak. As far as Major
+King&rsquo;s part in it went, the matter was at an end.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Landcraft, I am waiting.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Major King spoke with imperious suggestion.
+She started, and looked toward him quickly, a question
+in her eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t keep you then,&rdquo; she returned, her words
+little more than a whisper.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t try to read a misunderstanding into my
+words,&rdquo; said he, his voice shaking. Then he seemed
+to break his stiff, controlled pose as if it had been
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' ></a>63</span>
+a coating of ice, and expand into a trembling, white-hot
+man in a moment. &ldquo;God&rsquo;s name, girl! Say something,
+say something! You know where that glove
+was found?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; and I shall not ask you, Major King.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I demand of you to know how it came in that
+man&rsquo;s possession! Tell me that&mdash;tell me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He stood before her, very near to her. His hands
+were shaking, his eyes gleaming with fury.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I might ask you with as much reason how it
+came in yours,&rdquo; she told him, resentful of his angry
+demand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A messenger arrived with it an hour ago.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For you, Major King?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For me, certainly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She had no need to ask him whence the messenger
+came. She could see the horsemen returning to the
+ranchhouse by the river in the gray morning light,
+in the triumph of their successful hunt. Alan Macdonald
+had fallen. It had been Nola&rsquo;s hand that had
+dispatched this evidence of what she could but guess
+to be the disloyalty of Frances to her betrothed.
+If Nola had hoped to make a case with the major,
+Frances felt she had succeeded better than she knew.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then there is nothing more to be said, Major
+King,&rdquo; said she, after a little wait.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is much more,&rdquo; he insisted. &ldquo;Tell me
+that he snatched the glove from you, tell me that
+you lost it&mdash;tell me anything, and I&rsquo;ll believe you&mdash;but
+tell me something!&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' ></a>64</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;There is nothing to tell you,&rdquo; said she, resentful
+of the meddling of Nola Chadron, which his own
+light conduct with her had in a manner justified.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then I can only imagine the truth,&rdquo; he told her,
+bitterly. &ldquo;But surely you didn&rsquo;t give him the glove,
+surely you cannot love that wolf of the range, that
+cattle thief, that murderer!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have no right to ask me that,&rdquo; she said,
+flashing with resentment.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have a right to ask you that, to ask you more;
+not only to ask, but to demand. And you must
+answer. You forget that you are my affianced wife.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But you are not my confessor, for all that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;God&rsquo;s name!&rdquo; groaned King, his teeth set, his
+eyes staring as if he had gone mad. &ldquo;Will you shame
+us both? Do you forget you are <i>my affianced wife?</i>&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is ended&mdash;you are free!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Frances!&rdquo; he cried, sharply, as in despair of one
+sinking, whom he was powerless to save.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is at an end between us, Major King. My
+&lsquo;necessity&rsquo; of explaining everything, or anything, to
+you is wiped away, your responsibility for my acts
+relieved. Lift your head, sir. You need not blush
+before the world for me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sweat was springing on the major&rsquo;s forehead; he
+drew his breath through open lips.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I refuse to humor your caprice&mdash;you are irresponsible,
+you don&rsquo;t know what you are doing,&rdquo; he
+declared. &ldquo;You are forcing the issue to this point,
+Frances, I haven&rsquo;t demanded this.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' ></a>65</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;You have demanded too much. You may go
+now, Major King.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s only the infatuation of a moment. You can&rsquo;t
+care for a man like that, Frances,&rdquo; he argued, shaken
+out of his passion by her determined stand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This is not a matter for discussion between you
+and me, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Major King bowed his head as if the rebuke had
+crushed him. She stood aside to let him pass. When
+he reached the door she turned to him. He paused,
+expectantly, hopefully, as if he felt that a reconciliation
+was dawning.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If it hadn&rsquo;t been for you they wouldn&rsquo;t have
+discovered him last night,&rdquo; she charged. &ldquo;You betrayed
+him to his enemies. Can you tell me, then&mdash;will
+you tell me&mdash;is Alan Macdonald&mdash;dead?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Major King stood, his stern eyes on the glove,
+unrolled again, now dangling in her hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If he was a gentleman, as you said of him once,
+then he is dead,&rdquo; said he.</p>
+<p>He turned and left her. She did not look after
+him, but stood with the soiled glove spread in her
+hands, gazing upon it in sad tenderness.</p></div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' ></a>66</span>
+<a  id='CHAPTER_VI_A_BOLD_CIVILIAN'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER VI<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'>A BOLD CIVILIAN</span></h2>
+</div>
+<div class='text'><p class='ni'>Colonel Landcraft was a slight man, and
+short of stature for a soldierly figure when out
+of the saddle. His gray hair was thinning in front,
+and his sharp querulous face was seamed in frowning
+pattern about the eyes. His forehead was
+fashioned on an intention of massiveness out of
+keeping with his tapering face, which ran out in a
+disappointing chin, and under the shadow of that
+projecting brow his cold blue eyes seemed as unfriendly
+as a winter sky.</p>
+<p>Early in his soldiering days the colonel had felt
+the want of inches and pounds, a shortage which he
+tried to overcome by carrying himself pulled up stiffly,
+giving him a strutting effect that had fastened upon
+him and become inseparable from his mien. This air
+of superior brusqueness was sharpened by the small
+fierceness of his visage, in which his large iron-gray
+mustache branched like horns.</p>
+<p>Smallness of stature, disappointment in his ambition
+for preferment, and a natural narrowness of soul,
+had turned Colonel Landcraft into a military martinet
+of the most pronounced character. He was the
+grandfather of colonels in the service, rank won in
+the old Indian days. That he was not a brigadier-general
+was a circumstance puzzling only to himself.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' ></a>67</span>
+He was a man of small bickerings, exactions, forms.
+He fussed with civilians as a regular thing when in
+command of posts within the precincts of civilization,
+and to serve under him, as officer or man, was a chafing
+and galling experience.</p>
+<p>If ever there was an unpopular man in the service,
+then that man was Colonel John Hancock Landcraft,
+direct descendant&mdash;he could figure it out as straight
+as a bayonet&mdash;of the heavy-handed signer himself.
+His years and his empty desires bore heavily on the
+colonel. The trespass of time he resented; the barrenness
+of his hope he grieved.</p>
+<p>There he was in those Septembral days, galloping
+along toward the age limit and retirement. Within
+a few weeks he would be subject to call before the
+retiring board any day, and there was nothing in his
+short-remaining time of service to shore up longer
+the hope of advancement in rank as compensatory
+honor in his retirement. He was a testy little old
+man, charged for instant explosion, and it was generally
+understood by everybody but the colonel himself
+that the department had sent him off to Fort
+Shakie to get him out of the way.</p>
+<p>On the afternoon of the day following Nola
+Chadron&rsquo;s ball, when Major King returned to
+Frances the glove that Alan Macdonald had carried
+away from the garden, Colonel Landcraft was a passenger
+on the mail stage from Meander to the post.
+The colonel had been on official business to the army
+post at Cheyenne. Instead of telegraphing to his
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' ></a>68</span>
+own post the intelligence of his return, and calling
+for a proper equipage to meet him at the railroad
+end, he had chosen to come back in this secret and
+unexpected way.</p>
+<p>That was true to the colonel&rsquo;s manner. Perhaps
+he hoped to catch somebody overstepping the line
+of decorum, regulations, forms, either in the conduct
+of the post&rsquo;s business or his own household. For
+the colonel was as much a tyrant in one place as the
+other. So he eliminated himself, wrapped to the
+bushy eyebrows in his greatcoat, for there was a
+chilliness in the afternoon, and clouds were driving
+over the sun.</p>
+<p>His austerity silenced the talkative driver, and
+when the stage reached the hotel the colonel parted
+from him without a word and clicked away briskly
+on his military heels&mdash;built up to give him stature&mdash;to
+see what he might surprise out of joint at
+the post.</p>
+<p>Perhaps it was a shock to his valuation of his own
+indispensability to find everything in proper form
+at the post. The sentry paced before the flagstaff,
+decorum prevailed. There was not one small particular
+loose to give him ground for flying at the culpable
+person and raking him with his blistering fire.</p>
+<p>Colonel Landcraft turned into his own house with
+a countenance somewhat fallen as a consequence of
+this discovery. It seemed to bear home to him the
+fact that the United States Army would get along
+very neatly and placidly without him.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' ></a>69</span></div>
+<p>The colonel occupied one wing of his sprawling,
+commodious, and somewhat impressive house as official
+headquarters. This room was full of stiff
+bookcases, letter files, severe chairs. The colonel&rsquo;s
+desk stood near the fireplace in a strong light, with
+nothing ever unfinished left upon it. It was one of
+the colonel&rsquo;s greatest satisfactions in life that he always
+was ready to snap down the cover of that desk
+at a moment&rsquo;s notice and march away upon a campaign
+to the world&rsquo;s end&mdash;and his own&mdash;leaving
+everything clear behind him.</p>
+<p>A private walk led up to a private door in the
+colonel&rsquo;s quarters, where a private in uniform, with
+a rifle on his shoulder, made a formal parade when
+the colonel was within, and accessible to the military
+world for the transaction of business. This sentinel
+was not on duty now, the return of the colonel being
+unlooked-for, and nobody was the wiser in that household
+when the master of it let himself into the room
+with his key.</p>
+<p>The day was merging into dusk, or the colonel
+probably would have been aware that a man was
+hastening after him along the leaf-strewn walk as
+he passed up the avenue to his home. He was not
+many rods behind the colonel, and was gaining on
+him rapidly, when the crabbed old gentleman closed
+his office door softly behind him.</p>
+<p>The unmilitary visitor&mdash;this fact was betrayed by
+both his gait and his dress&mdash;turned sharply in upon
+the private walk and followed the colonel to his door.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' ></a>70</span>
+He was turning through the letters and telegrams
+which had arrived during his absence when the visitor
+laid hand to the bell.</p>
+<p>No sound of ringing followed this application to
+the thumbscrew arrangement on the door, for the
+colonel had taken the bell away long ago. But there
+resulted a clucking, which brought the colonel to the
+portal frowning and alert, warming in the expectation
+of having somebody whom he might dress down
+at last.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Colonel Landcraft, I beg the favor of a word in
+private,&rdquo; said the stranger at the door.</p>
+<p>The colonel opened the door wider, and peered
+sharply at the visitor, a frown gathering on his unfriendly
+face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t the honor&rdquo;&mdash;he began stiffly, seeing
+that it was an inferior civilian, for all civilians, except
+the president, were inferior to the colonel.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Macdonald is my name. I am a rancher in this
+country; you will have heard of me,&rdquo; the visitor replied.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing to your credit, young man,&rdquo; said the
+colonel, tartly. &ldquo;What do you want?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A man&rsquo;s chance,&rdquo; said Macdonald, earnestly.
+&ldquo;Will you let me explain?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Colonel Landcraft stood out of the doorway;
+Macdonald entered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll make a light,&rdquo; said the colonel, lowering the
+window-shades before he struck the match. When
+he had the flame of the student&rsquo;s lamp on top of his
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' ></a>71</span>
+desk regulated to conform to his exactions, the colonel
+faced about suddenly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am listening, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;At the beginning, sir, I want you to know who
+I am,&rdquo; said Macdonald, producing papers. &ldquo;My
+father, Senator Hampden Macdonald of Maine, now
+lives in Washington. You have heard of him. I am
+Alan Macdonald, late of the United States consular
+service. It is unlikely that you ever heard of me in
+that connection.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I never heard of you before I came here,&rdquo; said the
+colonel, unfavorably, unfolding the credentials which
+the visitor had placed on his desk, and skimming them
+with cursory eye. Now he looked up from his reading
+with a sudden little jerk of the head, and stood
+at severe attention. &ldquo;And the purpose of this visit,
+sir?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;First, to prove to you that the notorious character
+given me by the cattlemen of this country is
+slanderous and unwarranted; secondly, to ask you
+to give me a man&rsquo;s chance, as I have said, in a matter
+to which I shall come without loss of words. I am a
+gentleman, and the son of a gentleman; I do not
+acknowledge any moral or social superiors in this
+land.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The colonel, drew himself up a notch, and seemed
+to grow a little at that. He looked hard at the tall,
+fair-haired, sober-faced man in front of him, as if
+searching out his points to justify the bold claim
+upon respectability that he had made. Macdonald
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' ></a>72</span>
+was dressed in almost military precision; the colonel
+could find no fault with that. His riding-breeches
+told that they had been cut for no other legs, his coat
+set to his shoulders with gentlemanly ease. Only his
+rather greasy sombrero, with its weighty leather band,
+and the bulging revolvers under his coat seemed out
+of place in the general trimness of his attire.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Go on, sir,&rdquo; the colonel said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I had the honor of meeting Miss Landcraft last
+night at the masquerade given by Miss Chadron&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How was that, sir? Did you have the effrontery
+to force yourself into a company which despises you,
+at the risk of your life and the decorum of the assemblage?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I was drawn there,&rdquo; Macdonald spoke slowly,
+meeting the colonel&rsquo;s cold eye with steady gaze, &ldquo;by
+a hope that was miraculously realized. I did risk my
+life, and I almost lost it. But that is nothing unusual&mdash;I
+risk it every day.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You saw Miss Landcraft at the ball, danced with
+her, I suppose, talked with her,&rdquo; nodded the colonel,
+understandingly. &ldquo;Macdonald, you are a bold, a
+foolishly bold, man.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I saw Miss Landcraft, I danced with her, I talked
+with her, and I have come to you, sir, after a desperate
+ride through the night to save my life as the penalty
+of those few minutes of pleasure, to request the
+privilege of calling upon Miss Landcraft and paying
+my court to her. I ask you to give me a man&rsquo;s chance
+to win her hand.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' ></a>73</span></div>
+<p>The audacity of the request almost tied the colonel&rsquo;s
+sharp old tongue. For a moment he stood with
+his mouth open, his face red in the gathering storm of
+his sudden passion.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sir!&rdquo; said he, in amazed, unbelieving voice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There are my credentials&mdash;they will bear investigation,&rdquo;
+Macdonald said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Damn your credentials, sir! I&rsquo;ll have nothing to
+do with them, you blackguard, you scoundrel!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I ask you to consider&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I can consider nothing but the present fact that
+you are accused of deeds of outlawry and violence,
+and are an outcast of society, even the crude society
+of this wild country, sir. No matter who you are or
+whence you sprung, the evidence in this country is
+against you. You are a brigand and a thief, sir&mdash;this
+act of barbaric impetuosity in itself condemns
+you&mdash;no civilized man would have the effrontery to
+force himself into my presence in such a manner and
+make this insane demand.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am exercising a gentleman&rsquo;s prerogative,
+Colonel Landcraft.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are a vulture aspiring to soar among eagles,
+sir!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have heard only the cattlemen&rsquo;s side of the
+story, Colonel Landcraft,&rdquo; said Macdonald, with
+patience and restraint. &ldquo;You know that every man
+who attempts to build a fence around his cabin in
+this country, and strikes a furrow in the ground, is
+a rustler according to their creed.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' ></a>74</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;I am aware that there is narrowness, injustice
+even, on the drovers&rsquo; side,&rdquo; the colonel admitted,
+softening a little, it seemed. &ldquo;But for all that, even
+if you were an equal, and an honest man, the road to
+Miss Landcraft&rsquo;s heart is closed to assault, no matter
+how wild and sudden. She is plighted to another
+man.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sir&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is true; she will be married in the Christmas
+holidays. Go your way now, Macdonald, and dismiss
+this romantic dream. You build too high on the
+slight favor of a thoughtless girl. A dance or two is
+nothing, sir; a whispered word is less. If you were
+the broad man of the world that you would have me
+believe, you have known this. Instead, you come
+dashing in here like a savage and claim the right to
+woo her. Preposterous! She is beyond your world,
+sir. Go back to your wild riding, Macdonald, and
+try to live an honest man.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Macdonald stood with his head bent, brows gathered
+in stubborn expression of resistance. Colonel
+Landcraft could read in his face that there was no
+surrender, no acknowledgment of defeat, in that wild
+rider&rsquo;s heart. The old warrior felt a warming of
+admiration for him, as one brave man feels for another,
+no matter what differences lie between them.
+Now Macdonald lifted his face, and there was that
+deep movement of laughter in his eyes that Frances
+had found so marvelous on the day of their first
+meeting.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' ></a>75</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps her heart is untouched, sir, in spite of
+the barricade that has been raised between it and the
+world,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>The colonel studied him shrewdly a little while before
+replying.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Macdonald, you&rsquo;re a strange man, a stubborn
+man, and a strong one. There is work for a man
+like you in this life; why are you wasting it here?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If I live six months longer the world beyond these
+mountains will know,&rdquo; was all that Macdonald said,
+taking up the papers which he had submitted to the
+colonel, and placing them again in his pocket.</p>
+<p>Colonel Landcraft shook his head doubtfully.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Running off other men&rsquo;s cattle never will do it,
+Macdonald.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The door of the colonel&rsquo;s room which gave into the
+hall of the main entrance opened without the formality
+of announcement. Frances drew back in quick
+confusion, speaking her apology from behind the door.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I ask your pardon, father. I heard voices here
+and wondered who it could be&mdash;I didn&rsquo;t know you
+had come home.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Your appearance is opportune, Miss Landcraft,&rdquo;
+her father told her, with no trace of ill-humor.
+&ldquo;Come in. Here is this wild Alan Macdonald come
+bursting in upon us from his hills.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The colonel indicated him with a wave of the hand,
+and Macdonald bowed, his heart shrinking when he
+saw how coldly she returned his greeting from her
+place at the door.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' ></a>76</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;He has come riding,&rdquo; the colonel continued,
+&ldquo;with a demand on me to be allowed to woo you, and
+carry you off to his cave among the rocks. Show him
+the door, and add your testimony to my assurance&mdash;which
+seems inadequate to satisfy the impetuous
+gentleman&mdash;that his case is hopeless.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The colonel waved them away with that, and
+turned again, with his jerky suddenness, to his telegrams
+and letters. The colonel had not meant for
+Macdonald to pass out of the door through which
+he had entered. That was the military portal; the
+other one, opening into the hall from which Frances
+came, was the world&rsquo;s door for entering that house.
+And it was in that direction Colonel Landcraft had
+waved them when he ordered Frances to take the
+visitor away.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This way, Mr. Macdonald, please,&rdquo; said she,
+politely cold, unfeelingly formal. For all the warmth
+that he could discover in her voice and eyes, or in
+her white face, so unaccountably severe and hard,
+there might never have been a garden with white
+gravel path, or a hot hasty kiss given in it&mdash;and
+received.</p>
+<p>In the hall the gloom of evening was deepened into
+darkness that made her face indistinct, like the glimmering
+whiteness of the hydrangea blooms in that
+past romantic night. She marched straight to the
+street door and opened it, and he had no strength in
+his words to lift even a small one up to stay her.
+He believed that he had taken the man&rsquo;s course and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' ></a>77</span>
+the way of honor in the matter. That it had not
+been indorsed by her was evident, he believed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There was nothing for me to conceal,&rdquo; said he, as
+the door opened upon the gray twilight and glooming
+trees along the street; &ldquo;I came in a man&rsquo;s way, as I
+thought&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You came in a man&rsquo;s way, Mr. Macdonald, to ask
+the privilege of attempting to win a woman&rsquo;s hand,
+when you lack the man&rsquo;s strength or the man&rsquo;s
+courage to defend even the glove that covers it,&rdquo; she
+said. Her voice was low; it was accusingly scornful.</p>
+<p>Macdonald started. &ldquo;Then it has come back to
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It has come back to me, through a channel that
+I would have given the hand that wore it&rdquo;&mdash;she
+stretched it out as she spoke; it glimmered like a
+nebulous star in misty skies there in the gloom before
+his eyes&mdash;&ldquo;to have kept the knowledge from!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I lost it,&rdquo; said he, drawing himself up as if to
+withstand a blow, &ldquo;and in this hour I can plead no
+mitigation. A man should have put his life down for
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It might have been expected&mdash;of a man,&rdquo; said
+she.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I ask you not to borrow trouble over the
+circumstance of its return to you, Miss Landcraft,&rdquo;
+he said, cold now in his word, and lofty. &ldquo;You
+dropped it on the ballroom floor or in the garden
+path, and I, the cattle thief, found it and carried it
+away, to show it as evidence of a shadowy conquest,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' ></a>78</span>
+maybe, among my wild and lawless kind. Beyond
+that you know nothing&mdash;you lost it, that was all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>In the door he turned.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good-bye, Mr. Macdonald,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If time and events prove so unkind to me that I
+never come to a vindication in this country,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;just go on thinking of me as a thief and a wild
+rider, and a man of the night. Good-bye, Miss Landcraft.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She closed the door, and stood cooling from her
+sudden resentment at seeing him there alive when her
+heart had told her that he must be lying dead in the
+dust of the river trail. She should not have been so
+suddenly resentful, she now believed. Perhaps there
+were mitigating circumstances which he would not
+stoop to explain unasked. Her heart bounded with
+the thought; warm blood came spreading in her
+cheeks.</p>
+<p>But Alan Macdonald was gone; misjudged and unjustly
+condemned, she now believed, remorse assailing
+her. Now the fault could not be repaired, for he was
+not the man to come back. But there was much in
+knowing that she had not been mistaken in the beginning;
+comfort and pride in the full knowledge that
+he was a <i>man!</i> Only a man would have come, bravely
+and sincerely, in that manner to her father; only a
+man would have put his hurt behind him like that and
+marched away from her, too proud to stoop to the
+mean expedient of begging her to allow him to explain.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' ></a>79</span></div>
+<p>She sighed as she turned back into the room where
+the colonel sat at his desk, but her cheek was hot,
+her bosom agitated by an uplifting of pride. The
+colonel turned, with inquiring impatience, a letter in
+his hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is gone,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; he nodded, shortly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have just come back to tell you, father, that I
+have broken my engagement with Major King,
+to&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Impossible! nonsense!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To save you embarrassment in your future relations
+with him,&rdquo; she concluded, unshaken.</p>
+<p>The colonel was standing now; his face reflecting
+the anger that boiled in his breast.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I tell you, miss, you can&rsquo;t break your engagement
+to Major King! That is out of your power, beyond
+you, entirely. It rests with me, and with me solely,
+to terminate any such obligation. I have pledged a
+soldier&rsquo;s word and a soldier&rsquo;s honor in this matter,
+miss. It is incumbent on you to see that both are
+redeemed.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m in a mind to do my own thinking now, father;
+I&rsquo;m old enough.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A woman is never old enough to know her own
+mind! What&rsquo;s the occasion of this change in the
+wind? Surely not&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Colonel Landcraft&rsquo;s brows drew together over his
+thin nose, making small glaring points of his blue
+eyes among the gathered wrinkles and bristling hair.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' ></a>80</span>
+He held his words suspended while he searched her
+face for justification of his pent arraignment.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nonsense!&rdquo; said he at last, letting his breath go
+with the word, as if relief had come. &ldquo;Put the notion
+out of your head, for you are going to marry Major
+King.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I tell you, father, you must adjust yourself to
+my decision in this matter. I am not going to marry
+Major King. I have told him so, and it is final.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>His own stubbornness, his own fire, was reflected in
+her as she spoke. But Colonel Landcraft was not to
+be moved from what he considered his right to dispose
+of her in a way that he believed would be an honor to
+the army and a glory to the nation.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll marry Major King, or die a maid!&rdquo; he
+declared.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very well, father,&rdquo; she returned, in ambiguous
+concession.</p>
+<p>She left him frowning among his papers. In his
+small, tyrannical way he had settled that case, finally
+and completely, to his own thinking, as he had disposed
+of wild-riding Alan Macdonald and his bold,
+outlandish petition.</p></div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' ></a>81</span>
+<a  id='CHAPTER_VII_THROWING_THE_SCARE'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER VII<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'>THROWING THE SCARE</span></h2>
+</div>
+<div class='text'><p class='ni'>Banjo Gibson arrived at Macdonald&rsquo;s place
+the following day, from Sam Hatcher&rsquo;s ranch
+across the river, bringing news that three homesteaders
+on that side had been killed in the past two days.
+They had been shot from the willow thickets as they
+worked in their fields or rode along the dim-marked
+highways. Banjo could not give any further particulars;
+he did not know the victims&rsquo; names.</p>
+<p>Macdonald understood what it meant, and whose
+hand was behind the slaying of those home-makers of
+the wilderness. It was not a new procedure in the
+cattle barons&rsquo; land; this scourge had been fore-shadowed
+in that list of names which Frances Landcraft
+had given him.</p>
+<p>The word had gone out to them to be on guard.
+Now death had begun to leap upon them from the
+roadside grass. Perhaps his own turn would come
+tonight or tomorrow. He could not be more watchful
+than his neighbors had been; no man could close
+all the doors.</p>
+<p>The price of life in that country for such men as
+himself always had been unceasing vigilance. When
+a man stood guard over himself day and night he
+could do no more, and even at that he was almost
+certain, some time or other, to leave a chink open
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' ></a>82</span>
+through which the waiting blow might fall. After a
+time one became hardened to this condition of life.
+The strain of watching fell away from him; it became
+a part of his daily habit, and a man grew careless
+about securing the safeguards upon his life by and
+by.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Them fellers,&rdquo; said Banjo, feeling that he had
+lowered himself considerably in carrying the news
+involving their swift end to Macdonald, &ldquo;got about
+what was comin&rsquo; to &rsquo;em I reckon, Mac. Why don&rsquo;t
+a man like you hitch up with Chadron or Hatcher, or
+one of the good men of this country, and git out
+from amongst them runts that&rsquo;s nosin&rsquo; around in the
+ground for a livin&rsquo; like a drove of hogs?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Every man to his liking, Banjo,&rdquo; Macdonald
+returned, &ldquo;and I don&rsquo;t like the company you&rsquo;ve
+named.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They never quarreled over the point, but Banjo
+never ceased to urge the reformation, such as he
+honestly believed it to be, upon Macdonald at every
+visit. The little troubadour felt that he was doing
+a generous and friendly turn for a fallen man, and
+squaring his own account with Macdonald in thus
+laboring for his redemption.</p>
+<p>Banjo was under obligation to Macdonald for
+no smaller matter than his life, the homesteader
+having rescued him from drowning the past spring
+when the musician, heading for Chadron&rsquo;s after playing
+for a dance, had mistaken the river for the road
+and stubbornly urged his horse into it. On that
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' ></a>83</span>
+occasion Banjo&rsquo;s wits had been mixed with liquor,
+but his sense of gratitude had been perfectly clear
+ever since. Macdonald&rsquo;s door was the only one in
+the nesters&rsquo; colony that stress or friendship ever had
+constrained him to enter. Even as it was, with all
+the big debt of gratitude owing, his intimacy with a
+man who had opened an irrigation ditch was a thing
+of which he did not boast abroad.</p>
+<p>Banjo made but a night&rsquo;s stop of it with Macdonald.
+Early in the morning he was in the saddle
+again, with a dance ahead of him to play for that
+night at a ranch twenty miles or more away. He
+lingered a little after shaking hands with his host,
+trying the violin case as if to see that it was secure,
+and fidgeting in his saddle, and holding back on the
+start. Macdonald could see that there was something
+unsaid in the little man&rsquo;s mind which gave him an
+uneasiness, like indigestion.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is it, Banjo?&rdquo; he asked, to let it be known
+that he understood.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mac, did you ever hear tell of a feller named
+Mark Thorn?&rdquo; Banjo inquired, looking about him
+with fearful caution, lowering his voice almost to a
+whisper.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I&rsquo;ve heard of him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, he&rsquo;s in this country.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you sure about that, Banjo?&rdquo; Macdonald&rsquo;s
+face was troubled; he moved nearer the musician as
+he made the inquiry, and laid his hand on his arm.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s here. He&rsquo;s the feller you&rsquo;ve got to watch out
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' ></a>84</span>
+for. He cut acrosst the road yisterday afternoon
+when I was comin&rsquo; down here, and when he seen me
+he stopped, for I used to know him up north and
+he knew it wasn&rsquo;t no use to try to duck and hide
+his murderin&rsquo; face from me. He told me he was
+ranchin&rsquo; up in Montany, and he&rsquo;d come down here to
+collect some money Chadron owed him on an old
+bill.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Pretty slim kind of a story. But he&rsquo;s here to
+collect money from Chadron, all right, and give him
+value received. What kind of a looking man is he?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s long and lean, like a rail, with a kind of a
+bend in him when he walks, and the under lid of his
+left eye drawed like you&rsquo;d pulled it down and stuck
+a tack in it. He&rsquo;s wearin&rsquo; a cap, and he&rsquo;s kind of
+whiskered up, like he&rsquo;d been layin&rsquo; out some time.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;d know him,&rdquo; Macdonald nodded.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You couldn&rsquo;t miss him in a thousand, Mac. Well,
+I must be rackin&rsquo; along.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Banjo scarcely had passed out of sight when three
+horsemen came galloping to Macdonald&rsquo;s gate. They
+brought news of a fresh tragedy, and that in the
+immediate neighborhood. A boy had been shot down
+that morning while doing chores on a homestead a
+little way across the river. He was the son of one
+of the men on the death-list, and these men, the
+father among them, had come to enlist Macdonald&rsquo;s
+aid in running down the slayer.</p>
+<p>The boy&rsquo;s mother had seen the assassin hastening
+away among the scant bushes on the slope above the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' ></a>85</span>
+house. The description that she gave of him left
+no doubt in Macdonald&rsquo;s mind of his identity. It
+was Mark Thorn, the cattlemen&rsquo;s contract killer, the
+homesteaders&rsquo; scourge.</p>
+<p>It was a fruitless search that day, seeking old
+Mark Thorn among the hills which rose brokenly a
+few miles back from the river and climbed to the
+knees of the mountains in ever-mounting surge. A
+devil&rsquo;s darning-needle in a cornfield would have been
+traced and cornered as quickly as that slippery thin
+old killer of men, it seemed.</p>
+<p>As if to show his contempt for those who hunted
+him, and to emphasize his own feeling of security,
+he slipped down to the edge of the fenced lands and
+struck down another homesteader that afternoon,
+leaving him dead at the handles of his plow.</p>
+<p>Those homesteaders were men of rare courage and
+unbending persistency in the ordinary affairs of life,
+but three days of empty pursuit of this monster left
+them out of heart. The name of Mark Thorn in
+itself was sufficient to move a thrill of terror and
+repulsion. He had left his red mark in many places
+through the land dominated by the cattle interests
+of the Northwest, where settlers had attempted to
+find lodgment. He had come at length to stand for
+an institution of destruction, rather than an individual,
+which there was no power strong enough to
+circumvent, nor force cunning enough to entrap.</p>
+<p>There never was a tale of monsters, wolf-men,
+bloody-muzzled great beasts of dark forests, that
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' ></a>86</span>
+struck deeper fear into the hearts of primitive peasantry
+than this modern ogre moved in the minds and
+hearts of those striving settlers in the cattle lands.
+Mark Thorn was a shadowy, far-reaching thing to
+them, distorted in their imaginings out of the semblance
+of a man. He had grown, in the stories
+founded on facts horrible enough without enlargement,
+into a fateful destroyer, from whom no man
+upon whom he had set his mark could escape.</p>
+<p>Little wonder, then, that fear for the safety of
+their wives and children made the faces of these men
+gray as they rode the sage, combing the hollows and
+hills for the sight of old Mark Thorn. One by one
+they began to drop out of the posse, until of the fourteen
+besides Macdonald who had ridden in the hunt
+on the second day, only five remained on the evening
+of the third.</p>
+<p>It was no use looking for Mark Thorn, they said,
+shaking gloomy heads. When he came into a country
+on a contract to kill, it was like a curse predestined
+which the power of man could not turn aside. He
+had the backing of the Drovers&rsquo; Association, which
+had an arm as long in that land as the old Persian
+king&rsquo;s. He would strike there, like the ghost of all
+the devils in men that ever had lived on their fellows&rsquo;
+blood, and slink away as silently as a wolf out
+of the sheepfold at dawn when his allotted task was
+done.</p>
+<p>Better to go home and guard what was left, they
+said. All of them were men for a fight, but it was
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' ></a>87</span>
+one thing to stand up to something that a man could
+see, and quite another to fight blindfolded, and in
+the dark. Catching Mark Thorn was like trying to
+ladle moonlight with a sieve. The country wasn&rsquo;t
+worth it, they were beginning to believe. When Mark
+Thorn came in, it was like the vultures flying ahead
+of the last, devastating plague.</p>
+<p>The man whose boy had been shot down beside the
+little grass-roofed barn was the last to leave.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll stick to it for a year, Alan, if you think it&rsquo;s
+any use,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>He was a gaunt man, with sunken cheeks and weary
+eyes; gray, worn, unwashed, and old; one of the
+earth&rsquo;s disinherited who believed that he had come
+into his rood of land at last. Now the driving
+shadow of his restless fate was on him again. Macdonald
+could see that it was heavy in his mind to
+hitch up and stagger on into the west, which was
+already red with the sunset of his day.</p>
+<p>Macdonald was moved by a great compassion for
+this old man, whose hope had been snatched away
+from him by the sting of a bullet in the dawn. He
+laid his hand on the old homesteader&rsquo;s sagging thin
+shoulder and poured the comfort of a strong man&rsquo;s
+sympathy into his empty eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Go on back, Tom, and look after the others,&rdquo;
+he said. &ldquo;Do your chores by dark, morning and
+night, and stick close to cover all days and watch for
+him. I&rsquo;ll keep on looking. I started to get that old
+hyena, and I&rsquo;ll get him. Go on home.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' ></a>88</span></div>
+<p>The old man&rsquo;s eyes kindled with admiration. But
+it died as quickly as it had leaped up, and he shook
+his long hair with a sigh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You can&rsquo;t do nothin&rsquo; agin him all alone, Alan.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think I&rsquo;ll have a better chance alone than in
+a crowd, Tom. There&rsquo;s no doubt that there were too
+many of us, crashing through the brush and setting
+ourselves up against the sky line every time we rode
+up a hill. I&rsquo;ll tackle him alone. Tell the neighbors
+to live under cover till they hear I&rsquo;ve either got him
+or he&rsquo;s got me. In case it turns out against me, they
+can do whatever seems best to them.&rdquo;</p></div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' ></a>89</span>
+<a  id='CHAPTER_VIII_AFOOT_AND_ALONE'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'>AFOOT AND ALONE</span></h2>
+</div>
+<div class='text'><p class='ni'>Mark Thorn had not killed anybody since
+shooting the man at the plow. There were
+five deaths to his credit on that contract, although
+none of the fallen was on the cattlemen&rsquo;s list of desirables
+to be removed.</p>
+<p>Five days had passed without a tragedy, and the
+homesteaders were beginning to draw breath in the
+open again, in the belief that Macdonald must have
+driven the slayer out of the country. Nothing had
+been seen or heard of Macdonald since the evening
+that he parted company with Tom Lassiter, father
+of the murdered boy.</p>
+<p>Macdonald, in the interval, was hard on the old
+villain&rsquo;s trail. He had picked it up on the first day
+of his lone-handed hunt, and once he had caught a
+glimpse of Thorn as he dodged among the red willows
+on the river, but the sight had been too transitory
+to put in a shot. It was evident now that Thorn
+knew that he was being hunted by a single pursuer.
+More than that, there were indications written in the
+loose earth where he passed, and in the tangled brushwood
+where he skulked, that he had stopped running
+away and had turned to hunt the hunter.</p>
+<p>For two days they had been circling in a constantly
+tightening ring, first one leading the hunt, then the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' ></a>90</span>
+other. Trained and accustomed as he was to life
+under those conditions, Thorn had not yet been able
+to take even a chance shot at his clinging pursuer.</p>
+<p>Macdonald was awake to the fact that this balance
+in his favor could not be maintained long. As it
+was, he ascribed it more to luck than skill on his
+part. This wild beast in human semblance must
+possess all the wild beast&rsquo;s cunning; there would be
+a rift left open in this straining game of hide and
+seek which his keen eyes would be sure to see at no
+distant hour.</p>
+<p>The afternoon of that day was worn down to the
+hock. Macdonald had been creeping and stooping,
+running, panting, and lying concealed from the first
+gleam of dawn. Whether by design on the part of
+Thorn, or merely the blind leading of the hunt,
+Macdonald could not tell, the contest of wits had
+brought them within sight of Alamito ranchhouse.</p>
+<p>Resting a little while with his back against a ledge
+which insured him from surprise, Macdonald looked
+out from the hills over the wide-spanning valley, the
+farther shore of which was laved in a purple mist as
+rich as the dye of some oriental weaving. He felt
+a surge of indignant protest against the greedy
+injustice of that manorial estate, the fair house
+glistening in the late sun among the white-limbed
+cottonwoods. There Saul Chadron sat, like some distended
+monster, his hands spread upon more than he
+could honestly use, or his progeny after him for a
+thousand years, growling and snapping at all whose
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' ></a>91</span>
+steps lagged in passing, or whose weary eyes turned
+longingly toward those grassy vales.</p>
+<p>There had been frost for many nights past; the
+green of the summerland had merged into a yellow-brown,
+now gold beneath the slanting sunbeams. A
+place of friendly beauty and sequestered peace, where
+a man might come to take up his young dreams, or
+stagger under the oppression of his years to put them
+down, and rest. It seemed so, in the light of that
+failing afternoon.</p>
+<p>But the man who sat with his back against the
+ledge, his ears strained to find the slightest hostile
+sound, his roaming eyes always coming back with
+unconscious alertness and frowning investigation to
+the nearer objects in the broken foreground, had
+tasted beneath the illusive crust of that land, and the
+savor was bitter upon his lips. He questioned what
+good there was to be got out of it, for him or those
+for whom he had taken up the burden, for many a
+weary year to come.</p>
+<p>The gloom of the situation bore heavily upon him;
+he felt the uselessness of his fight. He recalled the
+words of Frances Landcraft: &ldquo;There must be millions
+behind the cattlemen.&rdquo; He felt that he never
+had realized the weight of millions, iniquitous millions,
+before that hour. They formed a barrier which his
+shoulder seemed destined never to overturn.</p>
+<p>There he was, on that broad heath, afoot and alone,
+hunting, and hunted by a slayer of men, one who
+stalked him as he would a wolf or a lion for the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' ></a>92</span>
+bounty upon his head. And in the event that a lucky
+shot should rid the earth of that foul thing, how much
+would it strengthen his safety, and his neighbors&rsquo;, and
+fasten their weak hold upon the land?</p>
+<p>Little, indeed. Others could be hired out of those
+uncounted millions of the cattlemen&rsquo;s resources to
+finish what Mark Thorn had begun. The night
+raids upon their fields would continue, the slanders
+against them would spread and grow. Colonel Landcraft
+believed him to be what malicious report had
+named him; there was not a doubt of that. And what
+Frances thought of him since that misadventure of
+the glove, it was not hard to guess.</p>
+<p>But that was not closed between them, he told himself,
+as he had told himself before, times unnumbered.
+There was a final word to be said, at the right time
+and place. The world would turn many times between
+then and the Christmas holidays, when Frances was
+to become the bride of another, according to the
+colonel&rsquo;s plans.</p>
+<p>Macdonald was weary from his night vigils and
+stealthy prowlings by day, and hungry for a hot
+meal. Since he had taken the trail of Mark Thorn
+alone he had not kindled a fire. Now the food that
+he had carried with him was done; he must turn back
+home for a fresh supply, and a night&rsquo;s rest.</p>
+<p>It did not matter much, anyway, he said, feeling
+the uselessness of his life and strife in that place. It
+was a big and unfriendly land, a hard and hopeless
+place for a man who tried to live in defiance of the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' ></a>93</span>
+established order there. Why not leave it, with its
+despair and heart-emptiness? The world was full
+enough of injustices elsewhere if he cared to set his
+hand to right them.</p>
+<p>But a true man did not run away under fire, nor
+a brave one block out a task and then shudder and
+slink away, when he stood off and saw the immensity
+of the thing that he had undertaken. Besides all
+these considerations, which in themselves formed insuperable
+reasons against retreat, there had been
+some big talk into the ear of Frances Landcraft.
+There was no putting down what he had begun. His
+dream had taken root there; it would be cruel cowardice
+to wrench it up.</p>
+<p>He got up, the sun striking him on the face, from
+which the west wind pressed back his hat brim as if
+to let the daylight see it. The dust of his travels was
+on it, and the roughness of his new beard, and it was
+harsh in some of its lines, and severe as an ashlar
+from the craftsman&rsquo;s tool. But it was a man&rsquo;s face,
+with honor in it; the sun found no weakness there, no
+shame concealed under the sophistries and wiles by
+which men beguile the world.</p>
+<p>Macdonald looked away across the valley, past the
+white ranchhouse, beyond the slow river which came
+down from the northwest in toilsome curves, whose
+gray shores and bars were yellow in that sunlight as
+the sands of famed Pactolus. His breast heaved with
+the long inspiration which flared his thin nostrils like
+an Arab&rsquo;s scenting rain; he revived with a new vigor
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' ></a>94</span>
+as the freedom of the plains met his eyes and made
+them glad. That was his place, his land; its troubles
+were his to bear, its peace his to glean when it should
+ripen. It was his inheritance; it was his place of rest.
+The lure of that country had a deep seat in his heart;
+he loved it for its perils and its pains. It was like
+a sweetheart to bind and call him back. A man makes
+his own Fortunate Isles, as that shaggy old gray poet
+knew so well.</p>
+<p>For a moment Mark Thorn was forgotten as
+Macdonald repeated, in low voice above his breath:</p>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p>Lo! These are the isles of the watery miles</p>
+<p>That God let down from the firmament.</p>
+<p>Lo! Duty and Love, and a true man&rsquo;s trust;</p>
+<p>Your forehead to God and your feet in the dust&mdash;</p>
+</div></div>
+<p class='ni'>Yes, that was his country; it had taken hold of
+him with that grip which no man ever has shaken
+his heart free from, no matter how many seas he has
+placed between its mystic lure and his back-straining
+soul. Its fight was his fight, and there was gladness
+in the thought.</p>
+<p>His alertness as he went down the slope, and the
+grim purpose of his presence in that forbidden place,
+did not prevent the pleading of a softer cause, and
+a sweeter. That rare smile woke in his eyes and unbent
+for a moment the harshness of his lips as he
+thought of brown hair sweeping back from a white
+forehead, and a chin lifted imperiously, as became
+one born to countenance only the exalted in this life.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' ></a>95</span>
+There was something that made him breathe quicker
+in the memory of her warm body held a transitory
+moment in his arms; the recollection of the rose-softness
+of her lips. All these were waiting in the
+world that he must win, claimed by another, true.
+But that was immaterial, he told his heart, which
+leaped and exulted in the memory of that garden path
+as if there was no tomorrow, and no such shadow in
+man&rsquo;s life as doubt.</p>
+<p>Of course, there remained the matter of the glove.
+A man might have been expected to die before yielding
+it to another, as she had said, speaking out of a
+hot heart, he knew. There was a more comfortable
+thought for Alan Macdonald as he went down the
+long slope with the western sun on his face; not a
+thought of dying for a glove, but of living to win
+the hand that it had covered.</p>
+<p>Chadron&rsquo;s ranchhouse was several miles to the
+westward of him, although it appeared nearer by the
+trickery of that clear light. He cut his course to
+bring himself into the public highway&mdash;a government
+road, it was&mdash;that ran northward up the river,
+the road along which Chadron&rsquo;s men had pursued him
+the night of the ball. He meant to strike it some
+miles to the north of Chadron&rsquo;s homestead, for he
+was not looking for any more trouble than he was
+carrying that day.</p>
+<p>He proceeded swiftly, but cautiously, watching for
+his man. But Mark Thorn did not appear to be
+abroad in that part of the country. Until sundown
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' ></a>96</span>
+Macdonald walked unchallenged, when he struck the
+highway a short distance south of the point where
+the trail leading to Fort Shakie branched from it.</p>
+<p>Saul Chadron and his daughter Nola came riding
+out of the Fort Shakie road, their horses in that tireless,
+swinging gallop which the animals of that rare
+atmosphere can maintain for hours. As he rode,
+Chadron swung his quirt in unison with the horse&rsquo;s
+undulations, from side to side across its neck, like
+a baton. He sat as stiff and solid in his saddle as
+a carved image. Nola came on neck and neck with
+him, on the side of the road nearer Macdonald.</p>
+<p>Macdonald was carrying a rifle in addition to his
+side arms, and he was a dusty grim figure to come
+upon suddenly afoot in the high road. Chadron
+pulled in his horse and brought it to a stiff-legged
+stop when he saw Macdonald, who had stepped to
+the roadside to let them pass. The old cattleman&rsquo;s
+high-crowned sombrero was pinched to a peak; the
+wind of his galloping gait had pressed its broad brim
+back from his tough old weathered face. His white
+mustache and little dab of pointed beard seemed
+whiter against the darkness of passion which mounted
+to his scowling eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What in the hell&rsquo;re you up to now?&rdquo; he demanded,
+without regard for his companion, who was
+accustomed, well enough, to his explosions and expletives.</p>
+<p>Macdonald gravely lifted his hand to his hat, his
+eyes meeting Nola&rsquo;s for an instant, Chadron&rsquo;s challenge
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' ></a>97</span>
+unanswered. Nola&rsquo;s face flared at this respectful
+salutation as if she had been insulted. She jerked
+her horse back a little, as if she feared that violence
+would follow the invasion of her caste by this fallen
+and branded man, her pliant waist weaving in graceful
+balance with every movement of her beast.</p>
+<p>Macdonald lowered his eyes from her blazingly
+indignant face. Her horse was slewed across the
+narrow road, and he considered between waiting for
+them to ride on and striking into the shoulder-high
+sage which grew thick at the roadside there. He
+thought that she was very pretty in her fairness of
+hair and skin, and the lake-clear blueness of her eyes.
+She was riding astride, as all the women in that
+country rode, dressed in wide pantaloonish corduroys,
+with twinkling little silver spurs on her heels.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;re you prowlin&rsquo; down here around my
+place for?&rdquo; Chadron asked, spurring his horse as
+he spoke, checking its forward leap with rigid arm,
+which made a commotion of hoofs and a cloud of
+dust.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This is a public highway, and I deny your right
+to question my motives in it,&rdquo; Macdonald returned,
+calmly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sneakin&rsquo; around to see if you can lay hands on
+a horse, I suppose,&rdquo; Chadron said, leaning a little
+in towering menace toward the man in the road.</p>
+<p>Macdonald felt a hot surge of resentment rise to
+his eyes, so suddenly and so strongly that it dimmed
+his sight. He shut his mouth hard on the words
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' ></a>98</span>
+which sprang into it, and held himself in silence until
+he had command of his anger.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m hunting,&rdquo; said he, meeting Chadron&rsquo;s eye
+with meaning look.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;On foot, and waitin&rsquo; for dark!&rdquo; the cattleman
+sneered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going on foot because the game I&rsquo;m after
+sticks close to the ground. There&rsquo;s no need of naming
+that game to you&mdash;you know what it is.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Macdonald spoke with cutting severity. Chadron&rsquo;s
+dark face reddened under his steady eyes, and again
+the big rowels of his spurs slashed his horse&rsquo;s sides,
+making it bound and trample in threatening charge.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know anything about your damn low
+business, but I&rsquo;ll tell you this much; if I ever run
+onto you ag&rsquo;in down this way I&rsquo;ll do a little huntin&rsquo;
+on my own accord.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That would be squarer, and more to my liking,
+than hiring somebody else to do it for you, Mr. Chadron.
+Ride on&mdash;I don&rsquo;t want to stand here and quarrel
+with you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m goin&rsquo; to clear you nesters out of there up
+the river&rdquo;&mdash;Chadron waved his hand in the direction
+of which he spoke&mdash;&ldquo;and put a stop to your rustlin&rsquo;
+before another month rolls around. I&rsquo;ve stood your
+fences up there on my land as long as I&rsquo;m goin&rsquo; to!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve never had a chance to tell you before, Mr.
+Chadron&rdquo;&mdash;Macdonald spoke as respectfully as his
+deep detestation of the cattleman would allow&mdash;&ldquo;but
+if you&rsquo;ve got any other charge to bring against me
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' ></a>99</span>
+except that of homesteading, bring it in a court.
+I&rsquo;m ready to face you on it, any day.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I carry my court right here with me,&rdquo; said
+Chadron, patting his revolver.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I deny its jurisdiction,&rdquo; Macdonald returned,
+drawing himself up, a flash of defiance in his clear
+eyes.</p>
+<p>Chadron jerked his head in expression of lofty
+disdain.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Go on! Git out of my sight!&rdquo; he ordered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The road is open to you,&rdquo; Macdonald replied.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not goin&rsquo; to turn my back on you till you&rsquo;re
+out of sight!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Chadron bent his great owlish brows in a scowl,
+laid his hand on his revolver and whirled his horse
+in the direction that Macdonald was facing.</p>
+<p>Macdonald did not answer. He turned from
+Chadron, something in his act of going that told the
+cattleman he was above so mean suspicion on his
+part. Nola shifted her horse to let him pass, her
+elbows tight at her sides, scorn in her lively eyes.</p>
+<p>Again Macdonald&rsquo;s hand went to his hat in respectful
+salute, and again he saw that flash of anger
+spread in the young woman&rsquo;s cheeks. Her fury
+blazed in her eyes as she looked at him a moment, and
+a dull color mounted in his own face as he beheld her
+foolish and unjustified pride.</p>
+<p>Macdonald would have passed her then, but she
+spurred her horse upon him with sudden-breaking
+temper, forcing him to spring back quickly to the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' ></a>100</span>
+roadside to escape being trampled. Before he could
+collect himself in his astonishment, she struck him a
+whistling blow with her long-thonged quirt across
+the face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You dog!&rdquo; she said, her clenched little white
+teeth showing in her parted lips.</p>
+<p>Macdonald caught the bridle and pushed her horse
+back to its haunches, and she, in her reckless anger,
+struck him across the hand in sharp quick blows.
+Her conduct was comparable to nothing but that of
+an ill-bred child striking one whose situation, he has
+been told, is the warrant of his inferiority.</p>
+<p>The struggle was over in a few seconds, and Macdonald
+stood free of the little fury, a red welt across
+his cheek, the back of his hand cut until the blood
+oozed through the skin in heavy black drops. Chadron
+had not moved a hand to interfere on either side.
+Only now that the foolish display of Nola&rsquo;s temper
+was done he rocked in his saddle and shook the
+empty landscape with his loud, coarse laugh.</p>
+<p>He patted his daughter on the shoulder, like a
+hunter rewarding a dog. Macdonald walked away
+from them, the only humiliation that he felt for the
+incident being that which he suffered for her sake.</p>
+<p>It was not so much that a woman had debased
+herself to the level of a savage, although that hurt
+him, too, but that her blows had been the expression
+of the contempt in which the lords of that country
+held him and his kind. Bullets did not matter so
+much, for a man could give them back as hot as they
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' ></a>101</span>
+came. But there was no answer, as he could see it
+in that depressing hour, for such a feudal assertion
+of superiority as this.</p>
+<p>It was to the work of breaking the hold of this
+hard-handed aristocracy which had risen from the
+grass roots in the day of its arrogant prosperity&mdash;a
+prosperity founded on usurpation of the rights of
+the weak, and upheld by murder&mdash;that he had set
+his soul. The need of hastening the reformation
+never had seemed greater to him than on that day,
+or more hopeless, he admitted in his heart.</p>
+<p>For hour by hour the work ahead of him appeared
+to grow greater. Little could be expected, judging
+by the experiences of the past few days, from those
+who suffered most. The day of extremest pressure
+in their poor affairs was being hastened by the cattlemen,
+as Chadron&rsquo;s threat had foretold. Would they
+when the time came to fight do so, or harness their
+lean teams and drive on into the west? That was the
+big question upon which the success or the failure of
+his work depended.</p>
+<p>As he had come down from the hillside out of the
+sunshine and peace to meet shadow and violence, so
+his high spirits, hopes, and intentions seemed this
+bitter hour steeped in sudden gloom. In more ways
+than one that evening on the white river road, Alan
+Macdonald felt that he was afoot and alone.</p></div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' ></a>102</span>
+<a  id='CHAPTER_IX_BUSINESS_NOT_COMPANY'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER IX<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'>BUSINESS, NOT COMPANY</span></h2>
+</div>
+<div class='text'><p class='ni'>Saul Chadron was at breakfast next morning
+when Maggie the cook appeared in the dining-room
+and announced a visitor for the se&ntilde;or boss.
+Maggie&rsquo;s eyes were bulging, and she did a great deal
+of pantomime with her shapely shoulders to express
+her combined fright, disgust, and indignation.</p>
+<p>Chadron looked up from his ham and eggs, with
+a considerable portion of the eggs on the blade of
+his knife, handle-down in one fist, his fork standing
+like a lightning rod in the other, and asked her who
+the man was and what he wanted at that hour of the
+day. Chadron was eating by lamplight, and alone,
+according to his thrifty custom of slipping up on
+the day before it was awake, as if in the hope of
+surprising it at a vast disadvantage to itself, after
+his way of handling men and things.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Es un extranjero</i>,&rdquo; replied Maggie, forgetting
+her English in her excitement.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Talk white man, you old sow!&rdquo; Chadron growled.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He ees a es-trenger, I do not knowed to heem.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Tell him to go to the barn and wait, I&rsquo;ll be out
+there in a minute.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He will not a-goed. I told to heem&mdash;whee!&rdquo;
+Maggie clamped her hands to her back as if somebody
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' ></a>103</span>
+had caught her in a ticklish spot, as she
+squealed, and jumped into the room where the grand
+duke of the cattlemen&rsquo;s nobility was taking his refreshment.</p>
+<p>Chadron had returned to his meal after ordering
+her to send his visitor to the barn. He was swabbing
+his knife in the fold of a pancake when Maggie made
+that frightful, shivering exclamation and jumped
+aside out of the door. Now he looked up to reprove
+her, and met the smoky eyes of Mark Thorn peering
+in from the kitchen.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;re you doin&rsquo; around here, you old&mdash;come
+in&mdash;shut that door! Git him some breakfast,&rdquo; he
+ordered, turning to Maggie.</p>
+<p>Maggie hung back a moment, until Thorn had
+come into the room, then she shot into the kitchen
+like a cat through a fence, and slammed the door
+behind her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What in the hell do you mean by comin&rsquo; around
+here?&rdquo; Chadron demanded angrily. &ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t I tell
+you never to come here? you blink-eyed old snag-shin!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You told me,&rdquo; Thorn admitted, putting his rifle
+down across a chair, drawing another to the table,
+and seating himself in readiness for the coming meal.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then what&rsquo;d you sneak&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;News,&rdquo; said Thorn, in his brief way.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Which news?&rdquo; Chadron brightened hopefully, his
+implements, clamped in his hairy fists, inviting the
+first bolt from the heavens.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' ></a>104</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;I got him last night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You got&mdash;<i>him?</i>&rdquo; Chadron lifted himself from
+his chair on his bent legs in the excitement of the
+news.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And I&rsquo;m through with this job. I&rsquo;ve come to
+cash in, and quit.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The hell you say!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m gittin&rsquo; too old for this kind of work. That
+feller chased me around till my tongue was hangin&rsquo;
+out so fur I stepped on it. I tell you he was&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How did you do it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Thorn looked at him with a scowl. &ldquo;Well, I never
+used a club on a man yit,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where did it happen at?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Up there at his place. He&rsquo;d been chasin&rsquo; me for
+two days, and when he went back&mdash;after grub, I
+reckon&mdash;I doubled on him. Just as he went in the
+door I got him. I left him with his damn feet stickin&rsquo;
+out like a shoemaker&rsquo;s sign.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How fur was you off from him, Mark?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Fifty yards, more &rsquo;r less.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Did you go over to him to see if he was finished,
+or just creased?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I never creased a man in my life!&rdquo; Thorn was
+indignant over the imputation.</p>
+<p>Chadron shook his head, in doubt, in discredit, in
+gloomy disbelief.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you didn&rsquo;t go up to him and turn him over
+and look at the whites of his eyes, you ain&rsquo;t sure,&rdquo;
+he protested. &ldquo;That man&rsquo;s as slippery as wet
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' ></a>105</span>
+leather&mdash;he&rsquo;s fooled more than one that thought they had
+him, and I&rsquo;ll bet you two bits he&rsquo;s fooled you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Go and see, and settle it yourself, then,&rdquo; Thorn
+proposed, in surly humor.</p>
+<p>Chadron had suspended his breakfast, as if the
+news had come between him and his appetite. He
+sat in a study, his big hand curved round his cup,
+his gaze on the cloth. At that juncture Maggie
+came in with a platter of eggs and ham, which she
+put down before Mark Thorn skittishly, ready to
+jump at the slightest hostile start. Thorn began to
+eat, as calmly as if there was not a stain on his
+crippled soul.</p>
+<p>Unlike the meal of canned oysters which he had
+consumed as Chadron&rsquo;s guest not many days before,
+Thorn was not welcomed to this by friendly words
+and urging to take off the limit. Chadron sat watching
+him, in divided attention and with dark face, as
+if he turned troubles over in his mind.</p>
+<p>Thorn cleaned the platter in front of him, and
+looked round hungrily, like a cat that has half-satisfied
+its stomach on a stolen bird. He said nothing,
+only he reached his foul hand across the table and
+took up the dish containing the remnant of Chadron&rsquo;s
+breakfast. This he soon cleared up, when he rasped
+the back of his hand across his harsh mustache, like
+a vulture preening its filthy plumage, and leaned
+back with a full-stomached sigh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He makes six,&rdquo; said he, looking hard at Chadron.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Huh!&rdquo; Chadron grunted, noncommittally.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' ></a>106</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;I want the money, down on the nail, a thousand
+for the job. I&rsquo;m through.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have to look into it. I ain&rsquo;t payin&rsquo; for anything
+sight &rsquo;nseen,&rdquo; Chadron told him, starting out
+of his speculative wanderings.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Money down, on the nail,&rdquo; repeated Thorn, as if
+he had not heard. His old cap was hovering over
+his long hair, its flaps down like the wings of a brooding
+hen. There were clinging bits of broken sage on
+it, and burrs, which it had gathered in his skulking
+through the brush.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll send a man up the river right away, and
+find out about this last one,&rdquo; Chadron told him,
+nodding slowly. &ldquo;If you&rsquo;ve got Macdonald&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If hell&rsquo;s got fire in it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you&rsquo;ve got him, I&rsquo;ll put something to the
+figure agreed on between you and me. The other
+fellers you&rsquo;ve knocked over don&rsquo;t count.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll hang around&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not here! You&rsquo;ll not hang around here, I tell
+you!&rdquo; Chadron cut him off harshly, fairly bristling.
+&ldquo;Snake along out of here, and don&rsquo;t let anybody
+see you. I&rsquo;ll meet you at the hotel in the morning.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Gittin&rsquo; peticlar of your company, ain&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+sneered Thorn.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re not company&mdash;you&rsquo;re business,&rdquo; Chadron
+told him, with stern and reproving eyes.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Chadron found Mark Thorn smoking into the
+chimney in the hotel office next morning, apparently
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' ></a>107</span>
+as if he had not moved from that spot since their
+first meeting on that peculiar business. The old man-killer
+did not turn his head as Chadron entered the
+room with a show of caution and suspicion in his
+movements, and closed the door after him.</p>
+<p>He crossed over to the fire and stood near Thorn,
+who was slouching low in his chair, his long legs
+stretched straight, his heels crossed before the low
+ashy fire that smoldered in the chimney. For a little
+while Chadron stood looking down on his hired
+scourge, a knitting of displeasure in his face, as if
+he waited for him to break the silence. Thorn continued
+his dark reverie undisturbed, it seemed, his
+pipestem between his fingers.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, it was his damn hired hand!&rdquo; said Chadron,
+with profound disgust.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s what I heard you say,&rdquo; acknowledged
+Thorn, not moving his head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You knew it all the time; you was tryin&rsquo; to work
+me for the money, so you could light out!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t even know he had a hired hand!&rdquo; Thorn
+drew in his legs, straightened his back, and came with
+considerable spirit to the defense of his evil intent.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, he ain&rsquo;t got none now, but <i>he&rsquo;s</i> alive and
+kickin&rsquo;. You&rsquo;ve bungled on this job worse than an
+old woman. I didn&rsquo;t fetch you in here to clean out
+hired hands and kids; we can shake a blanket and
+scare that kind out of the country!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, put him in at fifty then, if he was only a
+hired hand,&rdquo; said Thorn, willing to oblige.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' ></a>108</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;When you go ahead and do what you agreed
+to, then we&rsquo;ll talk money, and not a red till then.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Thorn got up, unlimbering slowly, and laid the
+pipe on the mantel-shelf. He seemed unmoved, indifferent;
+apathetic as a toothless old lion. After a
+little silence he shook his head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m done, I tell you,&rdquo; he said querulously, as if
+raising the question crossed him. &ldquo;Pay me for that
+many, and call it square.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bring in Macdonald,&rdquo; Chadron demanded in firm
+tones.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I ain&rsquo;t a-goin&rsquo; to touch him! If I keep on after
+that man he&rsquo;ll git <i>me</i>&mdash;it&rsquo;s on the cards, I can see
+it in the dark.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, you&rsquo;re lost your nerve, you old wildcat!&rdquo;
+There was a taunt in Chadron&rsquo;s voice, a sneer.</p>
+<p>Thorn turned on him, a savage, smothered noise in
+his throat.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You can say that because you owe me money, but
+you know it&rsquo;s a damn lie! If you didn&rsquo;t owe me
+money, I&rsquo;d make you swaller it with hot lead!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re talkin&rsquo; a little too free for a man of your
+trade, Mark.&rdquo; While Chadron&rsquo;s tone was tolerant,
+even friendly, there was an undercurrent of warning,
+even threat, in his words.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re the feller that&rsquo;s lettin&rsquo; his gab outrun
+his gumption. How many does that make for me,
+talkin&rsquo; about nerve, how many? Do you know?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care how many, it lacks one of bein&rsquo;
+enough to suit me.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' ></a>109</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Twenty-eight, and I&rsquo;ve got &rsquo;em down in m&rsquo; book
+and I can prove it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Make it twenty-nine, and then quit if you
+want to.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Maybe I will.&rdquo; Thorn leaned forward a little,
+a glitter in his smoky eyes.</p>
+<p>Chadron fell back, his face growing pale. His
+hand was on his weapon, his eyes noting narrowly
+every move Thorn made.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you ever sling a gun on me, you old devil, it&rsquo;ll
+be&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I ain&rsquo;t a-goin&rsquo; to sling no gun on you as long as
+you owe me money. I ain&rsquo;t a-goin&rsquo; to cut the bottom
+out of m&rsquo; own money-poke, Chad; you don&rsquo;t need
+to swivel up in your hide, you ain&rsquo;t marked for
+twenty-nine.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, don&rsquo;t throw out any more hints like that;
+I don&rsquo;t like that kind of a joke.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, I wouldn&rsquo;t touch a hair of your head,&rdquo; Thorn
+ran on, following a vein which seemed to amuse him,
+for he smiled, a horrible, face-drawing contortion
+of a smile, &ldquo;for if you and me ever had a fallin&rsquo; out
+over money I might git so hard up I couldn&rsquo;t travel,
+and one of them sheriff fellers might slip up on me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s all this fool gab got to do with business?&rdquo;
+Chadron was impatient; he looked at his
+watch.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;d be purty sure to make a speech from
+the gallers&mdash;I always intended to&mdash;and lay everything
+open that ever took place between me and you
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' ></a>110</span>
+and the rest of them big fellers. There&rsquo;s a newspaper
+feller in Cheyenne that wants to make a book
+out of m&rsquo; life, with m&rsquo; pict&rsquo;re in the inside of the lid,
+to be sold when I&rsquo;m dead. I could git money for
+tellin&rsquo; that feller what I know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Go on and tell him then,&rdquo;&mdash;Chadron spoke with
+a dare in his words, and derision&mdash;&ldquo;that&rsquo;ll be easy
+money, and it won&rsquo;t call for any nerve. But you
+don&rsquo;t need to be plannin&rsquo; any speech from the gallus&mdash;you&rsquo;ll
+never go that fur if you try to double-cross
+me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I ain&rsquo;t aimin&rsquo; to double-cross no man, but you
+can call it that if it suits you. You can call it whatever
+you purty damn well care to&mdash;I&rsquo;m done!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Chadron made no reply to that. He was pulling
+on his great gloves, frowning savagely, as if he meant
+to close the matter with what he had said, and go.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do I git any money, or don&rsquo;t I?&rdquo; Thorn asked,
+sharply.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When you bring in that wolf&rsquo;s tail.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I ain&rsquo;t a-goin&rsquo; to touch that feller, I tell you,
+Chad. That man means bad luck to me&mdash;I can read
+it in the cards.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Maybe you call that kind of skulkin&rsquo; livin&rsquo; up
+to your big name?&rdquo; Chadron spoke in derision, playing
+on the vanity which he knew to be as much a
+part of that old murderer&rsquo;s life as the blood of his
+merciless heart.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got glory enough,&rdquo; said Thorn, satisfaction
+in his voice; &ldquo;what I want right now&rsquo;s money.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' ></a>111</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Earn it before you collect it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Twenty-eight &rsquo;d fill a purty fair book, countin&rsquo;
+in what I could tell about the men I&rsquo;ve had dealin&rsquo;s
+with,&rdquo; Thorn reflected, as to himself, leaning against
+the mantel, frowning down at the floor with bent
+head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Talk till you&rsquo;re empty, you old fool, and who&rsquo;ll
+believe you? Huh! you couldn&rsquo;t git yourself hung
+if you was to try!&rdquo; Chadron&rsquo;s dark face was blacker
+for the spreading flood of resentful blood; he pointed
+with his heavy quirt at Thorn, as if to impress him
+with a sense of the smallness of his wickedness, which
+men would not credit against the cattlemen&rsquo;s word,
+even if he should publish it abroad. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ll never
+walk onto the scaffold, no matter how hard you try&mdash;there&rsquo;ll
+be somebody around to head you off and
+give you a shorter cut than that, I&rsquo;m here to tell
+you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Huh!&rdquo; said Thorn, still keeping his thoughtful
+pose.</p>
+<p>Man-killing is a trade that reacts differently on
+those who follow it, according to their depth and
+nature. It makes black devils of some who were once
+civil, smiling, wholesome men, whether the mischance
+of life-taking has fallen to them in their duty to society
+or in outlawed deeds. It plunges some into
+dark taciturnity and brooding coldness, as if they
+had eaten of some root which blunted them to all
+common relish of life.</p>
+<p>There are others of whom the bloody trade makes
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' ></a>112</span>
+gabbling fools, light-headed, wild-eyed wasters of
+words, full of the importance of their mind-wrecking
+deeds. Like the savage whose reputation mounts
+with each wet scalp, each fresh head, these kill out
+of depravity, glorying in the growing score. To this
+class Mark Thorn belonged.</p>
+<p>There was but one side left to that depraved man&rsquo;s
+mind; his bloody, base life had smothered the rest
+under the growing heap of his horrible deeds. Thorn
+had killed twenty-eight human beings for hire, of
+whom he had tally, but there was one to be included
+of whom he had not taken count&mdash;himself.</p>
+<p>As he stood here against the chimney-shelf he was
+only the outside husk of a man. His soul had been
+judged already, and burned out of him by the unholy
+passion which he had indulged. He was as simple in
+his garrulous chatter of glory and distinction as a
+half-fool. His warped mind ran only on the spectacular
+end that he had planned for himself, and the
+speech from the gallows that was to be the black,
+damning seal at the end of his atrocious life&rsquo;s record.</p>
+<p>Thorn looked up from his study; he shook his
+head decisively.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I ain&rsquo;t a-goin&rsquo; to go back over there in your
+country and give you a chance at me. If you git
+me, you&rsquo;ll have to git me here. I ain&rsquo;t a-goin&rsquo; to
+sling a gun down on nobody for the money that&rsquo;s in
+it, I tell you. I&rsquo;m through; I&rsquo;m out of the game; my
+craw&rsquo;s full. It&rsquo;s a bad sign when a man wastes a
+bullet on a hired hand, takin&rsquo; him for the boss, and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' ></a>113</span>
+I ain&rsquo;t a-goin&rsquo; to run no more resks on that feller.
+When my day for glory comes I&rsquo;ll step out on the
+gallers and say m&rsquo; piece, and they&rsquo;ll be some big
+fellers in this country huntin&rsquo; the tall grass about
+that time, I guess.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Chadron had taken up his quirt from the little
+round table where the hotel register lay. He turned
+now toward the outer door, as if in earnest about
+going his way and leaving Mark Thorn to follow
+his own path, no matter to what consequences it
+might lead.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you&rsquo;re square enough to settle up with me for
+this job,&rdquo; said Thorn, &ldquo;and pay me five hundred for
+what I&rsquo;ve done, I&rsquo;ll leave your name out when I come
+to make that little speech.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Chadron turned on him with a sneer. &ldquo;You seem
+to have your hangin&rsquo; all cut and dried, but you&rsquo;ll
+never go ten miles outside of this reservation if you
+don&rsquo;t turn around and put that job through. You&rsquo;ll
+never hang&mdash;you ain&rsquo;t cut out in the hangin&rsquo; style.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I tell you I will!&rdquo; protested Thorn hotly. &ldquo;I
+can see it in the cards.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, you&rsquo;d better shuffle &rsquo;em ag&rsquo;in.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know what kind of a day it&rsquo;s goin&rsquo; to be, and
+I know just adzackly how I&rsquo;ll look when I hold up
+m&rsquo; hands for them fellers to keep still. Shucks! you
+can&rsquo;t tell me; I&rsquo;ve seen that day a thousand times.
+It&rsquo;ll be early in the mornin&rsquo;, and the sun bright&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The door leading to the dining-room opened, and
+Thorn left his description of that great and final day
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' ></a>114</span>
+in his career hanging like a broken bridge. He
+turned to see who it was, squinting his old eyes up
+sharply, and in watching the stranger he failed to
+see the whiteness that came over Chadron&rsquo;s face like
+a rushing cloud.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Grab your gun!&rdquo; Chadron whispered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Just let it stay where it is, Thorn,&rdquo; advised the
+stranger, his quick hand on his own weapon before
+Thorn could grasp what it was all about, believing,
+as he did, in the safety of the reservation&rsquo;s neutral
+ground. &ldquo;Macdonald is my name; I&rsquo;ve been looking
+for you.&rdquo; The stranger came on as he spoke.</p>
+<p>He was but a few feet away from Thorn, and the
+old man-killer had his revolvers buckled around him
+in their accustomed place, while his death-spreading
+rifle stood near his hand, leaning its muzzle against
+the chimney-jamb. Thorn seemed to be measuring
+all the chances which he had left to him in that bold
+surprise, and to conclude in the same second that
+they were not worth taking.</p>
+<p>Macdonald had not drawn his revolver. His hand
+was on the butt of it, and his eye held Thorn with a
+challenge that the old slayer was in no mind to accept.</p>
+<p>Thorn was not a close-fighting man. He never had
+killed one of his kind in a face-to-face battle in all
+his bloody days. At the bottom he was a coward,
+as his skulking deeds attested, and in that moment he
+knew that he stood before his master. Slowly he
+lifted his long arms above his head, without a word,
+and stood in the posture of complete surrender.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' ></a>115</span></div>
+<p>Nearer the outer door stood Chadron, to whom
+Macdonald seemed to give little attention, as if not
+counting him in the game. The big cattleman was
+&ldquo;white to the gills,&rdquo; as his kind expressed that state.
+Macdonald unbuckled Thorn&rsquo;s belt and hung his
+revolvers over his arm.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I knowed you&rsquo;d git me, Macdonald,&rdquo; the old
+scoundrel said.</p>
+<p>Macdonald, haggard and dusty, and grim as the
+last day that old Mark Thorn had pictured for himself,
+pushed his prisoner away from the chimney,
+out of reach of the rifle, and indicated that he was
+to march for the open door, through which the tables
+in the dining-room could be seen. At Macdonald&rsquo;s
+coming Chadron had thrown his hand to his revolver,
+where he still held it, as if undecided how far to go.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Keep your gun where it is, Chadron,&rdquo; Macdonald
+advised. &ldquo;This isn&rsquo;t my day for you. Clear out of
+here&mdash;quick!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Chadron backed toward the front door, his hand
+still dubiously on his revolver. Still suspicious, his
+face as white as it would have been in death, he
+reached back with his free hand to open the door.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I told you he&rsquo;d git me,&rdquo; nodded Thorn, with
+something near to exultation in the vindication of his
+reading of the cards. &ldquo;I give you a chance&mdash;no
+man&rsquo;s money ain&rsquo;t a-goin&rsquo; to shut my mouth now!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll shut it, damn you!&rdquo; Chadron&rsquo;s voice was dry-sounding
+and far up in his throat. He drew his revolver
+with a quick jerk that seemed nothing more
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' ></a>116</span>
+than a slight movement of the shoulder. Quick as
+he was&mdash;and few in the cattlemen&rsquo;s baronies were
+ahead of him there&mdash;Macdonald was quicker. The
+muzzle of Chadron&rsquo;s pistol was still in the leather
+when Macdonald&rsquo;s weapon was leveled at his eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Drop that gun!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A moment Chadron&rsquo;s arm hung stiffly in that half-finished
+movement, while his eyes gave defiance. He
+had not bent before any man in many a year of
+growing power. But there was no other way; it
+was either bend or break, and the break would be
+beyond repair.</p>
+<p>Chadron&rsquo;s fingers were damp with sudden sweat
+as he unclasped them from the pistol-butt and let
+the weapon fall; sweat was on his forehead, and a
+heaviness on his chest as if a man sat on him. He
+felt backwards through the open door with one foot,
+like an old man distrustful of his limbs, and steadied
+himself with his shoulder against the jamb, for there
+was a trembling in his knees. He knew that he had
+saved himself from the drop into eternal inconsequence
+by the shading of a second, for there was
+death in dusty Alan Macdonald&rsquo;s face. The escape
+left Chadron shaken, like a man who has held himself
+away from death by his finger-ends at the lip of
+a ledge.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I knowed you&rsquo;d git me, Macdonald,&rdquo; Thorn repeated.
+&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t need no handcuffs nor nothin&rsquo;
+for me. I&rsquo;ll go along with you as gentle as a fish.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Macdonald indicated that Thorn might lower his
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' ></a>117</span>
+arms, having taken possession of the rifle. &ldquo;Have
+you got a horse?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+<p>Thorn said that he had one in the hotel stable.
+&ldquo;But don&rsquo;t you try to take me too fur, Macdonald,&rdquo;
+he advised. &ldquo;Chadron he&rsquo;ll ride a streak to git his
+men together and try to take me away from you&mdash;I
+could see it in his eye when he went out of that door.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Macdonald knew that Thorn had read Chadron&rsquo;s
+intentions right. He nodded, to let him know that he
+understood the cattleman&rsquo;s motives.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, don&rsquo;t you run me off to no private rope
+party, neither, Macdonald, for I can tell you things
+that many a man&rsquo;d pay me big money to keep my
+mouth shut on.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll have a chance, Thorn.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I want it done in the right way, so&rsquo;s I&rsquo;ll git
+the credit and the fame.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Macdonald was surprised to find this man, whose
+infamous career had branded him as the arch-monster
+of modern times, so vain and garrulous. He could
+account for it by no other hypothesis than that much
+killing had indurated the warped mind of the slayer
+until the taking of a human life was to him a commonplace.
+He was not capable of remorse, any more
+than he had been disposed to pity. He was not a
+man, only the blighted and cursed husk of a man,
+indeed, but doubly dangerous for his irresponsibility,
+for his atrophied small understanding.</p>
+<p>Twenty miles lay between the prisoner and the
+doubtful security of the jail at Meander, and most
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' ></a>118</span>
+of the distance was through the grazing lands within
+Chadron&rsquo;s bounds. On the other hand, it was not
+more than twelve miles to his ranch on the river. He
+believed that he could reach it before Chadron could
+raise men to stop him and take the prisoner away.</p>
+<p>Once home with Thorn, he could raise a posse to
+guard him until the sheriff could be summoned. Even
+then there was no certainty that the prisoner ever
+would see the inside of the Meander jail, for the
+sheriff of that county was nothing more than one
+of Chadron&rsquo;s cowboys, elevated to office to serve the
+unrighteous desires of the men who had put him
+there.</p>
+<p>But Macdonald was determined that there should
+be no private rope party for Thorn, neither at the
+hands of the prisoner&rsquo;s employers nor at those of
+the outraged settlers. Thorn must be brought to
+trial publicly, and the story of his employment,
+which he appeared ready enough to tell for the
+&ldquo;glory&rdquo; in it, must be told in a manner that would
+establish its value.</p>
+<p>The cruelly inhuman tale of his contracts and
+killings, his engagements and rewards, must be sown
+by the newspapers far and wide. Out of this dark
+phase of their oppression their deliverance must
+rise.</p></div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' ></a>119</span>
+<a  id='CHAPTER_X_HELLS_AGOIN_TO_POP'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER X<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'>&ldquo;HELL&rsquo;S A-GOIN&rsquo; TO POP&rdquo;</span></h2>
+</div>
+<div class='text'><p class='ni'>Chance Dalton, foreman of Alamito Ranch,
+was in charge of the expedition that rode late
+that afternoon against Macdonald&rsquo;s homestead to
+liberate Mark Thorn, and close his mouth in the
+cattlemen&rsquo;s effective way upon the bloody secrets
+which he might in vainglorious boast reveal. Chadron
+had promised rewards for the successful outcome
+of the venture, and Chance Dalton rode with
+his three picked men in a sportsman&rsquo;s heat.</p>
+<p>He was going out on a hunt for game such as he
+had run down more than once before in his many
+years under Chadron&rsquo;s hand. It was better sport
+than running down wolves or mountain lions, for
+there was the superior intelligence of the game to
+be considered. No man knew what turn the ingenuity
+of desperation might give the human mind. The
+hunted might go out in one last splendid blaze of
+courage, or he might cringe and beg, with white face
+and rolling eyes. In the case of Macdonald, Dalton
+anticipated something unusual. He had tasted that
+unaccountable homesteader&rsquo;s spirit in the past.</p>
+<p>Dalton was a wiry, tough man who rode with his
+elbows out, like an Indian. His face was scarred by
+old knife-wounds, making it hard for him to shave,
+in consequence of which he allowed his red beard
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' ></a>120</span>
+to grow to inch-length, where he kept it in subjugation
+with shears. The gutters of his scars were
+seen through it, and the ends of them ran up, on
+both cheeks, to his eyes. A knife had gone across
+one of these, missing the bright little pupil in its
+bony cave, but slashing the eyebrow and leaving him
+leering on that side.</p>
+<p>The men who came behind him were cowboys from
+the Texas Panhandle, lean and tough as the dried
+beef of their native plains. It was the most formidable
+force, not in numbers, but in proficiency, that
+ever had proceeded against Macdonald, and the most
+determined.</p>
+<p>Chadron himself had bent to the small office of
+spy to learn Macdonald&rsquo;s intention in reference to
+his prisoner. From a sheltered thicket in the foothills
+the cattleman had watched the homesteader
+through his field glasses, making certain that he was
+returning Thorn to the scene of his latest crimes,
+instead of risking the long road to the Meander jail.</p>
+<p>Chadron knew that Macdonald would defend the
+prisoner&rsquo;s life with his own, even against his neighbors.
+Macdonald would be as eager to have Thorn
+tell the story of his transactions with the Drovers&rsquo;
+Association as they would be to have it shut off. The
+realization of this threw Chadron into a state which
+he described to himself as the &ldquo;fantods.&rdquo; Another,
+with a more extensive and less picturesque vocabulary,
+would have said that the president of the Drovers&rsquo;
+Association was in a condition of panic.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' ></a>121</span></div>
+<p>So he had despatched his men on this silencing
+errand, and now, as the sun was dipping over the
+hills, all red with the presage of a frosty night,
+Chance Dalton and his men came riding in sight of
+Macdonald&rsquo;s little nest of buildings fronting the road
+by the river.</p>
+<p>Macdonald had secured his prisoner with ropes,
+for there was no compartment in his little house, built
+of boards from the mountain sawmill, strong enough
+to confine a man, much less a slippery one like Mark
+Thorn. The slayer had lapsed into his native taciturnity
+shortly after beginning the trip from the
+reservation to Macdonald&rsquo;s homestead, and now he
+lay on the floor trussed up like a hog for market,
+looking blackly at Macdonald. Macdonald was considering
+the night ride to Meander with his prisoner
+that he had planned, with the intention of proceeding
+from there to Cheyenne and lodging him in jail.
+He believed there might be a better chance of holding
+him for trial there, and some slight hope of justice.</p>
+<p>A hail from the gate startled Macdonald. It was
+the custom of the homesteaders in that country,
+carried with them from the hills of Missouri and
+Arkansas, to sit in their saddles at a neighbor&rsquo;s gate
+and call him to the door with a long &ldquo;hello-o-oh!&rdquo;
+It was the password of friendship in that raw land;
+a cowboy never had been known to stoop to its use.
+Cowboys rode up to a homesteader&rsquo;s door when they
+had anything to say to him, and hammered on it with
+their guns.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' ></a>122</span></div>
+<p>Macdonald went to the door and opened it unhesitatingly.
+The horseman at the gate was a stranger
+to him. He wore a little derby hat, such as the
+cowpunchers despised, and the trappings of his horse
+proclaimed him as a newcomer to that country. He
+inquired loudly of the road to Fort Shakie, and Macdonald
+shouted back the necessary directions, moving
+a step away from his open door.</p>
+<p>The stranger put his hand to his ear and leaned
+over.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Which?&rdquo; said he.</p>
+<p>At that sound of that distinctly-cowboy vernacular,
+Macdonald sprang back to regain the shelter
+of his walls, sensing too late the trap that the cowboy&rsquo;s
+unguarded word had betrayed. Chance Dalton
+at one corner of the rude bungalow, his next
+best man at the other, had been waiting for the
+decoy at the gate to draw Macdonald away from his
+door. Now, as the homesteader leaped back in sudden
+alarm, they closed in on him with their revolvers
+drawn.</p>
+<p>There was the sound of a third man trying the
+back door at the same time, and the disguised cowboy
+at the gate slung his weapon out and sent a
+wild shot into the lintel above Macdonald&rsquo;s head.
+The two of them on the ground had him at a disadvantage
+which it would have been fatal to dispute,
+and Macdonald, valuing a future chance more than a
+present hopeless struggle, flung his hands out in a
+gesture of emptiness and surrender.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' ></a>123</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Put &rsquo;em up&mdash;high!&rdquo; Dalton ordered.</p>
+<p>Dalton watched him keenly as the three in that
+picture before the door stood keyed to such tension
+as the human intelligence seldom is called upon to
+withstand. Macdonald stood with one foot on the
+low threshold, the door swinging half open at his
+back. He was bareheaded, his rough, fair hair in
+wisps on temples and forehead. Dalton&rsquo;s teeth were
+showing between his bearded lips, and his quick eyes
+were scowling, but he held his companion back with
+a command of his free hand.</p>
+<p>Macdonald lifted his hands slowly, holding them
+little above a level with his shoulders.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Give up your prisoner, Macdonald, and we&rsquo;ll deal
+square with you,&rdquo; Dalton said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Go in and take him,&rdquo; offered Macdonald, stepping
+aside out of the door.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Go ahead of us, and put &rsquo;em up higher!&rdquo; Dalton
+made a little expressive flourish with his gun, evidently
+distrustful of the homesteader&rsquo;s quick hand,
+even at his present disadvantage.</p>
+<p>The man at the back door was using the ax from
+Macdonald&rsquo;s wood pile, as the sound of splintering
+timber told. Between three fires, Macdonald felt his
+chance stretching to the breaking point, for he had
+no faith at all in Chance Dalton&rsquo;s word. They had
+come to get him, and it looked now as if they had
+won.</p>
+<p>When Macdonald entered the house he saw Thorn
+sitting in the middle of the floor, where he had rolled
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' ></a>124</span>
+and struggled in his efforts to see what was taking
+place outside.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve played hell now, ain&rsquo;t you? lettin&rsquo; &rsquo;em git
+the drop on you that way!&rdquo; he said to Macdonald,
+angrily. &ldquo;They&rsquo;ll swing&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hand over that gun, Macdonald,&rdquo; Dalton demanded.
+They were standing near him, one on either
+hand, both leveling their guns at his head. Macdonald
+could see the one at the back door of his little
+two-roomed bungalow through the hole that he had
+chopped.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t hand my gun to any man; if you want
+it, come and take it,&rdquo; Macdonald said, feeling that
+the end was rushing upon him, and wondering what it
+would be. A bullet was better than a rope, which
+Chadron had publicly boasted he had laid up for
+him. There was a long chance if Dalton reached
+for that gun&mdash;a long and desperate chance.</p>
+<p>The man at the back door was shouting something,
+his gun thrust through the hole. Dalton made a
+cross-reach with his left hand for Macdonald&rsquo;s revolver.
+On the other side the cowboy was watching
+his comrade&rsquo;s gun pointing through the kitchen door;
+Macdonald could see the whites of his eyes as he
+turned them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t shoot in here! we&rsquo;ve got &rsquo;em,&rdquo; he called.</p>
+<p>His shifted eye told Macdonald that he was trusting
+to Dalton, and Dalton at that moment was leaning
+forward with a strain, cautiously, his hand near
+Macdonald&rsquo;s holster.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' ></a>125</span></div>
+<p>Macdonald brought his lifted arms down, like a
+swimmer making a mighty stroke, with all the steam
+behind them that he could raise. His back-handed
+blow struck the cowboy in the face; Macdonald felt
+the flame of his shot as it spurted past his forehead.
+The other arm fell short of the nimbler and more
+watchful Dalton, but the duck that he made to escape
+it broke the drop that he had held over Macdonald.</p>
+<p>Macdonald&rsquo;s hand flashed up with his own gun.
+He drove a disabling shot through Dalton&rsquo;s wrist as
+the ranch foreman was coming up to fire, and kicked
+the gun that he dropped out of reach of his other
+hand. The cowboy who had caught Macdonald&rsquo;s
+desperate blow had staggered back against the foot
+of the bed and fallen. Now he had regained himself,
+and was crouching behind the bed, trying to cover
+himself, and from there as he shrank down he fired.
+The next flash he sprawled forward with hands outstretched
+across the blanket, as if he had fallen on
+his knees to pray.</p>
+<p>Macdonald caught Dalton by the shirt collar as
+he went scrambling on his knees after the revolver.
+Dalton was splashing blood from his shattered wrist
+over the room, but he was senseless to pain and blind
+to danger. He sprang at Macdonald, cursing and
+striking.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Keep off, Dalton! I don&rsquo;t want to kill you,
+man!&rdquo; Macdonald warned.</p>
+<p>Careless of his life Dalton fought, and as they
+struggled Mark Thorn undoubled himself from his
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' ></a>126</span>
+hunched position on the floor and snatched Dalton&rsquo;s
+revolver in his bound hands from the floor. His long
+legs free of his binding ropes, Thorn sprang for the
+door. He reached it at the moment that the man in
+the disguise of a homesteader pushed it open.</p>
+<p>Macdonald did not see what took place there, for
+it was over by the time he had struck Dalton into a
+limp quiet heap at his feet by a blow with his revolver
+across the eyes. But there had been a shot
+at the door, and Macdonald had heard the man from
+the back come running around the side of the house.
+There were more shots, but all done before Macdonald
+could leap to the door.</p>
+<p>There, through the smoke of many quick shots
+that drifted into the open door, he saw the two cowboys
+fallen with outflung arms. In the road a few
+rods distant Mark Thorn was mounting one of
+Chadron&rsquo;s horses. The old outlaw flung himself flat
+along the horse&rsquo;s neck, and presented little of his
+vital parts as a target. As he galloped away Macdonald
+fired, but apparently did not hit. In a
+moment Thorn rode down the river-bank and out of
+sight.</p>
+<p>Macdonald stood a little while in the middle of the
+disordered room after re-entering the house, a feeling
+of great silence about him, and a numbness in his
+ears and over his senses. It was a sensation such as
+he had experienced once after standing for hours
+under the spell of Niagara. Something seemed to
+have been silenced in the world.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' ></a>127</span></div>
+<p>He was troubled over the outcome of that treacherous
+assault. He felt that the shadow of the resultant
+tragedy was already stretching away from there
+like the penumbra of an eclipse which must soon
+engulf those homesteads on the river, and exact a
+terrible, blasting toll.</p>
+<p>Dalton was huddled there, his life wasting through
+the wound in his wrist, blood on his face from the
+blow that had laid him still. The dead man across
+the bed remained as he had fallen, his arms stretched
+out in empty supplication. There was a pathos in
+the fellow&rsquo;s pose that touched Macdonald with a pity
+which he knew to be undeserved. He had not meant
+to take his life away in that hasty shot, but since it
+had happened so, he knew that it had been his own
+deliverance.</p>
+<p>Macdonald stripped the garment back and looked
+at Dalton&rsquo;s hurt. There would be another one to
+take toll for in the cattlemen&rsquo;s list unless the drain
+of blood could be checked at once. Dalton moved,
+opening his eyes.</p>
+<p>It seemed unlikely that Dalton ever would sling
+a gun with that member again, if he should be so
+lucky, indeed, as to come through with his life. The
+bone was shattered, the hand hung limp, like a broken
+wing. Dalton sat up, yielding his arm to his enemy&rsquo;s
+ministrations, as silent and ungracious as a dog. In
+a little while Macdonald had done all that he could
+do, and with a hand under the hollow of Dalton&rsquo;s arm
+he lifted him to his feet.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' ></a>128</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Can you ride?&rdquo; he asked. Dalton did not reply.
+He looked at the figure on the bed, and stood turning
+his eyes around the room in the manner of one
+stunned, and completely confounded by the failure
+of a scheme counted infallible.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You made a botch of this job, Dalton,&rdquo; Macdonald
+said. &ldquo;The rest of your crowd&rsquo;s outside
+where Thorn dropped them&mdash;he snatched your gun
+from the floor and killed both of them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Dalton went weakly to the door, where he stood a
+moment, steadying himself with a hand on the jamb.
+Macdonald eased him from there to the gate, and
+brought the horses which the gang had hidden among
+the willows.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Tell Chadron to send a wagon up here after these
+dead men,&rdquo; Macdonald said, leading a horse to the
+gate.</p>
+<p>He helped the still silent Dalton into the saddle,
+where he sat weakly. The man seemed to be debating
+something to say to this unaccountably fortunate
+nester, who came untouched through all their attempts
+upon his life. But whatever it was that he
+cogitated he kept to himself, only turning his eyes
+back toward the house, where his two men lay on the
+ground. The face of one was turned upward. In
+the draining light of the spent day it looked as white
+as innocence.</p>
+<p>As Dalton drew his eyes away from the fearful
+evidence of his plan&rsquo;s miscarriage, the sound of hard
+riding came from the direction of the settlement up
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' ></a>129</span>
+the river. Macdonald listened a moment as the
+sound grew.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That will be no friend of yours, Dalton. Get out
+of this!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He cut Dalton&rsquo;s horse a sharp blow. The beast
+bounded away with a start that almost unseated its
+dizzy rider; the two free animals galloped after it.
+Chance Dalton was on his way to Chadron with his
+burden of disgrace and disastrous news. It seemed
+a question to Macdonald, as he watched him weaving
+in the saddle as the gloom closed around him and shut
+him from sight, whether he ever would reach the
+ranchhouse to recount his story, whatever version of
+the tragedy he had planned.</p>
+<p>Tom Lassiter drew up before Macdonald&rsquo;s gate
+while the dust of Dalton&rsquo;s going was still hanging
+there. The gaunt old homesteader with the cloud
+of sorrows in his eyes said that he had been on his
+way over to see what had become of Macdonald in
+his lone hunt for Mark Thorn. He had heard the
+shooting, and the sound had hurried him forward.</p>
+<p>Macdonald told him what had happened, and took
+him in to see the wreckage left after that sudden
+storm. Tom shook his head as he stood in the yard
+looking down at the two dead men.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hell&rsquo;s a-goin&rsquo; to pop now!&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think you&rsquo;ve said the word, Tom,&rdquo; Macdonald
+admitted. &ldquo;They&rsquo;ll come back on me hard for this.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll never have to stand up to &rsquo;em alone another
+time, I&rsquo;ll give you a guarantee on that, Mac.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' ></a>130</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m glad to hear it,&rdquo; Macdonald replied, but
+wearily, and with no warmth or faith in his words.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And they let that old scorpeen loose to skulk
+and kill ag&rsquo;in!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, he got away.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They sure did oncork a hornet&rsquo;s nest when they
+come here this time, though, they sure did!&rdquo; Tom
+stood in the door, looking into the darkening room
+and at the figure sprawled across the bed. &ldquo;He-ell&rsquo;s
+a-goin&rsquo; to pop now!&rdquo; he said again, in slow words
+scarcely above his breath.</p>
+<p>He turned his head searchingly, as if he expected
+to see the cloud of it already lowering out of the
+night.</p></div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' ></a>131</span>
+<a  id='CHAPTER_XI_THE_SEOR_BOSS_COMES_RIDING'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XI<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'>THE SE&Ntilde;OR BOSS COMES RIDING</span></h2>
+</div>
+<div class='text'><p class='ni'>Nola Chadron had been a guest overnight at
+the post. She had come the afternoon before,
+bright as a bubble, and Frances had met her with a
+welcome as warm as if there never had been a shadow
+between them.</p>
+<p>Women can do such things so much better than
+men. Balzac said they could murder under the cover
+of a kiss. Perhaps somebody else said it ahead of
+him; certainly a great many of us have thought it
+after. There is not one out of the whole world of
+them but is capable of covering the fire of lies in her
+heart with the rose leaves of her smiles.</p>
+<p>Nola had come into Frances&rsquo; room to do her hair,
+and employ her busy tongue while she plied the brush.
+She was a pretty bit of a figure in her fancily-worked
+Japanese kimono and red Turkish slippers&mdash;harem
+slippers, she called them, and thought it deliciously
+wicked to wear them&mdash;as she sat shaking back her
+bright hair like a giver of sunbeams.</p>
+<p>Frances, already dressed in her soft light apparel
+of the morning, stood at the window watching the
+activity of the avenue below, answering encouragingly
+now and then, laughing at the right time, to
+keep the stream of her little guest&rsquo;s words running
+on. Frances seemed all softness and warmth, all
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' ></a>132</span>
+youth and freshness, as fair as a camellia in a sunny
+casement, there at the window with the light around
+her. Above that inborn dignity which every line of
+her body expressed, there was a domestic tranquillity
+in her subdued beauty that moved even irresponsible
+Nola with an admiration that she could not put into
+words.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, you soldiers!&rdquo; said Nola, shaking her brush
+at Frances&rsquo; placid back, &ldquo;you get up so early and
+you dress so fast that you&rsquo;re always ahead of everybody
+else.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances turned to her, a smile for her childish
+complaint.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll get into our soldiering ways in time,
+Nola. We get up early and live in a hurry, I suppose,
+because a soldier&rsquo;s life is traditionally uncertain,
+and he wants to make the most of his time.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And love and ride away,&rdquo; said Nola, feigning a
+sigh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do they?&rdquo; asked Frances, not interested, turning
+to the window again.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; said Nola, positively.</p>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p>&ldquo;Like the guardsmen of old England,</p>
+<p>Or the beaux sabreurs of France&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+</div></div>
+<p class='ni'>that&rsquo;s an old border song, did you ever hear it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, I never did.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s about the Texas rangers, though, and not
+real soldiers like you folks. A cavalryman&rsquo;s wife
+wrote it; I&rsquo;ve got it in a book.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' ></a>133</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Maybe they do that way in Texas, Nola.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Love and ride away, as you said. I never heard
+of any of them doing it, except figuratively, in the
+regular army.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Nola suspended her brushing and looked at
+Frances curiously, a deeper color rising and spreading
+in her animated face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, you little goose!&rdquo; said she.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mostly they hang around and make trouble for
+people and fools of themselves,&rdquo; said Frances, in
+half-thoughtful vein, her back to her visitor, who
+had stopped brushing now, and was winding, a comb
+in her mouth.</p>
+<p>Nola held her quick hand at the half-finished coil
+of hair while she looked narrowly at the outline of
+Frances&rsquo; form against the window. A little squint
+of perplexity was in her eyes, and furrows in her
+smooth forehead. Presently she finished the coil with
+dextrous turn, and held it with outspread hand while
+she reached to secure it with the comb.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t make you out sometimes, Frances, you&rsquo;re
+so funny,&rdquo; she declared. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid to talk to you
+half the time&rdquo;&mdash;which was in no part true&mdash;&ldquo;you&rsquo;re
+so nunnish and severe.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Frances, fully discounting the declaration.</p>
+<p>No wonder that Major King was hard to wean
+from her, thought Nola, with all that grace of body
+and charm of word. Superiority had been born in
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' ></a>134</span>
+Frances Landcraft, not educated into her in expensive
+schools, the cattleman&rsquo;s daughter knew. It
+spoke for itself in the carriage of her head there
+against the light of that fair new day, with the sunshine
+on the dying cottonwood leaves beyond the
+windowpane; in the lifting of her neck, white as King
+David&rsquo;s tower of shields.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I <i>am</i> half afraid of you sometimes,&rdquo; Nola
+persisted. &ldquo;I draw my hand back from touching you
+when you&rsquo;ve got one of your soaring fits on you and
+walk along like you couldn&rsquo;t see common mortals and
+cowmen&rsquo;s daughters.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, everybody isn&rsquo;t like you, Nola; there are
+some who treat me like a child.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances was thinking of her father and Major
+King, both of whom had continued to overlook and
+ignore her declaration of severance from her plighted
+word. The colonel had brushed it aside with rough
+hand and sharp word; the major had come penitent
+and in suppliance. But both of them were determined
+to marry her according to schedule, with no weight
+to her solemn denial.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mothers do that, right along,&rdquo; Nola nodded.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Here&rsquo;s somebody else up early&rdquo;&mdash;Frances held
+the curtain aside as she spoke, and leaned a little to
+see&mdash;&ldquo;here&rsquo;s your father, just turning in.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The se&ntilde;or boss?&rdquo; said Nola, hurrying to the
+window.</p>
+<p>Saul Chadron was mounting the steps booted and
+dusty, his revolvers belted over his coat. &ldquo;I wonder
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' ></a>135</span>
+what&rsquo;s the matter? I hope it isn&rsquo;t mother&mdash;I&rsquo;ll run
+down and see.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The maid had let Chadron in by the time Nola
+opened the door of the room, and there she stood
+leaning and listening, her little head out in the hall,
+as if afraid to run to meet trouble. Chadron&rsquo;s big
+voice came up to them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s all right,&rdquo; Nola nodded to Frances, who
+stood at her elbow, &ldquo;he wants to see the colonel.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances had heard the cattleman&rsquo;s loud demand
+for instant audience. Now the maid was explaining
+in temporizing tones.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The colonel he&rsquo;s busy with military matters this
+early in the day, sir, and nobody ever disturbs him.
+He don&rsquo;t see nobody but the officers. If you&rsquo;ll step
+in and wait&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The officers can wait!&rdquo; Chadron said, in loud,
+assertive voice that made the servant shiver.
+&ldquo;Where&rsquo;s he at?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances could see in her lively imagination the
+frightened maid&rsquo;s gesture toward the colonel&rsquo;s office
+door. Now the girl&rsquo;s feet sounded along the hall in
+hasty retreat as Chadron laid his hearty knock
+against the colonel&rsquo;s panels.</p>
+<p>Frances smiled behind her friend&rsquo;s back. The impatient
+disregard by civilians of the forms which her
+father held in such esteem always was a matter of
+humor to her. She expected now to hear explosions
+from within her father&rsquo;s sacred place, and when the
+sound failed to reach her she concluded that some
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' ></a>136</span>
+subordinate hand had opened the door to Chadron&rsquo;s
+summons.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll hurry&rdquo;&mdash;Nola dashed into her own room,
+finishing from the door&mdash;&ldquo;I want to catch him before
+he goes and find out what&rsquo;s wrong.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances went below to see about breakfast for
+her tardy guest, a little fluttering of excitement in
+her own breast. She wondered what could have
+brought the cattleman to the post so early&mdash;he
+must have left long before dawn&mdash;and in such haste
+to see her father, all buckled about with his arms.
+She trusted that it might not be that Alan Macdonald
+was involved in it, for it was her constant
+thought to hope well for that bold young man who
+had heaved the homesteaders&rsquo; world to his shoulders
+and stood straining, untrusted and uncheered, under
+its weight.</p>
+<p>True, he had not died in defense of her glove, but
+she had forgiven him in her heart for that. A reasonable
+man would not have imperiled his life for
+such a trifle, and a reasonable woman would not have
+expected it. There was a great deal more sense in
+Alan Macdonald living for his life&rsquo;s purpose than in
+dying for a foolish little glove. So she said.</p>
+<p>The white gossamer fichu about her throat moved
+as with a breath in the agitation of her bosom as
+she passed down the stairs; her imperious chin was
+lowered, and her strong brown eyes were bent like
+a nun&rsquo;s before the altar. Worthy or unworthy, her
+lips moved in a prayer for Alan Macdonald, strong
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' ></a>137</span>
+man in his obscure place; worthy or unworthy, she
+wished him well, and her heart yearned after him
+with a great tenderness, like a south wind roaming the
+night in gentle quest.</p>
+<p>Major King, in attendance upon his chief, had
+opened the door to Saul Chadron at the colonel&rsquo;s
+frowning nod. Without waiting for the password
+into the mysteries of that chamber, Chadron had
+entered, his heavy quirt in hand, gauntlets to his
+elbows, dusty boots to his knees. Colonel Landcraft
+stood at his desk to receive him, his brows bent in a
+disfavoring frown.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve busted in on you, colonel, because my business
+is business, not a mess of reportin&rsquo; and signin&rsquo;
+up on nothing, like your fool army doin&rsquo;s.&rdquo; Chadron
+clamped with clicking spurs across the severe
+bare floor as he made this announcement, the frown
+of his displeasure in having been stopped at the door
+still dark on his face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m waiting your pleasure, sir,&rdquo; Colonel Landcraft
+returned, stiffly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I want twenty-five troopers and a cannon, and
+somebody that knows how to use it, and I want &rsquo;em
+right away!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Chadron gave the order with a hotness about him,
+and an impatience not to be denied.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sir!&rdquo; said Colonel Landcraft, throwing his bony
+shoulders back, his little blue eyes growing very cold
+and unfriendly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Them damn rustlers of Macdonald&rsquo;s are up and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' ></a>138</span>
+standin&rsquo; agin us, and I tell you I want troopers,
+and I want &rsquo;em on the spot!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Colonel Landcraft swallowed like an eagle gorging
+a fish. His face grew red, he clamped his jaw, and
+held his mouth shut. It took him some little time
+to suppress his flooding emotions, and his voice trembled
+even when he ventured to trust himself to speak.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s a matter for your civil authorities, sir;
+I have nothing to do with it at all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You ain&rsquo;t got&mdash;nothing&mdash;?&rdquo; Chadron&rsquo;s amazement
+seemed to overcome him. He stopped, his eyes
+big, his mouth open; he turned his head from side to
+side in dumbfounded way, as if to find another to bear
+witness to this incredible thing.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I tell you they&rsquo;re threatenin&rsquo; my property, and
+the property of my neighbors!&rdquo; protested Chadron,
+stunned, it seemed, that he should have to stop for
+details and explanations. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ve got millions invested&mdash;if
+them fellers gobbles up our land we&rsquo;re
+ruined!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sir, I can sympathize with you in your unfortunate
+business, but if I had millions of my own at stake
+under similar conditions I would be powerless to employ,
+on my own initiative, the forces of the United
+States army to drive those brigands away.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Chadron looked at him hard, his hat on his head,
+where it had remained all the time, his eyes staring in
+unspeakable surprise.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The hell you would!&rdquo; said he.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You and your neighbors surely can raise enough
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' ></a>139</span>
+men to crush the scoundrels, and hang their leader to
+a limb,&rdquo; the colonel suggested. &ldquo;Call out your men,
+Chadron, and ride against him. I never took you for
+a man to squeal for help in a little affair like this.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s got as many as a hundred men organized,
+maybe twice that&rdquo;&mdash;Chadron multiplied on the
+basis of damage that his men had suffered&mdash;&ldquo;and
+my men tell me he&rsquo;s drillin&rsquo; &rsquo;em like soldiers.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not surprised to hear that,&rdquo; nodded the
+colonel; &ldquo;that man Macdonald&rsquo;s got it in him to do
+that, and fight like the devil, too.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A gang of &rsquo;em killed three of my men a couple
+of days ago when I sent &rsquo;em up there to his shack to
+investigate a little matter, and Macdonald shot my
+foreman up so bad I guess he&rsquo;ll die. I tell you, man,
+it&rsquo;s a case for troopers!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What has the sheriff and the rest of you done
+to restore order?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I took twenty of my men up there yisterday, and
+a bunch of Sam Hatcher&rsquo;s from acrosst the river was
+to join us and smoke that wolf out of his hole and
+hang his damn hide on his cussed bob-wire fence. But
+hell! they was ditched in around that shack of his&rsquo;n,
+I tell you, gentlemen, and he peppered us so hard
+we had to streak out of there. I left two of my men,
+and Hatcher&rsquo;s crew couldn&rsquo;t come over to help us,
+for them damn rustlers had breastworks throwed up
+over there and drove &rsquo;em away from the river.
+They&rsquo;ve got us shut out from the only ford in thirty
+miles.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' ></a>140</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;ll be damned!&rdquo; said the colonel, warming
+at this warlike news.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Macdonald&rsquo;s had the gall to send me notice to
+keep out of that country up the river, and to run
+my cattle out of there, and it&rsquo;s my own land, by
+God! I&rsquo;ve been grazin&rsquo; it for eighteen years!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It looks like a serious situation,&rdquo; the colonel admitted.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Serious!&rdquo; There was scorn for the word and its
+weakness in Chadron&rsquo;s stress. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s hell, I tell you,
+when a man can&rsquo;t set foot on his own land!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are they all rustlers up there in the settlement?
+are there no honest homesteaders among them who
+would combine with you against this wild man and
+his unlawful followers?&rdquo; the colonel wanted to know.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not a man amongst &rsquo;em that ain&rsquo;t cut the brand
+out of a hide,&rdquo; Chadron declared. &ldquo;They&rsquo;ve been
+nestin&rsquo; up there under that man Macdonald for the
+last two years, and he&rsquo;s the brains of the pack. He
+gits his rake-off out of all they run off and sell. Me
+and the other cattlemen we&rsquo;ve been feedin&rsquo; and supportin&rsquo;
+&rsquo;em till the drain&rsquo;s gittin&rsquo; more&rsquo;n we can
+stand. We&rsquo;ve got to put &rsquo;em out, like a fire, or be
+eat up. We&rsquo;ve got to hit &rsquo;em, and hit &rsquo;em hard.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It would seem so,&rdquo; the colonel agreed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a state of war, I tell you, colonel; you&rsquo;re
+free to use your troops in a state of war, ain&rsquo;t you?
+Twenty-five troopers, with a little small cannon&rdquo;&mdash;Chadron
+made illustration of the caliber that he considered
+adequate for the business with his hands&mdash;&ldquo;to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' ></a>141</span>
+knock &rsquo;em out of their ditches so we could pick
+&rsquo;em off as they scatter, would be enough; we can handle
+the rest.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If there is anything that I can do for you in my
+private capacity, I am at your command,&rdquo; offered
+Colonel Landcraft, with official emptiness, &ldquo;but I
+regret that I am powerless to grant your request for
+troops. I couldn&rsquo;t lift a finger in a matter like this
+without a department order; you ought to understand
+that, Chadron.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, if that&rsquo;s all that&rsquo;s bitin&rsquo; you, go ahead&mdash;I&rsquo;ll
+take care of the department,&rdquo; Chadron told him, with
+the relieved manner of one who had seen a light.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sir!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>If Chadron had proposed treason the colonel could
+not have compressed more censure into that word.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s all right,&rdquo; Chadron assured him, comfortably;
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got two senators and five congressmen
+back there in Washington that jigger when I
+jerk the gee-string. You can cut loose and come into
+this thing with a free hand, and go the limit, the
+department be damned if they don&rsquo;t like it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Colonel Landcraft&rsquo;s face was flaming angrily. He
+snapped his dry old eyelids like flints over the steel
+of his eyes, and stood as straight as the human body
+could be drawn, one hand on his sword hilt, the other
+pointing a trembling finger at Chadron&rsquo;s face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You cattlemen run this state, and one or two
+others here in the Northwest, I&rsquo;m aware of that,
+Chadron. But there&rsquo;s one thing that you don&rsquo;t run,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' ></a>142</span>
+and that&rsquo;s the United States army! I don&rsquo;t care a
+damn how many congressmen dance to your tune,
+you&rsquo;re not big enough to move even one trooper out
+of my barracks, sir! That&rsquo;s all I&rsquo;ve got to say to
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Chadron stood a little while, glowering at the
+colonel. It enraged him to be blocked in that manner
+by a small and inconsequential man. This he felt
+Colonel Landcraft to be, measured against his own
+strength and importance in that country. Himself
+and the other two big cattlemen in that section of the
+state lorded it over an area greater than two or three
+of the old states where the slipping heritage of individual
+liberty was born. Now here was a colonel
+in his way; one little old gray colonel!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All right,&rdquo; Chadron said at length, charging his
+words with what he doubtless meant to be a significant
+foreboding, measuring Colonel Landcraft with
+contemptuous eye. &ldquo;I can call out an army of my
+own. I came to you because we pay you fellers to
+do what I&rsquo;m askin&rsquo; of you, and because I thought it&rsquo;d
+save me time. That&rsquo;s all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You came to me because you have magnified your
+importance in this country until you believe you&rsquo;re
+the entire nation,&rdquo; the colonel replied, very hot and
+red.</p>
+<p>Chadron made no answer to that. He turned
+toward the military door, but Colonel Landcraft
+would not permit his unsanctified feet, great as they
+were and free to come and go as they liked in other
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' ></a>143</span>
+places, to pass that way. He frowned at Major
+King, who had stood by in silence all the time, like
+a good soldier, his eyes straight ahead. Major King
+touched Chadron&rsquo;s arm.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This way, sir, if you please,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>Chadron started out, wrathfully and noisily. Half-way
+to the door he turned, his dark face sneering in
+contemptuous scorn.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, you&rsquo;re one hell of a colonel!&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>Major King was holding the door open; Chadron
+swung his big body around to face it, and passed out.
+Major King saluted his superior officer and followed
+the cattleman into the hall, closing the sacred door
+behind him on the wrathful little old soldier standing
+beside his desk. King extended his hand, sympathy
+in gesture and look.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If I was in command of this post, sir, you&rsquo;d never
+have to ask twice for troops,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>Chadron&rsquo;s sudden interest seemed to give him the
+movement of a little start. His grip on the young
+officer&rsquo;s hand tightened as he bent a searching look
+into his eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;King, I believe you!&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>Nola came pattering down the stairs. Chadron
+stood with open arms, and swallowed her in them as
+she leaped from the bottom tread. Major King did
+not wait to see her emerge again, rosy and lip-tempting.
+There was unfinished business within the
+colonel&rsquo;s room.</p>
+<p>A few minutes later Nola, excited to her finger-ends,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' ></a>144</span>
+was retailing the story of the rustlers&rsquo; uprising
+to Frances.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mother&rsquo;s all worked up over it; she&rsquo;s afraid
+they&rsquo;ll burn us out and murder us, but of course we&rsquo;d
+clean them up before they&rsquo;d ever get <i>that</i> far down
+the river.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It looks to me like a very serious situation for
+everybody concerned,&rdquo; Frances said. &ldquo;If your
+father brings in the men that you say he&rsquo;s gone to
+Meander to telegraph for, there&rsquo;s going to be a lot
+of killing done on both sides.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Father says he&rsquo;s going to clean them out for
+good this time&mdash;they&rsquo;ve cost us thousands of dollars
+in the past three years. Oh, you can&rsquo;t understand
+what a low-down bunch of scrubs those rustlers are!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Maybe not,&rdquo; Frances said, giving it up with a
+little sigh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got to go back to mother this morning, right
+away, but that little fuss up the river doesn&rsquo;t need
+to keep you from going home with me as you promised,
+Frances.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I shouldn&rsquo;t mind, but I don&rsquo;t believe father will
+want me to go out into your wild country. I really
+want to go&mdash;I want to look around in your garden
+for a glove that I lost there on the night of the ball.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, why didn&rsquo;t you tell me?&rdquo; Nola&rsquo;s face seemed
+to clear of something, a shadow of perplexity, it
+seemed, that Frances had seen in it from time to
+time since her coming there. She looked frankly and
+reprovingly at Frances.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' ></a>145</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t miss it until I was leaving, and I didn&rsquo;t
+want to delay the rest of them to look for it. It
+really doesn&rsquo;t matter.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a wonder mother didn&rsquo;t find it; she&rsquo;s always
+prowling around among the flowers,&rdquo; said Nola, her
+eyes fixed in abstracted stare, as if she was thinking
+deeply of something apart from what her words expressed.</p>
+<p>What she was considering, indeed, was that her
+little scheme of alienation had failed. Major King,
+she told herself, had not returned the glove to
+Frances. For all his lightness in the matter, perhaps
+he cared deeply for Frances, and would be more difficult
+to wean than she had thought. It would have
+to be begun anew. That Frances was ignorant of
+her treachery, as she now fully believed, made it
+easier. So the little lady told herself, surveying the
+situation in her quick brain, and deceiving herself
+completely, as many a shrewder schemer than she,
+when self-entangled in the devious plottings of this
+life.</p>
+<p>On the other hand there sat Frances across the
+table&mdash;they were breakfasting alone, Mrs. Landcraft
+being a strict militarist, and always serving the
+colonel&rsquo;s coffee with her own hand&mdash;throwing up a
+framework of speculation on her own account. Perhaps
+if she should go to the ranch she might be in
+some manner instrumental in bringing this needless
+warfare to a pacific end. Intervention at the right
+time, in the proper quarter, might accomplish more
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' ></a>146</span>
+than strife and bloodshed could bring out of that
+one-sided war.</p>
+<p>No matter for the justice of the homesteaders&rsquo;
+cause, and the sincerity of their leader, neither of
+which she doubted or questioned, the weight of numbers
+and resources would be on the side of the cattlemen.
+It could result only in the homesteaders being
+driven from their insecure holdings after the sacrifice
+of many lives. If she could see Macdonald, and
+appeal to him to put down this foolish, even though
+well-intended strife, something might result.</p>
+<p>It was an inconsequential turmoil, it seemed to
+her, there in that sequestered land, for a man like
+Alan Macdonald to squander his life upon. If he
+stood against the forces which Chadron had gone to
+summon, he would be slain, and the abundant promise
+of his life wasted like water on the sand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go with you, Nola,&rdquo; she said, rising from
+the table in quick decision.</p></div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' ></a>147</span>
+<a  id='CHAPTER_XII_THE_RUSTLERS'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XII<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'>&ldquo;THE RUSTLERS!&rdquo;</span></h2>
+</div>
+<div class='text'><p class='ni'>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve stood up for that man, and I&rsquo;ve stood by
+him,&rdquo; said Banjo Gibson, &ldquo;but when a man
+shoots a friend of my friend he ain&rsquo;t no friend of
+mine. I&rsquo;m done with him; I won&rsquo;t never set a boot-heel
+inside of his door ag&rsquo;in.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Banjo was in Mrs. Chadron&rsquo;s south sitting-room,
+with its friendly fireplace and homely things, including
+Mrs. Chadron and her apparently interminable
+sock. Only now it was a gray sock, designed not
+for the mighty foot of Saul, but for Chance Dalton,
+lying on his back in the bunkhouse in a fever growing
+out of the handling that he had gone through at
+Macdonald&rsquo;s place.</p>
+<p>Banjo had arrived at the ranch the previous evening.
+He was sitting now with his fiddle on his
+knee, having gone through the repertory most
+favored by his hostess, with the exception of &ldquo;Silver
+Threads.&rdquo; That was an afternoon melody, Banjo
+maintained, and one would have strained his friendship
+and shaken his respect if he had insisted upon
+the musician putting bow to it in the morning hours.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; sighed Mrs. Chadron, &ldquo;it was bad enough
+when he just shot cowboys, but when it come to
+Chance we felt real grieved. Chance he ain&rsquo;t much to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' ></a>148</span>
+look at, but he&rsquo;s worth his weight in gold on the
+ranch.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Busted his right arm all to pieces, they tell me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Right here.&rdquo; Mrs. Chadron marked across her
+wrist with her knitting needle, and shook her head
+in heavy sadness.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;ll kind of spile him, won&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Saul says it won&rsquo;t make so much difference
+about him not havin&rsquo; the use of his hand on that side
+if it don&rsquo;t break his nerve. A man loses confidence
+in himself, Saul says, most always when he loses the
+hand or arm he&rsquo;s slung his gun with all his life. He
+takes the notion that everybody&rsquo;s quicker&rsquo;n he is,
+and just kind of slinges back and drops out of the
+game.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you expect Saul he&rsquo;ll come back here with
+them soldiers he went after?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I expect he&rsquo;ll more&rsquo;n likely order &rsquo;em right up
+the river to clear them rustlers out before he stops
+or anything,&rdquo; she replied, in high confidence.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The gall of them low-down brand-burners standin&rsquo;
+up to fight a man on his own land!&rdquo; Banjo&rsquo;s indignation
+could not have been more pointed if he had
+been a lord of many herds himself.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There comes them blessed girls!&rdquo; reported Mrs.
+Chadron from her station near the window. Banjo
+crossed over to see, his fiddle held to his bosom like
+an infant. Nola and Frances were nearing the gate.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That colonel girl she&rsquo;s a up-setter, ain&rsquo;t she?&rdquo;
+Banjo admired.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' ></a>149</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s as sweet as locus&rsquo; blooms,&rdquo; Mrs. Chadron
+declared, unstintingly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But she&rsquo;s kind of distant; nothing friendly and
+warm-hearted like your little Nola, mom.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s a little cool to strangers, but when she
+knows a body she comes out.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Banjo nodded, drawing little whispers of melody
+from his fiddle-strings by fingering them against the
+neck.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I noticed when she smiles she seems to change,&rdquo;
+he said. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s like puttin&rsquo; bow to the strings. A
+fiddle&rsquo;s a glum kind of a thing till you wake it up;
+she&rsquo;s that way, I reckon.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, git ready for dinner&mdash;or lunch, as Nola
+calls it&mdash;they&rsquo;ll be starved by this time, ridin&rsquo;
+all the way from the post in this chilly wind. I&rsquo;m
+mighty afraid we&rsquo;re goin&rsquo; to have some weather before
+long.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Can&rsquo;t put it off much longer,&rdquo; Banjo agreed,
+thinking of the hardship of being caught out in one
+of those sweeping blizzards, when the sudden cold
+grew so sharp that a man&rsquo;s banjo strings broke in
+the tense contraction. That had happened to him
+more than once, and it only seemed to sharpen the
+pleasure of being snowed in at a place like Alamito,
+where the kitchen was fat and the hand of the host
+free. He smiled as he turned to the kitchen to wash
+his face and soap his hair.</p>
+<p>They passed a very pleasant afternoon at the
+ranchhouse, in spite of Mrs. Chadron&rsquo;s uneasiness on
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' ></a>150</span>
+account of their defenseless state. At that season
+Chadron and his neighbors could not draw very
+heavily on their scattered forces following the divided
+herds spread out over the vast territory for the
+winter grazing.</p>
+<p>The twenty men gathered in a hurry-call by
+Chadron to avenge the defeat of Chance Dalton,
+who had in their turn been met and unexpectedly repulsed
+by the homesteaders, as Chadron had related
+in his own way to Colonel Landcraft, were lying in
+camp several miles up the river. That is, all that
+were left of them fit for duty after the fight. A
+good many of them were limping, and would limp for
+many a day.</p>
+<p>They were waiting the arrival of the troops, which
+they expected with the same confidence Mrs. Chadron
+had held before Nola brought her an explanation that
+covered the confusion of refusal.</p>
+<p>Neither of the young women knew of the tiff between
+the colonel and Chadron, for the colonel was a
+man who kept his family apart from his business.
+Chadron had not seen fit to uncover his humiliation to
+his daughter, but had told her that he was acting on
+the advice of Colonel Landcraft in sending to his
+friends in Cheyenne for men to put down the uprising
+of rustlers himself.</p>
+<p>So there were comfortable enough relations between
+them all at the ranch as the day bent to evening and
+the red sunset changed to gray. Banjo played for
+them, as he had done that other afternoon, and sang
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' ></a>151</span>
+his sentimental songs in voice that quavered in the
+feeling passages. Chadron had not left anybody to
+guard the house, because he knew very well that
+Macdonald considered nothing beyond defense, and
+that he would as quickly burn his own mother&rsquo;s
+roof above her head as he would set torch to that
+home by the riverside.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sing us that dreamy one, Banjo,&rdquo; Nola requested,
+&ldquo;the one that begins &lsquo;Come sit by my side
+little&mdash;&rsquo; you know the one I mean.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A sentimental tenderness came into Banjo&rsquo;s face.
+He turned his head so that he could look out of the
+window into the thickening landscape beyond the
+corral gate, gray and mysterious and unfriendly now
+as a twilight sea. Nola touched Frances&rsquo; arm to
+prime her for the treat.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Watch his face,&rdquo; she whispered, smiling behind
+her hand.</p>
+<p>Banjo struck the chords of his accompaniment;
+the sentimental cast of his face deepened, until it
+seemed that he was about to come to tears. He sang:</p>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p>Come sit by my side litt-ul dau-ling,</p>
+<p><span class='indent2'>&nbsp;</span>And lay your brown head on my breast,</p>
+<p>Whilse the angels of twilight o-round us</p>
+<p><span class='indent2'>&nbsp;</span>Are singing the flow-ohs to rest.</p>
+</div></div>
+<p class='ni'>Banjo must have loved many ladies in many lands,
+for that is the gift and the privilege of the troubadour.
+Now he seemed calling up their vanished faces
+out of the twilight as he sang his little song. What
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' ></a>152</span>
+feeling he threw into the chorus, what shaking of
+the voice, what soft sinking away of the last notes,
+the whang of the banjo softened by palm across the
+strings!</p>
+<p>The chorus:</p>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p>O, what can be sweet-o than dreaming</p>
+<p><span class='indent2'>&nbsp;</span>Tho dream that is on us tonight!</p>
+<p>Pre-haps do you know litt-ul dau-ling,</p>
+<p><span class='indent2'>&nbsp;</span>Tho future lies hidded from sight.</p>
+</div></div>
+<p class='ni'>There was a great deal more of that song, which
+really was not so bad, the way Banjo sang it, for
+he exalted it on the best qualities that lived in his
+harmless breast; not so bad that way, indeed, as it
+looks in print. Frances could not see where the joke
+at the little musician&rsquo;s expense came in, although
+Nola was laughing behind his unsuspecting back as
+the last notes died.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Chadron wiped her eyes. &ldquo;I think it&rsquo;s the
+sweetest song that ever was sung!&rdquo; she said, and
+meant it, every word.</p>
+<p>Banjo said nothing at all, but put away his instrument
+with reverent hands, as if no sound was worthy
+to come out of it after that sweet agony of love.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Chadron got up, in her large, bustling, hospitable
+way, sentimentally satisfied, and withal
+grossly hungry.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Supper&rsquo;ll be about ready now, children,&rdquo; she
+said, putting her sock away in its basket, &ldquo;and
+while you two are primpin&rsquo; I&rsquo;ll run down to the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' ></a>153</span>
+bunkhouse and take some chicken broth to Chance
+that Maggie made him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, poor old Chance!&rdquo; Nola pitied, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been
+sitting here enjoying myself and forgetting all about
+him. I&rsquo;ll take it down to him, mother&mdash;Banjo he&rsquo;ll
+come with me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Banjo was alert on the proposal, and keen to go.
+He brought Nola&rsquo;s coat at her mother&rsquo;s suggestion,
+for the evening had a feeling of frost in it, and attended
+her to the kitchen after the chicken broth as
+gallantly as if he wore a sword.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Chadron came back from her investigations
+in the kitchen in a little while to Frances, who waited
+alone before the happy little fire in the chimney. She
+sighed as she resumed her rocking-chair by the window,
+and crossed her seldom idle hands over her
+comfortably inelegant front.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;ll be some little time before supper&rsquo;s ready to
+set down to,&rdquo; she announced regretfully. &ldquo;Maggie&rsquo;s
+makin&rsquo; stuffed peppers, and they&rsquo;re kind of slow to
+bake. We can talk.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; Frances agreed, her mind running
+on the hope that had brought her to the ranch; the
+hope of seeing Macdonald, and appealing to him in
+pity&rsquo;s name for peace.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That thievin&rsquo; Macdonald&rsquo;s to blame for Chance,
+our foreman, losin&rsquo; the use of his right hand,&rdquo; Mrs.
+Chadron said, with asperity. &ldquo;Did Nola tell you
+about the fight they had with him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, she told me about it as we came.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' ></a>154</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;It looks like the devil&rsquo;s harnessed up with that
+man, he does so much damage without ever gittin&rsquo;
+hurt himself. He had a crowd of rustlers up there
+with him when Chance went up there to trace some
+stock, and they up and killed three of our cowboys.
+Ain&rsquo;t it terrible?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is terrible!&rdquo; Frances shuddered, withholding
+her opinion on which side the terror lay, together
+with the blame.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then Saul went up there with some more of the
+men to burn that Macdonald&rsquo;s shack and drive him
+off of our land, and they run into a bunch of them
+rustlers that Macdonald he&rsquo;d fetched over there, and
+two more of our men was killed. It looks like a
+body&rsquo;s got to fight night and day for his rights now,
+since them nesters begun to come in here. Well, we
+was here first, and Saul says we&rsquo;ll be here last. But
+I think it&rsquo;s plumb scan&rsquo;lous the way them rustlers
+bunches together and fights. They never was known
+to do it before, and they wouldn&rsquo;t do it now if it
+wasn&rsquo;t for that black-hearted thief, Macdonald!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Did you ever see him?&rdquo; Frances asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, I never did, and don&rsquo;t never want to!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I just asked you because he doesn&rsquo;t look like a
+bad man.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They say he sneaked in here the night of Nola&rsquo;s
+dance, but I didn&rsquo;t see him. Oh, what &rsquo;m I tellin&rsquo;
+you? Course you know <i>that</i>&mdash;you danced with
+him!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Frances, neither sorry nor ashamed.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' ></a>155</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;But you wasn&rsquo;t to blame, honey,&rdquo; Mrs. Chadron
+comforted, &ldquo;you didn&rsquo;t know him from Adamses
+off ox.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances sat leaning forward, looking into the fire.
+The light of the blaze was on her face, appealingly
+soft and girlishly sweet. Mrs. Chadron laid a hand
+on her hair in motherly caress, moved by a tenderness
+quite foreign to the vindictive creed which she
+had pronounced against the nesters but a little while
+before.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid you&rsquo;re starved, honey,&rdquo; she said, in
+genuine solicitude, thus expressing the nearest human
+sympathy out of her full-feeding soul.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m hungry, but far from starving,&rdquo; Frances
+told her, knowing that the confession to an appetite
+would please her hostess better than a gift. &ldquo;When
+do you expect Mr. Chadron home?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know, honey, but you don&rsquo;t need to
+worry; them rustlers can&rsquo;t pass our men Saul left
+camped up the valley.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I wasn&rsquo;t thinking of that; I&rsquo;m not afraid.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Chadron chuckled. &ldquo;Did I tell you about
+Nola?&rdquo; she asked. Then, answering herself, before
+Frances could more than turn her head inquiringly;
+&ldquo;No, of course, I never. It was too funny for anything!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What was it?&rdquo; Frances asked, in girlish eagerness.
+Mrs. Chadron&rsquo;s smile was reflected in her face
+as she sat straight, and turned expectantly to her
+hostess.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' ></a>156</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;The other evening when she and her father was
+comin&rsquo; home from the postoffice over at the agency
+they run acrosst that sneak Macdonald, afoot in the
+road, guns so thick on him you couldn&rsquo;t count &rsquo;em.
+Saul asked him what he was skulkin&rsquo; around down
+this way for, and the feller he was kind of sassy
+about it, and tried to pass Nola and go on. He had
+the gall to tip his hat to her, just like she was low
+enough to notice a brand-burner! Well, she give
+him a larrup over the face with her whip that cut
+the hide! He took hold of her bridle to shove her
+horse out of the way so he could run, I reckon, and
+she switched him till he squirmed like a puppy-dog!
+I laughed till I nearly split when Saul told me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Chadron surrendered again to her keen appreciation
+of the humor in that situation. Frances
+felt now that she understood the attitude of the cattlemen
+toward the homesteaders as she never had
+even sensed it before. Here was this motherly
+woman, naturally good at heart and gentle, hardened
+and blinded by her prejudices until she could discuss
+murder as a thing desired, and the extirpation
+of a whole community as a just and righteous deed.</p>
+<p>There was no feeling of softness in her breast for
+the manful strivings of Alan Macdonald to make
+a home in that land, not so much for himself&mdash;for it
+was plain that he would grace a different world to
+far better advantage&mdash;but for the disinherited of
+the earth. To Mrs. Chadron he was a thing apart
+from her species, a horrible, low, grisly monster, to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' ></a>157</span>
+whom the earth should afford no refuge and man
+no hiding-place. There was no virtue in Alan
+Macdonald; his fences had killed his right to human
+consideration.</p>
+<p>In a moment Mrs. Chadron was grave again. She
+put out her hand in that gentle, motherly way and
+touched Frances&rsquo; hair, smoothing it from her forehead,
+pleased with the irrepressible life of it which
+sprung it back after the passage of her palm like
+water in a vessel&rsquo;s wake.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I let on to you a little while ago that I wasn&rsquo;t
+uneasy, honey,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;but I ain&rsquo;t no hand at
+hidin&rsquo; the truth. I am uneasy, honey, and on pins,
+for I don&rsquo;t trust them rustlers. I&rsquo;m afraid they&rsquo;ll
+hear that Saul&rsquo;s gone, and come sneakin&rsquo; down here
+and burn us out before morning, and do worse, maybe.
+I don&rsquo;t know why I&rsquo;ve got that feelin&rsquo;, but I have, and
+it&rsquo;s heavy in me, like raw dough.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe they&rsquo;d do anything like that,&rdquo;
+Frances told her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, you don&rsquo;t know &rsquo;em like we do, honey, the
+low-down thieves! They ort to be hunted like wolves
+and shot, wherever they&rsquo;re found.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Some of them have wives and children, haven&rsquo;t
+they?&rdquo; Frances asked, thinking aloud, as she sat
+with her chin resting in her hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I suppose they litter like any other wolves,&rdquo;
+Mrs. Chadron returned, unfeelingly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Si a tu ventana llega una paloma</i>,&rdquo; sang Maggie
+in the kitchen, the snapping of the oven door coming
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' ></a>158</span>
+in quite harmoniously as she closed it on the baking
+peppers. Mrs. Chadron sighed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Tratala con cari&ntilde;a que es mi persona</i>,&rdquo; sounded
+Maggie, a degree louder. Mrs. Chadron sat upright,
+with a new interest in life apart from her uneasy
+forebodings about the rustlers. Maggie was in the
+dining-room, spreading the cloth. The peppers were
+coming along.</p>
+<p>Somebody burst into the kitchen; uncertain feet
+came across it; a cry broke Maggie&rsquo;s song short as
+she jingled the silver in place on the cloth. Banjo
+Gibson stumbled into the room where the low fire
+twinkled in the chimney, reeling on his legs, his
+breath coming in groans.</p>
+<p>Maggie was behind him, holding the door open;
+the light from the big lamp on the dining-table fell
+on the musician, who weaved there as if he might
+fall. His hat was off, blood was in his eyes and over
+his face from a wound at the edge of his hair.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nola&mdash;Nola!&rdquo; he gasped.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Chadron, already beside him, laid hold of him
+now and shook him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Tell it, you little devil&mdash;tell it!&rdquo; she screamed.</p>
+<p>Frances, with gentler hand, drew Banjo from her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s happened to Nola?&rdquo; she asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The rustlers!&rdquo; he said, his voice falling away in
+horror.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The rustlers!&rdquo; Mrs. Chadron groaned, her arms
+lifted above her head. She ran in wild distraction
+into the dining-room, now back to the chimney to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' ></a>159</span>
+take down a rifle that hung in its case on a deer prong
+over the mantel.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nola, Nola!&rdquo; she called, running out into the
+garden. Her wild voice came back from there in a
+moment, crying her daughter&rsquo;s name in agony.</p>
+<p>Banjo had sunk to the floor, his battered face held
+in his hands.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My God! they took her!&rdquo; he groaned. &ldquo;The
+rustlers, they took her, and I couldn&rsquo;t lift a hand!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances beckoned to Maggie, who had followed her
+mistress to the kitchen door.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Give him water; stop the blood,&rdquo; she ordered
+sharply.</p>
+<p>In a moment she had dashed out after Mrs.
+Chadron, and was running frantically along the
+garden path toward the river.</p></div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' ></a>160</span>
+<a  id='CHAPTER_XIII_THE_TRAIL_AT_DAWN'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIII<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'>THE TRAIL AT DAWN</span></h2>
+</div>
+<div class='text'><p class='ni'>Frances stopped at the high wire fence along
+the river bank. It was dark there between the
+shrubs of the garden on one hand and the tall willows
+on the other, but nothing moved in them but her own
+leaping heart. She called Mrs. Chadron, running
+along the fence as she cried her name.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Chadron answered from the barn. Frances
+found her saddling a horse, while Maggie&rsquo;s husband,
+an old Mexican with a stiff leg, muttered prayers in
+his native tongue as he tightened the girths on another.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Chadron was for riding in pursuit of Nola&rsquo;s
+abductors, although she had not mounted a horse in
+fifteen years. There was no man about the place
+except crippled old Alvino, and wounded Dalton
+lying in the men&rsquo;s quarters near at hand. Neither
+of them was serviceable in such an emergency, and
+Banjo, willing as he would be, seemed too badly hurt
+to be of any use.</p>
+<p>Frances pressed her to dismiss this intention.
+Even if they knew which way to ride, it would be a
+hopeless pursuit.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s only one way to go&mdash;towards the
+rustlers&rsquo; settlement,&rdquo; Mrs. Chadron grimly returned.</p>
+<p>She was over her hysterical passion now, and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' ></a>161</span>
+steadied down into a state of desperate determination
+to set out after the thieves and bring Nola back.
+She did not know how it was to be accomplished, but
+she felt her strength equal to any demand in the
+pressure of her despair. She was lifting her foot
+to the stirrup, thinly dressed as she was, her head
+bare, the rifle in her hand, when Frances took her
+by the arm.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You can&rsquo;t go alone with Alvino, Mrs. Chadron.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got to go, I tell you&mdash;let loose of me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She shook off Frances&rsquo; restraining hand and turned
+to her horse again. With her hand on the pommel
+of the saddle she stopped, and turned to Alvino.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Go and fetch me Chance&rsquo;s guns out of the bunkhouse,&rdquo;
+she ordered.</p>
+<p>Alvino hitched away, swinging his stiff leg, with
+laborious, slow gait.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You couldn&rsquo;t do anything against a crowd of
+desperate men&mdash;they might kill you!&rdquo; Frances said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let &rsquo;em kill me, then!&rdquo; She lifted her hand, as
+if taking an oath. &ldquo;They&rsquo;ll pay for this trick&mdash;every
+man, woman, and child of them&rsquo;ll bleed for what
+they&rsquo;ve done to me tonight!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let Alvino go to the camp up the river where
+Mr. Chadron left the men, and tell them; they can
+do more than you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You couldn&rsquo;t drive him alone out of sight of the
+lights in the house with fire. He&rsquo;d come back with
+some kind of a lie before he&rsquo;d went a mile. I&rsquo;ll go
+to &rsquo;em myself, honey&mdash;I didn&rsquo;t think of them.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' ></a>162</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go with you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Wait till Alvino comes with them guns&mdash;I can
+use &rsquo;em better than I can a rifle. Oh, why don&rsquo;t the
+man hurry!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll run down and see what&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But Alvino came around the corral at that moment.
+He had stopped to light a lantern, in his peculiar
+Mexican mode of estimating the importance of time
+and occasion, and came flashing it in short, violent
+arcs as he swayed to swing his jointless leg.</p>
+<p>Frances led out the other horse and was waiting
+to mount when Alvino came panting up, the belt with
+its two revolvers over his arm. Mrs. Chadron jerked
+it from him with something hard and sharp on her
+tongue like a curse. Banjo Gibson came into the
+circle of light, a bandage on his head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t even see &rsquo;em. They knocked me down,
+and when I come to she was gone!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Banjo&rsquo;s voice was full of self-censure, and his feet
+were weak upon the ground. He began to talk the
+moment the light struck him, and when he had finished
+his little explanation he was standing beside
+Mrs. Chadron&rsquo;s saddle.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Go to the house and lie down, Banjo,&rdquo; Mrs.
+Chadron said; &ldquo;I ain&rsquo;t time to fool with you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you two aimin&rsquo; to go to the post after help?&rdquo;
+Banjo steadied himself on his legs by clinging to the
+horse&rsquo;s mane as he spoke.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;re goin&rsquo; up the river after the men,&rdquo; Mrs.
+Chadron told him.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' ></a>163</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;No, I&rsquo;ll go after the men; that&rsquo;s a man&rsquo;s job,&rdquo;
+Banjo insisted. &ldquo;I know right where they&rsquo;re camped
+at, you couldn&rsquo;t find &rsquo;em between now and morning.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There was no arguing Banjo out of it, no brushing
+the little man aside. He was as firm as a man three
+times his weight, and he took Mrs. Chadron by the
+arm, like a son, and led her away from the horse with
+a manner at once so firm and yet considerate that it
+softened her stern heart and plunged her into tears.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you bring Nola back to me I&rsquo;ll give her to
+you, Banjo! I&rsquo;ll give her to you!&rdquo; she sobbed, as
+she belted him with Chance Dalton&rsquo;s guns.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If any reward in this world could drive me
+through hell fire to lay my hands on it, you&rsquo;ve named
+it,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>Frances saw that Mrs. Chadron could be reasoned
+with now, and she was grateful to Banjo for his opportune
+arrival. For the night was vast and
+unfriendly over that empty land, and filled with a
+thousand shudderful dangers. She was afraid of it,
+afraid to leave the lights of the house behind her
+and ride out into it, no matter for all the peril that
+poor little Nola might be facing in that cruel hour.</p>
+<p>Banjo rode away. They stood clinging to each
+other in the dim circle of Alvino&rsquo;s lantern-light,
+listening to his horse until the distance muffled its
+feet on the road.</p>
+<p>Frances was chilled with the horror of that brigandish
+act. Every movement of the wind in the
+bushes made her skin crinkle and creep; every sound
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' ></a>164</span>
+of animals in barn and corral was magnified into
+some new danger. Mrs. Chadron was in far worse
+state, with reason, certainly, for being so. Now that
+the stimulation of her first wild outburst had been
+exhausted, she stood wilted and weak, shivering with
+her hands over her eyes, moaning and moaning in
+piteous low wail.</p>
+<p>Frances took the lantern from old Alvino&rsquo;s shaking
+hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s go and look for their tracks,&rdquo; she suggested,
+forcing a note of eagerness into her words,
+&ldquo;so we can tell the men, when they come back to
+pick up the trail, how many there were and which
+way they went.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, if Chance was only able to go after them, if
+he was only able!&rdquo; Mrs. Chadron wailed, following
+Frances as she hurried along the wire fence that cut
+the garden from the river.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was somebody that knowed the lay of the
+land,&rdquo; Mrs. Chadron said, &ldquo;for that gate down there
+back of the house is open. That&rsquo;s the way they come
+and went&mdash;somebody that knowed the lay of the
+land.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances felt her heart die within her as the recollection
+of another night in that garden flashed like
+red fire in her mind. There was a picture, as she
+stopped with closed eyes, struck cold and shuddering
+by a fear she dared not own, of one flying, bent into
+the shadows, along the garden path toward that gate.
+Someone who knew the &ldquo;lay of the land!&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' ></a>165</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Did you hear something?&rdquo; Mrs. Chadron whispered,
+leaning close to her where she had stopped,
+stock-still, as if she had struck a wall.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I thought I&mdash;I&mdash;saw something,&rdquo; Frances
+answered, in faint, sick voice.</p>
+<p>The white gate was swinging as the invaders had
+left it, and in the soft ground beyond it they found
+tracks.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Only one man!&rdquo; said Mrs. Chadron, bending
+over.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s only one track,&rdquo; said Frances, her
+breath so feeble, her heart laboring so weakly that
+she believed that she must die.</p>
+<p>Alvino came up, and took the lead in tracking, with
+the aptness for that trick that goes with primitive
+minds such as his. Even in the farthest glimmer of
+the light he could pick up the trail, and soon he led
+them to the willows where the ravisher&rsquo;s horse had
+been concealed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;One shoe was lost,&rdquo; said he, pointing, &ldquo;left one,
+hind foot.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Chadron stood looking in the direction that
+the rider had gone with his precious burden, her eyes
+straining into the dark.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, if I&rsquo;d &rsquo;a&rsquo; come down here place of saddlin&rsquo;
+that horse!&rdquo; she lamented, with a pang for her lost
+opportunity.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;d have been gone, even then&mdash;I was past
+here and didn&rsquo;t hear him,&rdquo; Frances said.</p>
+<p>Still the vision persisted in her disturbed imagination
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' ></a>166</span>
+of that other night, of one leaning low in the
+saddle, his fleet horse stretching its neck in desperation
+for the distant refuge; the dash of pursuing
+hoofs; the sound of shots up the river; the prayer
+that she sent to heaven in his behalf.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, it was somebody that knowed the lay of the
+land,&rdquo; Mrs. Chadron was repeating, with accusing
+conviction.</p>
+<p>They returned to the house, having done all that
+they could do. It was doubtful whether the dumb,
+plethoric nature of Mrs. Chadron made her capable
+of suffering as Frances suffered, even with her greater
+reason for pain of that cruel bereavement. Imaginative,
+refined, sensitive as a harp, Frances reflected
+every wild wrench of horror that Nola herself must
+have been suffering as the horseman bore her along
+in the thick night. She felt that she must scream,
+but that some frightful thing smothered the voice
+that struggled in her throat; that she must leap and
+flee away, but a cloying power was heavy on her
+limbs, binding her as if her feet were set in lava.</p>
+<p>Somebody that knew the &ldquo;lay of the land.&rdquo; Great
+God! could he fight that way, was it in Alan Macdonald
+to make a hawk&rsquo;s dash like that? It was hard
+to admit the thought, to give standing to the doubtful
+accusation. But those whom they called &ldquo;rustlers&rdquo;
+must have borne Nola away. Beyond the homesteaders
+up the river were the mountains and the wild
+country where no man made his home; except them
+and the cattlemen and the cowboys attending the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' ></a>167</span>
+herds, that country was unpeopled. There was nobody
+to whom the deed could be charged but the
+enemies that Chadron had made in his persecution
+of the homesteaders.</p>
+<p>Perhaps they were not of the type that Macdonald
+described; maybe the cattlemen were just in their
+arraignment of them for thieves and skulking rascals,
+and Macdonald was no better than the reputation
+that common report gave him. The mere fact of
+his defense of them in words, and his association with
+them, seemed to convict him there in the silence of
+that black-walled court of night.</p>
+<p>It was either that he was blinded to the deviltries
+of his associates by his own high intentions, or as
+shrewdly dishonest as any scoundrel that ever rode
+the wilds. He could be that, and carry it off before
+a sharper judge than she. So she said, finding it
+hard to excuse his blindness, if blindness it might be;
+unable to mitigate in any degree the blame, even passive
+knowledge of the intent, of that base offense.</p>
+<p>At length, through all the fog of her groping and
+piecing together, she reached what she believed to be
+the motive which lay behind the deed. The rustlers
+doubtless were aware of the blow that Chadron was
+preparing to deliver upon them in retaliation for his
+recent losses. They had carried off his daughter to
+make her the price of their own immunity, or else
+to extract from him a ransom that would indemnify
+them for quitting their lairs in the land upon which
+they preyed.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' ></a>168</span></div>
+<p>She explained this to Mrs. Chadron when it became
+clear to her own mind. Mrs. Chadron seemed to draw
+considerable hope from it that she should receive her
+daughter back again unharmed in a little while.</p>
+<p>The rest of the night the two women spent at the
+gate, and in the road up and down in front of it,
+straining for the sound of a hoof that might bring
+them tidings. Mrs. Chadron kept up a moaning like
+an infant whose distress no mind can read, no hand
+relieve. Now and then she burst into a shrill and
+sudden cry, and time and again she imagined that
+she heard Nola calling her, and dashed off along the
+road with answering shout, to come back to her sad
+vigil at the gate by and by on Frances&rsquo; arm, crushed
+by this one great and sudden sorrow of her life.</p>
+<p>Frances cheered her as much as might be with
+promises of the coming day. At the first streak of
+dawn, she told Mrs. Chadron, she would ride to the
+post and engage her father in the quest for the stolen
+girl. Soldiers would be thrown out over the country
+for miles on every side; the cowards would be hemmed
+in within a matter of hours, and Nola would be at
+home, laughing over the experiences of her tragic
+night.</p>
+<p>Frances was in the saddle at daybreak. She had
+left Mrs. Chadron in an uneasy sleep, watched over
+by Maggie. Banjo had not returned; no word had
+reached them from any source. Alvino let Frances
+out through the gate at the back of the garden, for
+it was her intention to follow the abductor&rsquo;s trail as
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' ></a>169</span>
+far as possible without being led into strange country.
+Somebody, or some wandering herd of cattle, might
+pass that way and obliterate the traces before pursuers
+could be brought there.</p>
+<p>The tracks of the raider&rsquo;s horse were deep in the
+soft soil. She followed them as they cut across the
+open toward the river road, angling northward. At
+a place where the horse had stopped and made a
+trampling in the lose earth&mdash;testimony of the fight
+that Nola had made to get away&mdash;Frances started
+at the sight of something caught on a clump of bull-berry
+bushes close at hand. She drew near the object
+cautiously, leaning and looking in the half light of
+early morning. Presently assured, she reached out
+and picked it up, and rode on with it in her hand.</p>
+<p>Presently the trail merged into the river road,
+where hoofprints were so numerous that Frances was
+not skilful enough to follow it farther. But it
+was something to have established that the scoundrel
+was heading for the homesteaders&rsquo; settlement, and
+that he had taken the road openly, as if he had nothing
+to fear. Also, that bit of evidence picked from
+the bushes might serve its purpose in the right time
+and place.</p>
+<p>She felt again that surge of indignation that had
+fired her heart early in the sad night past. The man
+who had lurked in the garden waiting his chance to
+snatch Nola away, was certain of the protection to
+which he fled. It was the daring execution of one
+man, but the planning of many, and at the head of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' ></a>170</span>
+them one with fire in his wild soul, quick passion in
+his eyes, and mastery over his far-riding band. It
+could be no other way.</p>
+<p>When she came to the branching of the roads she
+pulled up her horse and sat considering her course
+a little while. Presently she rode forward again, but
+not on the road that led to the army post.</p>
+<p>She had proceeded a mile, perhaps, along the road
+branching to the homesteaders&rsquo; settlement, upon
+which she knew Macdonald&rsquo;s claim to lie somewhere
+up the river, when she rounded an elbow screened by
+tall-growing greasewood and came face to face with
+a small cavalcade of dusty men. At the head of them
+Alan Macdonald rode, beside an old man whose neck
+was guttered like a wasted candle and his branching
+great mustache gray as the dust on his bony shoulders.</p>
+<p>She halted when she saw them, and they jerked up
+their horses also, with startled suddenness, like men
+riding in the expectation of danger and surprise.
+Macdonald came forward in a moment, with respectful
+salute, a look amounting almost to frightened
+questioning in his face. For the sun was not up yet,
+although its flame was on the heavens, and it was a
+strange, wild place to meet a woman of Frances Landcraft&rsquo;s
+caste unattended, and with the shadow of a
+trouble in her face that made it old, like misery.</p>
+<p>But there was no question of the unfriendliness of
+that face for Alan Macdonald and the men who came
+riding at his back. It was as cold as the gray earth
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' ></a>171</span>
+beneath her horse&rsquo;s hoofs, and its severity was reflected
+in the very pose of her body, even in the grip
+of her slender thighs as they clasped her saddle, sitting
+there like a dragoon outrider who had appeared
+to bar their way.</p>
+<p>Frances was wearing the brown corduroy riding-habit
+that she had worn on the day when she first
+spoke to him. Her brown hair had fallen down until
+it hid her ears, for she had ridden hard, and a strand
+of it blew from beneath her cowboy hat in unheeded
+caress across her cheek.</p>
+<p>Macdonald saw her stiffen in the saddle and lift
+herself a little from her seat as he drew near, his
+companions stopping a little distance back. Her
+eyes were stern and reproachful; a little frown
+troubled her white forehead.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I was starting out to find you, Mr. Macdonald,&rdquo;
+she said, severely.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If there is any service, Miss Landcraft&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t talk emptiness, and don&rsquo;t pretend!&rdquo; she
+said, a flash of anger in her face. &ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t a man&rsquo;s
+way to fight, it&rsquo;s a coward&rsquo;s! Bring her back home!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know what you mean.&rdquo; There was such
+an astonished helplessness in his manner that it would
+have convinced any unprejudiced mind of his innocence
+in itself.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo;&mdash;impatiently&mdash;&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t hurt you, I&rsquo;m
+alone. You&rsquo;d just as well tell me how much money
+you&rsquo;re going to demand, so I can set their minds at
+rest.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' ></a>172</span></div>
+<p>Macdonald&rsquo;s face was hot; his eyes felt as if they
+swam in fire. He put out his hand in a gesture almost
+a command, his heavy eyebrows gathered in a frown,
+an expression of sternness in his homely face that
+made it almost majestic.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you&rsquo;ll be good enough to tell me what your
+veiled accusations point to, Miss Landcraft, then I
+can answer you by either yes or no.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She unbent so far as to relate briefly what she believed
+they knew better than herself already. But
+behind her high air as she talked there was a secret
+warm feeling for the strength of this man. It was a
+quality of fine steel in the human mind and body such
+as she never had seen so beautifully blended before.
+In her own father there was something of it, but only
+a reflection on water compared to this. It seemed the
+temper of the desert, she thought, like that oriental
+spirit which spread Islam&rsquo;s dark creed over half the
+world.</p>
+<p>When she had finished the relation of Nola&rsquo;s ravishment,
+he sat with head drooped in dusty silence
+a moment. Then he looked her in the eyes with such
+a steady blaze of indignation that she felt her own
+rage kindle to meet it. His clear, steady gaze was
+an arraignment, an accusation on the ugly charge of
+perversion of the truth as she knew it to be in the
+bottom of her conscience when she had laid the crime
+at the homesteaders&rsquo; hands. If he saw her at all, she
+thought, it was as some small despicable thing, for
+his eyes were so unflinching, as they poured their
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' ></a>173</span>
+steady fire into her own, that he seemed to be summing
+up the final consequences which lay behind her,
+along the dusty highway to the ranchhouse by the
+river.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In the first place,&rdquo; said he, speaking slowly,
+&ldquo;there are no cattle thieves among the homesteaders
+in the settlement up the river, Miss Landcraft. I
+have told you this before. Here, I want you to meet
+some of them, and judge for yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He beckoned to Tom Lassiter and the three with
+him, and they joined him there before her. In a few
+words he told them who she was and the news that
+she carried, as well as the accusation that went with
+it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;These men, their neighbors, and myself not only
+had no hand in this deed, but there&rsquo;s not one among
+us that wouldn&rsquo;t put down his life to keep that young
+woman from harm and give her back to her home.
+We have our grievances against Saul Chadron, God
+knows! and they are grave enough. But we don&rsquo;t
+fight that way, Miss Landcraft.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you&rsquo;re innocent, then prove it by forcing the
+men that carried her off, or the man, if there was
+only one, to bring her back home. Then I&rsquo;ll believe
+you. Maybe others will, too. What are you
+riding the road so early for, all armed and suspicious,
+if you&rsquo;re such honest men?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;re goin&rsquo; to the agency after ammunition to
+defend our homes, and our wives and children&mdash;such
+of us as Saul Chadron and his hired hounds has left
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' ></a>174</span>
+children to, colonel&rsquo;s daughter,&rdquo; Tom Lassiter
+answered, reproof in his kind old eyes.</p>
+<p>Frances had unrolled the bit of evidence that she
+had picked up from the bushes, and was holding it
+on the horn of her saddle now, quite unconscious of
+what her hands were doing, for she had forgotten the
+importance of her find in the heat of that meeting.
+Macdonald spurred forward, pointing to the thing in
+her hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where did you get that?&rdquo; he asked, a sharp note
+of concern in his voice that made her start.</p>
+<p>She told him. He took it from her and turned to
+his comrades.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s Mark Thorn&rsquo;s cap!&rdquo; he said, holding it up,
+his fingers in the crown.</p>
+<p>Tom Lassiter nodded his slow head as the others
+leaned to look.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Saul Chadron&rsquo;s chickens has come home to
+roost,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>Frances understood nothing of the excitement that
+sprung out of the mention of the outlaw&rsquo;s name, for
+Mark Thorn and his bloody history were alike unknown
+to her. Her resentment mounted at being an
+outsider to their important or pretended secret.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, if you know whose cap it is, it ought to be
+easy for you to find the owner,&rdquo; she said, unable to
+smother the sneer in her words.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He isn&rsquo;t one of us,&rdquo; said a homesteader, with
+grim shortness.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said she, tossing her lofty head.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' ></a>175</span></div>
+<p>There was a pallor in Macdonald&rsquo;s weathered face,
+as if somebody near and dear to himself was in extreme
+peril.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She may never see home again,&rdquo; he said. Then
+quickly: &ldquo;Which way did he go, do you know?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She told him what she knew, not omitting the lost
+horseshoe. Tom Lassiter bent in his saddle with
+eagerness as she mentioned that particular, and ran
+his eyes over the road like one reading the pages of
+a book.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There!&rdquo; he said, pointing, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been seein&rsquo; it
+all the way down, Alan. He was headin&rsquo; for the
+hills.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances could not see the print of the shoeless
+hoof, nor any peculiarity among the scores of tracks
+that would tell her of Nola&rsquo;s abductor having ridden
+that far along the road. She flushed as the thought
+came to her that this was a trick to throw her attention
+from themselves and the blame upon some fictitious
+person, when they knew whose hands were guilty
+all the time. The men were leaning in their saddles,
+riding slowly back on their trail, talking in low voices
+and sharp exclamations among themselves. She
+spurred hotly after them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Chadron hasn&rsquo;t come home yet,&rdquo; she said,
+addressing Macdonald, who sat straight in his saddle
+to hear, &ldquo;but they expect him any hour. If you&rsquo;ll
+say how much you&rsquo;re going to demand, and where you
+want it paid, I&rsquo;ll carry the word to him. It might
+hurry matters, and save her mother&rsquo;s life.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' ></a>176</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry you repeated that,&rdquo; said Macdonald,
+touching his hat in what he plainly meant a farewell
+salute. He turned from her and drew Tom Lassiter
+aside. In a moment he was riding back again the
+way that he had come.</p>
+<p>Frances looked at the unaccountable proceeding
+with the eyes of doubt and suspicion. She did not
+believe any of them, and had no faith in their mysterious
+trackings and whisperings aside, and mad gallopings
+off to hidden ends. As for Tom Lassiter and
+his companions, they ranged themselves preparatory
+to continuing their journey.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you&rsquo;re goin&rsquo; our way, colonel&rsquo;s daughter,&rdquo;
+said Tom, gathering up his bridle-reins, &ldquo;we&rsquo;ll be
+proud to ride along with you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances was looking at the dust-cloud that rose
+behind Macdonald. He was no longer in sight.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where has he gone?&rdquo; she inquired, her suspicion
+growing every moment.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s gone to find that cowman&rsquo;s child, young
+lady, and take her home to her mother,&rdquo; Tom replied,
+with dignity. He rode on. She followed, presently
+gaining his side.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is there such a man as Mark Thorn?&rdquo; she asked
+after a little, looking across at Lassiter with sly
+innuendo.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, there ain&rsquo;t no man by that name, but there&rsquo;s
+a devil in the shape of a human man called that,&rdquo; he
+answered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is he&mdash;what does he do?&rdquo; She reined a little
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' ></a>177</span>
+nearer to Lassiter, feeling that there was little harm
+in him apart from the directing hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He hires out to kill off folks that&rsquo;s in the way
+of the cattlemen at so much a head, miss; like some
+hires out to kill off wolves. The Drovers&rsquo; Association
+hires him, and sees that he gits out of jail if anybody
+ever puts him in, and fixes it up so he walks safe with
+the blood of no knowin&rsquo; how many innocent people on
+his hands. That&rsquo;s what Mark Thorn does, ma&rsquo;am.
+Chadron brought him in here a couple of weeks ago
+to do some killin&rsquo; off amongst us homesteaders so the
+rest &rsquo;d take a scare and move out. He give that
+old devil a list of twenty men he wanted shot, and
+Alan Macdonald&rsquo;s got that paper. His own name&rsquo;s
+at the top of it, too.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said she, catching her breath sharply, as
+if in pain. Her face was white and cold. &ldquo;Did he&mdash;did
+he&mdash;kill anybody here?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He killed my little boy; he shot him down before
+his mother&rsquo;s eyes!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Tom Lassiter&rsquo;s guttered neck was agitated; the
+muscles of his bony jaw knotted as he clamped his
+teeth and looked straight along the road ahead of
+him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Your little boy! Oh, what a coward he must
+be!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He was a little tow-headed feller, and he had his
+mother&rsquo;s eyes, as blue as robins&rsquo; eggs,&rdquo; said Tom,
+his reminiscent sorrow so poignant that tears sprung
+to her eyes in sympathy and plashed down unheeded
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' ></a>178</span>
+and unchecked. &ldquo;He&rsquo;d &rsquo;a&rsquo; been fifteen in November.
+Talkin&rsquo; about fightin&rsquo;, ma&rsquo;am, that&rsquo;s the way some
+people fights.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry I said that, Mr. Lassiter,&rdquo; she confessed,
+hanging her head like a corrected child.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He can&rsquo;t hear you now,&rdquo; said Tom.</p>
+<p>They rode on a little way. Tom told her of the
+other outrages for which Thorn was accountable in
+that settlement. She was amazed as deeply as she
+was shocked to hear of this, for if any word of it
+had come to the post, it had been kept from her.
+Neither was it ever mentioned in Chadron&rsquo;s home.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Tom, when she mentioned that, &ldquo;it
+ain&rsquo;t the kind of news the cattlemen spreads around.
+But if we shoot one of them in defendin&rsquo; our own,
+the news runs like a pe-rairie fire. They call us
+rustlers, and come ridin&rsquo; up to swipe us out. Well,
+they&rsquo;s goin&rsquo; to be a change.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But if Chadron brought that terrible man in
+here, why should the horrible creature turn against
+him?&rdquo; she asked, doubt and suspicion grasping the
+seeming fault in Lassiter&rsquo;s tale.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Chadron refused to make settlement with him for
+the killin&rsquo; he done because he didn&rsquo;t git Macdonald.
+Thorn told Alan that with his own bloody tongue.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lassiter retailed to her eager ears the story of
+Macdonald&rsquo;s capture of Thorn, and his fight with
+Chadron&rsquo;s men when they came to set the old slayer
+free, as Lassiter supposed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They turned him loose,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;and you know
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' ></a>179</span>
+now what I meant when I said Chadron&rsquo;s chickens
+has come home to roost.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I know now.&rdquo; She turned, and looked back.
+Remorse was heavy on her for the injustice she had
+done Macdonald that day, and shame for her sharp
+words bowed her head as she rode at old Tom Lassiter&rsquo;s
+hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;ll run the old devil down ag&rsquo;in,&rdquo; Tom spoke
+confidently, as of a thing that admitted no dispute,
+&ldquo;and take that young woman home if he finds her
+livin&rsquo;. Many thanks he&rsquo;ll git for it from them and
+her. Like as not she&rsquo;ll bite the hand that saves her,
+for she&rsquo;s a cub of the old bear. Well, let me tell you,
+colonel&rsquo;s daughter, if she was to live a thousand
+years, and pray all her life, she wouldn&rsquo;t no more
+than be worthy at the end to wash that man&rsquo;s feet
+with her tears and dry &rsquo;em on her hair, like that
+poor soul you&rsquo;ve read about in the Book.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances slowed her horse as if overcome by a sudden
+indecision, and turned in her saddle to look back
+again. Again she had let him go away from her
+misunderstood, his high pride hurt, his independent
+heart too lofty to bend down to the mean adjustment
+to be reached through argument or explanation. One
+must accept Alan Macdonald for what his face proclaimed
+him to be. She knew that now. He was not
+of the mean-spirited who walk among men making
+apology for their lives.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s gone on,&rdquo; said Lassiter, slowing his horse
+to her pace.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' ></a>180</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid I was hasty and unjust,&rdquo; she confessed,
+struggling to hold back her tears.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, you was,&rdquo; said Lassiter, frankly, &ldquo;but
+everybody on the outside is unjust to all of us up
+here. We&rsquo;re kind of outcasts because we fence the
+land and plow it. But I want to tell you, Macdonald&rsquo;s
+a man amongst men, ma&rsquo;am. He&rsquo;s fed the poor
+and lifted up the afflicted, and he&rsquo;s watched with us
+beside our sick and prayed with us over our dead. We
+know him, no matter what folks on the outside say.
+Well, we&rsquo;ll have to spur up a little, ma&rsquo;am, for we&rsquo;re
+in a hurry to git back.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They approached the point where the road to the
+post branched.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s goin&rsquo; to be fightin&rsquo; over here if Chadron
+tries to drive us out,&rdquo; Tom said, &ldquo;and we know he&rsquo;s
+sent for men to come in and help him try it. We
+don&rsquo;t want to fight, but men that won&rsquo;t fight for their
+homes ain&rsquo;t the kind you&rsquo;d like to ride along the road
+with, ma&rsquo;am.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Maybe the trouble can be settled some other
+way,&rdquo; she suggested, thinking again of the hope that
+she had brought with her to the ranch the day before.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When we bring the law in here, and elect officers
+to see it put in force for every man alike, then this
+trouble it&rsquo;ll come to an end. Well, if you ever feel
+like we deserve a good word, colonel&rsquo;s daughter, we&rsquo;d
+be proud to have you say it, for the feller that stands
+up for the law and the Lord and his home agin the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' ></a>181</span>
+cattlemen in this land, ma&rsquo;am, he&rsquo;s got a hard row to
+hoe. Yes, we&rsquo;ll count any good words you might say
+for us as so much gold. &lsquo;And the Levite, thou shalt
+not forsake him, for he hath no part nor inheritance
+with thee.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Tom&rsquo;s voice was slow and solemn when he quoted
+that Mosaic injunction. The appeal of the disinherited
+was in it, and the pain of lost years. It
+touched her like a sorrow of her own. Tears were
+on her cheeks again as she parted from him, giving
+him her hand in token of trust and faith, and rode on
+toward the ranchhouse by the river.</p></div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' ></a>182</span>
+<a  id='CHAPTER_XIV_WHEN_FRIENDS_PART'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIV<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'>WHEN FRIENDS PART</span></h2>
+</div>
+<div class='text'><p class='ni'>Banjo had returned, with fever in his wound.
+Mrs. Chadron was putting horse liniment on it
+when Frances entered the sitting-room where the
+news of the tragedy had visited them the night past.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t go to the post&mdash;I saw some men in the
+road and turned back,&rdquo; Frances told them, sinking
+down wearily in a chair before the fire.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m glad you turned back, honey,&rdquo; Mrs. Chadron
+said, shaking her head sadly, &ldquo;for I was no end
+worried about you. Them rustlers they&rsquo;re comin&rsquo;
+down from their settlement and gatherin&rsquo; up by
+Macdonald&rsquo;s place, the men told Banjo, and no tellin&rsquo;
+what they might &rsquo;a&rsquo; done if they&rsquo;d seen you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Chadron&rsquo;s face was not red with the glow of
+peppers and much food this morning. One night of
+anxiety had racked her, and left hollows under her
+eyes and a flat grayness in her cheeks.</p>
+<p>Banjo had brought no other news. The men had
+scattered at daybreak to search for the trail of the
+man who had carried Nola away, but Banjo, sore and
+shaken, had come back depressed and full of pains.
+Mrs. Chadron said that Saul surely would be home
+before noonday, and urged Frances to go to her room
+and sleep.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m steadier this morning, I&rsquo;ll watch and wait,&rdquo;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' ></a>183</span>
+she said, pressing the liniment-soaked cloth to
+Banjo&rsquo;s bruised forehead.</p>
+<p>Banjo contracted his muscles under the application,
+shriveling up on himself like a snail in a fire,
+for it was hot and heroic liniment, and strong medicine
+for strong beasts and tougher men. Banjo&rsquo;s
+face was a picture of patient suffering, but he said
+nothing, and had not spoken since Frances entered
+the room, for the treatment had been under way before
+her arrival and there was scarcely enough
+breath left in him to suffice for life, and none at all
+for words. Frances had it in mind to suggest some
+milder remedy, but held her peace, feeling that if
+Banjo survived the treatment he surely would be in
+no danger from his hurt.</p>
+<p>The door of Nola&rsquo;s room was open as Frances
+passed, and there was a depression in the counterpane
+which told where the lost girl&rsquo;s mother had knelt beside
+it and wet it with her tears. Frances wondered
+whether she had prayed, lingering compassionately a
+moment in the door.</p>
+<p>The place was like Nola in its light and brightness
+and surface comfort and assertive color notes of
+happiness, hung about with the trophies of her short
+but victorious career among the hearts of men. There
+were photographs of youths on dressing-table, chiffonier,
+and walls, and flaring pennants of eastern
+universities and colleges. Among the latter, as if
+it was the most triumphant trophy of them all, there
+hung a little highland bonnet with a broken feather,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' ></a>184</span>
+of the plaid Alan Macdonald had worn on the night
+of Nola&rsquo;s mask.</p>
+<p>Frances went in for a nearer inspection, and lifted
+the little saucy bit of headgear from its place in
+the decorations of Nola&rsquo;s wall. There could be no
+doubting it; that was Alan Macdonald&rsquo;s bonnet, and
+there was a bullet hole in it at the stem of the little
+feather. The close-grazing lead had sheared the
+plume in two, and gone on its stinging way straight
+through the bonnet.</p>
+<p>An exclamation of tender pity rose above her
+breath. She fondled the little headdress and pressed
+it to her bosom; she laid it against her cheek and
+kissed it in consolation for its hurt&mdash;the woman&rsquo;s
+balsam for all sufferings and heartbreaks, and incomparable
+among the panaceas of all time.</p>
+<p>In spite of her sympathy for Nola in her grave
+situation, facing or undergoing what terrors no one
+knew, there was a bridling of resentment against her
+in Frances&rsquo; breast as she hung the marred bonnet
+back in its place. It seemed to her that Nola had
+exulted over both herself and Alan Macdonald when
+she had put his bonnet on her wall, and that she had
+kept it there after the coming of Frances to that
+house in affront to friendship and mockery of the
+hospitality that she professed to extend.</p>
+<p>Nola had asked her to that house so that she
+might see it hanging there; she had arranged it
+and studied it with the cunning intent of giving her
+pain. And how close that bullet had come to him!
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' ></a>185</span>
+It must have sheared his fair hair as it tore through
+and dashed the bonnet from his head.</p>
+<p>How she suffered in picturing his peril, happily
+outlived! How her heart trembled and her strong
+young limbs shook as she lived over in breathless
+agony the crisis of that night! He had carried her
+glove in his bonnet&mdash;she remembered the deft little
+movement of stowing it there just the moment before
+he bent and flashed away among the shadows. Excuse
+enough for losing it, indeed!</p>
+<p>But he had not told her of his escape to justify
+the loss; proudly he had accepted the blame, and
+turned away with the hurt of it in his unbending
+heart.</p>
+<p>She went back and took down the jaunty little
+cap again, and kissed it with compensatory tenderness,
+and left a jewel trembling on its crown from
+the well of her honest brown eye. If ever amends
+were made to any little highland bonnet in this
+world, then Alan Macdonald&rsquo;s was that bonnet, hanging
+there among the flaring pennants and trivial little
+schoolgirl trophies on Nola Chadron&rsquo;s wall.</p>
+<p>Chadron came home toward evening at the head of
+sixty men. He had raised his army speedily and
+effectively. These men had been gathered by the
+members of the Drovers&rsquo; Association and sent to
+Meander by special train, horses, guns, ammunition,
+and provisions with them, ready for a campaign.</p>
+<p>The cattlemen had made a common cause of this
+sectional difficulty. Their indignation had been
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' ></a>186</span>
+voiced very thoroughly by Mrs. Chadron when she
+had spoken to Frances with such resentment of the
+homesteaders standing up to fight. That was an
+unprecedented contingency. The &ldquo;holy scare,&rdquo; such
+as Mark Thorn and similar hired assassins spread in
+communities of homesteaders, had been sufficient up
+to that day. Now this organized front of self-defense
+must be broken, and the bold rascals involved
+must be destroyed, root and branch.</p>
+<p>Press agents of the Drovers&rsquo; Association in
+Cheyenne were sowing nation-wide picturesque
+stories of the rustlers&rsquo; uprising. The ground was
+being prepared for the graver news that was to
+come; the cattlemen&rsquo;s justification was being carefully
+arranged in advance.</p>
+<p>Frances shuddered for the homesteaders when she
+looked out of her window upon this formidable force
+of lean-legged, gaunt-cheeked gun-fighters. They
+were men of the trade, cowboys who had fought their
+employers&rsquo; battles from the Rio Grande to the Little
+Missouri. They were grim and silent men as they
+pressed round the watering troughs at the windmill
+with their horses, with flapping hats and low-slung
+pistols, and rifles sheathed in leather cases on their
+saddles.</p>
+<p>She hurried down when she saw Chadron dismount
+at the gate. Mrs. Chadron was there to meet him,
+for she had stood guard at her window all day
+watching for his dust beyond the farthest hill.
+Frances could hear her weeping now, and Chadron&rsquo;s
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' ></a>187</span>
+heavy voice rising in command as she came to the
+outer door.</p>
+<p>Chadron was in the saddle again, and there was
+hurrying among his men at barn and corral as they
+put on bridles which they had jerked off, and tightened
+girths and gathered up dangling straps. Chadron
+was riding among them, large and commanding as
+a general, with a cloud in his dark face that seemed
+a threat of death.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Chadron was hurrying in to make a bundle
+of some heavy clothing for Nola to protect her
+against the night chill on her way home, which the
+confident soul believed her daughter would be headed
+upon before midnight. Saul the invincible was taking
+the trail; Saul, who smashed his way to his desires
+in all things. She gave Frances a hurried word of
+encouragement as they passed outside the door.</p>
+<p>Chadron was talking earnestly to his men. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll
+give fifty dollars bonus to the man that brings him
+down,&rdquo; she heard him say as she drew near, &ldquo;and a
+hundred to the first man to lay eyes on my daughter.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances was hurrying to him with the information
+that she had kept for his ear alone. She was
+flushed with excitement as she came among the rough
+horsemen like a bright bloom tossed among rusty
+weeds. They fell back generously, not so much to
+give her room as to see her to better advantage, passing
+winks and grimaces of approval between themselves
+in their free and easy way. Chadron gave his
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' ></a>188</span>
+hand in greeting as she spoke some hasty words of
+comfort.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you, Miss Frances, for your friendship
+in this bad business,&rdquo; he said, heartily, and with the
+best that there was in him. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve been a great
+help and comfort to her mother, and if it wouldn&rsquo;t
+be askin&rsquo; too much I&rsquo;d like for you to stay here with
+her till we bring my little girl back home.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I intended to stay, Mr. Chadron; I didn&rsquo;t
+come out to tell you that.&rdquo; She looked round at the
+admiring faces, too plainly expressive of their approbation,
+some of them, and plucked Chadron&rsquo;s
+sleeve. &ldquo;Bend down&mdash;I want to tell you something,&rdquo;
+she said, in low, quick voice.</p>
+<p>Chadron stooped, his hand lightly on her shoulder,
+in attitude of paternal benediction.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It wasn&rsquo;t Macdonald, it was Mark Thorn,&rdquo; she
+whispered.</p>
+<p>Chadron&rsquo;s face displayed no surprise, shadowed
+no deeper concern. Only there was a flitting look
+of perplexity in it as he sat upright in his saddle
+again.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who is he?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you know?&rdquo; She watched him closely,
+baffled by his unmoved countenance.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I never heard of anybody in this country by
+that name,&rdquo; he returned, shaking his head with a
+show of entire sincerity. &ldquo;Who was tellin&rsquo; you about
+him&mdash;who said he was the man?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A little confused, and more than a little disappointed
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' ></a>189</span>
+over the apparent failure of her news to
+surprise from Chadron a betrayal of his guilty connection
+with Mark Thorn, she related the adventure
+of the morning, the finding of the cap, the meeting
+with Macdonald and his neighbors. She reserved
+nothing but what Lassiter had told her of Thorn&rsquo;s
+employers and his bloody work in that valley.</p>
+<p>Chadron shook his head with an air of serious
+concern. There was a look of commiseration in his
+eyes for her credulity, and shameful duping by the
+cunning word of Alan Macdonald.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s one of Macdonald&rsquo;s lies,&rdquo; he said, something
+so hard and bitter in his voice when he pronounced
+that name that she shuddered. &ldquo;I never
+heard of anybody named Thorn, here or anywheres
+else. That rustler captain he&rsquo;s a deep one, Miss
+Frances, and he was only throwin&rsquo; dust in your
+eyes. But I&rsquo;m glad you told me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But they said&mdash;the man he called Lassiter
+said&mdash;that Macdonald would find Nola, and bring
+her home,&rdquo; she persisted, unwilling yet to accept
+Chadron&rsquo;s word against that old man&rsquo;s, remembering
+the paper with the list of names.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s bald-faced enough to try even a trick like
+that!&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>Chadron looked impatiently toward the house,
+muttering something about the slowness of &ldquo;them
+women,&rdquo; avoiding Frances&rsquo; eyes. For she did not
+believe Saul Chadron, and her distrust was eloquent
+in her face.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' ></a>190</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;You mean that he&rsquo;d pretend a rescue and bring
+her back, just to make sympathy for himself and his
+side of this trouble?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s about the size of it,&rdquo; Chadron nodded,
+frowning sternly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, it seems impossible that anybody could be
+so heartless and low!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A man that&rsquo;d burn brands is low enough to go
+past anything you could imagine in that little head
+of yours, Miss Frances. Do you mind runnin&rsquo; in and
+tellin&rsquo;&mdash;no, here she comes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Couldn&rsquo;t this trouble between you and the homesteaders&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Homesteaders! They&rsquo;re cattle thieves, born in
+&rsquo;em and bred in &rsquo;em, and set in the hide and hair
+of &rsquo;em!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Couldn&rsquo;t it be settled without all this fighting
+and killing?&rdquo; she went on, pressing her point.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s all over now but the shoutin&rsquo;,&rdquo; said he.
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s only one way to handle a rustler, Miss
+Frances, and that&rsquo;s to salt his hide.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;d be willing&mdash;I&rsquo;d be glad&mdash;to go up there
+myself, alone, and take any message you might send,&rdquo;
+she offered. &ldquo;I think they&rsquo;d listen to reason, even
+to leaving the country if you want them to, rather
+than try to stand against a ga&mdash;force like this.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You can&rsquo;t understand our side of it, Miss
+Frances,&rdquo;&mdash;Chadron spoke impatiently, reaching
+out for the bundle that his wife was bringing while
+she was yet two rods away&mdash;&ldquo;for you ain&rsquo;t been
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' ></a>191</span>
+robbed and wronged by them nesters like we have.
+You&rsquo;ve got to live it to know what it means, little
+lady. We&rsquo;ve argued with &rsquo;em till we&rsquo;ve used up all
+our words, but their fences is still there. Now we&rsquo;re
+goin&rsquo; to clear &rsquo;em out.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But Macdonald seemed hurt when I asked him
+how much money they wanted you to pay as Nola&rsquo;s
+ransom,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s deep, and he&rsquo;s tricky&mdash;too deep and too
+slick for you.&rdquo; Chadron gathered up his reins,
+leaned over and whispered: &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t say anything
+about that Thorn yarn to her&rdquo;&mdash;a sideways jerk of
+the head toward his wife&mdash;&ldquo;her trouble&rsquo;s deep
+enough without stirrin&rsquo; it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Chadron had the bundle now, and Mrs. Chadron
+was helping him tie it behind his saddle, shaking her
+head sadly as she handled the belongings of her child
+with gentle touch. Tears were running down her
+cheeks, but her usually ready words seemed dead
+upon her tongue.</p>
+<p>From the direction of the barn a little commotion
+moved forward among the horsemen, like a wave
+before a breeze. Banjo Gibson appeared on his horse
+as the last thong was tied about Nola&rsquo;s bundle, his
+hat tilted more than its custom to spare the sore
+place over his eye.</p>
+<p>The cowboys looked at his gaudy trappings with
+curious eyes. Chadron gave him a short word of
+greeting, and bent to kiss his wife good-bye.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m with you in this here thing, Saul,&rdquo; said
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' ></a>192</span>
+Banjo; &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll ride to hell&rsquo;s back door to help you find
+that little girl!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Chadron slewed in his saddle with an ugly scowl.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We don&rsquo;t want any banjo-pickers on this job,
+it&rsquo;s men&rsquo;s work!&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>Banjo seemed to droop with humiliation. Chuckles
+and derisive words were heard among Chadron&rsquo;s
+train. The little musician hung his bandaged head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, you ortn&rsquo;t be hard on Banjo, he means well,&rdquo;
+Mrs. Chadron pleaded.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He can stay here and scratch the pigs,&rdquo; Chadron
+returned, in his brutal way. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ve got to go now,
+old lady, but we&rsquo;ll be back before morning, and we&rsquo;ll
+bring Nola. Don&rsquo;t you worry any more; she&rsquo;ll be all
+right&mdash;they wouldn&rsquo;t dare to harm a hair of her
+head.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Chadron looked at him with large hope and
+larger trust in her yearning face, and Banjo slewed
+his horse directly across the gate.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Before you leave, Saul, I want to tell you this,&rdquo;
+he said. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve hurt me, and you&rsquo;ve hurt me <i>deep</i>!
+I&rsquo;ll leave here before another hour passes by, and I&rsquo;ll
+never set a boot-heel inside of your door ag&rsquo;in as
+long as you live!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh hell!&rdquo; said Chadron, spurring forward into
+the road.</p>
+<p>Chadron&rsquo;s men rode away after him, except five
+whom he detailed to stay behind and guard the
+ranch. These turned their horses into the corral,
+made their little fire of twigs and gleaned brush
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' ></a>193</span>
+in their manner of wood-scant frugality, and over
+it cooked their simple dinner, each man after his
+own way.</p>
+<p>Banjo led his horse to the gate in front of the
+house and left it standing there while he went in
+to get his instruments. Mrs. Chadron was moved
+to a fresh outburst of weeping by his preparations
+for departure, and the sad, hurt look in his simple
+face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You stay here, Banjo; don&rsquo;t you go!&rdquo; she
+begged. &ldquo;Saul he didn&rsquo;t mean any harm by what
+he said&mdash;he won&rsquo;t remember nothing about it when
+he comes back.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll remember it,&rdquo; Banjo told her, shaking his
+head in unbending determination, &ldquo;and I couldn&rsquo;t
+be easy here like I was in the past. If I was to try
+to swaller a bite of Saul Chadron&rsquo;s grub after this
+it&rsquo;d stick in my throat and choke me. No, I&rsquo;m a-goin&rsquo;,
+mom, but I&rsquo;m carryin&rsquo; away kind thoughts of you
+in my breast, never to be forgot.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Banjo hitched the shoulder strap of the instrument
+from which he took his name with a jerking of
+the shoulder, and settled it in place; he took up his
+fiddle box and hooked it under his arm, and offered
+Mrs. Chadron his hand. She was crying, her face
+in her apron, and did not see. Frances took the
+extended hand and clasped it warmly, for the little
+musician and his homely small sentiments had found
+a place in her heart.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You shouldn&rsquo;t leave until your head gets better,&rdquo;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' ></a>194</span>
+she said; &ldquo;you&rsquo;re hardly able to take another long
+ride after being in the saddle all night, hurt like
+you are.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Banjo looked at her with pain reflected in his
+shallow eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The hurt that gives me my misery is where it
+can&rsquo;t be seen,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where are you goin&rsquo;, Banjo, with the country
+riled up this way, and you li&rsquo;ble to be shot down any
+place by them rustlers?&rdquo; Mrs. Chadron asked, looking
+at him appealingly, her apron ready to stem her
+gushing tears.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go over to the mission and stay with Mother
+Mathews till I&rsquo;m healed up. I&rsquo;ll be welcome in that
+house; I&rsquo;d be welcome there if I was blind, and had
+m&rsquo; back broke and couldn&rsquo;t touch a string.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, you would, Banjo,&rdquo; Mrs. Chadron nodded.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s married to a Injun, but she&rsquo;s as white as
+a angel&rsquo;s robe.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s a good soul, Banjo, as good as ever lived.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances took advantage of Banjo&rsquo;s trip to the
+reservation to send a note to her father apprising
+him of the tragedy at the ranch. Banjo buttoned it
+inside his coat, mounted his horse, and rode away.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Chadron watched him out of sight with
+lamentations.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I wish he&rsquo;d &rsquo;a&rsquo; stayed&mdash;it &rsquo;d &rsquo;a&rsquo; been all right
+with Saul; Saul didn&rsquo;t mean any harm by what he
+said. He&rsquo;s the tender-heartedest man you ever saw,
+he wouldn&rsquo;t hurt a body&rsquo;s feelin&rsquo;s for a farm.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' ></a>195</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe Banjo is a man to hold a grudge
+very long,&rdquo; Frances told her, looking after the retreating
+musician, her thoughts on him but hazily,
+but rather on a little highland bonnet with a bullet
+hole in its crown.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, he ain&rsquo;t,&rdquo; Mrs. Chadron agreed, plucking
+up a little brightness. &ldquo;But it&rsquo;s a bad sign, a mighty
+bad sign, when a friend parts from you with a hurt
+in his heart that way, and leaves your house in a
+huff and feels put out like Banjo does.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Frances, &ldquo;we let them go away from
+us too often that way, with sore hearts that even a
+little word might ease.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She spoke with such wistful regret that the older
+woman felt its note through her own deep gloom.
+She groped out, tears blinding her, until her hand
+found her young friend&rsquo;s, and then she clasped it,
+and stood holding it, no words between them.</p></div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' ></a>196</span>
+<a  id='CHAPTER_XV_ONE_ROAD'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XV<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'>ONE ROAD</span></h2>
+</div>
+<div class='text'><p class='ni'>Twenty-four hours after Banjo&rsquo;s departure
+a messenger arrived at the ranchhouse. It was
+one of the cowboys attached to the ranch, and he
+came with his right arm in a sling. He was worn,
+and beaten out by long hours in the saddle and the
+pain of his wound.</p>
+<p>He said they had news of Nola, and that Chadron
+sent word that she would be home before another
+night passed. This intelligence sent Mrs. Chadron
+off to bedroom and kitchen to make preparations for
+her reception and restoration.</p>
+<p>As she left the room Frances turned to the messenger,
+who stood swinging his big hat awkwardly
+by the brim. She untied the sling that held his
+wounded arm and made him sit by the table while
+she examined his injury, concerning which Mrs.
+Chadron, in her excitement, had not even inquired.</p>
+<p>The shot had gone through the forearm, grazing
+the bone. When Frances, with the aid of Maggie,
+the Mexican woman with tender eyes, had cleansed
+and bound up the wound, she turned to him with a
+decisive air of demand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now, tell me the truth,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+<p>He was a bashful man, with a long, sheepish nose
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' ></a>197</span>
+and the bluest of harmless eyes. He started a little
+when she made that demand, and blushed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s what the boss told me to say,&rdquo; he demurred.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know he did; but what&rsquo;s happening?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, we ain&rsquo;t heard hide nor hair of her&rdquo;&mdash;he
+looked round cautiously, lest Mrs. Chadron surprise
+him in the truth&mdash;&ldquo;and them rustlers they&rsquo;re clean
+gone and took everything but their houses and fences
+along&mdash;beds and teams and stock, and everything.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Gone!&rdquo; she repeated, staring at him blankly;
+&ldquo;where have they gone?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Macdonald&rsquo;s doin&rsquo; it; that man&rsquo;s got brainds,&rdquo;
+the cowboy yielded, with what he knew to be unlawful
+admiration of the enemy&rsquo;s parts. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s herdin&rsquo; &rsquo;em
+back in the hills where they&rsquo;ve built a regular fort,
+they say. Some of us fellers caught up to a few
+of the stragglers last night, and that&rsquo;s when I got
+this arm put on me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have any of the rustlers been killed?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; he admitted, disgustedly, &ldquo;they ain&rsquo;t!
+We&rsquo;ve burnt all the shacks we come to, and cut their
+fences, but they all got slick and clean away, down
+to the littlest kid. But the boss&rsquo;s after &rsquo;em,&rdquo; he
+added, with brisk hopefulness, &ldquo;and you&rsquo;ll have better
+news by mornin&rsquo;.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Chadron himself was the next rider to arrive at
+that anxious house, and he came as the messenger of
+disaster. He arrived between midnight and morning,
+his horse spur-gashed, driven to the limit, himself
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' ></a>198</span>
+sunken-eyed from his anxiety and hard pursuit of
+his elusive enemy.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Chadron was asleep when he entered the living-room
+where Frances was keeping lonely watch
+before the chimney fire.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s happened?&rdquo; she asked, hastening to meet
+him.</p>
+<p>Chadron stood there gray and dusty, his big hat
+down hard on his head, his black eyes shooting inquiry
+into the shadowed room.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where is she?&rdquo; he whispered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Upstairs, asleep&mdash;I&rsquo;ve only just been able to
+persuade her to lie down and close her eyes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, there&rsquo;s no use to wake her up for bad
+news.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You haven&rsquo;t found Nola?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know right where she is. I could put my hand
+on her if I could reach her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then why&mdash;?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hell!&rdquo; said Chadron, bursting into a fire of
+passion, &ldquo;why can&rsquo;t I fly like an eagle? Young
+woman, I&rsquo;ve got to tell you I&rsquo;ve been beat and tricked
+for the first time in my life! They&rsquo;ve got my men
+hemmed in, I tell you&mdash;they&rsquo;ve got &rsquo;em shut up in
+a ca&ntilde;on as tight as if they was nailed in their
+coffins!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>If Chadron had been clearer of sight and mind in
+that moment of his towering anger, he would have
+seen her cheeks flush at his words, and her nostrils
+dilate and her breath come faster. But he was blind;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' ></a>199</span>
+his little varnish of delicacy was gone. He was just
+a ranting, roaring, dark-visaged brute with murder
+in his heart.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That damned Macdonald done it, led &rsquo;em into it
+like they was blind! He&rsquo;s a wolf, and he&rsquo;s got the
+tricks of a wolf, he skulked ahead of &rsquo;em with a little
+pack of his rustlers and led &rsquo;em into his trap, then
+the men he had hid there and ready they popped up
+as thick as grass. They&rsquo;ve got fifty of my men shut
+up there where they can&rsquo;t git to water, and where
+they can&rsquo;t fight back. Now, what do you think of
+that?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll tell you what I think,&rdquo; she said, throwing
+up her head, her eyes as quick and bright as water
+in the sun, &ldquo;I think it&rsquo;s the judgment of God! I
+glory in the trick Alan Macdonald played you, and I
+pray God he can shut your hired murderers there till
+the last red-handed devil dies of thirst!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Chadron fell back from her a step, his eyes staring,
+his mouth open, his hand lifted as if to silence
+her. He stood so a moment, casting his wild look
+around, fearful that somebody else had heard her
+passionate denunciation.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What in the hell do you mean?&rdquo; he asked,
+crouching as he spoke, his teeth clenched, his voice
+smothered in his throat.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I mean that I know you&rsquo;re a murderer&mdash;and
+worse! You hired those men, like you hired Mark
+Thorn, to come here and murder those innocent men
+and their families!&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' ></a>200</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, what if I did?&rdquo; he said, standing straight
+again, his composure returning. &ldquo;They&rsquo;re thieves;
+they&rsquo;ve been livin&rsquo; off of my cattle for years. Anybody&rsquo;s
+got a right to kill a rustler&mdash;that&rsquo;s the only
+cure. Well, they&rsquo;ll not pen them men of mine up
+there till they crack for water, I&rsquo;ll bet you a purty
+on that! I&rsquo;m goin&rsquo; after soldiers, and this time I&rsquo;ll
+git &rsquo;em, too.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Soldiers!&rdquo; said she, in amazement. &ldquo;Will you
+ask the United States government to march troops
+here to save your hired assassins? Well, you&rsquo;ll not
+get troops&mdash;if there&rsquo;s anything that I can say
+against you to keep you from it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You keep out of it, my little lady; you ain&rsquo;t got
+no call to mix up with a bunch of brand-burnin&rsquo;
+thieves!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They&rsquo;re not thieves, and you know it! Macdonald
+never stole an animal from you or anybody
+else; none of the others ever did.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you know about it?&rdquo; sharply.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know it, as well as I know what&rsquo;s in your mind
+about the troops. You&rsquo;ll go over father&rsquo;s head to
+get them. Well, by the time he wires to the department
+the facts I&rsquo;m going to lay before him, I&rsquo;d like to
+see the color of the trooper you&rsquo;ll get!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll keep your mouth shut, and hold your
+finger out of this pie before you git it burnt!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll not keep my mouth shut!&rdquo; She began moving
+about the room, picking up her belongings. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m
+going to saddle my horse and go to the post right
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' ></a>201</span>
+now, and the facts of your bloody business will be in
+Washington before morning.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re not goin&rsquo;&mdash;to the&mdash;post!&rdquo; Chadron&rsquo;s
+words were slow and hard. He stood with his back
+to the door. &ldquo;This house was opened to you as a
+friend, not as a traitor and a spy. You&rsquo;re not goin&rsquo;
+to put your foot outside of it into any business of
+mine, no matter which way you lean.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>All day she had been dressed ready to mount and
+ride in any emergency, her hat, gloves and quirt on
+the table before the fireplace. In that sober habit
+she appeared smaller and less stately, and Saul Chadron,
+with his heavy shoulders against the closed door,
+towered above her, dark and angrily determined.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to get my horse,&rdquo; said she, standing
+before him, waiting for him to quit the door.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re goin&rsquo; to stay right in this house, there&rsquo;s
+where you&rsquo;re goin&rsquo; to stay; and you&rsquo;ll stay till I&rsquo;ve
+cleaned out Macdonald and his gang, down to the
+last muddy-bellied wolf!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll answer for detaining me here, sir!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There ain&rsquo;t no man in this country that I answer
+to!&rdquo; returned Chadron, not without dignity,
+for power undisputed for so long, and in such large
+affairs, had given him a certain manner of imperialism.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll find out where your mistake is, to your
+bitter cost, before many days have gone over your
+head. Your master is on the way; you&rsquo;ll meet him
+yet.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' ></a>202</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;You might as well ca&rsquo;m down, and take that hat
+off and make yourself easy, Miss Frances; you ain&rsquo;t
+goin&rsquo; to the post tonight.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Open that door, Mr. Chadron! For the memory
+of your daughter, be a man!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m actin&rsquo; for the best, Miss Frances.&rdquo; Chadron
+softened in speech, but unbent in will. &ldquo;You
+must stay here till we settle them fellers. I ain&rsquo;t
+got time to bring any more men up from Cheyenne&mdash;I&rsquo;ve
+got to have help within the next twenty-four
+hours. You can see how your misplaced feelin&rsquo;s
+might muddle and delay me, and hold off the troopers
+till they&rsquo;ve killed off all of my men in that ca&ntilde;on
+back yonder in the hills. It&rsquo;s for the best, I tell
+you; you&rsquo;ll see it that way before daylight.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a pity about your gallant cutthroats! It&rsquo;s
+time the rest of this country knew something about
+the methods of you cattlemen up here, and the way
+you harass and hound and murder honest men that
+are trying to make homes!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Miss Frances! ca&rsquo;m down, ca&rsquo;m down!&rdquo;
+coaxed Chadron, spreading his hands in conciliatory
+gesture, as if to smooth her troubled spirits, and
+calm her down by stroking her, like a cat.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now you want to call out the army to rescue
+that pack of villains, you want to enlist the government
+to help you murder more children! Well, I&rsquo;m
+a daughter of the army; I&rsquo;m not going to stand
+around and see you pull it down to any such business
+as yours!&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' ></a>203</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;d better make up your mind to take it easy,
+now, Miss Frances. Put down your hat and things,
+now, and run along off to bed like a good little girl.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She turned from him with a disdainful toss of the
+head, and walked across to the window where Mrs.
+Chadron&rsquo;s great chair stood beside her table.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you want it known that I was forced to
+leave your house by the window?&rdquo; she asked, her
+hand on the sash.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It won&rsquo;t do you any good if you do,&rdquo; Chadron
+growled, turning and throwing the door open with
+gruff decision. He stood a moment glowering at her,
+his shoulders thrust into the room. &ldquo;You can&rsquo;t leave
+here till I&rsquo;m ready for you to go&mdash;I&rsquo;m goin&rsquo; to put
+my men on the watch for you. If you try it afoot
+they&rsquo;ll fetch you back, and if you git stubborn and
+try to ride off from &rsquo;em, they&rsquo;ll shoot your horse.
+You take my word that I mean it, and set down and
+be good.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He closed the door. She heard his heavy tread,
+careless, it seemed, whether he broke the troubled
+sleep of his wife, pass out by way of the kitchen.
+She returned to the fire, surging with the outrage
+of it, and sat down to consider the situation.</p>
+<p>There was no doubt that Chadron meant what he
+had said. This was only a mild proceeding to suppress
+evidence compared to his usual methods, as witnessed
+by the importation of Mark Thorn, and now
+his wholesale attempt with this army of hired gunslingers.
+But above the anger and indignation there
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' ></a>204</span>
+was the exultant thought of Macdonald&rsquo;s triumph
+over the oppressor of the land. It glowed like a
+bright light in the turmoil of her present hour.</p>
+<p>She had told Chadron that his master was on the
+way, and she had seen him swell with the cloud of
+anger that shrouded his black heart. And she knew
+that he feared that swift-footed man Macdonald,
+who had outgeneraled him and crippled him before
+he had struck a blow. Well, let him have his brutal
+way until morning; then she would prevail on Mrs.
+Chadron to rescind his order and let her go home.</p>
+<p>There being nothing more to be hoped or dreaded
+in the way of news that night, Frances suppressed
+her wrath and went upstairs and to bed. But not
+to sleep; only to lie there with her hot cheeks burning
+like fever, her hot heart triumphing in the complete
+confidence and justification of Macdonald that
+Chadron&rsquo;s desperate act had established. She glowed
+with inner warmth as she told herself that there would
+be no more doubting, no more swaying before the
+wind of her inclination. Her heart had read him
+truly that night in the garden close.</p>
+<p>She heard Chadron ride away as she watched there
+for the dawn, and saw the cowboy guard that he
+had established rouse themselves while the east was
+only palely light and kindle their little fires. Soon
+the scent of their coffee and bacon came through her
+open window. Then she rose and dressed herself in
+her saddle garb again, and went tiptoeing past Mrs.
+Chadron&rsquo;s door.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' ></a>205</span></div>
+<p>Since going to bed Mrs. Chadron bad not stirred.
+She seemed to have plunged over the precipice of
+sleep and to be lying stunned at the bottom. Frances
+felt that there was no necessity for waking her out
+of that much-needed repose, for the plan that she
+had formulated within the past few minutes did not
+include an appeal for Mrs. Chadron&rsquo;s assistance
+in it.</p>
+<p>Experience told her that Mrs. Chadron would
+accept unquestioningly the arrangements and orders
+of her husband, in whom her faith was boundless and
+her confidence without bottom. She would advance
+a hundred tearful pleas to take the edge off Frances&rsquo;
+indignant anger, and weep and implore, but ten to
+one remain as steadfast as a ledge in her fealty to
+Saul. So Frances was preparing to proceed without
+her help or hindrance.</p>
+<p>She went softly into the room where she had faced
+Chadron a few hours before, and crossed to the fireplace,
+where the last coals of the fire that had kept
+her company were red among the ashes. It was
+dark yet, only a little grayness, like murky water,
+showing under the rim of the east, but she knew
+where the antlers hung above the mantel, with the
+rifle in its case, and the two revolvers which Alvino
+had brought to his mistress from the wounded foreman
+in the bunkhouse.</p>
+<p>But the antlers were empty. She felt them over
+with contracting heart, then struck a match to make
+sure. The guns were gone. Saul Chadron had removed
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' ></a>206</span>
+them, foreseeing that they might stand her
+in the place of a friend.</p>
+<p>She lit a lamp and began a search of the lower
+part of the house for arms. There was not a single
+piece left in any of the places where they commonly
+were a familiar sight. Even the shotgun was gone
+from over the kitchen door. She returned to the
+sitting-room and laid some sticks on the coals, and
+sat leaning toward the blaze in that sense of comradeship
+that is as old between man and fire as the
+servitude of that captive element.</p>
+<p>Her elbows were on her knees, and her gloved
+hands were clasped, and the merry little fire laughed
+up into her fixed and thoughtful eyes.</p>
+<p>Fire has but one mood, no matter what it cheers
+or destroys. It always laughs. There is no melancholy
+note in it, no drab, dull color of death such
+as the flood comes tainted with. Even while it eats
+away our homes and possessions, it has a certain
+comfort in its touch and glow if we stand far enough
+away.</p>
+<p>Dawn broadened; the watery light came in like
+cold. Frances got up, shivering a little at the unfriendly
+look of the morning. She thought she heard
+a cautious foot stealing away from the window, and
+turned from it with contemptuous recollection of
+Chadron&rsquo;s threat to set spies over her.</p>
+<p>Frances left the house with no caution to conceal
+her movements, and went to the barn. Alvino was
+hobbling about among the horses with his lantern.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' ></a>207</span>
+He gave her an open and guileless good-morning, and
+she told him to saddle her horse.</p>
+<p>She was determined to ride boldly out of the gate
+and away, hardly convinced that even those seasoned
+ruffians would take a chance of hitting her by firing
+at her horse. None of the imported shooters was in
+sight as she mounted before the barn door, but two
+of them lounged casually at the gate as she approached.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where was you aimin&rsquo; to go so early?&rdquo; asked one
+of them, laying hand on her bridle.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m the daughter of Colonel Landcraft, commanding
+officer at Fort Shakie, and I&rsquo;m going home,&rdquo;
+she answered, as placidly and good-humoredly as if
+it might be his regular business to inquire.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry to have to edge in on your plans,
+sissy,&rdquo; the fellow returned, familiarly, &ldquo;but nobody
+goes away from this ranch for some little time to
+come. That&rsquo;s the boss&rsquo;s orders. Don&rsquo;t you know
+them rustlers is shootin&rsquo; up the country ever&rsquo; which
+way all around here? Shucks! It ain&rsquo;t safe for no
+lady to go skylarkin&rsquo; around in.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They wouldn&rsquo;t hurt me&mdash;they know there&rsquo;s a
+regiment of cavalry at the post standing up for me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t reckon them rustlers cares much more
+about them troopers than we do, sis.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will you please open the gate?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I hate to refuse a lady, but I dasn&rsquo;t do it.&rdquo; He
+shook his head in exaggerated gravity, and his companion
+covered a sputtering laugh with his hand.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' ></a>208</span></div>
+<p>Frances felt her resolution to keep her temper dissolving.
+She shifted her quirt as the quick desire
+to strike him down and ride over his ugly grinning
+face flashed through her. But the wooden stock was
+light under the braided leather; she knew that she
+could not have knocked a grunt out of the tough
+rascal who barred her way with his insolent leer in
+his mean squint eyes. He was a man who had nothing
+to lose, therefore nothing to fear.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If it&rsquo;s dangerous for me to go alone, get your
+horse and come with me. I&rsquo;ll see that you get more
+out of it than you make working for Chadron.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The fellow squinted up at her with eyes half-shut,
+in an expression of cunning.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now you trot along back and behave you&rsquo;self,
+before I have to take you down and spank you,&rdquo; he
+said.</p>
+<p>The other three men of the ranch guard came
+waddling up in that slouching gait of saddle-men,
+cigarettes dangling from their lips. Frances saw
+that she would not be allowed to pass that way.
+But they were all at that spot; none of them could
+be watching the back gate. She wheeled her long-legged
+cavalry horse to make a dash for it, and came
+face to face with Mrs. Chadron, who was hurrying
+from the house with excited gesticulations, pointing
+up the road.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Somebody&rsquo;s comin&rsquo;, it looks like one of the boys,
+I saw him from the upstairs winder!&rdquo; she announced,
+&ldquo;Where was you goin&rsquo;, honey?&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' ></a>209</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;I was starting home, Mrs. Chadron, but these
+men&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There he comes!&rdquo; cried Mrs. Chadron, hastening
+to the gate.</p>
+<p>A horseman had come around the last brush-screened
+turn of the road, and was drawing near.
+Frances felt her heart leap like a hare, and a delicious
+feeling of triumph mingle with the great pride
+that swept through her in a warm flood. Tears
+were in her eyes, half-blinding her; a sob of gladness
+rose in her breast and burst forth a little happy cry.</p>
+<p>For that was Alan Macdonald coming forward on
+his weary horse, bearing something in his arms
+wrapped in a blanket, out of which a shower of long
+hair fell in bright cascade over his arm.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Chadron pressed her lips tight. Neither cry
+nor groan came out of them as she stood steadying
+herself by a straining grip on the gate, watching
+Macdonald&rsquo;s approach. None of them knew whether
+the burden that he bore was living or dead; none
+of them in the group at the gate but Frances knew
+the rider&rsquo;s face.</p>
+<p>One of the cowboys opened the gate wide, without
+a word, to let him enter. Mrs. Chadron lifted her
+arms appealingly, and hurried to his side as he
+stopped. Stiffly he leaned over, his inert burden held
+tenderly, and lowered what he bore into Mrs. Chadron&rsquo;s
+outstretched arms.</p>
+<p>With that change of position there was a sharp
+movement in the muffling blanket, two arms reached
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' ></a>210</span>
+up with the quick clutching of a falling child, and
+clasped him about the neck. Then a sharp cry of
+waking recognition, and Nola was sobbing on her
+mother&rsquo;s breast.</p>
+<p>Alan Macdonald said no word. The light of the
+sunrise was strong on his face, set in the suffering of
+great weariness; the stiffness of his long and burdened
+ride was in his limbs. He turned his dusty
+horse, with its head low-drooping, and rode out the
+way that he had come. No hand was lifted to stop
+him, no voice raised in either benediction or curse.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Chadron was soothing her daughter, who was
+incoherent in the joy of her delivery, holding her
+clasped in her arms. Beyond that bright head there
+was no world for that mother then; save for the
+words which she crooned in the child&rsquo;s ears there was
+no message in her soul.</p>
+<p>Frances felt tears streaking her face in hot rivulets
+as she sat in her saddle, struck inactive by the great
+admiration, the boundless pride, that this unselfish
+deed woke in her. She never had, in her life of
+joyousness, experienced such a high sense of human
+admiration before.</p>
+<p>The cowboy who had opened the gate still held it
+so, the spell of Macdonald&rsquo;s dramatic arrival still
+over him. With his comrades he stood speechless,
+gazing after the departing horseman.</p>
+<p>Frances touched her horse lightly and rode after
+him. Mother and daughter were so estranged from
+all the world in that happy moment of reunion that
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' ></a>211</span>
+neither saw her go, and the guards at the gate, either
+forgetful of their charge or softened by the moving
+scene, did not interpose to stop her.</p>
+<p>Macdonald raised his drooping head with quick
+start as she came dashing to his side. She was weeping,
+and she put out her hand with a motion of entreaty,
+her voice thick with sobs.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I wronged you and slandered you,&rdquo; she said, in
+bitter confession, &ldquo;and I let you go when I should
+have spoken! I&rsquo;m not worthy to ride along this road
+with you, Alan Macdonald, but I need your protection,
+I need your help. Will you let me go?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He checked his horse and looked across at her, a
+tender softening coming into his tired face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, God bless you! there&rsquo;s only one road in
+the world for you and me,&rdquo; said he. His hand met
+hers where it fluttered like a dove between them;
+his slow, translating smile woke in his eyes and
+spread like a sunbeam over his stern lips.</p>
+<p>Behind them Mrs. Chadron was calling. Frances
+turned and waved her hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come back, Frances, come back here!&rdquo; Mrs.
+Chadron&rsquo;s words came distinctly to them, for they
+were not more than a hundred yards from the gate,
+and there was a note of eagerness in them, almost
+a command. Both of them turned.</p>
+<p>There was a commotion among the men at the
+gate, a hurrying and loud words. Nola was beckoning
+to Frances to return; now she called her name,
+with fearful entreaty.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' ></a>212</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s Chance Dalton with his arm in a sling,&rdquo;
+said Macdonald, looking at her curiously. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s
+up?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Chadron has made them all believe that you stole
+Nola for the sole purpose of making a pretended
+rescue to win sympathy for your cause,&rdquo; she said.
+&ldquo;Even Nola will believe it&mdash;maybe they&rsquo;ve told her.
+Chadron has offered a reward of fifty dollars&mdash;a
+bonus, he called it, so maybe there is more&mdash;to the
+man that kills you! Come on&mdash;quick! I&rsquo;ll tell you
+as we go.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Macdonald&rsquo;s horse was refreshed in some measure
+by the diminishing of its burden, but the best that
+it could do was a tired, hard-jogging gallop. In a
+little while they rounded the screen of brush which
+hid them from the ranchhouse and from those who
+Frances knew would be their pursuers in a moment.
+Quickly she told him of her reason for wanting to
+go to the post, and Chadron&rsquo;s reason for desiring
+to hold her at the ranch.</p>
+<p>Macdonald looked at her with new life in his weary
+eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll win now; you were the one recruit I
+lacked,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But they&rsquo;ll kill you&mdash;Mrs. Chadron can&rsquo;t hold
+them back&mdash;she doesn&rsquo;t want to hold them back&mdash;for
+she&rsquo;s full of Chadron&rsquo;s lies about you. Your
+horse is worn out&mdash;you can&rsquo;t outrun them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How many are there besides the five I saw?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Only Dalton, and he&rsquo;s supposed to be crippled.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' ></a>213</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, well,&rdquo; he said, easily, as if only five whole
+men and a cripple didn&rsquo;t amount to so much, taken
+all in the day&rsquo;s work.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Your men up there need your leadership and
+advice. Take my horse and go; he can outrun
+them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He looked at her admiringly, but with a little reproving
+shake of the head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s neither mercy nor manhood in any man
+that rides in Saul Chadron&rsquo;s pay,&rdquo; he told her.
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;d overtake you on this old plug before you&rsquo;d
+gone a mile. The one condition on which I part company
+with you is that you ride ahead, this instant,
+and that you put your horse through for all that&rsquo;s in
+him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And leave you to fight six of them!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Staying here would only put you in unnecessary
+danger. I ask you to go, and go at once.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll not go!&rdquo; She said it finally and emphatically.</p>
+<p>Macdonald checked his horse; she held back her
+animal to the slow pace of his. Now he offered his
+hand, as in farewell.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You can assure them at the post that we&rsquo;ll not
+fire on the soldiers&mdash;they can come in peace. Good-bye.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not going!&rdquo; she persisted.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They&rsquo;ll not consider you, Frances&mdash;they&rsquo;ll not
+hold their fire on your account. You&rsquo;re a rustler
+now, you&rsquo;re one of us.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' ></a>214</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;You said&mdash;there&mdash;was&mdash;only&mdash;one&mdash;road,&rdquo;
+she told him, her face turned away.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s that way, then, to the left&mdash;up that dry
+bed of Horsethief Ca&ntilde;on.&rdquo; He spoke with a lift of
+exultation, of pride, and more than pride. &ldquo;Ride
+low&mdash;they&rsquo;re coming!&rdquo;</p></div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' ></a>215</span>
+<a  id='CHAPTER_XVI_DANGER_AND_DIGNITY'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVI<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'>DANGER AND DIGNITY</span></h2>
+</div>
+<div class='text'><p class='ni'>&ldquo;Did you carry her that way all the way home?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances asked the question abruptly, like
+one throwing down some troublesome and heavy thing
+that he has labored gallantly to conceal. It was the
+first word that she had spoken since they had taken
+refuge from their close-pressing pursuers in the dugout
+that some old-time homesteader had been driven
+away from by Chadron&rsquo;s cowboys.</p>
+<p>Macdonald was keeping his horse back from the
+door with the barrel of his rifle, while he peered out
+cautiously again, perplexed to understand the reason
+why Dalton had not led his men against them in a
+charge.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not all the way, Frances. She rode behind me
+till she got so cold and sleepy I was afraid she&rsquo;d fall
+off.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I&rsquo;ll bet she put on half of it!&rdquo; she said,
+spitefully. &ldquo;She looked strong enough when you
+put her down there at the gate.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This unexpected little outburst of jealousy was
+pleasant to his ears. Above the trouble of that morning,
+and of the future which was charged with it to
+the blackness of complete obscuration, her warrant of
+affection was like a lifting sunbeam of hope.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t figure out what Dalton and that gang
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' ></a>216</span>
+mean by this,&rdquo; said he, the present danger again
+pressing ahead of the present joy.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I saw a man dodge behind that big rock across
+there a minute ago,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You keep back away from that door&mdash;don&rsquo;t
+lean over out of that corner!&rdquo; he admonished, almost
+harshly. &ldquo;If you get where you can see, you can
+be seen. Don&rsquo;t forget that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He resumed his watch at the little hole that he had
+drilled beside the weight-bowed jamb of the door in
+the earth front of their refuge. She sat silent in
+her dark corner across from him, only now and then
+shaking her glove at the horses when one of them
+pricked up his ears and shewed a desire to dodge out
+into the sunlight and pleasant grazing spread on the
+hillside.</p>
+<p>It was cold and moldy in the dugout, and the
+timbers across the roof were bent under the weight
+of the earth. It looked unsafe, but there was only
+one place in it that a bullet could come through, and
+that was the open door. There was no way to shut
+that; the original battens of the homesteader lay
+under foot, broken apart and rotting.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, it beats me!&rdquo; said he, his eye to the peephole
+in the wall.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If I&rsquo;d keep one of the horses on this side it
+wouldn&rsquo;t crowd your corner so,&rdquo; she suggested.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It would be better, only they&rsquo;ll cut loose at anything
+that passes the door. They&rsquo;ll show their hand
+before long.&rdquo; He enlarged the hole to admit his
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' ></a>217</span>
+rifle barrel. She watched him in silence. Which was
+just as well, for she had no words to express her
+admiration for his steadiness and courage under the
+trying pressure of that situation. Her confidence
+in him was so entire that she had no fear; it did not
+admit a question of their safe deliverance. With
+him at her side, this dangerous, grave matter seemed
+but a passing perplexity. She left it to him with the
+confidence and up-looking trust of a child.</p>
+<p>While she understood the peril of their situation,
+fear, doubt, had no place in her mind. She was under
+the protection of Alan Macdonald, the infallible.</p>
+<p>No matter what others may think of a man&rsquo;s infallibility,
+it is only a dangerous one who considers
+himself endowed with that more than human attribute.
+Macdonald did not share her case of mind as
+he stood with his eye to the squint-hole that he had
+bored beside the rotting jamb.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How did you find her? where was she?&rdquo; she
+asked, her thoughts more on the marvel of Nola&rsquo;s
+return than her own present danger.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I lost Thorn&rsquo;s trail that first day,&rdquo; he returned,
+&ldquo;and then things began to get so hot for us up the
+valley that I had to drop the search and get those
+people back to safety ahead of Chadron&rsquo;s raid. Yesterday
+afternoon we caught a man trying to get
+through our lines and down into the valley. He
+was a half-breed trapper who lives up in the foothills,
+carrying a note down to Chadron. I&rsquo;ve got that
+curious piece of writing around me somewhere&mdash;you
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' ></a>218</span>
+can read it when this blows by. Anyway, it was from
+Thorn, demanding ten thousand dollars in gold. He
+wanted it sent back by the messenger, and he prescribed
+some picturesque penalties in case of failure
+on Chadron&rsquo;s part.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And then you found her?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I couldn&rsquo;t very well ask anybody else to go after
+her,&rdquo; he admitted, with a modest reticence that
+amounted almost to being ashamed. &ldquo;After I made
+sure that we had Chadron&rsquo;s raiders cooped up where
+they couldn&rsquo;t get out, I went up and got her. Thorn
+wasn&rsquo;t there, nobody but the Indian woman, the
+&rsquo;breed&rsquo;s wife. She was the jailer&mdash;a regular wildcat
+of a woman.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>That was all there was to be told, it seemed, as far
+as Macdonald was concerned. He had the hole in the
+wall&mdash;at which he had worked as he talked&mdash;to his
+liking now, and was squinting through it like a telescope.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nola wasn&rsquo;t afraid to come with you,&rdquo; she said,
+positively.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She didn&rsquo;t appear to be, Frances.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; she <i>knew</i> she was safe, no matter how little
+she deserved any kindness at your hands. I know
+what she did&mdash;I know how she&mdash;how she&mdash;<i>struck</i>
+you in the face that time!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said he, as if reminded of a trifle that he had
+forgotten.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Did she&mdash;put her arms around your neck that
+way <i>many</i> times while you were carrying her home?&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' ></a>219</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;She did <i>not</i>! Many times! why, she didn&rsquo;t do
+it even once.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, at the gate&mdash;I saw her!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He said nothing for a little while, only stood with
+head bent, as if thinking it over.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, she didn&rsquo;t get very far with it,&rdquo; he said,
+quite seriously. &ldquo;Anyway, she was asleep then, and
+didn&rsquo;t know what she was doing. It was just the
+subconscious reaching up of a falling, or dreaming,
+child.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She was not a little amused, in a quick turn from
+her serious bent of jealousy, at his long and careful
+explanation of the incident. She laughed, and the
+little green cloud that had troubled her blew away
+on the gale of her mirth.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, well!&rdquo; said she, from her deep corner across
+the bright oblong of the door, tossing it all away
+from her. &ldquo;Do you think they&rsquo;ll go away and let us
+come out after a while?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe they&rsquo;ve got any such intention.
+If it doesn&rsquo;t come to a fight before then, I believe
+we&rsquo;ll have to drive the horses out ahead of us after
+dark, and try to get away under the confusion. You
+should have gone on, Frances, when I told you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The horses were growing restive, moving, stamping,
+snorting, and becoming quarrelsome together.
+Macdonald&rsquo;s little range animal had a viciousness in
+it, and would not make friends with the chestnut cavalry
+horse. It squealed and bit, and even tried to
+use its heels, at every friendly approach.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' ></a>220</span></div>
+<p>Macdonald feared that so much commotion might
+bring the shaky, rotten roof down on them. A hoof
+driven against one of the timbers which supported
+it might do the trick, and bring them to a worse end
+than would the waiting bullets of Dalton and his
+gang.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have to risk putting that horse of yours over
+on your side,&rdquo; he told her. &ldquo;Stand ready to catch
+him, but don&rsquo;t lean a hair past the door.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He turned the horse and gave it a slap. As it
+crossed the bar of light falling through the door, a
+shot cracked among the rocks. The bullet knocked
+earth over him as it smacked in the facing of the
+door. The man who had fired had shot obliquely,
+there being no shelter directly in front, and that
+fact had saved the horse.</p>
+<p>Macdonald peered through his loophole. He could
+not see the smoke, but he let them know that he was
+primed by answering the shot at random. The shot
+drew a volley, a bullet or two striking the rear wall
+of the cave.</p>
+<p>After that they waited for what might come between
+then and night. They said little, for each
+was straining with unpleasant thoughts and anxieties,
+and put to constant watchfulness to keep the horses
+from slewing around into the line of fire. Every time
+a tail switched out into the streak of light a bullet
+came nipping in. Sometimes Macdonald let them go
+unanswered, and again he would spring up and drive
+away at the rocks which he knew sheltered them,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' ></a>221</span>
+almost driven to the point of rushing out and trying
+to dislodge them by storm.</p>
+<p>So the day wore by. They had been in the dugout
+since a little after sunrise. Sunset was pale on the
+hilltops beyond them when Macdonald, his strained
+and tired eyes to the loophole, saw Dalton and two
+of his men slipping from rock to rock, drawing nearer
+for what he expected to be the rush.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Can you shoot?&rdquo; he asked her, his mouth hot
+and dry as if his blood had turned to liquid fire.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I can shoot,&rdquo; she answered, steadily.</p>
+<p>He tossed one of his revolvers across to her, dimly
+seen now in the deepening gloom of the cave, and
+flung a handful of cartridges after it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They&rsquo;re closing in on us for the rush, and I&rsquo;m
+going to try to stop them. Keep back there where
+you are, and hold your horse under cover as long as
+you hear me shooting. If I stop first, call Dalton
+and tell him who you are. I believe in that case he&rsquo;ll
+let you go.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to help you,&rdquo; she said, rising resolutely.
+&ldquo;When you&mdash;stop shooting&mdash;&rdquo; she choked
+a little over the words, her voice caught in a dry little
+sob&mdash;&ldquo;then I&rsquo;ll stop shooting, too!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Stay back there, Frances! Do you hear&mdash;stay
+back!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Somebody was on the roof of the dugout; under
+his weight clods of earth fell, and then, with a soft
+breaking of rotten timber, a booted foot broke
+through. It was on Frances&rsquo; side, and the fellow&rsquo;s
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' ></a>222</span>
+foot almost touched her saddle as her frightened
+horse plunged.</p>
+<p>The man was tugging to drag his foot through the
+roof now, earth and broken timber showering down.
+Macdonald only glanced over his shoulder, as if
+leaving that trapped one to her. He was set for
+their charge in front. She raised her revolver to fire
+as the other leg broke through, and the fellow&rsquo;s body
+dropped into the enlarged hole. At that moment the
+men in front fired a volley through the gaping door.
+Frances saw the intruder drop to the ground, torn
+by the heavy bullets from his companions&rsquo; guns.</p>
+<p>The place was full of smoke, and the turmoil of
+the frightened horses, and the noise of quick shots
+from Macdonald&rsquo;s station across the door. She could
+not make anything out in the confusion as she turned
+from the dead man to face the door, only that Macdonald
+was not at his place at the loophole now.</p>
+<p>She called him, but her voice was nothing in the
+sound of firing. A choking volume of smoke was
+packing the cave. She saw Macdonald&rsquo;s horse lower
+its head and dash out, with a whip of its tail like a
+defiance of her authority. Then in a moment everything
+was still out there, with a fearful suddenness.</p>
+<p>She flung herself into the cloud of smoke that hung
+in the door, sobbing Macdonald&rsquo;s name; she stumbled
+into the fresh sweet air, almost blind in her anxiety,
+and the confusion of that quickly enacted scene, her
+head bent as if to run under the bullets which she
+expected.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' ></a>223</span></div>
+<p>She did not see how it happened, she did not know
+that he was there; but his arm was supporting her,
+his cool hand was on her forehead, stroking her face
+as if he had plucked her drowning from the sea.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where are they?&rdquo; she asked, only to exclaim, and
+shrink closer to him at the sight of one lying a few
+rods away, in that sprawling limp posture of those
+who fall by violence.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There were only four of them&mdash;there the other
+two go.&rdquo; He pointed down the little swale where the
+tall grass was still green. Macdonald&rsquo;s horse had
+fallen to grazing there, his master&rsquo;s perils and escapes
+all one to him now. It threw its head up and stood
+listening, trotted a little way and stopped, ears stiff,
+nostrils stretched.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s somebody coming,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;Chadron and a fresh gang, maybe.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He sprang to the dugout door, where Frances&rsquo;
+horse stood with its head out inquiringly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Jump up&mdash;quick!&rdquo; he said, bringing the horse
+out. &ldquo;Go this time, Frances; don&rsquo;t hang back a
+second more!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Never mind, Alan,&rdquo; she said, from the other side
+of the horse, &ldquo;it&rsquo;s the cavalry&mdash;I guess they&rsquo;ve
+come after me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Major King was at the head of the detail of seven
+men which rode up, horses a lather of sweat. He
+threw himself from the saddle and hurried to Frances,
+his face full of the liveliest concern. Macdonald
+stepped around to meet him.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' ></a>224</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Thank heaven! you&rsquo;re not hurt,&rdquo; the major said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, but we thought we were in for another fight,&rdquo;
+she told him, offering him her hand in the gratefulness
+of her relief. He almost snatched it in his
+eagerness, and drew her toward him, and stood holding
+it in his haughty, proprietary way. &ldquo;Mr. Macdonald&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The scoundrels heard us coming and ran&mdash;we
+got a glimpse of them down there. Chadron will
+have to answer for this outrage!&rdquo; the major said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Major King, this is Mr. Macdonald,&rdquo; said she,
+firmly, breaking down the high manner in which the
+soldier persisted in overlooking and eliminating the
+homesteader.</p>
+<p>Major King&rsquo;s face flushed; he drew back a hasty
+step as Macdonald offered his hand, in the frank and
+open manner of an equal man who raised no thought
+nor question on that point.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sir, I&rsquo;ve been hearing of the gallant <i>rescue</i> that
+you made of another young lady this morning,&rdquo; he
+said, with sneering emphasis. &ldquo;You are hardly the
+kind of a man I shake hands with!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The troopers, sitting their blowing horses a rod
+away, made their saddles creak as they shifted to see
+this little dash of melodrama. Macdonald&rsquo;s face was
+swept by a sudden paleness, as if a sickness had come
+over him. He clenched his lean jaw hard; the firmness
+of his mouth was grimmer still as his hand
+dropped slowly to his side. Frances looked her
+indignation and censure into Major King&rsquo;s hot eyes.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' ></a>225</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Macdonald has defended me like a gallant
+gentleman, sir! Those ruffians didn&rsquo;t run because
+they heard you coming, but because he faced them
+out here in the open, single-handed and alone, and
+drove them to their horses, Major King!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The troopers were looking Macdonald over with
+favor. They had seen the evidence of his stand
+against Chadron&rsquo;s men.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re deceived in your estimation of the fellow,
+Miss Landcraft,&rdquo; the major returned, red to
+the eyes in his offended dignity. &ldquo;I arrived at the
+ranch not an hour ago, detailed to escort you back
+to the post. Will you have the kindness to mount
+at once, please?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He stepped forward to give her a hand into the
+saddle. But Macdonald was before him in that
+office, urged to it by the quick message of her eyes.
+From the saddle she leaned and gave him her warm,
+soft hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Your men need you, Mr. Macdonald&mdash;go to
+them,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;My prayers for your success in
+this fight for the right will follow you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Macdonald was standing bareheaded at her stirrup.
+Her hand lingered a moment in his, her eyes sounded
+the bottom of his soul. Major King, with his little
+uprising of dignity, was a very small matter in the
+homesteader&rsquo;s mind just then, although a minute past
+he had fought with himself to keep from twisting the
+arrogant officer&rsquo;s neck.</p>
+<p>She fell in beside Major King, who was sitting
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' ></a>226</span>
+grim enough in his way now, in the saddle, and they
+rode away. Macdonald stood, hat in hand, the last
+sunbeams of that day over his fair tangled hair, the
+smoke of his conflict on his face, the tender light of
+a man&rsquo;s most sacred fire in his eyes.</p></div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' ></a>227</span>
+<a  id='CHAPTER_XVII_BOOTS_AND_SADDLES'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVII<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'>BOOTS AND SADDLES</span></h2>
+</div>
+<div class='text'><p class='ni'>When Major King delivered Frances&mdash;his
+punctilious military observance made her
+home-coming nothing less&mdash;to Colonel Landcraft,
+they found that grizzled warrior in an electrical state
+of excitement. He was moving in quick little charges,
+but with a certain grim system in all of them, between
+desk and bookcases, letter files, cabinets, and
+back to his desk again. He drew a document here,
+tucked one away there, slipped an elastic about others
+assembled on his desk, and clapped a sheaf of
+them in his pocket.</p>
+<p>Major King saluted within the door.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have the honor to report the safe return of the
+detachment dispatched to Alamito Ranch for the
+convoy of Miss Landcraft,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>Colonel Landcraft returned the salute, and stood
+stiffly while his officer spoke.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very well, sir,&rdquo; said he. Then flinging away his
+official stiffness, he met Frances half-way as she ran
+to meet him, and enfolded her to his breast, just as
+if his dry old heart knew that she had come to him
+through perils.</p>
+<p>Breathlessly she told him the story, leaving no
+word unsaid that would mount to the credit of Alan
+Macdonald. Colonel Landcraft was as hot as blazing
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' ></a>228</span>
+straw over the matter. He swore that he would
+roast Saul Chadron&rsquo;s heart on his sword, and
+snatched that implement from the chair where it
+hung as he spoke, and buckled it on with trembling
+hand.</p>
+<p>King interposed to tell him that Chadron was not
+at the ranch, and begged the colonel to delegate to
+him the office of avenger of this insult and hazard
+that Frances had suffered at the hands of his men.
+For a moment Colonel Landcraft held the young
+officer&rsquo;s eye with thankful expression of admiration,
+then he drew himself up as if in censure for wasted
+time, saluted, took a paper from his desk, and said
+with grave dignity:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It must fall to you, Major King, to demand the
+reparation for this outrage that I shall not be here
+to enforce. I am ordered to Washington, sir, to
+make my appearance before the retiring board. The
+department has vested the command of this post in
+you, sir&mdash;here is the order. My soldiering days
+are at an end.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He handed the paper to Major King, with a salute.
+With a salute the young officer took it from his hand,
+an eager light in his eyes, a flush springing to his
+pale face. Frances clung to her father&rsquo;s arm, a
+little trembling moan on her lips as if she had received
+a mortal hurt.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Never mind, never mind, dear heart,&rdquo; said the
+old man, a shake in his own voice. Frances, looking
+up with her great pity into his stern, set face, saw
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' ></a>229</span>
+a tear creeping down his cheek, toughened by the
+fires of thirty years&rsquo; campaigns.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll never soldier any more,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;the politicians
+have got me. They&rsquo;ve been after me a long
+time, and they&rsquo;ve got me. But there is one easement
+in my disgrace&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t speak of it on those terms, sir!&rdquo; implored
+Major King, more a man than a soldier as he laid
+a consoling hand on the old man&rsquo;s arm.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, no!&rdquo; said Frances, clinging to her father&rsquo;s
+hand.</p>
+<p>Colonel Landcraft smiled, looking from one to the
+other of them, and a softness came into his face. He
+took Major King&rsquo;s hand and carried it to join
+Frances&rsquo;, and she, in her softness for her father,
+allowed it to remain in the young soldier&rsquo;s grasp.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is one gleam of joy in the sundown of my
+life,&rdquo; the colonel said, &ldquo;and that is in seeing my
+daughter pledged to a soldier. I must live in the
+reflection of your achievements, if I live beyond this
+disgrace, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will try to make them worthy of my mentor,
+sir,&rdquo; Major King returned.</p>
+<p>Frances stood with bowed head, the major still
+holding her hand in his ardent grasp.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a crushing blow, to come before the preferment
+in rank that I have been led to expect would
+be my retiring compensation!&rdquo; The colonel turned
+from them sharply, as if in pain, and walked in
+marching stride across the room. Frances withdrew
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' ></a>230</span>
+her hand, with a little struggle, not softened by the
+appeal in the major&rsquo;s eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My poor wife is bowed under it,&rdquo; the colonel
+spoke as he marched back and forth. &ldquo;She has hoped
+with me for some fitting reward for the years of
+service I have unselfishly given to my country, sir,
+for the surrender of my better self to the army.
+I&rsquo;ll never outlive it, I feel that I&rsquo;ll never outlive it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Colonel Landcraft had no thought apart from
+what he felt to be his hovering disgrace. He had
+forgotten his rage against Chadron, forgotten that
+his daughter had lived through a day as hazardous as
+any that he had experienced in the Apache campaigns,
+or in his bleak watches against the Sioux.
+He turned to her now, where she stood weeping softly
+with bowed head, the grime of the dugout on her
+habit, her hair, its bonds broken, straying over her
+face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I had counted pleasurably on seeing you two
+married,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;but something tells me I shall
+never come back from this journey, never resume
+command of this post.&rdquo; He turned back to his
+marching, stopped three or four paces along, turned
+sharply, a new light in his face. &ldquo;Why shouldn&rsquo;t
+it be before I leave&mdash;tonight, within the hour?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, father!&rdquo; said Frances, in terrified voice,
+lifting her face in its tear-wet loveliness.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I must make the train that leaves Meander at
+four o&rsquo;clock tomorrow morning, I shall have to leave
+here within&mdash;&rdquo; he flashed out his watch with his
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' ></a>231</span>
+quick, nervous hand&mdash;&ldquo;within three-quarters of an
+hour. What do you say, Major King? Are you
+ready?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have been ready at any time for two years,&rdquo;
+Major King replied, in trembling eagerness.</p>
+<p>Frances was thrown into such a mental turmoil by
+the sudden proposal that she could not, at that moment,
+speak a further protest. She stood with white
+face, her heart seeming to shrivel, and fall away to
+laboring faintness. Colonel Landcraft was not considering
+her. He was thinking that he must have
+three hours&rsquo; sleep in the hotel at Meander before the
+train left for Omaha.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then we shall have the wedding at once, just
+as you stand!&rdquo; he declared. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll have the chaplain
+in and&mdash;go and tell your mother, child, and&mdash;oh,
+well, throw on another dress if you like.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances found her tongue as her danger of being
+married off in that hot and hasty manner grew imminent.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not going to marry Major King, father,
+now or at any future time,&rdquo; said she, speaking slowly,
+her words coming with coldness from her lips.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Silence! you have nothing to say, nothing to do
+but obey!&rdquo; Colonel Landcraft blazed up in sudden
+explosion, after his manner, and set his heel down
+hard on the floor, making his sword clank in its
+scabbard on his thigh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have not had much to say,&rdquo; Frances admitted,
+bitterly, &ldquo;but I am going to have a great deal to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' ></a>232</span>
+say in this matter now. Both of you have gone
+ahead about this thing just as if I was irresponsible,
+both of you&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hold your tongue, miss! I command you&mdash;hold
+your tongue!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s the farthest thing from my heart to give you
+pain, or disappoint you in your calculations of me,
+father,&rdquo; she told him, her voice gathering power, her
+words speed, for she was a warrior like himself, only
+that her balance was not so easily overthrown; &ldquo;but
+I am not going to marry Major King.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Heaven and hell!&rdquo; said Colonel Landcraft,
+stamping up and down.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Heaven <i>or</i> hell,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;and not hell&mdash;if I
+can escape it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll not permit this insubordination in a member
+of my family!&rdquo; roared the colonel, his face fiery, his
+rumpled eyebrows knitted in a scowl. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have obedience,
+with good grace, and at once, or damn my
+soul, you&rsquo;ll leave my house!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Major King, if you are a gentleman, sir, you will
+relieve me of this unwelcome pressure to force me
+against my inclination. It is quite useless, sir, I tell
+you most earnestly. I would rather die than marry
+you&mdash;I would rather die!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sir, I have no wish to coerce the lady&rdquo;&mdash;Major
+King&rsquo;s voice shook, his words were low&mdash;&ldquo;as she
+seems to have no preference for me, sir. Miss Landcraft
+perhaps has placed her heart somewhere else.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She has no right to act with such treachery to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' ></a>233</span>
+me and you, sir,&rdquo; the colonel said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll not have
+it! Where else, sir&mdash;who?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Spare me the humiliation of informing you,&rdquo;
+begged Major King, with averted face, with sorrow
+in his voice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, you slanderous coward!&rdquo; Frances assailed
+him with scorn of word and look. Colonel Landcraft
+was shaking a trembling finger at her, his face thrust
+within a foot of her own.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll not have it! you&rsquo;ll not&mdash;who is the fellow,
+who?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is nothing to conceal, there is no humiliation
+on my part in speaking his name, but pride&mdash;the
+highest pride of my heart!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She stood back from them a little, her lofty head
+thrown back, her face full of color now, the strength
+of defense of the man she loved in her brave brown
+eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Some low poltroon, some sneaking civilian&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is a man, father&mdash;you have granted that.
+His name is&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Stop!&rdquo; thundered the colonel. &ldquo;Heaven and
+hell! Will you disgrace me by making public confession
+of your shame? Leave this room, before you
+drive me to send you from it with a curse!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>In her room Frances heard the horses come to the
+door to carry her father away. She had sat there,
+trembling and hot, sorry for his foolish rage, hurt
+by his narrow injustice. Yet she had no bitterness
+in her heart against him, for she believed that she
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' ></a>234</span>
+knew him best. When his passion had fallen he would
+come to her, lofty still, but ashamed, and they would
+put it behind them, as they had put other differences
+in the past.</p>
+<p>Her mother had gone to him to share the last
+moments of his presence there, and to intercede for
+her. Now Frances listened, her hot cheek in her
+hand, her eyes burning, her heart surging in fevered
+stroke. There was a good deal of coming and going
+before the house; men came up and dismounted,
+others rode away. Watching, her face against the
+cool pane, she did not see her father leave. Yet he had
+not come to her, and the time for his going was past.</p>
+<p>Her heart was sore and troubled at the thought
+that perhaps he had gone without the word of pacification
+between them. It was almost terrifying to
+her to think of that. She ran down the stairs and
+stood listening at his closed door.</p>
+<p>That was not his voice, that heavy growl, that
+animal note. Saul Chadron&rsquo;s; no other. Her mother
+came in through the front door, weeping, and clasped
+Frances in her arms as she stood there, shadowy in
+the light of the dim hall lamp.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is gone!&rdquo; she said.</p>
+<p>Frances did not speak. But for the first time in
+her life a feeling of bitterness against her father for
+his hardness of heart and unbending way of injustice
+lifted itself in her breast. She led her mother to her
+own room, giving her such comfort as she could put
+into words.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' ></a>235</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;He said he never marched out to sure defeat before,&rdquo;
+Mrs. Landcraft told her. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve seen him go
+many a time, Frances, but never with such a pain
+in my heart as tonight!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And Saul Chadron was the man who had caused
+his going, Frances knew, a new illumination having
+come over the situation since hearing his voice in the
+colonel&rsquo;s office a few minutes past. Chadron had been
+at Meander, telegraphing to the cattlemen&rsquo;s servants
+in Washington all the time. He had demanded the
+colonel&rsquo;s recall, and the substitution of Major King,
+because he wanted a man in authority at the post
+whom he could use.</p>
+<p>This favoritism of Chadron made her distrustful
+at once of Major King. There must be some scheming
+and plotting afoot. She went down and stood in
+the hall again, not even above bending to listen at the
+keyhole. Chadron was talking again. She felt that
+he must have been talking all the time that she had
+been away. It must be an unworthy cause that
+needed so much pleading, she thought.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, he&rsquo;ll not shoot, I tell you, King; he&rsquo;s too
+smart for that. He&rsquo;ll have to be trapped into it. If
+you&rsquo;ve got to have an excuse to fire on them&mdash;and
+I can&rsquo;t see where it comes in, King, damn my neck
+if I can&mdash;we&rsquo;ve got to set a trap.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Leave that to me,&rdquo; returned Major King, coldly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How much force are you authorized to use?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The order leaves that detail to me. &lsquo;Sufficient
+force to restore order,&rsquo; it says.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' ></a>236</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;I think you ort to take a troop, at the least,
+King, and a cannon&mdash;maybe two.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think artillery will be necessary, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;ll leave it to you, King, but I&rsquo;d hate like
+hell to take you up there and have that feller lick you.
+You don&rsquo;t know him like I do. I tell you he&rsquo;d lay
+on his back and fight like a catamount as long as he
+had a breath left in him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Can you locate them in the night?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think we&rsquo;d have to wait up there somewheres
+for daybreak. I&rsquo;m not just sure which ca&ntilde;on they
+are in.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There was silence. Frances peeped through the
+keyhole, but could see nothing except thick smoke
+over bookcases and files.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, we&rsquo;ll not want to dislodge them before daylight,
+anyway,&rdquo; said King.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If Macdonald can back off without a fight, he&rsquo;ll
+do it,&rdquo; Chadron declared, &ldquo;for he knows as well as
+you and I what it&rsquo;d mean to fire on the troops. And
+I want you to git him, King, and make sure you&rsquo;ve
+got him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It depends largely on whether the fellow can be
+provoked into firing on us, Chadron. You think he
+can be; so do I. But in case he doesn&rsquo;t, the best we
+can do will be to arrest him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What good would he be to me arrested, King?
+I tell you I want his scalp, and if you bring that
+feller out of there in a sack you&rsquo;ll come back a brigadier.
+I put you where you&rsquo;re at. Well, I can put
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' ></a>237</span>
+you higher just as easy. But the purty I want for
+my trouble is that feller&rsquo;s scalp.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There was the sound of somebody walking about,
+in quick, nervous strides. Frances knew that Major
+King had got up from his usurped place at the desk&mdash;place
+unworthily filled, this low intrigue with
+Chadron aside, she knew&mdash;and was strutting in the
+shadow of his promised glory.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Leave it to me, Chadron; I&rsquo;ve got my own account
+to square with that wolf of the range!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A sharp little silence, in which Frances could picture
+Chadron looking at King in his covert, man-weighing
+way. Then Chadron went on:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;King, I&rsquo;ve noticed now and then that you seemed
+to have a soft spot in your gizzard for that little
+girl of mine. Well, I&rsquo;ll throw her in to boot if you
+put this thing through right. Is it a go?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;d hesitate to bargain for the young lady without
+her being a party to the business,&rdquo; King replied,
+whether from wisdom born of his recent experience,
+or through lack of interest in the proposal Frances
+could not read in his even, well-pitched voice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, she&rsquo;d jump at you like a bullfrog at red
+flannel,&rdquo; Chadron assured him. &ldquo;I could put your
+uniform on a wooden man and marry him off to the
+best girl in seven states. They never think of lookin&rsquo;
+under a soldier&rsquo;s vest.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You flatter me, Mr. Chadron, and the uniform of
+the United States army,&rdquo; returned King, with barely
+covered contempt. &ldquo;Suppose we allow events to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' ></a>238</span>
+shape themselves in regard to Miss Chadron. She&rsquo;ll
+hardly be entertaining marriage notions yet&mdash;after
+her recent experience.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Chadron got up so quickly he overturned his chair.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;By God, sir! do you mean to intimate you
+wouldn&rsquo;t have her after what she&rsquo;s gone through?
+Well, I&rsquo;ll put a bullet through any man that says&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, hold yourself in, Chadron; there&rsquo;s no call for
+this.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>King&rsquo;s cold contempt would have been like a lash
+to a man of finer sensibilities than Saul Chadron. As
+it was, Frances could hear the heavy cattleman
+breathing like a mad bull.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When you talk about my little girl, King, go as
+easy as if you was carryin&rsquo; quicksilver in a dish. You
+told me she was all right a little while ago, and I
+tell you I don&rsquo;t like&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Chadron was as bright as a redbird when I
+saw her this afternoon,&rdquo; King assured him, calmly.
+&ldquo;She has suffered no harm at the hands of Macdonald
+and his outlaws.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;ll dance in hell for that trick before the sun
+goes down on another day!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;His big play for sympathy fell flat,&rdquo; said King,
+with a contemptuous laugh. &ldquo;There wasn&rsquo;t much of
+a crowd on hand when he arrived at the ranch.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Silence. A little shifting of feet, a growl from
+Chadron, and a curse.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But as for your proposal involving Miss Chadron,
+I am honored by it,&rdquo; said King.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' ></a>239</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Any man would be!&rdquo; Chadron declared.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And we will just let it stand, waiting the lady&rsquo;s
+sanction.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>That brightened Chadron up. He moved about,
+and there was a sound as if he had slapped the young
+officer on the back in pure comradeship and open
+admiration.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s your scheme for drawin&rsquo; that feller into
+firin&rsquo; on your men?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll talk it over as we go,&rdquo; said King.</p>
+<p>A bugle lifted its sharp, electrifying note in the
+barracks.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Boots and saddles!&rdquo; Chadron said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; we march at nine o&rsquo;clock.&rdquo;</p></div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' ></a>240</span>
+<a  id='CHAPTER_XVIII_THE_TRAIL_OF_THE_COFFEE'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVIII<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'>THE TRAIL OF THE COFFEE</span></h2>
+</div>
+<div class='text'><p class='ni'>&ldquo;You done right to come to the mission after me,
+for I&rsquo;d ride to the gatepost of hell to turn a
+trick agin Saul Chadron!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Banjo&rsquo;s voice had a quaver of earnestness in it
+that needed no daylight to enforce. The pitchy
+night made a bobbing blur of him as he rode his
+quick-stepping little horse at Frances Landcraft&rsquo;s
+side.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, you owe him one,&rdquo; Frances admitted.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And I&rsquo;ll pay him before mornin&rsquo; or it won&rsquo;t be
+no fault of mine. That there little ten-cent-size
+major he&rsquo;d &rsquo;a&rsquo; stopped you if he&rsquo;d &rsquo;a&rsquo; known you was
+goin&rsquo;, don&rsquo;t you suppose?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure he would have, Mr. Gibson.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Which?&rdquo; said Banjo.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Banjo,&rdquo; she corrected.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now, that sounds more comfortabler,&rdquo; he told
+her. &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t know for a minute who you meant,
+that name&rsquo;s gittin&rsquo; to be a stranger to me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, we don&rsquo;t want a stranger along tonight,&rdquo;
+said she, seriously.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re right, we don&rsquo;t. That there horse you&rsquo;re
+ridin&rsquo; he&rsquo;s a good one, as good as any in the cavalry,
+even if he ain&rsquo;t as tall. He was an outlaw till Missus
+Mathews tamed him down.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' ></a>241</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;How did she do it&mdash;not break him like a bronco-buster?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, she done it like she tames Injuns and other
+folks, by gentle words and gentler hands. Some
+they&rsquo;ll tell you she&rsquo;s sunk down to the ways of Injuns,
+clean out of a white man&rsquo;s sight in the dirt and doin&rsquo;s
+of them dead-horse eatin&rsquo; &rsquo;Rapahoes. But I know
+she ain&rsquo;t. She lets herself down on a level to reach
+&rsquo;em, and git her hands under &rsquo;em so she can lift &rsquo;em
+up, the same as she puts herself on my level when
+she wants to reach me, or your level, or anybody&rsquo;s
+level, mom.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Her eyes and her soft ways tell you that, Banjo,
+as plain as any words.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s done ten times as much as that big-backed
+buffalo of a preacher she&rsquo;s married to ever done for
+his own people, or ever will. He&rsquo;s clim above &rsquo;em
+with his educated ways; the Injun&rsquo;s ironed out of
+that man. You can&rsquo;t reach down and help anybody
+up, mom, if you go along through this here world
+on stilts.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not very well, Banjo.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You need both of your hands to hold your stilts,
+mom; you ain&rsquo;t got even a finger to spare for a low-down
+feller like me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re not a low-down fellow, Banjo. Don&rsquo;t be
+calling yourself names.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I was low-down enough to believe what they told
+me about Macdonald shootin&rsquo; up Chance Dalton. I
+believed it till Missus Mathews give me the straight
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' ></a>242</span>
+of it. One of them Injun police fellers told her how
+that job was put up, and how it failed to work.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A man named Lassiter told me about it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They rode along in silence a long time after that.
+Then Banjo&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I hope we don&rsquo;t bust out onto them cavalry
+fellers too sudden and meet a flock of bullets. I&rsquo;d
+never forgive the man that put a bullet through my
+fiddle.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll go slowly, and keep listening; I can tell
+cavalry from cowboys as far as I can hear.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I bet a purty you can, brought up with &rsquo;em like
+you was.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They&rsquo;ll not be able to do anything before daylight,
+and when we overtake them we&rsquo;ll ride around
+and get ahead while they&rsquo;re waiting for morning. I
+don&rsquo;t know where the homesteaders are, but they&rsquo;ll
+be sending out scouts to locate them, and we can
+watch.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They were following the road that the cavalry
+had taken an hour in advance of them. Listening
+now, they rode on without words. Now and then a
+bush at the roadside flipped a stirrup, now and again
+Banjo&rsquo;s little horse snorted in short impatience, as
+if expressing its disapproval of this journey through
+the dark. Night was assertive in its heaviness, but
+communicative of its mysteries in its wild scents&mdash;the
+silent music of its hour.</p>
+<p>There are those who, on walking in the night, can
+tell the hour by the smell, the taste, the elusive fine
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' ></a>243</span>
+aroma of the quiet air. Before midnight it is like
+a new-lit censer; in the small hours the smell of old
+camp fires comes trailing, and the scent of rain upon
+embers.</p>
+<p>But Frances Landcraft was not afraid of the night
+as she rode silently through it with Banjo Gibson at
+her side. There was no shudder in it for her as there
+had been on the night that Nola was stolen; it could
+not have raised up a terror grim enough to turn her
+back upon the road.</p>
+<p>Her one thought was that she must reach Macdonald
+before Chadron and King could find him, and
+tell him that the troops were coming, and that he was
+to be trapped into firing upon them. She knew that
+many lives depended upon her endurance, courage,
+and strategy; many lives, but most of all Alan Macdonald&rsquo;s
+life. He must be warned, at the cost of her
+own safety, her own life, if necessary.</p>
+<p>To that end the troops must be followed, and a
+desperate dash at daylight must be made into Macdonald&rsquo;s
+camp. Perhaps it would be a race with the
+cavalry at the last moment.</p>
+<p>Banjo said it was beginning to feel like morning.
+An hour past they had crossed the river at the ford
+near Macdonald&rsquo;s place, and the foothills stood rough
+and black against the starry horizon. They were
+near them now, so near that the deeper darkness of
+their timbered sides fell over them like a cold shadow.</p>
+<p>Suddenly she checked Banjo with a sharp word.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I heard them!&rdquo; she whispered.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' ></a>244</span></div>
+<p>Banjo&rsquo;s little horse, eager for the fellowship of its
+kind as his master was for his own in his way, threw
+up its head and whinnied. Banjo churned it with his
+heels, slapped it on the side of the head, and shut
+off the shrill call in a grunt, but the signal had gone
+abroad. From the blackness ahead it was answered,
+and the slow wind prowling down from the hills
+ahead of dawn carried the scent of cigarettes to them
+as they waited breathlessly for results.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They&rsquo;re dismounted, and waiting for daylight,&rdquo;
+she said. &ldquo;We must ride around them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They were leaving the road, the low brush rasping
+harshly on their stirrups&mdash;as loud as a bugle-call,
+it seemed to Frances&mdash;when a dash of hoofs from
+ahead told that a detachment was coming to investigate.
+Now there came a hail. Frances stopped;
+Banjo behind her whispered to know what they
+should do.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Keep that little fool horse still!&rdquo; she said.</p>
+<p>Now the patrol, which had stopped to hail, was
+coming on again. Banjo&rsquo;s horse was not to be
+sequestered, nor his craving for companionship in
+that lonesome night suppressed. He lifted his shrill
+nicker again, and a shot from the outriders of cavalry
+was the answer.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Answer them, tell them who you are Banjo&mdash;they
+all know you&mdash;and I&rsquo;ll slip away. Good-bye,
+and thank you for your brave help!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go with you, they&rsquo;ll hear one as much as
+they&rsquo;ll hear two.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' ></a>245</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;No, no, you can help me much better by doing as
+I tell you. Tell them that a led horse got away from
+you, and that&rsquo;s the noise of it running away.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She waited for no more words, for the patrol was
+very near, and now and then one of them fired as he
+rode. Banjo yelled to them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Say, you fellers! Stop that fool shootin&rsquo; around
+here, I tell you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo; came the answer.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Banjo, you darned fool! And I tell you right
+now, pardner, the first man that busts my fiddle with
+a bullet&rsquo;ll have to mix with me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The soldiers came up laughing, and heard Banjo&rsquo;s
+explanation of the horse, still dimly heard, galloping
+off. Frances stopped to listen. Presently she heard
+them coming on again, evidently not entirely satisfied
+with Banjo&rsquo;s story. But the parley with him had
+delayed them; she had a good lead now.</p>
+<p>In a little swale, where the greasewood reached
+above her head, she stopped again to listen. She
+heard the troopers beating the bushes away off to one
+side, and knew that they soon would give it up. When
+they passed out of her hearing, she rode on, slowly,
+and with caution.</p>
+<p>She was frontiersman enough to keep her direction
+by the north star&mdash;Colonel Landcraft had seen to
+that particular of her education himself&mdash;but Polaris
+would not tell her which way to go to find Alan Macdonald
+and his dusty men standing their vigil over
+their cooped-up enemies. Nothing but luck, she knew,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' ></a>246</span>
+could lead her there, for she was in a sea of sage-brush,
+with the black river valley behind her, the
+blacker hills ahead, and never a mark of a trail to
+follow anywhere.</p>
+<p>She had rounded the cavalry troop and left it far
+behind; the silence which immersed the sleeping land
+told her this. No hoof but her own mount&rsquo;s beat
+the earth within sound, no foot but hers strained
+saddle-leather within reach of her now, she believed.</p>
+<p>There was only one thing to do; ride slowly in the
+direction that she had been holding with Banjo, and
+keep eyes, ears, and nose all on the watch. The ways
+of the range were early; if there was anybody within
+a mile of her to windward she would smell the smoke
+of his fire when he lit it, and see the wink of it, too,
+unless he built it low.</p>
+<p>But it was neither the scent of fire nor the red eye
+of it winking on the hill that at length gave her despairing
+heart a fresh handful of hope&mdash;nothing less
+indeed than the aroma of boiling coffee. It had such
+a feeling of comfort and welcome, of domesticity and
+peace in it that she felt as if she approached a door
+with a friend standing ready to take her horse.</p>
+<p>Her horse was not insensible to the cheer that
+somebody was brewing for himself in that wild place.
+She felt him quicken under her, and put up his head
+eagerly, and go forward as if he was nearing home.
+She wondered how far the smell of coffee would carry,
+and subsequent experience was a revelation on that
+point.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' ></a>247</span></div>
+<p>She had entered the hills, tracking back that
+wavering scent of coffee, which rose fresh and sudden
+now, and trailed away the next moment to the mere
+color of a smell. Now she had it, now she lost it,
+as she wound over rugged ridges and through groves
+of quaking-asp and balm of Gilead trees, always
+mounting among the hills, her eager horse taking the
+way without guidance, as keen on the scent as she.</p>
+<p>It must have taken her an hour to run down that
+coffee pot. Morning was coming among the fading
+stars when she mounted a long ridge, the quick striding
+of her horse indicating that there was something
+ahead at last, and came upon the camp fire, the
+coffee, and the cook, all beside a splintered gray rock
+that rose as high as a house out of the barrenness
+of the hill.</p>
+<p>The coffee-maker was a woman, and her pot was of
+several gallons&rsquo; capacity. She was standing with
+the cover of the boiler in one hand, a great spoon in
+the other, her back half bent over her beverage, in
+the position that the sound of Frances&rsquo; coming had
+struck her. She did not move out of that alert pose
+of suspicion until Frances drew rein within a few
+feet of her and gave her good-morning. When the
+poor harried creature saw that the visitor was a
+woman, her fright gave place to wonder.</p>
+<p>Frances introduced herself without parley, and
+made inquiry for Macdonald.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, bless your heart, you don&rsquo;t aim to tell me
+you rode all the way from the post in the night by
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' ></a>248</span>
+yourself?&rdquo; the simple, friendly creature said.
+&ldquo;Well, Mr. Macdonald and most of the men they&rsquo;ve
+left to take them scoun&rsquo;rels sent in here by the cattlemen
+to murder all of us over to the jail at Meander.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How long have they been gone?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, not so very long. I reckon you must &rsquo;a&rsquo;
+missed meetin&rsquo; &rsquo;em by a hair.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got to catch up with them, right away! Is
+there anybody here that can guide me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My son can, and he&rsquo;ll be glad. He&rsquo;s just went
+to sleep back there in the tent after guardin&rsquo; them
+fellers all night. I&rsquo;ll roust him out.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The pioneer woman came back almost at once, and
+pressed a cup of her coffee upon Frances. Frances
+took the tin vessel eagerly, for she was chilled from
+her long ride. Then she dismounted to rest her horse
+while her guide was getting ready, and warm her
+numb feet at the fire. She told the woman how the
+scent of her coffee had led her out of her groping like
+a beacon light on the hill.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s about three miles from here down to the
+valley,&rdquo; the woman said. &ldquo;Coffee will carry on the
+mornin&rsquo; air that way.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think your son&mdash;?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s a-comin&rsquo;,&rdquo; the woman replied.</p>
+<p>The boy came around the rock, leading a horse.
+He was wide awake and alert, bare-footed, bareheaded,
+and without a coat. He leaped nimbly onto
+his bare-backed beast, and Frances got into her saddle
+as fast as her numb limbs would lift her.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' ></a>249</span></div>
+<p>As she road away after the recklessly riding youth,
+she felt the hope that she had warmed in her bosom
+all night paling to a shadow. It seemed that, circumstances
+were ranging after a chart marked out
+for them, and that her own earnest effort to interfere
+could not turn aside the tragedy set for the
+gray valley below her.</p>
+<p>Morning was broadening now; she could see her
+guide distinctly even when he rode many rods ahead.
+Dawn was the hour for treacherous men and deeds
+of stealth; Chadron would be on the way again before
+now, with the strength of the United States
+behind him to uphold his outlawed hand.</p>
+<p>When they came down into the valley there was
+a low-spreading mist over the gray sage, which lent
+a warmth to the raw morning wind. There was a
+sense of indistinctness through the mist which was
+an ally to Chadron. Ten rods away, even in the
+growing morning, it would have been impossible to
+tell a cowboy from a cavalryman.</p>
+<p>Here a haystack smoldered in what had been a
+farmstead yard; its thin blue smoke wavered up in
+the morning, incense over the dead hope of the humble
+heart that had dreamed it had found a refuge
+in that spot. At the roadside a little farther on the
+burned ruins of a cabin lay. It had stood so near the
+wheel track that the heat of its embers was warm on
+Frances&rsquo; face as she galloped by. The wire fence
+was cut between each post, beyond splicing or repair;
+the shrubs which some home-hungry woman had
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' ></a>250</span>
+set in her dooryard were trampled; the well curb was
+overthrown.</p>
+<p>Over and over again as they rode that sad picture
+was repeated. Destruction had swept the country,
+war had visited it. Side by side upon the adjoining
+lines many of the homesteaders had built their little
+houses, for the comfort of being near their kind. In
+the corner of each quarter section on either side of
+the road along the fertile valley, a little home had
+stood three days ago. Now all were gone, marked
+only by little heaps of embers which twinkled a dying
+glow in the breath of the morning wind.</p>
+<p>Day was spreading now. From the little swells
+in the land as she mounted them Frances could see
+the deeper mist hovering in the low places, the tops
+of tall shrubs and slender quaking-asp showing above
+it as if they stood in snow. The band of sunrise
+was broadening across the east; far down near the
+horizon a little slip of lemon-rind moon was faltering
+out of sight.</p>
+<p>But there was no sight, no sound, of anybody in
+the road ahead. She spurred up beside her guide and
+asked him if there was any other way that they might
+have taken. No, he said; they would have to go
+that way, for there was only one fordable place in
+the river for many miles. He pointed to the road,
+fresh-turned by many hoofs, and clamped his lean
+thighs to his bare horse, galloping on.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll take a cut acrosst here, and maybe head
+&rsquo;em off,&rdquo; he said, dashing away through the stirrup-high
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' ></a>251</span>
+sage, striking close to the hills again, and into
+rougher going.</p>
+<p>The ache of the most intense anxiety that she ever
+had borne was upon Frances; hope was only a shred
+in her hand. She believed now that all her desperate
+riding must come to nothing in the end.</p>
+<p>She never had been that long in the saddle before
+in her life. Her body was numb with cold and
+fatigue; she felt the motion of her horse, heard its
+pounding feet in regular beat as it held to its long,
+swinging gallop, but with the detached sense of being
+no party to it. All that was sharp in her was the
+pain of her lost struggle. For she expected every
+moment to hear firing, and to come upon confusion
+and death at the next lift of the hill.</p>
+<p>In their short cut across the country they had
+mounted the top of a long, slender ridge, which
+reached down into the valley like a finger. Now her
+guide pulled up his horse so suddenly that it slid
+forward on stiff legs, its hoofs plowing the loose shale.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;d better go back&mdash;there&rsquo;s goin&rsquo; to be a
+fight!&rdquo; he said, a look of shocked concern in his big
+wild eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you see them? Where&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There they are!&rdquo;&mdash;he clutched her arm, leaning
+and pointing&mdash;&ldquo;and there&rsquo;s a bunch of fellers comin&rsquo;
+to meet &rsquo;em that they don&rsquo;t see! I tell you there&rsquo;s
+goin&rsquo; to be a fight!&rdquo;</p></div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' ></a>252</span>
+<a  id='CHAPTER_XIX_I_BEAT_HIM_TO_IT'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIX<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'>&ldquo;I BEAT HIM TO IT&rdquo;</span></h2>
+</div>
+<div class='text'><p class='ni'>The last dash of that long ride was only a whirlwind
+of emotions to Frances. It was a red
+streak. She did not know what became of the boy;
+she left him there as she lashed her horse past him
+on the last desperate stretch.</p>
+<p>The two forces were not more than half a mile
+apart, the cavalry just mounting at the ruins of a
+homestead where she knew they had stopped for
+breakfast at the well. A little band of outriders
+was setting off, a scouting party under the lead of
+Chadron, she believed. Macdonald&rsquo;s men, their
+prisoners under guard between two long-strung lines
+of horsemen, were proceeding at a trot. Between the
+two forces the road made a long curve. Here it was
+bordered by brushwood that would hide a man on
+horseback.</p>
+<p>When Frances broke through this screen which had
+hidden the cavalry from Macdonald, she found the
+cavalcade halted, for Macdonald had seen her coming
+down the hill. She told him in few words what her
+errand to him was, Tom Lassiter and those who rode
+with him at the head of the column pressing around.</p>
+<p>The question and mystification in Macdonald&rsquo;s
+face at her coming cleared with her brisk words.
+There was no wonder to him any more in her being
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' ></a>253</span>
+there. It was like her to come, winging through the
+night straight to him, like a dove with a message.
+If it had been another woman to take up that brave
+and hardy task, then there would have been marvel
+in it. As it was, he held out his hand to her, silently,
+like one man to another in a pass where words alone
+would be weak and lame.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I was looking for Chadron to come with help
+and attempt a rescue, and I was moving to forestall
+him, but we were late getting under way. They&rdquo;&mdash;waving
+his hand toward the prisoners&mdash;&ldquo;held out
+until an hour ago.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You must think, and think fast!&rdquo; she said.
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;re almost here!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. I&rsquo;m going ahead to meet them, and offer to
+turn these prisoners over to Major King. They&rsquo;ll
+have no excuse for firing on us then.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, no! some other way&mdash;think of some other
+way!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He looked gravely into her anxious, pleading eyes.
+&ldquo;Why, no matter, Frances. If they&rsquo;ve come here to
+do that, they&rsquo;ll do it, but this way they&rsquo;ll have to
+do it in the open, not by a trick.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go with you,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think perhaps&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Macdonald turned to Lassiter in a few hurried
+words. She pressed to his side as the two rode away
+alone to meet the troops, repeating as if she had
+been denied:</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' ></a>254</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There was a dash of hoofs behind them, and a
+man who rode like a sack of bran came bouncing up,
+excitement over his large face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s up, Macdonald&mdash;where&rsquo;re you off to?&rdquo;
+he inquired.</p>
+<p>Macdonald told him in a word, riding forward as
+he spoke. He introduced the stranger as a newspaper
+correspondent from Chicago, who had arrived
+at the homesteaders&rsquo; camp the evening past.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So they got troops, did they?&rdquo; the newspaper
+man said, riding forward keenly. &ldquo;Yes, they told
+me down in Cheyenne they&rsquo;d put that trick through.
+Here they come!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Macdonald spurred ahead, holding up his right
+hand in the Indian sign of peace. Major King
+was riding with Chadron at the head of the vanguard.
+They drew rein suddenly at sight of what appeared
+to be such a formidable force at Macdonald&rsquo;s back,
+for at that distance, and with the dimness of the
+scattering mist, it appeared as if several hundred
+horsemen were approaching.</p>
+<p>Distrustful of Chadron, fearing that he might induce
+Major King to shoot Macdonald down as he
+sat there making overtures of peace, Frances rode
+forward and joined him, the correspondent coming
+jolting after her in his horn-riding way. After a
+brief parley among themselves Chadron and King,
+together with three or four officers, rode forward.
+One remained behind, and halted the column as it
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' ></a>255</span>
+came around the brushwood screen at the turn of
+the road.</p>
+<p>Major King greeted Frances as he rode up,
+scowling in high dignity. Chadron could not cover
+his surprise so well as Major King at seeing her
+there, her horse in a sweat, her habit torn where the
+brambles had snatched at her in her hard ride to get
+ahead of the troops. He gave her a cold good-morning,
+and sat in the attitude of a man pricking up his
+ears as he leaned a little to peer into the ranks of
+the force ahead.</p>
+<p>The homesteaders had come to a halt a hundred
+yards behind Macdonald; about the same distance
+behind Major King and his officers the cavalry had
+drawn up across the road. Major King sat in
+brief silence, as if waiting for Macdonald to begin. He
+looked the homesteader captain over with severe eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, sir?&rdquo; said he.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We were starting for Meander, Major King, to
+deliver to the sheriff fifty men whom we have taken
+in the commission of murder and arson,&rdquo; Macdonald
+replied, with dignity. &ldquo;Up to a few minutes ago
+we had no information that martial law had superseded
+the civil in this troubled country, but since
+that is the case, we will gladly turn our prisoners
+over to you, with the earnest request that they be
+held, collectively and individually, to answer for the
+crimes they have committed here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Them&rsquo;s my men, King&mdash;they&rsquo;ve got &rsquo;em there!&rdquo;
+said Chadron, boiling over the brim.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' ></a>256</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;This expedition has come to the relief of certain
+men, attacked and surrounded in the discharge of
+their duty by a band of cattle thieves of which you
+are the acknowledged head,&rdquo; replied Major King.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you have come on a mistaken errand, sir,&rdquo;
+Macdonald told him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have come into this lawless country to restore
+order and insure the lives and safety of property of
+the people to whom it belongs.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The evidence of these hired raiders&rsquo; crimes lies
+all around you, Major King,&rdquo; Macdonald said.
+&ldquo;These men swept in here in the employ of the cattle
+interests, burned these poor homes, and murdered
+such of the inhabitants as were unable to fly to safety
+in the hills ahead of them. We are appealing to the
+law; the cattlemen never have done that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Say, Mr. Soldier, let me tell you something&rdquo;&mdash;the
+newspaper correspondent, to whom one man&rsquo;s
+dignity was as much as another&rsquo;s, kicked his horse
+forward&mdash;&ldquo;these raiders that bloody-handed Chadron
+sent in here have murdered children and women,
+do you know that?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who in the hell are you?&rdquo; Chadron demanded,
+bristling with rage, whirling his horse to face him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This is Chadron,&rdquo; Macdonald said, a little flash
+of humor in his eyes over Chadron&rsquo;s hearing the truth
+about himself from an unexpected source.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;m glad I&rsquo;ve run into you, Chadron; I&rsquo;ve
+got a little list of questions to ask you,&rdquo; the correspondent
+told him, far from being either impressed
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' ></a>257</span>
+or cowed. &ldquo;Neel is my name, of the <i>Chicago Tribune</i>,
+I&rsquo;ve&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;d just as well keep your questions for another
+day&mdash;you&rsquo;ll send nothing out of here!&rdquo; said
+Major King, sharply.</p>
+<p>Neel looked across his nose at King with triumphant
+leer.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve sent out something, Mr. Soldier-man,&rdquo; said
+he; &ldquo;it was on the wire by midnight last night, rushed
+to Meander by courier, and it&rsquo;s all over the country
+this morning. It&rsquo;s a story that&rsquo;ll give the other side
+of this situation up here to the war department, and
+it&rsquo;ll make this whole nation climb up on its hind legs
+and howl. Murder? Huh, murder&rsquo;s no name for it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Chadron was growling something below his breath
+into King&rsquo;s ear.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Forty-three men and boys&mdash;look at them, there
+they are&mdash;rounded up fifty of the cutthroats the
+Drovers&rsquo; Association rushed up here from Cheyenne
+on a special train to wipe the homesteaders out,&rdquo;
+Neel continued, rising to considerable heat in the
+partisanship of his new light. &ldquo;Five dollars a day
+was the hire of that gang, and five dollars bonus for
+every man, woman, or baby that they killed! Yes,
+I&rsquo;ve got signed statements from them, Chadron, and
+I&rsquo;d like to know what you&rsquo;ve got to say, if anything?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Disarm that rabble,&rdquo; said Major King, speaking
+to a subordinate officer, &ldquo;and take charge of the men
+they have been holding.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' ></a>258</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Sir, I protest&mdash;&rdquo; Macdonald began.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have no words to waste on you!&rdquo; Major King
+cut him off shortly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;d play a slow hand on that line, King, and a
+careful one, if I were you,&rdquo; advised Neel. &ldquo;If you
+take these men&rsquo;s guns away from them they&rsquo;ll be at
+the mercy of Chadron&rsquo;s brigands. I tell you, man, I
+know the situation in this country!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said King, in cold hauteur.</p>
+<p>Chadron&rsquo;s eyes were lighting with the glitter of revenge.
+He sat grinding his bridle-reins in his gloved
+hand, as if he had the bones of the nesters in his
+palm at last.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will proceed, with the rescued party under
+guard, to Meander,&rdquo; continued Major King to his
+officer, speaking as if he had plans for his own employment
+aside from the expedition. &ldquo;There, Mr.
+Chadron will furnish transportation to return them
+whence they came.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll furnish&mdash;&rdquo; began Chadron, in amazement at
+this unexpected turn.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Transportation, sir,&rdquo; completed Major King, in
+his cold way.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;These men should be held to the civil authorities
+for trial in this county, and not set free,&rdquo; Macdonald
+protested, indignant over the order.</p>
+<p>Major King ignored him. He was still looking
+at Chadron, who was almost choking on his rage.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hell! Do you mean to tell me the whole damn
+thing&rsquo;s goin&rsquo; to fizzle out this way, King? I want
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' ></a>259</span>
+something done, I tell you&mdash;I want something done!
+I didn&rsquo;t bring you up here&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly not, sir!&rdquo; snapped King.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My orders to you&mdash;&rdquo; Chadron flared.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It happens that I am not marching under your
+orders at&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The hell you ain&rsquo;t!&rdquo; Chadron exploded.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s an outrage on humanity to turn those
+scoundrels loose, Major King!&rdquo; Neel said. &ldquo;Why,
+I&rsquo;ve got signed statements, I tell you&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Remove this man to the rear!&rdquo; Major King addressed
+a lieutenant, who communicated the order to
+the next lowest in rank immediately at hand, who
+passed it on to two troopers, who came forward
+briskly and rode the protesting correspondent off
+between them.</p>
+<p>Other troopers were collecting the arms of the
+homesteaders, a proceeding which Macdonald witnessed
+with a sick heart. Frances, sitting her horse
+in silence through all that had passed, gave him what
+comfort and hope she could express with her eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Detail a patrol of twenty men,&rdquo; Major King continued
+his instructions to his officer, &ldquo;to keep the
+roads and disarm all individuals and bands encountered.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That don&rsquo;t apply to my men!&rdquo; declared Chadron,
+positively. In his face there was a dark threat of
+disaster for Major King&rsquo;s future hopes of advancement.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It applies to everybody as they come,&rdquo; said
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' ></a>260</span>
+King. &ldquo;Troops have come in here to restore order,
+and order will be restored.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Chadron was gaping in amazement. That feeling
+in him seemed to smother every other, even his hot
+rage against King for this sudden shifting of their
+plans and complete overthrow of the cattlemen&rsquo;s expectations
+of the troops. The one little comfort that
+he was to get out of the expedition was that of seeing
+his raiders taken out of Macdonald&rsquo;s hands and
+marched off to be set free.</p>
+<p>Macdonald felt that he understood the change in
+King. The major had come there full of the intention
+of doing Chadron&rsquo;s will; he had not a doubt of
+that. But murder, even with the faint color of
+excuse that they would have contrived to give it,
+could not be done in the eyes of such a witness as
+Frances Landcraft. Subserviency, a bending of
+dignity even, could not be stooped to before one
+who had been schooled to hold a soldier&rsquo;s honor his
+most precious endowment.</p>
+<p>Major King had shown a hand of half-fairness in
+treating both sides alike. That much was to his
+credit, at the worst. But he had not done it because
+he was a high-souled and honorable man. His eyes
+betrayed him in that, no matter how stern he tried
+to make them. The coming of that fair outrider in
+the night had turned aside a great tragedy, and saved
+Major King partly to himself, at least, and perhaps
+wholly to his career.</p>
+<p>Macdonald tried to tell her in one long and earnest
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' ></a>261</span>
+look all this. She nodded, seeming to understand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve double-crossed me, King,&rdquo; Chadron accused,
+in the flat voice of a man throwing down his
+hand. &ldquo;I brought you up here to throw these nesters
+off of our land.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The civil courts must decide the ownership of
+that,&rdquo; returned King, sourly. &ldquo;Disarm that man!&rdquo;
+He indicated Macdonald, and turned his horse as if
+to ride back and join his command.</p>
+<p>The lieutenant appeared to feel that it would be
+no lowering of his dignity to touch the weapons of
+a man such as Macdonald&rsquo;s bearing that morning had
+shown him to be. He approached with a smile half
+apologetic. Chadron was sitting by on his horse
+watching the proceeding keenly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Pardon me,&rdquo; said the officer, reaching out to
+receive Macdonald&rsquo;s guns.</p>
+<p>A swift change swept over Macdonald&rsquo;s face, a
+flush dyeing it to his ears. He sat motionless a
+little while, as if debating the question, the young
+officer&rsquo;s hand still outstretched. Macdonald dropped
+his hand, quickly, as if moved to shorten the humiliation,
+to the buckle of his belt, and opened it with
+deft jerk. At that moment Chadron, ten feet away,
+slung a revolver from his side and fired.</p>
+<p>Macdonald rocked in his saddle as Frances leaped
+to the ground and ran to his side. He wilted forward,
+his hat falling, and crumpled into her arms.
+The lieutenant relieved her of her bloody burden,
+and eased Macdonald to the ground.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262' ></a>262</span></div>
+<p>Major King came riding back. At his sharp command
+troopers surrounded Chadron, who sat with
+his weapon still poised, like one gazing at the mark at
+which he had fired, the smoke of his shot around him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In a second he&rsquo;d &rsquo;a&rsquo; got me! but I beat him to it,
+by God! I beat him to it!&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>Macdonald&rsquo;s belt had slipped free of his body.
+With its burden of cartridges and its two long pistols
+it lay at Frances&rsquo; feet. She stooped, a little sound
+in her throat between a sob and a cry, jerked one of
+the guns out, wheeled upon Chadron and fired. The
+lieutenant struck up her arm in time to save the
+cattleman&rsquo;s life. The blow sent the pistol whirling
+out of her hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They will go off that way, sometimes,&rdquo; said the
+young officer, with apology in his soft voice.</p>
+<p>The soldiers closed around Chadron and hurried
+him away. A moment Major King sat looking at
+Macdonald, whose blood was wasting in the roadside
+dust from a wound in his chest. Then he flashed a
+look into Frances&rsquo; face that had a sneer of triumph
+in it, wheeled his horse and galloped away.</p>
+<p>In a moment the lieutenant was summoned, leaving
+Frances alone between the two forces with Macdonald.
+She did not know whether he was dead. She dropped
+to her knees in the dust and began to tear frantically
+at his shirt to come to the wound. Tom Lassiter
+came hurrying up with others, denouncing the
+treacherous shot, swearing vengeance on the cowardly
+head that had conceived so murderous a thing.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263' ></a>263</span></div>
+<p>Lassiter said that he was not dead, and set to work
+to stem the blood. It seemed to Frances that the
+world had fallen away from her, leaving her alone.
+She stood aside a little, her chin up in her old imperious
+way, her eyes on the far hills where the tender
+sunlight was just striking among the white-limbed
+aspen trees. But her heart was bent down to the
+darkness of despair.</p>
+<p>She asked no questions of the men who were working
+so earnestly after their crude way to check that
+precious stream; she stood in the activity of passing
+troopers and escorted raiders insensible of any movement
+or sound in all the world around her. Only
+when Tom Lassiter stood from his ministrations and
+looked at her with understanding in his old weary
+eyes she turned her face back again, slowly resolute,
+to see if he had died.</p>
+<p>Her throat was dry. It took an effort to bring a
+sound from it, and then it was strained and wavering.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is he&mdash;dead?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, miss, he ain&rsquo;t dead,&rdquo; Tom answered. But
+there was such a shadow of sorrow and pain in his
+eyes that tears gushed into her own.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will&mdash;will&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Tom shook his head. &ldquo;The Lord that give him
+alone can answer that,&rdquo; he said, a feeling sadness in
+his voice.</p>
+<p>The troops had moved on, save the detail singled
+for police duty. These were tightening girths and
+trimming for the road again a little way from the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264' ></a>264</span>
+spot where Macdonald lay. The lieutenant returned
+hastily.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Landcraft, I am ordered to convey you to
+Alamito Ranch&mdash;under guard,&rdquo; said he.</p>
+<p>Banjo Gibson, held to be harmless and insignificant
+by Major King, had been set free. Now he came up,
+leading his horse, shocked to the deepest fibers of
+his sensitive soul by the cowardly deed that Saul
+Chadron had done.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It went clean through him!&rdquo; he said, rising from
+his inspection of Macdonald&rsquo;s wound. And then,
+moved by the pain in Frances&rsquo; tearless eyes, he enlarged
+upon the advantages of that from a surgical
+view. &ldquo;The beauty of a hole in a man&rsquo;s chest like
+that is that it lets the pizen dreen off,&rdquo; he told her.
+&ldquo;It wouldn&rsquo;t surprise me none to see Mac up and
+around inside of a couple of weeks, for he&rsquo;s as hard
+as old hick&rsquo;ry.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;m not going to Alamito Ranch and leave
+him out here to die of neglect, orders or no orders!&rdquo;
+said she to the lieutenant.</p>
+<p>The young officer&rsquo;s face colored; he plucked at his
+new mustache in embarrassment. Perhaps the prospect
+of carrying a handsome and dignified young lady
+in his arms for a matter of twenty-odd miles was not
+as alluring to him as it might have been to another,
+for he was a slight young man, only a little while
+out of West Point. But orders were orders, and
+he gave Frances to understand that in diplomatic
+and polite phrasing.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' ></a>265</span></div>
+<p>She scorned him and his veneration for orders,
+and turned from him coldly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is there no doctor with your detachment?&rdquo; she
+asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He has gone on with the main body, Miss Landcraft.
+They have several wounded.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Wounded murderers and burners of homes! Well,
+I&rsquo;m not going to Alamito Ranch with you, sir, unless
+you can contrive an ambulance of some sort and take
+this gentleman too.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The officer brightened. He believed it could be
+arranged. Inside of an hour he had Tom Lassiter
+around with a team and spring wagon, in which the
+homesteaders laid Macdonald tenderly upon a bed
+of hay.</p>
+<p>Banjo waited until they were ready to begin their
+slow march to the ranch, when he led his little horse
+forward.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go on to the agency after the doctor and
+send him over to Alamito as quick as he can go,&rdquo; he
+said. &ldquo;And I&rsquo;ll see if Mother Mathews can go over,
+too. She&rsquo;s worth four doctors when it comes to keep
+the pizen from spreadin&rsquo; in a wound.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances gave him her benediction with her eyes,
+and farewell with a warm handclasp, and Banjo&rsquo;s
+beribboned horse frisked off on its long trip, quite
+refreshed from the labors of the past night.</p>
+<p>Frances was carrying Macdonald&rsquo;s cartridge belt
+and revolvers, the confiscation of which had been
+overlooked by Major King in the excitement of the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' ></a>266</span>
+shooting. The young lieutenant hadn&rsquo;t the heart
+to take the weapons from her. Orders had been carried
+out; Macdonald had been disarmed. He let it
+go at that.</p>
+<p>Frances rode in the wagon with Macdonald, a
+canteen of water slung over her shoulders. Now and
+then she moistened his lips with a little of it, and
+bathed his eyes, closed in pathetic weariness. He
+was unconscious still from the blow of Saul Chadron&rsquo;s
+big bullet. As she ministered to him she felt that he
+would open his eyes on this world&rsquo;s pains and cruel
+injustices nevermore.</p>
+<p>And why had Major King ordered her, virtually
+under arrest, to Alamito Ranch, instead of sending
+her in disgrace to the post? Was it because he
+feared that she would communicate with her father
+from the post, and discover to him the treacherous
+compact between Chadron and King, or merely to
+take a mean revenge upon her by humiliating her in
+Nola Chadron&rsquo;s eyes?</p>
+<p>He had taken the newspaper correspondent with
+him, and certainly would see that no more of the
+truth was sent out by him from that flame-swept
+country for several days. With her at the ranch,
+far from telegraphic communication with the world,
+nothing could go out from her that would enlighten
+the department on the deception that the cattlemen
+had practiced to draw the government into the conflict
+on their side. In the meantime, the Drovers&rsquo; Association
+would be at work, spreading money with free
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267' ></a>267</span>
+hand, corrupting evidence with the old dyes of falsehood.</p>
+<p>Major King had seen his promised reward withdrawn
+through her intervention, and had made a
+play of being fair to both sides in the controversy,
+except that he kept one hand on Chadron&rsquo;s shoulder,
+so to speak, in making martyrs of those bloody men
+whom he had sent there to burn and kill. They were
+to be shipped safely back to their place, where they
+would disperse, and walk free of all prosecution afterwards.
+For that one service to the cattlemen Major
+King could scarcely hope to win his coveted reward.</p>
+<p>She believed that Alan Macdonald would die. It
+seemed that the fever which would consume his feeble
+hope of life was already kindling on his lips. But
+she had no tears to pour out over him now. Only a
+great hardness in her heart against Saul Chadron,
+and a wild desire to lift her hand and strike him low.</p>
+<p>Whether Major King would make her attempt
+against Chadron&rsquo;s life, or her interference with his
+military expedition his excuse for placing her under
+guard, remained for the future to develop. She
+turned these things in her mind as they proceeded
+along the white river road toward the ranch.</p>
+<p>It came noontime, and decline of sun; the shadow
+of the mountains reached down into the valley, the
+mist came purple again over the foothills, the fire
+of sunset upon the clouds. Alan Macdonald still
+lived, his strong harsh face turned to the fading
+skies, his tired eyelids closed upon his dreams.</p></div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268' ></a>268</span>
+<a  id='CHAPTER_XX_LOVE_AND_DEATH'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XX<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'>LOVE AND DEATH</span></h2>
+</div>
+<div class='text'><p class='ni'>Maggie and Alvino had the ranch to themselves
+when the military party from the upper valley
+arrived, Mrs. Chadron and Nola having driven to
+Meander that morning. It had been their intention
+to return that evening, Maggie said. Mrs. Chadron
+had gone after chili peppers, and other things, but
+principally chili peppers. There was not one left in
+the house, and the mistress could not live without
+them, any more than fire could burn without wood.</p>
+<p>Dusk had settled when they reached the ranch,
+and night thickened fast. The lieutenant dropped
+two men at the corral gate&mdash;her guard, Frances understood&mdash;and
+went back to his task of watching
+for armed men upon the highroads.</p>
+<p>Under the direction of Frances, Maggie had placed
+a cot in Mrs. Chadron&rsquo;s favored sitting-room with
+the fireplace. There Macdonald lay in clean sheets,
+a blaze on the hearth, and Maggie was washing his
+wound with hot water, groaning in the pity which
+is the sweetest part of the women of her homely race.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think that he will live, miss,&rdquo; she said hopefully.
+&ldquo;See, he has a strong breath on my damp hand&mdash;I
+can feel it like a little wind.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She spoke in her native tongue, which Frances understood
+thoroughly from her years in Texas and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' ></a>269</span>
+Arizona posts. Frances shook her head sorrowfully.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am afraid his breath will fail soon, Maggie.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, if they live the first hour after being shot,
+they get well,&rdquo; Maggie persisted, with apparent sincerity.
+&ldquo;Here, put your hand on his heart&mdash;do
+you feel it? What a strong heart he has to live so
+well! what a strong, strong heart!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, a strong, strong heart!&rdquo; Tears were falling
+for him now that there was none to see them, scalding
+their way down her pale cheeks.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He must have carried something sacred with him
+to give him such strength, such life.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He carried honor,&rdquo; said Frances, more to herself
+than to Maggie, doubting that she would understand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And love, maybe?&rdquo; said Maggie, with soft word,
+soft upward-glancing of her feeling dark eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who can tell?&rdquo; Frances answered, turning her
+head away.</p>
+<p>Maggie drew the sheet over him and stood looking
+down into his severe white face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If he could speak he would ask for his mother,
+and for water then, and after that the one he loves.
+That is the way a man&rsquo;s mind carries those three
+precious things when death blows its breath in his
+face.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do not know,&rdquo; said Frances, slowly.</p>
+<p>There was such stress in waiting, such silence in
+the world, and such emptiness and pain! Reverently
+as Maggie&rsquo;s voice was lowered, soft and sympathetic
+as her word, Frances longed for her to be still, and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' ></a>270</span>
+go and leave her alone with him. She longed to hold
+the dear spark of his faltering life in her own hands,
+alone, quite alone; to warm it back to strength in her
+own lone heart. Surely her name could not be the
+last in his remembrance, no matter for the disturbing
+breath of death.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will bring you some food,&rdquo; said Maggie. &ldquo;To
+give him life out of your life you must be strong.&rdquo;</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Frances started out of her sleep in the rocking-chair
+before the fire. She had turned the lamp low,
+but there was a flare of light on her face. Her
+faculties were so deeply sunk in that insidious sleep
+which had crept upon her like a bindweed upon wheat
+that she struggled to rise from it. She sprang up,
+her mind groping, remembering that there was something
+for which she was under heavy responsibility,
+but unable for a moment to bring it back to its place.</p>
+<p>Nola was in the door with a candle, shading the
+flame from her eyes with her hand. Her hair was
+about her shoulders, her feet were bare under the
+hem of her long dressing-robe. She was staring, her
+lips were open, her breath was quick, as if she had
+arrived after a run.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is he&mdash;alive?&rdquo; she whispered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why should you come to ask? What is his life to
+you?&rdquo; asked Frances, sorrowfully bitter.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Maggie just woke and came up to tell me,
+mother doesn&rsquo;t know&mdash;she&rsquo;s just gone to bed. Isn&rsquo;t
+it terrible, Frances!&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' ></a>271</span></div>
+<p>Nola spoke distractedly, as if in great agony, or
+great fear.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He can&rsquo;t harm any of you now, you&rsquo;re safe.&rdquo;
+Frances was hard and scornful. She turned from
+Nola and laid her hand on Macdonald&rsquo;s brow, drawing
+her breath with a relieved sigh when she felt the
+warmth of life still there.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Frances, Frances!&rdquo; Nola moaned, with expression
+of despair, &ldquo;isn&rsquo;t this terrible!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you mean it&rsquo;s terrible to have him here, I can&rsquo;t
+help it. I&rsquo;m a prisoner, here against my will. I
+couldn&rsquo;t leave him out there alone to die.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Nola lowered her candle and stared at Frances,
+her eyes big and blank of everything but a wild expression
+that Frances had read as fear.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will he die?&rdquo; she whispered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; you are to have your heartless way at last.
+He will die, and his blood will be on this house, never
+to be washed away!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why didn&rsquo;t you come back when we called you&mdash;both
+of you?&rdquo; Nola drew near, reaching out an
+appealing hand. Frances shrank from her, to bend
+quickly over Macdonald when he groaned and moved
+his head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Put out that light&mdash;it&rsquo;s in his eyes!&rdquo; she said.</p>
+<p>Nola blew out the candle and came glimmering into
+the room in her soft white gown.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t blame me, Frances, don&rsquo;t blame any of us.
+Mother and I wanted to save you both, we tried to
+stop the men, and we could have held them back if
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' ></a>272</span>
+it hadn&rsquo;t been for Chance. Chance got three of them
+to go, the others&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They paid for that!&rdquo; said Frances, a little lift
+of triumph in her voice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, but they&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Chance didn&rsquo;t do it, I tell you! If he says he
+did it he lies! It was&mdash;somebody else.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The soldiers?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, not the soldiers.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I thought maybe&mdash;I saw one of them on guard
+in front of the house as we came in.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s guarding me, I&rsquo;m under arrest, I tell you.
+The soldiers have nothing to do with him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Nola stood looking down at Macdonald, who was
+deathly white in the weak light of the low, shaded
+lamp. With a little timid outreaching, a little starting
+and drawing back, she touched his forehead, where
+a thick lock of his shaggy hair fell over it, like a sheaf
+of ripe wheat burst from its band.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, it breaks my heart to see him dying&mdash;it&mdash;breaks&mdash;my&mdash;heart!&rdquo;
+she sobbed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You struck him! You&rsquo;re not&mdash;you&rsquo;re not fit to
+touch him&mdash;take your hand away!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances pushed her hand away roughly. Nola
+drew back, drenched with a sudden torrent of penitential
+tears.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know it, I know it!&rdquo; she confessed in bitterness,
+&ldquo;I knew it when he took me away from those people
+in the mountains and brought me home. He carried
+me in his arms when I was tired, and sang to me as
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273' ></a>273</span>
+we rode along there in the lonesome night! He sang
+to me, just like I was a little child, so I wouldn&rsquo;t be
+afraid&mdash;afraid&mdash;of him!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, and you struck him, you struck him like a
+dog!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve suffered more for that than I hurt him,
+Frances&mdash;it&rsquo;s been like fire in my heart!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I pray to God it will burn up your wicked
+pride!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We believed him, mother and I believed him, in
+spite of what Chance said. Oh, if you&rsquo;d only come
+back then, Frances, this thing wouldn&rsquo;t have happened!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t see what good that would have done,&rdquo; said
+Frances, wearily; &ldquo;there are others who don&rsquo;t believe
+him. They&rsquo;d have got him some time, just like
+they got him&mdash;in a coward&rsquo;s underhanded way, never
+giving him a chance for his life.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We went to Meander this morning thinking we&rsquo;d
+catch father there before he left. We wanted to tell
+him about Mr. Macdonald, and get him to drop this
+feud. If we could have seen him I know he&rsquo;d have
+done what we asked, for he&rsquo;s got the noblest heart in
+the world!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Whatever Frances felt on the noble nature of Saul
+Chadron she held unexpressed. She did not feel that
+it fell to her duty to tell Nola whose hand had struck
+Macdonald down, although she believed that the cattleman&rsquo;s
+daughter deserved whatever pain and
+humiliation the revelation might bring. For it was
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274' ></a>274</span>
+as plain as if Nola had confessed it in words that
+she had much more than a friendly feeling of gratitude
+for the foeman of her family.</p>
+<p>Her heart was as unstable as mercury, it seemed.
+Frances despised her for her fickleness, scorned her
+for the mean face of friendship over the treachery of
+her soul. Not that she regretted Major King. Nola
+was free to take him and make the most of him. But
+she was not to come in as a wedge to rive her from
+this man.</p>
+<p>Let her pay her debt of gratitude in something else
+than love. Living or dead, Alan Macdonald was not
+for Nola Chadron. Her penance and her tears, her
+meanings and sobs and her broken heart, even that,
+if it should come, could not pay for the humiliation
+and the pain which that house had brought upon him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When did it happen?&rdquo; asked Nola, the gust of
+her weeping past.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This morning, early.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who did it&mdash;how did it happen? You got away
+from Chance&mdash;you said it wasn&rsquo;t Chance.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We got away from that gang yesterday; this
+happened this morning, miles from that place.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who was it? Why don&rsquo;t you tell me, Frances?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They were standing at Macdonald&rsquo;s side. A little
+spurt of flame among the ends of wood in the chimney
+threw a sudden illumination over them, and played
+like water over a stone upon Macdonald&rsquo;s face, then
+sank again, as if it had been plunged in ashes.
+Frances remained silent, her vindictiveness, her
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275' ></a>275</span>
+hardness of heart, against this vacillating girl dying
+away as the flame had died. It was not her desire to
+hurt her with that story of treachery and cowardice
+which must leave its stain upon her name for many
+a year.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The name of the man who shot him is a curse
+and a blight on this land, a mockery of every holy
+human thought. I&rsquo;ll not speak it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Nola stared at her, horror speaking from her eyes.
+&ldquo;He must be a monster!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is the lowest of the accursed&mdash;a coward!&rdquo;
+Frances said.</p>
+<p>Nola shuddered, standing silently by the couch a
+little while. Then: &ldquo;But I want to help you, Frances,
+if you&rsquo;ll let me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s nothing that you can do. I&rsquo;m waiting
+for Mrs. Mathews and the doctor from the agency.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You can go up and rest until they come, Frances,
+you look so tired and pale. I&rsquo;ll watch by him&mdash;you
+can tell me what to do, and I&rsquo;ll call you when they
+come.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; I&rsquo;ll stay until&mdash;I&rsquo;ll stay here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, please go, Frances; you&rsquo;re nearly dead on
+your feet.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why do you want me to leave him?&rdquo; Frances
+asked, in a flash of jealous suspicion. She turned to
+Nola, as if to search out her hidden intention.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You were asleep in your chair when I came in,
+Frances,&rdquo; Nola chided her, gently.</p>
+<p>Again they stood in silence, looking down upon the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276' ></a>276</span>
+wounded man. Frances was resentful of Nola&rsquo;s interest
+in him, of her presence in the room. She was
+on the point of asking her to leave when Nola spoke.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If he hadn&rsquo;t been so proud, if he&rsquo;d only stooped
+to explain things to us, to talk to us, even, this could
+have been avoided, Frances.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What could he have said?&rdquo; Frances asked, wondering,
+indeed, what explanation could have lessened
+his offense in Saul Chadron&rsquo;s eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If I had known him, I would have understood,&rdquo;
+Nola replied, vaguely, in soft low voice, as if communing
+with herself.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You! Well, perhaps&mdash;perhaps even you would
+have understood.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Look&mdash;he moved!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sh-h-h! your talking disturbs him, Nola. Go
+to bed&mdash;you can&rsquo;t help me any here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And leave him all to you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The words flashed from Nola, as if they had sprung
+out of her mouth before her reason had given them
+permission to depart.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of course with me; he&rsquo;s mine!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If he&rsquo;s going to die, Frances, can&rsquo;t I share him
+with you till the end&mdash;can&rsquo;t I have just a little
+share in the care of him here with you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Nola laid her hand on Frances&rsquo; arm as she pleaded,
+turning her white face appealingly in the dim light.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t talk that way, girl!&rdquo; said Frances,
+roughly; &ldquo;you have no part in him at all&mdash;he is
+nothing to you.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' ></a>277</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;He is all to me&mdash;everything to me! Oh,
+Frances! If you knew, if you knew!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What? If I knew what?&rdquo; Frances caught her
+arm in fierce grip, and shook her savagely.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t&mdash;don&rsquo;t&mdash;hurt me, Frances!&rdquo; Nola
+cringed and shrank away, and lifted her arms as if
+to ward a blow.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What did you mean by that? Tell me&mdash;tell me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, the way it came to me, the way it came to
+me as he carried me in his arms and sang to me so
+I wouldn&rsquo;t be afraid!&rdquo; moaned Nola, her face hidden
+in her hands. &ldquo;I never knew before what it was to
+care for anybody that way&mdash;I never, never knew
+before!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You can&rsquo;t have this man, nor any share in him,
+living or dead! I gave up Major King to you; be
+satisfied.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Major King!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Poor shadow that he is in comparison with a
+man, he&rsquo;ll have to serve for you. Living or dead,
+I tell you, this man is mine. Now go!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Nola was shaking again with sudden gust of weeping.
+She had sunk to the floor at the head of the
+couch, a white heap, her bare arms clasping her
+head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It breaks my heart to see him die!&rdquo; she moaned,
+rocking herself in her grief like a child.</p>
+<p>And child Frances felt her to be in her selfishness,
+a child never denied, and careless and unfeeling of
+the rights of others from this long indulgence. She
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' ></a>278</span>
+doubted Nola&rsquo;s sincerity, even in the face of such
+demonstrative evidence. There was no pity for her,
+and no softness.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Get up!&rdquo; Frances spoke sternly&mdash;&ldquo;and go to
+your room.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He must not be allowed to die&mdash;he must be
+saved!&rdquo; Nola reached out her hands, standing now
+on her knees, as if to call back his struggling soul.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Belated tears will not save him. Get up&mdash;it&rsquo;s
+time for you to go.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Nola bent forward suddenly, her hair sweeping the
+wounded man&rsquo;s face, her lips near his brow. Frances
+caught her with a sound in her throat like a growl,
+and flung her back.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll not kiss him&mdash;you&rsquo;ll never kiss him!&rdquo; she
+said.</p>
+<p>Nola sprang up, not crying now, but hot with
+sudden anger.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you were out of the way he&rsquo;d love me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Love <i>you!</i> you little cat!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, he&rsquo;d love me&mdash;I&rsquo;d take him away from you
+like I&rsquo;ve taken other men! He&rsquo;d love me, I tell you&mdash;he&rsquo;d
+love <i>me!</i>&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances looked at her steadily a moment, contempt
+in her eloquent face. &ldquo;If you have no other
+virtue in you, at least have some respect for the
+dying,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s not dying, he&rsquo;ll not die!&rdquo; Nola hotly denied.
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;ll live&mdash;live to love me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Go! This room&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279' ></a>279</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s my house; I&rsquo;ll go and come in it when I
+please.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m a prisoner in it, not a guest. I&rsquo;ll force you
+out of the room if I must. This disgraceful behavior
+must end, and end this minute. Are you
+going?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you were out of the way, he&rsquo;d love me,&rdquo; said
+Nola from the door, spiteful, resentful, speaking
+slowly, as if pressing each word into Frances&rsquo; brain
+and heart; &ldquo;if you were out of the way.&rdquo;</p></div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280' ></a>280</span>
+<a  id='CHAPTER_XXI_THE_MAN_IN_THE_DOOR'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXI<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'>THE MAN IN THE DOOR</span></h2>
+</div>
+<div class='text'><p class='ni'>When the doctor from the agency arrived at
+dawn, hours after Mrs. Mathews, he found
+everything done for the wounded man that skill and
+experience could suggest. Mrs. Mathews had carried
+instruments, antiseptics, bandages, with her, and
+she had no need to wait for anybody&rsquo;s directions in
+their use. So the doctor, who had been reinforced
+by the same capable hands many a time before, took
+a cup of hot coffee and rode home.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Mathews moved about as quietly as a nun,
+and with that humility and sense of self-effacement
+that comes of penances and pains, borne mainly for
+others who have fallen with bleeding feet beside the
+way.</p>
+<p>She was not an old woman, only as work and self-sacrifice
+had aged her. Her abundant black hair&mdash;done
+up in two great braids which hung in front
+of her shoulders, Indian-wise, and wrapped at their
+ends with colored strings&mdash;was salted over with
+gray, but her beautiful small hands were as light
+and swift as any girl&rsquo;s. Good deeds had blessed
+them with eternal youth, it seemed.</p>
+<p>She wore a gray dress, sprinkled over with twinkling
+little Indian gauds and bits of finery such as the
+squaws love. This barbaric adornment seemed
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281' ></a>281</span>
+unaccountable in the general sobriety of her dress, for
+not a jewel, save her wedding-ring alone, adorned her.
+Frances did not marvel that she felt so safe in this
+gentle being&rsquo;s presence, safe for herself, safe for the
+man who was more to her than her own soul.</p>
+<p>When the doctor had come and gone, Mrs.
+Mathews pressed Frances to retire and sleep. She
+spoke with soft clearness, none of that hesitation in
+her manner that Frances had marked on the day
+that they rode up and surrounded her where the
+Indians were waiting their rations of beef.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You know how it happened&mdash;who did it?&rdquo;
+Frances asked. She was willing to leave him with
+her, indeed, but reluctant to go until she had given
+expression to a fear that hung over her like a threat.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Banjo told me,&rdquo; Mrs. Mathews said, nodding her
+graceful little head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid that when Chadron comes home and
+finds him here, he&rsquo;ll throw him out to die,&rdquo; Frances
+whispered. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been keeping Mr. Macdonald&rsquo;s
+pistols ready to&mdash;to&mdash;make a fight of it, if necessary.
+Maybe you could manage it some other way.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances was on her knees beside her new friend,
+her anxiety speaking from her tired eyes, full of
+their shadows of pain. Mrs. Mathews drew her
+close, and smoothed back Frances&rsquo; wilful, redundant
+hair with soothing touch. For a little while she said
+nothing, but there was much in her delicate silence
+that told she understood.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, Chadron will not do that,&rdquo; she said at last.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282' ></a>282</span>
+&ldquo;He is a violent, blustering man, but I believe he
+owes me something that will make him do in this case
+as I request. Go to sleep, child. When he wakes
+he&rsquo;ll be conscious, but too weak for anything more
+than a smile.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances went away assured, and stole softly up
+the stairs. The sun was just under the hill; Mrs.
+Chadron would be stirring soon. Nola was up already,
+Frances heard with surprise as she passed
+her door, moving about her room with quick step.
+She hesitated there a moment, thinking to turn back
+and ask Mrs. Mathews to deny her the hospital room.
+But such a request would seem strange, and it would
+be difficult to explain. She passed on into the room
+that she had lately occupied. Soothed by her great
+confidence in Mrs. Mathews, she fell asleep, her last
+waking hope being that when she stood before Alan
+Macdonald&rsquo;s couch again it would be to see him
+smile.</p>
+<p>Frances woke toward the decline of day, with
+upbraidings for having yielded to nature&rsquo;s ministrations
+for so long. Still, everything must be progressing
+well with Alan Macdonald, or Mrs. Mathews
+would have called her. She regretted that she hadn&rsquo;t
+something to put on besides her torn and soiled riding
+habit to cheer him with the sight of when he
+should open his eyes to smile.</p>
+<p>Anxious as she was, and fast as her heart fluttered,
+she took time to arrange her hair in the way that
+she liked it best. It seemed warrant to her that he
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283' ></a>283</span>
+must find her handsomer for that. People argue that
+way, men in their gravity as well as women in their
+frivolity, each believing that his own appraisement
+of himself is the incontestable test, none rightly understanding
+how ridiculous pet foibles frequently
+make us all.</p>
+<p>But there was nothing ridiculous in the coil of
+serene brown hair drawn low against a white neck,
+nor in the ripples of it at the temples, nor in the
+stately seriousness of the face that it shadowed and
+adorned. Frances Landcraft was right, among
+thousands who were wrong in her generation, in
+her opinion of what made her fairer in the eyes of
+men.</p>
+<p>Her hand was on the door when a soft little step,
+like a wind in grass, came quickly along the hall,
+and a light hand struck a signal on the panel.
+Frances knew that it was Mrs. Mathews before she
+flung the door open and disclosed her. She was
+dressed to take the road again, and Frances drew
+back when she saw that, her blood falling away from
+her heart. She believed that he stood in need of
+her gentle ministrations no longer, and that she had
+come to tell her that he was dead.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Mathews read her thought in her face, and
+shook her head with an assuring smile. She entered
+the room, still silent, and closed the door.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, he is far from dead,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then why&mdash;why are you leaving?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The little lady of the ranch has stepped into my
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284' ></a>284</span>
+place&mdash;but you need not be afraid for yours.&rdquo; Mrs.
+Mathews smiled again as she said that. &ldquo;He asked
+for you with his first word, and he knows just how
+matters stand.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The color swept back over Frances&rsquo; face, and ran
+down to hide in her bosom, like a secret which the
+world was not to see. Her heart leaped to hear that
+Maggie had been wrong in her application of the
+rule that applies to men in general when death is
+blowing its breath in their faces.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But that little Nola isn&rsquo;t competent to take care
+of him&mdash;she&rsquo;ll kill him if she&rsquo;s left there with him
+alone!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;With kindness, then,&rdquo; said Mrs. Mathews, not
+smiling now, but shaking her head in deprecation.
+&ldquo;A surgeon is here, sent back by Major King, he
+told me, and he has taken charge of Mr. Macdonald,
+along with Miss Chadron and her mother. I have
+been dismissed, and you have been barred from the
+room where he lies. There&rsquo;s a soldier guarding the
+door to keep you away from his side.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s Nola&rsquo;s work,&rdquo; Frances nodded, her indignation
+hot in her cheek, &ldquo;she thinks she can batter
+her way into his heart if she can make him believe
+that I am neglecting him, that I have gone away.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Rest easy, my dear, sweet child,&rdquo; counseled Mrs.
+Mathews, her hand on Frances&rsquo; shoulder. &ldquo;Mr. Macdonald
+will get well, and there is only one door to
+his heart, and somebody that I know is standing in
+that.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285' ></a>285</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;But he&mdash;he doesn&rsquo;t understand; he&rsquo;ll think I&rsquo;ve
+deserted him!&rdquo; Frances spoke with trembling lips,
+tears darkling in her eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He knows how things stand; I had time to tell
+him that before they ousted me. I&rsquo;d have taken time
+to tell him, even if I&rsquo;d had to&mdash;pinch somebody&rsquo;s
+ear.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The soft-voiced little creature laughed when she
+said that. Frances felt her breath go deeper into
+her lungs with the relief of this assurance, and the
+threatening tears came falling over her fresh young
+cheeks. But they were tears of thankfulness, not of
+suspense or pain.</p>
+<p>Frances did not trouble the soldier at the door to
+exercise his unwelcome and distasteful authority over
+her. But she saw that he was there, indeed, as she
+went out to give Mrs. Mathews farewell at the door.</p>
+<p>Nola came pattering to her as she turned back in
+the house again to find Maggie, for her young appetite
+was clamoring. Nola&rsquo;s eyes were round, her
+face set in an expression of shocked protest.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t this an outrage, this high-handed business
+of Major King&rsquo;s?&rdquo; She ran up all flushed and out
+of breath, as if she had been wrestling with her
+indignation and it had almost obtained the upper
+hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What fresh tyranny is he guilty of?&rdquo; Frances
+inquired, putting last night&rsquo;s hot words and hotter
+feelings behind her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ordering a soldier to guard the door of Mr.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286' ></a>286</span>
+Macdonald&rsquo;s room, with iron-clad instructions to
+keep you away from him! He sent his orders back
+by Doctor Shirley&mdash;isn&rsquo;t it a petty piece of business?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mrs. Mathews told me. At least you could have
+allowed her to stay.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I?&rdquo; Nola&rsquo;s eyes seemed to grow. She gazed
+and stared, injury, disbelief, pain, in her mobile expression.
+&ldquo;Why, Frances, I didn&rsquo;t have a thing to
+do with it, not a thing! Mother and I protested
+against this military invasion of our house, but protests
+were useless. The country is under martial
+law, Doctor Shirley says.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How did Major King know that Mr. Macdonald
+had been brought here? He rode away without giving
+any instructions for his disposal or care. I
+believe he wanted him to die there where he fell.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know how he came to hear it, unless the
+lieutenant here sent a report to him. But I ask you
+to believe me, Frances&rdquo;&mdash;Nola put her hand on
+Frances&rsquo; arm in her old wheedling, stroking way&mdash;&ldquo;when
+I tell you I hadn&rsquo;t anything to do with it. In
+spite of what I said last night, I hadn&rsquo;t. I was wild
+and foolish last night, dear; I&rsquo;m sorry for all of
+that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Never mind,&rdquo; Frances said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you worry, we&rsquo;ll take care of him, mother
+and I. Major King&rsquo;s orders are that you&rsquo;re not to
+leave this house, but I tell you, Frances, if I wanted
+to go home I&rsquo;d go!&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287' ></a>287</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;So would I,&rdquo; returned Frances, with more meaning
+in her manner of speaking than in her words.
+&ldquo;Does Major King&rsquo;s interdiction extend to the commissary?
+Am I going to be allowed to eat?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Maggie&rsquo;s got it all ready; I ran up to call you.&rdquo;
+Nola slipped her arm round Frances&rsquo; waist and led
+her toward the kitchen, where Maggie had the table
+spread. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ll not mind the kitchen? The house
+is so upset by those soldiers in it that we have no
+privacy left.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Prisoners and pensioners should eat in the
+kitchen,&rdquo; Frances returned, trying to make a better
+appearance of friendliness for Nola than she carried
+in her heart.</p>
+<p>Maggie was full of apologies for the poor service
+and humble surroundings. &ldquo;It is the doings of
+miss,&rdquo; she whispered, in her native sibilant Mexican,
+when Nola found an excuse to leave Frances
+alone at her meal.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It doesn&rsquo;t matter, Maggie; you eat in the
+kitchen, both of us are women.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, and some saints&rsquo; images are made of lead,
+some of gold.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But they are all saints&rsquo; images, Maggie.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The kitchen will be brighter from this day,&rdquo;
+Maggie declared, in the extravagant way of her race,
+only meaning more than usually carries in a Castilian
+compliment.</p>
+<p>She backed away from the table, never having it
+in her delicate nature to be so rude as to turn her
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288' ></a>288</span>
+back upon her guest, and admired Frances from a
+distance. The sun was reaching through a low window,
+moving slowly up the cloth as if stealing upon
+the guest to give her a good-night kiss.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, miss!&rdquo; sighed Maggie, her hands clasped
+as in adoration, &ldquo;no wonder that he lives with a well
+in his body. He has much to live for, and that is
+the truth from a woman&rsquo;s lips.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is worth more because of its rarity, then, Maggie,&rdquo;
+Frances said, warming over with blushes at
+this ingenuous praise. &ldquo;Do they let you go into his
+room?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The door is open to the servant,&rdquo; Maggie replied,
+with solemn nod.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is closed to me&mdash;did you know?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know. Miss tells you it is orders from some
+captain, some general, some soldier I do not know
+what&rdquo;&mdash;a sweeping gesture to include all soldiers,
+great and small and far away&mdash;&ldquo;but that is a lie.
+It came out of her own heart. She is a traitor to
+friendship, as well as a thief.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I believed that from the beginning, Maggie.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This house of deceit is not a place for me, for
+even servant that I am, I am a true servant. But
+I will not lie for a liar, nor be traitor for one who
+deceives a friend. I shall go from here. Perhaps
+when you are married to Mr. Macdonald you will
+have room in your kitchen for me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We must not build on shadows, Maggie.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And there is that Alvino, a cunning man in a
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289' ></a>289</span>
+garden. You should see how he charms the flowers
+and vegetables&mdash;but you have seen, it is his work
+here, all this is his work.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If there is ever a home of my own&mdash;if it ever
+comes to that happiness&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;God hasten the day!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then there will be room for both of you, Maggie.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances rose from the table, and stood looking
+though the window where the sun&rsquo;s friendly hand
+had reached in to caress her a few minutes gone.
+There was no gleam of it now, only a dull redness
+on the horizon where it had fallen out of sight, the
+red of iron cooling upon the anvil.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In four weeks he will be able to kneel at the altar
+with you,&rdquo; said Maggie, making a clatter with the
+stove lids in her excitement, &ldquo;and in youth that is
+only a day. And I have a drawn piece of fine linen,
+as white as your bosom, that you must wear over
+your heart on that day. It will bring you peace,
+far it was made by a holy sister and it has been
+blessed by the bishop at Guadalupe.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you, Maggie. If that day ever comes for
+me, I will wear it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Maggie came nearer the window, concern in her
+homely face, and stood off a little respectful distance.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You want to be with him, you should be there at
+his side, and I will open the door for you,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will?&rdquo; Frances started hopefully.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290' ></a>290</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Once inside, no man would lift a hand to put
+you out.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But how am I going to get inside, Maggie, with
+that sentry at the door?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have been thinking how it could be done, miss.
+Soon it will be dark, and with night comes fear.
+Miss is with him now; she is there alone.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances turned to her, such pain in her face as
+if she had been stabbed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why should you go over that again? I know
+it!&rdquo; she said, crossly. &ldquo;That has nothing to do
+with my going into the room.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It has much,&rdquo; Maggie declared, whispering now,
+treasuring her plot. &ldquo;The old one is upstairs, sleeping,
+and she will not wake until I shake her. Outside
+the soldiers make their fires and cook, and
+Alvino in the barn sings &lsquo;La Golondrina&rsquo;&mdash;you hear
+him?&mdash;for that is sad music, like his soul. Very well.
+You go to your room, but leave the door open to
+let a finger in. When it is just creeping dark, and
+the soldiers are eating, I will run in where the one
+sits beside the door. My hair will be flying like the
+mane of a wild mare, my eyes bi-i-i-g&mdash;so. In the
+English way I will shout &lsquo;The rustlers, the rustlers!
+He ees comin&rsquo;&mdash;help, help!&rsquo; When you hear this,
+fly to me, quick, like a soul set free. The soldier at
+the door will go to see; miss will come out; I will
+stand in the door, I will draw the key in my hand.
+Then you will fly to him, and lock the door!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, Maggie! what a general you are!&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291' ></a>291</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Under the couch where he lies,&rdquo; Maggie hurried
+on, her dark eyes glowing with the pleasure of this
+manufactured romance, &ldquo;are the revolvers which he
+wore, just where we placed them last night. I pushed
+them back a little, quite out of sight, and nobody
+knows. Strap the belt around your waist, and defy
+any power but death to move you from the man you
+love!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Maggie, you are magnificent!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; Maggie shook her head, sadly, &ldquo;I am the
+daughter of a peon, a servant to bear loads. But&rdquo;&mdash;a
+flash of her subsiding grandeur&mdash;&ldquo;I would do
+that&mdash;ah, I would have done that in youth&mdash;for
+the man of my heart. For even a servant in the
+back of a house has a heart, dear miss.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances took her work-rough hands in her own;
+she pressed back the heavy black hair&mdash;mark of a
+vassal race&mdash;from the brown forehead and looked
+tenderly into her eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are my sister,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+<p>Poor Maggie, quite overcome by this act of tenderness,
+sank to her knees, her head bowed as if the
+bell had sounded the elevation of the host.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What benediction!&rdquo; she murmured.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will go now, and do as you have said.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When it is a little more dark,&rdquo; said Maggie,
+softly, looking after her tenderly as she went away.</p>
+<p>Frances left her door ajar as Maggie had directed,
+and stood before the glass to see if anything
+could be done to make herself more attractive in his
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292' ></a>292</span>
+eyes. It did not seem so, considering the lack of
+embellishments. She turned from the mirror sighing,
+doubtful of the success of Maggie&rsquo;s scheme, but
+determined to do her part in it, let the result be what
+it might. Her place was there at his side, indeed;
+none had the right to bar her his presence.</p>
+<p>The joy of seeing him when consciousness flashed
+back into his shocked brain had been stolen from
+her by a trick. Nola had stood in her place then.
+She wondered if that slow smile had kindled in his
+eyes at the sight of her, or whether they had been
+shadowed with bewilderment and disappointment.
+It was a thing that she should never know.</p>
+<p>She heard Mrs. Chadron leave her room and pass
+heavily downstairs. Hope sank lower as she descended;
+it seemed that their simple plot must fail.
+Well, she sighed, at the worst it could only fail.
+As she sat there waiting while twilight blended into
+the darker waters of night, she reflected the many
+things which had overtaken her in the two days
+past. Two incidents stood out above all the haste,
+confusion, and pain which gave her sharp regret.
+One was that her father had parted from her to
+meet his life&rsquo;s heaviest disappointment with anger and
+unforgiving heart; the other that the shot which
+she had aimed at Saul Chadron had been cheated of
+its mark.</p>
+<p>There came a trampling of hoofs from the direction
+of the post, unmistakably cavalry. She strained
+from the window to see, but it was at that period
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293' ></a>293</span>
+between dusk and dark when distant objects were
+tantalizingly indefinite. Nothing could be made of
+the number, or who came in command. But she believed
+that it must be Major King&rsquo;s troops returning
+from escorting the raiders to Meander.</p>
+<p>Of course there would be no trying out of Maggie&rsquo;s
+scheme now. New developments must come of the
+arrival of Major King, perhaps her own removal to
+the post. Surely he could not sustain an excuse that
+she was dangerous to his military operations now.</p>
+<p>Doors opened, and heavy feet passed the hall.
+Presently all was a tangle of voices there, greetings
+and warm words of welcome, and the sound of Mrs.
+Chadron weeping on her husband&rsquo;s breast for joy at
+his return.</p>
+<p>Nola&rsquo;s light chatter rose out of the sound of the
+home-coming like a bright thread in a garment, and
+the genteel voice of Major King blended into the
+bustle of welcome with its accustomed suave placidity.
+Frances felt downcast and lonely as she listened
+to them, and the joyous preparations for refreshing
+the travelers which Mrs. Chadron was pushing forward.
+They had no regard, no thought it seemed,
+for the wounded man who lay with only the thickness
+of a door dividing him from them.</p>
+<p>She was moved with concern, also, regarding Chadron&rsquo;s
+behavior when he should learn of Macdonald&rsquo;s
+presence in that house. Would Nola have the courage
+to own her attachment then, and stand between
+the wrath of her father and his wounded enemy?</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294' ></a>294</span></div>
+<p>She was not to be spared the test long. There
+was the noise of Chadron moving heavily about, bestowing
+his coat, his hat, in their accustomed places.
+He came now into the dining-room, where the sentinel
+kept watch at Macdonald&rsquo;s door. Frances crept
+softly, fearfully, into the hall and listened.</p>
+<p>Chadron questioned the soldier, in surprise.
+Frances heard the man&rsquo;s explanation of his presence
+before the door given in low voice, and in it the mention
+of Macdonald&rsquo;s name. Chadron stalked away,
+anger in the sound of his step. His loud voice now
+sounded in the room where the others were still chattering
+in the relief of speech after long silence. Now
+he came back to the guarded door, Nola with him;
+Mrs. Chadron following with pleading words and
+moanings.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Dead or alive, I don&rsquo;t care a damn! Out of this
+house he goes this minute!&rdquo; Chadron said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, father, surely you wouldn&rsquo;t throw a man at
+death&rsquo;s door out in the night!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It was Nola, lifting a trembling voice, and Frances
+could imagine her clinging to his arm.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not after what he&rsquo;s done for us, Saul&mdash;not after
+what he&rsquo;s done!&rdquo; Mrs. Chadron sounded almost
+tearful in her pleading. &ldquo;Why, he brought Nola
+home&mdash;didn&rsquo;t you know that, Saul? He brought
+her home all safe and sound!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, he stole her to make that play!&rdquo; Chadron
+said, either still deceived, or still stubborn, but in
+any case full of bitterness.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295' ></a>295</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll never believe that, father!&rdquo; Nola spoke
+braver than Frances had expected of her. &ldquo;But
+friend or enemy, common charity, common decency,
+would&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Common hell! Git away from in front of that
+door! I&rsquo;m goin&rsquo; to throw his damned carcass out
+of this house&mdash;I can&rsquo;t breathe with that man in it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Saul, Saul! don&rsquo;t throw the poor boy out!&rdquo;
+Mrs. Chadron begged.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will I have to jerk you away from that door by
+the hair of the head? Let me by, I tell you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances ran down stairs blindly, feeling that the
+moment for her interference, weak as it might be,
+and ineffectual, had come. Now Major King was
+speaking, his voice sounding as if he had placed himself
+between Chadron and the door.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think you&rsquo;d better listen to your wife and
+daughter, Chadron. The fellow can&rsquo;t harm anybody&mdash;let
+him alone.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No matter for the past, he&rsquo;s our guest, father,
+he&rsquo;s&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hell! Haven&rsquo;t they told you fool women the
+straight of it yet? I tell you I had to shoot him to
+save my own life&mdash;he was pullin&rsquo; a gun on me, but
+I beat him to it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh Saul, my Saul!&rdquo; Mrs. Chadron moaned.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Was it you that&mdash;oh, was it you!&rdquo; There was
+accusation, disillusionment, sorrow&mdash;and more than
+words can define&mdash;in Nola&rsquo;s voice. Frances waited
+to hear no more. In a moment she was standing in
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296' ></a>296</span>
+the open door beside Nola, who blocked it against
+her father with outstretched arms.</p>
+<p>Chadron was facing his wife, his back to Frances
+as she passed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, it was me, and all I&rsquo;m sorry for is that I
+didn&rsquo;t finish him on the spot. Here, you fellers&rdquo;&mdash;to
+some troopers who crowded about the open door
+leading to the veranda&mdash;&ldquo;come in here and carry
+out this cot.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But it wasn&rsquo;t their day to take orders from Chadron;
+none of them moved. Frances touched Nola&rsquo;s
+arm; she withdrew it and let her pass.</p>
+<p>Macdonald, alone in the room, had lifted himself
+to his elbow, listening. Frances pressed him back
+to his pillow with one hand, reaching with the other
+under the cot for his revolvers. Her heart jumped
+with a great, glad bound, as if it had leaped from
+death to safety, when she touched the weapons. A
+cold steadiness settled over her. If Saul Chadron
+entered that room, she swore in her heart that she
+would kill him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t interfere with me, King,&rdquo; said Chadron,
+turning again to the door, &ldquo;I tell you he goes, alive
+or dead. I can&rsquo;t breathe&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Stop where you are!&rdquo; Frances rose from her
+groping under the cot, a revolver in her hand.</p>
+<p>Chadron, who had laid hold of Nola to tear her
+from the door, jumped like a man startled out of
+his sleep. In the heat of his passion he had not
+noticed one woman more or less.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297' ></a>297</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, it&rsquo;s you, is it?&rdquo; he said, catching himself as
+his hand reached for his gun.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Frances will take him away as soon as he&rsquo;s able
+to be moved,&rdquo; said Nola, pleading, fearful, her eyes
+great with the terror of what she saw in Frances&rsquo;
+face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, she&rsquo;ll go with him, right now!&rdquo; Chadron
+declared. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll give you just ten seconds to put down
+that gun, or I&rsquo;ll come in there and take it away from
+you! No damn woman&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A loud and impatient summons sounded on the
+front door, drowning Chadron&rsquo;s words. He turned,
+with an oath, demanding to know who it was.
+Frances, still covering him with her steady hand,
+heard hurrying feet, the door open, and Mrs. Chadron
+exclaiming and calling for Saul. The man at the
+door had entered, and was jangling his spurs through
+the hall in hasty stride. Chadron stood as if frozen
+in his boots, his face growing whiter than wounded,
+blood-drained Macdonald&rsquo;s on his cot of pain.</p>
+<p>Now the sound of the newcomer&rsquo;s voice rose in
+the hall, loud and stern. But harsh as it was, and
+unfriendly to that house, the sound of it made
+Frances&rsquo; heart jump, and something big and warm
+rise in her and sweep over her; dimming her eyes
+with tears.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where&rsquo;s my daughter, Chadron, you cutthroat!
+Where&rsquo;s Miss Landcraft? If the lightest hair of her
+head has suffered, by God! I&rsquo;ll burn this house to the
+sills!&rdquo;</p></div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298' ></a>298</span>
+<a  id='CHAPTER_XXII_PAID'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXII<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'>PAID</span></h2>
+</div>
+<div class='text'><p class='ni'>Colonel Landcraft stood before Chadron
+in his worn regimentals, his old campaign hat
+turned back from his forehead as if he had been riding
+in the face of a wind. Macdonald, looking up
+at Frances from his couch, spoke to her with his
+eyes. There was satisfaction in them, a triumphant
+glow. She moved a step toward the door, and the
+colonel, seeing her there, rushed to her and clasped
+her against his dusty breast.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Standing armed against you in your own house,
+before your own wife and daughter!&rdquo; said he, turning
+like the old tiger that he was upon Chadron
+again. &ldquo;And in the presence of an officer of the
+United States Army&mdash;my daughter, armed to protect
+herself! By heaven, sir! you&rsquo;ve disgraced the
+uniform you wear!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Major King, scowling darkly, dropped his hand
+in suggestive gesture to his sword. Colonel Landcraft,
+his slight, bony old frame drawn up to its utmost
+inch, marched to him, fire in his eye.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Unbuckle that sword! You&rsquo;re not fit to wear it,&rdquo;
+said he.</p>
+<p>Chadron had drawn away from the door of Macdonald&rsquo;s
+room a little, and stood apart from Major
+King with his wife and daughter. The cattleman
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299' ></a>299</span>
+had attempted no defense, had said no word. In the
+coming of Colonel Landcraft, full of authority,
+strong and certain of hand, Chadron appeared to
+know that his world was beginning to tumble about
+his ears.</p>
+<p>Now he stepped forward to interpose in behalf
+of his tool and co-conspirator, in one last big bluff.
+Major King fell back a stride before the charge of
+the infuriated old colonel, which seemed to have a
+threat of personal violence in it, the color sinking
+out of his face, his hand still on his sword.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What authority have you got to come into my
+house givin&rsquo; orders?&rdquo; Chadron wanted to know.
+&ldquo;Maybe your bluffin&rsquo; goes with some people, but it
+don&rsquo;t go with me. You git to hell out of here!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In your place and time I&rsquo;ll talk to you, you
+sneaking hound!&rdquo; Colonel Landcraft answered,
+throwing Chadron one blasting look. &ldquo;Take off that
+sword, surrender those arms! You are under arrest.&rdquo;
+This to Major King, who stood scowling,
+watching the colonel as if to ward an attack.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;By whose authority do you make this demand?&rdquo;
+questioned Major King, insolently. &ldquo;I am not aware
+that any command&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Colonel Landcraft turned his back upon him and
+strode to the open door, through which the dismounted
+troopers could be seen standing back a
+respectful distance in the shaft of light that fell
+through it. At his appearance there, at the sight
+of that old battered hat and familiar uniform, the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300' ></a>300</span>
+men lifted a cheer. Little tyrant that he was, hard-handed
+and exacting, they knew him for a soldier
+and a man. They knew, too, that their old colonel
+had not been given a square deal in that business,
+and they were glad to see him back.</p>
+<p>The colonel acknowledged the greeting with a
+salute, his old head held prouder at that moment
+than he ever had carried it in his life.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sergeant Snow!&rdquo; he called.</p>
+<p>The sergeant hurried forward, stepped out into
+the light, came up at salute with the alacrity of a
+man who found pleasure in the service to be demanded
+of him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bring a detail of six men into this room, disarm
+Major King, and place him under guard.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The colonel wheeled again to face Chadron and
+King.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am not under the obligation of explaining my
+authority to enter this house to any man,&rdquo; said he,
+&ldquo;but for your satisfaction, madam, and in deference
+to you, Miss Chadron, I will tell you that I was
+recalled by the department on my way to Washington
+and sent back to resume command of Fort
+Shakie.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Chadron was biting his mustache like an angry
+horse mouthing the bit. In the background a captain
+and two lieutenants, who had arrived with Chadron
+and King, stood doubtful, it seemed, of their
+part in that last act of the cattleman&rsquo;s rough melodrama.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301' ></a>301</span></div>
+<p>Frances had returned to Macdonald&rsquo;s side, fearful
+that the excitement might bring on a hemorrhage in
+his wound. She stood soothing him with low, soft,
+and unnecessary words, unconscious of their tenderness,
+perhaps, in the stress of her anxiety. But that
+they were appreciated was evident in the slow-stealing
+smile that came over his worn, rugged face like a
+breaking sun.</p>
+<p>Major King surrendered his arms to the sergeant
+with a petulant, lofty shrug of his shoulders.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not through with you yet, you old cuss!&rdquo;
+said Chadron. &ldquo;I never started out to git a man
+but what I got him, and I&rsquo;ll git you. I&rsquo;ll&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Chadron&rsquo;s voice caught in his throat. He stood
+there looking toward the outside door, drawing his
+breath like a man suffocating. Stealthily his hand
+moved toward his revolver, while his wife and daughter,
+even Frances, struck by a thrill of some undefined
+terror, leaned and looked as Chadron was
+looking, toward the open door.</p>
+<p>A tall, gaunt, dark shaggy man was standing
+there, an old flapping hat drooping over his scowling
+eyes. He was a man with a great branching mustache,
+and the under lid of one eye was drawn down
+upon his cheek in a little point, as if caught by a surgical
+hook and held ready for the knife; a man who
+bent forward from the middle, as if from long habit of
+skulking under cover of low-growing shrubs; an evil
+man, whose foul soul cried of bloody deeds through
+every feature of his leering face.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302' ></a>302</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, that man! that man!&rdquo; cried Nola, in fearful,
+wild scream.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Chadron clasped her in her arms and turned
+her defiant face toward the man in the door. He
+was standing just as he had stood when they first
+saw him, silent, still; as grim as the shadow of Saul
+Chadron&rsquo;s sins.</p>
+<p>The soldiers who stood around Major King looked
+on with puzzled eyes; Colonel Landcraft frowned.
+Macdonald from his cot could not see the door, but
+he felt the sharp striking of those charged seconds.
+Chadron moved to one side a little, his fixed eyes on
+the man in the door, his hand nearer his revolver
+now; so near that his fingers touched it, and now
+it was in his hand with a sudden bright flash into the
+light.</p>
+<p>Two shots in that quiet room, one following the
+other so closely that they seemed but a divided one;
+two shots, delivered so quickly after Nola&rsquo;s awful
+scream that no man could whip up his shocked nerves
+to obedience fast enough to interpose. Saul Chadron
+pitched forward, his hands clutching, his arms
+outspread, and fell dead, his face groveling upon the
+floor. Outside, the soldiers lifted Mark Thorn, a
+bullet through his heart.</p></div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303' ></a>303</span>
+<a  id='CHAPTER_XXIII_TEARS_IN_THE_NIGHT'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIII<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'>TEARS IN THE NIGHT</span></h2>
+</div>
+<div class='text'><p class='ni'>They buried Saul Chadron next day in a corner
+of the garden by the river. And there was the
+benediction of tender autumn sunshine over the place
+where they laid him down, away from the turmoil of
+his life, and the tangle of injustices that he left
+behind.</p>
+<p>But there was none to come forward and speak
+for the body of Mark Thorn. The cowboys hid him
+in the sage at the foot of a butte, as men go silently
+and shadow-like to bury away a shame.</p>
+<p>There seemed to be a heart-soreness over the
+ranchhouse by the river as night fell upon it again.
+Saul Chadron had been a great and noble man to
+some who wept in its silent rooms as the gloaming
+deepened into darkness over the garden, where the
+last leaves of autumn were tugging at their anchorage
+to sail away. Even Frances Landcraft in her
+vigil beside Macdonald&rsquo;s cot felt pity for Chadron&rsquo;s
+fall. She regretted, at least, that he had not gone
+out of life more worthily.</p>
+<p>Colonel Landcraft had gone up the river to carry
+a new message to the homesteaders whose houses lay
+in ashes. He had ridden to tell them that they could
+build in security and live in peace. The surgeon had
+returned to the post, but was coming again tomorrow.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304' ></a>304</span>
+Behind him he had left the happy assurance
+that Macdonald would live.</p>
+<p>Macdonald himself had added his own brave word
+to bear out the doctor&rsquo;s prediction, as far as Frances
+would permit him to speak. That was not above ten
+words, whispered into her ear, inclined low to hear.
+When he attempted to go beyond that, soft warm
+fingers made a latch upon his lips.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Chadron came down a little after dark, and
+whispered at the door. Macdonald was sleeping, and
+Frances went softly to tell her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nola&rsquo;s askin&rsquo; for you,&rdquo; Mrs. Chadron told her,
+&ldquo;she&rsquo;s all heartbroke and moanin&rsquo; in her bed. If
+you&rsquo;ll go to her, and comfort her a little, honey, I&rsquo;ll
+take as good care of him as if he was my own.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances was touched by the appeal for sympathy.
+She could picture Nola, little fashioned by nature or
+her life&rsquo;s experiences to bear grief, shuddering and
+sobbing alone in the dark, and her heart went out to
+her in all its generosity and large forgivingness.</p>
+<p>Nola&rsquo;s room was dark for all except the night sky
+at her window. Frances stood a moment in her door,
+listening, believing from the silence that she must
+have gone to sleep.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nola,&rdquo; she whispered, softly.</p>
+<p>A little shivering sob was the answer. Frances
+went in, and closed the door. Nola was lying face
+downward on her pillow, like a child, and Frances
+found on putting out her comforting hand that the
+fickle little lady&rsquo;s bolster was wet with tears. She
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305' ></a>305</span>
+sat on the bedside and tried gently to turn Nola&rsquo;s
+face toward her. That brought on a storm of tears
+and moanings, and agonized burrowing of her face
+into the pillow.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I feel so mean and wicked!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;If
+I hadn&rsquo;t been so deceitful and treacherous and&mdash;and&mdash;and
+everything, maybe all this sorrow wouldn&rsquo;t
+have come to us!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances said nothing. She had found one hot
+hand, tear-wet from lying under Nola&rsquo;s cheek, and
+this she held tenderly, feeling it best to let the tears
+of penitence purge the sufferer&rsquo;s soul in their world-old
+way. After a time Nola became quieter. She
+shifted in the bed, and moved over to give Frances
+more room, and put up her arms to draw her friend
+down for the kiss of forgiveness which she knew
+would not be denied.</p>
+<p>Afterwards she sat up in bed, and brushed her hair
+back from her throbbing forehead with her palms.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, it aches and aches&mdash;<i>so!</i>&rdquo; she said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll bind a cold towel around it, dear; that always
+used to ease it, you remember?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not my head, Frances&mdash;my heart, my heart!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It was better so, Frances understood. Penitence
+that brings only a headache is like plating over brass;
+it cannot long conceal the baseness of the thing that
+lies beneath.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Time is the only remedy for that, Nola,&rdquo; she
+said, her own words slow and sad.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think I&rsquo;ve sinned past forgiveness because
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306' ></a>306</span>
+I&mdash;because&mdash;I love him?&rdquo; Nola&rsquo;s voice
+trembled with earnestness.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is free, to love and be loved as it may fall,
+Nola. I told you he was mine, but I thought then
+that I was claiming him from death. He will live.
+He never has asked me to marry him; maybe he
+never will. When he recovers, he may turn to you&mdash;who
+can tell?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, it&rsquo;s only you that he thinks of, Frances.
+When I was watching by him he opened his eyes,
+and you should have seen the look in them when he
+saw me instead of you. He struggled to sit up and
+look for you, and he called your name, sharp and
+frightened, as if he thought somebody had taken
+you away from him forever.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances did not need that assurance to quiet any
+fear of his loyalty. She had spoken the truth, only
+because it was the truth, but not to give Nola hope.
+For hope she knew there was not any, nor any love,
+to come to Nola out of that man&rsquo;s heart.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll not talk of it,&rdquo; Frances said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I must, I can&rsquo;t let anything stand between us,
+Frances. If I&rsquo;d been fair, all the way through&mdash;but
+I wasn&rsquo;t. I wasn&rsquo;t fair about Major King, and I
+wasn&rsquo;t fair this time. I was fool enough to think
+that if you were out of the way for a little while I
+could make him love me! He&rsquo;d never love me, never
+in a million years!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances said nothing. But she was beginning to
+doubt the sincerity of Nola&rsquo;s repentance. There,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307' ></a>307</span>
+under the shadow of her bereavement, she could think
+of nothing but the hopelessness of love.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I didn&rsquo;t want you to come up just to pet
+me and be good to me, Frances&mdash;I wanted to give
+you something.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Nola felt under her pillow, and groped for Frances&rsquo;
+hand, in which she placed a soft something with a
+stub of a feather in it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have no right to keep it,&rdquo; said Nola. &ldquo;Do
+you know what it is?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Much of the softness which Frances had for the
+highland bonnet was in her voice as she replied, and
+the little bonnet itself was being nestled against her
+cheek, as a mother cuddles a baby&rsquo;s hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The best that&rsquo;s in me goes out to that man,&rdquo;
+said Nola solemnly&mdash;and truthfully, Frances knew&mdash;&ldquo;but
+I wouldn&rsquo;t take him from you now, Frances,
+even if I could. I don&rsquo;t want to care for him, I don&rsquo;t
+want to think of him. I just want to think of poor
+father lying out there under the ground.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s best for you to think of him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Only a day ago he was alive and warm, like you
+and me, and now he&rsquo;s dead! Mother never will want
+to leave this place again now, and I don&rsquo;t feel like
+I want to either. I just want to lie down and die&mdash;oh,
+I just want to die!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Pity for herself brought Nola&rsquo;s tears gushing
+again, and her choking sobs into her throat. Her
+voice was hoarse from her lamentations; there seemed
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308' ></a>308</span>
+to be only sorrow for her in every theme. Frances
+held her shivering slim body in her supporting arm,
+and Nola&rsquo;s face bent down upon her shoulder. It
+seemed that her renunciation was complete, her regeneration
+undeniable. But Frances knew that a
+great flood of tears was required to put out the fire
+of passion in a woman&rsquo;s heart. One spark, one little
+spark, might live through the deluge to spring into
+the heat of the past under the breath of memory.</p>
+<p>Again the heaving breast grew calm, and the tear-wet
+face was lifted to shake back the fallen hair.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This has emptied everything out for me,&rdquo; Nola
+sighed. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to be serious in everything, with
+everybody, after this. Do you suppose Mrs.
+Mathews would let me help her over at the mission&mdash;if
+I went to her meek and humble and asked her?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If she saw that it would help <i>you</i>, she would,
+Nola.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Just think how lonesome it will be here when the
+post&rsquo;s abandoned and everybody but the Indians
+gone! You&rsquo;ll be away&mdash;maybe long before that&mdash;and
+I&rsquo;ll not see anybody but Indians and cowboys
+from year&rsquo;s beginning to year&rsquo;s end. Oh, it will be
+so dreary and lonesome here!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s work up the river in the homesteaders&rsquo;
+settlement, Nola; there&rsquo;s suffering to be relieved, and
+bereaved hearts to be comforted. There&rsquo;s your work,
+it seems to me, for you and those nearest to you are
+to blame for the desolation of those poor homes,
+excuse it as charitably as we may.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309' ></a>309</span></div>
+<p>Frances felt a shudder run through the girl&rsquo;s body
+as her arm clasped the pliant waist.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, Frances! You can&rsquo;t mean that! They&rsquo;re
+terrible&mdash;just think what they&rsquo;ve done&mdash;oh, the
+underhanded thieves! By the law of the range it&rsquo;s
+my fight now, instead of my work to help them!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The law of the range isn&rsquo;t the law any longer
+here, Nola, and it never will be again. Alan Macdonald
+has done the work that he put his lone hand
+to. You have no quarrel with anybody, child, no
+feud to carry on to a bloody end. Put it out of your
+mind. If you are sincere in your heart, and truly
+penitent, you can prove it best by beginning to do
+good in the place where your house has done a terrible,
+sad wrong.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They started it!&rdquo; said Nola, vindictively, the
+lifelong hatred for those who encroached upon the
+range so deep in her breast, it seemed, that the soil
+of her life must come away on its roots.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s no use talking to you about it, then,&rdquo;
+said Frances, coldly.</p>
+<p>Nola seemed hurt by her tone. She began to cry
+again, and plead her cause in moaning, broken words.
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s our country, we were here first&mdash;father always
+said that!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I don&rsquo;t blame Mr. Macdonald, they deceived
+him, the rustlers deceived him and told him lies. He
+didn&rsquo;t belong to this country, he couldn&rsquo;t know at
+first, or understand. Frances&rdquo;&mdash;she put her hand
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310' ></a>310</span>
+on her friend&rsquo;s shoulder, and lifted her head as if
+trying to pierce the dark and look into her eyes&mdash;&ldquo;don&rsquo;t
+you know how it was with him? He was too
+much of a man to turn his back on them, even when
+he found he was on the wrong side. A man like him
+<i>must</i> have understood it our way.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What he has done in this country calls for no
+excuse,&rdquo; returned Frances, loftily.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In your eyes and mine he wouldn&rsquo;t need any
+excuse for anything he might do,&rdquo; said Nola, with
+a sagacity unexpected. &ldquo;We love him, and we&rsquo;d
+love him, right or wrong. Well&rdquo;&mdash;a sigh&mdash;&ldquo;you&rsquo;ve
+got a right to love him, and I haven&rsquo;t. I wouldn&rsquo;t try
+to make him care for me now if I could, for I&rsquo;m
+different; I&rsquo;m all emptied out.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It takes more than you&rsquo;ve gone through to empty
+a human life, Nola. But you have no right to love
+him; honor and honesty are in the way, friendship
+not considered at all. You&rsquo;ll spring up in the sun
+again after a little while, like fresh grass that&rsquo;s trodden
+on, just as happy and light-hearted as before.
+Let me have this one without any more interference&mdash;there
+are plenty in the world that you would stand
+heart-high to with your bright little head, just as
+well as Alan Macdonald.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t give him up, the thought of him, and the
+longing for him, without regret, Frances; I can&rsquo;t!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t have you do it. I want you to have
+regret, and pain&mdash;not too deep nor too lasting, but
+some corrective pain. Now, go to sleep.&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311' ></a>311</span></div>
+<p>Frances pressed her back to the pillow, and
+touched her head with light caress.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Frances,&rdquo; she whispered, a new gladness dawning
+in her voice, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go and see those poor people,
+and try to help them&mdash;if they&rsquo;ll let me. Maybe we
+<i>were</i> wrong&mdash;partly, anyhow.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s better,&rdquo; Frances encouraged.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And I&rsquo;ll try not to care for him, or think about
+him, even one little bit.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frances bent and kissed her. Nola&rsquo;s arms clung
+to her neck a little, holding her while she whispered
+in her ear.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For I&rsquo;m going to be different, I&rsquo;m going to be
+good&mdash;abso-<i>lutely</i> good!&rdquo;</p></div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_312' ></a>312</span>
+<a  id='CHAPTER_XXIV_BANJO_FACES_INTO_THE_WEST'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIV<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'>BANJO FACES INTO THE WEST</span></h2>
+</div>
+<div class='text'><p class='ni'>&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t tell me? So the old colonel&rsquo;s got
+what his heart&rsquo;s been pinin&rsquo; for many a year.
+Well, well!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Chadron was beside her window in her favored
+rocker again, less assertive of bulk in her black
+dress, not so florid of face, and with lines of sadness
+about her mouth and eyes. A fire was snapping in
+the chimney, for the gray sky was driving a bitter
+wind, and the first snowflakes of winter were straying
+down.</p>
+<p>Banjo Gibson was before the fire, his ears red, his
+cheeks redder, just in from a brisk ride over from
+the post. His instruments lay beside him on the
+floor, and he was limbering his fingers close to the
+blaze.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, he&rsquo;s a brigamadier now,&rdquo; said he.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Brigadier-General Landcraft,&rdquo; said she, musingly,
+looking away into the grayness of the day;
+&ldquo;well, maybe he deserves it. Fur as I&rsquo;m concerned,
+he&rsquo;s welcome to it, and I&rsquo;m glad for Frances&rsquo; sake.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s vinegar and red pepper, that old man is!
+Takin&rsquo; him up both sides and down the middle, as
+the feller said, I reckon the colonel&mdash;or brigamadier,
+I guess they&rsquo;ll call him now&mdash;he&rsquo;s about as good as
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_313' ></a>313</span>
+they make &rsquo;em. I always did have a kind of a likin&rsquo;
+for that old feller&mdash;he&rsquo;s something like me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was nice of you to come over and tell me the
+news, anyhow, Banjo; you&rsquo;re always as obligin&rsquo; and
+thoughtful as you can be.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s always been a happiness and a pleasure,
+mom, and I&rsquo;ve come a good many times with news,
+sad and joyful, to your door. But I reckon it&rsquo;ll be
+many a long day before I come ridin&rsquo; to Alamito with
+news ag&rsquo;in; many a long, long day.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you mean, Banjo? You ain&rsquo;t goin&rsquo;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To Californy; startin&rsquo; from here as soon as my
+horse blows a spell and eats his last feed at your
+feed box, mom. I&rsquo;ve got to make it to Meander to
+ketch the mornin&rsquo; train.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Banjo! you don&rsquo;t tell me!&rdquo; Tears gushed
+to Mrs. Chadron&rsquo;s eyes, used to so much weeping
+now, and her lips trembled as she pressed them hard
+to keep back a sob. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re the last friend of the
+old times, the last face outside of this house belongin&rsquo;
+to the old days. When you&rsquo;re gone my last friend,
+the very last one I care about outside of my own, &rsquo;ll
+be gone!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Banjo cleared his throat unsteadily, and looked
+very hard at the fire for quite a spell before he
+spoke.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The best of friends must part,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, they must part,&rdquo; she admitted, her handkerchief
+pressed to her eyes, her voice muffled behind
+it.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_314' ></a>314</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;But they ain&rsquo;t no use of me stayin&rsquo; around in
+this country and pinin&rsquo; for what&rsquo;s gone, and starvin&rsquo;
+on the edge,&rdquo; said Banjo, briskly. &ldquo;Since you&rsquo;ve
+sold out the cattle and the boys is all gone, scattered
+ever-which-ways and to Texas, and the homesteaders
+is comin&rsquo; into this valley as thick as blackbirds, it
+ain&rsquo;t no place for me. I don&rsquo;t mix with them kind
+of people, I never did. You&rsquo;ve give it all up to &rsquo;em,
+they tell me, but this homestead, mom?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All but the homestead,&rdquo; she sighed, her tears
+checked now, her eyes on the farthest hill, where she
+had watched the crest many and many a time for Saul
+to rise over it, riding home from Meander.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You hadn&rsquo;t ort to let it go,&rdquo; said he, shaking his
+sad head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I couldn&rsquo;t&rsquo;a&rsquo;held it, the lawyers and Mr. Macdonald
+told me that. It&rsquo;s public land, Banjo, it belongs
+to them folks, I reckon. But we was here
+first!&rdquo; A futile sigh, a regretful sigh, a sigh bitter
+with old recollections.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I reckon that&rsquo;s so, down to the bottom of it,
+but you folks made this country what it was, and
+by rights it&rsquo;s yourn. Well, I stopped in to say
+good-bye to the old brigamadier-colonel over at the
+post as I come through. He tells me Alan and that
+little girl of hisn that stuck to him and stood up for
+him through thick and thin &rsquo;re goin&rsquo; to be married
+at Christmas time.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then they&rsquo;ll be leavin&rsquo;, too,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, they&rsquo;re goin&rsquo; to build on his ranch up the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_315' ></a>315</span>
+river and stay here, and that old brigamadier-colonel
+he&rsquo;s goin&rsquo; to take up land next to &rsquo;em, or has
+took it up, one of the two, and retire from the army
+when they&rsquo;re married. He says this country&rsquo;s the
+breath of his body and he couldn&rsquo;t live outside of
+it, he&rsquo;s been here so long.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, well!&rdquo; said she, her face brightening a
+little at the news.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How&rsquo;s Alan by now?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Up and around&mdash;he&rsquo;s goin&rsquo; to leave us in the
+morning.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Frances here?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, she went over home this morning&mdash;I thought
+maybe you met her&mdash;but she&rsquo;s comin&rsquo; back for him
+in the morning.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Banjo sat musing a little while. Then&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, you&rsquo;ll have neighbors, mom, plenty of &rsquo;em.
+A colony of nesters is comin&rsquo; here, three or four
+hundred of &rsquo;em, they tell me, all ready to go to puttin&rsquo;
+up schoolhouses and go to plowin&rsquo; in the spring.
+And they&rsquo;re goin&rsquo; to run that hell-snortin&rsquo; railroad
+right up this valley. I reckon it&rsquo;ll cut right along
+here somewheres a&rsquo;past your place.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, changes&rsquo;ll come, Banjo, changes is bound
+to come,&rdquo; she sighed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All over this country, they say, the nesters&rsquo;ll
+squat now wherever they want to, and nobody
+won&rsquo;t dast to take a shot at &rsquo;em to drive &rsquo;em off of
+his grass. They put so much in the papers about
+this rustlers&rsquo; war up here that folks has got it
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_316' ></a>316</span>
+through &rsquo;em the nesters ain&rsquo;t been gittin&rsquo; what was
+comin&rsquo; to &rsquo;em. The big ranches &rsquo;ll all be split up to
+flinders inside of five years.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, the cattle days is passin&rsquo;, along with the
+folks that was somebody in this country once. Well,
+Banjo, we had some good times in the old days; we
+can remember them. But changes will come, we must
+expect changes. You don&rsquo;t need to pack up and go
+on account of that. I ain&rsquo;t goin&rsquo; to leave.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve made up my mind. I&rsquo;m beginnin&rsquo; to feel
+tight in the chist already for lack of air.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Both sat silent a little while. Banjo&rsquo;s elbows were
+across his knees, his face lifted toward the window.
+The wind was falling, and there was a little breaking
+among the low clouds, baring a bit of blue sky here
+and there. Banjo viewed this brightening of the day
+with gladness.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I guess it&rsquo;s passin&rsquo;,&rdquo; he said, going to the window
+and peering round as much of the horizon as
+he could see, &ldquo;it wasn&rsquo;t nothing but a little shakin&rsquo;
+out of the tablecloth after breakfast.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m glad of it, for I don&rsquo;t think it&rsquo;s good luck
+to start out on a trip in a storm. That there Nola
+she&rsquo;s out in it, too.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Gone up the river?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. It beats all how she&rsquo;s takin&rsquo; up with them
+people, and them with her. She&rsquo;s even bought lumber
+with her own money to help some of &rsquo;em build.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s got a heart like a dove,&rdquo; he sighed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;As soft as a puddin&rsquo;,&rdquo; Mrs. Chadron nodded.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_317' ></a>317</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;But I never could git to it.&rdquo; Banjo sighed again.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Chadron shook her head, with an expression
+of sadness for his failure which was deeper than any
+words she knew.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The loss of her pa bore down on her terrible;
+she&rsquo;s pinin&rsquo; and grievin&rsquo; too hard for a body so
+young. I hear her cryin&rsquo; and moanin&rsquo; in the night
+sometimes, and I know it ain&rsquo;t no use goin&rsquo; to her,
+for I&rsquo;ve tried. She seems to need something more
+than an old woman like me can give, but I don&rsquo;t know
+what it is.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Maybe she needs a change&mdash;a change of air,&rdquo;
+Banjo suggested, with what vague hope only himself
+could tell.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Maybe, maybe she does. Well, you&rsquo;re goin&rsquo; to
+take a change of air, anyhow, Banjo. But what&rsquo;re
+you goin&rsquo; to do away out there amongst strangers?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I was out there one time, five years ago, and
+didn&rsquo;t seem to like it then. But since I&rsquo;ve stood off
+and thought it over, it seems to me that&rsquo;s a better
+place for me than here, with my old friends goin&rsquo; or
+gone, and things changin&rsquo; this a-way. Out there
+around them hop and fruit ranches they have great
+times at night in the camps, and a man of my build
+can keep busy playin&rsquo; for dances. I done it before,
+and they took to me, right along.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They do everywheres, Banjo.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Some don&rsquo;t,&rdquo; he sighed, watching out of the window
+in the direction that Nola must come.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s not likely to come back before morning&mdash;I
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_318' ></a>318</span>
+think she aims to go to the post tonight and stay with
+Frances,&rdquo; she said, reading his heart in his face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Maybe it&rsquo;s for the best,&rdquo; said Banjo.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I guess everything that comes to us is for the
+best, if we knew how to take it,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Well,
+you set there and be comfortable, and I&rsquo;ll stir Maggie
+up and have her make you something nice for dinner.
+After that I want you to play me the old songs over
+before you go. Just to think I&rsquo;ll never hear them
+songs no more breaks my heart, Banjo&mdash;plumb
+breaks my heart!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As she passed Banjo she laid her hand on his head
+in a manner of benediction, and tears were in her
+eyes.</p>
+<p>The sun was out again when they had finished
+lunch, coaxing autumn on into November at the peril
+of frosted toes. Mrs. Chadron had brightened considerably,
+also. Even bereavement and sorrow could
+not shake her fealty to chili, and now it was rewarding
+her by a rubbing of her old color in her face as
+she sat by the window and waited for Banjo to tune
+his instruments for the parting songs.</p>
+<p>Her workbasket was beside her, the bright knitting-needles
+in the unfinished sock. It never would
+be completed now, she knew, but she kept it by her
+to cry over in the twilight hours, when thoughts of
+Saul came over her with their deep-harrowing pangs.</p>
+<p>Banjo sang the touching old ballads over to her
+appreciative ear, watching the shadows outside, as he
+played, for three o&rsquo;clock. That was the hour set for
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_319' ></a>319</span>
+him to go. &ldquo;Silver Threads&rdquo; was saved for the end,
+and when its last strain died Mrs. Chadron&rsquo;s face was
+hidden in her hands. She was rocking gently, her
+handkerchief fallen to the floor.</p>
+<p>Banjo put his bow in its place in the lid of the
+case, the rosin in its little box. But the fiddle he
+still held on his knee, stroking its smooth back with
+loving hand, as if he would soothe Mrs. Chadron&rsquo;s
+regrets and longings and back-tugging pains by that
+vicarious caress. So he sat petting his instrument,
+and after a little she looked at him, her eyes red, and
+tear-streaks on her face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t put it away just yet, Banjo,&rdquo; she requested;
+&ldquo;there&rsquo;s another one I want you to sing,
+and that will be the last. It&rsquo;s the saddest one you
+play&mdash;one that I couldn&rsquo;t stand one time&mdash;do you
+remember?&rdquo; Banjo remembered; he nodded. &ldquo;I can
+stand it now, Banjo; I want to hear it now.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Banjo drew bow again, no more words on either
+side, and began his song:</p>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p>All o-lone and sad he left me,</p>
+<p><span class='indent2'>&nbsp;</span>But no oth-o&rsquo;s bride I&rsquo;ll be;</p>
+<p>For in flow-os he bedecked me,</p>
+<p><span class='indent2'>&nbsp;</span>In tho cottage by tho sea.</p>
+</div></div>
+<p class='ni'>When he finished, Mrs. Chadron&rsquo;s head was bent
+upon her arm across the little workstand where her
+basket stood. Her shoulders were moving in piteous
+convulsions, but no sound of crying came from her.
+Banjo knew that it was the hardest kind of weeping
+that tears the human heart.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_320' ></a>320</span></div>
+<p>He put away his fiddle, and strapped the case.
+Then he went to her and laid his hand on her
+shoulder.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have to be saddlin&rsquo; up, mom,&rdquo; said he, his
+own voice thick, &ldquo;and I&rsquo;ll say <i>adios</i> to you now.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good-bye, Banjo, and may God bless you in that
+country you&rsquo;re goin&rsquo; to so fur away from the friends
+you used to know!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Banjo&rsquo;s throat moved as he gulped his sorrow.
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll not come back in the house, but I&rsquo;ll wave you
+good-bye from the gate,&rdquo; said he.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I had hopes you might change your mind,
+Banjo,&rdquo; she said, as she took his hand and held it a
+little while.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If I could&rsquo;a&rsquo;got to somebody&rsquo;s heart that I&rsquo;ve
+pined for many a day, I would&rsquo;a&rsquo;changed my mind,
+mom. But it wasn&rsquo;t to be.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It wasn&rsquo;t to be, Banjo,&rdquo; she said, shaking her
+head. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think she&rsquo;ll ever marry&mdash;she&rsquo;s
+changed, she&rsquo;s so changed!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, <i>adios</i> to you, mom, and the best of luck.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Adios</i>, Banjo, boy; good-bye!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She waited at the window for him to pass the gate.
+He appeared there leading his horse, and bent to
+examine the girths before putting foot to the stirrup.
+She hoped that he was coming back, to tell her that
+he could not find it in his heart to go. But no; the
+change that was coming over the cattle country was
+like an unfriendly wind to the little troubadour.
+His way was staked into the west where new ties
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_321' ></a>321</span>
+waited him, where new hearts were to be won. He
+mounted, turned to the window, waved his hat and
+rode away.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Chadron sat in her old place and watched him
+until he passed beyond the last hill line and out of
+her sight. Her last glimpse of him had been in
+water lines through tears. Now she reached for her
+basket and took out her unfinished knitting. Broken
+off there, like her own life it was, she thought, never
+to be completed as designed. The old days were done;
+the promise of them only partly fulfilled. She was
+bidding farewell to more than Banjo, parting with
+more than friends.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good-bye, Banjo,&rdquo; she murmured, looking dimly
+toward the farthest hill; &ldquo;<i>adios!</i>&rdquo;</p></div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_322' ></a>322</span>
+<a  id='CHAPTER_XXV_HASTA_LUEGO'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXV<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'>&ldquo;HASTA LUEGO&rdquo;</span></h2>
+</div>
+<div class='text'><p class='ni'>Frances came into the room as fresh as a
+morning-glory. Her cheeks were like peonies,
+and the fire of her youth and strength danced in her
+happy eyes. Macdonald rose to greet her, tall,
+gaunt, and pale from the drain that his wound had
+made upon his life. He had been smoking before
+the fireplace, and he reached up now to put his pipe
+away on the manteltree.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And how are things at the post?&rdquo; he asked, as
+she stood before him in her saddle dress, her sombrero
+pressing down her hair, her quirt swinging by
+its thong from her gloved wrist.</p>
+<p>Before replying she intercepted the hand that was
+reaching to stow the pipe away, pressed it firmly
+back, inserted the stem between his close lips.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In this family, the man smokes,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+<p>His slow smile, which was reward enough to her
+for all the trouble that it took to wake it, twinkled
+in his eyes like someone coming to the window with a
+light.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then the piece of a man will go ahead and
+smoke,&rdquo; said he, drawing a chair up beside his own
+and leading her to it with gentle pressure upon her
+hand.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_323' ></a>323</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Has Mrs. Chadron been overfeeding you while
+I was gone? Did she give you chili?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She <i>offered</i> me chili, in five different dishes, which
+I, remembering the injunction, regretfully put aside.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, they&rsquo;re coming with the ambulance, I rode
+on ahead, and you&rsquo;ll soon be beyond the peril of
+chili.&rdquo; She smiled as she looked up into his face,
+and the smile broadened into an outright laugh when
+she saw the little flitting cloud of vexation there.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I could well enough ride,&rdquo; said he.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The doctor says you could not.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m as fit for the saddle this minute as I ever was
+in my life,&rdquo; he declared.</p>
+<p>She made no reply to that in words. But there
+was tender pity in her caressing eyes as they measured
+the weakness of his thin arms, wasted down to
+tendon and bone now, it seemed. He would ride to
+the post, she knew very well, if permitted, and come
+through it without a murmur. But the risk would
+be foolish, no matter what his pride must suffer by
+going in a wagon.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have you heard the news from Meander?&rdquo; she
+inquired.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, news comes slowly to Alamito Ranch, and
+will come slower now that Banjo is gone, Mrs. Chadron
+says. What&rsquo;s been happening at Meander?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They held their conventions there last week to
+nominate county officers, and what do you think?
+They&rsquo;ve nominated you for something, for&mdash;for
+<i>what</i> do you suppose?&rdquo;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_324' ></a>324</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Nominated me? Who&rsquo;s nominated me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, one party or the other began it, and the
+other indorsed you, for&mdash;oh, it&rsquo;s&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For what, Frances?&rdquo; he asked, laughter in his
+eyes at her unaccountable way of holding back on
+the secret.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, for <i>sheriff!</i>&rdquo; said she, with magnificent
+scorn.</p>
+<p>Macdonald leaned back in his chair and laughed,
+the first audible sound of merriment that she ever
+had heard come from those stern lips. She looked
+at him with reproach.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It should have been governor, the very least they
+could have done, decently!&rdquo; She was full of feeling
+on the subject of what she believed to be his undervaluation.</p>
+<p>Macdonald took her hand, the laughter dying out
+of his sober face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s all in the different ways of looking at a
+man, <i>palomita</i>,&rdquo; he said to her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But you look bigger than <i>sheriff</i> to anybody!&rdquo;
+she replied, indignation large in her heart.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In this country, Frances, a sheriff is a pretty
+sizable man,&rdquo; he said, his thoughtful eyes on the
+fire, &ldquo;about the biggest man they can conceive, next
+only to the president himself. Up here in the cattle
+country the greatness of men is dimmed, their magnitude
+being measured by appreciable results. The
+offices of lawmaker, governor, and such as the outside
+world invest with their peculiar dignity, are
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_325' ></a>325</span>
+incidental, indefinite&mdash;all but negative, here. It&rsquo;s
+different with a sheriff. He&rsquo;s the man who comes
+riding with his guns at his side; they can see him
+perform. All the law that they know centers in
+him; all branches of government, as they understand
+his powers. Yes, a sheriff is something of a figure
+in this county, Frances, and to be nominated for that
+office by one party and indorsed by another is just
+about the biggest compliment a man can receive.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But surely, Alan, you&rsquo;ll not accept it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, I think so,&rdquo; he returned, thoughtfully. &ldquo;I
+think I&rsquo;d be worth more to this county as sheriff
+than I would be as&mdash;as governor, let us say.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, but they go shooting sheriffs,&rdquo; she protested.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They&rsquo;ll not be doing so much careless and easy
+shooting around here since Colonel&mdash;Brigadier-General
+Landcraft&mdash;and that sounds more like his size,
+too&mdash;gave them a rubdown with the iron hand. The
+cattle barons&rsquo; day is over; their sun went down when
+Mark Thorn brought the holy scare to Saul Chadron&rsquo;s
+door.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Father is of the same opinion. Do you know,
+Alan, the whole story about that horrible old man
+Thorn is in the eastern papers?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is it possible?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;With a Cheyenne date-line,&rdquo; she nodded, &ldquo;the
+whole story&mdash;who hired him to skulk and kill, and a
+list of his known crimes. Father says if there was
+anything lacking in the fight you made on the cattlemen,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_326' ></a>326</span>
+this would finish them. It&rsquo;s a terrible story&mdash;poor
+Nola read it, and learned for the first time her
+father&rsquo;s connection with Thorn. She&rsquo;s humiliated
+and heartbroken over it all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;With sufficient reason,&rdquo; he nodded.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s afraid her mother will hear of it in some
+way.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;ll find it out in time, Frances; a thing like
+that walks on a man&rsquo;s grave.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It will not matter so much after a while, after
+her first grief settles.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Did Nola come back with you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, she went on to take some things to poor old
+Mrs. Lassiter. She never has recovered from the loss
+of her son&mdash;it&rsquo;s killing her by inches, Tom says.
+And you considering that office of sheriff!&rdquo; She
+turned to him with censorious eyes as she spoke, as
+if struck with a pain of which he was the cause. &ldquo;I
+tell you, you men don&rsquo;t know, you don&rsquo;t know! It&rsquo;s
+the women that suffer in all this shooting and killing&mdash;we
+are the ones that have to bear the sorrows in
+the night and watch through the uncertain days!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said he gently, &ldquo;the poor women must bear
+most of this world&rsquo;s pain. That is why God made
+them strong above all his created things.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They sat in silence, thinking it over between them.
+Outside there was sunshine over the brown rangeland;
+within there dwelt the lifting confidence that their
+feet had passed the days of trouble and were entering
+the bounds of an enlarging peace.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_327' ></a>327</span></div>
+<p>&ldquo;And Major King?&rdquo; said he.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Father has relented, as I knew he would, out of
+regard for their friendship of the past, and will not
+bring charges based on Major King&rsquo;s plottings with
+Chadron.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s better that way,&rdquo; he nodded. &ldquo;Do you suppose
+there&rsquo;s nothing between him and Nola?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think she&rsquo;ll have him after her grief passes,
+Alan.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Better than he deserves,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s a
+lump of gold in that little lady&rsquo;s heart, Frances.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is, Alan; I&rsquo;m glad to hear you say that.&rdquo;
+There was moisture in her tender eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There was something in that man, too,&rdquo; he reflected.
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s unfortunate that he allowed his desire
+to humiliate you and me to drive him into such folly.
+If he&rsquo;d only have held those brigands here for the
+civil authorities, as I requested, we could have forgotten
+the rest.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, father says that would have saved him in
+his eyes, in spite of his scheming with Chadron
+against your life, and against father&rsquo;s honor and all
+that he holds sacred. But it&rsquo;s done, and he&rsquo;s genuinely
+despised in the service for it. And there&rsquo;s the
+ambulance coming over the hill.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ambulance for me!&rdquo; said he, in disgust of his
+slow mending.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Be glad that it isn&rsquo;t&mdash;oh, I shouldn&rsquo;t say that!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am,&rdquo; said he, nodding his slow, grave head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll have to say good-bye to Mrs. Chadron,&rdquo;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_328' ></a>328</span>
+said she, bustling around, or making a show of doing
+so to hide the tears which had sprung into her eyes
+at the thought that it might have been a different
+sort of conveyance coming to Alamito to take Alan
+Macdonald away.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And to Alamito,&rdquo; said he, looking out into the
+frost-stricken garden with a tenderness in his eyes.
+&ldquo;I shall always have a softness in my heart for
+Alamito, because it gave me you. That garden out
+there yielded me the dearest flower that any garden
+ever gave a man&rdquo;&mdash;he took her hands, and folded
+them above his heart&mdash;&ldquo;a flower with a soul in it
+to keep it alive forever.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She bowed her head as he spoke, as if receiving a
+benediction.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I hate saying good-bye to Mrs. Chadron,&rdquo; she
+said, her voice trembling, &ldquo;for she&rsquo;ll cry, and I&rsquo;m
+afraid I&rsquo;ll cry, too.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It will not be farewell, only <i>hasta luego</i><a  id='FNanchor_0001'></a><a href='#Footnote_0001' class='fnanchor'>[A]</a> we can
+assure her of that. We&rsquo;ll be neighbors to her, for
+this is home, dear heart, this is our <i>val paraiso</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Our valley of paradise,&rdquo; she nodded, her hands
+reaching up to his shoulders and clinging there a
+moment in soft caress, &ldquo;our home!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>His arm about her shoulders, he faced her to the
+window, and pointed to the hills, asleep now in their
+brown winter coat behind a clear film of smoky blue.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I stood up there one evening, weighted down with
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_329' ></a>329</span>
+guns and ammunition, hunting and hunted in the
+most desperate game I ever played,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The
+sun was low over this valley, and Alamito was a
+gleam of white among the autumn gold. I was tired,
+hungry, dusty, thirsty and sore, and my heart was
+all but dead in its case. That was after you had
+sent me away from the post, scorned and half
+despised.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t rebuke me for that night now, Alan,&rdquo; she
+pleaded, turning her pained eyes to his. &ldquo;I have
+suffered for my injustice.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It wasn&rsquo;t injustice, it was discipline, and it was
+good for both of us. We must come to confidence
+through misunderstandings and false charges very
+frequently in this life. Never mind that; I was telling
+you about that evening on the side of the hill. I
+had been sitting with my back to a rock, watching the
+brush for Mark Thorn, but I was thinking more of
+you than of him. For he meant only death, and you
+were life. But I thought that I had lost you that
+day.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She drew nearer to him as they stood, in the unequivocal
+consolation of her presence, in the most
+comforting refutation of that sad hour&rsquo;s dark forebodings.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I thought that, until I stood up and started down
+the slope to go my lone-handed way. The sun struck
+me in the face then, and it was yellow over the valley,
+and the wind was glad. I knew then, when I looked
+out over it, that it held something for me, that it
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_330' ></a>330</span>
+was my country, and my home. The lines of gray
+old Joaquin Miller came to me, and lifted my heart
+in a new vision. I said them over to myself:</p>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p>Lo! these are the isles of the watery miles</p>
+<p>That God let down from the firmament.</p>
+<p>Lo! Duty and Love, and a true man&rsquo;s trust;</p>
+<p>Your forehead to God and your feet in the dust&mdash;</p>
+</div></div>
+<p class='ni'>only, there were two lines which I did not repeat, I
+dared not repeat, even in my heart. My vision halted
+short of their fulfillment.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What are the words&mdash;do you remember them?&rdquo;
+she asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; I can repeat them now, for my vision is
+broader, it is a better dream:</p>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p>Lo! Duty and Love, and a sweet babe&rsquo;s smiles,</p>
+<p>And there, O friend, are the Fortunate Isles.&rdquo;</p>
+</div></div>
+<p class='ni'>He pressed her closer, and kissed her hair. They
+stood, unmindful of the waiting ambulance, their
+vision fusing in the blue distances of the land their
+hearts held dear. It was home.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come on, Alan&rdquo;&mdash;she started from her reverie
+and drew him by the hand&mdash;&ldquo;there&rsquo;s Mrs. Chadron
+on the porch, waiting for <i>hasta luego</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For <i>hasta luego</i>,&rdquo; said he.</p>
+<p>&#160;</p>
+<div class='footnote'><a  id='Footnote_0001'></a><a href='#FNanchor_0001'><span class='label'>[A]</span></a>
+For a little while.</div>
+</div>
+
+<!-- generated by ppg.rb version: 3.20 with eppg.rb version 0.08 -->
+<!-- timestamp: Mon Nov 16 05:21:59 -0700 2009 -->
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Rustler of Wind River, by G. W. Ogden
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RUSTLER OF WIND RIVER ***
+
+***** This file should be named 30485-h.htm or 30485-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/4/8/30485/
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://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.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+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
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
+
+</pre>
+
+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/old/30485-h/images/f0001-img.jpg b/old/30485-h/images/f0001-img.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3f66e6b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/30485-h/images/f0001-img.jpg
diff --git a/old/30485-h/images/illus-emb.png b/old/30485-h/images/illus-emb.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c0bb0fa
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/30485-h/images/illus-emb.png
diff --git a/old/30485.txt b/old/30485.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5666201
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/30485.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,10026 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Rustler of Wind River, by G. W. Ogden
+
+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 Rustler of Wind River
+
+Author: G. W. Ogden
+
+Illustrator: Frank E. Schoonover
+
+Release Date: November 16, 2009 [EBook #30485]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RUSTLER OF WIND RIVER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "Ride Low--They're Coming!"]
+
+
+
+
+THE RUSTLER OF WIND RIVER
+
+By G. W. OGDEN
+
+WITH FRONTISPIECE
+
+By FRANK E. SCHOONOVER
+
+A. L. BURT COMPANY
+
+Publishers--New York
+
+Published by Arrangement with A. C. McClurg & Company
+
+
+
+
+Copyright
+
+A. C. McClurg & Co.
+
+1917
+
+Published March, 1917
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+  CHAPTER                                                         PAGE
+        I Strange Bargainings                                        1
+       II Beef Day                                                  11
+      III The Ranchhouse by the River                               28
+       IV The Man in the Plaid                                      41
+        V If He was a Gentleman                                     55
+       VI A Bold Civilian                                           66
+      VII Throwing the Scare                                        81
+     VIII Afoot and Alone                                           89
+       IX Business, not Company                                    102
+        X "Hell's a-goin' to Pop"                                  119
+       XI The Senor Boss Comes Riding                              131
+      XII "The Rustlers!"                                          147
+     XIII The Trail at Dawn                                        160
+      XIV When Friends Part                                        182
+       XV One Road                                                 196
+      XVI Danger and Dignity                                       215
+     XVII Boots and Saddles                                        227
+    XVIII The Trail of the Coffee                                  240
+      XIX "I Beat Him to It"                                       252
+       XX Love and Death                                           268
+      XXI The Man in the Door                                      280
+     XXII Paid                                                     298
+    XXIII Tears in the Night                                       303
+     XXIV Banjo Faces Into the West                                312
+      XXV "Hasta Luego"                                            322
+
+
+
+
+THE RUSTLER OF WIND RIVER
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+STRANGE BARGAININGS
+
+
+When a man came down out of the mountains looking dusty and gaunt as
+the stranger did, there was no marvel in the matter of his eating five
+cans of cove oysters. The one unaccountable thing about it was that
+Saul Chadron, president of the Drovers' Association, should sit there
+at the table and urge the lank, lean starveling to go his limit.
+
+Usually Saul Chadron was a man who picked his companions, and was a
+particular hand at the choosing. He could afford to do that, being of
+the earth's exalted in the Northwest, where people came to him and put
+down their tribute at his feet.
+
+This stranger, whom Chadron treated like a long-wandering friend, had
+come down the mountain trail that morning, and had been hanging about
+the hotel all day. Buck Snellin, the proprietor--duly licensed for a
+matter of thirty years past by the United States government to conduct
+his hostelry in the corner of the Indian reservation, up against the
+door of the army post--did not know him. That threw him among
+strangers in that land, indeed, for Buck knew everybody within a
+hundred miles on every side.
+
+The stranger was a tall, smoky man, hollow-faced, grim; adorned with a
+large brown mustache which drooped over his thin mouth; a bony man
+with sharp shoulders, and a stoop which began in the region of the
+stomach, as if induced by drawing in upon himself in times of poignant
+hunger, which he must have felt frequently in his day to wear him down
+to that state of bones; with the under lid of his left eye caught at a
+point and drawn down until it showed red, as if held by a fishhook to
+drain it of unimaginable tears.
+
+There was a furtive look in his restless, wild-animal eyes, smoky like
+the rest of him, and a surliness about his long, high-ridged nose
+which came down over his mustache like a beak. He wore a cloth cap
+with ear flaps, and they were down, although the heat of summer still
+made the September air lively enough for one with blood beneath his
+skin. He regaled himself with fierce defiance, like a captive eagle,
+and had no word in return for the generous importunities of the man
+who was host to him in what evidently was a long-deferred meal.
+
+Chadron paid the bill when the man at last finished packing his
+internal cavities, and they went together into the hotel office which
+adjoined the dining-room.
+
+The office of this log hotel was a large, gaunt room, containing a few
+chairs along the walls, a small, round table under the window with the
+register upon it, a pen in a potato, and a bottle of ink with trickled
+and encrusted sides. The broad fireplace was bleak and black,
+blank-staring as a blind eye, and the sun reached through the window
+in a white streak across the mottled floor.
+
+There was the smell of old pipes, old furs, old guns, in the place,
+and all of them were present to account for themselves and dispel any
+shadow of mystery whatever--the guns on their pegs set in auger-holes
+in the logs of the walls, the furs of wild beasts dangling from like
+supports in profusion everywhere, and the pipes lying on the mantel
+with stems hospitably extended to all unprovided guests. Some of them
+had been smoked by the guests who had come and gone for a generation
+of men.
+
+The stranger stood at the manteltree and tried the pipes' capacity
+with his thick-ended thumb, finding one at last to his requirements.
+Tall as Saul Chadron stood on his own proper legs, the stranger at his
+shoulder was a head above him. Seven feet he must have towered, his
+crown within a few inches of the smoked beams across the ceiling, and
+marvelously thin in the running up. It seemed that the wind must break
+him some blustering day at that place in his long body where hunger,
+or pain, or mischance had doubled him over in the past, and left him
+creased. The strong light of the room found pepperings of gray in his
+thick and long black hair.
+
+Chadron himself was a gray man, with a mustache and beard like a
+cavalier. His shrewd eyes were sharp and bright under heavy brows, his
+brown face was toughened by days in the saddle through all seasons of
+weather and wind. His shoulders were broad and heavy, and even now,
+although not dressed for the saddle, there was an up-creeping in the
+legs of his trousers, and a gathering at the knees of them, for they
+were drawn down over his tall boots.
+
+That was Chadron's way of doing the nice thing when he went abroad in
+his buckboard. He had saddle manners and buckboard manners, and even
+office manners when he met the cattle barons in Cheyenne. No matter
+what manners he chanced to be wearing, one remembered Saul Chadron
+after meeting him, and carried the recollection of him to the sundown
+of his day.
+
+"We can talk here," said Chadron, giving the other a cigar.
+
+The tall man broke the cigar and ground part of it in his palm,
+looking with frowning thoughtfulness into the empty fireplace as the
+tobacco crushed in his hard hand. He filled the pipe that he had
+chosen, and sat with his long legs stretched out toward the
+chimney-mouth.
+
+"Well, go on and talk," said he.
+
+His voice came smothered and hoarse, as if it lay beneath all the
+oysters which he had rammed into his unseen hollow. It was a voice in
+strange harmony with the man, such a sound as one would have expected
+to come out of that surly, dark-lipped, thin mouth. There was nothing
+committal about it, nothing exactly identifying; an impersonal voice,
+rather, and cold; a voice with no conscience behind it, scarcely a
+soul.
+
+"You're a business man, Mark--"
+
+"Huh!" said Mark, grunting a little cloud of smoke from the bowl of
+his pipe in his sarcastic vehemence.
+
+"And so am I," continued Chadron, unmoved. "Words between us would be
+a waste of time."
+
+"You're right; money talks," said Mark.
+
+"It's a man's job, or I wouldn't have called you out of your hole to
+do it," said Chadron, watching the man slyly for the effect.
+
+"Pay me in money," suggested Mark, unwarmed by the compliment. "Is it
+nesters ag'in?"
+
+"Nesters," nodded the cattleman, drawing his great brows in a frown.
+"They're crowdin' in so thick right around me that I can't breathe
+comfortable any more; the smell of 'em's in the wind. They're runnin'
+over three of the biggest ranches up here besides the Alamito, and the
+Drovers' Association wants a little of your old-time holy scare
+throwed into the cussed coyotes."
+
+Mark nodded in the pause which seemed to have been made for him to
+nod, and Chadron went on.
+
+"We figger that if a dozen or two of 'em's cleaned out, quick and
+mysterious, the rest'll tuck tail and sneak. It's happened that way in
+other places more than once, as you and I know. Well, you're the man
+that don't have to take lessons."
+
+"Money talks," repeated Mark, still looking into the chimney.
+
+"There's about twenty of them that counts, the rest's the kind you can
+drive over a cliff with a whip. These fellers has strung their cussed
+bob-wire fences crisscross and checkerboard all around there up the
+river, and they're gittin' to be right troublesome. Of course they're
+only a speck up there yet, but they'll multiply like fleas on a hot
+dog if we let 'em go ahead. You know how it is."
+
+There was a conclusiveness in Chadron's tone as he said that. It spoke
+of a large understanding between men of a kind.
+
+"Sure," grunted the man Mark, nodding his head at the chimney. "You
+want a man to work from the willers, without no muss or gun-flashin',
+or rough houses or loud talk."
+
+"Twenty of them, their names are here, and some scattered in between
+that I haven't put down, to be picked up as they fall in handy, see?"
+
+"And you're aimin' to keep clear, and stand back in the shadder, like
+you always have done," growled Mark. "Well, I ain't goin' to ram my
+neck into no sheriff's loop for nobody's business but my own from now
+on. I'm through with resks, just to be obligin'."
+
+"Who'll put a hand on you in this country unless we give the word?"
+Chadron asked, severely.
+
+"How do I know who's runnin' the law in this dang country now? Maybe
+you fellers is, maybe you ain't."
+
+"There's no law in this part of the country bigger than the Drovers'
+Association," Chadron told him, frowning in rebuke of Mark's doubt of
+security. "Well, maybe there's a little sheriff here and there, and a
+few judges that we didn't put in, but they're down in the farmin'
+country, and they don't cut no figger at all. If you _was_ fool enough
+to let one of them fellers git a hold on you we wouldn't leave you in
+jail over night. You know how it was up there in the north."
+
+"But I don't know how it is down here." Mark scowled in surly
+unbelief, or surly simulation.
+
+"There's not a judge, federal or state, that could carry a bale of hay
+anywhere in the cattle country, I tell you, Mark, that we don't draw
+the chalk line for."
+
+"Then why don't you do the job yourselves, 'stead of callin' a
+peaceable man away from his ranchin'?"
+
+"You're one kind of a gentleman, Mark, and I'm another, and there's
+different jobs for different men. That ain't my line."
+
+"Oh hell!" said Mark, laying upon the words an eloquent stress.
+
+"All you've got to do is keep clear of the reservation; don't turn a
+card here, no matter how easy it looks. We can't jerk you out of the
+hands of the army if you git mixed up with it; that's one place where
+we stop. The reservation's a middle ground where we meet the
+nesters--rustlers, every muddy-bellied wolf of 'em, and we can prove
+it--and pass 'em by. They come and go here like white men, and nothing
+said. Keep clear of the reservation; that's all you've got to do to be
+as safe as if you was layin' in bed on your ranch up in Jackson's
+Hole."
+
+Chadron winked as he named that refuge of the hunted in the Northwest.
+Mark appeared to be considering something weightily.
+
+"Oh, well, if they're rustlers--nobody ain't got no use for a
+rustler," he said.
+
+"There's men in that bunch of twenty"--tapping the slip of paper with
+his finger--"that started with two cows a couple of years ago that's
+got fifty and sixty head of two-year-olds now," Chadron feelingly
+declared.
+
+"How much're you willin' to go?" Mark put the question with a
+suddenness which seemed to betray that he had been saving it to shoot
+off that way, as a disagreeable point over which he expected a
+quarrel. He squinted his draggled left eye at Chadron, as if he was
+taking aim, while he waited for a reply.
+
+"Well, you have done it for fifty a head," Chadron said.
+
+"Things is higher now, and I'm older, and the resk's bigger," Mark
+complained. "How fur apart do they lay?"
+
+"You ought to get around in a week or two."
+
+"But that ain't figgerin' the time a feller has to lay out in the
+bresh waitin' and takin' rheumatiz in his j'ints. I couldn't touch the
+job for the old figger; things is higher."
+
+"Look here, Mark"--Chadron opened the slip which he had wound round
+his finger--"this one is worth ten, yes, all, the others. Make your
+own price on him. But I want it _done_; no bungled job."
+
+Mark took the paper and laid his pipe aside while he studied it.
+
+"Macdonald?"
+
+"Alan Macdonald," nodded Chadron. "That feller's opened a ditch from
+the river up there on my land and begun to _irrigate!_"
+
+"Irrigatin', huh?" said Mark, abstractedly, moving his finger down the
+column of names.
+
+"He makes a blind of buyin' up cattle and fattenin' 'em on the hay and
+alfalfer he's raisin' up there on my good land, but he's the king-pin
+of the rustlers in this corner of the state. He'll be in here tomorrow
+with cattle for the Indian agent--it's beef day--and you can size him
+up. But you've got to keep your belly to the ground like a snake when
+you start anything on that feller, and you've got to make sure you've
+got him dead to rights. He's quick with a gun, and he's sure."
+
+"Five hundred?" suggested Mark, with a crafty sidelong look.
+
+"You've named it."
+
+"And something down for expenses; a feller's got to live, and livin's
+high."
+
+Chadron drew out his wallet. Money passed into Mark's hand, and he put
+it away in his pocket along with the list of names.
+
+"I'll see you in the old place in Cheyenne for the settlement, if you
+make good," Chadron told him.
+
+Mark waved his hand in lofty depreciation of the hint that failure for
+him was a possible contingency. He said no more. For a little while
+Chadron stood looking down on him as he leaned with his pipe over the
+dead ashes in the fireplace, his hand in the breast of his coat, where
+he had stored his purse. Mark treated the mighty cattleman as if he
+had become a stranger to him, along with the rest of the world in that
+place, and Chadron turned and went his way.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+BEEF DAY
+
+
+Fort Shakie was on its downhill way in those days, and almost at the
+bottom of the decline. It was considered a post of penance by enlisted
+men and officers alike, nested up there in the high plateau against
+the mountains in its place of wild beauty and picturesque charm.
+
+But natural beauty and Indian picturesqueness do not fill the place in
+the soldierly breast of fair civilian lady faces, nor torrential
+streams of cold mountain water supply the music of the locomotive's
+toot. Fort Shakie was being crept upon by civilization, true, but it
+was coming all too slow for the booted troopers and belted officers
+who must wear away the months in its lonely silences.
+
+Within the memory of officers not yet gray the post had been a hundred
+and fifty miles from a railroad. Now it was but twenty; but even that
+short leap drowned the voice of the locomotive, and the dot at the
+rails' end held few of the endearments which make soldiering sweet.
+
+Soon the post must go, indeed, for the need of it had passed. The
+Shoshones, Arapahoes, and Crows had forgotten their old animosities,
+and were traveling with Buffalo Bill, going to college, and raising
+alfalfa under the direction of a government farmer. The Indian police
+were in training to do the soldiers' work there. Soon the post must
+stand abandoned, a lonely monument to the days of hard riding, long
+watches, and bleak years. Not a soldier in the service but prayed for
+the hastening of the day.
+
+No, there was not much over at Meander, at the railroad's end, to
+cheer a soldier's heart. It was an inspiring ride, in these autumn
+days, to come to Meander, past the little brimming lakes, which seemed
+to lie without banks in the green meadows where wild elk fed with the
+shy Indian cattle; over the white hills where the earth gave under the
+hoofs like new-fallen snow. But when one came to it through the
+expanding, dusty miles, the reward of his long ride was not in keeping
+with his effort.
+
+Certainly, privates and subalterns could get drunk there, as speedily
+as in the centers of refinement, but there were no gentlemanly
+diversions at which an officer could dispel the gloom of his sour days
+in garrison.
+
+The rough-cheeked girls of that high-wind country were well enough for
+cowboys to swing in their wild dances; just a rung above the squaws on
+the reservation in the matter of loquacity and of gum. Hardly the sort
+for a man who had the memory of white gloves and gleaming shoulders,
+and the traditions of the service to maintain.
+
+Of course there was the exception of Nola Chadron, but she was not of
+Meander and the railroad's end, and she came only in flashes of summer
+brightness, like a swift, gay bird. But when Nola was at the
+ranchhouse on the river the gloom lifted over the post, and the sour
+leaven in the hearts of unmarried officers became as sweet as manna in
+the cheer of the unusual social outlet thus provided.
+
+Nola kept the big house in a blaze of joy while she nested there
+through the summer days. The sixteen miles which stretched between it
+and the post ran out like a silver band before those who rode into the
+smile of her welcome, and when she flitted away to Cheyenne,
+champagne, and silk hats in the autumn, a grayness hovered again over
+the military post in the corner of the reservation.
+
+Later than usual Nola had lingered on this fall, and the social outlet
+had remained open, like a navigable river over which the threat of ice
+hung but had not yet fallen. There were not lacking those who held
+that the lodestone which kept her there at the ranchhouse, when the
+gaieties of the season beckoned elsewhere, was in the breast of Major
+Cuvier King. Fatal infatuation, said the married ladies at the post,
+knowing, as everybody knew in the service, that Major King was
+betrothed to Frances Landcraft, the colonel's daughter.
+
+No matter for any complications which might come of it, Nola had
+remained on, and the major had smiled on her, and ridden with her, and
+cut high capers in the dance, all pending the return of Frances and
+her mother from their summering at Bar Harbor in compliance with the
+family traditions. Now Frances was back again, and fortune had thrown
+a sunburst of beauty into the post by centering her and Nola here at
+once. Nola was the guest of the colonel's daughter, and there were
+flutterings in uniformed breasts.
+
+Beef day was an event at the agency which never grew old to the people
+at the post. Without beef day they must have dwindled off to acidulous
+shadows, as the Indians who depended upon it for more solid sustenance
+would have done in the event of its discontinuation by a paternal
+government.
+
+There were phases of Indian life and character which one never saw
+save on beef day, which fell on Wednesday of each week. Guests at the
+post watched the bright picture with the keen interest of a pageant on
+the stage; tourists came over by stage from Meander in the summer
+months by the score to be present; the resident officers, and their
+wives and families--such as had them--found in it an ever-recurring
+source of interest and relief from the tedium of days all alike.
+
+This beef day, the morning following the meeting between Saul Chadron
+and his mysterious guest, a chattering group stood on the veranda of
+Colonel Landcraft's house in the bright friendly sun. They were
+waiting for horses to make the short journey to the agency--for one's
+honesty was questioned, his sanity doubted, if he went afoot in that
+country even a quarter of a mile--and gayest among them was Nola
+Chadron, the sun in her fair, springing hair.
+
+Nola's crown reached little higher than a proper soldier's heart, but
+what she lacked in stature she supplied in plastic perfection of body
+and vivacity of face. There was a bounding joyousness of life in her;
+her eager eyes reflecting only the anticipated pleasures of today.
+There was no shadow of yesterday's regret in them, no cloud of
+tomorrow's doubt.
+
+On the other balance there was Frances Landcraft, taller by half a
+head, soldierly, too, as became her lineage, in the manner of lifting
+her chin in what seemed a patrician scorn of small things such as a
+lady should walk the world unconscious of. The brown in her hair was
+richer than the clear agate of her eyes; it rippled across her ear
+like the scroll of water upon the sand.
+
+There was a womanly dignity about her, although the threshold of
+girlhood must not have been far behind her that bright autumnal
+morning. Her nod was equal to a stave of Nola's chatter, her smile
+worth a league of the light laughter from that bounding little lady's
+lips. Not that she was always so silent as on that morning, there
+among the young wives of the post, at her own guest's side. She had
+her hours of overflowing spirits like any girl, but in some company
+she was always grave.
+
+When Major King was in attendance, especially, the seeing ones made
+note. And there were others, too, who said that she was by nature a
+colonel among women, haughty, cold and aloof. These wondered how the
+major ever had made headway with her up to the point of gaining her
+hand. Knowing ones smiled at that, and said it had been arranged.
+
+There were ambitions on both sides of that match, it was known--ambition
+on the colonel's part to secure his only child a station of dignity, and
+what he held to be of consequence above all achievements in the
+world. Major King was a rising man, with two friends in the cabinet.
+It was said that he would be a brigadier-general before he reached
+forty.
+
+On the major's side, was the ambition to strengthen his political
+affiliations by alliance with a family of patrician strain, together
+with the money that his bride would bring, for Colonel Landcraft was a
+weighty man in this world's valued accumulations. So the match had
+been arranged.
+
+The veranda of the colonel's house gave a view of the parade grounds
+and the long avenue that came down between the officers' houses,
+cottonwoods lacing their limbs above the road. There was green in
+the lawns, the flash of flowers between the leaves and shrubs,
+white-gleaming walls, trim walks, shorn hedges. It seemed a pleasant
+place of quiet beauty that bright September morning, and a pity to
+give it up by and by to dust and desolation; a place where men and
+women might be happy, but for the gnawing fire of ambition in their
+hearts.
+
+Mrs. Colonel Landcraft was not going. Indians made her sick, she said,
+especially Indians sitting around in the tall grass waiting for the
+carcasses to be cut up and apportioned out to them in bloody chunks.
+But there seemed to be another source of her sickness that morning,
+measuring by the grave glances with which she searched her daughter's
+face. She wondered whether the major and Frances had quarreled; and if
+so, whether Nola Chadron had been the cause.
+
+They were off, with the colonel and a lately-assigned captain in the
+lead. There was a keener pleasure in this beef day than usual for the
+colonel, for he had new ground to sow with its wonders, which were
+beginning to pale in his old eyes which had seen so much of the
+world.
+
+"Very likely we'll see the minister's wife there," said he, as they
+rode forward, "and if so, it will be worth your while to take special
+note of her. St. John Mathews, the Episcopalian minister over there at
+the mission--those white buildings there among the trees--is a
+full-blooded Crow. One of the pioneer missionaries took him up and
+sent him back East to school, where in time he entered the ministry
+and married this white girl. She was a college girl, I've been told,
+glamoured by the romance of Mathews' life. Well, it was soon over."
+
+The colonel sighed, and fell silent. The captain, feeling that it was
+intended that he should, made polite inquiry.
+
+"The trouble is that Mathews is an Indian out of his place," the
+colonel resumed. "He returned here twenty years or so ago, and took up
+his work among his people. But as he advanced toward civilization, his
+wife began to slip back. Little by little she adopted the Indian ways
+and dress, until now you couldn't tell her from a squaw if you were to
+meet her for the first time. She presents a curious psychological
+study--or perhaps biological example of atavism, for I believe there's
+more body than soul in the poor creature now. It's nature maintaining
+the balance, you see. He goes up; she slips back.
+
+"If she's there, she'll be squatting among the squaws, waiting to
+carry home her husband's allotment of warm, bloody beef. She doesn't
+have to do it, and it shames and humiliates Mathews, too, even though
+they say she cuts it up and divides it among the poorer Indians. She's
+a savage; her eyes sparkle at the sight of red meat."
+
+They rounded the agency buildings and came upon an open meadow in
+which the slaughterhouses stood at a distance from the road. Here,
+in the grassy expanse, the Indians were gathered, waiting the
+distribution of the meat. The scene was barbarically animated. Groups
+of women in their bright dresses sat here and there on the grass, and
+apart from them in gravity waited old men in moccasins and blankets
+and with feathers in their hair. Spry young men smoked cigarettes
+and talked volubly, garbed in the worst of civilization and the
+most useless of savagery.
+
+One and all they turned their backs upon the visitors, the nearest
+groups and individuals moving away from them with the impassive
+dignity of their race. There is more scorn in an Indian squaw's back,
+turned to an impertinent stranger, than in the faces of six matrons of
+society's finest-sifted under similar conditions.
+
+Colonel Landcraft led his party across the meadow, entirely
+unconscious of the cold disdain of the people whom he looked down upon
+from his superior heights. He could not have understood if any there
+had felt the trespass from the Indians' side--and there was one, very
+near and dear to the colonel who felt it so--and attempted to explain.
+The colonel very likely would have puffed up with military consequence
+almost to the bursting-point.
+
+Feeling, delicacy, in those smeared, smelling creatures! Surliness in
+excess they might have, but dignity, not at all. Were they not there
+as beggars to receive bounty from the government's hand?
+
+"Oh, there's Mrs. Mathews!" said Nola, with the eagerness of a child
+who has found a quail's nest in the grass. She was off at an angle,
+like a hunter on the scent. Colonel Landcraft and his guest followed
+with equal rude eagerness, and the others swept after them, Frances
+alone hanging back. Major King was at Nola's side. If he noted the
+lagging of his fiancee he did not heed.
+
+The minister's wife, a shawl over her head, her braided hair in front
+of her shoulders like an Indian woman, rose from her place in startled
+confusion. She looked as if she would have fled if an avenue had been
+open, or a refuge presented. The embarrassed creature was obliged to
+stand in their curious eyes, and stammer in a tongue which seemed to
+be growing strange to her from its uncommon use.
+
+She was a short woman, growing heavy and shapeless now, and there was
+gray in her black hair. Her skin was browned by sun, wind, and smoke
+to the hue of her poor neighbors and friends. When she spoke in reply
+to the questions which poured upon her, she bent her head like a timid
+girl.
+
+Frances checked her horse and remained behind, out of range of
+hearing. She was cut to the heart with shame for her companions, and
+her cheek burned with the indignation that she suffered with the
+harried woman in their midst. A little Indian girl came flying past,
+ducking and dashing under the neck of Frances' horse, in pursuit of a
+piece of paper which the wind whirled ahead of her. At Frances'
+stirrup she caught it, and held it up with a smile.
+
+"Did you lose this, lady?" she asked, in the very best of mission
+English.
+
+"No," said Frances, bending over to see what it might be. The little
+girl placed it in her hand and scurried away again to a beckoning
+woman, who stood on her knees and scowled over her offspring's dash
+into the ways of civilized little girls.
+
+It was a narrow strip of paper that she had rescued from the wind,
+with the names of several men written on it in pencil, and at the head
+of the list the name of Alan Macdonald. Opposite that name some crude
+hand had entered, with pen that had flowed heavily under his pressure,
+the figures "$500."
+
+Frances turned it round her finger and sat waiting for the others to
+leave off their persecution of the minister's wife and come back to
+her, wondering in abstracted wandering of mind who Alan Macdonald
+might be, and for what purpose he had subscribed the sum of five
+hundred dollars.
+
+"I think she's the most romantic little thing in the world!" Nola was
+declaring, in her extravagant surface way as they returned to where
+Frances sat her horse, her wandering eyes on the blue foothills, the
+strip of paper prominent about her finger. "Oh, honey! what's the
+matter? Did you cut your finger?"
+
+"No," said Frances, her serious young face lighting with a smile,
+"it's a little subscription list, or something, that somebody lost.
+Alan Macdonald heads it for five hundred dollars. Do you know Alan
+Macdonald, and what his charitable purpose may be?"
+
+Nola tossed her head with a contemptuous sniff.
+
+"They call him the 'king of the rustlers' up the river," said she.
+
+"Oh, he _is_ a man of consequence, then?" said Frances, a quickening
+of humor in her brown eyes, seeing that Nola was up on her high horse
+about it.
+
+"We'd better be going down to the slaughter-house if we want to see
+the fun," bustled the colonel, wheeling his horse. "I see a movement
+setting in that way."
+
+"He's just a common thief!" declared Nola, with flushed cheek and
+resentful eye, as Frances fell in beside her for the march against the
+abattoir.
+
+Frances still carried the paper twisted about her finger, reserving
+her judgment upon Alan Macdonald, for she knew something of the feuds
+of that hard-speaking land.
+
+"Anyway, I suppose he'd like to have his paper back," she suggested.
+"Will you hand it to him the next time you meet him?"
+
+Frances was entirely grave about it, although it was only a piece of
+banter which she felt that Nola would appreciate. But Nola was not in
+an appreciative mood, for she was a full-blooded daughter of the
+baronial rule. She jerked her head like a vicious bronco and reined
+hurriedly away from Frances as she extended the paper.
+
+"I'll not touch the thing!" said Nola, fire in her eyes.
+
+Major King was enjoying the passage between the girls, riding at
+Nola's side with his cavalry hands held precisely.
+
+"If I'm not mistaken, the gentleman in question is there talking to
+Miller, the agent," said he, nodding toward two horsemen a little
+distance ahead. "But I wouldn't excite him, Miss Landcraft, if I were
+you. He's said to be the quickest and deadliest man with a weapon on
+this range."
+
+Major King smiled over his own pleasantry. Frances looked at Nola with
+brows lifted inquiringly, as if waiting her verification. Then the
+grave young lady settled back in her saddle and laughed merrily,
+reaching across and touching her friend's arm in conciliating caress.
+
+"Oh, you delightful little savage!" she said. "I believe you'd like to
+take a shot at poor Mr. Macdonald yourself."
+
+"We never start anything on the reservation," Nola rejoined, quite
+seriously.
+
+Miller, the Indian agent, rode away and left Macdonald sitting there
+on his horse as the military party approached. He spurred up to meet
+the colonel, and to present his respects to the ladies--a hard matter
+for a little round man with a tight paunch, sitting in a Mexican
+saddle. The party halted, and Frances looked across at Macdonald, who
+seemed to be waiting for Miller to rejoin him.
+
+Macdonald was a supple, sinewy man, as he appeared across the few rods
+intervening. His coat was tied with his slicker at the cantle of his
+saddle, his blue flannel shirt was powdered with the white dust of the
+plain. Instead of the flaring neckerchief which the cowboys commonly
+favored, Macdonald wore a cravat, the ends of it tucked into the bosom
+of his shirt, and in place of the leather chaps of men who ride
+breakneck through brush and bramble, his legs were clad in tough brown
+corduroys, and fended by boots to his knees. There were revolvers in
+the holsters at his belt.
+
+Not an unusual figure for that time and place, but something uncommon
+in the air of unbending severity that sat on him, which Frances felt
+even at that distance. He looked like a man who had a purpose in his
+life, and who was living it in his own brave way. If he was a cattle
+thief, as charged, thought she, then she would put her faith against
+the world that he was indeed a master of his trade.
+
+They were talking around Miller, who was going to give them places of
+vantage for the coming show. Only Frances and Major King were left
+behind, where she had stopped her horse to look curiously across at
+Alan Macdonald, king of the rustlers, as he was called.
+
+"It may not be anything at all to him, and it may be something
+important," said Frances, reaching out the slip to Major King. "Would
+you mind handing it to him, and explaining how it came into my
+hands?"
+
+"I'll not have anything to do with the fellow!" said the major,
+flushing hotly. "How can you ask such a thing of _me?_ Throw it away,
+it's no concern of yours--the memorandum of a cattle thief!"
+
+Frances drew herself straight. Her imperious chin was as high as Major
+King ever had carried his own in the most self-conscious moment of his
+military career.
+
+"Will you take it to him?" she demanded.
+
+"Certainly not!" returned the major, haughtily emphatic. Then,
+softening a little, "Don't be silly, Frances; what a row you make over
+a scrap of blowing paper!"
+
+"Then I'll take it myself!"
+
+"Miss Landcraft!"
+
+"_Major_ King!"
+
+It was the steel of conventionality against the flint of womanly
+defiance. Major King started in his saddle, as if to reach out and
+restrain her. It was one of those defiantly foolish little things
+which women and men--especially women--do in moments of pique, and
+Frances knew it at the time. But she rode away from the major with a
+hot flush of insubordination in her cheeks, and Alan Macdonald
+quickened from his pensive pose when he saw her coming.
+
+His hand went to his hat when her intention became unmistakable to
+him. She held the little paper out toward him while still a rod away.
+
+"A little Indian girl gave me this; she found it blowing along--they
+tell me you are Mr. Macdonald," she said, her face as serious as his
+own. "I thought it might be a subscription list for a church, or
+something, and that you might want it."
+
+"Thank you, Miss Landcraft," said he, his voice low-modulated, his
+manner easy.
+
+Her face colored at the unexpected way of this man without a coat, who
+spoke her name with the accent of refinement, just as if he had known
+her, and had met her casually upon the way.
+
+"I have seen you a hundred times at the post and the agency," he
+explained, to smooth away her confusion. "I have seen you from afar."
+
+"Oh," said she, as lame as the word was short.
+
+He was scanning the written paper. Now he looked at her, a smile
+waking in his eyes. It moved in slow illumination over his face, but
+did not break his lips, pressed in their stern, strong line. She saw
+that his long hair was light, and that his eyes were gray, with sandy
+brows over them which stood on end at the points nearest his nose,
+from a habit of bending them in concentration, she supposed, as he had
+been doing but a moment before he smiled.
+
+"No, it isn't a church subscription, Miss Landcraft, it's for a
+cemetery," said he.
+
+"Oh," said she again, wondering why she did not go back to Major King,
+whose horse appeared restive, and in need of the spur, which the major
+gave him unfeelingly.
+
+At the same time she noted that Alan Macdonald's forehead was broad
+and deep, for his leather-weighted hat was pushed back from it where
+his fair, straight hair lay thick, and that his bony chin had a little
+croft in it, and that his face was long, and hollowed like a
+student's, and that youth was in his eyes in spite of the experience
+which hardships of unknown kind had written across his face. Not a
+handsome man, but a strong one in his way, whatever that way might
+be.
+
+"I am indebted to you for this," said he, drawing forth his watch with
+a quick movement as he spoke, opening the back cover, folding the
+little paper carefully away in it, "and grateful beyond words."
+
+"Good-bye, Mr. Macdonald," said she, wheeling her horse suddenly,
+smiling back at him as she rode away to Major King.
+
+Alan Macdonald sat with his hat off until she was again at the major's
+side, when he replaced it over his fair hair with slow hand, as if he
+had come from some holy presence. As for Frances, her turn of defiance
+had driven her clouds away. She met the major smiling and radiant, a
+twinkling of mischief in her lively eyes.
+
+The major was a diplomat, as all good soldiers, and some very
+indifferent ones, are. Whatever his dignity and gentler feelings had
+suffered while she was away, he covered the hurt now with a smile.
+
+"And how fares the bandit king this morning?" he inquired.
+
+"He seems to be in spirits," she replied.
+
+The others were out of sight around the buildings where the carcasses
+of beef had been prepared. Nobody but the major knew of Frances'
+little dash out of the conventional, and the knowledge that it was so
+was comfortable in his breast.
+
+"And the pe-apers," said he, in melodramatic whisper, "were they the
+thieves' muster roll?"
+
+"He isn't a thief," said she, with quiet dignity, "he's a gentleman.
+Yes, the paper _was_ important."
+
+"Ha! the plot deepens!" said Major King.
+
+"It was a matter of life and death," said she, with solemn rebuke for
+his levity, speaking a truer word than she was aware.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE RANCHHOUSE BY THE RIVER
+
+
+Saul Chadron had built himself into that house. It was a solid and
+assertive thing of rude importance where it stood in the great plain,
+the river lying flat before it in its low banks like a gray thread
+through the summer green. There was a bold front to the house, and a
+turret with windows, standing like a lighthouse above the sea of
+meadows in which his thousand-numbered cattle fed.
+
+As white as a dove it sat there among the cottonwoods at the
+riverside. A stream of water led into its gardens to gladden them and
+give them life. Years ago, when Chadron's importance was beginning to
+feel itself strong upon its legs, and when Nola was a little thing
+with light curls blowing about her blue eyes, the house had grown up
+under the wand of riches in that barren place.
+
+The post at Fort Shakie had been the nearest neighbor in those days,
+and it remained the nearest neighbor still, with the exception of one
+usurper and outcast homesteader, Alan Macdonald by name, who had
+invaded the land over which Chadron laid his extensive claim. Fifteen
+miles up the river from the grand white house Macdonald had strung his
+barbed wire and carried in the irrigation ditch to his alfalfa field.
+He had chosen the most fertile spot in the vast plain through which
+the river swept, and it was in the heart of Saul Chadron's domain.
+
+After the lordly manner of the cattle "barons," as they were called in
+the Northwest, Chadron set his bounds by mountains and rivers.
+Twenty-five hundred square miles, roughly measured, lay within his
+lines, the Alamito Ranch he called it--the Little Cottonwood. He had
+no more title to that great sweep of land than the next man who might
+come along, and he paid no rental fee to nation nor state for grazing
+his herds upon it. But the cattle barons had so apportioned the land
+between themselves, and Saul Chadron, and each member of the Drovers'
+Association, had the power of their mighty organization to uphold his
+hand. That power was incontestable in the Northwest in its day; there
+was no higher law.
+
+This Alan Macdonald was an unaccountable man, a man of education, it
+was said, which made him doubly dangerous in Saul Chadron's eyes. Saul
+himself had come up from the saddle, and he was not strong on letters,
+but he had seen the power of learning in lawyers' offices, and he
+respected it, and handled it warily, like a loaded gun.
+
+Chadron had sent his cowboys up the river when Macdonald first came,
+and tried to "throw a holy scare into him," as he put it. The old
+formula did not work in the case of the lean, long-jawed, bony-chinned
+man. He was polite, but obdurate, and his quick gray eyes seemed to
+read to their inner process of bluff and bluster as through tissue
+paper before a lamp. When they had tried to flash their guns on him,
+the climax of their play, he had beaten them to it. Two of them were
+carried back to the big ranchhouse in blankets, with bullets through
+their fleshy parts--not fatal wounds, but effective.
+
+The problem of a fighting "nester" was a new one to the cattlemen of
+that country. For twenty years they had kept that state under the
+dominion of the steer, and held its rich agricultural and mineral
+lands undeveloped. The herbage there, curing in the dry suns of summer
+as it stood on the upland plains, provided winter forage for their
+herds. There was no need for man to put his hand to the soil and
+debase himself to a peasant's level when he might live in a king's
+estate by roaming his herds over the untamed land.
+
+Homesteaders who did not know the conditions drifted there on the
+westward-mounting wave, only to be hustled rudely away, or to pay the
+penalty of refusal with their lives. Reasons were not given, rights
+were not pleaded by the lords of many herds. They had the might to
+work their will; that was enough.
+
+So it could be understood what indignation mounted in the breast of
+tough old Saul Chadron when a pigmy homesteader put his firm feet down
+on the ground and refused to move along at his command, and even
+fought back to maintain what he claimed to be his rights. It was an
+unprecedented stand, a dangerous example. But this nester had held out
+for more than two years against his forces, armed by some invisible
+strength, it seemed, guarded against ambuscades and surprises by some
+cunning sense which led him whole and secure about his nefarious
+ways.
+
+Not alone that, but other homesteaders had come and settled near him
+across the river on two other big ranches which cornered there against
+Chadron's own. These nesters drew courage from Macdonald's example,
+and cunning from his counsel, and stood against the warnings,
+persecutions, and attempts at forceful dislodgment. The law of might
+did not seem to apply to them, and there was no other source equal to
+the dignity of the Drovers' Association--at least none to which it
+cared to carry its grievances and air them.
+
+So they cut Alan Macdonald's fences, and other homesteaders' fences,
+in the night and drove a thousand or two cattle across his fields,
+trampling the growing grain and forage into the earth; they persecuted
+him in a score of harassing, quick, and hidden blows. But this
+homesteader was not to be driven away by ordinary means. Nature seemed
+to lend a hand to him, he made crops in spite of the cattlemen, and
+was prospering. He had taken root and appeared determined to remain,
+and the others were taking deep root with him, and the free, wide
+range was coming under the menace of the fence and the lowly plow.
+
+That was the condition of things in those fair autumn days when
+Prances Landcraft returned to the post. The Drovers' Association, and
+especially the president of it, was being defied in that section,
+where probably a hundred homesteaders had settled with their families
+of long-backed sons and daughters. They were but a speck on the land
+yet, as Chadron had told the smoky stranger when he had engaged him to
+try his hand at throwing the "holy scare." But they spread far over
+the upland plain, having sought the most favored spots, and they were
+a blight and a pest in the eyes of the cattlemen.
+
+Nola had flitted back to the ranchhouse, carrying Frances with her to
+bring down the curtain on her summer's festivities there in one last
+burst of joy. The event was to be a masquerade, and everybody from the
+post was coming, together with the few from Meander who had polish
+enough to float them, like new needles in a glass of water, through
+frontier society's depths. Some were coming from Cheyenne, also, and
+the big house was dressed for them, even to the bank of palms to
+conceal the musicians, in the polite way that society has of standing
+something in front of what it cannot well dispense with, yet of which
+it appears to be ashamed.
+
+It was the afternoon of the festal day, and Nola sighed happily as she
+stood with Frances in the ballroom, surveying the perfection of every
+detail. Money could do things away off there in that corner of the
+world as well as it could do them in Omaha or elsewhere. Saul Chadron
+had hothouses in which even oranges and pineapples grew.
+
+Mrs. Chadron was in the living-room, with its big fireplace and homely
+things, when they came chattering out of the enchanted place. She was
+sitting by the window which gave her a view of the dim gray road where
+it came over the grassy swells from Meander and the world, knitting a
+large blue sock.
+
+Mrs. Chadron was a cow-woman of the unimproved school. She was a heavy
+feeder on solids, and she liked plenty of chili peppers in them, which
+combination gave her a waist and a ruddiness of face like a brewer.
+But she was a good woman in her fashion, which was narrow, and
+intolerant of all things which did not wear hoofs and horns, or live
+and grow mighty from the proceeds of them. She never had expanded
+mentally to fit the large place that Saul had made for her in the
+world of cattle, although her struggle had been both painful and
+sincere.
+
+Now she had given it up, and dismissed the troubles of high life from
+her fat little head, leaving Nola to stand in the door and do the
+honors with credit to the entire family. She had settled down to her
+roasts and hot condiments, her knitting and her afternoon naps, as
+contentedly as an old cat with a singed back under a kitchen stove.
+She had no desire to go back to the winter home in Cheyenne, with its
+grandeur, its Chinese cook, and furniture that she was afraid to use.
+There was no satisfaction in that place for Mrs. Chadron, beyond the
+swelling pride of ownership. For comfort, peace, and a mind at ease,
+give her the ranchhouse by the river, where she could set her hand to
+a dish if she wanted to, no one thinking it amiss.
+
+"Well, I declare! if here don't come Banjo Gibson," said she, her hand
+on the curtain, her red face near the pane like a beacon to welcome
+the coming guest. There was pleasure in her voice, and anticipation.
+The blue sock slid from her lap to the floor, forgotten.
+
+"Yes, it's Banjo," said Nola. "I wonder where he's been all summer? I
+haven't seen him in an age."
+
+"Who is he?" Frances inquired, looking out at the approaching figure,
+
+"The troubadour of the North Platte, I call him," laughed Nola; "the
+queerest little traveling musician in a thousand miles. He belongs
+back in the days of romance, when men like him went playing from
+castle to court--the last one of his kind."
+
+Frances watched him with new interest as he drew up to the big gate,
+which was arranged with weights and levers so that a horseman could
+open and close it without leaving the saddle. The troubadour rode a
+mustang the color of a dry chili pepper, but with none of its spirit.
+It came in with drooping head, the reins lying untouched on its neck,
+its mane and forelock platted and adorned fantastically with
+vari-colored ribbons. Rosettes were on the bridle, a fringe of leather
+thongs along the reins.
+
+The musician himself was scarcely less remarkably than the horse. He
+looked at that distance--now being at the gate--to be a dry little man
+of middle age, with a thirsty look about his throat, which was long,
+with a lump in it like an elbow. He was a slender man and short, with
+gloves on his hands, a slight sandy mustache on his lip, and wearing a
+dun-colored hat tilted a little to one side, showing a waviness almost
+curly in his glistening black hair. He carried a violin case behind
+his saddle, and a banjo in a green covering slung like a carbine over
+his shoulder.
+
+"He'll know where to put his horse," said Mrs. Chadron, getting up
+with a new interest in life, "and I'll just go and have Maggie stir
+him up a bite to eat and warm the coffee. He's always hungry when he
+comes anywhere, poor little man!"
+
+"Can he play that battery of instruments?" Prances asked.
+
+"Wait till you hear him," nodded Nola, a laugh in her merry eyes.
+
+Then they fell to talking of the coming night, and of the trivial
+things which are so much to youth, and to watching along the road
+toward Meander for the expected guests from Cheyenne, who were to come
+up on the afternoon train.
+
+Regaled at length, Banjo Gibson, in the wake of Mrs. Chadron, who
+presented him with pride, came into the room where the young ladies
+waited with impatience the waning of the daylight hours. Banjo
+acknowledged the honor of meeting Miss Landcraft with extravagant
+words, which had the flavor of a manual of politeness and a ready
+letter-writer in them. He was on more natural terms with Nola, having
+known her since childhood, and he called her "Miss Nola," and held her
+hand with a tender lingering.
+
+His voice was full and rich, a deep, soft note in it like a rare
+instrument in tune. His small feet were shod in the shiningest of
+shoes, which he had given a furbishing in the barn, and a flowing
+cravat tied in a large bow adorned his low collar. There were stripes
+in the musician's shirt like a Persian tent, but it was as clean and
+unwrinkled as if he had that moment put it on.
+
+Banjo Gibson--if he had any other christened name, it was unknown to
+men--was an original. As Nola had said, he belonged back a few hundred
+years, when musical proficiency was not so common as now. The
+profession was not crowded in that country, happily, and Banjo
+traveled from ranch to ranch carrying cheer and entertainment with him
+as he passed.
+
+He had been doing that for years, having worked his way westward from
+Nebraska with the big cattle ranches, and his art was his living.
+Banjo's arrival at a ranch usually resulted in a dance, for which he
+supplied the music, and received such compensation as the generosity
+of the host might fix. Banjo never quarreled over such matters. All he
+needed was enough to buy cigarettes and shirts.
+
+Banjo seldom played in company with any other musician, owing to
+certain limitations, which he raised to distinguishing virtues. He
+played by "air," as he said, despising the unproficiency of all such
+as had need of looking on a book while they fiddled. Knowing nothing
+of transposition, he was obliged to tune his banjo--on those rare
+occasions when he stooped to play "second" at a dance--in the key of
+each fresh tune. This was hard on the strings, as well as on the
+patience of the player, and Banjo liked best to go it single-handed
+and alone.
+
+When he heard that musicians were coming from Cheyenne--a day's
+journey by train--to play for Nola's ball, his face told that he was
+hurt, but his respect of hospitality curbed his words. He knew that
+there was one appreciative ear in the mansion by the river that no
+amount of "dago fiddlin'" ever would charm and satisfy like his own
+voice with the banjo, or his little brown fiddle when it gave out the
+old foot-warming tunes. Mrs. Chadron was his champion in all company,
+and his friend in all places.
+
+"Well, sakes alive! Banjo, I'm as tickled to see you as if you was one
+of my own folks," she declared, her face as warm as if she had just
+gorged on the hottest of hot dishes which her Mexican cook, Maggie,
+could devise.
+
+"I'm glad to be able to make it around ag'in, thank you, mom," Banjo
+assured her, sentiment and soul behind the simple words. "I always
+carry a warm place in my heart for Alamito wherever I may stray."
+
+Nola frisked around and took the banjo from its green cover, talking
+all the time, pushing and placing chairs, and settling Banjo in a
+comfortable place. Then she armed him with the instrument, making
+quite a ceremony of it, and asked him to play.
+
+Banjo twanged the instrument into tune, hooked the toe of his left
+foot behind the forward leg of his chair, and struck up a song which
+he judged would please the young ladies. Of Mrs. Chadron he was sure;
+she had laughed over it a hundred times. It was about an adventure
+which the bard had shared with his gal in a place designated in
+Banjo's uncertain vocabulary as "the big cook-quari-um." It began:
+
+    Oh-h-h, I stopped at a big cook-quari-um
+      Not very long ago,
+    To see the bass and suckers
+      And hear the white whale blow.
+
+The chorus of it ran:
+
+    Oh-h-h-h, the big sea-line he howled and he growled,
+      The seal beat time on a drum;
+    The whale he swallered a den-vereel
+      In the big cook-quari-um.
+
+From that one Banjo passed to "The Cowboy's Lament," and from tragedy
+to love. There could be nothing more moving--if not in one direction,
+then in another--than the sentimental expression of Banjo's little
+sandy face as he sang:
+
+    I know you were once my true-lov-o-o-o,
+      But such a thing it has an aind;
+    My love and my transpo'ts are ov-o-o-o,
+      But you may still be my fraind-d-d.
+
+Sundown was rosy behind the distant mountains, a sea of purple shadows
+laved their nearer feet, when Banjo got out his fiddle at Mrs.
+Chadron's request and sang her "favorite" along with the moving tones
+of that instrument.
+
+    Dau-ling I am growing-a o-o-eld,
+    Seel-vo threads a-mong tho go-o-ld--
+
+As he sang, Nola slipped from the room. He was finishing when she sped
+by the window and came sparkling into the room with the announcement
+that the guests from far Cheyenne were coming. Frances was up in
+excitement; Mrs. Chadron searched the floor for her unfinished sock.
+
+"What was that flashed a-past the winder like a streak a minute ago?"
+Banjo inquired.
+
+"Flashed by the window?" Nola repeated, puzzled.
+
+Frances laughed, the two girls stopping in the door, merriment
+gleaming from their young faces like rays from iridescent gems.
+
+"Why, that was Nola," Frances told him, curious to learn what the
+sentimental eyes of the little musician foretold.
+
+"I thought it was a star from the sky," said Banjo, sighing softly,
+like a falling leaf.
+
+As they waited at the gate to welcome the guests, who were cantering
+up with a curtain of dust behind them, they laughed over Banjo's
+compliment.
+
+"I knew there was something behind those eyes," said Frances.
+
+"No telling how long he's been saving it for a chance to work it off
+on somebody," Nola said. "He got it out of a book--the Mexicans all
+have them, full of _brindies_, what we call toasts, and silly soft
+compliments like that."
+
+"I've seen them, little red books that they give for premiums with the
+Mexican papers down in Texas," Frances nodded, "but Banjo didn't get
+that out of a book--it was spontaneous."
+
+"I must write it down, and compare it with the next time he gets it
+off."
+
+"Give him credit for the way he delivered it, no matter where he got
+it," Frances laughed. "Many a more sophisticated man than your desert
+troubadour would have broken his neck over that. He's in love with
+you, Nola--didn't you hear him sigh?"
+
+"Oh, he has been ever since I was old enough to take notice of it,"
+returned Nola, lightly.
+
+"Oh, my luv's like a falling star," paraphrased Frances.
+
+"Not much!" Nola denied, more than half serious. "Venus is ascendant;
+you keep your eye on her and see."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE MAN IN THE PLAID
+
+
+There was no mistaking the assiduity with which Major King waited upon
+Nola Chadron that night at the ball, any more than there was a chance
+for doubt of that lively little lady's identity. He sought her at the
+first, and hung by her side through many dances, and promenaded her in
+the garden walks where Japanese lanterns glimmered dimly in the soft
+September night, with all the close attention of a farrier cooling a
+valuable horse.
+
+Perhaps it was punishment--or meant to be--for the insubordination of
+Frances Landcraft in speaking to the outlawed Alan Macdonald on last
+beef day. If so, it was systematically and faithfully administered.
+
+Nola was dressed like a cowgirl. Not that there were any cowgirls in
+that part of the country, or anywhere else, who dressed that way,
+except at the Pioneer Week celebration at Cheyenne, and in the
+romantic dramas of the West. But she was so attired, perhaps for the
+advantage the short skirt gave her handsome ankles--and something in
+silk stockings which approached them in tapering grace.
+
+She was improving her hour, whether out of exuberant mischief or in
+deadly earnest the ladies from the post were puzzled to understand,
+and if headway toward the already pledged heart of Major King was any
+indication of it, her star was indeed ascendant.
+
+Frances Landcraft appeared at the ball as an Arabian lady, meaning in
+her own interpretation of the masking to stand as a representation of
+the "Thou," who is endearingly and importantly capitalized in the
+verses of the ancient singer made famous by Irish-English Fitzgerald.
+Her disguise was sufficient, only that her hair was so richly
+assertive. There was not any like it in the cattle country; very
+little like it anywhere. It was a telltale, precious possession, and
+Major King never could have made good a plea of hidden identity
+against it in this world.
+
+Frances had consolation enough for his alienation and absence from her
+side if numbers could compensate for the withdrawal of the fealty of
+one. She distributed her favors with such judicial fairness that the
+tongue of gossip could not find a breach. At least until the tall
+Scotsman appeared, with his defiant red hair and a feather in his
+bonnet, his plaid fastened across his shoulder with a golden clasp.
+
+Nobody knew when he arrived, or whence. He spoke to none as he walked
+in grave stateliness among the merry groups, acknowledging bold
+challenges and gay banterings only with a bow. The ladies from the
+post had their guesses as to who he might be, and laid cunning little
+traps to provoke him into betrayal through his voice. As cunningly he
+evaded
+
+them, with unsmiling courtesy, his steady gray eyes only seeming to
+laugh at them behind his green mask.
+
+Frances had finished a dance with a Robin Hood--the slender one in
+billiard-cloth green--there being no fewer than four of them,
+variously rounded, diversely clad, when the Scot approached her where
+she stood with her gallant near the musicians' brake of palms.
+
+    A flask of wine, a book of verse--and Thou
+    Beside me singing in the wilderness--
+
+said the tall Highlandman, bending over her shoulder, his words low in
+her ear. "Only I could be happy without the wine," he added, as she
+faced him in quick surprise.
+
+"Your penetration deserves a reward--you are the first to guess it,"
+said she.
+
+"Three dances, no less," said he, like a usurer demanding his toll.
+
+He offered his arm, and straightway bore her off from the astonished
+Robin Hood, who stood staring after them, believing, perhaps, that he
+was the victim of some prearranged plan.
+
+The spirit of his free ancestors seemed to be in the lithe, tall
+Highlander's feet. There was no dancer equal to him in that room. A
+thistle on the wind was not lighter, nor a wheeling swallow more
+graceful in its flight.
+
+Many others stopped their dancing to watch that pair; whisperings ran
+round like electrical conjectures. Nola steered Major King near the
+whirling couple, and even tried to maneuver a collision, which
+failed.
+
+"Who is that dancing with Frances Landcraft?" she breathed in the
+major's ear.
+
+"I didn't know it was Miss Landcraft," he replied, although he knew it
+very well, and resolved to find out who the Scotsman was, speedily and
+completely.
+
+"My enchanted hour will soon pass," said the Scot, when that dance was
+done, "and I have been looking the world over for you."
+
+"Dancing all the way?" she asked him lightly.
+
+"Far from it," he answered, his voice still muffled and low.
+
+They were standing withdrawn a little from the press in the room after
+their second dance, when Major King came by. The major was a cavalier
+in drooping hat, with white satin cape, and sword by his side, and
+well enough known to all his friends in spite of the little spat of
+mustache and beard. As the major passed he jostled the Scot with his
+shoulder with a rudeness openly intentional.
+
+The major turned, and spoke an apology. Frances felt the Highlander's
+muscles swell suddenly where her hand lay on his arm, but whatever had
+sprung into his mind he repressed, and acknowledged the major's
+apology with a lofty nod.
+
+The music for another dance was beginning, and couples were whirling
+out upon the floor.
+
+"I don't care to dance again just now, delightfully as you carry a
+clumsy one like me through--"
+
+"A self-disparagement, even, can't stand unchallenged," he interrupted.
+
+"Mr. Macdonald," she whispered, "your wig is awry."
+
+They were near the door opening to the illumined garden, with its late
+roses, now at their best, and hydrangea clumps plumed in foggy bloom.
+They stepped out of the swirl of the dance like particles thrown from
+a wheel, not missed that moment even by those interested in keeping
+them in sight.
+
+"You knew me!" said he, triumphantly glad, as they entered the
+garden's comparative gloom.
+
+"At the first word," said she.
+
+"I came here in the hope that you would know me, and you alone--I came
+with my heart full of that hope, and you knew me at the first word!"
+
+There was not so much marvel as satisfaction, even pride for her
+penetration, in it.
+
+"Somebody else may have recognized you, too--that man who brushed
+against you--"
+
+"He's one of your officers."
+
+"I know--Major King. Do you know him?"
+
+"No, and he doesn't know me. He can have no interest in me at all."
+
+"Very well; set your beautiful red wig straight and then tell me why
+you wanted to come here among your enemies. It seems to me a hardy
+challenge, a most unnecessary risk."
+
+"No risk is unnecessary that brings me to you," he said, his voice
+trembling in earnestness. "I dared to come because I hoped to meet you
+on equal ground."
+
+"You're a bold man--in more ways than one." She shook her head as in
+rebuke of his temerity.
+
+"But you don't believe I'm a thief," said he, conclusively.
+
+"No; I have made public denial of it." She laughed lightly, but a
+little nervously, an uneasiness over her that she could not define.
+
+"An angel has risen to plead for Alan Macdonald, then!"
+
+"Why should you need anybody to plead for you if there's no truth in
+their charges? What is a man like you doing in this wild place,
+wasting his life in a land where he isn't wanted?"
+
+They had turned into a path that branched beyond the lanterns. The
+white gravel from the river bars with which it was paved glimmered
+among the shadowy shrubs. Macdonald unclasped his plaid from his
+shoulders and transferred it to hers. She drew it round her, wrapping
+her arms in it like a squaw, for the wind was coming chill from the
+mountains now.
+
+"It is soon said," he answered, quite willingly. "I am not hiding
+under any other man's name--the one they call me by here is my own. I
+was a 'son of a family,' as they say in Mexico, and looked for
+distinction, if not glory, in the diplomatic service. Four years I
+grubbed, an under secretary in the legation at Mexico City, then
+served three more as consul at Valparaiso. An engineer who helped put
+the railroad through this country told me about it down there when the
+rust of my inactive life was beginning to canker my body and brain. I
+threw up my chance for diplomatic distinction and came off up here
+looking for life and adventure, and maybe a copper mine. I didn't find
+the mine, but I've had some fun with the other two. Sometimes I'd like
+to lose the adventure part of it now--it gets tiresome to be hunted,
+after a while."
+
+"What else?" she asked, after a little, seeing that he walked slowly,
+his head up, his eyes far away on the purple distances of the night,
+as if he read a dream.
+
+"I settled in this valley quite innocently, as others have done,
+before and after me, not knowing conditions. You've heard it said that
+I'm a rustler--"
+
+"King of the rustlers," she corrected.
+
+"Yes, even that. But I am not a rustler. Everybody up here is a
+rustler, Miss Landcraft, who doesn't belong to, or work for, the
+Drovers' Association. They can't oust us by merely charging us with
+homesteading government land, for that hasn't been made a statutory
+crime yet. They have to make some sort of a charge against us to give
+the color of justification to the crimes they practice on us, and
+rustler is the worst one in the cattlemen's dictionary. It stands
+ahead of murder and arson in this country. I'm not saying there are no
+rustlers around the edges of these big ranches, for there are some.
+But if there are any among the settlers up our way we don't know
+it--and I think we'd pretty soon find out."
+
+They turned and walked back toward the house.
+
+"I don't see why you should trouble about it; this plainly isn't your
+place," she said.
+
+"First, I refused to be driven out by Chadron and the rest because the
+thing got on my mettle. I knew that I was right, and that they were
+simply stealing the public domain. Then, as I hung on, it became
+apparent that there was a man's work cut out for somebody up here.
+I've taken the ready-made job."
+
+"Tell me about it."
+
+"There's a monstrous injustice being practiced, systematically and
+cruelly, against thousands of homeless people who come to this country
+in innocent hope every year. They come here believing it's the great
+big open-handed West they've heard so much about, carrying everything
+with them that they own. They cut the strings that hold them to the
+things they know when they face this way, and when they try to settle
+on the land that is their inheritance, this copper-bottomed
+combination of stockmen drives them out. If they don't go, they shoot
+them. You've heard of it."
+
+"Not just that way," said she, thoughtfully.
+
+"No, they never shoot anybody but a rustler, the way the world hears
+of it," said he, in resentment. "But they'll hear another story on the
+outside one of these days. I'm in this fight up to the eyes to break
+the back of this infernal combination that's choking this state to
+death. It's the first time in my life that I ever laid my hand to
+anything for anybody but myself, and I'm going to see it through to
+daylight."
+
+"But there must be millions behind the cattlemen, Mr. Macdonald."
+
+"There are. It seems just about hopeless that a handful of ragged
+homesteaders ever can make a stand against them. But they're usurping
+the public domain, and they'll overreach themselves one of these days.
+Chadron has title to this homestead, but that's every inch of land
+that he's got a legal right over. In spite of that, he lays the claim
+of ownership to the land fifteen miles north of here, where I've
+nested. He's been telling me for more than two years that I must clear
+out."
+
+"You could give it up, and go back to your work among men, where it
+would count," she said.
+
+"There are things here that count. I couldn't put a state on the
+map--an industrial and progressive one, I mean--back home in
+Washington, or sitting with my feet on the desk in some sleepy
+consulate. And I'm going to put this state on the map where it
+belongs. That's the job that's cut out for me here, Miss Landcraft."
+
+He said it without boast, but with such a stubborn note of determination
+that she felt something lift within her, raising her to the plane of
+his aspirations. She knew that Alan Macdonald was right about it,
+although the thing that he would do was still dim in her perception.
+
+"Even then, I don't see what a ranch away off up here from anywhere
+ever will be worth to you, especially when the post is abandoned. You
+know the department is going to give it up?"
+
+"And then you--" he began in consternation, checking himself to add,
+slowly, "no, I didn't know that."
+
+"Perhaps in a year."
+
+"It can't make much difference in the value of land up this valley,
+though," he mused. "When the railroad comes on through--and that will
+be as soon as we break the strangle hold of Chadron and men like
+him--this country will develop overnight. There's petroleum under the
+land up where I am, lying shallow, too. That will be worth something
+then."
+
+The music of an old-style dance was being played. Now the piping
+cowboy voice of some range cavalier rose, calling the figures. The two
+in the garden path turned with one accord and faced away from the
+bright windows again.
+
+"They'll be unmasking at midnight?" he asked.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I'm afraid I can't go in again, then. The hour of my enchantment is
+nearly at its end."
+
+"You shouldn't have come," she chided, yet not in severity, rather in
+subdued admiration for his reckless bravery. "Suppose they--"
+
+"Mac! O Mac!" called a cautious, low voice from a hydrangea bush close
+at hand.
+
+"Who's there?" demanded Macdonald, springing forward.
+
+"They're onto you, Mac," answered the voice from the shrub, "they're
+goin' to do you hurt. They're lookin' for you now!"
+
+There was a little rustling in the leaves as the unseen friend moved
+away. The voice was the voice of Banjo Gibson, but not even the shadow
+of the messenger had been seen.
+
+"You should have gone before--hurry!" she whispered in alarm.
+
+"Never mind. It was a risk, and I took it, and I'd take it again
+tomorrow. It gave me these minutes with you, it was worth--"
+
+"You must go! Where's your horse?"
+
+"Down by the river in the willows. I can get to him, all right."
+
+"They may come any minute, they--"
+
+"No, they're dancing yet. I expected they'd find me out; they know me
+too well. I'll get a start of them, before they even know I'm gone."
+
+"They may be waiting farther on--why don't you go--go! There--listen!
+
+"They're saddling," he whispered, as low sounds of haste came from the
+barnyard corral.
+
+"Go--quick!" she urged, flinging his plaid across his arm.
+
+"I'm going--in one moment more. Miss Landcraft, I'll ride away from
+you tonight perhaps never to see you again, and if I speak impetuously
+before I leave you, forgive me before you hear the words--they'll not
+hurt you--I don't believe they'll shame you."
+
+"Don't say anything more, Mr. Macdonald--even this delay may cost your
+life!"
+
+"They'll kill me if they can; they've tried it more than once. I never
+know when I ride away whether I'll ever return. It isn't a new
+experience, just a little graver than usual--only that. I came here
+tonight because I--I came to--in the hope--" he stammered, putting out
+his hands as if supplicating her to understand, his plaid falling to
+the ground.
+
+"Go!" she whispered, her hand on his arm in appeal, standing near him,
+dangerously near.
+
+"I've got a right to love you--I've got a right!" he said, the torrent
+of his passion leaping all curbing obstacles of delicacy, confusion,
+fear. He flung the words from him in wild vehemence, as if they eased
+a pang.
+
+"No--no, you have no right! you--"
+
+"I'll leave you in a minute, Frances, without the expectation of ever
+seeing you again--only with the hope. It's mine to love you, mine to
+have you if I come through this night. If you're pledged to another
+man it can't be because you love him, and I'll tear the right away
+from him--if I come through this night!"
+
+He spoke rapidly, bending so near that his breath moved the hair on
+her temple. She stood with arms half lifted, her hands clenched, her
+breath laboring in her bosom. She did not know that love--she had not
+known that love--could spring up that way, and rage like a flame
+before a wind.
+
+"If you're pledged to another man, then I'll defy him, man to man--I
+do defy him, I challenge him!"
+
+As he spoke he stooped, suddenly, like a wind-bent flame, clasped her,
+kissed her, held her enfolded in his arms one moment against his
+breast. He released her then, and stepped back, standing tall and
+silent, as if he waited for her blast of scorn. It did not come. She
+was standing with hands pressed to her face, as if to cover some shame
+or sorrow, or ease the throbbing of a soul-deep pain.
+
+The sound of men and horses came from the corral. He stood, waiting
+for judgment.
+
+"Go now," she said, in a sad, small voice.
+
+"Give me a token to carry away, to tell me I have not broken my golden
+hope," he said.
+
+"No, I'll give you nothing!" she declared, with the sharpness of one
+wronged, and helpless of redress. "You have taken too much--you have
+taken--"
+
+"What?" he asked, as if he exulted in what he heard, his blood singing
+in his ears.
+
+"Oh, go--go!" she moaned, stripping off one long white glove and
+throwing it to him.
+
+He caught it, and pressed it to his lips; then snatching off his
+bonnet, hid it there, and bent among the shrubbery and was gone, as
+swiftly and silently as a wolf. Frances flew to the house and up the
+stairs to her room. There she threw up the window and sat panting in
+it, straining, listening, for sounds from the river road.
+
+From below the voices of the revelers came, and the laughter over the
+secrets half-guessed before masks were snatched away around the
+banquet table. There was a dash of galloping hoofs from the corral,
+the clatter of the closing gate. The sound grew dimmer, was lost, in
+the sand of the hoof-cut trail.
+
+After a little, a shot! two! a silence; three! and one as if in reply.
+Frances slipped to her knees beside the open window, a sob as bitter
+as the pang of death rising from her breast. She prayed that Alan
+Macdonald might ride fast, and that the vindictive hands of his
+enemies might be unsteady that night by the gray riverside.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+IF HE WAS A GENTLEMAN
+
+
+"Don't you think we'd better drop it now, Frances, and be good?"
+
+Major King reined his horse near hers as he spoke, and laid his hand
+on the pommel of her saddle as if he expected to meet other fingers
+there.
+
+"You puzzle me, Major King," she returned, not willing to understand.
+
+They were bringing up the rear of the tired procession which was
+returning to the post from the ball. Already the east was quickening.
+The stars near the horizon were growing pale; the morning wind was
+moving, with a warmth in it from the low places, like a tide toward
+the mountains.
+
+"Oh, I mean this play acting of estrangement," said he, impatiently.
+"Let's forget it--it doesn't carry naturally with either you or me."
+
+"Why, Major King!" Her voice was lively with mild surprise; she was
+looking at him as if for verification of his words. Then, slowly: "I
+hadn't thought of any estrangement, I hadn't intended to bring you to
+task for one flirtatious night. Be sure, sir, if it has given you
+pleasure, it has brought me no pain."
+
+"You began it," said he, petulantly. It is almost unbelievable how
+boyishly silly a full-grown man can be.
+
+"I began it, Major King? It's too early in the morning for a joke!"
+
+"You were wilful and contrary; you would speak to the fellow that
+day."
+
+"Oh!" deprecatingly.
+
+"Never mind it, though. Wilfulness doesn't become either of us,
+Frances. I've tried my turn at it tonight, and it has left me cold."
+
+"Poor man!" said she, in low voice, like a sigh. Perhaps it was not
+all for Major King; perhaps not all assumed.
+
+"Let's not quarrel, Frances."
+
+"Not now, I'm too tired for a real good one. Leave it for tomorrow."
+
+He rode on in silence, not sure, maybe, how much of it she meant.
+Covertly she looked at him now and then, thinking better of him for
+his ingenuous confession of failure to warm himself at little Nola
+Chadron's heart-flame. She extended her hand.
+
+"Forgive me, Major King," she said, very softly, not far removed,
+indeed, from tenderness.
+
+For a little while Major King left his horse to keep the road its own
+way, his cavalry hands quite regardless of manuals, regulations, and
+military airs. Both of them were enfolding her one. He might have held
+it until they reached the post, but that she drew it away.
+
+There were some qualms of uneasiness in her breast that hour, some
+upbraidings of conscience for treason to Major King, of whom she had
+been girlishly fond, girlishly proud, womanly selfish. That quick,
+wild scene in the garden was not to be put away for all those
+arraignments of her honest heart, although it seemed impossible,
+recalled there in the thin hours of that long and eventful night, like
+something remembered of another, not of herself.
+
+Her cheeks grew hot, her heart leaped again, at the recollection of
+that strong man's wild, bold words, his defiant kiss upon her lips.
+She had yielded them in the recklessness of that moment, in the force
+of his all-carrying demand, when she might have denied them, or sped
+away from him, as innocence is believed to know from instinct when to
+fly from a destructive lure.
+
+Closing her eyes against the gray-creeping morning, she saw him again,
+standing that moment with her glove to his lips; saw him bend and
+speed away, the cunning of his hunted ancestors in his swift feet and
+self-eliminating form. A wild fear struck her, a cold dread fell like
+ashes into her heart, as she wondered how well he had ridden that
+night, and how far.
+
+Perhaps he was lying in his blood that hour, never to come back to her
+again. Yet, why should it matter so much to her? Only that it was a
+gallant life gone out, whatever its faults had been; only the interest
+that she might have in any man who had danced with her, and told her
+his story, and spoken of his designs. So she said, confessing with the
+same breath that it was a poor, self-deluding lie.
+
+Back again in her home at the post, the day awake around her, reveille
+sounding in the barracks, she turned the key in her door as if to shut
+the secret in with her, and bent beneath the strain of her long
+suspense. She no longer tried to conceal, or to deny to her own heart,
+the love she bore that man, which had come so suddenly, and so
+fiercely sweet.
+
+No longer past than the evening before her heart had ached with
+jealous pain over the little triumph that Nola Chadron had thought she
+was making of Major King. Now Nola might have Major King, and all the
+world beside that her little head might covet. There was no
+reservation in the surrender that she made of him in her conscience,
+no regret.
+
+She reproached herself for it in one breath, and glowed with a strange
+new gladness the next, clasping the great secret fearfully in her
+breast, in the world-old delusion that she had come into possession of
+a treasure uniquely and singularly her own. One thing she understood
+plainly now; she never had loved Major King. What a revolution it was
+to overturn a life's plans thus in a single night! thought she.
+
+How easily we are astounded by the eruptions in our own affairs, and
+how disciplined in the end to find that the foundations of the world
+have withstood the shock!
+
+Chadron himself had not gone out after Macdonald. He had been merry
+among his guests long after the shots had sounded up the river.
+Frances believed that the old man had put the matter into the hands of
+his cowboys and ranch foreman, having no sons, no near male relatives
+of his own in that place. She did not know how many had gone in
+pursuit of Macdonald, but several horses were in the party which rode
+out of the gate. None had returned, she was certain, at the time the
+party dispersed. The chase must have led them far.
+
+There was no way of knowing what the result of that race had been. If
+he had escaped, Frances believed that he would let her know in some
+way; if he had fallen, she knew that the news of his death, important
+as it would be to Chadron, would fly as if it had wings. There was
+nothing to do but wait, and in any event hide away that warm sweet
+thing that had unfolded in beautiful florescence in her soul.
+
+She told herself that he must have escaped, or the pursuers would have
+returned long before the party from the post left the Chadron house.
+He had led them a long ride in his daring way, and doubtless was
+laughing at them now in his own house, among his friends. She wondered
+what his surroundings were, and what his life was like on that ranch
+for which he risked it. In the midst of this speculation she fell
+asleep, and lay wearily in dreamless repose for many hours.
+
+Sleep is a marvelous clarifier of the mind. It is like the saleratus
+which the pioneers used to cast into their barrels of Missouri River
+water, to precipitate the silt and make it clear. Frances rose out of
+her sleep with readjusted reasoning; in fear, and in doubt.
+
+She was shocked by the surrender that she had made to that unknown
+man. Perhaps he was nothing more than a thief, as charged, and this
+story fixing his identification had been only a fabrication. An honest
+man would have had no necessity for such haste, such wild insistence
+of his right to love her. It seemed, in the light of due reflection,
+the rude way of an outlawed hand.
+
+Then there came the soft pleading of something deeper to answer for
+Alan Macdonald, and to justify his rash deed. He had risked life to
+see her and set himself right in her eyes, and he had doubled the risk
+in standing there in the garden, defiantly proud, unbent, and
+unrepentant, refusing to leave her without some favor to carry away.
+
+There was only a sigh to answer it, after all; only a hope that time
+would bring her neither shame nor regret for that romantic passage in
+the dusky garden path. That she had neither shame nor regret in that
+hour was her sweetest consolation. More, she was comfortable in the
+security that the secret of that swift interlude was her own. Honest
+man or thief, Alan Macdonald was not the man to speak of that.
+
+Frances was surprised to find that she had slept into the middle of
+the afternoon. Major King had called an hour ago, with inquiries, the
+maid reported. There! that must be the major's ring again--she hoped
+she might know it by this time, indeed. In case it was the major,
+would miss--
+
+Yes; miss would see him. Ask him to wait. The maid's ear was true; it
+was the major's ring. She came bounding upstairs to report on it, her
+breath short, her eyes big.
+
+"Oh, miss! I think something must 'a' happened to him, he looks all
+shook!" she said.
+
+"Nonsense!" said Frances, a little flutter of apprehension,
+indefinable, cold, passing through her nerves in spite of her bearing
+and calm face.
+
+Major King had remained standing, waiting her. He was handsome and
+trim in his uniform, dark-eyed, healthy-skinned, full of the vigor of
+his young manhood. The major's face was pale, his carriage stiff and
+severe. He appeared as if something might have happened to him,
+indeed, or to somebody in whom he was deeply concerned.
+
+Frances knew that her face was a picture of the worriment and
+straining of her past night, for it was a treacherous mirror of her
+soul. She smiled as she made a little pause in the reception-room
+door. Major King bowed, with formal, almost official, dignity. His
+hand was in the bosom of his coat, and he drew it forth with something
+white in it as she approached.
+
+"I'm dreadfully indolent to belong to a soldiering family, Major
+King," she said, offering her hand in greeting.
+
+"Permit me," said he, placing the folded white thing in her
+outstretched fingers.
+
+"What is it? Not--it isn't--" she stammered, something deeper than
+surprise, than foreboding, in her eyes and colorless cheeks.
+
+"Unmistakably yours," he said; "your name is stamped in it."
+
+"It must be," she owned, her spirits sinking low, her breath weak
+between her lips. "Thank you, Major King."
+
+The glove was soiled with earth-marks; it was wrinkled and drawn, as
+if it had come back to her through conflict and tragedy. She rolled it
+deliberately, in a compact little wad, her fingers as cold as her hope
+for the life of the man who had borne it away. She knew that Major
+King was waiting for a word; she was conscious of his stern eyes upon
+her face. But she did not speak. As far as Major King's part in it
+went, the matter was at an end.
+
+"Miss Landcraft, I am waiting."
+
+Major King spoke with imperious suggestion. She started, and looked
+toward him quickly, a question in her eyes.
+
+"I sha'n't keep you then," she returned, her words little more than a
+whisper.
+
+"Don't try to read a misunderstanding into my words," said he, his
+voice shaking. Then he seemed to break his stiff, controlled pose as
+if it had been a coating of ice, and expand into a trembling,
+white-hot man in a moment. "God's name, girl! Say something, say
+something! You know where that glove was found?"
+
+"No; and I shall not ask you, Major King."
+
+"But I demand of you to know how it came in that man's possession!
+Tell me that--tell me!"
+
+He stood before her, very near to her. His hands were shaking, his
+eyes gleaming with fury.
+
+"I might ask you with as much reason how it came in yours," she told
+him, resentful of his angry demand.
+
+"A messenger arrived with it an hour ago."
+
+"For you, Major King?"
+
+"For me, certainly."
+
+She had no need to ask him whence the messenger came. She could see
+the horsemen returning to the ranchhouse by the river in the gray
+morning light, in the triumph of their successful hunt. Alan Macdonald
+had fallen. It had been Nola's hand that had dispatched this evidence
+of what she could but guess to be the disloyalty of Frances to her
+betrothed. If Nola had hoped to make a case with the major, Frances
+felt she had succeeded better than she knew.
+
+"Then there is nothing more to be said, Major King," said she, after a
+little wait.
+
+"There is much more," he insisted. "Tell me that he snatched the glove
+from you, tell me that you lost it--tell me anything, and I'll believe
+you--but tell me something!"
+
+"There is nothing to tell you," said she, resentful of the meddling of
+Nola Chadron, which his own light conduct with her had in a manner
+justified.
+
+"Then I can only imagine the truth," he told her, bitterly. "But
+surely you didn't give him the glove, surely you cannot love that wolf
+of the range, that cattle thief, that murderer!"
+
+"You have no right to ask me that," she said, flashing with
+resentment.
+
+"I have a right to ask you that, to ask you more; not only to ask, but
+to demand. And you must answer. You forget that you are my affianced
+wife."
+
+"But you are not my confessor, for all that."
+
+"God's name!" groaned King, his teeth set, his eyes staring as if he
+had gone mad. "Will you shame us both? Do you forget you are _my
+affianced wife?_"
+
+"That is ended--you are free!"
+
+"Frances!" he cried, sharply, as in despair of one sinking, whom he
+was powerless to save.
+
+"It is at an end between us, Major King. My 'necessity' of explaining
+everything, or anything, to you is wiped away, your responsibility for
+my acts relieved. Lift your head, sir. You need not blush before the
+world for me!"
+
+Sweat was springing on the major's forehead; he drew his breath
+through open lips.
+
+"I refuse to humor your caprice--you are irresponsible, you don't know
+what you are doing," he declared. "You are forcing the issue to this
+point, Frances, I haven't demanded this."
+
+"You have demanded too much. You may go now, Major King."
+
+"It's only the infatuation of a moment. You can't care for a man like
+that, Frances," he argued, shaken out of his passion by her determined
+stand.
+
+"This is not a matter for discussion between you and me, sir."
+
+Major King bowed his head as if the rebuke had crushed him. She stood
+aside to let him pass. When he reached the door she turned to him. He
+paused, expectantly, hopefully, as if he felt that a reconciliation
+was dawning.
+
+"If it hadn't been for you they wouldn't have discovered him last
+night," she charged. "You betrayed him to his enemies. Can you tell
+me, then--will you tell me--is Alan Macdonald--dead?"
+
+Major King stood, his stern eyes on the glove, unrolled again, now
+dangling in her hand.
+
+"If he was a gentleman, as you said of him once, then he is dead,"
+said he.
+
+He turned and left her. She did not look after him, but stood with the
+soiled glove spread in her hands, gazing upon it in sad tenderness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+A BOLD CIVILIAN
+
+
+Colonel Landcraft was a slight man, and short of stature for a
+soldierly figure when out of the saddle. His gray hair was thinning in
+front, and his sharp querulous face was seamed in frowning pattern
+about the eyes. His forehead was fashioned on an intention of
+massiveness out of keeping with his tapering face, which ran out in a
+disappointing chin, and under the shadow of that projecting brow his
+cold blue eyes seemed as unfriendly as a winter sky.
+
+Early in his soldiering days the colonel had felt the want of inches
+and pounds, a shortage which he tried to overcome by carrying himself
+pulled up stiffly, giving him a strutting effect that had fastened
+upon him and become inseparable from his mien. This air of superior
+brusqueness was sharpened by the small fierceness of his visage, in
+which his large iron-gray mustache branched like horns.
+
+Smallness of stature, disappointment in his ambition for preferment,
+and a natural narrowness of soul, had turned Colonel Landcraft into a
+military martinet of the most pronounced character. He was the
+grandfather of colonels in the service, rank won in the old Indian
+days. That he was not a brigadier-general was a circumstance puzzling
+only to himself. He was a man of small bickerings, exactions, forms.
+He fussed with civilians as a regular thing when in command of posts
+within the precincts of civilization, and to serve under him, as
+officer or man, was a chafing and galling experience.
+
+If ever there was an unpopular man in the service, then that man was
+Colonel John Hancock Landcraft, direct descendant--he could figure it
+out as straight as a bayonet--of the heavy-handed signer himself. His
+years and his empty desires bore heavily on the colonel. The trespass
+of time he resented; the barrenness of his hope he grieved.
+
+There he was in those Septembral days, galloping along toward the age
+limit and retirement. Within a few weeks he would be subject to call
+before the retiring board any day, and there was nothing in his
+short-remaining time of service to shore up longer the hope of
+advancement in rank as compensatory honor in his retirement. He was a
+testy little old man, charged for instant explosion, and it was
+generally understood by everybody but the colonel himself that the
+department had sent him off to Fort Shakie to get him out of the way.
+
+On the afternoon of the day following Nola Chadron's ball, when Major
+King returned to Frances the glove that Alan Macdonald had carried
+away from the garden, Colonel Landcraft was a passenger on the mail
+stage from Meander to the post. The colonel had been on official
+business to the army post at Cheyenne. Instead of telegraphing to his
+own post the intelligence of his return, and calling for a proper
+equipage to meet him at the railroad end, he had chosen to come back
+in this secret and unexpected way.
+
+That was true to the colonel's manner. Perhaps he hoped to catch
+somebody overstepping the line of decorum, regulations, forms, either
+in the conduct of the post's business or his own household. For the
+colonel was as much a tyrant in one place as the other. So he
+eliminated himself, wrapped to the bushy eyebrows in his greatcoat,
+for there was a chilliness in the afternoon, and clouds were driving
+over the sun.
+
+His austerity silenced the talkative driver, and when the stage
+reached the hotel the colonel parted from him without a word and
+clicked away briskly on his military heels--built up to give him
+stature--to see what he might surprise out of joint at the post.
+
+Perhaps it was a shock to his valuation of his own indispensability to
+find everything in proper form at the post. The sentry paced before
+the flagstaff, decorum prevailed. There was not one small particular
+loose to give him ground for flying at the culpable person and raking
+him with his blistering fire.
+
+Colonel Landcraft turned into his own house with a countenance
+somewhat fallen as a consequence of this discovery. It seemed to bear
+home to him the fact that the United States Army would get along very
+neatly and placidly without him.
+
+The colonel occupied one wing of his sprawling, commodious, and
+somewhat impressive house as official headquarters. This room was full
+of stiff bookcases, letter files, severe chairs. The colonel's desk
+stood near the fireplace in a strong light, with nothing ever
+unfinished left upon it. It was one of the colonel's greatest
+satisfactions in life that he always was ready to snap down the cover
+of that desk at a moment's notice and march away upon a campaign to
+the world's end--and his own--leaving everything clear behind him.
+
+A private walk led up to a private door in the colonel's quarters,
+where a private in uniform, with a rifle on his shoulder, made a
+formal parade when the colonel was within, and accessible to the
+military world for the transaction of business. This sentinel was not
+on duty now, the return of the colonel being unlooked-for, and nobody
+was the wiser in that household when the master of it let himself into
+the room with his key.
+
+The day was merging into dusk, or the colonel probably would have been
+aware that a man was hastening after him along the leaf-strewn walk as
+he passed up the avenue to his home. He was not many rods behind the
+colonel, and was gaining on him rapidly, when the crabbed old
+gentleman closed his office door softly behind him.
+
+The unmilitary visitor--this fact was betrayed by both his gait and
+his dress--turned sharply in upon the private walk and followed the
+colonel to his door. He was turning through the letters and telegrams
+which had arrived during his absence when the visitor laid hand to the
+bell.
+
+No sound of ringing followed this application to the thumbscrew
+arrangement on the door, for the colonel had taken the bell away long
+ago. But there resulted a clucking, which brought the colonel to the
+portal frowning and alert, warming in the expectation of having
+somebody whom he might dress down at last.
+
+"Colonel Landcraft, I beg the favor of a word in private," said the
+stranger at the door.
+
+The colonel opened the door wider, and peered sharply at the visitor,
+a frown gathering on his unfriendly face.
+
+"I haven't the honor"--he began stiffly, seeing that it was an
+inferior civilian, for all civilians, except the president, were
+inferior to the colonel.
+
+"Macdonald is my name. I am a rancher in this country; you will have
+heard of me," the visitor replied.
+
+"Nothing to your credit, young man," said the colonel, tartly. "What
+do you want?"
+
+"A man's chance," said Macdonald, earnestly. "Will you let me
+explain?"
+
+Colonel Landcraft stood out of the doorway; Macdonald entered.
+
+"I'll make a light," said the colonel, lowering the window-shades
+before he struck the match. When he had the flame of the student's
+lamp on top of his desk regulated to conform to his exactions, the
+colonel faced about suddenly.
+
+"I am listening, sir."
+
+"At the beginning, sir, I want you to know who I am," said Macdonald,
+producing papers. "My father, Senator Hampden Macdonald of Maine, now
+lives in Washington. You have heard of him. I am Alan Macdonald, late
+of the United States consular service. It is unlikely that you ever
+heard of me in that connection."
+
+"I never heard of you before I came here," said the colonel,
+unfavorably, unfolding the credentials which the visitor had placed on
+his desk, and skimming them with cursory eye. Now he looked up from
+his reading with a sudden little jerk of the head, and stood at severe
+attention. "And the purpose of this visit, sir?"
+
+"First, to prove to you that the notorious character given me by the
+cattlemen of this country is slanderous and unwarranted; secondly, to
+ask you to give me a man's chance, as I have said, in a matter to
+which I shall come without loss of words. I am a gentleman, and the
+son of a gentleman; I do not acknowledge any moral or social superiors
+in this land."
+
+The colonel, drew himself up a notch, and seemed to grow a little at
+that. He looked hard at the tall, fair-haired, sober-faced man in
+front of him, as if searching out his points to justify the bold claim
+upon respectability that he had made. Macdonald was dressed in almost
+military precision; the colonel could find no fault with that. His
+riding-breeches told that they had been cut for no other legs, his
+coat set to his shoulders with gentlemanly ease. Only his rather
+greasy sombrero, with its weighty leather band, and the bulging
+revolvers under his coat seemed out of place in the general trimness
+of his attire.
+
+"Go on, sir," the colonel said.
+
+"I had the honor of meeting Miss Landcraft last night at the
+masquerade given by Miss Chadron--"
+
+"How was that, sir? Did you have the effrontery to force yourself into
+a company which despises you, at the risk of your life and the decorum
+of the assemblage?"
+
+"I was drawn there," Macdonald spoke slowly, meeting the colonel's
+cold eye with steady gaze, "by a hope that was miraculously realized.
+I did risk my life, and I almost lost it. But that is nothing
+unusual--I risk it every day."
+
+"You saw Miss Landcraft at the ball, danced with her, I suppose,
+talked with her," nodded the colonel, understandingly. "Macdonald, you
+are a bold, a foolishly bold, man."
+
+"I saw Miss Landcraft, I danced with her, I talked with her, and I
+have come to you, sir, after a desperate ride through the night to
+save my life as the penalty of those few minutes of pleasure, to
+request the privilege of calling upon Miss Landcraft and paying my
+court to her. I ask you to give me a man's chance to win her hand."
+
+The audacity of the request almost tied the colonel's sharp old
+tongue. For a moment he stood with his mouth open, his face red in the
+gathering storm of his sudden passion.
+
+"Sir!" said he, in amazed, unbelieving voice.
+
+"There are my credentials--they will bear investigation," Macdonald
+said.
+
+"Damn your credentials, sir! I'll have nothing to do with them, you
+blackguard, you scoundrel!"
+
+"I ask you to consider--"
+
+"I can consider nothing but the present fact that you are accused of
+deeds of outlawry and violence, and are an outcast of society, even
+the crude society of this wild country, sir. No matter who you are or
+whence you sprung, the evidence in this country is against you. You
+are a brigand and a thief, sir--this act of barbaric impetuosity in
+itself condemns you--no civilized man would have the effrontery to
+force himself into my presence in such a manner and make this insane
+demand."
+
+"I am exercising a gentleman's prerogative, Colonel Landcraft."
+
+"You are a vulture aspiring to soar among eagles, sir!"
+
+"You have heard only the cattlemen's side of the story, Colonel
+Landcraft," said Macdonald, with patience and restraint. "You know
+that every man who attempts to build a fence around his cabin in this
+country, and strikes a furrow in the ground, is a rustler according to
+their creed."
+
+"I am aware that there is narrowness, injustice even, on the drovers'
+side," the colonel admitted, softening a little, it seemed. "But for
+all that, even if you were an equal, and an honest man, the road to
+Miss Landcraft's heart is closed to assault, no matter how wild and
+sudden. She is plighted to another man."
+
+"Sir--"
+
+"It is true; she will be married in the Christmas holidays. Go your
+way now, Macdonald, and dismiss this romantic dream. You build too
+high on the slight favor of a thoughtless girl. A dance or two is
+nothing, sir; a whispered word is less. If you were the broad man of
+the world that you would have me believe, you have known this.
+Instead, you come dashing in here like a savage and claim the right to
+woo her. Preposterous! She is beyond your world, sir. Go back to your
+wild riding, Macdonald, and try to live an honest man."
+
+Macdonald stood with his head bent, brows gathered in stubborn
+expression of resistance. Colonel Landcraft could read in his face
+that there was no surrender, no acknowledgment of defeat, in that wild
+rider's heart. The old warrior felt a warming of admiration for him,
+as one brave man feels for another, no matter what differences lie
+between them. Now Macdonald lifted his face, and there was that deep
+movement of laughter in his eyes that Frances had found so marvelous
+on the day of their first meeting.
+
+"Perhaps her heart is untouched, sir, in spite of the barricade that
+has been raised between it and the world," he said.
+
+The colonel studied him shrewdly a little while before replying.
+
+"Macdonald, you're a strange man, a stubborn man, and a strong one.
+There is work for a man like you in this life; why are you wasting it
+here?"
+
+"If I live six months longer the world beyond these mountains will
+know," was all that Macdonald said, taking up the papers which he had
+submitted to the colonel, and placing them again in his pocket.
+
+Colonel Landcraft shook his head doubtfully.
+
+"Running off other men's cattle never will do it, Macdonald."
+
+The door of the colonel's room which gave into the hall of the main
+entrance opened without the formality of announcement. Frances drew
+back in quick confusion, speaking her apology from behind the door.
+
+"I ask your pardon, father. I heard voices here and wondered who it
+could be--I didn't know you had come home."
+
+"Your appearance is opportune, Miss Landcraft," her father told her,
+with no trace of ill-humor. "Come in. Here is this wild Alan Macdonald
+come bursting in upon us from his hills."
+
+The colonel indicated him with a wave of the hand, and Macdonald
+bowed, his heart shrinking when he saw how coldly she returned his
+greeting from her place at the door.
+
+"He has come riding," the colonel continued, "with a demand on me to
+be allowed to woo you, and carry you off to his cave among the rocks.
+Show him the door, and add your testimony to my assurance--which seems
+inadequate to satisfy the impetuous gentleman--that his case is
+hopeless."
+
+The colonel waved them away with that, and turned again, with his
+jerky suddenness, to his telegrams and letters. The colonel had not
+meant for Macdonald to pass out of the door through which he had
+entered. That was the military portal; the other one, opening into the
+hall from which Frances came, was the world's door for entering that
+house. And it was in that direction Colonel Landcraft had waved them
+when he ordered Frances to take the visitor away.
+
+"This way, Mr. Macdonald, please," said she, politely cold,
+unfeelingly formal. For all the warmth that he could discover in her
+voice and eyes, or in her white face, so unaccountably severe and
+hard, there might never have been a garden with white gravel path, or
+a hot hasty kiss given in it--and received.
+
+In the hall the gloom of evening was deepened into darkness that made
+her face indistinct, like the glimmering whiteness of the hydrangea
+blooms in that past romantic night. She marched straight to the street
+door and opened it, and he had no strength in his words to lift even a
+small one up to stay her. He believed that he had taken the man's
+course and the way of honor in the matter. That it had not been
+indorsed by her was evident, he believed.
+
+"There was nothing for me to conceal," said he, as the door opened
+upon the gray twilight and glooming trees along the street; "I came in
+a man's way, as I thought--"
+
+"You came in a man's way, Mr. Macdonald, to ask the privilege of
+attempting to win a woman's hand, when you lack the man's strength or
+the man's courage to defend even the glove that covers it," she said.
+Her voice was low; it was accusingly scornful.
+
+Macdonald started. "Then it has come back to you?"
+
+"It has come back to me, through a channel that I would have given the
+hand that wore it"--she stretched it out as she spoke; it glimmered
+like a nebulous star in misty skies there in the gloom before his
+eyes--"to have kept the knowledge from!"
+
+"I lost it," said he, drawing himself up as if to withstand a blow,
+"and in this hour I can plead no mitigation. A man should have put his
+life down for it."
+
+"It might have been expected--of a man," said she.
+
+"But I ask you not to borrow trouble over the circumstance of its
+return to you, Miss Landcraft," he said, cold now in his word, and
+lofty. "You dropped it on the ballroom floor or in the garden path,
+and I, the cattle thief, found it and carried it away, to show it as
+evidence of a shadowy conquest, maybe, among my wild and lawless kind.
+Beyond that you know nothing--you lost it, that was all."
+
+In the door he turned.
+
+"Good-bye, Mr. Macdonald," she said.
+
+"If time and events prove so unkind to me that I never come to a
+vindication in this country," he said, "just go on thinking of me as a
+thief and a wild rider, and a man of the night. Good-bye, Miss
+Landcraft."
+
+She closed the door, and stood cooling from her sudden resentment at
+seeing him there alive when her heart had told her that he must be
+lying dead in the dust of the river trail. She should not have been so
+suddenly resentful, she now believed. Perhaps there were mitigating
+circumstances which he would not stoop to explain unasked. Her heart
+bounded with the thought; warm blood came spreading in her cheeks.
+
+But Alan Macdonald was gone; misjudged and unjustly condemned, she now
+believed, remorse assailing her. Now the fault could not be repaired,
+for he was not the man to come back. But there was much in knowing
+that she had not been mistaken in the beginning; comfort and pride in
+the full knowledge that he was a _man!_ Only a man would have come,
+bravely and sincerely, in that manner to her father; only a man would
+have put his hurt behind him like that and marched away from her, too
+proud to stoop to the mean expedient of begging her to allow him to
+explain.
+
+She sighed as she turned back into the room where the colonel sat at
+his desk, but her cheek was hot, her bosom agitated by an uplifting of
+pride. The colonel turned, with inquiring impatience, a letter in his
+hand.
+
+"He is gone," she said.
+
+"Very well," he nodded, shortly.
+
+"I have just come back to tell you, father, that I have broken my
+engagement with Major King, to--"
+
+"Impossible! nonsense!"
+
+"To save you embarrassment in your future relations with him," she
+concluded, unshaken.
+
+The colonel was standing now; his face reflecting the anger that
+boiled in his breast.
+
+"I tell you, miss, you can't break your engagement to Major King! That
+is out of your power, beyond you, entirely. It rests with me, and with
+me solely, to terminate any such obligation. I have pledged a
+soldier's word and a soldier's honor in this matter, miss. It is
+incumbent on you to see that both are redeemed."
+
+"I'm in a mind to do my own thinking now, father; I'm old enough."
+
+"A woman is never old enough to know her own mind! What's the occasion
+of this change in the wind? Surely not--"
+
+Colonel Landcraft's brows drew together over his thin nose, making
+small glaring points of his blue eyes among the gathered wrinkles and
+bristling hair. He held his words suspended while he searched her face
+for justification of his pent arraignment.
+
+"Nonsense!" said he at last, letting his breath go with the word, as
+if relief had come. "Put the notion out of your head, for you are
+going to marry Major King."
+
+"I tell you, father, you must adjust yourself to my decision in this
+matter. I am not going to marry Major King. I have told him so, and it
+is final."
+
+His own stubbornness, his own fire, was reflected in her as she spoke.
+But Colonel Landcraft was not to be moved from what he considered his
+right to dispose of her in a way that he believed would be an honor to
+the army and a glory to the nation.
+
+"You'll marry Major King, or die a maid!" he declared.
+
+"Very well, father," she returned, in ambiguous concession.
+
+She left him frowning among his papers. In his small, tyrannical way
+he had settled that case, finally and completely, to his own thinking,
+as he had disposed of wild-riding Alan Macdonald and his bold,
+outlandish petition.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THROWING THE SCARE
+
+
+Banjo Gibson arrived at Macdonald's place the following day, from
+Sam Hatcher's ranch across the river, bringing news that three
+homesteaders on that side had been killed in the past two days. They
+had been shot from the willow thickets as they worked in their
+fields or rode along the dim-marked highways. Banjo could not give
+any further particulars; he did not know the victims' names.
+
+Macdonald understood what it meant, and whose hand was behind the
+slaying of those home-makers of the wilderness. It was not a new
+procedure in the cattle barons' land; this scourge had been
+fore-shadowed in that list of names which Frances Landcraft had given
+him.
+
+The word had gone out to them to be on guard. Now death had begun to
+leap upon them from the roadside grass. Perhaps his own turn would
+come tonight or tomorrow. He could not be more watchful than his
+neighbors had been; no man could close all the doors.
+
+The price of life in that country for such men as himself always had
+been unceasing vigilance. When a man stood guard over himself day and
+night he could do no more, and even at that he was almost certain,
+some time or other, to leave a chink open through which the waiting
+blow might fall. After a time one became hardened to this condition of
+life. The strain of watching fell away from him; it became a part of
+his daily habit, and a man grew careless about securing the safeguards
+upon his life by and by.
+
+"Them fellers," said Banjo, feeling that he had lowered himself
+considerably in carrying the news involving their swift end to
+Macdonald, "got about what was comin' to 'em I reckon, Mac. Why don't
+a man like you hitch up with Chadron or Hatcher, or one of the good
+men of this country, and git out from amongst them runts that's nosin'
+around in the ground for a livin' like a drove of hogs?"
+
+"Every man to his liking, Banjo," Macdonald returned, "and I don't
+like the company you've named."
+
+They never quarreled over the point, but Banjo never ceased to urge
+the reformation, such as he honestly believed it to be, upon Macdonald
+at every visit. The little troubadour felt that he was doing a
+generous and friendly turn for a fallen man, and squaring his own
+account with Macdonald in thus laboring for his redemption.
+
+Banjo was under obligation to Macdonald for no smaller matter than his
+life, the homesteader having rescued him from drowning the past spring
+when the musician, heading for Chadron's after playing for a dance,
+had mistaken the river for the road and stubbornly urged his horse
+into it. On that occasion Banjo's wits had been mixed with liquor, but
+his sense of gratitude had been perfectly clear ever since.
+Macdonald's door was the only one in the nesters' colony that stress
+or friendship ever had constrained him to enter. Even as it was, with
+all the big debt of gratitude owing, his intimacy with a man who had
+opened an irrigation ditch was a thing of which he did not boast
+abroad.
+
+Banjo made but a night's stop of it with Macdonald. Early in the
+morning he was in the saddle again, with a dance ahead of him to play
+for that night at a ranch twenty miles or more away. He lingered a
+little after shaking hands with his host, trying the violin case as if
+to see that it was secure, and fidgeting in his saddle, and holding
+back on the start. Macdonald could see that there was something unsaid
+in the little man's mind which gave him an uneasiness, like
+indigestion.
+
+"What is it, Banjo?" he asked, to let it be known that he understood.
+
+"Mac, did you ever hear tell of a feller named Mark Thorn?" Banjo
+inquired, looking about him with fearful caution, lowering his voice
+almost to a whisper.
+
+"Yes, I've heard of him."
+
+"Well, he's in this country."
+
+"Are you sure about that, Banjo?" Macdonald's face was troubled; he
+moved nearer the musician as he made the inquiry, and laid his hand on
+his arm.
+
+"He's here. He's the feller you've got to watch out for. He cut
+acrosst the road yisterday afternoon when I was comin' down here, and
+when he seen me he stopped, for I used to know him up north and he
+knew it wasn't no use to try to duck and hide his murderin' face from
+me. He told me he was ranchin' up in Montany, and he'd come down here
+to collect some money Chadron owed him on an old bill."
+
+"Pretty slim kind of a story. But he's here to collect money from
+Chadron, all right, and give him value received. What kind of a
+looking man is he?"
+
+"He's long and lean, like a rail, with a kind of a bend in him when he
+walks, and the under lid of his left eye drawed like you'd pulled it
+down and stuck a tack in it. He's wearin' a cap, and he's kind of
+whiskered up, like he'd been layin' out some time."
+
+"I'd know him," Macdonald nodded.
+
+"You couldn't miss him in a thousand, Mac. Well, I must be rackin'
+along."
+
+Banjo scarcely had passed out of sight when three horsemen came
+galloping to Macdonald's gate. They brought news of a fresh tragedy,
+and that in the immediate neighborhood. A boy had been shot down that
+morning while doing chores on a homestead a little way across the
+river. He was the son of one of the men on the death-list, and these
+men, the father among them, had come to enlist Macdonald's aid in
+running down the slayer.
+
+The boy's mother had seen the assassin hastening away among the scant
+bushes on the slope above the house. The description that she gave of
+him left no doubt in Macdonald's mind of his identity. It was Mark
+Thorn, the cattlemen's contract killer, the homesteaders' scourge.
+
+It was a fruitless search that day, seeking old Mark Thorn among the
+hills which rose brokenly a few miles back from the river and climbed
+to the knees of the mountains in ever-mounting surge. A devil's
+darning-needle in a cornfield would have been traced and cornered as
+quickly as that slippery thin old killer of men, it seemed.
+
+As if to show his contempt for those who hunted him, and to emphasize
+his own feeling of security, he slipped down to the edge of the fenced
+lands and struck down another homesteader that afternoon, leaving him
+dead at the handles of his plow.
+
+Those homesteaders were men of rare courage and unbending persistency
+in the ordinary affairs of life, but three days of empty pursuit of
+this monster left them out of heart. The name of Mark Thorn in itself
+was sufficient to move a thrill of terror and repulsion. He had left
+his red mark in many places through the land dominated by the cattle
+interests of the Northwest, where settlers had attempted to find
+lodgment. He had come at length to stand for an institution of
+destruction, rather than an individual, which there was no power
+strong enough to circumvent, nor force cunning enough to entrap.
+
+There never was a tale of monsters, wolf-men, bloody-muzzled great
+beasts of dark forests, that struck deeper fear into the hearts of
+primitive peasantry than this modern ogre moved in the minds and
+hearts of those striving settlers in the cattle lands. Mark Thorn was
+a shadowy, far-reaching thing to them, distorted in their imaginings
+out of the semblance of a man. He had grown, in the stories founded on
+facts horrible enough without enlargement, into a fateful destroyer,
+from whom no man upon whom he had set his mark could escape.
+
+Little wonder, then, that fear for the safety of their wives and
+children made the faces of these men gray as they rode the sage,
+combing the hollows and hills for the sight of old Mark Thorn. One by
+one they began to drop out of the posse, until of the fourteen besides
+Macdonald who had ridden in the hunt on the second day, only five
+remained on the evening of the third.
+
+It was no use looking for Mark Thorn, they said, shaking gloomy heads.
+When he came into a country on a contract to kill, it was like a curse
+predestined which the power of man could not turn aside. He had the
+backing of the Drovers' Association, which had an arm as long in that
+land as the old Persian king's. He would strike there, like the ghost
+of all the devils in men that ever had lived on their fellows' blood,
+and slink away as silently as a wolf out of the sheepfold at dawn when
+his allotted task was done.
+
+Better to go home and guard what was left, they said. All of them were
+men for a fight, but it was one thing to stand up to something that a
+man could see, and quite another to fight blindfolded, and in the
+dark. Catching Mark Thorn was like trying to ladle moonlight with a
+sieve. The country wasn't worth it, they were beginning to believe.
+When Mark Thorn came in, it was like the vultures flying ahead of the
+last, devastating plague.
+
+The man whose boy had been shot down beside the little grass-roofed
+barn was the last to leave.
+
+"I'll stick to it for a year, Alan, if you think it's any use," he
+said.
+
+He was a gaunt man, with sunken cheeks and weary eyes; gray, worn,
+unwashed, and old; one of the earth's disinherited who believed that
+he had come into his rood of land at last. Now the driving shadow of
+his restless fate was on him again. Macdonald could see that it was
+heavy in his mind to hitch up and stagger on into the west, which was
+already red with the sunset of his day.
+
+Macdonald was moved by a great compassion for this old man, whose hope
+had been snatched away from him by the sting of a bullet in the dawn.
+He laid his hand on the old homesteader's sagging thin shoulder and
+poured the comfort of a strong man's sympathy into his empty eyes.
+
+"Go on back, Tom, and look after the others," he said. "Do your chores
+by dark, morning and night, and stick close to cover all days and
+watch for him. I'll keep on looking. I started to get that old hyena,
+and I'll get him. Go on home."
+
+
+The old man's eyes kindled with admiration. But it died as quickly as
+it had leaped up, and he shook his long hair with a sigh.
+
+"You can't do nothin' agin him all alone, Alan."
+
+"I think I'll have a better chance alone than in a crowd, Tom. There's
+no doubt that there were too many of us, crashing through the brush
+and setting ourselves up against the sky line every time we rode up a
+hill. I'll tackle him alone. Tell the neighbors to live under cover
+till they hear I've either got him or he's got me. In case it turns
+out against me, they can do whatever seems best to them."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+AFOOT AND ALONE
+
+
+Mark Thorn had not killed anybody since shooting the man at the plow.
+There were five deaths to his credit on that contract, although none
+of the fallen was on the cattlemen's list of desirables to be
+removed.
+
+Five days had passed without a tragedy, and the homesteaders were
+beginning to draw breath in the open again, in the belief that
+Macdonald must have driven the slayer out of the country. Nothing had
+been seen or heard of Macdonald since the evening that he parted
+company with Tom Lassiter, father of the murdered boy.
+
+Macdonald, in the interval, was hard on the old villain's trail. He
+had picked it up on the first day of his lone-handed hunt, and once he
+had caught a glimpse of Thorn as he dodged among the red willows on
+the river, but the sight had been too transitory to put in a shot. It
+was evident now that Thorn knew that he was being hunted by a single
+pursuer. More than that, there were indications written in the loose
+earth where he passed, and in the tangled brushwood where he skulked,
+that he had stopped running away and had turned to hunt the hunter.
+
+For two days they had been circling in a constantly tightening ring,
+first one leading the hunt, then the other. Trained and accustomed as
+he was to life under those conditions, Thorn had not yet been able to
+take even a chance shot at his clinging pursuer.
+
+Macdonald was awake to the fact that this balance in his favor could
+not be maintained long. As it was, he ascribed it more to luck than
+skill on his part. This wild beast in human semblance must possess all
+the wild beast's cunning; there would be a rift left open in this
+straining game of hide and seek which his keen eyes would be sure to
+see at no distant hour.
+
+The afternoon of that day was worn down to the hock. Macdonald had
+been creeping and stooping, running, panting, and lying concealed from
+the first gleam of dawn. Whether by design on the part of Thorn, or
+merely the blind leading of the hunt, Macdonald could not tell, the
+contest of wits had brought them within sight of Alamito ranchhouse.
+
+Resting a little while with his back against a ledge which insured him
+from surprise, Macdonald looked out from the hills over the
+wide-spanning valley, the farther shore of which was laved in a purple
+mist as rich as the dye of some oriental weaving. He felt a surge of
+indignant protest against the greedy injustice of that manorial
+estate, the fair house glistening in the late sun among the
+white-limbed cottonwoods. There Saul Chadron sat, like some distended
+monster, his hands spread upon more than he could honestly use, or his
+progeny after him for a thousand years, growling and snapping at all
+whose steps lagged in passing, or whose weary eyes turned longingly
+toward those grassy vales.
+
+There had been frost for many nights past; the green of the summerland
+had merged into a yellow-brown, now gold beneath the slanting
+sunbeams. A place of friendly beauty and sequestered peace, where a
+man might come to take up his young dreams, or stagger under the
+oppression of his years to put them down, and rest. It seemed so, in
+the light of that failing afternoon.
+
+But the man who sat with his back against the ledge, his ears strained
+to find the slightest hostile sound, his roaming eyes always coming
+back with unconscious alertness and frowning investigation to the
+nearer objects in the broken foreground, had tasted beneath the
+illusive crust of that land, and the savor was bitter upon his lips.
+He questioned what good there was to be got out of it, for him or
+those for whom he had taken up the burden, for many a weary year to
+come.
+
+The gloom of the situation bore heavily upon him; he felt the
+uselessness of his fight. He recalled the words of Frances Landcraft:
+"There must be millions behind the cattlemen." He felt that he never
+had realized the weight of millions, iniquitous millions, before that
+hour. They formed a barrier which his shoulder seemed destined never
+to overturn.
+
+There he was, on that broad heath, afoot and alone, hunting, and
+hunted by a slayer of men, one who stalked him as he would a wolf or a
+lion for the bounty upon his head. And in the event that a lucky shot
+should rid the earth of that foul thing, how much would it strengthen
+his safety, and his neighbors', and fasten their weak hold upon the
+land?
+
+Little, indeed. Others could be hired out of those uncounted millions
+of the cattlemen's resources to finish what Mark Thorn had begun. The
+night raids upon their fields would continue, the slanders against
+them would spread and grow. Colonel Landcraft believed him to be what
+malicious report had named him; there was not a doubt of that. And
+what Frances thought of him since that misadventure of the glove, it
+was not hard to guess.
+
+But that was not closed between them, he told himself, as he had told
+himself before, times unnumbered. There was a final word to be said,
+at the right time and place. The world would turn many times between
+then and the Christmas holidays, when Frances was to become the bride
+of another, according to the colonel's plans.
+
+Macdonald was weary from his night vigils and stealthy prowlings by
+day, and hungry for a hot meal. Since he had taken the trail of Mark
+Thorn alone he had not kindled a fire. Now the food that he had
+carried with him was done; he must turn back home for a fresh supply,
+and a night's rest.
+
+It did not matter much, anyway, he said, feeling the uselessness of
+his life and strife in that place. It was a big and unfriendly land, a
+hard and hopeless place for a man who tried to live in defiance of the
+established order there. Why not leave it, with its despair and
+heart-emptiness? The world was full enough of injustices elsewhere if
+he cared to set his hand to right them.
+
+But a true man did not run away under fire, nor a brave one block out
+a task and then shudder and slink away, when he stood off and saw the
+immensity of the thing that he had undertaken. Besides all these
+considerations, which in themselves formed insuperable reasons against
+retreat, there had been some big talk into the ear of Frances
+Landcraft. There was no putting down what he had begun. His dream had
+taken root there; it would be cruel cowardice to wrench it up.
+
+He got up, the sun striking him on the face, from which the west wind
+pressed back his hat brim as if to let the daylight see it. The dust
+of his travels was on it, and the roughness of his new beard, and it
+was harsh in some of its lines, and severe as an ashlar from the
+craftsman's tool. But it was a man's face, with honor in it; the sun
+found no weakness there, no shame concealed under the sophistries and
+wiles by which men beguile the world.
+
+Macdonald looked away across the valley, past the white ranchhouse,
+beyond the slow river which came down from the northwest in toilsome
+curves, whose gray shores and bars were yellow in that sunlight as the
+sands of famed Pactolus. His breast heaved with the long inspiration
+which flared his thin nostrils like an Arab's scenting rain; he
+revived with a new vigor as the freedom of the plains met his eyes and
+made them glad. That was his place, his land; its troubles were his to
+bear, its peace his to glean when it should ripen. It was his
+inheritance; it was his place of rest. The lure of that country had a
+deep seat in his heart; he loved it for its perils and its pains. It
+was like a sweetheart to bind and call him back. A man makes his own
+Fortunate Isles, as that shaggy old gray poet knew so well.
+
+For a moment Mark Thorn was forgotten as Macdonald repeated, in low
+voice above his breath:
+
+    Lo! These are the isles of the watery miles
+    That God let down from the firmament.
+    Lo! Duty and Love, and a true man's trust;
+    Your forehead to God and your feet in the dust--
+
+Yes, that was his country; it had taken hold of him with that grip
+which no man ever has shaken his heart free from, no matter how many
+seas he has placed between its mystic lure and his back-straining
+soul. Its fight was his fight, and there was gladness in the thought.
+
+His alertness as he went down the slope, and the grim purpose of his
+presence in that forbidden place, did not prevent the pleading of a
+softer cause, and a sweeter. That rare smile woke in his eyes and
+unbent for a moment the harshness of his lips as he thought of brown
+hair sweeping back from a white forehead, and a chin lifted
+imperiously, as became one born to countenance only the exalted in
+this life. There was something that made him breathe quicker in the
+memory of her warm body held a transitory moment in his arms; the
+recollection of the rose-softness of her lips. All these were waiting
+in the world that he must win, claimed by another, true. But that was
+immaterial, he told his heart, which leaped and exulted in the memory
+of that garden path as if there was no tomorrow, and no such shadow in
+man's life as doubt.
+
+Of course, there remained the matter of the glove. A man might have
+been expected to die before yielding it to another, as she had said,
+speaking out of a hot heart, he knew. There was a more comfortable
+thought for Alan Macdonald as he went down the long slope with the
+western sun on his face; not a thought of dying for a glove, but of
+living to win the hand that it had covered.
+
+Chadron's ranchhouse was several miles to the westward of him,
+although it appeared nearer by the trickery of that clear light. He
+cut his course to bring himself into the public highway--a government
+road, it was--that ran northward up the river, the road along which
+Chadron's men had pursued him the night of the ball. He meant to
+strike it some miles to the north of Chadron's homestead, for he was
+not looking for any more trouble than he was carrying that day.
+
+He proceeded swiftly, but cautiously, watching for his man. But Mark
+Thorn did not appear to be abroad in that part of the country. Until
+sundown Macdonald walked unchallenged, when he struck the highway a
+short distance south of the point where the trail leading to Fort
+Shakie branched from it.
+
+Saul Chadron and his daughter Nola came riding out of the Fort Shakie
+road, their horses in that tireless, swinging gallop which the animals
+of that rare atmosphere can maintain for hours. As he rode, Chadron
+swung his quirt in unison with the horse's undulations, from side to
+side across its neck, like a baton. He sat as stiff and solid in his
+saddle as a carved image. Nola came on neck and neck with him, on the
+side of the road nearer Macdonald.
+
+Macdonald was carrying a rifle in addition to his side arms, and he
+was a dusty grim figure to come upon suddenly afoot in the high road.
+Chadron pulled in his horse and brought it to a stiff-legged stop when
+he saw Macdonald, who had stepped to the roadside to let them pass.
+The old cattleman's high-crowned sombrero was pinched to a peak; the
+wind of his galloping gait had pressed its broad brim back from his
+tough old weathered face. His white mustache and little dab of pointed
+beard seemed whiter against the darkness of passion which mounted to
+his scowling eyes.
+
+"What in the hell're you up to now?" he demanded, without regard for
+his companion, who was accustomed, well enough, to his explosions and
+expletives.
+
+Macdonald gravely lifted his hand to his hat, his eyes meeting Nola's
+for an instant, Chadron's challenge unanswered. Nola's face flared at
+this respectful salutation as if she had been insulted. She jerked her
+horse back a little, as if she feared that violence would follow the
+invasion of her caste by this fallen and branded man, her pliant waist
+weaving in graceful balance with every movement of her beast.
+
+Macdonald lowered his eyes from her blazingly indignant face. Her
+horse was slewed across the narrow road, and he considered between
+waiting for them to ride on and striking into the shoulder-high sage
+which grew thick at the roadside there. He thought that she was very
+pretty in her fairness of hair and skin, and the lake-clear blueness
+of her eyes. She was riding astride, as all the women in that country
+rode, dressed in wide pantaloonish corduroys, with twinkling little
+silver spurs on her heels.
+
+"What're you prowlin' down here around my place for?" Chadron asked,
+spurring his horse as he spoke, checking its forward leap with rigid
+arm, which made a commotion of hoofs and a cloud of dust.
+
+"This is a public highway, and I deny your right to question my
+motives in it," Macdonald returned, calmly.
+
+"Sneakin' around to see if you can lay hands on a horse, I suppose,"
+Chadron said, leaning a little in towering menace toward the man in
+the road.
+
+Macdonald felt a hot surge of resentment rise to his eyes, so suddenly
+and so strongly that it dimmed his sight. He shut his mouth hard on
+the words which sprang into it, and held himself in silence until he
+had command of his anger.
+
+"I'm hunting," said he, meeting Chadron's eye with meaning look.
+
+"On foot, and waitin' for dark!" the cattleman sneered.
+
+"I'm going on foot because the game I'm after sticks close to the
+ground. There's no need of naming that game to you--you know what it
+is."
+
+Macdonald spoke with cutting severity. Chadron's dark face reddened
+under his steady eyes, and again the big rowels of his spurs slashed
+his horse's sides, making it bound and trample in threatening charge.
+
+"I don't know anything about your damn low business, but I'll tell you
+this much; if I ever run onto you ag'in down this way I'll do a little
+huntin' on my own accord."
+
+"That would be squarer, and more to my liking, than hiring somebody
+else to do it for you, Mr. Chadron. Ride on--I don't want to stand
+here and quarrel with you."
+
+"I'm goin' to clear you nesters out of there up the river"--Chadron
+waved his hand in the direction of which he spoke--"and put a stop to
+your rustlin' before another month rolls around. I've stood your
+fences up there on my land as long as I'm goin' to!"
+
+"I've never had a chance to tell you before, Mr. Chadron"--Macdonald
+spoke as respectfully as his deep detestation of the cattleman would
+allow--"but if you've got any other charge to bring against me except
+that of homesteading, bring it in a court. I'm ready to face you on
+it, any day."
+
+"I carry my court right here with me," said Chadron, patting his
+revolver.
+
+"I deny its jurisdiction," Macdonald returned, drawing himself up, a
+flash of defiance in his clear eyes.
+
+Chadron jerked his head in expression of lofty disdain.
+
+"Go on! Git out of my sight!" he ordered.
+
+"The road is open to you," Macdonald replied.
+
+"I'm not goin' to turn my back on you till you're out of sight!"
+
+Chadron bent his great owlish brows in a scowl, laid his hand on his
+revolver and whirled his horse in the direction that Macdonald was
+facing.
+
+Macdonald did not answer. He turned from Chadron, something in his act
+of going that told the cattleman he was above so mean suspicion on his
+part. Nola shifted her horse to let him pass, her elbows tight at her
+sides, scorn in her lively eyes.
+
+Again Macdonald's hand went to his hat in respectful salute, and again
+he saw that flash of anger spread in the young woman's cheeks. Her
+fury blazed in her eyes as she looked at him a moment, and a dull
+color mounted in his own face as he beheld her foolish and unjustified
+pride.
+
+Macdonald would have passed her then, but she spurred her horse upon
+him with sudden-breaking temper, forcing him to spring back quickly to
+the roadside to escape being trampled. Before he could collect himself
+in his astonishment, she struck him a whistling blow with her
+long-thonged quirt across the face.
+
+"You dog!" she said, her clenched little white teeth showing in her
+parted lips.
+
+Macdonald caught the bridle and pushed her horse back to its haunches,
+and she, in her reckless anger, struck him across the hand in sharp
+quick blows. Her conduct was comparable to nothing but that of an
+ill-bred child striking one whose situation, he has been told, is the
+warrant of his inferiority.
+
+The struggle was over in a few seconds, and Macdonald stood free of
+the little fury, a red welt across his cheek, the back of his hand cut
+until the blood oozed through the skin in heavy black drops. Chadron
+had not moved a hand to interfere on either side. Only now that the
+foolish display of Nola's temper was done he rocked in his saddle and
+shook the empty landscape with his loud, coarse laugh.
+
+He patted his daughter on the shoulder, like a hunter rewarding a dog.
+Macdonald walked away from them, the only humiliation that he felt for
+the incident being that which he suffered for her sake.
+
+It was not so much that a woman had debased herself to the level of a
+savage, although that hurt him, too, but that her blows had been the
+expression of the contempt in which the lords of that country held him
+and his kind. Bullets did not matter so much, for a man could give
+them back as hot as they came. But there was no answer, as he could
+see it in that depressing hour, for such a feudal assertion of
+superiority as this.
+
+It was to the work of breaking the hold of this hard-handed
+aristocracy which had risen from the grass roots in the day of its
+arrogant prosperity--a prosperity founded on usurpation of the rights
+of the weak, and upheld by murder--that he had set his soul. The need
+of hastening the reformation never had seemed greater to him than on
+that day, or more hopeless, he admitted in his heart.
+
+For hour by hour the work ahead of him appeared to grow greater.
+Little could be expected, judging by the experiences of the past few
+days, from those who suffered most. The day of extremest pressure in
+their poor affairs was being hastened by the cattlemen, as Chadron's
+threat had foretold. Would they when the time came to fight do so, or
+harness their lean teams and drive on into the west? That was the big
+question upon which the success or the failure of his work depended.
+
+As he had come down from the hillside out of the sunshine and peace to
+meet shadow and violence, so his high spirits, hopes, and intentions
+seemed this bitter hour steeped in sudden gloom. In more ways than one
+that evening on the white river road, Alan Macdonald felt that he was
+afoot and alone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+BUSINESS, NOT COMPANY
+
+
+Saul Chadron was at breakfast next morning when Maggie the cook
+appeared in the dining-room and announced a visitor for the senor
+boss. Maggie's eyes were bulging, and she did a great deal of
+pantomime with her shapely shoulders to express her combined fright,
+disgust, and indignation.
+
+Chadron looked up from his ham and eggs, with a considerable portion
+of the eggs on the blade of his knife, handle-down in one fist, his
+fork standing like a lightning rod in the other, and asked her who the
+man was and what he wanted at that hour of the day. Chadron was eating
+by lamplight, and alone, according to his thrifty custom of slipping
+up on the day before it was awake, as if in the hope of surprising it
+at a vast disadvantage to itself, after his way of handling men and
+things.
+
+"_Es un extranjero_," replied Maggie, forgetting her English in her
+excitement.
+
+"Talk white man, you old sow!" Chadron growled.
+
+"He ees a es-trenger, I do not knowed to heem."
+
+"Tell him to go to the barn and wait, I'll be out there in a minute."
+
+"He will not a-goed. I told to heem--whee!" Maggie clamped her hands
+to her back as if somebody had caught her in a ticklish spot, as she
+squealed, and jumped into the room where the grand duke of the
+cattlemen's nobility was taking his refreshment.
+
+Chadron had returned to his meal after ordering her to send his
+visitor to the barn. He was swabbing his knife in the fold of a
+pancake when Maggie made that frightful, shivering exclamation and
+jumped aside out of the door. Now he looked up to reprove her, and met
+the smoky eyes of Mark Thorn peering in from the kitchen.
+
+"What're you doin' around here, you old--come in--shut that door! Git
+him some breakfast," he ordered, turning to Maggie.
+
+Maggie hung back a moment, until Thorn had come into the room, then
+she shot into the kitchen like a cat through a fence, and slammed the
+door behind her.
+
+"What in the hell do you mean by comin' around here?" Chadron demanded
+angrily. "Didn't I tell you never to come here? you blink-eyed old
+snag-shin!"
+
+"You told me," Thorn admitted, putting his rifle down across a chair,
+drawing another to the table, and seating himself in readiness for the
+coming meal.
+
+"Then what'd you sneak--"
+
+"News," said Thorn, in his brief way.
+
+"Which news?" Chadron brightened hopefully, his implements, clamped in
+his hairy fists, inviting the first bolt from the heavens.
+
+
+"I got him last night."
+
+"You got--_him?_" Chadron lifted himself from his chair on his bent
+legs in the excitement of the news.
+
+"And I'm through with this job. I've come to cash in, and quit."
+
+"The hell you say!"
+
+"I'm gittin' too old for this kind of work. That feller chased me
+around till my tongue was hangin' out so fur I stepped on it. I tell
+you he was--"
+
+"How did you do it?"
+
+Thorn looked at him with a scowl. "Well, I never used a club on a man
+yit," he said.
+
+"Where did it happen at?"
+
+"Up there at his place. He'd been chasin' me for two days, and when he
+went back--after grub, I reckon--I doubled on him. Just as he went in
+the door I got him. I left him with his damn feet stickin' out like a
+shoemaker's sign."
+
+"How fur was you off from him, Mark?"
+
+"Fifty yards, more 'r less."
+
+"Did you go over to him to see if he was finished, or just creased?"
+
+"I never creased a man in my life!" Thorn was indignant over the
+imputation.
+
+Chadron shook his head, in doubt, in discredit, in gloomy disbelief.
+
+"If you didn't go up to him and turn him over and look at the whites
+of his eyes, you ain't sure," he protested. "That man's as slippery as
+wet leather--he's fooled more than one that thought they had him, and
+I'll bet you two bits he's fooled you."
+
+"Go and see, and settle it yourself, then," Thorn proposed, in surly
+humor.
+
+Chadron had suspended his breakfast, as if the news had come between
+him and his appetite. He sat in a study, his big hand curved round his
+cup, his gaze on the cloth. At that juncture Maggie came in with a
+platter of eggs and ham, which she put down before Mark Thorn
+skittishly, ready to jump at the slightest hostile start. Thorn began
+to eat, as calmly as if there was not a stain on his crippled soul.
+
+Unlike the meal of canned oysters which he had consumed as Chadron's
+guest not many days before, Thorn was not welcomed to this by friendly
+words and urging to take off the limit. Chadron sat watching him, in
+divided attention and with dark face, as if he turned troubles over in
+his mind.
+
+Thorn cleaned the platter in front of him, and looked round hungrily,
+like a cat that has half-satisfied its stomach on a stolen bird. He
+said nothing, only he reached his foul hand across the table and took
+up the dish containing the remnant of Chadron's breakfast. This he
+soon cleared up, when he rasped the back of his hand across his harsh
+mustache, like a vulture preening its filthy plumage, and leaned back
+with a full-stomached sigh.
+
+"He makes six," said he, looking hard at Chadron.
+
+"Huh!" Chadron grunted, noncommittally.
+
+"I want the money, down on the nail, a thousand for the job. I'm
+through."
+
+"I'll have to look into it. I ain't payin' for anything sight 'nseen,"
+Chadron told him, starting out of his speculative wanderings.
+
+"Money down, on the nail," repeated Thorn, as if he had not heard. His
+old cap was hovering over his long hair, its flaps down like the wings
+of a brooding hen. There were clinging bits of broken sage on it, and
+burrs, which it had gathered in his skulking through the brush.
+
+"I'll send a man up the river right away, and find out about this last
+one," Chadron told him, nodding slowly. "If you've got Macdonald--"
+
+"If hell's got fire in it!"
+
+"If you've got him, I'll put something to the figure agreed on between
+you and me. The other fellers you've knocked over don't count."
+
+"I'll hang around--"
+
+"Not here! You'll not hang around here, I tell you!" Chadron cut him
+off harshly, fairly bristling. "Snake along out of here, and don't let
+anybody see you. I'll meet you at the hotel in the morning."
+
+"Gittin' peticlar of your company, ain't you?" sneered Thorn.
+
+"You're not company--you're business," Chadron told him, with stern
+and reproving eyes.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Chadron found Mark Thorn smoking into the chimney in the hotel office
+next morning, apparently as if he had not moved from that spot since
+their first meeting on that peculiar business. The old man-killer did
+not turn his head as Chadron entered the room with a show of caution
+and suspicion in his movements, and closed the door after him.
+
+He crossed over to the fire and stood near Thorn, who was slouching
+low in his chair, his long legs stretched straight, his heels crossed
+before the low ashy fire that smoldered in the chimney. For a little
+while Chadron stood looking down on his hired scourge, a knitting of
+displeasure in his face, as if he waited for him to break the silence.
+Thorn continued his dark reverie undisturbed, it seemed, his pipestem
+between his fingers.
+
+"Yes, it was his damn hired hand!" said Chadron, with profound
+disgust.
+
+"That's what I heard you say," acknowledged Thorn, not moving his
+head.
+
+"You knew it all the time; you was tryin' to work me for the money, so
+you could light out!"
+
+"I didn't even know he had a hired hand!" Thorn drew in his legs,
+straightened his back, and came with considerable spirit to the
+defense of his evil intent.
+
+"Well, he ain't got none now, but _he's_ alive and kickin'. You've
+bungled on this job worse than an old woman. I didn't fetch you in
+here to clean out hired hands and kids; we can shake a blanket and
+scare that kind out of the country!"
+
+"Well, put him in at fifty then, if he was only a hired hand," said
+Thorn, willing to oblige.
+
+"When you go ahead and do what you agreed to, then we'll talk money,
+and not a red till then."
+
+Thorn got up, unlimbering slowly, and laid the pipe on the mantel-shelf.
+He seemed unmoved, indifferent; apathetic as a toothless old lion.
+After a little silence he shook his head.
+
+"I'm done, I tell you," he said querulously, as if raising the
+question crossed him. "Pay me for that many, and call it square."
+
+"Bring in Macdonald," Chadron demanded in firm tones.
+
+"I ain't a-goin' to touch him! If I keep on after that man he'll git
+_me_--it's on the cards, I can see it in the dark."
+
+"Yes, you're lost your nerve, you old wildcat!" There was a taunt in
+Chadron's voice, a sneer.
+
+Thorn turned on him, a savage, smothered noise in his throat.
+
+"You can say that because you owe me money, but you know it's a damn
+lie! If you didn't owe me money, I'd make you swaller it with hot
+lead!"
+
+"You're talkin' a little too free for a man of your trade, Mark."
+While Chadron's tone was tolerant, even friendly, there was an
+undercurrent of warning, even threat, in his words.
+
+"You're the feller that's lettin' his gab outrun his gumption. How
+many does that make for me, talkin' about nerve, how many? Do you
+know?"
+
+"I don't care how many, it lacks one of bein' enough to suit me."
+
+"Twenty-eight, and I've got 'em down in m' book and I can prove it!"
+
+"Make it twenty-nine, and then quit if you want to."
+
+"Maybe I will." Thorn leaned forward a little, a glitter in his smoky
+eyes.
+
+Chadron fell back, his face growing pale. His hand was on his weapon,
+his eyes noting narrowly every move Thorn made.
+
+"If you ever sling a gun on me, you old devil, it'll be--"
+
+"I ain't a-goin' to sling no gun on you as long as you owe me money.
+I ain't a-goin' to cut the bottom out of m' own money-poke, Chad;
+you don't need to swivel up in your hide, you ain't marked for
+twenty-nine."
+
+"Well, don't throw out any more hints like that; I don't like that
+kind of a joke."
+
+"No, I wouldn't touch a hair of your head," Thorn ran on, following
+a vein which seemed to amuse him, for he smiled, a horrible,
+face-drawing contortion of a smile, "for if you and me ever had a
+fallin' out over money I might git so hard up I couldn't travel, and
+one of them sheriff fellers might slip up on me."
+
+"What's all this fool gab got to do with business?" Chadron was
+impatient; he looked at his watch.
+
+"Well, I'd be purty sure to make a speech from the gallers--I always
+intended to--and lay everything open that ever took place between me
+and you and the rest of them big fellers. There's a newspaper feller
+in Cheyenne that wants to make a book out of m' life, with m' pict're
+in the inside of the lid, to be sold when I'm dead. I could git money
+for tellin' that feller what I know."
+
+"Go on and tell him then,"--Chadron spoke with a dare in his words,
+and derision--"that'll be easy money, and it won't call for any nerve.
+But you don't need to be plannin' any speech from the gallus--you'll
+never go that fur if you try to double-cross me!"
+
+"I ain't aimin' to double-cross no man, but you can call it that if it
+suits you. You can call it whatever you purty damn well care to--I'm
+done!"
+
+Chadron made no reply to that. He was pulling on his great gloves,
+frowning savagely, as if he meant to close the matter with what he had
+said, and go.
+
+"Do I git any money, or don't I?" Thorn asked, sharply.
+
+"When you bring in that wolf's tail."
+
+"I ain't a-goin' to touch that feller, I tell you, Chad. That man
+means bad luck to me--I can read it in the cards."
+
+"Maybe you call that kind of skulkin' livin' up to your big name?"
+Chadron spoke in derision, playing on the vanity which he knew to be
+as much a part of that old murderer's life as the blood of his
+merciless heart.
+
+"I've got glory enough," said Thorn, satisfaction in his voice; "what
+I want right now's money."
+
+"Earn it before you collect it."
+
+"Twenty-eight 'd fill a purty fair book, countin' in what I could tell
+about the men I've had dealin's with," Thorn reflected, as to himself,
+leaning against the mantel, frowning down at the floor with bent
+head.
+
+"Talk till you're empty, you old fool, and who'll believe you? Huh!
+you couldn't git yourself hung if you was to try!" Chadron's dark face
+was blacker for the spreading flood of resentful blood; he pointed
+with his heavy quirt at Thorn, as if to impress him with a sense of
+the smallness of his wickedness, which men would not credit against
+the cattlemen's word, even if he should publish it abroad. "You'll
+never walk onto the scaffold, no matter how hard you try--there'll be
+somebody around to head you off and give you a shorter cut than that,
+I'm here to tell you!"
+
+"Huh!" said Thorn, still keeping his thoughtful pose.
+
+Man-killing is a trade that reacts differently on those who follow it,
+according to their depth and nature. It makes black devils of some who
+were once civil, smiling, wholesome men, whether the mischance of
+life-taking has fallen to them in their duty to society or in outlawed
+deeds. It plunges some into dark taciturnity and brooding coldness, as
+if they had eaten of some root which blunted them to all common relish
+of life.
+
+There are others of whom the bloody trade makes gabbling fools,
+light-headed, wild-eyed wasters of words, full of the importance of
+their mind-wrecking deeds. Like the savage whose reputation mounts
+with each wet scalp, each fresh head, these kill out of depravity,
+glorying in the growing score. To this class Mark Thorn belonged.
+
+There was but one side left to that depraved man's mind; his bloody,
+base life had smothered the rest under the growing heap of his
+horrible deeds. Thorn had killed twenty-eight human beings for hire,
+of whom he had tally, but there was one to be included of whom he had
+not taken count--himself.
+
+As he stood here against the chimney-shelf he was only the outside
+husk of a man. His soul had been judged already, and burned out of him
+by the unholy passion which he had indulged. He was as simple in his
+garrulous chatter of glory and distinction as a half-fool. His warped
+mind ran only on the spectacular end that he had planned for himself,
+and the speech from the gallows that was to be the black, damning seal
+at the end of his atrocious life's record.
+
+Thorn looked up from his study; he shook his head decisively.
+
+"I ain't a-goin' to go back over there in your country and give you a
+chance at me. If you git me, you'll have to git me here. I ain't
+a-goin' to sling a gun down on nobody for the money that's in it, I
+tell you. I'm through; I'm out of the game; my craw's full. It's a bad
+sign when a man wastes a bullet on a hired hand, takin' him for the
+boss, and I ain't a-goin' to run no more resks on that feller. When my
+day for glory comes I'll step out on the gallers and say m' piece, and
+they'll be some big fellers in this country huntin' the tall grass
+about that time, I guess."
+
+Chadron had taken up his quirt from the little round table where the
+hotel register lay. He turned now toward the outer door, as if in
+earnest about going his way and leaving Mark Thorn to follow his own
+path, no matter to what consequences it might lead.
+
+"If you're square enough to settle up with me for this job," said
+Thorn, "and pay me five hundred for what I've done, I'll leave your
+name out when I come to make that little speech."
+
+Chadron turned on him with a sneer. "You seem to have your hangin' all
+cut and dried, but you'll never go ten miles outside of this
+reservation if you don't turn around and put that job through. You'll
+never hang--you ain't cut out in the hangin' style."
+
+"I tell you I will!" protested Thorn hotly. "I can see it in the
+cards."
+
+"Well, you'd better shuffle 'em ag'in."
+
+"I know what kind of a day it's goin' to be, and I know just adzackly
+how I'll look when I hold up m' hands for them fellers to keep still.
+Shucks! you can't tell me; I've seen that day a thousand times. It'll
+be early in the mornin', and the sun bright--"
+
+The door leading to the dining-room opened, and Thorn left his
+description of that great and final day in his career hanging like a
+broken bridge. He turned to see who it was, squinting his old eyes up
+sharply, and in watching the stranger he failed to see the whiteness
+that came over Chadron's face like a rushing cloud.
+
+"Grab your gun!" Chadron whispered.
+
+"Just let it stay where it is, Thorn," advised the stranger, his quick
+hand on his own weapon before Thorn could grasp what it was all about,
+believing, as he did, in the safety of the reservation's neutral
+ground. "Macdonald is my name; I've been looking for you." The
+stranger came on as he spoke.
+
+He was but a few feet away from Thorn, and the old man-killer had his
+revolvers buckled around him in their accustomed place, while his
+death-spreading rifle stood near his hand, leaning its muzzle against
+the chimney-jamb. Thorn seemed to be measuring all the chances which
+he had left to him in that bold surprise, and to conclude in the same
+second that they were not worth taking.
+
+Macdonald had not drawn his revolver. His hand was on the butt of it,
+and his eye held Thorn with a challenge that the old slayer was in no
+mind to accept.
+
+Thorn was not a close-fighting man. He never had killed one of his
+kind in a face-to-face battle in all his bloody days. At the bottom he
+was a coward, as his skulking deeds attested, and in that moment he
+knew that he stood before his master. Slowly he lifted his long arms
+above his head, without a word, and stood in the posture of complete
+surrender.
+
+Nearer the outer door stood Chadron, to whom Macdonald seemed to give
+little attention, as if not counting him in the game. The big
+cattleman was "white to the gills," as his kind expressed that state.
+Macdonald unbuckled Thorn's belt and hung his revolvers over his arm.
+
+"I knowed you'd git me, Macdonald," the old scoundrel said.
+
+Macdonald, haggard and dusty, and grim as the last day that old Mark
+Thorn had pictured for himself, pushed his prisoner away from the
+chimney, out of reach of the rifle, and indicated that he was to march
+for the open door, through which the tables in the dining-room could
+be seen. At Macdonald's coming Chadron had thrown his hand to his
+revolver, where he still held it, as if undecided how far to go.
+
+"Keep your gun where it is, Chadron," Macdonald advised. "This isn't
+my day for you. Clear out of here--quick!"
+
+Chadron backed toward the front door, his hand still dubiously on his
+revolver. Still suspicious, his face as white as it would have been in
+death, he reached back with his free hand to open the door.
+
+"I told you he'd git me," nodded Thorn, with something near to
+exultation in the vindication of his reading of the cards. "I give you
+a chance--no man's money ain't a-goin' to shut my mouth now!"
+
+"I'll shut it, damn you!" Chadron's voice was dry-sounding and far
+up in his throat. He drew his revolver with a quick jerk that
+seemed nothing more than a slight movement of the shoulder. Quick
+as he was--and few in the cattlemen's baronies were ahead of him
+there--Macdonald was quicker. The muzzle of Chadron's pistol was
+still in the leather when Macdonald's weapon was leveled at his eyes.
+
+"Drop that gun!"
+
+A moment Chadron's arm hung stiffly in that half-finished movement,
+while his eyes gave defiance. He had not bent before any man in many a
+year of growing power. But there was no other way; it was either bend
+or break, and the break would be beyond repair.
+
+Chadron's fingers were damp with sudden sweat as he unclasped them
+from the pistol-butt and let the weapon fall; sweat was on his
+forehead, and a heaviness on his chest as if a man sat on him. He felt
+backwards through the open door with one foot, like an old man
+distrustful of his limbs, and steadied himself with his shoulder
+against the jamb, for there was a trembling in his knees. He knew that
+he had saved himself from the drop into eternal inconsequence by the
+shading of a second, for there was death in dusty Alan Macdonald's
+face. The escape left Chadron shaken, like a man who has held himself
+away from death by his finger-ends at the lip of a ledge.
+
+"I knowed you'd git me, Macdonald," Thorn repeated. "You don't need no
+handcuffs nor nothin' for me. I'll go along with you as gentle as a
+fish."
+
+Macdonald indicated that Thorn might lower his arms, having taken
+possession of the rifle. "Have you got a horse?" he asked.
+
+Thorn said that he had one in the hotel stable. "But don't you try to
+take me too fur, Macdonald," he advised. "Chadron he'll ride a streak
+to git his men together and try to take me away from you--I could see
+it in his eye when he went out of that door."
+
+Macdonald knew that Thorn had read Chadron's intentions right. He
+nodded, to let him know that he understood the cattleman's motives.
+
+"Well, don't you run me off to no private rope party, neither,
+Macdonald, for I can tell you things that many a man'd pay me big
+money to keep my mouth shut on."
+
+"You'll have a chance, Thorn."
+
+"But I want it done in the right way, so's I'll git the credit and the
+fame."
+
+Macdonald was surprised to find this man, whose infamous career had
+branded him as the arch-monster of modern times, so vain and
+garrulous. He could account for it by no other hypothesis than that
+much killing had indurated the warped mind of the slayer until the
+taking of a human life was to him a commonplace. He was not capable of
+remorse, any more than he had been disposed to pity. He was not a man,
+only the blighted and cursed husk of a man, indeed, but doubly
+dangerous for his irresponsibility, for his atrophied small
+understanding.
+
+Twenty miles lay between the prisoner and the doubtful security of the
+jail at Meander, and most of the distance was through the grazing
+lands within Chadron's bounds. On the other hand, it was not more than
+twelve miles to his ranch on the river. He believed that he could
+reach it before Chadron could raise men to stop him and take the
+prisoner away.
+
+Once home with Thorn, he could raise a posse to guard him until the
+sheriff could be summoned. Even then there was no certainty that the
+prisoner ever would see the inside of the Meander jail, for the
+sheriff of that county was nothing more than one of Chadron's cowboys,
+elevated to office to serve the unrighteous desires of the men who had
+put him there.
+
+But Macdonald was determined that there should be no private rope
+party for Thorn, neither at the hands of the prisoner's employers nor
+at those of the outraged settlers. Thorn must be brought to trial
+publicly, and the story of his employment, which he appeared ready
+enough to tell for the "glory" in it, must be told in a manner that
+would establish its value.
+
+The cruelly inhuman tale of his contracts and killings, his
+engagements and rewards, must be sown by the newspapers far and wide.
+Out of this dark phase of their oppression their deliverance must
+rise.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+"HELL'S A-GOIN' TO POP"
+
+
+Chance Dalton, foreman of Alamito Ranch, was in charge of the
+expedition that rode late that afternoon against Macdonald's homestead
+to liberate Mark Thorn, and close his mouth in the cattlemen's
+effective way upon the bloody secrets which he might in vainglorious
+boast reveal. Chadron had promised rewards for the successful outcome
+of the venture, and Chance Dalton rode with his three picked men in a
+sportsman's heat.
+
+He was going out on a hunt for game such as he had run down more than
+once before in his many years under Chadron's hand. It was better
+sport than running down wolves or mountain lions, for there was the
+superior intelligence of the game to be considered. No man knew what
+turn the ingenuity of desperation might give the human mind. The
+hunted might go out in one last splendid blaze of courage, or he might
+cringe and beg, with white face and rolling eyes. In the case of
+Macdonald, Dalton anticipated something unusual. He had tasted that
+unaccountable homesteader's spirit in the past.
+
+Dalton was a wiry, tough man who rode with his elbows out, like an
+Indian. His face was scarred by old knife-wounds, making it hard for
+him to shave, in consequence of which he allowed his red beard to grow
+to inch-length, where he kept it in subjugation with shears. The
+gutters of his scars were seen through it, and the ends of them ran
+up, on both cheeks, to his eyes. A knife had gone across one of these,
+missing the bright little pupil in its bony cave, but slashing the
+eyebrow and leaving him leering on that side.
+
+The men who came behind him were cowboys from the Texas Panhandle,
+lean and tough as the dried beef of their native plains. It was the
+most formidable force, not in numbers, but in proficiency, that ever
+had proceeded against Macdonald, and the most determined.
+
+Chadron himself had bent to the small office of spy to learn
+Macdonald's intention in reference to his prisoner. From a sheltered
+thicket in the foothills the cattleman had watched the homesteader
+through his field glasses, making certain that he was returning Thorn
+to the scene of his latest crimes, instead of risking the long road to
+the Meander jail.
+
+Chadron knew that Macdonald would defend the prisoner's life with his
+own, even against his neighbors. Macdonald would be as eager to have
+Thorn tell the story of his transactions with the Drovers' Association
+as they would be to have it shut off. The realization of this threw
+Chadron into a state which he described to himself as the "fantods."
+Another, with a more extensive and less picturesque vocabulary, would
+have said that the president of the Drovers' Association was in a
+condition of panic.
+
+So he had despatched his men on this silencing errand, and now, as the
+sun was dipping over the hills, all red with the presage of a frosty
+night, Chance Dalton and his men came riding in sight of Macdonald's
+little nest of buildings fronting the road by the river.
+
+Macdonald had secured his prisoner with ropes, for there was no
+compartment in his little house, built of boards from the mountain
+sawmill, strong enough to confine a man, much less a slippery one like
+Mark Thorn. The slayer had lapsed into his native taciturnity shortly
+after beginning the trip from the reservation to Macdonald's
+homestead, and now he lay on the floor trussed up like a hog for
+market, looking blackly at Macdonald. Macdonald was considering the
+night ride to Meander with his prisoner that he had planned, with the
+intention of proceeding from there to Cheyenne and lodging him in
+jail. He believed there might be a better chance of holding him for
+trial there, and some slight hope of justice.
+
+A hail from the gate startled Macdonald. It was the custom of the
+homesteaders in that country, carried with them from the hills of
+Missouri and Arkansas, to sit in their saddles at a neighbor's gate
+and call him to the door with a long "hello-o-oh!" It was the password
+of friendship in that raw land; a cowboy never had been known to stoop
+to its use. Cowboys rode up to a homesteader's door when they had
+anything to say to him, and hammered on it with their guns.
+
+Macdonald went to the door and opened it unhesitatingly. The horseman
+at the gate was a stranger to him. He wore a little derby hat, such as
+the cowpunchers despised, and the trappings of his horse proclaimed
+him as a newcomer to that country. He inquired loudly of the road to
+Fort Shakie, and Macdonald shouted back the necessary directions,
+moving a step away from his open door.
+
+The stranger put his hand to his ear and leaned over.
+
+"Which?" said he.
+
+At that sound of that distinctly-cowboy vernacular, Macdonald sprang
+back to regain the shelter of his walls, sensing too late the trap
+that the cowboy's unguarded word had betrayed. Chance Dalton at one
+corner of the rude bungalow, his next best man at the other, had been
+waiting for the decoy at the gate to draw Macdonald away from his
+door. Now, as the homesteader leaped back in sudden alarm, they closed
+in on him with their revolvers drawn.
+
+There was the sound of a third man trying the back door at the same
+time, and the disguised cowboy at the gate slung his weapon out and
+sent a wild shot into the lintel above Macdonald's head. The two of
+them on the ground had him at a disadvantage which it would have been
+fatal to dispute, and Macdonald, valuing a future chance more than a
+present hopeless struggle, flung his hands out in a gesture of
+emptiness and surrender.
+
+"Put 'em up--high!" Dalton ordered.
+
+Dalton watched him keenly as the three in that picture before the door
+stood keyed to such tension as the human intelligence seldom is called
+upon to withstand. Macdonald stood with one foot on the low threshold,
+the door swinging half open at his back. He was bareheaded, his rough,
+fair hair in wisps on temples and forehead. Dalton's teeth were
+showing between his bearded lips, and his quick eyes were scowling,
+but he held his companion back with a command of his free hand.
+
+Macdonald lifted his hands slowly, holding them little above a level
+with his shoulders.
+
+"Give up your prisoner, Macdonald, and we'll deal square with you,"
+Dalton said.
+
+"Go in and take him," offered Macdonald, stepping aside out of the
+door.
+
+"Go ahead of us, and put 'em up higher!" Dalton made a little
+expressive flourish with his gun, evidently distrustful of the
+homesteader's quick hand, even at his present disadvantage.
+
+The man at the back door was using the ax from Macdonald's wood pile,
+as the sound of splintering timber told. Between three fires,
+Macdonald felt his chance stretching to the breaking point, for he had
+no faith at all in Chance Dalton's word. They had come to get him, and
+it looked now as if they had won.
+
+When Macdonald entered the house he saw Thorn sitting in the middle of
+the floor, where he had rolled and struggled in his efforts to see
+what was taking place outside.
+
+"You've played hell now, ain't you? lettin' 'em git the drop on you
+that way!" he said to Macdonald, angrily. "They'll swing--"
+
+"Hand over that gun, Macdonald," Dalton demanded. They were standing
+near him, one on either hand, both leveling their guns at his head.
+Macdonald could see the one at the back door of his little two-roomed
+bungalow through the hole that he had chopped.
+
+"I don't hand my gun to any man; if you want it, come and take it,"
+Macdonald said, feeling that the end was rushing upon him, and
+wondering what it would be. A bullet was better than a rope, which
+Chadron had publicly boasted he had laid up for him. There was a long
+chance if Dalton reached for that gun--a long and desperate chance.
+
+The man at the back door was shouting something, his gun thrust
+through the hole. Dalton made a cross-reach with his left hand for
+Macdonald's revolver. On the other side the cowboy was watching his
+comrade's gun pointing through the kitchen door; Macdonald could see
+the whites of his eyes as he turned them.
+
+"Don't shoot in here! we've got 'em," he called.
+
+His shifted eye told Macdonald that he was trusting to Dalton, and
+Dalton at that moment was leaning forward with a strain, cautiously,
+his hand near Macdonald's holster.
+
+Macdonald brought his lifted arms down, like a swimmer making a mighty
+stroke, with all the steam behind them that he could raise. His
+back-handed blow struck the cowboy in the face; Macdonald felt the
+flame of his shot as it spurted past his forehead. The other arm fell
+short of the nimbler and more watchful Dalton, but the duck that he
+made to escape it broke the drop that he had held over Macdonald.
+
+Macdonald's hand flashed up with his own gun. He drove a disabling
+shot through Dalton's wrist as the ranch foreman was coming up to
+fire, and kicked the gun that he dropped out of reach of his other
+hand. The cowboy who had caught Macdonald's desperate blow had
+staggered back against the foot of the bed and fallen. Now he had
+regained himself, and was crouching behind the bed, trying to cover
+himself, and from there as he shrank down he fired. The next flash he
+sprawled forward with hands outstretched across the blanket, as if he
+had fallen on his knees to pray.
+
+Macdonald caught Dalton by the shirt collar as he went scrambling on
+his knees after the revolver. Dalton was splashing blood from his
+shattered wrist over the room, but he was senseless to pain and blind
+to danger. He sprang at Macdonald, cursing and striking.
+
+"Keep off, Dalton! I don't want to kill you, man!" Macdonald warned.
+
+Careless of his life Dalton fought, and as they struggled Mark Thorn
+undoubled himself from his hunched position on the floor and snatched
+Dalton's revolver in his bound hands from the floor. His long legs
+free of his binding ropes, Thorn sprang for the door. He reached it at
+the moment that the man in the disguise of a homesteader pushed it
+open.
+
+Macdonald did not see what took place there, for it was over by the
+time he had struck Dalton into a limp quiet heap at his feet by a blow
+with his revolver across the eyes. But there had been a shot at the
+door, and Macdonald had heard the man from the back come running
+around the side of the house. There were more shots, but all done
+before Macdonald could leap to the door.
+
+There, through the smoke of many quick shots that drifted into the
+open door, he saw the two cowboys fallen with outflung arms. In the
+road a few rods distant Mark Thorn was mounting one of Chadron's
+horses. The old outlaw flung himself flat along the horse's neck, and
+presented little of his vital parts as a target. As he galloped away
+Macdonald fired, but apparently did not hit. In a moment Thorn rode
+down the river-bank and out of sight.
+
+Macdonald stood a little while in the middle of the disordered room
+after re-entering the house, a feeling of great silence about him, and
+a numbness in his ears and over his senses. It was a sensation such as
+he had experienced once after standing for hours under the spell of
+Niagara. Something seemed to have been silenced in the world.
+
+He was troubled over the outcome of that treacherous assault. He felt
+that the shadow of the resultant tragedy was already stretching away
+from there like the penumbra of an eclipse which must soon engulf
+those homesteads on the river, and exact a terrible, blasting toll.
+
+Dalton was huddled there, his life wasting through the wound in his
+wrist, blood on his face from the blow that had laid him still. The
+dead man across the bed remained as he had fallen, his arms stretched
+out in empty supplication. There was a pathos in the fellow's pose
+that touched Macdonald with a pity which he knew to be undeserved. He
+had not meant to take his life away in that hasty shot, but since it
+had happened so, he knew that it had been his own deliverance.
+
+Macdonald stripped the garment back and looked at Dalton's hurt. There
+would be another one to take toll for in the cattlemen's list unless
+the drain of blood could be checked at once. Dalton moved, opening his
+eyes.
+
+It seemed unlikely that Dalton ever would sling a gun with that member
+again, if he should be so lucky, indeed, as to come through with his
+life. The bone was shattered, the hand hung limp, like a broken wing.
+Dalton sat up, yielding his arm to his enemy's ministrations, as
+silent and ungracious as a dog. In a little while Macdonald had done
+all that he could do, and with a hand under the hollow of Dalton's arm
+he lifted him to his feet.
+
+"Can you ride?" he asked. Dalton did not reply. He looked at the
+figure on the bed, and stood turning his eyes around the room in the
+manner of one stunned, and completely confounded by the failure of a
+scheme counted infallible.
+
+"You made a botch of this job, Dalton," Macdonald said. "The rest of
+your crowd's outside where Thorn dropped them--he snatched your gun
+from the floor and killed both of them."
+
+Dalton went weakly to the door, where he stood a moment, steadying
+himself with a hand on the jamb. Macdonald eased him from there to the
+gate, and brought the horses which the gang had hidden among the
+willows.
+
+"Tell Chadron to send a wagon up here after these dead men," Macdonald
+said, leading a horse to the gate.
+
+He helped the still silent Dalton into the saddle, where he sat
+weakly. The man seemed to be debating something to say to this
+unaccountably fortunate nester, who came untouched through all their
+attempts upon his life. But whatever it was that he cogitated he kept
+to himself, only turning his eyes back toward the house, where his two
+men lay on the ground. The face of one was turned upward. In the
+draining light of the spent day it looked as white as innocence.
+
+As Dalton drew his eyes away from the fearful evidence of his plan's
+miscarriage, the sound of hard riding came from the direction of the
+settlement up the river. Macdonald listened a moment as the sound
+grew.
+
+"That will be no friend of yours, Dalton. Get out of this!"
+
+He cut Dalton's horse a sharp blow. The beast bounded away with a
+start that almost unseated its dizzy rider; the two free animals
+galloped after it. Chance Dalton was on his way to Chadron with his
+burden of disgrace and disastrous news. It seemed a question to
+Macdonald, as he watched him weaving in the saddle as the gloom closed
+around him and shut him from sight, whether he ever would reach the
+ranchhouse to recount his story, whatever version of the tragedy he
+had planned.
+
+Tom Lassiter drew up before Macdonald's gate while the dust of
+Dalton's going was still hanging there. The gaunt old homesteader with
+the cloud of sorrows in his eyes said that he had been on his way over
+to see what had become of Macdonald in his lone hunt for Mark Thorn.
+He had heard the shooting, and the sound had hurried him forward.
+
+Macdonald told him what had happened, and took him in to see the
+wreckage left after that sudden storm. Tom shook his head as he stood
+in the yard looking down at the two dead men.
+
+"Hell's a-goin' to pop now!" he said.
+
+"I think you've said the word, Tom," Macdonald admitted. "They'll come
+back on me hard for this."
+
+"You'll never have to stand up to 'em alone another time, I'll give
+you a guarantee on that, Mac."
+
+"I'm glad to hear it," Macdonald replied, but wearily, and with no
+warmth or faith in his words.
+
+"And they let that old scorpeen loose to skulk and kill ag'in!"
+
+"Yes, he got away."
+
+"They sure did oncork a hornet's nest when they come here this time,
+though, they sure did!" Tom stood in the door, looking into the
+darkening room and at the figure sprawled across the bed. "He-ell's
+a-goin' to pop now!" he said again, in slow words scarcely above his
+breath.
+
+He turned his head searchingly, as if he expected to see the cloud of
+it already lowering out of the night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE SENOR BOSS COMES RIDING
+
+
+Nola Chadron had been a guest overnight at the post. She had come the
+afternoon before, bright as a bubble, and Frances had met her with a
+welcome as warm as if there never had been a shadow between them.
+
+Women can do such things so much better than men. Balzac said they
+could murder under the cover of a kiss. Perhaps somebody else said it
+ahead of him; certainly a great many of us have thought it after.
+There is not one out of the whole world of them but is capable of
+covering the fire of lies in her heart with the rose leaves of her
+smiles.
+
+Nola had come into Frances' room to do her hair, and employ her busy
+tongue while she plied the brush. She was a pretty bit of a figure in
+her fancily-worked Japanese kimono and red Turkish slippers--harem
+slippers, she called them, and thought it deliciously wicked to wear
+them--as she sat shaking back her bright hair like a giver of
+sunbeams.
+
+Frances, already dressed in her soft light apparel of the morning,
+stood at the window watching the activity of the avenue below,
+answering encouragingly now and then, laughing at the right time, to
+keep the stream of her little guest's words running on. Frances seemed
+all softness and warmth, all youth and freshness, as fair as a
+camellia in a sunny casement, there at the window with the light
+around her. Above that inborn dignity which every line of her body
+expressed, there was a domestic tranquillity in her subdued beauty
+that moved even irresponsible Nola with an admiration that she could
+not put into words.
+
+"Oh, you soldiers!" said Nola, shaking her brush at Frances' placid
+back, "you get up so early and you dress so fast that you're always
+ahead of everybody else."
+
+Frances turned to her, a smile for her childish complaint.
+
+"You'll get into our soldiering ways in time, Nola. We get up early
+and live in a hurry, I suppose, because a soldier's life is
+traditionally uncertain, and he wants to make the most of his time."
+
+"And love and ride away," said Nola, feigning a sigh.
+
+"Do they?" asked Frances, not interested, turning to the window
+again.
+
+"Of course," said Nola, positively.
+
+    "Like the guardsmen of old England,
+    Or the beaux sabreurs of France--"
+
+that's an old border song, did you ever hear it?"
+
+"No, I never did."
+
+"It's about the Texas rangers, though, and not real soldiers like you
+folks. A cavalryman's wife wrote it; I've got it in a book."
+
+"Maybe they do that way in Texas, Nola."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Love and ride away, as you said. I never heard of any of them doing
+it, except figuratively, in the regular army."
+
+Nola suspended her brushing and looked at Frances curiously, a deeper
+color rising and spreading in her animated face.
+
+"Oh, you little goose!" said she.
+
+"Mostly they hang around and make trouble for people and fools of
+themselves," said Frances, in half-thoughtful vein, her back to her
+visitor, who had stopped brushing now, and was winding, a comb in her
+mouth.
+
+Nola held her quick hand at the half-finished coil of hair while she
+looked narrowly at the outline of Frances' form against the window. A
+little squint of perplexity was in her eyes, and furrows in her smooth
+forehead. Presently she finished the coil with dextrous turn, and held
+it with outspread hand while she reached to secure it with the comb.
+
+"I can't make you out sometimes, Frances, you're so funny," she
+declared. "I'm afraid to talk to you half the time"--which was in no
+part true--"you're so nunnish and severe."
+
+"Oh!" said Frances, fully discounting the declaration.
+
+No wonder that Major King was hard to wean from her, thought Nola,
+with all that grace of body and charm of word. Superiority had been
+born in Frances Landcraft, not educated into her in expensive schools,
+the cattleman's daughter knew. It spoke for itself in the carriage of
+her head there against the light of that fair new day, with the
+sunshine on the dying cottonwood leaves beyond the windowpane; in the
+lifting of her neck, white as King David's tower of shields.
+
+"Well, I _am_ half afraid of you sometimes," Nola persisted. "I draw
+my hand back from touching you when you've got one of your soaring
+fits on you and walk along like you couldn't see common mortals and
+cowmen's daughters."
+
+"Well, everybody isn't like you, Nola; there are some who treat me
+like a child."
+
+Frances was thinking of her father and Major King, both of whom had
+continued to overlook and ignore her declaration of severance from her
+plighted word. The colonel had brushed it aside with rough hand and
+sharp word; the major had come penitent and in suppliance. But both of
+them were determined to marry her according to schedule, with no
+weight to her solemn denial.
+
+"Mothers do that, right along," Nola nodded.
+
+"Here's somebody else up early"--Frances held the curtain aside as she
+spoke, and leaned a little to see--"here's your father, just turning
+in."
+
+"The senor boss?" said Nola, hurrying to the window.
+
+Saul Chadron was mounting the steps booted and dusty, his revolvers
+belted over his coat. "I wonder what's the matter? I hope it isn't
+mother--I'll run down and see."
+
+The maid had let Chadron in by the time Nola opened the door of the
+room, and there she stood leaning and listening, her little head out
+in the hall, as if afraid to run to meet trouble. Chadron's big voice
+came up to them.
+
+"It's all right," Nola nodded to Frances, who stood at her elbow, "he
+wants to see the colonel."
+
+Frances had heard the cattleman's loud demand for instant audience.
+Now the maid was explaining in temporizing tones.
+
+"The colonel he's busy with military matters this early in the day,
+sir, and nobody ever disturbs him. He don't see nobody but the
+officers. If you'll step in and wait--"
+
+"The officers can wait!" Chadron said, in loud, assertive voice that
+made the servant shiver. "Where's he at?"
+
+Frances could see in her lively imagination the frightened maid's
+gesture toward the colonel's office door. Now the girl's feet sounded
+along the hall in hasty retreat as Chadron laid his hearty knock
+against the colonel's panels.
+
+Frances smiled behind her friend's back. The impatient disregard by
+civilians of the forms which her father held in such esteem always was
+a matter of humor to her. She expected now to hear explosions from
+within her father's sacred place, and when the sound failed to reach
+her she concluded that some subordinate hand had opened the door to
+Chadron's summons.
+
+"I'll hurry"--Nola dashed into her own room, finishing from the
+door--"I want to catch him before he goes and find out what's wrong."
+
+Frances went below to see about breakfast for her tardy guest, a
+little fluttering of excitement in her own breast. She wondered what
+could have brought the cattleman to the post so early--he must have
+left long before dawn--and in such haste to see her father, all
+buckled about with his arms. She trusted that it might not be that
+Alan Macdonald was involved in it, for it was her constant thought to
+hope well for that bold young man who had heaved the homesteaders'
+world to his shoulders and stood straining, untrusted and uncheered,
+under its weight.
+
+True, he had not died in defense of her glove, but she had forgiven
+him in her heart for that. A reasonable man would not have imperiled
+his life for such a trifle, and a reasonable woman would not have
+expected it. There was a great deal more sense in Alan Macdonald
+living for his life's purpose than in dying for a foolish little
+glove. So she said.
+
+The white gossamer fichu about her throat moved as with a breath in
+the agitation of her bosom as she passed down the stairs; her
+imperious chin was lowered, and her strong brown eyes were bent like a
+nun's before the altar. Worthy or unworthy, her lips moved in a prayer
+for Alan Macdonald, strong man in his obscure place; worthy or
+unworthy, she wished him well, and her heart yearned after him with a
+great tenderness, like a south wind roaming the night in gentle
+quest.
+
+Major King, in attendance upon his chief, had opened the door to Saul
+Chadron at the colonel's frowning nod. Without waiting for the
+password into the mysteries of that chamber, Chadron had entered, his
+heavy quirt in hand, gauntlets to his elbows, dusty boots to his
+knees. Colonel Landcraft stood at his desk to receive him, his brows
+bent in a disfavoring frown.
+
+"I've busted in on you, colonel, because my business is business, not
+a mess of reportin' and signin' up on nothing, like your fool army
+doin's." Chadron clamped with clicking spurs across the severe bare
+floor as he made this announcement, the frown of his displeasure in
+having been stopped at the door still dark on his face.
+
+"I'm waiting your pleasure, sir," Colonel Landcraft returned,
+stiffly.
+
+"I want twenty-five troopers and a cannon, and somebody that knows how
+to use it, and I want 'em right away!"
+
+Chadron gave the order with a hotness about him, and an impatience not
+to be denied.
+
+"Sir!" said Colonel Landcraft, throwing his bony shoulders back, his
+little blue eyes growing very cold and unfriendly.
+
+"Them damn rustlers of Macdonald's are up and standin' agin us, and I
+tell you I want troopers, and I want 'em on the spot!"
+
+Colonel Landcraft swallowed like an eagle gorging a fish. His face
+grew red, he clamped his jaw, and held his mouth shut. It took him
+some little time to suppress his flooding emotions, and his voice
+trembled even when he ventured to trust himself to speak.
+
+"That's a matter for your civil authorities, sir; I have nothing to do
+with it at all."
+
+"You ain't got--nothing--?" Chadron's amazement seemed to overcome
+him. He stopped, his eyes big, his mouth open; he turned his head from
+side to side in dumbfounded way, as if to find another to bear witness
+to this incredible thing.
+
+"I tell you they're threatenin' my property, and the property of my
+neighbors!" protested Chadron, stunned, it seemed, that he should have
+to stop for details and explanations. "We've got millions invested--if
+them fellers gobbles up our land we're ruined!"
+
+"Sir, I can sympathize with you in your unfortunate business, but if I
+had millions of my own at stake under similar conditions I would be
+powerless to employ, on my own initiative, the forces of the United
+States army to drive those brigands away."
+
+Chadron looked at him hard, his hat on his head, where it had remained
+all the time, his eyes staring in unspeakable surprise.
+
+"The hell you would!" said he.
+
+"You and your neighbors surely can raise enough men to crush the
+scoundrels, and hang their leader to a limb," the colonel suggested.
+"Call out your men, Chadron, and ride against him. I never took you
+for a man to squeal for help in a little affair like this."
+
+"He's got as many as a hundred men organized, maybe twice that"--Chadron
+multiplied on the basis of damage that his men had suffered--"and my
+men tell me he's drillin' 'em like soldiers."
+
+"I'm not surprised to hear that," nodded the colonel; "that man
+Macdonald's got it in him to do that, and fight like the devil, too."
+
+"A gang of 'em killed three of my men a couple of days ago when I sent
+'em up there to his shack to investigate a little matter, and
+Macdonald shot my foreman up so bad I guess he'll die. I tell you,
+man, it's a case for troopers!"
+
+"What has the sheriff and the rest of you done to restore order?"
+
+"I took twenty of my men up there yisterday, and a bunch of Sam
+Hatcher's from acrosst the river was to join us and smoke that wolf
+out of his hole and hang his damn hide on his cussed bob-wire fence.
+But hell! they was ditched in around that shack of his'n, I tell you,
+gentlemen, and he peppered us so hard we had to streak out of there. I
+left two of my men, and Hatcher's crew couldn't come over to help us,
+for them damn rustlers had breastworks throwed up over there and drove
+'em away from the river. They've got us shut out from the only ford in
+thirty miles."
+
+"Well, I'll be damned!" said the colonel, warming at this warlike
+news.
+
+"Macdonald's had the gall to send me notice to keep out of that
+country up the river, and to run my cattle out of there, and it's my
+own land, by God! I've been grazin' it for eighteen years!"
+
+"It looks like a serious situation," the colonel admitted.
+
+"Serious!" There was scorn for the word and its weakness in Chadron's
+stress. "It's hell, I tell you, when a man can't set foot on his own
+land!"
+
+"Are they all rustlers up there in the settlement? are there no honest
+homesteaders among them who would combine with you against this wild
+man and his unlawful followers?" the colonel wanted to know.
+
+"Not a man amongst 'em that ain't cut the brand out of a hide,"
+Chadron declared. "They've been nestin' up there under that man
+Macdonald for the last two years, and he's the brains of the pack. He
+gits his rake-off out of all they run off and sell. Me and the other
+cattlemen we've been feedin' and supportin' 'em till the drain's
+gittin' more'n we can stand. We've got to put 'em out, like a fire, or
+be eat up. We've got to hit 'em, and hit 'em hard."
+
+"It would seem so," the colonel agreed.
+
+"It's a state of war, I tell you, colonel; you're free to use your
+troops in a state of war, ain't you? Twenty-five troopers, with a
+little small cannon"--Chadron made illustration of the caliber that he
+considered adequate for the business with his hands--"to knock 'em out
+of their ditches so we could pick 'em off as they scatter, would be
+enough; we can handle the rest."
+
+"If there is anything that I can do for you in my private capacity, I
+am at your command," offered Colonel Landcraft, with official
+emptiness, "but I regret that I am powerless to grant your request for
+troops. I couldn't lift a finger in a matter like this without a
+department order; you ought to understand that, Chadron."
+
+"Oh, if that's all that's bitin' you, go ahead--I'll take care of the
+department," Chadron told him, with the relieved manner of one who had
+seen a light.
+
+"Sir!"
+
+If Chadron had proposed treason the colonel could not have compressed
+more censure into that word.
+
+"That's all right," Chadron assured him, comfortably; "I've got two
+senators and five congressmen back there in Washington that jigger
+when I jerk the gee-string. You can cut loose and come into this thing
+with a free hand, and go the limit, the department be damned if they
+don't like it!"
+
+Colonel Landcraft's face was flaming angrily. He snapped his dry old
+eyelids like flints over the steel of his eyes, and stood as straight
+as the human body could be drawn, one hand on his sword hilt, the
+other pointing a trembling finger at Chadron's face.
+
+"You cattlemen run this state, and one or two others here in the
+Northwest, I'm aware of that, Chadron. But there's one thing that you
+don't run, and that's the United States army! I don't care a damn how
+many congressmen dance to your tune, you're not big enough to move
+even one trooper out of my barracks, sir! That's all I've got to say
+to you."
+
+Chadron stood a little while, glowering at the colonel. It enraged him
+to be blocked in that manner by a small and inconsequential man. This
+he felt Colonel Landcraft to be, measured against his own strength and
+importance in that country. Himself and the other two big cattlemen in
+that section of the state lorded it over an area greater than two or
+three of the old states where the slipping heritage of individual
+liberty was born. Now here was a colonel in his way; one little old
+gray colonel!
+
+"All right," Chadron said at length, charging his words with what he
+doubtless meant to be a significant foreboding, measuring Colonel
+Landcraft with contemptuous eye. "I can call out an army of my own. I
+came to you because we pay you fellers to do what I'm askin' of you,
+and because I thought it'd save me time. That's all."
+
+"You came to me because you have magnified your importance in this
+country until you believe you're the entire nation," the colonel
+replied, very hot and red.
+
+Chadron made no answer to that. He turned toward the military door,
+but Colonel Landcraft would not permit his unsanctified feet, great as
+they were and free to come and go as they liked in other places, to
+pass that way. He frowned at Major King, who had stood by in silence
+all the time, like a good soldier, his eyes straight ahead. Major King
+touched Chadron's arm.
+
+"This way, sir, if you please," he said.
+
+Chadron started out, wrathfully and noisily. Half-way to the door he
+turned, his dark face sneering in contemptuous scorn.
+
+"Yes, you're one hell of a colonel!" he said.
+
+Major King was holding the door open; Chadron swung his big body
+around to face it, and passed out. Major King saluted his superior
+officer and followed the cattleman into the hall, closing the sacred
+door behind him on the wrathful little old soldier standing beside his
+desk. King extended his hand, sympathy in gesture and look.
+
+"If I was in command of this post, sir, you'd never have to ask twice
+for troops," he said.
+
+Chadron's sudden interest seemed to give him the movement of a little
+start. His grip on the young officer's hand tightened as he bent a
+searching look into his eyes.
+
+"King, I believe you!" he said.
+
+Nola came pattering down the stairs. Chadron stood with open arms, and
+swallowed her in them as she leaped from the bottom tread. Major King
+did not wait to see her emerge again, rosy and lip-tempting. There was
+unfinished business within the colonel's room.
+
+A few minutes later Nola, excited to her finger-ends, was retailing
+the story of the rustlers' uprising to Frances.
+
+"Mother's all worked up over it; she's afraid they'll burn us out and
+murder us, but of course we'd clean them up before they'd ever get
+_that_ far down the river."
+
+"It looks to me like a very serious situation for everybody
+concerned," Frances said. "If your father brings in the men that you
+say he's gone to Meander to telegraph for, there's going to be a lot
+of killing done on both sides."
+
+"Father says he's going to clean them out for good this time--they've
+cost us thousands of dollars in the past three years. Oh, you can't
+understand what a low-down bunch of scrubs those rustlers are!"
+
+"Maybe not," Frances said, giving it up with a little sigh.
+
+"I've got to go back to mother this morning, right away, but that
+little fuss up the river doesn't need to keep you from going home with
+me as you promised, Frances."
+
+"I shouldn't mind, but I don't believe father will want me to go out
+into your wild country. I really want to go--I want to look around in
+your garden for a glove that I lost there on the night of the ball."
+
+"Oh, why didn't you tell me?" Nola's face seemed to clear of
+something, a shadow of perplexity, it seemed, that Frances had seen in
+it from time to time since her coming there. She looked frankly and
+reprovingly at Frances.
+
+"I didn't miss it until I was leaving, and I didn't want to delay the
+rest of them to look for it. It really doesn't matter."
+
+"It's a wonder mother didn't find it; she's always prowling around
+among the flowers," said Nola, her eyes fixed in abstracted stare, as
+if she was thinking deeply of something apart from what her words
+expressed.
+
+What she was considering, indeed, was that her little scheme of
+alienation had failed. Major King, she told herself, had not returned
+the glove to Frances. For all his lightness in the matter, perhaps he
+cared deeply for Frances, and would be more difficult to wean than she
+had thought. It would have to be begun anew. That Frances was ignorant
+of her treachery, as she now fully believed, made it easier. So the
+little lady told herself, surveying the situation in her quick brain,
+and deceiving herself completely, as many a shrewder schemer than she,
+when self-entangled in the devious plottings of this life.
+
+On the other hand there sat Frances across the table--they were
+breakfasting alone, Mrs. Landcraft being a strict militarist, and
+always serving the colonel's coffee with her own hand--throwing up a
+framework of speculation on her own account. Perhaps if she should go
+to the ranch she might be in some manner instrumental in bringing this
+needless warfare to a pacific end. Intervention at the right time, in
+the proper quarter, might accomplish more than strife and bloodshed
+could bring out of that one-sided war.
+
+No matter for the justice of the homesteaders' cause, and the
+sincerity of their leader, neither of which she doubted or questioned,
+the weight of numbers and resources would be on the side of the
+cattlemen. It could result only in the homesteaders being driven from
+their insecure holdings after the sacrifice of many lives. If she
+could see Macdonald, and appeal to him to put down this foolish, even
+though well-intended strife, something might result.
+
+It was an inconsequential turmoil, it seemed to her, there in that
+sequestered land, for a man like Alan Macdonald to squander his life
+upon. If he stood against the forces which Chadron had gone to summon,
+he would be slain, and the abundant promise of his life wasted like
+water on the sand.
+
+"I'll go with you, Nola," she said, rising from the table in quick
+decision.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+"THE RUSTLERS!"
+
+
+"I've stood up for that man, and I've stood by him," said Banjo
+Gibson, "but when a man shoots a friend of my friend he ain't no
+friend of mine. I'm done with him; I won't never set a boot-heel
+inside of his door ag'in."
+
+Banjo was in Mrs. Chadron's south sitting-room, with its friendly
+fireplace and homely things, including Mrs. Chadron and her apparently
+interminable sock. Only now it was a gray sock, designed not for the
+mighty foot of Saul, but for Chance Dalton, lying on his back in the
+bunkhouse in a fever growing out of the handling that he had gone
+through at Macdonald's place.
+
+Banjo had arrived at the ranch the previous evening. He was sitting
+now with his fiddle on his knee, having gone through the repertory
+most favored by his hostess, with the exception of "Silver Threads."
+That was an afternoon melody, Banjo maintained, and one would have
+strained his friendship and shaken his respect if he had insisted upon
+the musician putting bow to it in the morning hours.
+
+"Yes," sighed Mrs. Chadron, "it was bad enough when he just shot
+cowboys, but when it come to Chance we felt real grieved. Chance he
+ain't much to look at, but he's worth his weight in gold on the
+ranch."
+
+"Busted his right arm all to pieces, they tell me?"
+
+"Right here." Mrs. Chadron marked across her wrist with her knitting
+needle, and shook her head in heavy sadness.
+
+"That'll kind of spile him, won't it?"
+
+"Well, Saul says it won't make so much difference about him not havin'
+the use of his hand on that side if it don't break his nerve. A man
+loses confidence in himself, Saul says, most always when he loses the
+hand or arm he's slung his gun with all his life. He takes the notion
+that everybody's quicker'n he is, and just kind of slinges back and
+drops out of the game."
+
+"Do you expect Saul he'll come back here with them soldiers he went
+after?"
+
+"I expect he'll more'n likely order 'em right up the river to clear
+them rustlers out before he stops or anything," she replied, in high
+confidence.
+
+"The gall of them low-down brand-burners standin' up to fight a man on
+his own land!" Banjo's indignation could not have been more pointed if
+he had been a lord of many herds himself.
+
+"There comes them blessed girls!" reported Mrs. Chadron from her
+station near the window. Banjo crossed over to see, his fiddle held to
+his bosom like an infant. Nola and Frances were nearing the gate.
+
+"That colonel girl she's a up-setter, ain't she?" Banjo admired.
+
+"She's as sweet as locus' blooms," Mrs. Chadron declared, unstintingly.
+
+"But she's kind of distant; nothing friendly and warm-hearted like
+your little Nola, mom."
+
+"She's a little cool to strangers, but when she knows a body she comes
+out."
+
+Banjo nodded, drawing little whispers of melody from his fiddle-strings
+by fingering them against the neck.
+
+"I noticed when she smiles she seems to change," he said. "It's like
+puttin' bow to the strings. A fiddle's a glum kind of a thing till you
+wake it up; she's that way, I reckon."
+
+"Well, git ready for dinner--or lunch, as Nola calls it--they'll be
+starved by this time, ridin' all the way from the post in this chilly
+wind. I'm mighty afraid we're goin' to have some weather before
+long."
+
+"Can't put it off much longer," Banjo agreed, thinking of the hardship
+of being caught out in one of those sweeping blizzards, when the
+sudden cold grew so sharp that a man's banjo strings broke in the
+tense contraction. That had happened to him more than once, and it
+only seemed to sharpen the pleasure of being snowed in at a place like
+Alamito, where the kitchen was fat and the hand of the host free. He
+smiled as he turned to the kitchen to wash his face and soap his
+hair.
+
+They passed a very pleasant afternoon at the ranchhouse, in spite of
+Mrs. Chadron's uneasiness on account of their defenseless state. At
+that season Chadron and his neighbors could not draw very heavily on
+their scattered forces following the divided herds spread out over the
+vast territory for the winter grazing.
+
+The twenty men gathered in a hurry-call by Chadron to avenge the
+defeat of Chance Dalton, who had in their turn been met and
+unexpectedly repulsed by the homesteaders, as Chadron had related in
+his own way to Colonel Landcraft, were lying in camp several miles up
+the river. That is, all that were left of them fit for duty after the
+fight. A good many of them were limping, and would limp for many a
+day.
+
+They were waiting the arrival of the troops, which they expected with
+the same confidence Mrs. Chadron had held before Nola brought her an
+explanation that covered the confusion of refusal.
+
+Neither of the young women knew of the tiff between the colonel and
+Chadron, for the colonel was a man who kept his family apart from his
+business. Chadron had not seen fit to uncover his humiliation to his
+daughter, but had told her that he was acting on the advice of Colonel
+Landcraft in sending to his friends in Cheyenne for men to put down
+the uprising of rustlers himself.
+
+So there were comfortable enough relations between them all at the
+ranch as the day bent to evening and the red sunset changed to gray.
+Banjo played for them, as he had done that other afternoon, and sang
+his sentimental songs in voice that quavered in the feeling passages.
+Chadron had not left anybody to guard the house, because he knew very
+well that Macdonald considered nothing beyond defense, and that he
+would as quickly burn his own mother's roof above her head as he would
+set torch to that home by the riverside.
+
+"Sing us that dreamy one, Banjo," Nola requested, "the one that begins
+'Come sit by my side little--' you know the one I mean."
+
+A sentimental tenderness came into Banjo's face. He turned his head so
+that he could look out of the window into the thickening landscape
+beyond the corral gate, gray and mysterious and unfriendly now as a
+twilight sea. Nola touched Frances' arm to prime her for the treat.
+
+"Watch his face," she whispered, smiling behind her hand.
+
+Banjo struck the chords of his accompaniment; the sentimental cast of
+his face deepened, until it seemed that he was about to come to tears.
+He sang:
+
+    Come sit by my side litt-ul dau-ling,
+      And lay your brown head on my breast,
+    Whilse the angels of twilight o-round us
+      Are singing the flow-ohs to rest.
+
+Banjo must have loved many ladies in many lands, for that is the gift
+and the privilege of the troubadour. Now he seemed calling up their
+vanished faces out of the twilight as he sang his little song. What
+feeling he threw into the chorus, what shaking of the voice, what soft
+sinking away of the last notes, the whang of the banjo softened by
+palm across the strings!
+
+The chorus:
+
+    O, what can be sweet-o than dreaming
+      Tho dream that is on us tonight!
+    Pre-haps do you know litt-ul dau-ling,
+      Tho future lies hidded from sight.
+
+There was a great deal more of that song, which really was not so bad,
+the way Banjo sang it, for he exalted it on the best qualities that
+lived in his harmless breast; not so bad that way, indeed, as it looks
+in print. Frances could not see where the joke at the little
+musician's expense came in, although Nola was laughing behind his
+unsuspecting back as the last notes died.
+
+Mrs. Chadron wiped her eyes. "I think it's the sweetest song that ever
+was sung!" she said, and meant it, every word.
+
+Banjo said nothing at all, but put away his instrument with reverent
+hands, as if no sound was worthy to come out of it after that sweet
+agony of love.
+
+Mrs. Chadron got up, in her large, bustling, hospitable way,
+sentimentally satisfied, and withal grossly hungry.
+
+"Supper'll be about ready now, children," she said, putting her sock
+away in its basket, "and while you two are primpin' I'll run down to
+the bunkhouse and take some chicken broth to Chance that Maggie made
+him."
+
+"Oh, poor old Chance!" Nola pitied, "I've been sitting here enjoying
+myself and forgetting all about him. I'll take it down to him,
+mother--Banjo he'll come with me."
+
+Banjo was alert on the proposal, and keen to go. He brought Nola's
+coat at her mother's suggestion, for the evening had a feeling of
+frost in it, and attended her to the kitchen after the chicken broth
+as gallantly as if he wore a sword.
+
+Mrs. Chadron came back from her investigations in the kitchen in a
+little while to Frances, who waited alone before the happy little fire
+in the chimney. She sighed as she resumed her rocking-chair by the
+window, and crossed her seldom idle hands over her comfortably
+inelegant front.
+
+"It'll be some little time before supper's ready to set down to," she
+announced regretfully. "Maggie's makin' stuffed peppers, and they're
+kind of slow to bake. We can talk."
+
+"Of course," Frances agreed, her mind running on the hope that had
+brought her to the ranch; the hope of seeing Macdonald, and appealing
+to him in pity's name for peace.
+
+"That thievin' Macdonald's to blame for Chance, our foreman, losin'
+the use of his right hand," Mrs. Chadron said, with asperity. "Did
+Nola tell you about the fight they had with him?"
+
+"Yes, she told me about it as we came."
+
+"It looks like the devil's harnessed up with that man, he does so much
+damage without ever gittin' hurt himself. He had a crowd of rustlers
+up there with him when Chance went up there to trace some stock, and
+they up and killed three of our cowboys. Ain't it terrible?"
+
+"It is terrible!" Frances shuddered, withholding her opinion on which
+side the terror lay, together with the blame.
+
+"Then Saul went up there with some more of the men to burn that
+Macdonald's shack and drive him off of our land, and they run into a
+bunch of them rustlers that Macdonald he'd fetched over there, and two
+more of our men was killed. It looks like a body's got to fight night
+and day for his rights now, since them nesters begun to come in here.
+Well, we was here first, and Saul says we'll be here last. But I think
+it's plumb scan'lous the way them rustlers bunches together and
+fights. They never was known to do it before, and they wouldn't do it
+now if it wasn't for that black-hearted thief, Macdonald!"
+
+"Did you ever see him?" Frances asked.
+
+"No, I never did, and don't never want to!"
+
+"I just asked you because he doesn't look like a bad man."
+
+"They say he sneaked in here the night of Nola's dance, but I didn't
+see him. Oh, what 'm I tellin' you? Course you know _that_--you danced
+with him!"
+
+"Yes," said Frances, neither sorry nor ashamed.
+
+"But you wasn't to blame, honey," Mrs. Chadron comforted, "you didn't
+know him from Adamses off ox."
+
+Frances sat leaning forward, looking into the fire. The light of the
+blaze was on her face, appealingly soft and girlishly sweet. Mrs.
+Chadron laid a hand on her hair in motherly caress, moved by a
+tenderness quite foreign to the vindictive creed which she had
+pronounced against the nesters but a little while before.
+
+"I'm afraid you're starved, honey," she said, in genuine solicitude,
+thus expressing the nearest human sympathy out of her full-feeding
+soul.
+
+"I'm hungry, but far from starving," Frances told her, knowing that
+the confession to an appetite would please her hostess better than a
+gift. "When do you expect Mr. Chadron home?"
+
+"I don't know, honey, but you don't need to worry; them rustlers can't
+pass our men Saul left camped up the valley."
+
+"I wasn't thinking of that; I'm not afraid."
+
+Mrs. Chadron chuckled. "Did I tell you about Nola?" she asked. Then,
+answering herself, before Frances could more than turn her head
+inquiringly; "No, of course, I never. It was too funny for anything!"
+
+"What was it?" Frances asked, in girlish eagerness. Mrs. Chadron's
+smile was reflected in her face as she sat straight, and turned
+expectantly to her hostess.
+
+"The other evening when she and her father was comin' home from the
+postoffice over at the agency they run acrosst that sneak Macdonald,
+afoot in the road, guns so thick on him you couldn't count 'em. Saul
+asked him what he was skulkin' around down this way for, and the
+feller he was kind of sassy about it, and tried to pass Nola and go
+on. He had the gall to tip his hat to her, just like she was low
+enough to notice a brand-burner! Well, she give him a larrup over the
+face with her whip that cut the hide! He took hold of her bridle to
+shove her horse out of the way so he could run, I reckon, and she
+switched him till he squirmed like a puppy-dog! I laughed till I
+nearly split when Saul told me!"
+
+Mrs. Chadron surrendered again to her keen appreciation of the humor
+in that situation. Frances felt now that she understood the attitude
+of the cattlemen toward the homesteaders as she never had even sensed
+it before. Here was this motherly woman, naturally good at heart and
+gentle, hardened and blinded by her prejudices until she could discuss
+murder as a thing desired, and the extirpation of a whole community as
+a just and righteous deed.
+
+There was no feeling of softness in her breast for the manful
+strivings of Alan Macdonald to make a home in that land, not so much
+for himself--for it was plain that he would grace a different world to
+far better advantage--but for the disinherited of the earth. To Mrs.
+Chadron he was a thing apart from her species, a horrible, low, grisly
+monster, to whom the earth should afford no refuge and man no
+hiding-place. There was no virtue in Alan Macdonald; his fences had
+killed his right to human consideration.
+
+In a moment Mrs. Chadron was grave again. She put out her hand in that
+gentle, motherly way and touched Frances' hair, smoothing it from her
+forehead, pleased with the irrepressible life of it which sprung it
+back after the passage of her palm like water in a vessel's wake.
+
+"I let on to you a little while ago that I wasn't uneasy, honey," she
+said, "but I ain't no hand at hidin' the truth. I am uneasy, honey,
+and on pins, for I don't trust them rustlers. I'm afraid they'll hear
+that Saul's gone, and come sneakin' down here and burn us out before
+morning, and do worse, maybe. I don't know why I've got that feelin',
+but I have, and it's heavy in me, like raw dough."
+
+"I don't believe they'd do anything like that," Frances told her.
+
+"Oh, you don't know 'em like we do, honey, the low-down thieves! They
+ort to be hunted like wolves and shot, wherever they're found."
+
+"Some of them have wives and children, haven't they?" Frances asked,
+thinking aloud, as she sat with her chin resting in her hand.
+
+"Oh, I suppose they litter like any other wolves," Mrs. Chadron
+returned, unfeelingly.
+
+"_Si a tu ventana llega una paloma_," sang Maggie in the kitchen, the
+snapping of the oven door coming in quite harmoniously as she closed
+it on the baking peppers. Mrs. Chadron sighed.
+
+"_Tratala con carina que es mi persona_," sounded Maggie, a degree
+louder. Mrs. Chadron sat upright, with a new interest in life apart
+from her uneasy forebodings about the rustlers. Maggie was in the
+dining-room, spreading the cloth. The peppers were coming along.
+
+Somebody burst into the kitchen; uncertain feet came across it; a cry
+broke Maggie's song short as she jingled the silver in place on the
+cloth. Banjo Gibson stumbled into the room where the low fire twinkled
+in the chimney, reeling on his legs, his breath coming in groans.
+
+Maggie was behind him, holding the door open; the light from the big
+lamp on the dining-table fell on the musician, who weaved there as if
+he might fall. His hat was off, blood was in his eyes and over his
+face from a wound at the edge of his hair.
+
+"Nola--Nola!" he gasped.
+
+Mrs. Chadron, already beside him, laid hold of him now and shook him.
+
+"Tell it, you little devil--tell it!" she screamed.
+
+Frances, with gentler hand, drew Banjo from her.
+
+"What's happened to Nola?" she asked.
+
+"The rustlers!" he said, his voice falling away in horror.
+
+"The rustlers!" Mrs. Chadron groaned, her arms lifted above her head.
+She ran in wild distraction into the dining-room, now back to the
+chimney to take down a rifle that hung in its case on a deer prong
+over the mantel.
+
+"Nola, Nola!" she called, running out into the garden. Her wild voice
+came back from there in a moment, crying her daughter's name in
+agony.
+
+Banjo had sunk to the floor, his battered face held in his hands.
+
+"My God! they took her!" he groaned. "The rustlers, they took her, and
+I couldn't lift a hand!"
+
+Frances beckoned to Maggie, who had followed her mistress to the
+kitchen door.
+
+"Give him water; stop the blood," she ordered sharply.
+
+In a moment she had dashed out after Mrs. Chadron, and was running
+frantically along the garden path toward the river.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE TRAIL AT DAWN
+
+
+Frances stopped at the high wire fence along the river bank. It was
+dark there between the shrubs of the garden on one hand and the tall
+willows on the other, but nothing moved in them but her own leaping
+heart. She called Mrs. Chadron, running along the fence as she cried
+her name.
+
+Mrs. Chadron answered from the barn. Frances found her saddling a
+horse, while Maggie's husband, an old Mexican with a stiff leg,
+muttered prayers in his native tongue as he tightened the girths on
+another.
+
+Mrs. Chadron was for riding in pursuit of Nola's abductors, although
+she had not mounted a horse in fifteen years. There was no man about
+the place except crippled old Alvino, and wounded Dalton lying in the
+men's quarters near at hand. Neither of them was serviceable in such
+an emergency, and Banjo, willing as he would be, seemed too badly hurt
+to be of any use.
+
+Frances pressed her to dismiss this intention. Even if they knew which
+way to ride, it would be a hopeless pursuit.
+
+"There's only one way to go--towards the rustlers' settlement," Mrs.
+Chadron grimly returned.
+
+She was over her hysterical passion now, and steadied down into a
+state of desperate determination to set out after the thieves and
+bring Nola back. She did not know how it was to be accomplished, but
+she felt her strength equal to any demand in the pressure of her
+despair. She was lifting her foot to the stirrup, thinly dressed as
+she was, her head bare, the rifle in her hand, when Frances took her
+by the arm.
+
+"You can't go alone with Alvino, Mrs. Chadron."
+
+"I've got to go, I tell you--let loose of me!"
+
+She shook off Frances' restraining hand and turned to her horse again.
+With her hand on the pommel of the saddle she stopped, and turned to
+Alvino.
+
+"Go and fetch me Chance's guns out of the bunkhouse," she ordered.
+
+Alvino hitched away, swinging his stiff leg, with laborious, slow
+gait.
+
+"You couldn't do anything against a crowd of desperate men--they might
+kill you!" Frances said.
+
+"Let 'em kill me, then!" She lifted her hand, as if taking an oath.
+"They'll pay for this trick--every man, woman, and child of them'll
+bleed for what they've done to me tonight!"
+
+"Let Alvino go to the camp up the river where Mr. Chadron left the
+men, and tell them; they can do more than you."
+
+"You couldn't drive him alone out of sight of the lights in the house
+with fire. He'd come back with some kind of a lie before he'd went a
+mile. I'll go to 'em myself, honey--I didn't think of them."
+
+"I'll go with you."
+
+"Wait till Alvino comes with them guns--I can use 'em better than I
+can a rifle. Oh, why don't the man hurry!"
+
+"I'll run down and see what--"
+
+But Alvino came around the corral at that moment. He had stopped to
+light a lantern, in his peculiar Mexican mode of estimating the
+importance of time and occasion, and came flashing it in short,
+violent arcs as he swayed to swing his jointless leg.
+
+Frances led out the other horse and was waiting to mount when Alvino
+came panting up, the belt with its two revolvers over his arm. Mrs.
+Chadron jerked it from him with something hard and sharp on her tongue
+like a curse. Banjo Gibson came into the circle of light, a bandage on
+his head.
+
+"I didn't even see 'em. They knocked me down, and when I come to she
+was gone!"
+
+Banjo's voice was full of self-censure, and his feet were weak upon
+the ground. He began to talk the moment the light struck him, and when
+he had finished his little explanation he was standing beside Mrs.
+Chadron's saddle.
+
+"Go to the house and lie down, Banjo," Mrs. Chadron said; "I ain't
+time to fool with you!"
+
+"Are you two aimin' to go to the post after help?" Banjo steadied
+himself on his legs by clinging to the horse's mane as he spoke.
+
+"We're goin' up the river after the men," Mrs. Chadron told him.
+
+"No, I'll go after the men; that's a man's job," Banjo insisted. "I
+know right where they're camped at, you couldn't find 'em between now
+and morning."
+
+There was no arguing Banjo out of it, no brushing the little man
+aside. He was as firm as a man three times his weight, and he took
+Mrs. Chadron by the arm, like a son, and led her away from the horse
+with a manner at once so firm and yet considerate that it softened her
+stern heart and plunged her into tears.
+
+"If you bring Nola back to me I'll give her to you, Banjo! I'll give
+her to you!" she sobbed, as she belted him with Chance Dalton's guns.
+
+"If any reward in this world could drive me through hell fire to lay
+my hands on it, you've named it," he said.
+
+Frances saw that Mrs. Chadron could be reasoned with now, and she was
+grateful to Banjo for his opportune arrival. For the night was vast
+and unfriendly over that empty land, and filled with a thousand
+shudderful dangers. She was afraid of it, afraid to leave the lights
+of the house behind her and ride out into it, no matter for all the
+peril that poor little Nola might be facing in that cruel hour.
+
+Banjo rode away. They stood clinging to each other in the dim circle
+of Alvino's lantern-light, listening to his horse until the distance
+muffled its feet on the road.
+
+Frances was chilled with the horror of that brigandish act. Every
+movement of the wind in the bushes made her skin crinkle and creep;
+every sound of animals in barn and corral was magnified into some new
+danger. Mrs. Chadron was in far worse state, with reason, certainly,
+for being so. Now that the stimulation of her first wild outburst had
+been exhausted, she stood wilted and weak, shivering with her hands
+over her eyes, moaning and moaning in piteous low wail.
+
+Frances took the lantern from old Alvino's shaking hand.
+
+"Let's go and look for their tracks," she suggested, forcing a note of
+eagerness into her words, "so we can tell the men, when they come back
+to pick up the trail, how many there were and which way they went."
+
+"Oh, if Chance was only able to go after them, if he was only able!"
+Mrs. Chadron wailed, following Frances as she hurried along the wire
+fence that cut the garden from the river.
+
+"It was somebody that knowed the lay of the land," Mrs. Chadron said,
+"for that gate down there back of the house is open. That's the way
+they come and went--somebody that knowed the lay of the land."
+
+Frances felt her heart die within her as the recollection of another
+night in that garden flashed like red fire in her mind. There was a
+picture, as she stopped with closed eyes, struck cold and shuddering
+by a fear she dared not own, of one flying, bent into the shadows,
+along the garden path toward that gate. Someone who knew the "lay of
+the land!"
+
+"Did you hear something?" Mrs. Chadron whispered, leaning close to her
+where she had stopped, stock-still, as if she had struck a wall.
+
+"I thought I--I--saw something," Frances answered, in faint, sick
+voice.
+
+The white gate was swinging as the invaders had left it, and in the
+soft ground beyond it they found tracks.
+
+"Only one man!" said Mrs. Chadron, bending over.
+
+"There's only one track," said Frances, her breath so feeble, her
+heart laboring so weakly that she believed that she must die.
+
+Alvino came up, and took the lead in tracking, with the aptness for
+that trick that goes with primitive minds such as his. Even in the
+farthest glimmer of the light he could pick up the trail, and soon he
+led them to the willows where the ravisher's horse had been
+concealed.
+
+"One shoe was lost," said he, pointing, "left one, hind foot."
+
+Mrs. Chadron stood looking in the direction that the rider had gone
+with his precious burden, her eyes straining into the dark.
+
+"Oh, if I'd 'a' come down here place of saddlin' that horse!" she
+lamented, with a pang for her lost opportunity.
+
+"He'd have been gone, even then--I was past here and didn't hear him,"
+Frances said.
+
+Still the vision persisted in her disturbed imagination of that other
+night, of one leaning low in the saddle, his fleet horse stretching
+its neck in desperation for the distant refuge; the dash of pursuing
+hoofs; the sound of shots up the river; the prayer that she sent to
+heaven in his behalf.
+
+"Well, it was somebody that knowed the lay of the land," Mrs. Chadron
+was repeating, with accusing conviction.
+
+They returned to the house, having done all that they could do. It was
+doubtful whether the dumb, plethoric nature of Mrs. Chadron made her
+capable of suffering as Frances suffered, even with her greater reason
+for pain of that cruel bereavement. Imaginative, refined, sensitive as
+a harp, Frances reflected every wild wrench of horror that Nola
+herself must have been suffering as the horseman bore her along in the
+thick night. She felt that she must scream, but that some frightful
+thing smothered the voice that struggled in her throat; that she must
+leap and flee away, but a cloying power was heavy on her limbs,
+binding her as if her feet were set in lava.
+
+Somebody that knew the "lay of the land." Great God! could he fight
+that way, was it in Alan Macdonald to make a hawk's dash like that? It
+was hard to admit the thought, to give standing to the doubtful
+accusation. But those whom they called "rustlers" must have borne Nola
+away. Beyond the homesteaders up the river were the mountains and the
+wild country where no man made his home; except them and the cattlemen
+and the cowboys attending the herds, that country was unpeopled. There
+was nobody to whom the deed could be charged but the enemies that
+Chadron had made in his persecution of the homesteaders.
+
+Perhaps they were not of the type that Macdonald described; maybe the
+cattlemen were just in their arraignment of them for thieves and
+skulking rascals, and Macdonald was no better than the reputation that
+common report gave him. The mere fact of his defense of them in words,
+and his association with them, seemed to convict him there in the
+silence of that black-walled court of night.
+
+It was either that he was blinded to the deviltries of his associates
+by his own high intentions, or as shrewdly dishonest as any scoundrel
+that ever rode the wilds. He could be that, and carry it off before a
+sharper judge than she. So she said, finding it hard to excuse his
+blindness, if blindness it might be; unable to mitigate in any degree
+the blame, even passive knowledge of the intent, of that base
+offense.
+
+At length, through all the fog of her groping and piecing together,
+she reached what she believed to be the motive which lay behind the
+deed. The rustlers doubtless were aware of the blow that Chadron was
+preparing to deliver upon them in retaliation for his recent losses.
+They had carried off his daughter to make her the price of their own
+immunity, or else to extract from him a ransom that would indemnify
+them for quitting their lairs in the land upon which they preyed.
+
+She explained this to Mrs. Chadron when it became clear to her own
+mind. Mrs. Chadron seemed to draw considerable hope from it that she
+should receive her daughter back again unharmed in a little while.
+
+The rest of the night the two women spent at the gate, and in the road
+up and down in front of it, straining for the sound of a hoof that
+might bring them tidings. Mrs. Chadron kept up a moaning like an
+infant whose distress no mind can read, no hand relieve. Now and then
+she burst into a shrill and sudden cry, and time and again she
+imagined that she heard Nola calling her, and dashed off along the
+road with answering shout, to come back to her sad vigil at the gate
+by and by on Frances' arm, crushed by this one great and sudden sorrow
+of her life.
+
+Frances cheered her as much as might be with promises of the coming
+day. At the first streak of dawn, she told Mrs. Chadron, she would
+ride to the post and engage her father in the quest for the stolen
+girl. Soldiers would be thrown out over the country for miles on every
+side; the cowards would be hemmed in within a matter of hours, and
+Nola would be at home, laughing over the experiences of her tragic
+night.
+
+Frances was in the saddle at daybreak. She had left Mrs. Chadron in an
+uneasy sleep, watched over by Maggie. Banjo had not returned; no word
+had reached them from any source. Alvino let Frances out through the
+gate at the back of the garden, for it was her intention to follow the
+abductor's trail as far as possible without being led into strange
+country. Somebody, or some wandering herd of cattle, might pass that
+way and obliterate the traces before pursuers could be brought there.
+
+The tracks of the raider's horse were deep in the soft soil. She
+followed them as they cut across the open toward the river road,
+angling northward. At a place where the horse had stopped and made a
+trampling in the lose earth--testimony of the fight that Nola had made
+to get away--Frances started at the sight of something caught on a
+clump of bull-berry bushes close at hand. She drew near the object
+cautiously, leaning and looking in the half light of early morning.
+Presently assured, she reached out and picked it up, and rode on with
+it in her hand.
+
+Presently the trail merged into the river road, where hoofprints were
+so numerous that Frances was not skilful enough to follow it farther.
+But it was something to have established that the scoundrel was
+heading for the homesteaders' settlement, and that he had taken the
+road openly, as if he had nothing to fear. Also, that bit of evidence
+picked from the bushes might serve its purpose in the right time and
+place.
+
+She felt again that surge of indignation that had fired her heart
+early in the sad night past. The man who had lurked in the garden
+waiting his chance to snatch Nola away, was certain of the protection
+to which he fled. It was the daring execution of one man, but the
+planning of many, and at the head of them one with fire in his wild
+soul, quick passion in his eyes, and mastery over his far-riding band.
+It could be no other way.
+
+When she came to the branching of the roads she pulled up her horse
+and sat considering her course a little while. Presently she rode
+forward again, but not on the road that led to the army post.
+
+She had proceeded a mile, perhaps, along the road branching to the
+homesteaders' settlement, upon which she knew Macdonald's claim to lie
+somewhere up the river, when she rounded an elbow screened by
+tall-growing greasewood and came face to face with a small cavalcade
+of dusty men. At the head of them Alan Macdonald rode, beside an old
+man whose neck was guttered like a wasted candle and his branching
+great mustache gray as the dust on his bony shoulders.
+
+She halted when she saw them, and they jerked up their horses also,
+with startled suddenness, like men riding in the expectation of danger
+and surprise. Macdonald came forward in a moment, with respectful
+salute, a look amounting almost to frightened questioning in his face.
+For the sun was not up yet, although its flame was on the heavens, and
+it was a strange, wild place to meet a woman of Frances Landcraft's
+caste unattended, and with the shadow of a trouble in her face that
+made it old, like misery.
+
+But there was no question of the unfriendliness of that face for Alan
+Macdonald and the men who came riding at his back. It was as cold as
+the gray earth beneath her horse's hoofs, and its severity was
+reflected in the very pose of her body, even in the grip of her
+slender thighs as they clasped her saddle, sitting there like a
+dragoon outrider who had appeared to bar their way.
+
+Frances was wearing the brown corduroy riding-habit that she had worn
+on the day when she first spoke to him. Her brown hair had fallen down
+until it hid her ears, for she had ridden hard, and a strand of it
+blew from beneath her cowboy hat in unheeded caress across her cheek.
+
+Macdonald saw her stiffen in the saddle and lift herself a little from
+her seat as he drew near, his companions stopping a little distance
+back. Her eyes were stern and reproachful; a little frown troubled her
+white forehead.
+
+"I was starting out to find you, Mr. Macdonald," she said, severely.
+
+"If there is any service, Miss Landcraft--"
+
+"Don't talk emptiness, and don't pretend!" she said, a flash of anger
+in her face. "It isn't a man's way to fight, it's a coward's! Bring
+her back home!"
+
+"I don't know what you mean." There was such an astonished helplessness
+in his manner that it would have convinced any unprejudiced mind of
+his innocence in itself.
+
+"Oh!"--impatiently--"I can't hurt you, I'm alone. You'd just as well
+tell me how much money you're going to demand, so I can set their
+minds at rest."
+
+Macdonald's face was hot; his eyes felt as if they swam in fire. He
+put out his hand in a gesture almost a command, his heavy eyebrows
+gathered in a frown, an expression of sternness in his homely face
+that made it almost majestic.
+
+"If you'll be good enough to tell me what your veiled accusations
+point to, Miss Landcraft, then I can answer you by either yes or no."
+
+She unbent so far as to relate briefly what she believed they knew
+better than herself already. But behind her high air as she talked
+there was a secret warm feeling for the strength of this man. It was a
+quality of fine steel in the human mind and body such as she never had
+seen so beautifully blended before. In her own father there was
+something of it, but only a reflection on water compared to this. It
+seemed the temper of the desert, she thought, like that oriental
+spirit which spread Islam's dark creed over half the world.
+
+When she had finished the relation of Nola's ravishment, he sat with
+head drooped in dusty silence a moment. Then he looked her in the eyes
+with such a steady blaze of indignation that she felt her own rage
+kindle to meet it. His clear, steady gaze was an arraignment, an
+accusation on the ugly charge of perversion of the truth as she knew
+it to be in the bottom of her conscience when she had laid the crime
+at the homesteaders' hands. If he saw her at all, she thought, it was
+as some small despicable thing, for his eyes were so unflinching, as
+they poured their steady fire into her own, that he seemed to be
+summing up the final consequences which lay behind her, along the
+dusty highway to the ranchhouse by the river.
+
+"In the first place," said he, speaking slowly, "there are no cattle
+thieves among the homesteaders in the settlement up the river, Miss
+Landcraft. I have told you this before. Here, I want you to meet some
+of them, and judge for yourself."
+
+He beckoned to Tom Lassiter and the three with him, and they joined
+him there before her. In a few words he told them who she was and the
+news that she carried, as well as the accusation that went with it.
+
+"These men, their neighbors, and myself not only had no hand in this
+deed, but there's not one among us that wouldn't put down his life to
+keep that young woman from harm and give her back to her home. We have
+our grievances against Saul Chadron, God knows! and they are grave
+enough. But we don't fight that way, Miss Landcraft."
+
+"If you're innocent, then prove it by forcing the men that carried her
+off, or the man, if there was only one, to bring her back home. Then
+I'll believe you. Maybe others will, too. What are you riding the road
+so early for, all armed and suspicious, if you're such honest men?"
+
+"We're goin' to the agency after ammunition to defend our homes, and
+our wives and children--such of us as Saul Chadron and his hired
+hounds has left children to, colonel's daughter," Tom Lassiter
+answered, reproof in his kind old eyes.
+
+Frances had unrolled the bit of evidence that she had picked up from
+the bushes, and was holding it on the horn of her saddle now, quite
+unconscious of what her hands were doing, for she had forgotten the
+importance of her find in the heat of that meeting. Macdonald spurred
+forward, pointing to the thing in her hand.
+
+"Where did you get that?" he asked, a sharp note of concern in his
+voice that made her start.
+
+She told him. He took it from her and turned to his comrades.
+
+"It's Mark Thorn's cap!" he said, holding it up, his fingers in the
+crown.
+
+Tom Lassiter nodded his slow head as the others leaned to look.
+
+"Saul Chadron's chickens has come home to roost," he said.
+
+Frances understood nothing of the excitement that sprung out of the
+mention of the outlaw's name, for Mark Thorn and his bloody history
+were alike unknown to her. Her resentment mounted at being an outsider
+to their important or pretended secret.
+
+"Well, if you know whose cap it is, it ought to be easy for you to
+find the owner," she said, unable to smother the sneer in her words.
+
+"He isn't one of us," said a homesteader, with grim shortness.
+
+"Oh!" said she, tossing her lofty head.
+
+There was a pallor in Macdonald's weathered face, as if somebody near
+and dear to himself was in extreme peril.
+
+"She may never see home again," he said. Then quickly: "Which way did
+he go, do you know?"
+
+She told him what she knew, not omitting the lost horseshoe. Tom
+Lassiter bent in his saddle with eagerness as she mentioned that
+particular, and ran his eyes over the road like one reading the pages
+of a book.
+
+"There!" he said, pointing, "I've been seein' it all the way down,
+Alan. He was headin' for the hills."
+
+Frances could not see the print of the shoeless hoof, nor any
+peculiarity among the scores of tracks that would tell her of Nola's
+abductor having ridden that far along the road. She flushed as the
+thought came to her that this was a trick to throw her attention from
+themselves and the blame upon some fictitious person, when they knew
+whose hands were guilty all the time. The men were leaning in their
+saddles, riding slowly back on their trail, talking in low voices and
+sharp exclamations among themselves. She spurred hotly after them.
+
+"Mr. Chadron hasn't come home yet," she said, addressing Macdonald,
+who sat straight in his saddle to hear, "but they expect him any hour.
+If you'll say how much you're going to demand, and where you want it
+paid, I'll carry the word to him. It might hurry matters, and save her
+mother's life."
+
+"I'm sorry you repeated that," said Macdonald, touching his hat in
+what he plainly meant a farewell salute. He turned from her and drew
+Tom Lassiter aside. In a moment he was riding back again the way that
+he had come.
+
+Frances looked at the unaccountable proceeding with the eyes of doubt
+and suspicion. She did not believe any of them, and had no faith in
+their mysterious trackings and whisperings aside, and mad gallopings
+off to hidden ends. As for Tom Lassiter and his companions, they
+ranged themselves preparatory to continuing their journey.
+
+"If you're goin' our way, colonel's daughter," said Tom, gathering up
+his bridle-reins, "we'll be proud to ride along with you."
+
+Frances was looking at the dust-cloud that rose behind Macdonald. He
+was no longer in sight.
+
+"Where has he gone?" she inquired, her suspicion growing every
+moment.
+
+"He's gone to find that cowman's child, young lady, and take her home
+to her mother," Tom replied, with dignity. He rode on. She followed,
+presently gaining his side.
+
+"Is there such a man as Mark Thorn?" she asked after a little, looking
+across at Lassiter with sly innuendo.
+
+"No, there ain't no man by that name, but there's a devil in the shape
+of a human man called that," he answered.
+
+"Is he--what does he do?" She reined a little nearer to Lassiter,
+feeling that there was little harm in him apart from the directing
+hand.
+
+"He hires out to kill off folks that's in the way of the cattlemen at
+so much a head, miss; like some hires out to kill off wolves. The
+Drovers' Association hires him, and sees that he gits out of jail if
+anybody ever puts him in, and fixes it up so he walks safe with the
+blood of no knowin' how many innocent people on his hands. That's what
+Mark Thorn does, ma'am. Chadron brought him in here a couple of weeks
+ago to do some killin' off amongst us homesteaders so the rest 'd take
+a scare and move out. He give that old devil a list of twenty men he
+wanted shot, and Alan Macdonald's got that paper. His own name's at
+the top of it, too."
+
+"Oh!" said she, catching her breath sharply, as if in pain. Her face
+was white and cold. "Did he--did he--kill anybody here?"
+
+"He killed my little boy; he shot him down before his mother's eyes!"
+
+Tom Lassiter's guttered neck was agitated; the muscles of his bony jaw
+knotted as he clamped his teeth and looked straight along the road
+ahead of him.
+
+"Your little boy! Oh, what a coward he must be!"
+
+"He was a little tow-headed feller, and he had his mother's eyes, as
+blue as robins' eggs," said Tom, his reminiscent sorrow so poignant
+that tears sprung to her eyes in sympathy and plashed down unheeded
+and unchecked. "He'd 'a' been fifteen in November. Talkin' about
+fightin', ma'am, that's the way some people fights."
+
+"I'm sorry I said that, Mr. Lassiter," she confessed, hanging her head
+like a corrected child.
+
+"He can't hear you now," said Tom.
+
+They rode on a little way. Tom told her of the other outrages for
+which Thorn was accountable in that settlement. She was amazed as
+deeply as she was shocked to hear of this, for if any word of it had
+come to the post, it had been kept from her. Neither was it ever
+mentioned in Chadron's home.
+
+"No," said Tom, when she mentioned that, "it ain't the kind of news
+the cattlemen spreads around. But if we shoot one of them in defendin'
+our own, the news runs like a pe-rairie fire. They call us rustlers,
+and come ridin' up to swipe us out. Well, they's goin' to be a
+change."
+
+"But if Chadron brought that terrible man in here, why should the
+horrible creature turn against him?" she asked, doubt and suspicion
+grasping the seeming fault in Lassiter's tale.
+
+"Chadron refused to make settlement with him for the killin' he done
+because he didn't git Macdonald. Thorn told Alan that with his own
+bloody tongue."
+
+Lassiter retailed to her eager ears the story of Macdonald's capture
+of Thorn, and his fight with Chadron's men when they came to set the
+old slayer free, as Lassiter supposed.
+
+"They turned him loose," said he, "and you know now what I meant when
+I said Chadron's chickens has come home to roost."
+
+"Yes, I know now." She turned, and looked back. Remorse was heavy on
+her for the injustice she had done Macdonald that day, and shame for
+her sharp words bowed her head as she rode at old Tom Lassiter's
+hand.
+
+"He'll run the old devil down ag'in," Tom spoke confidently, as of a
+thing that admitted no dispute, "and take that young woman home if he
+finds her livin'. Many thanks he'll git for it from them and her. Like
+as not she'll bite the hand that saves her, for she's a cub of the old
+bear. Well, let me tell you, colonel's daughter, if she was to live a
+thousand years, and pray all her life, she wouldn't no more than be
+worthy at the end to wash that man's feet with her tears and dry 'em
+on her hair, like that poor soul you've read about in the Book."
+
+Frances slowed her horse as if overcome by a sudden indecision, and
+turned in her saddle to look back again. Again she had let him go away
+from her misunderstood, his high pride hurt, his independent heart too
+lofty to bend down to the mean adjustment to be reached through
+argument or explanation. One must accept Alan Macdonald for what his
+face proclaimed him to be. She knew that now. He was not of the
+mean-spirited who walk among men making apology for their lives.
+
+"He's gone on," said Lassiter, slowing his horse to her pace.
+
+"I'm afraid I was hasty and unjust," she confessed, struggling to hold
+back her tears.
+
+"Yes, you was," said Lassiter, frankly, "but everybody on the outside
+is unjust to all of us up here. We're kind of outcasts because we
+fence the land and plow it. But I want to tell you, Macdonald's a man
+amongst men, ma'am. He's fed the poor and lifted up the afflicted, and
+he's watched with us beside our sick and prayed with us over our dead.
+We know him, no matter what folks on the outside say. Well, we'll have
+to spur up a little, ma'am, for we're in a hurry to git back."
+
+They approached the point where the road to the post branched.
+
+"There's goin' to be fightin' over here if Chadron tries to drive us
+out," Tom said, "and we know he's sent for men to come in and help him
+try it. We don't want to fight, but men that won't fight for their
+homes ain't the kind you'd like to ride along the road with, ma'am."
+
+"Maybe the trouble can be settled some other way," she suggested,
+thinking again of the hope that she had brought with her to the ranch
+the day before.
+
+"When we bring the law in here, and elect officers to see it put in
+force for every man alike, then this trouble it'll come to an end.
+Well, if you ever feel like we deserve a good word, colonel's
+daughter, we'd be proud to have you say it, for the feller that stands
+up for the law and the Lord and his home agin the cattlemen in this
+land, ma'am, he's got a hard row to hoe. Yes, we'll count any good
+words you might say for us as so much gold. 'And the Levite, thou
+shalt not forsake him, for he hath no part nor inheritance with
+thee.'"
+
+Tom's voice was slow and solemn when he quoted that Mosaic injunction.
+The appeal of the disinherited was in it, and the pain of lost years.
+It touched her like a sorrow of her own. Tears were on her cheeks
+again as she parted from him, giving him her hand in token of trust
+and faith, and rode on toward the ranchhouse by the river.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+WHEN FRIENDS PART
+
+
+Banjo had returned, with fever in his wound. Mrs. Chadron was putting
+horse liniment on it when Frances entered the sitting-room where the
+news of the tragedy had visited them the night past.
+
+"I didn't go to the post--I saw some men in the road and turned back,"
+Frances told them, sinking down wearily in a chair before the fire.
+
+"I'm glad you turned back, honey," Mrs. Chadron said, shaking her head
+sadly, "for I was no end worried about you. Them rustlers they're
+comin' down from their settlement and gatherin' up by Macdonald's
+place, the men told Banjo, and no tellin' what they might 'a' done if
+they'd seen you."
+
+Mrs. Chadron's face was not red with the glow of peppers and much food
+this morning. One night of anxiety had racked her, and left hollows
+under her eyes and a flat grayness in her cheeks.
+
+Banjo had brought no other news. The men had scattered at daybreak to
+search for the trail of the man who had carried Nola away, but Banjo,
+sore and shaken, had come back depressed and full of pains. Mrs.
+Chadron said that Saul surely would be home before noonday, and urged
+Frances to go to her room and sleep.
+
+"I'm steadier this morning, I'll watch and wait," she said, pressing
+the liniment-soaked cloth to Banjo's bruised forehead.
+
+Banjo contracted his muscles under the application, shriveling up on
+himself like a snail in a fire, for it was hot and heroic liniment,
+and strong medicine for strong beasts and tougher men. Banjo's face
+was a picture of patient suffering, but he said nothing, and had not
+spoken since Frances entered the room, for the treatment had been
+under way before her arrival and there was scarcely enough breath left
+in him to suffice for life, and none at all for words. Frances had it
+in mind to suggest some milder remedy, but held her peace, feeling
+that if Banjo survived the treatment he surely would be in no danger
+from his hurt.
+
+The door of Nola's room was open as Frances passed, and there was a
+depression in the counterpane which told where the lost girl's mother
+had knelt beside it and wet it with her tears. Frances wondered
+whether she had prayed, lingering compassionately a moment in the
+door.
+
+The place was like Nola in its light and brightness and surface
+comfort and assertive color notes of happiness, hung about with the
+trophies of her short but victorious career among the hearts of men.
+There were photographs of youths on dressing-table, chiffonier, and
+walls, and flaring pennants of eastern universities and colleges.
+Among the latter, as if it was the most triumphant trophy of them all,
+there hung a little highland bonnet with a broken feather, of the
+plaid Alan Macdonald had worn on the night of Nola's mask.
+
+Frances went in for a nearer inspection, and lifted the little saucy
+bit of headgear from its place in the decorations of Nola's wall.
+There could be no doubting it; that was Alan Macdonald's bonnet, and
+there was a bullet hole in it at the stem of the little feather. The
+close-grazing lead had sheared the plume in two, and gone on its
+stinging way straight through the bonnet.
+
+An exclamation of tender pity rose above her breath. She fondled the
+little headdress and pressed it to her bosom; she laid it against her
+cheek and kissed it in consolation for its hurt--the woman's balsam
+for all sufferings and heartbreaks, and incomparable among the
+panaceas of all time.
+
+In spite of her sympathy for Nola in her grave situation, facing or
+undergoing what terrors no one knew, there was a bridling of
+resentment against her in Frances' breast as she hung the marred
+bonnet back in its place. It seemed to her that Nola had exulted over
+both herself and Alan Macdonald when she had put his bonnet on her
+wall, and that she had kept it there after the coming of Frances to
+that house in affront to friendship and mockery of the hospitality
+that she professed to extend.
+
+Nola had asked her to that house so that she might see it hanging
+there; she had arranged it and studied it with the cunning intent of
+giving her pain. And how close that bullet had come to him! It must
+have sheared his fair hair as it tore through and dashed the bonnet
+from his head.
+
+How she suffered in picturing his peril, happily outlived! How her
+heart trembled and her strong young limbs shook as she lived over in
+breathless agony the crisis of that night! He had carried her glove in
+his bonnet--she remembered the deft little movement of stowing it
+there just the moment before he bent and flashed away among the
+shadows. Excuse enough for losing it, indeed!
+
+But he had not told her of his escape to justify the loss; proudly he
+had accepted the blame, and turned away with the hurt of it in his
+unbending heart.
+
+She went back and took down the jaunty little cap again, and kissed it
+with compensatory tenderness, and left a jewel trembling on its crown
+from the well of her honest brown eye. If ever amends were made to any
+little highland bonnet in this world, then Alan Macdonald's was that
+bonnet, hanging there among the flaring pennants and trivial little
+schoolgirl trophies on Nola Chadron's wall.
+
+Chadron came home toward evening at the head of sixty men. He had
+raised his army speedily and effectively. These men had been gathered
+by the members of the Drovers' Association and sent to Meander by
+special train, horses, guns, ammunition, and provisions with them,
+ready for a campaign.
+
+The cattlemen had made a common cause of this sectional difficulty.
+Their indignation had been voiced very thoroughly by Mrs. Chadron when
+she had spoken to Frances with such resentment of the homesteaders
+standing up to fight. That was an unprecedented contingency. The "holy
+scare," such as Mark Thorn and similar hired assassins spread in
+communities of homesteaders, had been sufficient up to that day. Now
+this organized front of self-defense must be broken, and the bold
+rascals involved must be destroyed, root and branch.
+
+Press agents of the Drovers' Association in Cheyenne were sowing
+nation-wide picturesque stories of the rustlers' uprising. The ground
+was being prepared for the graver news that was to come; the
+cattlemen's justification was being carefully arranged in advance.
+
+Frances shuddered for the homesteaders when she looked out of her
+window upon this formidable force of lean-legged, gaunt-cheeked
+gun-fighters. They were men of the trade, cowboys who had fought their
+employers' battles from the Rio Grande to the Little Missouri. They
+were grim and silent men as they pressed round the watering troughs at
+the windmill with their horses, with flapping hats and low-slung
+pistols, and rifles sheathed in leather cases on their saddles.
+
+She hurried down when she saw Chadron dismount at the gate. Mrs.
+Chadron was there to meet him, for she had stood guard at her window
+all day watching for his dust beyond the farthest hill. Frances could
+hear her weeping now, and Chadron's heavy voice rising in command as
+she came to the outer door.
+
+Chadron was in the saddle again, and there was hurrying among his men
+at barn and corral as they put on bridles which they had jerked off,
+and tightened girths and gathered up dangling straps. Chadron was
+riding among them, large and commanding as a general, with a cloud in
+his dark face that seemed a threat of death.
+
+Mrs. Chadron was hurrying in to make a bundle of some heavy clothing
+for Nola to protect her against the night chill on her way home, which
+the confident soul believed her daughter would be headed upon before
+midnight. Saul the invincible was taking the trail; Saul, who smashed
+his way to his desires in all things. She gave Frances a hurried word
+of encouragement as they passed outside the door.
+
+Chadron was talking earnestly to his men. "I'll give fifty dollars
+bonus to the man that brings him down," she heard him say as she drew
+near, "and a hundred to the first man to lay eyes on my daughter."
+
+Frances was hurrying to him with the information that she had kept for
+his ear alone. She was flushed with excitement as she came among the
+rough horsemen like a bright bloom tossed among rusty weeds. They fell
+back generously, not so much to give her room as to see her to better
+advantage, passing winks and grimaces of approval between themselves
+in their free and easy way. Chadron gave his hand in greeting as she
+spoke some hasty words of comfort.
+
+"Thank you, Miss Frances, for your friendship in this bad business,"
+he said, heartily, and with the best that there was in him. "You've
+been a great help and comfort to her mother, and if it wouldn't be
+askin' too much I'd like for you to stay here with her till we bring
+my little girl back home."
+
+"Yes, I intended to stay, Mr. Chadron; I didn't come out to tell you
+that." She looked round at the admiring faces, too plainly expressive
+of their approbation, some of them, and plucked Chadron's sleeve.
+"Bend down--I want to tell you something," she said, in low, quick
+voice.
+
+Chadron stooped, his hand lightly on her shoulder, in attitude of
+paternal benediction.
+
+"It wasn't Macdonald, it was Mark Thorn," she whispered.
+
+Chadron's face displayed no surprise, shadowed no deeper concern. Only
+there was a flitting look of perplexity in it as he sat upright in his
+saddle again.
+
+"Who is he?" he asked.
+
+"Don't you know?" She watched him closely, baffled by his unmoved
+countenance.
+
+"I never heard of anybody in this country by that name," he returned,
+shaking his head with a show of entire sincerity. "Who was tellin' you
+about him--who said he was the man?"
+
+A little confused, and more than a little disappointed over the
+apparent failure of her news to surprise from Chadron a betrayal of
+his guilty connection with Mark Thorn, she related the adventure of
+the morning, the finding of the cap, the meeting with Macdonald and
+his neighbors. She reserved nothing but what Lassiter had told her of
+Thorn's employers and his bloody work in that valley.
+
+Chadron shook his head with an air of serious concern. There was a
+look of commiseration in his eyes for her credulity, and shameful
+duping by the cunning word of Alan Macdonald.
+
+"That's one of Macdonald's lies," he said, something so hard and
+bitter in his voice when he pronounced that name that she shuddered.
+"I never heard of anybody named Thorn, here or anywheres else. That
+rustler captain he's a deep one, Miss Frances, and he was only
+throwin' dust in your eyes. But I'm glad you told me."
+
+"But they said--the man he called Lassiter said--that Macdonald would
+find Nola, and bring her home," she persisted, unwilling yet to accept
+Chadron's word against that old man's, remembering the paper with the
+list of names.
+
+"He's bald-faced enough to try even a trick like that!" he said.
+
+Chadron looked impatiently toward the house, muttering something about
+the slowness of "them women," avoiding Frances' eyes. For she did not
+believe Saul Chadron, and her distrust was eloquent in her face.
+
+"You mean that he'd pretend a rescue and bring her back, just to make
+sympathy for himself and his side of this trouble?"
+
+"That's about the size of it," Chadron nodded, frowning sternly.
+
+"Oh, it seems impossible that anybody could be so heartless and low!"
+
+"A man that'd burn brands is low enough to go past anything you could
+imagine in that little head of yours, Miss Frances. Do you mind
+runnin' in and tellin'--no, here she comes."
+
+"Couldn't this trouble between you and the homesteaders--"
+
+
+"Homesteaders! They're cattle thieves, born in 'em and bred in 'em,
+and set in the hide and hair of 'em!"
+
+"Couldn't it be settled without all this fighting and killing?" she
+went on, pressing her point.
+
+"It's all over now but the shoutin'," said he. "There's only one way
+to handle a rustler, Miss Frances, and that's to salt his hide."
+
+"I'd be willing--I'd be glad--to go up there myself, alone, and take
+any message you might send," she offered. "I think they'd listen to
+reason, even to leaving the country if you want them to, rather than
+try to stand against a ga--force like this."
+
+"You can't understand our side of it, Miss Frances,"--Chadron spoke
+impatiently, reaching out for the bundle that his wife was bringing
+while she was yet two rods away--"for you ain't been robbed and
+wronged by them nesters like we have. You've got to live it to know
+what it means, little lady. We've argued with 'em till we've used up
+all our words, but their fences is still there. Now we're goin' to
+clear 'em out."
+
+"But Macdonald seemed hurt when I asked him how much money they wanted
+you to pay as Nola's ransom," she said.
+
+"He's deep, and he's tricky--too deep and too slick for you." Chadron
+gathered up his reins, leaned over and whispered: "Don't say anything
+about that Thorn yarn to her"--a sideways jerk of the head toward his
+wife--"her trouble's deep enough without stirrin' it."
+
+Chadron had the bundle now, and Mrs. Chadron was helping him tie it
+behind his saddle, shaking her head sadly as she handled the
+belongings of her child with gentle touch. Tears were running down her
+cheeks, but her usually ready words seemed dead upon her tongue.
+
+From the direction of the barn a little commotion moved forward among
+the horsemen, like a wave before a breeze. Banjo Gibson appeared on
+his horse as the last thong was tied about Nola's bundle, his hat
+tilted more than its custom to spare the sore place over his eye.
+
+The cowboys looked at his gaudy trappings with curious eyes. Chadron
+gave him a short word of greeting, and bent to kiss his wife
+good-bye.
+
+"I'm with you in this here thing, Saul," said Banjo; "I'll ride to
+hell's back door to help you find that little girl!"
+
+Chadron slewed in his saddle with an ugly scowl.
+
+"We don't want any banjo-pickers on this job, it's men's work!" he
+said.
+
+Banjo seemed to droop with humiliation. Chuckles and derisive words
+were heard among Chadron's train. The little musician hung his
+bandaged head.
+
+"Oh, you ortn't be hard on Banjo, he means well," Mrs. Chadron
+pleaded.
+
+"He can stay here and scratch the pigs," Chadron returned, in his
+brutal way. "We've got to go now, old lady, but we'll be back before
+morning, and we'll bring Nola. Don't you worry any more; she'll be all
+right--they wouldn't dare to harm a hair of her head."
+
+Mrs. Chadron looked at him with large hope and larger trust in her
+yearning face, and Banjo slewed his horse directly across the gate.
+
+"Before you leave, Saul, I want to tell you this," he said. "You've
+hurt me, and you've hurt me _deep_! I'll leave here before another
+hour passes by, and I'll never set a boot-heel inside of your door
+ag'in as long as you live!"
+
+"Oh hell!" said Chadron, spurring forward into the road.
+
+Chadron's men rode away after him, except five whom he detailed to
+stay behind and guard the ranch. These turned their horses into the
+corral, made their little fire of twigs and gleaned brush in their
+manner of wood-scant frugality, and over it cooked their simple
+dinner, each man after his own way.
+
+Banjo led his horse to the gate in front of the house and left it
+standing there while he went in to get his instruments. Mrs. Chadron
+was moved to a fresh outburst of weeping by his preparations for
+departure, and the sad, hurt look in his simple face.
+
+"You stay here, Banjo; don't you go!" she begged. "Saul he didn't mean
+any harm by what he said--he won't remember nothing about it when he
+comes back."
+
+"I'll remember it," Banjo told her, shaking his head in unbending
+determination, "and I couldn't be easy here like I was in the past. If
+I was to try to swaller a bite of Saul Chadron's grub after this it'd
+stick in my throat and choke me. No, I'm a-goin', mom, but I'm
+carryin' away kind thoughts of you in my breast, never to be forgot."
+
+Banjo hitched the shoulder strap of the instrument from which he took
+his name with a jerking of the shoulder, and settled it in place; he
+took up his fiddle box and hooked it under his arm, and offered Mrs.
+Chadron his hand. She was crying, her face in her apron, and did not
+see. Frances took the extended hand and clasped it warmly, for the
+little musician and his homely small sentiments had found a place in
+her heart.
+
+"You shouldn't leave until your head gets better," she said; "you're
+hardly able to take another long ride after being in the saddle all
+night, hurt like you are."
+
+Banjo looked at her with pain reflected in his shallow eyes.
+
+"The hurt that gives me my misery is where it can't be seen," he
+said.
+
+"Where are you goin', Banjo, with the country riled up this way, and
+you li'ble to be shot down any place by them rustlers?" Mrs. Chadron
+asked, looking at him appealingly, her apron ready to stem her gushing
+tears.
+
+"I'll go over to the mission and stay with Mother Mathews till I'm
+healed up. I'll be welcome in that house; I'd be welcome there if I
+was blind, and had m' back broke and couldn't touch a string."
+
+"Yes, you would, Banjo," Mrs. Chadron nodded.
+
+"She's married to a Injun, but she's as white as a angel's robe."
+
+"She's a good soul, Banjo, as good as ever lived."
+
+Frances took advantage of Banjo's trip to the reservation to send a
+note to her father apprising him of the tragedy at the ranch. Banjo
+buttoned it inside his coat, mounted his horse, and rode away.
+
+Mrs. Chadron watched him out of sight with lamentations.
+
+"I wish he'd 'a' stayed--it 'd 'a' been all right with Saul; Saul
+didn't mean any harm by what he said. He's the tender-heartedest man
+you ever saw, he wouldn't hurt a body's feelin's for a farm."
+
+"I don't believe Banjo is a man to hold a grudge very long," Frances
+told her, looking after the retreating musician, her thoughts on him
+but hazily, but rather on a little highland bonnet with a bullet hole
+in its crown.
+
+"No, he ain't," Mrs. Chadron agreed, plucking up a little brightness.
+"But it's a bad sign, a mighty bad sign, when a friend parts from you
+with a hurt in his heart that way, and leaves your house in a huff and
+feels put out like Banjo does."
+
+"Yes," said Frances, "we let them go away from us too often that way,
+with sore hearts that even a little word might ease."
+
+She spoke with such wistful regret that the older woman felt its note
+through her own deep gloom. She groped out, tears blinding her, until
+her hand found her young friend's, and then she clasped it, and stood
+holding it, no words between them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+ONE ROAD
+
+
+Twenty-four hours after Banjo's departure a messenger arrived at the
+ranchhouse. It was one of the cowboys attached to the ranch, and he
+came with his right arm in a sling. He was worn, and beaten out by
+long hours in the saddle and the pain of his wound.
+
+He said they had news of Nola, and that Chadron sent word that she
+would be home before another night passed. This intelligence sent Mrs.
+Chadron off to bedroom and kitchen to make preparations for her
+reception and restoration.
+
+As she left the room Frances turned to the messenger, who stood
+swinging his big hat awkwardly by the brim. She untied the sling that
+held his wounded arm and made him sit by the table while she examined
+his injury, concerning which Mrs. Chadron, in her excitement, had not
+even inquired.
+
+The shot had gone through the forearm, grazing the bone. When Frances,
+with the aid of Maggie, the Mexican woman with tender eyes, had
+cleansed and bound up the wound, she turned to him with a decisive air
+of demand.
+
+"Now, tell me the truth," she said.
+
+He was a bashful man, with a long, sheepish nose and the bluest of
+harmless eyes. He started a little when she made that demand, and
+blushed.
+
+"That's what the boss told me to say," he demurred.
+
+"I know he did; but what's happening?"
+
+"Well, we ain't heard hide nor hair of her"--he looked round
+cautiously, lest Mrs. Chadron surprise him in the truth--"and them
+rustlers they're clean gone and took everything but their houses and
+fences along--beds and teams and stock, and everything."
+
+"Gone!" she repeated, staring at him blankly; "where have they gone?"
+
+"Macdonald's doin' it; that man's got brainds," the cowboy yielded,
+with what he knew to be unlawful admiration of the enemy's parts.
+"He's herdin' 'em back in the hills where they've built a regular
+fort, they say. Some of us fellers caught up to a few of the
+stragglers last night, and that's when I got this arm put on me."
+
+"Have any of the rustlers been killed?"
+
+"No," he admitted, disgustedly, "they ain't! We've burnt all the
+shacks we come to, and cut their fences, but they all got slick and
+clean away, down to the littlest kid. But the boss's after 'em," he
+added, with brisk hopefulness, "and you'll have better news by
+mornin'."
+
+Chadron himself was the next rider to arrive at that anxious house,
+and he came as the messenger of disaster. He arrived between midnight
+and morning, his horse spur-gashed, driven to the limit, himself
+sunken-eyed from his anxiety and hard pursuit of his elusive enemy.
+
+Mrs. Chadron was asleep when he entered the living-room where Frances
+was keeping lonely watch before the chimney fire.
+
+"What's happened?" she asked, hastening to meet him.
+
+Chadron stood there gray and dusty, his big hat down hard on his head,
+his black eyes shooting inquiry into the shadowed room.
+
+"Where is she?" he whispered.
+
+"Upstairs, asleep--I've only just been able to persuade her to lie
+down and close her eyes."
+
+"Well, there's no use to wake her up for bad news."
+
+"You haven't found Nola?"
+
+"I know right where she is. I could put my hand on her if I could
+reach her."
+
+"Then why--?"
+
+"Hell!" said Chadron, bursting into a fire of passion, "why can't I
+fly like an eagle? Young woman, I've got to tell you I've been beat
+and tricked for the first time in my life! They've got my men hemmed
+in, I tell you--they've got 'em shut up in a canyon as tight as if they
+was nailed in their coffins!"
+
+If Chadron had been clearer of sight and mind in that moment of his
+towering anger, he would have seen her cheeks flush at his words, and
+her nostrils dilate and her breath come faster. But he was blind; his
+little varnish of delicacy was gone. He was just a ranting, roaring,
+dark-visaged brute with murder in his heart.
+
+"That damned Macdonald done it, led 'em into it like they was blind!
+He's a wolf, and he's got the tricks of a wolf, he skulked ahead of
+'em with a little pack of his rustlers and led 'em into his trap, then
+the men he had hid there and ready they popped up as thick as grass.
+They've got fifty of my men shut up there where they can't git to
+water, and where they can't fight back. Now, what do you think of
+that?"
+
+"I'll tell you what I think," she said, throwing up her head, her eyes
+as quick and bright as water in the sun, "I think it's the judgment of
+God! I glory in the trick Alan Macdonald played you, and I pray God he
+can shut your hired murderers there till the last red-handed devil
+dies of thirst!"
+
+Chadron fell back from her a step, his eyes staring, his mouth open,
+his hand lifted as if to silence her. He stood so a moment, casting
+his wild look around, fearful that somebody else had heard her
+passionate denunciation.
+
+"What in the hell do you mean?" he asked, crouching as he spoke, his
+teeth clenched, his voice smothered in his throat.
+
+"I mean that I know you're a murderer--and worse! You hired those men,
+like you hired Mark Thorn, to come here and murder those innocent men
+and their families!"
+
+"Well, what if I did?" he said, standing straight again, his composure
+returning. "They're thieves; they've been livin' off of my cattle for
+years. Anybody's got a right to kill a rustler--that's the only cure.
+Well, they'll not pen them men of mine up there till they crack for
+water, I'll bet you a purty on that! I'm goin' after soldiers, and
+this time I'll git 'em, too."
+
+"Soldiers!" said she, in amazement. "Will you ask the United States
+government to march troops here to save your hired assassins? Well,
+you'll not get troops--if there's anything that I can say against you
+to keep you from it!"
+
+"You keep out of it, my little lady; you ain't got no call to mix up
+with a bunch of brand-burnin' thieves!"
+
+"They're not thieves, and you know it! Macdonald never stole an animal
+from you or anybody else; none of the others ever did."
+
+"What do you know about it?" sharply.
+
+"I know it, as well as I know what's in your mind about the troops.
+You'll go over father's head to get them. Well, by the time he wires
+to the department the facts I'm going to lay before him, I'd like to
+see the color of the trooper you'll get!"
+
+"You'll keep your mouth shut, and hold your finger out of this pie
+before you git it burnt!"
+
+"I'll not keep my mouth shut!" She began moving about the room,
+picking up her belongings. "I'm going to saddle my horse and go to the
+post right now, and the facts of your bloody business will be in
+Washington before morning."
+
+"You're not goin'--to the--post!" Chadron's words were slow and hard.
+He stood with his back to the door. "This house was opened to you as a
+friend, not as a traitor and a spy. You're not goin' to put your foot
+outside of it into any business of mine, no matter which way you
+lean."
+
+All day she had been dressed ready to mount and ride in any emergency,
+her hat, gloves and quirt on the table before the fireplace. In that
+sober habit she appeared smaller and less stately, and Saul Chadron,
+with his heavy shoulders against the closed door, towered above her,
+dark and angrily determined.
+
+"I'm going to get my horse," said she, standing before him, waiting
+for him to quit the door.
+
+"You're goin' to stay right in this house, there's where you're goin'
+to stay; and you'll stay till I've cleaned out Macdonald and his gang,
+down to the last muddy-bellied wolf!"
+
+"You'll answer for detaining me here, sir!"
+
+"There ain't no man in this country that I answer to!" returned
+Chadron, not without dignity, for power undisputed for so long, and in
+such large affairs, had given him a certain manner of imperialism.
+
+"You'll find out where your mistake is, to your bitter cost, before
+many days have gone over your head. Your master is on the way; you'll
+meet him yet."
+
+"You might as well ca'm down, and take that hat off and make yourself
+easy, Miss Frances; you ain't goin' to the post tonight."
+
+"Open that door, Mr. Chadron! For the memory of your daughter, be a
+man!"
+
+"I'm actin' for the best, Miss Frances." Chadron softened in speech,
+but unbent in will. "You must stay here till we settle them fellers. I
+ain't got time to bring any more men up from Cheyenne--I've got to
+have help within the next twenty-four hours. You can see how your
+misplaced feelin's might muddle and delay me, and hold off the
+troopers till they've killed off all of my men in that canyon back
+yonder in the hills. It's for the best, I tell you; you'll see it that
+way before daylight."
+
+"It's a pity about your gallant cutthroats! It's time the rest of this
+country knew something about the methods of you cattlemen up here, and
+the way you harass and hound and murder honest men that are trying to
+make homes!"
+
+"Oh, Miss Frances! ca'm down, ca'm down!" coaxed Chadron, spreading
+his hands in conciliatory gesture, as if to smooth her troubled
+spirits, and calm her down by stroking her, like a cat.
+
+"Now you want to call out the army to rescue that pack of villains,
+you want to enlist the government to help you murder more children!
+Well, I'm a daughter of the army; I'm not going to stand around and
+see you pull it down to any such business as yours!"
+
+"You'd better make up your mind to take it easy, now, Miss Frances.
+Put down your hat and things, now, and run along off to bed like a
+good little girl."
+
+She turned from him with a disdainful toss of the head, and walked
+across to the window where Mrs. Chadron's great chair stood beside her
+table.
+
+"Do you want it known that I was forced to leave your house by the
+window?" she asked, her hand on the sash.
+
+"It won't do you any good if you do," Chadron growled, turning and
+throwing the door open with gruff decision. He stood a moment
+glowering at her, his shoulders thrust into the room. "You can't leave
+here till I'm ready for you to go--I'm goin' to put my men on the
+watch for you. If you try it afoot they'll fetch you back, and if you
+git stubborn and try to ride off from 'em, they'll shoot your horse.
+You take my word that I mean it, and set down and be good."
+
+He closed the door. She heard his heavy tread, careless, it seemed,
+whether he broke the troubled sleep of his wife, pass out by way of
+the kitchen. She returned to the fire, surging with the outrage of it,
+and sat down to consider the situation.
+
+There was no doubt that Chadron meant what he had said. This was only
+a mild proceeding to suppress evidence compared to his usual methods,
+as witnessed by the importation of Mark Thorn, and now his wholesale
+attempt with this army of hired gunslingers. But above the anger and
+indignation there was the exultant thought of Macdonald's triumph over
+the oppressor of the land. It glowed like a bright light in the
+turmoil of her present hour.
+
+She had told Chadron that his master was on the way, and she had seen
+him swell with the cloud of anger that shrouded his black heart. And
+she knew that he feared that swift-footed man Macdonald, who had
+outgeneraled him and crippled him before he had struck a blow. Well,
+let him have his brutal way until morning; then she would prevail on
+Mrs. Chadron to rescind his order and let her go home.
+
+There being nothing more to be hoped or dreaded in the way of news
+that night, Frances suppressed her wrath and went upstairs and to bed.
+But not to sleep; only to lie there with her hot cheeks burning like
+fever, her hot heart triumphing in the complete confidence and
+justification of Macdonald that Chadron's desperate act had
+established. She glowed with inner warmth as she told herself that
+there would be no more doubting, no more swaying before the wind of
+her inclination. Her heart had read him truly that night in the garden
+close.
+
+She heard Chadron ride away as she watched there for the dawn, and saw
+the cowboy guard that he had established rouse themselves while the
+east was only palely light and kindle their little fires. Soon the
+scent of their coffee and bacon came through her open window. Then she
+rose and dressed herself in her saddle garb again, and went tiptoeing
+past Mrs. Chadron's door.
+
+Since going to bed Mrs. Chadron bad not stirred. She seemed to have
+plunged over the precipice of sleep and to be lying stunned at the
+bottom. Frances felt that there was no necessity for waking her out of
+that much-needed repose, for the plan that she had formulated within
+the past few minutes did not include an appeal for Mrs. Chadron's
+assistance in it.
+
+Experience told her that Mrs. Chadron would accept unquestioningly the
+arrangements and orders of her husband, in whom her faith was
+boundless and her confidence without bottom. She would advance a
+hundred tearful pleas to take the edge off Frances' indignant anger,
+and weep and implore, but ten to one remain as steadfast as a ledge in
+her fealty to Saul. So Frances was preparing to proceed without her
+help or hindrance.
+
+She went softly into the room where she had faced Chadron a few hours
+before, and crossed to the fireplace, where the last coals of the fire
+that had kept her company were red among the ashes. It was dark yet,
+only a little grayness, like murky water, showing under the rim of the
+east, but she knew where the antlers hung above the mantel, with the
+rifle in its case, and the two revolvers which Alvino had brought to
+his mistress from the wounded foreman in the bunkhouse.
+
+But the antlers were empty. She felt them over with contracting heart,
+then struck a match to make sure. The guns were gone. Saul Chadron had
+removed them, foreseeing that they might stand her in the place of a
+friend.
+
+She lit a lamp and began a search of the lower part of the house for
+arms. There was not a single piece left in any of the places where
+they commonly were a familiar sight. Even the shotgun was gone from
+over the kitchen door. She returned to the sitting-room and laid some
+sticks on the coals, and sat leaning toward the blaze in that sense of
+comradeship that is as old between man and fire as the servitude of
+that captive element.
+
+Her elbows were on her knees, and her gloved hands were clasped, and
+the merry little fire laughed up into her fixed and thoughtful eyes.
+
+Fire has but one mood, no matter what it cheers or destroys. It always
+laughs. There is no melancholy note in it, no drab, dull color of
+death such as the flood comes tainted with. Even while it eats away
+our homes and possessions, it has a certain comfort in its touch and
+glow if we stand far enough away.
+
+Dawn broadened; the watery light came in like cold. Frances got up,
+shivering a little at the unfriendly look of the morning. She thought
+she heard a cautious foot stealing away from the window, and turned
+from it with contemptuous recollection of Chadron's threat to set
+spies over her.
+
+Frances left the house with no caution to conceal her movements, and
+went to the barn. Alvino was hobbling about among the horses with his
+lantern. He gave her an open and guileless good-morning, and she told
+him to saddle her horse.
+
+She was determined to ride boldly out of the gate and away, hardly
+convinced that even those seasoned ruffians would take a chance of
+hitting her by firing at her horse. None of the imported shooters was
+in sight as she mounted before the barn door, but two of them lounged
+casually at the gate as she approached.
+
+"Where was you aimin' to go so early?" asked one of them, laying hand
+on her bridle.
+
+"I'm the daughter of Colonel Landcraft, commanding officer at
+Fort Shakie, and I'm going home," she answered, as placidly and
+good-humoredly as if it might be his regular business to inquire.
+
+"I'm sorry to have to edge in on your plans, sissy," the fellow
+returned, familiarly, "but nobody goes away from this ranch for some
+little time to come. That's the boss's orders. Don't you know them
+rustlers is shootin' up the country ever' which way all around here?
+Shucks! It ain't safe for no lady to go skylarkin' around in."
+
+"They wouldn't hurt me--they know there's a regiment of cavalry at the
+post standing up for me."
+
+"I don't reckon them rustlers cares much more about them troopers than
+we do, sis."
+
+"Will you please open the gate?"
+
+"I hate to refuse a lady, but I dasn't do it." He shook his head in
+exaggerated gravity, and his companion covered a sputtering laugh with
+his hand.
+
+Frances felt her resolution to keep her temper dissolving. She shifted
+her quirt as the quick desire to strike him down and ride over his
+ugly grinning face flashed through her. But the wooden stock was light
+under the braided leather; she knew that she could not have knocked a
+grunt out of the tough rascal who barred her way with his insolent
+leer in his mean squint eyes. He was a man who had nothing to lose,
+therefore nothing to fear.
+
+"If it's dangerous for me to go alone, get your horse and come with
+me. I'll see that you get more out of it than you make working for
+Chadron."
+
+The fellow squinted up at her with eyes half-shut, in an expression of
+cunning.
+
+"Now you trot along back and behave you'self, before I have to take
+you down and spank you," he said.
+
+The other three men of the ranch guard came waddling up in that
+slouching gait of saddle-men, cigarettes dangling from their lips.
+Frances saw that she would not be allowed to pass that way. But they
+were all at that spot; none of them could be watching the back gate.
+She wheeled her long-legged cavalry horse to make a dash for it, and
+came face to face with Mrs. Chadron, who was hurrying from the house
+with excited gesticulations, pointing up the road.
+
+"Somebody's comin', it looks like one of the boys, I saw him from the
+upstairs winder!" she announced, "Where was you goin', honey?"
+
+"I was starting home, Mrs. Chadron, but these men--"
+
+"There he comes!" cried Mrs. Chadron, hastening to the gate.
+
+A horseman had come around the last brush-screened turn of the road,
+and was drawing near. Frances felt her heart leap like a hare, and a
+delicious feeling of triumph mingle with the great pride that swept
+through her in a warm flood. Tears were in her eyes, half-blinding
+her; a sob of gladness rose in her breast and burst forth a little
+happy cry.
+
+For that was Alan Macdonald coming forward on his weary horse, bearing
+something in his arms wrapped in a blanket, out of which a shower of
+long hair fell in bright cascade over his arm.
+
+Mrs. Chadron pressed her lips tight. Neither cry nor groan came out of
+them as she stood steadying herself by a straining grip on the gate,
+watching Macdonald's approach. None of them knew whether the burden
+that he bore was living or dead; none of them in the group at the gate
+but Frances knew the rider's face.
+
+One of the cowboys opened the gate wide, without a word, to let him
+enter. Mrs. Chadron lifted her arms appealingly, and hurried to his
+side as he stopped. Stiffly he leaned over, his inert burden held
+tenderly, and lowered what he bore into Mrs. Chadron's outstretched
+arms.
+
+With that change of position there was a sharp movement in the
+muffling blanket, two arms reached up with the quick clutching of a
+falling child, and clasped him about the neck. Then a sharp cry of
+waking recognition, and Nola was sobbing on her mother's breast.
+
+Alan Macdonald said no word. The light of the sunrise was strong on
+his face, set in the suffering of great weariness; the stiffness of
+his long and burdened ride was in his limbs. He turned his dusty
+horse, with its head low-drooping, and rode out the way that he had
+come. No hand was lifted to stop him, no voice raised in either
+benediction or curse.
+
+Mrs. Chadron was soothing her daughter, who was incoherent in the joy
+of her delivery, holding her clasped in her arms. Beyond that bright
+head there was no world for that mother then; save for the words which
+she crooned in the child's ears there was no message in her soul.
+
+Frances felt tears streaking her face in hot rivulets as she sat in
+her saddle, struck inactive by the great admiration, the boundless
+pride, that this unselfish deed woke in her. She never had, in her
+life of joyousness, experienced such a high sense of human admiration
+before.
+
+The cowboy who had opened the gate still held it so, the spell of
+Macdonald's dramatic arrival still over him. With his comrades he
+stood speechless, gazing after the departing horseman.
+
+Frances touched her horse lightly and rode after him. Mother and
+daughter were so estranged from all the world in that happy moment of
+reunion that neither saw her go, and the guards at the gate, either
+forgetful of their charge or softened by the moving scene, did not
+interpose to stop her.
+
+Macdonald raised his drooping head with quick start as she came
+dashing to his side. She was weeping, and she put out her hand with a
+motion of entreaty, her voice thick with sobs.
+
+"I wronged you and slandered you," she said, in bitter confession,
+"and I let you go when I should have spoken! I'm not worthy to ride
+along this road with you, Alan Macdonald, but I need your protection,
+I need your help. Will you let me go?"
+
+He checked his horse and looked across at her, a tender softening
+coming into his tired face.
+
+"Why, God bless you! there's only one road in the world for you and
+me," said he. His hand met hers where it fluttered like a dove between
+them; his slow, translating smile woke in his eyes and spread like a
+sunbeam over his stern lips.
+
+Behind them Mrs. Chadron was calling. Frances turned and waved her
+hand.
+
+"Come back, Frances, come back here!" Mrs. Chadron's words came
+distinctly to them, for they were not more than a hundred yards from
+the gate, and there was a note of eagerness in them, almost a command.
+Both of them turned.
+
+There was a commotion among the men at the gate, a hurrying and loud
+words. Nola was beckoning to Frances to return; now she called her
+name, with fearful entreaty.
+
+"That's Chance Dalton with his arm in a sling," said Macdonald,
+looking at her curiously. "What's up?"
+
+"Chadron has made them all believe that you stole Nola for the sole
+purpose of making a pretended rescue to win sympathy for your cause,"
+she said. "Even Nola will believe it--maybe they've told her. Chadron
+has offered a reward of fifty dollars--a bonus, he called it, so maybe
+there is more--to the man that kills you! Come on--quick! I'll tell
+you as we go."
+
+Macdonald's horse was refreshed in some measure by the diminishing of
+its burden, but the best that it could do was a tired, hard-jogging
+gallop. In a little while they rounded the screen of brush which hid
+them from the ranchhouse and from those who Frances knew would be
+their pursuers in a moment. Quickly she told him of her reason for
+wanting to go to the post, and Chadron's reason for desiring to hold
+her at the ranch.
+
+Macdonald looked at her with new life in his weary eyes.
+
+"We'll win now; you were the one recruit I lacked," he said.
+
+"But they'll kill you--Mrs. Chadron can't hold them back--she doesn't
+want to hold them back--for she's full of Chadron's lies about you.
+Your horse is worn out--you can't outrun them."
+
+"How many are there besides the five I saw?"
+
+"Only Dalton, and he's supposed to be crippled."
+
+"Oh, well," he said, easily, as if only five whole men and a cripple
+didn't amount to so much, taken all in the day's work.
+
+"Your men up there need your leadership and advice. Take my horse and
+go; he can outrun them."
+
+He looked at her admiringly, but with a little reproving shake of the
+head.
+
+"There's neither mercy nor manhood in any man that rides in Saul
+Chadron's pay," he told her. "They'd overtake you on this old plug
+before you'd gone a mile. The one condition on which I part company
+with you is that you ride ahead, this instant, and that you put your
+horse through for all that's in him."
+
+"And leave you to fight six of them!"
+
+"Staying here would only put you in unnecessary danger. I ask you to
+go, and go at once."
+
+"I'll not go!" She said it finally and emphatically.
+
+Macdonald checked his horse; she held back her animal to the slow pace
+of his. Now he offered his hand, as in farewell.
+
+"You can assure them at the post that we'll not fire on the
+soldiers--they can come in peace. Good-bye."
+
+"I'm not going!" she persisted.
+
+"They'll not consider you, Frances--they'll not hold their fire on
+your account. You're a rustler now, you're one of us."
+
+"You said--there--was--only--one--road," she told him, her face turned
+away.
+
+"It's that way, then, to the left--up that dry bed of Horsethief
+Canyon." He spoke with a lift of exultation, of pride, and more than
+pride. "Ride low--they're coming!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+DANGER AND DIGNITY
+
+
+"Did you carry her that way all the way home?"
+
+Frances asked the question abruptly, like one throwing down some
+troublesome and heavy thing that he has labored gallantly to conceal.
+It was the first word that she had spoken since they had taken refuge
+from their close-pressing pursuers in the dugout that some old-time
+homesteader had been driven away from by Chadron's cowboys.
+
+Macdonald was keeping his horse back from the door with the barrel of
+his rifle, while he peered out cautiously again, perplexed to
+understand the reason why Dalton had not led his men against them in a
+charge.
+
+"Not all the way, Frances. She rode behind me till she got so cold and
+sleepy I was afraid she'd fall off."
+
+"Yes, I'll bet she put on half of it!" she said, spitefully. "She
+looked strong enough when you put her down there at the gate."
+
+This unexpected little outburst of jealousy was pleasant to his ears.
+Above the trouble of that morning, and of the future which was charged
+with it to the blackness of complete obscuration, her warrant of
+affection was like a lifting sunbeam of hope.
+
+"I can't figure out what Dalton and that gang mean by this," said he,
+the present danger again pressing ahead of the present joy.
+
+"I saw a man dodge behind that big rock across there a minute ago,"
+she said.
+
+"You keep back away from that door--don't lean over out of that
+corner!" he admonished, almost harshly. "If you get where you can see,
+you can be seen. Don't forget that."
+
+He resumed his watch at the little hole that he had drilled beside the
+weight-bowed jamb of the door in the earth front of their refuge. She
+sat silent in her dark corner across from him, only now and then
+shaking her glove at the horses when one of them pricked up his ears
+and shewed a desire to dodge out into the sunlight and pleasant
+grazing spread on the hillside.
+
+It was cold and moldy in the dugout, and the timbers across the roof
+were bent under the weight of the earth. It looked unsafe, but there
+was only one place in it that a bullet could come through, and that
+was the open door. There was no way to shut that; the original battens
+of the homesteader lay under foot, broken apart and rotting.
+
+"Well, it beats me!" said he, his eye to the peephole in the wall.
+
+"If I'd keep one of the horses on this side it wouldn't crowd your
+corner so," she suggested.
+
+"It would be better, only they'll cut loose at anything that passes
+the door. They'll show their hand before long." He enlarged the hole
+to admit his rifle barrel. She watched him in silence. Which was just
+as well, for she had no words to express her admiration for his
+steadiness and courage under the trying pressure of that situation.
+Her confidence in him was so entire that she had no fear; it did not
+admit a question of their safe deliverance. With him at her side, this
+dangerous, grave matter seemed but a passing perplexity. She left it
+to him with the confidence and up-looking trust of a child.
+
+While she understood the peril of their situation, fear, doubt, had no
+place in her mind. She was under the protection of Alan Macdonald, the
+infallible.
+
+No matter what others may think of a man's infallibility, it is only a
+dangerous one who considers himself endowed with that more than human
+attribute. Macdonald did not share her case of mind as he stood with
+his eye to the squint-hole that he had bored beside the rotting jamb.
+
+"How did you find her? where was she?" she asked, her thoughts more on
+the marvel of Nola's return than her own present danger.
+
+"I lost Thorn's trail that first day," he returned, "and then things
+began to get so hot for us up the valley that I had to drop the search
+and get those people back to safety ahead of Chadron's raid. Yesterday
+afternoon we caught a man trying to get through our lines and down
+into the valley. He was a half-breed trapper who lives up in the
+foothills, carrying a note down to Chadron. I've got that curious
+piece of writing around me somewhere--you can read it when this blows
+by. Anyway, it was from Thorn, demanding ten thousand dollars in gold.
+He wanted it sent back by the messenger, and he prescribed some
+picturesque penalties in case of failure on Chadron's part."
+
+"And then you found her?"
+
+"I couldn't very well ask anybody else to go after her," he admitted,
+with a modest reticence that amounted almost to being ashamed. "After
+I made sure that we had Chadron's raiders cooped up where they
+couldn't get out, I went up and got her. Thorn wasn't there, nobody
+but the Indian woman, the 'breed's wife. She was the jailer--a regular
+wildcat of a woman."
+
+That was all there was to be told, it seemed, as far as Macdonald was
+concerned. He had the hole in the wall--at which he had worked as he
+talked--to his liking now, and was squinting through it like a
+telescope.
+
+"Nola wasn't afraid to come with you," she said, positively.
+
+"She didn't appear to be, Frances."
+
+"No; she _knew_ she was safe, no matter how little she deserved any
+kindness at your hands. I know what she did--I know how she--how
+she--_struck_ you in the face that time!"
+
+"Oh," said he, as if reminded of a trifle that he had forgotten.
+
+"Did she--put her arms around your neck that way _many_ times while
+you were carrying her home?"
+
+"She did _not_! Many times! why, she didn't do it even once."
+
+"Oh, at the gate--I saw her!"
+
+He said nothing for a little while, only stood with head bent, as if
+thinking it over.
+
+"Well, she didn't get very far with it," he said, quite seriously.
+"Anyway, she was asleep then, and didn't know what she was doing. It
+was just the subconscious reaching up of a falling, or dreaming,
+child."
+
+She was not a little amused, in a quick turn from her serious bent of
+jealousy, at his long and careful explanation of the incident. She
+laughed, and the little green cloud that had troubled her blew away on
+the gale of her mirth.
+
+"Oh, well!" said she, from her deep corner across the bright oblong of
+the door, tossing it all away from her. "Do you think they'll go away
+and let us come out after a while?"
+
+"I don't believe they've got any such intention. If it doesn't come to
+a fight before then, I believe we'll have to drive the horses out
+ahead of us after dark, and try to get away under the confusion. You
+should have gone on, Frances, when I told you."
+
+The horses were growing restive, moving, stamping, snorting, and
+becoming quarrelsome together. Macdonald's little range animal had a
+viciousness in it, and would not make friends with the chestnut
+cavalry horse. It squealed and bit, and even tried to use its heels,
+at every friendly approach.
+
+Macdonald feared that so much commotion might bring the shaky, rotten
+roof down on them. A hoof driven against one of the timbers which
+supported it might do the trick, and bring them to a worse end than
+would the waiting bullets of Dalton and his gang.
+
+"I'll have to risk putting that horse of yours over on your side," he
+told her. "Stand ready to catch him, but don't lean a hair past the
+door."
+
+He turned the horse and gave it a slap. As it crossed the bar of light
+falling through the door, a shot cracked among the rocks. The bullet
+knocked earth over him as it smacked in the facing of the door. The
+man who had fired had shot obliquely, there being no shelter directly
+in front, and that fact had saved the horse.
+
+Macdonald peered through his loophole. He could not see the smoke, but
+he let them know that he was primed by answering the shot at random.
+The shot drew a volley, a bullet or two striking the rear wall of the
+cave.
+
+After that they waited for what might come between then and night.
+They said little, for each was straining with unpleasant thoughts and
+anxieties, and put to constant watchfulness to keep the horses from
+slewing around into the line of fire. Every time a tail switched out
+into the streak of light a bullet came nipping in. Sometimes Macdonald
+let them go unanswered, and again he would spring up and drive away at
+the rocks which he knew sheltered them, almost driven to the point of
+rushing out and trying to dislodge them by storm.
+
+So the day wore by. They had been in the dugout since a little after
+sunrise. Sunset was pale on the hilltops beyond them when Macdonald,
+his strained and tired eyes to the loophole, saw Dalton and two of his
+men slipping from rock to rock, drawing nearer for what he expected to
+be the rush.
+
+"Can you shoot?" he asked her, his mouth hot and dry as if his blood
+had turned to liquid fire.
+
+"Yes, I can shoot," she answered, steadily.
+
+He tossed one of his revolvers across to her, dimly seen now in the
+deepening gloom of the cave, and flung a handful of cartridges after
+it.
+
+"They're closing in on us for the rush, and I'm going to try to stop
+them. Keep back there where you are, and hold your horse under cover
+as long as you hear me shooting. If I stop first, call Dalton and tell
+him who you are. I believe in that case he'll let you go."
+
+"I'm going to help you," she said, rising resolutely. "When you--stop
+shooting--" she choked a little over the words, her voice caught in a
+dry little sob--"then I'll stop shooting, too!"
+
+"Stay back there, Frances! Do you hear--stay back!"
+
+Somebody was on the roof of the dugout; under his weight clods of
+earth fell, and then, with a soft breaking of rotten timber, a booted
+foot broke through. It was on Frances' side, and the fellow's foot
+almost touched her saddle as her frightened horse plunged.
+
+The man was tugging to drag his foot through the roof now, earth and
+broken timber showering down. Macdonald only glanced over his
+shoulder, as if leaving that trapped one to her. He was set for their
+charge in front. She raised her revolver to fire as the other leg
+broke through, and the fellow's body dropped into the enlarged hole.
+At that moment the men in front fired a volley through the gaping
+door. Frances saw the intruder drop to the ground, torn by the heavy
+bullets from his companions' guns.
+
+The place was full of smoke, and the turmoil of the frightened horses,
+and the noise of quick shots from Macdonald's station across the door.
+She could not make anything out in the confusion as she turned from
+the dead man to face the door, only that Macdonald was not at his
+place at the loophole now.
+
+She called him, but her voice was nothing in the sound of firing. A
+choking volume of smoke was packing the cave. She saw Macdonald's
+horse lower its head and dash out, with a whip of its tail like a
+defiance of her authority. Then in a moment everything was still out
+there, with a fearful suddenness.
+
+She flung herself into the cloud of smoke that hung in the door,
+sobbing Macdonald's name; she stumbled into the fresh sweet air,
+almost blind in her anxiety, and the confusion of that quickly enacted
+scene, her head bent as if to run under the bullets which she
+expected.
+
+She did not see how it happened, she did not know that he was there;
+but his arm was supporting her, his cool hand was on her forehead,
+stroking her face as if he had plucked her drowning from the sea.
+
+"Where are they?" she asked, only to exclaim, and shrink closer to him
+at the sight of one lying a few rods away, in that sprawling limp
+posture of those who fall by violence.
+
+"There were only four of them--there the other two go." He pointed
+down the little swale where the tall grass was still green.
+Macdonald's horse had fallen to grazing there, his master's perils and
+escapes all one to him now. It threw its head up and stood listening,
+trotted a little way and stopped, ears stiff, nostrils stretched.
+
+"There's somebody coming," she said.
+
+"Yes--Chadron and a fresh gang, maybe."
+
+He sprang to the dugout door, where Frances' horse stood with its head
+out inquiringly.
+
+"Jump up--quick!" he said, bringing the horse out. "Go this time,
+Frances; don't hang back a second more!"
+
+"Never mind, Alan," she said, from the other side of the horse, "it's
+the cavalry--I guess they've come after me."
+
+Major King was at the head of the detail of seven men which rode up,
+horses a lather of sweat. He threw himself from the saddle and hurried
+to Frances, his face full of the liveliest concern. Macdonald stepped
+around to meet him.
+
+"Thank heaven! you're not hurt," the major said.
+
+"No, but we thought we were in for another fight," she told him,
+offering him her hand in the gratefulness of her relief. He almost
+snatched it in his eagerness, and drew her toward him, and stood
+holding it in his haughty, proprietary way. "Mr. Macdonald--"
+
+"The scoundrels heard us coming and ran--we got a glimpse of them down
+there. Chadron will have to answer for this outrage!" the major said.
+
+"Major King, this is Mr. Macdonald," said she, firmly, breaking down
+the high manner in which the soldier persisted in overlooking and
+eliminating the homesteader.
+
+Major King's face flushed; he drew back a hasty step as Macdonald
+offered his hand, in the frank and open manner of an equal man who
+raised no thought nor question on that point.
+
+"Sir, I've been hearing of the gallant _rescue_ that you made of
+another young lady this morning," he said, with sneering emphasis.
+"You are hardly the kind of a man I shake hands with!"
+
+The troopers, sitting their blowing horses a rod away, made their
+saddles creak as they shifted to see this little dash of melodrama.
+Macdonald's face was swept by a sudden paleness, as if a sickness had
+come over him. He clenched his lean jaw hard; the firmness of his
+mouth was grimmer still as his hand dropped slowly to his side.
+Frances looked her indignation and censure into Major King's hot
+eyes.
+
+"Mr. Macdonald has defended me like a gallant gentleman, sir! Those
+ruffians didn't run because they heard you coming, but because he
+faced them out here in the open, single-handed and alone, and drove
+them to their horses, Major King!"
+
+The troopers were looking Macdonald over with favor. They had seen the
+evidence of his stand against Chadron's men.
+
+"You're deceived in your estimation of the fellow, Miss Landcraft,"
+the major returned, red to the eyes in his offended dignity. "I
+arrived at the ranch not an hour ago, detailed to escort you back to
+the post. Will you have the kindness to mount at once, please?"
+
+He stepped forward to give her a hand into the saddle. But Macdonald
+was before him in that office, urged to it by the quick message of her
+eyes. From the saddle she leaned and gave him her warm, soft hand.
+
+"Your men need you, Mr. Macdonald--go to them," she said. "My prayers
+for your success in this fight for the right will follow you."
+
+Macdonald was standing bareheaded at her stirrup. Her hand lingered a
+moment in his, her eyes sounded the bottom of his soul. Major King,
+with his little uprising of dignity, was a very small matter in the
+homesteader's mind just then, although a minute past he had fought
+with himself to keep from twisting the arrogant officer's neck.
+
+She fell in beside Major King, who was sitting grim enough in his way
+now, in the saddle, and they rode away. Macdonald stood, hat in hand,
+the last sunbeams of that day over his fair tangled hair, the smoke of
+his conflict on his face, the tender light of a man's most sacred fire
+in his eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+BOOTS AND SADDLES
+
+
+When Major King delivered Frances--his punctilious military observance
+made her home-coming nothing less--to Colonel Landcraft, they found
+that grizzled warrior in an electrical state of excitement. He was
+moving in quick little charges, but with a certain grim system in all
+of them, between desk and bookcases, letter files, cabinets, and back
+to his desk again. He drew a document here, tucked one away there,
+slipped an elastic about others assembled on his desk, and clapped a
+sheaf of them in his pocket.
+
+Major King saluted within the door.
+
+"I have the honor to report the safe return of the detachment
+dispatched to Alamito Ranch for the convoy of Miss Landcraft," he
+said.
+
+Colonel Landcraft returned the salute, and stood stiffly while his
+officer spoke.
+
+"Very well, sir," said he. Then flinging away his official stiffness,
+he met Frances half-way as she ran to meet him, and enfolded her to
+his breast, just as if his dry old heart knew that she had come to him
+through perils.
+
+Breathlessly she told him the story, leaving no word unsaid that would
+mount to the credit of Alan Macdonald. Colonel Landcraft was as hot as
+blazing straw over the matter. He swore that he would roast Saul
+Chadron's heart on his sword, and snatched that implement from the
+chair where it hung as he spoke, and buckled it on with trembling
+hand.
+
+King interposed to tell him that Chadron was not at the ranch, and
+begged the colonel to delegate to him the office of avenger of this
+insult and hazard that Frances had suffered at the hands of his men.
+For a moment Colonel Landcraft held the young officer's eye with
+thankful expression of admiration, then he drew himself up as if in
+censure for wasted time, saluted, took a paper from his desk, and said
+with grave dignity:
+
+"It must fall to you, Major King, to demand the reparation for this
+outrage that I shall not be here to enforce. I am ordered to
+Washington, sir, to make my appearance before the retiring board. The
+department has vested the command of this post in you, sir--here is
+the order. My soldiering days are at an end."
+
+He handed the paper to Major King, with a salute. With a salute the
+young officer took it from his hand, an eager light in his eyes, a
+flush springing to his pale face. Frances clung to her father's arm, a
+little trembling moan on her lips as if she had received a mortal
+hurt.
+
+"Never mind, never mind, dear heart," said the old man, a shake in his
+own voice. Frances, looking up with her great pity into his stern, set
+face, saw a tear creeping down his cheek, toughened by the fires of
+thirty years' campaigns.
+
+"I'll never soldier any more," he said, "the politicians have got me.
+They've been after me a long time, and they've got me. But there is
+one easement in my disgrace--"
+
+"Don't speak of it on those terms, sir!" implored Major King, more a
+man than a soldier as he laid a consoling hand on the old man's arm.
+
+"No, no!" said Frances, clinging to her father's hand.
+
+Colonel Landcraft smiled, looking from one to the other of them, and a
+softness came into his face. He took Major King's hand and carried it
+to join Frances', and she, in her softness for her father, allowed it
+to remain in the young soldier's grasp.
+
+"There is one gleam of joy in the sundown of my life," the colonel
+said, "and that is in seeing my daughter pledged to a soldier. I must
+live in the reflection of your achievements, if I live beyond this
+disgrace, sir."
+
+"I will try to make them worthy of my mentor, sir," Major King
+returned.
+
+Frances stood with bowed head, the major still holding her hand in his
+ardent grasp.
+
+"It's a crushing blow, to come before the preferment in rank that I
+have been led to expect would be my retiring compensation!" The
+colonel turned from them sharply, as if in pain, and walked in
+marching stride across the room. Frances withdrew her hand, with a
+little struggle, not softened by the appeal in the major's eyes.
+
+"My poor wife is bowed under it," the colonel spoke as he marched back
+and forth. "She has hoped with me for some fitting reward for the
+years of service I have unselfishly given to my country, sir, for the
+surrender of my better self to the army. I'll never outlive it, I feel
+that I'll never outlive it!"
+
+Colonel Landcraft had no thought apart from what he felt to be his
+hovering disgrace. He had forgotten his rage against Chadron,
+forgotten that his daughter had lived through a day as hazardous as
+any that he had experienced in the Apache campaigns, or in his bleak
+watches against the Sioux. He turned to her now, where she stood
+weeping softly with bowed head, the grime of the dugout on her habit,
+her hair, its bonds broken, straying over her face.
+
+"I had counted pleasurably on seeing you two married," he said, "but
+something tells me I shall never come back from this journey, never
+resume command of this post." He turned back to his marching, stopped
+three or four paces along, turned sharply, a new light in his face.
+"Why shouldn't it be before I leave--tonight, within the hour?"
+
+"Oh, father!" said Frances, in terrified voice, lifting her face in
+its tear-wet loveliness.
+
+"I must make the train that leaves Meander at four o'clock tomorrow
+morning, I shall have to leave here within--" he flashed out his watch
+with his quick, nervous hand--"within three-quarters of an hour. What
+do you say, Major King? Are you ready?"
+
+"I have been ready at any time for two years," Major King replied, in
+trembling eagerness.
+
+Frances was thrown into such a mental turmoil by the sudden proposal
+that she could not, at that moment, speak a further protest. She stood
+with white face, her heart seeming to shrivel, and fall away to
+laboring faintness. Colonel Landcraft was not considering her. He was
+thinking that he must have three hours' sleep in the hotel at Meander
+before the train left for Omaha.
+
+"Then we shall have the wedding at once, just as you stand!" he
+declared. "We'll have the chaplain in and--go and tell your mother,
+child, and--oh, well, throw on another dress if you like."
+
+Frances found her tongue as her danger of being married off in that
+hot and hasty manner grew imminent.
+
+"I'm not going to marry Major King, father, now or at any future
+time," said she, speaking slowly, her words coming with coldness from
+her lips.
+
+"Silence! you have nothing to say, nothing to do but obey!" Colonel
+Landcraft blazed up in sudden explosion, after his manner, and set his
+heel down hard on the floor, making his sword clank in its scabbard on
+his thigh.
+
+"I have not had much to say," Frances admitted, bitterly, "but I am
+going to have a great deal to say in this matter now. Both of you have
+gone ahead about this thing just as if I was irresponsible, both of
+you--"
+
+"Hold your tongue, miss! I command you--hold your tongue!"
+
+"It's the farthest thing from my heart to give you pain, or disappoint
+you in your calculations of me, father," she told him, her voice
+gathering power, her words speed, for she was a warrior like himself,
+only that her balance was not so easily overthrown; "but I am not
+going to marry Major King."
+
+"Heaven and hell!" said Colonel Landcraft, stamping up and down.
+
+"Heaven _or_ hell," said she, "and not hell--if I can escape it."
+
+"I'll not permit this insubordination in a member of my family!"
+roared the colonel, his face fiery, his rumpled eyebrows knitted in a
+scowl. "I'll have obedience, with good grace, and at once, or damn my
+soul, you'll leave my house!"
+
+"Major King, if you are a gentleman, sir, you will relieve me of this
+unwelcome pressure to force me against my inclination. It is quite
+useless, sir, I tell you most earnestly. I would rather die than marry
+you--I would rather die!"
+
+"Sir, I have no wish to coerce the lady"--Major King's voice shook,
+his words were low--"as she seems to have no preference for me, sir.
+Miss Landcraft perhaps has placed her heart somewhere else."
+
+"She has no right to act with such treachery to me and you, sir," the
+colonel said. "I'll not have it! Where else, sir--who?"
+
+"Spare me the humiliation of informing you," begged Major King, with
+averted face, with sorrow in his voice.
+
+"Oh, you slanderous coward!" Frances assailed him with scorn of word
+and look. Colonel Landcraft was shaking a trembling finger at her, his
+face thrust within a foot of her own.
+
+"I'll not have it! you'll not--who is the fellow, who?"
+
+"There is nothing to conceal, there is no humiliation on my part in
+speaking his name, but pride--the highest pride of my heart!"
+
+She stood back from them a little, her lofty head thrown back, her
+face full of color now, the strength of defense of the man she loved
+in her brave brown eyes.
+
+"Some low poltroon, some sneaking civilian--"
+
+"He is a man, father--you have granted that. His name is--"
+
+"Stop!" thundered the colonel. "Heaven and hell! Will you disgrace me
+by making public confession of your shame? Leave this room, before you
+drive me to send you from it with a curse!"
+
+In her room Frances heard the horses come to the door to carry her
+father away. She had sat there, trembling and hot, sorry for his
+foolish rage, hurt by his narrow injustice. Yet she had no bitterness
+in her heart against him, for she believed that she knew him best.
+When his passion had fallen he would come to her, lofty still, but
+ashamed, and they would put it behind them, as they had put other
+differences in the past.
+
+Her mother had gone to him to share the last moments of his presence
+there, and to intercede for her. Now Frances listened, her hot cheek
+in her hand, her eyes burning, her heart surging in fevered stroke.
+There was a good deal of coming and going before the house; men came
+up and dismounted, others rode away. Watching, her face against the
+cool pane, she did not see her father leave. Yet he had not come to
+her, and the time for his going was past.
+
+Her heart was sore and troubled at the thought that perhaps he had
+gone without the word of pacification between them. It was almost
+terrifying to her to think of that. She ran down the stairs and stood
+listening at his closed door.
+
+That was not his voice, that heavy growl, that animal note. Saul
+Chadron's; no other. Her mother came in through the front door,
+weeping, and clasped Frances in her arms as she stood there, shadowy
+in the light of the dim hall lamp.
+
+"He is gone!" she said.
+
+Frances did not speak. But for the first time in her life a feeling of
+bitterness against her father for his hardness of heart and unbending
+way of injustice lifted itself in her breast. She led her mother to
+her own room, giving her such comfort as she could put into words.
+
+"He said he never marched out to sure defeat before," Mrs. Landcraft
+told her. "I've seen him go many a time, Frances, but never with such
+a pain in my heart as tonight!"
+
+And Saul Chadron was the man who had caused his going, Frances knew, a
+new illumination having come over the situation since hearing his
+voice in the colonel's office a few minutes past. Chadron had been at
+Meander, telegraphing to the cattlemen's servants in Washington all
+the time. He had demanded the colonel's recall, and the substitution
+of Major King, because he wanted a man in authority at the post whom
+he could use.
+
+This favoritism of Chadron made her distrustful at once of Major King.
+There must be some scheming and plotting afoot. She went down and
+stood in the hall again, not even above bending to listen at the
+keyhole. Chadron was talking again. She felt that he must have been
+talking all the time that she had been away. It must be an unworthy
+cause that needed so much pleading, she thought.
+
+"Well, he'll not shoot, I tell you, King; he's too smart for that.
+He'll have to be trapped into it. If you've got to have an excuse to
+fire on them--and I can't see where it comes in, King, damn my neck if
+I can--we've got to set a trap."
+
+"Leave that to me," returned Major King, coldly.
+
+"How much force are you authorized to use?"
+
+"The order leaves that detail to me. 'Sufficient force to restore
+order,' it says."
+
+"I think you ort to take a troop, at the least, King, and a
+cannon--maybe two."
+
+"I don't think artillery will be necessary, sir."
+
+"Well, I'll leave it to you, King, but I'd hate like hell to take you
+up there and have that feller lick you. You don't know him like I do.
+I tell you he'd lay on his back and fight like a catamount as long as
+he had a breath left in him."
+
+"Can you locate them in the night?"
+
+"I think we'd have to wait up there somewheres for daybreak. I'm not
+just sure which canyon they are in."
+
+There was silence. Frances peeped through the keyhole, but could see
+nothing except thick smoke over bookcases and files.
+
+"Well, we'll not want to dislodge them before daylight, anyway," said
+King.
+
+"If Macdonald can back off without a fight, he'll do it," Chadron
+declared, "for he knows as well as you and I what it'd mean to fire on
+the troops. And I want you to git him, King, and make sure you've got
+him."
+
+"It depends largely on whether the fellow can be provoked into firing
+on us, Chadron. You think he can be; so do I. But in case he doesn't,
+the best we can do will be to arrest him."
+
+"What good would he be to me arrested, King? I tell you I want his
+scalp, and if you bring that feller out of there in a sack you'll come
+back a brigadier. I put you where you're at. Well, I can put you
+higher just as easy. But the purty I want for my trouble is that
+feller's scalp."
+
+There was the sound of somebody walking about, in quick, nervous
+strides. Frances knew that Major King had got up from his usurped
+place at the desk--place unworthily filled, this low intrigue with
+Chadron aside, she knew--and was strutting in the shadow of his
+promised glory.
+
+"Leave it to me, Chadron; I've got my own account to square with that
+wolf of the range!"
+
+A sharp little silence, in which Frances could picture Chadron looking
+at King in his covert, man-weighing way. Then Chadron went on:
+
+"King, I've noticed now and then that you seemed to have a soft spot
+in your gizzard for that little girl of mine. Well, I'll throw her in
+to boot if you put this thing through right. Is it a go?"
+
+"I'd hesitate to bargain for the young lady without her being a party
+to the business," King replied, whether from wisdom born of his recent
+experience, or through lack of interest in the proposal Frances could
+not read in his even, well-pitched voice.
+
+"Oh, she'd jump at you like a bullfrog at red flannel," Chadron
+assured him. "I could put your uniform on a wooden man and marry him
+off to the best girl in seven states. They never think of lookin'
+under a soldier's vest."
+
+"You flatter me, Mr. Chadron, and the uniform of the United States
+army," returned King, with barely covered contempt. "Suppose we allow
+events to shape themselves in regard to Miss Chadron. She'll hardly be
+entertaining marriage notions yet--after her recent experience."
+
+Chadron got up so quickly he overturned his chair.
+
+"By God, sir! do you mean to intimate you wouldn't have her after what
+she's gone through? Well, I'll put a bullet through any man that
+says--"
+
+"Oh, hold yourself in, Chadron; there's no call for this."
+
+King's cold contempt would have been like a lash to a man of finer
+sensibilities than Saul Chadron. As it was, Frances could hear the
+heavy cattleman breathing like a mad bull.
+
+"When you talk about my little girl, King, go as easy as if you was
+carryin' quicksilver in a dish. You told me she was all right a little
+while ago, and I tell you I don't like--"
+
+"Miss Chadron was as bright as a redbird when I saw her this
+afternoon," King assured him, calmly. "She has suffered no harm at the
+hands of Macdonald and his outlaws."
+
+"He'll dance in hell for that trick before the sun goes down on
+another day!"
+
+"His big play for sympathy fell flat," said King, with a contemptuous
+laugh. "There wasn't much of a crowd on hand when he arrived at the
+ranch."
+
+Silence. A little shifting of feet, a growl from Chadron, and a
+curse.
+
+"But as for your proposal involving Miss Chadron, I am honored by it,"
+said King.
+
+"Any man would be!" Chadron declared.
+
+"And we will just let it stand, waiting the lady's sanction."
+
+That brightened Chadron up. He moved about, and there was a sound as
+if he had slapped the young officer on the back in pure comradeship
+and open admiration.
+
+"What's your scheme for drawin' that feller into firin' on your men?"
+he asked.
+
+"We'll talk it over as we go," said King.
+
+A bugle lifted its sharp, electrifying note in the barracks.
+
+"Boots and saddles!" Chadron said.
+
+"Yes; we march at nine o'clock."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE TRAIL OF THE COFFEE
+
+
+"You done right to come to the mission after me, for I'd ride to the
+gatepost of hell to turn a trick agin Saul Chadron!"
+
+Banjo's voice had a quaver of earnestness in it that needed no
+daylight to enforce. The pitchy night made a bobbing blur of him as he
+rode his quick-stepping little horse at Frances Landcraft's side.
+
+"Yes, you owe him one," Frances admitted.
+
+"And I'll pay him before mornin' or it won't be no fault of mine. That
+there little ten-cent-size major he'd 'a' stopped you if he'd 'a'
+known you was goin', don't you suppose?"
+
+"I'm sure he would have, Mr. Gibson."
+
+"Which?" said Banjo.
+
+"Banjo," she corrected.
+
+"Now, that sounds more comfortabler," he told her. "I didn't know for
+a minute who you meant, that name's gittin' to be a stranger to me."
+
+"Well, we don't want a stranger along tonight," said she, seriously.
+
+"You're right, we don't. That there horse you're ridin' he's a good
+one, as good as any in the cavalry, even if he ain't as tall. He was
+an outlaw till Missus Mathews tamed him down."
+
+"How did she do it--not break him like a bronco-buster?"
+
+"No, she done it like she tames Injuns and other folks, by gentle
+words and gentler hands. Some they'll tell you she's sunk down to the
+ways of Injuns, clean out of a white man's sight in the dirt and
+doin's of them dead-horse eatin' 'Rapahoes. But I know she ain't. She
+lets herself down on a level to reach 'em, and git her hands under 'em
+so she can lift 'em up, the same as she puts herself on my level when
+she wants to reach me, or your level, or anybody's level, mom."
+
+"Her eyes and her soft ways tell you that, Banjo, as plain as any
+words."
+
+"She's done ten times as much as that big-backed buffalo of a preacher
+she's married to ever done for his own people, or ever will. He's clim
+above 'em with his educated ways; the Injun's ironed out of that man.
+You can't reach down and help anybody up, mom, if you go along through
+this here world on stilts."
+
+"Not very well, Banjo."
+
+"You need both of your hands to hold your stilts, mom; you ain't got
+even a finger to spare for a low-down feller like me."
+
+"You're not a low-down fellow, Banjo. Don't be calling yourself
+names."
+
+"I was low-down enough to believe what they told me about Macdonald
+shootin' up Chance Dalton. I believed it till Missus Mathews give me
+the straight of it. One of them Injun police fellers told her how that
+job was put up, and how it failed to work."
+
+"A man named Lassiter told me about it."
+
+They rode along in silence a long time after that. Then Banjo--
+
+"Well, I hope we don't bust out onto them cavalry fellers too sudden
+and meet a flock of bullets. I'd never forgive the man that put a
+bullet through my fiddle."
+
+"We'll go slowly, and keep listening; I can tell cavalry from cowboys
+as far as I can hear."
+
+"I bet a purty you can, brought up with 'em like you was."
+
+"They'll not be able to do anything before daylight, and when we
+overtake them we'll ride around and get ahead while they're waiting
+for morning. I don't know where the homesteaders are, but they'll be
+sending out scouts to locate them, and we can watch."
+
+They were following the road that the cavalry had taken an hour in
+advance of them. Listening now, they rode on without words. Now and
+then a bush at the roadside flipped a stirrup, now and again Banjo's
+little horse snorted in short impatience, as if expressing its
+disapproval of this journey through the dark. Night was assertive in
+its heaviness, but communicative of its mysteries in its wild
+scents--the silent music of its hour.
+
+There are those who, on walking in the night, can tell the hour by the
+smell, the taste, the elusive fine aroma of the quiet air. Before
+midnight it is like a new-lit censer; in the small hours the smell of
+old camp fires comes trailing, and the scent of rain upon embers.
+
+But Frances Landcraft was not afraid of the night as she rode silently
+through it with Banjo Gibson at her side. There was no shudder in it
+for her as there had been on the night that Nola was stolen; it could
+not have raised up a terror grim enough to turn her back upon the
+road.
+
+Her one thought was that she must reach Macdonald before Chadron and
+King could find him, and tell him that the troops were coming, and
+that he was to be trapped into firing upon them. She knew that many
+lives depended upon her endurance, courage, and strategy; many lives,
+but most of all Alan Macdonald's life. He must be warned, at the cost
+of her own safety, her own life, if necessary.
+
+To that end the troops must be followed, and a desperate dash at
+daylight must be made into Macdonald's camp. Perhaps it would be a
+race with the cavalry at the last moment.
+
+Banjo said it was beginning to feel like morning. An hour past they
+had crossed the river at the ford near Macdonald's place, and the
+foothills stood rough and black against the starry horizon. They were
+near them now, so near that the deeper darkness of their timbered
+sides fell over them like a cold shadow.
+
+Suddenly she checked Banjo with a sharp word.
+
+"I heard them!" she whispered.
+
+Banjo's little horse, eager for the fellowship of its kind as his
+master was for his own in his way, threw up its head and whinnied.
+Banjo churned it with his heels, slapped it on the side of the head,
+and shut off the shrill call in a grunt, but the signal had gone
+abroad. From the blackness ahead it was answered, and the slow wind
+prowling down from the hills ahead of dawn carried the scent of
+cigarettes to them as they waited breathlessly for results.
+
+"They're dismounted, and waiting for daylight," she said. "We must
+ride around them."
+
+They were leaving the road, the low brush rasping harshly on their
+stirrups--as loud as a bugle-call, it seemed to Frances--when a dash
+of hoofs from ahead told that a detachment was coming to investigate.
+Now there came a hail. Frances stopped; Banjo behind her whispered to
+know what they should do.
+
+"Keep that little fool horse still!" she said.
+
+Now the patrol, which had stopped to hail, was coming on again.
+Banjo's horse was not to be sequestered, nor his craving for
+companionship in that lonesome night suppressed. He lifted his shrill
+nicker again, and a shot from the outriders of cavalry was the
+answer.
+
+"Answer them, tell them who you are Banjo--they all know you--and I'll
+slip away. Good-bye, and thank you for your brave help!"
+
+"I'll go with you, they'll hear one as much as they'll hear two."
+
+"No, no, you can help me much better by doing as I tell you. Tell them
+that a led horse got away from you, and that's the noise of it running
+away."
+
+She waited for no more words, for the patrol was very near, and now
+and then one of them fired as he rode. Banjo yelled to them.
+
+"Say, you fellers! Stop that fool shootin' around here, I tell you!"
+
+"Who are you?" came the answer.
+
+"Banjo, you darned fool! And I tell you right now, pardner, the first
+man that busts my fiddle with a bullet'll have to mix with me!"
+
+The soldiers came up laughing, and heard Banjo's explanation of the
+horse, still dimly heard, galloping off. Frances stopped to listen.
+Presently she heard them coming on again, evidently not entirely
+satisfied with Banjo's story. But the parley with him had delayed
+them; she had a good lead now.
+
+In a little swale, where the greasewood reached above her head, she
+stopped again to listen. She heard the troopers beating the bushes
+away off to one side, and knew that they soon would give it up. When
+they passed out of her hearing, she rode on, slowly, and with
+caution.
+
+She was frontiersman enough to keep her direction by the north
+star--Colonel Landcraft had seen to that particular of her education
+himself--but Polaris would not tell her which way to go to find Alan
+Macdonald and his dusty men standing their vigil over their cooped-up
+enemies. Nothing but luck, she knew, could lead her there, for she was
+in a sea of sage-brush, with the black river valley behind her, the
+blacker hills ahead, and never a mark of a trail to follow anywhere.
+
+She had rounded the cavalry troop and left it far behind; the silence
+which immersed the sleeping land told her this. No hoof but her own
+mount's beat the earth within sound, no foot but hers strained
+saddle-leather within reach of her now, she believed.
+
+There was only one thing to do; ride slowly in the direction that she
+had been holding with Banjo, and keep eyes, ears, and nose all on the
+watch. The ways of the range were early; if there was anybody within a
+mile of her to windward she would smell the smoke of his fire when he
+lit it, and see the wink of it, too, unless he built it low.
+
+But it was neither the scent of fire nor the red eye of it winking on
+the hill that at length gave her despairing heart a fresh handful of
+hope--nothing less indeed than the aroma of boiling coffee. It had
+such a feeling of comfort and welcome, of domesticity and peace in it
+that she felt as if she approached a door with a friend standing ready
+to take her horse.
+
+Her horse was not insensible to the cheer that somebody was brewing
+for himself in that wild place. She felt him quicken under her, and
+put up his head eagerly, and go forward as if he was nearing home. She
+wondered how far the smell of coffee would carry, and subsequent
+experience was a revelation on that point.
+
+She had entered the hills, tracking back that wavering scent of
+coffee, which rose fresh and sudden now, and trailed away the next
+moment to the mere color of a smell. Now she had it, now she lost it,
+as she wound over rugged ridges and through groves of quaking-asp and
+balm of Gilead trees, always mounting among the hills, her eager horse
+taking the way without guidance, as keen on the scent as she.
+
+It must have taken her an hour to run down that coffee pot. Morning
+was coming among the fading stars when she mounted a long ridge, the
+quick striding of her horse indicating that there was something ahead
+at last, and came upon the camp fire, the coffee, and the cook, all
+beside a splintered gray rock that rose as high as a house out of the
+barrenness of the hill.
+
+The coffee-maker was a woman, and her pot was of several gallons'
+capacity. She was standing with the cover of the boiler in one hand, a
+great spoon in the other, her back half bent over her beverage, in the
+position that the sound of Frances' coming had struck her. She did not
+move out of that alert pose of suspicion until Frances drew rein
+within a few feet of her and gave her good-morning. When the poor
+harried creature saw that the visitor was a woman, her fright gave
+place to wonder.
+
+Frances introduced herself without parley, and made inquiry for
+Macdonald.
+
+"Why, bless your heart, you don't aim to tell me you rode all the way
+from the post in the night by yourself?" the simple, friendly creature
+said. "Well, Mr. Macdonald and most of the men they've left to take
+them scoun'rels sent in here by the cattlemen to murder all of us over
+to the jail at Meander."
+
+"How long have they been gone?"
+
+"Why, not so very long. I reckon you must 'a' missed meetin' 'em by a
+hair."
+
+"I've got to catch up with them, right away! Is there anybody here
+that can guide me?"
+
+"My son can, and he'll be glad. He's just went to sleep back there in
+the tent after guardin' them fellers all night. I'll roust him out."
+
+The pioneer woman came back almost at once, and pressed a cup of her
+coffee upon Frances. Frances took the tin vessel eagerly, for she was
+chilled from her long ride. Then she dismounted to rest her horse
+while her guide was getting ready, and warm her numb feet at the fire.
+She told the woman how the scent of her coffee had led her out of her
+groping like a beacon light on the hill.
+
+"It's about three miles from here down to the valley," the woman said.
+"Coffee will carry on the mornin' air that way."
+
+"Do you think your son--?"
+
+"He's a-comin'," the woman replied.
+
+The boy came around the rock, leading a horse. He was wide awake and
+alert, bare-footed, bareheaded, and without a coat. He leaped nimbly
+onto his bare-backed beast, and Frances got into her saddle as fast as
+her numb limbs would lift her.
+
+As she road away after the recklessly riding youth, she felt the hope
+that she had warmed in her bosom all night paling to a shadow. It
+seemed that, circumstances were ranging after a chart marked out for
+them, and that her own earnest effort to interfere could not turn
+aside the tragedy set for the gray valley below her.
+
+Morning was broadening now; she could see her guide distinctly even
+when he rode many rods ahead. Dawn was the hour for treacherous men
+and deeds of stealth; Chadron would be on the way again before now,
+with the strength of the United States behind him to uphold his
+outlawed hand.
+
+When they came down into the valley there was a low-spreading mist
+over the gray sage, which lent a warmth to the raw morning wind. There
+was a sense of indistinctness through the mist which was an ally to
+Chadron. Ten rods away, even in the growing morning, it would have
+been impossible to tell a cowboy from a cavalryman.
+
+Here a haystack smoldered in what had been a farmstead yard; its thin
+blue smoke wavered up in the morning, incense over the dead hope of
+the humble heart that had dreamed it had found a refuge in that spot.
+At the roadside a little farther on the burned ruins of a cabin lay.
+It had stood so near the wheel track that the heat of its embers was
+warm on Frances' face as she galloped by. The wire fence was cut
+between each post, beyond splicing or repair; the shrubs which some
+home-hungry woman had set in her dooryard were trampled; the well curb
+was overthrown.
+
+Over and over again as they rode that sad picture was repeated.
+Destruction had swept the country, war had visited it. Side by side
+upon the adjoining lines many of the homesteaders had built their
+little houses, for the comfort of being near their kind. In the corner
+of each quarter section on either side of the road along the fertile
+valley, a little home had stood three days ago. Now all were gone,
+marked only by little heaps of embers which twinkled a dying glow in
+the breath of the morning wind.
+
+Day was spreading now. From the little swells in the land as she
+mounted them Frances could see the deeper mist hovering in the low
+places, the tops of tall shrubs and slender quaking-asp showing above
+it as if they stood in snow. The band of sunrise was broadening across
+the east; far down near the horizon a little slip of lemon-rind moon
+was faltering out of sight.
+
+But there was no sight, no sound, of anybody in the road ahead. She
+spurred up beside her guide and asked him if there was any other way
+that they might have taken. No, he said; they would have to go that
+way, for there was only one fordable place in the river for many
+miles. He pointed to the road, fresh-turned by many hoofs, and clamped
+his lean thighs to his bare horse, galloping on.
+
+"We'll take a cut acrosst here, and maybe head 'em off," he said,
+dashing away through the stirrup-high sage, striking close to the
+hills again, and into rougher going.
+
+The ache of the most intense anxiety that she ever had borne was upon
+Frances; hope was only a shred in her hand. She believed now that all
+her desperate riding must come to nothing in the end.
+
+She never had been that long in the saddle before in her life. Her
+body was numb with cold and fatigue; she felt the motion of her horse,
+heard its pounding feet in regular beat as it held to its long,
+swinging gallop, but with the detached sense of being no party to it.
+All that was sharp in her was the pain of her lost struggle. For she
+expected every moment to hear firing, and to come upon confusion and
+death at the next lift of the hill.
+
+In their short cut across the country they had mounted the top of a
+long, slender ridge, which reached down into the valley like a finger.
+Now her guide pulled up his horse so suddenly that it slid forward on
+stiff legs, its hoofs plowing the loose shale.
+
+"You'd better go back--there's goin' to be a fight!" he said, a look
+of shocked concern in his big wild eyes.
+
+"Do you see them? Where--"
+
+"There they are!"--he clutched her arm, leaning and pointing--"and
+there's a bunch of fellers comin' to meet 'em that they don't see! I
+tell you there's goin' to be a fight!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+"I BEAT HIM TO IT"
+
+
+The last dash of that long ride was only a whirlwind of emotions to
+Frances. It was a red streak. She did not know what became of the boy;
+she left him there as she lashed her horse past him on the last
+desperate stretch.
+
+The two forces were not more than half a mile apart, the cavalry just
+mounting at the ruins of a homestead where she knew they had stopped
+for breakfast at the well. A little band of outriders was setting off,
+a scouting party under the lead of Chadron, she believed. Macdonald's
+men, their prisoners under guard between two long-strung lines of
+horsemen, were proceeding at a trot. Between the two forces the road
+made a long curve. Here it was bordered by brushwood that would hide a
+man on horseback.
+
+When Frances broke through this screen which had hidden the cavalry
+from Macdonald, she found the cavalcade halted, for Macdonald had seen
+her coming down the hill. She told him in few words what her errand to
+him was, Tom Lassiter and those who rode with him at the head of the
+column pressing around.
+
+The question and mystification in Macdonald's face at her coming
+cleared with her brisk words. There was no wonder to him any more in
+her being there. It was like her to come, winging through the night
+straight to him, like a dove with a message. If it had been another
+woman to take up that brave and hardy task, then there would have been
+marvel in it. As it was, he held out his hand to her, silently, like
+one man to another in a pass where words alone would be weak and
+lame.
+
+"I was looking for Chadron to come with help and attempt a rescue, and
+I was moving to forestall him, but we were late getting under way.
+They"--waving his hand toward the prisoners--"held out until an hour
+ago."
+
+"You must think, and think fast!" she said. "They're almost here!"
+
+"Yes. I'm going ahead to meet them, and offer to turn these prisoners
+over to Major King. They'll have no excuse for firing on us then."
+
+"No, no! some other way--think of some other way!"
+
+He looked gravely into her anxious, pleading eyes. "Why, no matter,
+Frances. If they've come here to do that, they'll do it, but this way
+they'll have to do it in the open, not by a trick."
+
+"I'll go with you," she said.
+
+"I think perhaps--"
+
+"I'll go!"
+
+Macdonald turned to Lassiter in a few hurried words. She pressed to
+his side as the two rode away alone to meet the troops, repeating as
+if she had been denied:
+
+"I'll go!"
+
+There was a dash of hoofs behind them, and a man who rode like a sack
+of bran came bouncing up, excitement over his large face.
+
+"What's up, Macdonald--where're you off to?" he inquired.
+
+Macdonald told him in a word, riding forward as he spoke. He
+introduced the stranger as a newspaper correspondent from Chicago, who
+had arrived at the homesteaders' camp the evening past.
+
+"So they got troops, did they?" the newspaper man said, riding forward
+keenly. "Yes, they told me down in Cheyenne they'd put that trick
+through. Here they come!"
+
+Macdonald spurred ahead, holding up his right hand in the Indian sign
+of peace. Major King was riding with Chadron at the head of the
+vanguard. They drew rein suddenly at sight of what appeared to be such
+a formidable force at Macdonald's back, for at that distance, and with
+the dimness of the scattering mist, it appeared as if several hundred
+horsemen were approaching.
+
+Distrustful of Chadron, fearing that he might induce Major King to
+shoot Macdonald down as he sat there making overtures of peace,
+Frances rode forward and joined him, the correspondent coming jolting
+after her in his horn-riding way. After a brief parley among
+themselves Chadron and King, together with three or four officers,
+rode forward. One remained behind, and halted the column as it came
+around the brushwood screen at the turn of the road.
+
+Major King greeted Frances as he rode up, scowling in high dignity.
+Chadron could not cover his surprise so well as Major King at seeing
+her there, her horse in a sweat, her habit torn where the brambles had
+snatched at her in her hard ride to get ahead of the troops. He gave
+her a cold good-morning, and sat in the attitude of a man pricking up
+his ears as he leaned a little to peer into the ranks of the force
+ahead.
+
+The homesteaders had come to a halt a hundred yards behind Macdonald;
+about the same distance behind Major King and his officers the cavalry
+had drawn up across the road. Major King sat in brief silence, as if
+waiting for Macdonald to begin. He looked the homesteader captain over
+with severe eyes.
+
+"Well, sir?" said he.
+
+"We were starting for Meander, Major King, to deliver to the sheriff
+fifty men whom we have taken in the commission of murder and arson,"
+Macdonald replied, with dignity. "Up to a few minutes ago we had no
+information that martial law had superseded the civil in this troubled
+country, but since that is the case, we will gladly turn our prisoners
+over to you, with the earnest request that they be held, collectively
+and individually, to answer for the crimes they have committed here."
+
+"Them's my men, King--they've got 'em there!" said Chadron, boiling
+over the brim.
+
+"This expedition has come to the relief of certain men, attacked and
+surrounded in the discharge of their duty by a band of cattle thieves
+of which you are the acknowledged head," replied Major King.
+
+"Then you have come on a mistaken errand, sir," Macdonald told him.
+
+"I have come into this lawless country to restore order and insure the
+lives and safety of property of the people to whom it belongs."
+
+"The evidence of these hired raiders' crimes lies all around you,
+Major King," Macdonald said. "These men swept in here in the employ of
+the cattle interests, burned these poor homes, and murdered such of
+the inhabitants as were unable to fly to safety in the hills ahead of
+them. We are appealing to the law; the cattlemen never have done
+that."
+
+"Say, Mr. Soldier, let me tell you something"--the newspaper
+correspondent, to whom one man's dignity was as much as another's,
+kicked his horse forward--"these raiders that bloody-handed Chadron
+sent in here have murdered children and women, do you know that?"
+
+"Who in the hell are you?" Chadron demanded, bristling with rage,
+whirling his horse to face him.
+
+"This is Chadron," Macdonald said, a little flash of humor in his eyes
+over Chadron's hearing the truth about himself from an unexpected
+source.
+
+"Well, I'm glad I've run into you, Chadron; I've got a little list of
+questions to ask you," the correspondent told him, far from being
+either impressed or cowed. "Neel is my name, of the _Chicago Tribune_,
+I've--"
+
+"You'd just as well keep your questions for another day--you'll send
+nothing out of here!" said Major King, sharply.
+
+Neel looked across his nose at King with triumphant leer.
+
+"I've sent out something, Mr. Soldier-man," said he; "it was on the
+wire by midnight last night, rushed to Meander by courier, and it's
+all over the country this morning. It's a story that'll give the other
+side of this situation up here to the war department, and it'll make
+this whole nation climb up on its hind legs and howl. Murder? Huh,
+murder's no name for it!"
+
+Chadron was growling something below his breath into King's ear.
+
+"Forty-three men and boys--look at them, there they are--rounded up
+fifty of the cutthroats the Drovers' Association rushed up here from
+Cheyenne on a special train to wipe the homesteaders out," Neel
+continued, rising to considerable heat in the partisanship of his new
+light. "Five dollars a day was the hire of that gang, and five dollars
+bonus for every man, woman, or baby that they killed! Yes, I've got
+signed statements from them, Chadron, and I'd like to know what you've
+got to say, if anything?"
+
+"Disarm that rabble," said Major King, speaking to a subordinate
+officer, "and take charge of the men they have been holding."
+
+"Sir, I protest--" Macdonald began.
+
+"I have no words to waste on you!" Major King cut him off shortly.
+
+"I'd play a slow hand on that line, King, and a careful one, if I were
+you," advised Neel. "If you take these men's guns away from them
+they'll be at the mercy of Chadron's brigands. I tell you, man, I know
+the situation in this country!"
+
+"Thank you," said King, in cold hauteur.
+
+Chadron's eyes were lighting with the glitter of revenge. He sat
+grinding his bridle-reins in his gloved hand, as if he had the bones
+of the nesters in his palm at last.
+
+"You will proceed, with the rescued party under guard, to Meander,"
+continued Major King to his officer, speaking as if he had plans for
+his own employment aside from the expedition. "There, Mr. Chadron will
+furnish transportation to return them whence they came."
+
+"I'll furnish--" began Chadron, in amazement at this unexpected turn.
+
+"Transportation, sir," completed Major King, in his cold way.
+
+"These men should be held to the civil authorities for trial in this
+county, and not set free," Macdonald protested, indignant over the
+order.
+
+Major King ignored him. He was still looking at Chadron, who was
+almost choking on his rage.
+
+"Hell! Do you mean to tell me the whole damn thing's goin' to fizzle
+out this way, King? I want something done, I tell you--I want
+something done! I didn't bring you up here--"
+
+"Certainly not, sir!" snapped King.
+
+"My orders to you--" Chadron flared.
+
+"It happens that I am not marching under your orders at--"
+
+"The hell you ain't!" Chadron exploded.
+
+"It's an outrage on humanity to turn those scoundrels loose, Major
+King!" Neel said. "Why, I've got signed statements, I tell you--"
+
+"Remove this man to the rear!" Major King addressed a lieutenant, who
+communicated the order to the next lowest in rank immediately at hand,
+who passed it on to two troopers, who came forward briskly and rode
+the protesting correspondent off between them.
+
+Other troopers were collecting the arms of the homesteaders, a
+proceeding which Macdonald witnessed with a sick heart. Frances,
+sitting her horse in silence through all that had passed, gave him
+what comfort and hope she could express with her eyes.
+
+"Detail a patrol of twenty men," Major King continued his instructions
+to his officer, "to keep the roads and disarm all individuals and
+bands encountered."
+
+"That don't apply to my men!" declared Chadron, positively. In his
+face there was a dark threat of disaster for Major King's future hopes
+of advancement.
+
+"It applies to everybody as they come," said King. "Troops have come
+in here to restore order, and order will be restored."
+
+Chadron was gaping in amazement. That feeling in him seemed to smother
+every other, even his hot rage against King for this sudden shifting
+of their plans and complete overthrow of the cattlemen's expectations
+of the troops. The one little comfort that he was to get out of the
+expedition was that of seeing his raiders taken out of Macdonald's
+hands and marched off to be set free.
+
+Macdonald felt that he understood the change in King. The major had
+come there full of the intention of doing Chadron's will; he had not a
+doubt of that. But murder, even with the faint color of excuse that
+they would have contrived to give it, could not be done in the eyes of
+such a witness as Frances Landcraft. Subserviency, a bending of
+dignity even, could not be stooped to before one who had been schooled
+to hold a soldier's honor his most precious endowment.
+
+Major King had shown a hand of half-fairness in treating both sides
+alike. That much was to his credit, at the worst. But he had not done
+it because he was a high-souled and honorable man. His eyes betrayed
+him in that, no matter how stern he tried to make them. The coming of
+that fair outrider in the night had turned aside a great tragedy, and
+saved Major King partly to himself, at least, and perhaps wholly to
+his career.
+
+Macdonald tried to tell her in one long and earnest look all this. She
+nodded, seeming to understand.
+
+"You've double-crossed me, King," Chadron accused, in the flat voice
+of a man throwing down his hand. "I brought you up here to throw these
+nesters off of our land."
+
+"The civil courts must decide the ownership of that," returned King,
+sourly. "Disarm that man!" He indicated Macdonald, and turned his
+horse as if to ride back and join his command.
+
+The lieutenant appeared to feel that it would be no lowering of his
+dignity to touch the weapons of a man such as Macdonald's bearing that
+morning had shown him to be. He approached with a smile half
+apologetic. Chadron was sitting by on his horse watching the
+proceeding keenly.
+
+"Pardon me," said the officer, reaching out to receive Macdonald's
+guns.
+
+A swift change swept over Macdonald's face, a flush dyeing it to his
+ears. He sat motionless a little while, as if debating the question,
+the young officer's hand still outstretched. Macdonald dropped his
+hand, quickly, as if moved to shorten the humiliation, to the buckle
+of his belt, and opened it with deft jerk. At that moment Chadron, ten
+feet away, slung a revolver from his side and fired.
+
+Macdonald rocked in his saddle as Frances leaped to the ground and ran
+to his side. He wilted forward, his hat falling, and crumpled into her
+arms. The lieutenant relieved her of her bloody burden, and eased
+Macdonald to the ground.
+
+Major King came riding back. At his sharp command troopers surrounded
+Chadron, who sat with his weapon still poised, like one gazing at the
+mark at which he had fired, the smoke of his shot around him.
+
+"In a second he'd 'a' got me! but I beat him to it, by God! I beat him
+to it!" he said.
+
+Macdonald's belt had slipped free of his body. With its burden of
+cartridges and its two long pistols it lay at Frances' feet. She
+stooped, a little sound in her throat between a sob and a cry, jerked
+one of the guns out, wheeled upon Chadron and fired. The lieutenant
+struck up her arm in time to save the cattleman's life. The blow sent
+the pistol whirling out of her hand.
+
+"They will go off that way, sometimes," said the young officer, with
+apology in his soft voice.
+
+The soldiers closed around Chadron and hurried him away. A moment
+Major King sat looking at Macdonald, whose blood was wasting in the
+roadside dust from a wound in his chest. Then he flashed a look into
+Frances' face that had a sneer of triumph in it, wheeled his horse and
+galloped away.
+
+In a moment the lieutenant was summoned, leaving Frances alone between
+the two forces with Macdonald. She did not know whether he was dead.
+She dropped to her knees in the dust and began to tear frantically at
+his shirt to come to the wound. Tom Lassiter came hurrying up with
+others, denouncing the treacherous shot, swearing vengeance on the
+cowardly head that had conceived so murderous a thing.
+
+Lassiter said that he was not dead, and set to work to stem the blood.
+It seemed to Frances that the world had fallen away from her, leaving
+her alone. She stood aside a little, her chin up in her old imperious
+way, her eyes on the far hills where the tender sunlight was just
+striking among the white-limbed aspen trees. But her heart was bent
+down to the darkness of despair.
+
+She asked no questions of the men who were working so earnestly after
+their crude way to check that precious stream; she stood in the
+activity of passing troopers and escorted raiders insensible of any
+movement or sound in all the world around her. Only when Tom Lassiter
+stood from his ministrations and looked at her with understanding in
+his old weary eyes she turned her face back again, slowly resolute, to
+see if he had died.
+
+Her throat was dry. It took an effort to bring a sound from it, and
+then it was strained and wavering.
+
+"Is he--dead?"
+
+"No, miss, he ain't dead," Tom answered. But there was such a shadow
+of sorrow and pain in his eyes that tears gushed into her own.
+
+"Will--will--"
+
+Tom shook his head. "The Lord that give him alone can answer that," he
+said, a feeling sadness in his voice.
+
+The troops had moved on, save the detail singled for police duty.
+These were tightening girths and trimming for the road again a little
+way from the spot where Macdonald lay. The lieutenant returned
+hastily.
+
+"Miss Landcraft, I am ordered to convey you to Alamito Ranch--under
+guard," said he.
+
+Banjo Gibson, held to be harmless and insignificant by Major King, had
+been set free. Now he came up, leading his horse, shocked to the
+deepest fibers of his sensitive soul by the cowardly deed that Saul
+Chadron had done.
+
+"It went clean through him!" he said, rising from his inspection of
+Macdonald's wound. And then, moved by the pain in Frances' tearless
+eyes, he enlarged upon the advantages of that from a surgical view.
+"The beauty of a hole in a man's chest like that is that it lets the
+pizen dreen off," he told her. "It wouldn't surprise me none to see
+Mac up and around inside of a couple of weeks, for he's as hard as old
+hick'ry."
+
+"Well, I'm not going to Alamito Ranch and leave him out here to die of
+neglect, orders or no orders!" said she to the lieutenant.
+
+The young officer's face colored; he plucked at his new mustache in
+embarrassment. Perhaps the prospect of carrying a handsome and
+dignified young lady in his arms for a matter of twenty-odd miles was
+not as alluring to him as it might have been to another, for he was a
+slight young man, only a little while out of West Point. But orders
+were orders, and he gave Frances to understand that in diplomatic and
+polite phrasing.
+
+She scorned him and his veneration for orders, and turned from him
+coldly.
+
+"Is there no doctor with your detachment?" she asked.
+
+"He has gone on with the main body, Miss Landcraft. They have several
+wounded."
+
+"Wounded murderers and burners of homes! Well, I'm not going to
+Alamito Ranch with you, sir, unless you can contrive an ambulance of
+some sort and take this gentleman too."
+
+The officer brightened. He believed it could be arranged. Inside of an
+hour he had Tom Lassiter around with a team and spring wagon, in which
+the homesteaders laid Macdonald tenderly upon a bed of hay.
+
+Banjo waited until they were ready to begin their slow march to the
+ranch, when he led his little horse forward.
+
+"I'll go on to the agency after the doctor and send him over to
+Alamito as quick as he can go," he said. "And I'll see if Mother
+Mathews can go over, too. She's worth four doctors when it comes to
+keep the pizen from spreadin' in a wound."
+
+Frances gave him her benediction with her eyes, and farewell with a
+warm handclasp, and Banjo's beribboned horse frisked off on its long
+trip, quite refreshed from the labors of the past night.
+
+Frances was carrying Macdonald's cartridge belt and revolvers, the
+confiscation of which had been overlooked by Major King in the
+excitement of the shooting. The young lieutenant hadn't the heart to
+take the weapons from her. Orders had been carried out; Macdonald had
+been disarmed. He let it go at that.
+
+Frances rode in the wagon with Macdonald, a canteen of water slung
+over her shoulders. Now and then she moistened his lips with a little
+of it, and bathed his eyes, closed in pathetic weariness. He was
+unconscious still from the blow of Saul Chadron's big bullet. As she
+ministered to him she felt that he would open his eyes on this world's
+pains and cruel injustices nevermore.
+
+And why had Major King ordered her, virtually under arrest, to Alamito
+Ranch, instead of sending her in disgrace to the post? Was it because
+he feared that she would communicate with her father from the post,
+and discover to him the treacherous compact between Chadron and King,
+or merely to take a mean revenge upon her by humiliating her in Nola
+Chadron's eyes?
+
+He had taken the newspaper correspondent with him, and certainly would
+see that no more of the truth was sent out by him from that
+flame-swept country for several days. With her at the ranch, far from
+telegraphic communication with the world, nothing could go out from
+her that would enlighten the department on the deception that the
+cattlemen had practiced to draw the government into the conflict on
+their side. In the meantime, the Drovers' Association would be at
+work, spreading money with free hand, corrupting evidence with the old
+dyes of falsehood.
+
+Major King had seen his promised reward withdrawn through her
+intervention, and had made a play of being fair to both sides in the
+controversy, except that he kept one hand on Chadron's shoulder, so to
+speak, in making martyrs of those bloody men whom he had sent there to
+burn and kill. They were to be shipped safely back to their place,
+where they would disperse, and walk free of all prosecution
+afterwards. For that one service to the cattlemen Major King could
+scarcely hope to win his coveted reward.
+
+She believed that Alan Macdonald would die. It seemed that the fever
+which would consume his feeble hope of life was already kindling on
+his lips. But she had no tears to pour out over him now. Only a great
+hardness in her heart against Saul Chadron, and a wild desire to lift
+her hand and strike him low.
+
+Whether Major King would make her attempt against Chadron's life, or
+her interference with his military expedition his excuse for placing
+her under guard, remained for the future to develop. She turned these
+things in her mind as they proceeded along the white river road toward
+the ranch.
+
+It came noontime, and decline of sun; the shadow of the mountains
+reached down into the valley, the mist came purple again over the
+foothills, the fire of sunset upon the clouds. Alan Macdonald still
+lived, his strong harsh face turned to the fading skies, his tired
+eyelids closed upon his dreams.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+LOVE AND DEATH
+
+
+Maggie and Alvino had the ranch to themselves when the military party
+from the upper valley arrived, Mrs. Chadron and Nola having driven to
+Meander that morning. It had been their intention to return that
+evening, Maggie said. Mrs. Chadron had gone after chili peppers, and
+other things, but principally chili peppers. There was not one left in
+the house, and the mistress could not live without them, any more than
+fire could burn without wood.
+
+Dusk had settled when they reached the ranch, and night thickened
+fast. The lieutenant dropped two men at the corral gate--her guard,
+Frances understood--and went back to his task of watching for armed
+men upon the highroads.
+
+Under the direction of Frances, Maggie had placed a cot in Mrs.
+Chadron's favored sitting-room with the fireplace. There Macdonald lay
+in clean sheets, a blaze on the hearth, and Maggie was washing his
+wound with hot water, groaning in the pity which is the sweetest part
+of the women of her homely race.
+
+"I think that he will live, miss," she said hopefully. "See, he has a
+strong breath on my damp hand--I can feel it like a little wind."
+
+She spoke in her native tongue, which Frances understood thoroughly
+from her years in Texas and Arizona posts. Frances shook her head
+sorrowfully.
+
+"I am afraid his breath will fail soon, Maggie."
+
+"No, if they live the first hour after being shot, they get well,"
+Maggie persisted, with apparent sincerity. "Here, put your hand on his
+heart--do you feel it? What a strong heart he has to live so well!
+what a strong, strong heart!"
+
+"Yes, a strong, strong heart!" Tears were falling for him now that
+there was none to see them, scalding their way down her pale cheeks.
+
+"He must have carried something sacred with him to give him such
+strength, such life."
+
+"He carried honor," said Frances, more to herself than to Maggie,
+doubting that she would understand.
+
+"And love, maybe?" said Maggie, with soft word, soft upward-glancing
+of her feeling dark eyes.
+
+"Who can tell?" Frances answered, turning her head away.
+
+Maggie drew the sheet over him and stood looking down into his severe
+white face.
+
+"If he could speak he would ask for his mother, and for water then,
+and after that the one he loves. That is the way a man's mind carries
+those three precious things when death blows its breath in his face."
+
+"I do not know," said Frances, slowly.
+
+There was such stress in waiting, such silence in the world, and such
+emptiness and pain! Reverently as Maggie's voice was lowered, soft and
+sympathetic as her word, Frances longed for her to be still, and go
+and leave her alone with him. She longed to hold the dear spark of his
+faltering life in her own hands, alone, quite alone; to warm it back
+to strength in her own lone heart. Surely her name could not be the
+last in his remembrance, no matter for the disturbing breath of
+death.
+
+"I will bring you some food," said Maggie. "To give him life out of
+your life you must be strong."
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Frances started out of her sleep in the rocking-chair before the fire.
+She had turned the lamp low, but there was a flare of light on her
+face. Her faculties were so deeply sunk in that insidious sleep which
+had crept upon her like a bindweed upon wheat that she struggled to
+rise from it. She sprang up, her mind groping, remembering that there
+was something for which she was under heavy responsibility, but unable
+for a moment to bring it back to its place.
+
+Nola was in the door with a candle, shading the flame from her eyes
+with her hand. Her hair was about her shoulders, her feet were bare
+under the hem of her long dressing-robe. She was staring, her lips
+were open, her breath was quick, as if she had arrived after a run.
+
+"Is he--alive?" she whispered.
+
+"Why should you come to ask? What is his life to you?" asked Frances,
+sorrowfully bitter.
+
+"Oh, Maggie just woke and came up to tell me, mother doesn't
+know--she's just gone to bed. Isn't it terrible, Frances!"
+
+Nola spoke distractedly, as if in great agony, or great fear.
+
+"He can't harm any of you now, you're safe." Frances was hard and
+scornful. She turned from Nola and laid her hand on Macdonald's brow,
+drawing her breath with a relieved sigh when she felt the warmth of
+life still there.
+
+"Oh, Frances, Frances!" Nola moaned, with expression of despair,
+"isn't this terrible!"
+
+"If you mean it's terrible to have him here, I can't help it. I'm a
+prisoner, here against my will. I couldn't leave him out there alone
+to die."
+
+Nola lowered her candle and stared at Frances, her eyes big and blank
+of everything but a wild expression that Frances had read as fear.
+
+"Will he die?" she whispered.
+
+"Yes; you are to have your heartless way at last. He will die, and his
+blood will be on this house, never to be washed away!"
+
+"Why didn't you come back when we called you--both of you?" Nola drew
+near, reaching out an appealing hand. Frances shrank from her, to bend
+quickly over Macdonald when he groaned and moved his head.
+
+"Put out that light--it's in his eyes!" she said.
+
+Nola blew out the candle and came glimmering into the room in her soft
+white gown.
+
+"Don't blame me, Frances, don't blame any of us. Mother and I wanted
+to save you both, we tried to stop the men, and we could have held
+them back if it hadn't been for Chance. Chance got three of them to
+go, the others--"
+
+"They paid for that!" said Frances, a little lift of triumph in her
+voice.
+
+"Yes, but they--"
+
+"Chance didn't do it, I tell you! If he says he did it he lies! It
+was--somebody else."
+
+"The soldiers?"
+
+"No, not the soldiers."
+
+"I thought maybe--I saw one of them on guard in front of the house as
+we came in."
+
+"He's guarding me, I'm under arrest, I tell you. The soldiers have
+nothing to do with him."
+
+Nola stood looking down at Macdonald, who was deathly white in the
+weak light of the low, shaded lamp. With a little timid outreaching, a
+little starting and drawing back, she touched his forehead, where a
+thick lock of his shaggy hair fell over it, like a sheaf of ripe wheat
+burst from its band.
+
+"Oh, it breaks my heart to see him dying--it--breaks--my--heart!" she
+sobbed.
+
+"You struck him! You're not--you're not fit to touch him--take your
+hand away!"
+
+Frances pushed her hand away roughly. Nola drew back, drenched with a
+sudden torrent of penitential tears.
+
+"I know it, I know it!" she confessed in bitterness, "I knew it when
+he took me away from those people in the mountains and brought me
+home. He carried me in his arms when I was tired, and sang to me as we
+rode along there in the lonesome night! He sang to me, just like I was
+a little child, so I wouldn't be afraid--afraid--of him!"
+
+"Oh, and you struck him, you struck him like a dog!"
+
+"I've suffered more for that than I hurt him, Frances--it's been like
+fire in my heart!"
+
+"I pray to God it will burn up your wicked pride!"
+
+"We believed him, mother and I believed him, in spite of what Chance
+said. Oh, if you'd only come back then, Frances, this thing wouldn't
+have happened!"
+
+"I can't see what good that would have done," said Frances, wearily;
+"there are others who don't believe him. They'd have got him some
+time, just like they got him--in a coward's underhanded way, never
+giving him a chance for his life."
+
+"We went to Meander this morning thinking we'd catch father there
+before he left. We wanted to tell him about Mr. Macdonald, and get him
+to drop this feud. If we could have seen him I know he'd have done
+what we asked, for he's got the noblest heart in the world!"
+
+Whatever Frances felt on the noble nature of Saul Chadron she held
+unexpressed. She did not feel that it fell to her duty to tell Nola
+whose hand had struck Macdonald down, although she believed that the
+cattleman's daughter deserved whatever pain and humiliation the
+revelation might bring. For it was as plain as if Nola had confessed
+it in words that she had much more than a friendly feeling of
+gratitude for the foeman of her family.
+
+Her heart was as unstable as mercury, it seemed. Frances despised her
+for her fickleness, scorned her for the mean face of friendship over
+the treachery of her soul. Not that she regretted Major King. Nola was
+free to take him and make the most of him. But she was not to come in
+as a wedge to rive her from this man.
+
+Let her pay her debt of gratitude in something else than love. Living
+or dead, Alan Macdonald was not for Nola Chadron. Her penance and her
+tears, her meanings and sobs and her broken heart, even that, if it
+should come, could not pay for the humiliation and the pain which that
+house had brought upon him.
+
+"When did it happen?" asked Nola, the gust of her weeping past.
+
+"This morning, early."
+
+"Who did it--how did it happen? You got away from Chance--you said it
+wasn't Chance."
+
+"We got away from that gang yesterday; this happened this morning,
+miles from that place."
+
+"Who was it? Why don't you tell me, Frances?"
+
+They were standing at Macdonald's side. A little spurt of flame among
+the ends of wood in the chimney threw a sudden illumination over them,
+and played like water over a stone upon Macdonald's face, then sank
+again, as if it had been plunged in ashes. Frances remained silent,
+her vindictiveness, her hardness of heart, against this vacillating
+girl dying away as the flame had died. It was not her desire to hurt
+her with that story of treachery and cowardice which must leave its
+stain upon her name for many a year.
+
+"The name of the man who shot him is a curse and a blight on this
+land, a mockery of every holy human thought. I'll not speak it."
+
+Nola stared at her, horror speaking from her eyes. "He must be a
+monster!"
+
+"He is the lowest of the accursed--a coward!" Frances said.
+
+Nola shuddered, standing silently by the couch a little while. Then:
+"But I want to help you, Frances, if you'll let me."
+
+"There's nothing that you can do. I'm waiting for Mrs. Mathews and the
+doctor from the agency."
+
+"You can go up and rest until they come, Frances, you look so tired
+and pale. I'll watch by him--you can tell me what to do, and I'll call
+you when they come."
+
+"No; I'll stay until--I'll stay here."
+
+"Oh, please go, Frances; you're nearly dead on your feet."
+
+"Why do you want me to leave him?" Frances asked, in a flash of
+jealous suspicion. She turned to Nola, as if to search out her hidden
+intention.
+
+"You were asleep in your chair when I came in, Frances," Nola chided
+her, gently.
+
+Again they stood in silence, looking down upon the wounded man.
+Frances was resentful of Nola's interest in him, of her presence in
+the room. She was on the point of asking her to leave when Nola
+spoke.
+
+"If he hadn't been so proud, if he'd only stooped to explain things to
+us, to talk to us, even, this could have been avoided, Frances."
+
+"What could he have said?" Frances asked, wondering, indeed, what
+explanation could have lessened his offense in Saul Chadron's eyes.
+
+"If I had known him, I would have understood," Nola replied, vaguely,
+in soft low voice, as if communing with herself.
+
+"You! Well, perhaps--perhaps even you would have understood."
+
+"Look--he moved!"
+
+"Sh-h-h! your talking disturbs him, Nola. Go to bed--you can't help me
+any here."
+
+"And leave him all to you!"
+
+The words flashed from Nola, as if they had sprung out of her mouth
+before her reason had given them permission to depart.
+
+"Of course with me; he's mine!"
+
+"If he's going to die, Frances, can't I share him with you till the
+end--can't I have just a little share in the care of him here with
+you?"
+
+Nola laid her hand on Frances' arm as she pleaded, turning her white
+face appealingly in the dim light.
+
+"Don't talk that way, girl!" said Frances, roughly; "you have no part
+in him at all--he is nothing to you."
+
+"He is all to me--everything to me! Oh, Frances! If you knew, if you
+knew!"
+
+"What? If I knew what?" Frances caught her arm in fierce grip, and
+shook her savagely.
+
+"Don't--don't--hurt me, Frances!" Nola cringed and shrank away, and
+lifted her arms as if to ward a blow.
+
+"What did you mean by that? Tell me--tell me!"
+
+"Oh, the way it came to me, the way it came to me as he carried me in
+his arms and sang to me so I wouldn't be afraid!" moaned Nola, her
+face hidden in her hands. "I never knew before what it was to care for
+anybody that way--I never, never knew before!"
+
+"You can't have this man, nor any share in him, living or dead! I gave
+up Major King to you; be satisfied."
+
+"Oh, Major King!"
+
+"Poor shadow that he is in comparison with a man, he'll have to serve
+for you. Living or dead, I tell you, this man is mine. Now go!"
+
+Nola was shaking again with sudden gust of weeping. She had sunk to
+the floor at the head of the couch, a white heap, her bare arms
+clasping her head.
+
+"It breaks my heart to see him die!" she moaned, rocking herself in
+her grief like a child.
+
+And child Frances felt her to be in her selfishness, a child never
+denied, and careless and unfeeling of the rights of others from this
+long indulgence. She doubted Nola's sincerity, even in the face of
+such demonstrative evidence. There was no pity for her, and no
+softness.
+
+"Get up!" Frances spoke sternly--"and go to your room."
+
+"He must not be allowed to die--he must be saved!" Nola reached out
+her hands, standing now on her knees, as if to call back his
+struggling soul.
+
+"Belated tears will not save him. Get up--it's time for you to go."
+
+Nola bent forward suddenly, her hair sweeping the wounded man's face,
+her lips near his brow. Frances caught her with a sound in her throat
+like a growl, and flung her back.
+
+"You'll not kiss him--you'll never kiss him!" she said.
+
+Nola sprang up, not crying now, but hot with sudden anger.
+
+"If you were out of the way he'd love me!"
+
+"Love _you!_ you little cat!"
+
+"Yes, he'd love me--I'd take him away from you like I've taken other
+men! He'd love me, I tell you--he'd love _me!_"
+
+Frances looked at her steadily a moment, contempt in her eloquent
+face. "If you have no other virtue in you, at least have some respect
+for the dying," she said.
+
+"He's not dying, he'll not die!" Nola hotly denied. "He'll live--live
+to love me!"
+
+"Go! This room--"
+
+"It's my house; I'll go and come in it when I please."
+
+"I'm a prisoner in it, not a guest. I'll force you out of the room if
+I must. This disgraceful behavior must end, and end this minute. Are
+you going?"
+
+"If you were out of the way, he'd love me," said Nola from the door,
+spiteful, resentful, speaking slowly, as if pressing each word into
+Frances' brain and heart; "if you were out of the way."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+THE MAN IN THE DOOR
+
+
+When the doctor from the agency arrived at dawn, hours after Mrs.
+Mathews, he found everything done for the wounded man that skill and
+experience could suggest. Mrs. Mathews had carried instruments,
+antiseptics, bandages, with her, and she had no need to wait for
+anybody's directions in their use. So the doctor, who had been
+reinforced by the same capable hands many a time before, took a cup of
+hot coffee and rode home.
+
+Mrs. Mathews moved about as quietly as a nun, and with that humility
+and sense of self-effacement that comes of penances and pains, borne
+mainly for others who have fallen with bleeding feet beside the way.
+
+She was not an old woman, only as work and self-sacrifice had aged
+her. Her abundant black hair--done up in two great braids which hung
+in front of her shoulders, Indian-wise, and wrapped at their ends with
+colored strings--was salted over with gray, but her beautiful small
+hands were as light and swift as any girl's. Good deeds had blessed
+them with eternal youth, it seemed.
+
+She wore a gray dress, sprinkled over with twinkling little Indian
+gauds and bits of finery such as the squaws love. This barbaric
+adornment seemed unaccountable in the general sobriety of her dress,
+for not a jewel, save her wedding-ring alone, adorned her. Frances did
+not marvel that she felt so safe in this gentle being's presence, safe
+for herself, safe for the man who was more to her than her own soul.
+
+When the doctor had come and gone, Mrs. Mathews pressed Frances to
+retire and sleep. She spoke with soft clearness, none of that
+hesitation in her manner that Frances had marked on the day that they
+rode up and surrounded her where the Indians were waiting their
+rations of beef.
+
+"You know how it happened--who did it?" Frances asked. She was willing
+to leave him with her, indeed, but reluctant to go until she had given
+expression to a fear that hung over her like a threat.
+
+"Banjo told me," Mrs. Mathews said, nodding her graceful little head.
+
+"I'm afraid that when Chadron comes home and finds him here, he'll
+throw him out to die," Frances whispered. "I've been keeping Mr.
+Macdonald's pistols ready to--to--make a fight of it, if necessary.
+Maybe you could manage it some other way."
+
+Frances was on her knees beside her new friend, her anxiety speaking
+from her tired eyes, full of their shadows of pain. Mrs. Mathews drew
+her close, and smoothed back Frances' wilful, redundant hair with
+soothing touch. For a little while she said nothing, but there was
+much in her delicate silence that told she understood.
+
+"No, Chadron will not do that," she said at last. "He is a violent,
+blustering man, but I believe he owes me something that will make him
+do in this case as I request. Go to sleep, child. When he wakes he'll
+be conscious, but too weak for anything more than a smile."
+
+Frances went away assured, and stole softly up the stairs. The sun was
+just under the hill; Mrs. Chadron would be stirring soon. Nola was up
+already, Frances heard with surprise as she passed her door, moving
+about her room with quick step. She hesitated there a moment, thinking
+to turn back and ask Mrs. Mathews to deny her the hospital room. But
+such a request would seem strange, and it would be difficult to
+explain. She passed on into the room that she had lately occupied.
+Soothed by her great confidence in Mrs. Mathews, she fell asleep, her
+last waking hope being that when she stood before Alan Macdonald's
+couch again it would be to see him smile.
+
+Frances woke toward the decline of day, with upbraidings for having
+yielded to nature's ministrations for so long. Still, everything must
+be progressing well with Alan Macdonald, or Mrs. Mathews would have
+called her. She regretted that she hadn't something to put on besides
+her torn and soiled riding habit to cheer him with the sight of when
+he should open his eyes to smile.
+
+Anxious as she was, and fast as her heart fluttered, she took time to
+arrange her hair in the way that she liked it best. It seemed warrant
+to her that he must find her handsomer for that. People argue that
+way, men in their gravity as well as women in their frivolity, each
+believing that his own appraisement of himself is the incontestable
+test, none rightly understanding how ridiculous pet foibles frequently
+make us all.
+
+But there was nothing ridiculous in the coil of serene brown hair
+drawn low against a white neck, nor in the ripples of it at the
+temples, nor in the stately seriousness of the face that it shadowed
+and adorned. Frances Landcraft was right, among thousands who were
+wrong in her generation, in her opinion of what made her fairer in the
+eyes of men.
+
+Her hand was on the door when a soft little step, like a wind in
+grass, came quickly along the hall, and a light hand struck a signal
+on the panel. Frances knew that it was Mrs. Mathews before she flung
+the door open and disclosed her. She was dressed to take the road
+again, and Frances drew back when she saw that, her blood falling away
+from her heart. She believed that he stood in need of her gentle
+ministrations no longer, and that she had come to tell her that he was
+dead.
+
+Mrs. Mathews read her thought in her face, and shook her head with an
+assuring smile. She entered the room, still silent, and closed the
+door.
+
+"No, he is far from dead," she said.
+
+"Then why--why are you leaving?"
+
+"The little lady of the ranch has stepped into my place--but you need
+not be afraid for yours." Mrs. Mathews smiled again as she said that.
+"He asked for you with his first word, and he knows just how matters
+stand."
+
+The color swept back over Frances' face, and ran down to hide in her
+bosom, like a secret which the world was not to see. Her heart leaped
+to hear that Maggie had been wrong in her application of the rule that
+applies to men in general when death is blowing its breath in their
+faces.
+
+"But that little Nola isn't competent to take care of him--she'll kill
+him if she's left there with him alone!"
+
+"With kindness, then," said Mrs. Mathews, not smiling now, but shaking
+her head in deprecation. "A surgeon is here, sent back by Major King,
+he told me, and he has taken charge of Mr. Macdonald, along with Miss
+Chadron and her mother. I have been dismissed, and you have been
+barred from the room where he lies. There's a soldier guarding the
+door to keep you away from his side."
+
+"That's Nola's work," Frances nodded, her indignation hot in her
+cheek, "she thinks she can batter her way into his heart if she can
+make him believe that I am neglecting him, that I have gone away."
+
+"Rest easy, my dear, sweet child," counseled Mrs. Mathews, her hand on
+Frances' shoulder. "Mr. Macdonald will get well, and there is only one
+door to his heart, and somebody that I know is standing in that."
+
+"But he--he doesn't understand; he'll think I've deserted him!"
+Frances spoke with trembling lips, tears darkling in her eyes.
+
+"He knows how things stand; I had time to tell him that before they
+ousted me. I'd have taken time to tell him, even if I'd had to--pinch
+somebody's ear."
+
+The soft-voiced little creature laughed when she said that. Frances
+felt her breath go deeper into her lungs with the relief of this
+assurance, and the threatening tears came falling over her fresh young
+cheeks. But they were tears of thankfulness, not of suspense or pain.
+
+Frances did not trouble the soldier at the door to exercise his
+unwelcome and distasteful authority over her. But she saw that he was
+there, indeed, as she went out to give Mrs. Mathews farewell at the
+door.
+
+Nola came pattering to her as she turned back in the house again to
+find Maggie, for her young appetite was clamoring. Nola's eyes were
+round, her face set in an expression of shocked protest.
+
+"Isn't this an outrage, this high-handed business of Major King's?"
+She ran up all flushed and out of breath, as if she had been wrestling
+with her indignation and it had almost obtained the upper hand.
+
+"What fresh tyranny is he guilty of?" Frances inquired, putting last
+night's hot words and hotter feelings behind her.
+
+"Ordering a soldier to guard the door of Mr. Macdonald's room, with
+iron-clad instructions to keep you away from him! He sent his orders
+back by Doctor Shirley--isn't it a petty piece of business?"
+
+"Mrs. Mathews told me. At least you could have allowed her to stay."
+
+"I?" Nola's eyes seemed to grow. She gazed and stared, injury,
+disbelief, pain, in her mobile expression. "Why, Frances, I didn't
+have a thing to do with it, not a thing! Mother and I protested
+against this military invasion of our house, but protests were
+useless. The country is under martial law, Doctor Shirley says."
+
+"How did Major King know that Mr. Macdonald had been brought here? He
+rode away without giving any instructions for his disposal or care. I
+believe he wanted him to die there where he fell."
+
+"I don't know how he came to hear it, unless the lieutenant here sent
+a report to him. But I ask you to believe me, Frances"--Nola put her
+hand on Frances' arm in her old wheedling, stroking way--"when I tell
+you I hadn't anything to do with it. In spite of what I said last
+night, I hadn't. I was wild and foolish last night, dear; I'm sorry
+for all of that."
+
+"Never mind," Frances said.
+
+"Don't you worry, we'll take care of him, mother and I. Major King's
+orders are that you're not to leave this house, but I tell you,
+Frances, if I wanted to go home I'd go!"
+
+"So would I," returned Frances, with more meaning in her manner of
+speaking than in her words. "Does Major King's interdiction extend to
+the commissary? Am I going to be allowed to eat?"
+
+"Maggie's got it all ready; I ran up to call you." Nola slipped her
+arm round Frances' waist and led her toward the kitchen, where Maggie
+had the table spread. "You'll not mind the kitchen? The house is so
+upset by those soldiers in it that we have no privacy left."
+
+"Prisoners and pensioners should eat in the kitchen," Frances
+returned, trying to make a better appearance of friendliness for Nola
+than she carried in her heart.
+
+Maggie was full of apologies for the poor service and humble
+surroundings. "It is the doings of miss," she whispered, in her native
+sibilant Mexican, when Nola found an excuse to leave Frances alone at
+her meal.
+
+"It doesn't matter, Maggie; you eat in the kitchen, both of us are
+women."
+
+"Yes, and some saints' images are made of lead, some of gold."
+
+"But they are all saints' images, Maggie."
+
+"The kitchen will be brighter from this day," Maggie declared, in the
+extravagant way of her race, only meaning more than usually carries in
+a Castilian compliment.
+
+She backed away from the table, never having it in her delicate nature
+to be so rude as to turn her back upon her guest, and admired Frances
+from a distance. The sun was reaching through a low window, moving
+slowly up the cloth as if stealing upon the guest to give her a
+good-night kiss.
+
+"Ah, miss!" sighed Maggie, her hands clasped as in adoration, "no
+wonder that he lives with a well in his body. He has much to live for,
+and that is the truth from a woman's lips."
+
+"It is worth more because of its rarity, then, Maggie," Frances said,
+warming over with blushes at this ingenuous praise. "Do they let you
+go into his room?"
+
+"The door is open to the servant," Maggie replied, with solemn nod.
+
+"It is closed to me--did you know?"
+
+"I know. Miss tells you it is orders from some captain, some general,
+some soldier I do not know what"--a sweeping gesture to include all
+soldiers, great and small and far away--"but that is a lie. It came
+out of her own heart. She is a traitor to friendship, as well as a
+thief."
+
+"Yes, I believed that from the beginning, Maggie."
+
+"This house of deceit is not a place for me, for even servant that I
+am, I am a true servant. But I will not lie for a liar, nor be traitor
+for one who deceives a friend. I shall go from here. Perhaps when you
+are married to Mr. Macdonald you will have room in your kitchen for
+me?"
+
+"We must not build on shadows, Maggie."
+
+"And there is that Alvino, a cunning man in a garden. You should see
+how he charms the flowers and vegetables--but you have seen, it is his
+work here, all this is his work."
+
+"If there is ever a home of my own--if it ever comes to that
+happiness--"
+
+"God hasten the day!"
+
+"Then there will be room for both of you, Maggie."
+
+Frances rose from the table, and stood looking though the window where
+the sun's friendly hand had reached in to caress her a few minutes
+gone. There was no gleam of it now, only a dull redness on the horizon
+where it had fallen out of sight, the red of iron cooling upon the
+anvil.
+
+"In four weeks he will be able to kneel at the altar with you," said
+Maggie, making a clatter with the stove lids in her excitement, "and
+in youth that is only a day. And I have a drawn piece of fine linen,
+as white as your bosom, that you must wear over your heart on that
+day. It will bring you peace, far it was made by a holy sister and it
+has been blessed by the bishop at Guadalupe."
+
+"Thank you, Maggie. If that day ever comes for me, I will wear it."
+
+Maggie came nearer the window, concern in her homely face, and stood
+off a little respectful distance.
+
+"You want to be with him, you should be there at his side, and I will
+open the door for you," she said.
+
+"You will?" Frances started hopefully.
+
+"Once inside, no man would lift a hand to put you out."
+
+"But how am I going to get inside, Maggie, with that sentry at the
+door?"
+
+"I have been thinking how it could be done, miss. Soon it will be
+dark, and with night comes fear. Miss is with him now; she is there
+alone."
+
+Frances turned to her, such pain in her face as if she had been
+stabbed.
+
+"Why should you go over that again? I know it!" she said, crossly.
+"That has nothing to do with my going into the room."
+
+"It has much," Maggie declared, whispering now, treasuring her plot.
+"The old one is upstairs, sleeping, and she will not wake until I
+shake her. Outside the soldiers make their fires and cook, and Alvino
+in the barn sings 'La Golondrina'--you hear him?--for that is sad
+music, like his soul. Very well. You go to your room, but leave the
+door open to let a finger in. When it is just creeping dark, and the
+soldiers are eating, I will run in where the one sits beside the door.
+My hair will be flying like the mane of a wild mare, my eyes
+bi-i-i-g--so. In the English way I will shout 'The rustlers, the
+rustlers! He ees comin'--help, help!' When you hear this, fly to me,
+quick, like a soul set free. The soldier at the door will go to see;
+miss will come out; I will stand in the door, I will draw the key in
+my hand. Then you will fly to him, and lock the door!"
+
+"Why, Maggie! what a general you are!"
+
+"Under the couch where he lies," Maggie hurried on, her dark eyes
+glowing with the pleasure of this manufactured romance, "are the
+revolvers which he wore, just where we placed them last night. I
+pushed them back a little, quite out of sight, and nobody knows. Strap
+the belt around your waist, and defy any power but death to move you
+from the man you love!"
+
+"Maggie, you are magnificent!"
+
+"No," Maggie shook her head, sadly, "I am the daughter of a peon, a
+servant to bear loads. But"--a flash of her subsiding grandeur--"I
+would do that--ah, I would have done that in youth--for the man of my
+heart. For even a servant in the back of a house has a heart, dear
+miss."
+
+Frances took her work-rough hands in her own; she pressed back the
+heavy black hair--mark of a vassal race--from the brown forehead and
+looked tenderly into her eyes.
+
+"You are my sister," she said.
+
+Poor Maggie, quite overcome by this act of tenderness, sank to her
+knees, her head bowed as if the bell had sounded the elevation of the
+host.
+
+"What benediction!" she murmured.
+
+"I will go now, and do as you have said."
+
+"When it is a little more dark," said Maggie, softly, looking after
+her tenderly as she went away.
+
+Frances left her door ajar as Maggie had directed, and stood before
+the glass to see if anything could be done to make herself more
+attractive in his eyes. It did not seem so, considering the lack of
+embellishments. She turned from the mirror sighing, doubtful of the
+success of Maggie's scheme, but determined to do her part in it, let
+the result be what it might. Her place was there at his side, indeed;
+none had the right to bar her his presence.
+
+The joy of seeing him when consciousness flashed back into his shocked
+brain had been stolen from her by a trick. Nola had stood in her place
+then. She wondered if that slow smile had kindled in his eyes at the
+sight of her, or whether they had been shadowed with bewilderment and
+disappointment. It was a thing that she should never know.
+
+She heard Mrs. Chadron leave her room and pass heavily downstairs.
+Hope sank lower as she descended; it seemed that their simple plot
+must fail. Well, she sighed, at the worst it could only fail. As she
+sat there waiting while twilight blended into the darker waters of
+night, she reflected the many things which had overtaken her in the
+two days past. Two incidents stood out above all the haste, confusion,
+and pain which gave her sharp regret. One was that her father had
+parted from her to meet his life's heaviest disappointment with anger
+and unforgiving heart; the other that the shot which she had aimed at
+Saul Chadron had been cheated of its mark.
+
+There came a trampling of hoofs from the direction of the post,
+unmistakably cavalry. She strained from the window to see, but it was
+at that period between dusk and dark when distant objects were
+tantalizingly indefinite. Nothing could be made of the number, or who
+came in command. But she believed that it must be Major King's troops
+returning from escorting the raiders to Meander.
+
+Of course there would be no trying out of Maggie's scheme now. New
+developments must come of the arrival of Major King, perhaps her own
+removal to the post. Surely he could not sustain an excuse that she
+was dangerous to his military operations now.
+
+Doors opened, and heavy feet passed the hall. Presently all was a
+tangle of voices there, greetings and warm words of welcome, and the
+sound of Mrs. Chadron weeping on her husband's breast for joy at his
+return.
+
+Nola's light chatter rose out of the sound of the home-coming like a
+bright thread in a garment, and the genteel voice of Major King
+blended into the bustle of welcome with its accustomed suave
+placidity. Frances felt downcast and lonely as she listened to them,
+and the joyous preparations for refreshing the travelers which Mrs.
+Chadron was pushing forward. They had no regard, no thought it seemed,
+for the wounded man who lay with only the thickness of a door dividing
+him from them.
+
+She was moved with concern, also, regarding Chadron's behavior when he
+should learn of Macdonald's presence in that house. Would Nola have
+the courage to own her attachment then, and stand between the wrath of
+her father and his wounded enemy?
+
+She was not to be spared the test long. There was the noise of Chadron
+moving heavily about, bestowing his coat, his hat, in their accustomed
+places. He came now into the dining-room, where the sentinel kept
+watch at Macdonald's door. Frances crept softly, fearfully, into the
+hall and listened.
+
+Chadron questioned the soldier, in surprise. Frances heard the man's
+explanation of his presence before the door given in low voice, and in
+it the mention of Macdonald's name. Chadron stalked away, anger in the
+sound of his step. His loud voice now sounded in the room where the
+others were still chattering in the relief of speech after long
+silence. Now he came back to the guarded door, Nola with him; Mrs.
+Chadron following with pleading words and moanings.
+
+"Dead or alive, I don't care a damn! Out of this house he goes this
+minute!" Chadron said.
+
+"Oh, father, surely you wouldn't throw a man at death's door out in
+the night!"
+
+It was Nola, lifting a trembling voice, and Frances could imagine her
+clinging to his arm.
+
+"Not after what he's done for us, Saul--not after what he's done!"
+Mrs. Chadron sounded almost tearful in her pleading. "Why, he brought
+Nola home--didn't you know that, Saul? He brought her home all safe
+and sound!"
+
+"Yes, he stole her to make that play!" Chadron said, either still
+deceived, or still stubborn, but in any case full of bitterness.
+
+"I'll never believe that, father!" Nola spoke braver than Frances had
+expected of her. "But friend or enemy, common charity, common decency,
+would--"
+
+"Common hell! Git away from in front of that door! I'm goin' to throw
+his damned carcass out of this house--I can't breathe with that man in
+it!"
+
+"Oh, Saul, Saul! don't throw the poor boy out!" Mrs. Chadron begged.
+
+"Will I have to jerk you away from that door by the hair of the head?
+Let me by, I tell you!"
+
+Frances ran down stairs blindly, feeling that the moment for her
+interference, weak as it might be, and ineffectual, had come. Now
+Major King was speaking, his voice sounding as if he had placed
+himself between Chadron and the door.
+
+"I think you'd better listen to your wife and daughter, Chadron. The
+fellow can't harm anybody--let him alone."
+
+"No matter for the past, he's our guest, father, he's--"
+
+"Hell! Haven't they told you fool women the straight of it yet? I tell
+you I had to shoot him to save my own life--he was pullin' a gun on
+me, but I beat him to it!"
+
+"Oh Saul, my Saul!" Mrs. Chadron moaned.
+
+"Was it you that--oh, was it you!" There was accusation, disillusionment,
+sorrow--and more than words can define--in Nola's voice. Frances waited
+to hear no more. In a moment she was standing in the open door beside
+Nola, who blocked it against her father with outstretched arms.
+
+Chadron was facing his wife, his back to Frances as she passed.
+
+"Yes, it was me, and all I'm sorry for is that I didn't finish him on
+the spot. Here, you fellers"--to some troopers who crowded about the
+open door leading to the veranda--"come in here and carry out this
+cot."
+
+But it wasn't their day to take orders from Chadron; none of them
+moved. Frances touched Nola's arm; she withdrew it and let her pass.
+
+Macdonald, alone in the room, had lifted himself to his elbow,
+listening. Frances pressed him back to his pillow with one hand,
+reaching with the other under the cot for his revolvers. Her heart
+jumped with a great, glad bound, as if it had leaped from death to
+safety, when she touched the weapons. A cold steadiness settled over
+her. If Saul Chadron entered that room, she swore in her heart that
+she would kill him.
+
+"Don't interfere with me, King," said Chadron, turning again to the
+door, "I tell you he goes, alive or dead. I can't breathe--"
+
+"Stop where you are!" Frances rose from her groping under the cot, a
+revolver in her hand.
+
+Chadron, who had laid hold of Nola to tear her from the door, jumped
+like a man startled out of his sleep. In the heat of his passion he
+had not noticed one woman more or less.
+
+"Oh, it's you, is it?" he said, catching himself as his hand reached
+for his gun.
+
+"Frances will take him away as soon as he's able to be moved," said
+Nola, pleading, fearful, her eyes great with the terror of what she
+saw in Frances' face.
+
+"Yes, she'll go with him, right now!" Chadron declared. "I'll give you
+just ten seconds to put down that gun, or I'll come in there and take
+it away from you! No damn woman--"
+
+A loud and impatient summons sounded on the front door, drowning
+Chadron's words. He turned, with an oath, demanding to know who it
+was. Frances, still covering him with her steady hand, heard hurrying
+feet, the door open, and Mrs. Chadron exclaiming and calling for Saul.
+The man at the door had entered, and was jangling his spurs through
+the hall in hasty stride. Chadron stood as if frozen in his boots, his
+face growing whiter than wounded, blood-drained Macdonald's on his cot
+of pain.
+
+Now the sound of the newcomer's voice rose in the hall, loud and
+stern. But harsh as it was, and unfriendly to that house, the sound of
+it made Frances' heart jump, and something big and warm rise in her
+and sweep over her; dimming her eyes with tears.
+
+"Where's my daughter, Chadron, you cutthroat! Where's Miss Landcraft?
+If the lightest hair of her head has suffered, by God! I'll burn this
+house to the sills!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+PAID
+
+
+Colonel Landcraft stood before Chadron in his worn regimentals, his
+old campaign hat turned back from his forehead as if he had been
+riding in the face of a wind. Macdonald, looking up at Frances from
+his couch, spoke to her with his eyes. There was satisfaction in them,
+a triumphant glow. She moved a step toward the door, and the colonel,
+seeing her there, rushed to her and clasped her against his dusty
+breast.
+
+"Standing armed against you in your own house, before your own wife
+and daughter!" said he, turning like the old tiger that he was upon
+Chadron again. "And in the presence of an officer of the United States
+Army--my daughter, armed to protect herself! By heaven, sir! you've
+disgraced the uniform you wear!"
+
+Major King, scowling darkly, dropped his hand in suggestive gesture to
+his sword. Colonel Landcraft, his slight, bony old frame drawn up to
+its utmost inch, marched to him, fire in his eye.
+
+"Unbuckle that sword! You're not fit to wear it," said he.
+
+Chadron had drawn away from the door of Macdonald's room a little, and
+stood apart from Major King with his wife and daughter. The cattleman
+had attempted no defense, had said no word. In the coming of Colonel
+Landcraft, full of authority, strong and certain of hand, Chadron
+appeared to know that his world was beginning to tumble about his
+ears.
+
+Now he stepped forward to interpose in behalf of his tool and
+co-conspirator, in one last big bluff. Major King fell back a stride
+before the charge of the infuriated old colonel, which seemed to have
+a threat of personal violence in it, the color sinking out of his
+face, his hand still on his sword.
+
+"What authority have you got to come into my house givin' orders?"
+Chadron wanted to know. "Maybe your bluffin' goes with some people,
+but it don't go with me. You git to hell out of here!"
+
+"In your place and time I'll talk to you, you sneaking hound!" Colonel
+Landcraft answered, throwing Chadron one blasting look. "Take off that
+sword, surrender those arms! You are under arrest." This to Major
+King, who stood scowling, watching the colonel as if to ward an
+attack.
+
+"By whose authority do you make this demand?" questioned Major King,
+insolently. "I am not aware that any command--"
+
+Colonel Landcraft turned his back upon him and strode to the open
+door, through which the dismounted troopers could be seen standing
+back a respectful distance in the shaft of light that fell through it.
+At his appearance there, at the sight of that old battered hat and
+familiar uniform, the men lifted a cheer. Little tyrant that he was,
+hard-handed and exacting, they knew him for a soldier and a man. They
+knew, too, that their old colonel had not been given a square deal in
+that business, and they were glad to see him back.
+
+The colonel acknowledged the greeting with a salute, his old head held
+prouder at that moment than he ever had carried it in his life.
+
+"Sergeant Snow!" he called.
+
+The sergeant hurried forward, stepped out into the light, came up at
+salute with the alacrity of a man who found pleasure in the service to
+be demanded of him.
+
+"Bring a detail of six men into this room, disarm Major King, and
+place him under guard."
+
+The colonel wheeled again to face Chadron and King.
+
+"I am not under the obligation of explaining my authority to enter
+this house to any man," said he, "but for your satisfaction, madam,
+and in deference to you, Miss Chadron, I will tell you that I was
+recalled by the department on my way to Washington and sent back to
+resume command of Fort Shakie."
+
+Chadron was biting his mustache like an angry horse mouthing the bit.
+In the background a captain and two lieutenants, who had arrived with
+Chadron and King, stood doubtful, it seemed, of their part in that
+last act of the cattleman's rough melodrama.
+
+Frances had returned to Macdonald's side, fearful that the excitement
+might bring on a hemorrhage in his wound. She stood soothing him with
+low, soft, and unnecessary words, unconscious of their tenderness,
+perhaps, in the stress of her anxiety. But that they were appreciated
+was evident in the slow-stealing smile that came over his worn, rugged
+face like a breaking sun.
+
+Major King surrendered his arms to the sergeant with a petulant, lofty
+shrug of his shoulders.
+
+"I'm not through with you yet, you old cuss!" said Chadron. "I never
+started out to git a man but what I got him, and I'll git you.
+I'll--"
+
+Chadron's voice caught in his throat. He stood there looking toward
+the outside door, drawing his breath like a man suffocating.
+Stealthily his hand moved toward his revolver, while his wife and
+daughter, even Frances, struck by a thrill of some undefined terror,
+leaned and looked as Chadron was looking, toward the open door.
+
+A tall, gaunt, dark shaggy man was standing there, an old flapping hat
+drooping over his scowling eyes. He was a man with a great branching
+mustache, and the under lid of one eye was drawn down upon his cheek
+in a little point, as if caught by a surgical hook and held ready for
+the knife; a man who bent forward from the middle, as if from long
+habit of skulking under cover of low-growing shrubs; an evil man,
+whose foul soul cried of bloody deeds through every feature of his
+leering face.
+
+"Oh, that man! that man!" cried Nola, in fearful, wild scream.
+
+Mrs. Chadron clasped her in her arms and turned her defiant face
+toward the man in the door. He was standing just as he had stood when
+they first saw him, silent, still; as grim as the shadow of Saul
+Chadron's sins.
+
+The soldiers who stood around Major King looked on with puzzled eyes;
+Colonel Landcraft frowned. Macdonald from his cot could not see the
+door, but he felt the sharp striking of those charged seconds. Chadron
+moved to one side a little, his fixed eyes on the man in the door, his
+hand nearer his revolver now; so near that his fingers touched it, and
+now it was in his hand with a sudden bright flash into the light.
+
+Two shots in that quiet room, one following the other so closely that
+they seemed but a divided one; two shots, delivered so quickly after
+Nola's awful scream that no man could whip up his shocked nerves to
+obedience fast enough to interpose. Saul Chadron pitched forward, his
+hands clutching, his arms outspread, and fell dead, his face groveling
+upon the floor. Outside, the soldiers lifted Mark Thorn, a bullet
+through his heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+TEARS IN THE NIGHT
+
+
+They buried Saul Chadron next day in a corner of the garden by the
+river. And there was the benediction of tender autumn sunshine over
+the place where they laid him down, away from the turmoil of his life,
+and the tangle of injustices that he left behind.
+
+But there was none to come forward and speak for the body of Mark
+Thorn. The cowboys hid him in the sage at the foot of a butte, as men
+go silently and shadow-like to bury away a shame.
+
+There seemed to be a heart-soreness over the ranchhouse by the river
+as night fell upon it again. Saul Chadron had been a great and noble
+man to some who wept in its silent rooms as the gloaming deepened into
+darkness over the garden, where the last leaves of autumn were tugging
+at their anchorage to sail away. Even Frances Landcraft in her vigil
+beside Macdonald's cot felt pity for Chadron's fall. She regretted, at
+least, that he had not gone out of life more worthily.
+
+Colonel Landcraft had gone up the river to carry a new message to the
+homesteaders whose houses lay in ashes. He had ridden to tell them
+that they could build in security and live in peace. The surgeon had
+returned to the post, but was coming again tomorrow. Behind him he had
+left the happy assurance that Macdonald would live.
+
+Macdonald himself had added his own brave word to bear out the
+doctor's prediction, as far as Frances would permit him to speak. That
+was not above ten words, whispered into her ear, inclined low to hear.
+When he attempted to go beyond that, soft warm fingers made a latch
+upon his lips.
+
+Mrs. Chadron came down a little after dark, and whispered at the door.
+Macdonald was sleeping, and Frances went softly to tell her.
+
+"Nola's askin' for you," Mrs. Chadron told her, "she's all heartbroke
+and moanin' in her bed. If you'll go to her, and comfort her a little,
+honey, I'll take as good care of him as if he was my own."
+
+Frances was touched by the appeal for sympathy. She could picture
+Nola, little fashioned by nature or her life's experiences to bear
+grief, shuddering and sobbing alone in the dark, and her heart went
+out to her in all its generosity and large forgivingness.
+
+Nola's room was dark for all except the night sky at her window.
+Frances stood a moment in her door, listening, believing from the
+silence that she must have gone to sleep.
+
+"Nola," she whispered, softly.
+
+A little shivering sob was the answer. Frances went in, and closed the
+door. Nola was lying face downward on her pillow, like a child, and
+Frances found on putting out her comforting hand that the fickle
+little lady's bolster was wet with tears. She sat on the bedside and
+tried gently to turn Nola's face toward her. That brought on a storm
+of tears and moanings, and agonized burrowing of her face into the
+pillow.
+
+"Oh, I feel so mean and wicked!" she cried. "If I hadn't been so
+deceitful and treacherous and--and--and everything, maybe all this
+sorrow wouldn't have come to us!"
+
+Frances said nothing. She had found one hot hand, tear-wet from lying
+under Nola's cheek, and this she held tenderly, feeling it best to let
+the tears of penitence purge the sufferer's soul in their world-old
+way. After a time Nola became quieter. She shifted in the bed, and
+moved over to give Frances more room, and put up her arms to draw her
+friend down for the kiss of forgiveness which she knew would not be
+denied.
+
+Afterwards she sat up in bed, and brushed her hair back from her
+throbbing forehead with her palms.
+
+"Oh, it aches and aches--_so!_" she said.
+
+"I'll bind a cold towel around it, dear; that always used to ease it,
+you remember?"
+
+"Not my head, Frances--my heart, my heart!"
+
+It was better so, Frances understood. Penitence that brings only a
+headache is like plating over brass; it cannot long conceal the
+baseness of the thing that lies beneath.
+
+"Time is the only remedy for that, Nola," she said, her own words slow
+and sad.
+
+"Do you think I've sinned past forgiveness because I--because--I love
+him?" Nola's voice trembled with earnestness.
+
+"He is free, to love and be loved as it may fall, Nola. I told you he
+was mine, but I thought then that I was claiming him from death. He
+will live. He never has asked me to marry him; maybe he never will.
+When he recovers, he may turn to you--who can tell?"
+
+"No, it's only you that he thinks of, Frances. When I was watching by
+him he opened his eyes, and you should have seen the look in them when
+he saw me instead of you. He struggled to sit up and look for you, and
+he called your name, sharp and frightened, as if he thought somebody
+had taken you away from him forever."
+
+Frances did not need that assurance to quiet any fear of his loyalty.
+She had spoken the truth, only because it was the truth, but not to
+give Nola hope. For hope she knew there was not any, nor any love, to
+come to Nola out of that man's heart.
+
+"We'll not talk of it," Frances said.
+
+"I must, I can't let anything stand between us, Frances. If I'd been
+fair, all the way through--but I wasn't. I wasn't fair about Major
+King, and I wasn't fair this time. I was fool enough to think that if
+you were out of the way for a little while I could make him love me!
+He'd never love me, never in a million years!"
+
+Frances said nothing. But she was beginning to doubt the sincerity of
+Nola's repentance. There, under the shadow of her bereavement, she
+could think of nothing but the hopelessness of love.
+
+"But I didn't want you to come up just to pet me and be good to me,
+Frances--I wanted to give you something."
+
+Nola felt under her pillow, and groped for Frances' hand, in which she
+placed a soft something with a stub of a feather in it.
+
+"I have no right to keep it," said Nola. "Do you know what it is?"
+
+"Yes, I know."
+
+Much of the softness which Frances had for the highland bonnet was in
+her voice as she replied, and the little bonnet itself was being
+nestled against her cheek, as a mother cuddles a baby's hand.
+
+"The best that's in me goes out to that man," said Nola solemnly--and
+truthfully, Frances knew--"but I wouldn't take him from you now,
+Frances, even if I could. I don't want to care for him, I don't want
+to think of him. I just want to think of poor father lying out there
+under the ground."
+
+"It's best for you to think of him."
+
+"Only a day ago he was alive and warm, like you and me, and now he's
+dead! Mother never will want to leave this place again now, and I
+don't feel like I want to either. I just want to lie down and die--oh,
+I just want to die!"
+
+Pity for herself brought Nola's tears gushing again, and her choking
+sobs into her throat. Her voice was hoarse from her lamentations;
+there seemed to be only sorrow for her in every theme. Frances held
+her shivering slim body in her supporting arm, and Nola's face bent
+down upon her shoulder. It seemed that her renunciation was complete,
+her regeneration undeniable. But Frances knew that a great flood of
+tears was required to put out the fire of passion in a woman's heart.
+One spark, one little spark, might live through the deluge to spring
+into the heat of the past under the breath of memory.
+
+Again the heaving breast grew calm, and the tear-wet face was lifted
+to shake back the fallen hair.
+
+"This has emptied everything out for me," Nola sighed. "I'm going to
+be serious in everything, with everybody, after this. Do you suppose
+Mrs. Mathews would let me help her over at the mission--if I went to
+her meek and humble and asked her?"
+
+"If she saw that it would help _you_, she would, Nola."
+
+"Just think how lonesome it will be here when the post's abandoned and
+everybody but the Indians gone! You'll be away--maybe long before
+that--and I'll not see anybody but Indians and cowboys from year's
+beginning to year's end. Oh, it will be so dreary and lonesome here!"
+
+"There's work up the river in the homesteaders' settlement, Nola;
+there's suffering to be relieved, and bereaved hearts to be comforted.
+There's your work, it seems to me, for you and those nearest to you
+are to blame for the desolation of those poor homes, excuse it as
+charitably as we may."
+
+Frances felt a shudder run through the girl's body as her arm clasped
+the pliant waist.
+
+"Why, Frances! You can't mean that! They're terrible--just think what
+they've done--oh, the underhanded thieves! By the law of the range
+it's my fight now, instead of my work to help them!"
+
+"The law of the range isn't the law any longer here, Nola, and it
+never will be again. Alan Macdonald has done the work that he put his
+lone hand to. You have no quarrel with anybody, child, no feud to
+carry on to a bloody end. Put it out of your mind. If you are sincere
+in your heart, and truly penitent, you can prove it best by beginning
+to do good in the place where your house has done a terrible, sad
+wrong."
+
+"They started it!" said Nola, vindictively, the lifelong hatred for
+those who encroached upon the range so deep in her breast, it seemed,
+that the soil of her life must come away on its roots.
+
+"There's no use talking to you about it, then," said Frances, coldly.
+
+Nola seemed hurt by her tone. She began to cry again, and plead her
+cause in moaning, broken words. "It's our country, we were here
+first--father always said that!"
+
+"I know."
+
+"But I don't blame Mr. Macdonald, they deceived him, the rustlers
+deceived him and told him lies. He didn't belong to this country, he
+couldn't know at first, or understand. Frances"--she put her hand on
+her friend's shoulder, and lifted her head as if trying to pierce the
+dark and look into her eyes--"don't you know how it was with him? He
+was too much of a man to turn his back on them, even when he found he
+was on the wrong side. A man like him _must_ have understood it our
+way."
+
+"What he has done in this country calls for no excuse," returned
+Frances, loftily.
+
+"In your eyes and mine he wouldn't need any excuse for anything he
+might do," said Nola, with a sagacity unexpected. "We love him, and
+we'd love him, right or wrong. Well"--a sigh--"you've got a right to
+love him, and I haven't. I wouldn't try to make him care for me now if
+I could, for I'm different; I'm all emptied out."
+
+"It takes more than you've gone through to empty a human life, Nola.
+But you have no right to love him; honor and honesty are in the way,
+friendship not considered at all. You'll spring up in the sun again
+after a little while, like fresh grass that's trodden on, just as
+happy and light-hearted as before. Let me have this one without any
+more interference--there are plenty in the world that you would stand
+heart-high to with your bright little head, just as well as Alan
+Macdonald."
+
+"I can't give him up, the thought of him, and the longing for him,
+without regret, Frances; I can't!"
+
+"I wouldn't have you do it. I want you to have regret, and pain--not
+too deep nor too lasting, but some corrective pain. Now, go to
+sleep."
+
+Frances pressed her back to the pillow, and touched her head with
+light caress.
+
+"Frances," she whispered, a new gladness dawning in her voice, "I'll
+go and see those poor people, and try to help them--if they'll let me.
+Maybe we _were_ wrong--partly, anyhow."
+
+"That's better," Frances encouraged.
+
+"And I'll try not to care for him, or think about him, even one little
+bit."
+
+Frances bent and kissed her. Nola's arms clung to her neck a little,
+holding her while she whispered in her ear.
+
+"For I'm going to be different, I'm going to be good--abso-_lutely_
+good!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+BANJO FACES INTO THE WEST
+
+
+"You don't tell me? So the old colonel's got what his heart's been
+pinin' for many a year. Well, well!"
+
+Mrs. Chadron was beside her window in her favored rocker again, less
+assertive of bulk in her black dress, not so florid of face, and with
+lines of sadness about her mouth and eyes. A fire was snapping in the
+chimney, for the gray sky was driving a bitter wind, and the first
+snowflakes of winter were straying down.
+
+Banjo Gibson was before the fire, his ears red, his cheeks redder,
+just in from a brisk ride over from the post. His instruments lay
+beside him on the floor, and he was limbering his fingers close to the
+blaze.
+
+"Yes, he's a brigamadier now," said he.
+
+"Brigadier-General Landcraft," said she, musingly, looking away into
+the grayness of the day; "well, maybe he deserves it. Fur as I'm
+concerned, he's welcome to it, and I'm glad for Frances' sake."
+
+"He's vinegar and red pepper, that old man is! Takin' him up both
+sides and down the middle, as the feller said, I reckon the
+colonel--or brigamadier, I guess they'll call him now--he's about as
+good as they make 'em. I always did have a kind of a likin' for that
+old feller--he's something like me."
+
+"It was nice of you to come over and tell me the news, anyhow, Banjo;
+you're always as obligin' and thoughtful as you can be."
+
+"It's always been a happiness and a pleasure, mom, and I've come a
+good many times with news, sad and joyful, to your door. But I reckon
+it'll be many a long day before I come ridin' to Alamito with news
+ag'in; many a long, long day."
+
+"What do you mean, Banjo? You ain't goin'--"
+
+"To Californy; startin' from here as soon as my horse blows a spell
+and eats his last feed at your feed box, mom. I've got to make it to
+Meander to ketch the mornin' train."
+
+"Oh, Banjo! you don't tell me!" Tears gushed to Mrs. Chadron's eyes,
+used to so much weeping now, and her lips trembled as she pressed them
+hard to keep back a sob. "You're the last friend of the old times, the
+last face outside of this house belongin' to the old days. When you're
+gone my last friend, the very last one I care about outside of my own,
+'ll be gone!"
+
+Banjo cleared his throat unsteadily, and looked very hard at the fire
+for quite a spell before he spoke.
+
+"The best of friends must part," he said.
+
+"Yes, they must part," she admitted, her handkerchief pressed to her
+eyes, her voice muffled behind it.
+
+"But they ain't no use of me stayin' around in this country and pinin'
+for what's gone, and starvin' on the edge," said Banjo, briskly.
+"Since you've sold out the cattle and the boys is all gone, scattered
+ever-which-ways and to Texas, and the homesteaders is comin' into this
+valley as thick as blackbirds, it ain't no place for me. I don't mix
+with them kind of people, I never did. You've give it all up to 'em,
+they tell me, but this homestead, mom?"
+
+"All but the homestead," she sighed, her tears checked now, her eyes
+on the farthest hill, where she had watched the crest many and many a
+time for Saul to rise over it, riding home from Meander.
+
+"You hadn't ort to let it go," said he, shaking his sad head.
+
+"I couldn't'a'held it, the lawyers and Mr. Macdonald told me that.
+It's public land, Banjo, it belongs to them folks, I reckon. But we
+was here first!" A futile sigh, a regretful sigh, a sigh bitter with
+old recollections.
+
+"I reckon that's so, down to the bottom of it, but you folks made this
+country what it was, and by rights it's yourn. Well, I stopped in to
+say good-bye to the old brigamadier-colonel over at the post as I come
+through. He tells me Alan and that little girl of hisn that stuck to
+him and stood up for him through thick and thin 're goin' to be
+married at Christmas time."
+
+"Then they'll be leavin', too," she said.
+
+"No, they're goin' to build on his ranch up the river and stay here,
+and that old brigamadier-colonel he's goin' to take up land next to
+'em, or has took it up, one of the two, and retire from the army when
+they're married. He says this country's the breath of his body and he
+couldn't live outside of it, he's been here so long."
+
+"Well, well!" said she, her face brightening a little at the news.
+
+"How's Alan by now?"
+
+"Up and around--he's goin' to leave us in the morning."
+
+"Frances here?" he asked.
+
+"No, she went over home this morning--I thought maybe you met her--but
+she's comin' back for him in the morning."
+
+Banjo sat musing a little while. Then--
+
+"Yes, you'll have neighbors, mom, plenty of 'em. A colony of nesters
+is comin' here, three or four hundred of 'em, they tell me, all ready
+to go to puttin' up schoolhouses and go to plowin' in the spring. And
+they're goin' to run that hell-snortin' railroad right up this valley.
+I reckon it'll cut right along here somewheres a'past your place."
+
+"Yes, changes'll come, Banjo, changes is bound to come," she sighed.
+
+"All over this country, they say, the nesters'll squat now wherever
+they want to, and nobody won't dast to take a shot at 'em to drive 'em
+off of his grass. They put so much in the papers about this rustlers'
+war up here that folks has got it through 'em the nesters ain't been
+gittin' what was comin' to 'em. The big ranches 'll all be split up to
+flinders inside of five years."
+
+"Yes, the cattle days is passin', along with the folks that was
+somebody in this country once. Well, Banjo, we had some good times in
+the old days; we can remember them. But changes will come, we must
+expect changes. You don't need to pack up and go on account of that. I
+ain't goin' to leave."
+
+"I've made up my mind. I'm beginnin' to feel tight in the chist
+already for lack of air."
+
+Both sat silent a little while. Banjo's elbows were across his knees,
+his face lifted toward the window. The wind was falling, and there was
+a little breaking among the low clouds, baring a bit of blue sky here
+and there. Banjo viewed this brightening of the day with gladness.
+
+"I guess it's passin'," he said, going to the window and peering round
+as much of the horizon as he could see, "it wasn't nothing but a
+little shakin' out of the tablecloth after breakfast."
+
+"I'm glad of it, for I don't think it's good luck to start out on a
+trip in a storm. That there Nola she's out in it, too."
+
+"Gone up the river?"
+
+"Yes. It beats all how she's takin' up with them people, and them with
+her. She's even bought lumber with her own money to help some of 'em
+build."
+
+"She's got a heart like a dove," he sighed.
+
+"As soft as a puddin'," Mrs. Chadron nodded.
+
+"But I never could git to it." Banjo sighed again.
+
+Mrs. Chadron shook her head, with an expression of sadness for his
+failure which was deeper than any words she knew.
+
+"The loss of her pa bore down on her terrible; she's pinin' and
+grievin' too hard for a body so young. I hear her cryin' and moanin'
+in the night sometimes, and I know it ain't no use goin' to her, for
+I've tried. She seems to need something more than an old woman like me
+can give, but I don't know what it is."
+
+"Maybe she needs a change--a change of air," Banjo suggested, with
+what vague hope only himself could tell.
+
+"Maybe, maybe she does. Well, you're goin' to take a change of air,
+anyhow, Banjo. But what're you goin' to do away out there amongst
+strangers?"
+
+"I was out there one time, five years ago, and didn't seem to like it
+then. But since I've stood off and thought it over, it seems to me
+that's a better place for me than here, with my old friends goin' or
+gone, and things changin' this a-way. Out there around them hop and
+fruit ranches they have great times at night in the camps, and a man
+of my build can keep busy playin' for dances. I done it before, and
+they took to me, right along."
+
+"They do everywheres, Banjo."
+
+"Some don't," he sighed, watching out of the window in the direction
+that Nola must come.
+
+"She's not likely to come back before morning--I think she aims to go
+to the post tonight and stay with Frances," she said, reading his
+heart in his face.
+
+"Maybe it's for the best," said Banjo.
+
+"I guess everything that comes to us is for the best, if we knew how
+to take it," she said. "Well, you set there and be comfortable, and
+I'll stir Maggie up and have her make you something nice for dinner.
+After that I want you to play me the old songs over before you go.
+Just to think I'll never hear them songs no more breaks my heart,
+Banjo--plumb breaks my heart!"
+
+As she passed Banjo she laid her hand on his head in a manner of
+benediction, and tears were in her eyes.
+
+The sun was out again when they had finished lunch, coaxing autumn on
+into November at the peril of frosted toes. Mrs. Chadron had
+brightened considerably, also. Even bereavement and sorrow could not
+shake her fealty to chili, and now it was rewarding her by a rubbing
+of her old color in her face as she sat by the window and waited for
+Banjo to tune his instruments for the parting songs.
+
+Her workbasket was beside her, the bright knitting-needles in the
+unfinished sock. It never would be completed now, she knew, but she
+kept it by her to cry over in the twilight hours, when thoughts of
+Saul came over her with their deep-harrowing pangs.
+
+Banjo sang the touching old ballads over to her appreciative ear,
+watching the shadows outside, as he played, for three o'clock. That
+was the hour set for him to go. "Silver Threads" was saved for the
+end, and when its last strain died Mrs. Chadron's face was hidden in
+her hands. She was rocking gently, her handkerchief fallen to the
+floor.
+
+Banjo put his bow in its place in the lid of the case, the rosin in
+its little box. But the fiddle he still held on his knee, stroking its
+smooth back with loving hand, as if he would soothe Mrs. Chadron's
+regrets and longings and back-tugging pains by that vicarious caress.
+So he sat petting his instrument, and after a little she looked at
+him, her eyes red, and tear-streaks on her face.
+
+"Don't put it away just yet, Banjo," she requested; "there's another
+one I want you to sing, and that will be the last. It's the saddest
+one you play--one that I couldn't stand one time--do you remember?"
+Banjo remembered; he nodded. "I can stand it now, Banjo; I want to
+hear it now."
+
+Banjo drew bow again, no more words on either side, and began his
+song:
+
+    All o-lone and sad he left me,
+      But no oth-o's bride I'll be;
+    For in flow-os he bedecked me,
+      In tho cottage by tho sea.
+
+When he finished, Mrs. Chadron's head was bent upon her arm across the
+little workstand where her basket stood. Her shoulders were moving in
+piteous convulsions, but no sound of crying came from her. Banjo knew
+that it was the hardest kind of weeping that tears the human heart.
+
+He put away his fiddle, and strapped the case. Then he went to her and
+laid his hand on her shoulder.
+
+"I'll have to be saddlin' up, mom," said he, his own voice thick, "and
+I'll say _adios_ to you now."
+
+"Good-bye, Banjo, and may God bless you in that country you're goin'
+to so fur away from the friends you used to know!"
+
+Banjo's throat moved as he gulped his sorrow. "I'll not come back in
+the house, but I'll wave you good-bye from the gate," said he.
+
+"I had hopes you might change your mind, Banjo," she said, as she took
+his hand and held it a little while.
+
+"If I could'a'got to somebody's heart that I've pined for many a day,
+I would'a'changed my mind, mom. But it wasn't to be."
+
+"It wasn't to be, Banjo," she said, shaking her head. "I don't think
+she'll ever marry--she's changed, she's so changed!"
+
+"Well, _adios_ to you, mom, and the best of luck."
+
+"_Adios_, Banjo, boy; good-bye!"
+
+She waited at the window for him to pass the gate. He appeared there
+leading his horse, and bent to examine the girths before putting foot
+to the stirrup. She hoped that he was coming back, to tell her that he
+could not find it in his heart to go. But no; the change that was
+coming over the cattle country was like an unfriendly wind to the
+little troubadour. His way was staked into the west where new ties
+waited him, where new hearts were to be won. He mounted, turned to the
+window, waved his hat and rode away.
+
+Mrs. Chadron sat in her old place and watched him until he passed
+beyond the last hill line and out of her sight. Her last glimpse of
+him had been in water lines through tears. Now she reached for her
+basket and took out her unfinished knitting. Broken off there, like
+her own life it was, she thought, never to be completed as designed.
+The old days were done; the promise of them only partly fulfilled. She
+was bidding farewell to more than Banjo, parting with more than
+friends.
+
+"Good-bye, Banjo," she murmured, looking dimly toward the farthest
+hill; "_adios!_"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+"HASTA LUEGO"
+
+
+Frances came into the room as fresh as a morning-glory. Her cheeks
+were like peonies, and the fire of her youth and strength danced in
+her happy eyes. Macdonald rose to greet her, tall, gaunt, and pale
+from the drain that his wound had made upon his life. He had been
+smoking before the fireplace, and he reached up now to put his pipe
+away on the manteltree.
+
+"And how are things at the post?" he asked, as she stood before him in
+her saddle dress, her sombrero pressing down her hair, her quirt
+swinging by its thong from her gloved wrist.
+
+Before replying she intercepted the hand that was reaching to stow the
+pipe away, pressed it firmly back, inserted the stem between his close
+lips.
+
+"In this family, the man smokes," she said.
+
+His slow smile, which was reward enough to her for all the trouble
+that it took to wake it, twinkled in his eyes like someone coming to
+the window with a light.
+
+"Then the piece of a man will go ahead and smoke," said he, drawing a
+chair up beside his own and leading her to it with gentle pressure
+upon her hand.
+
+"Has Mrs. Chadron been overfeeding you while I was gone? Did she give
+you chili?"
+
+"She _offered_ me chili, in five different dishes, which I,
+remembering the injunction, regretfully put aside."
+
+"Well, they're coming with the ambulance, I rode on ahead, and you'll
+soon be beyond the peril of chili." She smiled as she looked up into
+his face, and the smile broadened into an outright laugh when she saw
+the little flitting cloud of vexation there.
+
+"I could well enough ride," said he.
+
+"The doctor says you could not."
+
+"I'm as fit for the saddle this minute as I ever was in my life," he
+declared.
+
+She made no reply to that in words. But there was tender pity in her
+caressing eyes as they measured the weakness of his thin arms, wasted
+down to tendon and bone now, it seemed. He would ride to the post, she
+knew very well, if permitted, and come through it without a murmur.
+But the risk would be foolish, no matter what his pride must suffer by
+going in a wagon.
+
+"Have you heard the news from Meander?" she inquired.
+
+"No, news comes slowly to Alamito Ranch, and will come slower now that
+Banjo is gone, Mrs. Chadron says. What's been happening at Meander?"
+
+"They held their conventions there last week to nominate county
+officers, and what do you think? They've nominated you for something,
+for--for _what_ do you suppose?"
+
+"Nominated me? Who's nominated me?"
+
+"Oh, one party or the other began it, and the other indorsed you,
+for--oh, it's--"
+
+"For what, Frances?" he asked, laughter in his eyes at her unaccountable
+way of holding back on the secret.
+
+"Why, for _sheriff!_" said she, with magnificent scorn.
+
+Macdonald leaned back in his chair and laughed, the first audible
+sound of merriment that she ever had heard come from those stern lips.
+She looked at him with reproach.
+
+"It should have been governor, the very least they could have done,
+decently!" She was full of feeling on the subject of what she believed
+to be his undervaluation.
+
+Macdonald took her hand, the laughter dying out of his sober face.
+
+"That's all in the different ways of looking at a man, _palomita_," he
+said to her.
+
+"But you look bigger than _sheriff_ to anybody!" she replied,
+indignation large in her heart.
+
+"In this country, Frances, a sheriff is a pretty sizable man," he
+said, his thoughtful eyes on the fire, "about the biggest man they can
+conceive, next only to the president himself. Up here in the cattle
+country the greatness of men is dimmed, their magnitude being measured
+by appreciable results. The offices of lawmaker, governor, and such as
+the outside world invest with their peculiar dignity, are incidental,
+indefinite--all but negative, here. It's different with a sheriff.
+He's the man who comes riding with his guns at his side; they can see
+him perform. All the law that they know centers in him; all branches
+of government, as they understand his powers. Yes, a sheriff is
+something of a figure in this county, Frances, and to be nominated for
+that office by one party and indorsed by another is just about the
+biggest compliment a man can receive."
+
+"But surely, Alan, you'll not accept it?"
+
+"Why, I think so," he returned, thoughtfully. "I think I'd be worth
+more to this county as sheriff than I would be as--as governor, let us
+say."
+
+"Yes, but they go shooting sheriffs," she protested.
+
+"They'll not be doing so much careless and easy shooting around here
+since Colonel--Brigadier-General Landcraft--and that sounds more like
+his size, too--gave them a rubdown with the iron hand. The cattle
+barons' day is over; their sun went down when Mark Thorn brought the
+holy scare to Saul Chadron's door."
+
+"Father is of the same opinion. Do you know, Alan, the whole story
+about that horrible old man Thorn is in the eastern papers?"
+
+"Is it possible?"
+
+"With a Cheyenne date-line," she nodded, "the whole story--who hired
+him to skulk and kill, and a list of his known crimes. Father says if
+there was anything lacking in the fight you made on the cattlemen,
+this would finish them. It's a terrible story--poor Nola read it, and
+learned for the first time her father's connection with Thorn. She's
+humiliated and heartbroken over it all."
+
+"With sufficient reason," he nodded.
+
+"She's afraid her mother will hear of it in some way."
+
+"She'll find it out in time, Frances; a thing like that walks on a
+man's grave."
+
+"It will not matter so much after a while, after her first grief
+settles."
+
+"Did Nola come back with you?"
+
+"No, she went on to take some things to poor old Mrs. Lassiter. She
+never has recovered from the loss of her son--it's killing her by
+inches, Tom says. And you considering that office of sheriff!" She
+turned to him with censorious eyes as she spoke, as if struck with a
+pain of which he was the cause. "I tell you, you men don't know, you
+don't know! It's the women that suffer in all this shooting and
+killing--we are the ones that have to bear the sorrows in the night
+and watch through the uncertain days!"
+
+"Yes," said he gently, "the poor women must bear most of this world's
+pain. That is why God made them strong above all his created things."
+
+They sat in silence, thinking it over between them. Outside there was
+sunshine over the brown rangeland; within there dwelt the lifting
+confidence that their feet had passed the days of trouble and were
+entering the bounds of an enlarging peace.
+
+"And Major King?" said he.
+
+"Father has relented, as I knew he would, out of regard for their
+friendship of the past, and will not bring charges based on Major
+King's plottings with Chadron."
+
+"It's better that way," he nodded. "Do you suppose there's nothing
+between him and Nola?"
+
+"I think she'll have him after her grief passes, Alan."
+
+"Better than he deserves," said he. "There's a lump of gold in that
+little lady's heart, Frances."
+
+"There is, Alan; I'm glad to hear you say that." There was moisture in
+her tender eyes.
+
+"There was something in that man, too," he reflected. "It's
+unfortunate that he allowed his desire to humiliate you and me to
+drive him into such folly. If he'd only have held those brigands here
+for the civil authorities, as I requested, we could have forgotten the
+rest."
+
+"Yes, father says that would have saved him in his eyes, in spite of
+his scheming with Chadron against your life, and against father's
+honor and all that he holds sacred. But it's done, and he's genuinely
+despised in the service for it. And there's the ambulance coming over
+the hill."
+
+"Ambulance for me!" said he, in disgust of his slow mending.
+
+"Be glad that it isn't--oh, I shouldn't say that!"
+
+"I am," said he, nodding his slow, grave head.
+
+"We'll have to say good-bye to Mrs. Chadron," said she, bustling
+around, or making a show of doing so to hide the tears which had
+sprung into her eyes at the thought that it might have been a
+different sort of conveyance coming to Alamito to take Alan Macdonald
+away.
+
+"And to Alamito," said he, looking out into the frost-stricken garden
+with a tenderness in his eyes. "I shall always have a softness in my
+heart for Alamito, because it gave me you. That garden out there
+yielded me the dearest flower that any garden ever gave a man"--he
+took her hands, and folded them above his heart--"a flower with a soul
+in it to keep it alive forever."
+
+She bowed her head as he spoke, as if receiving a benediction.
+
+"I hate saying good-bye to Mrs. Chadron," she said, her voice
+trembling, "for she'll cry, and I'm afraid I'll cry, too."
+
+"It will not be farewell, only _hasta luego_[A] we can assure her of
+that. We'll be neighbors to her, for this is home, dear heart, this is
+our _val paraiso_."
+
+"Our valley of paradise," she nodded, her hands reaching up to his
+shoulders and clinging there a moment in soft caress, "our home!"
+
+His arm about her shoulders, he faced her to the window, and pointed
+to the hills, asleep now in their brown winter coat behind a clear
+film of smoky blue.
+
+"I stood up there one evening, weighted down with guns and ammunition,
+hunting and hunted in the most desperate game I ever played," he said.
+"The sun was low over this valley, and Alamito was a gleam of white
+among the autumn gold. I was tired, hungry, dusty, thirsty and sore,
+and my heart was all but dead in its case. That was after you had sent
+me away from the post, scorned and half despised."
+
+"Don't rebuke me for that night now, Alan," she pleaded, turning her
+pained eyes to his. "I have suffered for my injustice."
+
+"It wasn't injustice, it was discipline, and it was good for both of
+us. We must come to confidence through misunderstandings and false
+charges very frequently in this life. Never mind that; I was telling
+you about that evening on the side of the hill. I had been sitting
+with my back to a rock, watching the brush for Mark Thorn, but I was
+thinking more of you than of him. For he meant only death, and you
+were life. But I thought that I had lost you that day."
+
+She drew nearer to him as they stood, in the unequivocal consolation
+of her presence, in the most comforting refutation of that sad hour's
+dark forebodings.
+
+"I thought that, until I stood up and started down the slope to go my
+lone-handed way. The sun struck me in the face then, and it was yellow
+over the valley, and the wind was glad. I knew then, when I looked out
+over it, that it held something for me, that it was my country, and my
+home. The lines of gray old Joaquin Miller came to me, and lifted my
+heart in a new vision. I said them over to myself:
+
+    Lo! these are the isles of the watery miles
+    That God let down from the firmament.
+    Lo! Duty and Love, and a true man's trust;
+    Your forehead to God and your feet in the dust--
+
+only, there were two lines which I did not repeat, I dared not repeat,
+even in my heart. My vision halted short of their fulfillment."
+
+"What are the words--do you remember them?" she asked.
+
+"Yes; I can repeat them now, for my vision is broader, it is a better
+dream:
+
+    Lo! Duty and Love, and a sweet babe's smiles,
+    And there, O friend, are the Fortunate Isles."
+
+He pressed her closer, and kissed her hair. They stood, unmindful of
+the waiting ambulance, their vision fusing in the blue distances of
+the land their hearts held dear. It was home.
+
+"Come on, Alan"--she started from her reverie and drew him by the
+hand--"there's Mrs. Chadron on the porch, waiting for _hasta luego_."
+
+"For _hasta luego_," said he.
+
+-----
+[A] For a little while.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Rustler of Wind River, by G. W. Ogden
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RUSTLER OF WIND RIVER ***
+
+***** This file should be named 30485.txt or 30485.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/4/8/30485/
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://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.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+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
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/old/30485.zip b/old/30485.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0b04f9d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/30485.zip