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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/36629-8.txt b/36629-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7da998a --- /dev/null +++ b/36629-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8407 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hope Hathaway, by Frances Parker + +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: Hope Hathaway + A Story of Western Ranch Life + +Author: Frances Parker + +Release Date: July 5, 2011 [EBook #36629] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOPE HATHAWAY *** + + + + +Produced by Peter Vachuska, Pat McCoy, Stephen Hope and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + HOPE HATHAWAY + + + [Illustration] + + + + + _HOPE HATHAWAY_ + + + A Story of + Western Ranch Life + + _BY + FRANCES PARKER_ + + + [Illustration] + + + BOSTON, MASS. + C. M. CLARK PUBLISHING CO. (Inc.) + 1904 + + + + _COPYRIGHT, 1904_ + + _by_ + + _C. M. CLARK PUBLISHING CO. (Inc.) + BOSTON, MASS., U. S. A._ + + + _Entered at Stationers Hall, London_ + + + _Rights of Translation, Public Reading and + Dramatization Reserved_ + + + + +HOPE HATHAWAY + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Hathaway's home-ranch spread itself miles over an open valley on the +upper Missouri. As far as the eye reached not a fence could be seen, yet +four barbed-wires, stretched upon good cotton-wood posts, separated the +ranch from the open country about. + +Jim Hathaway was an old-time cattle-man. He still continued each summer +to turn out upon the range great droves of Texas steers driven north by +his cowboys, though at this time it was more profitable to ship in +Western grown stock. He must have known that this was so, for every year +his profits became less, yet it was the nature of the man to keep in the +old ruts, to cling to old habits. + +The old-time cowboy was fast disappearing, customs of the once wild West +were giving way before an advancing civilization. He had seen its slow, +steady approach year after year, dreading--abhorring it. Civilization +was coming surely. What though his lands extended beyond his good +eyesight, were not these interlopers squatting on every mile of creek in +the surrounding country? The open range would some time be a thing of +the past. That green ridge of mountains to the west,--_his_ mountains, +his and the Indians, where he had enjoyed unmolested reign for many +years,--were they not filling them as bees fill a hive, so filling them +with their offensive bands of sheep and small cow-ranches that his +cattle had all they could do to obtain a footing? + +On one of his daily rides he had come home tired and out of humor. The +discovery of a new fence near his boundary line had opened up an +unpleasant train of thought, and not even the whisky, placed beside him +by a placid-faced Chinese servant, could bring him into his usual jovial +spirits. After glancing through a week-old newspaper and finding in it +no solace for his ugly mood, he threw himself down upon his office +lounge, spreading the paper carefully over him. The Chinaman, by rare +intuition, divined his state of mind and stole cautiously into the room +to remove the empty glasses, at the same time keeping his eyes fixed +upon the large man under the newspaper. + +Hathaway generally took a nap in the forenoon after returning from his +ride, for he was an early riser, and late hours at night made this habit +imperative. This day his mood brought him into a condition where he felt +no desire to sleep, so he concluded, but he must have fallen into a +doze, for the sharp tones of a girl's voice directly outside his window +brought him to his feet with a start. + +"If that's what you're driving at you may as well roll up your bedding +and move on!" It was spoken vehemently, with all the distinctness of a +clear-toned voice. A man replied, but in more guarded tone, so that +Hathaway went to the window to catch his words. + +"You don't know what you're talking about," he was saying. "This is my +home as well as yours, and I'd have small chance to carry out my word if +I went away, so I intend to stay right here. Do you know, Hope, when you +get mad like that you're so devilish pretty that I almost hate you! Look +at those eyes! You'd kill me if you could, wouldn't you? But you'll love +me yet, and marry me, too, don't forget that!" + +"How can you talk to me so," demanded the girl, stepping back from him, +"after all my father has done,--made you his son,--given you everything +he would have given a son? Oh!" she cried passionately, "I can't _bear_ +you in this new rôle! It is terrible, and I've looked upon you as a +_brother_! Now what are you? You've got no right to talk to me so--to +insist!" + +"But your mother----" he interrupted. + +"My _mother_!" weariedly. "Yes, of course! It would be all right there. +You have money--enough. A good enough match, no doubt; and she would be +freer to go,--would feel better to know that she had no more +responsibility here. You know your ground well enough _there_." Then +with growing anger: "Don't you ring in my mother on me! I tell you I +wouldn't marry you if I _never_ got married! I'm strong enough to fight +my own battles, and I will, and you'd better forget what you've said to +me and change the subject forever!" She walked away, her strong, lithe +body erect. + +"But you're handsome, you brown devil!" he cried, taking one step and +clasping her roughly to him. She tore herself loose, her eyes blazing +with sudden fire, as Hathaway, white with anger, came suddenly around +the corner of his office and grasped the offender by the coat collar. +Then the slim young man was lifted, kicked, and tossed alternately from +off the earth, while the girl stood calmly to one side and watched the +performance, which did not cease until the infuriated man became +exhausted. Then the boy picked himself up and walked unsteadily toward +the building, against which he leaned to regain his breath while +Hathaway stood panting. + +"Here, hold on a minute," roared the angry father as the young man moved +away. "I ain't done with you yet! Get your horse and get off this ranch +or I'll break every bone in your damn body! You will treat my girl like +that, will you? You young puppy!" The young fellow was whipped +undoubtedly, but gracefully, for he turned toward Hathaway and said +between swollen lips: + +"You don't want to blame me too much, Uncle Jim. Just look at the girl! +Any man would find it worth risking his neck for her!" Then he moved +slowly away, while the girl's eyes changed from stern to merry. Her +father choked with rage. + +"You--you--you----Get away from here, and don't talk back to me!" he +roared at the retreating figure. + +The girl moved forward a few steps, calling: "That's right, Sydney, keep +your nerve! When you're ready to call it off we'll try to be friends +again." Without waiting for her cousin's reply she ran into the house, +while he lost no time in leaving the ranch, riding at a rapid gait +toward the nearest town. Hathaway watched him out of sight, then with a +nervous, bewildered shake of the head joined his wife and daughter at +luncheon. + +"At last your father has come," sighed Mrs. Hathaway, as he appeared. +"Hope, ring for the chocolate; I'm almost famished. It seems to me, +James," turning to her husband with some impatience, "that you might +_try_ to be a little more prompt in getting to your meals--here we've +been waiting ages! You know I can't bear to wait for anyone!" She sighed +properly and unfolded her napkin. + +"My dear," said Hathaway blandly, "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, +but I've been somewhat occupied--somewhat." + +"But you should always consider that your meals come first, even if your +wife and family do not," continued the lady. "Where is Sydney? The dear +boy is generally so very prompt." + +The effect of her words was not apparent. Her husband appeared +absent-minded and the meal began. + +The daughter, Hope, with quiet dignity befitting a matron, occupied the +head of the table, as she had done ever since her mother shifted the +responsibilities of the household to her young shoulders. When this +question was asked she gave her father a quick glance. Would he +acknowledge the truth? Evidently not, for he began immediately to talk +about the new fence near his boundary line. It was a shame, he said, +that these people were settling in around him. + +"The land's no good," he declared. "Nearly all the water around here +that's any account is on my place. All on earth these hobos are taking +it up for is in expectation that I'll buy them out. Well, maybe I will, +and again maybe I won't. I'd do most anything to get rid of them, but I +can't buy the earth." At this Hope smiled, showing a flash of strong, +white teeth. + +"And if you could buy the earth, what would you do with these people?" +she asked, her face settling into its natural quiet. Her mother gave her +the usual look of amazement. + +"Hope, I must ask you not to say impertinent things to your father. You +no doubt meant to be witty, but you were none the less rude. Why do you +allow her to say such things to you, James? You have succeeded in +spoiling her completely. Now if _I_ had been allowed to send her away to +school she would have grown up with better manners." + +Hathaway passed his cup to be refilled, making no answer to his wife's +outburst. Perhaps he had learned in his years of experience that the +less said the better. At any rate he made no effort to defend his +daughter--his only child, and dear to him, too. If she had expected that +he would defend her it was only for a passing instant, then she returned +to her natural gravity. Her face had few expressions. Its chief charm +lay in its unchanging immobility, its utter quiet, behind which gleamed +something of the girl's soul. When her rare smile came, lighting it up +wonderfully, she was irresistible--in her anger, magnificent. + +Ordinarily she would not have been noticed at first glance, except, +perhaps, for the exceptionally fine poise of her strong, slim body. She +was a true daughter of the West, tanned almost as brown as an Indian +maid, and easily might have passed for a half-breed, with her blue-black +eyes and hair of the darkest brown. But if she had Indian blood she did +not know it. Her mother, during the season, a flitting butterfly of New +York society, a Daughter of the Revolution by half a dozen lines of +descent, would have been horrified at the mere thought. + +The girl herself would not have cared had she been born and raised in an +Indian camp. She had what Mrs. Hathaway termed queer ideas, due, as she +always took occasion to explain to her friends who visited the ranch, to +the uncivilized life that she had insisted upon living. + +Hope had been obstinate in refusing to leave the ranch. Threats and +punishments were unavailing. When a young child she had resolved never +to go away to school, and had set her small foot down so firmly that her +mother was obliged to yield. Hathaway was secretly glad of this, for +the ranch was home to him, and he would not leave it for any length of +time. + +The little girl was great company to him, for his wife was away months +at a time, preferring the gayety of her New York home to the quiet, +isolated ranch on the prairie. Some people were unkind enough to say +that it was a relief to Hathaway to have the place to himself, and +certain it is that he never made any objections to the arrangement. +Their only child, Hope, was educated on the ranch by the best +instructors procurable, and readily acquired all the education that was +necessary to her happiness. + +At Mrs. Hathaway's outburst the girl made no effort to defend herself, +and was well aware from former experiences that her father would not +come to her aid. That he was afraid of her mother she would not admit. +It seemed so weak and foolish. She had exalted ideas of what a man +should be. That her father fell below her standard she would not +acknowledge. She loved him so, was proud of his good points, and in +many ways he was a remarkable man, his greatest weakness, if it could be +called that, being his apparent fear of his wife. Her dominion over him, +during her occasional visits at the ranch, was absolute. Hope shut her +eyes to this, telling herself that it was caused by his desire to make +her happy during these rare opportunities. + +Hathaway did not respond to his wife's somewhat uncalled-for remarks, +but after a moment of silence adroitly changed the subject by inquiring +of Hope who it was that had ridden up to the ranch just as he left that +morning. + +"It must have been Joe Harris, from the mountains," she replied, "for he +was here shortly after you rode away. I thought he was out hunting those +cattle of his that I saw over on Ten Mile the other day, but he informed +me that it was not cattle he was hunting this time, but a +_school-teacher_. They have some sort of a country school up there in +his neighborhood, and I think, from what he said, and what some of the +boys told me, that he must be the whole school board--clerk, trustees, +and everything. He was on his way over to the Cross Bar ranch to see if +he could secure that young fellow who came out from the East last fall. +One of the boys told him that this young man had given up his calling +indefinitely and was going on the round-up instead, but Harris rode on +to try what persuasion would do." + +"That _dreadful_ man," sighed Mrs. Hathaway. "He is that _squaw-man_ +with those _terrible_ children! Hope, I wish you wouldn't talk so +intimately with such people; it's below your dignity. If Sydney were +here he would agree with me. Where _is_ Sydney? Do you know where he +went? He will miss his luncheon entirely, the poor boy!" + +Hope looked searchingly at her father, but he ignored her glance. Surely +he would say something now! The question trembled upon the air, but she +waited involuntarily for him to speak. + +"I've asked you a question, Hope. Why don't you answer; are you dumb?" +said her mother, with a show of impatience. "Where _is_ Sydney?" + +"I don't know _just_ where he is," replied the girl at length, "but I +think it would be safe to say that he is riding toward town; at least he +was heading that way the last I saw of him." + +"Toward town!" gasped her mother. "Why, he was going to drive in for the +Cresmonds to-morrow! You must be mistaken. Please do not include me in +your jokes!" Then, turning to Hathaway, continued: "James, where _did_ +he go?" + +Hathaway moved uneasily under the direct gaze of his daughter. "I +haven't the least idea," he finally answered. "I can't keep track of +everyone on the ranch." The girl's face turned pale under her tan. She +rose from the table and stood tall and straight behind her chair, her +clear eyes direct upon her father. + +"Why don't you tell her," she cried with passion. Then the usual calm +settled over her face. She turned to her mother. "I may as well tell +you that we had a little scene this morning, Sydney and I. He proposed +to me." She hesitated an instant, turned and caught her father's +nervous, anxious look direct. He was watching her uneasily. She +continued deliberately: "I refused him--and sent him away from the +ranch. You may as well know all about it." + +"_You_ sent him away from the ranch," gasped Mrs. Hathaway. + +"Yes," answered the girl quietly. It was her first lie. + +"You _dared_ send him away--away from his own home!" almost screamed +Mrs. Hathaway, her rage increasing with every word. "_You dared!_ _You_, +my own daughter--ungrateful, inconsiderate----You _know_ how I love that +boy, my poor Jennie's son! What business had you sending him away, or +even refusing him, I'd like to know! What if he is your cousin--your +second cousin? Oh, you have no consideration for me, _none_--you never +had! How can I ever endure it here on this ranch three whole months +without Sydney! It was bad enough before!" She wrung her hands and rose +sobbing from the table. "James, do go after that poor boy. Say that I am +willing he should marry Hope if he is so foolish as to want her. Tell +him not to mind anything she says, but that he _must_ come home. You +will go at once, won't you?" + +She placed both hands imploringly on his arm. + +"Yes, I'll go after him to-morrow, so stop your worrying," he answered +soothingly. "Hope, fetch your mother a glass of wine, don't you see +she's all upset?" + +The girl brought the wine and handed it to her father, but his eyes +shifted uneasily from her clear, steady ones. He led his unhappy wife +from the room, leaving Hope alone with the empty wine glass in her hand. +She stood so for a moment, then walked to the table and set the tiny +glass down, but, oddly, raised it up again and looked at it closely. + +"As empty as my life is now," she thought. "As empty as this home is for +me. I have no one--father, mother--no one." A queer look crossed her +face; determination settled over her, as with a sudden, vehement motion +she shattered the frail glass upon the floor. A single thought, and a +new life had opened before her. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Upon the slope of a great grass-covered hill, among other hills, larger +and grass-covered also, stood a small log school-house. A hundred yards +away, between this isolated building and the dingy road stretched +through the mountain valley, grew a scrubby clump of choke-cherry brush. +Some boys crouched low upon the ground behind these bushes, screened +from sight of possible passers-by, and three pairs of eyes looked +through the budding branches, intently scanning the road at the crest of +hill to the left. Finally a dark speck appeared upon its gray surface. +The youngest boy shivered, a tightening of expression came over the +leader's face. He drew his shotgun closer to him, resting it upon his +knees. Suddenly he laughed unpleasantly and kicked the child who had +shivered. + +"You ninny, quit your shakin'! Can't you tell a steer from a man? You'll +make a nice feller when you grow up, 'fraid of your own shadow! You'd +better git into the school-house an' hide under a bench, if you're goin' +to be scared out of your skin. Baby! Umph, a _steer_, too! That blame +black one that won't stay with the bunch!" The big boy brought his +awkward length down upon the ground, continuing in a lower tone: "I'd a +darn sight ruther be on my horse drivin' him back on the range than +waitin' here for any fool school-teacher! But we've got this job on +hand. No schoolin' for me--I'm too old. It'll do for babies that shiver +at a steer, but I've got other business, an' so's Dan. I'm thinkin' if +the old man wants school up here he'll have to teach it himself! What +does he think we'd go to the trouble of running away from the Mission +for if we wanted to go to school? Umph, he must think we're plumb +locoed!" + +"If father catches us in this he'll lick us to death," interposed the +youngest boy. + +"Not much, he won't. He'll have to ride a faster horse than mine or +Dan's if he catches us! We'll ride over to the Indian camp, an' you can +stay here an' take the lickin'! He'll be glad enough to see us come back +in a month or two, I'll bet! And he's goin' to find out right now that +it ain't no use to bring any doggoned teacher up here to teach this +outfit. Ain't that so, Dan? We know enough of learnin'. I bet this new +fellow won't stay long enough to catch his breath!" + +A boy, who in looks and size was the exact counterpart of the speaker, +asked in a sweet, soft-toned voice: "What if the old man takes a notion +to come along to the school-house with him--what'll we do then, Dave?" + +"Do! why, what do you suppose we'll do?" answered his twin, settling +down closer to the ground. "Why, we'll hide these here guns an' walk up +to the school-house like little sheep, and _then_ lay low and watch our +chance when the old man _ain't_ around. I ain't figurin' on any lickin' +to-day, you can bet your boots on that, but I'll take a darn good one +before any more schoolin'! We've got the medicine to fix +school-teachers for him this year, I reckon!" And patting his gun, the +breed boy gave a satisfied grunt and settled down nearer to the ground. + +"You bet we have," softly assented his twin. "But what if the fellow +don't scare at them blank cartridges?" + +"Then we'll try duck-shot on him," answered the first readily. "What'd +you think--we're a lot of babies? I reckon we've got fight in us! You've +got to stick to us, Ned, even if you ain't as old as Dan and me. Ain't +that so, Dan?" + +"Yes, unless he wants to get whaled half to death," sweetly answered the +soft-voiced twin. + +"I'm no coward," exclaimed the sturdy little fellow. "If you boys _dare_ +lick me I'll shoot the two of you!" His small black eyes flashed +ominously. For an instant he glared at the older boys, all the savagery +in his young soul expressed in his countenance. The soft-voiced twin +gave a short laugh. Something like admiration shone in his eyes for the +young lad, but he retorted sweetly: "You shivered! Don't you go an' do +it again!" At that instant his sharp eyes sighted an object just +appearing at the top of the hill. He punched the leader vigorously: "Now +down on your knees, he's comin' sure this time!" + +"And he's alone," said the bold leader joyfully. "We won't have no +trouble with him. He rides like a tenderfoot, all right. Wait till he +gets down by that rock there, then let him have it, one after the +other--first me, then Dan, then you, Ned. I'll bet my horse an' saddle +that he'll go back quicker'n he's comin'!" + +"What if that ain't the feller we want?" gently asked Dan. + +"We'll wait till he turns in here, an' then we'll know. They ain't +nobody else goin' to come along this way just now. Lord, don't he ride +slow, though! Now I'll shoot first, don't forget." + +"His saddle blanket's flying on this side, and he's got a red shirt on," +said the other twin. "He's lookin' over this way. Yes, he's comin' here +all right. Let him have it, Dave, before he gits any closer!" + +As he spoke, the approaching rider left the main road and turned up the +dimly marked trail toward the school-house. The forward twin waited an +instant, then, aiming his shotgun carelessly toward the stranger, fired. +At the signal a volley rang out from behind the bushes. As quickly the +horse took fright, stopped stock still, then wheeled, and bolted with +utmost speed directly toward the patch of brush, passing so near that +the boys drew in their legs and crawled snake-like under the protection +of the branches. + +"Good Lord," gasped the leader, as the horse raced past, on up the +grassy slope of a hill, "it's a girl!" + +Two minutes later the bushes were quickly parted over three very +uncomfortable boys, and a red shirt-waisted girl looked sternly in at +them. + +"You boys come out of there this minute! Who did you take me for that +you were trying to frighten me to death? Or is that the way you treat +ladies up here in the mountains? Come out immediately and explain +yourselves!" + +The soft-voiced twin crept out first, and before scrambling to his feet +began apologizing: "We didn't know it was _you_. We thought it was a +man. Don't hurt us! We wouldn't a done it for nothin' if we'd thought it +was you. We were layin' for a school-teacher that father got to teach +this school, an' we took you for him." Then more hopefully as he +regained his feet: "But our guns wasn't loaded with nothing but blank +cartridges. We was just goin' to frighten him away so that we wouldn't +have no school this summer. It's too fine weather to be in school, +anyway." He looked up into the girl's uncompromising face. "But now I +reckon our hides are cooked, for you'll tell your father." This last +questioningly. + +"And you wouldn't like my father to know about this--or _your_ father +either, I suppose?" + +"We'd do most anything if you wouldn't tell on us, Miss Hathaway!" + +"Do I look like a girl that would tell things?" she flashed back. "I +usually fight my own battles; if necessary, I can use _this_." A quick +movement and she placed before their faces a reliable looking +six-shooter. + +"We know all about that! You ain't a-goin' to hurt us, are you?" +exclaimed Dave. + +"You know all about _that_, do you? Well, that's good. Now tell me your +names." + +"We're the Harris kids," answered Dave quickly. + +"I know you're the Harris kids, but I want your first names. _Yours_," +she commanded, looking at the soft-voiced twin and absently fingering +the weapon. + +"Mine's Dan. _He's_ Dave, an' that one's Ned," answered the boy in one +soft, quick breath; then added: "We know all about how you can shoot. +You're a dead one!" His face took on a certain shrewd look and he +continued divertingly: "I'll throw up my cap an' you shoot at it. I'd +like to have the hole in it." + +Miss Hathaway seemed suddenly amused. + +"You are a very bright boy! And your name is Dan--Daniel. You want a +souvenir? Well, all right, but not just now. I've got other business. I +came to teach your school." She hesitated, looking keenly at their +astonished faces. "Yes, your father has engaged me--hired me, so I think +we'd better go inside and begin work, don't you? We'll overlook this +shooting affair. I don't know as I blame you very much for not wanting a +man teacher, but of course the shooting was very wrong, and you +shouldn't have tried to frighten anyone; but we'll forget all about it. +But you are not going to have a man teacher, and I am different. I am +going to live at your house, too, so of course we'll be good +friends--ride together, hunt, and have great times, _after school_. +During school we _work_, remember that! Now one of you boys please stake +out my horse for me and then we will go inside and start school. You +boys must help me get things to working." + +Before she had finished speaking the soft-voiced twin caught her horse, +which was grazing near. Dave, more clumsily built, followed him, while +the girl took the small boy by the hand and started toward the +school-house. At the door she turned in time to see the twins struggling +at her horse's head. They were about ready to come to blows. + +"I'll take care of that horse myself," said Dave gruffly, attempting to +force the other boy's hand from the bridle. + +"Don't fight, boys, or _I_ will take care of the horse," called the new +school-teacher severely; thereupon the soft-voiced twin released his +hold and walked demurely up to the school-house. + +"Anyway," he explained as he went inside, "Dave's the youngest, and so I +let him have the horse." + +"I never was so frightened in my life," thought the girl, as she +arranged the small school for the day. "But the only way to manage these +little devils is to bluff them." + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +A group composed principally of cowboys, squaw-men, and breeds squatted +and lounged outside of Joe Harris' house. Numerous tousley-headed boys, +with worn overalls and bare feet, played noisily on the outskirts, dogs +and pigs scurried about everywhere, while in the doorway of the dingy, +dirt-covered kitchen in the rear hovered a couple of Indian women and +several small dark-skinned children. Somewhere out of sight, probably +over the cook-stove, were two or three nearly grown girls. Such, at +supper time, was the usual aspect of Joe Harris' cabins, varied +occasionally by more or less Indians, whose tepees stood at one side, or +more or less dogs, but always the same extraordinary amount of squealing +pigs and children. + +The huge figure of Joe Harris, squaw-man, cattle-man, and general +progressive-man, was prominent in the center of the group. He was by all +odds the greatest and most feared man in that portion of the country. +His judgment as well as his friendship was sought after by all the small +ranchers about, and also, it was rumored, by a certain class of cattle +owners commonly called rustlers. To be Joe Harris' friend meant safety, +if nothing more; to be his enemy meant, sooner or later, a search for a +new country, or utter ruination. He brought with him, years before from +the north, a weird record, no tangible tale of which got about, but the +mysterious rumor, combined with the man's striking personality, his huge +form, bearded face, piercing blue eyes, and great voice, all combined to +make people afraid of him. He was considered a dangerous man. At this +date he possessed one thousand head of good cattle, a squaw, and fifteen +strong, husky children, and, being a drinking man, possessed also an +erratic disposition. He was very deferential to his Indian wife, a good +woman, but he ruled his offspring with a rod of iron. His children +feared him. Some of them possessed his nature to such a marked degree +that they hated him more than they feared him, which is saying +considerable. Even as they played about the group of men they watched +him closely, as they had learned by instinct at their mother's breast. + +In the midst of loud talk from the assorted group, a tiny girl, the +great man's favorite child, was sent out from the kitchen to tell them +that supper was ready. The little thing pulled timidly at the large +man's coat. He stooped and picked her up in his arms, leading the hungry +throng into the house, where a rude supper was eaten in almost absolute +silence. Occasionally a pig would venture into the room, to be +immediately kicked out by the man who sat nearest the door. Then the +children that played about the house would chase the offending animal +with sticks and shrill cries. + +In a room adjoining this one a girl sat alone in dejected attitude, her +face buried between two very brown hands. As the men tramped into the +house she rose from the trunk upon which she had been sitting and +crossed to the farther side of the room. There, with difficulty, she +forced up a small dingy window looking out upon the mountains at the +back of the ranch--a clear view, unobstructed by scurrying dogs, pigs, +or children. She leaned far out, drawing in deep, sweet breaths, and +wondering if she would follow the impulse to climb out and run to the +top of the nearest hill. She thought not, then fell again to wondering +how she should ever accustom herself to this place, these new +surroundings. She heard the men tramp out of the house, followed soon by +a timid rap upon her door, then moved quickly across the room, an odd +contrast to her rude surroundings. + +"You can have supper now," said a tall girl in a timid voice. "The men +are through. We ain't got much, Miss Hathaway." + +"A little is enough for me," said the girl, smiling. "Don't call me +_Miss_, please. It doesn't seem just right--_here_. Call me Hope. It +will make me feel more at home, you know. You're _Mary_, aren't you? +_You_ haven't been to supper, have you?" + +"Mother said you were to eat alone," answered the breed girl. + +"Oh, no, surely I may eat with you girls! I'd much prefer it. You know +it would be lonely all by myself, don't you think so?" + +"We ain't going to eat just yet, not till after the boys get theirs," +said the Harris girl a trifle less timidly. + +"Then I will wait, too," Hope decided. "Come in, Mary, and stay till I +unpack some of these things. Just a few waists and extra riding skirts. +I suppose I am to hang them up here on these nails, am I not?" When she +had finished unpacking she turned to the breed girl, who had become +quite friendly and was watching her interestedly, and explained: "Just a +few things that I thought would be suitable to wear up here, for +teaching; but, do you know, I'd feel lots better if I had a dress like +yours--a calico one. But I have this--this old buck-skin one. See, it +has bead-work on it. Isn't it pretty?" + +"Oh!" exclaimed the girl, as Hope held it up for inspection. "_Isn't_ it +lovely!" + +"Very old and dingy-looking, but I'll put it on and wear it," she +decided. + +A few minutes later, when they had arranged the small, barren room +somewhat more comfortably, Hope Hathaway, attired in her dress of Indian +make, joined the Harris girls at their frugal meal. Her dark hair was +parted in the center and hung in two long braids down her back. That, +combined with the beaded dress, fringed properly, her black eyes, and +quiet expressionless face, made a very picturesque representation of an +Indian girl. Truly she was one of them. The breed girls must have +thought something of the same, for they became at their ease, talking +very much as girls talk the world over. There were three of them between +the ages of fourteen and eighteen, and Hope soon found herself well +entertained and almost contented. The loneliness soon wore away, and +before realizing it she began to feel at home--almost one of them, true +to her spirit of adaptability. But yet for her supper she ate only two +hard boiled eggs. + +After the meal the breed girls walked with her down to the spring-house +where the milk and butter was kept. From underneath the small log +building a large spring crept lazily out, spreading itself as it went +into a miniature lake which lay between the house buildings and the +stables. It was the only thing on the ranch worthy of notice, and, in a +country barren of water excepting in the form of narrow winding creeks, +it was pleasing to the eye. + +The men and boys had disappeared, the younger children were with their +mother, and even the pigs had drowsily gone to their sleeping quarters. +The place seemed strangely quiet after its recent noise and commotion. + +Finally the girls returned to the house to help with the small children, +while in the deepening twilight Hope remained alone beside the lake. The +water into which she looked and dreamed was shallow, but the deepening +shadows concealed that fact. To her fancy it might have been bottomless. +Someone rode up on horseback, but she paid no attention until a +pleasant voice close beside her startled her from her reverie. + +"Can I trouble you for a drink of that water, please? I have often +wished for one as I rode past; it looks so clear and cold." She bowed +her head in assent, and, bringing a cup from the spring-house, stooped +and filled it for him. He thanked her and drank the water eagerly. + +"It is good, just as I thought, and cold as ice," he said; then, +noticing the girl more closely, continued: "I have been talking with +your father over there at the corral, and am returning home." + +"With my _father_," emphasized the girl. The young man noted with +wonderment the richness of her voice, the soft, alluring grace of every +movement. Someone had jokingly told him before he left his old-country +home that he would bring back an Indian wife, as one of historical fame +had done centuries before. He laughed heartily at the time--he smiled +now, but thought of it. He thought of it again many times that evening +and cursed himself for such folly. Perhaps there was Indian medicine in +the cup she gave him, or perhaps he looked an instant too long into +those dark, unfathomable eyes. He found himself explaining: + +"Yes; your father has agreed to sell me that team I have been wanting. I +am coming back for the horses to-morrow." + +"My _father_," she began again. "Oh, yes, of course. I thought----Would +you like another drink of the water?" + +"Yes, if you please." It seemed good to stand there in the growing +darkness, and another drink would give him fully a minute. He watched +her supple figure as she stooped to refill the tin cup. What perfect +physiques some of these Indian girls possessed! He did not wonder so +much now that some men forgot their families and names for these +dark-skinned women. + +"I am coming to-morrow for the horses--in the morning," he repeated +foolishly, returning the cup. She did not speak again, so bidding her a +courteous good-night he mounted his horse and rode slowly into the +gathering dusk. + +Hope stood there for a moment, returning to her study of the water; then +two of the breed girls came toward her. One of them was giggling +audibly. + +"We heard him," said Mary. "He thought you was one of us. It'll be fun +to fool him. He's new out here, and don't know much, anyhow. He's Edward +Livingston, an Englishman, an' has got a sheep ranch about three miles +over there." + +"A _sheep-man_!" exclaimed Hope, "Isn't that too bad!" + +"You hate sheep-men, too?" asked the older girl. + +"No, I don't know that I _hate_ them, but there's a feeling--a sort of +something one can't get over, something that grows in the air if you're +raised among cattle. I despise sheep, detest them. They spoil our cattle +range." Then after a short pause: "It's too bad he isn't a cattle-man!" + +"That's what I think," said Mary, "because the men are all gettin' down +on him. He runs his sheep all over their range, an' they're makin' a big +talk." + +"You shouldn't tell things, Mary, they're only talkin', anyway," +reproved the older girl. + +"_Talkin'!_ Well, I should say so, an' you bet they mean business! But +Miss Hathaway--Hope--don't care, an' I don't care neither, if he gets +into a scrape; only he's got such a nice, pleasant face, an' he ain't on +to the ways out here yet, neither--an' I don't care _what_ the men say! +Tain't as if he meant anything through real meanness." + +"That's so," replied the older girl, "but maybe she don't want to hear +such talk. It's bedtime, anyway; let's go in." + +"Yes, I'm tired," said Hope wearily, adding as she bade Mary good-night +at her door: "I do hope he won't get into any trouble." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +The three months' school had begun in earnest. Each day Hope found new +interest in her small class and in her surroundings. She readily learned +to dispense with all the comforts and luxuries to which she had been +born, substituting instead a rare sense of independence, an expansion of +her naturally wild spirit. She dispensed also with conventionalities, +except such as were ingrained with her nature, yet she was far from +happy in the squaw-man's family. She could have ridden home in a few +hours, but remembered too keenly her mother's anger and her father's +parting words. He said to her: + +"You have hurt your mother and spoiled her summer by the stand you have +taken. You are leaving here against my wishes and against your own +judgment. The only thing I've got to say is this: don't come back here +till you've finished your contract up there, till you've kept your word +to the letter. No one of my blood is going back on their word. A few +rough knocks will do you good." + +He probably discovered in a very few hours how much he loved his girl, +how she had grown into his life, for the next day after she had left he +drove to the distant town and hunted up his wife's nephew, who had +caused all this trouble. + +"You deserve another thrashing," he said when he had found him, "but now +you've got to turn to and do what you can to bring things back to where +they were. Hope's left home and 's gone to teaching school up in the +mountains at Harris'. Now, what in thunder am I going to do about it? +She can't live there with those breeds. Lord, I slept there once and the +fleas nearly ate me up!" + +The boy's face turned a trifle pale. "I'm sorry, uncle, about this. I +never thought she would do such a thing, on my account--not after I +left. And she's gone to Joe Harris' place! I know all about that, a +regular nest of low breeds and rustlers. She can't stay there!" + +"But she will, just the same," announced the man, "because when she told +me that she'd promised Harris, and that she was going, anyway, I told +her to go and take her medicine till the school term was ended." + +"But surely you won't allow her to stay, to _live_ at Joe Harris'! There +are other people up there, white people, with whom she could live. Why, +uncle, you can't allow her to stay there!" + +"Why not? She's made her nest, let her lie in it for awhile--fleas and +all. It won't hurt her any. But I'm going to keep a close eye on her +just the same. I couldn't go up there myself on account of your aunt's +being here, but I was thinking about it all last night, and I finally +concluded to send a bunch of cattle up there, beef cattle, and hold 'em +for shipment. Now I came here to town to tell you that your aunt wants +you to come back to the ranch, but you're not going to come back, see? +You're going up there and hold those cattle for a spell, and keep your +eye on my girl. I don't give a damn about the steers--it's the girl; but +you've got to have an excuse for being there. Your aunt's got to have an +excuse, too. These cattle--there's two hundred head of 'em--they're +_yours_--see? I'll have 'em all vented to-morrow, for in case Hope +thought they wasn't yours she might catch on. You can ship 'em in the +fall for your trouble. She won't think anything of you holding cattle up +there, because the range is so good. So you look out for her, see how +she is every day, and send me word by McCullen, who I'll send along with +you. You can take a cook and another man if you need one. And now don't +let her catch on that I had a hand in this! Seen anything of them blame +New Yorkers yet?" Young Carter shook his head absent-mindedly. He was +filled with delight at this clever scheme of his uncle's. "No? Well, +mebbe there's a telegram. Your aunt expected me to take them back to the +ranch to-morrow. Never mind thanking me for the cattle. You do your part +to the letter. Send me word every day and don't forget. And another +thing, just quit your thinking about marrying that girl, and keep your +hands off of her! Remember she's in a wild country up there, among tough +customers, and she probably knows it by now, and the _chances are_ she's +got a gun buckled onto her!" + +He was right. Hope found herself among too many rough characters to feel +safe without a gun concealed beneath her blouse or jacket, yet rough as +the men were, they treated this quiet-faced girl with the utmost +respect, perhaps fearing her. Her reputation as a phenomenal shot was +not far-fetched, and had reached the remotest corners of the country. +She had played with a gun as a baby, had been allowed to use one when a +wee child, and had grown up with the passion for firearms strong within +her. Shooting was a gift with her, perfected by daily practice. In one +of her rooms at the ranch the girl had such a collection of firearms as +would have filled the heart of many an old connoisseur with longing. It +was her one passion, perhaps not a more expensive one than most women +possess; yet, for a girl, unique. Her father gratified her in this, just +as other fathers gratify their girls in their desire for music, art, +fine clothes, or all, as the case may be. But the things that most girls +love so well had small place in the life of Hope Hathaway. She cared +little for music, and less for fine clothes. Society she detested, +declaring that a full season in New York would kill her. Perhaps if she +had not been filled with the determination to stay away from it, its +excitement might finally have won her; but she was of the West. Its +vastness filled her with a love that was part of her nature. Its +boundless prairies, its freedom, were greater than all civilization had +to offer her. + +She brought with her to the mountains a long-distance rifle and a brace +of six-shooters. A shotgun she seldom used, for the reason that to her +quick, accurate eye a rifle did better, more varied work, and answered +every purpose of a shotgun. It was said that each bird she marked on the +wing dropped at her feet in two pieces, its head severed smoothly. This +may not have been true always, but the fact remains that the birds +dropped when she touched the trigger. + +She was an odd character for a girl, reserved and quiet even with her +most intimate friends, rough and impulsive as a boy sometimes, in speech +and actions, again as dignified as the proudest queen. Her friends never +knew how to take her, because they never understood her. She left, so +far along her trail in life, nothing but shattered ideals and delusions, +but she had not become cynical or embittered, only wiser. After her +first week's stay at Harris' she began to realize that perhaps she had +always expected too much of people. Here were people of whom she had +expected nothing opening up new side lights on life that she had never +thought to explore. Life seemed full of possibilities to her now, at +least, immediate possibilities. + +She had not met again the courteous, smooth-faced young man who had +mistaken her for an Indian girl, though he had come the next morning for +the horses, and had ridden past the ranch more than once. Yet she had +not forgotten the incident, or what the Harris girls had told her, for +daily as she passed the group of loungers on her return from school she +heard his name gruffly spoken, intermixed with oaths. They certainly +meant mischief, and she was curious to know what it was. + +The first school week had ended. On Friday night she wondered how she +could manage to exist through Saturday and Sunday, but Saturday morning +found her in the saddle, accompanied by the three largest Harris boys, +en route for the highest peaks of the mountains. + +"This is something like living," she exclaimed, pulling in her horse +after the first few miles. "How pretty all of this is! What people call +scenery, I suppose. But give me the prairie, smooth and level as far as +the eye can reach! There's nothing like it in all the world! The open +prairie, a cool, spring day like this, and a horse that will go till +it's ready to fall dead--that is life! Who is it that lives over there?" +she asked, pointing toward some ranch buildings, nestled in a low, green +valley. + +"That's the Englishman's place," answered the soft-voiced twin. + +"Sheep-man," explained Dave disgustedly. "See them sheds?" + +"Oh, the new man by the name of Livingston. Do you boys know him?" asked +the girl curiously. + +"Nope! Don't want to, neither. Seen him lots of times, though," answered +Dave. + +"He's come in here without bein' asked, an' thinks he can run the whole +country," explained the soft-voiced twin. + +"Is he trying to run the whole country?" asked Hope. + +"Well, he's runnin' his sheep over everybody's range, an' they ain't +goin' to stand for it," replied the boy. + +"But what can they do about it? Have they asked him to move his sheep?" + +"No. What's the use after they've been over the range--spoiled it, +anyhow. No, you bet they ain't goin' to ask him nothing!" + +The girl thought for a moment, absently pulling the "witches' knots" +from her horse's mane, while it climbed a hill at a swinging gait, then +continued as though talking to herself: + +"Once upon a time a young man took what money he had in the world, and +going into a far-away, wild country started in business for himself. He +had heard, probably, that there was more money in sheep than in cattle. +A great many people do hear that, so he bought sheep, thinking, perhaps, +to make a pile of money in a few years, and then go back to his home and +marry some nice, good girl of his choice. It takes money to get married +and make a home, and to do mostly anything, they say, and so this young +man bought sheep, for no one goes into the sheep business or any other +kind of business unless they want to make money. They don't generally do +it for fun. And, of course, he thought, as they all do, to get rich +immediately. He made a great mistake in the beginning, being extremely +ignorant. He brought his sheep to a cattle country, where there were no +other sheep near his own. All the men around him hated sheep, as men +who own cattle always do, and hating the sheep, they thought they hated +the sheep-man also, who really was a very harmless young man, and +wouldn't have offended them for anything. But these men's dislike for +the sheep grew daily, and so their fancied dislike for the young man +grew in proportion. + +"The men in the country would meet together in little groups, and every +day some man would have some new grievance to tell the others. It +finally got on their brains, until all they could think or talk about +was this new man and his sheep. The more they thought and talked, the +more angry they became, until finally they forgot that he was another +man like themselves--in all likelihood a good, honest man, who would not +have done them wrong knowingly. They forgot a great many things, and all +they could think about night or day was how they could do something to +injure his business or himself. They got so after awhile that they +talked only in low whispers about him, taking great pains that their +families, children, and even their big _boys_, should not know their +plans. They made a great mistake in not taking their boys into their +confidence, because _boys_ are very often more reliable than men, and +can always keep a secret a whole lot better. But perhaps the fathers +knew that the boys had very good sense and would not go into anything +like that without a better reason than they had, which was no reason at +all. + +"I never heard just what they planned to do to this newcomer to get rid +of him and his sheep, but I know how it had to end." She looked up, +searching each boy's intent, astonished face. + +"Say, what're you drivin' at, anyway? You can't fool me--it's _him_!" +exclaimed Dave, pointing toward the sheep-ranch. "You're makin' up a +story about him!" + +"How'd you know all that?" asked the quicker, soft-voiced twin. + +"Know all that. Why, how did you boys know all that? I suppose that I +have ears, too--and I've heard of such things before," she replied. + +"But you don't know how the end'll be. That's one thing you don't know," +declared the soft-voiced twin. "You can't know that." + +"She might be a fortune-teller like grandmother White Blanket," laughed +the other. + +"Is that old squaw in the farthest tepee from the house your own +grandmother?" asked the girl. + +"Yep, an' she ain't no squaw, either! She's a French half-breed," he +said, with an unconscious proud uplifting of the shoulders. + +Hope laughed slightly. "What's the other half?" she asked. The boy gave +her a look of deep commiseration. + +"I thought you had more learnin' than that! Why, the other half's white, +of course." + +"I beg your pardon!" gasped the girl. "My education along those lines +must have been somewhat neglected. I had an idea that those were Indians +camped down at your place. But French half-breeds,--a mixture of _white_ +and _French_,--that's a different matter!" She stopped her horse and +laughed with the immoderation of a boy. "That is rich," she cried. "If +ever I go to New York again I shall spring that on the Prince. '_Mon +Dieu!_' he will exclaim. 'What then are we, Mademoiselle, _we_, the +_aristocracy_--the great nation of the _French_?'" Her face sobered. +"But this is not the question. _I_ do know how this will end, and I am +not a fortune-teller, either. I know that the ones who are in the wrong +about this matter will get the worst of it. Sometimes it means states +prison, sometimes death--at all events, something not expected. I tell +you, boys, I wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of this for anything! +And do you know, I am real glad that your father doesn't need your help. +We will take a little side of our own and watch things--what do you say? +It will be lots of fun, and we'll know all the time that we are in the +right, and maybe we can prevent them from doing any real wrong to +themselves." She watched them closely to see how they accepted the +suggestion. Her inspiration might be considered a reckless one, but +their young minds lent themselves readily to her influence. + +"The old man licked me this mornin'," growled Dave. "An' he can go +straight to the hot place now, for all o' me! I'm goin' off on the +round-up, anyway, next year." + +"You boys know, don't you, that if your father ever found out that _I_ +knew anything about this thing, he would probably give me a licking, +too--and send me out of the country?" This for effect. + +"I'd like to see him lay hands on you," roared Dave. "I'd fill him so +full of lead that--that----" + +Words failed him. + +"I'd kill him if he did, Miss Hathaway," exclaimed the small boy, Ned, +with quiet assurance that brought a hint of laughter to the girl's face. +The soft-voiced twin rode up very close to her. + +"He ain't goin' to find it out, an' don't you worry; we'll all stand by +you while there's one of us left!" + +"All right, boys, we're comrades now. I'll tell you what we'll do; we'll +form a band--brigade--all by ourselves. I am commanding officer and you +are my faithful scouts. How's that?" Hope's fancy was leading her away. +"Come on," she cried, "let's race this flat!" + +The self-appointed commanding officer reached the smooth valley far in +advance of her faithful scouts, who yelled in true Indian fashion as +they rode up with her. + +"I'll run you a mile an' beat you all hollow," declared Dave. "But on a +two hundred yard stretch like this here place my horse don't have no +chance to get started." + +"I'll bet my quirt against yourn that you lose," said the soft-voiced +twin. + +"Keep your quirt! I don't want it, nohow. One's enough fur me. But I +_can_ beat her just the same!" Dave was stubbornly positive. + +"You'll have to ride my horse if you do beat her," continued the +soft-voiced twin. Dave grew furious. + +"Now, see here, that raw-boned, loose-jointed, watch-eyed cayuse o' +yourn couldn't run a good half mile without fallin' dead in his tracks! +What'er you a-givin' me, anyhow?" At that instant his attention was +fortunately taken. "Where'd all them cattle come from?" he exclaimed. + +They had turned up a narrow gulch, the youngest boy and Hope taking the +lead, and had traveled it for perhaps fifty yards when they found +themselves at a stand-still before a drove of cattle that were making +their way slowly down the narrow trail. + +"We won't go back," called the girl. "Come on up here and wait till they +pass." And followed by the boys she guided her horse up the steep, rocky +side of a high bank, and waited while the cattle came slowly on. They +counted them as they passed in twos and threes down the narrow valley. +When nearly two hundred had gone by a rider came in sight around the +bend of the hill. Hope's horse whinnied, and the man's answered back, +then the girl gave a scream of delight, and, unmindful of the rocky +bank, or of the appearance of two other riders, rushed down, nearly +unseating the old cow-puncher in her demonstrations of welcome. + +"_Jim! Dear old Jim! Where_ did you come from? I am so glad to see you! +Why, Jim, I'd rather see you than anyone in the world! How glad I am! +Boys," she called, "come down here. This is Jim, my dear old father +Jim!" Old Jim McCullen's eyes were dimmed with tears as he looked from +the girl's happy, flushed face to the last of the cattle that were going +out of sight around the bend of the gulch. "Where did you come from, +Jim, and what brings you up here? Whose cattle? Why, they're ours, and +rebranded! What are you doing with them?" Just then the two riders, whom +in her excitement she had failed to notice, rode up. "Why, Syd, hello," +she said. "And you're here, too! I thought Jim was alone." + +She changed instantly from her glad excitement, speaking with the +careless abruptness of a boy. Her cousin rode alongside. She gave one +glance at his companion, then wheeled her horse about and stationed +herself a short distance away beside the breed boys. + +"This is a happy surprise, Hope," exclaimed her cousin. "What are you +doing up here so far away from home?" She regarded him a trifle more +friendly. + +"Is it possible you don't know? Didn't you tell him, Jim, that I had +gone away? Oh, I forgot, you weren't at the ranch when I left, so you +couldn't tell him. Well, I am here, as you can see, Sydney--partly +because I wanted a change, partly because they wanted a school-teacher +up here. I am staying at Joe Harris'. What are you doing here with those +cattle?" + +"Oh, thought I'd go to work for a change. Just some cattle that I bought +to hold for fall shipment." He turned to the man at his side, +apologizing, then proceeded to introduce him to his cousin. The girl cut +it short by a peculiar brief nod. + +"Oh, I've met Mr. Livingston before!" + +"Indeed?" said Carter in surprise, looking from one to the other. + +"At Harris'" explained the sheep-man. "She gave me one of the sweetest, +most refreshing drinks of water it has ever been my privilege to enjoy." +He spoke easily, yet was much perturbed. Here was his shy Indian maid, +a remarkably prepossessed, up-to-date young woman. It took a little time +to get it straightened out in his mind. + +"Of course I might have known that you two would have met. There are so +few people here." Carter tried to speak indifferently. + +"Well, good-by," said the girl, moving away. + +"Don't be in a hurry! Where are you going, Hope?" called her cousin. + +"Sorry, but can't wait any longer. We're off for a day's exploring. +Good-by." + +"I'll see you this evening. We're going to camp near Harris'," said +Carter. + +"No, not this evening," she called back to him as she rode on up the +gulch. "I won't be back till late, and then I'll be too tired to see +anyone. Good-by, Jim--I'll see _you_ to-morrow." Old Jim watched her +until she was lost to sight in the turn of the gulch. Livingston also +watched her until she was out of sight. She rode astride, wearing a neat +divided skirt, and sat her horse with all the ease and perfection of a +young cowboy. Old Jim McCullen went on in trail of the cattle, while +young Carter and Livingston followed leisurely. + +"Rather a cool greeting from a girl one expects to marry," said Carter, +under his breath. + +"Is it possible--your fiancée!" Livingston's face became thoughtful. +"You are to be congratulated," he said. + +Carter laughed nervously. "I can scarcely say she is _that_, yet--but it +is her mother's wish. We have grown up together. Miss Hathaway is my +cousin, my second cousin. I can see no reason why we will not be +married--some time." + +"_Miss Hathaway_," mused his companion. "And you love her?" he asked +quietly. + +"Certainly," answered Carter, wondering at the other's abrupt way of +speaking. + +"And may I ask if she loves you?" The sheep-man's tone was quiet and +friendly. Carter wished that it might have been insolent. As it was he +could only laugh uneasily. + +"It would seem not," he answered. "To-day she is like an +icicle--to-morrow she will be a most devoted girl. That is Hope--as +changeable as the wind. One never knows what to expect. One day +loving--the next, cold and indifferent. But then, you see, I am used to +her little ways." + +"I wish you all the happiness you deserve, Mr. Carter," said Livingston +a little later, as he rode off, taking a short cut to his ranch. + +"_Hope_--_Hope Hathaway_; Carter's cousin. What an idiot I've been to +think of her as an Indian girl! An odd name--Hope. _Hope Hath a way_," +he mused as he rode homeward. "If only I had the right to hope!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +"I wish there was a shorter cut to get home," said the girl wearily. +"I'm just about tired. Climbing mountains is a little out of my line. I +wonder how long it will take to get used to it." + +"There is a shorter way, Miss Hathaway," said one of the breed boys. +"It's through that sheep-ranch there. We always used to go that way +before they fenced it in, but there's gates to it if we can find 'em." + +"Let's go through that way, then, if it's shorter. Of course it is +shorter--I can see that, and we'll trust to luck to be able to see the +gates. I suppose they're wire gates." + +"Yes, just regular wire gates, an' it's gettin' dark pretty blame fast, +but mebbe we can find 'em all right." + +So they followed the fence, searching in the dim light for the almost +invisible gate--the girl who had that day appointed herself commanding +officer and her three brave scouts. + +Alongside the wire fence they followed a narrow cow-trail for nearly a +quarter of a mile, then the path disappeared inside the field, and the +side-hills along which they were obliged to travel were rough and +dangerous. It was late, and darkness settled down around them, cutting +from their vision everything but a small line of fence and the nearby +hills. + +They made slow headway over the rocky banks. Hope, tired with the day's +exploring and hungry after her long ride and the somewhat slender diet +of the past week, was sorry they had not gone the road, which, though +longer, would not have taken such a length of time to travel. The boys +were good scouts, yet it became evident that they had never followed the +new line of fence before. Their horses slipped upon the sides of steep +inclines which became more rocky and dangerous as they proceeded. +Darkness increased rapidly. One horse in the rear fell down, but the +rider was upon his feet in an instant; then they dismounted and led +their horses, traveling along very slowly in Indian file. Some time +later they found the wire gate, much to the girl's relief. It was then +quite dark. The moon had risen, but showed itself fitfully behind black, +stormy looking clouds. Without difficulty they discovered a trail +leading somewhere, and followed it until they rounded a point from which +they could see the light in the sheep-man's house. + +"Why, we're almost up to his _house_!" exclaimed Hope. "This isn't the +way. We don't want to go there!" + +"I reckon we'll have to get pretty close up to it to find the road that +goes to the other gate," said the soft-voiced twin. + +"How foolish we've been," sighed the girl. + +"Yep, a pack o' idiots," agreed Dave. + +"But it's too dark for anyone to see us--or notice us," she said with +relief. "I think we might go right up to the house and look through the +windows without anyone seeing us." + +"Let's do it," suggested Dave. + +"Well I should say not!" exclaimed the girl. "It's the last thing on +earth I would do--_peek_ into anyone's window! I am not so curious to +see the interior of _his_ house--or anyone's else." + +"I'll bet they're just eatin' supper," said Ned hungrily. + +"All the better," replied Hope; "there will be no one around to see us +then. I wonder how much closer we'll have to go?" + +"Not much further," answered the soft-voiced twin wisely. "See, there's +the barns, an' the road ain't a great ways off." He led the way, while +Hope and the boy, Dave, followed close, and the youngest boy trailed +along somewhere in the rear. They passed between the stables and the +house, then, aided by the fitful moon, found the road, along which they +made better time. + +Hope felt a great relief as they began to leave the house in the +distance, though why, she could scarcely have explained. She said to +herself that she was in a hurry to reach home, but as they neared the +huge, flat-roofed sheep-sheds she slowed up her horse, which had gone +on ahead of the others, and glanced back at her approaching scouts. The +twins came up with her, then she stopped and looked behind. + +"Where's Ned?" she asked sharply, a sudden suspicion entering her head. +"What's keeping him?" + +"He went up to the house to see what's goin' on," replied Dave. "I saw +him start for that way." + +"How dared he do it! He will be seen and then what will they think! We +will wait for him here." Then angrily to the boy: "If you knew he was +going to do that Indian trick why didn't you stop him?" + +"I didn't know nothin' till I missed him," replied the boy. + +"No, we didn't know he was goin', but when we saw he was gone for sure +it wouldn't 'a' done no good to 'a' gone after him. Anyway, we wouldn't +'a' left _you_ alone!" The soft-voiced twin was a genius at finding +explanations. He was never at a loss. + +The girl recovered her temper instantly. "You did quite right, my brave +scout," she cried. "I see you have learned the first and greatest +principle of your vocation. _Never desert a lady, no matter what danger +she may be in._ But what a temptation it must have been to you to follow +him and bring him back to me!" There is no doubt but that the sarcasm +was wasted upon the breed boys, who waited stolidly with her near some +sheltering brush for the truant Ned, whose mischievousness had led him +off the trail. + +At last he rode up with them, surprised out of breath to find them there +waiting for him. The girl took him by the sleeve. "You're a bad boy. +Next time ask me when you have an inclination to do anything like that. +Now give an account of yourself. What did you see?" + +"I just wanted to see what they had to eat, so I peeked in," apologized +the youngster. "There was two men eatin' their supper. The boss wasn't +there. I heard old Morris tell another fellow that he was out helpin' +put in the sheep." + +"But here are the sheds, and surely there are no sheep here," she +exclaimed anxiously. + +"They're keepin' 'em in the open corrals down the road a piece," +explained the soft-voiced twin. "They don't keep no sheep here in the +sheds now." + +The commanding officer breathed easier. "That's good; come on then," she +said, riding ahead. They had not proceeded fifty yards when the low +tones of men's voices reached them. Simultaneously they stopped their +horses and listened, but nothing save an indistinct murmur could be +heard. One of the twins slipped from his horse and handed the bridle +reins to the girl, then crept forward. In the darkness she could not +tell which one it was, nor did she care. She was filled with excitement +and the longing for adventure which the time and place aggravated. Had +they not that day formed a band of secrecy--she and her three brave +scouts? It occurred to her that it might be the sheep-man returning with +a herder, but if so he had no right to stand at such a distance and talk +in guarded tones. The very atmosphere of the place felt suspicious. +They drew their horses to one side of the roadway, waiting in absolute +silence for the return of the scout. The voices reached them +occasionally from the opposite side of a clump of brush not a stone's +throw away. + +They waited several minutes, which seemed interminable, then a dark form +appeared and a voice whispered softly: "Somethin's up! Let's get the +horses over by the fence so's they can't hear us." The twin led the way, +taking a wide circuit about the spot from where the sound of voices +came. They reached the fence quickly without noise, securing their +horses behind a screen of scrubby willows. + +"Now, go on," said the girl. "What did you hear?" + +"When I crawled up close I saw two men. One of 'em said, 'Shut up. +You're makin' too much noise! Do you want 'em to hear you up to the +house?' The other said he didn't give a damn, that they might just as +well make a good job of it an' kill off Livingston while they were +getting rid of his sheep. These two fellers have just come over to +guard the road from the house to keep the men there from interferin', +but the mob's down there at the corral waitin' to do the work. I found +that much out an' then I sneaked back. I reckon they're goin' to drive +the sheep over the cut-bank." + +"The devils!" cried Hope, under her breath. "They're going to pile up +the sheep and kill him if he interferes, are they? _We'll show them!_" + +"We can't do anything," said the boy. "There's more'n a dozen men out +there at the corrals, an' it's darker'n pitch." + +"So we'll just have to stand here and see that crime committed!" she +burst out. "No, not on your life! You boys have got to stand by me. +Surely you're just as brave as a girl? We're going over there where we +can see what's going on, and the first man that tries to drive a sheep +out of that corral gets one of these!" She patted the barrel of her +rifle as she pulled it from its saddle case. "Get your guns and come +along." But they were not far behind her in getting their weapons. The +older boys had revolvers, and little Ned was armed with a Winchester +repeating shotgun. + +The twins were never seen without their guns, and had the reputation of +sleeping with them at night. For wildness those two boys were the terror +of the country. Their hearts sang a heathenish song of joy at this new +adventure. Surely they were as brave as a girl! Her taunt rankled some. +They would show her that they were not cowards! She had begun to worry +already! + +"Oh, what if it should be too late! What if we should be too late! Oh, +it can't be! Let's go faster!" she cried. + +The breed boys crept along close to the ground, making altogether much +less noise than the girl, who seemed to think that speed and action were +all that was necessary. + +"Sh! Keep quieter. You musn't let them know anyone's 'round. Those +fellers by the road 're just over there, an' they'll hear us," whispered +Dan. + +Then slower, more stealthily, they crept around the two men who guarded +the road, and with less caution approached the corrals, the girl +meanwhile recovering her composure to a great degree, though her heart +still beat wildly. The night seemed a trifle lighter now to her +straining eyes. What if the moon should come out, revealing them to the +men waiting beyond the corrals? She grasped her rifle firmly, and her +heart beat quicker at the thought. The soft-voiced twin must have felt +the same fear, for he came close and whispered in her ear: "The corrals +ain't more'n a rod, right over there. We'd better make a run for that +bush there on this side of it, for the moon's comin' out--see!" He +pointed upward. A rift had come in the black cloud from which the moon +shone dimly, growing momentarily brighter. Before them the corral loomed +up like a great flat patch of darkness, and to one side of this dark +patch something taller stood in dim relief--a small clump of brush, +toward which the odd little scouting party ran in all haste. Safe within +its shelter, a fierce joy, savage in its intensity, filled the girl. + +"Come on, Moon, come on in all your glory!" she whispered; then, as if +in answer to her command, it came in full splendor from behind its veil +of black. It might have been a signal. Back in the hills a coyote called +weirdly to its mate, but before the last wailing note had died away a +sharp report sounded on the still air, followed by the groans of a man +in mortal agony. Hope, upon her knees in the brush, clasped her hands to +her throat to stifle a cry. + +"Now drive his damn'd sheep into the gulch!" commanded a gruff voice. + +Following the pain, a fierce light came into the girl's eyes. Over +tightly closed teeth her lips parted dryly. Instinctively the breed boys +crept behind her, leaving her upon one knee before the heap of brush. A +man leaped into the corral among the stupid sheep, and as he leaped a +bullet passed through his hand. + +"God, I'm killed!" he cried, as he sank limply out of sight among the +sheep. For a few moments not a sound came except the occasional bleating +of a lamb, then the gate of the corral, which was ajar, opened as by +some invisible hand, and the great body of animals crowded slowly toward +the entrance. + +"They think there's only one man here, and they're not going to be +bluffed by one," whispered Hope. "See, they must be coaxing the leaders +with hay, and there's something going on back there that will make them +stampede in a moment, and then the cut-bank! But we'll bluff them; make +them think there's a whole regiment here. There's four of us. Now get +your guns ready. Good; now when I start, all of you shoot at once as +fast as you can load. Aim high in that direction. Shoot in the air, not +_anywhere_ else. Now do as I tell you. Now, all together!" For two or +three minutes those four guns made music. The hills gathered up the +noise and flung it back, making the air ring with a deafening sound. +"Shoot up! Shoot higher, or you'll be hitting someone," she admonished, +as dark forms began to rise from the ground beyond the corral and run +away. + +"They're crawling away like whipped dogs," exclaimed a twin in glee. +"I'd like to shoot one for luck!" + +"Shame on you," cried the girl softly. "That would be downright murder +while they're running." + +"I reckon there's been murder already to-night," said the soft-voiced +twin. Hope turned upon him fiercely: "That wasn't murder! I shot him +through the hand. Murder? Do you call it murder to kill one of those +beasts? You mean--you mean that they killed _him_! I forgot for a +minute! Oh, it couldn't be that they killed _him_--Mr. Livingston! Are +you sure he wasn't up at the house, Ned? I must find out." She started +toward the corral. Dave pulled her back roughly. + +"See there! Those fellers that was on guard down there 're comin' back. +They must have left their horses down by that rock. They'll ketch us +sure!" She drew back into the brush again, waiting until the two men, +whose voices first brought suspicion to their minds, had passed by, +skirting the corral in diplomatic manner. + +Hope, who had been so eager to search the scene of bloodshed, crept from +the brush and took the opposite direction, followed closely by the breed +boys. When they reached their horses she spoke: + +"Now you boys go home. Go in from the back coulee and sneak into bed. +Don't let anyone see you, whatever you do, for if this was ever found +out----" She waited for their imaginations to finish the sentence. + +"We can sneak in all right," exclaimed Dave. "We know how to do that! +They'll never find it out in ten years!" + +"Then go at once. Ride fast by the Spring coulee and get there ahead of +the men--if there should be any that belong there. I will come later. If +they ask, say that I'm in bed, or taking a walk, or anything that comes +into your head. But you won't be questioned. You mustn't be! Now hurry +up!" + +"But why won't you come along with us?" asked Dave. + +"Because if we should be caught together they would know who did the +shooting. If they see you alone they will not suspect you, and if they +see me alone they will never think of such a thing. It is the wisest +way, besides I have other reasons. Now don't stand there all night +talking to me, but go, unless you want to make trouble." She watched +them until they were lost to sight, then mounted her horse and rode back +over the road that she had come, straight up to the sheep-man's house. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +It was fully half a mile to Livingston's house. The trail showed plainly +in the moonlight, winding in ghostly fashion through thick underbrush, +and crossed in several places by a small mountain stream through which +the horse plunged, splashing the girl plentifully. She had an impression +that she ought to go back to the corral and discover just what mischief +had been done, but shivered at the thought of hunting for dead men in +the darkness. A feeling of weird uneasiness crept over her. She wished +that she had brought the breed boys with her, though realizing that the +proper thing had been done in sending them home in order that their +secret might be safe, and so prevent more evil. She knew that she would +find men at the house who could take lanterns and go to the scene of +the trouble. The past half hour seemed remote and unreal, yet the +picture of it passed through her brain again and again before she +reached the house. She could hear the first shot, so startling and +unexpected, and the man's terrible groans rang in her ears until she +cried out as if to drive them from her. Was he dead? she wondered. +Perhaps he lay there wounded and helpless! Was it Livingston? If it +should be! She thought that she should be there, groping over the bloody +ground for him. She shook as with a chill. How helpless she was, after +all--a veritable coward, for she must go on to the house for assistance! + +She slipped from her horse at some distance, and walked toward the ray +of light that came from a side window. Her knees were weak, she felt +faint and wearied. At the house her courage failed, she sank limply +beside the window, and looked into the lighted room beyond. He was not +there! One man was reading a newspaper while another sat on an end of +the table playing a mouth harp. + +In her mind she could see the body of Livingston in the corral, +trampled upon and mangled by a multitude of frightened sheep. She +stifled a cry of horror. Why had she not gone there at once? For no +reason except the hope in her heart that it might not have been him who +had been shot--that she might find him at the house. But he was not +there! Then it must have been he; his groans she had heard--that still +sounded in her ears. He had brown hair that waved softly from a brow +broad and white. His face was boyish and sad in repose. She could see it +now as she had seen it by the spring, and his eyes were gray and tender. +She had noticed them this day. What was she doing there by the window? +Perhaps after all he was not dead, but suffering terribly while she +lingered! + +She rose quickly with new courage. As she turned a hand touched her on +the shoulder, and she fell back weak against the house. + +"I beg your pardon! I did not know--could scarcely believe that it was +you--Miss--Hathaway! Won't you come into the house?" + +"_You!_" she cried as in a dream. "_Where_ have you been?" + +His tone, quiet, polite, hid the surprise that her question caused. + +"I've been back there in the hills hunting chickens. You see I have been +fortunate enough to get some. I followed them a great distance, and +night overtook me up there so suddenly that I've had some difficulty in +finding my way back. Now may I ask to what I owe the honor of +this--visit?" + +All fear and weakness had gone. She stood erect before him, her head +thrown back from her shoulders, her position, as it must appear to him, +driving all else from her mind. + +"In other words, you want to know why I was peeking into your window at +this time of the day!" + +"Just so, if you put it that way. At least I should be pleased to know +the nature of your visit." He threw the prairie chickens down beside the +house, watching meanwhile the girl's erect figure. The soft, quiet +grace he had seen at the spring had given place to something +different--greater. + +"Not a very dignified position in which to be caught--and I do not like +you any better for having caught me so!" she finally flashed back at +him. "I have no apologies to offer you, and wouldn't offer one, +anyway--under the circumstances. I'll tell you what brought me here, +though. While passing by your corral, down the road, I heard a great +commotion, and some shooting, so I came over here to tell you. Perhaps I +was afraid to pass the corral after that." She smiled wickedly, but he, +innocently believing, exclaimed: + +"Why were you alone? Where were the boys that I saw with you this +morning? It isn't right that you should be out alone after night like +this." + +"They went on--ahead of me. I rode slowly," she replied hesitatingly. He +did not notice her nervous manner of speech. + +"They ought to have stayed with you," he declared. "You should never +ride alone, particularly after dark. Don't do it again." + +"But the shooting," she interrupted. "I came to tell you about it. +Someone may have been hurt." + +"It was kind of you to come. There may be trouble of some sort. I heard +shooting, too, but thought it must be down at Harris'. There is very +often a commotion down there, and sometimes the air carries sound very +clearly. You are sure it was at the corrals?" + +She became impatient. "Positively! I not only heard the shots plainly, +but saw men ride away. Please lose no more time, but get your men and a +lantern, and come on. There's evidently been trouble down there, Mr. +Livingston, and your herder may have been hurt. They are not all good +people in these mountains, by any means." + +"Is that so? I had not discovered it. Probably some of them thought they +would like mutton for their Sunday dinner. It seemed to me there was +considerable firing, though. You are perfectly sure it was at the +corrals?" + +"That was my impression, Mr. Livingston," she replied briefly. + +His face suddenly became anxious. "They may have hurt Fritz. If anything +has happened to that boy there will be something to pay! But unless +something occurred to delay the sheep they should have been put in +before dark. I will go at once. Will you come in the house and stay +until my return? It might not be safe for a lady down there." + +"No!" Then, less fiercely: "Have your men bring their guns and hurry up! +I'm going along with you;" adding: "It's on my way back." + +She waited outside while Livingston informed his men, who secured +rifles, and started at once for the corrals; then leading her horse she +walked on ahead with him, followed closely by the two men, who carried +lanterns, which they decided not to light until they reached the sheep. + +Hope never could define her feelings when she found Livingston safe and +unhurt, though she made a careless attempt at doing so that night, and +afterwards. She walked beside him in absolute silence. They were going +to see if the herder had been injured in any way. She knew that he was +not only hurt, but in all likelihood fatally so. His groans rang +continually in her ears, yet it brought her not the least pain, only a +horror, such as she had experienced when it happened. It was a relief to +her that it had not been Livingston. She felt sorry, naturally, that a +man had been shot, but what did it matter to her--one man more or less? +She had never known him. + +When they reached the sheep-corrals the moon still shone brightly, and +Hope was filled with a new fear lest some of the ruffians had remained +behind, and would pick off Livingston. After the lanterns were lighted +she felt still more nervous for his safety, and could not restrain her +foolish concern until she had mounted her horse, and made a complete +circuit of the corrals, riding into every patch of brush about; then +only did this fear, which was such a stranger to her, depart. She rode +in haste back to the corrals, satisfied that the men had all left, +probably badly frightened. + +To one side of the paneled enclosure the men held their lanterns over +an inert figure stretched upon the ground. Livingston was kneeling +beside it. The girl got down from her horse, and came near them. + +"Is he dead?" she asked. + +"_Dead_--yes! The poor boy! May God have mercy on the brute who +committed this crime! It is terrible--_terrible!_ Poor faithful Fritz! +Scarcely more than a boy, yet possessing a man's courage and a man's +heart!" He looked up at the girl's face, and was amazed at her +indifference. Then he spoke to the men: "Go back and get a wagon and my +saddle horse. I will stay here until you return. Leave one of the +lanterns." + +They hurried away, while the man continued to kneel by the side of the +dead herder. Hope watched him, wondering at his depth of feeling. +Finally she asked: "Was he some relative of yours?" + +"No, only one of my herders--Fritz, a bright, good German boy. Why did +you ask, Miss Hathaway?" + +"I thought because you cared so much,--seemed to feel so badly,--that +he must be very near to you." + +"He is near to me," he replied, "only as all children of earth should be +near to one another. Are you not also pained at this sight--this boy, in +the very beginning of his manhood, lying here dead?" + +"Not _pained_--I can't truthfully say that I am pained--or care much in +that way. He is dead, so what is the use of caring or worrying about it. +That cannot bring him back to life again. Of course I would rather he +had lived--that this had never happened, yet I do not feel pain, only an +abhorrence. I couldn't touch him as you are doing, not for anything!" + +"And you are not pained! _You_, a woman with a white soul and a clean +heart--one of God's choicest creations--_you_ stand there without a pang +of sorrow--dry-eyed. Haven't you a heart, girl?" He rose to his feet, +holding up the lantern until it shone squarely in her face. "Look at him +lying there! See the blood upon his clothes--the look on his face! What +he suffered! See what he holds so tightly in his hand,--his last +thought,--a letter from his sweetheart over in Germany, the girl he was +to have married, who is even now on her way to him. He had been reading +her letter all day. It came this morning, and he held it in his hand +planning their future with a happy heart, when some brute sent a bullet +here. If it could have been me, how gladly I would make the exchange, +for I have nothing that this poor boy possessed--mother, sweetheart--no +one. Yet _you_, a girl, can see him so, unmoved! Good God, what are you, +_stone_? See his face, he did not die at once, and suffering, _dying_, +still held that letter. If not his story, then does not his suffering +appeal to you? His dying groans, can you not hear them?" + +"Stop!" she cried, backing away from him until she leaned against her +horse for support. "Stop! How _dare_ you talk like that to me! His +_groans_----" She sobbed wildly, her face buried in her saddle, which +she clutched. + +He came close beside her, touching her lightly, wondering. "I am so +sorry, forgive me! I did not realize what I was doing. I did not wish +to frighten you, believe me!" + +The sobs were hushed instantly. She raised her head, and looked at him, +still dry-eyed. + +"You were right," she said. "I do not even now _feel_ for him--perhaps +some for the little girl now on her way to him; but it is all unreal. I +have seen men dead like this before, and I could not feel anything but +horror--no sorrow. I am as I am. It makes no difference what you +say,--what anyone says,--I cannot change. I am not tender--only please +do not terrify me again!" + +"I was a brute!" he exclaimed, then left her and returned to the dead +man's side. + +The girl stood for some time quietly beside her horse, then began to +loosen the cinch. Livingston watched her wonderingly as she drew out the +blanket, and secured the saddle once more into place. He did not realize +her motive until she stood beside him, holding in her hand the gayly +colored saddle blanket. Kneeling opposite him, beside the body of the +boy, she tenderly lifted the long hair from his forehead, spread over +his face a white handkerchief, then stood up and unfolded the blanket, +covering the rigid form with it. + +"You have a heart!" exclaimed Livingston softly. "You are thinking of +him tenderly, as a sister might, and of his sweetheart coming over the +water to him!" + +"No, not of that at all," said the girl simply, "nor of him, as you +think; but of one who might be lying here in his place--one who has no +sweetheart, near or far away, to cover him with the mantle of her +love." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +She stood up, listening. From the distance came the low rumble of a +wagon. The men were returning. For some time she kept her face from him, +in attitude intent upon the distant rumble. She was thinking hard. She +could not be rude to Livingston, she could not very well explain, yet +she dared not allow him to accompany her back to Harris' ranch. What +should she do? Naturally he would insist, yet how could she tell him +that she feared for his safety? That would sound idiotic without a +complete explanation, for she was almost a total stranger to him. She +was concerned, that was the worst of it; but not without reason. +To-night the men were in a fever of revenge. If he were seen that would +settle it. To-morrow not one of them but would hesitate a long time +before committing such a crime; so, she argued, she had a right to be +concerned. But, after all, how foolish of her! Surely he was not a baby +that he could not protect himself! Did she expect to worry about him +during the whole summer? As she stood there gazing into the darkness, he +watched her, speechless, something that was not sorrow piercing his +heart with a greater pain. In her moment of tenderness she had become to +him a woman divine. He not only loved her, and knew it, but felt the +hopelessness of ever winning her. It was not exactly new, only revealed +to him, for it had come upon him gradually since the evening that she +had given him the water at the spring. He had cursed himself that night +for thinking of an Indian girl, he, a man with a name to sustain--a name +which counted little in this new country of the West. He tried to +imagine her as married to Carter. The thought sickened him. Carter might +be all right,--he had met him when he first came into the country; he +undoubtedly was all right,--but married to this girl! As he thought, +bitterly, forgetting even the dead young German at his feet, Hope was +alternately calling herself a fool and wondering what she could do to +prevent him from taking her home. But her fertile brain could not solve +it. She turned toward him with manner constrained and frigid. It was +shyness, nothing less, yet it affected him unpleasantly. + +"The wagon is coming." Relief sounded in her tone, giving the lie to her +moment of tenderness. "You can hear it quite plainly. These corrals +should not be so far from the house. It must be nearly a mile. I suppose +you've not been in the business very long or you wouldn't have put it +here, on the edge of this cut-bank." + +"You are right, Miss Hathaway, I have not been long in the business nor +in your country. This is quite new to me. Any place seemed good enough +for a corral, to my ignorant mind. Are you interested in the sheep +industry?" He spoke pleasantly. She threw back her head as she always +did when angered or excited. + +"_Interested in the sheep industry?_ Well, I should say not! It never +occurred to me before as an industry, only as a nuisance. I hate sheep. +They ruin our range. One band can eat off miles and miles in a season, +and spoil all the water in the country. I would go miles out of my way +to avoid a band of them." + +He began slowly to comprehend. "Your people have cattle, I understand. +Everyone up here seems to have cattle, too. I have heard that a strong +feeling of antagonism existed between sheep and cattle owners, but +thought nothing about it. I see that the feeling is not confined to the +men only. Does that explain this--outrage here to-night?" + +She shrugged her shoulders slightly and turned away. + +"You can draw your own conclusions. Why do you ask me? I am neither a +cattle-man nor a sheep-man, yet I could advise that you look about the +place and see, if you can, what is meant by it all--what damage has been +done. The wagon is still some distance away." Her shyness was fast +disappearing. The ground she trod now was her own. He smiled down at +her, finding her more natural, more prepossessing in that mood. + +"I should have thought of that myself before this. After what you have +told me of your dislike for the animals, I can hardly ask you to go with +me, but I do not like to leave you here alone in the dark, for I must +take the lantern; however, I can wait until the men get here." + +"You don't need to wait at all," she said quickly. "I'll go with you, +for I am curious to see what has been done--the cause of all this." + +"Then come on," said the man briefly, turning toward the corral. She +kept near him, her eyes following the bright rays of the lantern that +swung in his hand. She feared that the boys had aimed too low, and was +nervously anxious to see just what mischief had been done. Almost +anything, she thought, would have been better than permitting those +thousands of sheep to be piled up at the bottom of the cut-bank and the +brutes of men to ride away satisfied with their dirty work. + +Livingston examined the sheep while Hope, with a glance here and there +about the enclosure, went to one side and looked at the panels +carefully, discovering many bullet holes which told that her brave +scouts, more bloodthirsty than she suspected, had aimed too low. + +"I think this one is dead," said Livingston, dragging out a sheep from +the midst of a number huddled in one corner. "Judging from the blood, I +should say it is shot. A few are piled up over there from fright, but so +many are sleeping that it will be impossible to determine the loss until +morning. The loss is small; probably a hundred piled up and hurt, not +more, from the looks of the band. I heard considerable firing, which +lasted about a minute. I wonder if my friends about here thought they +could kill off a band of sheep so easily." + +Hope had not been searching for sheep, but for dead or wounded men, and +finding none breathed easier. She thought of the man whose hand she had +marked and who fell in such a panic among the sheep. It struck her as +being a very funny incident, and laughed a little. Livingston heard the +laugh and looked around in wonderment. He could see nothing amusing. +This Western girl was totally different from any girl that he had known, +English or American. She must possess a sense of humor out of all +proportion with anything of his conception. He thought a few minutes +before that he loved her, but she seemed far removed now--an absolute +stranger. The boyish laugh annoyed him. His manner as he turned to her +was quite as formally polite as ever her own had been. She resented it, +naturally. + +"Step outside, please, until I drive in the ones near the gate, so that +I may close it." + +Instinctively she obeyed, with a defiant look which was lost in the +dimness of the night, and hurrying past him never stopped until she drew +back with a shudder at the blanket-covered form of the dead herder. A +deep roar of thunder startled her into a half-suppressed scream. In the +lantern's light she had not noticed the steadily increasing darkness, or +the flashes of lightning. She felt herself shaking with a nervous +excitement which was half fear. + +Thunderstorms often made her nervous, yet she would not have +acknowledged that she feared them, or any other thing. But her +nervousness was only the culmination of the night, every moment of which +had been a strain upon her. Another peal of thunder followed the first, +fairly weakening her. She ran to her horse and, mounting, rode up near +the corral. At the same instant the wagon came up, and Livingston, +having placed the panel in position, turned toward it. He was close +beside the girl before he saw her, and she, for an instant at a loss, +sat there speechless; but as he held up the lantern, looking at her by +its light, she blurted out, in a tone that she had little intention of +using: "I'm going. Hope you will get along all right. Good-night." + +"Wait!" he exclaimed. "I will accompany you. My horse is here now. Just +a moment----" + +"You don't need to go with me. Someone is waiting for me down there. I +think I hear a whistle." + +"Then I will go along with you until you meet the person whose whistle +you hear. You do not imagine that I will allow you to go alone?" + +She leaned toward him impulsively, placing her hand down upon his +shoulder. + +"Listen," she said softly, "I heard no whistle. There is no one waiting +for me. A moment ago it seemed easy to lie to you, to make you believe +things that were not absolutely true, but I can't do it now, nor +again--_ever_. You think I am heartless, a creature of stone--indifferent. +It isn't so. My heart has held a little place for aching all these +years. Think of me as half-witted,--idiotic,--but not _that_. Listen to +me. You have such a heart--such _tenderness_--you are good and kind. You +will understand me--or try to, and not be offended. I want to go home by +myself. I _must_ go back _alone_. There is a reason which I will tell +you--sometime. I ask as a favor--as a friend to a friend, that you will +stay behind." + +"But are you not afraid?" + +She interrupted him. "Afraid? Not I! Why, I was born here, and am a part +of it, and it of me! Ask your men there, they know. I want to ride like +the wind--alone--ahead of the storm, to get there soon. I am tired." Her +low, quick speech bewildered him. Her words were too inconsistent, too +hurried, to convey any real meaning. + +"Will you ride with one of my men?" he asked. + +"Oh, why _can't_ you let me do as I wish!" she cried impatiently. "I +want to go alone." + +"It seems quite evident that you do not want _my_ company, but one of +the men must go and take a lantern. It's too dark to see the road." His +tone was decisive. + +She leaned toward him again. This time her words fell harshly. + +"You are a man of your word?" + +"I hope so; but that is not the issue just now." + +"Then promise you will not go with me to-night." + +"No need of that. I have decided to send one of my men--and I think," he +added briefly, "that there is no necessity of prolonging this +conversation. Good-evening." + +"Then you will not come!" she exclaimed, relieved. "And never mind +telling your man, for I shall ride like the wind, and will be halfway +home before he can get on his horse." She turned like a flash. The quick +beats of her horse's hoofs echoed back until the sound was lost in the +distance. + +Livingston stood silent, listening, until he could no longer hear the +dull notes on the dry earth--his thoughts perturbed as the night. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Captain Bill Henry, foreman of the Bar O outfit, and head by choice of +the season's round up, had just ridden into camp. Most of the men were +in the cook-tent when he turned his dripping bay horse in with the +others. Then he picked up his saddle, bridle, and blanket and carried +them up to the cook-tent, where he threw them down, hitting one of the +stake-ropes with such violence as to cause the whole tent to quiver, and +one of the boys inside to mutter under his breath: + +"Lord, the Cap's on the prod! What in the devil's he got in his gizzard +now?" + +"Don't know," answered the second, returning from the stove, where he +had loaded his plate with a wonderful assortment of eatables and seated +himself on a roll of bedding beside the first speaker. "Too bad he +couldn't knock the roof off'n our heads. He's sure enough mad, just +look at him!" he whispered, as Captain Bill Henry stooped his tall, lank +frame to come into the tent. + +The men, sitting about inside, glanced up when he entered. Some of them +grinned, others went on with their supper, but the "Cap" from under his +bushy red eyebrows hardly noticed them as he took the necessary dishes +from the mess-box and strode over to the stove, around which old Evans, +the cook, moved in great concern. + +"Now just try some o' them beans. Regular Boston baked, Cap, they'll +melt in your mouth. An' here's a kidney stew I've been savin' fer you," +taking from the oven a well concealed stew-pan. "If any o' them boys 'ud +a found it they'd made short work of it, I reckon." + +He removed the cover and held the dish under Bill Henry's nose. The +"Cap" gave one sniff. "Phew! Take it away! Don't like the damn'd stuff, +nohow!" + +A dazed look passed over old Evans' face, giving way to one of mortal +injury. Not a man smiled, though several seemed about to collapse with +a sudden spasm which they tried in vain to control. Away went the +contents of the pan, leaving a streak of kidney-stew almost down to the +horse ropes. "If it ain't good enough fer you, it ain't fer me," said +the cook, his bald head thrown well back upon thin shoulders. + +The "Cap" glared at him as he poured out a generous measure of strong +coffee into a large tin cup, then ran his eye about the tent for a +possible seat. + +A quiet-looking fellow, a youth fresh from the East, got up, politely +offering him the case of tomatoes upon which he had been sitting. Bill +Henry refused it with a scowl, taking a seat upon the ground near the +front of the tent, where he crossed his lank legs in front of him. The +cow-puncher sank back upon his case of tomatoes while the "Cap" ate in +great, hungry mouthfuls, soaking his bread in the sloppy beans and +washing it down with frequent noisy sips of hot coffee. Finally he began +to speak, with a full Missouri twang: + +"This beats hell! Not a dang man around this part of the country wants +to throw in with this here outfit. Never saw no such luck! Here we are +with two months' steady work before we make town, an' only ten men to do +the work o' fifteen! I'll hire no more devilish breeds. You can't trust +'em no more'n you can a rattler, no, sir! All of 'em quit last night, +an' Long Bill along with 'em! I'd never thought it o' Bill. Been ridin' +all the evenin' an' couldn't find hair or hide of him. It's enough to +make a man swear a blue streak, yes, sir! Well, I rounded up one breed +limpin' 'round Harris' shack, an' he said his gun went off by accident +an' give him a scratch on the calf o' the leg. Bet ten dollars he's been +in a fight over there! Damn'd nest o' drunken louts! I'll be glad when +we're away from these here parts!" + +At this point one of the cowboys got up, threw his dishes into the pan, +and strode outside. + +"You on night-herd to-night?" asked the Captain. + +"Yep," answered the cow-puncher. "Going to relieve Jack." + +"Tell them other fellers to come along in an' git their chuck; it's +mighty nigh time to turn in now. Got to make Miller's crossing in the +morning." + +"All right," answered the man from outside. Then putting his head back +into the tent, exclaimed in a loud whisper: "Here comes Long Bill!" + +"The devil he is! It's about time," growled Bill Henry. He had no more +than got the words out of his mouth before a man, head and shoulders +above any cow-puncher there, stalked in. + +"Well, Cap, I've come round to git paid off, fer I reckon I'm knocked +out of the ring fer a little spell." He stooped and held down for +inspection a hand bandaged in a much-stained bandanna handkerchief. "One +o' them damn'd dogs o' Harris' run his teeth all the way through it," he +explained. + +The captain grunted, threw his well cleaned plate over into the dish +pan, and rose stiffly to his feet. "What'd you do to the dog?" he +asked. + +"That was his last bite," roared out Long Bill. "I sent him flyin' into +Kingdom Come!" + +"Let's see your hand," demanded his chief; thereupon the tall cowboy +hesitated an instant, then removed the bandage, and, with an air of +bravado, held out his hand for inspection. Some of the men crowded about +curiously, throwing careless jokes of condolement at the sufferer, while +others passed by regardless. + +Captain Bill Henry examined the wounded member carefully, then grunted +again, while his eyelids contracted until only a sparkle of liquid blue +showed beneath his bushy red brows. + +"A mighty bad bite! You'll have a hell of a time with that hand! What +were yo' tryin' to do, anyhow--makin' a mark out o' it? Was you holdin' +your hand up, or down, or what? That _dog_ must 'a' had a pretty good +eye. Do you know what that looks like to me? Well, sir, it looks mighty +like you'd held up your hand to the muzzle of your gun an' pulled the +trigger! Yes, sir, only there ain't no powder marks; so I calculate the +_dog_ must 'a' been some distance away when he took aim! The hole's +clean through, just as slick as any bullet could 'a' made it. That dog +must 'a' had a powerful sharp tooth! Well, you ain't goin' to be able to +handle a rope very soon, dog or no dog, that's plain as the nose on your +face. You'd make a mighty good ornament to have around camp, but I +reckon I'll pay you off." Later: "Know of any men I can git around +here?" + +"Nary one but them breeds over to Harris'," replied Long Bill. "They're +drunker'n lords now, but they'll be wantin' a job in a day or so when +they sober up, an' I'll send 'em 'round here. I'll be huntin' a job +myself in about a month, when this here paw o' mine gits well. It's +mighty painful." + +"You'd better go to town an' see a doctor," drawled the "Cap." "An' +while you're on your way stop at Hathaway's an' give him or Jim McCullen +a letter fer me. I'll have it ready in a minute an' it'll save me +sendin' a man over." + +Without waiting for a reply from the tall cow-puncher, Captain Bill +Henry stalked over to his bed, took from the roll a pad of paper, and +was soon lost in the mysteries of letter-writing. + +He was an awkwardly built man, but his whole appearance gave one the +impression that he meant business--and he was crammed full of it. Seated +astride his tarp-covered bed, with his back to the few straggling +cow-punchers about the tents, he proceeded in a determined, +business-like way to write the letter. Before he had finished the +difficult operation some men rode up to the camp--the men who had been +on herd, hungry for their supper, and two outsiders. + +Around the mess-wagon, which had been backed into the cook-tent in the +usual order, lounged a group of cowboys whose appetites had been +satisfied and whose duties for the time being were over. Two of the men +who had just come up on horseback joined these, while Captain Bill +Henry, without looking around, continued his somewhat difficult task of +composing a letter, which, when accomplished, he folded carefully. + +"Hello! Where did you'ns drop from?" he drawled as he approached the +newcomers. "I was just goin' to send word over to have your wagon join +me at west fork o' Stony Creek. I'm too short o' men to work Stony Creek +country, anyhow. Hathaway's reps all left me awhile back, an' Long Bill, +he's leavin' to-day--got bit by a mad dog over here. Jackson's wagon an' +the U Bar ain't goin' to join me till we git down in the Lonesome +Prairie country, so I was just goin' to send a letter over to your +place, for if he wants a good round-up on this range he'd better send +over that extra wagon o' his'n. You'ns goin' right back?" + +"I'm not," replied Carter. "But McCullen can take word over to the +ranch. He's going the first thing in the morning." + +"Cert. Got to go, anyway, an' I reckon my horse can pack your message to +the boss if it ain't too heavy," said McCullen. + +Old Jim McCullen had been Hathaway's right hand man as long as anyone +could remember. He had put in many years as wagon-boss, and finally +retired from active life to the quieter one at the home-ranch, where he +drew the biggest pay of any man in Hathaway's employ, and practically +managed all the details of the great cattle concern. He saw that the +wagons were properly provisioned, manned, and started out in the spring, +that the men who brought up the trail-herds were paid off; he attended +to the haying, the small irrigating plant that had been started, and to +all the innumerable details that go toward the smooth running of a large +ranch. Now the "boss" had sent him on a mission whose import he +understood perfectly--something altogether out of the line of his usual +duties, but of greater importance than anything he had ever undertaken. +He was going back to the ranch in the morning to tell Hathaway that his +daughter was apparently all right. He and Carter had pitched their tent +not far from where the round-up was camped, and had ridden over for some +beef. One of the men cut them a liberal piece from a yearling that they +had just butchered. Carter tied it upon the back of his saddle and rode +off toward camp, while old Jim McCullen sat down, lighted a cigarette, +and listened to the gossip of the round-up. + +"Right smart lot o' dogs round them breeds down there," remarked Bill +Henry, nodding his head toward Harris' ranch. "Long Bill, here, he's +been unfortunate. Went up there a-courtin' one o' them pretty Harris +girls last eyenin', an' blamed if she didn't go an' sick the dogs on +him!" + +McCullen sized up his bandaged hand. "Mighty bad-lookin' fist there," he +chuckled. "Must 'a' bled some by the looks of that rag. When'd it +happen?" + +"This mornin', just as I was startin' to come over to camp." + +"You don't tell!" condoled the visitor. "That's mighty bad after sitting +up all-night with your best girl!" + +"Long Bill's pretty intent after them breed girls," remarked Captain +Bill Henry; thereupon the cowboy flushed angrily. + +"No breed girls in mine! The new school-marm's more to my likin'," he +boasted. "An' from the sweet looks she give me, I reckon I ain't goin' +to have no trouble there!" + +The next instant Long Bill lay sprawling in the dust, while old Jim +McCullen rained blow after blow upon him. When he finished, Long Bill +remained motionless, the blood streaming from his nose and mouth. Old +Jim straightened up and looked down at the fallen giant with utmost +contempt, then he pulled his disarranged cartridge belt into shape and +glanced at his hands. They were covered with the cowboy's blood. + +"Reckon I'd better wash up a bit," he remarked easily, and went into the +cook-tent. + +The men lounged about, apparently indifferent to the scene which was +being enacted. It might have been an every day occurrence, so little +interest they showed, yet several stalwart fellows gave old Jim McCullen +an admiring glance as he passed them. + +On the crest of a near divide stood a group of squaws. After a short +conference they proceeded slowly, shyly toward the round-up camp. Some +distance from it they grouped together again and waited while a very old +woman wrapped in a dingy white blanket came boldly up to the group of +men, and in a jargon of French and Indian asked for the refuse of the +newly killed yearling. The foreman pointed to where it lay, and gruffly +told her to go and get it, but she spied the unconscious figure of Long +Bill stretched out upon the grassy flat, and with a low cry of woe flung +herself down beside him. + +"Who done this?" she cried in very plain English, facing the cowboys +with a look of blackest anger. No answer came. + +"Better tell her," suggested a cow-puncher who was unrolling his bed. +"She's a witch, you know." + +"If she's a witch she don't need no telling," replied another, at which +they all laughed. + +"A witch?" said one. "I sure thought witches were all burned up!" + +The old squaw was examining the fallen man, who began to show signs of +consciousness. She bristled like a dog at the cowboy's remark. + +"_I see beyond!_ I know the future, the past, _everything_!" she cried +impressively. "I read your thoughts! Say what you like, you dogs, but +not one o' you would like me to tell what I read in your lives. _I know! +I know! I know everything!_" Her voice reached a high, weird cry. Her +blanket had slipped down, leaving her hair in wisps about her mummified +face. To all appearances she might have been a genuine witch as she +groveled over Long Bill. + +"Ask her how she tells fortunes--cards or tea-leaves," said one. + +"Or by the palm of your hand or the stars above," suggested another. + +"Wonder where she keeps her broomstick," mused a third. + +Just then McCullen came out of the cook-tent and faced the spectacle. + +"I see he's found a nurse," he remarked, and walked over to his horse. + +The old woman stood and gesticulated wildly, throwing mad, incoherent +words at him. Finally her jargon changed into fair English. + +"You dog, _you_ did this! And why? Ah, ha, ha! _I know!_ I know all +things! Because of the white girl! So! Ha, ha! Must you alone love the +white girl so that no man can speak her name? Oh, you can't deny you +love her! _You_, who ride and hunt with her for fifteen years. Cannot +another man open his mouth but that you must fly at him? Ha, ha! _I +know!_" + +"I'll wring your neck, you old----!" said McCullen at his horse's head. + +"You will stop my tongue, will you! I'll show you! You are up here to +watch that girl--but where's your eyes? What are you doing? This is my +son-in-law, and you'd like to wipe him from the face of the earth! You +beat him in the face--him with one hand! See! How did he get it? Why are +some of my other son-in-laws limping about with bullets in their legs? +Why is a man lying dead up in the mountains? Why all this at once? Ask +that white girl who teaches little children to be good! Ask that +devil's child who can put a bullet straight as her eye! _Ask her!_ She +would destroy my people. Curse her soul, I say!" + +Suddenly the witch-like spirit in her seemed to shrivel into the blanket +which she wrapped about her, then with placid, expressionless face she +made her way to where the yearling had been butchered and hurriedly +stuffed the refuse into a gunny sack which she dragged to where the +other squaws were waiting, then they all made off. + +Long Bill sat up and looked about him. "Curse who?" he asked. "Curse me, +I reckon fer not knowin' enough to keep my mouth shut!" + +McCullen, with face and lips pallid, had mounted his horse. Long Bill +pulled himself together and walked over toward him. + +"I'll take that back," he said. "I didn't mean it, nohow." + +"I reckon I was over-hasty," McCullen replied. "But that was our little +girl you were talkin' about--little Hope; an' no man on earth, let +alone a common squaw-man, ain't goin' to even breathe her name +disrespectfully. She's like my own child. I've almost brought her up. +Learned her little baby fingers to shoot, an' had her on a horse before +she could talk plain. Don't let her find this out, for I'm plumb sorry I +had to hurt you; but the man who says more than you did _dies_!" He rode +away and soon was lost in the deep falling shadows. The men in the +cow-camp unrolled their bedding, and all was soon one with the stillness +of the night. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +All the small ranchers and disreputable stragglers about that immediate +vicinity were of one opinion in regard to the new sheep-man. This +particular section of the country promised to be soon over-crowded with +cattle and horses. There was no room in their mountains for sheep. +Livingston, the interloper, must vacate. That was the unanimous decision +of the whole Harris faction. This gang was a mixture of badness, a scum +of the roughest element from the face of the globe, which in new +countries invariably drifts close upon the heels of the first settlers. +It is the herald of civilization, but fortunately goes on before its +advance to other fields or is deeply buried in its midst. The breeds, +pliable to the strong will of Joe Harris, were not an unimportant +factor, and among these, old Mother White Blanket was the ruling +spirit. + +She lived in a tepee not a rod to the left of Harris' squalid log +buildings. Her daughter was the cattle-man's wife, therefore the old +woman had particular rights about the premises, a mother-in-law's +rights, more honored and considered among Indians than among civilized +whites. + +Her tepee was the usual Indian affair, its conical, pointed top, dingy +with the smoke of many camp-fires. Back of the old woman's tepee, at +various distances, stood a few ordinary wall tents. These were occupied +by the families of some breeds who were working for Harris. The whole, +heightened by numerous dogs and the old squaw stooping over her fire, +presented the appearance of a small Indian camp, such as may be seen +about any reservation. The old woman's rattle-trap cart stood beside her +lodge, for she had her periods of wandering, after the manner of her +race. The running gears of a couple of dilapidated wagons were drawn up +between the other tents, and not far away two closely hobbled horses, +unmistakably Indian, for horses resemble their human associates, fed +eagerly upon the short, new grass. + +At an early hour, when the rising sun cast rosy lights upon every +grass-covered mountain top, when bird notes from the distant brush +sounded the most melodious, when the chanticleer in the barnyard became +loudest in his crowing, when the dew of night began to steam upward in +its vitality-giving stream, when the pigs with a grunt rose lazily upon +their fore-legs, and old Mother White Blanket bent over the smoke of her +newly built camp-fire, the girl school-teacher came out of her room and +leaned against the smooth rain-washed logs of the building. She drew in +with every deep breath new vitality to add to her plentiful fund of it, +she saw the rosy glow upon the mountains, listened in awe and rapture to +the bird notes from the brush, and finally brought herself back to more +material things; to old Mother White Blanket and the Indian scene spread +out before her. + +The old woman was bending over the fire apparently unconscious of the +girl's presence. From the school children Hope had learned something of +the wonderful perceptive powers of Mother White Blanket. They had +innumerable stories of witchcraft to tell, as various as they were +astonishing, and, while crediting nothing, she felt a quickened interest +in the old squaw. But she had so far no opportunity to cultivate her +acquaintance. Generally the spaces between the tents were filled with +groups of breeds, and these she had no inclination to approach. Now, +quiet pervaded the place. No one except the old woman and herself were +about. She knew full well that the squaw had seen her, but on an impulse +walked over beside the tepee, spreading out her hands to the warmth of +the fire. + +"Good-morning!" she exclaimed. Mother White Blanket made no reply, and +turning her back proceeded to fill a large black kettle with water. + +"Good-morning!" repeated Hope in French, to which greeting the old +woman grunted, while she placed the kettle over the fire. + +"I beg your pardon," continued Hope. "I forgot for the moment you were +French." + +At this old White Blanket stood up, anger bristling all over her. + +"What you come here for? You stand there and make fun. You think I don't +know you make fun at me? Go away, girl, or you be sorry! You call me +French and laugh to yourself. Go away, I say!" + +"No," said the girl, "I shall not go away until it pleases me. I have +heard that you are a great woman, a witch, and I want to find out if it +is true." She had not one particle of belief in the old woman's +generally credited supernatural powers, but she thought she must possess +sharp wit to so deceive the people and was curious to know more about +her. This she was destined to do. + +"I have heard," she continued, "that you can bring the wild deer to your +side by calling to them, that a horse or cow will lie down and die when +you command, and that little children who annoy you are taken with +severe pains in their stomachs. I have heard that you can say 'go' to +any of your men or women and they go; that if anyone is sick you can lay +your hand on them and they are well, and that you can tell the future +and the past of anyone. If all these things are true you must be a very +great, remarkable woman. Is it true that you can do all these things?" +She waited a moment and, as the old woman offered no reply, went on: +"Whether you can do these things or not, you still remain, in my eyes, a +remarkable woman in possessing the ability to make people believe that +you can." + +"You shall believe them too, _you_!" said the woman, suddenly rising and +confronting the girl. + +As she spoke two yellow fangs of teeth protruded from her thin lips, and +on her face was the snarl of a dog. She drew up her mummified face +within two inches of the girl's own. Hope shuddered and involuntarily +moved backward toward the house. With every step she took the squaw +followed, her weazened face and cruel, baneful eyes held close to hers. + +"You murderer of men, you teacher of little children, you butcher, I +will show you my power!" + +The girl recoiled from the frenzied woman, shutting out the sight with +her hands and moving backward step by step until she leaned against the +smooth logs of the building. There the foolishness of her sudden fright +presented itself. Should the grimaces of a weazened old squaw frighten +her into a fit, or should she pick up the bony thing and throw her over +the top of the tepee? An impulse to do the latter came over her--then to +her fancy she could hear the crashing of brittle bones. What she did do, +however, was to take her hands away from her eyes and look at the old +witch fearlessly. At this old White Blanket broke into a terrible +jargon, not a word of which was intelligible. Her voice rose to its +utmost pitch. The crisp morning air resounded with its sharp +intonations. + +Hope leaned against the logs of the house, lashing the squaw into +greater fury by her cool, impertinent gaze. She began to be interested +in the performance, speculating to just what degree of rage the old +woman would reach before she foamed at the mouth, and as to how much +strength she would have to exert to pitch the frail thing bodily into +the top of the tepee. + +At that instant a man, apparently hurriedly dressed, rushed from the +lodge and grasped the old woman by the arm. + +"What're you doin'? Go over there and git my breakfast, and don't be all +day about it!" + +The old woman's face changed marvelously. She calmed like a dove, under +the hand of her son-in-law, but before turning away began muttering what +might have been intended for an apology. + +"I no hurt her. She think I know nothing. I _show_ her." + +The man laughed good-naturedly. + +"Well, you show me some grub an' that'll be enough fer one day, I +reckon. Wimmen folks should be seen an' not heard, an' you make as much +noise as an old guinea hen." Meekly the old woman continued her +interrupted task, showing that in spite of his gruff speech she +entertained great respect for her tall son-in-law, Long Bill. + +"Hope the old woman didn't frighten you, Miss. She don't mean nothin' by +it, only she gits them spells once in a while," apologized Long Bill +politely. Hope gave a short laugh, while the man continued: "Seems like +all Hades is turned loose when she does git on the rampage, though." + +"Probably I aggravated her. If so, I am sorry. But I wouldn't have +missed it--not for anything. Her rage was perfect--such gestures, and +_such_ expressions!" + +At her words the man smiled, holding up to his face as he did so a +bandaged hand. In an instant her eyes were riveted upon it. She had +searched for that hand since Saturday evening among all the men she had +chanced to see. That this great, strong fellow possessed it eased her +conscience, if, indeed, it had greatly troubled her. She wanted to get +him to talk about the hand, but shifted her eyes from it to the old +woman moving slowly before the tepee. + +"She seems a very interesting woman," she remarked casually to Long +Bill, who through sheer awkwardness made no attempt to move away. + +"Oh, she's a little locoed, but barrin' that she's smarter'n a steel +trap. They ain't nothin' goin' on but she's got her eye peeled. If she +takes a likin' to anyone she'll just about break her neck to please, +but," he added in a lower voice, "if she ain't a-likin' anyone she's +just about the _orneriest_, _cussedest_----" Words failed, in view of +the critical eyes before him. + +"Do you belong to the family?" asked Hope, observing: "I noticed you +came from the tepee." + +"Well, you see," replied the man awkwardly, "I sort of do--that is, I +did. I married her youngest girl awhile back, but I ain't sure now we're +goin' to make it a go. You see I 'lowed to meet her here when the +round-up come 'round to these parts, but here's she's done run off to +Canada with some o' her folks, and I ain't set eyes on her fer nigh on +to four months. But we've been spliced all right 'nough, an' the old +woman's mighty fond o' me." + +"I should think you would be glad of that!" exclaimed Hope. "It would be +too bad if she didn't like you. I am sorry she is not in a more amiable +mood, for I'd really like to talk with her; but perhaps I will be +permitted to approach her later in the day." + +"Oh, she'll be all right, now she's had her spell out," assured Long +Bill. + +"You speak of the round-up; why are you not with it?" queried the girl, +with cool intent. + +Long Bill brought his huge bandaged fist up before him, resting it upon +the well one. + +"I had a little accident th' other day," he explained, "an' hurt my hand +powerful bad. It ain't goin' to be much use fer handlin' a rope fer +quite a spell. Had to let the round-up move away without me." His voice +grew plaintive. + +She spoke quickly, with great compassion. "I am sorry! It seems too bad +to see a great big fellow like you disabled. How did it happen?" + +"Well, it was like this: I come over here th' other night an' got to +settin' 'round here doin' nothin', so I thought I'd improve th' time an' +clean this here gun o' mine. It's been a-needin' it powerful bad fer +awhile back. I didn't know there was nary load in it until the blame +thing went off an' I felt somethin' kind o' sudden an' hot piercin' my +left hand. It was a fool trick to do, but it's the gospel truth, Miss." + +"I heard--that is, the boys said something about a shooting affair up +the road." She pointed toward the sheep-man's ranch. "I thought for a +moment that perhaps you had been mixed up in that. I'm very glad to know +that you were not, because you know it wasn't a very nice, manly thing +to do to a defenseless stranger." Her cool eyes watched his nervous +shifting. "You see I can't very well help hearing a lot of things around +here. The girls hear things and they tell me, and then I am often forced +to overhear the men and boys talking among themselves. It's none of my +business, but yet I am glad to know that you were not one to set upon an +innocent white man. I scarcely know this Mr. Livingston by sight, but he +is a friend of Sydney's, my cousin, and they say,"--here she drew out +her words slowly and impressively,--"that over in his country he has +been in the army and is well versed in firearms; also that he has a +small Gatling gun with him over here that shoots hundreds of shots a +minute. So he really isn't so defenseless as he seems." This startled +the man into open-mouth astonishment. + +"I thought there was something!--I mean I thought, when I heard tell +about the fracas over there, that there was somethin' like that in the +wind," stammered the man. + +Apparently Hope had told a deliberate untruth to force a confession from +Long Bill, but yet it was a fact that she had heard something very +similar. On the day before, Sunday, Jim McCullen had come to visit her. +From his camp the noise of the shooting had been plainly heard, and +through curiosity he and Carter had ridden to Livingston's ranch to +inquire into it, but the sheep-man had been very reticent about the +matter. Had told them only that there had been trouble with some breeds, +and his herder had been killed. This old Jim repeated to Hope, adding +that Livingston must have a Gatling gun concealed on his place, judging +from the sound of the firing. So Hope in her effort to impress the tall +cow-puncher had not used her imagination wholly. + +"I am glad you had nothing to do with it," she concluded, walking slowly +away toward the kitchen end of the house. "And I hope your hand will +soon be well." + +"That's right," said Long Bill. "I didn't have nothin' to do with it. No +Gatlin' guns in mine, Miss!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +"We'll beat any cow-pony workin' on the round-up," declared the +soft-voiced twin as he coiled up the stake-rope and tied it on to his +saddle. + +It was four o'clock in the afternoon of the same day. School had been +dismissed and the dozen children of various sizes were straggling +homeward. Hope stood beside her horse patiently waiting for the twins to +go, but they seemed in no particular hurry. She listened absent-mindedly +to the boys' conversation. + +"An' another thing about this pony o' mine, he'll never slack up on a +rope," continued Dan. "Once you've got a rope on a steer he'll never +budge till the cinch busts off the saddle. He'll just sit right back on +his haunches an' _pull_. Yes, sir; you'd think he knew just as much as a +man!" + +Dave grunted. "He's all right 'nough, only he'll bust the bridle if you +tie him, an' he won't stand without bein' tied. He'll buck if he's +cinched too tight or gets too much to eat, an' he ain't fit for a lady +to ride, nohow. He's an Indian pinto to boot, a regular fool calico +pony! Now _my_ horse is an all 'round good one, an' so gentle any lady +can ride him, just like any sensible horse ought to be." + +"Yes, that's all he's good for, is to stand 'round an' look pretty, like +some o' these here bloods--an' them pretty soldiers over to the post. I +notice when there's any real work to be done, Mr. Dude ain't in it. Oh, +he can stand 'round an' look pretty all right, but the pinto's the best +all 'round, an's got the most sense!" + +Their discussion seemed at an end, for the soft-voiced twin having +fastened the rope securely, walked around to the other side of his pinto +and had just turned the stirrup toward him, preliminary to mounting, +when the other boy grasped him roughly by the collar, throwing him +backward to the ground. + +"That's my lariat; you hand it over here!" he exclaimed gruffly; +thereupon the soft-voiced twin picked himself up, very carefully brushed +the dust from his sleeve, and answered slowly, in a particularly sweet +tone: + +"I ain't a-goin' to fight you here in front of the teacher. That's my +rope. Go an' get it if you want it! But _she's_ got yourn. I saw her +pick it up by mistake this mornin'. You've tied up your dude cayuse +twice with her'n to-day. Must have somethin' the matter with your eyes. +I ain't a-goin' to lick you er fight with you, but I'm goin' to get even +with you for this!" + +"Here's your rope," said Hope, taking it from her saddle and handing it +to the boy. Dave took it shamefacedly, throwing her rope on the ground, +then hid himself on the opposite side of his pony. In an instant the +soft-voiced twin picked up the teacher's stake-rope, coiled it, and tied +it on to her saddle. + +The girl stood to one side watching him. She wondered at his quickness. +He must have inherited something of his grandmother's acuteness. But her +sympathy turned to the other boy--big, clumsy, rough Dave. He was +standing out of sight behind his horse, embarrassed by his own error. +Hope felt sorry for him. She had already found it very difficult to keep +peace between these boys and herself. Each day brought some new ruffle +that required all her wit to smooth over. + +The soft-voiced twin handed the bridle reins to her, then turned to his +own horse, which had wandered away toward more tempting pasture. The +girl thanked him, and walked over to Dave. He looked at her sullenly, a +certain dogged obstinacy in his eyes. She had intended to say something +kind to him, instead she spoke indifferently, yet to the point. + +"Go home with Dan the same as usual. Say nothing about it, but get my +rifle and meet me here at the school in two hours--six o'clock. There is +a big flock of chickens that fly over that point every evening." + +The boy made no reply, but his face changed noticeably, and he jumped on +his horse, calling his twin to hurry up; but the soft-voiced boy had no +notion of leaving his teacher, so Dave, with a savage whoop, ran his +pony to the top of the hill, leaving the school-house and his +uncomfortable feelings far in the background. + +"Why don't you go with him?" asked the girl. + +"I'm waitin' for you," replied the boy. + +"But I'm not going just now. You'd better run along with Dave." + +"I ain't in no hurry." + +"Aren't you? Well, that is good, for I just happened to think of +something. I want you to go down to Pete La Due's place where they are +branding, and hang around awhile and keep your ears open. There will be +a lot of breeds there, and some of those men over on Crow Creek, and +maybe something will be said that we ought to know about. You +understand. You are my faithful scout, you know. And another +thing--don't try to pay Dave back for what he did. He's sorry enough +about it." + +The boy's face took on a shrewd, determined expression, causing him at +once to look years older. For an instant Hope imagined that he +resembled his aged grandmother, old White Blanket, the "witch." + +"I'll go over there," he replied, "an' I'll see what I can find out, but +about Dave--I'll get even with him if it takes me ten years. He needs +teachin'." + +"We all do," said the girl thoughtfully. "I have begun a series of +lessons myself--on humanity. No, on sympathy, on what is expected of a +womanly woman. We're lucky when we have a good teacher, aren't we? But +it's pretty hard to learn what doesn't come natural. Remember Dave isn't +like you. He wasn't made like you, and never will be like you. Think of +this, and don't be hard on him, that's a good boy." + +The soft-voiced twin smiled sweetly, and mounting his horse, remarked: + +"I expect I'd better be movin' over there if I'm goin' to find out +anything to-day." + +"Yes," said Hope, pleased that he should leave her at last. "I think +you're right. Be sure to come home before bedtime and _report_." + +The boy dug his heels into the pinto's sides, starting off on a bound. +She watched him, absent-mindedly, until he disappeared over the +hill-top, then she rode away at a lively canter toward the sheep-man's +ranch. + +A horseman came rapidly toward her before she reached Livingston's gate. +It was a slender, boyish figure, who sat his horse with remarkable ease +and grace. The girl frowned savagely when she saw him, but only for an +instant. He waved his hat above his dark head and called to her from the +distance. His voice possessed a rich musical ring which might have stood +for honesty and youthful buoyancy. + +When Hope met him she was smiling. In fun she passed rapidly, seeing +which he wheeled his horse about, caught up with her, and leaning far +over, grasped the bridle, bringing her horse to a stand-still beside +him. It was an old trick of his boyhood. The girl's ringing laughter +reached a small group of men at work with shovels upon the rise of a +green knoll not far away. They stopped work and listened, but the notes +died away and nothing more could be heard. + +"That wasn't fair, Syd!" she cried. "I thought you'd forgotten it. I was +going to run you a race." + +"Rowdy's thin, he couldn't run. A stake-rope don't agree with him, and +I'll bet he hasn't seen an oat since you've been here," he answered, +growing sober. "Hopie, dear, leave these breeds and go home, that's a +good girl! I can't bear to have you stay there. You've been up here a +week and you look thin already. I'll bet you're starving right now! +Come, own up, aren't you hungry?" + +"I hadn't thought of it," replied Hope. "But now that you remind me, I +believe I am--the least bit. A steady diet of eggs--boiled in their +_own_ shells, is apt to make one hungry at times for a good dinner. But +what's the difference? I feel fine. It certainly agrees." + +"But that's terrible! Eggs! Eggs only--eggs in the shell. Haven't you +brought yourself to meat, bread, and potatoes yet? Eggs only! It's a +joke, Hope, but somehow I can't feel amused. I've eaten eggs for a meal +or two, around those places, but a week of it! Hope, your father wants +you. Go home to him!" + +"No; you see it's this way, Sydney, I couldn't if I would, and I +wouldn't if I could. I couldn't because father told me to stay until the +school term ended, and I wouldn't because--I like it here. It's new and +exciting. I feel just like a boy does in going out into the world for +the first time. You know how that is, Syd, how you roamed about for +months and months. You had your fling and then you were satisfied." + +"I know," said Carter softly, stroking her horse's neck. "But you had +such a free 'fling' there at the ranch, what else could you want? You +had your choice between the ranch and New York. You could travel if you +wished. Surely there was nothing left to be desired. You can't make me +believe that you really like it up here among these breeds, teaching a +handful of stupid children their A B C's! I can't see the attraction. +Clarice Van Rensselaer with the Cresmonds and that little jay +Englishman, Rosehill, are due at the ranch this week. You like Clarice; +go home, Hope, and look after things there. You're needed, and you know +it. Do go, that's a good girlie!" + +"Don't say anything more about it to me, Sydney. I can't go, I'm not +going, and I want to forget for this one summer about the ranch and +everyone on it." + +"I am wasting my breath, but yet," he looked at her searchingly, "I +don't understand you in this. I see no attraction here for you. Why, +even the hunting isn't good! I'll not admit that there is any attraction +for you in this Englishman over here. You've known dozens of them, and +you've always expressed an aversion to every one. I'm not going to be +scared of one lone Englishman!" He grasped her hand and his face +darkened. "Hope, if I thought you would ever care for him I'd----" + +She interrupted: + +"You need not finish that! Show a little manhood! Oh, Syd, a moment ago +you were my dear old companion--my brother, and now----If you knew how +I detest you in this! It is not yourself--your dear self, at all, but +the very devil that has taken possession of you. Sydney, are you sure +there isn't something the matter with your brain? Do you realize how +awful it seems? Doesn't it make you feel ashamed of yourself when you +think of all the sweetness of our past life? It makes me, Syd. Sometimes +at night before I go to sleep I think of the way you've acted lately, +and I can feel a hot flush creep all over my face. It makes me so +ashamed! I've grown up with you for my brother, I think of you always as +my brother, and this makes a new person out of you--a person whom I +neither love nor respect. Syd, dear Syd, forget it and I will never +think of it again, for I will have my brother back. I loved you, Sydney, +you and father, better than anyone else in this world. And now----" She +turned her head away from him and began to cry quietly. In an instant he +was filled with commiseration and tenderness. + +"Don't, Hope!" he exclaimed, bending close to her. "I can't stand +anything like that! Don't cry. I'm sorry, girlie. I've been a fool, a +brute, a low-lived beggar, but I can't stand tears from _you_! Here +you're hungry, starving, living among a lot of breeds, and I've added +more to your misery. It's all a mistake. I know now when I see you +crying--don't do it, dear! You've never cried since you were a baby, and +now you're such a great big girl. The other feeling's all gone. I guess +it must have been because you were the only girl out here and I let +myself think of you that way until it grew on me. But you are my +sister--my dear little pard!" + +He had dismounted and stood beside her. Now he reached up and took her +hands away from her face. She was ashamed of her tears, as people are +who seldom cry, and hastily mopped her face with her handkerchief. + +"I'm so glad, Syd, dear!" she exclaimed in a moment, then reached down +and kissed him. "What a baby you must think I am!" + +"Your tears woke me up, dear; don't be sorry. Maybe some time they'll +make a man out of me." + +"Nonsense! you were a man all the time, only you didn't know it. You +don't know how happy I was all at once when you called me 'pard' again. +I knew then I had my brother back." + +The young fellow mounted his horse again. His own eyes were suspiciously +moist. + +"And I have my sister, which seems better than anything to me," he said. +Then they both laughed. + +"I was going to the Englishman's," said Hope, "to see if I could help +any about the poor herder who was shot." + +"They're burying him now," announced her cousin, "right around the bend +of this hill just inside the fence. Do you want to go over there?" + +"Yes, I think I do," she replied. "I want to ask Mr. Livingston when the +little German girl is expected to arrive and what is going to be done +about her." + +"The herder's sister?" asked Sydney. + +"No, his sweetheart. Just think, Sydney, his little sweetheart, who is +on her way to marry him! Isn't it sad? Who will meet her and who will +tell her, I wonder, and what will she do? How are such things managed, I +wonder. Isn't it terrible, Syd?" + +"Some beggars around here shot the poor fellow, Livingston told me. The +whole bunch ought to be hanged for it." + +"It was a cowardly thing to do!" exclaimed the girl. + +"Sheep in a cattle country, the same old story. I imagine old Harris is +a pretty strong element here. They've driven out a couple of bands +already. Someone ought to put Livingston next. But he probably scents +the situation now from this occurrence. He is one of the kind who trusts +everyone. I met him last fall in town when he first came out here. He +has put a lot of money into this business, and I'd like to see him make +it a go. He'll have something to learn by experience." + +"Isn't it too bad he didn't invest in cattle?" deplored Hope. + +"Yes, though they say there's bigger returns in sheep." He pointed +ahead. "You can't see the men, but they're just around that point of +rocks, though they must be about through with the job by now." + +"You'll go along, won't you? Then you can ride back to the school-house +with me. I'm going to meet one of the twins there at six o'clock, and +we're going to see if we can get some chickens." + +"If you will promise to bring the chickens over to the camp and let the +cook get you up a good, square meal," he replied. "Jim will be back +before dark." + +"If I shouldn't happen to get any birds," she asked, "does the +invitation still hold good?" + +"Pard!" he reproved. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Livingston stood alone beside the fresh mound, hatless, with head bowed +in deep meditation. His men had returned to their respective duties, +having shown their last kindness toward the young herder gone on before +them to the great, mysterious Beyond. + +When Hope and her companion rounded the point of rocks inside the +pasture fence they came directly upon the sheep-man and the newly made +grave. The girl reined in her horse suddenly. + +"Syd," she said softly, wonderingly, "he's _praying_!" She had an +impulse to flee before he should see her, and with a look communicated +the thought to Sydney, but Livingston turned around and came quickly +down the grassy slope toward them. He greeted them cordially, heartily +shaking hands with each. + +"Is this not a beautiful day? I am glad you have come, Miss Hathaway. I +wanted you to see this spot. Could any place be prettier? See this green +slope and the gigantic ridge of rocks beside it." + +"It's magnificent!" she exclaimed. "What a monument!" + +"I had an idea he would like it if he could know," he continued. "Day +after day he has stood up there on that point of rocks and watched his +sheep." + +Hope pointed across the valley to where the grassy slope terminated in a +deep cut-bank, exclaiming: + +"There is the corral!" It came involuntarily. She shot a quick glance at +her cousin, but he was gazing thoughtfully at the magnificence of the +scene before him, and had not noticed the words, or her confusion which +followed them, which was fortunate, she thought. + +If asked she could not have explained why she felt in this manner about +it, and it is certain that she did ask herself. She had probably saved +Livingston's sheep. Well, what of it? She only knew that she wanted no +one to find it out, least of all Livingston himself. She had a half fear +that if Sydney ever got an inkling of it he might sometime tell him, and +Sydney was very quick; so she adroitly eased her involuntary exclamation +by remarking: + +"That is a queer place to put a corral! Aren't you afraid of a pile up +so near the bank?" + +"I am not using it now," he replied. "I put it there because Fritz ran +his band on that side and it was more convenient not to drive them so +far. I am using this shed below here, at present." + +Sydney looked at Hope and began to laugh, then leaned over toward +Livingston and placed his hand upon his shoulder. + +"She'll be telling you how to run your sheep next. You mustn't mind her, +though, for she's been teaching school a whole week, and dictating is +getting to be sort of second nature with her, isn't it, Hopie? And +besides that she isn't responsible. A steady diet of hard-boiled eggs +isn't conducive----" + +She stopped him with a gesture, laughing. + +"That's awfully true, only I haven't eaten even hard-boiled eggs since +breakfast, and I'm famished! It was cruel of you to remind me, Syd!" + +"You poor youngster!" he exclaimed in real commiseration. "Is it as bad +as that? I'm going over and start supper at once. The camp is just over +the hill there, up that next draw." He pointed ahead, then looked at his +watch. "It's after five now. You keep your appointment with the +half-breed, but never mind the chickens till you've had a square meal." + +She nodded in answer, smiling at him. + +"They're starving her over there," he explained to Livingston, who +looked at them in some wonderment. "They don't feed her anything but +boiled eggs. Tell him why you don't eat anything but eggs, Hope, +boiled,--hard and soft,--in their _own shells_. Maybe you can get them +to bake you a potato or two in their _own jackets_!" + +"What an idea! I never thought of that," she exclaimed. "You're a +genius, Syd. But go home or I shall famish! I'll meet Dave and come +right over there. I think the chickens will fly that way to-night, +anyway, don't you?" + +"Of course they will," replied her cousin, "they fly right over the top +of my tent every evening!" Then he started away, but turned about +quickly as though he had forgotten something, and asked Livingston if he +would not come over to camp for supper, too. + +Livingston looked up into the dark eyes of the girl beside him, then +accepted. + +"Good!" said Sydney. "Come along with Hope." + +"Be sure and see that there's enough cooked," called the girl as he rode +away. + +"Don't worry about that, pard," he answered, then, lifting his hat, +waved it high above his head as he disappeared around the reef of +rocks. + +Hope looked after him and was still smiling when she turned to +Livingston. It may have been something in his face that caused her own +to settle instantly into its natural quiet. + +"I'd like to go up there for a moment," she said, then dismounted, and +leaving her horse walked quickly up the grassy hill until she stood +beside the grave. Some sod had been roughly placed upon the dirt, and +scattered over that was a handful of freshly picked wild flowers. + +"_You_ picked them!" exclaimed the girl softly, turning toward him as he +came and stood near her. "And _I_ never even thought of it! How could +you think of it! I had supposed only women thought of those things--were +expected to think of them, I mean," she added hastily. "You make me +wonder what----" + +He looked at her curiously. + +"Make you wonder what?" he asked in his quiet, well modulated voice. + +A flush came over her face. Her eyes shifted from his until they rested +upon the grave at her feet. The breeze threw a loose strand of dark hair +across one eye. She rapidly drew her hand over her forehead, putting it +away from her vision, then looked full and straight at the man beside +her. + +"I beg your pardon; I cannot finish what was in my mind to say. I +forgot, Mr. Livingston, that we are comparative strangers." + +"I am sorry, then, that you remember it," he replied. "It never seemed +to me that we were strangers, Miss Hathaway. I do not think so now. +There is something, I know not what, that draws people to each other in +this country. It does not take weeks or months or years to form a +friendship here. Two people meet, they speak, look into one another's +eyes, then they are friends, comrades--or nothing, as it sometimes +happens. They decide quickly here, not hampered by stiff +conventionalities. It is instinct guides. Are you different from your +countrymen?" + +"No," she replied quickly. "Not in that one thing, at least. To be +honest, I have never _felt_ that you were a stranger to me; but a girl, +even a rough Western girl, must sometimes remember and be restricted by +conventionalities. I know what you are thinking, that conventionalities +include politeness, and I have been rude to you. Perhaps that is the +reason I wouldn't let you go back to Harris' with me the other night--I +had not known you long enough." + +He answered her simply: "I am not thinking of that night, but that you +have just told me you are my friend--that you think kindly of me." She +flashed him a look of surprise. + +"But I _never_ told you that!" she exclaimed. + +"Not in just those words, true," he said. "But it is so. Didn't you say +that you had never felt me to be a _stranger_ to you? If you had not +approved of me--thought kindly of me in the start, could you have felt +so? No. When two people meet, they are friends, or they are still +strangers--and _you have never felt me to be a stranger_. Is that not +so?" + +"I cannot deny what I have just said," she replied. "And I will not deny +that I believed what I was saying, but your argument, though good, +doesn't down me, because I honestly think that a person may see another +person just once, feel that he never could be a stranger, and yet have +no earthly regard or respect for that person." + +"Have you ever experienced that?" he inquired. + +"N--no. You are trying to corner me; but that isn't what I came to talk +about, and it is time to go," she said, turning away from the grave. He +walked with her down the hill toward her horse. + +"I wanted to ask you, Mr. Livingston, about the little German girl," she +said, standing with her back against the side of her horse, one arm +around the pommel loosely holding the reins, and the other stretched +upon the glossy back of the gentle animal. "When are you expecting her, +and what are you going to do about her?" + +"She should be here the last of the week. Poor girl! My heart bleeds for +her. There is nothing to do except to tell her the sad story, and see +that she gets started safely back to her country and her friends," he +answered. + +Hope stood upright, taking a step toward him. + +"You would not--oh, it would be inhuman to send her back over the long, +terrible journey with that cruel pain in her heart! Think how tired she +will be, the thousands of miles of travel through strange lands, and the +multitude of foreigners she will have passed! Think of the way she has +traveled, those close, packed emigrant cars, and everything. It is +terrible!" + +"I never thought of that. She will be tired. You are right, it would +never do to send her over that long journey so soon, though she is not +coming through as an emigrant, but first class, for she is of good +family over there. So was Fritz--a sort of cousin, I believe, but the +poor boy got into some trouble with his family and came over here +penniless. He was to have met her in town and they expected to get +married at once. He was going to bring her out here to the ranch to live +until he had hunted up a location for a home. If I am not mistaken she +has some money of her own with which they were going to buy sheep. She +has been well educated, and has had some instruction in English, as had +Fritz. + +"I thought only of getting her back among her friends again and I never +gave a thought about the long, weary trip and the poor, tired girl. She +must rest for a time. You have shown me the right way, Miss +Hathaway--and yet, what am I to do? I could bring her out here to the +ranch, but there is no woman on the place. Perhaps I may be able to +secure a man and his wife who need a situation, but it is not likely. +There may be some good family about who would keep her for awhile. Do +you know of one?" + +"There are several families around here who might welcome a boarder, but +none with whom a girl of that kind could be contented, or even +comfortable. If only I were at home, and could take her there! I _might_ +send her over there. But, no, that would be worse than anything! There +is no other way," she said suddenly, placing her hand upon his sleeve +with a quick unconscious motion. "You must let me take care of her, up +here, as I am, at Harris'!" Excitement had flushed her cheeks scarlet. +Her eyes were filled with the light of inspiration and more than earthly +beauty. She waited, intense, for him to speak, but he could not. He felt +her hand upon his arm, saw the wonderful light in her face--and was +dumb. + +"Tell me that I may take care of her. I must--there is no other way," +she insisted. "And it will give me the privilege of doing one little act +of kindness. Say it will be all right!" + +"If she cannot find comfort and strength in you, she cannot find it upon +earth," he said softly. "I have no words with which to thank you!" + +She took her hand from his arm with a little sigh of content, turned +around and stood at her horse's head a moment, then mounted as lightly +and quickly as a boy. + +"Where's your horse?" she asked, whirling the animal about until it +faced him. The wonderful light in her face had given place to a +careless, light-hearted look. + +"Up at the stable. Have you the time and patience to wait for me?" said +Livingston. + +"Plenty of patience, but no time," she replied. "I promised to meet one +of the twins at six o'clock, so I've got to hurry up. I'll meet you over +at Syd's camp in a little while." + +Before he had time to either speak or bow she was gone. As she +disappeared behind the ledge of rocks a clear boyish whistle of some +popular air floated back to him. + +Walking quickly through the pasture toward the ranch buildings Edward +Livingston thought of many things--and wondered. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +At six o'clock on this afternoon in May the sun was still high above the +mountain tops. By the time Edward Livingston reached his ranch buildings +and saddled his horse to go to Carter's camp Hope had ridden the two +miles or more between his fence and the school-house. There she found, +idly waiting beside the isolated building, surrounded by several gaunt +staghounds, not one of the twins, but both. + +The soft-voiced twin was all smiles, but Dave with his back against the +front of the building was scowling sullenly, giving vent to his ugliness +by kicking small stones with the toe of his boot and watching them as +they went sailing high into the air, then down the sloping stretch of +young green below. At one of those stones Hope's horse shied, but the +girl smiled, knowing full well the young savage's mood. She rode +rapidly, and stopped beside the boys, but did not dismount. + +"Am I late?" she inquired of the scowling twin. "I see you are on time +with the gun like a good boy, Dave, and you've brought your own along, +too. We won't do a thing to those chickens if we get sight of them +to-night!" She smiled at the boy, who became a trifle more amiable; then +she turned to his soft-voiced twin. "How is it you're back so soon?" + +He brushed a speck of dust from his overalls before replying, and his +voice was particularly sweet. + +"Had to come to report. You see when I got there they was just quittin', +so I came along back with some o' the fellers. Didn't you meet Long Bill +and Shorty Smith up the road there a piece when you come along?" The +girl nodded. "Well, I come back with them's far as home; then I saw Dave +getting the guns, so I thought I'd get mine an' come along, too. Say, +what's a gating gun?" Hope looked perplexed for an instant, then laughed +outright. + +"Oh, you mean a Gatling gun!" She laughed, then very soberly: "It's a +terrible weapon of war--a wicked thing. Why do you ask?" + +"Oh, I just wanted to know," replied the boy evasively. "I heard some o' +the men talkin' about one, so I thought I'd ask you. Must shoot pretty +fast, don't they? Long Bill was tellin' about one that fired two +thousand shots a second." + +"That must have been a terror of one!" exclaimed the girl. "But they +don't shoot quite as many as that, not even in a minute, but they are +bad enough. A few of them would simply perforate an army of men. They're +a machine gun," she went on to explain. "Just a lot of barrels fastened +in a bunch together and turned by a crank which feeds in the cartridges +and fires them, too. They shoot over a thousand shots a minute." + +"I wish we'd 'a' had one the other night," exclaimed Dave, waking at +last to a new interest in life. "And I'd 'a' had hold of the crank!" + +"Wasn't it bad enough!" remonstrated the girl. "Didn't you do enough +damage to satisfy your savage soul for awhile?" + +"Shorty Smith's got a game leg," returned the boy gleefully, "an' so's +old Peter. Long Bill, he's got his hand all done up in a sling, too, an' +couldn't go back on the round-up!" + +"I wonder how Bill done that," mused the other twin with a sweet, +indrawn breath. Hope flushed scarlet, which faded instantly, leaving her +face its rich, dark olive. + +"Come on," she cried severely, "if we are to get any birds to-day!" + +"I know where there's a coyote's den," said the soft-voiced twin. Dave +was all attention immediately. + +"Where?" he exclaimed eagerly. Hope, interested, too, leaned forward +resting her arm upon the pommel of the saddle. + +"Well," said the boy, deliberately, sweetly--too sweetly, thought the +girl, who watched him keenly--"I was goin' to keep it to myself, an' get +'em all on the quiet, but it's in a kind of a bad place to get at, so +mebbe I can't do it alone. It's 'bout a half mile back there, between +here an' home, up on that ridge behind old Peter's shack. There's a hole +under the side of the rocks, but it's hard diggin', kind of sandstone, I +reckon. I left a pickax an' shovel up there." + +"Let's go up there now," cried Dave, "an' get the whole bloomin' nest of +'em! We can get the chickens later." + +"Now, look here," said the other quietly. "The find's mine. If you're in +on this here deal, you'll have to work for your share. If you'll do the +diggin' you can have half of the bounty on 'em. How's that?" + +Dave grunted. "Supposin' there ain't any there," he demurred. + +The soft-voiced twin shrugged his shoulders contemptuously. + +"What'd you suppose _I'd_ be diggin' there for if there wasn't none? +There's a whole litter o' pups." + +"Come on, then!" exclaimed Dave, convinced of his good fortune, for the +bounty on coyotes was four dollars for each and every one. + +Hope looked dubiously at the soft-voiced twin, she thought of the supper +at Sydney's camp, then fired with the fun of the thing rode gayly away +with the boys. + +The hounds leaped after them, clearing the ground with long, easy +bounds. The girl watched them glide along, yelping, barking, filling the +air with their voices. Her horse loped neck to neck with the soft-voiced +twin's. She pointed at the dogs, drawing the boy's attention to them. + +"Why did you bring them?" she asked. "They'll warn your old ones and +they'll be far away by the time we get there. You're usually so +quick-witted, Dan, I wonder you did not think of it!" + +The boy made no reply, but gave her a look filled with cunning, cool +intent. + +So this was his revenge--his twin was to dig into a rocky ledge for an +empty coyote's den! She marveled at the boy's deliberate scheming, and +rode gayly along to see the outcome. To this sort of revenge she had no +actual objection. + +They rode up over the top of a high divide, then followed down a narrow +draw until it widened into a tiny basin, and there, in the center of +vivid green, like a smooth, well-kept lawn, nestled old Peter's cabin. +Surrounding this pretty basin were steep, high ridges and hills, +smooth-carpeted, too, except the ever narrow terraced "buffalo trails," +and here and there a broken line where sharp crags of sandstone jutted +out. To the base of one of these ridges of rock, back of the old +hermit's one-roomed log shack, the soft-voiced twin led the way, +followed closely by his eager brother. + +The twins left their horses at the foot of the hill and climbed up about +thirty feet to a narrow ledge, where a shovel and pickax marked the +small entrance of a coyote's den. + +Dave set immediately at work plying the pickax with vigor, and shoveling +out the stones and the hardened sand about the opening, while his twin +superintended the job and occasionally offered words of encouragement. + +Hope watched them from below. Evidently the soft-voiced boy was +enjoying himself immensely. He sat on one end of the ledge, his +blue-overalled legs dangling over the side, while Dave worked +industriously, hopefully on. + +The hounds evidently had found a trail of some kind, for after sniffing +about busily for a moment they made a straight line along the hill, +disappearing over the high ridge. Hope watched them out of sight, +feeling an impulse to follow, but changed her mind and rode over to old +Peter's cabin instead. The old man limped to the door and peered out +cautiously. + +He was a squat-figured, broad-shouldered, grizzled little man, with +unkempt beard and a shaggy sheaf of iron-gray hair, beneath which peered +bright, shifting blue eyes. He added to his natural stoop-shouldered +posture by a rude crutch of hasty manufacture much too short for him, +which he leaned heavily upon. He opened the door only wide enough to put +out his head, which he did cautiously, holding his hand upon the wooden +latch. + +"How d'!" he said in a deep, gruff voice that seemed to come from +somewhere between his shoulders. + +She nodded brightly, remembering to have seen the old fellow around +Harris'. + +"You have no objection to our digging out a den of coyotes back here, +have you?" she asked. + +"Umph! There ain't no den 'round here that I know about," he replied, +still retaining his position in the door. + +"But see here," pointing toward the side hill, "the boys have found one +and are at work up there right now." + +"More fools they, then," declared old Peter, limping cautiously outside +the door. "I cleaned out that den three year ago, an' I never knowed a +coyote to come an' live in a place that'd been monkeyed with. Too much +sense fer that. I always said a coyote had more sense 'n them boys! +Better go tell 'em they'd as well dig fer water on the top o' that peak, +Miss!" He shook his tousled head dubiously, watched the boys on the hill +for a moment, then limped back again, taking up his first position, +half in, half out the door. His attitude invited her to be gone, but she +held in her uneasy horse and proceeded in a friendly manner to encourage +some more deep-seated, guttural tones from the old man. + +"Do you live here all alone?" + +"Humph! I reckon I do." + +"Have you lived here long?" + +"Reckon I have." + +"Are those your cattle up on the divide?" + +"I reckon they be." + +"It must be awful lonesome for you here all by yourself. Do coyotes or +wolves trouble you much? Whoa, Rowdy!" + +"They're a plumb nuisance, Miss. Better kill off a few of 'em while +you're here. I reckon you kin use yer gun." + +"I _reckon_ I can, a little," she replied. + +"When I was in the war," he continued, "they had some sharpshooters +along, but they wan't no wimmen among 'em. I reckon you're right handy +with a gun." + +"Who told you?" she asked suddenly. + +"I reckon I know from the way you hold that 'ere gun." + +Just then the soft-voiced twin rode up to the cabin. Hope accosted him. + +"Did you get the coyotes _already_?" + +"Nope, Dave's still diggin'. I'm goin' home er the old man'll be huntin' +me with the end of his rope." + +"Oh, you'd better stay," she coaxed. "Think of the fun you'll miss when +Dave gets into the den. It's your find; you ought to stay for the +finish." + +"I'll stake you to my share," said the boy. "He'll soon find all there +is. But I guess I'd better be a-goin'." + +"Perhaps you had," Hope replied, thoughtfully; then she rode over to the +industrious Dave, while the soft-voiced twin wisely took a straight +bee-line across the hills to his father's ranch. + +This time Hope herself climbed the hill to the spot where the boy was +digging. + +"Dave, I'm afraid there are no coyotes in there, aren't you?" + +He stopped work, wiped his brow with something that had once been a red +bandanna handkerchief, then gravely eyed the girl, who leaned against +the rocks beside him. + +"But he said," pondering in perplexity. "But he said----" He looked into +the ragged entrance of the hole, then at his shovel, then up again at +the girl. "What makes you think there ain't no coyotes there?" + +She was filled with sympathy for the boy, which perhaps he did not +deserve, and she had recollected the supper at Sydney's camp, and +concluded that this foolishness had gone far enough. She coaxed the boy +to leave it until morning, but he was obdurate. + +"No, I'm goin' to _know_ if there's anything in here er not, an' if +there _ain't_----" His silence was ominous; then he set to work again +with renewed energy and grim determination. + +She watched him for awhile, then walked out to the end of the bulging +sand-rocks and climbed the grassy hill. When at length she reached the +summit, the jagged rocks below which labored the breed boy seemed but a +line in the smooth green of the mountain, while old Peter's cabin and +the setting of green carpeted basin looked very small. On the opposite +side a fine view presented itself, showing, in all of Nature's +magnificent display, soft lines of green ridges, broken chains of +gigantic rocks, narrow valleys traced with winding, silvery threads of +rushing water. Such a picture would hold the attention of anyone, but +this girl of the West, of freedom and wildness, was one with it--a part +of it, and not the least beautiful and wonderful in this lavish display +of God's handiwork. + +She stood with bared head upon a high green ridge. A soft, gentle +chinook smoothed back from her forehead the waving masses of dark hair. +Myriads of wild flowers surrounded her, and from the millions below and +about drifted and mingled their combined fragrance. The great orb of +setting sun cast its parting rays full on her face, and lingered, while +the valleys below darkened into shadow. As the last rays lighted up her +hair and departed, the yep! yep! of the hounds attracted her attention, +and turning about with quick, alert step she moved out of this +picture--forever. + +Standing upon a rocky ledge a hundred feet below the summit of the ridge +she watched another scene, not the quiet picture of Nature's benevolent +hand, but a discord in keeping, yet out of all harmony with it, in which +she blended as naturally and completely as she had in the first. It was +a race between a little fleet-footed coyote and half a dozen mongrel +staghounds; they came toward her, a twisting, turning streak, led by a +desperate gray animal, making, to all appearance, for the very rocks +upon which she stood. Not ten yards behind the coyote a lank, +slate-colored hound, more gray than stag, was closing in inch by inch. +The coyote was doing nobly, so was the mongrel hound, thought Hope, who +watched the race with breathless interest. The yellow dogs were falling +behind, losing ground at every step, but the blue mongrel was spurting. +On they came--on--on, and the girl in a tremor of excitement lay flat +down upon the rocks and watched them. Her heart went out to the dog. +She had seen it kicked around the yard at Harris', noticed it as it +slunk about for its scanty food, and now how nobly it was doing! She +wondered if any of her thoroughbreds at home could do as well, and +thought not. The others were straggling far behind, but now the blue +hound was but two lengths from the coyote, and its chances seemed small, +but on a sudden it turned and made direct for the rocks from which the +girl watched. That instant the dog saw failure, and the light of +determination, of victory, died from its eyes. That same instant the +coyote saw salvation from a quick end in the narrow crevices of rock so +near, and the next it lay stone dead with a bullet through its brain. +The gaunt hound bounded over its body, then stopped short, bewildered, +and eyed its fallen foe. Then with a savage snarl he seized it by the +throat as if to utterly demolish it, but the girl called him off, and +somehow, in his dog's heart, he understood that the game was not his. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +In the deepening shadows of the evening Hope and the breed boy rode +rapidly toward the camp, hungry for the long-delayed supper. + +"Dan staked me to his share of the coyotes, so you may have them," said +the girl. + +"Seven pups an' the old one!" exclaimed Dave; "that's better'n huntin' +chickens." + +"And supper just now is better than anything," sighed Hope to herself. +The boy heard, but did not reply, his mind being busy with a +mathematical problem. + +"How much is eight times four dollars, an' seventy-five cents for the +hide?" he asked. + +"That's a little example I'll let you work out for yourself," replied +his teacher. "You're awfully stupid in arithmetic, Dave, and it's too +bad, for in cases of coyotes' bounty and so forth it would be a pretty +good thing for you to know. You hurry up and figure that out, for +to-morrow you're going to get a hard one. It's this: If a Gatling gun +fires two thousand shots a minute how many can it fire in half an hour?" + +"Whew! you don't expect anybody to answer _that_, do you?" exclaimed the +boy. + +"Oh, that's easy," she laughed. "If you can't figure it out yourself you +might ask old Peter or Long Bill, maybe they'd know." + +The boy rode along, his thoughts absorbed in a brown study. At length he +sighed and looked up. + +"Well, anyway, it'll be enough to buy a horse or a new saddle with." +Then as though struck with a sudden thought he asked: "Say, what made +Dan give you his share of them coyotes?" She suppressed a faint +inclination to smile. + +"Perhaps he gave up as I did, and thought there was nothing there. Old +Peter said he knew there wasn't. But it's just possible Dan wanted to be +generous. Don't you think so?" + +"Not Dan!" exclaimed the boy. "There ain't one chance in a million +_he'd_ ever give such snap as that away! I reckon," he concluded after +some studying, "he must 'a' thought that den was empty an' was goin' to +pay me back. Ain't I got it on him now, though!" + +"And instead of being paid back you are getting both shares of the +coyote bounty, and you know you don't deserve it. What are you going to +do about it?" + +"You bet _he_ ain't a-goin' to get none of it!" was the emphatic reply; +to which the girl had nothing to say. + +In a few moments they came in sight of Sydney's camp. From out of the +small stove-pipe of the first of the two tents rolled a volume of smoke, +and across the narrow brush-covered valley came the delicious odor of +cooking food. Simultaneously the two riders urged on their horses to a +faster gait, for Hope at least was hungry. It is safe to say that the +breed boy was in the same condition, and this invitation out to supper +pleased him mightily. He was a large, stolidly built lad of fourteen +years, and like all boys of that age, whether stolidly built or slender +as a sapling, was always hungry. + +"I'll bet I can eat the whole shootin' match," he declared, actually +believing that he spoke the truth. + +"I think the meal is prepared for hungry people," replied Hope, heartily +agreeing with the boy's sentiments. "And I hope they have waited for us. +But for goodness' sake be careful not to make yourself sick, Dave!" + +The camp was pitched in an open flat beside a small sparkling mountain +stream. Upon one side of the creek was brush-covered bottom land, +through which the riders followed a winding trail, dim in the +semi-darkness. Then they splashed across the creek, and rode up its +steep bank into the clear, grass-covered government dooryard of the +campers. + +"Well, at last!" called a voice from the tent. "The posse was just +getting ready to go in search of you. Thought the chickens must have +lured you away. Come right in, the feast is prepared!" + +"All right, Syd," called the girl happily, dismounting almost in the +arms of old Jim McCullen, her dear "father Jim," to whom she gave the +heartiest handshake he had ever received. + +"Oh, I'm so glad you're back!" she exclaimed as he led her horse away to +stake it out. "How's everything at home--the dogs and horses, and +everything? Never mind the _people_! I don't want to hear a single thing +about them! We're late, Syd," she apologized, as her cousin held open +the tent flap for her to enter, "but oh, we've had such a stack of fun!" + +She greeted the little English cook, an old acquaintance, who beamed +with smiles as she entered. Then she cast her dark eyes about the tent +and encountered those of Livingston. + +"We were beginning to fear for your safety, Miss Hathaway," he said to +her, then wondered why she should laugh. And she did laugh loudly, with +a clear, sweet, reverberant ring that echoed through the little valley. +Before it had died away her face settled back into its natural quiet. +She threw her cowboy's hat into a far corner, and seated herself on a +case of canned goods opposite Livingston, to whom she immediately +devoted herself. + +She was not bold, this slender, well-built girl of the prairies,--no one +who knew her could conceive such an idea,--but she moved with a +forwardness, a certain freedom of manner that was her own divine right. +Whatever she did, whatever she said, appeared right in her--in another +less graceful, less charming, less magnetic, it would in many instances +seem gross boldness. But with her wonderful, forceful personality +whatever she did or said was the embodiment of grace and right. + +Many of her acquaintances aped her ways and little peculiarities of +speech, to the utter ruination of any originality or fascination they +may have themselves possessed, for such originality cannot be imitated. + +She leaned nearer to Livingston. + +"You should have been with us--we've had a great time! Just think, we +got eight coyotes! Isn't that fine for one evening?" + +"Indeed," he exclaimed, "I think that remarkable! Your cousin said that +something of the kind was keeping you. I take it that you are +passionately fond of hunting." + +"Yes, it is the greatest sport there is in this country, and where the +hunting is good, as it is at home along the Missouri River, there is +nothing like it. But up here there is really no game to speak of, though +the mountains at one time abounded with it. Even chickens are as hard to +find as a needle in a haystack. We found a den of coyotes, seven little +ones, and one of the old ones we got with the help of the dogs. You +know," she said confidentially, "I shouldn't have delayed this supper +for anything less than a den of coyotes." + +"There won't be the sign of any kind of game left up here by the time +she leaves," remarked Sydney, taking a seat on the ground beside her. + +"I heard tell as how she was tryin' to make a clearance," said old Jim +McCullen from the entrance. + +She flashed him a quick look of surprise. He answered it with a barely +perceptible squint, which she understood from years of comradeship to +mean that he shared her secret. It meant more than that. He not only +shared her secret, but his right hand--his life--was at her disposal, if +necessary. Then, in acknowledgment of his silent message she gave him +one of her rare, glorious smiles. + +"You did make a pretty lively clearing," said her cousin. "Eight coyotes +isn't so bad. That means numerous calves saved, young colts, a hundred +or so sheep, not to mention innumerable wild birds and barnyard fowl." + +"Truly, it makes us feel like conquerors, doesn't it, Dave? But we're +famished, Syd!" Then placing her seat beside the table she motioned the +others to join her, and soon they were enjoying a remarkably good camp +supper. + +The cook bustled about the tent, pouring out coffee, apologizing, +praising this dish or that, and urging them to partake of more, all in +one breath. + +Sydney and his friend Livingston kept up the conversation, to which Hope +listened, too contented and happy with the meal, the hour, and the +company to enter it herself. She finally pushed back her plate, +congratulated the cook upon the success of his supper, and gave the twin +a warning look, which he completely ignored. + +"Here, take another piece o' this pie," said the cook, who had +intercepted the girl's glance. At this invitation the boy helped himself +with alacrity, and with a broad smile the cook continued: "I never +knowed a boy yet to kill himself eatin'. You can fill 'em plumb full to +the brim, an' in a 'alf hour they're lookin' fer more. All the same, dog +er Injun, halways hungry; an' a boy's just the same." + +"Eat all you want, youngster, you're not in school now," said Carter. "I +have a slight recollection myself of a time when I had an appetite." + +"I failed to notice anything wrong with it to-night, Sydney," remarked +the girl. + +"There's nothin' like a happetite," observed the cook. "Did you's ever +hear the meaning hoff the word? This is how hit was told to _me_." He +stood before them emphasizing each word with a forward shake of his +first finger. "H-a-p-p-y,--happy,--t-i-t-e, tight,--happy--tite--that's +right, ain't hit? When you're heatin' hall you want you're _tight_, an' +then you're happy, ain't you? An' that's what hit means,--happy-tight." + +Whether this observation of the small English cook's was original or not +those present had no way of ascertaining. But since this was but a +sample of the many observations he aired each day, it is reasonable to +suppose that it originated in his fertile brain. + +"I think there's no doubt about that being the true derivation of the +word," said Hope. "In fact, I am sure it is. Isn't it, Dave?" + +"I don't know nothin' about it," said the boy, looking up from his last +bite of pie; then giving a deep sigh he reluctantly moved away from the +table. + +"Well, I can guarantee that you're happy," said Hope, "and that is a +positive demonstration of the truth of William's observation. But now we +must go," she said, rising abruptly and picking up her hat from the +corner of the tent. + +"You haven't been here a half hour yet, Hopie, but I suppose I must be +thankful for small favors," deplored Carter. + +"I've had my supper,--a nice one, too,--and that's what I came for, Syd, +dear," said the girl. "And if I may, I will come again, until you and +dear old Jim both get tired of me." + +"_Get tired_--fiddlesticks!" exclaimed McCullen, while Sydney laughed a +little, and left the tent to saddle her horse. The breed boy followed +him; then Livingston, too, was about to leave when McCullen stopped him. + +"Just stay in here by the fire and talk to Hopie till we get your +horses," he said, abruptly leaving them together. + +The girl drew nearer the stove. + +"It's quite chilly out this evening," she remarked. + +"That is the beauty of the nights in this northern country," he replied, +coming near to her. + +"Why, we're alone," she observed. "I wonder where William went!" + +"I didn't notice his disappearance," he replied. "But we are +alone--together. Are you not frightened?" + +"Frightened? No!" she said softly. "Why?" + +"A senseless remark. Do not notice it--or anything, I beg of you. I am +quite too happy to weigh my words." + +"Then you have proved the cook's theory correct; providing you have +eaten--sufficiently," she replied. They both smiled, and darts of light +from the stove played about their faces. + +"Will you allow me--this night--to ride home with you?" he asked, +watching the fantastic shadows upon her face and catching gleams of her +deep eyes as they occasionally sought his own. + +She hesitated a moment before replying. + +"You think me a strange girl," she said. "I wonder what you will think +of me now if I refuse this." + +"I think nothing except that you are the sweetest girl I have ever +known--and the _noblest_. I thank my Maker for having met you, and +spoken with you, and sat here in the firelight beside you! Your ways are +your own. I shall not--cannot question you, or impose myself upon you. +Our lives, it seems, lie far apart. But I cannot help it--the words burn +themselves out--I love you, _Hope_--I love you! Forgive me!" He raised +her hand to his lips and left her standing alone in the firelight. + +"He loves me," she thought, far into the quiet hours of the night. "He +loves me, and yet he ran away from me!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Late one afternoon during the following week Livingston drove up to +Harris' ranch and helped from his buggy a small, fair-haired girl who +looked with wonderment at the squalid log buildings, the squealing, +scurrying pigs and children, and the usual group of roughly dressed men +waiting for their supper. The pain in her eyes deepened, and she clasped +Livingston's arm like a frightened child. + +"_O_, _mein Freund_, I fear!" she cried, drawing back. + +"Come," he urged gently. "There is nothing to fear. You must trust me, +for I am indeed your friend, little girl. We will find the one who is +expecting you--who will love you and be a sister to you." + +A look of trustful obedience came into her sweet blue eyes, now +disfigured by much weeping, and without hesitation she walked beside him +past the group of rough-looking men, dirty, barefooted children, +scurrying pigs and dogs, to the kitchen door. + +An Indian woman with a baby in her arms stood in the shadow of the room +and motioned them to enter. + +"Is Miss Hathaway here?" inquired Livingston. + +At the sound of his voice the door of an inner room opened and Hope, her +slender form gowned as he had first seen her, came quickly across the +untidy room toward them. + +"I am Hope," she said to the girl, taking both of her soft little hands +in her own and looking in wonder at the childish face with its setting +of wavy gold hair. Suddenly the broken-hearted girl was in her arms +sobbing out her grief upon her shoulder. Hope led her to a seat, removed +her hat and coat, and uttered words of endearment to her, soothing her +as she would have done a child. + +Could this impulsive, loving girl be Hope, wondered Livingston, who +still stood in the doorway. She smoothed back the bright hair from the +pretty, childish face, exclaiming: + +"How beautiful you are! And what a little thing to have such a grief! +Oh, it is cruel, _cruel_! Cry, dear, cry all you want to--it will do you +good, and the pain will sooner be gone." + +"_O, Gott im Himmel_," sobbed the German girl, "_gieb mir Muth es zu +ertragen!_" + +"But you are, oh, so much braver than I. Look at me, see what a great, +big strong thing I am, and _I_ moaned and cried because the world wasn't +made to my liking! Oh, it makes me _ashamed_ now, when I see such a +little, frail thing as you suffer such a real sorrow! But I am your +friend--your sister, if you will have me." + +"How goot you are, _meine liebe Freundin_!" sobbed the girl. + +"May you never have reason to change your opinion," replied Hope slowly, +in German. + +"She speaks my language!" exclaimed the German girl, with something like +hopefulness in her voice. + +"But very poorly," apologized Hope, looking for the first time at the +man standing quietly in the doorway. + +"It will comfort her that you speak it at all," he replied. "But without +any language you would still be a comfort to her. I will leave her in +your hands, Miss Hathaway. She has had a long journey and--must be very +tired." He bowed and turned to go, but, recollecting something, came +back into the room. "I am going now," he said to the German girl, "but I +will come to see you often. You need have no fear when you are +with--Hope." + +Hope turned to him impulsively. + +"You will do as you say," she begged. "You will come often to see her." +Then added, "You know she'll be terribly lonely at first!" + +"It will give me great pleasure, if I may," he replied. + +She held out her hand to him. + +"If you _may_! Are you not master of your own actions? Good-by!" + +She took her hand from his firm clasp with something like a jerk, and +found herself blushing furiously as she turned to the little German +girl. + +As far as anyone could be made comfortable in the Harris home Hope made +her little charge so. She shared her room, her bed with her, took her to +school each day and kept her constantly at her side. + +She was a simple, trusting German girl, bright, and extremely pretty, +and her name was Louisa Schulte. From the first she had loved Hope with +an affection that was as touching as it was beautiful, and as she came +to know her better, day by day her love and admiration grew akin to +worship. She believed her to be the most wonderful girl that ever lived, +in some respects fairly superhuman. She marveled at the skill with which +she could ride and shoot, and her wisdom in Western lore. And behind +every accomplishment, every word and act, Louisa read her heart, which +no one before had ever known. + +So finding in the bereaved girl, who had so strangely come into her +life, the sympathy and love for which she had vainly searched in one of +her own sex, Hope gave her in return the true wealth of a sister's +heart. + +For some time after Louisa's arrival Hope was with her almost +constantly, but the inactive life began to tell upon her. Her eyes would +light up with an involuntary longing at the sight of the breed boys +racing over the hills upon their ponies. + +"Why don't you go?" asked the German girl, one morning, reading her +friend with observant eyes as the boys started out for a holiday. + +It was a beautiful warm Saturday morning. The two girls were sitting on +a pile of logs by the side of the road sunning themselves, far enough +away from the Harris house and its surroundings to enjoy the beauty of a +perfect day. + +"I would rather stay here with you," replied Hope, arranging a waving +lock which the wind had displaced from Louisa's golden tresses. "When +the horse comes that I have sent for, and you have learned to ride +better, we will go all over these mountains together. I will show you +Sydney's camp and take you to old Peter's cabin, and let you see where +we found the den of coyotes. We will go everywhere then, and have such a +good time!" + +Louisa looked at her tenderly, but her eyes were filled with the pain of +a great sorrow. + +"O, _Fräulein_, you are goot, so goot to me! If I may ask, not too much, +I wish to see where lies _mein lieber Fritz_. I vill weep no more--then. +Ven I sleep the dreams come so much. If I could see once the place it +would be better, _nicht wahr_?" + +"Yes," replied Hope, "it is a lovely spot and you shall see it. Mr. +Livingston could not have found a more beautiful place. Just now it is +all a mass of flowers and green grass as far as you can see, and behind +it is a great high jagged wall of stone. It is beautiful!" + +"Mr. Livingston is a good, true man," mused Louisa, lapsing into German, +which Hope followed with some difficulty. "He was very kind to my poor +Fritz, who loved him dearly. His letters were filled with his praises. +It was of him, of the beautiful country, and our love of which he always +wrote. He was a good boy, _Fräulein_." + +"Tell me about him," said Hope, adding hastily, "if you feel like it. I +would love to hear." + +Hope could not have suggested a wiser course, for to speak of a grief or +trouble wears off its sharp edges. + +"He was a good boy," replied Louisa. "I cannot see why God has taken him +from this beautiful place, and from me. It has been a year, now, since I +last saw him. He left in a hurry. He had never spoken of love until that +day, nor until he told me of it did I know that it was real love I had +so long felt for him. We grew up together. He was my cousin. I had other +cousins, but he was ever my best companion--my first thought. He came +to me that day and said: 'Louisa, I am going far away from here to the +free America. It breaks my heart to leave you. Will you promise to some +day join me there and be my wife?' I promised him, and then cried much +because he was going so far. It was even worse than the army, I thought, +and somehow it held a strange dread for me. But Fritz would not think of +the army. His eldest brother returned, and as head of the family all the +money went to him. My aunt married again. Her husband is a wholesale +merchant of wines. He gave Fritz a position in his warehouse, but very +soon they quarreled. He seemed not to like Fritz. Then there was nothing +for the poor boy but the army, or far America. I could not blame him +when he chose freedom. The lot of the youngest son is not always a happy +one. A friend who had been here told all about this great country and +the good opportunities, so he came. His letters were so beautiful! I +used to read them over and over until the paper was worn and would break +in pieces. For a whole year I waited, and planned, and lived on the +letters and my dreams, then filled with happiness I started to him. To +think that I have come to the end of this long, strange journey to a +foreign land to see but his grave! Oh, God in heaven, help me be brave!" + +"There is no death," said Hope, rising abruptly from the log upon which +she had been sitting and standing erect before Louisa, her dark +commanding eyes forcing the attention of the grief-stricken girl. "I +know there is no death. I feel it with every throb of my pulse--in every +atom of my being! _I_ and my _body_!--_I_ and my _body_!" she continued +impressively. "How distinct the two! Can the death of this lump of clay +change the _I_ that is really myself? Can anything exterminate the +living me? Every throb of my whole being tells me that I am more than +this perishable flesh--that I am more than time or place or condition or +_death_! I believe, like the Indians, that when we are freed from this +husk of death--this perishing flesh, that the we, as we truly are, is +like a prisoner turned loose--that then, only do we realize what _life_ +really means." + +Louisa's innocent eyes were intent upon her as she strove to grasp the +full meaning of the English words. + +"_Ich weiss; es ist wahr_," she replied softly, "_aber wenn der Kummer +so frisch ist, dann ist es unmöglich in dem Gedanken Trost zu finden_." + +"I should have said nothing," said Hope in contrition, seating herself +upon the log pile again. + +"_Nein_, my dear, dear friend! I have now dis misery, but I belief you. +Somedimes your vords vill help--vat you calls 'em--vill _soothe_, und I +vill be better." + +"Then it's all right," said Hope, jumping from the logs and giving her +hand to Louisa to assist her down. "Let's walk a little." + +They went slowly up the road toward the school-house, and had not +proceeded far when they met Livingston driving toward them in an open +buggy. + +Hope waved her hand to him and hastened forward, while Louisa smiled +upon him the faintest of dimpled greetings, then drew back to the side +of the road while the girl of the prairies stepped up to the side of his +buggy. + +"You haven't kept your word very well," she said. "We have seen you only +twice, and Louisa has wondered many times what has been keeping you. +Isn't that so, Louisa?" she nodded at the girl. "I am glad you have come +this morning, because I want to ask you a favor." + +"I am at your service," he replied. + +"You know Louisa hasn't learned to ride yet, and Harris' have no other +way of conveyance, so I wanted to ask you to take her in your buggy--to +see Fritz's grave." The last few words were added below her breath. + +"I came this morning to ask you if she did not wish to see it," he +replied. "It might be good for her." + +"Of course _you_ should be the first one to think of it!" she said +quickly, shading her eyes with her hand to look down the long, crooked +stretch of road. "I didn't think of it at all myself. She has just asked +me if she might see it. All the virtues are yours by right," she +continued, showing, as she again faced him, a flash of her strong white +teeth. "And the funny part of it is, I think I am getting jealous of the +very virtues you possess!" + +"You should see with my eyes awhile," he replied, "and you would have no +cause for jealousy." + +"I do not know jealousy in the ordinary sense of the word--that was +entirely left out of my make-up, but for once I covet the attributes of +thoughtfulness that should be ingrained in every woman's nature." + +When she had spoken he seemed struggling for an instant with some strong +emotion. Without replying he stepped from his buggy and walked to the +heads of his horses, presumably to arrange some part of the harness. + +Livingston struggled to keep back the words which sprang to his lips. He +loved the girl with all the strength of his nature. Her whole attitude +toward him artlessly invited him to speak, but his manhood forbade it. + +He was a puzzle, she thought, impatiently. Why did he not make a little +effort to woo her, after having declared his love in no uncertain +manner? She was not sure that she wanted to receive his advances if he +should make any, but why did he not make them? She knew that she was +interested in him, and she knew, also, that she was piqued by his +apparent indifference. She knew he was like a smoldering volcano, and +she had all a girl's curiosity to see it burst forth; but with the +thought came a regret that their acquaintance would then be at an end. + +"I can take you both up there now, if you wish," he said, coming around +to the side of the buggy. "The seat is wide and I do not think you will +be uncomfortable." + +Hope had turned her eyes once more down the narrow, winding stretch of +gray toward the Harris ranch. + +"I think I will not go," she replied, still peering ahead from under the +shade of her hand. "Yes, I am sure now that's Sydney. See, just going +into the corral. Jim was to have brought me an extra saddle horse +to-day, but Sydney has come instead, so I'll go back. Louisa can go +alone with you." She motioned to the girl. "Come, Louisa, Mr. Livingston +wants to take you for a little drive. I will be down there at the house +when you come back." + +The girl understood enough of their conversation to know where she was +expected to go. Obediently, trustfully, with one loving glance at Hope, +she climbed into the buggy beside Livingston and was soon riding rapidly +up the mountain road to the grave of her sweetheart. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Hope's anxiety to reach the ranch could not have been great, for she +walked slowly along the dark, gray stretch of road, vaguely dreaming the +while, and offering excuses to herself for not having accepted +Livingston's invitation. She managed to find several reasons. First, it +would have been too crowded; second, Sydney had brought the horse, and +was probably waiting to see her; third, she had no particular desire to +go, because he had so obviously wanted her to do so. Finally, after +weighing all her excuses, she was obliged to admit that the only thing +that really troubled her was Livingston's evident unconcern at her +refusal to accompany them. + +She had reached a point in her life where self-analysis was fast +becoming an interesting study. At present it struck her as being +amusing. + +The clatter of hoofs and a wild whoop brought her out of her absorbing +study, as down the nearest side-hill the twins raced pell-mell, the +pinto pony leading the stylish Dude by half a length. They drew up +suddenly in the road beside her. + +"Now you can see fer yourself that that Dude cayuse of Dave's ain't in +it with my pinto!" exclaimed the soft-voiced twin. + +"What'er you givin' us!" shouted Dave. "Just hear him brag about that +spotted cayuse of his'n! 'Twasn't no even race at all. He had 'bout a +mile the start!" + +"Oh, come off your perch!" retorted the other sweetly. + +"Where are you boys going?" asked Hope. + +"Nowheres. We seen you from the top of the divide, an' I thought I'd +just show you what was in Pinto. He's all right--you bet! Ain't you, old +man?" said the boy, pulling his pony's mane affectionately. + +"Oh, _I_ wasn't tryin' to show off!" exclaimed Dave. "But just give me +a level road an' I'll beat you all to pieces!" + +"Where have you been?" inquired Hope. + +The boys looked at each other in a sheepish manner. + +"I'm going to guess," said the girl suspiciously, "and if I am right +you'll have to own up. In the first place your father sent you out to +bring in those cows and calves over near old Peter's basin. Instead of +that you went on farther and found a camp. You went in one of the tents +and ate some dried blackberry pie, instead of bringing in the cattle. +Now, isn't that so?" + +Dave looked dumfounded. + +"I don't see how you knew that when you wasn't along! Gee, you must know +things like grandmother White Blanket!" he exclaimed. + +The soft-voiced twin began to laugh. "I told you that you was gettin' +more o' that pie on your face 'n you was in your mouth!" he exclaimed, +whereupon the other quickly turned away his besmeared countenance, +proceeding to wipe it vigorously with the sleeve of his coat. + +"Have you got your bounty yet for the coyotes you dug out of the hill?" +asked Hope, to allay his discomfort. She glanced sideways at the +soft-voiced twin, who assumed his most docile, innocent expression, and +rode on ahead. It had become a sore subject with him. Suddenly giving a +wild whoop he spurred up his pinto and dashed in among the assortment of +tents, bringing to the entrance of her abode old Mother White Blanket, +who hurled after him numerous blood-curdling, Indian invectives. Then +she covered her yellow prongs of teeth under a wrinkled lip and scowled +fiercely at Hope as she passed along the road, causing the breed boy to +say: + +"The old woman's got it in fer you, I reckon. But don't you care, she +ain't so all-fired smart as she makes out to be!" + +"I'm not afraid of her," replied Hope. "She suspects me of having had a +hand in the shooting that night at the sheep-corrals up there, and in +consequence has a very bad heart for me. Now how could she think such a +thing as that? I don't believe she's much of a witch, though, because +when she gets in one of her fits of passion she'd ride off on a +broomstick if she were." + +"She's got eyes like a hawk," said the boy, "always seem' everything +that's goin' on." + +"She don't miss much, that's sure," mused Hope, as they passed by the +house and approached the corrals. There the soft-voiced twin was talking +with Carter, praising, enthusiastically, the points of his pinto cayuse, +and comparing it with the blooded saddle horse which Sydney had just +brought from Hathaway's home-ranch at Hope's request. The boy never knew +just how his statements were received, for at sight of Hope the young +man went out into the road to meet her. + +She welcomed him with a quick smile, which a year previous would have +been accompanied by a sisterly kiss. Carter noted its omission this day +with singular impatience. How long, he wondered, before she would forget +his foolishness. It occurred to him then, that in spite of her +girlishness she was very much a woman, and his actions toward her, which +now he most heartily regretted, had ignited a spark of self-consciousness +in her nature, raising an effective barrier between them that only time +could wear away. + +"I expected Jim with the horse instead of you, Sydney," she said. "How +did it happen?" + +"A lot of men are up with the trail herds, and your father needed Jim to +help pay them off, so I brought the horse instead. Jim will be back in a +couple of days," he explained. + +"You went down to the ranch, then, with him yesterday evening, I +suppose," said Hope. "What are they all doing there?" + +"It looks just as it did any evening last summer, if you happened to +drop in on them. Little Freddie Rosehill thumping away at the piano and +singing bass from the soles of his feet, that tallest Cresmond girl, +with the red hair, yelling falsetto, and the others joining in when they +got the chance. Then down at the other end of the room the usual card +table--your father, mother, Clarice, and O'Hara, and father and mother +Cresmond watching the game and listening to the warbling of their +offspring." + +"Is _Larry O'Hara_ there?" asked Hope in surprise. "I thought he was not +coming this year." + +"Don't you ever think O'Hara is going to give you up as easy as that," +replied Sydney, laughing. "He just got there yesterday, and was in the +depths of despair when he discovered you had flown. He told Clarice he +was coming over here to see you as soon as he could decently get away. +His mother's with him, which makes that proposition a little more +awkward for him than if he were alone. It was late when I got there and +I didn't have time to change my clothes, so I just walked in on them in +this outfit. But they seemed pretty glad to see me." + +"I'll bet they nearly smothered you with welcome! I can just see them," +said Hope. "That Lily Cresmond with the red hair always was so +demonstrative to you, Syd. I'm sorry O'Hara is there, and Clarice Van +Renssalaer, too--or rather, I mean, I'm sorry only because they are +there that I am not at home, for I like them; but I'm not very sorry +either, Syd. I'd rather be up here in the mountains, free like this, +with my poor little Louisa, and you and Jim camping over the hills +there, than stifling in the atmosphere of those New York people." + +"You're a queer girl, Hope, but I don't believe I blame you much. I was +glad to leave this morning and head my horse this way." + +"Did father--ask about me?" she inquired hesitatingly. + +"He didn't lose any time in getting me off alone and questioning me for +about an hour," he replied. "He misses you, Hope." + +"Poor father--poor old Dad!" exclaimed the girl softly. Then with a +peculiar motion of her head and shoulders, as if throwing off a load, +she remarked firmly: "But that makes no difference. I am glad, anyway, +to be here. I have you and Jim so near, and my dear little German +girl--and perfect freedom!" + +"And you have Livingston to take the place of O'Hara," he returned, "and +there is nothing lacking, as far as I can see, except a good cook in the +Harris family." + +"Mr. Livingston is nothing to me," replied Hope quickly, "and he doesn't +care anything for me, if that is what you mean to imply." Her eyes +flashed and she spoke with unusual sharpness. + +"We can't afford to quarrel, Hope," exclaimed Carter. Then, putting his +hand upon her shoulder, said very earnestly: "I was just joking, and +didn't mean to imply anything, so don't be angry with me. Besides, it +won't do. It's near noon and I was going to suggest that we go over to +camp and have William get us up a good dinner, and then we'll go +fishing. What do you say? You can invite your breed brigade; they look +hungry," pointing to the two boys sitting on the ground in the shade of +a log barn, their knees drawn up under their chins. + +"Oh, I don't mind what you say, Syd, dear," she said abruptly. "I +believe I am getting to be quite as foolish as other people, to be +offended so easily. I should as soon expect you to turn upon me in wrath +if I told you to look out for little Louisa." + +"Poor little Louisa," he exclaimed. "Where is she?" + +"We went up the road for a walk, and Mr. Livingston drove along and took +her up to see her Fritz's grave," she explained. + +"Now then, my girl, _you_ look out for Louisa! There's nothing like +consoling grief to bring two hearts close together. How did you ever +come to allow him to carry her away up there and do the consolation act? +You'll sure lose him now! I thought you had more diplomacy!" + +She laughed a little. + +"Unless a man loved me with every atom of his being, with his whole +life, I couldn't feel the least attraction for him in _that_ way," she +said. "That is the way I have planned for the _one_ man to love, my +ideal man, Syd. When such a man comes along I shall love him, but I very +much fear he does not exist." + +"Then you're doomed to die an old maid, Hope! But don't you think O'Hara +entertains that kind of affection for you?" + +"Do you know, I have a perfect horror of being an old maid. Probably +I'll outgrow it. O'Hara? No, indeed! He'll get over it soon enough, and +think just as much of some other girl. He's a nice boy, a good friend, +but he isn't just my idea of what a man should be." + +"I'm afraid you're doomed, Hope," said her cousin, shaking his head +solemnly. "What will you do, spend your lonely maidenhood out here on +the prairie, or take a life interest in some Old Ladies' Home?" + +"Did you say something about going up to camp?" she asked. "But I ought +to wait for Louisa; she should be back now." + +"I've ridden twenty miles this morning, and the consequence is my +appetite is rather annoying," replied Sydney. He called to the two boys, +sitting drowsily in the shade. "Here, you boys, if you want to go out +and get some grub with this lady, just run in her horse for her as fast +as you can." + +"Well, I should say so!" exclaimed the soft-voiced twin, who jumped up +with wonderful alacrity, followed more slowly by Dave. Another moment +they were spurring their ponies across the large, fenced pasture toward +a bunch of horses grazing quietly in the distance. + +"Those boys are all right when there's anything to eat in sight," +remarked Carter. + +"Or any fun," added the girl. + +"How in the world do you tell them apart?" he inquired. "I look at one +and think I've got him spotted for sure, and then when the other one +turns up I'm all mixed again. You seem to know them so well, you must +have some kind of a mark to go by." + +"They are so entirely different in their natures," she said, "that I +almost know them apart without looking at them. Their faces look +different to me, too. Dan has certain expressions that Dave never had; +and their voices are nothing alike." + +"I've noticed their voices," said her cousin, watching the boys as they +deftly turned the bunch of horses and headed them toward the corral. +"Well, they can sure ride to beat three of a kind! They're not losing +any time with those horses, either." + +The corral was built in a corner of the pasture fence, near the stables. +It took the breed boys scarcely five minutes to corral the horses, rope +the saddle animal wanted, throw open the large gate and lead out the +horse. The other horses followed with a mad dash, kicking up their heels +in very joy for their unexpected freedom. + +Hope watched the road, as far as she could see it, looking for the +return of her small German friend. + +"We'll ride along," suggested Sydney, throwing the saddle upon her +horse, "and we'll probably meet them. I don't think we'll have any +trouble getting Livingston to drive over to camp, and we'll all go +fishing together." + +This seemed to take a load from the mind of Hope, and light-heartedly +she rode away toward the camp with her cousin and the breed boys. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +They met Livingston and his charge just as they reached the dimly marked +trail that led up a gulch toward Sydney's camp. At the invitation +extended for dinner the sheep-man drove up the coulee and followed the +riders. + +William, the cook, greeted his guests with a generous smile, then +proceeded to do a great amount of hustling about preparing for the meal, +which he promised would be an excellent one. Being a round-up cook of +much experience, he soon set before them such an assortment of edibles +as would have dumfounded the uninitiated. + +The afternoon passed off pleasantly. Hope was unusually vivacious, and +Sydney full of amusing small talk, principally concerning his sundry +adventures and impressions during his brief absence from camp. + +They all felt the grief of the German girl, and each showed his sympathy +in a different manner. Sydney talked, often in an aimless, senseless +way, but obviously to divert the unhappy girl. Hope filled each pause, +concluded every description with rich drollery and mimicry, while +Livingston's quiet attentiveness betokened the deepest compassion. Even +William gave her many smiles and made numerous witty remarks, which were +wholly lost upon her. + +"You're in a very bad crowd of people, Miss Louisa," said Sydney. "But +after awhile you'll be so much like us that you won't notice how bad we +are!" + +"Shame on you, Sydney!" exclaimed Hope. "Louisa never could be bad!" +Then to the girl: "The truth is, _he's_ the only bad one in the whole +outfit, so don't let him make you think that the rest of us are bad, +too!" + +"You are all _so_ goot," said Louisa, in great earnestness. + +"Now listen to that!" cried Sydney. "That's the first time anybody ever +accused _me_ of being good! I'll get a gold medal and hang it about +your neck, Miss Louisa, and I'll be your faithful servant from now on." + +"And you'll bring her fresh flowers every day, and maybe you could +borrow Mr. Livingston's buggy since you haven't one of your own. But +don't soar too high, Sydney, she doesn't know you yet!" returned his +cousin. + +"But _you_ like him," said Louisa, "and daat iss--vat you calls +'em--_recommend_ enough!" + +They were all surprised by this first flash of the real Louisa, the +Louisa of sunshine and mirth, whom Sorrow had so soon branded. + +It was the first time Sydney had heard her utter anything but the +briefest monosyllables. He looked at her, astonished. For an instant +silence reigned, then Hope, with sudden abandonment, threw her arms +about her, exclaiming: + +"Oh, you're the dearest thing I ever saw! Isn't she, Syd?" And then, as +if ashamed of her impulsiveness, she jumped up and laughingly left the +tent. A few moments later she put her head inside, remarking: "The +trout haven't begun to feed yet. I'd like to know how we are going to +put in the time waiting for them! It's too hot for anything in there, +and it won't be a bit of use to try to fish for an hour, at least. All +of you come outside." + +"Yes," said Carter, rising lazily to his feet. "I've discovered a small +Eden down there under the willows, along the creek. All green and mossy +and pepperminty, but the snake's never showed up yet. Come on, we'll all +go down there." + +He led the way along the steep bank of the small creek and down its +opposite side until a parting in the willow brush revealed one of +Nature's hidden glories, a small glen, shady and beautiful. From its +very center sprang a tiny spring, forming a clear, glassy pool of water +which narrowed into a tiny trickling rill that went creeping through the +grass-carpeted arbor to the larger stream beyond. + +It was beautifully inviting, and Hope sank down upon a mossy cushion +with an exclamation of delight. + +"Now, how am I for an entertainer?" asked Sydney gayly. Hope turned her +dark eyes upon him, then about the little arbor. + +"Wait," she said softly, "don't talk for a minute--don't even breathe. +This is glorious!" Then after a brief pause, continued: "There, the +spell's passed! This place is no longer enchanting, but lovely and cool, +just the same, and is a whole lot better than that roasting tent up +there. What became of the twins? Probably they are more attracted by +William's mode of entertainment than yours, Syd!" She turned to +Livingston and smiled. "William has two regular customers already, you +know. I am afraid to think what will happen if he camps here all +summer." + +"I am inclined to add my name to the list if he entertains such charming +ones every day," replied the sheep-man. + +"I meant the _boys_," said Hope in all seriousness. + +Sydney laughed outright. + +"How do you know but what he meant the boys, too?" he asked. She looked +at him with an assumption of surprise. "A girl never makes such a +mistake as that," she said. "It was a very pretty compliment." + +"Worthy of O'Hara," he put in. + +"Worthy of Mr. Livingston," she declared. "O'Hara's compliments are not +so delicate. They are beautifully worded, but unconvincing." + +"I believe she's actually giving you credit for extreme honesty!" +exclaimed Carter. + +"I sincerely trust so," replied his friend heartily. "It would be a most +pleasing compliment." + +"Well, I should say it would be the biggest one _she_ ever paid anyone! +You're the first one Hope ever credited with honesty. You can sit for an +hour and tell her a great long story and she'll never give you the +satisfaction of knowing for sure whether she believes you or not. The +chances are she don't. She'll take your assertions, weigh every word, +and then draw her own conclusions." + +"You only know from your own experience," demurred Hope. "All people +haven't your habit of departing from the truth, you know." Then to +Livingston: "Really, he can tell a terrible whopper with the straightest +face imaginable! He only proves to you how well I know him. Last summer +he told a girl a ridiculous story about snakes. It was her first visit +at the ranch, and for several days I thought something was the matter +with her brain. Every time she heard a grasshopper buzz anywhere near +she would give a shriek and turn deathly pale. She finally told me that +she feared rattlesnakes because Sydney had told her that that particular +buzz was the snake's death rattle and that something or somebody was +doomed for sure, that if the snake couldn't get the human victim it had +set its eyes upon, it crept into a prairie-dog hole and got one of them. +Of course that is only a sample of his very foolish yarns, which no one +but an ignorant person would think of believing." + +"I remember," laughed Sydney. "That was that fair Lily Cresmond. She got +up and had breakfast with me at six o'clock this morning. Poor girl! +I'm afraid I've put my foot in it this time!" + +"For goodness' sake, did she propose to you?" asked Hope, aghast. + +"Not that I'm aware of!" answered Sydney. "No, it's worse than that. She +asked me to tell her really and truly why _you_ weren't at home this +summer. She crossed her heart, hoped to die she'd never breathe a word +of it to a living, human creature, so I told her that it pained me to +tell the sad story, but last season Freddie Rosehill had shown you such +evident admiration that your father had become thoroughly alarmed and +thought it best to keep you out of his way for the present. But I +suggested that you might face paternal wrath and come back just for one +look at the dear little boy." + +"Sydney, you never did!" gasped Hope. "_How could you?_" + +"Freddie came trotting out for his morning constitutional just as I was +riding away," he continued, "and he waved his cane in the air and +actually _ran_ down to the corral to say good-by. I really believe he +liked me for once because I was leaving, and he very gingerly asked +about you, and naturally was visibly relieved when I assured him that +you would probably not be home while he was there. Talk about your +joshers!" he said to Livingston. "Hope had the little Englishman so he +didn't know his soul was his own! She'd take him out on the prairie and +lose him, have him pop away for an hour at a stuffed chicken tied to the +top of a tree, shoot bullets through his hat by mistake, and about a +million other things too blood-curdling to mention. He didn't want to +refuse my aunt's invitation to join the party at the ranch every summer, +but his days and nights were spent in mortal terror of this dignified +daughter of the house. And I must say there wasn't much love lost +between them." + +"A brainless little fop!" commented Hope. + +"Well, it seems he had sense enough to catch that oldest Cresmond girl, +Lily, whose ears I filled with the pathetic story; but I didn't know it +then, that's the fun of it! He held out his fat little hand to me when +I started out this morning and said: 'I want your congratulations. Lily +has promised to be my Lady.' 'You don't say so,' I said. 'Lord, but what +a haul you've made, Rosehill!' 'Yes,' said he, 'she's a beauty!' 'And a +million or so from her papa'll set you up in housekeeping in great shape +over in Old England. I certainly congratulate you!' said I. He didn't +seem to have anything more to say, so I rode off, and do you know I +never once thought of what I'd told that girl about him liking you until +I was halfway here." + +"Oh, Syd, what have you done!" cried Hope. "You ought to go right back +to the ranch and fix it up for them. It might be real serious!" + +"Don't worry; they'll fix it up between them, just give 'em time," +laughed Sydney. "But then I shouldn't like to be the cause of breaking +up such a match. I sure wouldn't!" + +"I should say not! It would be terrible!" agreed Hope. + +"No, I wouldn't like it on my conscience," continued Sydney, "to break +up such a good match by my thoughtless words. It would be too bad to +spoil two families!" + +"I quite agree with you, excepting the lady, whom I do not know," +remarked Livingston. "But I have met Rosehill. He is, in my estimation, +a worthless specimen of English aristocracy." + +"Oh, they're mostly all alike, a mighty poor outfit all through, from +the ones I've known! But I guess they'll manage to fix it up among +themselves," laughed Hope. + +At this remark Livingston looked oddly at the girl, then the brush +crackled near them, followed by the appearance of one of the twins, who, +smiling victoriously, held up for inspection a small string of trout. + +"And here we've been wasting our time when we might have been fishing +instead!" exclaimed Hope, springing up from her mossy couch and minutely +examining the string of fish. + +"You'll find fishing tackle, all you want, up at camp. William'll show +you," remarked Sydney. "For my part I shall stay here and gather +strawberry leaves for Miss Louisa to make into wreaths. Isn't this one a +daisy? It's too warm to fish, anyway," he concluded. + +"You shall not decide for her, Syd," declared Hope. "Which would you +rather do, Louisa?" + +The German girl shook her head, smiling a little. "It is very warm," she +said. + +"Then you shall stay with Sydney," decided Hope. "But I am only going to +fish a little while, anyway, because I've got something else I want to +do." She looked up at Livingston, who had come near her, and laughed. +"Yes, you may go with me if you will show me how to cast a fly. Sydney +says you are an expert fisherman, but I don't know the first thing about +it. We will walk up the creek and fish down, because the boys are +fishing down here." She called to the boy, who was walking toward the +stream: "I'll be ready to go home in about an hour, wait for me!" He +nodded in reply. "Come on," she said to Livingston. + +They had fished in silence some minutes, far up the stream at an open +point where several other smaller streams joined this, forming a broad +group of tiny, gravelly islands. + +"I do think," said the girl finally, "that this is great sport, though I +cannot haul them out like you do. Now it must be luck--nothing more, for +we both have exactly the same kind of flies." + +"You leave your fly too long in the water," said the man. "You should +cast more--like this." + +"But I can't for the life of me get the hang of it," she exclaimed, +making a desperate attempt. + +"Not like that," said Livingston. "Look, this is the way. There, you've +caught yourself!" + +"Yes, how foolish," laughed the girl. "It's in there to stay, too!" + +"Wait, I will assist you," he said, leaping across the stream which +separated them, and coming to her side. + +"I think I can get it out all right," she said, throwing down her pole, +and using on the entangled hook more force than discretion. She laughed +in a half-vexed manner at her attempts, while Livingston stood near +watching, his eyes earnest, intent, his face illumed by a soft, boyish +smile of quiet enjoyment. + +"If I had another hook I'd cut this off and leave it in there," she +said, "but the fishing is too fine to leave now. No, wait a minute," +motioning him back with the disengaged hand while she tugged vigorously +at the hook with the other. "I can do it. If only the material in this +waist wasn't so strong, I might tear it out. How perfectly idiotic of me +to do such a thing, anyway!" Her cheeks were aflame with the exertion. +"You see," she continued, still twisting her neck and looking down +sideways at the shoulder of her gown where the hook was imbedded, "I +don't want to break it because we'd have to go way back to the camp and +start in over, and then it would be too late in the day. I don't see +what possessed that fish to get away with my other hook! But this goods +simply won't tear!" + +"There's no other way," declared Livingston, with conviction. "You will +have to let me help you. I'll cut it out. See," he scrutinized the hook +very closely, while Hope threw down her arms in despair, "it's only held +by a few threads. If you don't mind doing a little mending, I will +perform the operation in a moment to your entire satisfaction." + +"Well, hurry, please, because we are certainly wasting good time and +lots of fish." + +"If all time were but wasted like this," he exclaimed softly, prolonging +the task. + +She knew that he was taking undue advantage of the situation and that +she was strangely glad of it, recklessly glad, in her own fashion. She +had never looked at him so closely before. In this position he could not +see her. She noticed his broad, white forehead, and felt a strong desire +to touch the hair that dropped over it, then admonished herself for +feeling glad at his slowness. + +From the hillside above them a man on a piebald horse watched the scene +interestedly. Without warning the girl's eyes lifted suddenly from the +soft, brown hair so near, and met those of the rider above. +Livingston's head was bent close to her own, so that he did not see the +leering, grinning face that peered down at them, but Hope caught the +look direct, and all, and more, than it seemed to imply. Her eyes +glittered with anger. Like a flash her hand sought her blouse and for an +instant the bright sunlight gleamed upon a small weapon. As quickly the +man wheeled his horse and disappeared behind the hill. With a deep flush +the girl hid the little revolver as Livingston, ignorant of the scene, +triumphantly held up for inspection the rescued fishhook. + +"Making love, by the holy smoke," chuckled Shorty Smith to himself, +spurring up his piebald horse and heading off a stray calf. "So that's +what she does 'longside o' teachin' kids!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Upon the highest ridge between the camp and old Peter's basin Hope and +the twins met Ned riding slowly along, his sturdy little legs drawn up +into the straps of a man's saddle. He had an old, discarded felt hat of +his father's, several sizes too large for him, pulled down until his +ears laid flat along the brim. From under its wide, dingy expanse his +sharp, little black eyes peered out inquisitively. In imitation of a +certain French breed whom he greatly admired, a large red handkerchief +was knotted about his waist. + +He made a picturesque little figure in the bright sunlight as he rode +leisurely toward them. + +"Where've you all been?" he called at the top of his boyish treble. "You +boys're goin' to catch it if you don't bring in those cows before +dark!" + +"Who told you?" roared Dave. + +"The old man told me to come an' look you fellers up. Where've you +been?" inquired the child, riding up alongside and swinging his horse +into pace with the others. + +"Now you want to find out something," said Dan complacently. + +"I don't _care_ where you've been," said the child indignantly, "but +you'd better be roundin' in them cows or you'll catch it!" + +Hope rode up beside him. "I'm sorry you weren't home when we left. We've +been over at my cousin's camp. The next time you shall go along." + +"Let's go to-morrow," suggested the boy eagerly, to which amusing +proposition she immediately agreed. "Say," he continued, "I seen Long +Bill and some o' them fellers drive in a bunch of mavericks off'n the +range, an' they're goin' to brand 'em back of old Peter's this evenin'. +There was a cow with an O Bar brand on her, followed 'em all the way +down, bellerin' an' makin' a big fuss, an' they can't get rid of her. +They give me a half a dollar to drive her back, but she turned so quick +I couldn't do nothin' with her, so I thought I'd just let 'em take care +of her themselves." + +"Are you sure about that brand?" asked Hope quickly. + +"Sure as anything," replied the boy. "Why?" + +"I think you must be mistaken," she told him. "For it would be very +queer if one of my father's cows should be following a stray maverick up +to old Peter's place." + +"I'll tell you something," whispered the boy, leaning toward her. "They +wasn't yearlings at all, they was bringin' in, only big calves." + +Her face darkened savagely. "Come," she exclaimed, "I'm going to see for +myself!" + +"Tattle-tale!" cried the sweet-voiced twin. "Now you'll get us into a +scrape for tellin'. I'll lick you for this!" + +The girl turned her horse sharply about, stopped it short, facing them +fiercely. + +"You coward!" she exclaimed. "That child didn't know what he was +telling! He's honest. If either of you touch him, or say one unkind word +to him about this, I'll make you smart for it!" + +"I didn't mean nothin'," declared the soft-voiced twin suavely. + +"Well, I guess you didn't if you know what's good for you!" she +exclaimed, still angry. "Now what are you going to do about it, go home +like babies, or stand by me and do what I tell you?" + +"You bet I'll stand by you!" roared Dave. + +"I reckon you're our captain, ain't you?" said the other sweetly. + +"I'm a scout, I am!" exclaimed the boy, Ned, riding close beside her. + +She mused for a moment with darkening eyes, putting her elbow upon the +saddle's horn and resting her chin in the hollow of her hand. + +"It's all right," she said at length deliberately. "Ned will show you +where the cow is, and you boys drive it up to old Peter's corral just as +quickly as you can ride. Don't let anyone see you. When you have done +that, go up to the school-house and wait there for me. Now hurry, and +don't let anyone see you drive in that cow. Go around this other side of +old Peter's." + +She motioned her hand for them to go, and waited until they were out of +sight, then rode on to the school coulee which led into old Peter's +basin. It was a long, roundabout way, but her horse covered the ground +rapidly. + +From the hill behind the school-house she saw Livingston driving back to +his ranch. She stood out in full relief against the green hillside, and +if he had glanced in that direction must surely have seen her. From that +distance she could not tell if he had done so or not. She wondered what +he would think if he saw her there alone. Then to get sooner out of +sight she ran her horse at full speed up the school coulee toward old +Peter's basin. + +Livingston saw her quite plainly; from that distance there was no +mistaking her. Then he proceeded to do a very unwise thing. He put his +horses to their full speed, reached his stables in a few moments, threw +his saddle on his best horse and set out in the direction the girl had +taken. + +Hope made her way quickly up to the top of the divide, then skirmished +from brush patch to brush patch, keeping well out of sight until she +reached the brush-covered entrance of Peter's basin. There she had a +plain view of the small cabin, the rude stable, and corral, without +herself being observed by the occupants of the place, and there she +settled herself to wait the appearance of the cow, whose queer actions +had been reviewed to her. + +It was difficult to believe that she was actually in the midst of cattle +thieves, though the suspicion had more than once crossed her mind. + +She held that class of men in the utmost loathing, and felt herself to +be, now, in the actual discovery of the crime, a righteous instrument in +the arm of justice. + +The unmistakable figure of Long Bill loafed serenely in the doorway; old +Peter hobbled about, in and out of the house, while back near the corral +a man was carrying an armful of wood. This man the girl watched with +particular interest. He took the sticks to one side of the corral, and +getting down upon his knees proceeded to arrange them on the ground in +methodical order, into the shape of a small pyramid. That done to his +satisfaction, he lounged back to the cabin and took a seat beside Long +Bill in the doorway. + +Presently all three men went back to the corral, and looked over the +rails at several small creatures which were running about the enclosure. + +"Them ain't bad-lookin' fellers," Long Bill was saying. + +Hope, from her position in the brush, tried to imagine what they were +talking about, for the distance was too great to carry the sound of +their voices. + +"I reckon we might as well git 'em branded an' have it over with," +suggested Shorty Smith, the third man of the party. + +"I reckon we might as well," replied Long Bill. Old Peter shook his head +doubtfully. + +"Go ahead," he grunted. "But remember I don't know nothin' about these +here calves! You're just usin' my corral here to-day, an' the devil keep +your skins if you git caught!" + +"Oh, I don't know!" drawled Shorty Smith. + +"Well, I know!" roared the old man. "If you can't take my advice an' put +this here thing off till after dark you kin take the consequences. +Anybody's likely to ride along here, an' I'd like to know what kind of a +yarn you'd have to tell!" + +"Now you know them calves 're yourn," drawled Shorty Smith, in an +aggravating tone, as he climbed up and seated himself on the top pole of +the corral. "You know them 're yourn, every blame one, an' their mothers +'re back in the hills there!" + +"Your cows all had twins, so you picked out these here ones to wean 'em, +if anybody should ask," said Long Bill, continuing the sport. + +The old man uttered a string of oaths. + +"Not much you don't pan 'em off onto me!" he exclaimed. "My cows ain't +havin' twins this year!" + +"Some of Harris' has got triplets," mused Shorty Smith, at which Long +Bill laughed, exclaiming: + +"Been lary ever since them stock-inspectors was up here last fall, ain't +you? Before that some o' your cows had a half a dozen calves. I should +'a' thought you had more grit'n that, Peter!" + +The old man cursed some more. Shorty Smith jumped down from his high +perch and fetched a long, slender rod of iron from between two logs of +the cow-shed. + +"Might as well git down to business," he said as he threw the branding +iron on the ground beside the symmetrical pyramid of fire-wood, which he +proceeded to ignite. + +"Let up, old man," growled Long Bill, "I'll take the blame o' the whole +concern an' you ken rake in your share in the fall without any +interference whatsomever." + +"Don't git scared, Peter, you ain't got long to live on this here +planet, nohow, so you can finish your days in peace. If there's any time +to be served we'll do it for you," drawled Shorty. + +"That's what I call a mighty generous proposition," remarked Long Bill, +as he coiled up his rope. "We'll just git the orniments on these +innocent creatures an' shut 'em up in the shed fer a spell." + +"Yes, yes! Git the job over with if you ain't goin' to wait till after +sundown," exclaimed old Peter nervously. + +They set to work at once, roping, throwing, and putting a running brand +on the frightened calves. As each one was finished to the satisfaction +of the operator it was put into the cow-shed nearby--a rude sort of +stable, where it was turned loose and the door securely fastened on the +outside with a large wooden peg. + +They had been working industriously for perhaps half an hour when old +Peter glanced up from the calf upon which he was sitting and encountered +Hope Hathaway's quiet eyes watching them interestedly. She stood beside +the cow-shed but a few feet away, and held her horse by the bridle. + +"Good God!" screamed the old man, nearly losing his balance. "Where did +you come from?" + +The other men, whose backs were toward her, glanced about quickly, then +proceeded in well assumed unconcern with the work upon which they were +engaged. + +"I hope I'm not intruding," said the girl. + +"Not at all," replied Shorty Smith politely. "It ain't often we're +favored by the company of wimmen folks." + +"Those are fine-looking calves you've got there," observed the girl. + +"Pretty fair," replied Shorty Smith, assisting the animal to its feet. + +The visitor stepped to one side while he dragged it into the shed and +closed the door, fastening it with the peg. Then Long Bill proceeded to +throw another victim with as much coolness as though Hope had not been +there with her quiet eyes taking in every detail. + +Old Peter had not uttered a word since his first involuntary +exclamation, and though visibly agitated, proceeded in a mechanical +manner to assist with the branding, but he kept his head down and his +eyes obstinately averted from the girl's. + +Nearly a dozen had been branded, and only one, besides the last victim +already thrown to the ground, remained in the corral. + +Hope's whole attention was apparently taken up with the branding, which +she watched with great interest. Old Peter gradually regained his +equilibrium, while Long Bill and Shorty Smith had begun to congratulate +themselves that their spectator was most innocent and harmless. Yet as +Hope moved quietly back to her position beside the rude stable building +she not only observed the three men intent upon the branding, but noted +the approach of a large cow which had appeared from the right-hand +coulee about the time she left her hiding-place in the brush. + +If the men had not been so busy they would undoubtedly have seen this +particular cow coming on steadily toward the corral, now but a rod +distant. They would have noticed, too, the girl's hand leave her side +like a flash and remove the large, smooth peg from where Shorty Smith +had hastily inserted it in the building. They would have seen the stable +door open slowly by its own weight, and then the peg quickly replaced. +What they did notice was that Miss Hathaway came very near to them, so +close that she leaned over old Peter's shoulders to observe the smoking, +steaming operation. + +For a moment she stood there quietly, then all at once exclaimed in some +surprise: + +"Why, your calves are all out!" Instantly the greatest consternation +reigned, then old Peter hobbled to his feet with an oath. + +"Every blamed one," said Shorty Smith. "How 'n blazes did that happen?" + +"I reckon you didn't put that peg in right," drawled Long Bill. + +"Look!" screamed old Peter, pointing at the large cow that had come +nearer and had picked out from the assortment of calves one of which it +claimed absolute possession. It was at this unfortunate moment that +Livingston, quite unobserved, rode into Peter's basin. + +"I'll help you drive them in," volunteered Hope, instantly mounting her +horse and riding into their midst. Then a queer thing followed. Old +Peter, with a cat-like motion, sprang toward her and covered her with a +six-shooter. + +"Git off'n my place, you she-devil!" he cried, his face livid with rage +and fear. + +"Good God, don't shoot, you fool!" cried Shorty Smith, while Long Bill +made a stride toward the frenzied old man. + +Livingston's heart stood still. He was some distance away and, as usual, +unarmed. For an instant he stopped short, paralyzed by the sight. Then +the girl wheeled her horse suddenly about as if to obey the command. As +she did so a report rang out and old Peter, with the flesh ripped from +wrist to elbow, rolled over in a convulsed heap. It was all so sudden +that it seemed unreal. Hope sat on her quivering horse, motionless, +serene, holding in her hand a smoking revolver. + +Long Bill and his companion stood like statues, dumfounded for the +instant, but Livingston, with a bound, was at the girl's side, his face +white, his whole being shaken. + +"Thank God!" he cried in great tenderness. "You are all right!" + +"What made you come here?" she exclaimed in sudden nervousness, which +sounded more like impatience. + +Then their eyes met. Her own softened, then dropped, until they rested +upon the gun in her hand. A flush rose to her face and her heart beat +strangely, for in his eyes she had seen the undisguised love of a great, +true soul. For an instant she was filled with the wild intoxication of +it, then the present situation, which might now involve him, returned to +her with all its seriousness. The danger must be averted at once, she +decided, before he learned the actual truth. + +"Poor old man!" she exclaimed. Then turned to Long Bill and his +companion. "I'm awfully sorry I had to hurt him, but he actually made me +nervous! I had an idea he was crazy, but I never believed he was +perfectly mad. He ought to be watched constantly and all dangerous +weapons kept away from him. Didn't you know he was dangerous?" + +Shorty Smith suddenly rose to meet the situation. + +"I knowed he was crazy," he said, "but I didn't know he was as plumb +locoed as that." + +"Well, he's out of business for awhile," remarked the girl. "You boys +better bandage up his arm and carry him into the house. I'll send over +old Mother White Blanket when I get back. I guess you can get in the +calves by yourselves all right, for really I feel very shaken and I +think I'll go right home. You'll go with me, won't you, Mr. Livingston. +But the poor old crazy man! You boys will take good care of him, won't +you--and let me know if I can be of any assistance." + +"Well, what do yo' think?" asked Shorty Smith, as Hope and her companion +disappeared from the basin. + +"What'd I think?" exclaimed Long Bill. "I think we've been pretty badly +_done_!" + +"Oh, I don't know," drawled Shorty Smith, "I reckon she ain't goin' to +say nothin' about _me_!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +"I'll tell you what I'd do 'bout it, if I was you," said Shorty Smith to +the twins, several days later, as he handed back a folded sheet of +paper. "I'd git your teacher to read that there letter. There's +something in it she ought to know 'bout. Better not tell her first where +you got it. Let on you don't know where it come from. There's somethin' +there she'll like to hear 'bout, that you kids ain't old enough to +understand." + +"Oh, is that so!" interposed Dan. + +"I ain't a-goin' to tell you nothin' about it, but like enough she will, +an'll thank you fer givin' it to her," said Shorty. + +"If that writin' wasn't so funny I'd make it out myself," replied the +soft-voiced twin, "fer I think you're jobbin' us, Shorty." + +"No, I ain't," he replied. "An' I'll back up my friendship fer you by +givin' you this!" He took from his pocket a silver dollar and handed it +to the boy, who pocketed it, and, followed by his brother, walked away +without another word. + +Shorty Smith also walked away, in the opposite direction, without a +word, but he chuckled to himself, and his mood was exceedingly jubilant. + +"She done us all right, an' may play the devil yet, but I'll git in a +little work, er my name ain't Shorty Smith!" Such was the substance of +his thoughts during the next few days. + +That afternoon Hope stood in the doorway of the school-house, watching +her little brood of pupils straggling down the hill. + +Louisa, who came daily to be with her beloved friend, had started home +with the two eldest Harris girls, for Hope, in her capacity of teacher, +occasionally found work to detain her for a short time after the others +had gone. This teaching school was not exactly play, after all. + +The twins lingered behind, seemingly engaged in a quiet discussion. +Finally they came back to the door. + +"Here's somethin' for you to read," said the soft-voiced boy, handing +her a folded paper, while Dave leaned against the building with an ugly +scowl on his face. + +"To read," asked Hope, turning it over in her hand. "Who wrote it, and +where did you get it?" She stepped out of the doorway onto the green +grass beside them. + +"Read it," said the breed boy. "It's somethin' you ought to know." + +"Something I ought to know? But who wrote it?" insisted the girl. + +"A woman, I reckon," replied the boy. "You just read it, an' then you'll +know all about it." + +Hope laughed, and slowly opened the much soiled, creased missive. "Why +didn't you tell me at once that it was for me?" she asked. + +The writing was in a bold, feminine back-hand, and held her attention +for a moment. The thought occurred to her that Clarice might have +written from the ranch, but there was something unfamiliar about it. +She looked first at the signature. "Your repentant Helene," it was +signed. Helene,--who was Helene, she wondered; then turned the paper +over. "My darling Boy," it started. In her surprise she said the words +aloud. + +"Why, that's not for me! Where did you boys get this letter? Now tell +me!" She was very much provoked with them. + +The soft-voiced twin smiled. + +"I thought you'd like to know what was in it," he remarked, in evident +earnestness. + +"That doesn't answer my question," she said with some impatience. +"_Where_ did you get it?" + +"We found it," replied Dave gruffly, still scowling. + +"And you boys bring a letter to _me_ that was intended for someone else, +and _expect_ me to _read_ it!" She folded it up and handed it back to +the boy. "Go and give that to whom it belongs, and remember it's very +wrong to read another person's letter. Tell me where you got it. I +insist upon knowing." + +"Oh, we just found it up on the hill last night," replied the +soft-voiced twin evasively. + +"Why don't you tell her the whole shootin' match!" roared the blunt +Dave. "You're a dandy! We found it up in the spring coulee last night +near where Mr. Livingston's sheep're camped. He was up there before +dark, cuttin' 'em out. This here letter dropped out of his pocket when +he threw his coat on a rock up there, an' so Dan an' me an' Shorty Smith +came along an' picked it up." + +"Mr. Livingston's," said Hope, suddenly feeling oddly alarmed. "Not +_his_--you must be mistaken! Why, it began--it was too--_informal_--even +for a sister, and he has no sister, he told me so!" + +"It's for him all right, for here's the envelope." Dan took it from his +pocket and handed it to her. It left no room for doubt. It was directed +to him, and bore an English postmark. He had no sister. Then it must be +from his sweetheart--and he told her he had no sweetheart. A sudden pain +consumed her. + +"I reckon it's from his wife," said the soft-voiced twin. + +"He has no wife," said Hope quietly. + +"Oh, yes, he has! That's what they say," declared the boy. + +"They lie," she replied softly. "I _know_ he has no wife." + +"I'll bet you he left her in England," said the boy. "That's what the +men say." + +"Your repentant Helene," repeated the girl over and over to herself. + +Suddenly suspicion, jealousy, rage, entered her heart, setting her brain +on fire. She turned to the boy like a fury. "Give me that letter!" + +Frightened beyond speech by the storm in her black eyes, he handed it to +her and watched her as with a set face and strangely brilliant eyes she +began to read. Every word branded itself upon her heart indelibly. + + * * * * * + +MY DARLING BOY: Can it be that you actually refuse to allow me to come +there? Admitting I have wronged you in the past, can you not in your +greatness of heart find forgiveness for a weak woman--a pleading +woman---- + + * * * * * + +There at the foot of the first page the girl stopped, a sudden terror +coming over her. + +"_What have I done!_" she cried, crushing the letter in her hand. "_What +have I done!_" Hysterically she began tearing it into small pieces, +throwing them upon the ground. + +"Now we can't give it back to him," deplored the twin, recovering from +his fright. + +"What have I done?" repeated the girl again, softly. Then in an agony of +remorse she went down upon her knees in the cool grass and picked up +each tiny scrap of paper, putting it all back into the envelope. She +stood for a moment looking down the long green slope below, shamed, +disgusted--a world of misery showing in her dark eyes. "You're a mighty +fine specimen of womanhood!" she exclaimed aloud; then turning about +suddenly became aware that her small audience was watching her with some +interest. + +"You boys get on your ponies and go right straight home!" she exclaimed +in a burst of temper. "You're very bad, both of you, and I've a good +notion to punish you!" She went into the school-house and slammed the +door, while the twins lost no time in leaving the premises. Not far away +they met old Jim McCullen. + +"Where's your teacher?" he asked, stopping his horse in the road. + +"She's back there," said the soft-voiced twin, pointing toward the +school-house. "But you'd better stay away, for she's got blood in her +eye to-day!" + +"No wonder, you young devils!" laughed Jim, riding on. + +He knocked at the school-house door and, receiving no answer, walked in. + +"Oh, Jim!" exclaimed the girl, rising from the small table at the end of +the room. "I thought it was some of the children returning. I'm awfully +glad to see you! You've been gone an age. Come, sit down here in this +chair, I'm afraid those seats aren't large enough for you." + +"I'll just sit on this here recitation bench," replied Jim, "that's what +you call it, ain't it? I want to see how it feels to be in school again. +I reckon it'll hold me all right." + +He seated himself with some care, while the teacher sank back at her +table. + +"You don't seem very pert-lookin', Hopie," he continued, noticing her +more carefully. "What's the matter?" + +She looked down at her papers, then up at him with something of a smile. + +"I'm twenty years old," she replied, "and I don't know as much as I did +ten years ago." + +"You know too much," replied McCullen. "You know too much to be happy, +an' you think too much. You wasn't happy at home, so you come up here, +an' now your gittin' the same way here. You'll have to git married, +Hopie, an' settle down; there ain't no other way." + +"Mercy!" exclaimed the girl, "that would settle me sure enough! What a +horrible proposition to consider! Just look at my mother--beset with +nervousness and unrest; look at that poor Mrs. Cresmond and a dozen +others--perfect slaves to their husbands. Look at Clarice--she never +knew a moment's happiness until Henry Van Rensselaer died! Yes, I think +marriage _settles_ a girl all right! What terrible mismated failures on +every hand! It's simply appalling, Jim! I've never yet known one +perfectly happy couple, and how any girl who sees this condition about +her, everywhere, can dream her own ideal love dream, picture her ideal +man, and plan and believe in an ideal life, while she herself is +surrounded by such pitiful object-lessons, is a wonder!" + +"I ain't much of a philosopher," said old Jim, "but it's always been my +notion that most wimmen _don't_ see what's goin' on around 'em. They +think their own troubles is worse'n anybody's an' 're so taken up +whinin' over 'em that their view is somewhat obstructed. Take the +clear-headed person that _can_ see, an' they ain't a-goin' to run into +any matrimonial fire, no more'n I'm goin' to head my horse over a +cut-bank. They're goin' straight after the happiness they know exists, +an' they ain't goin' to make no mistake about it neither, if they've got +any judgment, whatever." + +"What made my mother marry my father?" asked the girl, lifting up her +head and facing old Jim squarely. "That's the worst specimen of +ill-assorted marriages I know of." + +Jim McCullen looked perplexed for an instant. + +"I don't think that was in the beginning," he replied thoughtfully, "but +your mother got to hankerin' after her city life, her balls an' theaters +an' the like o' that. After she got a fall from her horse an' couldn't +ride no more she didn't seem to take interest in anything at the ranch, +an' kept gettin' more nervous all the time. I reckon her health had +something to do with it, an' then she got weaned from the ranch, bein' +away so much. It wasn't her life any more." + +"And now even her visits there are torture to her," said Hope bitterly. +"She is drunk with the deadly wine of frivolous uselessness--society!" +Then sadly, "What a wealth of happiness she might have possessed had +she chosen wisely!" + +"But she was like a ship without a rudder; she didn't have no one to +guide her, an' now she thinks she's happy, I reckon," remarked McCullen, +adding, after a pause, "If she thinks at all!" + +"And poor Clarice was a baby when _she_ married," mused the girl. + +"And that Cresmond woman always was a blame fool," concluded Jim. "So +there's hope for you yet, don't you reckon there is? That reminds me, +here's a letter from O'Hara. There's a nice fellow for you, Hopie." + +"Yes, he's a good boy, Larry is," she remarked absently, taking the +letter he handed to her. + +"Why, he says he is coming over here to stay awhile with Sydney, and he +hopes I won't be----" She smiled a little and tucked the letter in her +belt. "That'll keep," she said. "Come on, I'm going over to camp with +you, Jim." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +"Your horse don't look very tired," remarked the girl as they rode +easily up the gulch toward Carter's camp. "When did you start?" + +"Left 'bout noon," replied McCullen. "No, he ain't tired; ain't even +warm, be you, old man? Just jogged along easy all the way an' took my +time. No great rush, anyhow. Cattle 're gittin' pretty well located up +here now--good feed, fresh water, an' everything to attract 'em to the +place. Never saw any stock look better'n that little bunch o' steers is +lookin'. Market's way up now, an' they ought to be shipped pretty soon." + +"Why _don't_ you ship them, then?" asked Hope, leaning forward to brush +a hornet from her horse's head. + +"Oh, you see," said the man lamely, "them cattle ain't in such all-fired +good fix but what they might be better, an' I reckon your cousin ain't +in any hurry to ship, nohow. Pretty good place to camp up here in +summer. Cool--my, but it was blasted hot down at the ranch this mornin', +an' the misquitoes like to eat me up! No misquitoes up here to bother, +good water, good fishin', good company,--an' who under the sun would +want to quit such a camp?" + +"I'm willing," said the girl, looking at him with fathomless eyes, "I'm +perfectly willing for him to camp here all summer. It's quite convenient +to have you all so near. Of course I'm getting used to the grub down +there--some, by this time. Don't think I do not appreciate your being +here, dear old Jim! But you know I understand, just the same, why you +are here! And I think," she added softly, "I couldn't have stood it if +he hadn't showed that he cared for me just so." + +"Cared!" exclaimed the old fellow. "Cared _for you_! Why, Hopie, your +father worships the ground you walk on! He's a great, good-hearted man, +the best in the world, and you mustn't have no hard feelin's agin' him +for any little weaknesses, because the good in him is more'n the good in +most men. There ain't no one that's perfect, but he's better'n most of +us, I reckon. An' he loves you, an' is so proud of you, Hopie!" + +"Oh, I know it, I know it!" exclaimed the girl passionately. + +"An' your mother's goin' East next month," concluded McCullen. "She's +very anxious to get away." + +"My poor father!" said Hope softly. Then more brightly: "I suppose +Sydney's out with the cattle." + +"Them cattle 're gettin' pretty well located," replied McCullen. "Don't +need much herdin'. No, I seen him there at Harris' as I come along. He +said he was goin' to take you an' that little flaxen-haired girl out +ridin', but concluded, as long as you was busy at the school-house, that +he'd just take the little one--providin' she'd go. He was arguin' the +question with her when I rode by, an' I reckon he's there talkin' to her +yet, er else givin' her a ridin' lesson. He'll make a good horsewoman +out o' her yet, if her heart ain't buried too deep up there under the +rocks." + +"Oh, Jim!" rebuked the girl. "It's _dreadful_ to talk like that, and her +poor heart is just _crushed_! It's pitiful!" + +"I reckon that's just what Sydney thinks about it," replied Jim, his +eyes twinkling. "You ain't goin' to blame him for bein' sympathetic, be +you, Hopie?" + +She laughed, but nervously. + +"Louisa's the sweetest thing I ever saw, Jim! She's promised to stay and +go back to the ranch with me in the fall when school is over. Isn't it +nice to have a sister like that? But goodness, she wouldn't look at +Syd--not in ten years!" + +She was so positive in this assertion that it left Jim without an +argument. She slowed down her horse to a walk, and he watched her take +O'Hara's letter from her belt and read the lengthy epistle from +beginning to end. Not a change of expression crossed the usual calm of +her face. But for a strange force of beauty and power, by which she +impressed all with whom she came in contact, her lack of expression +would have been a defect. This peculiar characteristic was an added +charm to her strange personality. She was rarely understood by her best +friends, who generally occupied themselves by wondering what she was +going to do next. + +It may be that old Jim McCullen, calmly contemplating her from his side +of the narrow trail, wondered too, but he had the advantage of most +people, for he knew that whatever she did do would be the nearest thing +to her hand. There was nothing variable or fitful about Hope. + +She folded her letter and tucked it back in her belt, her only comment +being, as she spurred her horse into a faster gait: "Larry says he is +coming over here one of these days." + +They rode past the camp and on to the flat beyond, where grazed Sydney's +two hundred head of steers. These they rode around, while Jim reviewed +the news of the ranch and round-up, in which the girl found some +interest, asking numerous questions about the recent shipment of cattle, +the tone of the market, the prospect for hay, the number of cattle +turned on the range, and many things pertaining to the work of the +ranch, but never a question concerning the idle New Yorkers who made up +her mother's annual house-party. In them she took, as usual, no +interest. + +She finally left her old friend and turned her horse's head back toward +Harris' still as much perturbed in heart as when McCullen knocked at her +school-house door. She tormented herself with unanswerable questions, +arriving always at the same conclusion--that after all it only seemed +reasonable to suppose Livingston should be married. It explained his +conduct toward her perfectly. She wondered what the woman, Helene, had +done to deserve such unforgiveness from one who, above all men, was the +most tender and thoughtful. She concluded that it must have been +something dreadful, and, oddly for her, began to feel sorry for him. She +saw him when she reached the top of the divide, riding half a mile away +toward his ranch buildings. Then a certain feeling of ownership, of +pride, took possession of her, crowding everything before it. How well +he sat his horse, in his English fashion, she thought. What a physique, +what grace of strength! Then he disappeared from her sight as his horse +plunged into the brush of the creek-bottom, and Hope, drawing a long +breath, spurred up her own horse until she was safely out of sight of +ranch and ranch-buildings. A bend in the road brought her face to face +with Long Bill and Shorty Smith. + +"Hello," said Shorty Smith, drawing rein beside her. "I was a lookin' +for you." + +"Really," said the girl, stopping beside him and calmly contemplating +both men. + +"Yep," nodded Long Bill politely, "we was huntin' fer you, Miss +Hathaway." + +"You see it's like this," explained Shorty Smith; "the old man, he ain't +a-doin' very well. I reckon it's his age. That there wound of his'n +won't heal, so we thought mebby you had some arnica salve er something +sort o' soothin' to dope him with." + +"I haven't the salve, but I might go over there myself if you want an +anodyne," replied Hope, unsmiling at the men's blank faces. + +"I'm goin' to ride to town to-morrow and I reckoned if you didn't have +no salve you could send in for it." + +"Oh, I see!" Hope's exclamation came involuntarily. "What do you want to +get for him and how much money do you want for it?" + +"Well, you see, he needs considerable. Ain't got nothin' comfortable +over there; nothin' to eat, wear--nothin' at all." + +"All right," replied the girl in her cool, even tone. "I'll see that he +is supplied with everything, but will attend to the matter myself. +Good-evening!" She rode past them rapidly, and they, outwitted in their +little scheme for whisky-money, rode on their way toward old Peter's +basin. + +Sydney's horse stood outside of Harris'. He left a group of men who were +waiting the call for supper, and came out in the road to meet the girl +when she rode up. + +"I have been waiting for you," he said. + +"And I have been over to camp and around the cattle with Jim," she +replied. + +"Then come on and ride back up the road with me a ways, I want to see +you," said Carter, picking up the bridle reins from the ground. + +"But Louisa----" she demurred. + +"Louisa's all right," he answered. "I've had her out for a ride, and now +she's gone in the house with that breed girl--Mary, I think she called +her. So you see she's in excellent hands." + +Hope turned her horse about and rode away with him silently. + +"I want to talk with you, anyway," he said, when they had gone a short +distance. "I haven't had a chance in a dog's age, you're always so +hemmed in lately." + +"Well, what is it?" she questioned. + +"There's some rumors going around that I don't exactly understand, Hope. +Have you been doing anything since you've been up here to raise a +commotion among these breeds?" + +She turned to him with a shrug of contempt. + +"You'll have to tell me what you're driving at before I can enlighten +you," she replied. + +"Wait a minute," he said, "I want to light a cigarette." This +accomplished, he continued: "I saw one of the boys from Bill Henry's +outfit yesterday and he told me that he was afraid you were getting +mixed up in some row up here." + +"_Who_ said so?" she demanded. + +"Well, it was Peterson. You know he'll say what he's got to say, if he +dies for it." He waited a moment. + +"If it was Peterson, go on. He's a friend, if he is a fool. What did he +have to say about me?" She flecked some dust from her skirt with the end +of her reins. + +Sydney watched her carefully. + +"He didn't say anything, exactly, about you," he replied. "That's what +I'm going to try to find out. He said there had been some kind of a +rumpus up here when you first came--that shooting at Livingston's +corral, you remember, and that it was rumored there had been some +sharp-shooting done, and you had been mixed up in it." + +"Who told Peterson?" demanded the girl. + +"Well, it seems that McCullen laid Long Bill out one evening over at +Bill Henry's wagon, for something or other, and this old squaw back +here, old Mother White Blanket, happened along in time to view the +fallen hero, who, it seems, is her son-in-law. She immediately fell into +a rage and denounced a certain school-ma'am as a deep-dyed villain." + +"Villainess," corrected Hope serenely. + +"Yes, I believe that was it," continued Sydney. "Anyway, she rated you +roundly and said you had been at the bottom of all the trouble, that you +had shot Long Bill through the hand, wounded several others, and +mentioned the herder who was killed." + +"She lied!" said the girl with sudden whiteness of face. "That was a +cold-blooded lie about the herder!" + +"I know that!" assured her cousin. "You don't suppose I ever thought +for a minute you were mixed up in it, Hopie, do you? I only wanted to +know how it happened that all these people are set against you." + +"Because they know I'm on to their deviltry," she replied savagely. "I'd +like to have that old squaw right here between my hands, _so_, and hear +her bones crackle. How dare they say _I_ shot Louisa's poor, poor +sweetheart! Oh, I could exterminate the whole tribe!" + +"But that wouldn't be lawful, Hopie," remarked Carter. + +She turned to him with a half smile, resting one hand confidingly upon +his arm. + +"Syd, dear, I don't care a bit about the whole concern, really, but +please don't mention it to anyone, will you?" + +"You mean not to tell Livingston," he smiled. + +"I mean not _anyone_. I shouldn't want my father to hear such talk. +Neither would you. What wouldn't he do!" + +"Of course not," he agreed. "You'd get special summons, immediately, if +not sooner. But there's something more I wanted to ask you about. How +was it you happened to shoot old Peter?" + +"How did you know?" she asked quickly. + +"Now I promised I wouldn't mention the matter," he replied. + +She studied for a moment. + +"There's only one way you could have heard it," she finally decided in +some anger. "That person had no right to tell you." + +"It was told with the best intentions, and for your own good, Hope, so +that I could look after you more carefully in the future." + +"Look after me!" she retorted. "Well, I guess he found out there was one +time I could look out for myself, didn't he?" + +"He seemed to think that more a miracle or an accident than anything +else, until I told him something about how quick you were with a gun. He +told me the old man was crazy, and had pulled his gun on you, but that +you had in some remarkable manner shot it out of his hand, shattering +the old fellow's arm. I assured him that I would see that the proper +authorities took care of old Peter, as soon as he had recovered +sufficiently. Now what'll we do with him, Hope?" She did not reply. Then +he continued: "I knew in a minute that you'd kept the real facts of the +case from Livingston. But you're not going to keep them from me." + +"Now that you know as much as you do, I suppose I've got to tell you or +you'll be getting yourself into trouble, too," she replied. Then +impulsively, "Sydney, they're a lot of cattle thieves!" + +"Why, of course! What did you expect?" he laughed. + +"And I actually _caught_ them in the very act of branding calves that +didn't belong to them!" + +The young man's face paled perceptibly. + +"You didn't do anything as reckless as that, Hope!" he cried in +consternation. "It's a wonder they didn't kill you outright in +self-protection! Didn't you know that you have to be blind to those +things unless you're backed up by some good men!" + +"You talk like a coward!" she exclaimed. + +"Not much! You know I'm not that," he replied. "But I talk sense. Now, +if they know that you have positive proof of this, you'd better watch +them!" + +"They all need watching up here. I believe they're all just the same. +And, Syd, I wanted to know the truth for myself, I wanted to _see_." +Then she reviewed to him just what had happened at old Peter's. + +"I'll have them locked up at once," said Carter decisively. "That's just +where they belong." + +"You won't do anything of the kind, Syd--not at present, anyway, for I +refuse to be witness against them." + +"You're foolish, then," he replied, "for they're liable to do +something." + +"If they're quicker than I am, all right," she replied fearlessly. "But +they are afraid of me now, and I've got them _just where I want them_." + +He tried to reason with her, but in vain. She was obstinate in her +refusal to have the men arrested, and though Sydney studied the matter +carefully, he could find no plausible excuse for this foolish decision. + +As Hope rode back once more toward Harris' the face of Shorty Smith, +insinuatingly leering, as she had seen it at the trout stream, came +again to torment her. She leaned forward in her saddle, covering her +face with her hands, and felt in her whole being the reason of her +decision. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +Larry O'Hara rode up to Sydney's camp late one afternoon, some two or +three weeks later, and finding the place deserted went in the cook-tent +and made himself at home. It had been a long, hot, dusty ride from +Hathaway's home-ranch. He had experienced some difficulty in finding the +place, and, having at length reached it, proceeded with his natural +adaptitude to settle himself for a prolonged stay. + +He was a great, handsome, prepossessing young fellow, overflowing with +high spirits and good-nature. Though a natural born American, he was +still a typical Irishman, retaining much of the brogue of his Irish +parents, which, being more of an attraction in him than otherwise, he +never took the trouble to overcome. All the girls were in love with +Larry O'Hara, and he, in his great generosity of heart, knew it, and +loved them in return. + +His affection for Hope Hathaway was something altogether different, and +dated two or three years back when he first saw her skimming across the +prairie on an apparently unmanageable horse. He proceeded to do the +gallant act of rescuing a lady. For miles he ran the old cow-pony that +had been assigned him, in hot pursuit, and when he had from sheer +exhaustion almost dropped to the ground she suddenly turned her horse +about and laughed in his face. It was an awkward situation. The +perspiration streamed from his forehead, his breath came in gasps. She +continued laughing. He mopped his face furiously, got control of his +breath, and exclaimed in deep emotion: + +"Sure and is ridicule all I get when I have followed you for ten miles +on this baist of a horse, to offer you a proposition of marriage?" + +Their friendship dated from that moment, and though Larry had renewed +his proposition of marriage every time he had seen her, yet there had +never been a break in their comradeship. + +He looked about the well-appointed camp with a sigh of contentment. This +was something like living, he thought. His enforced confinement at the +ranch had been slow torture to him. He missed the presence of Hope and +Sydney, for to him they were the very spirit of the place, and he was +filled with anxiety to get away from it and join them. + +After washing the dust from his face and hands he went through the +cook's mess-box, then, having nothing else to do, laid down for a nap on +one of the bunks in the second tent and was soon sleeping peacefully. + +He never knew just how long he slept, though he declared he had not +closed his eyes, when a whispered conversation outside the tent brought +him to his feet with a start. It was suspicious to say the least, and he +tore madly at his roll of belongings in search of his revolver, which he +found in his hip-pocket, after he had scattered his clothes from one end +of the tent to the other. + +It was not yet dark. The whispers came now from the opposite tent. +O'Hara's fighting blood was up. He gloried in the situation. Here was +his opportunity to hold up some thieving rascals. It was almost as good +as being a real desperado. It flashed upon him that they might be the +real article, but he would not turn coward. He would show them what one +man could do! + +He peered cautiously out of the tent. Two horses with rough-looking +saddles stood at the edge of the brush not far away. Larry O'Hara would +not be afraid of two men. + +He moved cautiously up to the front of the cook-tent, and throwing open +the flap called out in thundering tones: "Throw up your hands, ye +thieving scoundrels, or I'll have your loives!" + +A pair of arms shot up near him like a flash, while a choking sound came +from the farther side of the mess-box. Two startled, pie-be-grimed boys +gazed in amazement into the barrel of Larry's gun, which he suddenly +lowered, overcome with surprise as great as their own. + +"May heaven preserve us!" he cried. "I thought you were murdering +thieves! But if it's only supper you're after, I'll take a hand in it +meself!" + +The soft-voiced twin recovered first. + +"Say, where'd you come from? I thought that was the cook sleepin' in +there an' we wasn't goin' to disturb him to get our supper. What're +_you_ doin' 'round here, anyhow?" + +"I'm a special officer of the law, on the lookout for some dangerous +criminals," replied Larry. "But I see I've made a great mistake this +time. It's not kids I'm after! I'll just put this weapon back in my +pocket to show that I'm friendly inclined. And now let's have something +to eat. You boys must know the ins and outs of this place pretty well, +for I couldn't find pie here when I came, or anything that looked loike +pie. Where'd you make the raise?" + +The boys began to breathe easier, although an "officer of the law" was +something of which they stood in mortal terror. Yet this particular +"officer" seemed quite a jovial sort of a fellow, and they soon reached +the conclusion that he would be a good one to "stand in" with. The +soft-voiced twin sighed easily, and settled himself into a familiar +position at the table, remarking as he did so: + +"Oh, we're to home here! This camp belongs to a friend of ourn." He +pulled the pie toward him. "Here, Dave," he said to the other, who had +also recovered from his surprise, "throw me a knife from over there. I +reckon I ain't a-goin' to eat this here pie with my fingers! An' get out +some plates for him an' you. No use waitin' for the cook to come in an' +get our supper. Ain't no tellin' where he's gone." + +"You're a pretty cool kid," remarked O'Hara, helping himself to the pie. +"I'll take a piece of pie with you for company's sake, though I'm +inclined to wait for the cook of this establishment. A good, warm meal +is more to my liking. Where do you fellows live?" + +"Over here a ways," replied Dan cautiously. + +"Know of any bad men that wants arresting?" continued O'Hara. "I'm in +the business at present." + +"I reckon I do," replied the boy, lowering his voice to a soft, sweet +tone. "There's a mighty dangerous character I can put you onto if you'll +swear you'll never give me away." + +"I'll never breathe a word of it," declared O'Hara; "just point out your +man to me; I'll fix him for you!" + +"What'll you do to him?" asked Dan, in great earnestness. O'Hara +laughed. + +"I'll do just whativer you say," he replied. "What's his crime?" + +"Well, I'll tell you," said the boy deliberately, while Dave listened in +open-mouthed wonderment. "He's a bad character, a tough one! He gits +drunker'n a fool and thinks he runs the earth, an' he licks his children +if they happen to open their heads! I never seen him steal no horses, er +kill anyone, but he's a bad man, just the same, an' needs lockin' up for +'bout six months!" Dave, finally comprehending his twin, jumped up and +down, waving his arms wildly above his head. + +"You bet you! Lock him up, that's the checker! Lock the old man in jail, +an' we can do just as we want to!" he exclaimed. + +"But you know," said O'Hara impressively, his eyes twinkling with +suppressed merriment, "it's like this. There's a law that says if a +man--a _family_ man--be sent to jail for anything less than cold-blooded +murder, his intire family must go with him to look after him. Didn't you +ever hear of that new law? Now that would be a bad thing for his boys, +poor things! It would be worse than the beating they get. But you just +give Larry O'Hara the tip, and the whole family'll get sent up!" + +"Not much you don't!" roared Dave to his twin, who for the instant +seemed dumfounded by this piece of news from the "officer of the law." + +"I reckon," said the soft-voiced schemer after a quiet pause, "his boys +'ud rather take the lickin's than get sent up, so you might as well let +him alone. You're sure there ain't no mistake 'bout that? Don't seem +like that's quite right." + +"Sure!" replied Larry, enjoying the situation to its full extent. + +"Well, I ain't," decided the boy finally. "I'm goin' to ask the teacher. +Mebby you're loadin' us. You bet she'll know!" + +Larry O'Hara became suddenly awake to a new interest. "Where is +she--your teacher?" he inquired. + +"I dunno," answered the boy. "Mebby home." + +At this juncture the flap of the tent was pushed open and in bustled the +little English cook. + +All three of the occupants started guiltily, while William looked from +his visitors to the remnants of pie upon the table with some +astonishment. + +"Well, Hi'll be blowed!" he ejaculated. Then noticing that O'Hara was +not an ordinary specimen of Westerner, he changed his expression and +began wagging his head, offering excuses for his tardiness. + +"I had orders to get a warm bite at eight o'clock, so I went out 'untin' +a bit on my own account. Did you come far, sir?" + +"All the way from Hathaway's ranch," replied Larry. "And the way I took, +it couldn't have been a rod less than a hundred moiles. Sure, every bone +in me body is complaining!" + +"Too bad, that," condoled William. "Hit's no easy road to find. I missed +hit once, myself. I think I seen you about the ranch, didn't I? What's +yer name?" + +"I'm O'Hara," he replied. "If you haven't seen me, you've heard about +me, which amounts to the same thing. I'm glad to see you, my good man, +for I began to suspect that everyone had deserted camp. I was just going +to question these young natives here, as to the whereabouts of the +owners of this ranch, when you came in." + +The twins were sidling toward the front of the tent with a view to hasty +retreat when the cook fixed his sharp little eyes upon them. + +"Ain't I good enough to yous but you must come an' clean out all my +pastry when my back is turned? Hi'll overlook hit this time, if you get +out an' chop me some wood. 'Urry up now an' get to work! for they'll all +be along directly!" The boys made their escape from the tent, while the +cook continued: "They all went out 'untin' after some antelope, way up +there on the big mountain. They'll be in after a bit for a bite to heat, +so if you'll excuse me, Hi'll start things goin'." + +The little cook put on his apron and hustled about, while O'Hara went +out and watched the boys break up some sticks of wood which they brought +from the nearby brush. + +"Here, give me the job," the young man finally remarked. "It belongs to +me by rights for keeping you talking so long. If it hadn't been for me +you'd got away without being seen. Here, hand over your ax, and get +along home with you!" + +"Say, you're all right, if you do belong to the law," said Dave, gladly +giving up the ax. They speedily made their escape, and none too soon, +for as they disappeared a group of riders came in sight on the opposite +side of the brush and soon surrounded the wood-chopper with hearty words +of welcome. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +"My dear boy, I'm glad to see you!" called Sydney. + +"Larry O'Hara chopping wood! Impossible!" declared Hope, as Carter rode +on past her. "It's an illusion--a vanishing vision. Our eyes deceive +us!" + +"But it is a young man there," said Louisa. "A big one like Mr. +Livingston, not so slim like Sydney--your cousin." + +"True enough," laughed Hope. "But it is the occupation--the ax, Louisa, +dear. I never knew Larry to do a stroke of work!" + +"Ach, but he is handsome!" whispered Louisa. + +"Don't let him know you think so," returned Hope. "He's spoiled badly +enough now." She turned to the man who rode on her opposite side. "He's +from the ranch--one of the guests from New York. He's the _dearest_ +character!" After which exclamation she rode ahead and greeted the +newcomer. + +"It never rains but it pours," said O'Hara, as he entered the tent with +Hope and Louisa, while Sydney and Livingston remained to take care of +the horses. "I thought awhile ago that I was stranded in a wilderness, +and here I am surrounded by beautiful ladies and foine gentlemen!" + +"Right in your natural element," commented Hope. "That's why I couldn't +believe my eyes when I saw you out there alone with the ax--Larry O'Hara +chopping fire-wood!" + +"Now, what's there funny about that?" asked Larry. + +"I can't explain just now," laughed the girl. "But tell me, did you have +any trouble getting over here? Jim started for the ranch this afternoon. +Didn't you meet him on the road?" + +"Not one living soul," replied Larry. "For I took a road nobody ever +traveled before." + +"And got lost," said Hope. + +"Yes, about four hundred toimes!" + +"And yet you live to tell the tale! I'm awfully glad to see you, Larry! +Let's have a light in here, William, it's getting dark," she said. + +The cook hustled about, and soon two lanterns, suspended from each end +of the ridge pole, flooded the tent with light. + +"Now I can see you," exclaimed O'Hara to Hope, who had taken a seat upon +a box beside Louisa. "You're looking foine! The mountains must agree +with you--and your friend also," he added. + +"Louisa is always fine! Are you not?" asked Hope. + +Louisa laughed in her quiet little way. "The young man is very polite!" + +Sydney opened the flap of the tent and looked in, then turned back again +for an instant. + +"That'll be all right there, Livingston. There won't a thing touch it up +that tree! Come along in and get some chuck!" + +"All right!" came the reply from the edge of the brush. Then Carter came +inside and drew up a seat beside the two girls. + +"What's that you said, Miss Louisa?" he asked. "I didn't quite catch it. +You surely weren't accusing Larry of _politeness_!" + +The girl bit her little white teeth into the red of her lower lip. Her +cheeks flushed and the dimples came and went in the delicate coloring. + +"Was it wrong to say?" she asked hesitatingly. + +"Not if it was true," he replied. "It's never wrong to tell the truth, +even in Montana." + +"Oh, Syd, don't plague her! Larry included her in a little flattery--a +compliment; and she merely remarked upon his extreme politeness." + +"And I am completely squelched," said O'Hara despairingly. + +"Then you shouldn't try to flatter two people at once," declared Hope. + +"American girls aren't so honest," said Carter, looking soberly into +Louisa's blue eyes. + +She regained her composure with a little toss of her head. + +"An American girl is my best friend--you shall say nodings about _dem_! +Ah, here comes Mr. Livingston mit de beautiful horns which he gif to +me!" she cried, clapping her hands. + +"They're beauties, aren't they?" said Livingston, holding up the antlers +to view. "I'll get some of the Indians around here to fix them up for +you." He took them outside again, then came in and joined the others +around the camp table. + +"Mr. Livingston was the lucky one to-day," said Hope to O'Hara; "but we +had a great hunt." + +"I am not at all sure that I got him," said Livingston, seating himself +beside her. "I am positive another shot was fired at the same time, but +I looked around and saw no one. You came up a few moments afterward, +Miss Hathaway, and I have had a sort of rankling suspicion ever since +that there was some mystery about it." + +"Then clear your mind of it at once," replied the girl. "I'll admit +that I fired a shot at the same instant you did, but I was on the +opposite side of the brush from where you were, and didn't see the +antelope at all. What I aimed at was a large black speck in the sky +above me, and this is my trophy." She drew from her belt a glossy, dark +eagle's feather, and handed it to him. + +"May I have this?" he asked, taking it from her. + +"Why, certainly," she answered carelessly. + +O'Hara had been looking at Livingston closely, as though extremely +perplexed by his appearance. Suddenly he gave a deep laugh, jumped up +from his seat and began shaking him warmly by the hand. + +"Well, if this isn't----" + +"_Edward Livingston_," interrupted the other briefly. + +"But who'd ever dream of seeing _you_ here in this country!" continued +O'Hara. "It was too dark to see you distinctly when you rode up, or I'd +have known you at once. I'm glad to see you; indeed, I am, sir!" + +"How romantic!" exclaimed Hope. "Where did you ever meet Larry, Mr. +Livingston?" + +"I had the privilege of meeting Mr. O'Hara at the home of an +acquaintance near London two or three years ago. I am very glad to have +the pleasure again." O'Hara was about to say something in reply to this, +but thought better of it, and remained silent, while Livingston +continued: "I never imagined that I should meet my Irish-American friend +in this far country, though you Americans do have a way of appearing in +the most unexpected places. This America is a great country. I like +it--in fact, well enough that I have now become one of its citizens." + +"But you have not left England for good!" exclaimed O'Hara. + +"For good, and for all time," replied Livingston, the youthful +expression of his face settling into maturer lines of sadness. "I have +not one tie left. My friend, Carter here, will tell you that I have +settled down in these mountains as a respectable sheep-man--respectable, +if not dearly beloved. Miss Hathaway does not believe there can be +anything respectable about the sheep business, but I have promised to +convert her. Is that not so?" he asked, turning to her. + +"He has promised to give me a pet lamb to take back to the ranch," she +said, laughing. "I shall put a collar on its neck and lead it by a blue +ribbon! At least it will be as good an ornament as Clarice Van +Rensselaer's poodle. Horrible little thing!" + +"Now just imagine the beautiful Mrs. Larry O'Hara trailing that kind of +a baist about the streets of New York! I move that the animal be +rejected with thanks!" exclaimed Larry. Livingston looked at him in +quiet amazement, then at Hope and Sydney to see how they took his +audacity. + +"Don't worry, Larry, dear," replied Hope. "The pet lamb hasn't been +accepted yet--or you, either! I shall probably choose the pet lamb, but +rely on my good judgment, that's a nice boy, and don't let such a little +matter bother you!" + +Larry heaved an unnaturally deep sigh, at which little Louisa laughed, +and Sydney patted him upon the shoulder, exclaiming: + +"Cheer up! You have an even chance with the lamb. You don't need to be +afraid of such a rival!" + +"But she says herself that the animal's chances are the best," said +Larry dismally. Then with a sudden inspiration: "How much'll you take +for that baist? I'll buy him of you--_Mr._ Livingston!" + +"Now's your chance to make some money!" cried Sydney. + +Livingston quickly entered the mood of the moment. + +"Miss Hathaway has an option on the lamb," he said, looking at her. "If +she wants to throw it up I shall be glad to sell it to you." + +"She wants her supper mostly now," said Hope. "Come on, let's eat, for +we must get back. See all the fine things William has prepared for us!" + +After the meal, when the girls rose to depart, Larry insisted upon +accompanying them home. + +"I am going along, too," laughed Sydney, "so I'll see that he gets back +to camp all right! You might as well let him go, Hope." + +"Well, if he is so foolish, after his hard day's ride," she said, with a +shrug of the shoulders. "But get him a fresh horse, Sydney. At least we +can spare the poor tired animal!" + +Sydney and O'Hara both went a short distance away to get the +saddle-horse which was feeding quietly on the hillside. Hope led her +horse down to the water and while it was drinking Livingston came and +stood beside her. + +For a moment they remained there quiet, side by side, then the man +spoke: + +"It is of such as this that life's sweetest moments are made. It seems +almost a sacrilege to break the spell, but I cannot always be silent. +You know I love you, Hope!" + +"Yes," she replied carelessly, "I believe you told me so once before." +For an instant he did not speak. "It was here at the camp, another +evening like this, wasn't it?" she continued, in quite a matter-of-fact +tone. + +"I will not believe that you have forgotten it," he exclaimed softly. +"It may have sounded foolish to you to hear the words, but I could not +help saying them!" He stood so close to her that he could feel her warm +breath. "It may be wrong to stand here with you now, alone. How quiet it +is! You and I together in a little world of our own! How I love you, my +girl, _love you_! I may not have the right to this much happiness, but +there is no moral law that man or God has made to prevent a man from +saying to the woman he loves, 'I love you!' Are you--do you care that I +have said it?" + +"You must not--tell me again," she said, in a voice so forced that it +seemed to belong to some other person. Then she turned abruptly and led +her horse past him, up the bank of the creek, to Louisa waiting before +the tent. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +In the cool of evening, between dark and moonrise, the time when night +is blackest, and shadows hang like a pall over mountain top and crag, a +small group of men might have been seen lounging before old Mother White +Blanket's tepee, absorbing the genial warmth that came from her +camp-fire, over which the old squaw hovered close. + +In the background, away from the group, yet still with the light of the +fire shining full upon him, stood the soft-voiced twin. Suddenly the +hawk-like eyes of his grandmother swept the darkness and fastened +themselves upon his inquisitive face. For an instant they pierced him +through, then the shrill voice rang out: + +"So! It's only the sneak-dog that dare not come near! You get out and +hunt your bed!" + +"I ain't doin' nothin'!" exclaimed the boy. + +"No! An' you'll live doin' nothin', an' die doin' nothin', with a rope +about your neck, _so_!" She made a quick motion across her throat, and +gurgled heinously, letting her blanket fall low upon her skinny, calico +covered shoulders, revealing a long, gaunt throat and stiff wisps of +black, unkempt hair. + +"You don't need to think you can scare _me_," said the boy, moving +boldly forward, impelled by fear. "I ain't sneakin' 'round here, +neither! You'd better be a little politer er I'll tell the old man on +you when he gets sober again!" + +"Hear him!" roared Shorty Smith. "Politer! I reckon the school-ma'am's +instillin' some mighty high-flutin' notions into your head, ain't she? +Politer! Just listen to that onct, will yous! Say, don't no one dare +breathe loud when _Mister_ Daniel Harris, _esquire_, comes round!" + +"You let your betters alone," rebuked the old woman, shaking a stick at +Shorty, preliminary to throwing it upon the fire. "My grandson's got +more in his head than all of you!" Then nodding at the boy who, +emboldened, had come up to the fire: "Say what's on your tongue an' git +off to bed with you!" + +The breed boy shook his head. "I ain't got nothin' to tell," he said. +"Hain't been nowhere except over to Carter's camp awhile. Dave and me +pretty near got nabbed by a special officer that's over there." + +Shorty Smith raised himself up on his elbow. + +"A special _what_!" he demanded, while a sort of stillness swept the +circle. + +"A special officer of the _law_," replied the boy, with cool importance. +"Dave an' me had supper with him. He's a pretty good sort of a feller." + +"Nice company you've been in," observed Shorty. + +"Your grandmother always said you'd come to some bad end," drawled Long +Bill. An uneasy laugh went around, then absolute silence prevailed for +several minutes. The old squaw seemed to be muttering under her breath. +Finally she shifted her savage gaze from the outer blackness to the +faces about her camp-fire. + +"Turn cowards for one man!" she exclaimed scornfully. + +"Well, Harris is in there dead drunk, and what're we goin' to do without +him, anyhow?" exclaimed Long Bill. + +"He might not approve," supplemented Shorty Smith. + +"That's right; I ain't wantin' no such responsibility on my shoulders, +_just now_," declared the large fellow. + +"We'll postpone matters," decided Shorty. "I ain't after such +responsibility myself, you can bet your life!" + +The others agreed by words and grunts. Suddenly the old woman rose to +her feet, grasping her dingy blanket together in front with one scrawny +hand, while she outstretched the other, pointing into the night. + +"Git out!" she snarled scornfully. "Git to your beds, dogs!" + +The men laughed again uneasily. + +"Come on, boys," said Shorty Smith. "We'll go an' see if the old man's +left a drop in his jug." He moved towards the house, followed by the +others. The soft-voiced twin still retained his position by the +camp-fire. + +"You git too!" snarled his grandmother. + +"I ain't no dog," replied the boy. The squaw grunted. "You told the dogs +to go, not me! They won't find any demijohn, neither. I cached it for +_you_!" + +"Good boy," said his grandmother, patting him upon the head. "Go git +it!" + +When Hope and her companions returned that evening a couple of aged +Indians hovered over the dying embers of old White Blanket's camp-fire, +sociably drinking from a rusty tin cup what the riders naturally +supposed to be tea. The soft-voiced twin, already curled up asleep +beside his brothers, could have told them different, for had he not won +the old woman's passing favor by his generous act? So he slept well. + +So did the "old man" sleep well that night--a heavy drunken stupor. He +had returned from town that afternoon in his usual condition, as +wild-eyed as the half-broken horses that he drove, and for awhile made +things lively about the place. At such times he ruled with a high and +mighty hand, and even the little babies crept out of his way as he +approached. He roused up some of the idle breeds and started a poker +game, which soon broke up, owing to a financial deficiency among them. +Then he roped a wild-looking stallion and rode off at a mad gait, +without any apparent object, toward a peacefully feeding bunch of +cattle. He rode around it, driving the cows and calves into a huddled, +frightened group, then left them to recover their composure, riding, +still as madly as ever, back to the stables. But the whisky finally got +in its work, and Joe Harris, to the great relief of his Indian wife and +family, laid himself away in a corner of the kitchen, and peace again +reigned supreme. + +Hope and Louisa very fortunately missed all the excitement. + +The darkness was intense when they rode up to the ranch. Quiet pervaded +the place, and not a light shone from the house. + +"These people must go to bed with the chickens," remarked O'Hara. + +"Here's some matches, Hope," said Carter, standing beside her on the +ground when she had dismounted. "Never mind your horses, I'll take care +of them. Run right in. Such a place for you! Darker'n a stack of black +cats! I'll stand here by the house till I see a light in your room." + +Just then a group of men, led by Shorty Smith, came out of the dark +passage between the kitchen and the other part of the house, and made +their way toward the stables. The ones in the rear did not see the +riders, and were muttering roughly among themselves. They had been +making another fruitless search for the cattle-man's whisky, and were +now going to bed. + +"Come back here," said Sydney, drawing both girls toward the horses +which O'Hara was holding. They moved backward under his grasp and waited +until the men had passed. + +"Hope, you'll either have to change your boarding place or go home," +announced her cousin. + +"I'll do neither," replied the girl decisively. "Don't be foolish, Syd, +because of a darkened house and a handful of harmless men! I'm not a +baby, either. You'll make Larry think I'm a very helpless sort of +person. Don't believe him, Larry! I'll admit that this isn't always a +safe country for men, but there is no place on earth where a woman is +surer of protection than among these same wild, dare-devil characters. I +know what I'm talking about. Home? Well, I guess not! Come on, Louisa. +See, she isn't afraid! Are you? Good-night, both of you!" + +"Goot-night," called the German girl. + +"It's just as she says," explained Carter, as he and O'Hara rode +homeward. "It is perfectly safe for a girl out here, in spite of the +tough appearances of things--far safer than in the streets of New York +or Chicago. There isn't a man in the country that would dare speak +disrespectfully to a girl. Horse-stealing wouldn't be an instance +compared with what he'd get for that. He'd meet his end so quick he +wouldn't have time to say his prayers! That's the way we do things in +this country, you know." + +"It's hard to understand this, judging from appearances," said O'Hara. +"I'm not exactly a coward myself, but I must own it gave me a chill all +down my spine when those tough-looking specimens began to pour out from +that crack between the buildings. I'd think it would make a girl feel +nervous." + +"But not Hope," replied Carter. "She's used to it; besides she's not +like other girls. She's as fearless as a lion. You can't scare _her_. If +she was a little more timid I wouldn't think about worrying over her, +but she's so blame self-reliant! She knows she's as quick as chain +lightning, and she's chockful of confidence. For my own part, I wish +she'd never learned to shoot a gun." + +"It strikes me she's pretty able to take care of herself," said O'Hara. +"If I were you I wouldn't worry over it." + +"Well, I want to get her back to the ranch, and I'm going to, too!" +said Carter. Then to O'Hara's look of wonder, "I might as well be in +Halifax as any real good I can be to her here--in case anything should +come up. You see, there's been trouble brewing for months. All these men +around here are down on Livingston, because he's running sheep on the +range they had begun to think was their own exclusive property. He's as +much right to run sheep on government land as they have to run cattle, +though sheep are a plumb nuisance in a cow country. These ranchers +around here haven't any use for his sheep at all, and have been picking +at him ever since he came up here." + +He then went on to tell what he knew about the shooting at Livingston's +corral. + +"I'm pretty certain now that Hope was mixed up in it, though Livingston +is as ignorant as can be in regard to the matter. He's too much a +stranger to the ways of the country to learn everything in a minute. It +was funny about you knowing him, wasn't it? He's a fine man, all right, +and I hope this outfit won't bluff him out of the country. Harris is at +the bottom of it. If it wasn't for him there wouldn't be any trouble. +Now it's my opinion that Hope's trying to stand off the whole outfit for +Livingston's sake, and doesn't want him to know it." + +O'Hara was silent for a moment, then replied: + +"I'm not the fellow to make a fuss because a better man than me turns +up. I knew in a minute he was dead in love with her." + +Then he told something to Carter in confidence which caused him to pull +his horse up suddenly in the trail and exclaim: "You don't say!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +"It is a long road," observed Mrs. Van Rensselaer. "I had no idea it was +so far. So these are the foot-hills of the mountains. Is this Harris +place very much farther?" + +"'Bout five mile straight up in the mountains," replied her companion. + +"Then," said the lady decisively, "I am going to stop here at this +spring, get a drink, and rest awhile; I'm about half dead!" + +Jim McCullen made no reply, but good-naturedly headed his horse toward a +tiny stream that trickled down a coulee near by. Mrs. Van Rensselaer +followed, heaving a tired sigh of relief, as she slipped down upon the +moist, flower-dotted meadows beside the stream. + +"Oh, this is an awful undertaking," she declared, wetting her +handkerchief in the water and carefully wiping her forehead. + +"I thought you was pretty brave to venture it," replied old Jim, from a +short distance below, where he was watering the horses. "It's a hot day +and a dry wind. I told you just how it'd be." + +"I suppose it is some comfort to you to refer to that fact, but it +doesn't make me any the less tired or cross. Yes, I'm cross, Mr. +McCullen. It has been downright rude of Hope to stay away like this all +summer. Of course it's possible she may have her reasons for that, but +_I_ never put in such a pokey time before in all my life! I couldn't go +back to New York without seeing her, and then Sydney told me that if I +went up there I might be able to coax her to leave the place. But she's +been there so long now--a couple of months, isn't it?--that I can't see +what difference it would make if she stayed a little longer. I did want +to see her, though, before I went home, so I decided I'd undertake this +journey. What about this protégée of hers--this German girl she's taken +to raise? Sydney said she was a pretty little thing with hair the color +of mine," shaking back her fluff of fair hair, "and eyes like a 'deep +blue lake.' That's all I could get out of him--'eyes like a deep blue +lake!' That settles it! When a fellow begins to rhapsody over eyes like +a deep blue lake, it's a good sign he's cast his anchor right there. +Well, it'll be a good thing for Sydney." + +"She's a right smart young lady," remarked McCullen. "Hope thinks a +sight of her. She can ride a little, but she ain't goin' to learn to +shoot worth a cent. Hand ain't steady 'nough. They ain't many wimmen in +the world can shoot like Hope, though! She beats 'em all!" + +"You ought to be awfully proud to think you taught her." + +"Proud!" said old Jim, his voice deep with emotion; "I reckon I'm proud +of her in every way--not just because she can shoot. They ain't no one +like her! I couldn't think no more of her if she was my own, ma'am." + +"It must be nice to feel that way toward someone," mused the lady, from +the grass. "She thinks everything of you, too. It seems natural for some +people to take a kindly, loving interest in almost everyone. There are +only two people I have ever known toward whom I have felt in anything +approaching that manner. Hope and Larry O'Hara. I have often fancied +they would make an ideal couple." Jim McCullen shook his head +doubtfully, but Mrs. Van Rensselaer, unnoticing, continued: "And even +Larry deserted the ranch. He's been gone for two weeks. It's about time +I came to look everyone up!" She pinned back the fluffy hair from her +face, adjusted her hat, unclasped a tiny mirror and powder puff from her +wrist, and carefully dusted every portion of her pretty face. + +McCullen, who had witnessed the operation several times before along the +road that day, ceased to stare in wonderment, and very politely looked +across the rolling hills in the opposite direction. It never occurred to +Clarice Van Rensselaer that anyone could have found amusement in the +proceedings. In fact, she never thought of it at all, but dabbed the +powder puff quite mechanically from force of habit. + +After laughing to himself and giving her time enough to complete her +toilet, he led her horse up, remarking: + +"We'd better be movin', er like enough we won't get there till after +dark." + +Mrs. Van Rensselaer sighed, regained her feet, and suffered herself to +be helped to the saddle. + +"I reckon you won't find O'Hara up there," remarked Jim McCullen some +time later. "Two evenings ago he rode over on Fox Creek, there on the +reservation, where them soldiers are out practicin'. Lieutenant Harvey +come over to camp an' he rode back with him, bein's he was acquainted. +It ain't more'n eight mile from camp. Mebby you could ride over there if +you wanted." This suggestion was offered with the faintest smile beneath +his gray mustache. "It's a mighty fine chance to see them soldiers +drillin' 'round the hills, playin' at sham battles and the like." + +"It would probably be a pleasing sight to see them," replied Clarice Van +Rensselaer, "but I prefer an easy chair with plenty of cushions +instead." + +"I don't like to discourage you, but I don't reckon you'll find many +cushions where you're goin'," said old Jim. + +"How much farther is it?" demanded the lady. + +"Oh, not very fur, 'bout three mile, er a little further," replied her +companion; thereupon Mrs. Van Rensselaer rode on for some time in +scornful, silent resignation. + +When they reached the Harris ranch they found groups of men lounging +about everywhere. + +It looked as though most of the inhabitants of the mountains had +congregated there on this especial evening. Mrs. Van Rensselaer gasped +in astonishment, and even McCullen, used as he was to seeing men +gathered about the place, looked surprised and wondered what had been +going on to bring such a crowd. + +Mrs. Van Rensselaer gathered her skirts closely about her, as if in fear +they would brush against some of the rough-looking men that moved back +from the path as McCullen led her to the house. A couple of pigs chased +by a yellow pup ran past her, then an Indian woman opened wide the main +entrance of the abode and shooed out some squawking chickens, which flew +straight at the visitor. Mrs. Van Rensselaer hesitated in dismay, and +turned a white, startled face to McCullen. + +"This ain't nothin' at all," he assured her. "Go right on in. I reckon +we'll find Miss Hope to home." + +She drew back still farther. "You go first," she implored fearfully. + +McCullen smiled, and picked his way into the house, followed closely by +his companion, who clung to his coat. + +Reaching the interior he seated Mrs. Van Rensselaer upon a bench, and +went in search of the Indian woman, who had disappeared at the first +sight of the visitors. + +"She's out," he announced, returning after a moment. "They say she and +the little German girl went out on their horses some time ago. I suppose +you'll have to wait here till she gets back. You ain't afraid, be you?" + +"Do you mean that I'll have to wait here _alone_?" she inquired, +frightened. + +"I'll stay around fer a spell," said McCullen kindly. "There ain't +nothing to get nervous about." He opened the door of an adjoining room +and beckoned to a breed girl, who was lulling a child to sleep in an +Indian hammock. "Come in and keep this lady company. She's come to see +Miss Hathaway," he said. The girl entered the room shyly--reluctantly. +Jim McCullen pulled his hat over his eyes and turned to the door. "I'll +look about a bit an' see if she's comin'," he said, then went out of the +house. + +The girl was shy, and stood awkwardly in the doorway with downcast eyes, +not daring to look up at the visitor. Clarice fancied herself too tired +to talk, so sat on the bench and leaned back against the white-washed +logs. Quiet pervaded until a pig poked open the door and looked +inquisitively into the room. + +"Oh, drive that animal out!" exclaimed Clarice, "he's coming straight at +me!" + +The girl gave the pig a poke that sent it grunting away, then closed the +door and placed a box before it to keep it shut. + +"Will you kindly take me to Miss Hathaway's apartment?" asked Mrs. Van +Rensselaer. + +The breed girl looked bewildered. "_To where?_" she asked. + +"To her room," requested the lady, less politely. "I suppose she has a +room in this place, has she not? I should like to rest for a few +moments." + +"It's right there," said the girl shortly, pointing at a door. + +"Right there!" exclaimed Mrs. Van Rensselaer crossly. "Why didn't you +tell me so before?" + +Clarice opened the door and gasped in wonder. A vision of Hope's room at +the ranch, with all its dainty accessories, came before her, and she +thought of the girl's love of luxury and comfort. Everything was clean +here, she assured herself with another glance around--spotlessly clean +and neat, which could not be said of the room she had just left. There +was a bed, a chair, a box and some boards covered with cheese-cloth, +that served as a dressing table. Not a picture adorned the wall or an +ornament of any description was to be seen. + +Mrs. Van Rensselaer walked all around the little room to satisfy herself +that she had missed nothing. Some newspapers were fastened to the wall +upon one side, and over them hung a few garments, which in turn were +carefully covered by a thin shawl, with a view, no doubt, to keep out +the dust. That was probably an idea of the German girl's, thought +Clarice, and rightly, too, for to Louisa also was due the well scrubbed +boards of the floor, the shining window panes, and the general neatness +which pervaded the poor chamber. + +Mrs. Van Rensselaer seated herself upon a box and gazed long and +earnestly at her reflection in a small hand mirror which hung over the +dressing table. + +"You haven't the features of a fool," she remarked to herself, "but +you've added two new wrinkles by this tom-foolery to-day, and you ought +to be satisfied by this time that you're not fit to take care of +yourself! But I suppose it's satisfying to know you're doing missionary +work. Missionary work, indeed, for a girl who hasn't as much sense for +staying in this place as you have for coming! By the time you get home +you'll have two more wrinkles, and it'll take a month to get back your +good looks again! Well, you always were foolish!" + +So saying she turned away from the mirror and looked longingly at the +bed. Just then her eyes became fastened, wide and terrified, upon the +head of a small gray animal protruding from the corner of the floor +behind the bed. She watched it, spell-bound by fear, as it drew its fat +body through a hole in the floor and ran across the room. Suddenly with +a terrible shriek she threw herself upon the bed. The pack-rat ran back +to its hole and made its exit without loss of time, but Clarice sobbed +aloud in hysterical fear. Suddenly the door was thrown open, and a +weather-browned, dark-haired girl knelt beside the bed and took the +frightened woman in her arms. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +"Clarice, dear," said Hope, "what _is_ the matter?" + +"Oh," sobbed Mrs. Van Rensselaer, "_did_ you see it--_did you see it_? A +terrible thing! A terrible thing!" + +"But _what_?" asked the girl wonderingly, "what could have frightened +you so, _here_?" + +Clarice, still hysterical, only sobbed and was quite incoherent in her +explanation. Hope looked stern, as though facing an unpleasant problem +which baffled her for the time. Louisa had entered the room and stood +quietly to one side, looking in much surprise from one to the other. For +a moment Mrs. Van Rensselaer's sobs ceased. + +The German girl touched Hope gently upon the shoulder. + +"I tink it vas King Solomon," she said. + +"Why, that was just it," said Hope. "You must have seen King Solomon, +Clarice. It was only King Solomon; don't be afraid. I thought we had the +hole well plugged up, but he must have made another one." + +"You forget," interrupted Louisa, laughing softly. + +"Oh, that's so!" exclaimed Hope. "We took the soap out and used it this +morning because we didn't have any other." + +"And who's King Solomon, and what's that to do with soap?" demanded +Clarice, raising herself upon her elbow to the edge of the bed with a +faint show of interest. + +"King Solomon," explained Hope soberly, "is a friend who comes to visit +us occasionally, and generally packs off what happens to be in sight. We +named him King Solomon--not because of his solemn demeanor, but for +reason of his taking ways, and propensity toward feminine apparel." + +"What are you talking about, Hope? I do believe this terrible place has +gone to your head! What makes all the noise in that other room?" + +Mrs. Van Rensselaer seemed extremely nervous. + +"That's the men coming in to their supper," replied Hope. "I think you +must have been nervous before you saw the rat. I'm sorry I wasn't here +when you came, Clarice!" + +"And so that horrible thing I saw was a rat!" + +"Yes, just a common everyday wood-rat, for obvious reasons sometimes +called a pack-rat. But how did you happen to come up here, Clarice?" + +"If I had known how far it was, and what a dreadful place I should find, +I am afraid my great desire to see you couldn't have induced me to +attempt it. How _can_ you stay here? I wish you'd go home, Hope!" + +"Is that what you came to tell me?" asked the girl quietly. "If so, you +might just as well get on your horse and go back. I wrote you not to +come. You might have taken my advice--it would have been a heap better. +You're not cut out for this sort of place. I don't know what in the +world I'm going to do with you to-night! I'll send you back to-morrow, +that's one thing sure. One of us will have to sleep on the floor, or +else we'll be obliged to sleep three in a bed." + +"Oh, I'll make me a bed on the floor," offered Louisa quickly. + +"You won't do anything of the kind--the idea!" exclaimed Mrs. Van +Rensselaer, aghast. "Supposing that thing--that _rat_ should come!" + +"We'll put the soap back in the hole again," replied Hope. "And King +Solomon will have to keep out. Before Louisa came I used to let him come +in just for company's sake, but the poor fellow is a hopeless case. +Clarice, I wish you hadn't come!" + +"I wish so, too, if that will help you any," replied Mrs. Van +Rensselaer, lifting her pretty face dejectedly from her hands and +looking about the room in a woe-begone manner. "I'm awfully tired, Hope, +and hungry, but I couldn't eat _here_ if I starved to death! Is that +room in there _always_ so grimy and dirty? and what makes that terrible +_odor_ about the place?" + +"I think you'd better go back to the ranch to-night," suggested Hope. + +Clarice moaned in deep discouragement: "Oh, if you knew how tired I am! +But I can't stand it _here_--_I can't do it_! Let me get out in the +fresh air, away from the odor of those pigs and chickens and _rats_, and +sit down on the side of a mountain--anywhere, so that I can breathe +again!" After a moment's pause she suddenly exclaimed: "Hope, there's +something biting me! What in the world is it? I tell you there's an +insect on me!" + +"Fleas," said Hope briefly. "The place is full of them. They don't bite +me, and they don't bother Louisa much either. Poor Clarice, what trouble +you have got yourself into! I can't send you back to-night, that's one +sure thing, you're too tired." She pondered a moment, deeply perplexed, +then all at once a solution came to her. Her eyes brightened and she +laughed. + +"I have it!" she cried. "I'll send one of the boys after Mr. +Livingston's buggy and drive you over to Sydney's. They've got an extra +tent and a stack of blankets. William will get you a fine supper, and +you can be as snug as a bug in a rug." + +"Hope, you're the dearest girl that ever lived!" cried Clarice. "I just +dote on camping out in a nice clean tent!" But Hope had hurried away to +find the twins before the sentence was finished. When she returned, a +few minutes later, Clarice exclaimed: + +"But you don't intend to send me over there _alone_, do you? You girls +will go and stay with me? Come, you must! I'll not think of going alone. +We'll have a regular camping-out party and I'll chaperon you." + +"Old Father Jim and Sydney are chaperons enough," said the girl. "But +we'll go along, since you happen to be our guest." + +This decided upon, she made Mrs. Van Rensselaer lie down upon the bed, +bathed her pretty, tired face with cool water, and commanded her to +rest until the twins returned with the conveyance. + +Louisa clapped her hands in joy at the happy prospect of camping in a +tent. She declared in her pretty broken English that it had been her one +great desire ever since she had been in the country. Then she became +sober again. Had not her Fritz spent months at a time in one of those +small, white-walled tents? + +Hope viewed the project with complete indifference. It mattered little +to her where she spent the night, so that she got her allotted hours of +good, sound sleep. At first she was greatly perplexed as to how she was +going to make Clarice comfortable, but now that the matter had adjusted +itself so agreeably she became at once in the lightest of spirits, the +effects of which were quickly felt by both Mrs. Van Rensselaer and +little Louisa. + +By the time the roll of wheels was heard, announcing the arrival of +Edward Livingston's conveyance, Clarice was fairly rested, and in a +much more amiable mood than previously. + +"The only thing that's the matter with me now is that I'm hungry," she +said. + +"We'll soon fix that, too," replied Hope brightly. "The boys are back +with Mr. Livingston's team and it won't take us long to drive over to +camp. Get on your things, Clarice." She threw her own jacket over her +arm and, picking up her hat, hurriedly left the room. "I'll be back in a +moment for you," she said from the door. "Keep her company, Louisa, and +don't let King Solomon in!" + +At the entrance of the house she met the soft-voiced twin just coming in +search of her. + +"He's out there hisself with his outfit," he said disgustedly. "Thought +it wasn't safe fer me to drive his blame horses, I reckon!" + +She looked out and saw Livingston standing beside his team in the road. +He was waiting for her. When she approached, his fine eyes brightened, +but hers were gloomy--indifferent. + +"Come," he said, laughing, holding out his hand to her. "You did not +think I would miss such an opportunity to get to see you! I haven't +pleased you, but this time I thought to please myself." + +"I was in such a predicament," she cried, ignoring his hand, but +forgetting her momentary displeasure. "A guest from the ranch, and no +place to put her. Then I thought of Sydney's, and that new tent, so +we're all going over there. I sent for your buggy, because Mrs. Van +Rensselaer has ridden a long ways, is all tired out--but I didn't mean +to put _you_ to so much trouble." + +"Is it a _trouble_ to see you?" he asked. "If it is, I want a great deal +of just that kind of trouble." + +"I'll go in and get her," she said quickly. "If you will drive her over +there, Louisa and I can go horseback." + +He assented in few words, happy to do her bidding. + +She started toward the house, then turned back absent-mindedly, as +though she had forgotten something that she was striving to recall. +Finally she gave a little short laugh, and held out her hand. "You are +very kind," she said, looking at him squarely. + +He did not reply, but held the proffered hand, drinking in the language +of her eyes. She withdrew it slowly, as if loath to take it from his +warm clasp, then flashing him one of her brilliant smiles turned once +more and went quickly back to the house. + +"You will ride over with Mr. Livingston, Clarice," she announced. "He +wouldn't trust the twins with his team." + +"And who's _Mr. Livingston_, Hope," inquired Mrs. Van Rensselaer, +adjusting her veil carefully before the small mirror. "I didn't suppose +you had a _Mr._ anybody up here in this terrible country! Why the +prefix?" + +"He's a white man," replied the girl, pulling down her hat to hide the +flush that crept into her face. "An Englishman, Edward Livingston." + +"An Englishman," mused Clarice, pulling on her gloves. "But what makes +you _Mister_ him, Hope? _Livingston_--wonder if he's any relation to +Lord Livingston? _Edward_ Livingston, did you say?" + +"Oh, such a _nice_ man!" exclaimed Louisa, clasping her hands in +rapture. "He is my goot, kind friend." + +"And Hope's too, isn't he?" laughed Mrs. Van Rensselaer, at which remark +Hope advised her to hurry up. + +"But my dear, I _am_ hurrying just as fast as I can," she exclaimed. "I +assure you I am as anxious to get away from here as you are to have me. +I don't see how you've ever stood it, Hope! The attraction must be very +strong. Come, own up, is it this _Mister_ Livingston? Why, I believe you +are blushing. You're so black, though, I can't be certain. But it's a +good name--Livingston. Come on; I'm ready to see this _Mister Edward +Livingston_!" + +The three passed out of the room and through the large living room +beyond, on out of doors. The men had eaten their supper and gone out to +the stables, where they congregated in numerous groups--quiet groups, +that any other time would have seemed suspicious to Hope. + +Mrs. Van Rensselaer was led safely past the pigs and dogs without +accident, but at the corner of the house she drew back, filled with +surprise, and forgetful of all danger. + +"Hope, I do believe that _is_ Lord Livingston," she whispered. "I knew +he was out in this country somewhere. Yes, I'm sure it is he. His wife +lives in New York now," she rattled on; "but I don't know her except by +sight. She goes in kind of a swift set, anyway, but he belongs to one of +the best families in England. Isn't it surprising to run across him like +this? I'll go up to him and say--why, how do you do, Lord----" + +"Come on," said Hope, interrupting and taking her by the arm. "Lord or +no lord, you'll never get any supper if you don't hurry up!" Her face +had gone from red to white. She took Clarice by the arm and led her up +to the buggy. "This is Mrs. Van Rensselaer, Mr. Livingston," she said +quickly, before that lady could speak, then turned abruptly about and +went to the stable for the saddle-horses. + +Livingston helped Mrs. Van Rensselaer into the buggy, while Louisa ran +after Hope, quickly overtaking her. + +"She says he hass a vife. I don't belief her!" she exclaimed +indignantly, linking her arm through Hope's. "Don't you belief her +eider!" + +"I must believe it, little Louisa, because it is true!" said Hope. "But +if it were _not_ true, if it were _not_ true, I think I should be mad +with happiness at this moment!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +In a short time the horses were saddled and the two girls dashed past +the stable buildings and the rough assortment of men who stood silently +about, past their watchful, alert eyes, on after the buggy, which had +now become a mere speck high up on the mountain road. As they raced by +the house and tepees the boy, Ned, cautiously raised his small body from +behind a pile of logs which edged the road and beckoned to them +frantically. Hope's quick eye saw him, but only as the flash of a moving +picture across her mind, leaving no impression and instantly forgotten. +But later, when she had entered the cook-tent at Sydney's camp and +seated herself among the small company, the memory of the passing vision +came back, annoying, troubling her. She scented danger more than she +felt it. A sense of uneasiness possessed her. She condemned herself +roundly for the wild thoughts that had carried her away from herself, +and would have given much at that moment to have known what the breed +boy had wanted to commune to her. + +Clarice was chatting volubly to Livingston. Sydney leaned upon the +table, listening attentively. Outside, old Jim McCullen was staking out +the saddle-horses, while about the stove and mess-box William, the cook, +flitted in great importance. Sydney jumped up from the table when the +two girls entered and arranged some extra seats for them, then took one +himself beside Louisa, who flushed prettily at his attentions. + +"We beat you by fifteen minutes!" exclaimed Mrs. Van Rensselaer, +breaking off from her conversation abruptly. "But we just came along +spinning. And I must tell you that I'm perfectly happy now, and don't +regret coming one bit! Just think, isn't this luck--Mr. Livingston has +promised to take me back to the ranch to-morrow, or whenever I decide to +return! And you should see what a splendid dinner we are going to have! +After all, I'm coming out the best in the deal--in spite of Jim's +'didn't I tell you,' and Hope's 'what made you come.' This is a regular +taste of the real West--wild and rugged! You don't get it at the +ranch--luxurious quarters, Chinese servants everywhere, even the people +especially imported. You might as well be in New York for everything +except the climate. This is great--this little gulch here and these +fresh, sweet tents; but horrors, that place back there! Isn't there any +way to go around it when we go back to the ranch, Mr. Livingston? I +don't want even to catch sight of it. I never saw such a lot of looking +men in all my life!" + +They all laughed at the look of abject horror which she put upon her +face--all with the exception of Hope, who sat silently in the shadow of +Louisa and Sydney. + +"We've been to supper," said Sydney, turning around to his cousin, "so +this is an extra one for the special benefit of our guests. You'd better +appreciate it, for it's going to be a jim-dandy one. Livingston's been +to supper, too, so this is just for the ladies." + +"You're a good boy," murmured the girl, taking off her hat and pushing +back the mass of dark hair from her forehead. "We'll soon show you our +appreciation." + +"I guess we'd better light up, it's getting dark a little earlier +nowadays," he said, leaving Louisa's side to light the lanterns, which +soon flooded the tent with soft radiance. + +"I like the twilight," said Clarice to Livingston. "But then I like lots +of light, too. Some people can talk best in the dark, but I have to see +to talk." + +"It's only eight o'clock," continued Sydney, from where he had left off. +"Last month it was daylight at ten. It beats all how time flies, +anyway!" He hung an extra lantern, lighted for the momentous occasion, +right where the rays fell full upon Hope's face. From the far end of the +tent Livingston watched her. He sought her eyes as usual. They were +everywhere, anywhere, but did not meet his. Lately a new star had risen +for him--a star of hope. O'Hara had told him, quite unsolicited, that +there was no attachment between Hope and her cousin, much less an +engagement, and suddenly a new world had opened for him. + +"I don't see why you are lighting the lanterns now. It isn't dark at +all," said the girl, rising suddenly from her seat. "From the top of the +ridge out there you can see the sunset, I know." + +"Did you ever see a sunset as beautiful as the sunrise?" asked +Livingston. + +She stopped and pondered an instant, then glanced at him quickly, and as +quickly away. + +"No, I have not," she replied. "A sunrise is a baptism. It is like being +born into a new world. There is nothing so beautiful, so grand, so +promising, as the vision of a new day's sun. And to stand in the cool +morning air with the dew beneath your feet and _feel_ all the promise of +that vast, golden glory--to feel it----" She stopped suddenly, lifting +her eyes to his for one brief instant. "There is no moment in life when +one is so near to God." + +"Admitting the sublimity and grandeur of the time," said Clarice. "Yet +who ever heard of an enamored swain offering his heart at the feet of +his fair lady at such an unearthly hour? It's preposterous!" + +"In such a case he'd probably be sitting up too late the night before," +said Carter. "But it's a pretty idea, just the same," he declared, +looking at Louisa. + +"I think a sunset is prettier," insisted Clarice. "I've never been able +to rub the sleep out of my eyes to appreciate the sunrise as Hope +describes it. But I think she is an exception." + +"Would there were more then," said Livingston fervently. + +His earnestness seemed to amuse Clarice, for she turned to him and +laughed. Hope swung about quickly, stung for the instant. + +"It is sacred," she cried softly, then opening the tent-flap with a +quick movement she stepped out into the evening. + +Jim McCullen was putting up a new tent down near the edge of the stream +for the accommodation of the ladies. The girl went over to where he was +at work and assisted him by steadying one pole while he fastened the +canvas in position. + +"How's the ranch, Jim?" she asked. "Mrs. Van Rensselaer hasn't had time +to tell me yet." + +"Well, it's about the same as ever," replied McCullen slowly. "I reckon +your father's gettin' pretty lonesome without you. Feels like a lost +horse by now. That there little Rosebush--Rosehill, he and them +Cresmonds have gone back East to get ready fer the great weddin' they're +talkin' about. Them folks seem to think it's a mighty fine thing to +catch a lord er an earl. But it always seemed to me that the Almighty +left out a whole pile in order to give some o' them fellers a title. +Forgot Rosehill's brains entirely, an' he ain't no bigger'n a minute, +neither." + +"I guess you're right, about him," said Hope, kneeling beside McCullen +as he fashioned a stake pin more to his liking. "I hope that outfit +won't come out here another year; I don't like them very well. It's +nice and sweet out here on the grass, isn't it? I don't mind staying +here at all to-night. I don't see what makes me feel so sleepy and +drowsy though, but I do--sort of tired, as though I wanted to get away +and go to bed. I haven't ridden far to-day either--only a few miles +after school. Jim, I wish I were back to-night at the ranch--I wish I +could go and say good-night to my father, and go away to my own room." + +McCullen looked up from the peg he was driving, and remarked: "I'll +warrent you'll have as good a night's sleep out here in this tent as you +would at home on the ranch. Plenty o' fresh air an' no misquitoes to +bother. But I reckon your father'd like to see you just the same +to-night." + +"But he doesn't want me to go home until I've finished this school up +here. I'm earning fifty dollars a month. How much are you?" + +"A hundred," replied McCullen. "But, look a-here, your father _said_ +that, but he'd be mighty glad to have you drop in on him one o' these +times. He's the sorriest father you ever seen!" + +"But I shall stay, Jim, just as long as there is school here," said Hope +decidedly. "So don't _you_ try to get me to go home. Everyone else is. +Sydney all the time, then Larry O'Hara. I'm glad he's gone over to camp +with the soldiers. They're farther away than I thought. Louisa and I +rode over in that direction after school, but only got to the top of the +tall butte over there. We could see them where they were camped on Fox +Creek, but it was too far to go, so we went back to Harris'. Larry was +all the time urging me to go home while he was here--and now Clarice has +come. But I won't go, Jim, until the school ends." + +"Well, you just make the best of it," replied McCullen. "I like your +grit. I'm a-goin' to stay right here so's to be near you whatever +happens." + +"Jim," said the girl suddenly, "were you ever nervous?" + +"I reckon I've been, a few times," replied McCullen. "Why, you ain't +_nervous_, be you, Hopie? There ain't nothin' goin' to bother you out +here to-night. Mebby you ain't feelin' well." + +She smiled at his consternation. "No, I don't think I'm nervous, Jim; +just a little restless, that's all." + +"I expect that woman's comin' has sort o' upset you. I didn't want to +bring her, but she managed to overrule all o' my objections." + +He finished driving the last peg, which made the tent secure against the +strongest wind, then straightened himself up with his hands upon the +small of his back as though the movement was a difficult one. + +"Well, I reckon I'll bring in the beddin', an' you can fix it up to suit +yourself," he said, looking down at the girl, who had seated herself on +the grass before the tent. + +"Listen," she whispered, holding up a warning hand, "I hear +horsebackers." + +"Sure enough," he replied after a moment's silence. "I reckon it's them +breed boys o' yourn. Hungriest outfit I ever seen!" + +"Yes," she said, rising suddenly to her feet and peering into the +gathering dusk, "that's who it is. Go get the blankets, Jim." + +"Where're you goin'!" asked McCullen, as she moved quickly away down the +bank of the creek toward the dark brush of the bottom. + +"To tell them school's out," she replied with a short laugh, then +disappeared from his sight. + +"I reckon she's afraid them boys'll annoy that Van Rensselaer woman. +You'd think she'd never seen an Injun before, from the fuss she made +back there at Harris'," soliloquized McCullen as he brought a great +armful of blankets and deposited them inside the new tent. + +But Hope was not thinking of Mrs. Van Rensselaer as she stood in the +narrow brush trail holding the bridle of an impatient Indian pinto, +while the soft-voiced twin looked at her through the semi-darkness. + +"There's a bright moon to-night till three in the mornin', then it's as +dark as pitch," he was saying. + +"Who figured out all that?" demanded the girl. + +The breed boy moved uneasily in his saddle. "I reckon Shorty Smith er +some o' 'em did," he replied. + +"And they're going to meet in the sheep-shed at the foot of the big +hill," she said deliberately. + +"Yes," replied Dan reluctantly, "the one just inside the pasture fence +over there on this side. It's the nearest place to meet." + +"How many men?" demanded Hope. + +"'Bout a dozen, I reckon," replied the twin. "Mebby not so many." He +leaned forward until his face was close beside the girl's. "Say," he +whispered nervously, "if they ever found out I put you onto this, they'd +finish me mighty quick." + +"Are they aware you know about it?" she asked quickly. "Do they know?" + +"You can't never tell," replied the boy deliberately, sweetly. + +The bushes rattled and another horse pushed its way alongside the +pinto. + +"If we only had that Gatlin' gun now we'd be all right," exclaimed the +other twin enthusiastically, as his horse nosed its way in beside them. +"But if we get behind the big rock we'll scare 'em to death, so's they +won't have the nerve to do nothin'!" + +"But what are they going to do?" demanded Hope impatiently. "You seem to +know nothing except that they're going to meet there for some +devilishness." + +"Goin' to make a raid on the shed, I reckon," replied Dave. The +soft-voiced twin was silent. + +"And you think we can stand off a dozen men?" she demanded. + +"They can't do a thing to us from the big rock, anyway, an' we can watch +the fun an' pick off everyone that leaves the shed. We can do that +much," said the soft-voiced twin eagerly. + +"How you thirst for blood! They deserve death, every one--_the dogs_! +But I can't do it! There must be some other way! He must be warned, and +his men too, and the thing averted. Before, it just happened so--this +time we have a chance and warning." + +"It 'ud never do to tell him," exclaimed the soft-voiced twin nervously. +"He'd put his own head right into the noose!" + +"Never!" she cried. "You don't know what courage he has!" + +The soft-voiced twin continued to demur. Suddenly she held up her hand +to him commandingly. "Not another word! I'll manage this thing myself! +It's for me to command, and you obey orders. Remember, you're my +scouts--my _brave scouts_. Surely you want me to be proud of you!" + +"You bet!" exclaimed Dave. + +"Then do as I say," she commanded in a voice softly alluring, coaxing. +"Go home, find out what you can, and bring me word here in an hour. If +you are not back here then I will go down there and face them all, +myself--_alone_." + +"You wouldn't," whispered the soft-voiced twin excitedly. + +"I _would_!" replied the girl. "Now go--and remember I'll expect you +back in one hour. If you fail me, I'll go down there and face those +devils single-handed! I could wipe the earth with forty such dogs!" + +The breed boys turned away in silent, stolid, Indian fashion, and the +bare-headed girl stood in the still gloom of the willow-brush listening +to the sound of their horses' quick hoof-beats until the last dull thud +had died in the distance. + +"Chuck-away!" called a voice from the creek bank. + +"Coming!" answered the girl, turning about with a start and running back +along the path. + +At the bank she stopped, unnerved with a rush of thoughts, +overwhelming--terrifying. She knelt down in the long grass, clasped her +hands over her heart as if to tear it from her, and raised for an +instant a strained, white face to the starlit canopy of heaven. + +"The brave can die but once," her heart repeated wildly. "But I am a +coward--I cannot bear it! Oh, God,--if you are the great, good +God,--spare him from all harm, from suffering and death! Spare him now! +See, I offer myself instead--freely, gladly! Take me, but spare him!" + +A dimly outlined face from the bank above looked down at her, followed +by a soft, mellow laugh. + +"The bank is so steep," said Livingston softly. "Here, give me your hand +and I will pull you up." + +She took a quick step upward, then stopped just below him and looked at +him intently. + +"God in heaven," she said wildly to herself, "I swear they shall not +harm a hair of your head! I'll tear the heart out of every man of them +that comes near you! I'll kill them all, the hounds, the sneaks, the low +vermin!" + +She looked at him an instant so, then laughed--an odd, mirthless, +reverberant laugh, that echoed on the hills above. + +"Come, let me help you," he urged gently, reaching down his hand to her. +She laughed again, this time softly, more naturally. + +"My _lord_," she said with grave emphasis, "you honor me! I am +overwhelmed for the instant. Forgive my rudeness!" + +"You have heard," he exclaimed regretfully. "Your friend has told you--I +am so sorry! But then it really doesn't make any difference--only I +thought you might like me better if you didn't know it." + +"Oh, my lord," she laughed mockingly. "I must needs _adore_ you now!" + +"Stop your fooling," he exclaimed impatiently. "And give me your hand +and I'll pull you up here." + +With a sudden movement he stepped down toward her, grasping her hand +firmly, drawing her up beside him on the bank. She looked at him in some +surprise. + +"I always had an idea," she said, "that you were a very mild-mannered +young man." + +"But you've given me a title that I didn't want--you've put me out of +humor, and now you must take the consequences," he said. + +"I tried to make you angry. Why aren't you?" said Hope seriously. + +"Angry with you!" he exclaimed softly. "With you, my girl! Look at me +closely--in my eyes and see the reason!" He stood beside her. His hand +grasped hers, his powerful magnetism drew her until her cheeks flamed, +but not the flicker of downcast eyelids betrayed more than the faintest, +friendliest indifference. + +"Come on," she said, turning abruptly toward the tent, "I'm starved for +my supper!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +"You bad girl," cried Clarice Van Rensselaer from the table, "why did +you run away? See this nice dinner spoiling for you! I've regained my +good nature, which is lucky for you, but you'll have to give an account +of yourself. Actually, I had to send Mr. Livingston to look you up!" She +glanced with a well-bred look of quizzical amusement from Hope's +brilliant, flushed face to the man who accompanied her. "Well, you see +that I for one didn't wait for you," she concluded; "couldn't! I don't +think I ever was so hungry before in my whole life. Everything tastes +_perfectly_ delicious!" + +"William has outdone himself this time," remarked Sydney, as the girl +drew up an empty box and seated herself at the table, taking a little +food upon her plate and making a pretense of eating. Everything tasted +like wood. She could scarcely swallow. It finally occurred to her that +she must be acting very unlike herself. She made a violent effort to +appear natural, succeeding fairly well. + +"You haven't given account of yourself, yet," said Mrs. Van Rensselaer, +glancing from her end of the table to where Hope sat, still in silence. + +"Don't ask me," said the girl. "My excuse would sound too trivial to +you, Clarice. Perhaps I wanted to watch the first stars of evening." + +"Or follow a frog to its nest in the weeds," supplemented Sydney, "or +catch grass-hoppers that had gone to roost, or listen to the night-song +of the cat bird in the brush or--or what, Hopie? Maybe you were writing +poems in your mind, or preparing new lessons for school to-morrow." + +"Yes, that's just it," she replied. "I was preparing new lessons--for +to-morrow!" + +"How funny!" laughed Mrs. Van Rensselaer. "I had forgotten you were a +full-fledged school-teacher. Of course, I suppose you do have to think +about your teaching some. Goodness, I wouldn't like it at all! It must +be an awful task to bother with a lot of rough, dirty children! How many +pupils have you?" + +"Seventeen enrolled--but only seven or eight who attend," replied Hope +briefly. + +"Mercy, I thought you must have at least fifty, from all I saw back +there!" gasped Mrs. Van Rensselaer. "Well, I shouldn't think it would be +much trouble to prepare lessons for that amount." + +"_That many_," corrected Hope. "We don't measure them by the pound." + +"No, we size them up by the cord," laughed Sydney; "but we don't handle +'em, because they're like that much dynamite." + +"Dangerous pieces of humanity," said Livingston, smiling. + +"Hope can handle them all right," declared Mrs. Van Rensselaer. "She can +handle anyone, for that matter. She's got more tact and diplomacy than +any politician. Trust her to manage seven or eight children! Why, if +she can't manage a person any other way, she'll actually _bully_ him. +She can make you believe black is white every time." + +"Fräulein is so goot!" murmured Louisa, in rapture. + +"Thank you," replied Hope gratefully. "You see Louisa knows me _last_, +Clarice, and her remark should show you that I have changed for the +better." + +"I always told you there was chance for improvements, didn't I, Hopie?" +laughed Sydney. + +"Yes, you have said something about there being _room_ for improvement, +but I always supposed you judged me to be a hopeless case. I'm glad +though you think there's a _chance_! I always did want to improve!" As +she spoke she pushed back the box upon which she had been sitting, +turning it over to make it lower, and seated herself near the corner of +the tent, where she was shaded from the direct rays of the lantern's +light. + +More than a half hour had already passed, she thought nervously. Then +she began to count the minutes before her messengers should return. The +time seemed endless since she had decided to wait for more particulars +before informing Livingston of what was about to take place. The twins +had learned of it only that afternoon, and they, though filled with the +foreboding of a desperate plot, could tell nothing positive about the +actual plans. These she hoped they would be able to ascertain. She +believed that the soft-voiced twin knew more than he was willing to +divulge when he advised her so emphatically against informing Livingston +of the plot. This, combined with a certain anxiety of her own, which she +was unable to define, filled her with vague uneasiness and decided her +instantly to do nothing until the boys returned with more particulars. + +"You don't mean to say you've finished your supper, Hope," exclaimed +Mrs. Van Rensselaer, as the girl settled herself comfortably in the dark +corner. "_I_ never was so hungry before in all my life!" She turned to +Jim McCullen, who put his head inside the tent: "You see, Mr. McCullen, +that good, hard, patient endeavor brings its own reward! I wouldn't miss +this for worlds!" + +"I'm very glad to hear it, ma'am," replied old Jim politely. "Reckon +you'll sleep pretty well out there to-night, no misquitoes er nothin' to +bother you. The tent's all ready fer you folks any time. Plenty o' +blankets an' it'll be a warmer night'n usual. Well, so long!" + +"Why, he's going away!" said Hope in surprise, as a horse loped down the +creek bank and on through the brush trail. An impulse to run out and +call him back seized her. Sydney's slow reply caused a delay, the +impulse to do so wavered, and in another moment it was too late; yet she +felt somehow that she had made a mistake. + +"Yes," replied Carter, after listening to Mrs. Van Rensselaer's chatter +for a moment, "he's going over to the round-up. It's camped about ten or +fifteen miles, down at the foot of the mountains. It's as light as day +out and much pleasanter riding in the cool of evening. He'll be back +early in the morning. Had some mail from the ranch to take over to the +boys." + +"The poor fellows on the round-up all summer! I bet they're glad to get +their mail," murmured Clarice. + +"What they get don't hurt them any," remarked Sydney. "Range riding +isn't conducive to letter writing, and it doesn't take long before a +cow-puncher is about forgotten by his home people, and his mail consists +of an occasional newspaper, sent by someone who happens to remember him, +and the regular home letter from his old mother, who never forgets. By +the way, here's a lot of mail for O'Hara. Have to ride over with it +unless he turns up pretty soon." + +"Dear Larry!" said Clarice. "What made him leave just when I came up +here? I'd love to see him! He's such a jolly good fellow. You didn't +send him away on some wild-goose chase, did you, Hope?" + +The girl shaded her eyes with her hand and answered languidly: "No, +there wasn't enough excitement here, so he went over to the military +reservation. They are out on drill over near here--Colonel Walsh, and a +lot of West Point fellows Larry knows, and so he pulled stakes, just +quit our company entirely, and turned old Watch Eye toward Fox Creek." + +She drawled her words out slowly as if to fill in time. Livingston, +whose eyes constantly sought her face, thought she must be very tired, +and rose suddenly to take his leave. She was upon her feet in a flash. + +"Sit right down!" she demanded nervously. "Surely you wouldn't think of +leaving us so early; why, we'd all get stupid and go to bed immediately, +and Clarice wouldn't enjoy herself at all!" She laid her hand upon his +sleeve entreatingly. "_Stay!_" she urged softly. + +"As you say," he replied. "It is a pleasure to remain, but you must tell +me when I am to go. I thought perhaps you were tired." + +She drew her hand away with a sudden movement. He seated himself beside +Mrs. Van Rensselaer, who began immediately to congratulate him upon his +good sense in remaining. + +"But it was compulsory," he returned. "I didn't dare disobey orders." + +"I should say not," agreed Clarice, laughing merrily, "we always mind +Hope. Everybody does." + +"She always knows the right," said little Louisa, looking lovingly at +her friend. + +"Why, of course," agreed Mrs. Van Rensselaer, "that's taken for +granted." + +Hope was again in her corner, silent, intent. Livingston could only +conclude that she was tired. The rest of them took no special notice of +her, nor did they hear the distant splashing of water which brought into +activity all the blood in her body and fired each nerve. Clarice was +giving an elaborate account of her day's experience, consequently no +attention was paid to the girl's abrupt departure. She smiled at Louisa +as she passed quietly out and made some remark about her horse, which +gave the impression that she might have forgotten something. At least +Livingston and Louisa received that impression; as for the others they +were busy, and besides Hope was Hope, who always followed her own free +fancy. + +The girl fairly flew along the trail that skirted the creek until she +grasped the bridle of a small Indian pony that was nosing its way +cautiously toward her. + +"Oh, it's you!" exclaimed its small rider in a relieved tone, as he +slipped to the ground and stood in the path beside the girl. "I was +mighty scared it might be somebody else." Hope raised the boy's face so +that the moon shone full upon it. + +"Ned!" she exclaimed under her breath. "Why are you here? Where are the +boys?" + +"The old man's got 'em locked up in the granary," he announced. Then +seeing the look of alarm that flashed into her face, added assuringly: +"But that's all right, _I'm_ here! They told me to tell you they'd get +out somehow 'fore mornin'. I cached their horses in the brush for 'em, +and they're diggin' themselves out underneath the barn. Here," he said, +handing something to her. "I got your rifle out o' your room an' hid it +under the house soon's ever you left, an' all these cartridges. I just +knew the old man 'ud go an' look fer it." + +"Oh!" exclaimed the girl, suddenly gathering child, gun, and all into +her arms. "What a little _man_ you are." + +"Yep," said the boy, disengaging himself; "an' I've got a lot to tell +you!" + +"And you're _sure_ about this," questioned Hope, after the boy had told +a story so complete in detail as to fairly unnerve her. "You're +_perfectly_ sure that these men are going to meet at the shed--the big +shed close to Fritz's grave, there below the ledge of rocks?" + +"Sure's anything," replied the boy convincingly. "There'll be seven er +eight from our place, some from Old Peter's an' some from up the creek." + +Hope shivered as though it had been a winter's night. + +"What _shall_ we do! What _shall_ we do!" she repeated almost +frantically. + +"Why, _fight 'em_, of course!" exclaimed the boy. "Dave an' Dan'll get +out by then, an' we'll all lay up there behind them rocks an' just +pepper 'em! There's 'bout a million peek-holes in that wall o' rocks, +an' they can't never hit us. Pooh, I ain't afraid o' twenty men! We'll +make 'em think all the soldiers from the post is behind there!" + +"The soldiers!" exclaimed the girl, filled suddenly with a new life, +"and they _shall be there_! _They shall be there!_" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +"You must think me rude," apologized Hope, entering the tent as quickly +as she had left it, and seating herself directly beside Livingston. "I +surely didn't intend to be gone so long." + +"So _long_!" exclaimed Mrs. Van Rensselaer. "Why, I hadn't missed you! +Where in the world have you been?" + +"Oh, _now_ I'll not tell you!" laughed the girl, while her face flushed +deeply. + +"But you were missed," said Livingston. "You've been gone just ten +minutes." + +She looked at him and smiled at her own mistake. It seemed to her that +she had been gone an hour. He was dazzled by the unusual brilliancy of +her face, the strange light in her eyes. The smile, he thought, was for +himself. "Did the moonlight transform you?" he asked. She only laughed +in reply. Her heart was bounding in very joy of life now that she saw +her way clear through the grave difficulty that had confronted her. A +great tragedy would be averted, a lot of unscrupulous men brought to +justice, and more than this--the boy beside her was safe. What mattered +it to her at this moment that he possessed somewhere in the universe a +wife, which irrevocably separated her from him by every social law and +moral rule? This was nothing to her now in view of the great sense of +his personal safety that lifted such a weight of fear from her heart. +Nothing mattered much since he was safe. How desperate the chance had +seemed, and now how easily the danger averted! + +Livingston knew little of the thoughts that played wildly in her brain +while she, to all intents, was listening with eager, brilliant face to +Clarice's light chatter. But Mrs. Van Rensselaer was tired. Her chatter +began to fag. Outside the shadows settled down about the tents, until +the moon rose above the mountain like a great ball of fire, casting over +everything the soft radiance of its white light. The night was almost +as bright as day. Livingston reluctantly said good-night, and went out +with Sydney to get his horse, which was staked some little distance +away. When they returned to saddle up a movement on the opposite side of +the brush attracted Sydney's attention, and borrowing the horse he rode +over to investigate. Livingston, wondering vaguely what had taken him +away so abruptly, seated himself upon the tongue of the camp wagon and +listened to the soft tones of women's voices from the white tent near +the bank. Quite without warning a hand was laid upon his shoulder. +"Where did Syd go?" asked Hope. + +"Over there," replied Livingston, rising quickly beside her, and +pointing across the brush. "He took my horse to drive out some cattle, I +think, and so I am waiting. I thought you had retired. Did you come to +say good-night to me?" + +"Yes," said the girl softly, "what of it?" + +"Everything! That you should care that much--that you----" + +"But I wouldn't need to care--so _very_ much--to come to bid you +good-night--would I?" she interrupted. + +"No--perhaps; but you _do_ care! I seem to feel that you care for +me--Hope!" + +"No! I don't care for you a bit! Not at all--I mean----You haven't any +right to talk to me like that! Certainly, I don't care for you, Mr. +Livingston. Oh, I didn't mean to hurt you! I mean----This is no time for +such things!" + +"Hope!" + +"Wait, listen! They will hear. See, Syd is coming!" She stepped back +from him, pointing. + +"What of it! You shall tell me! Look at me!" he commanded. "Do you know +what you are making me believe--what you are telling me?" + +"Nothing!" she insisted. "I am telling you nothing--only--_wait_!" She +spoke hurriedly, catching her breath. "Before day-break I will be on +that hill over there between your ranch and here--there above Fritz's +grave, to watch the dawn of day--and the sunrise and----" + +"And I will be waiting for you! God bless you, dear." He kissed the +brown hand, which was snatched hurriedly from his clasp just as Sydney +rode up beside them. + +"You mustn't believe _anything_," she gasped under her breath. + +"_Everything!_" he insisted. + +"Your horse is loose, pard," said Sydney, "I thought I caught sight of +it over there, but couldn't see anything of it when I rode over. You're +afoot! Now what are you going to do about it?" + +"Walk," replied the girl, darting a quick look at Livingston. "Half a +mile is _nothing_." + +"Half a mile," laughed her cousin. "You mean two miles and a half, don't +you?" + +"Oh, the horse isn't far! We'll find it the first thing in the morning. +Good-night, you two! It's time school-teachers were in bed--and everyone +else. Good-night!" She turned around and waved her hand at them just +before the flap of the white tent closed upon her. + +Clarice yawned dismally. "Will you never settle down, Hope? Isn't this +lovely and comfortable? So cool after the hot, fatiguing day, I just +love it! Whom were you talking to--Livingston? What a shame he's +married! He's such a dear boy, why, I'd almost be tempted, _if_ he +wasn't married----But pshaw! Lady Helene Livingston is one of those +frizzy-haired blondes that suggest curl papers and peroxide, and she +affects velvet dresses, black or purple--but always _velvet_--and a +feather! I've seen her loads of times, but she doesn't go in our set, +because she's taken up with those Grandons. You know Harriet married an +English peer, with a title, _nobody_ over there recognizes. She was such +a pretty girl that she might have done something for her family, but I +don't think the poor man fared as well as he expected, for it's well +known that old Grandon hasn't a half a million in his own name. But +Harriet lives well, and entertains a lot of English people nobody else +cares to have. Lady Helene Livingston is pretty enough in spite of her +velvet and feathers to get on anywhere, if only she didn't follow in +the train of Harriet's crowd. I wonder how it happens that she never +comes out here?" + +"The curl papers and velvet may have something to do with that," said +Hope, settling down beside Louisa, on the opposite side of the tent, +with a motion as weary as if the only thought she possessed was to +secure a good night's sleep. "Velvet and feathers," she yawned. +"Clarice, do you know that it's nearly eleven o'clock?" + +"Really!" exclaimed Mrs. Van Rensselaer. "I'd never have thought it. See +how bright it is in here--almost like day." + +"Full moon," observed Hope. "It will be light like this until almost +morning, and then darkness for a little while before daylight." + +"How well you understand such things, Hope! I should think it would be +very difficult to keep track of the moon." + +"Yes," yawned the girl, "it is. We'd better go to sleep, Clarice, +because as soon as the sun is up it will be too warm to stay in here, +so you won't get your morning nap. That's the worst of a tent." + +"What a shame!" sighed Mrs. Van Rensselaer. Then after ten minutes of +silence: "Hope, I want you to go back to New York with me next week. +Now, no joking, dear, I mean it." + +"No," replied Hope. "It's too roasting hot there at this season. I +couldn't think of it, Clarice." + +"But we're going by way of the Lakes, and take in a lot of those cool +summer resorts. Then I must get to Newport for the last of the season, +and after that, you know, it will be decent weather in New York, and we +can have no end of good times. Come now, Hope, just make up your mind to +go!" + +"You forget, I must teach my school for several weeks yet, so that +settles it. Good-night, Clarice! Go to sleep like a good girl." + +"What does this little school amount to, to you?" insisted Mrs. Van +Rensselaer. "Not a thing, and you know it! You just don't want to go +with us. Come on, please do go, that's a dear girlie!" + +"Impossible, Clarice," replied Hope. "There are many good reasons why I +really couldn't. This school up here, and my little Louisa, and, anyway, +I don't want to go. Aren't you very tired and sleepy, Clarice?" She +thought Mrs. Van Rensselaer bid fair to remain awake all night, and was +devising various schemes in her mind for getting away from her. But Mrs. +Van Rensselaer had an object in view, and disliked exceedingly to give +it up. + +"I really don't think you ought to stay up here, Hope. To be candid, I +don't just like your position. Of course, in this country, +conventionalities don't count for much, but honestly I think this +Livingston is caring for you." + +"What in the world put such an idea into your head?" asked the girl, +flushing beneath her cover of blankets. + +"Hope!" reproved Mrs. Van Rensselaer. "You know it, and I know it, so +what's the use of denying it? But, of course, if you think it's +right----Really, I have nothing further to say except that I wish you +would return with me, and bring your little Louisa along." + +The girl was silent for a moment, forgetting her anxiety to get away, in +thoughts Clarice had suggested. + +"Has he any family?" she suddenly asked. "I mean--_children_, Clarice." + +"I don't think so. But what difference would that make?" + +"No difference in reality--but a heap of difference in my thoughts. If +he had a family,--children,--it would seem more natural to think of him +as being a married man, a family man. As it is, I will remember him as a +true-hearted, free young Englishman." + +"I think, Hopie, his being married has spoiled a very pretty romance. I +wish it might have been different, dear!" + +"You are too sleepy to know what you think. Go to sleep and dream that I +shall join you in New York as soon as the school is ended." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +It seemed an interminable time to Hope, although it was in reality less +than an hour, before the breathing of the two sleepers assured her that +she could leave the tent in safety. + +When she stood outside, at the edge of the cut-bank, casting a quick +glance over the tents behind, it seemed to her that the moonlight was +brighter than ever. It was like a soft hazy day. She made her way toward +a dark object on the opposite side of the brush, the same that had +attracted Sydney an hour before. This time the small object did not +conceal itself, but stood boldly forth. + +"I thought you wasn't never comin'," said the boy softly. "It must be +'bout mornin' by now. Seems all night! We'll haf to ride like blazes if +we get there now in time! They're over here," he said, leading the way +along a winding trail around the side of a wooded hill. + +"You're a good boy," said the girl. + +"You bet I had the awfulest time gettin' away with your saddle! Every +time I'd get up near it that blame cook'd pop his head out of the tent. +I like to never got it a tall!" + +"But you did get it," said Hope. "I saw that it wasn't there." + +"Yep, an' the blanket an' bridle. I've got 'em all cached up here in the +trees--horses an' everything, an' your horse is saddled. Somebody rode +up while I was waitin' down there on the bank for you, an' I just had to +lay low, I tell you!" + +"Come, hurry!" whispered the girl. "We've got to kill our horses +to-night!" + +"Oh, I've got Dave's pinto, so I don't care," replied the child. Then +after an instant's pause in which they reached their horses: "You +couldn't kill this pinto, nohow!" + +Perhaps, thought Hope, it would not kill her horse either. She trusted +not, for she loved the animal dearly. But it would be a ride for their +very lives if the soldiers were to reach there in time to avert the +mischief. + +It was a ride for their lives. Ten miles at night over a rough country, +through tangled underbrush, and deep matted grass, across stony creek +bottoms and rocky hills, ever onward toward Fox Creek at the speed of +the wind. + +Time and again the horses stumbled to their knees, but the riders might +have been a part of them, so securely did they keep their seats. The +pinto began to lag, at which the girl stopped for an instant, rode +behind, and lashed it furiously with her strong quirt. Then for a time +it kept up with the thoroughbred, but could not long continue the speed. + +Upon a high knoll the girl reined up, horse and rider waiting, +motionless as a carved statue, for the pinto, whose easy, graceful +running gait had changed to short rabbit-like leaps. + +"Wish I had another string o' horses!" gasped the child, as he at length +gained the top of the hill. The girl pointed down the dwindling +foot-hills to something small and white in the distance. + +"See, there are the tents--a mile away. The soldiers--two troops of +them--out on a pleasure trip. I will go on--you take your time, and go +back with the men." + +"I want to go with _you_," declared the boy, half crying. + +"No," said the girl coaxingly. "You must be their guide, and lead them +to the ledge of rocks by the sheep-shed. Think how fine it will be to be +a _real_ soldier." Then appalled by a new thought: "Oh, but if you +should get tired and _couldn't_ lead them there, how would they ever +find the place? _What shall I do!_ I can't wait for them--I must go back +ahead. _If_ he shouldn't be there! If something should have warned or +detained him! _What will I do!_" + +"Oh, shoot it all, _I'll_ take 'em there all right!" exclaimed the boy, +in a very big voice. "Don't you worry. I ain't a bit tired, an' I ain't +a-goin' to be, neither!" + +Hope reached over and clasped the child in her arms, a sob coming with +her breath. + +"_My little man!_" she said softly. Then instructing him to follow her, +spurred up her horse to a fresh attempt, and so mad was her ride that +she scarcely breathed until she dropped to the ground beside a sentinel +who commanded her to halt. + +How she roused the camp in the middle of the night was a story Larry +O'Hara often delighted to relate. It was Larry who really came to the +rescue, who shouldered the responsibility of the action, and led the +troops when finally equipped to the scene of the disturbance. + +And Hope rode back alone--rode so rapidly that her horse stopped, +exhausted, at the foot of the big hill where she had planned the +rendezvous with Livingston. There she left the noble animal and climbed +up toward the summit, sometimes on her hands and knees, so tired had she +become. And the moon still shone brightly along the horizon of the +heavens. An hour of brilliancy, she thought, then darkness before the +dawn. When she had dragged herself up the mountain side, hope and fear +alternately filling her heart, and hastening her footsteps, a sudden +weakness came over her as she saw on the summit the stalwart figure of +Livingston. Then it seemed to her that the night had been a mere dream, +or at least ridiculous. How could such a strong, brave-looking man +require a girl's assistance? It was preposterous! She seemed to shrink +into herself, in a little cuddled heap among the rocks. + +Then a clear whistle sounded on the still air. She knew it was for her. +How like a boy, she thought. She tried to answer it, but could not make +a sound. + +Finally she rose from the rocks and approached him--not the Hope he had +expected, but a frightened, trembling girl. + +He went to meet her, after the manner of a boy, and clasped the hands +she gave him in his own, then kissed each one, and gravely led her to +the summit upon which he had been standing. + +"This rock is like a great throne," he said, "where we are going to wait +our crown of happiness that is to come with the rising of the sun. Is it +not so? See, you shall sit upon the throne and I here at your feet. How +you are trembling, dear! And those heavy guns, why did you bring them?" + +"To protect myself, perhaps, from one who is inclined to be over-bold," +she replied, with a little nervous laugh as she settled herself +comfortably on the throne-like rock. + +"Hope!" he reproved. A red flush dyed the girl's face. + +"And are you not the man?" she inquired. + +"Tell me then," he said quietly, "who has a better right!" + +She drew back into the very recess of the throne, away from his eyes, so +convincingly near to hers. + +"It's a long climb up this steep mountain," she remarked weariedly. + +"And you are tired! I can see it now. But it was good of you to come to +meet me here like this, Hope--_sweetheart_!" + +"No, no! you must not talk like that!" cried the girl. + +"You know I cannot help it when I am with you. I must tell you over and +over that I love you--_love you_, Hope! Why not, when my heart sings it +all the time? And have you not given me the _right_, dear?" + +"Wait! Not now," she said more softly. "Talk about something +else--_anything_," she gasped. + +"And must I humor you, my queen," he said. "Look down and let me read in +your eyes what I want to find there--then I will talk about anything, +everything, until you want to hear what is in my heart!" + +"Only daylight can reveal what is in my eyes," she replied. "The light +of the moon is unreal, deceiving. Tell me how long you have been here, +and where did you leave your horse?" + +"You are evading me for some reason. If I did not believe it to be +impossible, I should say that I am nervous--and that you are nervous. +Can you not be yourself to me now--at this time? Why did you want me to +meet you here?" + +"You say you love me. Then aren't you content to just sit here in +silence beside me?" + +"Pardon me, dear, but my love is almost too great for silence. You will +admit that." Then with a touch of amusement in his voice: "Tell me, are +you angry with me that I should speak so plainly to you?" + +"No, no! Of course not--only talk about something else just now. How +long have you been here?" + +"An eternity," he replied. "Or perhaps longer. I'm not sure. When I left +you there at the camp I went directly back to the ranch. The men were +all in bed. I went in and got my rifle and started over here. You see we +are both armed!" he laughed, taking a Winchester from behind the throne +of rocks. She took it from him and examined it minutely. + +"A good gun," she remarked, handing it back. + +"Then I started over here," he continued, "but had a brief interruption +on the road in the shape of the old squaw that lives down in your +community--old Mother White Blanket. She held me up in the +road--positively held my horse so that I couldn't move while she told a +story that would have brought tears to my eyes if I could have +understood a word she said, and if my mind hadn't been so full of the +most gloriously beautiful girl in the world. + +"Finally I had sense enough to give her some money, and after repeating +'yes' innumerable times to her broken questions she finally gave me +permission to proceed on my way. I left my horse down at the +sheep-shed." + +"Couldn't you understand anything she said to you?" questioned Hope +eagerly. + +"Not much," he admitted, and Hope, with a relieved little air, which he +noticed, sank back among the rocks again. + +A silence fell over them for a time, then Livingston raised his head and +looked at the girl intently. + +"I think she was trying to tell me something," he said slowly. "She said +it was a warning; but I paid no attention to her delirium. I believe she +tried to impress upon me that I was in danger. But I was insanely +anxious to meet you. She said something that I had heard before, that +you and the twins had driven away the men who attacked and killed poor +Fritz that night. And this much more I think I understand now, that the +'old man,' whoever she meant, had given her a beating, that the twins +were shut up in the stable or somewhere, and that you were a good girl +because you had given her all your school money. That much is clear to +me now. And also that she was very anxious that I should get out of the +country immediately--which seems to be the sentiment of the majority of +the people out here. The old woman is no doubt insane." + +"Oh, yes," agreed the girl, "there's not a doubt but that she's plumb +locoed! I'm glad you didn't allow anything she said to trouble your +mind. She's a regular old beggar. The money was probably what she was +after. You can't believe a word she says!" + +"Yet she spoke convincingly," mused Livingston. "If I hadn't been so +absorbed in the meeting I would have taken more heed of what she said. +As it was, I passed her off as a little out of her mind. Of course, I +knew you had no hand in that shooting at the corral, had you, Hope?" he +asked in a somewhat anxious voice. + +"A ridiculous idea for that old squaw to get in her head," replied the +girl, leaning in a weary fashion back upon the rock. + +Whatever suspicion Livingston had entertained vanished for the moment. + +"I am glad," he said. "I don't know exactly why, but I am glad that it +isn't so. I shouldn't like to think that you had done such a thing--for +me." + +"The moon takes a long time to set, don't you think?" she remarked. "It +must be almost time for daylight." + +"Are you anxious?" he inquired pointedly. She sat erect in dignified +silence and did not reply. + +"How much longer must you be humored, dear?" he asked, taking both of +her hands within his own, and drawing her toward him. "I do not believe +that the moonlight will tell lies. Look at me!" + +She leaped away from him with all her young strength, and stood upon the +throne of rocks, scornfully erect. + +"How bad you are--how wicked to talk to me so, to even think that I +would care for you one minute! Surely you must realize that I know your +past, _Lord_ Livingston! _Your past!_" she flashed. + +"You know my past, and yet you can condemn me," he said, pain and +wonderment in his quiet voice. "Perhaps you are right. I haven't always +been perfect. But I am not bad--Hope! Not _that_! I am a man--I try to +be, before God. Surely you do not mean what you say, my girl--_Hope_!" + +"You know just what I mean," said Hope, in a voice strained and harsh. +"And you know it would be absolutely _impossible_ for me to love you!" + +"Then there is nothing more to be said," replied Livingston, turning +away from her. "We will not wait for the sunrise. I will go now." He +walked from her with long strides. + +"Wait," she cried in absolute terror. "_Wait!_ Oh, you wouldn't be so +rude as to leave me here--_alone_!" He stopped short, his back still +toward her. "Please come back!" she begged, approaching him, "I should +die of fright!" Somehow she reminded herself of Clarice. "Surely you +will walk back to camp with me!" + +"Yes, certainly, pardon me," he replied huskily. + +As they turned, a horse came slowly toward them. Hope gave a little +nervous exclamation. + +"Your horse," said Livingston, reaching for the bridle. "I thought you +walked." + +"No--yes," replied the girl. "I walked up the hill. The horse must have +followed. We will walk down and lead it. It's too steep to ride down." + +But Livingston had stopped short beside the animal, his head bowed, +almost upon the saddle. + +"Come, shall we go?" asked the girl nervously. + +Suddenly the man turned to her, sternness expressed in every line of his +figure. + +"Where have you been?" he commanded. + +"For a ride," she replied, feeling for the first time in her life the +desire to scream. + +"_For a ride!_ Yes, it must have been a ride! Your horse is nearly +dead--listen to his breathing! Crusted with foam from head to foot and +still dripping. You have been----" + +"For the soldiers. To protect your ranch from the devils who would kill +you and get rid of your sheep--this very hour!" + +"And you have lured me here, away from danger--away from the side of my +men, away from my _duty_, with all a woman's cowardice! _But what of +them!_ You have called me bad! That may be, but I am not bad enough to +be grateful to you for doing this, that you may, perhaps, have intended +for a kindness! Anything would have been kinder to me than what you have +done to-night." + +"Where are you going?" she cried from the rocks where she had thrown +herself. But he was running, with all his speed, down the mountain +side. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +Then she knew that he was going straight into the very jaws of death. If +it had been a trap set for him it could not have been any surer. In a +sheep-shed far below, close to the reef of rocks above Fritz's grave, a +score of men were waiting, and he was rushing toward them, down the +mountain side, lighted by the white moonlight. And what was she doing, +groveling there among the rocks? Like a flash she was after him, but at +a speed much less than his had been. + +Before she was halfway down three shots rang out. The girl clutched her +heart and listened, but not a sound could be heard save the long echoes +in the valley, which sounded like a dying breath. + +On she sped from rock to rock, keeping ever out of sight of the shed, +her senses keenly alive to the one object in view--a bit of white far +below. It might have been a bunch of flowers along the hillside, but +white flowers never grew there--a heap of bones, then, she thought. She +made a zigzag line along the jagged ridge of rocks, closer and closer to +the white object below. She wondered if he lay on his face or his back. +How calm she was in the shock and terror of her grief! The light of the +moon was growing dim, she had reached the very tip of the rocks, the +white object was not twenty feet away, but out in the open in perfect +view of the sheep-shed and the score of men it hid. Another shot broke +the stillness. The white object moved, and then a moan followed, so low +that none but the ears of the frenzied girl could have heard. Like an +enraged lioness she sprang out into the open and dragged the heavy body +up toward the shelter of rocks. Several bullets rang about her, but the +increasing darkness made her an uncertain target. A couple of men +ventured outside the sheep-shed, encouraged by the stillness. The girl +laughed savagely, as if in glee, and pulled the man's body close to the +side of rocks, covering it with her own. + +"Come on," she cried to herself. "Come on, show yourselves! I shall have +you all! For every pang you have made him suffer, you shall have twenty, +and for his death you shall have a lingering one! Come on, come on!" +Three stood outside. The addition pleased her. She laughed. Taking +deliberate aim she fired again and again. Three wounded, frightened men +crawled into the shelter of the shed. Then a score of bullets splashed +against the rocks about her. She lifted the warm bleeding body closer +under the rocks, drawing her own over it to protect it from all harm and +talking frantically the while. + +"The hounds, the hounds! They murdered you right in my sight, dear, and +I will tear out their hearts with my hands! See, they are hiding +themselves again! I can wait, yes, I can wait! _My love, my love!_ For +everything they have made you suffer! Oh, you can't be _dead_, dear! You +can't be dead! Open your eyes and let me tell you just once I love you! +Only once, dear!" She put her mouth close to his ear. "_I love you, love +you, love you!_ Only hear me once and know, dear! Know how I love you! +Why didn't I tell you? I don't care if you are married a thousand times, +a _million_ times! I love you with all my life--my soul! See, he's +trying to get away! But he'll never reach his horse! See! A hole right +through his knee! Death is too good for them, dear. My love, speak to me +just once--only know that I love you, that I am mad with love for you! +Tell me that you feel my face against yours--and my kisses! See, they're +crawling out like flies! and making for their horses--and now they're +crawling back again so that I cannot get them. Oh, God, let me get them +_all_! My love, my love, how I love you, and _never told you so_!" + +With the first hint of dawn another volley came from the opposite side, +and out of the gloom a rush of cavalry closed in about the sheep-shed, +and ten men, most of them suffering from slight wounds, were taken +captive. The man lying against the reef of rocks partially opened his +eyes as Hope, with one last kiss upon his face, rose to meet a small +group of riders. + +"I say, Hope, it's a blasted shame we didn't get here in time to save +him!" exclaimed O'Hara, with grief in his voice. "I'll just send the +doctor over here at once." + +While the surgeon bent over Livingston the girl stood close by, against +the rocks, quiet as the stone itself. + +"A bad shoulder wound," he commented at length. "A little of your flask, +O'Hara, and he'll be all right. Why, he's quite conscious! How do you +feel? You're all right, my boy! A shattered shoulder isn't going to +bother you any, is it? Not much!" + +The girl moved closer. + +"Is he alive and conscious? Will he live?" she asked. + +"He's all right, madam," replied the surgeon. As he spoke Livingston +turned his face toward her, his eyes alight with all the love-light of +his heart--answering every prayer she had breathed upon him. Her own +answered his. Then she drew back, farther and farther away, until she +stood outside the group of riders. O'Hara tried to detain her as she +passed him. + +"Why, you're wounded yourself, girl!" he exclaimed. + +She looked at her sleeve, and the wet stream of blood upon her dress, +and laughed. It was true, but she had not felt the wound. + +"Not at all, Larry," she replied. "The blood came from _him_," and she +pointed back to the rocks. She started on, but turned back. "Tell me," +she said, "what became of little Ned." + +"I sent him home," replied Larry. "The poor little chap was about all +in. We met his uncle, Long Bill, riding like blazes for the doctor. It +seems that those young divils of twins shot old Harris some time during +the night, which stopped that faction from joining these fellows here as +they had planned. A pretty lucky shot, I'm thinking! They ought to have +a gold medal for it, bless their souls, but they'll both dangle from the +end of a rope before they're forty, the devils, or I'll miss my guess!" + +Larry looked around to speak to an officer, and before he could realize +it Hope had disappeared, climbing back toward the summit of the hill +where she had left her horse. + +In the gulch on the opposite side she fell exhausted into the very arms +of old Jim McCullen, who had returned in time to hear the shooting, and +was hastening toward the scene. + +"My poor little Hopie!" he cried, carrying her to the stream, where the +alarmed party from the camp found them a few minutes later. + +"You will drown her, Mr. McCullen!" exclaimed Clarice Van Rensselaer, +rushing up quite white and breathless. "The poor darling, I just _knew_ +she'd get into trouble with all those dreadful Indians! Someone give me +some whisky, _quick_! That's right, Sydney, _make_ her swallow it! Here, +give it to me! _There!_" + +Louisa, stricken with grief, pointed to the damp, stiffened sleeve of +the girl's shirt-waist. "See," she sobbed, "they have shot her, too, +like my Fritz!" + +Of them all, Mrs. Van Rensselaer was the most contained, and showed +remarkable coolness and nerve in the way she ripped off the sleeve and +bathed the wound, which was hardly more than a deep scratch, yet had +caused considerable loss of blood. + +"It's exhaustion, pure and simple," said Jim McCullen. Then he and +Sydney drew away a short distance, and examined the horse. + +Hope finally looked up into the anxious faces above her. + +"I think, Clarice," she said, "I'll go back to New York with you." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +Hope, a vision in white, leaned back resignedly in the soft embrace of +the carriage cushions. + +"I thought," she said, "you never visited the Grandons, Clarice, +particularly since Harriet made her alliance with the titleless duke." +Mrs. Van Rensselaer smiled behind the laces of her muff. "I didn't +suppose you were going there this afternoon," continued the girl, with a +sweeping look along the solidly built street. "How does it happen?" + +"Well, you see," replied Clarice, "_Larry_ wished it; and you know his +wish is law to me--_until_ we're married. That's only right and as it +should be--the _dear boy_!" Then impulsively: "I don't know how I've +ever lived without him, Hope! Positively, he is the _dearest_ thing that +ever lived!" + +"And you'll both be tremendously happy, I know. Both of you young and +gay, and in love with life and its frivolities--both the center of your +set, and both rattle-brained enough to want to keep that center and +throw away your lives in the whirling, rapid stream of society." + +"You shouldn't ridicule this life, Hope. Don't you know we are the very +pulse of the world! I had an idea you were taking to it pretty well. You +are certainly making a tremendous hit. Even mamma smiles upon you in the +most affectionate manner, and is proud for once of her offspring. You +are simply gorgeous, Hope--a perfect _queen_!" + +The girl's eyes darkened, her face flushed. "A _queen_," she retorted. +"A queen! Clarice, did you ever sit upon a throne and feel the world +slipping out from under you? A woman is never a queen, except to the +_one_ man. But you are mistaken, Clarice. I simply cannot adapt myself +to this life. If it wasn't for the continual monotony of it all--the +never changing display of good points and fine clothes--where even one's +own prayers are gilded and framed in consciousness and vanity--and +these streets--the reflection of it all--these blocks and blocks always +the same, like the people they cover--presenting always the same +money-stamped faces--oh, it is this sameness that stifles me! It is all +grand and wonderful, but it isn't _life_." She paused, then smiled at +Clarice's perplexed face. "Leave me at mamma's when you return, for I've +got stacks of things to do, and I want the evening all to myself--Louisa +and I, you know. And we'll say, Clarice, that I perfectly love dear old +New York." + +"Oh, I don't mind, dear, not at all! I know you are no more fitted in +your heart for this life than I am for the life out there with those +_dreadful_ Indians. But you've certainly been acting superb these last +two months!" + +"You are such a _dear_, Clarice," said Hope impulsively, stroking her +gloved hand. "I have you and Louisa, and, of course, I am perfectly +happy! I tell myself so a thousand times a day. My poor little Louisa! +_She's_ about the happiest girl I ever saw in all my life, but she +doesn't know it. Here she is worrying her head off because Sydney is +pressing his suit too strongly and won't take 'no' for an answer, and +she thinks she ought to be faithful to poor Fritz, her cousin, who is +really only a sweet, sad memory to her now, while all the time she is +crazy in love with Syd. Isn't it a fright? But Sydney is way out in +Montana, and his letters serve only as little pricks to her poor +conscience. Her replies are left mostly to me, so that is what I must do +to-night." + +"But your mother entertains this evening. Had you forgotten?" reminded +Mrs. Van Rensselaer. "So how are you going to get away?" + +"I suppose I will have to come down for awhile, but I simply will not +remain long." + +"Well, I will see you then. Larry and I are going to drop in for a +little while in the early evening." + +When they drove away from the Grandons' a half hour later Clarice +searched the girl's quiet face for some expression of her thoughts, but +found none. + +"So you have seen the Lady Livingston at last, Hope! What do you think +of her?" + +The girl shrugged her shoulders and looked into the street. "Your +description tallied very well," she replied. + +That evening Hope met the blond Lady Helene at her mother's musicale. +This time it was Clarice, again, who brought the meeting about. + +Mrs. Van Rensselaer was in her gayest, most voluble mood. + +"I'm _so_ anxious to have you two get acquainted," she said. "Dear Lady +Helene, this is _Hope_--Miss Hathaway, and she can tell you everything +you want to know about the West. Do, Hope, entertain her for a few +moments until I find Larry." This the girl did in her gracious way, but +adroitly kept the conversation away from the West. + +After a few moments Clarice returned without Larry. A shadow of +disappointment crossed her face as she joined the conversation. + +"I thought you were going to talk about the West, Hope," she laughed, +"and here you are talking _New York_--nothing but New York!" + +"New York is always an entertaining topic," said Lady Helene. "I do not +seem to fancy the West particularly. You know Lord Livingston has +recently been hurt out there, and so I do not enjoy a very kindly +feeling toward that country. The poor boy! I have been so worried about +him! Really, don't you know, I haven't had a good night's sleep since I +heard of his injury! Yes, you know, it's a wonder he wasn't _scalped_! +It's just fearful, really! He is so much to me, you know. Ever since my +poor husband died and the title and estates fell to Edward, I have felt +a _great_ responsibility for him. He is so much younger than my husband, +Lord Henry, and so, well, really, sort of wild, don't you know." Here +Lady Helene smiled and wiped one eye with a filmy bit of lace. Perhaps +she was saddened by thoughts of the havoc she had wrought in the life of +the late lord, and his fortunes. + +Hope sat motionless, suddenly paralyzed. "Do you mean," she asked, in +short gasps, "that Edward--Lord Livingston is not your _husband_?" + +"Mercy, no," replied Lady Helene, "my husband's brother! Indeed, Edward +is not married! I doubt very much if he ever will be. I hope if he does, +that it will be to someone at home, in his own class, don't you know! +Really, he is a great responsibility to me, Mrs. Van Rensselaer! Why, +where did Miss Hathaway go? She seems to be such a bright, dashing young +woman. Really, one meets few American girls so royally beautiful! Yes, +as I was saying, Edward is a terrible responsibility to me. Even now I +am obliged to hurry away because he has just arrived here in town, and I +must meet him at his hotel. That is the worst of not having a house of +your own! To think of poor, dear Edward stopping at a _hotel_!" + +"Which one?" gasped Clarice. Receiving the information, she abruptly +excused herself from Lady Helene, who immediately decided that some +Americans had very poor manners. + +While Clarice drove rapidly toward Livingston's hotel, Hope, in eager +haste, was literally throwing things in a trunk that had been pulled +into the center of the room. Little Louisa, no less excited and eager, +assisted. + +"To think, my Louisa," laughed the girl, "that we are going back to our +West--_home_--again, away from all this fuss and foolishness! Oh, don't +be so particular, dear. Throw them in any way, just so they get in! Our +train leaves at twelve, and I have telephoned for tickets, state-room +and everything. Isn't it _grand_? Mamma will be furious! But dear old +Dad, won't he be glad! He's so lonesome for me, Louisa. He says he can +hardly exist there without me! And Jim, and Sydney, and--everyone! Oh, I +am wild for my horses and the prairie again! And you've got to be nice +to Syd! Yes, dear, it's your _duty_. Can't you see it? If you don't, the +poor boy will go to the bad _altogether_, and something _dreadful_ will +happen to him! And it will be all your fault!" Which statement sent +Louisa into a paroxysm of tears, not altogether sorrowful. + +"You will spoil dose _beautiful_ clothes!" she finally exclaimed, +looking in dismay through her tears at the reckless packer. + +"It makes no difference," laughed Hope. "What are _clothes_! We will +have the rest sent on after us. I suppose we've forgotten half what we +really need, but that doesn't matter, either, does it, my Louisa?" + +Louisa dried her tears and assisted until the trunk was packed and +strapped. Then they took hold of hands and danced like children around +it. Suddenly Hope stopped, her face growing white and fearful. + +"_If he shouldn't forgive me!_" she exclaimed softly. + +"Ah, but he lofs you!" said Louisa. + +At that moment Mrs. Van Rensselaer opened the door and looked in. + +"My dear," she began, then stopped in amazement. "What in the +world----Why, you are going away!" + +"Yes," replied Hope, putting her head down upon Clarice's soft evening +wrap. "I am going back to----" + +"But he has come to you, dear, and he is waiting right here in the +hall!" + +"No, no!" breathed the girl. + +"But he _is_!" exclaimed Clarice, gently pushing the girl, still in all +her white evening glory of gown, into the great hall. "And he carries +his arm in a sling, so _do_ be careful!" she admonished, closing the +door upon her. + +From below came the indistinct murmur of many voices. Under the red +glare of the lamp at the head of the broad staircase Livingston and Hope +met in a happiness too great for words. + +"Louisa," said Clarice Van Rensselaer, from her seat upon the trunk, "I +hope you see it your duty to make a man of Sydney." + +"_A man_," replied Louisa indignantly, "he is already de greatest man in +all de whole world, and _I lof him_!" + + +FINIS. + + + * * * * * + + +TRANSCRIBER NOTES: + +Punctuation corrected without note. + +page 48: "through" changed to "though" (as though talking to herself). + +page 95: "bloodthristy" changed to "bloodthirsty" (more bloodthirsty +than she suspected). + +page 123: "protuded" changed to "protruded" (teeth protruded from her +thin lips). + +page 303: "upon" removed from text as redundant (patting him upon the +head). + +page 369: "close" changed to "closed" (just before the flap of the white +tent closed upon her). + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hope Hathaway, by Frances Parker + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOPE HATHAWAY *** + +***** This file should be named 36629-8.txt or 36629-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/6/2/36629/ + +Produced by Peter Vachuska, Pat McCoy, Stephen Hope 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. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Hope Hathaway + A Story of Western Ranch Life + +Author: Frances Parker + +Release Date: July 5, 2011 [EBook #36629] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOPE HATHAWAY *** + + + + +Produced by Peter Vachuska, Pat McCoy, Stephen Hope and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + +<p class="title"><big>HOPE<br /> +HATHAWAY</big></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/001.png"> +<img src="images/001.png" alt="" title="" /> +</a></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + + +<h1> +<i>HOPE<br /> +HATHAWAY</i><br /> +<br /> +A Story of<br /> +Western Ranch Life</h1> + +<p class="title"><i>BY<br /> +FRANCES PARKER</i></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/002.png"> +<img src="images/002.png" alt="" title="" /> +</a></div> + +<p class="title">BOSTON, MASS.<br /> +C. M. CLARK PUBLISHING CO. (Inc.)<br /> +1904<br /> +</p> + + + + +<p class="title"> +<i>COPYRIGHT, 1904<br /> +by +C. M. CLARK PUBLISHING CO. (Inc.) +BOSTON, MASS., U. S. A.</i></p> + +<p class="title"><i>Entered at Stationers Hall, London</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Rights of Translation, Public Reading and<br /> +Dramatization Reserved</i></p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I"><b>CHAPTER I</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II"><b>CHAPTER II</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III"><b>CHAPTER III</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><b>CHAPTER IV</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V"><b>CHAPTER V</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><b>CHAPTER VI</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><b>CHAPTER VII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><b>CHAPTER VIII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><b>CHAPTER IX</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X"><b>CHAPTER X</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><b>CHAPTER XI</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><b>CHAPTER XII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><b>CHAPTER XIII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><b>CHAPTER XIV</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><b>CHAPTER XV</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><b>CHAPTER XVI</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"><b>CHAPTER XVII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"><b>CHAPTER XVIII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX"><b>CHAPTER XIX</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX"><b>CHAPTER XX</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI"><b>CHAPTER XXI</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII"><b>CHAPTER XXII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII"><b>CHAPTER XXIII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV"><b>CHAPTER XXIV</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV"><b>CHAPTER XXV</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI"><b>CHAPTER XXVI</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII"><b>CHAPTER XXVII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII"><b>CHAPTER XXVIII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX"><b>CHAPTER XXIX</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX"><b>CHAPTER XXX</b></a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>HOPE HATHAWAY</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + + +<p>Hathaway's home-ranch spread +itself miles over an open valley on the +upper Missouri. As far as the eye +reached not a fence could be seen, yet four +barbed-wires, stretched upon good cotton-wood +posts, separated the ranch from the open +country about.</p> + +<p>Jim Hathaway was an old-time cattle-man. +He still continued each summer to turn out +upon the range great droves of Texas steers +driven north by his cowboys, though at this +time it was more profitable to ship in Western +grown stock. He must have known that this +was so, for every year his profits became less, +yet it was the nature of the man to keep in the +old ruts, to cling to old habits.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> + +<p>The old-time cowboy was fast disappearing, +customs of the once wild West were giving +way before an advancing civilization. He had +seen its slow, steady approach year after year, +dreading—abhorring it. Civilization was coming +surely. What though his lands extended +beyond his good eyesight, were not these interlopers +squatting on every mile of creek in the +surrounding country? The open range would +some time be a thing of the past. That green +ridge of mountains to the west,—<i>his</i> mountains, +his and the Indians, where he had enjoyed +unmolested reign for many years,—were +they not filling them as bees fill a hive, so filling +them with their offensive bands of sheep and +small cow-ranches that his cattle had all they +could do to obtain a footing?</p> + +<p>On one of his daily rides he had come home +tired and out of humor. The discovery of a +new fence near his boundary line had opened +up an unpleasant train of thought, and not +even the whisky, placed beside him by a +placid-faced Chinese servant, could bring him +into his usual jovial spirits. After glancing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> +through a week-old newspaper and finding in +it no solace for his ugly mood, he threw himself +down upon his office lounge, spreading the +paper carefully over him. The Chinaman, by +rare intuition, divined his state of mind and +stole cautiously into the room to remove the +empty glasses, at the same time keeping his +eyes fixed upon the large man under the newspaper.</p> + +<p>Hathaway generally took a nap in the forenoon +after returning from his ride, for he was +an early riser, and late hours at night made this +habit imperative. This day his mood brought +him into a condition where he felt no desire to +sleep, so he concluded, but he must have fallen +into a doze, for the sharp tones of a girl's voice +directly outside his window brought him to his +feet with a start.</p> + +<p>"If that's what you're driving at you may as +well roll up your bedding and move on!" It +was spoken vehemently, with all the distinctness +of a clear-toned voice. A man replied, +but in more guarded tone, so that Hathaway +went to the window to catch his words.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You don't know what you're talking +about," he was saying. "This is my home as +well as yours, and I'd have small chance to +carry out my word if I went away, so I intend +to stay right here. Do you know, Hope, +when you get mad like that you're so devilish +pretty that I almost hate you! Look at those +eyes! You'd kill me if you could, wouldn't +you? But you'll love me yet, and marry me, +too, don't forget that!"</p> + +<p>"How can you talk to me so," demanded the +girl, stepping back from him, "after all my +father has done,—made you his son,—given +you everything he would have given a son? +Oh!" she cried passionately, "I can't <i>bear</i> you +in this new rôle! It is terrible, and I've looked +upon you as a <i>brother</i>! Now what are you? +You've got no right to talk to me so—to insist!"</p> + +<p>"But your mother——" he interrupted.</p> + +<p>"My <i>mother</i>!" weariedly. "Yes, of course! +It would be all right there. You have money—enough. +A good enough match, no doubt; +and she would be freer to go,—would feel bet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>ter +to know that she had no more responsibility +here. You know your ground well enough +<i>there</i>." Then with growing anger: "Don't +you ring in my mother on me! I tell you I +wouldn't marry you if I <i>never</i> got married! +I'm strong enough to fight my own battles, and +I will, and you'd better forget what you've +said to me and change the subject forever!" +She walked away, her strong, lithe body erect.</p> + +<p>"But you're handsome, you brown devil!" +he cried, taking one step and clasping her +roughly to him. She tore herself loose, her +eyes blazing with sudden fire, as Hathaway, +white with anger, came suddenly around the +corner of his office and grasped the offender +by the coat collar. Then the slim young man +was lifted, kicked, and tossed alternately from +off the earth, while the girl stood calmly to one +side and watched the performance, which did +not cease until the infuriated man became exhausted. +Then the boy picked himself up and +walked unsteadily toward the building, against +which he leaned to regain his breath while +Hathaway stood panting.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Here, hold on a minute," roared the angry +father as the young man moved away. "I +ain't done with you yet! Get your horse and +get off this ranch or I'll break every bone in +your damn body! You will treat my girl like +that, will you? You young puppy!" The +young fellow was whipped undoubtedly, but +gracefully, for he turned toward Hathaway +and said between swollen lips:</p> + +<p>"You don't want to blame me too much, +Uncle Jim. Just look at the girl! Any man +would find it worth risking his neck for her!" +Then he moved slowly away, while the girl's +eyes changed from stern to merry. Her father +choked with rage.</p> + +<p>"You—you—you——Get away from +here, and don't talk back to me!" he roared at +the retreating figure.</p> + +<p>The girl moved forward a few steps, calling: +"That's right, Sydney, keep your nerve! +When you're ready to call it off we'll try to be +friends again." Without waiting for her +cousin's reply she ran into the house, while he +lost no time in leaving the ranch, riding at a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +rapid gait toward the nearest town. Hathaway +watched him out of sight, then with a +nervous, bewildered shake of the head joined +his wife and daughter at luncheon.</p> + +<p>"At last your father has come," sighed Mrs. +Hathaway, as he appeared. "Hope, ring for +the chocolate; I'm almost famished. It seems +to me, James," turning to her husband with +some impatience, "that you might <i>try</i> to be a +little more prompt in getting to your meals—here +we've been waiting ages! You know I +can't bear to wait for anyone!" She sighed +properly and unfolded her napkin.</p> + +<p>"My dear," said Hathaway blandly, "I'm +sorry to have kept you waiting, but I've been +somewhat occupied—somewhat."</p> + +<p>"But you should always consider that your +meals come first, even if your wife and family +do not," continued the lady. "Where is Sydney? +The dear boy is generally so very +prompt."</p> + +<p>The effect of her words was not apparent. +Her husband appeared absent-minded and the +meal began.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> + +<p>The daughter, Hope, with quiet dignity befitting +a matron, occupied the head of the table, +as she had done ever since her mother shifted +the responsibilities of the household to her +young shoulders. When this question was +asked she gave her father a quick glance. +Would he acknowledge the truth? Evidently +not, for he began immediately to talk about the +new fence near his boundary line. It was a +shame, he said, that these people were settling +in around him.</p> + +<p>"The land's no good," he declared. "Nearly +all the water around here that's any account is +on my place. All on earth these hobos are taking +it up for is in expectation that I'll buy +them out. Well, maybe I will, and again +maybe I won't. I'd do most anything to get +rid of them, but I can't buy the earth." At +this Hope smiled, showing a flash of strong, +white teeth.</p> + +<p>"And if you could buy the earth, what would +you do with these people?" she asked, her face +settling into its natural quiet. Her mother +gave her the usual look of amazement.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Hope, I must ask you not to say impertinent +things to your father. You no doubt +meant to be witty, but you were none the less +rude. Why do you allow her to say such +things to you, James? You have succeeded in +spoiling her completely. Now if <i>I</i> had been +allowed to send her away to school she would +have grown up with better manners."</p> + +<p>Hathaway passed his cup to be refilled, making +no answer to his wife's outburst. Perhaps +he had learned in his years of experience +that the less said the better. At any rate he +made no effort to defend his daughter—his +only child, and dear to him, too. If she had +expected that he would defend her it was only +for a passing instant, then she returned to her +natural gravity. Her face had few expressions. +Its chief charm lay in its unchanging +immobility, its utter quiet, behind which +gleamed something of the girl's soul. When +her rare smile came, lighting it up wonderfully, +she was irresistible—in her anger, magnificent.</p> + +<p>Ordinarily she would not have been noticed at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +first glance, except, perhaps, for the exceptionally +fine poise of her strong, slim body. She +was a true daughter of the West, tanned +almost as brown as an Indian maid, and easily +might have passed for a half-breed, with her +blue-black eyes and hair of the darkest brown. +But if she had Indian blood she did not know +it. Her mother, during the season, a flitting +butterfly of New York society, a Daughter +of the Revolution by half a dozen lines of +descent, would have been horrified at the mere +thought.</p> + +<p>The girl herself would not have cared had +she been born and raised in an Indian camp. +She had what Mrs. Hathaway termed queer +ideas, due, as she always took occasion to explain +to her friends who visited the ranch, to +the uncivilized life that she had insisted upon +living.</p> + +<p>Hope had been obstinate in refusing to leave +the ranch. Threats and punishments were unavailing. +When a young child she had resolved +never to go away to school, and had set +her small foot down so firmly that her mother<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +was obliged to yield. Hathaway was secretly +glad of this, for the ranch was home to him, +and he would not leave it for any length of +time.</p> + +<p>The little girl was great company to him, +for his wife was away months at a time, +preferring the gayety of her New York home +to the quiet, isolated ranch on the prairie. +Some people were unkind enough to say that it +was a relief to Hathaway to have the place to +himself, and certain it is that he never made +any objections to the arrangement. Their +only child, Hope, was educated on the ranch +by the best instructors procurable, and readily +acquired all the education that was necessary +to her happiness.</p> + +<p>At Mrs. Hathaway's outburst the girl made +no effort to defend herself, and was well aware +from former experiences that her father would +not come to her aid. That he was afraid of +her mother she would not admit. It seemed so +weak and foolish. She had exalted ideas of +what a man should be. That her father fell +below her standard she would not acknowledge.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +She loved him so, was proud of his good points, +and in many ways he was a remarkable man, +his greatest weakness, if it could be called that, +being his apparent fear of his wife. Her dominion +over him, during her occasional visits +at the ranch, was absolute. Hope shut her +eyes to this, telling herself that it was caused +by his desire to make her happy during these +rare opportunities.</p> + +<p>Hathaway did not respond to his wife's +somewhat uncalled-for remarks, but after a +moment of silence adroitly changed the subject +by inquiring of Hope who it was that had +ridden up to the ranch just as he left that +morning.</p> + +<p>"It must have been Joe Harris, from the +mountains," she replied, "for he was here +shortly after you rode away. I thought he +was out hunting those cattle of his that I saw +over on Ten Mile the other day, but he informed +me that it was not cattle he was hunting +this time, but a <i>school-teacher</i>. They have +some sort of a country school up there in his +neighborhood, and I think, from what he said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +and what some of the boys told me, that he +must be the whole school board—clerk, trustees, +and everything. He was on his way over +to the Cross Bar ranch to see if he could secure +that young fellow who came out from the East +last fall. One of the boys told him that this +young man had given up his calling indefinitely +and was going on the round-up instead, +but Harris rode on to try what persuasion +would do."</p> + +<p>"That <i>dreadful</i> man," sighed Mrs. Hathaway. +"He is that <i>squaw-man</i> with those +<i>terrible</i> children! Hope, I wish you wouldn't +talk so intimately with such people; it's below +your dignity. If Sydney were here he would +agree with me. Where <i>is</i> Sydney? Do you +know where he went? He will miss his luncheon +entirely, the poor boy!"</p> + +<p>Hope looked searchingly at her father, but +he ignored her glance. Surely he would say +something now! The question trembled upon +the air, but she waited involuntarily for him to +speak.</p> + +<p>"I've asked you a question, Hope. Why<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +don't you answer; are you dumb?" said her +mother, with a show of impatience. "Where +<i>is</i> Sydney?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know <i>just</i> where he is," replied the +girl at length, "but I think it would be safe to +say that he is riding toward town; at least +he was heading that way the last I saw of +him."</p> + +<p>"Toward town!" gasped her mother. +"Why, he was going to drive in for the Cresmonds +to-morrow! You must be mistaken. +Please do not include me in your jokes!" +Then, turning to Hathaway, continued: +"James, where <i>did</i> he go?"</p> + +<p>Hathaway moved uneasily under the direct +gaze of his daughter. "I haven't the least +idea," he finally answered. "I can't keep +track of everyone on the ranch." The girl's +face turned pale under her tan. She rose +from the table and stood tall and straight behind +her chair, her clear eyes direct upon her +father.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you tell her," she cried with passion. +Then the usual calm settled over her face.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +She turned to her mother. "I may as well tell +you that we had a little scene this morning, +Sydney and I. He proposed to me." She +hesitated an instant, turned and caught her +father's nervous, anxious look direct. He +was watching her uneasily. She continued +deliberately: "I refused him—and sent him +away from the ranch. You may as well know +all about it."</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> sent him away from the ranch," +gasped Mrs. Hathaway.</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered the girl quietly. It was +her first lie.</p> + +<p>"You <i>dared</i> send him away—away from his +own home!" almost screamed Mrs. Hathaway, +her rage increasing with every word. "<i>You +dared!</i> <i>You</i>, my own daughter—ungrateful, +inconsiderate——You <i>know</i> how I love +that boy, my poor Jennie's son! What business +had you sending him away, or even refusing +him, I'd like to know! What if he is your +cousin—your second cousin? Oh, you have no +consideration for me, <i>none</i>—you never had! +How can I ever endure it here on this ranch<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +three whole months without Sydney! It was +bad enough before!" She wrung her hands +and rose sobbing from the table. "James, do +go after that poor boy. Say that I am willing +he should marry Hope if he is so foolish +as to want her. Tell him not to mind anything +she says, but that he <i>must</i> come home. +You will go at once, won't you?"</p> + +<p>She placed both hands imploringly on his +arm.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'll go after him to-morrow, so stop +your worrying," he answered soothingly. +"Hope, fetch your mother a glass of wine, +don't you see she's all upset?"</p> + +<p>The girl brought the wine and handed it to +her father, but his eyes shifted uneasily from +her clear, steady ones. He led his unhappy +wife from the room, leaving Hope alone with +the empty wine glass in her hand. She stood +so for a moment, then walked to the table and +set the tiny glass down, but, oddly, raised it up +again and looked at it closely.</p> + +<p>"As empty as my life is now," she thought. +"As empty as this home is for me. I have no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +one—father, mother—no one." A queer look +crossed her face; determination settled over +her, as with a sudden, vehement motion she +shattered the frail glass upon the floor. A +single thought, and a new life had opened before +her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + + +<p>Upon the slope of a great grass-covered +hill, among other hills, larger +and grass-covered also, stood a small +log school-house. A hundred yards away, between +this isolated building and the dingy road +stretched through the mountain valley, grew a +scrubby clump of choke-cherry brush. Some +boys crouched low upon the ground behind +these bushes, screened from sight of possible +passers-by, and three pairs of eyes looked +through the budding branches, intently scanning +the road at the crest of hill to the left. +Finally a dark speck appeared upon its gray +surface. The youngest boy shivered, a tightening +of expression came over the leader's face. +He drew his shotgun closer to him, resting it +upon his knees. Suddenly he laughed unpleasantly +and kicked the child who had +shivered.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You ninny, quit your shakin'! Can't you +tell a steer from a man? You'll make a nice +feller when you grow up, 'fraid of your own +shadow! You'd better git into the school-house +an' hide under a bench, if you're goin' to +be scared out of your skin. Baby! Umph, a +<i>steer</i>, too! That blame black one that won't +stay with the bunch!" The big boy brought +his awkward length down upon the ground, +continuing in a lower tone: "I'd a darn sight +ruther be on my horse drivin' him back on the +range than waitin' here for any fool school-teacher! +But we've got this job on hand. No +schoolin' for me—I'm too old. It'll do for +babies that shiver at a steer, but I've got other +business, an' so's Dan. I'm thinkin' if the old +man wants school up here he'll have to teach it +himself! What does he think we'd go to the +trouble of running away from the Mission for +if we wanted to go to school? Umph, he must +think we're plumb locoed!"</p> + +<p>"If father catches us in this he'll lick us to +death," interposed the youngest boy.</p> + +<p>"Not much, he won't. He'll have to ride a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +faster horse than mine or Dan's if he catches +us! We'll ride over to the Indian camp, an' +you can stay here an' take the lickin'! He'll +be glad enough to see us come back in a month +or two, I'll bet! And he's goin' to find out +right now that it ain't no use to bring any doggoned +teacher up here to teach this outfit. +Ain't that so, Dan? We know enough of +learnin'. I bet this new fellow won't stay +long enough to catch his breath!"</p> + +<p>A boy, who in looks and size was the exact +counterpart of the speaker, asked in a sweet, +soft-toned voice: "What if the old man takes +a notion to come along to the school-house with +him—what'll we do then, Dave?"</p> + +<p>"Do! why, what do you suppose we'll do?" +answered his twin, settling down closer to the +ground. "Why, we'll hide these here guns +an' walk up to the school-house like little sheep, +and <i>then</i> lay low and watch our chance when +the old man <i>ain't</i> around. I ain't figurin' on +any lickin' to-day, you can bet your boots on +that, but I'll take a darn good one before any +more schoolin'! We've got the medicine to fix<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +school-teachers for him this year, I reckon!" +And patting his gun, the breed boy gave a +satisfied grunt and settled down nearer to the +ground.</p> + +<p>"You bet we have," softly assented his twin. +"But what if the fellow don't scare at them +blank cartridges?"</p> + +<p>"Then we'll try duck-shot on him," answered +the first readily. "What'd you think—we're +a lot of babies? I reckon we've got +fight in us! You've got to stick to us, Ned, +even if you ain't as old as Dan and me. Ain't +that so, Dan?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, unless he wants to get whaled half +to death," sweetly answered the soft-voiced +twin.</p> + +<p>"I'm no coward," exclaimed the sturdy little +fellow. "If you boys <i>dare</i> lick me I'll shoot +the two of you!" His small black eyes flashed +ominously. For an instant he glared at the +older boys, all the savagery in his young soul +expressed in his countenance. The soft-voiced +twin gave a short laugh. Something +like admiration shone in his eyes for the young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +lad, but he retorted sweetly: "You shivered! +Don't you go an' do it again!" At that instant +his sharp eyes sighted an object just appearing +at the top of the hill. He punched the +leader vigorously: "Now down on your +knees, he's comin' sure this time!"</p> + +<p>"And he's alone," said the bold leader joyfully. +"We won't have no trouble with him. +He rides like a tenderfoot, all right. Wait till +he gets down by that rock there, then let him +have it, one after the other—first me, then +Dan, then you, Ned. I'll bet my horse an' +saddle that he'll go back quicker'n he's +comin'!"</p> + +<p>"What if that ain't the feller we want?" +gently asked Dan.</p> + +<p>"We'll wait till he turns in here, an' then +we'll know. They ain't nobody else goin' to +come along this way just now. Lord, don't he +ride slow, though! Now I'll shoot first, don't +forget."</p> + +<p>"His saddle blanket's flying on this side, and +he's got a red shirt on," said the other twin. +"He's lookin' over this way. Yes, he's comin'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +here all right. Let him have it, Dave, before +he gits any closer!"</p> + +<p>As he spoke, the approaching rider left the +main road and turned up the dimly marked +trail toward the school-house. The forward +twin waited an instant, then, aiming his shotgun +carelessly toward the stranger, fired. At +the signal a volley rang out from behind the +bushes. As quickly the horse took fright, +stopped stock still, then wheeled, and bolted +with utmost speed directly toward the patch of +brush, passing so near that the boys drew in +their legs and crawled snake-like under the +protection of the branches.</p> + +<p>"Good Lord," gasped the leader, as the +horse raced past, on up the grassy slope of a +hill, "it's a girl!"</p> + +<p>Two minutes later the bushes were quickly +parted over three very uncomfortable boys, +and a red shirt-waisted girl looked sternly in at +them.</p> + +<p>"You boys come out of there this minute! +Who did you take me for that you were trying +to frighten me to death? Or is that the way<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +you treat ladies up here in the mountains? +Come out immediately and explain yourselves!"</p> + +<p>The soft-voiced twin crept out first, and before +scrambling to his feet began apologizing: +"We didn't know it was <i>you</i>. We thought it +was a man. Don't hurt us! We wouldn't a +done it for nothin' if we'd thought it was you. +We were layin' for a school-teacher that father +got to teach this school, an' we took you for +him." Then more hopefully as he regained his +feet: "But our guns wasn't loaded with +nothing but blank cartridges. We was just +goin' to frighten him away so that we wouldn't +have no school this summer. It's too fine +weather to be in school, anyway." He looked +up into the girl's uncompromising face. "But +now I reckon our hides are cooked, for you'll +tell your father." This last questioningly.</p> + +<p>"And you wouldn't like my father to know +about this—or <i>your</i> father either, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"We'd do most anything if you wouldn't +tell on us, Miss Hathaway!"</p> + +<p>"Do I look like a girl that would tell<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +things?" she flashed back. "I usually fight +my own battles; if necessary, I can use <i>this</i>." +A quick movement and she placed before their +faces a reliable looking six-shooter.</p> + +<p>"We know all about that! You ain't a-goin' +to hurt us, are you?" exclaimed Dave.</p> + +<p>"You know all about <i>that</i>, do you? Well, +that's good. Now tell me your names."</p> + +<p>"We're the Harris kids," answered Dave +quickly.</p> + +<p>"I know you're the Harris kids, but I want +your first names. <i>Yours</i>," she commanded, +looking at the soft-voiced twin and absently +fingering the weapon.</p> + +<p>"Mine's Dan. <i>He's</i> Dave, an' that one's +Ned," answered the boy in one soft, quick +breath; then added: "We know all about how +you can shoot. You're a dead one!" His +face took on a certain shrewd look and he continued +divertingly: "I'll throw up my cap +an' you shoot at it. I'd like to have the hole +in it."</p> + +<p>Miss Hathaway seemed suddenly amused.</p> + +<p>"You are a very bright boy! And your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +name is Dan—Daniel. You want a souvenir? +Well, all right, but not just now. I've got +other business. I came to teach your school." +She hesitated, looking keenly at their astonished +faces. "Yes, your father has engaged +me—hired me, so I think we'd better go +inside and begin work, don't you? We'll +overlook this shooting affair. I don't know as +I blame you very much for not wanting a man +teacher, but of course the shooting was very +wrong, and you shouldn't have tried to frighten +anyone; but we'll forget all about it. But you +are not going to have a man teacher, and I am +different. I am going to live at your house, +too, so of course we'll be good friends—ride +together, hunt, and have great times, <i>after +school</i>. During school we <i>work</i>, remember +that! Now one of you boys please stake out +my horse for me and then we will go inside and +start school. You boys must help me get +things to working."</p> + +<p>Before she had finished speaking the soft-voiced +twin caught her horse, which was grazing +near. Dave, more clumsily built, fol<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>lowed +him, while the girl took the small boy by +the hand and started toward the school-house. +At the door she turned in time to see the twins +struggling at her horse's head. They were +about ready to come to blows.</p> + +<p>"I'll take care of that horse myself," said +Dave gruffly, attempting to force the other +boy's hand from the bridle.</p> + +<p>"Don't fight, boys, or <i>I</i> will take care of the +horse," called the new school-teacher severely; +thereupon the soft-voiced twin released his hold +and walked demurely up to the school-house.</p> + +<p>"Anyway," he explained as he went inside, +"Dave's the youngest, and so I let him have +the horse."</p> + +<p>"I never was so frightened in my life," +thought the girl, as she arranged the small +school for the day. "But the only way to +manage these little devils is to bluff them."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + + +<p>A group composed principally of +cowboys, squaw-men, and breeds +squatted and lounged outside of Joe +Harris' house. Numerous tousley-headed +boys, with worn overalls and bare feet, played +noisily on the outskirts, dogs and pigs scurried +about everywhere, while in the doorway of the +dingy, dirt-covered kitchen in the rear hovered +a couple of Indian women and several +small dark-skinned children. Somewhere out +of sight, probably over the cook-stove, were +two or three nearly grown girls. Such, at +supper time, was the usual aspect of Joe +Harris' cabins, varied occasionally by more or +less Indians, whose tepees stood at one side, or +more or less dogs, but always the same extraordinary +amount of squealing pigs and children.</p> + +<p>The huge figure of Joe Harris, squaw-man,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +cattle-man, and general progressive-man, was +prominent in the center of the group. He was +by all odds the greatest and most feared man +in that portion of the country. His judgment +as well as his friendship was sought after by +all the small ranchers about, and also, it was +rumored, by a certain class of cattle owners +commonly called rustlers. To be Joe Harris' +friend meant safety, if nothing more; to be his +enemy meant, sooner or later, a search for a new +country, or utter ruination. He brought with +him, years before from the north, a weird record, +no tangible tale of which got about, but +the mysterious rumor, combined with the man's +striking personality, his huge form, bearded +face, piercing blue eyes, and great voice, all +combined to make people afraid of him. He +was considered a dangerous man. At this +date he possessed one thousand head of good +cattle, a squaw, and fifteen strong, husky children, +and, being a drinking man, possessed also +an erratic disposition. He was very deferential +to his Indian wife, a good woman, but he +ruled his offspring with a rod of iron. His<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +children feared him. Some of them possessed +his nature to such a marked degree that they +hated him more than they feared him, which is +saying considerable. Even as they played +about the group of men they watched him +closely, as they had learned by instinct at their +mother's breast.</p> + +<p>In the midst of loud talk from the assorted +group, a tiny girl, the great man's favorite +child, was sent out from the kitchen to tell them +that supper was ready. The little thing pulled +timidly at the large man's coat. He stooped +and picked her up in his arms, leading the +hungry throng into the house, where a rude +supper was eaten in almost absolute silence. +Occasionally a pig would venture into the +room, to be immediately kicked out by the +man who sat nearest the door. Then the +children that played about the house would +chase the offending animal with sticks and +shrill cries.</p> + +<p>In a room adjoining this one a girl sat alone +in dejected attitude, her face buried between +two very brown hands. As the men tramped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +into the house she rose from the trunk upon +which she had been sitting and crossed to the +farther side of the room. There, with difficulty, +she forced up a small dingy window +looking out upon the mountains at the back of +the ranch—a clear view, unobstructed by +scurrying dogs, pigs, or children. She leaned +far out, drawing in deep, sweet breaths, and +wondering if she would follow the impulse to +climb out and run to the top of the nearest hill. +She thought not, then fell again to wondering +how she should ever accustom herself to this +place, these new surroundings. She heard the +men tramp out of the house, followed soon by +a timid rap upon her door, then moved quickly +across the room, an odd contrast to her rude +surroundings.</p> + +<p>"You can have supper now," said a tall girl +in a timid voice. "The men are through. We +ain't got much, Miss Hathaway."</p> + +<p>"A little is enough for me," said the girl, +smiling. "Don't call me <i>Miss</i>, please. It +doesn't seem just right—<i>here</i>. Call me Hope. +It will make me feel more at home, you know.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +You're <i>Mary</i>, aren't you? <i>You</i> haven't been +to supper, have you?"</p> + +<p>"Mother said you were to eat alone," answered +the breed girl.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, surely I may eat with you girls! +I'd much prefer it. You know it would be +lonely all by myself, don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>"We ain't going to eat just yet, not till +after the boys get theirs," said the Harris girl +a trifle less timidly.</p> + +<p>"Then I will wait, too," Hope decided. +"Come in, Mary, and stay till I unpack some +of these things. Just a few waists and extra +riding skirts. I suppose I am to hang them +up here on these nails, am I not?" When she +had finished unpacking she turned to the breed +girl, who had become quite friendly and was +watching her interestedly, and explained: +"Just a few things that I thought would be +suitable to wear up here, for teaching; but, +do you know, I'd feel lots better if I had a +dress like yours—a calico one. But I have this—this +old buck-skin one. See, it has bead-work +on it. Isn't it pretty?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh!" exclaimed the girl, as Hope held it +up for inspection. "<i>Isn't</i> it lovely!"</p> + +<p>"Very old and dingy-looking, but I'll put +it on and wear it," she decided.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later, when they had arranged +the small, barren room somewhat more +comfortably, Hope Hathaway, attired in her +dress of Indian make, joined the Harris girls +at their frugal meal. Her dark hair was parted +in the center and hung in two long braids down +her back. That, combined with the beaded +dress, fringed properly, her black eyes, and +quiet expressionless face, made a very picturesque +representation of an Indian girl. Truly +she was one of them. The breed girls must +have thought something of the same, for they +became at their ease, talking very much as +girls talk the world over. There were three of +them between the ages of fourteen and eighteen, +and Hope soon found herself well entertained +and almost contented. The loneliness +soon wore away, and before realizing it she +began to feel at home—almost one of them, +true to her spirit of adaptability. But yet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +for her supper she ate only two hard boiled +eggs.</p> + +<p>After the meal the breed girls walked with +her down to the spring-house where the milk +and butter was kept. From underneath the +small log building a large spring crept lazily +out, spreading itself as it went into a miniature +lake which lay between the house buildings and +the stables. It was the only thing on the ranch +worthy of notice, and, in a country barren of +water excepting in the form of narrow winding +creeks, it was pleasing to the eye.</p> + +<p>The men and boys had disappeared, the +younger children were with their mother, and +even the pigs had drowsily gone to their sleeping +quarters. The place seemed strangely +quiet after its recent noise and commotion.</p> + +<p>Finally the girls returned to the house to +help with the small children, while in the deepening +twilight Hope remained alone beside the +lake. The water into which she looked and +dreamed was shallow, but the deepening +shadows concealed that fact. To her fancy it +might have been bottomless. Someone rode<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +up on horseback, but she paid no attention +until a pleasant voice close beside her startled +her from her reverie.</p> + +<p>"Can I trouble you for a drink of that +water, please? I have often wished for one +as I rode past; it looks so clear and cold." She +bowed her head in assent, and, bringing a cup +from the spring-house, stooped and filled it for +him. He thanked her and drank the water +eagerly.</p> + +<p>"It is good, just as I thought, and cold as +ice," he said; then, noticing the girl more +closely, continued: "I have been talking with +your father over there at the corral, and am returning +home."</p> + +<p>"With my <i>father</i>," emphasized the girl. +The young man noted with wonderment the +richness of her voice, the soft, alluring grace +of every movement. Someone had jokingly +told him before he left his old-country home +that he would bring back an Indian wife, as +one of historical fame had done centuries before. +He laughed heartily at the time—he +smiled now, but thought of it. He thought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +of it again many times that evening and +cursed himself for such folly. Perhaps there +was Indian medicine in the cup she gave him, +or perhaps he looked an instant too long into +those dark, unfathomable eyes. He found +himself explaining:</p> + +<p>"Yes; your father has agreed to sell me that +team I have been wanting. I am coming back +for the horses to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"My <i>father</i>," she began again. "Oh, yes, +of course. I thought——Would you like +another drink of the water?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you please." It seemed good to +stand there in the growing darkness, and another +drink would give him fully a minute. He +watched her supple figure as she stooped to refill +the tin cup. What perfect physiques some +of these Indian girls possessed! He did not +wonder so much now that some men forgot +their families and names for these dark-skinned +women.</p> + +<p>"I am coming to-morrow for the horses—in +the morning," he repeated foolishly, returning +the cup. She did not speak again, so bid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>ding +her a courteous good-night he mounted +his horse and rode slowly into the gathering +dusk.</p> + +<p>Hope stood there for a moment, returning +to her study of the water; then two of the breed +girls came toward her. One of them was giggling +audibly.</p> + +<p>"We heard him," said Mary. "He thought +you was one of us. It'll be fun to fool him. +He's new out here, and don't know much, anyhow. +He's Edward Livingston, an Englishman, +an' has got a sheep ranch about three +miles over there."</p> + +<p>"A <i>sheep-man</i>!" exclaimed Hope, "Isn't +that too bad!"</p> + +<p>"You hate sheep-men, too?" asked the older +girl.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't know that I <i>hate</i> them, but +there's a feeling—a sort of something one can't +get over, something that grows in the air if +you're raised among cattle. I despise sheep, +detest them. They spoil our cattle range." +Then after a short pause: "It's too bad he +isn't a cattle-man!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's what I think," said Mary, "because +the men are all gettin' down on him. He runs +his sheep all over their range, an' they're +makin' a big talk."</p> + +<p>"You shouldn't tell things, Mary, they're +only talkin', anyway," reproved the older girl.</p> + +<p>"<i>Talkin'!</i> Well, I should say so, an' you bet +they mean business! But Miss Hathaway—Hope—don't +care, an' I don't care neither, if +he gets into a scrape; only he's got such a nice, +pleasant face, an' he ain't on to the ways out +here yet, neither—an' I don't care <i>what</i> the +men say! Tain't as if he meant anything +through real meanness."</p> + +<p>"That's so," replied the older girl, "but +maybe she don't want to hear such talk. It's +bedtime, anyway; let's go in."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm tired," said Hope wearily, adding +as she bade Mary good-night at her door: +"I do hope he won't get into any trouble."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + + +<p>The three months' school had begun in +earnest. Each day Hope found new +interest in her small class and in her +surroundings. She readily learned to dispense +with all the comforts and luxuries to +which she had been born, substituting instead +a rare sense of independence, an expansion of +her naturally wild spirit. She dispensed also +with conventionalities, except such as were ingrained +with her nature, yet she was far from +happy in the squaw-man's family. She could +have ridden home in a few hours, but remembered +too keenly her mother's anger and her +father's parting words. He said to her:</p> + +<p>"You have hurt your mother and spoiled +her summer by the stand you have taken. You +are leaving here against my wishes and against +your own judgment. The only thing I've got +to say is this: don't come back here till you've<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +finished your contract up there, till you've +kept your word to the letter. No one of my +blood is going back on their word. A few +rough knocks will do you good."</p> + +<p>He probably discovered in a very few hours +how much he loved his girl, how she had grown +into his life, for the next day after she had left +he drove to the distant town and hunted up +his wife's nephew, who had caused all this +trouble.</p> + +<p>"You deserve another thrashing," he said +when he had found him, "but now you've got +to turn to and do what you can to bring things +back to where they were. Hope's left home +and 's gone to teaching school up in the mountains +at Harris'. Now, what in thunder am I +going to do about it? She can't live there with +those breeds. Lord, I slept there once and +the fleas nearly ate me up!"</p> + +<p>The boy's face turned a trifle pale. "I'm +sorry, uncle, about this. I never thought she +would do such a thing, on my account—not +after I left. And she's gone to Joe Harris' +place! I know all about that, a regular nest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +of low breeds and rustlers. She can't stay +there!"</p> + +<p>"But she will, just the same," announced the +man, "because when she told me that she'd +promised Harris, and that she was going, anyway, +I told her to go and take her medicine till +the school term was ended."</p> + +<p>"But surely you won't allow her to stay, to +<i>live</i> at Joe Harris'! There are other people +up there, white people, with whom she could +live. Why, uncle, you can't allow her to stay +there!"</p> + +<p>"Why not? She's made her nest, let her +lie in it for awhile—fleas and all. It won't +hurt her any. But I'm going to keep a close +eye on her just the same. I couldn't go up +there myself on account of your aunt's being +here, but I was thinking about it all last night, +and I finally concluded to send a bunch of cattle +up there, beef cattle, and hold 'em for shipment. +Now I came here to town to tell you +that your aunt wants you to come back to the +ranch, but you're not going to come back, see? +You're going up there and hold those cattle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +for a spell, and keep your eye on my girl. I +don't give a damn about the steers—it's the +girl; but you've got to have an excuse for being +there. Your aunt's got to have an excuse, +too. These cattle—there's two hundred head +of 'em—they're <i>yours</i>—see? I'll have 'em all +vented to-morrow, for in case Hope thought +they wasn't yours she might catch on. You +can ship 'em in the fall for your trouble. She +won't think anything of you holding cattle up +there, because the range is so good. So you +look out for her, see how she is every day, and +send me word by McCullen, who I'll send +along with you. You can take a cook and +another man if you need one. And now don't +let her catch on that I had a hand in this! Seen +anything of them blame New Yorkers yet?" +Young Carter shook his head absent-mindedly. +He was filled with delight at this clever +scheme of his uncle's. "No? Well, mebbe +there's a telegram. Your aunt expected me +to take them back to the ranch to-morrow. +Never mind thanking me for the cattle. You +do your part to the letter. Send me word<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +every day and don't forget. And another +thing, just quit your thinking about marrying +that girl, and keep your hands off of her! +Remember she's in a wild country up there, +among tough customers, and she probably +knows it by now, and the <i>chances are</i> she's got +a gun buckled onto her!"</p> + +<p>He was right. Hope found herself among +too many rough characters to feel safe without +a gun concealed beneath her blouse or +jacket, yet rough as the men were, they treated +this quiet-faced girl with the utmost respect, +perhaps fearing her. Her reputation as a +phenomenal shot was not far-fetched, and had +reached the remotest corners of the country. +She had played with a gun as a baby, had been +allowed to use one when a wee child, and had +grown up with the passion for firearms strong +within her. Shooting was a gift with her, +perfected by daily practice. In one of her +rooms at the ranch the girl had such a collection +of firearms as would have filled the heart +of many an old connoisseur with longing. It +was her one passion, perhaps not a more ex<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>pensive +one than most women possess; yet, for +a girl, unique. Her father gratified her in +this, just as other fathers gratify their girls in +their desire for music, art, fine clothes, or all, +as the case may be. But the things that most +girls love so well had small place in the life of +Hope Hathaway. She cared little for music, +and less for fine clothes. Society she detested, +declaring that a full season in New York +would kill her. Perhaps if she had not been +filled with the determination to stay away from +it, its excitement might finally have won her; +but she was of the West. Its vastness filled her +with a love that was part of her nature. Its +boundless prairies, its freedom, were greater +than all civilization had to offer her.</p> + +<p>She brought with her to the mountains a +long-distance rifle and a brace of six-shooters. +A shotgun she seldom used, for the reason that +to her quick, accurate eye a rifle did better, +more varied work, and answered every purpose +of a shotgun. It was said that each bird she +marked on the wing dropped at her feet in two +pieces, its head severed smoothly. This may<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +not have been true always, but the fact remains +that the birds dropped when she touched +the trigger.</p> + +<p>She was an odd character for a girl, reserved +and quiet even with her most intimate friends, +rough and impulsive as a boy sometimes, in +speech and actions, again as dignified as the +proudest queen. Her friends never knew how +to take her, because they never understood her. +She left, so far along her trail in life, nothing +but shattered ideals and delusions, but she had +not become cynical or embittered, only wiser. +After her first week's stay at Harris' she began +to realize that perhaps she had always expected +too much of people. Here were people of +whom she had expected nothing opening up +new side lights on life that she had never +thought to explore. Life seemed full of possibilities +to her now, at least, immediate possibilities.</p> + +<p>She had not met again the courteous, +smooth-faced young man who had mistaken +her for an Indian girl, though he had come the +next morning for the horses, and had ridden<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +past the ranch more than once. Yet she had +not forgotten the incident, or what the Harris +girls had told her, for daily as she passed the +group of loungers on her return from school +she heard his name gruffly spoken, intermixed +with oaths. They certainly meant mischief, +and she was curious to know what it was.</p> + +<p>The first school week had ended. On Friday +night she wondered how she could manage to +exist through Saturday and Sunday, but Saturday +morning found her in the saddle, accompanied +by the three largest Harris boys, en +route for the highest peaks of the mountains.</p> + +<p>"This is something like living," she exclaimed, +pulling in her horse after the first few +miles. "How pretty all of this is! What +people call scenery, I suppose. But give me +the prairie, smooth and level as far as the eye +can reach! There's nothing like it in all the +world! The open prairie, a cool, spring day +like this, and a horse that will go till it's ready +to fall dead—that is life! Who is it that lives +over there?" she asked, pointing toward some +ranch buildings, nestled in a low, green valley.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's the Englishman's place," answered +the soft-voiced twin.</p> + +<p>"Sheep-man," explained Dave disgustedly. +"See them sheds?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, the new man by the name of Livingston. +Do you boys know him?" asked the girl +curiously.</p> + +<p>"Nope! Don't want to, neither. Seen him +lots of times, though," answered Dave.</p> + +<p>"He's come in here without bein' asked, an' +thinks he can run the whole country," explained +the soft-voiced twin.</p> + +<p>"Is he trying to run the whole country?" +asked Hope.</p> + +<p>"Well, he's runnin' his sheep over everybody's +range, an' they ain't goin' to stand for +it," replied the boy.</p> + +<p>"But what can they do about it? Have they +asked him to move his sheep?"</p> + +<p>"No. What's the use after they've been over +the range—spoiled it, anyhow. No, you bet +they ain't goin' to ask him nothing!"</p> + +<p>The girl thought for a moment, absently +pulling the "witches' knots" from her horse's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +mane, while it climbed a hill at a swinging +gait, then continued as though talking to +herself:</p> + +<p>"Once upon a time a young man took what +money he had in the world, and going into a +far-away, wild country started in business for +himself. He had heard, probably, that there +was more money in sheep than in cattle. A +great many people do hear that, so he bought +sheep, thinking, perhaps, to make a pile of +money in a few years, and then go back to his +home and marry some nice, good girl of his +choice. It takes money to get married and +make a home, and to do mostly anything, they +say, and so this young man bought sheep, for +no one goes into the sheep business or any other +kind of business unless they want to make +money. They don't generally do it for fun. +And, of course, he thought, as they all do, to +get rich immediately. He made a great mistake +in the beginning, being extremely ignorant. +He brought his sheep to a cattle country, +where there were no other sheep near his own. +All the men around him hated sheep, as men<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +who own cattle always do, and hating the +sheep, they thought they hated the sheep-man +also, who really was a very harmless young +man, and wouldn't have offended them for +anything. But these men's dislike for the +sheep grew daily, and so their fancied dislike +for the young man grew in proportion.</p> + +<p>"The men in the country would meet together +in little groups, and every day some +man would have some new grievance to tell +the others. It finally got on their brains, +until all they could think or talk about was this +new man and his sheep. The more they +thought and talked, the more angry they became, +until finally they forgot that he was another +man like themselves—in all likelihood a +good, honest man, who would not have done +them wrong knowingly. They forgot a great +many things, and all they could think about +night or day was how they could do something +to injure his business or himself. They got so +after awhile that they talked only in low +whispers about him, taking great pains that +their families, children, and even their big <i>boys</i>,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +should not know their plans. They made a +great mistake in not taking their boys into +their confidence, because <i>boys</i> are very often +more reliable than men, and can always keep +a secret a whole lot better. But perhaps the +fathers knew that the boys had very good sense +and would not go into anything like that without +a better reason than they had, which was no +reason at all.</p> + +<p>"I never heard just what they planned to do +to this newcomer to get rid of him and his +sheep, but I know how it had to end." She +looked up, searching each boy's intent, astonished +face.</p> + +<p>"Say, what're you drivin' at, anyway? You +can't fool me—it's <i>him</i>!" exclaimed Dave, +pointing toward the sheep-ranch. "You're +makin' up a story about him!"</p> + +<p>"How'd you know all that?" asked the +quicker, soft-voiced twin.</p> + +<p>"Know all that. Why, how did you boys +know all that? I suppose that I have ears, +too—and I've heard of such things before," +she replied.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But you don't know how the end'll be. +That's one thing you don't know," declared the +soft-voiced twin. "You can't know that."</p> + +<p>"She might be a fortune-teller like grandmother +White Blanket," laughed the other.</p> + +<p>"Is that old squaw in the farthest tepee +from the house your own grandmother?" +asked the girl.</p> + +<p>"Yep, an' she ain't no squaw, either! She's +a French half-breed," he said, with an unconscious +proud uplifting of the shoulders.</p> + +<p>Hope laughed slightly. "What's the other +half?" she asked. The boy gave her a look of +deep commiseration.</p> + +<p>"I thought you had more learnin' than that! +Why, the other half's white, of course."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon!" gasped the girl. "My +education along those lines must have been +somewhat neglected. I had an idea that those +were Indians camped down at your place. But +French half-breeds,—a mixture of <i>white</i> and +<i>French</i>,—that's a different matter!" She +stopped her horse and laughed with the immoderation +of a boy. "That is rich," she cried.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +"If ever I go to New York again I shall +spring that on the Prince. '<i>Mon Dieu!</i>' he will +exclaim. 'What then are we, Mademoiselle, +<i>we</i>, the <i>aristocracy</i>—the great nation of the +<i>French</i>?'" Her face sobered. "But this is +not the question. <i>I</i> do know how this will end, +and I am not a fortune-teller, either. I know +that the ones who are in the wrong about this +matter will get the worst of it. Sometimes it +means states prison, sometimes death—at all +events, something not expected. I tell you, +boys, I wouldn't want to be on the wrong side +of this for anything! And do you know, I +am real glad that your father doesn't need +your help. We will take a little side of our +own and watch things—what do you say? It +will be lots of fun, and we'll know all the time +that we are in the right, and maybe we can +prevent them from doing any real wrong to +themselves." She watched them closely to see +how they accepted the suggestion. Her inspiration +might be considered a reckless one, +but their young minds lent themselves readily +to her influence.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The old man licked me this mornin'," +growled Dave. "An' he can go straight to the +hot place now, for all o' me! I'm goin' off on +the round-up, anyway, next year."</p> + +<p>"You boys know, don't you, that if your +father ever found out that <i>I</i> knew anything +about this thing, he would probably give me a +licking, too—and send me out of the country?" +This for effect.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to see him lay hands on you," +roared Dave. "I'd fill him so full of lead that—that——"</p> + +<p>Words failed him.</p> + +<p>"I'd kill him if he did, Miss Hathaway," +exclaimed the small boy, Ned, with quiet assurance +that brought a hint of laughter to the +girl's face. The soft-voiced twin rode up very +close to her.</p> + +<p>"He ain't goin' to find it out, an' don't you +worry; we'll all stand by you while there's one +of us left!"</p> + +<p>"All right, boys, we're comrades now. I'll +tell you what we'll do; we'll form a band—brigade—all +by ourselves. I am commanding<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +officer and you are my faithful scouts. How's +that?" Hope's fancy was leading her away. +"Come on," she cried, "let's race this flat!"</p> + +<p>The self-appointed commanding officer +reached the smooth valley far in advance of her +faithful scouts, who yelled in true Indian +fashion as they rode up with her.</p> + +<p>"I'll run you a mile an' beat you all hollow," +declared Dave. "But on a two hundred yard +stretch like this here place my horse don't have +no chance to get started."</p> + +<p>"I'll bet my quirt against yourn that you +lose," said the soft-voiced twin.</p> + +<p>"Keep your quirt! I don't want it, nohow. +One's enough fur me. But I <i>can</i> beat her just +the same!" Dave was stubbornly positive.</p> + +<p>"You'll have to ride my horse if you do beat +her," continued the soft-voiced twin. Dave +grew furious.</p> + +<p>"Now, see here, that raw-boned, loose-jointed, +watch-eyed cayuse o' yourn couldn't +run a good half mile without fallin' dead in his +tracks! What'er you a-givin' me, anyhow?" +At that instant his attention was fortunately<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +taken. "Where'd all them cattle come from?" +he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>They had turned up a narrow gulch, the +youngest boy and Hope taking the lead, and +had traveled it for perhaps fifty yards when +they found themselves at a stand-still before a +drove of cattle that were making their way +slowly down the narrow trail.</p> + +<p>"We won't go back," called the girl. "Come +on up here and wait till they pass." And +followed by the boys she guided her horse up +the steep, rocky side of a high bank, and waited +while the cattle came slowly on. They counted +them as they passed in twos and threes down +the narrow valley. When nearly two hundred +had gone by a rider came in sight around the +bend of the hill. Hope's horse whinnied, and +the man's answered back, then the girl gave +a scream of delight, and, unmindful of the +rocky bank, or of the appearance of two other +riders, rushed down, nearly unseating the +old cow-puncher in her demonstrations of +welcome.</p> + +<p>"<i>Jim! Dear old Jim! Where</i> did you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +come from? I am so glad to see you! Why, +Jim, I'd rather see you than anyone in the +world! How glad I am! Boys," she called, +"come down here. This is Jim, my dear old +father Jim!" Old Jim McCullen's eyes were +dimmed with tears as he looked from the girl's +happy, flushed face to the last of the cattle that +were going out of sight around the bend of the +gulch. "Where did you come from, Jim, and +what brings you up here? Whose cattle? +Why, they're ours, and rebranded! What are +you doing with them?" Just then the two +riders, whom in her excitement she had failed +to notice, rode up. "Why, Syd, hello," she +said. "And you're here, too! I thought Jim +was alone."</p> + +<p>She changed instantly from her glad excitement, +speaking with the careless abruptness of +a boy. Her cousin rode alongside. She gave +one glance at his companion, then wheeled her +horse about and stationed herself a short distance +away beside the breed boys.</p> + +<p>"This is a happy surprise, Hope," exclaimed +her cousin. "What are you doing up here so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +far away from home?" She regarded him a +trifle more friendly.</p> + +<p>"Is it possible you don't know? Didn't +you tell him, Jim, that I had gone away? Oh, +I forgot, you weren't at the ranch when I left, +so you couldn't tell him. Well, I am here, as +you can see, Sydney—partly because I wanted +a change, partly because they wanted a +school-teacher up here. I am staying at Joe +Harris'. What are you doing here with those +cattle?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, thought I'd go to work for a change. +Just some cattle that I bought to hold for fall +shipment." He turned to the man at his side, +apologizing, then proceeded to introduce him +to his cousin. The girl cut it short by a peculiar +brief nod.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've met Mr. Livingston before!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed?" said Carter in surprise, looking +from one to the other.</p> + +<p>"At Harris'" explained the sheep-man. +"She gave me one of the sweetest, most refreshing +drinks of water it has ever been my +privilege to enjoy." He spoke easily, yet was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +much perturbed. Here was his shy Indian +maid, a remarkably prepossessed, up-to-date +young woman. It took a little time to get it +straightened out in his mind.</p> + +<p>"Of course I might have known that you +two would have met. There are so few people +here." Carter tried to speak indifferently.</p> + +<p>"Well, good-by," said the girl, moving +away.</p> + +<p>"Don't be in a hurry! Where are you going, +Hope?" called her cousin.</p> + +<p>"Sorry, but can't wait any longer. We're +off for a day's exploring. Good-by."</p> + +<p>"I'll see you this evening. We're going to +camp near Harris'," said Carter.</p> + +<p>"No, not this evening," she called back to +him as she rode on up the gulch. "I won't be +back till late, and then I'll be too tired to see +anyone. Good-by, Jim—I'll see <i>you</i> to-morrow." +Old Jim watched her until she was lost +to sight in the turn of the gulch. Livingston +also watched her until she was out of sight. +She rode astride, wearing a neat divided skirt, +and sat her horse with all the ease and perfec<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>tion +of a young cowboy. Old Jim McCullen +went on in trail of the cattle, while young Carter +and Livingston followed leisurely.</p> + +<p>"Rather a cool greeting from a girl one +expects to marry," said Carter, under his +breath.</p> + +<p>"Is it possible—your fiancée!" Livingston's +face became thoughtful. "You are to +be congratulated," he said.</p> + +<p>Carter laughed nervously. "I can scarcely +say she is <i>that</i>, yet—but it is her mother's wish. +We have grown up together. Miss Hathaway +is my cousin, my second cousin. I can +see no reason why we will not be married—some +time."</p> + +<p>"<i>Miss Hathaway</i>," mused his companion. +"And you love her?" he asked quietly.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," answered Carter, wondering at +the other's abrupt way of speaking.</p> + +<p>"And may I ask if she loves you?" The +sheep-man's tone was quiet and friendly. Carter +wished that it might have been insolent. +As it was he could only laugh uneasily.</p> + +<p>"It would seem not," he answered. "To-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>day +she is like an icicle—to-morrow she will be +a most devoted girl. That is Hope—as +changeable as the wind. One never knows +what to expect. One day loving—the next, +cold and indifferent. But then, you see, I am +used to her little ways."</p> + +<p>"I wish you all the happiness you deserve, +Mr. Carter," said Livingston a little later, as +he rode off, taking a short cut to his ranch.</p> + +<p>"<i>Hope</i>—<i>Hope Hathaway</i>; Carter's cousin. +What an idiot I've been to think of her +as an Indian girl! An odd name—Hope. +<i>Hope Hath a way</i>," he mused as he rode homeward. +"If only I had the right to hope!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + + +<p>"I wish there was a shorter cut to get +home," said the girl wearily. "I'm just +about tired. Climbing mountains is a +little out of my line. I wonder how long it will +take to get used to it."</p> + +<p>"There is a shorter way, Miss Hathaway," +said one of the breed boys. "It's through that +sheep-ranch there. We always used to go that +way before they fenced it in, but there's gates +to it if we can find 'em."</p> + +<p>"Let's go through that way, then, if it's +shorter. Of course it is shorter—I can see +that, and we'll trust to luck to be able to see the +gates. I suppose they're wire gates."</p> + +<p>"Yes, just regular wire gates, an' it's gettin' +dark pretty blame fast, but mebbe we can find +'em all right."</p> + +<p>So they followed the fence, searching in the +dim light for the almost invisible gate—the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +girl who had that day appointed herself commanding +officer and her three brave scouts.</p> + +<p>Alongside the wire fence they followed a +narrow cow-trail for nearly a quarter of a mile, +then the path disappeared inside the field, and +the side-hills along which they were obliged to +travel were rough and dangerous. It was late, +and darkness settled down around them, cutting +from their vision everything but a small +line of fence and the nearby hills.</p> + +<p>They made slow headway over the rocky +banks. Hope, tired with the day's exploring +and hungry after her long ride and the somewhat +slender diet of the past week, was sorry +they had not gone the road, which, though +longer, would not have taken such a length of +time to travel. The boys were good scouts, +yet it became evident that they had never followed +the new line of fence before. Their +horses slipped upon the sides of steep inclines +which became more rocky and dangerous as +they proceeded. Darkness increased rapidly. +One horse in the rear fell down, but the rider +was upon his feet in an instant; then they dis<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>mounted +and led their horses, traveling along +very slowly in Indian file. Some time later +they found the wire gate, much to the girl's +relief. It was then quite dark. The moon +had risen, but showed itself fitfully behind +black, stormy looking clouds. Without difficulty +they discovered a trail leading somewhere, +and followed it until they rounded a +point from which they could see the light in +the sheep-man's house.</p> + +<p>"Why, we're almost up to his <i>house</i>!" exclaimed +Hope. "This isn't the way. We +don't want to go there!"</p> + +<p>"I reckon we'll have to get pretty close up to +it to find the road that goes to the other gate," +said the soft-voiced twin.</p> + +<p>"How foolish we've been," sighed the girl.</p> + +<p>"Yep, a pack o' idiots," agreed Dave.</p> + +<p>"But it's too dark for anyone to see us—or +notice us," she said with relief. "I think we +might go right up to the house and look +through the windows without anyone seeing +us."</p> + +<p>"Let's do it," suggested Dave.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well I should say not!" exclaimed the girl. +"It's the last thing on earth I would do—<i>peek</i> +into anyone's window! I am not so curious to +see the interior of <i>his</i> house—or anyone's else."</p> + +<p>"I'll bet they're just eatin' supper," said +Ned hungrily.</p> + +<p>"All the better," replied Hope; "there will +be no one around to see us then. I wonder +how much closer we'll have to go?"</p> + +<p>"Not much further," answered the soft-voiced +twin wisely. "See, there's the barns, +an' the road ain't a great ways off." He led +the way, while Hope and the boy, Dave, followed +close, and the youngest boy trailed along +somewhere in the rear. They passed between +the stables and the house, then, aided by the fitful +moon, found the road, along which they +made better time.</p> + +<p>Hope felt a great relief as they began to +leave the house in the distance, though why, +she could scarcely have explained. She said to +herself that she was in a hurry to reach home, +but as they neared the huge, flat-roofed sheep-sheds +she slowed up her horse, which had gone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +on ahead of the others, and glanced back at +her approaching scouts. The twins came up +with her, then she stopped and looked behind.</p> + +<p>"Where's Ned?" she asked sharply, a sudden +suspicion entering her head. "What's +keeping him?"</p> + +<p>"He went up to the house to see what's +goin' on," replied Dave. "I saw him start for +that way."</p> + +<p>"How dared he do it! He will be seen and +then what will they think! We will wait for +him here." Then angrily to the boy: "If +you knew he was going to do that Indian trick +why didn't you stop him?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't know nothin' till I missed him," +replied the boy.</p> + +<p>"No, we didn't know he was goin', but when +we saw he was gone for sure it wouldn't 'a' done +no good to 'a' gone after him. Anyway, we +wouldn't 'a' left <i>you</i> alone!" The soft-voiced +twin was a genius at finding explanations. He +was never at a loss.</p> + +<p>The girl recovered her temper instantly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +"You did quite right, my brave scout," she +cried. "I see you have learned the first and +greatest principle of your vocation. <i>Never +desert a lady, no matter what danger she may be +in.</i> But what a temptation it must have been +to you to follow him and bring him back to +me!" There is no doubt but that the sarcasm +was wasted upon the breed boys, who waited +stolidly with her near some sheltering brush +for the truant Ned, whose mischievousness had +led him off the trail.</p> + +<p>At last he rode up with them, surprised out +of breath to find them there waiting for him. +The girl took him by the sleeve. "You're a +bad boy. Next time ask me when you have an +inclination to do anything like that. Now +give an account of yourself. What did you +see?"</p> + +<p>"I just wanted to see what they had to eat, +so I peeked in," apologized the youngster. +"There was two men eatin' their supper. The +boss wasn't there. I heard old Morris tell another +fellow that he was out helpin' put in the +sheep."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But here are the sheds, and surely there are +no sheep here," she exclaimed anxiously.</p> + +<p>"They're keepin' 'em in the open corrals +down the road a piece," explained the soft-voiced +twin. "They don't keep no sheep here +in the sheds now."</p> + +<p>The commanding officer breathed easier. +"That's good; come on then," she said, riding +ahead. They had not proceeded fifty yards +when the low tones of men's voices reached +them. Simultaneously they stopped their +horses and listened, but nothing save an indistinct +murmur could be heard. One of the +twins slipped from his horse and handed the +bridle reins to the girl, then crept forward. In +the darkness she could not tell which one it was, +nor did she care. She was filled with excitement +and the longing for adventure which the +time and place aggravated. Had they not +that day formed a band of secrecy—she and +her three brave scouts? It occurred to her that +it might be the sheep-man returning with a +herder, but if so he had no right to stand at +such a distance and talk in guarded tones. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +very atmosphere of the place felt suspicious. +They drew their horses to one side of the roadway, +waiting in absolute silence for the return +of the scout. The voices reached them occasionally +from the opposite side of a clump of +brush not a stone's throw away.</p> + +<p>They waited several minutes, which seemed +interminable, then a dark form appeared and +a voice whispered softly: "Somethin's up! +Let's get the horses over by the fence so's they +can't hear us." The twin led the way, taking +a wide circuit about the spot from where the +sound of voices came. They reached the fence +quickly without noise, securing their horses +behind a screen of scrubby willows.</p> + +<p>"Now, go on," said the girl. "What did +you hear?"</p> + +<p>"When I crawled up close I saw two men. +One of 'em said, 'Shut up. You're makin' +too much noise! Do you want 'em to hear +you up to the house?' The other said he didn't +give a damn, that they might just as well make +a good job of it an' kill off Livingston while +they were getting rid of his sheep. These two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +fellers have just come over to guard the road +from the house to keep the men there from +interferin', but the mob's down there at the +corral waitin' to do the work. I found that +much out an' then I sneaked back. I reckon +they're goin' to drive the sheep over the cut-bank."</p> + +<p>"The devils!" cried Hope, under her breath. +"They're going to pile up the sheep and kill +him if he interferes, are they? <i>We'll show +them!</i>"</p> + +<p>"We can't do anything," said the boy. +"There's more'n a dozen men out there at the +corrals, an' it's darker'n pitch."</p> + +<p>"So we'll just have to stand here and see +that crime committed!" she burst out. "No, +not on your life! You boys have got to stand +by me. Surely you're just as brave as a girl? +We're going over there where we can see what's +going on, and the first man that tries to drive +a sheep out of that corral gets one of these!" +She patted the barrel of her rifle as she pulled +it from its saddle case. "Get your guns and +come along." But they were not far behind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +her in getting their weapons. The older boys +had revolvers, and little Ned was armed with +a Winchester repeating shotgun.</p> + +<p>The twins were never seen without their +guns, and had the reputation of sleeping with +them at night. For wildness those two boys +were the terror of the country. Their hearts +sang a heathenish song of joy at this new adventure. +Surely they were as brave as a girl! +Her taunt rankled some. They would show +her that they were not cowards! She had begun +to worry already!</p> + +<p>"Oh, what if it should be too late! What if +we should be too late! Oh, it can't be! Let's +go faster!" she cried.</p> + +<p>The breed boys crept along close to the +ground, making altogether much less noise +than the girl, who seemed to think that speed +and action were all that was necessary.</p> + +<p>"Sh! Keep quieter. You musn't let them +know anyone's 'round. Those fellers by the +road 're just over there, an' they'll hear us," +whispered Dan.</p> + +<p>Then slower, more stealthily, they crept<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +around the two men who guarded the road, and +with less caution approached the corrals, the +girl meanwhile recovering her composure to a +great degree, though her heart still beat wildly. +The night seemed a trifle lighter now to her +straining eyes. What if the moon should +come out, revealing them to the men waiting +beyond the corrals? She grasped her rifle +firmly, and her heart beat quicker at the +thought. The soft-voiced twin must have felt +the same fear, for he came close and whispered +in her ear: "The corrals ain't more'n a rod, +right over there. We'd better make a run for +that bush there on this side of it, for the moon's +comin' out—see!" He pointed upward. A +rift had come in the black cloud from which the +moon shone dimly, growing momentarily +brighter. Before them the corral loomed up +like a great flat patch of darkness, and to one +side of this dark patch something taller stood +in dim relief—a small clump of brush, toward +which the odd little scouting party ran in all +haste. Safe within its shelter, a fierce joy, +savage in its intensity, filled the girl.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Come on, Moon, come on in all your +glory!" she whispered; then, as if in answer to +her command, it came in full splendor from +behind its veil of black. It might have been a +signal. Back in the hills a coyote called weirdly +to its mate, but before the last wailing note had +died away a sharp report sounded on the still +air, followed by the groans of a man in mortal +agony. Hope, upon her knees in the brush, +clasped her hands to her throat to stifle a +cry.</p> + +<p>"Now drive his damn'd sheep into the +gulch!" commanded a gruff voice.</p> + +<p>Following the pain, a fierce light came into +the girl's eyes. Over tightly closed teeth her +lips parted dryly. Instinctively the breed +boys crept behind her, leaving her upon one +knee before the heap of brush. A man leaped +into the corral among the stupid sheep, and as +he leaped a bullet passed through his hand.</p> + +<p>"God, I'm killed!" he cried, as he sank +limply out of sight among the sheep. For a +few moments not a sound came except the occasional +bleating of a lamb, then the gate of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +the corral, which was ajar, opened as by some +invisible hand, and the great body of animals +crowded slowly toward the entrance.</p> + +<p>"They think there's only one man here, and +they're not going to be bluffed by one," whispered +Hope. "See, they must be coaxing the +leaders with hay, and there's something going +on back there that will make them stampede +in a moment, and then the cut-bank! But +we'll bluff them; make them think there's a +whole regiment here. There's four of us. +Now get your guns ready. Good; now when I +start, all of you shoot at once as fast as you can +load. Aim high in that direction. Shoot in +the air, not <i>anywhere</i> else. Now do as I tell +you. Now, all together!" For two or three +minutes those four guns made music. The +hills gathered up the noise and flung it back, +making the air ring with a deafening sound. +"Shoot up! Shoot higher, or you'll be hitting +someone," she admonished, as dark forms began +to rise from the ground beyond the corral +and run away.</p> + +<p>"They're crawling away like whipped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +dogs," exclaimed a twin in glee. "I'd like to +shoot one for luck!"</p> + +<p>"Shame on you," cried the girl softly. +"That would be downright murder while +they're running."</p> + +<p>"I reckon there's been murder already to-night," +said the soft-voiced twin. Hope turned +upon him fiercely: "That wasn't murder! I +shot him through the hand. Murder? Do you +call it murder to kill one of those beasts? You +mean—you mean that they killed <i>him</i>! I forgot +for a minute! Oh, it couldn't be that they +killed <i>him</i>—Mr. Livingston! Are you sure he +wasn't up at the house, Ned? I must find out." +She started toward the corral. Dave pulled +her back roughly.</p> + +<p>"See there! Those fellers that was on guard +down there 're comin' back. They must have +left their horses down by that rock. They'll +ketch us sure!" She drew back into the brush +again, waiting until the two men, whose voices +first brought suspicion to their minds, had +passed by, skirting the corral in diplomatic +manner.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> + +<p>Hope, who had been so eager to search the +scene of bloodshed, crept from the brush and +took the opposite direction, followed closely by +the breed boys. When they reached their +horses she spoke:</p> + +<p>"Now you boys go home. Go in from the +back coulee and sneak into bed. Don't let +anyone see you, whatever you do, for if this +was ever found out——" She waited for their +imaginations to finish the sentence.</p> + +<p>"We can sneak in all right," exclaimed +Dave. "We know how to do that! They'll +never find it out in ten years!"</p> + +<p>"Then go at once. Ride fast by the Spring +coulee and get there ahead of the men—if there +should be any that belong there. I will come +later. If they ask, say that I'm in bed, or taking +a walk, or anything that comes into your +head. But you won't be questioned. You +mustn't be! Now hurry up!"</p> + +<p>"But why won't you come along with us?" +asked Dave.</p> + +<p>"Because if we should be caught together +they would know who did the shooting. If<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +they see you alone they will not suspect you, +and if they see me alone they will never think +of such a thing. It is the wisest way, besides +I have other reasons. Now don't stand there +all night talking to me, but go, unless you want +to make trouble." She watched them until +they were lost to sight, then mounted her horse +and rode back over the road that she had come, +straight up to the sheep-man's house.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + + +<p>It was fully half a mile to Livingston's +house. The trail showed plainly in the +moonlight, winding in ghostly fashion +through thick underbrush, and crossed in several +places by a small mountain stream through +which the horse plunged, splashing the girl +plentifully. She had an impression that she +ought to go back to the corral and discover just +what mischief had been done, but shivered at +the thought of hunting for dead men in the +darkness. A feeling of weird uneasiness crept +over her. She wished that she had brought +the breed boys with her, though realizing that +the proper thing had been done in sending +them home in order that their secret might be +safe, and so prevent more evil. She knew that +she would find men at the house who could +take lanterns and go to the scene of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +trouble. The past half hour seemed remote +and unreal, yet the picture of it passed +through her brain again and again before she +reached the house. She could hear the first +shot, so startling and unexpected, and the man's +terrible groans rang in her ears until she cried +out as if to drive them from her. Was he +dead? she wondered. Perhaps he lay there +wounded and helpless! Was it Livingston? +If it should be! She thought that she should be +there, groping over the bloody ground for +him. She shook as with a chill. How helpless +she was, after all—a veritable coward, for +she must go on to the house for assistance!</p> + +<p>She slipped from her horse at some distance, +and walked toward the ray of light that came +from a side window. Her knees were weak, +she felt faint and wearied. At the house her +courage failed, she sank limply beside the window, +and looked into the lighted room beyond. +He was not there! One man was reading a +newspaper while another sat on an end of the +table playing a mouth harp.</p> + +<p>In her mind she could see the body of Liv<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>ingston +in the corral, trampled upon and mangled +by a multitude of frightened sheep. She +stifled a cry of horror. Why had she not +gone there at once? For no reason except the +hope in her heart that it might not have been +him who had been shot—that she might find +him at the house. But he was not there! Then +it must have been he; his groans she had +heard—that still sounded in her ears. He had +brown hair that waved softly from a brow +broad and white. His face was boyish and +sad in repose. She could see it now as she had +seen it by the spring, and his eyes were gray +and tender. She had noticed them this day. +What was she doing there by the window? +Perhaps after all he was not dead, but suffering +terribly while she lingered!</p> + +<p>She rose quickly with new courage. As she +turned a hand touched her on the shoulder, +and she fell back weak against the house.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon! I did not know—could +scarcely believe that it was you—Miss—Hathaway! +Won't you come into the +house?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>You!</i>" she cried as in a dream. "<i>Where</i> +have you been?"</p> + +<p>His tone, quiet, polite, hid the surprise that +her question caused.</p> + +<p>"I've been back there in the hills hunting +chickens. You see I have been fortunate +enough to get some. I followed them a great +distance, and night overtook me up there so +suddenly that I've had some difficulty in finding +my way back. Now may I ask to what I +owe the honor of this—visit?"</p> + +<p>All fear and weakness had gone. She +stood erect before him, her head thrown back +from her shoulders, her position, as it must +appear to him, driving all else from her +mind.</p> + +<p>"In other words, you want to know why I +was peeking into your window at this time of +the day!"</p> + +<p>"Just so, if you put it that way. At least +I should be pleased to know the nature of +your visit." He threw the prairie chickens +down beside the house, watching meanwhile +the girl's erect figure. The soft, quiet grace<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +he had seen at the spring had given place to +something different—greater.</p> + +<p>"Not a very dignified position in which to +be caught—and I do not like you any better +for having caught me so!" she finally flashed +back at him. "I have no apologies to offer +you, and wouldn't offer one, anyway—under +the circumstances. I'll tell you what brought +me here, though. While passing by your corral, +down the road, I heard a great commotion, +and some shooting, so I came over here to tell +you. Perhaps I was afraid to pass the corral +after that." She smiled wickedly, but he, innocently +believing, exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Why were you alone? Where were the +boys that I saw with you this morning? It +isn't right that you should be out alone after +night like this."</p> + +<p>"They went on—ahead of me. I rode +slowly," she replied hesitatingly. He did not +notice her nervous manner of speech.</p> + +<p>"They ought to have stayed with you," he +declared. "You should never ride alone, particularly +after dark. Don't do it again."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But the shooting," she interrupted. "I +came to tell you about it. Someone may have +been hurt."</p> + +<p>"It was kind of you to come. There may +be trouble of some sort. I heard shooting, too, +but thought it must be down at Harris'. There +is very often a commotion down there, and +sometimes the air carries sound very clearly. +You are sure it was at the corrals?"</p> + +<p>She became impatient. "Positively! I +not only heard the shots plainly, but saw men +ride away. Please lose no more time, but get +your men and a lantern, and come on. There's +evidently been trouble down there, Mr. Livingston, +and your herder may have been hurt. +They are not all good people in these mountains, +by any means."</p> + +<p>"Is that so? I had not discovered it. Probably +some of them thought they would like +mutton for their Sunday dinner. It seemed +to me there was considerable firing, though. +You are perfectly sure it was at the corrals?"</p> + +<p>"That was my impression, Mr. Livingston," +she replied briefly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + +<p>His face suddenly became anxious. "They +may have hurt Fritz. If anything has happened +to that boy there will be something to +pay! But unless something occurred to delay +the sheep they should have been put in +before dark. I will go at once. Will you +come in the house and stay until my return? +It might not be safe for a lady down there."</p> + +<p>"No!" Then, less fiercely: "Have your +men bring their guns and hurry up! I'm going +along with you;" adding: "It's on my +way back."</p> + +<p>She waited outside while Livingston informed +his men, who secured rifles, and started +at once for the corrals; then leading her horse +she walked on ahead with him, followed closely +by the two men, who carried lanterns, which +they decided not to light until they reached +the sheep.</p> + +<p>Hope never could define her feelings when +she found Livingston safe and unhurt, though +she made a careless attempt at doing so that +night, and afterwards. She walked beside +him in absolute silence. They were going to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +see if the herder had been injured in any way. +She knew that he was not only hurt, but in all +likelihood fatally so. His groans rang continually +in her ears, yet it brought her not the +least pain, only a horror, such as she had experienced +when it happened. It was a relief +to her that it had not been Livingston. She +felt sorry, naturally, that a man had been +shot, but what did it matter to her—one man +more or less? She had never known him.</p> + +<p>When they reached the sheep-corrals the +moon still shone brightly, and Hope was filled +with a new fear lest some of the ruffians had +remained behind, and would pick off Livingston. +After the lanterns were lighted she felt +still more nervous for his safety, and could not +restrain her foolish concern until she had +mounted her horse, and made a complete circuit +of the corrals, riding into every patch of +brush about; then only did this fear, which was +such a stranger to her, depart. She rode in +haste back to the corrals, satisfied that the men +had all left, probably badly frightened.</p> + +<p>To one side of the paneled enclosure the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +men held their lanterns over an inert figure +stretched upon the ground. Livingston was +kneeling beside it. The girl got down from +her horse, and came near them.</p> + +<p>"Is he dead?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"<i>Dead</i>—yes! The poor boy! May God +have mercy on the brute who committed this +crime! It is terrible—<i>terrible!</i> Poor faithful +Fritz! Scarcely more than a boy, yet +possessing a man's courage and a man's +heart!" He looked up at the girl's face, and +was amazed at her indifference. Then he +spoke to the men: "Go back and get a wagon +and my saddle horse. I will stay here until +you return. Leave one of the lanterns."</p> + +<p>They hurried away, while the man continued +to kneel by the side of the dead herder. Hope +watched him, wondering at his depth of feeling. +Finally she asked: "Was he some relative +of yours?"</p> + +<p>"No, only one of my herders—Fritz, a +bright, good German boy. Why did you +ask, Miss Hathaway?"</p> + +<p>"I thought because you cared so much,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>—seemed +to feel so badly,—that he must be very +near to you."</p> + +<p>"He is near to me," he replied, "only as all +children of earth should be near to one another. +Are you not also pained at this sight—this +boy, in the very beginning of his manhood, +lying here dead?"</p> + +<p>"Not <i>pained</i>—I can't truthfully say that I +am pained—or care much in that way. He is +dead, so what is the use of caring or worrying +about it. That cannot bring him back to life +again. Of course I would rather he had +lived—that this had never happened, yet I do +not feel pain, only an abhorrence. I couldn't +touch him as you are doing, not for anything!"</p> + +<p>"And you are not pained! <i>You</i>, a woman +with a white soul and a clean heart—one of +God's choicest creations—<i>you</i> stand there +without a pang of sorrow—dry-eyed. +Haven't you a heart, girl?" He rose to his +feet, holding up the lantern until it shone +squarely in her face. "Look at him lying +there! See the blood upon his clothes—the +look on his face! What he suffered! See<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +what he holds so tightly in his hand,—his last +thought,—a letter from his sweetheart over in +Germany, the girl he was to have married, who +is even now on her way to him. He had been +reading her letter all day. It came this morning, +and he held it in his hand planning their +future with a happy heart, when some brute +sent a bullet here. If it could have been me, +how gladly I would make the exchange, for I +have nothing that this poor boy possessed—mother, +sweetheart—no one. Yet <i>you</i>, a girl, can +see him so, unmoved! Good God, what +are you, <i>stone</i>? See his face, he did not die at +once, and suffering, <i>dying</i>, still held that +letter. If not his story, then does not his suffering +appeal to you? His dying groans, +can you not hear them?"</p> + +<p>"Stop!" she cried, backing away from him +until she leaned against her horse for support. +"Stop! How <i>dare</i> you talk like that to me! +His <i>groans</i>——" She sobbed wildly, her face +buried in her saddle, which she clutched.</p> + +<p>He came close beside her, touching her +lightly, wondering. "I am so sorry, forgive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +me! I did not realize what I was doing. I +did not wish to frighten you, believe me!"</p> + +<p>The sobs were hushed instantly. She raised +her head, and looked at him, still dry-eyed.</p> + +<p>"You were right," she said. "I do not +even now <i>feel</i> for him—perhaps some for the +little girl now on her way to him; but it is all +unreal. I have seen men dead like this before, +and I could not feel anything but horror—no +sorrow. I am as I am. It makes no difference +what you say,—what anyone says,—I +cannot change. I am not tender—only please +do not terrify me again!"</p> + +<p>"I was a brute!" he exclaimed, then left +her and returned to the dead man's side.</p> + +<p>The girl stood for some time quietly beside +her horse, then began to loosen the cinch. +Livingston watched her wonderingly as she +drew out the blanket, and secured the saddle +once more into place. He did not realize her +motive until she stood beside him, holding in +her hand the gayly colored saddle blanket. +Kneeling opposite him, beside the body of the +boy, she tenderly lifted the long hair from his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +forehead, spread over his face a white handkerchief, +then stood up and unfolded the +blanket, covering the rigid form with it.</p> + +<p>"You have a heart!" exclaimed Livingston +softly. "You are thinking of him tenderly, +as a sister might, and of his sweetheart coming +over the water to him!"</p> + +<p>"No, not of that at all," said the girl simply, +"nor of him, as you think; but of one who +might be lying here in his place—one who has +no sweetheart, near or far away, to cover him +with the mantle of her love."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + + +<p>She stood up, listening. From the distance +came the low rumble of a wagon. +The men were returning. For some +time she kept her face from him, in attitude +intent upon the distant rumble. She was +thinking hard. She could not be rude to Livingston, +she could not very well explain, yet +she dared not allow him to accompany her +back to Harris' ranch. What should she do? +Naturally he would insist, yet how could she +tell him that she feared for his safety? That +would sound idiotic without a complete explanation, +for she was almost a total stranger to +him. She was concerned, that was the worst +of it; but not without reason. To-night the +men were in a fever of revenge. If he were +seen that would settle it. To-morrow not +one of them but would hesitate a long time before +committing such a crime; so, she argued,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +she had a right to be concerned. But, after all, +how foolish of her! Surely he was not a baby +that he could not protect himself! Did she +expect to worry about him during the whole +summer? As she stood there gazing into the +darkness, he watched her, speechless, something +that was not sorrow piercing his heart +with a greater pain. In her moment of tenderness +she had become to him a woman divine. +He not only loved her, and knew it, but felt +the hopelessness of ever winning her. It was +not exactly new, only revealed to him, for it +had come upon him gradually since the +evening that she had given him the water at +the spring. He had cursed himself that +night for thinking of an Indian girl, he, a man +with a name to sustain—a name which +counted little in this new country of the West. +He tried to imagine her as married to Carter. +The thought sickened him. Carter might be +all right,—he had met him when he first came +into the country; he undoubtedly was all +right,—but married to this girl! As he +thought, bitterly, forgetting even the dead<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +young German at his feet, Hope was alternately +calling herself a fool and wondering +what she could do to prevent him from taking +her home. But her fertile brain could not +solve it. She turned toward him with manner +constrained and frigid. It was shyness, +nothing less, yet it affected him unpleasantly.</p> + +<p>"The wagon is coming." Relief sounded +in her tone, giving the lie to her moment of +tenderness. "You can hear it quite plainly. +These corrals should not be so far from the +house. It must be nearly a mile. I suppose +you've not been in the business very long or +you wouldn't have put it here, on the edge of +this cut-bank."</p> + +<p>"You are right, Miss Hathaway, I have +not been long in the business nor in your +country. This is quite new to me. Any +place seemed good enough for a corral, to my +ignorant mind. Are you interested in the +sheep industry?" He spoke pleasantly. She +threw back her head as she always did when +angered or excited.</p> + +<p>"<i>Interested in the sheep industry?</i> Well,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +I should say not! It never occurred to me +before as an industry, only as a nuisance. I +hate sheep. They ruin our range. One band +can eat off miles and miles in a season, and +spoil all the water in the country. I would go +miles out of my way to avoid a band of +them."</p> + +<p>He began slowly to comprehend. "Your +people have cattle, I understand. Everyone +up here seems to have cattle, too. I have +heard that a strong feeling of antagonism +existed between sheep and cattle owners, but +thought nothing about it. I see that the feeling +is not confined to the men only. Does +that explain this—outrage here to-night?"</p> + +<p>She shrugged her shoulders slightly and +turned away.</p> + +<p>"You can draw your own conclusions. +Why do you ask me? I am neither a cattle-man +nor a sheep-man, yet I could advise that +you look about the place and see, if you can, +what is meant by it all—what damage has +been done. The wagon is still some distance +away." Her shyness was fast disappearing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +The ground she trod now was her own. He +smiled down at her, finding her more natural, +more prepossessing in that mood.</p> + +<p>"I should have thought of that myself before +this. After what you have told me of +your dislike for the animals, I can hardly ask +you to go with me, but I do not like to leave +you here alone in the dark, for I must take the +lantern; however, I can wait until the men get +here."</p> + +<p>"You don't need to wait at all," she said +quickly. "I'll go with you, for I am curious +to see what has been done—the cause of all +this."</p> + +<p>"Then come on," said the man briefly, turning +toward the corral. She kept near him, +her eyes following the bright rays of the +lantern that swung in his hand. She feared +that the boys had aimed too low, and was +nervously anxious to see just what mischief +had been done. Almost anything, she +thought, would have been better than permitting +those thousands of sheep to be piled +up at the bottom of the cut-bank and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +brutes of men to ride away satisfied with their +dirty work.</p> + +<p>Livingston examined the sheep while Hope, +with a glance here and there about the enclosure, +went to one side and looked at the +panels carefully, discovering many bullet +holes which told that her brave scouts, more +bloodthirsty than she suspected, had aimed +too low.</p> + +<p>"I think this one is dead," said Livingston, +dragging out a sheep from the midst of a +number huddled in one corner. "Judging +from the blood, I should say it is shot. A few +are piled up over there from fright, but so +many are sleeping that it will be impossible to +determine the loss until morning. The loss is +small; probably a hundred piled up and hurt, +not more, from the looks of the band. I heard +considerable firing, which lasted about a +minute. I wonder if my friends about here +thought they could kill off a band of sheep so +easily."</p> + +<p>Hope had not been searching for sheep, but +for dead or wounded men, and finding none<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +breathed easier. She thought of the man +whose hand she had marked and who fell in +such a panic among the sheep. It struck her +as being a very funny incident, and laughed a +little. Livingston heard the laugh and looked +around in wonderment. He could see nothing +amusing. This Western girl was totally different +from any girl that he had known, English +or American. She must possess a sense of +humor out of all proportion with anything of +his conception. He thought a few minutes +before that he loved her, but she seemed far removed +now—an absolute stranger. The boyish +laugh annoyed him. His manner as he +turned to her was quite as formally polite as +ever her own had been. She resented it, naturally.</p> + +<p>"Step outside, please, until I drive in the +ones near the gate, so that I may close it."</p> + +<p>Instinctively she obeyed, with a defiant look +which was lost in the dimness of the night, and +hurrying past him never stopped until she +drew back with a shudder at the blanket-covered +form of the dead herder. A deep roar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +of thunder startled her into a half-suppressed +scream. In the lantern's light she had not +noticed the steadily increasing darkness, or the +flashes of lightning. She felt herself shaking +with a nervous excitement which was half +fear.</p> + +<p>Thunderstorms often made her nervous, yet +she would not have acknowledged that she +feared them, or any other thing. But her +nervousness was only the culmination of the +night, every moment of which had been a +strain upon her. Another peal of thunder followed +the first, fairly weakening her. She ran +to her horse and, mounting, rode up near the +corral. At the same instant the wagon came +up, and Livingston, having placed the panel +in position, turned toward it. He was close beside +the girl before he saw her, and she, for an +instant at a loss, sat there speechless; but as he +held up the lantern, looking at her by its light, +she blurted out, in a tone that she had little intention +of using: "I'm going. Hope you +will get along all right. Good-night."</p> + +<p>"Wait!" he exclaimed. "I will accompany<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +you. My horse is here now. Just a moment——"</p> + +<p>"You don't need to go with me. Someone +is waiting for me down there. I think I hear +a whistle."</p> + +<p>"Then I will go along with you until you +meet the person whose whistle you hear. You +do not imagine that I will allow you to go +alone?"</p> + +<p>She leaned toward him impulsively, placing +her hand down upon his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Listen," she said softly, "I heard no +whistle. There is no one waiting for me. A +moment ago it seemed easy to lie to you, to +make you believe things that were not absolutely +true, but I can't do it now, nor again—<i>ever</i>. +You think I am heartless, a creature of +stone—indifferent. It isn't so. My heart has +held a little place for aching all these years. +Think of me as half-witted,—idiotic,—but not +<i>that</i>. Listen to me. You have such a heart—such +<i>tenderness</i>—you are good and kind. +You will understand me—or try to, and not +be offended. I want to go home by myself. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +<i>must</i> go back <i>alone</i>. There is a reason which I +will tell you—sometime. I ask as a favor—as +a friend to a friend, that you will stay behind."</p> + +<p>"But are you not afraid?"</p> + +<p>She interrupted him. "Afraid? Not I! +Why, I was born here, and am a part of it, +and it of me! Ask your men there, they know. +I want to ride like the wind—alone—ahead of +the storm, to get there soon. I am tired." +Her low, quick speech bewildered him. Her +words were too inconsistent, too hurried, to +convey any real meaning.</p> + +<p>"Will you ride with one of my men?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, why <i>can't</i> you let me do as I +wish!" she cried impatiently. "I want to go +alone."</p> + +<p>"It seems quite evident that you do not +want <i>my</i> company, but one of the men must go +and take a lantern. It's too dark to see the +road." His tone was decisive.</p> + +<p>She leaned toward him again. This time +her words fell harshly.</p> + +<p>"You are a man of your word?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I hope so; but that is not the issue just +now."</p> + +<p>"Then promise you will not go with me to-night."</p> + +<p>"No need of that. I have decided to send +one of my men—and I think," he added +briefly, "that there is no necessity of prolonging +this conversation. Good-evening."</p> + +<p>"Then you will not come!" she exclaimed, +relieved. "And never mind telling your man, +for I shall ride like the wind, and will be halfway +home before he can get on his horse." She +turned like a flash. The quick beats of her +horse's hoofs echoed back until the sound was +lost in the distance.</p> + +<p>Livingston stood silent, listening, until he +could no longer hear the dull notes on the dry +earth—his thoughts perturbed as the night.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + + +<p>Captain Bill Henry, foreman +of the Bar O outfit, and head by choice +of the season's round up, had just ridden +into camp. Most of the men were in the +cook-tent when he turned his dripping bay horse +in with the others. Then he picked up his saddle, +bridle, and blanket and carried them up to +the cook-tent, where he threw them down, hitting +one of the stake-ropes with such violence +as to cause the whole tent to quiver, and one of +the boys inside to mutter under his breath:</p> + +<p>"Lord, the Cap's on the prod! What in the +devil's he got in his gizzard now?"</p> + +<p>"Don't know," answered the second, returning +from the stove, where he had loaded his +plate with a wonderful assortment of eatables +and seated himself on a roll of bedding beside +the first speaker. "Too bad he couldn't knock +the roof off'n our heads. He's sure enough<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +mad, just look at him!" he whispered, as Captain +Bill Henry stooped his tall, lank frame to +come into the tent.</p> + +<p>The men, sitting about inside, glanced up +when he entered. Some of them grinned, +others went on with their supper, but the +"Cap" from under his bushy red eyebrows +hardly noticed them as he took the necessary +dishes from the mess-box and strode over to +the stove, around which old Evans, the cook, +moved in great concern.</p> + +<p>"Now just try some o' them beans. +Regular Boston baked, Cap, they'll melt in +your mouth. An' here's a kidney stew I've +been savin' fer you," taking from the oven a +well concealed stew-pan. "If any o' them +boys 'ud a found it they'd made short work of +it, I reckon."</p> + +<p>He removed the cover and held the dish +under Bill Henry's nose. The "Cap" gave +one sniff. "Phew! Take it away! Don't +like the damn'd stuff, nohow!"</p> + +<p>A dazed look passed over old Evans' face, +giving way to one of mortal injury. Not a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +man smiled, though several seemed about to +collapse with a sudden spasm which they tried +in vain to control. Away went the contents +of the pan, leaving a streak of kidney-stew +almost down to the horse ropes. "If it ain't +good enough fer you, it ain't fer me," said the +cook, his bald head thrown well back upon thin +shoulders.</p> + +<p>The "Cap" glared at him as he poured out +a generous measure of strong coffee into a +large tin cup, then ran his eye about the tent +for a possible seat.</p> + +<p>A quiet-looking fellow, a youth fresh from +the East, got up, politely offering him the +case of tomatoes upon which he had been sitting. +Bill Henry refused it with a scowl, taking +a seat upon the ground near the front of +the tent, where he crossed his lank legs in front +of him. The cow-puncher sank back upon his +case of tomatoes while the "Cap" ate in great, +hungry mouthfuls, soaking his bread in the +sloppy beans and washing it down with frequent +noisy sips of hot coffee. Finally he began +to speak, with a full Missouri twang:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + +<p>"This beats hell! Not a dang man around +this part of the country wants to throw in with +this here outfit. Never saw no such luck! Here +we are with two months' steady work before we +make town, an' only ten men to do the work o' +fifteen! I'll hire no more devilish breeds. You +can't trust 'em no more'n you can a rattler, no, +sir! All of 'em quit last night, an' Long Bill +along with 'em! I'd never thought it o' Bill. +Been ridin' all the evenin' an' couldn't find +hair or hide of him. It's enough to make a +man swear a blue streak, yes, sir! Well, I +rounded up one breed limpin' 'round Harris' +shack, an' he said his gun went off by accident +an' give him a scratch on the calf o' the +leg. Bet ten dollars he's been in a fight over +there! Damn'd nest o' drunken louts! I'll +be glad when we're away from these here +parts!"</p> + +<p>At this point one of the cowboys got up, +threw his dishes into the pan, and strode outside.</p> + +<p>"You on night-herd to-night?" asked the +Captain.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yep," answered the cow-puncher. "Going +to relieve Jack."</p> + +<p>"Tell them other fellers to come along in +an' git their chuck; it's mighty nigh time to +turn in now. Got to make Miller's crossing in +the morning."</p> + +<p>"All right," answered the man from outside. +Then putting his head back into the tent, exclaimed +in a loud whisper: "Here comes +Long Bill!"</p> + +<p>"The devil he is! It's about time," growled +Bill Henry. He had no more than got the +words out of his mouth before a man, head and +shoulders above any cow-puncher there, +stalked in.</p> + +<p>"Well, Cap, I've come round to git paid off, +fer I reckon I'm knocked out of the ring fer a +little spell." He stooped and held down for +inspection a hand bandaged in a much-stained +bandanna handkerchief. "One o' them damn'd +dogs o' Harris' run his teeth all the way +through it," he explained.</p> + +<p>The captain grunted, threw his well cleaned +plate over into the dish pan, and rose stiffly to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +his feet. "What'd you do to the dog?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"That was his last bite," roared out Long +Bill. "I sent him flyin' into Kingdom Come!"</p> + +<p>"Let's see your hand," demanded his chief; +thereupon the tall cowboy hesitated an instant, +then removed the bandage, and, with an +air of bravado, held out his hand for inspection. +Some of the men crowded about curiously, +throwing careless jokes of condolement at the +sufferer, while others passed by regardless.</p> + +<p>Captain Bill Henry examined the wounded +member carefully, then grunted again, while +his eyelids contracted until only a sparkle of +liquid blue showed beneath his bushy red brows.</p> + +<p>"A mighty bad bite! You'll have a hell of a +time with that hand! What were yo' tryin' to +do, anyhow—makin' a mark out o' it? Was +you holdin' your hand up, or down, or what? +That <i>dog</i> must 'a' had a pretty good eye. Do +you know what that looks like to me? Well, +sir, it looks mighty like you'd held up your +hand to the muzzle of your gun an' pulled the +trigger! Yes, sir, only there ain't no powder<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +marks; so I calculate the <i>dog</i> must 'a' been +some distance away when he took aim! The +hole's clean through, just as slick as any bullet +could 'a' made it. That dog must 'a' had a +powerful sharp tooth! Well, you ain't goin' +to be able to handle a rope very soon, dog or no +dog, that's plain as the nose on your face. +You'd make a mighty good ornament to have +around camp, but I reckon I'll pay you off." +Later: "Know of any men I can git around +here?"</p> + +<p>"Nary one but them breeds over to +Harris'," replied Long Bill. "They're +drunker'n lords now, but they'll be wantin' a +job in a day or so when they sober up, an' I'll +send 'em 'round here. I'll be huntin' a job myself +in about a month, when this here paw o' +mine gits well. It's mighty painful."</p> + +<p>"You'd better go to town an' see a doctor," +drawled the "Cap." "An' while you're on +your way stop at Hathaway's an' give him or +Jim McCullen a letter fer me. I'll have it +ready in a minute an' it'll save me sendin' a +man over."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> + +<p>Without waiting for a reply from the tall +cow-puncher, Captain Bill Henry stalked over +to his bed, took from the roll a pad of paper, +and was soon lost in the mysteries of letter-writing.</p> + +<p>He was an awkwardly built man, but his +whole appearance gave one the impression that +he meant business—and he was crammed full +of it. Seated astride his tarp-covered bed, +with his back to the few straggling cow-punchers +about the tents, he proceeded in a +determined, business-like way to write the letter. +Before he had finished the difficult operation +some men rode up to the camp—the men +who had been on herd, hungry for their supper, +and two outsiders.</p> + +<p>Around the mess-wagon, which had been +backed into the cook-tent in the usual order, +lounged a group of cowboys whose appetites +had been satisfied and whose duties for the +time being were over. Two of the men who +had just come up on horseback joined these, +while Captain Bill Henry, without looking +around, continued his somewhat difficult task<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +of composing a letter, which, when accomplished, +he folded carefully.</p> + +<p>"Hello! Where did you'ns drop from?" +he drawled as he approached the newcomers. +"I was just goin' to send word over to have +your wagon join me at west fork o' Stony +Creek. I'm too short o' men to work Stony +Creek country, anyhow. Hathaway's reps all +left me awhile back, an' Long Bill, he's leavin' +to-day—got bit by a mad dog over here. Jackson's +wagon an' the U Bar ain't goin' to join +me till we git down in the Lonesome Prairie +country, so I was just goin' to send a letter over +to your place, for if he wants a good round-up +on this range he'd better send over that extra +wagon o' his'n. You'ns goin' right back?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not," replied Carter. "But McCullen +can take word over to the ranch. He's going +the first thing in the morning."</p> + +<p>"Cert. Got to go, anyway, an' I reckon my +horse can pack your message to the boss if it +ain't too heavy," said McCullen.</p> + +<p>Old Jim McCullen had been Hathaway's +right hand man as long as anyone could re<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>member. +He had put in many years as wagon-boss, +and finally retired from active life to the +quieter one at the home-ranch, where he drew +the biggest pay of any man in Hathaway's +employ, and practically managed all the details +of the great cattle concern. He saw that +the wagons were properly provisioned, +manned, and started out in the spring, that the +men who brought up the trail-herds were paid +off; he attended to the haying, the small irrigating +plant that had been started, and to all +the innumerable details that go toward the +smooth running of a large ranch. Now the +"boss" had sent him on a mission whose import +he understood perfectly—something altogether +out of the line of his usual duties, but of +greater importance than anything he had ever +undertaken. He was going back to the ranch +in the morning to tell Hathaway that his +daughter was apparently all right. He and +Carter had pitched their tent not far from +where the round-up was camped, and had ridden +over for some beef. One of the men cut +them a liberal piece from a yearling that they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +had just butchered. Carter tied it upon the +back of his saddle and rode off toward camp, +while old Jim McCullen sat down, lighted a +cigarette, and listened to the gossip of the +round-up.</p> + +<p>"Right smart lot o' dogs round them breeds +down there," remarked Bill Henry, nodding +his head toward Harris' ranch. "Long Bill, +here, he's been unfortunate. Went up there +a-courtin' one o' them pretty Harris girls last +eyenin', an' blamed if she didn't go an' sick the +dogs on him!"</p> + +<p>McCullen sized up his bandaged hand. +"Mighty bad-lookin' fist there," he chuckled. +"Must 'a' bled some by the looks of that rag. +When'd it happen?"</p> + +<p>"This mornin', just as I was startin' to come +over to camp."</p> + +<p>"You don't tell!" condoled the visitor. +"That's mighty bad after sitting up all-night +with your best girl!"</p> + +<p>"Long Bill's pretty intent after them breed +girls," remarked Captain Bill Henry; thereupon +the cowboy flushed angrily.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No breed girls in mine! The new school-marm's +more to my likin'," he boasted. "An' +from the sweet looks she give me, I reckon I +ain't goin' to have no trouble there!"</p> + +<p>The next instant Long Bill lay sprawling in +the dust, while old Jim McCullen rained blow +after blow upon him. When he finished, Long +Bill remained motionless, the blood streaming +from his nose and mouth. Old Jim straightened +up and looked down at the fallen giant +with utmost contempt, then he pulled his disarranged +cartridge belt into shape and glanced +at his hands. They were covered with the cowboy's +blood.</p> + +<p>"Reckon I'd better wash up a bit," he remarked +easily, and went into the cook-tent.</p> + +<p>The men lounged about, apparently indifferent +to the scene which was being enacted. +It might have been an every day occurrence, so +little interest they showed, yet several stalwart +fellows gave old Jim McCullen an admiring +glance as he passed them.</p> + +<p>On the crest of a near divide stood a group +of squaws. After a short conference they pro<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>ceeded +slowly, shyly toward the round-up +camp. Some distance from it they grouped +together again and waited while a very old +woman wrapped in a dingy white blanket +came boldly up to the group of men, and in a +jargon of French and Indian asked for the +refuse of the newly killed yearling. The foreman +pointed to where it lay, and gruffly told +her to go and get it, but she spied the unconscious +figure of Long Bill stretched out upon +the grassy flat, and with a low cry of woe flung +herself down beside him.</p> + +<p>"Who done this?" she cried in very plain +English, facing the cowboys with a look of +blackest anger. No answer came.</p> + +<p>"Better tell her," suggested a cow-puncher +who was unrolling his bed. "She's a witch, +you know."</p> + +<p>"If she's a witch she don't need no telling," +replied another, at which they all laughed.</p> + +<p>"A witch?" said one. "I sure thought +witches were all burned up!"</p> + +<p>The old squaw was examining the fallen +man, who began to show signs of consciousness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +She bristled like a dog at the cowboy's remark.</p> + +<p>"<i>I see beyond!</i> I know the future, the past, +<i>everything</i>!" she cried impressively. "I read +your thoughts! Say what you like, you dogs, +but not one o' you would like me to tell what I +read in your lives. <i>I know! I know! I know +everything!</i>" Her voice reached a high, weird +cry. Her blanket had slipped down, leaving +her hair in wisps about her mummified face. +To all appearances she might have been a genuine +witch as she groveled over Long Bill.</p> + +<p>"Ask her how she tells fortunes—cards or +tea-leaves," said one.</p> + +<p>"Or by the palm of your hand or the stars +above," suggested another.</p> + +<p>"Wonder where she keeps her broomstick," +mused a third.</p> + +<p>Just then McCullen came out of the cook-tent +and faced the spectacle.</p> + +<p>"I see he's found a nurse," he remarked, +and walked over to his horse.</p> + +<p>The old woman stood and gesticulated +wildly, throwing mad, incoherent words at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +him. Finally her jargon changed into fair +English.</p> + +<p>"You dog, <i>you</i> did this! And why? Ah, +ha, ha! <i>I know!</i> I know all things! Because +of the white girl! So! Ha, ha! Must you +alone love the white girl so that no man can +speak her name? Oh, you can't deny you +love her! <i>You</i>, who ride and hunt with her for +fifteen years. Cannot another man open his +mouth but that you must fly at him? Ha, ha! +<i>I know!</i>"</p> + +<p>"I'll wring your neck, you old——!" said +McCullen at his horse's head.</p> + +<p>"You will stop my tongue, will you! I'll +show you! You are up here to watch that girl—but +where's your eyes? What are you +doing? This is my son-in-law, and you'd like +to wipe him from the face of the earth! You +beat him in the face—him with one hand! See! +How did he get it? Why are some of my +other son-in-laws limping about with bullets +in their legs? Why is a man lying dead up in +the mountains? Why all this at once? Ask +that white girl who teaches little children to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +good! Ask that devil's child who can put a +bullet straight as her eye! <i>Ask her!</i> She +would destroy my people. Curse her soul, I +say!"</p> + +<p>Suddenly the witch-like spirit in her seemed +to shrivel into the blanket which she wrapped +about her, then with placid, expressionless face +she made her way to where the yearling had +been butchered and hurriedly stuffed the refuse +into a gunny sack which she dragged to +where the other squaws were waiting, then +they all made off.</p> + +<p>Long Bill sat up and looked about him. +"Curse who?" he asked. "Curse me, I +reckon fer not knowin' enough to keep my +mouth shut!"</p> + +<p>McCullen, with face and lips pallid, had +mounted his horse. Long Bill pulled himself +together and walked over toward him.</p> + +<p>"I'll take that back," he said. "I didn't +mean it, nohow."</p> + +<p>"I reckon I was over-hasty," McCullen replied. +"But that was our little girl you were +talkin' about—little Hope; an' no man on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +earth, let alone a common squaw-man, ain't +goin' to even breathe her name disrespectfully. +She's like my own child. I've almost brought +her up. Learned her little baby fingers to +shoot, an' had her on a horse before she could +talk plain. Don't let her find this out, for I'm +plumb sorry I had to hurt you; but the man +who says more than you did <i>dies</i>!" He rode +away and soon was lost in the deep falling +shadows. The men in the cow-camp unrolled +their bedding, and all was soon one with the +stillness of the night.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + + +<p>All the small ranchers and disreputable +stragglers about that immediate +vicinity were of one opinion in regard +to the new sheep-man. This particular section +of the country promised to be soon over-crowded +with cattle and horses. There was no +room in their mountains for sheep. Livingston, +the interloper, must vacate. That was +the unanimous decision of the whole Harris +faction. This gang was a mixture of badness, +a scum of the roughest element from the +face of the globe, which in new countries invariably +drifts close upon the heels of the first +settlers. It is the herald of civilization, but +fortunately goes on before its advance to +other fields or is deeply buried in its midst. +The breeds, pliable to the strong will of Joe +Harris, were not an unimportant factor, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +among these, old Mother White Blanket was +the ruling spirit.</p> + +<p>She lived in a tepee not a rod to the left of +Harris' squalid log buildings. Her daughter +was the cattle-man's wife, therefore the old +woman had particular rights about the premises, +a mother-in-law's rights, more honored +and considered among Indians than among +civilized whites.</p> + +<p>Her tepee was the usual Indian affair, its +conical, pointed top, dingy with the smoke of +many camp-fires. Back of the old woman's +tepee, at various distances, stood a few ordinary +wall tents. These were occupied by the +families of some breeds who were working for +Harris. The whole, heightened by numerous +dogs and the old squaw stooping over her fire, +presented the appearance of a small Indian +camp, such as may be seen about any reservation. +The old woman's rattle-trap cart stood +beside her lodge, for she had her periods of +wandering, after the manner of her race. The +running gears of a couple of dilapidated +wagons were drawn up between the other tents,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +and not far away two closely hobbled horses, +unmistakably Indian, for horses resemble +their human associates, fed eagerly upon the +short, new grass.</p> + +<p>At an early hour, when the rising sun cast +rosy lights upon every grass-covered mountain +top, when bird notes from the distant +brush sounded the most melodious, when the +chanticleer in the barnyard became loudest in +his crowing, when the dew of night began to +steam upward in its vitality-giving stream, +when the pigs with a grunt rose lazily upon +their fore-legs, and old Mother White Blanket +bent over the smoke of her newly built camp-fire, +the girl school-teacher came out of her +room and leaned against the smooth rain-washed +logs of the building. She drew in with +every deep breath new vitality to add to her +plentiful fund of it, she saw the rosy glow +upon the mountains, listened in awe and rapture +to the bird notes from the brush, and +finally brought herself back to more material +things; to old Mother White Blanket and the +Indian scene spread out before her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> + +<p>The old woman was bending over the fire +apparently unconscious of the girl's presence. +From the school children Hope had learned +something of the wonderful perceptive powers +of Mother White Blanket. They had innumerable +stories of witchcraft to tell, as various +as they were astonishing, and, while crediting +nothing, she felt a quickened interest +in the old squaw. But she had so far no opportunity +to cultivate her acquaintance. Generally +the spaces between the tents were filled +with groups of breeds, and these she had no inclination +to approach. Now, quiet pervaded +the place. No one except the old woman and +herself were about. She knew full well that +the squaw had seen her, but on an impulse +walked over beside the tepee, spreading out +her hands to the warmth of the fire.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning!" she exclaimed. Mother +White Blanket made no reply, and turning +her back proceeded to fill a large black kettle +with water.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning!" repeated Hope in +French, to which greeting the old woman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +grunted, while she placed the kettle over the +fire.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," continued Hope. "I +forgot for the moment you were French."</p> + +<p>At this old White Blanket stood up, anger +bristling all over her.</p> + +<p>"What you come here for? You stand +there and make fun. You think I don't know +you make fun at me? Go away, girl, or you be +sorry! You call me French and laugh to yourself. +Go away, I say!"</p> + +<p>"No," said the girl, "I shall not go away +until it pleases me. I have heard that you are +a great woman, a witch, and I want to find out +if it is true." She had not one particle of belief +in the old woman's generally credited +supernatural powers, but she thought she +must possess sharp wit to so deceive the people +and was curious to know more about her. This +she was destined to do.</p> + +<p>"I have heard," she continued, "that you +can bring the wild deer to your side by calling +to them, that a horse or cow will lie down and +die when you command, and that little chil<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>dren +who annoy you are taken with severe pains +in their stomachs. I have heard that you can +say 'go' to any of your men or women and +they go; that if anyone is sick you can lay your +hand on them and they are well, and that you +can tell the future and the past of anyone. If +all these things are true you must be a very +great, remarkable woman. Is it true that you +can do all these things?" She waited a moment +and, as the old woman offered no reply, +went on: "Whether you can do these things +or not, you still remain, in my eyes, a remarkable +woman in possessing the ability to make +people believe that you can."</p> + +<p>"You shall believe them too, <i>you</i>!" said +the woman, suddenly rising and confronting +the girl.</p> + +<p>As she spoke two yellow fangs of teeth +protruded from her thin lips, and on her +face was the snarl of a dog. She drew up her +mummified face within two inches of the girl's +own. Hope shuddered and involuntarily +moved backward toward the house. With +every step she took the squaw followed, her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> +weazened face and cruel, baneful eyes held +close to hers.</p> + +<p>"You murderer of men, you teacher of little +children, you butcher, I will show you my +power!"</p> + +<p>The girl recoiled from the frenzied woman, +shutting out the sight with her hands and moving +backward step by step until she leaned +against the smooth logs of the building. +There the foolishness of her sudden fright +presented itself. Should the grimaces of a +weazened old squaw frighten her into a fit, or +should she pick up the bony thing and throw +her over the top of the tepee? An impulse to +do the latter came over her—then to her fancy +she could hear the crashing of brittle bones. +What she did do, however, was to take her +hands away from her eyes and look at the old +witch fearlessly. At this old White Blanket +broke into a terrible jargon, not a word of +which was intelligible. Her voice rose to its +utmost pitch. The crisp morning air resounded +with its sharp intonations.</p> + +<p>Hope leaned against the logs of the house,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +lashing the squaw into greater fury by her cool, +impertinent gaze. She began to be interested +in the performance, speculating to just what +degree of rage the old woman would reach +before she foamed at the mouth, and as to how +much strength she would have to exert to pitch +the frail thing bodily into the top of the tepee.</p> + +<p>At that instant a man, apparently hurriedly +dressed, rushed from the lodge and grasped +the old woman by the arm.</p> + +<p>"What're you doin'? Go over there and git +my breakfast, and don't be all day about it!"</p> + +<p>The old woman's face changed marvelously. +She calmed like a dove, under the hand of her +son-in-law, but before turning away began +muttering what might have been intended for +an apology.</p> + +<p>"I no hurt her. She think I know nothing. +I <i>show</i> her."</p> + +<p>The man laughed good-naturedly.</p> + +<p>"Well, you show me some grub an' that'll be +enough fer one day, I reckon. Wimmen folks +should be seen an' not heard, an' you make as +much noise as an old guinea hen." Meekly the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +old woman continued her interrupted task, +showing that in spite of his gruff speech she +entertained great respect for her tall son-in-law, +Long Bill.</p> + +<p>"Hope the old woman didn't frighten you, +Miss. She don't mean nothin' by it, only she +gits them spells once in a while," apologized +Long Bill politely. Hope gave a short laugh, +while the man continued: "Seems like all +Hades is turned loose when she does git on the +rampage, though."</p> + +<p>"Probably I aggravated her. If so, I am +sorry. But I wouldn't have missed it—not +for anything. Her rage was perfect—such +gestures, and <i>such</i> expressions!"</p> + +<p>At her words the man smiled, holding up to +his face as he did so a bandaged hand. In an +instant her eyes were riveted upon it. She had +searched for that hand since Saturday evening +among all the men she had chanced to see. +That this great, strong fellow possessed it +eased her conscience, if, indeed, it had greatly +troubled her. She wanted to get him to talk +about the hand, but shifted her eyes from it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +to the old woman moving slowly before the +tepee.</p> + +<p>"She seems a very interesting woman," +she remarked casually to Long Bill, who +through sheer awkwardness made no attempt +to move away.</p> + +<p>"Oh, she's a little locoed, but barrin' that +she's smarter'n a steel trap. They ain't nothin' +goin' on but she's got her eye peeled. If she +takes a likin' to anyone she'll just about break +her neck to please, but," he added in a lower +voice, "if she ain't a-likin' anyone she's just +about the <i>orneriest</i>, <i>cussedest</i>——" Words +failed, in view of the critical eyes before him.</p> + +<p>"Do you belong to the family?" asked +Hope, observing: "I noticed you came from +the tepee."</p> + +<p>"Well, you see," replied the man awkwardly, +"I sort of do—that is, I did. I married +her youngest girl awhile back, but I ain't +sure now we're goin' to make it a go. You see +I 'lowed to meet her here when the round-up +come 'round to these parts, but here's she's +done run off to Canada with some o' her folks,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +and I ain't set eyes on her fer nigh on to four +months. But we've been spliced all right +'nough, an' the old woman's mighty fond o' +me."</p> + +<p>"I should think you would be glad of that!" +exclaimed Hope. "It would be too bad if she +didn't like you. I am sorry she is not in a more +amiable mood, for I'd really like to talk with +her; but perhaps I will be permitted to approach +her later in the day."</p> + +<p>"Oh, she'll be all right, now she's had her +spell out," assured Long Bill.</p> + +<p>"You speak of the round-up; why are you +not with it?" queried the girl, with cool intent.</p> + +<p>Long Bill brought his huge bandaged fist +up before him, resting it upon the well one.</p> + +<p>"I had a little accident th' other day," he +explained, "an' hurt my hand powerful bad. +It ain't goin' to be much use fer handlin' a rope +fer quite a spell. Had to let the round-up +move away without me." His voice grew +plaintive.</p> + +<p>She spoke quickly, with great compassion.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +"I am sorry! It seems too bad to see a great +big fellow like you disabled. How did it +happen?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it was like this: I come over here th' +other night an' got to settin' 'round here doin' +nothin', so I thought I'd improve th' time an' +clean this here gun o' mine. It's been a-needin' +it powerful bad fer awhile back. I didn't +know there was nary load in it until the blame +thing went off an' I felt somethin' kind o' sudden +an' hot piercin' my left hand. It was a +fool trick to do, but it's the gospel truth, Miss."</p> + +<p>"I heard—that is, the boys said something +about a shooting affair up the road." She +pointed toward the sheep-man's ranch. "I +thought for a moment that perhaps you had +been mixed up in that. I'm very glad to +know that you were not, because you know it +wasn't a very nice, manly thing to do to a defenseless +stranger." Her cool eyes watched +his nervous shifting. "You see I can't very +well help hearing a lot of things around here. +The girls hear things and they tell me, and then +I am often forced to overhear the men and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +boys talking among themselves. It's none of +my business, but yet I am glad to know that +you were not one to set upon an innocent white +man. I scarcely know this Mr. Livingston by +sight, but he is a friend of Sydney's, my cousin, +and they say,"—here she drew out her words +slowly and impressively,—"that over in his +country he has been in the army and is well +versed in firearms; also that he has a small +Gatling gun with him over here that shoots +hundreds of shots a minute. So he really isn't +so defenseless as he seems." This startled the +man into open-mouth astonishment.</p> + +<p>"I thought there was something!—I mean I +thought, when I heard tell about the fracas +over there, that there was somethin' like that +in the wind," stammered the man.</p> + +<p>Apparently Hope had told a deliberate untruth +to force a confession from Long Bill, +but yet it was a fact that she had heard something +very similar. On the day before, Sunday, +Jim McCullen had come to visit her. +From his camp the noise of the shooting had +been plainly heard, and through curiosity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +he and Carter had ridden to Livingston's +ranch to inquire into it, but the sheep-man had +been very reticent about the matter. Had told +them only that there had been trouble with +some breeds, and his herder had been killed. +This old Jim repeated to Hope, adding that +Livingston must have a Gatling gun concealed +on his place, judging from the sound of the +firing. So Hope in her effort to impress the +tall cow-puncher had not used her imagination +wholly.</p> + +<p>"I am glad you had nothing to do with it," +she concluded, walking slowly away toward +the kitchen end of the house. "And I hope +your hand will soon be well."</p> + +<p>"That's right," said Long Bill. "I didn't +have nothin' to do with it. No Gatlin' guns +in mine, Miss!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + + +<p>"We'll beat any cow-pony workin' +on the round-up," declared the +soft-voiced twin as he coiled up the +stake-rope and tied it on to his saddle.</p> + +<p>It was four o'clock in the afternoon of the +same day. School had been dismissed and the +dozen children of various sizes were straggling +homeward. Hope stood beside her horse +patiently waiting for the twins to go, but they +seemed in no particular hurry. She listened +absent-mindedly to the boys' conversation.</p> + +<p>"An' another thing about this pony o' mine, +he'll never slack up on a rope," continued +Dan. "Once you've got a rope on a steer +he'll never budge till the cinch busts off the +saddle. He'll just sit right back on his +haunches an' <i>pull</i>. Yes, sir; you'd think he +knew just as much as a man!"</p> + +<p>Dave grunted. "He's all right 'nough, only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +he'll bust the bridle if you tie him, an' he won't +stand without bein' tied. He'll buck if he's +cinched too tight or gets too much to eat, an' +he ain't fit for a lady to ride, nohow. He's an +Indian pinto to boot, a regular fool calico +pony! Now <i>my</i> horse is an all 'round good +one, an' so gentle any lady can ride him, just +like any sensible horse ought to be."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's all he's good for, is to stand +'round an' look pretty, like some o' these here +bloods—an' them pretty soldiers over to the +post. I notice when there's any real work to +be done, Mr. Dude ain't in it. Oh, he can +stand 'round an' look pretty all right, but the +pinto's the best all 'round, an's got the most +sense!"</p> + +<p>Their discussion seemed at an end, for the +soft-voiced twin having fastened the rope +securely, walked around to the other side of his +pinto and had just turned the stirrup toward +him, preliminary to mounting, when the other +boy grasped him roughly by the collar, throwing +him backward to the ground.</p> + +<p>"That's my lariat; you hand it over here!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +he exclaimed gruffly; thereupon the soft-voiced +twin picked himself up, very carefully +brushed the dust from his sleeve, and answered +slowly, in a particularly sweet tone:</p> + +<p>"I ain't a-goin' to fight you here in front of +the teacher. That's my rope. Go an' get it +if you want it! But <i>she's</i> got yourn. I saw +her pick it up by mistake this mornin'. You've +tied up your dude cayuse twice with her'n to-day. +Must have somethin' the matter with +your eyes. I ain't a-goin' to lick you er fight +with you, but I'm goin' to get even with you +for this!"</p> + +<p>"Here's your rope," said Hope, taking it +from her saddle and handing it to the boy. +Dave took it shamefacedly, throwing her rope +on the ground, then hid himself on the opposite +side of his pony. In an instant the soft-voiced +twin picked up the teacher's stake-rope, +coiled it, and tied it on to her saddle.</p> + +<p>The girl stood to one side watching him. +She wondered at his quickness. He must have +inherited something of his grandmother's +acuteness. But her sympathy turned to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +other boy—big, clumsy, rough Dave. He +was standing out of sight behind his horse, embarrassed +by his own error. Hope felt sorry +for him. She had already found it very difficult +to keep peace between these boys and herself. +Each day brought some new ruffle that +required all her wit to smooth over.</p> + +<p>The soft-voiced twin handed the bridle reins +to her, then turned to his own horse, which +had wandered away toward more tempting +pasture. The girl thanked him, and walked +over to Dave. He looked at her sullenly, a +certain dogged obstinacy in his eyes. She had +intended to say something kind to him, instead +she spoke indifferently, yet to the point.</p> + +<p>"Go home with Dan the same as usual. Say +nothing about it, but get my rifle and meet me +here at the school in two hours—six o'clock. +There is a big flock of chickens that fly over +that point every evening."</p> + +<p>The boy made no reply, but his face changed +noticeably, and he jumped on his horse, calling +his twin to hurry up; but the soft-voiced boy +had no notion of leaving his teacher, so Dave,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +with a savage whoop, ran his pony to the top +of the hill, leaving the school-house and his +uncomfortable feelings far in the background.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you go with him?" asked the +girl.</p> + +<p>"I'm waitin' for you," replied the boy.</p> + +<p>"But I'm not going just now. You'd better +run along with Dave."</p> + +<p>"I ain't in no hurry."</p> + +<p>"Aren't you? Well, that is good, for I just +happened to think of something. I want you +to go down to Pete La Due's place where they +are branding, and hang around awhile and +keep your ears open. There will be a lot of +breeds there, and some of those men over on +Crow Creek, and maybe something will be said +that we ought to know about. You understand. +You are my faithful scout, you know. +And another thing—don't try to pay Dave +back for what he did. He's sorry enough +about it."</p> + +<p>The boy's face took on a shrewd, determined +expression, causing him at once to look years +older. For an instant Hope imagined that he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +resembled his aged grandmother, old White +Blanket, the "witch."</p> + +<p>"I'll go over there," he replied, "an' I'll see +what I can find out, but about Dave—I'll get +even with him if it takes me ten years. He +needs teachin'."</p> + +<p>"We all do," said the girl thoughtfully. +"I have begun a series of lessons myself—on +humanity. No, on sympathy, on what is expected +of a womanly woman. We're lucky +when we have a good teacher, aren't we? But +it's pretty hard to learn what doesn't come +natural. Remember Dave isn't like you. He +wasn't made like you, and never will be like +you. Think of this, and don't be hard on him, +that's a good boy."</p> + +<p>The soft-voiced twin smiled sweetly, and +mounting his horse, remarked:</p> + +<p>"I expect I'd better be movin' over there if +I'm goin' to find out anything to-day."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Hope, pleased that he should +leave her at last. "I think you're right. Be +sure to come home before bedtime and +<i>report</i>."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> + +<p>The boy dug his heels into the pinto's sides, +starting off on a bound. She watched him, +absent-mindedly, until he disappeared over the +hill-top, then she rode away at a lively canter +toward the sheep-man's ranch.</p> + +<p>A horseman came rapidly toward her before +she reached Livingston's gate. It was a slender, +boyish figure, who sat his horse with +remarkable ease and grace. The girl frowned +savagely when she saw him, but only for an +instant. He waved his hat above his dark head +and called to her from the distance. His voice +possessed a rich musical ring which might +have stood for honesty and youthful buoyancy.</p> + +<p>When Hope met him she was smiling. In +fun she passed rapidly, seeing which he wheeled +his horse about, caught up with her, and leaning +far over, grasped the bridle, bringing her +horse to a stand-still beside him. It was an old +trick of his boyhood. The girl's ringing +laughter reached a small group of men at work +with shovels upon the rise of a green knoll not +far away. They stopped work and listened,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +but the notes died away and nothing more +could be heard.</p> + +<p>"That wasn't fair, Syd!" she cried. "I +thought you'd forgotten it. I was going to +run you a race."</p> + +<p>"Rowdy's thin, he couldn't run. A stake-rope +don't agree with him, and I'll bet he +hasn't seen an oat since you've been here," he +answered, growing sober. "Hopie, dear, leave +these breeds and go home, that's a good girl! +I can't bear to have you stay there. You've +been up here a week and you look thin already. +I'll bet you're starving right now! Come, own +up, aren't you hungry?"</p> + +<p>"I hadn't thought of it," replied Hope. +"But now that you remind me, I believe I am—the +least bit. A steady diet of eggs—boiled +in their <i>own</i> shells, is apt to make one hungry +at times for a good dinner. But what's the +difference? I feel fine. It certainly agrees."</p> + +<p>"But that's terrible! Eggs! Eggs only—eggs +in the shell. Haven't you brought yourself +to meat, bread, and potatoes yet? Eggs +only! It's a joke, Hope, but somehow I can't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +feel amused. I've eaten eggs for a meal or +two, around those places, but a week of it! +Hope, your father wants you. Go home to +him!"</p> + +<p>"No; you see it's this way, Sydney, I +couldn't if I would, and I wouldn't if I could. +I couldn't because father told me to stay until +the school term ended, and I wouldn't because—I +like it here. It's new and exciting. I feel +just like a boy does in going out into the world +for the first time. You know how that is, Syd, +how you roamed about for months and months. +You had your fling and then you were satisfied."</p> + +<p>"I know," said Carter softly, stroking her +horse's neck. "But you had such a free +'fling' there at the ranch, what else could you +want? You had your choice between the ranch +and New York. You could travel if you +wished. Surely there was nothing left to be +desired. You can't make me believe that you +really like it up here among these breeds, +teaching a handful of stupid children their +A B C's! I can't see the attraction. Clarice<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +Van Rensselaer with the Cresmonds and that +little jay Englishman, Rosehill, are due at the +ranch this week. You like Clarice; go home, +Hope, and look after things there. You're +needed, and you know it. Do go, that's a good +girlie!"</p> + +<p>"Don't say anything more about it to me, +Sydney. I can't go, I'm not going, and I want +to forget for this one summer about the ranch +and everyone on it."</p> + +<p>"I am wasting my breath, but yet," he +looked at her searchingly, "I don't understand +you in this. I see no attraction here for you. +Why, even the hunting isn't good! I'll not +admit that there is any attraction for you in +this Englishman over here. You've known +dozens of them, and you've always expressed +an aversion to every one. I'm not going to be +scared of one lone Englishman!" He grasped +her hand and his face darkened. "Hope, if I +thought you would ever care for him I'd——"</p> + +<p>She interrupted:</p> + +<p>"You need not finish that! Show a little +manhood! Oh, Syd, a moment ago you were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +my dear old companion—my brother, and +now——If you knew how I detest you in this! +It is not yourself—your dear self, at all, but +the very devil that has taken possession of you. +Sydney, are you sure there isn't something the +matter with your brain? Do you realize how +awful it seems? Doesn't it make you feel +ashamed of yourself when you think of all the +sweetness of our past life? It makes me, Syd. +Sometimes at night before I go to sleep I +think of the way you've acted lately, and I can +feel a hot flush creep all over my face. It +makes me so ashamed! I've grown up with +you for my brother, I think of you always as +my brother, and this makes a new person out +of you—a person whom I neither love nor +respect. Syd, dear Syd, forget it and I will +never think of it again, for I will have my +brother back. I loved you, Sydney, you and +father, better than anyone else in this world. +And now——" She turned her head away +from him and began to cry quietly. In an +instant he was filled with commiseration and +tenderness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't, Hope!" he exclaimed, bending close +to her. "I can't stand anything like that! +Don't cry. I'm sorry, girlie. I've been a fool, +a brute, a low-lived beggar, but I can't stand +tears from <i>you</i>! Here you're hungry, starving, +living among a lot of breeds, and I've added +more to your misery. It's all a mistake. I +know now when I see you crying—don't do it, +dear! You've never cried since you were a +baby, and now you're such a great big girl. +The other feeling's all gone. I guess it must +have been because you were the only girl out +here and I let myself think of you that way +until it grew on me. But you are my sister—my +dear little pard!"</p> + +<p>He had dismounted and stood beside her. +Now he reached up and took her hands away +from her face. She was ashamed of her tears, +as people are who seldom cry, and hastily +mopped her face with her handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad, Syd, dear!" she exclaimed in +a moment, then reached down and kissed him. +"What a baby you must think I am!"</p> + +<p>"Your tears woke me up, dear; don't be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +sorry. Maybe some time they'll make a man +out of me."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! you were a man all the time, +only you didn't know it. You don't know how +happy I was all at once when you called me +'pard' again. I knew then I had my brother +back."</p> + +<p>The young fellow mounted his horse again. +His own eyes were suspiciously moist.</p> + +<p>"And I have my sister, which seems better +than anything to me," he said. Then they +both laughed.</p> + +<p>"I was going to the Englishman's," said +Hope, "to see if I could help any about the +poor herder who was shot."</p> + +<p>"They're burying him now," announced +her cousin, "right around the bend of this hill +just inside the fence. Do you want to go over +there?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think I do," she replied. "I want +to ask Mr. Livingston when the little German +girl is expected to arrive and what is going to +be done about her."</p> + +<p>"The herder's sister?" asked Sydney.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, his sweetheart. Just think, Sydney, +his little sweetheart, who is on her way to +marry him! Isn't it sad? Who will meet her +and who will tell her, I wonder, and what will +she do? How are such things managed, I +wonder. Isn't it terrible, Syd?"</p> + +<p>"Some beggars around here shot the poor +fellow, Livingston told me. The whole bunch +ought to be hanged for it."</p> + +<p>"It was a cowardly thing to do!" exclaimed +the girl.</p> + +<p>"Sheep in a cattle country, the same old +story. I imagine old Harris is a pretty strong +element here. They've driven out a couple of +bands already. Someone ought to put Livingston +next. But he probably scents the +situation now from this occurrence. He is one +of the kind who trusts everyone. I met him +last fall in town when he first came out here. +He has put a lot of money into this business, +and I'd like to see him make it a go. He'll +have something to learn by experience."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it too bad he didn't invest in cattle?" +deplored Hope.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, though they say there's bigger returns +in sheep." He pointed ahead. "You +can't see the men, but they're just around that +point of rocks, though they must be about +through with the job by now."</p> + +<p>"You'll go along, won't you? Then you +can ride back to the school-house with me. +I'm going to meet one of the twins there at six +o'clock, and we're going to see if we can get +some chickens."</p> + +<p>"If you will promise to bring the chickens +over to the camp and let the cook get you up +a good, square meal," he replied. "Jim will be +back before dark."</p> + +<p>"If I shouldn't happen to get any birds," +she asked, "does the invitation still hold +good?"</p> + +<p>"Pard!" he reproved.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + + +<p>Livingston stood alone beside the +fresh mound, hatless, with head bowed +in deep meditation. His men had +returned to their respective duties, having +shown their last kindness toward the young +herder gone on before them to the great, +mysterious Beyond.</p> + +<p>When Hope and her companion rounded +the point of rocks inside the pasture fence +they came directly upon the sheep-man and the +newly made grave. The girl reined in her +horse suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Syd," she said softly, wonderingly, "he's +<i>praying</i>!" She had an impulse to flee before +he should see her, and with a look communicated +the thought to Sydney, but Livingston +turned around and came quickly down +the grassy slope toward them. He greeted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +them cordially, heartily shaking hands with +each.</p> + +<p>"Is this not a beautiful day? I am glad you +have come, Miss Hathaway. I wanted you to +see this spot. Could any place be prettier? +See this green slope and the gigantic ridge of +rocks beside it."</p> + +<p>"It's magnificent!" she exclaimed. "What +a monument!"</p> + +<p>"I had an idea he would like it if he could +know," he continued. "Day after day he +has stood up there on that point of rocks and +watched his sheep."</p> + +<p>Hope pointed across the valley to where the +grassy slope terminated in a deep cut-bank, +exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"There is the corral!" It came involuntarily. +She shot a quick glance at her +cousin, but he was gazing thoughtfully at the +magnificence of the scene before him, and had +not noticed the words, or her confusion which +followed them, which was fortunate, she +thought.</p> + +<p>If asked she could not have explained why<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +she felt in this manner about it, and it is certain +that she did ask herself. She had probably +saved Livingston's sheep. Well, what of +it? She only knew that she wanted no one to +find it out, least of all Livingston himself. +She had a half fear that if Sydney ever got +an inkling of it he might sometime tell him, and +Sydney was very quick; so she adroitly eased +her involuntary exclamation by remarking:</p> + +<p>"That is a queer place to put a corral! +Aren't you afraid of a pile up so near the +bank?"</p> + +<p>"I am not using it now," he replied. "I +put it there because Fritz ran his band on +that side and it was more convenient not to +drive them so far. I am using this shed below +here, at present."</p> + +<p>Sydney looked at Hope and began to laugh, +then leaned over toward Livingston and +placed his hand upon his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"She'll be telling you how to run your sheep +next. You mustn't mind her, though, for she's +been teaching school a whole week, and dictating +is getting to be sort of second nature with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +her, isn't it, Hopie? And besides that she isn't +responsible. A steady diet of hard-boiled eggs +isn't conducive——"</p> + +<p>She stopped him with a gesture, laughing.</p> + +<p>"That's awfully true, only I haven't eaten +even hard-boiled eggs since breakfast, and I'm +famished! It was cruel of you to remind me, +Syd!"</p> + +<p>"You poor youngster!" he exclaimed in +real commiseration. "Is it as bad as that? +I'm going over and start supper at once. The +camp is just over the hill there, up that next +draw." He pointed ahead, then looked at his +watch. "It's after five now. You keep your +appointment with the half-breed, but never +mind the chickens till you've had a square +meal."</p> + +<p>She nodded in answer, smiling at him.</p> + +<p>"They're starving her over there," he explained +to Livingston, who looked at them in +some wonderment. "They don't feed her anything +but boiled eggs. Tell him why you +don't eat anything but eggs, Hope, boiled,—hard +and soft,—in their <i>own shells</i>. Maybe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +you can get them to bake you a potato or two +in their <i>own jackets</i>!"</p> + +<p>"What an idea! I never thought of that," +she exclaimed. "You're a genius, Syd. But +go home or I shall famish! I'll meet Dave and +come right over there. I think the chickens +will fly that way to-night, anyway, don't +you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course they will," replied her cousin, +"they fly right over the top of my tent every +evening!" Then he started away, but turned +about quickly as though he had forgotten +something, and asked Livingston if he would +not come over to camp for supper, too.</p> + +<p>Livingston looked up into the dark eyes of +the girl beside him, then accepted.</p> + +<p>"Good!" said Sydney. "Come along with +Hope."</p> + +<p>"Be sure and see that there's enough +cooked," called the girl as he rode away.</p> + +<p>"Don't worry about that, pard," he answered, +then, lifting his hat, waved it high +above his head as he disappeared around the +reef of rocks.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> + +<p>Hope looked after him and was still smiling +when she turned to Livingston. It may +have been something in his face that caused +her own to settle instantly into its natural +quiet.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to go up there for a moment," she +said, then dismounted, and leaving her horse +walked quickly up the grassy hill until she +stood beside the grave. Some sod had been +roughly placed upon the dirt, and scattered +over that was a handful of freshly picked +wild flowers.</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> picked them!" exclaimed the girl +softly, turning toward him as he came and +stood near her. "And <i>I</i> never even thought +of it! How could you think of it! I had supposed +only women thought of those things—were +expected to think of them, I mean," +she added hastily. "You make me wonder +what——"</p> + +<p>He looked at her curiously.</p> + +<p>"Make you wonder what?" he asked in his +quiet, well modulated voice.</p> + +<p>A flush came over her face. Her eyes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +shifted from his until they rested upon the +grave at her feet. The breeze threw a loose +strand of dark hair across one eye. She +rapidly drew her hand over her forehead, putting +it away from her vision, then looked full +and straight at the man beside her.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon; I cannot finish what +was in my mind to say. I forgot, Mr. Livingston, +that we are comparative strangers."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry, then, that you remember it," he +replied. "It never seemed to me that we were +strangers, Miss Hathaway. I do not think so +now. There is something, I know not what, +that draws people to each other in this country. +It does not take weeks or months or years to +form a friendship here. Two people meet, +they speak, look into one another's eyes, then +they are friends, comrades—or nothing, as it +sometimes happens. They decide quickly here, +not hampered by stiff conventionalities. It is +instinct guides. Are you different from your +countrymen?"</p> + +<p>"No," she replied quickly. "Not in that +one thing, at least. To be honest, I have never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +<i>felt</i> that you were a stranger to me; but a girl, +even a rough Western girl, must sometimes +remember and be restricted by conventionalities. +I know what you are thinking, that +conventionalities include politeness, and I have +been rude to you. Perhaps that is the reason +I wouldn't let you go back to Harris' with me +the other night—I had not known you long +enough."</p> + +<p>He answered her simply: "I am not thinking +of that night, but that you have just told +me you are my friend—that you think kindly +of me." She flashed him a look of surprise.</p> + +<p>"But I <i>never</i> told you that!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Not in just those words, true," he said. +"But it is so. Didn't you say that you had +never felt me to be a <i>stranger</i> to you? If you +had not approved of me—thought kindly of +me in the start, could you have felt so? No. +When two people meet, they are friends, or +they are still strangers—and <i>you have never +felt me to be a stranger</i>. Is that not so?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot deny what I have just said," she +replied. "And I will not deny that I believed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +what I was saying, but your argument, though +good, doesn't down me, because I honestly +think that a person may see another person +just once, feel that he never could be a +stranger, and yet have no earthly regard or +respect for that person."</p> + +<p>"Have you ever experienced that?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"N—no. You are trying to corner me; but +that isn't what I came to talk about, and it is +time to go," she said, turning away from the +grave. He walked with her down the hill +toward her horse.</p> + +<p>"I wanted to ask you, Mr. Livingston, +about the little German girl," she said, standing +with her back against the side of her horse, +one arm around the pommel loosely holding the +reins, and the other stretched upon the glossy +back of the gentle animal. "When are you +expecting her, and what are you going to do +about her?"</p> + +<p>"She should be here the last of the week. +Poor girl! My heart bleeds for her. There is +nothing to do except to tell her the sad story,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +and see that she gets started safely back to her +country and her friends," he answered.</p> + +<p>Hope stood upright, taking a step toward +him.</p> + +<p>"You would not—oh, it would be inhuman +to send her back over the long, terrible +journey with that cruel pain in her heart! +Think how tired she will be, the thousands of +miles of travel through strange lands, and the +multitude of foreigners she will have passed! +Think of the way she has traveled, those close, +packed emigrant cars, and everything. It is +terrible!"</p> + +<p>"I never thought of that. She will be tired. +You are right, it would never do to send her +over that long journey so soon, though she +is not coming through as an emigrant, but +first class, for she is of good family over there. +So was Fritz—a sort of cousin, I believe, but +the poor boy got into some trouble with his +family and came over here penniless. He was +to have met her in town and they expected to +get married at once. He was going to bring +her out here to the ranch to live until he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +hunted up a location for a home. If I am +not mistaken she has some money of her own +with which they were going to buy sheep. She +has been well educated, and has had some instruction +in English, as had Fritz.</p> + +<p>"I thought only of getting her back among +her friends again and I never gave a thought +about the long, weary trip and the poor, tired +girl. She must rest for a time. You have +shown me the right way, Miss Hathaway—and +yet, what am I to do? I could bring her +out here to the ranch, but there is no woman +on the place. Perhaps I may be able to secure +a man and his wife who need a situation, but +it is not likely. There may be some good family +about who would keep her for awhile. Do +you know of one?"</p> + +<p>"There are several families around here +who might welcome a boarder, but none with +whom a girl of that kind could be contented, +or even comfortable. If only I were at home, +and could take her there! I <i>might</i> send her +over there. But, no, that would be worse than +anything! There is no other way," she said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +suddenly, placing her hand upon his sleeve +with a quick unconscious motion. "You must +let me take care of her, up here, as I am, at +Harris'!" Excitement had flushed her cheeks +scarlet. Her eyes were filled with the light of +inspiration and more than earthly beauty. +She waited, intense, for him to speak, but he +could not. He felt her hand upon his arm, +saw the wonderful light in her face—and was +dumb.</p> + +<p>"Tell me that I may take care of her. I +must—there is no other way," she insisted. +"And it will give me the privilege of doing +one little act of kindness. Say it will be all +right!"</p> + +<p>"If she cannot find comfort and strength +in you, she cannot find it upon earth," he said +softly. "I have no words with which to thank +you!"</p> + +<p>She took her hand from his arm with a little +sigh of content, turned around and stood at +her horse's head a moment, then mounted as +lightly and quickly as a boy.</p> + +<p>"Where's your horse?" she asked, whirling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> +the animal about until it faced him. The wonderful +light in her face had given place to a +careless, light-hearted look.</p> + +<p>"Up at the stable. Have you the time and +patience to wait for me?" said Livingston.</p> + +<p>"Plenty of patience, but no time," she replied. +"I promised to meet one of the twins +at six o'clock, so I've got to hurry up. I'll +meet you over at Syd's camp in a little while."</p> + +<p>Before he had time to either speak or bow she +was gone. As she disappeared behind the +ledge of rocks a clear boyish whistle of some +popular air floated back to him.</p> + +<p>Walking quickly through the pasture +toward the ranch buildings Edward Livingston +thought of many things—and wondered.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + + +<p>At six o'clock on this afternoon in +May the sun was still high above the +mountain tops. By the time Edward +Livingston reached his ranch buildings and +saddled his horse to go to Carter's camp Hope +had ridden the two miles or more between his +fence and the school-house. There she found, +idly waiting beside the isolated building, surrounded +by several gaunt staghounds, not one +of the twins, but both.</p> + +<p>The soft-voiced twin was all smiles, but +Dave with his back against the front of the +building was scowling sullenly, giving vent to +his ugliness by kicking small stones with the +toe of his boot and watching them as they +went sailing high into the air, then down the +sloping stretch of young green below. At one +of those stones Hope's horse shied, but the +girl smiled, knowing full well the young sav<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>age's +mood. She rode rapidly, and stopped +beside the boys, but did not dismount.</p> + +<p>"Am I late?" she inquired of the scowling +twin. "I see you are on time with the gun like +a good boy, Dave, and you've brought your +own along, too. We won't do a thing to those +chickens if we get sight of them to-night!" +She smiled at the boy, who became a trifle more +amiable; then she turned to his soft-voiced +twin. "How is it you're back so soon?"</p> + +<p>He brushed a speck of dust from his overalls +before replying, and his voice was particularly +sweet.</p> + +<p>"Had to come to report. You see when +I got there they was just quittin', so I came +along back with some o' the fellers. Didn't you +meet Long Bill and Shorty Smith up the road +there a piece when you come along?" The girl +nodded. "Well, I come back with them's far +as home; then I saw Dave getting the guns, so +I thought I'd get mine an' come along, too. +Say, what's a gating gun?" Hope looked perplexed +for an instant, then laughed outright.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you mean a Gatling gun!" She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +laughed, then very soberly: "It's a terrible +weapon of war—a wicked thing. Why do +you ask?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I just wanted to know," replied the +boy evasively. "I heard some o' the men +talkin' about one, so I thought I'd ask you. +Must shoot pretty fast, don't they? Long +Bill was tellin' about one that fired two thousand +shots a second."</p> + +<p>"That must have been a terror of one!" +exclaimed the girl. "But they don't shoot +quite as many as that, not even in a minute, +but they are bad enough. A few of them +would simply perforate an army of men. +They're a machine gun," she went on to explain. +"Just a lot of barrels fastened in a +bunch together and turned by a crank which +feeds in the cartridges and fires them, too. +They shoot over a thousand shots a minute."</p> + +<p>"I wish we'd 'a' had one the other night," +exclaimed Dave, waking at last to a new interest +in life. "And I'd 'a' had hold of the +crank!"</p> + +<p>"Wasn't it bad enough!" remonstrated the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +girl. "Didn't you do enough damage to satisfy +your savage soul for awhile?"</p> + +<p>"Shorty Smith's got a game leg," returned +the boy gleefully, "an' so's old Peter. Long +Bill, he's got his hand all done up in a sling, +too, an' couldn't go back on the round-up!"</p> + +<p>"I wonder how Bill done that," mused the +other twin with a sweet, indrawn breath. Hope +flushed scarlet, which faded instantly, leaving +her face its rich, dark olive.</p> + +<p>"Come on," she cried severely, "if we are to +get any birds to-day!"</p> + +<p>"I know where there's a coyote's den," said +the soft-voiced twin. Dave was all attention +immediately.</p> + +<p>"Where?" he exclaimed eagerly. Hope, +interested, too, leaned forward resting her arm +upon the pommel of the saddle.</p> + +<p>"Well," said the boy, deliberately, sweetly—too +sweetly, thought the girl, who watched +him keenly—"I was goin' to keep it to myself, +an' get 'em all on the quiet, but it's in a kind +of a bad place to get at, so mebbe I can't do it +alone. It's 'bout a half mile back there, be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>tween +here an' home, up on that ridge behind +old Peter's shack. There's a hole under the +side of the rocks, but it's hard diggin', kind of +sandstone, I reckon. I left a pickax an' shovel +up there."</p> + +<p>"Let's go up there now," cried Dave, +"an' get the whole bloomin' nest of 'em! We +can get the chickens later."</p> + +<p>"Now, look here," said the other quietly. +"The find's mine. If you're in on this here +deal, you'll have to work for your share. If +you'll do the diggin' you can have half of the +bounty on 'em. How's that?"</p> + +<p>Dave grunted. "Supposin' there ain't any +there," he demurred.</p> + +<p>The soft-voiced twin shrugged his shoulders +contemptuously.</p> + +<p>"What'd you suppose <i>I'd</i> be diggin' there +for if there wasn't none? There's a whole +litter o' pups."</p> + +<p>"Come on, then!" exclaimed Dave, convinced +of his good fortune, for the bounty on +coyotes was four dollars for each and every +one.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> + +<p>Hope looked dubiously at the soft-voiced +twin, she thought of the supper at Sydney's +camp, then fired with the fun of the thing rode +gayly away with the boys.</p> + +<p>The hounds leaped after them, clearing the +ground with long, easy bounds. The girl +watched them glide along, yelping, barking, +filling the air with their voices. Her horse +loped neck to neck with the soft-voiced twin's. +She pointed at the dogs, drawing the boy's attention +to them.</p> + +<p>"Why did you bring them?" she asked. +"They'll warn your old ones and they'll be far +away by the time we get there. You're usually +so quick-witted, Dan, I wonder you did not +think of it!"</p> + +<p>The boy made no reply, but gave her a look +filled with cunning, cool intent.</p> + +<p>So this was his revenge—his twin was to dig +into a rocky ledge for an empty coyote's den! +She marveled at the boy's deliberate scheming, +and rode gayly along to see the outcome. To +this sort of revenge she had no actual objection.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> + +<p>They rode up over the top of a high divide, +then followed down a narrow draw until it +widened into a tiny basin, and there, in the +center of vivid green, like a smooth, well-kept +lawn, nestled old Peter's cabin. Surrounding +this pretty basin were steep, high ridges and +hills, smooth-carpeted, too, except the ever narrow +terraced "buffalo trails," and here and +there a broken line where sharp crags of sandstone +jutted out. To the base of one of these +ridges of rock, back of the old hermit's +one-roomed log shack, the soft-voiced twin +led the way, followed closely by his eager +brother.</p> + +<p>The twins left their horses at the foot of the +hill and climbed up about thirty feet to a +narrow ledge, where a shovel and pickax +marked the small entrance of a coyote's den.</p> + +<p>Dave set immediately at work plying the +pickax with vigor, and shoveling out the stones +and the hardened sand about the opening, +while his twin superintended the job and occasionally +offered words of encouragement.</p> + +<p>Hope watched them from below. Evidently<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +the soft-voiced boy was enjoying himself immensely. +He sat on one end of the ledge, his +blue-overalled legs dangling over the side, +while Dave worked industriously, hopefully +on.</p> + +<p>The hounds evidently had found a trail of +some kind, for after sniffing about busily for +a moment they made a straight line along the +hill, disappearing over the high ridge. Hope +watched them out of sight, feeling an impulse +to follow, but changed her mind and rode +over to old Peter's cabin instead. The old +man limped to the door and peered out cautiously.</p> + +<p>He was a squat-figured, broad-shouldered, +grizzled little man, with unkempt beard and a +shaggy sheaf of iron-gray hair, beneath which +peered bright, shifting blue eyes. He added +to his natural stoop-shouldered posture by a +rude crutch of hasty manufacture much too +short for him, which he leaned heavily upon. +He opened the door only wide enough to put +out his head, which he did cautiously, holding +his hand upon the wooden latch.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How d'!" he said in a deep, gruff voice +that seemed to come from somewhere between +his shoulders.</p> + +<p>She nodded brightly, remembering to have +seen the old fellow around Harris'.</p> + +<p>"You have no objection to our digging out +a den of coyotes back here, have you?" she +asked.</p> + +<p>"Umph! There ain't no den 'round here +that I know about," he replied, still retaining +his position in the door.</p> + +<p>"But see here," pointing toward the side +hill, "the boys have found one and are at work +up there right now."</p> + +<p>"More fools they, then," declared old Peter, +limping cautiously outside the door. "I cleaned +out that den three year ago, an' I never knowed +a coyote to come an' live in a place that'd been +monkeyed with. Too much sense fer that. I +always said a coyote had more sense 'n them +boys! Better go tell 'em they'd as well dig fer +water on the top o' that peak, Miss!" He +shook his tousled head dubiously, watched the +boys on the hill for a moment, then limped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +back again, taking up his first position, half in, +half out the door. His attitude invited her to +be gone, but she held in her uneasy horse and +proceeded in a friendly manner to encourage +some more deep-seated, guttural tones from the +old man.</p> + +<p>"Do you live here all alone?"</p> + +<p>"Humph! I reckon I do."</p> + +<p>"Have you lived here long?"</p> + +<p>"Reckon I have."</p> + +<p>"Are those your cattle up on the divide?"</p> + +<p>"I reckon they be."</p> + +<p>"It must be awful lonesome for you here +all by yourself. Do coyotes or wolves trouble +you much? Whoa, Rowdy!"</p> + +<p>"They're a plumb nuisance, Miss. Better +kill off a few of 'em while you're here. I +reckon you kin use yer gun."</p> + +<p>"I <i>reckon</i> I can, a little," she replied.</p> + +<p>"When I was in the war," he continued, +"they had some sharpshooters along, but they +wan't no wimmen among 'em. I reckon you're +right handy with a gun."</p> + +<p>"Who told you?" she asked suddenly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I reckon I know from the way you hold +that 'ere gun."</p> + +<p>Just then the soft-voiced twin rode up to +the cabin. Hope accosted him.</p> + +<p>"Did you get the coyotes <i>already</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Nope, Dave's still diggin'. I'm goin' home +er the old man'll be huntin' me with the end of +his rope."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you'd better stay," she coaxed. "Think +of the fun you'll miss when Dave gets into the +den. It's your find; you ought to stay for +the finish."</p> + +<p>"I'll stake you to my share," said the boy. +"He'll soon find all there is. But I guess I'd +better be a-goin'."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you had," Hope replied, thoughtfully; +then she rode over to the industrious +Dave, while the soft-voiced twin wisely took a +straight bee-line across the hills to his father's +ranch.</p> + +<p>This time Hope herself climbed the hill +to the spot where the boy was digging.</p> + +<p>"Dave, I'm afraid there are no coyotes in +there, aren't you?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> + +<p>He stopped work, wiped his brow with something +that had once been a red bandanna +handkerchief, then gravely eyed the girl, who +leaned against the rocks beside him.</p> + +<p>"But he said," pondering in perplexity. +"But he said——" He looked into the ragged +entrance of the hole, then at his shovel, +then up again at the girl. "What makes you +think there ain't no coyotes there?"</p> + +<p>She was filled with sympathy for the boy, +which perhaps he did not deserve, and she had +recollected the supper at Sydney's camp, and +concluded that this foolishness had gone far +enough. She coaxed the boy to leave it until +morning, but he was obdurate.</p> + +<p>"No, I'm goin' to <i>know</i> if there's anything +in here er not, an' if there <i>ain't</i>——" His +silence was ominous; then he set to work again +with renewed energy and grim determination.</p> + +<p>She watched him for awhile, then walked out +to the end of the bulging sand-rocks and +climbed the grassy hill. When at length she +reached the summit, the jagged rocks below +which labored the breed boy seemed but a line<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +in the smooth green of the mountain, while old +Peter's cabin and the setting of green carpeted +basin looked very small. On the opposite side +a fine view presented itself, showing, in all +of Nature's magnificent display, soft lines of +green ridges, broken chains of gigantic rocks, +narrow valleys traced with winding, silvery +threads of rushing water. Such a picture +would hold the attention of anyone, but this +girl of the West, of freedom and wildness, was +one with it—a part of it, and not the least +beautiful and wonderful in this lavish display +of God's handiwork.</p> + +<p>She stood with bared head upon a high green +ridge. A soft, gentle chinook smoothed back +from her forehead the waving masses of dark +hair. Myriads of wild flowers surrounded her, +and from the millions below and about drifted +and mingled their combined fragrance. The +great orb of setting sun cast its parting rays +full on her face, and lingered, while the valleys +below darkened into shadow. As the last +rays lighted up her hair and departed, the yep! +yep! of the hounds attracted her attention, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +turning about with quick, alert step she moved +out of this picture—forever.</p> + +<p>Standing upon a rocky ledge a hundred +feet below the summit of the ridge she +watched another scene, not the quiet picture +of Nature's benevolent hand, but a discord in +keeping, yet out of all harmony with it, in +which she blended as naturally and completely +as she had in the first. It was a race between a +little fleet-footed coyote and half a dozen +mongrel staghounds; they came toward her, a +twisting, turning streak, led by a desperate +gray animal, making, to all appearance, for +the very rocks upon which she stood. Not ten +yards behind the coyote a lank, slate-colored +hound, more gray than stag, was closing in +inch by inch. The coyote was doing nobly, so +was the mongrel hound, thought Hope, who +watched the race with breathless interest. The +yellow dogs were falling behind, losing ground +at every step, but the blue mongrel was spurting. +On they came—on—on, and the girl in +a tremor of excitement lay flat down upon the +rocks and watched them. Her heart went out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +to the dog. She had seen it kicked around the +yard at Harris', noticed it as it slunk about for +its scanty food, and now how nobly it was +doing! She wondered if any of her thoroughbreds +at home could do as well, and thought +not. The others were straggling far behind, +but now the blue hound was but two lengths +from the coyote, and its chances seemed small, +but on a sudden it turned and made direct for +the rocks from which the girl watched. That +instant the dog saw failure, and the light of +determination, of victory, died from its eyes. +That same instant the coyote saw salvation +from a quick end in the narrow crevices of rock +so near, and the next it lay stone dead with a +bullet through its brain. The gaunt hound +bounded over its body, then stopped short, bewildered, +and eyed its fallen foe. Then with +a savage snarl he seized it by the throat as if +to utterly demolish it, but the girl called him +off, and somehow, in his dog's heart, he understood +that the game was not his.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + + +<p>In the deepening shadows of the evening +Hope and the breed boy rode rapidly +toward the camp, hungry for the long-delayed +supper.</p> + +<p>"Dan staked me to his share of the coyotes, +so you may have them," said the girl.</p> + +<p>"Seven pups an' the old one!" exclaimed +Dave; "that's better'n huntin' chickens."</p> + +<p>"And supper just now is better than anything," +sighed Hope to herself. The boy +heard, but did not reply, his mind being busy +with a mathematical problem.</p> + +<p>"How much is eight times four dollars, an' +seventy-five cents for the hide?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"That's a little example I'll let you work out +for yourself," replied his teacher. "You're +awfully stupid in arithmetic, Dave, and it's +too bad, for in cases of coyotes' bounty and +so forth it would be a pretty good thing for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +you to know. You hurry up and figure that +out, for to-morrow you're going to get a hard +one. It's this: If a Gatling gun fires two +thousand shots a minute how many can it fire +in half an hour?"</p> + +<p>"Whew! you don't expect anybody to +answer <i>that</i>, do you?" exclaimed the boy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's easy," she laughed. "If you +can't figure it out yourself you might ask old +Peter or Long Bill, maybe they'd know."</p> + +<p>The boy rode along, his thoughts absorbed +in a brown study. At length he sighed and +looked up.</p> + +<p>"Well, anyway, it'll be enough to buy a +horse or a new saddle with." Then as though +struck with a sudden thought he asked: "Say, +what made Dan give you his share of them +coyotes?" She suppressed a faint inclination +to smile.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he gave up as I did, and thought +there was nothing there. Old Peter said he +knew there wasn't. But it's just possible Dan +wanted to be generous. Don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>"Not Dan!" exclaimed the boy. "There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +ain't one chance in a million <i>he'd</i> ever give such +snap as that away! I reckon," he concluded +after some studying, "he must 'a' thought that +den was empty an' was goin' to pay me back. +Ain't I got it on him now, though!"</p> + +<p>"And instead of being paid back you are +getting both shares of the coyote bounty, and +you know you don't deserve it. What are you +going to do about it?"</p> + +<p>"You bet <i>he</i> ain't a-goin' to get none of it!" +was the emphatic reply; to which the girl had +nothing to say.</p> + +<p>In a few moments they came in sight of +Sydney's camp. From out of the small stove-pipe +of the first of the two tents rolled a volume +of smoke, and across the narrow brush-covered +valley came the delicious odor of cooking +food. Simultaneously the two riders +urged on their horses to a faster gait, for Hope +at least was hungry. It is safe to say that the +breed boy was in the same condition, and this +invitation out to supper pleased him mightily. +He was a large, stolidly built lad of fourteen +years, and like all boys of that age, whether<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +stolidly built or slender as a sapling, was +always hungry.</p> + +<p>"I'll bet I can eat the whole shootin' match," +he declared, actually believing that he spoke +the truth.</p> + +<p>"I think the meal is prepared for hungry +people," replied Hope, heartily agreeing with +the boy's sentiments. "And I hope they have +waited for us. But for goodness' sake be +careful not to make yourself sick, Dave!"</p> + +<p>The camp was pitched in an open flat beside +a small sparkling mountain stream. Upon +one side of the creek was brush-covered bottom +land, through which the riders followed a +winding trail, dim in the semi-darkness. Then +they splashed across the creek, and rode up its +steep bank into the clear, grass-covered government +dooryard of the campers.</p> + +<p>"Well, at last!" called a voice from the +tent. "The posse was just getting ready to go +in search of you. Thought the chickens must +have lured you away. Come right in, the feast +is prepared!"</p> + +<p>"All right, Syd," called the girl happily,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +dismounting almost in the arms of old Jim +McCullen, her dear "father Jim," to whom +she gave the heartiest handshake he had ever +received.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm so glad you're back!" she exclaimed +as he led her horse away to stake it +out. "How's everything at home—the dogs +and horses, and everything? Never mind the +<i>people</i>! I don't want to hear a single thing +about them! We're late, Syd," she apologized, +as her cousin held open the tent flap for her to +enter, "but oh, we've had such a stack of fun!"</p> + +<p>She greeted the little English cook, an old +acquaintance, who beamed with smiles as she +entered. Then she cast her dark eyes about +the tent and encountered those of Livingston.</p> + +<p>"We were beginning to fear for your +safety, Miss Hathaway," he said to her, then +wondered why she should laugh. And she did +laugh loudly, with a clear, sweet, reverberant +ring that echoed through the little valley. Before +it had died away her face settled back +into its natural quiet. She threw her cowboy's +hat into a far corner, and seated herself on a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +case of canned goods opposite Livingston, to +whom she immediately devoted herself.</p> + +<p>She was not bold, this slender, well-built girl +of the prairies,—no one who knew her could +conceive such an idea,—but she moved with a +forwardness, a certain freedom of manner that +was her own divine right. Whatever she did, +whatever she said, appeared right in her—in +another less graceful, less charming, less magnetic, +it would in many instances seem gross +boldness. But with her wonderful, forceful +personality whatever she did or said was the +embodiment of grace and right.</p> + +<p>Many of her acquaintances aped her ways +and little peculiarities of speech, to the utter +ruination of any originality or fascination +they may have themselves possessed, for such +originality cannot be imitated.</p> + +<p>She leaned nearer to Livingston.</p> + +<p>"You should have been with us—we've had +a great time! Just think, we got eight coyotes! +Isn't that fine for one evening?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed," he exclaimed, "I think that remarkable! +Your cousin said that something<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> +of the kind was keeping you. I take it that +you are passionately fond of hunting."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is the greatest sport there is in this +country, and where the hunting is good, as it +is at home along the Missouri River, there is +nothing like it. But up here there is really no +game to speak of, though the mountains at +one time abounded with it. Even chickens are +as hard to find as a needle in a haystack. We +found a den of coyotes, seven little ones, and +one of the old ones we got with the help of the +dogs. You know," she said confidentially, "I +shouldn't have delayed this supper for anything +less than a den of coyotes."</p> + +<p>"There won't be the sign of any kind of +game left up here by the time she leaves," +remarked Sydney, taking a seat on the ground +beside her.</p> + +<p>"I heard tell as how she was tryin' to make +a clearance," said old Jim McCullen from the +entrance.</p> + +<p>She flashed him a quick look of surprise. +He answered it with a barely perceptible +squint, which she understood from years of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> +comradeship to mean that he shared her secret. +It meant more than that. He not only shared +her secret, but his right hand—his life—was at +her disposal, if necessary. Then, in acknowledgment +of his silent message she gave him +one of her rare, glorious smiles.</p> + +<p>"You did make a pretty lively clearing," +said her cousin. "Eight coyotes isn't so bad. +That means numerous calves saved, young +colts, a hundred or so sheep, not to mention +innumerable wild birds and barnyard fowl."</p> + +<p>"Truly, it makes us feel like conquerors, +doesn't it, Dave? But we're famished, Syd!" +Then placing her seat beside the table she +motioned the others to join her, and soon +they were enjoying a remarkably good camp +supper.</p> + +<p>The cook bustled about the tent, pouring +out coffee, apologizing, praising this dish or +that, and urging them to partake of more, all +in one breath.</p> + +<p>Sydney and his friend Livingston kept up +the conversation, to which Hope listened, too +contented and happy with the meal, the hour,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +and the company to enter it herself. She +finally pushed back her plate, congratulated +the cook upon the success of his supper, and +gave the twin a warning look, which he completely +ignored.</p> + +<p>"Here, take another piece o' this pie," said +the cook, who had intercepted the girl's glance. +At this invitation the boy helped himself with +alacrity, and with a broad smile the cook continued: +"I never knowed a boy yet to kill +himself eatin'. You can fill 'em plumb full to +the brim, an' in a 'alf hour they're lookin' fer +more. All the same, dog er Injun, halways +hungry; an' a boy's just the same."</p> + +<p>"Eat all you want, youngster, you're not in +school now," said Carter. "I have a slight +recollection myself of a time when I had an +appetite."</p> + +<p>"I failed to notice anything wrong with it +to-night, Sydney," remarked the girl.</p> + +<p>"There's nothin' like a happetite," observed +the cook. "Did you's ever hear the meaning +hoff the word? This is how hit was told to +<i>me</i>." He stood before them emphasizing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +each word with a forward shake of his first +finger. "H-a-p-p-y,—happy,—t-i-t-e, tight,—happy—tite—that's +right, ain't hit? +When you're heatin' hall you want you're +<i>tight</i>, an' then you're happy, ain't you? An' +that's what hit means,—happy-tight."</p> + +<p>Whether this observation of the small English +cook's was original or not those present +had no way of ascertaining. But since this +was but a sample of the many observations he +aired each day, it is reasonable to suppose that +it originated in his fertile brain.</p> + +<p>"I think there's no doubt about that +being the true derivation of the word," said +Hope. "In fact, I am sure it is. Isn't it, +Dave?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know nothin' about it," said the +boy, looking up from his last bite of pie; then +giving a deep sigh he reluctantly moved away +from the table.</p> + +<p>"Well, I can guarantee that you're happy," +said Hope, "and that is a positive demonstration +of the truth of William's observation. +But now we must go," she said, rising<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> +abruptly and picking up her hat from the +corner of the tent.</p> + +<p>"You haven't been here a half hour yet, +Hopie, but I suppose I must be thankful for +small favors," deplored Carter.</p> + +<p>"I've had my supper,—a nice one, too,—and +that's what I came for, Syd, dear," said +the girl. "And if I may, I will come again, +until you and dear old Jim both get tired +of me."</p> + +<p>"<i>Get tired</i>—fiddlesticks!" exclaimed McCullen, +while Sydney laughed a little, and left +the tent to saddle her horse. The breed boy +followed him; then Livingston, too, was about +to leave when McCullen stopped him.</p> + +<p>"Just stay in here by the fire and talk to +Hopie till we get your horses," he said, +abruptly leaving them together.</p> + +<p>The girl drew nearer the stove.</p> + +<p>"It's quite chilly out this evening," she +remarked.</p> + +<p>"That is the beauty of the nights in this +northern country," he replied, coming near to +her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, we're alone," she observed. "I +wonder where William went!"</p> + +<p>"I didn't notice his disappearance," he +replied. "But we are alone—together. Are +you not frightened?"</p> + +<p>"Frightened? No!" she said softly. +"Why?"</p> + +<p>"A senseless remark. Do not notice it—or +anything, I beg of you. I am quite too happy +to weigh my words."</p> + +<p>"Then you have proved the cook's theory +correct; providing you have eaten—sufficiently," +she replied. They both smiled, and +darts of light from the stove played about +their faces.</p> + +<p>"Will you allow me—this night—to ride +home with you?" he asked, watching the fantastic +shadows upon her face and catching +gleams of her deep eyes as they occasionally +sought his own.</p> + +<p>She hesitated a moment before replying.</p> + +<p>"You think me a strange girl," she said. +"I wonder what you will think of me now if I +refuse this."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I think nothing except that you are the +sweetest girl I have ever known—and the +<i>noblest</i>. I thank my Maker for having met +you, and spoken with you, and sat here in the +firelight beside you! Your ways are your +own. I shall not—cannot question you, or +impose myself upon you. Our lives, it seems, +lie far apart. But I cannot help it—the +words burn themselves out—I love you, <i>Hope</i>—I +love you! Forgive me!" He raised her +hand to his lips and left her standing alone +in the firelight.</p> + +<p>"He loves me," she thought, far into the +quiet hours of the night. "He loves me, and +yet he ran away from me!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + + +<p>Late one afternoon during the following +week Livingston drove up to +Harris' ranch and helped from his +buggy a small, fair-haired girl who looked +with wonderment at the squalid log buildings, +the squealing, scurrying pigs and children, +and the usual group of roughly dressed men +waiting for their supper. The pain in her +eyes deepened, and she clasped Livingston's +arm like a frightened child.</p> + +<p>"<i>O</i>, <i>mein Freund</i>, I fear!" she cried, drawing +back.</p> + +<p>"Come," he urged gently. "There is +nothing to fear. You must trust me, for I am +indeed your friend, little girl. We will find +the one who is expecting you—who will love +you and be a sister to you."</p> + +<p>A look of trustful obedience came into her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +sweet blue eyes, now disfigured by much +weeping, and without hesitation she walked +beside him past the group of rough-looking +men, dirty, barefooted children, scurrying pigs +and dogs, to the kitchen door.</p> + +<p>An Indian woman with a baby in her arms +stood in the shadow of the room and motioned +them to enter.</p> + +<p>"Is Miss Hathaway here?" inquired Livingston.</p> + +<p>At the sound of his voice the door of an +inner room opened and Hope, her slender +form gowned as he had first seen her, came +quickly across the untidy room toward +them.</p> + +<p>"I am Hope," she said to the girl, taking +both of her soft little hands in her own and +looking in wonder at the childish face with its +setting of wavy gold hair. Suddenly the +broken-hearted girl was in her arms sobbing +out her grief upon her shoulder. Hope led +her to a seat, removed her hat and coat, and +uttered words of endearment to her, soothing +her as she would have done a child.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> + +<p>Could this impulsive, loving girl be Hope, +wondered Livingston, who still stood in the +doorway. She smoothed back the bright hair +from the pretty, childish face, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"How beautiful you are! And what a little +thing to have such a grief! Oh, it is cruel, +<i>cruel</i>! Cry, dear, cry all you want to—it will +do you good, and the pain will sooner be +gone."</p> + +<p>"<i>O, Gott im Himmel</i>," sobbed the German +girl, "<i>gieb mir Muth es zu ertragen!</i>"</p> + +<p>"But you are, oh, so much braver than I. +Look at me, see what a great, big strong thing +I am, and <i>I</i> moaned and cried because the +world wasn't made to my liking! Oh, it makes +me <i>ashamed</i> now, when I see such a little, frail +thing as you suffer such a real sorrow! But I +am your friend—your sister, if you will have +me."</p> + +<p>"How goot you are, <i>meine liebe Freundin</i>!" +sobbed the girl.</p> + +<p>"May you never have reason to change +your opinion," replied Hope slowly, in German.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She speaks my language!" exclaimed the +German girl, with something like hopefulness +in her voice.</p> + +<p>"But very poorly," apologized Hope, looking +for the first time at the man standing +quietly in the doorway.</p> + +<p>"It will comfort her that you speak it at +all," he replied. "But without any language +you would still be a comfort to her. I will +leave her in your hands, Miss Hathaway. She +has had a long journey and—must be very +tired." He bowed and turned to go, but, +recollecting something, came back into the +room. "I am going now," he said to the +German girl, "but I will come to see you +often. You need have no fear when you are +with—Hope."</p> + +<p>Hope turned to him impulsively.</p> + +<p>"You will do as you say," she begged. +"You will come often to see her." Then +added, "You know she'll be terribly lonely +at first!"</p> + +<p>"It will give me great pleasure, if I may," +he replied.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> + +<p>She held out her hand to him.</p> + +<p>"If you <i>may</i>! Are you not master of your +own actions? Good-by!"</p> + +<p>She took her hand from his firm clasp with +something like a jerk, and found herself blushing +furiously as she turned to the little German +girl.</p> + +<p>As far as anyone could be made comfortable +in the Harris home Hope made her little +charge so. She shared her room, her bed +with her, took her to school each day and kept +her constantly at her side.</p> + +<p>She was a simple, trusting German girl, +bright, and extremely pretty, and her name +was Louisa Schulte. From the first she had +loved Hope with an affection that was as +touching as it was beautiful, and as she came +to know her better, day by day her love and +admiration grew akin to worship. She believed +her to be the most wonderful girl that +ever lived, in some respects fairly superhuman. +She marveled at the skill with which she could +ride and shoot, and her wisdom in Western +lore. And behind every accomplishment,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> +every word and act, Louisa read her heart, +which no one before had ever known.</p> + +<p>So finding in the bereaved girl, who had so +strangely come into her life, the sympathy +and love for which she had vainly searched in +one of her own sex, Hope gave her in return +the true wealth of a sister's heart.</p> + +<p>For some time after Louisa's arrival Hope +was with her almost constantly, but the inactive +life began to tell upon her. Her eyes +would light up with an involuntary longing at +the sight of the breed boys racing over the +hills upon their ponies.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you go?" asked the German +girl, one morning, reading her friend with observant +eyes as the boys started out for a +holiday.</p> + +<p>It was a beautiful warm Saturday morning. +The two girls were sitting on a pile of logs +by the side of the road sunning themselves, +far enough away from the Harris house and +its surroundings to enjoy the beauty of a perfect +day.</p> + +<p>"I would rather stay here with you," re<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>plied +Hope, arranging a waving lock which +the wind had displaced from Louisa's golden +tresses. "When the horse comes that I have +sent for, and you have learned to ride better, +we will go all over these mountains together. +I will show you Sydney's camp and take you +to old Peter's cabin, and let you see where +we found the den of coyotes. We will go +everywhere then, and have such a good +time!"</p> + +<p>Louisa looked at her tenderly, but her eyes +were filled with the pain of a great sorrow.</p> + +<p>"O, <i>Fräulein</i>, you are goot, so goot to me! +If I may ask, not too much, I wish to see +where lies <i>mein lieber Fritz</i>. I vill weep no +more—then. Ven I sleep the dreams come so +much. If I could see once the place it would +be better, <i>nicht wahr</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Hope, "it is a lovely spot +and you shall see it. Mr. Livingston could +not have found a more beautiful place. Just +now it is all a mass of flowers and green grass +as far as you can see, and behind it is a great +high jagged wall of stone. It is beautiful!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mr. Livingston is a good, true man," +mused Louisa, lapsing into German, which +Hope followed with some difficulty. "He +was very kind to my poor Fritz, who loved +him dearly. His letters were filled with his +praises. It was of him, of the beautiful country, +and our love of which he always wrote. +He was a good boy, <i>Fräulein</i>."</p> + +<p>"Tell me about him," said Hope, adding +hastily, "if you feel like it. I would love to +hear."</p> + +<p>Hope could not have suggested a wiser +course, for to speak of a grief or trouble wears +off its sharp edges.</p> + +<p>"He was a good boy," replied Louisa. "I +cannot see why God has taken him from this +beautiful place, and from me. It has been +a year, now, since I last saw him. He left in +a hurry. He had never spoken of love until +that day, nor until he told me of it did I +know that it was real love I had so long felt +for him. We grew up together. He was my +cousin. I had other cousins, but he was ever +my best companion—my first thought. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> +came to me that day and said: 'Louisa, I am +going far away from here to the free America. +It breaks my heart to leave you. Will +you promise to some day join me there and +be my wife?' I promised him, and then cried +much because he was going so far. It was +even worse than the army, I thought, and +somehow it held a strange dread for me. But +Fritz would not think of the army. His eldest +brother returned, and as head of the family all +the money went to him. My aunt married +again. Her husband is a wholesale merchant +of wines. He gave Fritz a position in his +warehouse, but very soon they quarreled. He +seemed not to like Fritz. Then there was +nothing for the poor boy but the army, or far +America. I could not blame him when he +chose freedom. The lot of the youngest son +is not always a happy one. A friend who had +been here told all about this great country and +the good opportunities, so he came. His letters +were so beautiful! I used to read them +over and over until the paper was worn and +would break in pieces. For a whole year I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> +waited, and planned, and lived on the letters +and my dreams, then filled with happiness I +started to him. To think that I have come +to the end of this long, strange journey to a +foreign land to see but his grave! Oh, God in +heaven, help me be brave!"</p> + +<p>"There is no death," said Hope, rising +abruptly from the log upon which she had +been sitting and standing erect before Louisa, +her dark commanding eyes forcing the attention +of the grief-stricken girl. "I know there +is no death. I feel it with every throb of my +pulse—in every atom of my being! <i>I</i> and my +<i>body</i>!—<i>I</i> and my <i>body</i>!" she continued impressively. +"How distinct the two! Can the +death of this lump of clay change the <i>I</i> that is +really myself? Can anything exterminate +the living me? Every throb of my whole +being tells me that I am more than this perishable +flesh—that I am more than time or place +or condition or <i>death</i>! I believe, like the +Indians, that when we are freed from this +husk of death—this perishing flesh, that the +we, as we truly are, is like a prisoner turned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +loose—that then, only do we realize what <i>life</i> +really means."</p> + +<p>Louisa's innocent eyes were intent upon her +as she strove to grasp the full meaning of the +English words.</p> + +<p>"<i>Ich weiss; es ist wahr</i>," she replied softly, +"<i>aber wenn der Kummer so frisch ist, dann ist +es unmöglich in dem Gedanken Trost zu +finden</i>."</p> + +<p>"I should have said nothing," said Hope in +contrition, seating herself upon the log pile +again.</p> + +<p>"<i>Nein</i>, my dear, dear friend! I have now +dis misery, but I belief you. Somedimes +your vords vill help—vat you calls 'em—vill +<i>soothe</i>, und I vill be better."</p> + +<p>"Then it's all right," said Hope, jumping +from the logs and giving her hand to Louisa +to assist her down. "Let's walk a little."</p> + +<p>They went slowly up the road toward the +school-house, and had not proceeded far when +they met Livingston driving toward them in +an open buggy.</p> + +<p>Hope waved her hand to him and hastened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +forward, while Louisa smiled upon him the +faintest of dimpled greetings, then drew +back to the side of the road while the girl +of the prairies stepped up to the side of his +buggy.</p> + +<p>"You haven't kept your word very well," +she said. "We have seen you only twice, and +Louisa has wondered many times what has +been keeping you. Isn't that so, Louisa?" +she nodded at the girl. "I am glad you have +come this morning, because I want to ask you +a favor."</p> + +<p>"I am at your service," he replied.</p> + +<p>"You know Louisa hasn't learned to ride +yet, and Harris' have no other way of conveyance, +so I wanted to ask you to take +her in your buggy—to see Fritz's grave." +The last few words were added below her +breath.</p> + +<p>"I came this morning to ask you if she did +not wish to see it," he replied. "It might be +good for her."</p> + +<p>"Of course <i>you</i> should be the first one to +think of it!" she said quickly, shading her eyes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +with her hand to look down the long, crooked +stretch of road. "I didn't think of it at all +myself. She has just asked me if she might +see it. All the virtues are yours by right," she +continued, showing, as she again faced him, a +flash of her strong white teeth. "And the +funny part of it is, I think I am getting jealous +of the very virtues you possess!"</p> + +<p>"You should see with my eyes awhile," he +replied, "and you would have no cause for +jealousy."</p> + +<p>"I do not know jealousy in the ordinary +sense of the word—that was entirely left out +of my make-up, but for once I covet the attributes +of thoughtfulness that should be ingrained +in every woman's nature."</p> + +<p>When she had spoken he seemed struggling +for an instant with some strong emotion. +Without replying he stepped from his buggy +and walked to the heads of his horses, presumably +to arrange some part of the harness.</p> + +<p>Livingston struggled to keep back the +words which sprang to his lips. He loved the +girl with all the strength of his nature. Her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> +whole attitude toward him artlessly invited +him to speak, but his manhood forbade it.</p> + +<p>He was a puzzle, she thought, impatiently. +Why did he not make a little effort to woo her, +after having declared his love in no uncertain +manner? She was not sure that she wanted +to receive his advances if he should make any, +but why did he not make them? She knew +that she was interested in him, and she knew, +also, that she was piqued by his apparent indifference. +She knew he was like a smoldering +volcano, and she had all a girl's curiosity +to see it burst forth; but with the thought +came a regret that their acquaintance would +then be at an end.</p> + +<p>"I can take you both up there now, if you +wish," he said, coming around to the side of +the buggy. "The seat is wide and I do not +think you will be uncomfortable."</p> + +<p>Hope had turned her eyes once more down +the narrow, winding stretch of gray toward +the Harris ranch.</p> + +<p>"I think I will not go," she replied, still +peering ahead from under the shade of her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +hand. "Yes, I am sure now that's Sydney. +See, just going into the corral. Jim was to +have brought me an extra saddle horse to-day, +but Sydney has come instead, so I'll go back. +Louisa can go alone with you." She motioned +to the girl. "Come, Louisa, Mr. Livingston +wants to take you for a little drive. I will be +down there at the house when you come back."</p> + +<p>The girl understood enough of their conversation +to know where she was expected to +go. Obediently, trustfully, with one loving +glance at Hope, she climbed into the buggy +beside Livingston and was soon riding rapidly +up the mountain road to the grave of her +sweetheart.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + + +<p>Hope's anxiety to reach the ranch +could not have been great, for she +walked slowly along the dark, gray +stretch of road, vaguely dreaming the while, +and offering excuses to herself for not having +accepted Livingston's invitation. She managed +to find several reasons. First, it would +have been too crowded; second, Sydney had +brought the horse, and was probably waiting +to see her; third, she had no particular desire +to go, because he had so obviously wanted her +to do so. Finally, after weighing all her excuses, +she was obliged to admit that the only +thing that really troubled her was Livingston's +evident unconcern at her refusal to accompany +them.</p> + +<p>She had reached a point in her life where +self-analysis was fast becoming an interesting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> +study. At present it struck her as being amusing.</p> + +<p>The clatter of hoofs and a wild whoop +brought her out of her absorbing study, as +down the nearest side-hill the twins raced pell-mell, +the pinto pony leading the stylish Dude +by half a length. They drew up suddenly in +the road beside her.</p> + +<p>"Now you can see fer yourself that that +Dude cayuse of Dave's ain't in it with my +pinto!" exclaimed the soft-voiced twin.</p> + +<p>"What'er you givin' us!" shouted Dave. +"Just hear him brag about that spotted cayuse +of his'n! 'Twasn't no even race at all. +He had 'bout a mile the start!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, come off your perch!" retorted the +other sweetly.</p> + +<p>"Where are you boys going?" asked Hope.</p> + +<p>"Nowheres. We seen you from the top of +the divide, an' I thought I'd just show you +what was in Pinto. He's all right—you bet! +Ain't you, old man?" said the boy, pulling his +pony's mane affectionately.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>I</i> wasn't tryin' to show off!" ex<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>claimed +Dave. "But just give me a level road +an' I'll beat you all to pieces!"</p> + +<p>"Where have you been?" inquired Hope.</p> + +<p>The boys looked at each other in a sheepish +manner.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to guess," said the girl suspiciously, +"and if I am right you'll have to own +up. In the first place your father sent you out +to bring in those cows and calves over near old +Peter's basin. Instead of that you went on +farther and found a camp. You went in one +of the tents and ate some dried blackberry +pie, instead of bringing in the cattle. Now, +isn't that so?"</p> + +<p>Dave looked dumfounded.</p> + +<p>"I don't see how you knew that when you +wasn't along! Gee, you must know things +like grandmother White Blanket!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>The soft-voiced twin began to laugh. "I +told you that you was gettin' more o' that pie +on your face 'n you was in your mouth!" he +exclaimed, whereupon the other quickly turned +away his besmeared countenance, proceeding<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +to wipe it vigorously with the sleeve of his +coat.</p> + +<p>"Have you got your bounty yet for the +coyotes you dug out of the hill?" asked Hope, +to allay his discomfort. She glanced sideways +at the soft-voiced twin, who assumed his +most docile, innocent expression, and rode on +ahead. It had become a sore subject with him. +Suddenly giving a wild whoop he spurred up +his pinto and dashed in among the assortment +of tents, bringing to the entrance of her abode +old Mother White Blanket, who hurled +after him numerous blood-curdling, Indian invectives. +Then she covered her yellow prongs +of teeth under a wrinkled lip and scowled +fiercely at Hope as she passed along the road, +causing the breed boy to say:</p> + +<p>"The old woman's got it in fer you, I +reckon. But don't you care, she ain't so all-fired +smart as she makes out to be!"</p> + +<p>"I'm not afraid of her," replied Hope. +"She suspects me of having had a hand in the +shooting that night at the sheep-corrals up +there, and in consequence has a very bad heart<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> +for me. Now how could she think such a thing +as that? I don't believe she's much of a witch, +though, because when she gets in one of her +fits of passion she'd ride off on a broomstick if +she were."</p> + +<p>"She's got eyes like a hawk," said the boy, +"always seem' everything that's goin' on."</p> + +<p>"She don't miss much, that's sure," mused +Hope, as they passed by the house and approached +the corrals. There the soft-voiced +twin was talking with Carter, praising, enthusiastically, +the points of his pinto cayuse, +and comparing it with the blooded saddle +horse which Sydney had just brought from +Hathaway's home-ranch at Hope's request. +The boy never knew just how his statements +were received, for at sight of Hope the young +man went out into the road to meet her.</p> + +<p>She welcomed him with a quick smile, which +a year previous would have been accompanied +by a sisterly kiss. Carter noted its omission +this day with singular impatience. How long, +he wondered, before she would forget his foolishness. +It occurred to him then, that in spite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> +of her girlishness she was very much a woman, +and his actions toward her, which now he most +heartily regretted, had ignited a spark of self-consciousness +in her nature, raising an effective +barrier between them that only time could +wear away.</p> + +<p>"I expected Jim with the horse instead of +you, Sydney," she said. "How did it happen?"</p> + +<p>"A lot of men are up with the trail herds, +and your father needed Jim to help pay them +off, so I brought the horse instead. Jim will +be back in a couple of days," he explained.</p> + +<p>"You went down to the ranch, then, with +him yesterday evening, I suppose," said Hope. +"What are they all doing there?"</p> + +<p>"It looks just as it did any evening last +summer, if you happened to drop in on them. +Little Freddie Rosehill thumping away at the +piano and singing bass from the soles of his +feet, that tallest Cresmond girl, with the red +hair, yelling falsetto, and the others joining in +when they got the chance. Then down at the +other end of the room the usual card table<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>—your +father, mother, Clarice, and O'Hara, and +father and mother Cresmond watching the +game and listening to the warbling of their +offspring."</p> + +<p>"Is <i>Larry O'Hara</i> there?" asked Hope in +surprise. "I thought he was not coming this +year."</p> + +<p>"Don't you ever think O'Hara is going to +give you up as easy as that," replied Sydney, +laughing. "He just got there yesterday, and +was in the depths of despair when he discovered +you had flown. He told Clarice he +was coming over here to see you as soon as he +could decently get away. His mother's with +him, which makes that proposition a little more +awkward for him than if he were alone. It +was late when I got there and I didn't have +time to change my clothes, so I just walked in +on them in this outfit. But they seemed pretty +glad to see me."</p> + +<p>"I'll bet they nearly smothered you with +welcome! I can just see them," said Hope. +"That Lily Cresmond with the red hair always +was so demonstrative to you, Syd. I'm<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +sorry O'Hara is there, and Clarice Van Renssalaer, +too—or rather, I mean, I'm sorry only +because they are there that I am not at home, +for I like them; but I'm not very sorry +either, Syd. I'd rather be up here in the +mountains, free like this, with my poor little +Louisa, and you and Jim camping over the +hills there, than stifling in the atmosphere of +those New York people."</p> + +<p>"You're a queer girl, Hope, but I don't believe +I blame you much. I was glad to leave +this morning and head my horse this way."</p> + +<p>"Did father—ask about me?" she inquired +hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>"He didn't lose any time in getting me off +alone and questioning me for about an hour," +he replied. "He misses you, Hope."</p> + +<p>"Poor father—poor old Dad!" exclaimed +the girl softly. Then with a peculiar motion +of her head and shoulders, as if throwing off +a load, she remarked firmly: "But that makes +no difference. I am glad, anyway, to be here. +I have you and Jim so near, and my dear little +German girl—and perfect freedom!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And you have Livingston to take the place +of O'Hara," he returned, "and there is +nothing lacking, as far as I can see, except a +good cook in the Harris family."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Livingston is nothing to me," replied +Hope quickly, "and he doesn't care anything +for me, if that is what you mean to imply." +Her eyes flashed and she spoke with unusual +sharpness.</p> + +<p>"We can't afford to quarrel, Hope," exclaimed +Carter. Then, putting his hand upon +her shoulder, said very earnestly: "I was just +joking, and didn't mean to imply anything, so +don't be angry with me. Besides, it won't do. +It's near noon and I was going to suggest that +we go over to camp and have William get us +up a good dinner, and then we'll go fishing. +What do you say? You can invite your breed +brigade; they look hungry," pointing to the +two boys sitting on the ground in the shade of +a log barn, their knees drawn up under their +chins.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't mind what you say, Syd, +dear," she said abruptly. "I believe I am get<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>ting +to be quite as foolish as other people, to +be offended so easily. I should as soon expect +you to turn upon me in wrath if I told you to +look out for little Louisa."</p> + +<p>"Poor little Louisa," he exclaimed. +"Where is she?"</p> + +<p>"We went up the road for a walk, and Mr. +Livingston drove along and took her up to +see her Fritz's grave," she explained.</p> + +<p>"Now then, my girl, <i>you</i> look out for +Louisa! There's nothing like consoling grief +to bring two hearts close together. How did +you ever come to allow him to carry her away +up there and do the consolation act? You'll +sure lose him now! I thought you had more +diplomacy!"</p> + +<p>She laughed a little.</p> + +<p>"Unless a man loved me with every atom of +his being, with his whole life, I couldn't feel +the least attraction for him in <i>that</i> way," she +said. "That is the way I have planned for the +<i>one</i> man to love, my ideal man, Syd. When +such a man comes along I shall love him, but I +very much fear he does not exist."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then you're doomed to die an old maid, +Hope! But don't you think O'Hara entertains +that kind of affection for you?"</p> + +<p>"Do you know, I have a perfect horror of +being an old maid. Probably I'll outgrow it. +O'Hara? No, indeed! He'll get over it soon +enough, and think just as much of some other +girl. He's a nice boy, a good friend, but he +isn't just my idea of what a man should be."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you're doomed, Hope," said +her cousin, shaking his head solemnly. +"What will you do, spend your lonely maidenhood +out here on the prairie, or take a life +interest in some Old Ladies' Home?"</p> + +<p>"Did you say something about going up to +camp?" she asked. "But I ought to wait for +Louisa; she should be back now."</p> + +<p>"I've ridden twenty miles this morning, and +the consequence is my appetite is rather annoying," +replied Sydney. He called to the +two boys, sitting drowsily in the shade. +"Here, you boys, if you want to go out and +get some grub with this lady, just run in her +horse for her as fast as you can."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, I should say so!" exclaimed the soft-voiced +twin, who jumped up with wonderful +alacrity, followed more slowly by Dave. +Another moment they were spurring their +ponies across the large, fenced pasture toward +a bunch of horses grazing quietly in the distance.</p> + +<p>"Those boys are all right when there's anything +to eat in sight," remarked Carter.</p> + +<p>"Or any fun," added the girl.</p> + +<p>"How in the world do you tell them apart?" +he inquired. "I look at one and think I've +got him spotted for sure, and then when the +other one turns up I'm all mixed again. You +seem to know them so well, you must have +some kind of a mark to go by."</p> + +<p>"They are so entirely different in their natures," +she said, "that I almost know them +apart without looking at them. Their faces +look different to me, too. Dan has certain expressions +that Dave never had; and their +voices are nothing alike."</p> + +<p>"I've noticed their voices," said her cousin, +watching the boys as they deftly turned the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> +bunch of horses and headed them toward the +corral. "Well, they can sure ride to beat three +of a kind! They're not losing any time with +those horses, either."</p> + +<p>The corral was built in a corner of the pasture +fence, near the stables. It took the breed +boys scarcely five minutes to corral the horses, +rope the saddle animal wanted, throw open the +large gate and lead out the horse. The other +horses followed with a mad dash, kicking up +their heels in very joy for their unexpected +freedom.</p> + +<p>Hope watched the road, as far as she could +see it, looking for the return of her small German +friend.</p> + +<p>"We'll ride along," suggested Sydney, +throwing the saddle upon her horse, "and +we'll probably meet them. I don't think we'll +have any trouble getting Livingston to drive +over to camp, and we'll all go fishing together."</p> + +<p>This seemed to take a load from the mind of +Hope, and light-heartedly she rode away toward +the camp with her cousin and the breed +boys.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + + +<p>They met Livingston and his charge +just as they reached the dimly marked +trail that led up a gulch toward +Sydney's camp. At the invitation extended +for dinner the sheep-man drove up the coulee +and followed the riders.</p> + +<p>William, the cook, greeted his guests with +a generous smile, then proceeded to do a great +amount of hustling about preparing for the +meal, which he promised would be an excellent +one. Being a round-up cook of much experience, +he soon set before them such an assortment +of edibles as would have dumfounded +the uninitiated.</p> + +<p>The afternoon passed off pleasantly. Hope +was unusually vivacious, and Sydney full of +amusing small talk, principally concerning +his sundry adventures and impressions during +his brief absence from camp.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> + +<p>They all felt the grief of the German girl, +and each showed his sympathy in a different +manner. Sydney talked, often in an aimless, +senseless way, but obviously to divert the unhappy +girl. Hope filled each pause, concluded +every description with rich drollery and mimicry, +while Livingston's quiet attentiveness +betokened the deepest compassion. Even William +gave her many smiles and made numerous +witty remarks, which were wholly lost upon +her.</p> + +<p>"You're in a very bad crowd of people, +Miss Louisa," said Sydney. "But after +awhile you'll be so much like us that you won't +notice how bad we are!"</p> + +<p>"Shame on you, Sydney!" exclaimed +Hope. "Louisa never could be bad!" Then +to the girl: "The truth is, <i>he's</i> the only bad +one in the whole outfit, so don't let him make +you think that the rest of us are bad, too!"</p> + +<p>"You are all <i>so</i> goot," said Louisa, in great +earnestness.</p> + +<p>"Now listen to that!" cried Sydney. +"That's the first time anybody ever accused<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> +<i>me</i> of being good! I'll get a gold medal and +hang it about your neck, Miss Louisa, and I'll +be your faithful servant from now on."</p> + +<p>"And you'll bring her fresh flowers every +day, and maybe you could borrow Mr. Livingston's +buggy since you haven't one of your +own. But don't soar too high, Sydney, she +doesn't know you yet!" returned his cousin.</p> + +<p>"But <i>you</i> like him," said Louisa, "and daat +iss—vat you calls 'em—<i>recommend</i> enough!"</p> + +<p>They were all surprised by this first flash +of the real Louisa, the Louisa of sunshine and +mirth, whom Sorrow had so soon branded.</p> + +<p>It was the first time Sydney had heard her +utter anything but the briefest monosyllables. +He looked at her, astonished. For an instant +silence reigned, then Hope, with sudden +abandonment, threw her arms about her, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're the dearest thing I ever saw! +Isn't she, Syd?" And then, as if ashamed of +her impulsiveness, she jumped up and laughingly +left the tent. A few moments later she +put her head inside, remarking: "The trout<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> +haven't begun to feed yet. I'd like to know +how we are going to put in the time waiting +for them! It's too hot for anything in +there, and it won't be a bit of use to try to +fish for an hour, at least. All of you come +outside."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Carter, rising lazily to his feet. +"I've discovered a small Eden down there under +the willows, along the creek. All green +and mossy and pepperminty, but the snake's +never showed up yet. Come on, we'll all go +down there."</p> + +<p>He led the way along the steep bank of the +small creek and down its opposite side until a +parting in the willow brush revealed one of +Nature's hidden glories, a small glen, shady +and beautiful. From its very center sprang a +tiny spring, forming a clear, glassy pool of +water which narrowed into a tiny trickling rill +that went creeping through the grass-carpeted +arbor to the larger stream beyond.</p> + +<p>It was beautifully inviting, and Hope sank +down upon a mossy cushion with an exclamation +of delight.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Now, how am I for an entertainer?" +asked Sydney gayly. Hope turned her dark +eyes upon him, then about the little arbor.</p> + +<p>"Wait," she said softly, "don't talk for a +minute—don't even breathe. This is glorious!" +Then after a brief pause, continued: +"There, the spell's passed! This place is no +longer enchanting, but lovely and cool, just the +same, and is a whole lot better than that roasting +tent up there. What became of the twins? +Probably they are more attracted by William's +mode of entertainment than yours, +Syd!" She turned to Livingston and smiled. +"William has two regular customers already, +you know. I am afraid to think what will +happen if he camps here all summer."</p> + +<p>"I am inclined to add my name to the list +if he entertains such charming ones every +day," replied the sheep-man.</p> + +<p>"I meant the <i>boys</i>," said Hope in all seriousness.</p> + +<p>Sydney laughed outright.</p> + +<p>"How do you know but what he meant the +boys, too?" he asked. She looked at him with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> +an assumption of surprise. "A girl never +makes such a mistake as that," she said. "It +was a very pretty compliment."</p> + +<p>"Worthy of O'Hara," he put in.</p> + +<p>"Worthy of Mr. Livingston," she declared. +"O'Hara's compliments are not so delicate. +They are beautifully worded, but unconvincing."</p> + +<p>"I believe she's actually giving you credit +for extreme honesty!" exclaimed Carter.</p> + +<p>"I sincerely trust so," replied his friend +heartily. "It would be a most pleasing compliment."</p> + +<p>"Well, I should say it would be the biggest +one <i>she</i> ever paid anyone! You're the first +one Hope ever credited with honesty. You +can sit for an hour and tell her a great long +story and she'll never give you the satisfaction +of knowing for sure whether she believes you +or not. The chances are she don't. She'll take +your assertions, weigh every word, and then +draw her own conclusions."</p> + +<p>"You only know from your own experience," +demurred Hope. "All people haven't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> +your habit of departing from the truth, you +know." Then to Livingston: "Really, he +can tell a terrible whopper with the straightest +face imaginable! He only proves to you how +well I know him. Last summer he told a girl +a ridiculous story about snakes. It was her +first visit at the ranch, and for several days +I thought something was the matter with her +brain. Every time she heard a grasshopper +buzz anywhere near she would give a shriek +and turn deathly pale. She finally told me +that she feared rattlesnakes because Sydney +had told her that that particular buzz was the +snake's death rattle and that something or +somebody was doomed for sure, that if the +snake couldn't get the human victim it had set +its eyes upon, it crept into a prairie-dog hole +and got one of them. Of course that is only a +sample of his very foolish yarns, which no one +but an ignorant person would think of believing."</p> + +<p>"I remember," laughed Sydney. "That +was that fair Lily Cresmond. She got up +and had breakfast with me at six o'clock this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +morning. Poor girl! I'm afraid I've put my +foot in it this time!"</p> + +<p>"For goodness' sake, did she propose to +you?" asked Hope, aghast.</p> + +<p>"Not that I'm aware of!" answered Sydney. +"No, it's worse than that. She asked +me to tell her really and truly why <i>you</i> weren't +at home this summer. She crossed her heart, +hoped to die she'd never breathe a word of it +to a living, human creature, so I told her that +it pained me to tell the sad story, but last +season Freddie Rosehill had shown you such +evident admiration that your father had become +thoroughly alarmed and thought it best +to keep you out of his way for the present. +But I suggested that you might face paternal +wrath and come back just for one look at the +dear little boy."</p> + +<p>"Sydney, you never did!" gasped Hope. +"<i>How could you?</i>"</p> + +<p>"Freddie came trotting out for his morning +constitutional just as I was riding away," he +continued, "and he waved his cane in the air +and actually <i>ran</i> down to the corral to say<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> +good-by. I really believe he liked me for once +because I was leaving, and he very gingerly +asked about you, and naturally was visibly relieved +when I assured him that you would +probably not be home while he was there. +Talk about your joshers!" he said to Livingston. +"Hope had the little Englishman so he +didn't know his soul was his own! She'd take +him out on the prairie and lose him, have him +pop away for an hour at a stuffed chicken tied +to the top of a tree, shoot bullets through his +hat by mistake, and about a million other +things too blood-curdling to mention. He +didn't want to refuse my aunt's invitation to +join the party at the ranch every summer, but +his days and nights were spent in mortal terror +of this dignified daughter of the house. And +I must say there wasn't much love lost between +them."</p> + +<p>"A brainless little fop!" commented Hope.</p> + +<p>"Well, it seems he had sense enough to +catch that oldest Cresmond girl, Lily, whose +ears I filled with the pathetic story; but I didn't +know it then, that's the fun of it! He held out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> +his fat little hand to me when I started out +this morning and said: 'I want your congratulations. +Lily has promised to be my Lady.' +'You don't say so,' I said. 'Lord, but what a +haul you've made, Rosehill!' 'Yes,' said he, +'she's a beauty!' 'And a million or so from +her papa'll set you up in housekeeping in great +shape over in Old England. I certainly congratulate +you!' said I. He didn't seem to have +anything more to say, so I rode off, and do you +know I never once thought of what I'd told +that girl about him liking you until I was +halfway here."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Syd, what have you done!" cried +Hope. "You ought to go right back to the +ranch and fix it up for them. It might be real +serious!"</p> + +<p>"Don't worry; they'll fix it up between +them, just give 'em time," laughed Sydney. +"But then I shouldn't like to be the cause of +breaking up such a match. I sure wouldn't!"</p> + +<p>"I should say not! It would be terrible!" +agreed Hope.</p> + +<p>"No, I wouldn't like it on my conscience,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> +continued Sydney, "to break up such a good +match by my thoughtless words. It would be +too bad to spoil two families!"</p> + +<p>"I quite agree with you, excepting the lady, +whom I do not know," remarked Livingston. +"But I have met Rosehill. He is, in my estimation, +a worthless specimen of English aristocracy."</p> + +<p>"Oh, they're mostly all alike, a mighty poor +outfit all through, from the ones I've known! +But I guess they'll manage to fix it up among +themselves," laughed Hope.</p> + +<p>At this remark Livingston looked oddly at +the girl, then the brush crackled near them, +followed by the appearance of one of the +twins, who, smiling victoriously, held up for +inspection a small string of trout.</p> + +<p>"And here we've been wasting our time +when we might have been fishing instead!" +exclaimed Hope, springing up from her +mossy couch and minutely examining the +string of fish.</p> + +<p>"You'll find fishing tackle, all you want, up +at camp. William'll show you," remarked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> +Sydney. "For my part I shall stay here and +gather strawberry leaves for Miss Louisa to +make into wreaths. Isn't this one a daisy? +It's too warm to fish, anyway," he concluded.</p> + +<p>"You shall not decide for her, Syd," declared +Hope. "Which would you rather do, +Louisa?"</p> + +<p>The German girl shook her head, smiling +a little. "It is very warm," she said.</p> + +<p>"Then you shall stay with Sydney," decided +Hope. "But I am only going to fish a little +while, anyway, because I've got something else +I want to do." She looked up at Livingston, +who had come near her, and laughed. "Yes, +you may go with me if you will show me how +to cast a fly. Sydney says you are an expert +fisherman, but I don't know the first thing +about it. We will walk up the creek and fish +down, because the boys are fishing down here." +She called to the boy, who was walking toward +the stream: "I'll be ready to go home in about +an hour, wait for me!" He nodded in reply. +"Come on," she said to Livingston.</p> + +<p>They had fished in silence some minutes,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> +far up the stream at an open point where several +other smaller streams joined this, forming +a broad group of tiny, gravelly islands.</p> + +<p>"I do think," said the girl finally, "that +this is great sport, though I cannot haul them +out like you do. Now it must be luck—nothing +more, for we both have exactly the same +kind of flies."</p> + +<p>"You leave your fly too long in the water," +said the man. "You should cast more—like +this."</p> + +<p>"But I can't for the life of me get the hang +of it," she exclaimed, making a desperate attempt.</p> + +<p>"Not like that," said Livingston. "Look, +this is the way. There, you've caught yourself!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, how foolish," laughed the girl. "It's +in there to stay, too!"</p> + +<p>"Wait, I will assist you," he said, leaping +across the stream which separated them, and +coming to her side.</p> + +<p>"I think I can get it out all right," she said, +throwing down her pole, and using on the en<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>tangled +hook more force than discretion. She +laughed in a half-vexed manner at her attempts, +while Livingston stood near watching, +his eyes earnest, intent, his face illumed +by a soft, boyish smile of quiet enjoyment.</p> + +<p>"If I had another hook I'd cut this off +and leave it in there," she said, "but the fishing +is too fine to leave now. No, wait a minute," +motioning him back with the disengaged hand +while she tugged vigorously at the hook with +the other. "I can do it. If only the material +in this waist wasn't so strong, I might tear it +out. How perfectly idiotic of me to do such +a thing, anyway!" Her cheeks were aflame +with the exertion. "You see," she continued, +still twisting her neck and looking down sideways +at the shoulder of her gown where the +hook was imbedded, "I don't want to break +it because we'd have to go way back to the +camp and start in over, and then it would be +too late in the day. I don't see what possessed +that fish to get away with my other hook! But +this goods simply won't tear!"</p> + +<p>"There's no other way," declared Living<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>ston, +with conviction. "You will have to let +me help you. I'll cut it out. See," he scrutinized +the hook very closely, while Hope +threw down her arms in despair, "it's only held +by a few threads. If you don't mind doing +a little mending, I will perform the operation +in a moment to your entire satisfaction."</p> + +<p>"Well, hurry, please, because we are certainly +wasting good time and lots of fish."</p> + +<p>"If all time were but wasted like this," he +exclaimed softly, prolonging the task.</p> + +<p>She knew that he was taking undue advantage +of the situation and that she was +strangely glad of it, recklessly glad, in her +own fashion. She had never looked at him +so closely before. In this position he could +not see her. She noticed his broad, white forehead, +and felt a strong desire to touch the hair +that dropped over it, then admonished herself +for feeling glad at his slowness.</p> + +<p>From the hillside above them a man on a +piebald horse watched the scene interestedly. +Without warning the girl's eyes lifted suddenly +from the soft, brown hair so near, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> +met those of the rider above. Livingston's +head was bent close to her own, so that he did +not see the leering, grinning face that peered +down at them, but Hope caught the look direct, +and all, and more, than it seemed to imply. +Her eyes glittered with anger. Like a +flash her hand sought her blouse and for an +instant the bright sunlight gleamed upon a +small weapon. As quickly the man wheeled +his horse and disappeared behind the hill. With +a deep flush the girl hid the little revolver as +Livingston, ignorant of the scene, triumphantly +held up for inspection the rescued +fishhook.</p> + +<p>"Making love, by the holy smoke," chuckled +Shorty Smith to himself, spurring up his piebald +horse and heading off a stray calf. "So +that's what she does 'longside o' teachin' kids!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + + +<p>Upon the highest ridge between the +camp and old Peter's basin Hope and +the twins met Ned riding slowly along, +his sturdy little legs drawn up into the straps +of a man's saddle. He had an old, discarded +felt hat of his father's, several sizes too large +for him, pulled down until his ears laid flat +along the brim. From under its wide, dingy +expanse his sharp, little black eyes peered +out inquisitively. In imitation of a certain +French breed whom he greatly admired, a +large red handkerchief was knotted about his +waist.</p> + +<p>He made a picturesque little figure in the +bright sunlight as he rode leisurely toward +them.</p> + +<p>"Where've you all been?" he called at the +top of his boyish treble. "You boys're goin'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> +to catch it if you don't bring in those cows before +dark!"</p> + +<p>"Who told you?" roared Dave.</p> + +<p>"The old man told me to come an' look you +fellers up. Where've you been?" inquired the +child, riding up alongside and swinging his +horse into pace with the others.</p> + +<p>"Now you want to find out something," +said Dan complacently.</p> + +<p>"I don't <i>care</i> where you've been," said +the child indignantly, "but you'd better be +roundin' in them cows or you'll catch it!"</p> + +<p>Hope rode up beside him. "I'm sorry you +weren't home when we left. We've been over +at my cousin's camp. The next time you shall +go along."</p> + +<p>"Let's go to-morrow," suggested the boy +eagerly, to which amusing proposition she immediately +agreed. "Say," he continued, "I +seen Long Bill and some o' them fellers drive +in a bunch of mavericks off'n the range, an' +they're goin' to brand 'em back of old Peter's +this evenin'. There was a cow with an O Bar +brand on her, followed 'em all the way down,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +bellerin' an' makin' a big fuss, an' they can't +get rid of her. They give me a half a dollar +to drive her back, but she turned so quick I +couldn't do nothin' with her, so I thought I'd +just let 'em take care of her themselves."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure about that brand?" asked +Hope quickly.</p> + +<p>"Sure as anything," replied the boy. +"Why?"</p> + +<p>"I think you must be mistaken," she told +him. "For it would be very queer if one of +my father's cows should be following a stray +maverick up to old Peter's place."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you something," whispered the +boy, leaning toward her. "They wasn't yearlings +at all, they was bringin' in, only big +calves."</p> + +<p>Her face darkened savagely. "Come," she +exclaimed, "I'm going to see for myself!"</p> + +<p>"Tattle-tale!" cried the sweet-voiced twin. +"Now you'll get us into a scrape for tellin'. +I'll lick you for this!"</p> + +<p>The girl turned her horse sharply about, +stopped it short, facing them fiercely.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You coward!" she exclaimed. "That +child didn't know what he was telling! He's +honest. If either of you touch him, or say +one unkind word to him about this, I'll make +you smart for it!"</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean nothin'," declared the soft-voiced +twin suavely.</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess you didn't if you know +what's good for you!" she exclaimed, still angry. +"Now what are you going to do about +it, go home like babies, or stand by me and do +what I tell you?"</p> + +<p>"You bet I'll stand by you!" roared Dave.</p> + +<p>"I reckon you're our captain, ain't you?" +said the other sweetly.</p> + +<p>"I'm a scout, I am!" exclaimed the boy, +Ned, riding close beside her.</p> + +<p>She mused for a moment with darkening +eyes, putting her elbow upon the saddle's horn +and resting her chin in the hollow of her hand.</p> + +<p>"It's all right," she said at length deliberately. +"Ned will show you where the cow is, +and you boys drive it up to old Peter's corral +just as quickly as you can ride. Don't let any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>one +see you. When you have done that, go up +to the school-house and wait there for me. Now +hurry, and don't let anyone see you drive in +that cow. Go around this other side of old +Peter's."</p> + +<p>She motioned her hand for them to go, and +waited until they were out of sight, then rode +on to the school coulee which led into old +Peter's basin. It was a long, roundabout +way, but her horse covered the ground rapidly.</p> + +<p>From the hill behind the school-house she +saw Livingston driving back to his ranch. She +stood out in full relief against the green hillside, +and if he had glanced in that direction +must surely have seen her. From that distance +she could not tell if he had done so or not. She +wondered what he would think if he saw her +there alone. Then to get sooner out of sight +she ran her horse at full speed up the school +coulee toward old Peter's basin.</p> + +<p>Livingston saw her quite plainly; from that +distance there was no mistaking her. Then he +proceeded to do a very unwise thing. He put +his horses to their full speed, reached his sta<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>bles +in a few moments, threw his saddle on his +best horse and set out in the direction the girl +had taken.</p> + +<p>Hope made her way quickly up to the top +of the divide, then skirmished from brush patch +to brush patch, keeping well out of sight until +she reached the brush-covered entrance of Peter's +basin. There she had a plain view of the +small cabin, the rude stable, and corral, without +herself being observed by the occupants +of the place, and there she settled herself to +wait the appearance of the cow, whose queer +actions had been reviewed to her.</p> + +<p>It was difficult to believe that she was actually +in the midst of cattle thieves, though the +suspicion had more than once crossed her mind.</p> + +<p>She held that class of men in the utmost +loathing, and felt herself to be, now, in the +actual discovery of the crime, a righteous instrument +in the arm of justice.</p> + +<p>The unmistakable figure of Long Bill +loafed serenely in the doorway; old Peter +hobbled about, in and out of the house, while +back near the corral a man was carrying an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> +armful of wood. This man the girl watched +with particular interest. He took the sticks +to one side of the corral, and getting down +upon his knees proceeded to arrange them on +the ground in methodical order, into the shape +of a small pyramid. That done to his satisfaction, +he lounged back to the cabin and took +a seat beside Long Bill in the doorway.</p> + +<p>Presently all three men went back to the +corral, and looked over the rails at several +small creatures which were running about the +enclosure.</p> + +<p>"Them ain't bad-lookin' fellers," Long Bill +was saying.</p> + +<p>Hope, from her position in the brush, tried +to imagine what they were talking about, for +the distance was too great to carry the sound +of their voices.</p> + +<p>"I reckon we might as well git 'em branded +an' have it over with," suggested Shorty +Smith, the third man of the party.</p> + +<p>"I reckon we might as well," replied Long +Bill. Old Peter shook his head doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"Go ahead," he grunted. "But remember<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> +I don't know nothin' about these here calves! +You're just usin' my corral here to-day, an' the +devil keep your skins if you git caught!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know!" drawled Shorty Smith.</p> + +<p>"Well, I know!" roared the old man. +"If you can't take my advice an' put this here +thing off till after dark you kin take the consequences. +Anybody's likely to ride along +here, an' I'd like to know what kind of a yarn +you'd have to tell!"</p> + +<p>"Now you know them calves 're yourn," +drawled Shorty Smith, in an aggravating tone, +as he climbed up and seated himself on the top +pole of the corral. "You know them 're +yourn, every blame one, an' their mothers 're +back in the hills there!"</p> + +<p>"Your cows all had twins, so you picked out +these here ones to wean 'em, if anybody should +ask," said Long Bill, continuing the sport.</p> + +<p>The old man uttered a string of oaths.</p> + +<p>"Not much you don't pan 'em off onto me!" +he exclaimed. "My cows ain't havin' twins +this year!"</p> + +<p>"Some of Harris' has got triplets," mused<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> +Shorty Smith, at which Long Bill laughed, +exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"Been lary ever since them stock-inspectors +was up here last fall, ain't you? Before that +some o' your cows had a half a dozen calves. +I should 'a' thought you had more grit'n that, +Peter!"</p> + +<p>The old man cursed some more. Shorty +Smith jumped down from his high perch and +fetched a long, slender rod of iron from between +two logs of the cow-shed.</p> + +<p>"Might as well git down to business," he +said as he threw the branding iron on the +ground beside the symmetrical pyramid of +fire-wood, which he proceeded to ignite.</p> + +<p>"Let up, old man," growled Long Bill, "I'll +take the blame o' the whole concern an' you +ken rake in your share in the fall without any +interference whatsomever."</p> + +<p>"Don't git scared, Peter, you ain't got long +to live on this here planet, nohow, so you can +finish your days in peace. If there's any time +to be served we'll do it for you," drawled +Shorty.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's what I call a mighty generous +proposition," remarked Long Bill, as he coiled +up his rope. "We'll just git the orniments on +these innocent creatures an' shut 'em up in the +shed fer a spell."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes! Git the job over with if you +ain't goin' to wait till after sundown," exclaimed +old Peter nervously.</p> + +<p>They set to work at once, roping, throwing, +and putting a running brand on the frightened +calves. As each one was finished to the +satisfaction of the operator it was put into the +cow-shed nearby—a rude sort of stable, +where it was turned loose and the door securely +fastened on the outside with a large wooden +peg.</p> + +<p>They had been working industriously for +perhaps half an hour when old Peter glanced +up from the calf upon which he was sitting and +encountered Hope Hathaway's quiet eyes +watching them interestedly. She stood beside +the cow-shed but a few feet away, and +held her horse by the bridle.</p> + +<p>"Good God!" screamed the old man, nearly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> +losing his balance. "Where did you come +from?"</p> + +<p>The other men, whose backs were toward +her, glanced about quickly, then proceeded in +well assumed unconcern with the work upon +which they were engaged.</p> + +<p>"I hope I'm not intruding," said the girl.</p> + +<p>"Not at all," replied Shorty Smith politely. +"It ain't often we're favored by the company +of wimmen folks."</p> + +<p>"Those are fine-looking calves you've got +there," observed the girl.</p> + +<p>"Pretty fair," replied Shorty Smith, assisting +the animal to its feet.</p> + +<p>The visitor stepped to one side while he +dragged it into the shed and closed the door, +fastening it with the peg. Then Long Bill +proceeded to throw another victim with as +much coolness as though Hope had not been +there with her quiet eyes taking in every detail.</p> + +<p>Old Peter had not uttered a word since his +first involuntary exclamation, and though +visibly agitated, proceeded in a mechanical +manner to assist with the branding, but he kept<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> +his head down and his eyes obstinately averted +from the girl's.</p> + +<p>Nearly a dozen had been branded, and only +one, besides the last victim already thrown to +the ground, remained in the corral.</p> + +<p>Hope's whole attention was apparently +taken up with the branding, which she watched +with great interest. Old Peter gradually regained +his equilibrium, while Long Bill and +Shorty Smith had begun to congratulate themselves +that their spectator was most innocent +and harmless. Yet as Hope moved quietly +back to her position beside the rude stable +building she not only observed the three men +intent upon the branding, but noted the approach +of a large cow which had appeared +from the right-hand coulee about the time she +left her hiding-place in the brush.</p> + +<p>If the men had not been so busy they would +undoubtedly have seen this particular cow +coming on steadily toward the corral, now but +a rod distant. They would have noticed, too, +the girl's hand leave her side like a flash and +remove the large, smooth peg from where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> +Shorty Smith had hastily inserted it in the +building. They would have seen the stable +door open slowly by its own weight, and then +the peg quickly replaced. What they did notice +was that Miss Hathaway came very near +to them, so close that she leaned over old Peter's +shoulders to observe the smoking, steaming +operation.</p> + +<p>For a moment she stood there quietly, then +all at once exclaimed in some surprise:</p> + +<p>"Why, your calves are all out!" Instantly +the greatest consternation reigned, then old +Peter hobbled to his feet with an oath.</p> + +<p>"Every blamed one," said Shorty Smith. +"How 'n blazes did that happen?"</p> + +<p>"I reckon you didn't put that peg in right," +drawled Long Bill.</p> + +<p>"Look!" screamed old Peter, pointing at +the large cow that had come nearer and had +picked out from the assortment of calves one +of which it claimed absolute possession. It +was at this unfortunate moment that Livingston, +quite unobserved, rode into Peter's basin.</p> + +<p>"I'll help you drive them in," volunteered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> +Hope, instantly mounting her horse and riding +into their midst. Then a queer thing followed. +Old Peter, with a cat-like motion, sprang +toward her and covered her with a six-shooter.</p> + +<p>"Git off'n my place, you she-devil!" he +cried, his face livid with rage and fear.</p> + +<p>"Good God, don't shoot, you fool!" cried +Shorty Smith, while Long Bill made a stride +toward the frenzied old man.</p> + +<p>Livingston's heart stood still. He was +some distance away and, as usual, unarmed. +For an instant he stopped short, paralyzed by +the sight. Then the girl wheeled her horse +suddenly about as if to obey the command. +As she did so a report rang out and old Peter, +with the flesh ripped from wrist to elbow, +rolled over in a convulsed heap. It was all so +sudden that it seemed unreal. Hope sat on +her quivering horse, motionless, serene, holding +in her hand a smoking revolver.</p> + +<p>Long Bill and his companion stood like statues, +dumfounded for the instant, but Livingston, +with a bound, was at the girl's side, +his face white, his whole being shaken.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Thank God!" he cried in great tenderness. +"You are all right!"</p> + +<p>"What made you come here?" she exclaimed +in sudden nervousness, which sounded +more like impatience.</p> + +<p>Then their eyes met. Her own softened, +then dropped, until they rested upon the gun +in her hand. A flush rose to her face and her +heart beat strangely, for in his eyes she had +seen the undisguised love of a great, true soul. +For an instant she was filled with the wild +intoxication of it, then the present situation, +which might now involve him, returned to her +with all its seriousness. The danger must be +averted at once, she decided, before he learned +the actual truth.</p> + +<p>"Poor old man!" she exclaimed. Then +turned to Long Bill and his companion. "I'm +awfully sorry I had to hurt him, but he actually +made me nervous! I had an idea he was crazy, +but I never believed he was perfectly mad. +He ought to be watched constantly and all +dangerous weapons kept away from him. +Didn't you know he was dangerous?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p> + +<p>Shorty Smith suddenly rose to meet the +situation.</p> + +<p>"I knowed he was crazy," he said, "but I +didn't know he was as plumb locoed as that."</p> + +<p>"Well, he's out of business for awhile," +remarked the girl. "You boys better bandage +up his arm and carry him into the house. I'll +send over old Mother White Blanket when I +get back. I guess you can get in the calves by +yourselves all right, for really I feel very +shaken and I think I'll go right home. You'll +go with me, won't you, Mr. Livingston. But +the poor old crazy man! You boys will take +good care of him, won't you—and let me know +if I can be of any assistance."</p> + +<p>"Well, what do yo' think?" asked Shorty +Smith, as Hope and her companion disappeared +from the basin.</p> + +<p>"What'd I think?" exclaimed Long Bill. +"I think we've been pretty badly <i>done</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," drawled Shorty Smith, +"I reckon she ain't goin' to say nothin' about +<i>me</i>!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + + +<p>"I'll tell you what I'd do 'bout it, if I was +you," said Shorty Smith to the twins, several +days later, as he handed back a folded +sheet of paper. "I'd git your teacher to read +that there letter. There's something in it she +ought to know 'bout. Better not tell her first +where you got it. Let on you don't know +where it come from. There's somethin' there +she'll like to hear 'bout, that you kids ain't old +enough to understand."</p> + +<p>"Oh, is that so!" interposed Dan.</p> + +<p>"I ain't a-goin' to tell you nothin' about it, +but like enough she will, an'll thank you fer +givin' it to her," said Shorty.</p> + +<p>"If that writin' wasn't so funny I'd make +it out myself," replied the soft-voiced twin, +"fer I think you're jobbin' us, Shorty."</p> + +<p>"No, I ain't," he replied. "An' I'll back up +my friendship fer you by givin' you this!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> +He took from his pocket a silver dollar and +handed it to the boy, who pocketed it, and, followed +by his brother, walked away without another +word.</p> + +<p>Shorty Smith also walked away, in the +opposite direction, without a word, but he +chuckled to himself, and his mood was exceedingly +jubilant.</p> + +<p>"She done us all right, an' may play the +devil yet, but I'll git in a little work, er my +name ain't Shorty Smith!" Such was the substance +of his thoughts during the next few +days.</p> + +<p>That afternoon Hope stood in the doorway +of the school-house, watching her little brood +of pupils straggling down the hill.</p> + +<p>Louisa, who came daily to be with her beloved +friend, had started home with the two +eldest Harris girls, for Hope, in her capacity +of teacher, occasionally found work to detain +her for a short time after the others had gone. +This teaching school was not exactly play, +after all.</p> + +<p>The twins lingered behind, seemingly en<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>gaged +in a quiet discussion. Finally they came +back to the door.</p> + +<p>"Here's somethin' for you to read," said +the soft-voiced boy, handing her a folded paper, +while Dave leaned against the building +with an ugly scowl on his face.</p> + +<p>"To read," asked Hope, turning it over in +her hand. "Who wrote it, and where did you +get it?" She stepped out of the doorway onto +the green grass beside them.</p> + +<p>"Read it," said the breed boy. "It's somethin' +you ought to know."</p> + +<p>"Something I ought to know? But who +wrote it?" insisted the girl.</p> + +<p>"A woman, I reckon," replied the boy. +"You just read it, an' then you'll know all +about it."</p> + +<p>Hope laughed, and slowly opened the much +soiled, creased missive. "Why didn't you tell +me at once that it was for me?" she asked.</p> + +<p>The writing was in a bold, feminine back-hand, +and held her attention for a moment. The +thought occurred to her that Clarice might +have written from the ranch, but there was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> +something unfamiliar about it. She looked +first at the signature. "Your repentant +Helene," it was signed. Helene,—who was +Helene, she wondered; then turned the paper +over. "My darling Boy," it started. In her +surprise she said the words aloud.</p> + +<p>"Why, that's not for me! Where did you +boys get this letter? Now tell me!" She was +very much provoked with them.</p> + +<p>The soft-voiced twin smiled.</p> + +<p>"I thought you'd like to know what was in +it," he remarked, in evident earnestness.</p> + +<p>"That doesn't answer my question," she said +with some impatience. "<i>Where</i> did you get +it?"</p> + +<p>"We found it," replied Dave gruffly, still +scowling.</p> + +<p>"And you boys bring a letter to <i>me</i> that was +intended for someone else, and <i>expect</i> me to +<i>read</i> it!" She folded it up and handed it back +to the boy. "Go and give that to whom it belongs, +and remember it's very wrong to read +another person's letter. Tell me where you +got it. I insist upon knowing."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, we just found it up on the hill last +night," replied the soft-voiced twin evasively.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you tell her the whole shootin' +match!" roared the blunt Dave. "You're a +dandy! We found it up in the spring coulee +last night near where Mr. Livingston's sheep're +camped. He was up there before dark, cuttin' +'em out. This here letter dropped out of his +pocket when he threw his coat on a rock up +there, an' so Dan an' me an' Shorty Smith +came along an' picked it up."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Livingston's," said Hope, suddenly +feeling oddly alarmed. "Not <i>his</i>—you must +be mistaken! Why, it began—it was too—<i>informal</i>—even +for a sister, and he has no sister, +he told me so!"</p> + +<p>"It's for him all right, for here's the envelope." +Dan took it from his pocket and +handed it to her. It left no room for doubt. +It was directed to him, and bore an English +postmark. He had no sister. Then it must +be from his sweetheart—and he told her he +had no sweetheart. A sudden pain consumed +her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I reckon it's from his wife," said the soft-voiced +twin.</p> + +<p>"He has no wife," said Hope quietly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, he has! That's what they say," +declared the boy.</p> + +<p>"They lie," she replied softly. "I <i>know</i> +he has no wife."</p> + +<p>"I'll bet you he left her in England," said +the boy. "That's what the men say."</p> + +<p>"Your repentant Helene," repeated the girl +over and over to herself.</p> + +<p>Suddenly suspicion, jealousy, rage, entered +her heart, setting her brain on fire. She turned +to the boy like a fury. "Give me that letter!"</p> + +<p>Frightened beyond speech by the storm in +her black eyes, he handed it to her and watched +her as with a set face and strangely brilliant +eyes she began to read. Every word branded +itself upon her heart indelibly.</p> + + +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">My Darling Boy</span>: Can it be that you +actually refuse to allow me to come there? +Admitting I have wronged you in the past, +can you not in your greatness of heart find<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> +forgiveness for a weak woman—a pleading +woman——</p></blockquote> + + +<p>There at the foot of the first page the girl +stopped, a sudden terror coming over her.</p> + +<p>"<i>What have I done!</i>" she cried, crushing the +letter in her hand. "<i>What have I done!</i>" +Hysterically she began tearing it into small +pieces, throwing them upon the ground.</p> + +<p>"Now we can't give it back to him," deplored +the twin, recovering from his fright.</p> + +<p>"What have I done?" repeated the girl +again, softly. Then in an agony of remorse +she went down upon her knees in the cool grass +and picked up each tiny scrap of paper, putting +it all back into the envelope. She stood +for a moment looking down the long green +slope below, shamed, disgusted—a world of +misery showing in her dark eyes. "You're a +mighty fine specimen of womanhood!" she +exclaimed aloud; then turning about suddenly +became aware that her small audience was +watching her with some interest.</p> + +<p>"You boys get on your ponies and go right<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> +straight home!" she exclaimed in a burst of +temper. "You're very bad, both of you, and +I've a good notion to punish you!" She went +into the school-house and slammed the door, +while the twins lost no time in leaving the +premises. Not far away they met old Jim McCullen.</p> + +<p>"Where's your teacher?" he asked, stopping +his horse in the road.</p> + +<p>"She's back there," said the soft-voiced +twin, pointing toward the school-house. "But +you'd better stay away, for she's got blood in +her eye to-day!"</p> + +<p>"No wonder, you young devils!" laughed +Jim, riding on.</p> + +<p>He knocked at the school-house door and, +receiving no answer, walked in.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jim!" exclaimed the girl, rising from +the small table at the end of the room. "I +thought it was some of the children returning. +I'm awfully glad to see you! You've been +gone an age. Come, sit down here in this +chair, I'm afraid those seats aren't large +enough for you."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll just sit on this here recitation bench," +replied Jim, "that's what you call it, ain't it? +I want to see how it feels to be in school again. +I reckon it'll hold me all right."</p> + +<p>He seated himself with some care, while the +teacher sank back at her table.</p> + +<p>"You don't seem very pert-lookin', Hopie," +he continued, noticing her more carefully. +"What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>She looked down at her papers, then up at +him with something of a smile.</p> + +<p>"I'm twenty years old," she replied, "and +I don't know as much as I did ten years ago."</p> + +<p>"You know too much," replied McCullen. +"You know too much to be happy, an' you +think too much. You wasn't happy at home, +so you come up here, an' now your gittin' the +same way here. You'll have to git married, +Hopie, an' settle down; there ain't no other +way."</p> + +<p>"Mercy!" exclaimed the girl, "that would +settle me sure enough! What a horrible proposition +to consider! Just look at my mother—beset +with nervousness and unrest; look at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> +that poor Mrs. Cresmond and a dozen others—perfect +slaves to their husbands. Look at +Clarice—she never knew a moment's happiness +until Henry Van Rensselaer died! Yes, +I think marriage <i>settles</i> a girl all right! +What terrible mismated failures on every +hand! It's simply appalling, Jim! I've never +yet known one perfectly happy couple, and +how any girl who sees this condition about her, +everywhere, can dream her own ideal love +dream, picture her ideal man, and plan +and believe in an ideal life, while she herself +is surrounded by such pitiful object-lessons, +is a wonder!"</p> + +<p>"I ain't much of a philosopher," said old +Jim, "but it's always been my notion that most +wimmen <i>don't</i> see what's goin' on around 'em. +They think their own troubles is worse'n anybody's +an' 're so taken up whinin' over 'em that +their view is somewhat obstructed. Take the +clear-headed person that <i>can</i> see, an' they ain't +a-goin' to run into any matrimonial fire, no +more'n I'm goin' to head my horse over a cut-bank. +They're goin' straight after the happi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>ness +they know exists, an' they ain't goin' to +make no mistake about it neither, if they've +got any judgment, whatever."</p> + +<p>"What made my mother marry my father?" +asked the girl, lifting up her head and +facing old Jim squarely. "That's the worst +specimen of ill-assorted marriages I know of."</p> + +<p>Jim McCullen looked perplexed for an instant.</p> + +<p>"I don't think that was in the beginning," +he replied thoughtfully, "but your mother got +to hankerin' after her city life, her balls an' +theaters an' the like o' that. After she got a +fall from her horse an' couldn't ride no more +she didn't seem to take interest in anything at +the ranch, an' kept gettin' more nervous all the +time. I reckon her health had something to do +with it, an' then she got weaned from the +ranch, bein' away so much. It wasn't her life +any more."</p> + +<p>"And now even her visits there are torture +to her," said Hope bitterly. "She is drunk +with the deadly wine of frivolous uselessness—society!" +Then sadly, "What a wealth of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> +happiness she might have possessed had she +chosen wisely!"</p> + +<p>"But she was like a ship without a rudder; +she didn't have no one to guide her, an' now she +thinks she's happy, I reckon," remarked McCullen, +adding, after a pause, "If she thinks +at all!"</p> + +<p>"And poor Clarice was a baby when <i>she</i> +married," mused the girl.</p> + +<p>"And that Cresmond woman always was a +blame fool," concluded Jim. "So there's +hope for you yet, don't you reckon there is? +That reminds me, here's a letter from O'Hara. +There's a nice fellow for you, Hopie."</p> + +<p>"Yes, he's a good boy, Larry is," she remarked +absently, taking the letter he handed +to her.</p> + +<p>"Why, he says he is coming over here to +stay awhile with Sydney, and he hopes I won't +be——" She smiled a little and tucked the +letter in her belt. "That'll keep," she said. +"Come on, I'm going over to camp with you, +Jim."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + + +<p>"Your horse don't look very tired," remarked +the girl as they rode easily +up the gulch toward Carter's camp. +"When did you start?"</p> + +<p>"Left 'bout noon," replied McCullen. +"No, he ain't tired; ain't even warm, be you, +old man? Just jogged along easy all the way +an' took my time. No great rush, anyhow. +Cattle 're gittin' pretty well located up here +now—good feed, fresh water, an' everything +to attract 'em to the place. Never saw any +stock look better'n that little bunch o' steers is +lookin'. Market's way up now, an' they ought +to be shipped pretty soon."</p> + +<p>"Why <i>don't</i> you ship them, then?" asked +Hope, leaning forward to brush a hornet from +her horse's head.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you see," said the man lamely, "them +cattle ain't in such all-fired good fix but what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> +they might be better, an' I reckon your cousin +ain't in any hurry to ship, nohow. Pretty good +place to camp up here in summer. Cool—my, +but it was blasted hot down at the ranch +this mornin', an' the misquitoes like to eat me +up! No misquitoes up here to bother, good +water, good fishin', good company,—an' who +under the sun would want to quit such a +camp?"</p> + +<p>"I'm willing," said the girl, looking at him +with fathomless eyes, "I'm perfectly willing +for him to camp here all summer. It's quite +convenient to have you all so near. Of course +I'm getting used to the grub down there—some, +by this time. Don't think I do not appreciate +your being here, dear old Jim! But +you know I understand, just the same, why +you are here! And I think," she added softly, +"I couldn't have stood it if he hadn't showed +that he cared for me just so."</p> + +<p>"Cared!" exclaimed the old fellow. +"Cared <i>for you</i>! Why, Hopie, your father +worships the ground you walk on! He's a +great, good-hearted man, the best in the world,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> +and you mustn't have no hard feelin's agin' +him for any little weaknesses, because the good +in him is more'n the good in most men. There +ain't no one that's perfect, but he's better'n +most of us, I reckon. An' he loves you, an' is +so proud of you, Hopie!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know it, I know it!" exclaimed the +girl passionately.</p> + +<p>"An' your mother's goin' East next month," +concluded McCullen. "She's very anxious to +get away."</p> + +<p>"My poor father!" said Hope softly. Then +more brightly: "I suppose Sydney's out with +the cattle."</p> + +<p>"Them cattle 're gettin' pretty well located," +replied McCullen. "Don't need much +herdin'. No, I seen him there at Harris' as I +come along. He said he was goin' to take you +an' that little flaxen-haired girl out ridin', but +concluded, as long as you was busy at the +school-house, that he'd just take the little one—providin' +she'd go. He was arguin' the +question with her when I rode by, an' I reckon +he's there talkin' to her yet, er else givin' her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> +a ridin' lesson. He'll make a good horsewoman +out o' her yet, if her heart ain't buried +too deep up there under the rocks."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jim!" rebuked the girl. "It's <i>dreadful</i> +to talk like that, and her poor heart is just +<i>crushed</i>! It's pitiful!"</p> + +<p>"I reckon that's just what Sydney thinks +about it," replied Jim, his eyes twinkling. +"You ain't goin' to blame him for bein' sympathetic, +be you, Hopie?"</p> + +<p>She laughed, but nervously.</p> + +<p>"Louisa's the sweetest thing I ever saw, +Jim! She's promised to stay and go back +to the ranch with me in the fall when school is +over. Isn't it nice to have a sister like that? +But goodness, she wouldn't look at Syd—not +in ten years!"</p> + +<p>She was so positive in this assertion that it +left Jim without an argument. She slowed +down her horse to a walk, and he watched +her take O'Hara's letter from her belt and +read the lengthy epistle from beginning to +end. Not a change of expression crossed the +usual calm of her face. But for a strange<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> +force of beauty and power, by which she impressed +all with whom she came in contact, her +lack of expression would have been a defect. +This peculiar characteristic was an added +charm to her strange personality. She was +rarely understood by her best friends, who +generally occupied themselves by wondering +what she was going to do next.</p> + +<p>It may be that old Jim McCullen, calmly +contemplating her from his side of the narrow +trail, wondered too, but he had the advantage +of most people, for he knew that whatever she +did do would be the nearest thing to her hand. +There was nothing variable or fitful about +Hope.</p> + +<p>She folded her letter and tucked it back +in her belt, her only comment being, as she +spurred her horse into a faster gait: "Larry +says he is coming over here one of these +days."</p> + +<p>They rode past the camp and on to the flat +beyond, where grazed Sydney's two hundred +head of steers. These they rode around, while +Jim reviewed the news of the ranch and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> +round-up, in which the girl found some interest, +asking numerous questions about the recent +shipment of cattle, the tone of the market, +the prospect for hay, the number of cattle +turned on the range, and many things pertaining +to the work of the ranch, but never a question +concerning the idle New Yorkers who +made up her mother's annual house-party. In +them she took, as usual, no interest.</p> + +<p>She finally left her old friend and turned +her horse's head back toward Harris' still as +much perturbed in heart as when McCullen +knocked at her school-house door. She tormented +herself with unanswerable questions, +arriving always at the same conclusion—that +after all it only seemed reasonable to suppose +Livingston should be married. It explained +his conduct toward her perfectly. She wondered +what the woman, Helene, had done to +deserve such unforgiveness from one who, +above all men, was the most tender and +thoughtful. She concluded that it must have +been something dreadful, and, oddly for her, +began to feel sorry for him. She saw him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> +when she reached the top of the divide, riding +half a mile away toward his ranch buildings. +Then a certain feeling of ownership, of +pride, took possession of her, crowding everything +before it. How well he sat his horse, in +his English fashion, she thought. What a +physique, what grace of strength! Then he +disappeared from her sight as his horse +plunged into the brush of the creek-bottom, +and Hope, drawing a long breath, spurred up +her own horse until she was safely out of sight +of ranch and ranch-buildings. A bend in the +road brought her face to face with Long Bill +and Shorty Smith.</p> + +<p>"Hello," said Shorty Smith, drawing rein +beside her. "I was a lookin' for you."</p> + +<p>"Really," said the girl, stopping beside him +and calmly contemplating both men.</p> + +<p>"Yep," nodded Long Bill politely, "we +was huntin' fer you, Miss Hathaway."</p> + +<p>"You see it's like this," explained Shorty +Smith; "the old man, he ain't a-doin' very well. +I reckon it's his age. That there wound of +his'n won't heal, so we thought mebby you had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> +some arnica salve er something sort o' soothin' +to dope him with."</p> + +<p>"I haven't the salve, but I might go over +there myself if you want an anodyne," replied +Hope, unsmiling at the men's blank faces.</p> + +<p>"I'm goin' to ride to town to-morrow and I +reckoned if you didn't have no salve you could +send in for it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see!" Hope's exclamation came involuntarily. +"What do you want to get for +him and how much money do you want for +it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, he needs considerable. +Ain't got nothin' comfortable over there; +nothin' to eat, wear—nothin' at all."</p> + +<p>"All right," replied the girl in her cool, even +tone. "I'll see that he is supplied with everything, +but will attend to the matter myself. +Good-evening!" She rode past them rapidly, +and they, outwitted in their little scheme for +whisky-money, rode on their way toward old +Peter's basin.</p> + +<p>Sydney's horse stood outside of Harris'. +He left a group of men who were waiting the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> +call for supper, and came out in the road to +meet the girl when she rode up.</p> + +<p>"I have been waiting for you," he said.</p> + +<p>"And I have been over to camp and around +the cattle with Jim," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Then come on and ride back up the road +with me a ways, I want to see you," said +Carter, picking up the bridle reins from the +ground.</p> + +<p>"But Louisa——" she demurred.</p> + +<p>"Louisa's all right," he answered. "I've +had her out for a ride, and now she's gone in +the house with that breed girl—Mary, I think +she called her. So you see she's in excellent +hands."</p> + +<p>Hope turned her horse about and rode away +with him silently.</p> + +<p>"I want to talk with you, anyway," he said, +when they had gone a short distance. "I +haven't had a chance in a dog's age, you're +always so hemmed in lately."</p> + +<p>"Well, what is it?" she questioned.</p> + +<p>"There's some rumors going around that I +don't exactly understand, Hope. Have you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> +been doing anything since you've been up here +to raise a commotion among these breeds?"</p> + +<p>She turned to him with a shrug of contempt.</p> + +<p>"You'll have to tell me what you're driving +at before I can enlighten you," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute," he said, "I want to light +a cigarette." This accomplished, he continued: +"I saw one of the boys from Bill +Henry's outfit yesterday and he told me that +he was afraid you were getting mixed up in +some row up here."</p> + +<p>"<i>Who</i> said so?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"Well, it was Peterson. You know he'll say +what he's got to say, if he dies for it." He +waited a moment.</p> + +<p>"If it was Peterson, go on. He's a friend, +if he is a fool. What did he have to say about +me?" She flecked some dust from her skirt +with the end of her reins.</p> + +<p>Sydney watched her carefully.</p> + +<p>"He didn't say anything, exactly, about +you," he replied. "That's what I'm going +to try to find out. He said there had been +some kind of a rumpus up here when you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> +first came—that shooting at Livingston's corral, +you remember, and that it was rumored +there had been some sharp-shooting done, and +you had been mixed up in it."</p> + +<p>"Who told Peterson?" demanded the girl.</p> + +<p>"Well, it seems that McCullen laid Long +Bill out one evening over at Bill Henry's +wagon, for something or other, and this old +squaw back here, old Mother White Blanket, +happened along in time to view the fallen +hero, who, it seems, is her son-in-law. She +immediately fell into a rage and denounced +a certain school-ma'am as a deep-dyed villain."</p> + +<p>"Villainess," corrected Hope serenely.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I believe that was it," continued Sydney. +"Anyway, she rated you roundly and +said you had been at the bottom of all the +trouble, that you had shot Long Bill through +the hand, wounded several others, and mentioned +the herder who was killed."</p> + +<p>"She lied!" said the girl with sudden whiteness +of face. "That was a cold-blooded lie +about the herder!"</p> + +<p>"I know that!" assured her cousin. "You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> +don't suppose I ever thought for a minute you +were mixed up in it, Hopie, do you? I only +wanted to know how it happened that all these +people are set against you."</p> + +<p>"Because they know I'm on to their deviltry," +she replied savagely. "I'd like to have +that old squaw right here between my hands, +<i>so</i>, and hear her bones crackle. How dare they +say <i>I</i> shot Louisa's poor, poor sweetheart! +Oh, I could exterminate the whole tribe!"</p> + +<p>"But that wouldn't be lawful, Hopie," remarked +Carter.</p> + +<p>She turned to him with a half smile, resting +one hand confidingly upon his arm.</p> + +<p>"Syd, dear, I don't care a bit about the +whole concern, really, but please don't mention +it to anyone, will you?"</p> + +<p>"You mean not to tell Livingston," he +smiled.</p> + +<p>"I mean not <i>anyone</i>. I shouldn't want my +father to hear such talk. Neither would you. +What wouldn't he do!"</p> + +<p>"Of course not," he agreed. "You'd get +special summons, immediately, if not sooner.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> +But there's something more I wanted to ask +you about. How was it you happened to +shoot old Peter?"</p> + +<p>"How did you know?" she asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"Now I promised I wouldn't mention the +matter," he replied.</p> + +<p>She studied for a moment.</p> + +<p>"There's only one way you could have +heard it," she finally decided in some anger. +"That person had no right to tell you."</p> + +<p>"It was told with the best intentions, and +for your own good, Hope, so that I could look +after you more carefully in the future."</p> + +<p>"Look after me!" she retorted. "Well, I +guess he found out there was one time I could +look out for myself, didn't he?"</p> + +<p>"He seemed to think that more a miracle or +an accident than anything else, until I told +him something about how quick you were with +a gun. He told me the old man was crazy, +and had pulled his gun on you, but that you +had in some remarkable manner shot it out of +his hand, shattering the old fellow's arm. I +assured him that I would see that the proper<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> +authorities took care of old Peter, as soon as +he had recovered sufficiently. Now what'll we +do with him, Hope?" She did not reply. +Then he continued: "I knew in a minute that +you'd kept the real facts of the case from Livingston. +But you're not going to keep them +from me."</p> + +<p>"Now that you know as much as you do, I +suppose I've got to tell you or you'll be getting +yourself into trouble, too," she replied. Then +impulsively, "Sydney, they're a lot of cattle +thieves!"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course! What did you expect?" +he laughed.</p> + +<p>"And I actually <i>caught</i> them in the very +act of branding calves that didn't belong to +them!"</p> + +<p>The young man's face paled perceptibly.</p> + +<p>"You didn't do anything as reckless as that, +Hope!" he cried in consternation. "It's a +wonder they didn't kill you outright in self-protection! +Didn't you know that you have +to be blind to those things unless you're backed +up by some good men!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You talk like a coward!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Not much! You know I'm not that," he +replied. "But I talk sense. Now, if they +know that you have positive proof of this, +you'd better watch them!"</p> + +<p>"They all need watching up here. I believe +they're all just the same. And, Syd, I +wanted to know the truth for myself, I +wanted to <i>see</i>." Then she reviewed to him +just what had happened at old Peter's.</p> + +<p>"I'll have them locked up at once," said +Carter decisively. "That's just where they +belong."</p> + +<p>"You won't do anything of the kind, Syd—not +at present, anyway, for I refuse to be +witness against them."</p> + +<p>"You're foolish, then," he replied, "for +they're liable to do something."</p> + +<p>"If they're quicker than I am, all right," +she replied fearlessly. "But they are afraid +of me now, and I've got them <i>just where I +want them</i>."</p> + +<p>He tried to reason with her, but in vain. +She was obstinate in her refusal to have the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> +men arrested, and though Sydney studied the +matter carefully, he could find no plausible +excuse for this foolish decision.</p> + +<p>As Hope rode back once more toward Harris' +the face of Shorty Smith, insinuatingly +leering, as she had seen it at the trout stream, +came again to torment her. She leaned forward +in her saddle, covering her face with her +hands, and felt in her whole being the reason +of her decision.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + + +<p>Larry O'Hara rode up to Sydney's +camp late one afternoon, some two or +three weeks later, and finding the place +deserted went in the cook-tent and made himself +at home. It had been a long, hot, dusty +ride from Hathaway's home-ranch. He had +experienced some difficulty in finding the +place, and, having at length reached it, proceeded +with his natural adaptitude to settle +himself for a prolonged stay.</p> + +<p>He was a great, handsome, prepossessing +young fellow, overflowing with high spirits +and good-nature. Though a natural born +American, he was still a typical Irishman, retaining +much of the brogue of his Irish parents, +which, being more of an attraction in him +than otherwise, he never took the trouble to +overcome. All the girls were in love with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> +Larry O'Hara, and he, in his great generosity +of heart, knew it, and loved them in return.</p> + +<p>His affection for Hope Hathaway was +something altogether different, and dated two +or three years back when he first saw her skimming +across the prairie on an apparently unmanageable +horse. He proceeded to do the +gallant act of rescuing a lady. For miles he +ran the old cow-pony that had been assigned +him, in hot pursuit, and when he had from +sheer exhaustion almost dropped to the ground +she suddenly turned her horse about and +laughed in his face. It was an awkward situation. +The perspiration streamed from his +forehead, his breath came in gasps. She continued +laughing. He mopped his face furiously, +got control of his breath, and exclaimed +in deep emotion:</p> + +<p>"Sure and is ridicule all I get when I have +followed you for ten miles on this baist of a +horse, to offer you a proposition of marriage?"</p> + +<p>Their friendship dated from that moment, +and though Larry had renewed his proposition +of marriage every time he had seen her,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> +yet there had never been a break in their comradeship.</p> + +<p>He looked about the well-appointed camp +with a sigh of contentment. This was something +like living, he thought. His enforced +confinement at the ranch had been slow torture +to him. He missed the presence of Hope +and Sydney, for to him they were the very +spirit of the place, and he was filled with +anxiety to get away from it and join them.</p> + +<p>After washing the dust from his face and +hands he went through the cook's mess-box, +then, having nothing else to do, laid down for a +nap on one of the bunks in the second tent +and was soon sleeping peacefully.</p> + +<p>He never knew just how long he slept, +though he declared he had not closed his eyes, +when a whispered conversation outside the tent +brought him to his feet with a start. It was +suspicious to say the least, and he tore madly +at his roll of belongings in search of his revolver, +which he found in his hip-pocket, after +he had scattered his clothes from one end of the +tent to the other.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was not yet dark. The whispers came +now from the opposite tent. O'Hara's fighting +blood was up. He gloried in the situation. +Here was his opportunity to hold up some +thieving rascals. It was almost as good as being +a real desperado. It flashed upon him that +they might be the real article, but he would not +turn coward. He would show them what one +man could do!</p> + +<p>He peered cautiously out of the tent. Two +horses with rough-looking saddles stood at +the edge of the brush not far away. Larry +O'Hara would not be afraid of two men.</p> + +<p>He moved cautiously up to the front of the +cook-tent, and throwing open the flap called +out in thundering tones: "Throw up your +hands, ye thieving scoundrels, or I'll have +your loives!"</p> + +<p>A pair of arms shot up near him like a flash, +while a choking sound came from the farther +side of the mess-box. Two startled, pie-be-grimed +boys gazed in amazement into the barrel +of Larry's gun, which he suddenly lowered, +overcome with surprise as great as their own.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p> + +<p>"May heaven preserve us!" he cried. "I +thought you were murdering thieves! But if +it's only supper you're after, I'll take a hand in +it meself!"</p> + +<p>The soft-voiced twin recovered first.</p> + +<p>"Say, where'd you come from? I thought +that was the cook sleepin' in there an' we wasn't +goin' to disturb him to get our supper. +What're <i>you</i> doin' 'round here, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"I'm a special officer of the law, on the +lookout for some dangerous criminals," replied +Larry. "But I see I've made a great mistake +this time. It's not kids I'm after! I'll just +put this weapon back in my pocket to show +that I'm friendly inclined. And now let's have +something to eat. You boys must know the +ins and outs of this place pretty well, for I +couldn't find pie here when I came, or anything +that looked loike pie. Where'd you +make the raise?"</p> + +<p>The boys began to breathe easier, although +an "officer of the law" was something of +which they stood in mortal terror. Yet this +particular "officer" seemed quite a jovial sort<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> +of a fellow, and they soon reached the conclusion +that he would be a good one to "stand +in" with. The soft-voiced twin sighed easily, +and settled himself into a familiar position at +the table, remarking as he did so:</p> + +<p>"Oh, we're to home here! This camp belongs +to a friend of ourn." He pulled the +pie toward him. "Here, Dave," he said to +the other, who had also recovered from his surprise, +"throw me a knife from over there. I +reckon I ain't a-goin' to eat this here pie with +my fingers! An' get out some plates for him +an' you. No use waitin' for the cook to come +in an' get our supper. Ain't no tellin' where +he's gone."</p> + +<p>"You're a pretty cool kid," remarked +O'Hara, helping himself to the pie. "I'll take +a piece of pie with you for company's sake, +though I'm inclined to wait for the cook of +this establishment. A good, warm meal is +more to my liking. Where do you fellows +live?"</p> + +<p>"Over here a ways," replied Dan cautiously.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Know of any bad men that wants arresting?" +continued O'Hara. "I'm in the business +at present."</p> + +<p>"I reckon I do," replied the boy, lowering +his voice to a soft, sweet tone. "There's a +mighty dangerous character I can put you +onto if you'll swear you'll never give me +away."</p> + +<p>"I'll never breathe a word of it," declared +O'Hara; "just point out your man to me; I'll +fix him for you!"</p> + +<p>"What'll you do to him?" asked Dan, in +great earnestness. O'Hara laughed.</p> + +<p>"I'll do just whativer you say," he replied. +"What's his crime?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll tell you," said the boy deliberately, +while Dave listened in open-mouthed +wonderment. "He's a bad character, a +tough one! He gits drunker'n a fool and +thinks he runs the earth, an' he licks his children +if they happen to open their heads! I +never seen him steal no horses, er kill anyone, +but he's a bad man, just the same, an' needs +lockin' up for 'bout six months!" Dave,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> +finally comprehending his twin, jumped up +and down, waving his arms wildly above his +head.</p> + +<p>"You bet you! Lock him up, that's the +checker! Lock the old man in jail, an' we can +do just as we want to!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"But you know," said O'Hara impressively, +his eyes twinkling with suppressed merriment, +"it's like this. There's a law that says if a +man—a <i>family</i> man—be sent to jail for anything +less than cold-blooded murder, his intire +family must go with him to look after him. +Didn't you ever hear of that new law? Now +that would be a bad thing for his boys, poor +things! It would be worse than the beating +they get. But you just give Larry +O'Hara the tip, and the whole family'll get +sent up!"</p> + +<p>"Not much you don't!" roared Dave to his +twin, who for the instant seemed dumfounded +by this piece of news from the "officer of the +law."</p> + +<p>"I reckon," said the soft-voiced schemer +after a quiet pause, "his boys 'ud rather take<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> +the lickin's than get sent up, so you might as +well let him alone. You're sure there ain't no +mistake 'bout that? Don't seem like that's +quite right."</p> + +<p>"Sure!" replied Larry, enjoying the situation +to its full extent.</p> + +<p>"Well, I ain't," decided the boy finally. +"I'm goin' to ask the teacher. Mebby you're +loadin' us. You bet she'll know!"</p> + +<p>Larry O'Hara became suddenly awake to a +new interest. "Where is she—your teacher?" +he inquired.</p> + +<p>"I dunno," answered the boy. "Mebby +home."</p> + +<p>At this juncture the flap of the tent was +pushed open and in bustled the little English +cook.</p> + +<p>All three of the occupants started guiltily, +while William looked from his visitors to the +remnants of pie upon the table with some astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Well, Hi'll be blowed!" he ejaculated. +Then noticing that O'Hara was not an ordinary +specimen of Westerner, he changed his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> +expression and began wagging his head, offering +excuses for his tardiness.</p> + +<p>"I had orders to get a warm bite at eight +o'clock, so I went out 'untin' a bit on my own +account. Did you come far, sir?"</p> + +<p>"All the way from Hathaway's ranch," +replied Larry. "And the way I took, it +couldn't have been a rod less than a hundred +moiles. Sure, every bone in me body is +complaining!"</p> + +<p>"Too bad, that," condoled William. "Hit's +no easy road to find. I missed hit once, myself. +I think I seen you about the ranch, +didn't I? What's yer name?"</p> + +<p>"I'm O'Hara," he replied. "If you +haven't seen me, you've heard about me, which +amounts to the same thing. I'm glad to see +you, my good man, for I began to suspect that +everyone had deserted camp. I was just going +to question these young natives here, as +to the whereabouts of the owners of this ranch, +when you came in."</p> + +<p>The twins were sidling toward the front +of the tent with a view to hasty retreat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> +when the cook fixed his sharp little eyes upon +them.</p> + +<p>"Ain't I good enough to yous but you must +come an' clean out all my pastry when my back +is turned? Hi'll overlook hit this time, if you +get out an' chop me some wood. 'Urry up +now an' get to work! for they'll all be along +directly!" The boys made their escape from +the tent, while the cook continued: "They +all went out 'untin' after some antelope, way +up there on the big mountain. They'll be in +after a bit for a bite to heat, so if you'll excuse +me, Hi'll start things goin'."</p> + +<p>The little cook put on his apron and hustled +about, while O'Hara went out and watched +the boys break up some sticks of wood which +they brought from the nearby brush.</p> + +<p>"Here, give me the job," the young man +finally remarked. "It belongs to me by rights +for keeping you talking so long. If it hadn't +been for me you'd got away without being +seen. Here, hand over your ax, and get +along home with you!"</p> + +<p>"Say, you're all right, if you do belong to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> +the law," said Dave, gladly giving up the ax. +They speedily made their escape, and none too +soon, for as they disappeared a group of riders +came in sight on the opposite side of the brush +and soon surrounded the wood-chopper with +hearty words of welcome.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + + +<p>"My dear boy, I'm glad to see you!" +called Sydney.</p> + +<p>"Larry O'Hara chopping wood! +Impossible!" declared Hope, as Carter rode +on past her. "It's an illusion—a vanishing +vision. Our eyes deceive us!"</p> + +<p>"But it is a young man there," said Louisa. +"A big one like Mr. Livingston, not so slim +like Sydney—your cousin."</p> + +<p>"True enough," laughed Hope. "But it is +the occupation—the ax, Louisa, dear. I +never knew Larry to do a stroke of work!"</p> + +<p>"Ach, but he is handsome!" whispered +Louisa.</p> + +<p>"Don't let him know you think so," returned +Hope. "He's spoiled badly enough now." +She turned to the man who rode on her opposite +side. "He's from the ranch—one of the +guests from New York. He's the <i>dearest</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> +character!" After which exclamation she +rode ahead and greeted the newcomer.</p> + +<p>"It never rains but it pours," said O'Hara, +as he entered the tent with Hope and Louisa, +while Sydney and Livingston remained to +take care of the horses. "I thought awhile +ago that I was stranded in a wilderness, and +here I am surrounded by beautiful ladies and +foine gentlemen!"</p> + +<p>"Right in your natural element," commented +Hope. "That's why I couldn't believe +my eyes when I saw you out there alone +with the ax—Larry O'Hara chopping fire-wood!"</p> + +<p>"Now, what's there funny about that?" +asked Larry.</p> + +<p>"I can't explain just now," laughed the +girl. "But tell me, did you have any trouble +getting over here? Jim started for the ranch +this afternoon. Didn't you meet him on the +road?"</p> + +<p>"Not one living soul," replied Larry. +"For I took a road nobody ever traveled before."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And got lost," said Hope.</p> + +<p>"Yes, about four hundred toimes!"</p> + +<p>"And yet you live to tell the tale! I'm awfully +glad to see you, Larry! Let's have a +light in here, William, it's getting dark," she +said.</p> + +<p>The cook hustled about, and soon two +lanterns, suspended from each end of the ridge +pole, flooded the tent with light.</p> + +<p>"Now I can see you," exclaimed O'Hara to +Hope, who had taken a seat upon a box beside +Louisa. "You're looking foine! The mountains +must agree with you—and your friend +also," he added.</p> + +<p>"Louisa is always fine! Are you not?" +asked Hope.</p> + +<p>Louisa laughed in her quiet little way. +"The young man is very polite!"</p> + +<p>Sydney opened the flap of the tent and +looked in, then turned back again for an +instant.</p> + +<p>"That'll be all right there, Livingston. +There won't a thing touch it up that tree! +Come along in and get some chuck!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span></p> + +<p>"All right!" came the reply from the edge +of the brush. Then Carter came inside and +drew up a seat beside the two girls.</p> + +<p>"What's that you said, Miss Louisa?" he +asked. "I didn't quite catch it. You surely +weren't accusing Larry of <i>politeness</i>!"</p> + +<p>The girl bit her little white teeth into the red +of her lower lip. Her cheeks flushed and the +dimples came and went in the delicate coloring.</p> + +<p>"Was it wrong to say?" she asked hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>"Not if it was true," he replied. "It's +never wrong to tell the truth, even in Montana."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Syd, don't plague her! Larry included +her in a little flattery—a compliment; +and she merely remarked upon his extreme +politeness."</p> + +<p>"And I am completely squelched," said +O'Hara despairingly.</p> + +<p>"Then you shouldn't try to flatter two +people at once," declared Hope.</p> + +<p>"American girls aren't so honest," said Carter, +looking soberly into Louisa's blue eyes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p> + +<p>She regained her composure with a little +toss of her head.</p> + +<p>"An American girl is my best friend—you +shall say nodings about <i>dem</i>! Ah, here comes +Mr. Livingston mit de beautiful horns which +he gif to me!" she cried, clapping her hands.</p> + +<p>"They're beauties, aren't they?" said Livingston, +holding up the antlers to view. "I'll +get some of the Indians around here to fix +them up for you." He took them outside +again, then came in and joined the others +around the camp table.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Livingston was the lucky one to-day," +said Hope to O'Hara; "but we had a +great hunt."</p> + +<p>"I am not at all sure that I got him," said +Livingston, seating himself beside her. "I +am positive another shot was fired at the same +time, but I looked around and saw no one. +You came up a few moments afterward, Miss +Hathaway, and I have had a sort of rankling +suspicion ever since that there was some +mystery about it."</p> + +<p>"Then clear your mind of it at once," re<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>plied +the girl. "I'll admit that I fired a shot +at the same instant you did, but I was on the +opposite side of the brush from where you +were, and didn't see the antelope at all. What +I aimed at was a large black speck in the sky +above me, and this is my trophy." She drew +from her belt a glossy, dark eagle's feather, +and handed it to him.</p> + +<p>"May I have this?" he asked, taking it from +her.</p> + +<p>"Why, certainly," she answered carelessly.</p> + +<p>O'Hara had been looking at Livingston +closely, as though extremely perplexed by his +appearance. Suddenly he gave a deep laugh, +jumped up from his seat and began shaking +him warmly by the hand.</p> + +<p>"Well, if this isn't——"</p> + +<p>"<i>Edward Livingston</i>," interrupted the +other briefly.</p> + +<p>"But who'd ever dream of seeing <i>you</i> here +in this country!" continued O'Hara. "It was +too dark to see you distinctly when you rode +up, or I'd have known you at once. I'm glad +to see you; indeed, I am, sir!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How romantic!" exclaimed Hope. +"Where did you ever meet Larry, Mr. Livingston?"</p> + +<p>"I had the privilege of meeting Mr. +O'Hara at the home of an acquaintance near +London two or three years ago. I am very +glad to have the pleasure again." O'Hara +was about to say something in reply to this, +but thought better of it, and remained silent, +while Livingston continued: "I never imagined +that I should meet my Irish-American +friend in this far country, though you Americans +do have a way of appearing in the most +unexpected places. This America is a great +country. I like it—in fact, well enough that +I have now become one of its citizens."</p> + +<p>"But you have not left England for good!" +exclaimed O'Hara.</p> + +<p>"For good, and for all time," replied Livingston, +the youthful expression of his face +settling into maturer lines of sadness. "I +have not one tie left. My friend, Carter here, +will tell you that I have settled down in these +mountains as a respectable sheep-man—re<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>spectable, +if not dearly beloved. Miss Hathaway +does not believe there can be anything +respectable about the sheep business, but I +have promised to convert her. Is that not so?" +he asked, turning to her.</p> + +<p>"He has promised to give me a pet lamb to +take back to the ranch," she said, laughing. +"I shall put a collar on its neck and lead it by +a blue ribbon! At least it will be as good an +ornament as Clarice Van Rensselaer's poodle. +Horrible little thing!"</p> + +<p>"Now just imagine the beautiful Mrs. +Larry O'Hara trailing that kind of a baist +about the streets of New York! I move that +the animal be rejected with thanks!" exclaimed +Larry. Livingston looked at him in +quiet amazement, then at Hope and Sydney +to see how they took his audacity.</p> + +<p>"Don't worry, Larry, dear," replied Hope. +"The pet lamb hasn't been accepted yet—or +you, either! I shall probably choose the pet +lamb, but rely on my good judgment, that's a +nice boy, and don't let such a little matter +bother you!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p> + +<p>Larry heaved an unnaturally deep sigh, at +which little Louisa laughed, and Sydney patted +him upon the shoulder, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"Cheer up! You have an even chance with +the lamb. You don't need to be afraid of such +a rival!"</p> + +<p>"But she says herself that the animal's +chances are the best," said Larry dismally. +Then with a sudden inspiration: "How +much'll you take for that baist? I'll buy him +of you—<i>Mr.</i> Livingston!"</p> + +<p>"Now's your chance to make some money!" +cried Sydney.</p> + +<p>Livingston quickly entered the mood of the +moment.</p> + +<p>"Miss Hathaway has an option on the +lamb," he said, looking at her. "If she wants +to throw it up I shall be glad to sell it +to you."</p> + +<p>"She wants her supper mostly now," said +Hope. "Come on, let's eat, for we must get +back. See all the fine things William has prepared +for us!"</p> + +<p>After the meal, when the girls rose to de<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span>part, +Larry insisted upon accompanying them +home.</p> + +<p>"I am going along, too," laughed Sydney, +"so I'll see that he gets back to camp all +right! You might as well let him go, Hope."</p> + +<p>"Well, if he is so foolish, after his hard +day's ride," she said, with a shrug of the +shoulders. "But get him a fresh horse, Sydney. +At least we can spare the poor tired +animal!"</p> + +<p>Sydney and O'Hara both went a short distance +away to get the saddle-horse which was +feeding quietly on the hillside. Hope led her +horse down to the water and while it was drinking +Livingston came and stood beside her.</p> + +<p>For a moment they remained there quiet, +side by side, then the man spoke:</p> + +<p>"It is of such as this that life's sweetest +moments are made. It seems almost a sacrilege +to break the spell, but I cannot always +be silent. You know I love you, Hope!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied carelessly, "I believe you +told me so once before." For an instant he +did not speak. "It was here at the camp,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> +another evening like this, wasn't it?" she continued, +in quite a matter-of-fact tone.</p> + +<p>"I will not believe that you have forgotten +it," he exclaimed softly. "It may have +sounded foolish to you to hear the words, but +I could not help saying them!" He stood so +close to her that he could feel her warm breath. +"It may be wrong to stand here with you now, +alone. How quiet it is! You and I together +in a little world of our own! How I love you, +my girl, <i>love you</i>! I may not have the right +to this much happiness, but there is no moral +law that man or God has made to prevent a +man from saying to the woman he loves, 'I +love you!' Are you—do you care that I have +said it?"</p> + +<p>"You must not—tell me again," she said, in +a voice so forced that it seemed to belong to +some other person. Then she turned abruptly +and led her horse past him, up the bank of the +creek, to Louisa waiting before the tent.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + + +<p>In the cool of evening, between dark and +moonrise, the time when night is blackest, +and shadows hang like a pall over mountain +top and crag, a small group of men might +have been seen lounging before old Mother +White Blanket's tepee, absorbing the genial +warmth that came from her camp-fire, over +which the old squaw hovered close.</p> + +<p>In the background, away from the group, +yet still with the light of the fire shining +full upon him, stood the soft-voiced twin. +Suddenly the hawk-like eyes of his grandmother +swept the darkness and fastened themselves +upon his inquisitive face. For an instant +they pierced him through, then the shrill +voice rang out:</p> + +<p>"So! It's only the sneak-dog that dare not +come near! You get out and hunt your bed!"</p> + +<p>"I ain't doin' nothin'!" exclaimed the boy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No! An' you'll live doin' nothin', an' die +doin' nothin', with a rope about your neck, +<i>so</i>!" She made a quick motion across her +throat, and gurgled heinously, letting her +blanket fall low upon her skinny, calico covered +shoulders, revealing a long, gaunt throat +and stiff wisps of black, unkempt hair.</p> + +<p>"You don't need to think you can scare +<i>me</i>," said the boy, moving boldly forward, impelled +by fear. "I ain't sneakin' 'round here, +neither! You'd better be a little politer er I'll +tell the old man on you when he gets sober +again!"</p> + +<p>"Hear him!" roared Shorty Smith. "Politer! +I reckon the school-ma'am's instillin' +some mighty high-flutin' notions into your +head, ain't she? Politer! Just listen to that +onct, will yous! Say, don't no one dare +breathe loud when <i>Mister</i> Daniel Harris, +<i>esquire</i>, comes round!"</p> + +<p>"You let your betters alone," rebuked the +old woman, shaking a stick at Shorty, preliminary +to throwing it upon the fire. "My +grandson's got more in his head than all of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> +you!" Then nodding at the boy who, emboldened, +had come up to the fire: "Say what's on +your tongue an' git off to bed with you!"</p> + +<p>The breed boy shook his head. "I ain't +got nothin' to tell," he said. "Hain't been +nowhere except over to Carter's camp awhile. +Dave and me pretty near got nabbed by a +special officer that's over there."</p> + +<p>Shorty Smith raised himself up on his +elbow.</p> + +<p>"A special <i>what</i>!" he demanded, while a +sort of stillness swept the circle.</p> + +<p>"A special officer of the <i>law</i>," replied the +boy, with cool importance. "Dave an' me had +supper with him. He's a pretty good sort of +a feller."</p> + +<p>"Nice company you've been in," observed +Shorty.</p> + +<p>"Your grandmother always said you'd come +to some bad end," drawled Long Bill. An uneasy +laugh went around, then absolute silence +prevailed for several minutes. The old squaw +seemed to be muttering under her breath. +Finally she shifted her savage gaze from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> +outer blackness to the faces about her camp-fire.</p> + +<p>"Turn cowards for one man!" she exclaimed +scornfully.</p> + +<p>"Well, Harris is in there dead drunk, and +what're we goin' to do without him, anyhow?" +exclaimed Long Bill.</p> + +<p>"He might not approve," supplemented +Shorty Smith.</p> + +<p>"That's right; I ain't wantin' no such responsibility +on my shoulders, <i>just now</i>," declared +the large fellow.</p> + +<p>"We'll postpone matters," decided Shorty. +"I ain't after such responsibility myself, you +can bet your life!"</p> + +<p>The others agreed by words and grunts. +Suddenly the old woman rose to her feet, +grasping her dingy blanket together in front +with one scrawny hand, while she outstretched +the other, pointing into the night.</p> + +<p>"Git out!" she snarled scornfully. "Git +to your beds, dogs!"</p> + +<p>The men laughed again uneasily.</p> + +<p>"Come on, boys," said Shorty Smith.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> +"We'll go an' see if the old man's left a drop +in his jug." He moved towards the house, followed +by the others. The soft-voiced twin +still retained his position by the camp-fire.</p> + +<p>"You git too!" snarled his grandmother.</p> + +<p>"I ain't no dog," replied the boy. The +squaw grunted. "You told the dogs to go, +not me! They won't find any demijohn, +neither. I cached it for <i>you</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Good boy," said his grandmother, patting +him upon the head. "Go git it!"</p> + +<p>When Hope and her companions returned +that evening a couple of aged Indians hovered +over the dying embers of old White Blanket's +camp-fire, sociably drinking from a rusty tin +cup what the riders naturally supposed to be +tea. The soft-voiced twin, already curled up +asleep beside his brothers, could have told +them different, for had he not won the old +woman's passing favor by his generous act? +So he slept well.</p> + +<p>So did the "old man" sleep well that night—a +heavy drunken stupor. He had returned +from town that afternoon in his usual condi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span>tion, +as wild-eyed as the half-broken horses that +he drove, and for awhile made things lively +about the place. At such times he ruled with +a high and mighty hand, and even the little +babies crept out of his way as he approached. +He roused up some of the idle breeds and +started a poker game, which soon broke up, +owing to a financial deficiency among them. +Then he roped a wild-looking stallion and rode +off at a mad gait, without any apparent object, +toward a peacefully feeding bunch of cattle. +He rode around it, driving the cows and calves +into a huddled, frightened group, then left +them to recover their composure, riding, still +as madly as ever, back to the stables. But the +whisky finally got in its work, and Joe Harris, +to the great relief of his Indian wife and +family, laid himself away in a corner of the +kitchen, and peace again reigned supreme.</p> + +<p>Hope and Louisa very fortunately missed +all the excitement.</p> + +<p>The darkness was intense when they rode +up to the ranch. Quiet pervaded the place, +and not a light shone from the house.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span></p> + +<p>"These people must go to bed with the +chickens," remarked O'Hara.</p> + +<p>"Here's some matches, Hope," said Carter, +standing beside her on the ground when she +had dismounted. "Never mind your horses, +I'll take care of them. Run right in. Such a +place for you! Darker'n a stack of black +cats! I'll stand here by the house till I see a +light in your room."</p> + +<p>Just then a group of men, led by Shorty +Smith, came out of the dark passage between +the kitchen and the other part of the house, +and made their way toward the stables. The +ones in the rear did not see the riders, and were +muttering roughly among themselves. They +had been making another fruitless search for +the cattle-man's whisky, and were now going +to bed.</p> + +<p>"Come back here," said Sydney, drawing +both girls toward the horses which O'Hara +was holding. They moved backward under +his grasp and waited until the men had +passed.</p> + +<p>"Hope, you'll either have to change your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> +boarding place or go home," announced her +cousin.</p> + +<p>"I'll do neither," replied the girl decisively. +"Don't be foolish, Syd, because of a darkened +house and a handful of harmless men! I'm +not a baby, either. You'll make Larry think +I'm a very helpless sort of person. Don't believe +him, Larry! I'll admit that this isn't +always a safe country for men, but there is no +place on earth where a woman is surer of protection +than among these same wild, dare-devil +characters. I know what I'm talking about. +Home? Well, I guess not! Come on, Louisa. +See, she isn't afraid! Are you? Good-night, +both of you!"</p> + +<p>"Goot-night," called the German girl.</p> + +<p>"It's just as she says," explained Carter, +as he and O'Hara rode homeward. "It is +perfectly safe for a girl out here, in spite of +the tough appearances of things—far safer +than in the streets of New York or Chicago. +There isn't a man in the country that would +dare speak disrespectfully to a girl. Horse-stealing +wouldn't be an instance compared with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> +what he'd get for that. He'd meet his end so +quick he wouldn't have time to say his prayers! +That's the way we do things in this country, +you know."</p> + +<p>"It's hard to understand this, judging +from appearances," said O'Hara. "I'm not +exactly a coward myself, but I must own it +gave me a chill all down my spine when those +tough-looking specimens began to pour out +from that crack between the buildings. I'd +think it would make a girl feel nervous."</p> + +<p>"But not Hope," replied Carter. "She's +used to it; besides she's not like other girls. +She's as fearless as a lion. You can't scare +<i>her</i>. If she was a little more timid I wouldn't +think about worrying over her, but she's so +blame self-reliant! She knows she's as quick +as chain lightning, and she's chockful of confidence. +For my own part, I wish she'd never +learned to shoot a gun."</p> + +<p>"It strikes me she's pretty able to take care +of herself," said O'Hara. "If I were you I +wouldn't worry over it."</p> + +<p>"Well, I want to get her back to the ranch,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> +and I'm going to, too!" said Carter. Then to +O'Hara's look of wonder, "I might as well be +in Halifax as any real good I can be to her +here—in case anything should come up. You +see, there's been trouble brewing for months. +All these men around here are down on Livingston, +because he's running sheep on the +range they had begun to think was their own +exclusive property. He's as much right to run +sheep on government land as they have to run +cattle, though sheep are a plumb nuisance in +a cow country. These ranchers around here +haven't any use for his sheep at all, and have +been picking at him ever since he came up +here."</p> + +<p>He then went on to tell what he knew about +the shooting at Livingston's corral.</p> + +<p>"I'm pretty certain now that Hope was +mixed up in it, though Livingston is as ignorant +as can be in regard to the matter. He's +too much a stranger to the ways of the country +to learn everything in a minute. It was funny +about you knowing him, wasn't it? He's a +fine man, all right, and I hope this outfit won't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> +bluff him out of the country. Harris is at the +bottom of it. If it wasn't for him there +wouldn't be any trouble. Now it's my opinion +that Hope's trying to stand off the whole outfit +for Livingston's sake, and doesn't want +him to know it."</p> + +<p>O'Hara was silent for a moment, then replied:</p> + +<p>"I'm not the fellow to make a fuss because +a better man than me turns up. I knew in a +minute he was dead in love with her."</p> + +<p>Then he told something to Carter in confidence +which caused him to pull his horse up +suddenly in the trail and exclaim: "You +don't say!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + + +<p>"It is a long road," observed Mrs. Van +Rensselaer. "I had no idea it was so far. +So these are the foot-hills of the mountains. +Is this Harris place very much farther?"</p> + +<p>"'Bout five mile straight up in the mountains," +replied her companion.</p> + +<p>"Then," said the lady decisively, "I am +going to stop here at this spring, get a drink, +and rest awhile; I'm about half dead!"</p> + +<p>Jim McCullen made no reply, but good-naturedly +headed his horse toward a tiny +stream that trickled down a coulee near by. +Mrs. Van Rensselaer followed, heaving a tired +sigh of relief, as she slipped down upon the +moist, flower-dotted meadows beside the +stream.</p> + +<p>"Oh, this is an awful undertaking," she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> +declared, wetting her handkerchief in the +water and carefully wiping her forehead.</p> + +<p>"I thought you was pretty brave to venture +it," replied old Jim, from a short distance +below, where he was watering the horses. +"It's a hot day and a dry wind. I told you +just how it'd be."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is some comfort to you to refer +to that fact, but it doesn't make me any the +less tired or cross. Yes, I'm cross, Mr. McCullen. +It has been downright rude of Hope +to stay away like this all summer. Of course +it's possible she may have her reasons for that, +but <i>I</i> never put in such a pokey time before in +all my life! I couldn't go back to New York +without seeing her, and then Sydney told me +that if I went up there I might be able to coax +her to leave the place. But she's been there +so long now—a couple of months, isn't it?—that +I can't see what difference it would make +if she stayed a little longer. I did want to see +her, though, before I went home, so I decided +I'd undertake this journey. What about this +protégée of hers—this German girl she's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> +taken to raise? Sydney said she was a pretty +little thing with hair the color of mine," shaking +back her fluff of fair hair, "and eyes like a +'deep blue lake.' That's all I could get out +of him—'eyes like a deep blue lake!' That +settles it! When a fellow begins to rhapsody +over eyes like a deep blue lake, it's a good sign +he's cast his anchor right there. Well, it'll be +a good thing for Sydney."</p> + +<p>"She's a right smart young lady," remarked +McCullen. "Hope thinks a sight of her. +She can ride a little, but she ain't goin' to +learn to shoot worth a cent. Hand ain't +steady 'nough. They ain't many wimmen in +the world can shoot like Hope, though! She +beats 'em all!"</p> + +<p>"You ought to be awfully proud to think +you taught her."</p> + +<p>"Proud!" said old Jim, his voice deep with +emotion; "I reckon I'm proud of her in every +way—not just because she can shoot. They +ain't no one like her! I couldn't think no more +of her if she was my own, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"It must be nice to feel that way toward<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> +someone," mused the lady, from the grass. +"She thinks everything of you, too. It seems +natural for some people to take a kindly, loving +interest in almost everyone. There are +only two people I have ever known toward +whom I have felt in anything approaching +that manner. Hope and Larry O'Hara. I +have often fancied they would make an ideal +couple." Jim McCullen shook his head +doubtfully, but Mrs. Van Rensselaer, unnoticing, +continued: "And even Larry deserted +the ranch. He's been gone for two weeks. +It's about time I came to look everyone up!" +She pinned back the fluffy hair from her face, +adjusted her hat, unclasped a tiny mirror and +powder puff from her wrist, and carefully +dusted every portion of her pretty face.</p> + +<p>McCullen, who had witnessed the operation +several times before along the road that day, +ceased to stare in wonderment, and very politely +looked across the rolling hills in the opposite +direction. It never occurred to Clarice +Van Rensselaer that anyone could have found +amusement in the proceedings. In fact, she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> +never thought of it at all, but dabbed the +powder puff quite mechanically from force of +habit.</p> + +<p>After laughing to himself and giving her +time enough to complete her toilet, he led her +horse up, remarking:</p> + +<p>"We'd better be movin', er like enough we +won't get there till after dark."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Van Rensselaer sighed, regained her +feet, and suffered herself to be helped to the +saddle.</p> + +<p>"I reckon you won't find O'Hara up there," +remarked Jim McCullen some time later. +"Two evenings ago he rode over on Fox Creek, +there on the reservation, where them soldiers +are out practicin'. Lieutenant Harvey come +over to camp an' he rode back with him, bein's +he was acquainted. It ain't more'n eight mile +from camp. Mebby you could ride over there +if you wanted." This suggestion was offered +with the faintest smile beneath his gray mustache. +"It's a mighty fine chance to see them +soldiers drillin' 'round the hills, playin' at sham +battles and the like."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It would probably be a pleasing sight to +see them," replied Clarice Van Rensselaer, +"but I prefer an easy chair with plenty of +cushions instead."</p> + +<p>"I don't like to discourage you, but I don't +reckon you'll find many cushions where you're +goin'," said old Jim.</p> + +<p>"How much farther is it?" demanded the +lady.</p> + +<p>"Oh, not very fur, 'bout three mile, er a +little further," replied her companion; thereupon +Mrs. Van Rensselaer rode on for some +time in scornful, silent resignation.</p> + +<p>When they reached the Harris ranch they +found groups of men lounging about everywhere.</p> + +<p>It looked as though most of the inhabitants +of the mountains had congregated there on +this especial evening. Mrs. Van Rensselaer +gasped in astonishment, and even McCullen, +used as he was to seeing men gathered about +the place, looked surprised and wondered +what had been going on to bring such a +crowd.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Van Rensselaer gathered her skirts +closely about her, as if in fear they would brush +against some of the rough-looking men that +moved back from the path as McCullen led +her to the house. A couple of pigs chased by +a yellow pup ran past her, then an Indian +woman opened wide the main entrance of +the abode and shooed out some squawking +chickens, which flew straight at the visitor. +Mrs. Van Rensselaer hesitated in dismay, +and turned a white, startled face to +McCullen.</p> + +<p>"This ain't nothin' at all," he assured her. +"Go right on in. I reckon we'll find Miss +Hope to home."</p> + +<p>She drew back still farther. "You go first," +she implored fearfully.</p> + +<p>McCullen smiled, and picked his way +into the house, followed closely by his companion, +who clung to his coat.</p> + +<p>Reaching the interior he seated Mrs. Van +Rensselaer upon a bench, and went in search +of the Indian woman, who had disappeared at +the first sight of the visitors.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She's out," he announced, returning after +a moment. "They say she and the little German +girl went out on their horses some time +ago. I suppose you'll have to wait here till she +gets back. You ain't afraid, be you?"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that I'll have to wait here +<i>alone</i>?" she inquired, frightened.</p> + +<p>"I'll stay around fer a spell," said McCullen +kindly. "There ain't nothing to get nervous +about." He opened the door of an adjoining +room and beckoned to a breed girl, who was +lulling a child to sleep in an Indian hammock. +"Come in and keep this lady company. She's +come to see Miss Hathaway," he said. The +girl entered the room shyly—reluctantly. Jim +McCullen pulled his hat over his eyes and +turned to the door. "I'll look about a bit an' +see if she's comin'," he said, then went out of +the house.</p> + +<p>The girl was shy, and stood awkwardly in +the doorway with downcast eyes, not daring to +look up at the visitor. Clarice fancied herself +too tired to talk, so sat on the bench and leaned +back against the white-washed logs. Quiet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> +pervaded until a pig poked open the door and +looked inquisitively into the room.</p> + +<p>"Oh, drive that animal out!" exclaimed +Clarice, "he's coming straight at me!"</p> + +<p>The girl gave the pig a poke that sent it +grunting away, then closed the door and +placed a box before it to keep it shut.</p> + +<p>"Will you kindly take me to Miss Hathaway's +apartment?" asked Mrs. Van Rensselaer.</p> + +<p>The breed girl looked bewildered. "<i>To +where?</i>" she asked.</p> + +<p>"To her room," requested the lady, less +politely. "I suppose she has a room in this +place, has she not? I should like to rest for a +few moments."</p> + +<p>"It's right there," said the girl shortly, +pointing at a door.</p> + +<p>"Right there!" exclaimed Mrs. Van Rensselaer +crossly. "Why didn't you tell me so +before?"</p> + +<p>Clarice opened the door and gasped in +wonder. A vision of Hope's room at +the ranch, with all its dainty accessories,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> +came before her, and she thought of the +girl's love of luxury and comfort. Everything +was clean here, she assured herself with +another glance around—spotlessly clean and +neat, which could not be said of the room she +had just left. There was a bed, a chair, a box +and some boards covered with cheese-cloth, +that served as a dressing table. Not a picture +adorned the wall or an ornament of any +description was to be seen.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Van Rensselaer walked all around the +little room to satisfy herself that she had missed +nothing. Some newspapers were fastened to +the wall upon one side, and over them hung a +few garments, which in turn were carefully +covered by a thin shawl, with a view, no doubt, +to keep out the dust. That was probably an +idea of the German girl's, thought Clarice, +and rightly, too, for to Louisa also was due +the well scrubbed boards of the floor, the shining +window panes, and the general neatness +which pervaded the poor chamber.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Van Rensselaer seated herself upon +a box and gazed long and earnestly at her re<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span>flection +in a small hand mirror which hung +over the dressing table.</p> + +<p>"You haven't the features of a fool," she +remarked to herself, "but you've added two +new wrinkles by this tom-foolery to-day, and +you ought to be satisfied by this time that +you're not fit to take care of yourself! But I +suppose it's satisfying to know you're doing +missionary work. Missionary work, indeed, +for a girl who hasn't as much sense for staying +in this place as you have for coming! By the +time you get home you'll have two more +wrinkles, and it'll take a month to get back +your good looks again! Well, you always +were foolish!"</p> + +<p>So saying she turned away from the mirror +and looked longingly at the bed. Just then +her eyes became fastened, wide and terrified, +upon the head of a small gray animal protruding +from the corner of the floor behind the bed. +She watched it, spell-bound by fear, as it drew +its fat body through a hole in the floor and ran +across the room. Suddenly with a terrible +shriek she threw herself upon the bed. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> +pack-rat ran back to its hole and made its exit +without loss of time, but Clarice sobbed aloud +in hysterical fear. Suddenly the door was +thrown open, and a weather-browned, dark-haired +girl knelt beside the bed and took the +frightened woman in her arms.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + + +<p>"Clarice, dear," said Hope, "what <i>is</i> +the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Oh," sobbed Mrs. Van Rensselaer, +"<i>did</i> you see it—<i>did you see it</i>? A terrible +thing! A terrible thing!"</p> + +<p>"But <i>what</i>?" asked the girl wonderingly, +"what could have frightened you so, <i>here</i>?"</p> + +<p>Clarice, still hysterical, only sobbed and was +quite incoherent in her explanation. Hope +looked stern, as though facing an unpleasant +problem which baffled her for the time. +Louisa had entered the room and stood quietly +to one side, looking in much surprise from one +to the other. For a moment Mrs. Van Rensselaer's +sobs ceased.</p> + +<p>The German girl touched Hope gently +upon the shoulder.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I tink it vas King Solomon," she said.</p> + +<p>"Why, that was just it," said Hope. "You +must have seen King Solomon, Clarice. It +was only King Solomon; don't be afraid. I +thought we had the hole well plugged up, but +he must have made another one."</p> + +<p>"You forget," interrupted Louisa, laughing +softly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's so!" exclaimed Hope. "We +took the soap out and used it this morning because +we didn't have any other."</p> + +<p>"And who's King Solomon, and what's that +to do with soap?" demanded Clarice, raising +herself upon her elbow to the edge of the bed +with a faint show of interest.</p> + +<p>"King Solomon," explained Hope soberly, +"is a friend who comes to visit us occasionally, +and generally packs off what happens to be in +sight. We named him King Solomon—not +because of his solemn demeanor, but for reason +of his taking ways, and propensity toward +feminine apparel."</p> + +<p>"What are you talking about, Hope? I do +believe this terrible place has gone to your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span> +head! What makes all the noise in that other +room?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Van Rensselaer seemed extremely +nervous.</p> + +<p>"That's the men coming in to their supper," +replied Hope. "I think you must have been +nervous before you saw the rat. I'm sorry I +wasn't here when you came, Clarice!"</p> + +<p>"And so that horrible thing I saw was a +rat!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, just a common everyday wood-rat, +for obvious reasons sometimes called a pack-rat. +But how did you happen to come up +here, Clarice?"</p> + +<p>"If I had known how far it was, and what a +dreadful place I should find, I am afraid my +great desire to see you couldn't have induced +me to attempt it. How <i>can</i> you stay here? I +wish you'd go home, Hope!"</p> + +<p>"Is that what you came to tell me?" asked +the girl quietly. "If so, you might just as well +get on your horse and go back. I wrote you +not to come. You might have taken my advice—it +would have been a heap better. You're<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> +not cut out for this sort of place. I don't +know what in the world I'm going to do with +you to-night! I'll send you back to-morrow, +that's one thing sure. One of us will have to +sleep on the floor, or else we'll be obliged to +sleep three in a bed."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll make me a bed on the floor," offered +Louisa quickly.</p> + +<p>"You won't do anything of the kind—the +idea!" exclaimed Mrs. Van Rensselaer, aghast. +"Supposing that thing—that <i>rat</i> should +come!"</p> + +<p>"We'll put the soap back in the hole again," +replied Hope. "And King Solomon will +have to keep out. Before Louisa came I used +to let him come in just for company's sake, but +the poor fellow is a hopeless case. Clarice, I +wish you hadn't come!"</p> + +<p>"I wish so, too, if that will help you any," +replied Mrs. Van Rensselaer, lifting her +pretty face dejectedly from her hands and +looking about the room in a woe-begone manner. +"I'm awfully tired, Hope, and hungry, +but I couldn't eat <i>here</i> if I starved to death!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> +Is that room in there <i>always</i> so grimy and +dirty? and what makes that terrible <i>odor</i> about +the place?"</p> + +<p>"I think you'd better go back to the ranch +to-night," suggested Hope.</p> + +<p>Clarice moaned in deep discouragement: +"Oh, if you knew how tired I am! But I +can't stand it <i>here</i>—<i>I can't do it</i>! Let me get +out in the fresh air, away from the odor of +those pigs and chickens and <i>rats</i>, and sit down +on the side of a mountain—anywhere, so that +I can breathe again!" After a moment's +pause she suddenly exclaimed: "Hope, +there's something biting me! What in the +world is it? I tell you there's an insect on me!"</p> + +<p>"Fleas," said Hope briefly. "The place +is full of them. They don't bite me, and they +don't bother Louisa much either. Poor +Clarice, what trouble you have got yourself +into! I can't send you back to-night, that's +one sure thing, you're too tired." She pondered +a moment, deeply perplexed, then all at +once a solution came to her. Her eyes brightened +and she laughed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I have it!" she cried. "I'll send one of +the boys after Mr. Livingston's buggy and +drive you over to Sydney's. They've got an +extra tent and a stack of blankets. William +will get you a fine supper, and you can be as +snug as a bug in a rug."</p> + +<p>"Hope, you're the dearest girl that ever +lived!" cried Clarice. "I just dote on camping +out in a nice clean tent!" But Hope had +hurried away to find the twins before the sentence +was finished. When she returned, a few +minutes later, Clarice exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"But you don't intend to send me over there +<i>alone</i>, do you? You girls will go and stay +with me? Come, you must! I'll not think of +going alone. We'll have a regular camping-out +party and I'll chaperon you."</p> + +<p>"Old Father Jim and Sydney are chaperons +enough," said the girl. "But we'll go +along, since you happen to be our guest."</p> + +<p>This decided upon, she made Mrs. Van +Rensselaer lie down upon the bed, bathed her +pretty, tired face with cool water, and com<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span>manded +her to rest until the twins returned +with the conveyance.</p> + +<p>Louisa clapped her hands in joy at the +happy prospect of camping in a tent. She +declared in her pretty broken English that it +had been her one great desire ever since she +had been in the country. Then she became +sober again. Had not her Fritz spent months +at a time in one of those small, white-walled +tents?</p> + +<p>Hope viewed the project with complete indifference. +It mattered little to her where +she spent the night, so that she got her allotted +hours of good, sound sleep. At first she was +greatly perplexed as to how she was going to +make Clarice comfortable, but now that the +matter had adjusted itself so agreeably she became +at once in the lightest of spirits, the effects +of which were quickly felt by both Mrs. +Van Rensselaer and little Louisa.</p> + +<p>By the time the roll of wheels was heard, +announcing the arrival of Edward Livingston's +conveyance, Clarice was fairly rested,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span> +and in a much more amiable mood than previously.</p> + +<p>"The only thing that's the matter with me +now is that I'm hungry," she said.</p> + +<p>"We'll soon fix that, too," replied Hope +brightly. "The boys are back with Mr. Livingston's +team and it won't take us long to +drive over to camp. Get on your things, +Clarice." She threw her own jacket over her +arm and, picking up her hat, hurriedly left +the room. "I'll be back in a moment for +you," she said from the door. "Keep her +company, Louisa, and don't let King Solomon +in!"</p> + +<p>At the entrance of the house she met the +soft-voiced twin just coming in search of her.</p> + +<p>"He's out there hisself with his outfit," he +said disgustedly. "Thought it wasn't safe +fer me to drive his blame horses, I reckon!"</p> + +<p>She looked out and saw Livingston standing +beside his team in the road. He was waiting +for her. When she approached, his fine +eyes brightened, but hers were gloomy—indifferent.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Come," he said, laughing, holding out his +hand to her. "You did not think I would +miss such an opportunity to get to see you! I +haven't pleased you, but this time I thought to +please myself."</p> + +<p>"I was in such a predicament," she cried, +ignoring his hand, but forgetting her momentary +displeasure. "A guest from the ranch, +and no place to put her. Then I thought of +Sydney's, and that new tent, so we're all going +over there. I sent for your buggy, because +Mrs. Van Rensselaer has ridden a long ways, +is all tired out—but I didn't mean to put <i>you</i> +to so much trouble."</p> + +<p>"Is it a <i>trouble</i> to see you?" he asked. "If +it is, I want a great deal of just that kind of +trouble."</p> + +<p>"I'll go in and get her," she said quickly. +"If you will drive her over there, Louisa and I +can go horseback."</p> + +<p>He assented in few words, happy to do her +bidding.</p> + +<p>She started toward the house, then turned +back absent-mindedly, as though she had for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span>gotten +something that she was striving to recall. +Finally she gave a little short laugh, +and held out her hand. "You are very kind," +she said, looking at him squarely.</p> + +<p>He did not reply, but held the proffered +hand, drinking in the language of her eyes. +She withdrew it slowly, as if loath to take it +from his warm clasp, then flashing him one of +her brilliant smiles turned once more and went +quickly back to the house.</p> + +<p>"You will ride over with Mr. Livingston, +Clarice," she announced. "He wouldn't trust +the twins with his team."</p> + +<p>"And who's <i>Mr. Livingston</i>, Hope," inquired +Mrs. Van Rensselaer, adjusting her +veil carefully before the small mirror. "I +didn't suppose you had a <i>Mr.</i> anybody up here +in this terrible country! Why the prefix?"</p> + +<p>"He's a white man," replied the girl, pulling +down her hat to hide the flush that crept into +her face. "An Englishman, Edward Livingston."</p> + +<p>"An Englishman," mused Clarice, pulling +on her gloves. "But what makes you <i>Mister</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> +him, Hope? <i>Livingston</i>—wonder if he's any +relation to Lord Livingston? <i>Edward</i> Livingston, +did you say?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, such a <i>nice</i> man!" exclaimed Louisa, +clasping her hands in rapture. "He is my +goot, kind friend."</p> + +<p>"And Hope's too, isn't he?" laughed Mrs. +Van Rensselaer, at which remark Hope advised +her to hurry up.</p> + +<p>"But my dear, I <i>am</i> hurrying just as fast +as I can," she exclaimed. "I assure you I am +as anxious to get away from here as you are +to have me. I don't see how you've ever stood +it, Hope! The attraction must be very strong. +Come, own up, is it this <i>Mister</i> Livingston? +Why, I believe you are blushing. You're so +black, though, I can't be certain. But it's a +good name—Livingston. Come on; I'm +ready to see this <i>Mister Edward Livingston</i>!"</p> + +<p>The three passed out of the room and +through the large living room beyond, on out +of doors. The men had eaten their supper +and gone out to the stables, where they congregated +in numerous groups—quiet groups,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> +that any other time would have seemed suspicious +to Hope.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Van Rensselaer was led safely past +the pigs and dogs without accident, but at the +corner of the house she drew back, filled with +surprise, and forgetful of all danger.</p> + +<p>"Hope, I do believe that <i>is</i> Lord Livingston," +she whispered. "I knew he was out in +this country somewhere. Yes, I'm sure it is +he. His wife lives in New York now," she +rattled on; "but I don't know her except by +sight. She goes in kind of a swift set, anyway, +but he belongs to one of the best families in +England. Isn't it surprising to run across him +like this? I'll go up to him and say—why, how +do you do, Lord——"</p> + +<p>"Come on," said Hope, interrupting and +taking her by the arm. "Lord or no lord, +you'll never get any supper if you don't hurry +up!" Her face had gone from red to white. +She took Clarice by the arm and led her up to +the buggy. "This is Mrs. Van Rensselaer, +Mr. Livingston," she said quickly, before +that lady could speak, then turned abruptly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span> +about and went to the stable for the saddle-horses.</p> + +<p>Livingston helped Mrs. Van Rensselaer +into the buggy, while Louisa ran after Hope, +quickly overtaking her.</p> + +<p>"She says he hass a vife. I don't belief +her!" she exclaimed indignantly, linking her +arm through Hope's. "Don't you belief her +eider!"</p> + +<p>"I must believe it, little Louisa, because it +is true!" said Hope. "But if it were <i>not</i> true, +if it were <i>not</i> true, I think I should be mad +with happiness at this moment!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + + +<p>In a short time the horses were saddled and +the two girls dashed past the stable buildings +and the rough assortment of men who +stood silently about, past their watchful, alert +eyes, on after the buggy, which had now become +a mere speck high up on the mountain +road. As they raced by the house and tepees +the boy, Ned, cautiously raised his small body +from behind a pile of logs which edged the +road and beckoned to them frantically. +Hope's quick eye saw him, but only as the +flash of a moving picture across her mind, +leaving no impression and instantly forgotten. +But later, when she had entered the cook-tent +at Sydney's camp and seated herself among +the small company, the memory of the passing +vision came back, annoying, troubling her. +She scented danger more than she felt it. A +sense of uneasiness possessed her. She con<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span>demned +herself roundly for the wild thoughts +that had carried her away from herself, +and would have given much at that moment +to have known what the breed boy had +wanted to commune to her.</p> + +<p>Clarice was chatting volubly to Livingston. +Sydney leaned upon the table, listening attentively. +Outside, old Jim McCullen was staking +out the saddle-horses, while about the stove +and mess-box William, the cook, flitted in +great importance. Sydney jumped up from +the table when the two girls entered and +arranged some extra seats for them, then took +one himself beside Louisa, who flushed prettily +at his attentions.</p> + +<p>"We beat you by fifteen minutes!" exclaimed +Mrs. Van Rensselaer, breaking off +from her conversation abruptly. "But we +just came along spinning. And I must tell +you that I'm perfectly happy now, and don't +regret coming one bit! Just think, isn't this +luck—Mr. Livingston has promised to take +me back to the ranch to-morrow, or whenever I +decide to return! And you should see what a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> +splendid dinner we are going to have! After +all, I'm coming out the best in the deal—in +spite of Jim's 'didn't I tell you,' and Hope's +'what made you come.' This is a regular taste +of the real West—wild and rugged! You +don't get it at the ranch—luxurious quarters, +Chinese servants everywhere, even the people +especially imported. You might as well be in +New York for everything except the climate. +This is great—this little gulch here and these +fresh, sweet tents; but horrors, that place +back there! Isn't there any way to go around +it when we go back to the ranch, Mr. Livingston? +I don't want even to catch sight of it. I +never saw such a lot of looking men in all my +life!"</p> + +<p>They all laughed at the look of abject +horror which she put upon her face—all with +the exception of Hope, who sat silently in the +shadow of Louisa and Sydney.</p> + +<p>"We've been to supper," said Sydney, turning +around to his cousin, "so this is an extra +one for the special benefit of our guests. +You'd better appreciate it, for it's going to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span> +a jim-dandy one. Livingston's been to supper, +too, so this is just for the ladies."</p> + +<p>"You're a good boy," murmured the girl, +taking off her hat and pushing back the mass +of dark hair from her forehead. "We'll soon +show you our appreciation."</p> + +<p>"I guess we'd better light up, it's getting +dark a little earlier nowadays," he said, leaving +Louisa's side to light the lanterns, which +soon flooded the tent with soft radiance.</p> + +<p>"I like the twilight," said Clarice to Livingston. +"But then I like lots of light, too. +Some people can talk best in the dark, but I +have to see to talk."</p> + +<p>"It's only eight o'clock," continued Sydney, +from where he had left off. "Last month +it was daylight at ten. It beats all how time +flies, anyway!" He hung an extra lantern, +lighted for the momentous occasion, right +where the rays fell full upon Hope's face. +From the far end of the tent Livingston +watched her. He sought her eyes as usual. +They were everywhere, anywhere, but did not +meet his. Lately a new star had risen for him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span>—a +star of hope. O'Hara had told him, quite +unsolicited, that there was no attachment between +Hope and her cousin, much less an +engagement, and suddenly a new world had +opened for him.</p> + +<p>"I don't see why you are lighting the lanterns +now. It isn't dark at all," said the girl, +rising suddenly from her seat. "From the +top of the ridge out there you can see the sunset, +I know."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see a sunset as beautiful as +the sunrise?" asked Livingston.</p> + +<p>She stopped and pondered an instant, then +glanced at him quickly, and as quickly away.</p> + +<p>"No, I have not," she replied. "A sunrise +is a baptism. It is like being born into a new +world. There is nothing so beautiful, so +grand, so promising, as the vision of a new +day's sun. And to stand in the cool morning +air with the dew beneath your feet and <i>feel</i> all +the promise of that vast, golden glory—to feel +it——" She stopped suddenly, lifting her +eyes to his for one brief instant. "There is no +moment in life when one is so near to God."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Admitting the sublimity and grandeur of +the time," said Clarice. "Yet who ever heard +of an enamored swain offering his heart at the +feet of his fair lady at such an unearthly hour? +It's preposterous!"</p> + +<p>"In such a case he'd probably be sitting up +too late the night before," said Carter. "But +it's a pretty idea, just the same," he declared, +looking at Louisa.</p> + +<p>"I think a sunset is prettier," insisted +Clarice. "I've never been able to rub the sleep +out of my eyes to appreciate the sunrise as +Hope describes it. But I think she is an exception."</p> + +<p>"Would there were more then," said Livingston +fervently.</p> + +<p>His earnestness seemed to amuse Clarice, +for she turned to him and laughed. Hope +swung about quickly, stung for the instant.</p> + +<p>"It is sacred," she cried softly, then opening +the tent-flap with a quick movement she +stepped out into the evening.</p> + +<p>Jim McCullen was putting up a new tent +down near the edge of the stream for the ac<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span>commodation +of the ladies. The girl went over +to where he was at work and assisted him by +steadying one pole while he fastened the canvas +in position.</p> + +<p>"How's the ranch, Jim?" she asked. "Mrs. +Van Rensselaer hasn't had time to tell me +yet."</p> + +<p>"Well, it's about the same as ever," replied +McCullen slowly. "I reckon your father's +gettin' pretty lonesome without you. Feels +like a lost horse by now. That there little +Rosebush—Rosehill, he and them Cresmonds +have gone back East to get ready fer the great +weddin' they're talkin' about. Them folks +seem to think it's a mighty fine thing to catch +a lord er an earl. But it always seemed to me +that the Almighty left out a whole pile in order +to give some o' them fellers a title. Forgot +Rosehill's brains entirely, an' he ain't no +bigger'n a minute, neither."</p> + +<p>"I guess you're right, about him," said +Hope, kneeling beside McCullen as he fashioned +a stake pin more to his liking. "I hope +that outfit won't come out here another year;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> +I don't like them very well. It's nice and +sweet out here on the grass, isn't it? I don't +mind staying here at all to-night. I don't see +what makes me feel so sleepy and drowsy +though, but I do—sort of tired, as though I +wanted to get away and go to bed. I haven't +ridden far to-day either—only a few miles +after school. Jim, I wish I were back to-night +at the ranch—I wish I could go and say +good-night to my father, and go away to my +own room."</p> + +<p>McCullen looked up from the peg he was +driving, and remarked: "I'll warrent you'll +have as good a night's sleep out here in this +tent as you would at home on the ranch. +Plenty o' fresh air an' no misquitoes to bother. +But I reckon your father'd like to see you just +the same to-night."</p> + +<p>"But he doesn't want me to go home until +I've finished this school up here. I'm earning +fifty dollars a month. How much are you?"</p> + +<p>"A hundred," replied McCullen. "But, +look a-here, your father <i>said</i> that, but he'd be +mighty glad to have you drop in on him one o'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span> +these times. He's the sorriest father you ever +seen!"</p> + +<p>"But I shall stay, Jim, just as long as there +is school here," said Hope decidedly. "So don't +<i>you</i> try to get me to go home. Everyone else +is. Sydney all the time, then Larry O'Hara. +I'm glad he's gone over to camp with the +soldiers. They're farther away than I +thought. Louisa and I rode over in that direction +after school, but only got to the top of the +tall butte over there. We could see them where +they were camped on Fox Creek, but it was too +far to go, so we went back to Harris'. Larry +was all the time urging me to go home while +he was here—and now Clarice has come. But +I won't go, Jim, until the school ends."</p> + +<p>"Well, you just make the best of it," replied +McCullen. "I like your grit. I'm +a-goin' to stay right here so's to be near you +whatever happens."</p> + +<p>"Jim," said the girl suddenly, "were you +ever nervous?"</p> + +<p>"I reckon I've been, a few times," replied +McCullen. "Why, you ain't <i>nervous</i>, be you,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span> +Hopie? There ain't nothin' goin' to bother +you out here to-night. Mebby you ain't feelin' +well."</p> + +<p>She smiled at his consternation. "No, I +don't think I'm nervous, Jim; just a little +restless, that's all."</p> + +<p>"I expect that woman's comin' has sort o' +upset you. I didn't want to bring her, but she +managed to overrule all o' my objections."</p> + +<p>He finished driving the last peg, which +made the tent secure against the strongest +wind, then straightened himself up with his +hands upon the small of his back as though the +movement was a difficult one.</p> + +<p>"Well, I reckon I'll bring in the beddin', +an' you can fix it up to suit yourself," he said, +looking down at the girl, who had seated herself +on the grass before the tent.</p> + +<p>"Listen," she whispered, holding up a +warning hand, "I hear horsebackers."</p> + +<p>"Sure enough," he replied after a moment's +silence. "I reckon it's them breed boys o' +yourn. Hungriest outfit I ever seen!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, rising suddenly to her feet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> +and peering into the gathering dusk, "that's +who it is. Go get the blankets, Jim."</p> + +<p>"Where're you goin'!" asked McCullen, as +she moved quickly away down the bank of +the creek toward the dark brush of the +bottom.</p> + +<p>"To tell them school's out," she replied +with a short laugh, then disappeared from his +sight.</p> + +<p>"I reckon she's afraid them boys'll annoy +that Van Rensselaer woman. You'd think +she'd never seen an Injun before, from the +fuss she made back there at Harris'," soliloquized +McCullen as he brought a great armful +of blankets and deposited them inside the new +tent.</p> + +<p>But Hope was not thinking of Mrs. Van +Rensselaer as she stood in the narrow brush +trail holding the bridle of an impatient Indian +pinto, while the soft-voiced twin looked at her +through the semi-darkness.</p> + +<p>"There's a bright moon to-night till three +in the mornin', then it's as dark as pitch," he +was saying.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Who figured out all that?" demanded the +girl.</p> + +<p>The breed boy moved uneasily in his saddle. +"I reckon Shorty Smith er some o' 'em did," +he replied.</p> + +<p>"And they're going to meet in the sheep-shed +at the foot of the big hill," she said deliberately.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Dan reluctantly, "the one +just inside the pasture fence over there on this +side. It's the nearest place to meet."</p> + +<p>"How many men?" demanded Hope.</p> + +<p>"'Bout a dozen, I reckon," replied the twin. +"Mebby not so many." He leaned forward +until his face was close beside the girl's. +"Say," he whispered nervously, "if they ever +found out I put you onto this, they'd finish me +mighty quick."</p> + +<p>"Are they aware you know about it?" she +asked quickly. "Do they know?"</p> + +<p>"You can't never tell," replied the boy deliberately, +sweetly.</p> + +<p>The bushes rattled and another horse pushed +its way alongside the pinto.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If we only had that Gatlin' gun now we'd +be all right," exclaimed the other twin enthusiastically, +as his horse nosed its way in beside +them. "But if we get behind the big rock +we'll scare 'em to death, so's they won't have +the nerve to do nothin'!"</p> + +<p>"But what are they going to do?" demanded +Hope impatiently. "You seem to know +nothing except that they're going to meet +there for some devilishness."</p> + +<p>"Goin' to make a raid on the shed, I +reckon," replied Dave. The soft-voiced twin +was silent.</p> + +<p>"And you think we can stand off a dozen +men?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"They can't do a thing to us from the big +rock, anyway, an' we can watch the fun an' +pick off everyone that leaves the shed. We +can do that much," said the soft-voiced twin +eagerly.</p> + +<p>"How you thirst for blood! They deserve +death, every one—<i>the dogs</i>! But I can't do it! +There must be some other way! He must be +warned, and his men too, and the thing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> +averted. Before, it just happened so—this +time we have a chance and warning."</p> + +<p>"It 'ud never do to tell him," exclaimed the +soft-voiced twin nervously. "He'd put his +own head right into the noose!"</p> + +<p>"Never!" she cried. "You don't know +what courage he has!"</p> + +<p>The soft-voiced twin continued to demur. +Suddenly she held up her hand to him commandingly. +"Not another word! I'll manage +this thing myself! It's for me to command, +and you obey orders. Remember, you're my +scouts—my <i>brave scouts</i>. Surely you want me +to be proud of you!"</p> + +<p>"You bet!" exclaimed Dave.</p> + +<p>"Then do as I say," she commanded in a +voice softly alluring, coaxing. "Go home, +find out what you can, and bring me word here +in an hour. If you are not back here then I +will go down there and face them all, myself—<i>alone</i>."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't," whispered the soft-voiced +twin excitedly.</p> + +<p>"I <i>would</i>!" replied the girl. "Now go—and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span> +remember I'll expect you back in one hour. +If you fail me, I'll go down there and face +those devils single-handed! I could wipe the +earth with forty such dogs!"</p> + +<p>The breed boys turned away in silent, stolid, +Indian fashion, and the bare-headed girl stood +in the still gloom of the willow-brush listening +to the sound of their horses' quick hoof-beats +until the last dull thud had died in the distance.</p> + +<p>"Chuck-away!" called a voice from the +creek bank.</p> + +<p>"Coming!" answered the girl, turning +about with a start and running back along the +path.</p> + +<p>At the bank she stopped, unnerved with a +rush of thoughts, overwhelming—terrifying. +She knelt down in the long grass, clasped her +hands over her heart as if to tear it from her, +and raised for an instant a strained, white face +to the starlit canopy of heaven.</p> + +<p>"The brave can die but once," her heart +repeated wildly. "But I am a coward—I cannot +bear it! Oh, God,—if you are the great,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span> +good God,—spare him from all harm, from +suffering and death! Spare him now! See, +I offer myself instead—freely, gladly! Take +me, but spare him!"</p> + +<p>A dimly outlined face from the bank above +looked down at her, followed by a soft, mellow +laugh.</p> + +<p>"The bank is so steep," said Livingston +softly. "Here, give me your hand and I will +pull you up."</p> + +<p>She took a quick step upward, then stopped +just below him and looked at him intently.</p> + +<p>"God in heaven," she said wildly to herself, +"I swear they shall not harm a hair of +your head! I'll tear the heart out of every +man of them that comes near you! I'll kill +them all, the hounds, the sneaks, the low +vermin!"</p> + +<p>She looked at him an instant so, then +laughed—an odd, mirthless, reverberant laugh, +that echoed on the hills above.</p> + +<p>"Come, let me help you," he urged gently, +reaching down his hand to her. She laughed +again, this time softly, more naturally.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My <i>lord</i>," she said with grave emphasis, +"you honor me! I am overwhelmed for the +instant. Forgive my rudeness!"</p> + +<p>"You have heard," he exclaimed regretfully. +"Your friend has told you—I am so sorry! +But then it really doesn't make any difference—only +I thought you might like me better if +you didn't know it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my lord," she laughed mockingly. +"I must needs <i>adore</i> you now!"</p> + +<p>"Stop your fooling," he exclaimed impatiently. +"And give me your hand and I'll pull +you up here."</p> + +<p>With a sudden movement he stepped down +toward her, grasping her hand firmly, drawing +her up beside him on the bank. She looked +at him in some surprise.</p> + +<p>"I always had an idea," she said, "that you +were a very mild-mannered young man."</p> + +<p>"But you've given me a title that I didn't +want—you've put me out of humor, and now +you must take the consequences," he said.</p> + +<p>"I tried to make you angry. Why aren't +you?" said Hope seriously.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Angry with you!" he exclaimed softly. +"With you, my girl! Look at me closely—in +my eyes and see the reason!" He stood beside +her. His hand grasped hers, his powerful +magnetism drew her until her cheeks +flamed, but not the flicker of downcast eyelids +betrayed more than the faintest, friendliest +indifference.</p> + +<p>"Come on," she said, turning abruptly toward +the tent, "I'm starved for my supper!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + + +<p>"You bad girl," cried Clarice Van +Rensselaer from the table, "why did +you run away? See this nice dinner +spoiling for you! I've regained my good +nature, which is lucky for you, but you'll have +to give an account of yourself. Actually, I +had to send Mr. Livingston to look you up!" +She glanced with a well-bred look of quizzical +amusement from Hope's brilliant, flushed +face to the man who accompanied her. "Well, +you see that I for one didn't wait for you," +she concluded; "couldn't! I don't think I ever +was so hungry before in my whole life. Everything +tastes <i>perfectly</i> delicious!"</p> + +<p>"William has outdone himself this time," +remarked Sydney, as the girl drew up an +empty box and seated herself at the table, taking +a little food upon her plate and making a +pretense of eating. Everything tasted like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span> +wood. She could scarcely swallow. It finally +occurred to her that she must be acting very +unlike herself. She made a violent effort to +appear natural, succeeding fairly well.</p> + +<p>"You haven't given account of yourself, +yet," said Mrs. Van Rensselaer, glancing from +her end of the table to where Hope sat, still in +silence.</p> + +<p>"Don't ask me," said the girl. "My excuse +would sound too trivial to you, Clarice. Perhaps +I wanted to watch the first stars of +evening."</p> + +<p>"Or follow a frog to its nest in the weeds," +supplemented Sydney, "or catch grass-hoppers +that had gone to roost, or listen to the +night-song of the cat bird in the brush or—or +what, Hopie? Maybe you were writing poems +in your mind, or preparing new lessons for +school to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's just it," she replied. "I was +preparing new lessons—for to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>"How funny!" laughed Mrs. Van Rensselaer. +"I had forgotten you were a full-fledged +school-teacher. Of course, I suppose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span> +you do have to think about your teaching +some. Goodness, I wouldn't like it at all! It +must be an awful task to bother with a lot of +rough, dirty children! How many pupils have +you?"</p> + +<p>"Seventeen enrolled—but only seven or +eight who attend," replied Hope briefly.</p> + +<p>"Mercy, I thought you must have at least +fifty, from all I saw back there!" gasped Mrs. +Van Rensselaer. "Well, I shouldn't think it +would be much trouble to prepare lessons for +that amount."</p> + +<p>"<i>That many</i>," corrected Hope. "We don't +measure them by the pound."</p> + +<p>"No, we size them up by the cord," laughed +Sydney; "but we don't handle 'em, because +they're like that much dynamite."</p> + +<p>"Dangerous pieces of humanity," said Livingston, +smiling.</p> + +<p>"Hope can handle them all right," declared +Mrs. Van Rensselaer. "She can handle anyone, +for that matter. She's got more tact and +diplomacy than any politician. Trust her to +manage seven or eight children! Why, if she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span> +can't manage a person any other way, she'll +actually <i>bully</i> him. She can make you believe +black is white every time."</p> + +<p>"Fräulein is so goot!" murmured Louisa, in +rapture.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," replied Hope gratefully. +"You see Louisa knows me <i>last</i>, Clarice, and +her remark should show you that I have +changed for the better."</p> + +<p>"I always told you there was chance for +improvements, didn't I, Hopie?" laughed +Sydney.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you have said something about there +being <i>room</i> for improvement, but I always +supposed you judged me to be a hopeless case. +I'm glad though you think there's a <i>chance</i>! I +always did want to improve!" As she spoke +she pushed back the box upon which she had +been sitting, turning it over to make it lower, +and seated herself near the corner of the tent, +where she was shaded from the direct rays of +the lantern's light.</p> + +<p>More than a half hour had already passed, +she thought nervously. Then she began to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span> +count the minutes before her messengers +should return. The time seemed endless since +she had decided to wait for more particulars +before informing Livingston of what was +about to take place. The twins had learned of +it only that afternoon, and they, though filled +with the foreboding of a desperate plot, could +tell nothing positive about the actual plans. +These she hoped they would be able to ascertain. +She believed that the soft-voiced twin +knew more than he was willing to divulge when +he advised her so emphatically against informing +Livingston of the plot. This, combined +with a certain anxiety of her own, which she +was unable to define, filled her with vague uneasiness +and decided her instantly to do +nothing until the boys returned with more +particulars.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say you've finished +your supper, Hope," exclaimed Mrs. Van +Rensselaer, as the girl settled herself comfortably +in the dark corner. "<i>I</i> never was so +hungry before in all my life!" She turned to +Jim McCullen, who put his head inside the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span> +tent: "You see, Mr. McCullen, that good, +hard, patient endeavor brings its own reward! +I wouldn't miss this for worlds!"</p> + +<p>"I'm very glad to hear it, ma'am," replied +old Jim politely. "Reckon you'll sleep pretty +well out there to-night, no misquitoes er +nothin' to bother you. The tent's all ready fer +you folks any time. Plenty o' blankets an' +it'll be a warmer night'n usual. Well, so +long!"</p> + +<p>"Why, he's going away!" said Hope in surprise, +as a horse loped down the creek bank and +on through the brush trail. An impulse to run +out and call him back seized her. Sydney's +slow reply caused a delay, the impulse to do so +wavered, and in another moment it was too +late; yet she felt somehow that she had made a +mistake.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Carter, after listening to +Mrs. Van Rensselaer's chatter for a moment, +"he's going over to the round-up. It's +camped about ten or fifteen miles, down at the +foot of the mountains. It's as light as day out +and much pleasanter riding in the cool of even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span>ing. +He'll be back early in the morning. Had +some mail from the ranch to take over to the +boys."</p> + +<p>"The poor fellows on the round-up all summer! +I bet they're glad to get their mail," +murmured Clarice.</p> + +<p>"What they get don't hurt them any," remarked +Sydney. "Range riding isn't conducive +to letter writing, and it doesn't take +long before a cow-puncher is about forgotten +by his home people, and his mail consists of an +occasional newspaper, sent by someone who +happens to remember him, and the regular +home letter from his old mother, who never +forgets. By the way, here's a lot of mail for +O'Hara. Have to ride over with it unless he +turns up pretty soon."</p> + +<p>"Dear Larry!" said Clarice. "What +made him leave just when I came up here? +I'd love to see him! He's such a jolly good +fellow. You didn't send him away on some +wild-goose chase, did you, Hope?"</p> + +<p>The girl shaded her eyes with her hand and +answered languidly: "No, there wasn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span> +enough excitement here, so he went over to the +military reservation. They are out on drill +over near here—Colonel Walsh, and a lot of +West Point fellows Larry knows, and so he +pulled stakes, just quit our company entirely, +and turned old Watch Eye toward Fox +Creek."</p> + +<p>She drawled her words out slowly as if to +fill in time. Livingston, whose eyes constantly +sought her face, thought she must be very +tired, and rose suddenly to take his leave. She +was upon her feet in a flash.</p> + +<p>"Sit right down!" she demanded nervously. +"Surely you wouldn't think of leaving us so +early; why, we'd all get stupid and go to +bed immediately, and Clarice wouldn't enjoy +herself at all!" She laid her hand upon +his sleeve entreatingly. "<i>Stay!</i>" she urged +softly.</p> + +<p>"As you say," he replied. "It is a pleasure +to remain, but you must tell me when I am to +go. I thought perhaps you were tired."</p> + +<p>She drew her hand away with a sudden +movement. He seated himself beside Mrs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span> +Van Rensselaer, who began immediately to +congratulate him upon his good sense in remaining.</p> + +<p>"But it was compulsory," he returned. "I +didn't dare disobey orders."</p> + +<p>"I should say not," agreed Clarice, laughing +merrily, "we always mind Hope. Everybody +does."</p> + +<p>"She always knows the right," said little +Louisa, looking lovingly at her friend.</p> + +<p>"Why, of course," agreed Mrs. Van Rensselaer, +"that's taken for granted."</p> + +<p>Hope was again in her corner, silent, intent. +Livingston could only conclude that she was +tired. The rest of them took no special notice +of her, nor did they hear the distant splashing +of water which brought into activity all the +blood in her body and fired each nerve. +Clarice was giving an elaborate account of her +day's experience, consequently no attention +was paid to the girl's abrupt departure. She +smiled at Louisa as she passed quietly out and +made some remark about her horse, which gave +the impression that she might have forgotten<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span> +something. At least Livingston and Louisa +received that impression; as for the others they +were busy, and besides Hope was Hope, who +always followed her own free fancy.</p> + +<p>The girl fairly flew along the trail that +skirted the creek until she grasped the bridle +of a small Indian pony that was nosing its way +cautiously toward her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's you!" exclaimed its small rider in +a relieved tone, as he slipped to the ground and +stood in the path beside the girl. "I was +mighty scared it might be somebody else." +Hope raised the boy's face so that the moon +shone full upon it.</p> + +<p>"Ned!" she exclaimed under her breath. +"Why are you here? Where are the boys?"</p> + +<p>"The old man's got 'em locked up in the +granary," he announced. Then seeing the look +of alarm that flashed into her face, added assuringly: +"But that's all right, <i>I'm</i> here! +They told me to tell you they'd get out somehow +'fore mornin'. I cached their horses in +the brush for 'em, and they're diggin' themselves +out underneath the barn. Here," he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span> +said, handing something to her. "I got your +rifle out o' your room an' hid it under the house +soon's ever you left, an' all these cartridges. I +just knew the old man 'ud go an' look fer it."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" exclaimed the girl, suddenly gathering +child, gun, and all into her arms. "What +a little <i>man</i> you are."</p> + +<p>"Yep," said the boy, disengaging himself; +"an' I've got a lot to tell you!"</p> + +<p>"And you're <i>sure</i> about this," questioned +Hope, after the boy had told a story so complete +in detail as to fairly unnerve her. +"You're <i>perfectly</i> sure that these men are +going to meet at the shed—the big shed close +to Fritz's grave, there below the ledge of +rocks?"</p> + +<p>"Sure's anything," replied the boy convincingly. +"There'll be seven er eight from +our place, some from Old Peter's an' some +from up the creek."</p> + +<p>Hope shivered as though it had been a winter's +night.</p> + +<p>"What <i>shall</i> we do! What <i>shall</i> we do!" +she repeated almost frantically.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, <i>fight 'em</i>, of course!" exclaimed the +boy. "Dave an' Dan'll get out by then, an' +we'll all lay up there behind them rocks an' +just pepper 'em! There's 'bout a million peek-holes +in that wall o' rocks, an' they can't never +hit us. Pooh, I ain't afraid o' twenty men! +We'll make 'em think all the soldiers from the +post is behind there!"</p> + +<p>"The soldiers!" exclaimed the girl, filled +suddenly with a new life, "and they <i>shall be +there</i>! <i>They shall be there!</i>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + + +<p>"You must think me rude," apologized +Hope, entering the tent as quickly as +she had left it, and seating herself +directly beside Livingston. "I surely didn't +intend to be gone so long."</p> + +<p>"So <i>long</i>!" exclaimed Mrs. Van Rensselaer. +"Why, I hadn't missed you! Where +in the world have you been?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>now</i> I'll not tell you!" laughed the +girl, while her face flushed deeply.</p> + +<p>"But you were missed," said Livingston. +"You've been gone just ten minutes."</p> + +<p>She looked at him and smiled at her own mistake. +It seemed to her that she had been gone +an hour. He was dazzled by the unusual +brilliancy of her face, the strange light in her +eyes. The smile, he thought, was for himself. +"Did the moonlight transform you?" +he asked. She only laughed in reply. Her +heart was bounding in very joy of life now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span> +that she saw her way clear through the grave +difficulty that had confronted her. A great +tragedy would be averted, a lot of unscrupulous +men brought to justice, and more than this—the +boy beside her was safe. What mattered +it to her at this moment that he possessed +somewhere in the universe a wife, which +irrevocably separated her from him by every +social law and moral rule? This was nothing +to her now in view of the great sense of his +personal safety that lifted such a weight of +fear from her heart. Nothing mattered much +since he was safe. How desperate the chance +had seemed, and now how easily the danger +averted!</p> + +<p>Livingston knew little of the thoughts that +played wildly in her brain while she, to all intents, +was listening with eager, brilliant face +to Clarice's light chatter. But Mrs. Van +Rensselaer was tired. Her chatter began to +fag. Outside the shadows settled down about +the tents, until the moon rose above the mountain +like a great ball of fire, casting over +everything the soft radiance of its white light.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span> +The night was almost as bright as day. Livingston +reluctantly said good-night, and went +out with Sydney to get his horse, which was +staked some little distance away. When they +returned to saddle up a movement on the opposite +side of the brush attracted Sydney's attention, +and borrowing the horse he rode over to +investigate. Livingston, wondering vaguely +what had taken him away so abruptly, +seated himself upon the tongue of the camp +wagon and listened to the soft tones of +women's voices from the white tent near the +bank. Quite without warning a hand was laid +upon his shoulder. "Where did Syd go?" +asked Hope.</p> + +<p>"Over there," replied Livingston, rising +quickly beside her, and pointing across the +brush. "He took my horse to drive out some +cattle, I think, and so I am waiting. I +thought you had retired. Did you come to +say good-night to me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the girl softly, "what of it?"</p> + +<p>"Everything! That you should care that +much—that you——"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But I wouldn't need to care—so <i>very</i> much—to +come to bid you good-night—would I?" +she interrupted.</p> + +<p>"No—perhaps; but you <i>do</i> care! I seem +to feel that you care for me—Hope!"</p> + +<p>"No! I don't care for you a bit! Not at +all—I mean——You haven't any right to +talk to me like that! Certainly, I don't care +for you, Mr. Livingston. Oh, I didn't mean +to hurt you! I mean——This is no time for +such things!"</p> + +<p>"Hope!"</p> + +<p>"Wait, listen! They will hear. See, Syd +is coming!" She stepped back from him, +pointing.</p> + +<p>"What of it! You shall tell me! Look at +me!" he commanded. "Do you know what +you are making me believe—what you are telling +me?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing!" she insisted. "I am telling +you nothing—only—<i>wait</i>!" She spoke hurriedly, +catching her breath. "Before day-break +I will be on that hill over there between +your ranch and here—there above Fritz's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span> +grave, to watch the dawn of day—and the sunrise +and——"</p> + +<p>"And I will be waiting for you! God bless +you, dear." He kissed the brown hand, which +was snatched hurriedly from his clasp just as +Sydney rode up beside them.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't believe <i>anything</i>," she gasped +under her breath.</p> + +<p>"<i>Everything!</i>" he insisted.</p> + +<p>"Your horse is loose, pard," said Sydney, +"I thought I caught sight of it over there, but +couldn't see anything of it when I rode over. +You're afoot! Now what are you going to do +about it?"</p> + +<p>"Walk," replied the girl, darting a quick +look at Livingston. "Half a mile is <i>nothing</i>."</p> + +<p>"Half a mile," laughed her cousin. "You +mean two miles and a half, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, the horse isn't far! We'll find it the +first thing in the morning. Good-night, you +two! It's time school-teachers were in bed—and +everyone else. Good-night!" She turned +around and waved her hand at them just before +the flap of the white tent closed upon her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span></p> + +<p>Clarice yawned dismally. "Will you never +settle down, Hope? Isn't this lovely and comfortable? +So cool after the hot, fatiguing +day, I just love it! Whom were you talking to—Livingston? +What a shame he's married! +He's such a dear boy, why, I'd almost be +tempted, <i>if</i> he wasn't married——But pshaw! +Lady Helene Livingston is one of those +frizzy-haired blondes that suggest curl papers +and peroxide, and she affects velvet dresses, +black or purple—but always <i>velvet</i>—and a +feather! I've seen her loads of times, but she +doesn't go in our set, because she's taken up +with those Grandons. You know Harriet +married an English peer, with a title, <i>nobody</i> +over there recognizes. She was such a pretty +girl that she might have done something for +her family, but I don't think the poor man +fared as well as he expected, for it's well known +that old Grandon hasn't a half a million in his +own name. But Harriet lives well, and entertains +a lot of English people nobody else +cares to have. Lady Helene Livingston is +pretty enough in spite of her velvet and feath<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span>ers +to get on anywhere, if only she didn't follow +in the train of Harriet's crowd. I wonder +how it happens that she never comes out +here?"</p> + +<p>"The curl papers and velvet may have something +to do with that," said Hope, settling +down beside Louisa, on the opposite side of +the tent, with a motion as weary as if the only +thought she possessed was to secure a good +night's sleep. "Velvet and feathers," she +yawned. "Clarice, do you know that it's nearly +eleven o'clock?"</p> + +<p>"Really!" exclaimed Mrs. Van Rensselaer. +"I'd never have thought it. See how bright +it is in here—almost like day."</p> + +<p>"Full moon," observed Hope. "It will be +light like this until almost morning, and +then darkness for a little while before daylight."</p> + +<p>"How well you understand such things, +Hope! I should think it would be very difficult +to keep track of the moon."</p> + +<p>"Yes," yawned the girl, "it is. We'd better +go to sleep, Clarice, because as soon as the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span> +sun is up it will be too warm to stay in here, so +you won't get your morning nap. That's the +worst of a tent."</p> + +<p>"What a shame!" sighed Mrs. Van Rensselaer. +Then after ten minutes of silence: +"Hope, I want you to go back to New York +with me next week. Now, no joking, dear, I +mean it."</p> + +<p>"No," replied Hope. "It's too roasting hot +there at this season. I couldn't think of it, +Clarice."</p> + +<p>"But we're going by way of the Lakes, and +take in a lot of those cool summer resorts. +Then I must get to Newport for the last of +the season, and after that, you know, it will be +decent weather in New York, and we can have +no end of good times. Come now, Hope, just +make up your mind to go!"</p> + +<p>"You forget, I must teach my school for +several weeks yet, so that settles it. Good-night, +Clarice! Go to sleep like a good girl."</p> + +<p>"What does this little school amount to, to +you?" insisted Mrs. Van Rensselaer. "Not +a thing, and you know it! You just don't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span> +want to go with us. Come on, please do go, +that's a dear girlie!"</p> + +<p>"Impossible, Clarice," replied Hope. +"There are many good reasons why I really +couldn't. This school up here, and my little +Louisa, and, anyway, I don't want to go. +Aren't you very tired and sleepy, Clarice?" +She thought Mrs. Van Rensselaer bid fair to +remain awake all night, and was devising various +schemes in her mind for getting away +from her. But Mrs. Van Rensselaer had an +object in view, and disliked exceedingly to +give it up.</p> + +<p>"I really don't think you ought to stay up +here, Hope. To be candid, I don't just like +your position. Of course, in this country, +conventionalities don't count for much, but +honestly I think this Livingston is caring for +you."</p> + +<p>"What in the world put such an idea into +your head?" asked the girl, flushing beneath her +cover of blankets.</p> + +<p>"Hope!" reproved Mrs. Van Rensselaer. +"You know it, and I know it, so what's the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span> +use of denying it? But, of course, if you +think it's right——Really, I have nothing further +to say except that I wish you would return +with me, and bring your little Louisa along."</p> + +<p>The girl was silent for a moment, forgetting +her anxiety to get away, in thoughts +Clarice had suggested.</p> + +<p>"Has he any family?" she suddenly asked. +"I mean—<i>children</i>, Clarice."</p> + +<p>"I don't think so. But what difference +would that make?"</p> + +<p>"No difference in reality—but a heap of +difference in my thoughts. If he had a +family,—children,—it would seem more natural +to think of him as being a married man, a +family man. As it is, I will remember him as +a true-hearted, free young Englishman."</p> + +<p>"I think, Hopie, his being married has +spoiled a very pretty romance. I wish it +might have been different, dear!"</p> + +<p>"You are too sleepy to know what you +think. Go to sleep and dream that I shall +join you in New York as soon as the school +is ended."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + + +<p>It seemed an interminable time to Hope, +although it was in reality less than an +hour, before the breathing of the two +sleepers assured her that she could leave the +tent in safety.</p> + +<p>When she stood outside, at the edge of the +cut-bank, casting a quick glance over the tents +behind, it seemed to her that the moonlight was +brighter than ever. It was like a soft hazy +day. She made her way toward a dark object +on the opposite side of the brush, the same that +had attracted Sydney an hour before. This +time the small object did not conceal itself, +but stood boldly forth.</p> + +<p>"I thought you wasn't never comin'," said +the boy softly. "It must be 'bout mornin' by +now. Seems all night! We'll haf to ride +like blazes if we get there now in time!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span> +They're over here," he said, leading the way +along a winding trail around the side of a +wooded hill.</p> + +<p>"You're a good boy," said the girl.</p> + +<p>"You bet I had the awfulest time gettin' +away with your saddle! Every time I'd get +up near it that blame cook'd pop his head +out of the tent. I like to never got it a +tall!"</p> + +<p>"But you did get it," said Hope. "I saw +that it wasn't there."</p> + +<p>"Yep, an' the blanket an' bridle. I've +got 'em all cached up here in the trees—horses +an' everything, an' your horse is saddled. +Somebody rode up while I was waitin' +down there on the bank for you, an' I just had +to lay low, I tell you!"</p> + +<p>"Come, hurry!" whispered the girl. +"We've got to kill our horses to-night!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've got Dave's pinto, so I don't care," +replied the child. Then after an instant's +pause in which they reached their horses: +"You couldn't kill this pinto, nohow!"</p> + +<p>Perhaps, thought Hope, it would not kill<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span> +her horse either. She trusted not, for she +loved the animal dearly. But it would be a +ride for their very lives if the soldiers were to +reach there in time to avert the mischief.</p> + +<p>It was a ride for their lives. Ten miles at +night over a rough country, through tangled +underbrush, and deep matted grass, across +stony creek bottoms and rocky hills, ever onward +toward Fox Creek at the speed of the +wind.</p> + +<p>Time and again the horses stumbled to +their knees, but the riders might have been a +part of them, so securely did they keep their +seats. The pinto began to lag, at which the +girl stopped for an instant, rode behind, and +lashed it furiously with her strong quirt. +Then for a time it kept up with the thoroughbred, +but could not long continue the +speed.</p> + +<p>Upon a high knoll the girl reined up, horse +and rider waiting, motionless as a carved +statue, for the pinto, whose easy, graceful running +gait had changed to short rabbit-like +leaps<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span>.</p> + +<p>"Wish I had another string o' horses!" +gasped the child, as he at length gained the top +of the hill. The girl pointed down the dwindling +foot-hills to something small and white +in the distance.</p> + +<p>"See, there are the tents—a mile away. The +soldiers—two troops of them—out on a pleasure +trip. I will go on—you take your time, +and go back with the men."</p> + +<p>"I want to go with <i>you</i>," declared the boy, +half crying.</p> + +<p>"No," said the girl coaxingly. "You must +be their guide, and lead them to the ledge of +rocks by the sheep-shed. Think how fine it will +be to be a <i>real</i> soldier." Then appalled by a +new thought: "Oh, but if you should get tired +and <i>couldn't</i> lead them there, how would they +ever find the place? <i>What shall I do!</i> I can't +wait for them—I must go back ahead. <i>If</i> +he shouldn't be there! If something should +have warned or detained him! <i>What will +I do!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Oh, shoot it all, <i>I'll</i> take 'em there all +right!" exclaimed the boy, in a very big voice.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span> +"Don't you worry. I ain't a bit tired, an' I +ain't a-goin' to be, neither!"</p> + +<p>Hope reached over and clasped the child in +her arms, a sob coming with her breath.</p> + +<p>"<i>My little man!</i>" she said softly. Then instructing +him to follow her, spurred up her +horse to a fresh attempt, and so mad was her +ride that she scarcely breathed until she +dropped to the ground beside a sentinel who +commanded her to halt.</p> + +<p>How she roused the camp in the middle of +the night was a story Larry O'Hara often delighted +to relate. It was Larry who really +came to the rescue, who shouldered the responsibility +of the action, and led the troops when +finally equipped to the scene of the disturbance.</p> + +<p>And Hope rode back alone—rode so rapidly +that her horse stopped, exhausted, at the foot +of the big hill where she had planned +the rendezvous with Livingston. There she +left the noble animal and climbed up toward +the summit, sometimes on her hands and knees, +so tired had she become. And the moon still<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span> +shone brightly along the horizon of the +heavens. An hour of brilliancy, she thought, +then darkness before the dawn. When she +had dragged herself up the mountain side, +hope and fear alternately filling her heart, and +hastening her footsteps, a sudden weakness +came over her as she saw on the summit the +stalwart figure of Livingston. Then it +seemed to her that the night had been a mere +dream, or at least ridiculous. How could such +a strong, brave-looking man require a girl's +assistance? It was preposterous! She seemed +to shrink into herself, in a little cuddled heap +among the rocks.</p> + +<p>Then a clear whistle sounded on the still air. +She knew it was for her. How like a boy, +she thought. She tried to answer it, but could +not make a sound.</p> + +<p>Finally she rose from the rocks and approached +him—not the Hope he had expected, +but a frightened, trembling girl.</p> + +<p>He went to meet her, after the manner of a +boy, and clasped the hands she gave him in his +own, then kissed each one, and gravely led<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span> +her to the summit upon which he had been +standing.</p> + +<p>"This rock is like a great throne," he said, +"where we are going to wait our crown of +happiness that is to come with the rising of the +sun. Is it not so? See, you shall sit upon +the throne and I here at your feet. How you +are trembling, dear! And those heavy guns, +why did you bring them?"</p> + +<p>"To protect myself, perhaps, from one who +is inclined to be over-bold," she replied, with a +little nervous laugh as she settled herself comfortably +on the throne-like rock.</p> + +<p>"Hope!" he reproved. A red flush dyed +the girl's face.</p> + +<p>"And are you not the man?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"Tell me then," he said quietly, "who has a +better right!"</p> + +<p>She drew back into the very recess of the +throne, away from his eyes, so convincingly +near to hers.</p> + +<p>"It's a long climb up this steep mountain," +she remarked weariedly.</p> + +<p>"And you are tired! I can see it now. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span> +it was good of you to come to meet me here like +this, Hope—<i>sweetheart</i>!"</p> + +<p>"No, no! you must not talk like that!" +cried the girl.</p> + +<p>"You know I cannot help it when I am with +you. I must tell you over and over that I love +you—<i>love you</i>, Hope! Why not, when my +heart sings it all the time? And have you not +given me the <i>right</i>, dear?"</p> + +<p>"Wait! Not now," she said more softly. +"Talk about something else—<i>anything</i>," she +gasped.</p> + +<p>"And must I humor you, my queen," he +said. "Look down and let me read in your +eyes what I want to find there—then I will +talk about anything, everything, until you +want to hear what is in my heart!"</p> + +<p>"Only daylight can reveal what is in my +eyes," she replied. "The light of the moon is +unreal, deceiving. Tell me how long you have +been here, and where did you leave your +horse?"</p> + +<p>"You are evading me for some reason. If +I did not believe it to be impossible, I should<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span> +say that I am nervous—and that you are +nervous. Can you not be yourself to me now—at +this time? Why did you want me to meet +you here?"</p> + +<p>"You say you love me. Then aren't you +content to just sit here in silence beside me?"</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, dear, but my love is almost +too great for silence. You will admit that." +Then with a touch of amusement in his voice: +"Tell me, are you angry with me that I should +speak so plainly to you?"</p> + +<p>"No, no! Of course not—only talk about +something else just now. How long have you +been here?"</p> + +<p>"An eternity," he replied. "Or perhaps +longer. I'm not sure. When I left you there +at the camp I went directly back to the ranch. +The men were all in bed. I went in and got +my rifle and started over here. You see we are +both armed!" he laughed, taking a Winchester +from behind the throne of rocks. She took it +from him and examined it minutely.</p> + +<p>"A good gun," she remarked, handing it +back.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then I started over here," he continued, +"but had a brief interruption on the road in +the shape of the old squaw that lives down in +your community—old Mother White Blanket. +She held me up in the road—positively held +my horse so that I couldn't move while she told +a story that would have brought tears to my +eyes if I could have understood a word she +said, and if my mind hadn't been so full +of the most gloriously beautiful girl in the +world.</p> + +<p>"Finally I had sense enough to give her some +money, and after repeating 'yes' innumerable +times to her broken questions she finally gave +me permission to proceed on my way. I left +my horse down at the sheep-shed."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't you understand anything she +said to you?" questioned Hope eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Not much," he admitted, and Hope, with +a relieved little air, which he noticed, sank back +among the rocks again.</p> + +<p>A silence fell over them for a time, then +Livingston raised his head and looked at the +girl intently.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I think she was trying to tell me something," +he said slowly. "She said it was a +warning; but I paid no attention to her delirium. +I believe she tried to impress upon me +that I was in danger. But I was insanely +anxious to meet you. She said something that +I had heard before, that you and the twins had +driven away the men who attacked and killed +poor Fritz that night. And this much more +I think I understand now, that the 'old man,' +whoever she meant, had given her a beating, +that the twins were shut up in the stable +or somewhere, and that you were a good girl +because you had given her all your school +money. That much is clear to me now. And +also that she was very anxious that I should get +out of the country immediately—which seems +to be the sentiment of the majority of the +people out here. The old woman is no doubt +insane."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," agreed the girl, "there's not +a doubt but that she's plumb locoed! I'm +glad you didn't allow anything she said to +trouble your mind. She's a regular old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 386]</a></span> +beggar. The money was probably what she +was after. You can't believe a word she +says!"</p> + +<p>"Yet she spoke convincingly," mused Livingston. +"If I hadn't been so absorbed in the +meeting I would have taken more heed of +what she said. As it was, I passed her off as a +little out of her mind. Of course, I knew you +had no hand in that shooting at the corral, had +you, Hope?" he asked in a somewhat anxious +voice.</p> + +<p>"A ridiculous idea for that old squaw to get +in her head," replied the girl, leaning in a +weary fashion back upon the rock.</p> + +<p>Whatever suspicion Livingston had entertained +vanished for the moment.</p> + +<p>"I am glad," he said. "I don't know exactly +why, but I am glad that it isn't so. I +shouldn't like to think that you had done such +a thing—for me."</p> + +<p>"The moon takes a long time to set, don't +you think?" she remarked. "It must be almost +time for daylight."</p> + +<p>"Are you anxious?" he inquired pointedly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</a></span> +She sat erect in dignified silence and did not +reply.</p> + +<p>"How much longer must you be humored, +dear?" he asked, taking both of her hands +within his own, and drawing her toward him. +"I do not believe that the moonlight will tell +lies. Look at me!"</p> + +<p>She leaped away from him with all her +young strength, and stood upon the throne of +rocks, scornfully erect.</p> + +<p>"How bad you are—how wicked to talk to +me so, to even think that I would care for you +one minute! Surely you must realize that I +know your past, <i>Lord</i> Livingston! <i>Your +past!</i>" she flashed.</p> + +<p>"You know my past, and yet you can condemn +me," he said, pain and wonderment in his +quiet voice. "Perhaps you are right. I +haven't always been perfect. But I am not +bad—Hope! Not <i>that</i>! I am a man—I try +to be, before God. Surely you do not mean +what you say, my girl—<i>Hope</i>!"</p> + +<p>"You know just what I mean," said Hope, +in a voice strained and harsh. "And you know<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</a></span> +it would be absolutely <i>impossible</i> for me to love +you!"</p> + +<p>"Then there is nothing more to be said," replied +Livingston, turning away from her. +"We will not wait for the sunrise. I will +go now." He walked from her with long +strides.</p> + +<p>"Wait," she cried in absolute terror. +"<i>Wait!</i> Oh, you wouldn't be so rude as to +leave me here—<i>alone</i>!" He stopped short, his +back still toward her. "Please come back!" +she begged, approaching him, "I should die of +fright!" Somehow she reminded herself of +Clarice. "Surely you will walk back to camp +with me!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, certainly, pardon me," he replied +huskily.</p> + +<p>As they turned, a horse came slowly toward +them. Hope gave a little nervous exclamation.</p> + +<p>"Your horse," said Livingston, reaching +for the bridle. "I thought you walked."</p> + +<p>"No—yes," replied the girl. "I walked +up the hill. The horse must have followed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span> +We will walk down and lead it. It's too steep +to ride down."</p> + +<p>But Livingston had stopped short beside +the animal, his head bowed, almost upon the +saddle.</p> + +<p>"Come, shall we go?" asked the girl nervously.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the man turned to her, sternness +expressed in every line of his figure.</p> + +<p>"Where have you been?" he commanded.</p> + +<p>"For a ride," she replied, feeling for the +first time in her life the desire to scream.</p> + +<p>"<i>For a ride!</i> Yes, it must have been a ride! +Your horse is nearly dead—listen to his breathing! +Crusted with foam from head to foot +and still dripping. You have been——"</p> + +<p>"For the soldiers. To protect your ranch +from the devils who would kill you and get rid +of your sheep—this very hour!"</p> + +<p>"And you have lured me here, away from +danger—away from the side of my men, away +from my <i>duty</i>, with all a woman's cowardice! +<i>But what of them!</i> You have called me bad! +That may be, but I am not bad enough to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span> +grateful to you for doing this, that you may, +perhaps, have intended for a kindness! Anything +would have been kinder to me than what +you have done to-night."</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" she cried from the +rocks where she had thrown herself. But he +was running, with all his speed, down the +mountain side.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + + +<p>Then she knew that he was going +straight into the very jaws of death. +If it had been a trap set for him it +could not have been any surer. In a sheep-shed +far below, close to the reef of rocks above +Fritz's grave, a score of men were waiting, +and he was rushing toward them, down the +mountain side, lighted by the white moonlight. +And what was she doing, groveling +there among the rocks? Like a flash she was +after him, but at a speed much less than his +had been.</p> + +<p>Before she was halfway down three shots +rang out. The girl clutched her heart and +listened, but not a sound could be heard save +the long echoes in the valley, which sounded +like a dying breath.</p> + +<p>On she sped from rock to rock, keeping ever +out of sight of the shed, her senses keenly alive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span> +to the one object in view—a bit of white far +below. It might have been a bunch of flowers +along the hillside, but white flowers never grew +there—a heap of bones, then, she thought. +She made a zigzag line along the jagged ridge +of rocks, closer and closer to the white object +below. She wondered if he lay on his face or +his back. How calm she was in the shock and +terror of her grief! The light of the moon was +growing dim, she had reached the very tip of +the rocks, the white object was not twenty feet +away, but out in the open in perfect view of +the sheep-shed and the score of men it hid. +Another shot broke the stillness. The white +object moved, and then a moan followed, so +low that none but the ears of the frenzied girl +could have heard. Like an enraged lioness +she sprang out into the open and dragged the +heavy body up toward the shelter of rocks. +Several bullets rang about her, but the increasing +darkness made her an uncertain target. A +couple of men ventured outside the sheep-shed, +encouraged by the stillness. The girl laughed +savagely, as if in glee, and pulled the man's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span> +body close to the side of rocks, covering it with +her own.</p> + +<p>"Come on," she cried to herself. "Come +on, show yourselves! I shall have you all! For +every pang you have made him suffer, you +shall have twenty, and for his death you shall +have a lingering one! Come on, come on!" +Three stood outside. The addition pleased +her. She laughed. Taking deliberate aim she +fired again and again. Three wounded, frightened +men crawled into the shelter of the shed. +Then a score of bullets splashed against the +rocks about her. She lifted the warm bleeding +body closer under the rocks, drawing her own +over it to protect it from all harm and talking +frantically the while.</p> + +<p>"The hounds, the hounds! They murdered +you right in my sight, dear, and I will tear out +their hearts with my hands! See, they are hiding +themselves again! I can wait, yes, I can +wait! <i>My love, my love!</i> For everything +they have made you suffer! Oh, you can't be +<i>dead</i>, dear! You can't be dead! Open your +eyes and let me tell you just once I love you!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span> +Only once, dear!" She put her mouth close to +his ear. "<i>I love you, love you, love you!</i> Only +hear me once and know, dear! Know how I +love you! Why didn't I tell you? I don't care +if you are married a thousand times, a <i>million</i> +times! I love you with all my life—my soul! +See, he's trying to get away! But he'll never +reach his horse! See! A hole right through +his knee! Death is too good for them, dear. +My love, speak to me just once—only know +that I love you, that I am mad with love for +you! Tell me that you feel my face against +yours—and my kisses! See, they're crawling +out like flies! and making for their horses—and +now they're crawling back again so that +I cannot get them. Oh, God, let me get them +<i>all</i>! My love, my love, how I love you, and +<i>never told you so</i>!"</p> + +<p>With the first hint of dawn another volley +came from the opposite side, and out of the +gloom a rush of cavalry closed in about the +sheep-shed, and ten men, most of them suffering +from slight wounds, were taken captive. +The man lying against the reef of rocks par<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span>tially +opened his eyes as Hope, with one last +kiss upon his face, rose to meet a small group +of riders.</p> + +<p>"I say, Hope, it's a blasted shame we didn't +get here in time to save him!" exclaimed +O'Hara, with grief in his voice. "I'll just +send the doctor over here at once."</p> + +<p>While the surgeon bent over Livingston +the girl stood close by, against the rocks, quiet +as the stone itself.</p> + +<p>"A bad shoulder wound," he commented at +length. "A little of your flask, O'Hara, and +he'll be all right. Why, he's quite conscious! +How do you feel? You're all right, my boy! +A shattered shoulder isn't going to bother you +any, is it? Not much!"</p> + +<p>The girl moved closer.</p> + +<p>"Is he alive and conscious? Will he live?" +she asked.</p> + +<p>"He's all right, madam," replied the surgeon. +As he spoke Livingston turned his face +toward her, his eyes alight with all the love-light +of his heart—answering every prayer she +had breathed upon him. Her own answered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span> +his. Then she drew back, farther and farther +away, until she stood outside the group of +riders. O'Hara tried to detain her as she +passed him.</p> + +<p>"Why, you're wounded yourself, girl!" he +exclaimed.</p> + +<p>She looked at her sleeve, and the wet stream +of blood upon her dress, and laughed. It was +true, but she had not felt the wound.</p> + +<p>"Not at all, Larry," she replied. "The +blood came from <i>him</i>," and she pointed back +to the rocks. She started on, but turned back. +"Tell me," she said, "what became of little +Ned."</p> + +<p>"I sent him home," replied Larry. "The +poor little chap was about all in. We met his +uncle, Long Bill, riding like blazes for the +doctor. It seems that those young divils of +twins shot old Harris some time during the +night, which stopped that faction from joining +these fellows here as they had planned. A +pretty lucky shot, I'm thinking! They ought +to have a gold medal for it, bless their souls, +but they'll both dangle from the end of a rope<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span> +before they're forty, the devils, or I'll miss my +guess!"</p> + +<p>Larry looked around to speak to an officer, +and before he could realize it Hope had disappeared, +climbing back toward the summit of +the hill where she had left her horse.</p> + +<p>In the gulch on the opposite side she fell +exhausted into the very arms of old Jim McCullen, +who had returned in time to hear the +shooting, and was hastening toward the scene.</p> + +<p>"My poor little Hopie!" he cried, carrying +her to the stream, where the alarmed party +from the camp found them a few minutes +later.</p> + +<p>"You will drown her, Mr. McCullen!" exclaimed +Clarice Van Rensselaer, rushing up +quite white and breathless. "The poor darling, +I just <i>knew</i> she'd get into trouble with all +those dreadful Indians! Someone give me +some whisky, <i>quick</i>! That's right, Sydney, +<i>make</i> her swallow it! Here, give it to me! +<i>There!</i>"</p> + +<p>Louisa, stricken with grief, pointed to the +damp, stiffened sleeve of the girl's shirt-waist.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span> +"See," she sobbed, "they have shot her, too, +like my Fritz!"</p> + +<p>Of them all, Mrs. Van Rensselaer was the +most contained, and showed remarkable coolness +and nerve in the way she ripped off the +sleeve and bathed the wound, which was hardly +more than a deep scratch, yet had caused considerable +loss of blood.</p> + +<p>"It's exhaustion, pure and simple," said Jim +McCullen. Then he and Sydney drew away a +short distance, and examined the horse.</p> + +<p>Hope finally looked up into the anxious +faces above her.</p> + +<p>"I think, Clarice," she said, "I'll go back to +New York with you."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2> + + +<p>Hope, a vision in white, leaned back +resignedly in the soft embrace of the +carriage cushions.</p> + +<p>"I thought," she said, "you never visited +the Grandons, Clarice, particularly since Harriet +made her alliance with the titleless duke." +Mrs. Van Rensselaer smiled behind the laces +of her muff. "I didn't suppose you were +going there this afternoon," continued the girl, +with a sweeping look along the solidly built +street. "How does it happen?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you see," replied Clarice, "<i>Larry</i> +wished it; and you know his wish is law to me—<i>until</i> +we're married. That's only right and +as it should be—the <i>dear boy</i>!" Then impulsively: +"I don't know how I've ever lived +without him, Hope! Positively, he is the +<i>dearest</i> thing that ever lived!"</p> + +<p>"And you'll both be tremendously happy, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span> +know. Both of you young and gay, and in +love with life and its frivolities—both the center +of your set, and both rattle-brained enough +to want to keep that center and throw away +your lives in the whirling, rapid stream of +society."</p> + +<p>"You shouldn't ridicule this life, Hope. +Don't you know we are the very pulse of the +world! I had an idea you were taking to it +pretty well. You are certainly making a tremendous +hit. Even mamma smiles upon you +in the most affectionate manner, and is proud +for once of her offspring. You are simply +gorgeous, Hope—a perfect <i>queen</i>!"</p> + +<p>The girl's eyes darkened, her face flushed. +"A <i>queen</i>," she retorted. "A queen! Clarice, +did you ever sit upon a throne and feel the +world slipping out from under you? A +woman is never a queen, except to the <i>one</i> man. +But you are mistaken, Clarice. I simply cannot +adapt myself to this life. If it wasn't for +the continual monotony of it all—the never +changing display of good points and fine +clothes—where even one's own prayers are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 401]</a></span> +gilded and framed in consciousness and vanity—and +these streets—the reflection of it all—these +blocks and blocks always the same, like +the people they cover—presenting always the +same money-stamped faces—oh, it is this sameness +that stifles me! It is all grand and wonderful, +but it isn't <i>life</i>." She paused, then +smiled at Clarice's perplexed face. "Leave +me at mamma's when you return, for I've got +stacks of things to do, and I want the evening +all to myself—Louisa and I, you know. And +we'll say, Clarice, that I perfectly love dear old +New York."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't mind, dear, not at all! I know +you are no more fitted in your heart for this +life than I am for the life out there with those +<i>dreadful</i> Indians. But you've certainly been +acting superb these last two months!"</p> + +<p>"You are such a <i>dear</i>, Clarice," said Hope +impulsively, stroking her gloved hand. "I +have you and Louisa, and, of course, I am perfectly +happy! I tell myself so a thousand +times a day. My poor little Louisa! <i>She's</i> +about the happiest girl I ever saw in all my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 402]</a></span> +life, but she doesn't know it. Here she is +worrying her head off because Sydney is pressing +his suit too strongly and won't take 'no' +for an answer, and she thinks she ought to be +faithful to poor Fritz, her cousin, who is really +only a sweet, sad memory to her now, while all +the time she is crazy in love with Syd. Isn't it +a fright? But Sydney is way out in Montana, +and his letters serve only as little pricks to her +poor conscience. Her replies are left mostly +to me, so that is what I must do to-night."</p> + +<p>"But your mother entertains this evening. +Had you forgotten?" reminded Mrs. Van +Rensselaer. "So how are you going to get +away?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose I will have to come down for +awhile, but I simply will not remain long."</p> + +<p>"Well, I will see you then. Larry and I +are going to drop in for a little while in the +early evening."</p> + +<p>When they drove away from the Grandons' +a half hour later Clarice searched the girl's +quiet face for some expression of her thoughts, +but found none.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 403]</a></span></p> + +<p>"So you have seen the Lady Livingston at +last, Hope! What do you think of her?"</p> + +<p>The girl shrugged her shoulders and looked +into the street. "Your description tallied very +well," she replied.</p> + +<p>That evening Hope met the blond Lady +Helene at her mother's musicale. This time it +was Clarice, again, who brought the meeting +about.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Van Rensselaer was in her gayest, most +voluble mood.</p> + +<p>"I'm <i>so</i> anxious to have you two get acquainted," +she said. "Dear Lady Helene, this +is <i>Hope</i>—Miss Hathaway, and she can tell +you everything you want to know about the +West. Do, Hope, entertain her for a few +moments until I find Larry." This the girl +did in her gracious way, but adroitly kept the +conversation away from the West.</p> + +<p>After a few moments Clarice returned without +Larry. A shadow of disappointment +crossed her face as she joined the conversation.</p> + +<p>"I thought you were going to talk about +the West, Hope," she laughed, "and here you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 404]</a></span> +are talking <i>New York</i>—nothing but New +York!"</p> + +<p>"New York is always an entertaining +topic," said Lady Helene. "I do not seem to +fancy the West particularly. You know Lord +Livingston has recently been hurt out there, +and so I do not enjoy a very kindly feeling +toward that country. The poor boy! I have +been so worried about him! Really, don't you +know, I haven't had a good night's sleep since +I heard of his injury! Yes, you know, it's a +wonder he wasn't <i>scalped</i>! It's just fearful, +really! He is so much to me, you know. Ever +since my poor husband died and the title and +estates fell to Edward, I have felt a <i>great</i> +responsibility for him. He is so much younger +than my husband, Lord Henry, and so, well, +really, sort of wild, don't you know." Here +Lady Helene smiled and wiped one eye with a +filmy bit of lace. Perhaps she was saddened +by thoughts of the havoc she had wrought in +the life of the late lord, and his fortunes.</p> + +<p>Hope sat motionless, suddenly paralyzed. +"Do you mean," she asked, in short gasps,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[Pg 405]</a></span> +"that Edward—Lord Livingston is not +your <i>husband</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Mercy, no," replied Lady Helene, "my +husband's brother! Indeed, Edward is not +married! I doubt very much if he ever will be. +I hope if he does, that it will be to someone at +home, in his own class, don't you know! +Really, he is a great responsibility to me, Mrs. +Van Rensselaer! Why, where did Miss +Hathaway go? She seems to be such a bright, +dashing young woman. Really, one meets few +American girls so royally beautiful! Yes, as +I was saying, Edward is a terrible responsibility +to me. Even now I am obliged to hurry +away because he has just arrived here in town, +and I must meet him at his hotel. That is the +worst of not having a house of your own! To +think of poor, dear Edward stopping at a +<i>hotel</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Which one?" gasped Clarice. Receiving +the information, she abruptly excused herself +from Lady Helene, who immediately decided +that some Americans had very poor +manners.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[Pg 406]</a></span></p> + +<p>While Clarice drove rapidly toward Livingston's +hotel, Hope, in eager haste, was +literally throwing things in a trunk that had +been pulled into the center of the room. Little +Louisa, no less excited and eager, assisted.</p> + +<p>"To think, my Louisa," laughed the girl, +"that we are going back to our West—<i>home</i>—again, +away from all this fuss and foolishness! +Oh, don't be so particular, dear. Throw +them in any way, just so they get in! Our +train leaves at twelve, and I have telephoned +for tickets, state-room and everything. Isn't +it <i>grand</i>? Mamma will be furious! But dear +old Dad, won't he be glad! He's so lonesome +for me, Louisa. He says he can hardly exist +there without me! And Jim, and Sydney, +and—everyone! Oh, I am wild for my horses +and the prairie again! And you've got to be +nice to Syd! Yes, dear, it's your <i>duty</i>. Can't +you see it? If you don't, the poor boy will go +to the bad <i>altogether</i>, and something <i>dreadful</i> +will happen to him! And it will be all your +fault!" Which statement sent Louisa into a +paroxysm of tears, not altogether sorrowful.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[Pg 407]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You will spoil dose <i>beautiful</i> clothes!" +she finally exclaimed, looking in dismay +through her tears at the reckless packer.</p> + +<p>"It makes no difference," laughed Hope. +"What are <i>clothes</i>! We will have the rest sent +on after us. I suppose we've forgotten half +what we really need, but that doesn't matter, +either, does it, my Louisa?"</p> + +<p>Louisa dried her tears and assisted until the +trunk was packed and strapped. Then they +took hold of hands and danced like children +around it. Suddenly Hope stopped, her face +growing white and fearful.</p> + +<p>"<i>If he shouldn't forgive me!</i>" she exclaimed +softly.</p> + +<p>"Ah, but he lofs you!" said Louisa.</p> + +<p>At that moment Mrs. Van Rensselaer +opened the door and looked in.</p> + +<p>"My dear," she began, then stopped in +amazement. "What in the world——Why, +you are going away!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Hope, putting her head +down upon Clarice's soft evening wrap. "I +am going back to——"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[Pg 408]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But he has come to you, dear, and he is +waiting right here in the hall!"</p> + +<p>"No, no!" breathed the girl.</p> + +<p>"But he <i>is</i>!" exclaimed Clarice, gently +pushing the girl, still in all her white evening +glory of gown, into the great hall. "And he +carries his arm in a sling, so <i>do</i> be careful!" +she admonished, closing the door upon her.</p> + +<p>From below came the indistinct murmur of +many voices. Under the red glare of the lamp +at the head of the broad staircase Livingston +and Hope met in a happiness too great for +words.</p> + +<p>"Louisa," said Clarice Van Rensselaer, +from her seat upon the trunk, "I hope you see +it your duty to make a man of Sydney."</p> + +<p>"<i>A man</i>," replied Louisa indignantly, "he +is already de greatest man in all de whole +world, and <i>I lof him</i>!"</p> + + +<p class="title"><span class="smcap">Finis.</span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<blockquote><p>TRANSCRIBER NOTES:</p> + +<p>Punctuation corrected without note.</p> + +<p>page 48: "through" changed to "though" (as though talking to herself).</p> + +<p>page 95: "bloodthristy" changed to "bloodthirsty" (more bloodthirsty +than she suspected).</p> + +<p>page 123: "protuded" changed to "protruded" (teeth protruded from her +thin lips).</p> + +<p>page 303: "upon" removed from text as redundant (patting him upon the +head).</p> + +<p>page 369: "close" changed to "closed" (just before the flap of the white +tent closed upon her).</p></blockquote> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hope Hathaway, by Frances Parker + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOPE HATHAWAY *** + +***** This file should be named 36629-h.htm or 36629-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/6/2/36629/ + +Produced by Peter Vachuska, Pat McCoy, Stephen Hope 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. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Hope Hathaway + A Story of Western Ranch Life + +Author: Frances Parker + +Release Date: July 5, 2011 [EBook #36629] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOPE HATHAWAY *** + + + + +Produced by Peter Vachuska, Pat McCoy, Stephen Hope and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + HOPE HATHAWAY + + + [Illustration] + + + + + _HOPE HATHAWAY_ + + + A Story of + Western Ranch Life + + _BY + FRANCES PARKER_ + + + [Illustration] + + + BOSTON, MASS. + C. M. CLARK PUBLISHING CO. (Inc.) + 1904 + + + + _COPYRIGHT, 1904_ + + _by_ + + _C. M. CLARK PUBLISHING CO. (Inc.) + BOSTON, MASS., U. S. A._ + + + _Entered at Stationers Hall, London_ + + + _Rights of Translation, Public Reading and + Dramatization Reserved_ + + + + +HOPE HATHAWAY + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Hathaway's home-ranch spread itself miles over an open valley on the +upper Missouri. As far as the eye reached not a fence could be seen, yet +four barbed-wires, stretched upon good cotton-wood posts, separated the +ranch from the open country about. + +Jim Hathaway was an old-time cattle-man. He still continued each summer +to turn out upon the range great droves of Texas steers driven north by +his cowboys, though at this time it was more profitable to ship in +Western grown stock. He must have known that this was so, for every year +his profits became less, yet it was the nature of the man to keep in the +old ruts, to cling to old habits. + +The old-time cowboy was fast disappearing, customs of the once wild West +were giving way before an advancing civilization. He had seen its slow, +steady approach year after year, dreading--abhorring it. Civilization +was coming surely. What though his lands extended beyond his good +eyesight, were not these interlopers squatting on every mile of creek in +the surrounding country? The open range would some time be a thing of +the past. That green ridge of mountains to the west,--_his_ mountains, +his and the Indians, where he had enjoyed unmolested reign for many +years,--were they not filling them as bees fill a hive, so filling them +with their offensive bands of sheep and small cow-ranches that his +cattle had all they could do to obtain a footing? + +On one of his daily rides he had come home tired and out of humor. The +discovery of a new fence near his boundary line had opened up an +unpleasant train of thought, and not even the whisky, placed beside him +by a placid-faced Chinese servant, could bring him into his usual jovial +spirits. After glancing through a week-old newspaper and finding in it +no solace for his ugly mood, he threw himself down upon his office +lounge, spreading the paper carefully over him. The Chinaman, by rare +intuition, divined his state of mind and stole cautiously into the room +to remove the empty glasses, at the same time keeping his eyes fixed +upon the large man under the newspaper. + +Hathaway generally took a nap in the forenoon after returning from his +ride, for he was an early riser, and late hours at night made this habit +imperative. This day his mood brought him into a condition where he felt +no desire to sleep, so he concluded, but he must have fallen into a +doze, for the sharp tones of a girl's voice directly outside his window +brought him to his feet with a start. + +"If that's what you're driving at you may as well roll up your bedding +and move on!" It was spoken vehemently, with all the distinctness of a +clear-toned voice. A man replied, but in more guarded tone, so that +Hathaway went to the window to catch his words. + +"You don't know what you're talking about," he was saying. "This is my +home as well as yours, and I'd have small chance to carry out my word if +I went away, so I intend to stay right here. Do you know, Hope, when you +get mad like that you're so devilish pretty that I almost hate you! Look +at those eyes! You'd kill me if you could, wouldn't you? But you'll love +me yet, and marry me, too, don't forget that!" + +"How can you talk to me so," demanded the girl, stepping back from him, +"after all my father has done,--made you his son,--given you everything +he would have given a son? Oh!" she cried passionately, "I can't _bear_ +you in this new role! It is terrible, and I've looked upon you as a +_brother_! Now what are you? You've got no right to talk to me so--to +insist!" + +"But your mother----" he interrupted. + +"My _mother_!" weariedly. "Yes, of course! It would be all right there. +You have money--enough. A good enough match, no doubt; and she would be +freer to go,--would feel better to know that she had no more +responsibility here. You know your ground well enough _there_." Then +with growing anger: "Don't you ring in my mother on me! I tell you I +wouldn't marry you if I _never_ got married! I'm strong enough to fight +my own battles, and I will, and you'd better forget what you've said to +me and change the subject forever!" She walked away, her strong, lithe +body erect. + +"But you're handsome, you brown devil!" he cried, taking one step and +clasping her roughly to him. She tore herself loose, her eyes blazing +with sudden fire, as Hathaway, white with anger, came suddenly around +the corner of his office and grasped the offender by the coat collar. +Then the slim young man was lifted, kicked, and tossed alternately from +off the earth, while the girl stood calmly to one side and watched the +performance, which did not cease until the infuriated man became +exhausted. Then the boy picked himself up and walked unsteadily toward +the building, against which he leaned to regain his breath while +Hathaway stood panting. + +"Here, hold on a minute," roared the angry father as the young man moved +away. "I ain't done with you yet! Get your horse and get off this ranch +or I'll break every bone in your damn body! You will treat my girl like +that, will you? You young puppy!" The young fellow was whipped +undoubtedly, but gracefully, for he turned toward Hathaway and said +between swollen lips: + +"You don't want to blame me too much, Uncle Jim. Just look at the girl! +Any man would find it worth risking his neck for her!" Then he moved +slowly away, while the girl's eyes changed from stern to merry. Her +father choked with rage. + +"You--you--you----Get away from here, and don't talk back to me!" he +roared at the retreating figure. + +The girl moved forward a few steps, calling: "That's right, Sydney, keep +your nerve! When you're ready to call it off we'll try to be friends +again." Without waiting for her cousin's reply she ran into the house, +while he lost no time in leaving the ranch, riding at a rapid gait +toward the nearest town. Hathaway watched him out of sight, then with a +nervous, bewildered shake of the head joined his wife and daughter at +luncheon. + +"At last your father has come," sighed Mrs. Hathaway, as he appeared. +"Hope, ring for the chocolate; I'm almost famished. It seems to me, +James," turning to her husband with some impatience, "that you might +_try_ to be a little more prompt in getting to your meals--here we've +been waiting ages! You know I can't bear to wait for anyone!" She sighed +properly and unfolded her napkin. + +"My dear," said Hathaway blandly, "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, +but I've been somewhat occupied--somewhat." + +"But you should always consider that your meals come first, even if your +wife and family do not," continued the lady. "Where is Sydney? The dear +boy is generally so very prompt." + +The effect of her words was not apparent. Her husband appeared +absent-minded and the meal began. + +The daughter, Hope, with quiet dignity befitting a matron, occupied the +head of the table, as she had done ever since her mother shifted the +responsibilities of the household to her young shoulders. When this +question was asked she gave her father a quick glance. Would he +acknowledge the truth? Evidently not, for he began immediately to talk +about the new fence near his boundary line. It was a shame, he said, +that these people were settling in around him. + +"The land's no good," he declared. "Nearly all the water around here +that's any account is on my place. All on earth these hobos are taking +it up for is in expectation that I'll buy them out. Well, maybe I will, +and again maybe I won't. I'd do most anything to get rid of them, but I +can't buy the earth." At this Hope smiled, showing a flash of strong, +white teeth. + +"And if you could buy the earth, what would you do with these people?" +she asked, her face settling into its natural quiet. Her mother gave her +the usual look of amazement. + +"Hope, I must ask you not to say impertinent things to your father. You +no doubt meant to be witty, but you were none the less rude. Why do you +allow her to say such things to you, James? You have succeeded in +spoiling her completely. Now if _I_ had been allowed to send her away to +school she would have grown up with better manners." + +Hathaway passed his cup to be refilled, making no answer to his wife's +outburst. Perhaps he had learned in his years of experience that the +less said the better. At any rate he made no effort to defend his +daughter--his only child, and dear to him, too. If she had expected that +he would defend her it was only for a passing instant, then she returned +to her natural gravity. Her face had few expressions. Its chief charm +lay in its unchanging immobility, its utter quiet, behind which gleamed +something of the girl's soul. When her rare smile came, lighting it up +wonderfully, she was irresistible--in her anger, magnificent. + +Ordinarily she would not have been noticed at first glance, except, +perhaps, for the exceptionally fine poise of her strong, slim body. She +was a true daughter of the West, tanned almost as brown as an Indian +maid, and easily might have passed for a half-breed, with her blue-black +eyes and hair of the darkest brown. But if she had Indian blood she did +not know it. Her mother, during the season, a flitting butterfly of New +York society, a Daughter of the Revolution by half a dozen lines of +descent, would have been horrified at the mere thought. + +The girl herself would not have cared had she been born and raised in an +Indian camp. She had what Mrs. Hathaway termed queer ideas, due, as she +always took occasion to explain to her friends who visited the ranch, to +the uncivilized life that she had insisted upon living. + +Hope had been obstinate in refusing to leave the ranch. Threats and +punishments were unavailing. When a young child she had resolved never +to go away to school, and had set her small foot down so firmly that her +mother was obliged to yield. Hathaway was secretly glad of this, for +the ranch was home to him, and he would not leave it for any length of +time. + +The little girl was great company to him, for his wife was away months +at a time, preferring the gayety of her New York home to the quiet, +isolated ranch on the prairie. Some people were unkind enough to say +that it was a relief to Hathaway to have the place to himself, and +certain it is that he never made any objections to the arrangement. +Their only child, Hope, was educated on the ranch by the best +instructors procurable, and readily acquired all the education that was +necessary to her happiness. + +At Mrs. Hathaway's outburst the girl made no effort to defend herself, +and was well aware from former experiences that her father would not +come to her aid. That he was afraid of her mother she would not admit. +It seemed so weak and foolish. She had exalted ideas of what a man +should be. That her father fell below her standard she would not +acknowledge. She loved him so, was proud of his good points, and in +many ways he was a remarkable man, his greatest weakness, if it could be +called that, being his apparent fear of his wife. Her dominion over him, +during her occasional visits at the ranch, was absolute. Hope shut her +eyes to this, telling herself that it was caused by his desire to make +her happy during these rare opportunities. + +Hathaway did not respond to his wife's somewhat uncalled-for remarks, +but after a moment of silence adroitly changed the subject by inquiring +of Hope who it was that had ridden up to the ranch just as he left that +morning. + +"It must have been Joe Harris, from the mountains," she replied, "for he +was here shortly after you rode away. I thought he was out hunting those +cattle of his that I saw over on Ten Mile the other day, but he informed +me that it was not cattle he was hunting this time, but a +_school-teacher_. They have some sort of a country school up there in +his neighborhood, and I think, from what he said, and what some of the +boys told me, that he must be the whole school board--clerk, trustees, +and everything. He was on his way over to the Cross Bar ranch to see if +he could secure that young fellow who came out from the East last fall. +One of the boys told him that this young man had given up his calling +indefinitely and was going on the round-up instead, but Harris rode on +to try what persuasion would do." + +"That _dreadful_ man," sighed Mrs. Hathaway. "He is that _squaw-man_ +with those _terrible_ children! Hope, I wish you wouldn't talk so +intimately with such people; it's below your dignity. If Sydney were +here he would agree with me. Where _is_ Sydney? Do you know where he +went? He will miss his luncheon entirely, the poor boy!" + +Hope looked searchingly at her father, but he ignored her glance. Surely +he would say something now! The question trembled upon the air, but she +waited involuntarily for him to speak. + +"I've asked you a question, Hope. Why don't you answer; are you dumb?" +said her mother, with a show of impatience. "Where _is_ Sydney?" + +"I don't know _just_ where he is," replied the girl at length, "but I +think it would be safe to say that he is riding toward town; at least he +was heading that way the last I saw of him." + +"Toward town!" gasped her mother. "Why, he was going to drive in for the +Cresmonds to-morrow! You must be mistaken. Please do not include me in +your jokes!" Then, turning to Hathaway, continued: "James, where _did_ +he go?" + +Hathaway moved uneasily under the direct gaze of his daughter. "I +haven't the least idea," he finally answered. "I can't keep track of +everyone on the ranch." The girl's face turned pale under her tan. She +rose from the table and stood tall and straight behind her chair, her +clear eyes direct upon her father. + +"Why don't you tell her," she cried with passion. Then the usual calm +settled over her face. She turned to her mother. "I may as well tell +you that we had a little scene this morning, Sydney and I. He proposed +to me." She hesitated an instant, turned and caught her father's +nervous, anxious look direct. He was watching her uneasily. She +continued deliberately: "I refused him--and sent him away from the +ranch. You may as well know all about it." + +"_You_ sent him away from the ranch," gasped Mrs. Hathaway. + +"Yes," answered the girl quietly. It was her first lie. + +"You _dared_ send him away--away from his own home!" almost screamed +Mrs. Hathaway, her rage increasing with every word. "_You dared!_ _You_, +my own daughter--ungrateful, inconsiderate----You _know_ how I love that +boy, my poor Jennie's son! What business had you sending him away, or +even refusing him, I'd like to know! What if he is your cousin--your +second cousin? Oh, you have no consideration for me, _none_--you never +had! How can I ever endure it here on this ranch three whole months +without Sydney! It was bad enough before!" She wrung her hands and rose +sobbing from the table. "James, do go after that poor boy. Say that I am +willing he should marry Hope if he is so foolish as to want her. Tell +him not to mind anything she says, but that he _must_ come home. You +will go at once, won't you?" + +She placed both hands imploringly on his arm. + +"Yes, I'll go after him to-morrow, so stop your worrying," he answered +soothingly. "Hope, fetch your mother a glass of wine, don't you see +she's all upset?" + +The girl brought the wine and handed it to her father, but his eyes +shifted uneasily from her clear, steady ones. He led his unhappy wife +from the room, leaving Hope alone with the empty wine glass in her hand. +She stood so for a moment, then walked to the table and set the tiny +glass down, but, oddly, raised it up again and looked at it closely. + +"As empty as my life is now," she thought. "As empty as this home is for +me. I have no one--father, mother--no one." A queer look crossed her +face; determination settled over her, as with a sudden, vehement motion +she shattered the frail glass upon the floor. A single thought, and a +new life had opened before her. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Upon the slope of a great grass-covered hill, among other hills, larger +and grass-covered also, stood a small log school-house. A hundred yards +away, between this isolated building and the dingy road stretched +through the mountain valley, grew a scrubby clump of choke-cherry brush. +Some boys crouched low upon the ground behind these bushes, screened +from sight of possible passers-by, and three pairs of eyes looked +through the budding branches, intently scanning the road at the crest of +hill to the left. Finally a dark speck appeared upon its gray surface. +The youngest boy shivered, a tightening of expression came over the +leader's face. He drew his shotgun closer to him, resting it upon his +knees. Suddenly he laughed unpleasantly and kicked the child who had +shivered. + +"You ninny, quit your shakin'! Can't you tell a steer from a man? You'll +make a nice feller when you grow up, 'fraid of your own shadow! You'd +better git into the school-house an' hide under a bench, if you're goin' +to be scared out of your skin. Baby! Umph, a _steer_, too! That blame +black one that won't stay with the bunch!" The big boy brought his +awkward length down upon the ground, continuing in a lower tone: "I'd a +darn sight ruther be on my horse drivin' him back on the range than +waitin' here for any fool school-teacher! But we've got this job on +hand. No schoolin' for me--I'm too old. It'll do for babies that shiver +at a steer, but I've got other business, an' so's Dan. I'm thinkin' if +the old man wants school up here he'll have to teach it himself! What +does he think we'd go to the trouble of running away from the Mission +for if we wanted to go to school? Umph, he must think we're plumb +locoed!" + +"If father catches us in this he'll lick us to death," interposed the +youngest boy. + +"Not much, he won't. He'll have to ride a faster horse than mine or +Dan's if he catches us! We'll ride over to the Indian camp, an' you can +stay here an' take the lickin'! He'll be glad enough to see us come back +in a month or two, I'll bet! And he's goin' to find out right now that +it ain't no use to bring any doggoned teacher up here to teach this +outfit. Ain't that so, Dan? We know enough of learnin'. I bet this new +fellow won't stay long enough to catch his breath!" + +A boy, who in looks and size was the exact counterpart of the speaker, +asked in a sweet, soft-toned voice: "What if the old man takes a notion +to come along to the school-house with him--what'll we do then, Dave?" + +"Do! why, what do you suppose we'll do?" answered his twin, settling +down closer to the ground. "Why, we'll hide these here guns an' walk up +to the school-house like little sheep, and _then_ lay low and watch our +chance when the old man _ain't_ around. I ain't figurin' on any lickin' +to-day, you can bet your boots on that, but I'll take a darn good one +before any more schoolin'! We've got the medicine to fix +school-teachers for him this year, I reckon!" And patting his gun, the +breed boy gave a satisfied grunt and settled down nearer to the ground. + +"You bet we have," softly assented his twin. "But what if the fellow +don't scare at them blank cartridges?" + +"Then we'll try duck-shot on him," answered the first readily. "What'd +you think--we're a lot of babies? I reckon we've got fight in us! You've +got to stick to us, Ned, even if you ain't as old as Dan and me. Ain't +that so, Dan?" + +"Yes, unless he wants to get whaled half to death," sweetly answered the +soft-voiced twin. + +"I'm no coward," exclaimed the sturdy little fellow. "If you boys _dare_ +lick me I'll shoot the two of you!" His small black eyes flashed +ominously. For an instant he glared at the older boys, all the savagery +in his young soul expressed in his countenance. The soft-voiced twin +gave a short laugh. Something like admiration shone in his eyes for the +young lad, but he retorted sweetly: "You shivered! Don't you go an' do +it again!" At that instant his sharp eyes sighted an object just +appearing at the top of the hill. He punched the leader vigorously: "Now +down on your knees, he's comin' sure this time!" + +"And he's alone," said the bold leader joyfully. "We won't have no +trouble with him. He rides like a tenderfoot, all right. Wait till he +gets down by that rock there, then let him have it, one after the +other--first me, then Dan, then you, Ned. I'll bet my horse an' saddle +that he'll go back quicker'n he's comin'!" + +"What if that ain't the feller we want?" gently asked Dan. + +"We'll wait till he turns in here, an' then we'll know. They ain't +nobody else goin' to come along this way just now. Lord, don't he ride +slow, though! Now I'll shoot first, don't forget." + +"His saddle blanket's flying on this side, and he's got a red shirt on," +said the other twin. "He's lookin' over this way. Yes, he's comin' here +all right. Let him have it, Dave, before he gits any closer!" + +As he spoke, the approaching rider left the main road and turned up the +dimly marked trail toward the school-house. The forward twin waited an +instant, then, aiming his shotgun carelessly toward the stranger, fired. +At the signal a volley rang out from behind the bushes. As quickly the +horse took fright, stopped stock still, then wheeled, and bolted with +utmost speed directly toward the patch of brush, passing so near that +the boys drew in their legs and crawled snake-like under the protection +of the branches. + +"Good Lord," gasped the leader, as the horse raced past, on up the +grassy slope of a hill, "it's a girl!" + +Two minutes later the bushes were quickly parted over three very +uncomfortable boys, and a red shirt-waisted girl looked sternly in at +them. + +"You boys come out of there this minute! Who did you take me for that +you were trying to frighten me to death? Or is that the way you treat +ladies up here in the mountains? Come out immediately and explain +yourselves!" + +The soft-voiced twin crept out first, and before scrambling to his feet +began apologizing: "We didn't know it was _you_. We thought it was a +man. Don't hurt us! We wouldn't a done it for nothin' if we'd thought it +was you. We were layin' for a school-teacher that father got to teach +this school, an' we took you for him." Then more hopefully as he +regained his feet: "But our guns wasn't loaded with nothing but blank +cartridges. We was just goin' to frighten him away so that we wouldn't +have no school this summer. It's too fine weather to be in school, +anyway." He looked up into the girl's uncompromising face. "But now I +reckon our hides are cooked, for you'll tell your father." This last +questioningly. + +"And you wouldn't like my father to know about this--or _your_ father +either, I suppose?" + +"We'd do most anything if you wouldn't tell on us, Miss Hathaway!" + +"Do I look like a girl that would tell things?" she flashed back. "I +usually fight my own battles; if necessary, I can use _this_." A quick +movement and she placed before their faces a reliable looking +six-shooter. + +"We know all about that! You ain't a-goin' to hurt us, are you?" +exclaimed Dave. + +"You know all about _that_, do you? Well, that's good. Now tell me your +names." + +"We're the Harris kids," answered Dave quickly. + +"I know you're the Harris kids, but I want your first names. _Yours_," +she commanded, looking at the soft-voiced twin and absently fingering +the weapon. + +"Mine's Dan. _He's_ Dave, an' that one's Ned," answered the boy in one +soft, quick breath; then added: "We know all about how you can shoot. +You're a dead one!" His face took on a certain shrewd look and he +continued divertingly: "I'll throw up my cap an' you shoot at it. I'd +like to have the hole in it." + +Miss Hathaway seemed suddenly amused. + +"You are a very bright boy! And your name is Dan--Daniel. You want a +souvenir? Well, all right, but not just now. I've got other business. I +came to teach your school." She hesitated, looking keenly at their +astonished faces. "Yes, your father has engaged me--hired me, so I think +we'd better go inside and begin work, don't you? We'll overlook this +shooting affair. I don't know as I blame you very much for not wanting a +man teacher, but of course the shooting was very wrong, and you +shouldn't have tried to frighten anyone; but we'll forget all about it. +But you are not going to have a man teacher, and I am different. I am +going to live at your house, too, so of course we'll be good +friends--ride together, hunt, and have great times, _after school_. +During school we _work_, remember that! Now one of you boys please stake +out my horse for me and then we will go inside and start school. You +boys must help me get things to working." + +Before she had finished speaking the soft-voiced twin caught her horse, +which was grazing near. Dave, more clumsily built, followed him, while +the girl took the small boy by the hand and started toward the +school-house. At the door she turned in time to see the twins struggling +at her horse's head. They were about ready to come to blows. + +"I'll take care of that horse myself," said Dave gruffly, attempting to +force the other boy's hand from the bridle. + +"Don't fight, boys, or _I_ will take care of the horse," called the new +school-teacher severely; thereupon the soft-voiced twin released his +hold and walked demurely up to the school-house. + +"Anyway," he explained as he went inside, "Dave's the youngest, and so I +let him have the horse." + +"I never was so frightened in my life," thought the girl, as she +arranged the small school for the day. "But the only way to manage these +little devils is to bluff them." + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +A group composed principally of cowboys, squaw-men, and breeds squatted +and lounged outside of Joe Harris' house. Numerous tousley-headed boys, +with worn overalls and bare feet, played noisily on the outskirts, dogs +and pigs scurried about everywhere, while in the doorway of the dingy, +dirt-covered kitchen in the rear hovered a couple of Indian women and +several small dark-skinned children. Somewhere out of sight, probably +over the cook-stove, were two or three nearly grown girls. Such, at +supper time, was the usual aspect of Joe Harris' cabins, varied +occasionally by more or less Indians, whose tepees stood at one side, or +more or less dogs, but always the same extraordinary amount of squealing +pigs and children. + +The huge figure of Joe Harris, squaw-man, cattle-man, and general +progressive-man, was prominent in the center of the group. He was by all +odds the greatest and most feared man in that portion of the country. +His judgment as well as his friendship was sought after by all the small +ranchers about, and also, it was rumored, by a certain class of cattle +owners commonly called rustlers. To be Joe Harris' friend meant safety, +if nothing more; to be his enemy meant, sooner or later, a search for a +new country, or utter ruination. He brought with him, years before from +the north, a weird record, no tangible tale of which got about, but the +mysterious rumor, combined with the man's striking personality, his huge +form, bearded face, piercing blue eyes, and great voice, all combined to +make people afraid of him. He was considered a dangerous man. At this +date he possessed one thousand head of good cattle, a squaw, and fifteen +strong, husky children, and, being a drinking man, possessed also an +erratic disposition. He was very deferential to his Indian wife, a good +woman, but he ruled his offspring with a rod of iron. His children +feared him. Some of them possessed his nature to such a marked degree +that they hated him more than they feared him, which is saying +considerable. Even as they played about the group of men they watched +him closely, as they had learned by instinct at their mother's breast. + +In the midst of loud talk from the assorted group, a tiny girl, the +great man's favorite child, was sent out from the kitchen to tell them +that supper was ready. The little thing pulled timidly at the large +man's coat. He stooped and picked her up in his arms, leading the hungry +throng into the house, where a rude supper was eaten in almost absolute +silence. Occasionally a pig would venture into the room, to be +immediately kicked out by the man who sat nearest the door. Then the +children that played about the house would chase the offending animal +with sticks and shrill cries. + +In a room adjoining this one a girl sat alone in dejected attitude, her +face buried between two very brown hands. As the men tramped into the +house she rose from the trunk upon which she had been sitting and +crossed to the farther side of the room. There, with difficulty, she +forced up a small dingy window looking out upon the mountains at the +back of the ranch--a clear view, unobstructed by scurrying dogs, pigs, +or children. She leaned far out, drawing in deep, sweet breaths, and +wondering if she would follow the impulse to climb out and run to the +top of the nearest hill. She thought not, then fell again to wondering +how she should ever accustom herself to this place, these new +surroundings. She heard the men tramp out of the house, followed soon by +a timid rap upon her door, then moved quickly across the room, an odd +contrast to her rude surroundings. + +"You can have supper now," said a tall girl in a timid voice. "The men +are through. We ain't got much, Miss Hathaway." + +"A little is enough for me," said the girl, smiling. "Don't call me +_Miss_, please. It doesn't seem just right--_here_. Call me Hope. It +will make me feel more at home, you know. You're _Mary_, aren't you? +_You_ haven't been to supper, have you?" + +"Mother said you were to eat alone," answered the breed girl. + +"Oh, no, surely I may eat with you girls! I'd much prefer it. You know +it would be lonely all by myself, don't you think so?" + +"We ain't going to eat just yet, not till after the boys get theirs," +said the Harris girl a trifle less timidly. + +"Then I will wait, too," Hope decided. "Come in, Mary, and stay till I +unpack some of these things. Just a few waists and extra riding skirts. +I suppose I am to hang them up here on these nails, am I not?" When she +had finished unpacking she turned to the breed girl, who had become +quite friendly and was watching her interestedly, and explained: "Just a +few things that I thought would be suitable to wear up here, for +teaching; but, do you know, I'd feel lots better if I had a dress like +yours--a calico one. But I have this--this old buck-skin one. See, it +has bead-work on it. Isn't it pretty?" + +"Oh!" exclaimed the girl, as Hope held it up for inspection. "_Isn't_ it +lovely!" + +"Very old and dingy-looking, but I'll put it on and wear it," she +decided. + +A few minutes later, when they had arranged the small, barren room +somewhat more comfortably, Hope Hathaway, attired in her dress of Indian +make, joined the Harris girls at their frugal meal. Her dark hair was +parted in the center and hung in two long braids down her back. That, +combined with the beaded dress, fringed properly, her black eyes, and +quiet expressionless face, made a very picturesque representation of an +Indian girl. Truly she was one of them. The breed girls must have +thought something of the same, for they became at their ease, talking +very much as girls talk the world over. There were three of them between +the ages of fourteen and eighteen, and Hope soon found herself well +entertained and almost contented. The loneliness soon wore away, and +before realizing it she began to feel at home--almost one of them, true +to her spirit of adaptability. But yet for her supper she ate only two +hard boiled eggs. + +After the meal the breed girls walked with her down to the spring-house +where the milk and butter was kept. From underneath the small log +building a large spring crept lazily out, spreading itself as it went +into a miniature lake which lay between the house buildings and the +stables. It was the only thing on the ranch worthy of notice, and, in a +country barren of water excepting in the form of narrow winding creeks, +it was pleasing to the eye. + +The men and boys had disappeared, the younger children were with their +mother, and even the pigs had drowsily gone to their sleeping quarters. +The place seemed strangely quiet after its recent noise and commotion. + +Finally the girls returned to the house to help with the small children, +while in the deepening twilight Hope remained alone beside the lake. The +water into which she looked and dreamed was shallow, but the deepening +shadows concealed that fact. To her fancy it might have been bottomless. +Someone rode up on horseback, but she paid no attention until a +pleasant voice close beside her startled her from her reverie. + +"Can I trouble you for a drink of that water, please? I have often +wished for one as I rode past; it looks so clear and cold." She bowed +her head in assent, and, bringing a cup from the spring-house, stooped +and filled it for him. He thanked her and drank the water eagerly. + +"It is good, just as I thought, and cold as ice," he said; then, +noticing the girl more closely, continued: "I have been talking with +your father over there at the corral, and am returning home." + +"With my _father_," emphasized the girl. The young man noted with +wonderment the richness of her voice, the soft, alluring grace of every +movement. Someone had jokingly told him before he left his old-country +home that he would bring back an Indian wife, as one of historical fame +had done centuries before. He laughed heartily at the time--he smiled +now, but thought of it. He thought of it again many times that evening +and cursed himself for such folly. Perhaps there was Indian medicine in +the cup she gave him, or perhaps he looked an instant too long into +those dark, unfathomable eyes. He found himself explaining: + +"Yes; your father has agreed to sell me that team I have been wanting. I +am coming back for the horses to-morrow." + +"My _father_," she began again. "Oh, yes, of course. I thought----Would +you like another drink of the water?" + +"Yes, if you please." It seemed good to stand there in the growing +darkness, and another drink would give him fully a minute. He watched +her supple figure as she stooped to refill the tin cup. What perfect +physiques some of these Indian girls possessed! He did not wonder so +much now that some men forgot their families and names for these +dark-skinned women. + +"I am coming to-morrow for the horses--in the morning," he repeated +foolishly, returning the cup. She did not speak again, so bidding her a +courteous good-night he mounted his horse and rode slowly into the +gathering dusk. + +Hope stood there for a moment, returning to her study of the water; then +two of the breed girls came toward her. One of them was giggling +audibly. + +"We heard him," said Mary. "He thought you was one of us. It'll be fun +to fool him. He's new out here, and don't know much, anyhow. He's Edward +Livingston, an Englishman, an' has got a sheep ranch about three miles +over there." + +"A _sheep-man_!" exclaimed Hope, "Isn't that too bad!" + +"You hate sheep-men, too?" asked the older girl. + +"No, I don't know that I _hate_ them, but there's a feeling--a sort of +something one can't get over, something that grows in the air if you're +raised among cattle. I despise sheep, detest them. They spoil our cattle +range." Then after a short pause: "It's too bad he isn't a cattle-man!" + +"That's what I think," said Mary, "because the men are all gettin' down +on him. He runs his sheep all over their range, an' they're makin' a big +talk." + +"You shouldn't tell things, Mary, they're only talkin', anyway," +reproved the older girl. + +"_Talkin'!_ Well, I should say so, an' you bet they mean business! But +Miss Hathaway--Hope--don't care, an' I don't care neither, if he gets +into a scrape; only he's got such a nice, pleasant face, an' he ain't on +to the ways out here yet, neither--an' I don't care _what_ the men say! +Tain't as if he meant anything through real meanness." + +"That's so," replied the older girl, "but maybe she don't want to hear +such talk. It's bedtime, anyway; let's go in." + +"Yes, I'm tired," said Hope wearily, adding as she bade Mary good-night +at her door: "I do hope he won't get into any trouble." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +The three months' school had begun in earnest. Each day Hope found new +interest in her small class and in her surroundings. She readily learned +to dispense with all the comforts and luxuries to which she had been +born, substituting instead a rare sense of independence, an expansion of +her naturally wild spirit. She dispensed also with conventionalities, +except such as were ingrained with her nature, yet she was far from +happy in the squaw-man's family. She could have ridden home in a few +hours, but remembered too keenly her mother's anger and her father's +parting words. He said to her: + +"You have hurt your mother and spoiled her summer by the stand you have +taken. You are leaving here against my wishes and against your own +judgment. The only thing I've got to say is this: don't come back here +till you've finished your contract up there, till you've kept your word +to the letter. No one of my blood is going back on their word. A few +rough knocks will do you good." + +He probably discovered in a very few hours how much he loved his girl, +how she had grown into his life, for the next day after she had left he +drove to the distant town and hunted up his wife's nephew, who had +caused all this trouble. + +"You deserve another thrashing," he said when he had found him, "but now +you've got to turn to and do what you can to bring things back to where +they were. Hope's left home and 's gone to teaching school up in the +mountains at Harris'. Now, what in thunder am I going to do about it? +She can't live there with those breeds. Lord, I slept there once and the +fleas nearly ate me up!" + +The boy's face turned a trifle pale. "I'm sorry, uncle, about this. I +never thought she would do such a thing, on my account--not after I +left. And she's gone to Joe Harris' place! I know all about that, a +regular nest of low breeds and rustlers. She can't stay there!" + +"But she will, just the same," announced the man, "because when she told +me that she'd promised Harris, and that she was going, anyway, I told +her to go and take her medicine till the school term was ended." + +"But surely you won't allow her to stay, to _live_ at Joe Harris'! There +are other people up there, white people, with whom she could live. Why, +uncle, you can't allow her to stay there!" + +"Why not? She's made her nest, let her lie in it for awhile--fleas and +all. It won't hurt her any. But I'm going to keep a close eye on her +just the same. I couldn't go up there myself on account of your aunt's +being here, but I was thinking about it all last night, and I finally +concluded to send a bunch of cattle up there, beef cattle, and hold 'em +for shipment. Now I came here to town to tell you that your aunt wants +you to come back to the ranch, but you're not going to come back, see? +You're going up there and hold those cattle for a spell, and keep your +eye on my girl. I don't give a damn about the steers--it's the girl; but +you've got to have an excuse for being there. Your aunt's got to have an +excuse, too. These cattle--there's two hundred head of 'em--they're +_yours_--see? I'll have 'em all vented to-morrow, for in case Hope +thought they wasn't yours she might catch on. You can ship 'em in the +fall for your trouble. She won't think anything of you holding cattle up +there, because the range is so good. So you look out for her, see how +she is every day, and send me word by McCullen, who I'll send along with +you. You can take a cook and another man if you need one. And now don't +let her catch on that I had a hand in this! Seen anything of them blame +New Yorkers yet?" Young Carter shook his head absent-mindedly. He was +filled with delight at this clever scheme of his uncle's. "No? Well, +mebbe there's a telegram. Your aunt expected me to take them back to the +ranch to-morrow. Never mind thanking me for the cattle. You do your part +to the letter. Send me word every day and don't forget. And another +thing, just quit your thinking about marrying that girl, and keep your +hands off of her! Remember she's in a wild country up there, among tough +customers, and she probably knows it by now, and the _chances are_ she's +got a gun buckled onto her!" + +He was right. Hope found herself among too many rough characters to feel +safe without a gun concealed beneath her blouse or jacket, yet rough as +the men were, they treated this quiet-faced girl with the utmost +respect, perhaps fearing her. Her reputation as a phenomenal shot was +not far-fetched, and had reached the remotest corners of the country. +She had played with a gun as a baby, had been allowed to use one when a +wee child, and had grown up with the passion for firearms strong within +her. Shooting was a gift with her, perfected by daily practice. In one +of her rooms at the ranch the girl had such a collection of firearms as +would have filled the heart of many an old connoisseur with longing. It +was her one passion, perhaps not a more expensive one than most women +possess; yet, for a girl, unique. Her father gratified her in this, just +as other fathers gratify their girls in their desire for music, art, +fine clothes, or all, as the case may be. But the things that most girls +love so well had small place in the life of Hope Hathaway. She cared +little for music, and less for fine clothes. Society she detested, +declaring that a full season in New York would kill her. Perhaps if she +had not been filled with the determination to stay away from it, its +excitement might finally have won her; but she was of the West. Its +vastness filled her with a love that was part of her nature. Its +boundless prairies, its freedom, were greater than all civilization had +to offer her. + +She brought with her to the mountains a long-distance rifle and a brace +of six-shooters. A shotgun she seldom used, for the reason that to her +quick, accurate eye a rifle did better, more varied work, and answered +every purpose of a shotgun. It was said that each bird she marked on the +wing dropped at her feet in two pieces, its head severed smoothly. This +may not have been true always, but the fact remains that the birds +dropped when she touched the trigger. + +She was an odd character for a girl, reserved and quiet even with her +most intimate friends, rough and impulsive as a boy sometimes, in speech +and actions, again as dignified as the proudest queen. Her friends never +knew how to take her, because they never understood her. She left, so +far along her trail in life, nothing but shattered ideals and delusions, +but she had not become cynical or embittered, only wiser. After her +first week's stay at Harris' she began to realize that perhaps she had +always expected too much of people. Here were people of whom she had +expected nothing opening up new side lights on life that she had never +thought to explore. Life seemed full of possibilities to her now, at +least, immediate possibilities. + +She had not met again the courteous, smooth-faced young man who had +mistaken her for an Indian girl, though he had come the next morning for +the horses, and had ridden past the ranch more than once. Yet she had +not forgotten the incident, or what the Harris girls had told her, for +daily as she passed the group of loungers on her return from school she +heard his name gruffly spoken, intermixed with oaths. They certainly +meant mischief, and she was curious to know what it was. + +The first school week had ended. On Friday night she wondered how she +could manage to exist through Saturday and Sunday, but Saturday morning +found her in the saddle, accompanied by the three largest Harris boys, +en route for the highest peaks of the mountains. + +"This is something like living," she exclaimed, pulling in her horse +after the first few miles. "How pretty all of this is! What people call +scenery, I suppose. But give me the prairie, smooth and level as far as +the eye can reach! There's nothing like it in all the world! The open +prairie, a cool, spring day like this, and a horse that will go till +it's ready to fall dead--that is life! Who is it that lives over there?" +she asked, pointing toward some ranch buildings, nestled in a low, green +valley. + +"That's the Englishman's place," answered the soft-voiced twin. + +"Sheep-man," explained Dave disgustedly. "See them sheds?" + +"Oh, the new man by the name of Livingston. Do you boys know him?" asked +the girl curiously. + +"Nope! Don't want to, neither. Seen him lots of times, though," answered +Dave. + +"He's come in here without bein' asked, an' thinks he can run the whole +country," explained the soft-voiced twin. + +"Is he trying to run the whole country?" asked Hope. + +"Well, he's runnin' his sheep over everybody's range, an' they ain't +goin' to stand for it," replied the boy. + +"But what can they do about it? Have they asked him to move his sheep?" + +"No. What's the use after they've been over the range--spoiled it, +anyhow. No, you bet they ain't goin' to ask him nothing!" + +The girl thought for a moment, absently pulling the "witches' knots" +from her horse's mane, while it climbed a hill at a swinging gait, then +continued as though talking to herself: + +"Once upon a time a young man took what money he had in the world, and +going into a far-away, wild country started in business for himself. He +had heard, probably, that there was more money in sheep than in cattle. +A great many people do hear that, so he bought sheep, thinking, perhaps, +to make a pile of money in a few years, and then go back to his home and +marry some nice, good girl of his choice. It takes money to get married +and make a home, and to do mostly anything, they say, and so this young +man bought sheep, for no one goes into the sheep business or any other +kind of business unless they want to make money. They don't generally do +it for fun. And, of course, he thought, as they all do, to get rich +immediately. He made a great mistake in the beginning, being extremely +ignorant. He brought his sheep to a cattle country, where there were no +other sheep near his own. All the men around him hated sheep, as men +who own cattle always do, and hating the sheep, they thought they hated +the sheep-man also, who really was a very harmless young man, and +wouldn't have offended them for anything. But these men's dislike for +the sheep grew daily, and so their fancied dislike for the young man +grew in proportion. + +"The men in the country would meet together in little groups, and every +day some man would have some new grievance to tell the others. It +finally got on their brains, until all they could think or talk about +was this new man and his sheep. The more they thought and talked, the +more angry they became, until finally they forgot that he was another +man like themselves--in all likelihood a good, honest man, who would not +have done them wrong knowingly. They forgot a great many things, and all +they could think about night or day was how they could do something to +injure his business or himself. They got so after awhile that they +talked only in low whispers about him, taking great pains that their +families, children, and even their big _boys_, should not know their +plans. They made a great mistake in not taking their boys into their +confidence, because _boys_ are very often more reliable than men, and +can always keep a secret a whole lot better. But perhaps the fathers +knew that the boys had very good sense and would not go into anything +like that without a better reason than they had, which was no reason at +all. + +"I never heard just what they planned to do to this newcomer to get rid +of him and his sheep, but I know how it had to end." She looked up, +searching each boy's intent, astonished face. + +"Say, what're you drivin' at, anyway? You can't fool me--it's _him_!" +exclaimed Dave, pointing toward the sheep-ranch. "You're makin' up a +story about him!" + +"How'd you know all that?" asked the quicker, soft-voiced twin. + +"Know all that. Why, how did you boys know all that? I suppose that I +have ears, too--and I've heard of such things before," she replied. + +"But you don't know how the end'll be. That's one thing you don't know," +declared the soft-voiced twin. "You can't know that." + +"She might be a fortune-teller like grandmother White Blanket," laughed +the other. + +"Is that old squaw in the farthest tepee from the house your own +grandmother?" asked the girl. + +"Yep, an' she ain't no squaw, either! She's a French half-breed," he +said, with an unconscious proud uplifting of the shoulders. + +Hope laughed slightly. "What's the other half?" she asked. The boy gave +her a look of deep commiseration. + +"I thought you had more learnin' than that! Why, the other half's white, +of course." + +"I beg your pardon!" gasped the girl. "My education along those lines +must have been somewhat neglected. I had an idea that those were Indians +camped down at your place. But French half-breeds,--a mixture of _white_ +and _French_,--that's a different matter!" She stopped her horse and +laughed with the immoderation of a boy. "That is rich," she cried. "If +ever I go to New York again I shall spring that on the Prince. '_Mon +Dieu!_' he will exclaim. 'What then are we, Mademoiselle, _we_, the +_aristocracy_--the great nation of the _French_?'" Her face sobered. +"But this is not the question. _I_ do know how this will end, and I am +not a fortune-teller, either. I know that the ones who are in the wrong +about this matter will get the worst of it. Sometimes it means states +prison, sometimes death--at all events, something not expected. I tell +you, boys, I wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of this for anything! +And do you know, I am real glad that your father doesn't need your help. +We will take a little side of our own and watch things--what do you say? +It will be lots of fun, and we'll know all the time that we are in the +right, and maybe we can prevent them from doing any real wrong to +themselves." She watched them closely to see how they accepted the +suggestion. Her inspiration might be considered a reckless one, but +their young minds lent themselves readily to her influence. + +"The old man licked me this mornin'," growled Dave. "An' he can go +straight to the hot place now, for all o' me! I'm goin' off on the +round-up, anyway, next year." + +"You boys know, don't you, that if your father ever found out that _I_ +knew anything about this thing, he would probably give me a licking, +too--and send me out of the country?" This for effect. + +"I'd like to see him lay hands on you," roared Dave. "I'd fill him so +full of lead that--that----" + +Words failed him. + +"I'd kill him if he did, Miss Hathaway," exclaimed the small boy, Ned, +with quiet assurance that brought a hint of laughter to the girl's face. +The soft-voiced twin rode up very close to her. + +"He ain't goin' to find it out, an' don't you worry; we'll all stand by +you while there's one of us left!" + +"All right, boys, we're comrades now. I'll tell you what we'll do; we'll +form a band--brigade--all by ourselves. I am commanding officer and you +are my faithful scouts. How's that?" Hope's fancy was leading her away. +"Come on," she cried, "let's race this flat!" + +The self-appointed commanding officer reached the smooth valley far in +advance of her faithful scouts, who yelled in true Indian fashion as +they rode up with her. + +"I'll run you a mile an' beat you all hollow," declared Dave. "But on a +two hundred yard stretch like this here place my horse don't have no +chance to get started." + +"I'll bet my quirt against yourn that you lose," said the soft-voiced +twin. + +"Keep your quirt! I don't want it, nohow. One's enough fur me. But I +_can_ beat her just the same!" Dave was stubbornly positive. + +"You'll have to ride my horse if you do beat her," continued the +soft-voiced twin. Dave grew furious. + +"Now, see here, that raw-boned, loose-jointed, watch-eyed cayuse o' +yourn couldn't run a good half mile without fallin' dead in his tracks! +What'er you a-givin' me, anyhow?" At that instant his attention was +fortunately taken. "Where'd all them cattle come from?" he exclaimed. + +They had turned up a narrow gulch, the youngest boy and Hope taking the +lead, and had traveled it for perhaps fifty yards when they found +themselves at a stand-still before a drove of cattle that were making +their way slowly down the narrow trail. + +"We won't go back," called the girl. "Come on up here and wait till they +pass." And followed by the boys she guided her horse up the steep, rocky +side of a high bank, and waited while the cattle came slowly on. They +counted them as they passed in twos and threes down the narrow valley. +When nearly two hundred had gone by a rider came in sight around the +bend of the hill. Hope's horse whinnied, and the man's answered back, +then the girl gave a scream of delight, and, unmindful of the rocky +bank, or of the appearance of two other riders, rushed down, nearly +unseating the old cow-puncher in her demonstrations of welcome. + +"_Jim! Dear old Jim! Where_ did you come from? I am so glad to see you! +Why, Jim, I'd rather see you than anyone in the world! How glad I am! +Boys," she called, "come down here. This is Jim, my dear old father +Jim!" Old Jim McCullen's eyes were dimmed with tears as he looked from +the girl's happy, flushed face to the last of the cattle that were going +out of sight around the bend of the gulch. "Where did you come from, +Jim, and what brings you up here? Whose cattle? Why, they're ours, and +rebranded! What are you doing with them?" Just then the two riders, whom +in her excitement she had failed to notice, rode up. "Why, Syd, hello," +she said. "And you're here, too! I thought Jim was alone." + +She changed instantly from her glad excitement, speaking with the +careless abruptness of a boy. Her cousin rode alongside. She gave one +glance at his companion, then wheeled her horse about and stationed +herself a short distance away beside the breed boys. + +"This is a happy surprise, Hope," exclaimed her cousin. "What are you +doing up here so far away from home?" She regarded him a trifle more +friendly. + +"Is it possible you don't know? Didn't you tell him, Jim, that I had +gone away? Oh, I forgot, you weren't at the ranch when I left, so you +couldn't tell him. Well, I am here, as you can see, Sydney--partly +because I wanted a change, partly because they wanted a school-teacher +up here. I am staying at Joe Harris'. What are you doing here with those +cattle?" + +"Oh, thought I'd go to work for a change. Just some cattle that I bought +to hold for fall shipment." He turned to the man at his side, +apologizing, then proceeded to introduce him to his cousin. The girl cut +it short by a peculiar brief nod. + +"Oh, I've met Mr. Livingston before!" + +"Indeed?" said Carter in surprise, looking from one to the other. + +"At Harris'" explained the sheep-man. "She gave me one of the sweetest, +most refreshing drinks of water it has ever been my privilege to enjoy." +He spoke easily, yet was much perturbed. Here was his shy Indian maid, +a remarkably prepossessed, up-to-date young woman. It took a little time +to get it straightened out in his mind. + +"Of course I might have known that you two would have met. There are so +few people here." Carter tried to speak indifferently. + +"Well, good-by," said the girl, moving away. + +"Don't be in a hurry! Where are you going, Hope?" called her cousin. + +"Sorry, but can't wait any longer. We're off for a day's exploring. +Good-by." + +"I'll see you this evening. We're going to camp near Harris'," said +Carter. + +"No, not this evening," she called back to him as she rode on up the +gulch. "I won't be back till late, and then I'll be too tired to see +anyone. Good-by, Jim--I'll see _you_ to-morrow." Old Jim watched her +until she was lost to sight in the turn of the gulch. Livingston also +watched her until she was out of sight. She rode astride, wearing a neat +divided skirt, and sat her horse with all the ease and perfection of a +young cowboy. Old Jim McCullen went on in trail of the cattle, while +young Carter and Livingston followed leisurely. + +"Rather a cool greeting from a girl one expects to marry," said Carter, +under his breath. + +"Is it possible--your fiancee!" Livingston's face became thoughtful. +"You are to be congratulated," he said. + +Carter laughed nervously. "I can scarcely say she is _that_, yet--but it +is her mother's wish. We have grown up together. Miss Hathaway is my +cousin, my second cousin. I can see no reason why we will not be +married--some time." + +"_Miss Hathaway_," mused his companion. "And you love her?" he asked +quietly. + +"Certainly," answered Carter, wondering at the other's abrupt way of +speaking. + +"And may I ask if she loves you?" The sheep-man's tone was quiet and +friendly. Carter wished that it might have been insolent. As it was he +could only laugh uneasily. + +"It would seem not," he answered. "To-day she is like an +icicle--to-morrow she will be a most devoted girl. That is Hope--as +changeable as the wind. One never knows what to expect. One day +loving--the next, cold and indifferent. But then, you see, I am used to +her little ways." + +"I wish you all the happiness you deserve, Mr. Carter," said Livingston +a little later, as he rode off, taking a short cut to his ranch. + +"_Hope_--_Hope Hathaway_; Carter's cousin. What an idiot I've been to +think of her as an Indian girl! An odd name--Hope. _Hope Hath a way_," +he mused as he rode homeward. "If only I had the right to hope!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +"I wish there was a shorter cut to get home," said the girl wearily. +"I'm just about tired. Climbing mountains is a little out of my line. I +wonder how long it will take to get used to it." + +"There is a shorter way, Miss Hathaway," said one of the breed boys. +"It's through that sheep-ranch there. We always used to go that way +before they fenced it in, but there's gates to it if we can find 'em." + +"Let's go through that way, then, if it's shorter. Of course it is +shorter--I can see that, and we'll trust to luck to be able to see the +gates. I suppose they're wire gates." + +"Yes, just regular wire gates, an' it's gettin' dark pretty blame fast, +but mebbe we can find 'em all right." + +So they followed the fence, searching in the dim light for the almost +invisible gate--the girl who had that day appointed herself commanding +officer and her three brave scouts. + +Alongside the wire fence they followed a narrow cow-trail for nearly a +quarter of a mile, then the path disappeared inside the field, and the +side-hills along which they were obliged to travel were rough and +dangerous. It was late, and darkness settled down around them, cutting +from their vision everything but a small line of fence and the nearby +hills. + +They made slow headway over the rocky banks. Hope, tired with the day's +exploring and hungry after her long ride and the somewhat slender diet +of the past week, was sorry they had not gone the road, which, though +longer, would not have taken such a length of time to travel. The boys +were good scouts, yet it became evident that they had never followed the +new line of fence before. Their horses slipped upon the sides of steep +inclines which became more rocky and dangerous as they proceeded. +Darkness increased rapidly. One horse in the rear fell down, but the +rider was upon his feet in an instant; then they dismounted and led +their horses, traveling along very slowly in Indian file. Some time +later they found the wire gate, much to the girl's relief. It was then +quite dark. The moon had risen, but showed itself fitfully behind black, +stormy looking clouds. Without difficulty they discovered a trail +leading somewhere, and followed it until they rounded a point from which +they could see the light in the sheep-man's house. + +"Why, we're almost up to his _house_!" exclaimed Hope. "This isn't the +way. We don't want to go there!" + +"I reckon we'll have to get pretty close up to it to find the road that +goes to the other gate," said the soft-voiced twin. + +"How foolish we've been," sighed the girl. + +"Yep, a pack o' idiots," agreed Dave. + +"But it's too dark for anyone to see us--or notice us," she said with +relief. "I think we might go right up to the house and look through the +windows without anyone seeing us." + +"Let's do it," suggested Dave. + +"Well I should say not!" exclaimed the girl. "It's the last thing on +earth I would do--_peek_ into anyone's window! I am not so curious to +see the interior of _his_ house--or anyone's else." + +"I'll bet they're just eatin' supper," said Ned hungrily. + +"All the better," replied Hope; "there will be no one around to see us +then. I wonder how much closer we'll have to go?" + +"Not much further," answered the soft-voiced twin wisely. "See, there's +the barns, an' the road ain't a great ways off." He led the way, while +Hope and the boy, Dave, followed close, and the youngest boy trailed +along somewhere in the rear. They passed between the stables and the +house, then, aided by the fitful moon, found the road, along which they +made better time. + +Hope felt a great relief as they began to leave the house in the +distance, though why, she could scarcely have explained. She said to +herself that she was in a hurry to reach home, but as they neared the +huge, flat-roofed sheep-sheds she slowed up her horse, which had gone +on ahead of the others, and glanced back at her approaching scouts. The +twins came up with her, then she stopped and looked behind. + +"Where's Ned?" she asked sharply, a sudden suspicion entering her head. +"What's keeping him?" + +"He went up to the house to see what's goin' on," replied Dave. "I saw +him start for that way." + +"How dared he do it! He will be seen and then what will they think! We +will wait for him here." Then angrily to the boy: "If you knew he was +going to do that Indian trick why didn't you stop him?" + +"I didn't know nothin' till I missed him," replied the boy. + +"No, we didn't know he was goin', but when we saw he was gone for sure +it wouldn't 'a' done no good to 'a' gone after him. Anyway, we wouldn't +'a' left _you_ alone!" The soft-voiced twin was a genius at finding +explanations. He was never at a loss. + +The girl recovered her temper instantly. "You did quite right, my brave +scout," she cried. "I see you have learned the first and greatest +principle of your vocation. _Never desert a lady, no matter what danger +she may be in._ But what a temptation it must have been to you to follow +him and bring him back to me!" There is no doubt but that the sarcasm +was wasted upon the breed boys, who waited stolidly with her near some +sheltering brush for the truant Ned, whose mischievousness had led him +off the trail. + +At last he rode up with them, surprised out of breath to find them there +waiting for him. The girl took him by the sleeve. "You're a bad boy. +Next time ask me when you have an inclination to do anything like that. +Now give an account of yourself. What did you see?" + +"I just wanted to see what they had to eat, so I peeked in," apologized +the youngster. "There was two men eatin' their supper. The boss wasn't +there. I heard old Morris tell another fellow that he was out helpin' +put in the sheep." + +"But here are the sheds, and surely there are no sheep here," she +exclaimed anxiously. + +"They're keepin' 'em in the open corrals down the road a piece," +explained the soft-voiced twin. "They don't keep no sheep here in the +sheds now." + +The commanding officer breathed easier. "That's good; come on then," she +said, riding ahead. They had not proceeded fifty yards when the low +tones of men's voices reached them. Simultaneously they stopped their +horses and listened, but nothing save an indistinct murmur could be +heard. One of the twins slipped from his horse and handed the bridle +reins to the girl, then crept forward. In the darkness she could not +tell which one it was, nor did she care. She was filled with excitement +and the longing for adventure which the time and place aggravated. Had +they not that day formed a band of secrecy--she and her three brave +scouts? It occurred to her that it might be the sheep-man returning with +a herder, but if so he had no right to stand at such a distance and talk +in guarded tones. The very atmosphere of the place felt suspicious. +They drew their horses to one side of the roadway, waiting in absolute +silence for the return of the scout. The voices reached them +occasionally from the opposite side of a clump of brush not a stone's +throw away. + +They waited several minutes, which seemed interminable, then a dark form +appeared and a voice whispered softly: "Somethin's up! Let's get the +horses over by the fence so's they can't hear us." The twin led the way, +taking a wide circuit about the spot from where the sound of voices +came. They reached the fence quickly without noise, securing their +horses behind a screen of scrubby willows. + +"Now, go on," said the girl. "What did you hear?" + +"When I crawled up close I saw two men. One of 'em said, 'Shut up. +You're makin' too much noise! Do you want 'em to hear you up to the +house?' The other said he didn't give a damn, that they might just as +well make a good job of it an' kill off Livingston while they were +getting rid of his sheep. These two fellers have just come over to +guard the road from the house to keep the men there from interferin', +but the mob's down there at the corral waitin' to do the work. I found +that much out an' then I sneaked back. I reckon they're goin' to drive +the sheep over the cut-bank." + +"The devils!" cried Hope, under her breath. "They're going to pile up +the sheep and kill him if he interferes, are they? _We'll show them!_" + +"We can't do anything," said the boy. "There's more'n a dozen men out +there at the corrals, an' it's darker'n pitch." + +"So we'll just have to stand here and see that crime committed!" she +burst out. "No, not on your life! You boys have got to stand by me. +Surely you're just as brave as a girl? We're going over there where we +can see what's going on, and the first man that tries to drive a sheep +out of that corral gets one of these!" She patted the barrel of her +rifle as she pulled it from its saddle case. "Get your guns and come +along." But they were not far behind her in getting their weapons. The +older boys had revolvers, and little Ned was armed with a Winchester +repeating shotgun. + +The twins were never seen without their guns, and had the reputation of +sleeping with them at night. For wildness those two boys were the terror +of the country. Their hearts sang a heathenish song of joy at this new +adventure. Surely they were as brave as a girl! Her taunt rankled some. +They would show her that they were not cowards! She had begun to worry +already! + +"Oh, what if it should be too late! What if we should be too late! Oh, +it can't be! Let's go faster!" she cried. + +The breed boys crept along close to the ground, making altogether much +less noise than the girl, who seemed to think that speed and action were +all that was necessary. + +"Sh! Keep quieter. You musn't let them know anyone's 'round. Those +fellers by the road 're just over there, an' they'll hear us," whispered +Dan. + +Then slower, more stealthily, they crept around the two men who guarded +the road, and with less caution approached the corrals, the girl +meanwhile recovering her composure to a great degree, though her heart +still beat wildly. The night seemed a trifle lighter now to her +straining eyes. What if the moon should come out, revealing them to the +men waiting beyond the corrals? She grasped her rifle firmly, and her +heart beat quicker at the thought. The soft-voiced twin must have felt +the same fear, for he came close and whispered in her ear: "The corrals +ain't more'n a rod, right over there. We'd better make a run for that +bush there on this side of it, for the moon's comin' out--see!" He +pointed upward. A rift had come in the black cloud from which the moon +shone dimly, growing momentarily brighter. Before them the corral loomed +up like a great flat patch of darkness, and to one side of this dark +patch something taller stood in dim relief--a small clump of brush, +toward which the odd little scouting party ran in all haste. Safe within +its shelter, a fierce joy, savage in its intensity, filled the girl. + +"Come on, Moon, come on in all your glory!" she whispered; then, as if +in answer to her command, it came in full splendor from behind its veil +of black. It might have been a signal. Back in the hills a coyote called +weirdly to its mate, but before the last wailing note had died away a +sharp report sounded on the still air, followed by the groans of a man +in mortal agony. Hope, upon her knees in the brush, clasped her hands to +her throat to stifle a cry. + +"Now drive his damn'd sheep into the gulch!" commanded a gruff voice. + +Following the pain, a fierce light came into the girl's eyes. Over +tightly closed teeth her lips parted dryly. Instinctively the breed boys +crept behind her, leaving her upon one knee before the heap of brush. A +man leaped into the corral among the stupid sheep, and as he leaped a +bullet passed through his hand. + +"God, I'm killed!" he cried, as he sank limply out of sight among the +sheep. For a few moments not a sound came except the occasional bleating +of a lamb, then the gate of the corral, which was ajar, opened as by +some invisible hand, and the great body of animals crowded slowly toward +the entrance. + +"They think there's only one man here, and they're not going to be +bluffed by one," whispered Hope. "See, they must be coaxing the leaders +with hay, and there's something going on back there that will make them +stampede in a moment, and then the cut-bank! But we'll bluff them; make +them think there's a whole regiment here. There's four of us. Now get +your guns ready. Good; now when I start, all of you shoot at once as +fast as you can load. Aim high in that direction. Shoot in the air, not +_anywhere_ else. Now do as I tell you. Now, all together!" For two or +three minutes those four guns made music. The hills gathered up the +noise and flung it back, making the air ring with a deafening sound. +"Shoot up! Shoot higher, or you'll be hitting someone," she admonished, +as dark forms began to rise from the ground beyond the corral and run +away. + +"They're crawling away like whipped dogs," exclaimed a twin in glee. +"I'd like to shoot one for luck!" + +"Shame on you," cried the girl softly. "That would be downright murder +while they're running." + +"I reckon there's been murder already to-night," said the soft-voiced +twin. Hope turned upon him fiercely: "That wasn't murder! I shot him +through the hand. Murder? Do you call it murder to kill one of those +beasts? You mean--you mean that they killed _him_! I forgot for a +minute! Oh, it couldn't be that they killed _him_--Mr. Livingston! Are +you sure he wasn't up at the house, Ned? I must find out." She started +toward the corral. Dave pulled her back roughly. + +"See there! Those fellers that was on guard down there 're comin' back. +They must have left their horses down by that rock. They'll ketch us +sure!" She drew back into the brush again, waiting until the two men, +whose voices first brought suspicion to their minds, had passed by, +skirting the corral in diplomatic manner. + +Hope, who had been so eager to search the scene of bloodshed, crept from +the brush and took the opposite direction, followed closely by the breed +boys. When they reached their horses she spoke: + +"Now you boys go home. Go in from the back coulee and sneak into bed. +Don't let anyone see you, whatever you do, for if this was ever found +out----" She waited for their imaginations to finish the sentence. + +"We can sneak in all right," exclaimed Dave. "We know how to do that! +They'll never find it out in ten years!" + +"Then go at once. Ride fast by the Spring coulee and get there ahead of +the men--if there should be any that belong there. I will come later. If +they ask, say that I'm in bed, or taking a walk, or anything that comes +into your head. But you won't be questioned. You mustn't be! Now hurry +up!" + +"But why won't you come along with us?" asked Dave. + +"Because if we should be caught together they would know who did the +shooting. If they see you alone they will not suspect you, and if they +see me alone they will never think of such a thing. It is the wisest +way, besides I have other reasons. Now don't stand there all night +talking to me, but go, unless you want to make trouble." She watched +them until they were lost to sight, then mounted her horse and rode back +over the road that she had come, straight up to the sheep-man's house. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +It was fully half a mile to Livingston's house. The trail showed plainly +in the moonlight, winding in ghostly fashion through thick underbrush, +and crossed in several places by a small mountain stream through which +the horse plunged, splashing the girl plentifully. She had an impression +that she ought to go back to the corral and discover just what mischief +had been done, but shivered at the thought of hunting for dead men in +the darkness. A feeling of weird uneasiness crept over her. She wished +that she had brought the breed boys with her, though realizing that the +proper thing had been done in sending them home in order that their +secret might be safe, and so prevent more evil. She knew that she would +find men at the house who could take lanterns and go to the scene of +the trouble. The past half hour seemed remote and unreal, yet the +picture of it passed through her brain again and again before she +reached the house. She could hear the first shot, so startling and +unexpected, and the man's terrible groans rang in her ears until she +cried out as if to drive them from her. Was he dead? she wondered. +Perhaps he lay there wounded and helpless! Was it Livingston? If it +should be! She thought that she should be there, groping over the bloody +ground for him. She shook as with a chill. How helpless she was, after +all--a veritable coward, for she must go on to the house for assistance! + +She slipped from her horse at some distance, and walked toward the ray +of light that came from a side window. Her knees were weak, she felt +faint and wearied. At the house her courage failed, she sank limply +beside the window, and looked into the lighted room beyond. He was not +there! One man was reading a newspaper while another sat on an end of +the table playing a mouth harp. + +In her mind she could see the body of Livingston in the corral, +trampled upon and mangled by a multitude of frightened sheep. She +stifled a cry of horror. Why had she not gone there at once? For no +reason except the hope in her heart that it might not have been him who +had been shot--that she might find him at the house. But he was not +there! Then it must have been he; his groans she had heard--that still +sounded in her ears. He had brown hair that waved softly from a brow +broad and white. His face was boyish and sad in repose. She could see it +now as she had seen it by the spring, and his eyes were gray and tender. +She had noticed them this day. What was she doing there by the window? +Perhaps after all he was not dead, but suffering terribly while she +lingered! + +She rose quickly with new courage. As she turned a hand touched her on +the shoulder, and she fell back weak against the house. + +"I beg your pardon! I did not know--could scarcely believe that it was +you--Miss--Hathaway! Won't you come into the house?" + +"_You!_" she cried as in a dream. "_Where_ have you been?" + +His tone, quiet, polite, hid the surprise that her question caused. + +"I've been back there in the hills hunting chickens. You see I have been +fortunate enough to get some. I followed them a great distance, and +night overtook me up there so suddenly that I've had some difficulty in +finding my way back. Now may I ask to what I owe the honor of +this--visit?" + +All fear and weakness had gone. She stood erect before him, her head +thrown back from her shoulders, her position, as it must appear to him, +driving all else from her mind. + +"In other words, you want to know why I was peeking into your window at +this time of the day!" + +"Just so, if you put it that way. At least I should be pleased to know +the nature of your visit." He threw the prairie chickens down beside the +house, watching meanwhile the girl's erect figure. The soft, quiet +grace he had seen at the spring had given place to something +different--greater. + +"Not a very dignified position in which to be caught--and I do not like +you any better for having caught me so!" she finally flashed back at +him. "I have no apologies to offer you, and wouldn't offer one, +anyway--under the circumstances. I'll tell you what brought me here, +though. While passing by your corral, down the road, I heard a great +commotion, and some shooting, so I came over here to tell you. Perhaps I +was afraid to pass the corral after that." She smiled wickedly, but he, +innocently believing, exclaimed: + +"Why were you alone? Where were the boys that I saw with you this +morning? It isn't right that you should be out alone after night like +this." + +"They went on--ahead of me. I rode slowly," she replied hesitatingly. He +did not notice her nervous manner of speech. + +"They ought to have stayed with you," he declared. "You should never +ride alone, particularly after dark. Don't do it again." + +"But the shooting," she interrupted. "I came to tell you about it. +Someone may have been hurt." + +"It was kind of you to come. There may be trouble of some sort. I heard +shooting, too, but thought it must be down at Harris'. There is very +often a commotion down there, and sometimes the air carries sound very +clearly. You are sure it was at the corrals?" + +She became impatient. "Positively! I not only heard the shots plainly, +but saw men ride away. Please lose no more time, but get your men and a +lantern, and come on. There's evidently been trouble down there, Mr. +Livingston, and your herder may have been hurt. They are not all good +people in these mountains, by any means." + +"Is that so? I had not discovered it. Probably some of them thought they +would like mutton for their Sunday dinner. It seemed to me there was +considerable firing, though. You are perfectly sure it was at the +corrals?" + +"That was my impression, Mr. Livingston," she replied briefly. + +His face suddenly became anxious. "They may have hurt Fritz. If anything +has happened to that boy there will be something to pay! But unless +something occurred to delay the sheep they should have been put in +before dark. I will go at once. Will you come in the house and stay +until my return? It might not be safe for a lady down there." + +"No!" Then, less fiercely: "Have your men bring their guns and hurry up! +I'm going along with you;" adding: "It's on my way back." + +She waited outside while Livingston informed his men, who secured +rifles, and started at once for the corrals; then leading her horse she +walked on ahead with him, followed closely by the two men, who carried +lanterns, which they decided not to light until they reached the sheep. + +Hope never could define her feelings when she found Livingston safe and +unhurt, though she made a careless attempt at doing so that night, and +afterwards. She walked beside him in absolute silence. They were going +to see if the herder had been injured in any way. She knew that he was +not only hurt, but in all likelihood fatally so. His groans rang +continually in her ears, yet it brought her not the least pain, only a +horror, such as she had experienced when it happened. It was a relief to +her that it had not been Livingston. She felt sorry, naturally, that a +man had been shot, but what did it matter to her--one man more or less? +She had never known him. + +When they reached the sheep-corrals the moon still shone brightly, and +Hope was filled with a new fear lest some of the ruffians had remained +behind, and would pick off Livingston. After the lanterns were lighted +she felt still more nervous for his safety, and could not restrain her +foolish concern until she had mounted her horse, and made a complete +circuit of the corrals, riding into every patch of brush about; then +only did this fear, which was such a stranger to her, depart. She rode +in haste back to the corrals, satisfied that the men had all left, +probably badly frightened. + +To one side of the paneled enclosure the men held their lanterns over +an inert figure stretched upon the ground. Livingston was kneeling +beside it. The girl got down from her horse, and came near them. + +"Is he dead?" she asked. + +"_Dead_--yes! The poor boy! May God have mercy on the brute who +committed this crime! It is terrible--_terrible!_ Poor faithful Fritz! +Scarcely more than a boy, yet possessing a man's courage and a man's +heart!" He looked up at the girl's face, and was amazed at her +indifference. Then he spoke to the men: "Go back and get a wagon and my +saddle horse. I will stay here until you return. Leave one of the +lanterns." + +They hurried away, while the man continued to kneel by the side of the +dead herder. Hope watched him, wondering at his depth of feeling. +Finally she asked: "Was he some relative of yours?" + +"No, only one of my herders--Fritz, a bright, good German boy. Why did +you ask, Miss Hathaway?" + +"I thought because you cared so much,--seemed to feel so badly,--that +he must be very near to you." + +"He is near to me," he replied, "only as all children of earth should be +near to one another. Are you not also pained at this sight--this boy, in +the very beginning of his manhood, lying here dead?" + +"Not _pained_--I can't truthfully say that I am pained--or care much in +that way. He is dead, so what is the use of caring or worrying about it. +That cannot bring him back to life again. Of course I would rather he +had lived--that this had never happened, yet I do not feel pain, only an +abhorrence. I couldn't touch him as you are doing, not for anything!" + +"And you are not pained! _You_, a woman with a white soul and a clean +heart--one of God's choicest creations--_you_ stand there without a pang +of sorrow--dry-eyed. Haven't you a heart, girl?" He rose to his feet, +holding up the lantern until it shone squarely in her face. "Look at him +lying there! See the blood upon his clothes--the look on his face! What +he suffered! See what he holds so tightly in his hand,--his last +thought,--a letter from his sweetheart over in Germany, the girl he was +to have married, who is even now on her way to him. He had been reading +her letter all day. It came this morning, and he held it in his hand +planning their future with a happy heart, when some brute sent a bullet +here. If it could have been me, how gladly I would make the exchange, +for I have nothing that this poor boy possessed--mother, sweetheart--no +one. Yet _you_, a girl, can see him so, unmoved! Good God, what are you, +_stone_? See his face, he did not die at once, and suffering, _dying_, +still held that letter. If not his story, then does not his suffering +appeal to you? His dying groans, can you not hear them?" + +"Stop!" she cried, backing away from him until she leaned against her +horse for support. "Stop! How _dare_ you talk like that to me! His +_groans_----" She sobbed wildly, her face buried in her saddle, which +she clutched. + +He came close beside her, touching her lightly, wondering. "I am so +sorry, forgive me! I did not realize what I was doing. I did not wish +to frighten you, believe me!" + +The sobs were hushed instantly. She raised her head, and looked at him, +still dry-eyed. + +"You were right," she said. "I do not even now _feel_ for him--perhaps +some for the little girl now on her way to him; but it is all unreal. I +have seen men dead like this before, and I could not feel anything but +horror--no sorrow. I am as I am. It makes no difference what you +say,--what anyone says,--I cannot change. I am not tender--only please +do not terrify me again!" + +"I was a brute!" he exclaimed, then left her and returned to the dead +man's side. + +The girl stood for some time quietly beside her horse, then began to +loosen the cinch. Livingston watched her wonderingly as she drew out the +blanket, and secured the saddle once more into place. He did not realize +her motive until she stood beside him, holding in her hand the gayly +colored saddle blanket. Kneeling opposite him, beside the body of the +boy, she tenderly lifted the long hair from his forehead, spread over +his face a white handkerchief, then stood up and unfolded the blanket, +covering the rigid form with it. + +"You have a heart!" exclaimed Livingston softly. "You are thinking of +him tenderly, as a sister might, and of his sweetheart coming over the +water to him!" + +"No, not of that at all," said the girl simply, "nor of him, as you +think; but of one who might be lying here in his place--one who has no +sweetheart, near or far away, to cover him with the mantle of her +love." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +She stood up, listening. From the distance came the low rumble of a +wagon. The men were returning. For some time she kept her face from him, +in attitude intent upon the distant rumble. She was thinking hard. She +could not be rude to Livingston, she could not very well explain, yet +she dared not allow him to accompany her back to Harris' ranch. What +should she do? Naturally he would insist, yet how could she tell him +that she feared for his safety? That would sound idiotic without a +complete explanation, for she was almost a total stranger to him. She +was concerned, that was the worst of it; but not without reason. +To-night the men were in a fever of revenge. If he were seen that would +settle it. To-morrow not one of them but would hesitate a long time +before committing such a crime; so, she argued, she had a right to be +concerned. But, after all, how foolish of her! Surely he was not a baby +that he could not protect himself! Did she expect to worry about him +during the whole summer? As she stood there gazing into the darkness, he +watched her, speechless, something that was not sorrow piercing his +heart with a greater pain. In her moment of tenderness she had become to +him a woman divine. He not only loved her, and knew it, but felt the +hopelessness of ever winning her. It was not exactly new, only revealed +to him, for it had come upon him gradually since the evening that she +had given him the water at the spring. He had cursed himself that night +for thinking of an Indian girl, he, a man with a name to sustain--a name +which counted little in this new country of the West. He tried to +imagine her as married to Carter. The thought sickened him. Carter might +be all right,--he had met him when he first came into the country; he +undoubtedly was all right,--but married to this girl! As he thought, +bitterly, forgetting even the dead young German at his feet, Hope was +alternately calling herself a fool and wondering what she could do to +prevent him from taking her home. But her fertile brain could not solve +it. She turned toward him with manner constrained and frigid. It was +shyness, nothing less, yet it affected him unpleasantly. + +"The wagon is coming." Relief sounded in her tone, giving the lie to her +moment of tenderness. "You can hear it quite plainly. These corrals +should not be so far from the house. It must be nearly a mile. I suppose +you've not been in the business very long or you wouldn't have put it +here, on the edge of this cut-bank." + +"You are right, Miss Hathaway, I have not been long in the business nor +in your country. This is quite new to me. Any place seemed good enough +for a corral, to my ignorant mind. Are you interested in the sheep +industry?" He spoke pleasantly. She threw back her head as she always +did when angered or excited. + +"_Interested in the sheep industry?_ Well, I should say not! It never +occurred to me before as an industry, only as a nuisance. I hate sheep. +They ruin our range. One band can eat off miles and miles in a season, +and spoil all the water in the country. I would go miles out of my way +to avoid a band of them." + +He began slowly to comprehend. "Your people have cattle, I understand. +Everyone up here seems to have cattle, too. I have heard that a strong +feeling of antagonism existed between sheep and cattle owners, but +thought nothing about it. I see that the feeling is not confined to the +men only. Does that explain this--outrage here to-night?" + +She shrugged her shoulders slightly and turned away. + +"You can draw your own conclusions. Why do you ask me? I am neither a +cattle-man nor a sheep-man, yet I could advise that you look about the +place and see, if you can, what is meant by it all--what damage has been +done. The wagon is still some distance away." Her shyness was fast +disappearing. The ground she trod now was her own. He smiled down at +her, finding her more natural, more prepossessing in that mood. + +"I should have thought of that myself before this. After what you have +told me of your dislike for the animals, I can hardly ask you to go with +me, but I do not like to leave you here alone in the dark, for I must +take the lantern; however, I can wait until the men get here." + +"You don't need to wait at all," she said quickly. "I'll go with you, +for I am curious to see what has been done--the cause of all this." + +"Then come on," said the man briefly, turning toward the corral. She +kept near him, her eyes following the bright rays of the lantern that +swung in his hand. She feared that the boys had aimed too low, and was +nervously anxious to see just what mischief had been done. Almost +anything, she thought, would have been better than permitting those +thousands of sheep to be piled up at the bottom of the cut-bank and the +brutes of men to ride away satisfied with their dirty work. + +Livingston examined the sheep while Hope, with a glance here and there +about the enclosure, went to one side and looked at the panels +carefully, discovering many bullet holes which told that her brave +scouts, more bloodthirsty than she suspected, had aimed too low. + +"I think this one is dead," said Livingston, dragging out a sheep from +the midst of a number huddled in one corner. "Judging from the blood, I +should say it is shot. A few are piled up over there from fright, but so +many are sleeping that it will be impossible to determine the loss until +morning. The loss is small; probably a hundred piled up and hurt, not +more, from the looks of the band. I heard considerable firing, which +lasted about a minute. I wonder if my friends about here thought they +could kill off a band of sheep so easily." + +Hope had not been searching for sheep, but for dead or wounded men, and +finding none breathed easier. She thought of the man whose hand she had +marked and who fell in such a panic among the sheep. It struck her as +being a very funny incident, and laughed a little. Livingston heard the +laugh and looked around in wonderment. He could see nothing amusing. +This Western girl was totally different from any girl that he had known, +English or American. She must possess a sense of humor out of all +proportion with anything of his conception. He thought a few minutes +before that he loved her, but she seemed far removed now--an absolute +stranger. The boyish laugh annoyed him. His manner as he turned to her +was quite as formally polite as ever her own had been. She resented it, +naturally. + +"Step outside, please, until I drive in the ones near the gate, so that +I may close it." + +Instinctively she obeyed, with a defiant look which was lost in the +dimness of the night, and hurrying past him never stopped until she drew +back with a shudder at the blanket-covered form of the dead herder. A +deep roar of thunder startled her into a half-suppressed scream. In the +lantern's light she had not noticed the steadily increasing darkness, or +the flashes of lightning. She felt herself shaking with a nervous +excitement which was half fear. + +Thunderstorms often made her nervous, yet she would not have +acknowledged that she feared them, or any other thing. But her +nervousness was only the culmination of the night, every moment of which +had been a strain upon her. Another peal of thunder followed the first, +fairly weakening her. She ran to her horse and, mounting, rode up near +the corral. At the same instant the wagon came up, and Livingston, +having placed the panel in position, turned toward it. He was close +beside the girl before he saw her, and she, for an instant at a loss, +sat there speechless; but as he held up the lantern, looking at her by +its light, she blurted out, in a tone that she had little intention of +using: "I'm going. Hope you will get along all right. Good-night." + +"Wait!" he exclaimed. "I will accompany you. My horse is here now. Just +a moment----" + +"You don't need to go with me. Someone is waiting for me down there. I +think I hear a whistle." + +"Then I will go along with you until you meet the person whose whistle +you hear. You do not imagine that I will allow you to go alone?" + +She leaned toward him impulsively, placing her hand down upon his +shoulder. + +"Listen," she said softly, "I heard no whistle. There is no one waiting +for me. A moment ago it seemed easy to lie to you, to make you believe +things that were not absolutely true, but I can't do it now, nor +again--_ever_. You think I am heartless, a creature of stone--indifferent. +It isn't so. My heart has held a little place for aching all these +years. Think of me as half-witted,--idiotic,--but not _that_. Listen to +me. You have such a heart--such _tenderness_--you are good and kind. You +will understand me--or try to, and not be offended. I want to go home by +myself. I _must_ go back _alone_. There is a reason which I will tell +you--sometime. I ask as a favor--as a friend to a friend, that you will +stay behind." + +"But are you not afraid?" + +She interrupted him. "Afraid? Not I! Why, I was born here, and am a part +of it, and it of me! Ask your men there, they know. I want to ride like +the wind--alone--ahead of the storm, to get there soon. I am tired." Her +low, quick speech bewildered him. Her words were too inconsistent, too +hurried, to convey any real meaning. + +"Will you ride with one of my men?" he asked. + +"Oh, why _can't_ you let me do as I wish!" she cried impatiently. "I +want to go alone." + +"It seems quite evident that you do not want _my_ company, but one of +the men must go and take a lantern. It's too dark to see the road." His +tone was decisive. + +She leaned toward him again. This time her words fell harshly. + +"You are a man of your word?" + +"I hope so; but that is not the issue just now." + +"Then promise you will not go with me to-night." + +"No need of that. I have decided to send one of my men--and I think," he +added briefly, "that there is no necessity of prolonging this +conversation. Good-evening." + +"Then you will not come!" she exclaimed, relieved. "And never mind +telling your man, for I shall ride like the wind, and will be halfway +home before he can get on his horse." She turned like a flash. The quick +beats of her horse's hoofs echoed back until the sound was lost in the +distance. + +Livingston stood silent, listening, until he could no longer hear the +dull notes on the dry earth--his thoughts perturbed as the night. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Captain Bill Henry, foreman of the Bar O outfit, and head by choice of +the season's round up, had just ridden into camp. Most of the men were +in the cook-tent when he turned his dripping bay horse in with the +others. Then he picked up his saddle, bridle, and blanket and carried +them up to the cook-tent, where he threw them down, hitting one of the +stake-ropes with such violence as to cause the whole tent to quiver, and +one of the boys inside to mutter under his breath: + +"Lord, the Cap's on the prod! What in the devil's he got in his gizzard +now?" + +"Don't know," answered the second, returning from the stove, where he +had loaded his plate with a wonderful assortment of eatables and seated +himself on a roll of bedding beside the first speaker. "Too bad he +couldn't knock the roof off'n our heads. He's sure enough mad, just +look at him!" he whispered, as Captain Bill Henry stooped his tall, lank +frame to come into the tent. + +The men, sitting about inside, glanced up when he entered. Some of them +grinned, others went on with their supper, but the "Cap" from under his +bushy red eyebrows hardly noticed them as he took the necessary dishes +from the mess-box and strode over to the stove, around which old Evans, +the cook, moved in great concern. + +"Now just try some o' them beans. Regular Boston baked, Cap, they'll +melt in your mouth. An' here's a kidney stew I've been savin' fer you," +taking from the oven a well concealed stew-pan. "If any o' them boys 'ud +a found it they'd made short work of it, I reckon." + +He removed the cover and held the dish under Bill Henry's nose. The +"Cap" gave one sniff. "Phew! Take it away! Don't like the damn'd stuff, +nohow!" + +A dazed look passed over old Evans' face, giving way to one of mortal +injury. Not a man smiled, though several seemed about to collapse with +a sudden spasm which they tried in vain to control. Away went the +contents of the pan, leaving a streak of kidney-stew almost down to the +horse ropes. "If it ain't good enough fer you, it ain't fer me," said +the cook, his bald head thrown well back upon thin shoulders. + +The "Cap" glared at him as he poured out a generous measure of strong +coffee into a large tin cup, then ran his eye about the tent for a +possible seat. + +A quiet-looking fellow, a youth fresh from the East, got up, politely +offering him the case of tomatoes upon which he had been sitting. Bill +Henry refused it with a scowl, taking a seat upon the ground near the +front of the tent, where he crossed his lank legs in front of him. The +cow-puncher sank back upon his case of tomatoes while the "Cap" ate in +great, hungry mouthfuls, soaking his bread in the sloppy beans and +washing it down with frequent noisy sips of hot coffee. Finally he began +to speak, with a full Missouri twang: + +"This beats hell! Not a dang man around this part of the country wants +to throw in with this here outfit. Never saw no such luck! Here we are +with two months' steady work before we make town, an' only ten men to do +the work o' fifteen! I'll hire no more devilish breeds. You can't trust +'em no more'n you can a rattler, no, sir! All of 'em quit last night, +an' Long Bill along with 'em! I'd never thought it o' Bill. Been ridin' +all the evenin' an' couldn't find hair or hide of him. It's enough to +make a man swear a blue streak, yes, sir! Well, I rounded up one breed +limpin' 'round Harris' shack, an' he said his gun went off by accident +an' give him a scratch on the calf o' the leg. Bet ten dollars he's been +in a fight over there! Damn'd nest o' drunken louts! I'll be glad when +we're away from these here parts!" + +At this point one of the cowboys got up, threw his dishes into the pan, +and strode outside. + +"You on night-herd to-night?" asked the Captain. + +"Yep," answered the cow-puncher. "Going to relieve Jack." + +"Tell them other fellers to come along in an' git their chuck; it's +mighty nigh time to turn in now. Got to make Miller's crossing in the +morning." + +"All right," answered the man from outside. Then putting his head back +into the tent, exclaimed in a loud whisper: "Here comes Long Bill!" + +"The devil he is! It's about time," growled Bill Henry. He had no more +than got the words out of his mouth before a man, head and shoulders +above any cow-puncher there, stalked in. + +"Well, Cap, I've come round to git paid off, fer I reckon I'm knocked +out of the ring fer a little spell." He stooped and held down for +inspection a hand bandaged in a much-stained bandanna handkerchief. "One +o' them damn'd dogs o' Harris' run his teeth all the way through it," he +explained. + +The captain grunted, threw his well cleaned plate over into the dish +pan, and rose stiffly to his feet. "What'd you do to the dog?" he +asked. + +"That was his last bite," roared out Long Bill. "I sent him flyin' into +Kingdom Come!" + +"Let's see your hand," demanded his chief; thereupon the tall cowboy +hesitated an instant, then removed the bandage, and, with an air of +bravado, held out his hand for inspection. Some of the men crowded about +curiously, throwing careless jokes of condolement at the sufferer, while +others passed by regardless. + +Captain Bill Henry examined the wounded member carefully, then grunted +again, while his eyelids contracted until only a sparkle of liquid blue +showed beneath his bushy red brows. + +"A mighty bad bite! You'll have a hell of a time with that hand! What +were yo' tryin' to do, anyhow--makin' a mark out o' it? Was you holdin' +your hand up, or down, or what? That _dog_ must 'a' had a pretty good +eye. Do you know what that looks like to me? Well, sir, it looks mighty +like you'd held up your hand to the muzzle of your gun an' pulled the +trigger! Yes, sir, only there ain't no powder marks; so I calculate the +_dog_ must 'a' been some distance away when he took aim! The hole's +clean through, just as slick as any bullet could 'a' made it. That dog +must 'a' had a powerful sharp tooth! Well, you ain't goin' to be able to +handle a rope very soon, dog or no dog, that's plain as the nose on your +face. You'd make a mighty good ornament to have around camp, but I +reckon I'll pay you off." Later: "Know of any men I can git around +here?" + +"Nary one but them breeds over to Harris'," replied Long Bill. "They're +drunker'n lords now, but they'll be wantin' a job in a day or so when +they sober up, an' I'll send 'em 'round here. I'll be huntin' a job +myself in about a month, when this here paw o' mine gits well. It's +mighty painful." + +"You'd better go to town an' see a doctor," drawled the "Cap." "An' +while you're on your way stop at Hathaway's an' give him or Jim McCullen +a letter fer me. I'll have it ready in a minute an' it'll save me +sendin' a man over." + +Without waiting for a reply from the tall cow-puncher, Captain Bill +Henry stalked over to his bed, took from the roll a pad of paper, and +was soon lost in the mysteries of letter-writing. + +He was an awkwardly built man, but his whole appearance gave one the +impression that he meant business--and he was crammed full of it. Seated +astride his tarp-covered bed, with his back to the few straggling +cow-punchers about the tents, he proceeded in a determined, +business-like way to write the letter. Before he had finished the +difficult operation some men rode up to the camp--the men who had been +on herd, hungry for their supper, and two outsiders. + +Around the mess-wagon, which had been backed into the cook-tent in the +usual order, lounged a group of cowboys whose appetites had been +satisfied and whose duties for the time being were over. Two of the men +who had just come up on horseback joined these, while Captain Bill +Henry, without looking around, continued his somewhat difficult task of +composing a letter, which, when accomplished, he folded carefully. + +"Hello! Where did you'ns drop from?" he drawled as he approached the +newcomers. "I was just goin' to send word over to have your wagon join +me at west fork o' Stony Creek. I'm too short o' men to work Stony Creek +country, anyhow. Hathaway's reps all left me awhile back, an' Long Bill, +he's leavin' to-day--got bit by a mad dog over here. Jackson's wagon an' +the U Bar ain't goin' to join me till we git down in the Lonesome +Prairie country, so I was just goin' to send a letter over to your +place, for if he wants a good round-up on this range he'd better send +over that extra wagon o' his'n. You'ns goin' right back?" + +"I'm not," replied Carter. "But McCullen can take word over to the +ranch. He's going the first thing in the morning." + +"Cert. Got to go, anyway, an' I reckon my horse can pack your message to +the boss if it ain't too heavy," said McCullen. + +Old Jim McCullen had been Hathaway's right hand man as long as anyone +could remember. He had put in many years as wagon-boss, and finally +retired from active life to the quieter one at the home-ranch, where he +drew the biggest pay of any man in Hathaway's employ, and practically +managed all the details of the great cattle concern. He saw that the +wagons were properly provisioned, manned, and started out in the spring, +that the men who brought up the trail-herds were paid off; he attended +to the haying, the small irrigating plant that had been started, and to +all the innumerable details that go toward the smooth running of a large +ranch. Now the "boss" had sent him on a mission whose import he +understood perfectly--something altogether out of the line of his usual +duties, but of greater importance than anything he had ever undertaken. +He was going back to the ranch in the morning to tell Hathaway that his +daughter was apparently all right. He and Carter had pitched their tent +not far from where the round-up was camped, and had ridden over for some +beef. One of the men cut them a liberal piece from a yearling that they +had just butchered. Carter tied it upon the back of his saddle and rode +off toward camp, while old Jim McCullen sat down, lighted a cigarette, +and listened to the gossip of the round-up. + +"Right smart lot o' dogs round them breeds down there," remarked Bill +Henry, nodding his head toward Harris' ranch. "Long Bill, here, he's +been unfortunate. Went up there a-courtin' one o' them pretty Harris +girls last eyenin', an' blamed if she didn't go an' sick the dogs on +him!" + +McCullen sized up his bandaged hand. "Mighty bad-lookin' fist there," he +chuckled. "Must 'a' bled some by the looks of that rag. When'd it +happen?" + +"This mornin', just as I was startin' to come over to camp." + +"You don't tell!" condoled the visitor. "That's mighty bad after sitting +up all-night with your best girl!" + +"Long Bill's pretty intent after them breed girls," remarked Captain +Bill Henry; thereupon the cowboy flushed angrily. + +"No breed girls in mine! The new school-marm's more to my likin'," he +boasted. "An' from the sweet looks she give me, I reckon I ain't goin' +to have no trouble there!" + +The next instant Long Bill lay sprawling in the dust, while old Jim +McCullen rained blow after blow upon him. When he finished, Long Bill +remained motionless, the blood streaming from his nose and mouth. Old +Jim straightened up and looked down at the fallen giant with utmost +contempt, then he pulled his disarranged cartridge belt into shape and +glanced at his hands. They were covered with the cowboy's blood. + +"Reckon I'd better wash up a bit," he remarked easily, and went into the +cook-tent. + +The men lounged about, apparently indifferent to the scene which was +being enacted. It might have been an every day occurrence, so little +interest they showed, yet several stalwart fellows gave old Jim McCullen +an admiring glance as he passed them. + +On the crest of a near divide stood a group of squaws. After a short +conference they proceeded slowly, shyly toward the round-up camp. Some +distance from it they grouped together again and waited while a very old +woman wrapped in a dingy white blanket came boldly up to the group of +men, and in a jargon of French and Indian asked for the refuse of the +newly killed yearling. The foreman pointed to where it lay, and gruffly +told her to go and get it, but she spied the unconscious figure of Long +Bill stretched out upon the grassy flat, and with a low cry of woe flung +herself down beside him. + +"Who done this?" she cried in very plain English, facing the cowboys +with a look of blackest anger. No answer came. + +"Better tell her," suggested a cow-puncher who was unrolling his bed. +"She's a witch, you know." + +"If she's a witch she don't need no telling," replied another, at which +they all laughed. + +"A witch?" said one. "I sure thought witches were all burned up!" + +The old squaw was examining the fallen man, who began to show signs of +consciousness. She bristled like a dog at the cowboy's remark. + +"_I see beyond!_ I know the future, the past, _everything_!" she cried +impressively. "I read your thoughts! Say what you like, you dogs, but +not one o' you would like me to tell what I read in your lives. _I know! +I know! I know everything!_" Her voice reached a high, weird cry. Her +blanket had slipped down, leaving her hair in wisps about her mummified +face. To all appearances she might have been a genuine witch as she +groveled over Long Bill. + +"Ask her how she tells fortunes--cards or tea-leaves," said one. + +"Or by the palm of your hand or the stars above," suggested another. + +"Wonder where she keeps her broomstick," mused a third. + +Just then McCullen came out of the cook-tent and faced the spectacle. + +"I see he's found a nurse," he remarked, and walked over to his horse. + +The old woman stood and gesticulated wildly, throwing mad, incoherent +words at him. Finally her jargon changed into fair English. + +"You dog, _you_ did this! And why? Ah, ha, ha! _I know!_ I know all +things! Because of the white girl! So! Ha, ha! Must you alone love the +white girl so that no man can speak her name? Oh, you can't deny you +love her! _You_, who ride and hunt with her for fifteen years. Cannot +another man open his mouth but that you must fly at him? Ha, ha! _I +know!_" + +"I'll wring your neck, you old----!" said McCullen at his horse's head. + +"You will stop my tongue, will you! I'll show you! You are up here to +watch that girl--but where's your eyes? What are you doing? This is my +son-in-law, and you'd like to wipe him from the face of the earth! You +beat him in the face--him with one hand! See! How did he get it? Why are +some of my other son-in-laws limping about with bullets in their legs? +Why is a man lying dead up in the mountains? Why all this at once? Ask +that white girl who teaches little children to be good! Ask that +devil's child who can put a bullet straight as her eye! _Ask her!_ She +would destroy my people. Curse her soul, I say!" + +Suddenly the witch-like spirit in her seemed to shrivel into the blanket +which she wrapped about her, then with placid, expressionless face she +made her way to where the yearling had been butchered and hurriedly +stuffed the refuse into a gunny sack which she dragged to where the +other squaws were waiting, then they all made off. + +Long Bill sat up and looked about him. "Curse who?" he asked. "Curse me, +I reckon fer not knowin' enough to keep my mouth shut!" + +McCullen, with face and lips pallid, had mounted his horse. Long Bill +pulled himself together and walked over toward him. + +"I'll take that back," he said. "I didn't mean it, nohow." + +"I reckon I was over-hasty," McCullen replied. "But that was our little +girl you were talkin' about--little Hope; an' no man on earth, let +alone a common squaw-man, ain't goin' to even breathe her name +disrespectfully. She's like my own child. I've almost brought her up. +Learned her little baby fingers to shoot, an' had her on a horse before +she could talk plain. Don't let her find this out, for I'm plumb sorry I +had to hurt you; but the man who says more than you did _dies_!" He rode +away and soon was lost in the deep falling shadows. The men in the +cow-camp unrolled their bedding, and all was soon one with the stillness +of the night. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +All the small ranchers and disreputable stragglers about that immediate +vicinity were of one opinion in regard to the new sheep-man. This +particular section of the country promised to be soon over-crowded with +cattle and horses. There was no room in their mountains for sheep. +Livingston, the interloper, must vacate. That was the unanimous decision +of the whole Harris faction. This gang was a mixture of badness, a scum +of the roughest element from the face of the globe, which in new +countries invariably drifts close upon the heels of the first settlers. +It is the herald of civilization, but fortunately goes on before its +advance to other fields or is deeply buried in its midst. The breeds, +pliable to the strong will of Joe Harris, were not an unimportant +factor, and among these, old Mother White Blanket was the ruling +spirit. + +She lived in a tepee not a rod to the left of Harris' squalid log +buildings. Her daughter was the cattle-man's wife, therefore the old +woman had particular rights about the premises, a mother-in-law's +rights, more honored and considered among Indians than among civilized +whites. + +Her tepee was the usual Indian affair, its conical, pointed top, dingy +with the smoke of many camp-fires. Back of the old woman's tepee, at +various distances, stood a few ordinary wall tents. These were occupied +by the families of some breeds who were working for Harris. The whole, +heightened by numerous dogs and the old squaw stooping over her fire, +presented the appearance of a small Indian camp, such as may be seen +about any reservation. The old woman's rattle-trap cart stood beside her +lodge, for she had her periods of wandering, after the manner of her +race. The running gears of a couple of dilapidated wagons were drawn up +between the other tents, and not far away two closely hobbled horses, +unmistakably Indian, for horses resemble their human associates, fed +eagerly upon the short, new grass. + +At an early hour, when the rising sun cast rosy lights upon every +grass-covered mountain top, when bird notes from the distant brush +sounded the most melodious, when the chanticleer in the barnyard became +loudest in his crowing, when the dew of night began to steam upward in +its vitality-giving stream, when the pigs with a grunt rose lazily upon +their fore-legs, and old Mother White Blanket bent over the smoke of her +newly built camp-fire, the girl school-teacher came out of her room and +leaned against the smooth rain-washed logs of the building. She drew in +with every deep breath new vitality to add to her plentiful fund of it, +she saw the rosy glow upon the mountains, listened in awe and rapture to +the bird notes from the brush, and finally brought herself back to more +material things; to old Mother White Blanket and the Indian scene spread +out before her. + +The old woman was bending over the fire apparently unconscious of the +girl's presence. From the school children Hope had learned something of +the wonderful perceptive powers of Mother White Blanket. They had +innumerable stories of witchcraft to tell, as various as they were +astonishing, and, while crediting nothing, she felt a quickened interest +in the old squaw. But she had so far no opportunity to cultivate her +acquaintance. Generally the spaces between the tents were filled with +groups of breeds, and these she had no inclination to approach. Now, +quiet pervaded the place. No one except the old woman and herself were +about. She knew full well that the squaw had seen her, but on an impulse +walked over beside the tepee, spreading out her hands to the warmth of +the fire. + +"Good-morning!" she exclaimed. Mother White Blanket made no reply, and +turning her back proceeded to fill a large black kettle with water. + +"Good-morning!" repeated Hope in French, to which greeting the old +woman grunted, while she placed the kettle over the fire. + +"I beg your pardon," continued Hope. "I forgot for the moment you were +French." + +At this old White Blanket stood up, anger bristling all over her. + +"What you come here for? You stand there and make fun. You think I don't +know you make fun at me? Go away, girl, or you be sorry! You call me +French and laugh to yourself. Go away, I say!" + +"No," said the girl, "I shall not go away until it pleases me. I have +heard that you are a great woman, a witch, and I want to find out if it +is true." She had not one particle of belief in the old woman's +generally credited supernatural powers, but she thought she must possess +sharp wit to so deceive the people and was curious to know more about +her. This she was destined to do. + +"I have heard," she continued, "that you can bring the wild deer to your +side by calling to them, that a horse or cow will lie down and die when +you command, and that little children who annoy you are taken with +severe pains in their stomachs. I have heard that you can say 'go' to +any of your men or women and they go; that if anyone is sick you can lay +your hand on them and they are well, and that you can tell the future +and the past of anyone. If all these things are true you must be a very +great, remarkable woman. Is it true that you can do all these things?" +She waited a moment and, as the old woman offered no reply, went on: +"Whether you can do these things or not, you still remain, in my eyes, a +remarkable woman in possessing the ability to make people believe that +you can." + +"You shall believe them too, _you_!" said the woman, suddenly rising and +confronting the girl. + +As she spoke two yellow fangs of teeth protruded from her thin lips, and +on her face was the snarl of a dog. She drew up her mummified face +within two inches of the girl's own. Hope shuddered and involuntarily +moved backward toward the house. With every step she took the squaw +followed, her weazened face and cruel, baneful eyes held close to hers. + +"You murderer of men, you teacher of little children, you butcher, I +will show you my power!" + +The girl recoiled from the frenzied woman, shutting out the sight with +her hands and moving backward step by step until she leaned against the +smooth logs of the building. There the foolishness of her sudden fright +presented itself. Should the grimaces of a weazened old squaw frighten +her into a fit, or should she pick up the bony thing and throw her over +the top of the tepee? An impulse to do the latter came over her--then to +her fancy she could hear the crashing of brittle bones. What she did do, +however, was to take her hands away from her eyes and look at the old +witch fearlessly. At this old White Blanket broke into a terrible +jargon, not a word of which was intelligible. Her voice rose to its +utmost pitch. The crisp morning air resounded with its sharp +intonations. + +Hope leaned against the logs of the house, lashing the squaw into +greater fury by her cool, impertinent gaze. She began to be interested +in the performance, speculating to just what degree of rage the old +woman would reach before she foamed at the mouth, and as to how much +strength she would have to exert to pitch the frail thing bodily into +the top of the tepee. + +At that instant a man, apparently hurriedly dressed, rushed from the +lodge and grasped the old woman by the arm. + +"What're you doin'? Go over there and git my breakfast, and don't be all +day about it!" + +The old woman's face changed marvelously. She calmed like a dove, under +the hand of her son-in-law, but before turning away began muttering what +might have been intended for an apology. + +"I no hurt her. She think I know nothing. I _show_ her." + +The man laughed good-naturedly. + +"Well, you show me some grub an' that'll be enough fer one day, I +reckon. Wimmen folks should be seen an' not heard, an' you make as much +noise as an old guinea hen." Meekly the old woman continued her +interrupted task, showing that in spite of his gruff speech she +entertained great respect for her tall son-in-law, Long Bill. + +"Hope the old woman didn't frighten you, Miss. She don't mean nothin' by +it, only she gits them spells once in a while," apologized Long Bill +politely. Hope gave a short laugh, while the man continued: "Seems like +all Hades is turned loose when she does git on the rampage, though." + +"Probably I aggravated her. If so, I am sorry. But I wouldn't have +missed it--not for anything. Her rage was perfect--such gestures, and +_such_ expressions!" + +At her words the man smiled, holding up to his face as he did so a +bandaged hand. In an instant her eyes were riveted upon it. She had +searched for that hand since Saturday evening among all the men she had +chanced to see. That this great, strong fellow possessed it eased her +conscience, if, indeed, it had greatly troubled her. She wanted to get +him to talk about the hand, but shifted her eyes from it to the old +woman moving slowly before the tepee. + +"She seems a very interesting woman," she remarked casually to Long +Bill, who through sheer awkwardness made no attempt to move away. + +"Oh, she's a little locoed, but barrin' that she's smarter'n a steel +trap. They ain't nothin' goin' on but she's got her eye peeled. If she +takes a likin' to anyone she'll just about break her neck to please, +but," he added in a lower voice, "if she ain't a-likin' anyone she's +just about the _orneriest_, _cussedest_----" Words failed, in view of +the critical eyes before him. + +"Do you belong to the family?" asked Hope, observing: "I noticed you +came from the tepee." + +"Well, you see," replied the man awkwardly, "I sort of do--that is, I +did. I married her youngest girl awhile back, but I ain't sure now we're +goin' to make it a go. You see I 'lowed to meet her here when the +round-up come 'round to these parts, but here's she's done run off to +Canada with some o' her folks, and I ain't set eyes on her fer nigh on +to four months. But we've been spliced all right 'nough, an' the old +woman's mighty fond o' me." + +"I should think you would be glad of that!" exclaimed Hope. "It would be +too bad if she didn't like you. I am sorry she is not in a more amiable +mood, for I'd really like to talk with her; but perhaps I will be +permitted to approach her later in the day." + +"Oh, she'll be all right, now she's had her spell out," assured Long +Bill. + +"You speak of the round-up; why are you not with it?" queried the girl, +with cool intent. + +Long Bill brought his huge bandaged fist up before him, resting it upon +the well one. + +"I had a little accident th' other day," he explained, "an' hurt my hand +powerful bad. It ain't goin' to be much use fer handlin' a rope fer +quite a spell. Had to let the round-up move away without me." His voice +grew plaintive. + +She spoke quickly, with great compassion. "I am sorry! It seems too bad +to see a great big fellow like you disabled. How did it happen?" + +"Well, it was like this: I come over here th' other night an' got to +settin' 'round here doin' nothin', so I thought I'd improve th' time an' +clean this here gun o' mine. It's been a-needin' it powerful bad fer +awhile back. I didn't know there was nary load in it until the blame +thing went off an' I felt somethin' kind o' sudden an' hot piercin' my +left hand. It was a fool trick to do, but it's the gospel truth, Miss." + +"I heard--that is, the boys said something about a shooting affair up +the road." She pointed toward the sheep-man's ranch. "I thought for a +moment that perhaps you had been mixed up in that. I'm very glad to know +that you were not, because you know it wasn't a very nice, manly thing +to do to a defenseless stranger." Her cool eyes watched his nervous +shifting. "You see I can't very well help hearing a lot of things around +here. The girls hear things and they tell me, and then I am often forced +to overhear the men and boys talking among themselves. It's none of my +business, but yet I am glad to know that you were not one to set upon an +innocent white man. I scarcely know this Mr. Livingston by sight, but he +is a friend of Sydney's, my cousin, and they say,"--here she drew out +her words slowly and impressively,--"that over in his country he has +been in the army and is well versed in firearms; also that he has a +small Gatling gun with him over here that shoots hundreds of shots a +minute. So he really isn't so defenseless as he seems." This startled +the man into open-mouth astonishment. + +"I thought there was something!--I mean I thought, when I heard tell +about the fracas over there, that there was somethin' like that in the +wind," stammered the man. + +Apparently Hope had told a deliberate untruth to force a confession from +Long Bill, but yet it was a fact that she had heard something very +similar. On the day before, Sunday, Jim McCullen had come to visit her. +From his camp the noise of the shooting had been plainly heard, and +through curiosity he and Carter had ridden to Livingston's ranch to +inquire into it, but the sheep-man had been very reticent about the +matter. Had told them only that there had been trouble with some breeds, +and his herder had been killed. This old Jim repeated to Hope, adding +that Livingston must have a Gatling gun concealed on his place, judging +from the sound of the firing. So Hope in her effort to impress the tall +cow-puncher had not used her imagination wholly. + +"I am glad you had nothing to do with it," she concluded, walking slowly +away toward the kitchen end of the house. "And I hope your hand will +soon be well." + +"That's right," said Long Bill. "I didn't have nothin' to do with it. No +Gatlin' guns in mine, Miss!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +"We'll beat any cow-pony workin' on the round-up," declared the +soft-voiced twin as he coiled up the stake-rope and tied it on to his +saddle. + +It was four o'clock in the afternoon of the same day. School had been +dismissed and the dozen children of various sizes were straggling +homeward. Hope stood beside her horse patiently waiting for the twins to +go, but they seemed in no particular hurry. She listened absent-mindedly +to the boys' conversation. + +"An' another thing about this pony o' mine, he'll never slack up on a +rope," continued Dan. "Once you've got a rope on a steer he'll never +budge till the cinch busts off the saddle. He'll just sit right back on +his haunches an' _pull_. Yes, sir; you'd think he knew just as much as a +man!" + +Dave grunted. "He's all right 'nough, only he'll bust the bridle if you +tie him, an' he won't stand without bein' tied. He'll buck if he's +cinched too tight or gets too much to eat, an' he ain't fit for a lady +to ride, nohow. He's an Indian pinto to boot, a regular fool calico +pony! Now _my_ horse is an all 'round good one, an' so gentle any lady +can ride him, just like any sensible horse ought to be." + +"Yes, that's all he's good for, is to stand 'round an' look pretty, like +some o' these here bloods--an' them pretty soldiers over to the post. I +notice when there's any real work to be done, Mr. Dude ain't in it. Oh, +he can stand 'round an' look pretty all right, but the pinto's the best +all 'round, an's got the most sense!" + +Their discussion seemed at an end, for the soft-voiced twin having +fastened the rope securely, walked around to the other side of his pinto +and had just turned the stirrup toward him, preliminary to mounting, +when the other boy grasped him roughly by the collar, throwing him +backward to the ground. + +"That's my lariat; you hand it over here!" he exclaimed gruffly; +thereupon the soft-voiced twin picked himself up, very carefully brushed +the dust from his sleeve, and answered slowly, in a particularly sweet +tone: + +"I ain't a-goin' to fight you here in front of the teacher. That's my +rope. Go an' get it if you want it! But _she's_ got yourn. I saw her +pick it up by mistake this mornin'. You've tied up your dude cayuse +twice with her'n to-day. Must have somethin' the matter with your eyes. +I ain't a-goin' to lick you er fight with you, but I'm goin' to get even +with you for this!" + +"Here's your rope," said Hope, taking it from her saddle and handing it +to the boy. Dave took it shamefacedly, throwing her rope on the ground, +then hid himself on the opposite side of his pony. In an instant the +soft-voiced twin picked up the teacher's stake-rope, coiled it, and tied +it on to her saddle. + +The girl stood to one side watching him. She wondered at his quickness. +He must have inherited something of his grandmother's acuteness. But her +sympathy turned to the other boy--big, clumsy, rough Dave. He was +standing out of sight behind his horse, embarrassed by his own error. +Hope felt sorry for him. She had already found it very difficult to keep +peace between these boys and herself. Each day brought some new ruffle +that required all her wit to smooth over. + +The soft-voiced twin handed the bridle reins to her, then turned to his +own horse, which had wandered away toward more tempting pasture. The +girl thanked him, and walked over to Dave. He looked at her sullenly, a +certain dogged obstinacy in his eyes. She had intended to say something +kind to him, instead she spoke indifferently, yet to the point. + +"Go home with Dan the same as usual. Say nothing about it, but get my +rifle and meet me here at the school in two hours--six o'clock. There is +a big flock of chickens that fly over that point every evening." + +The boy made no reply, but his face changed noticeably, and he jumped on +his horse, calling his twin to hurry up; but the soft-voiced boy had no +notion of leaving his teacher, so Dave, with a savage whoop, ran his +pony to the top of the hill, leaving the school-house and his +uncomfortable feelings far in the background. + +"Why don't you go with him?" asked the girl. + +"I'm waitin' for you," replied the boy. + +"But I'm not going just now. You'd better run along with Dave." + +"I ain't in no hurry." + +"Aren't you? Well, that is good, for I just happened to think of +something. I want you to go down to Pete La Due's place where they are +branding, and hang around awhile and keep your ears open. There will be +a lot of breeds there, and some of those men over on Crow Creek, and +maybe something will be said that we ought to know about. You +understand. You are my faithful scout, you know. And another +thing--don't try to pay Dave back for what he did. He's sorry enough +about it." + +The boy's face took on a shrewd, determined expression, causing him at +once to look years older. For an instant Hope imagined that he +resembled his aged grandmother, old White Blanket, the "witch." + +"I'll go over there," he replied, "an' I'll see what I can find out, but +about Dave--I'll get even with him if it takes me ten years. He needs +teachin'." + +"We all do," said the girl thoughtfully. "I have begun a series of +lessons myself--on humanity. No, on sympathy, on what is expected of a +womanly woman. We're lucky when we have a good teacher, aren't we? But +it's pretty hard to learn what doesn't come natural. Remember Dave isn't +like you. He wasn't made like you, and never will be like you. Think of +this, and don't be hard on him, that's a good boy." + +The soft-voiced twin smiled sweetly, and mounting his horse, remarked: + +"I expect I'd better be movin' over there if I'm goin' to find out +anything to-day." + +"Yes," said Hope, pleased that he should leave her at last. "I think +you're right. Be sure to come home before bedtime and _report_." + +The boy dug his heels into the pinto's sides, starting off on a bound. +She watched him, absent-mindedly, until he disappeared over the +hill-top, then she rode away at a lively canter toward the sheep-man's +ranch. + +A horseman came rapidly toward her before she reached Livingston's gate. +It was a slender, boyish figure, who sat his horse with remarkable ease +and grace. The girl frowned savagely when she saw him, but only for an +instant. He waved his hat above his dark head and called to her from the +distance. His voice possessed a rich musical ring which might have stood +for honesty and youthful buoyancy. + +When Hope met him she was smiling. In fun she passed rapidly, seeing +which he wheeled his horse about, caught up with her, and leaning far +over, grasped the bridle, bringing her horse to a stand-still beside +him. It was an old trick of his boyhood. The girl's ringing laughter +reached a small group of men at work with shovels upon the rise of a +green knoll not far away. They stopped work and listened, but the notes +died away and nothing more could be heard. + +"That wasn't fair, Syd!" she cried. "I thought you'd forgotten it. I was +going to run you a race." + +"Rowdy's thin, he couldn't run. A stake-rope don't agree with him, and +I'll bet he hasn't seen an oat since you've been here," he answered, +growing sober. "Hopie, dear, leave these breeds and go home, that's a +good girl! I can't bear to have you stay there. You've been up here a +week and you look thin already. I'll bet you're starving right now! +Come, own up, aren't you hungry?" + +"I hadn't thought of it," replied Hope. "But now that you remind me, I +believe I am--the least bit. A steady diet of eggs--boiled in their +_own_ shells, is apt to make one hungry at times for a good dinner. But +what's the difference? I feel fine. It certainly agrees." + +"But that's terrible! Eggs! Eggs only--eggs in the shell. Haven't you +brought yourself to meat, bread, and potatoes yet? Eggs only! It's a +joke, Hope, but somehow I can't feel amused. I've eaten eggs for a meal +or two, around those places, but a week of it! Hope, your father wants +you. Go home to him!" + +"No; you see it's this way, Sydney, I couldn't if I would, and I +wouldn't if I could. I couldn't because father told me to stay until the +school term ended, and I wouldn't because--I like it here. It's new and +exciting. I feel just like a boy does in going out into the world for +the first time. You know how that is, Syd, how you roamed about for +months and months. You had your fling and then you were satisfied." + +"I know," said Carter softly, stroking her horse's neck. "But you had +such a free 'fling' there at the ranch, what else could you want? You +had your choice between the ranch and New York. You could travel if you +wished. Surely there was nothing left to be desired. You can't make me +believe that you really like it up here among these breeds, teaching a +handful of stupid children their A B C's! I can't see the attraction. +Clarice Van Rensselaer with the Cresmonds and that little jay +Englishman, Rosehill, are due at the ranch this week. You like Clarice; +go home, Hope, and look after things there. You're needed, and you know +it. Do go, that's a good girlie!" + +"Don't say anything more about it to me, Sydney. I can't go, I'm not +going, and I want to forget for this one summer about the ranch and +everyone on it." + +"I am wasting my breath, but yet," he looked at her searchingly, "I +don't understand you in this. I see no attraction here for you. Why, +even the hunting isn't good! I'll not admit that there is any attraction +for you in this Englishman over here. You've known dozens of them, and +you've always expressed an aversion to every one. I'm not going to be +scared of one lone Englishman!" He grasped her hand and his face +darkened. "Hope, if I thought you would ever care for him I'd----" + +She interrupted: + +"You need not finish that! Show a little manhood! Oh, Syd, a moment ago +you were my dear old companion--my brother, and now----If you knew how +I detest you in this! It is not yourself--your dear self, at all, but +the very devil that has taken possession of you. Sydney, are you sure +there isn't something the matter with your brain? Do you realize how +awful it seems? Doesn't it make you feel ashamed of yourself when you +think of all the sweetness of our past life? It makes me, Syd. Sometimes +at night before I go to sleep I think of the way you've acted lately, +and I can feel a hot flush creep all over my face. It makes me so +ashamed! I've grown up with you for my brother, I think of you always as +my brother, and this makes a new person out of you--a person whom I +neither love nor respect. Syd, dear Syd, forget it and I will never +think of it again, for I will have my brother back. I loved you, Sydney, +you and father, better than anyone else in this world. And now----" She +turned her head away from him and began to cry quietly. In an instant he +was filled with commiseration and tenderness. + +"Don't, Hope!" he exclaimed, bending close to her. "I can't stand +anything like that! Don't cry. I'm sorry, girlie. I've been a fool, a +brute, a low-lived beggar, but I can't stand tears from _you_! Here +you're hungry, starving, living among a lot of breeds, and I've added +more to your misery. It's all a mistake. I know now when I see you +crying--don't do it, dear! You've never cried since you were a baby, and +now you're such a great big girl. The other feeling's all gone. I guess +it must have been because you were the only girl out here and I let +myself think of you that way until it grew on me. But you are my +sister--my dear little pard!" + +He had dismounted and stood beside her. Now he reached up and took her +hands away from her face. She was ashamed of her tears, as people are +who seldom cry, and hastily mopped her face with her handkerchief. + +"I'm so glad, Syd, dear!" she exclaimed in a moment, then reached down +and kissed him. "What a baby you must think I am!" + +"Your tears woke me up, dear; don't be sorry. Maybe some time they'll +make a man out of me." + +"Nonsense! you were a man all the time, only you didn't know it. You +don't know how happy I was all at once when you called me 'pard' again. +I knew then I had my brother back." + +The young fellow mounted his horse again. His own eyes were suspiciously +moist. + +"And I have my sister, which seems better than anything to me," he said. +Then they both laughed. + +"I was going to the Englishman's," said Hope, "to see if I could help +any about the poor herder who was shot." + +"They're burying him now," announced her cousin, "right around the bend +of this hill just inside the fence. Do you want to go over there?" + +"Yes, I think I do," she replied. "I want to ask Mr. Livingston when the +little German girl is expected to arrive and what is going to be done +about her." + +"The herder's sister?" asked Sydney. + +"No, his sweetheart. Just think, Sydney, his little sweetheart, who is +on her way to marry him! Isn't it sad? Who will meet her and who will +tell her, I wonder, and what will she do? How are such things managed, I +wonder. Isn't it terrible, Syd?" + +"Some beggars around here shot the poor fellow, Livingston told me. The +whole bunch ought to be hanged for it." + +"It was a cowardly thing to do!" exclaimed the girl. + +"Sheep in a cattle country, the same old story. I imagine old Harris is +a pretty strong element here. They've driven out a couple of bands +already. Someone ought to put Livingston next. But he probably scents +the situation now from this occurrence. He is one of the kind who trusts +everyone. I met him last fall in town when he first came out here. He +has put a lot of money into this business, and I'd like to see him make +it a go. He'll have something to learn by experience." + +"Isn't it too bad he didn't invest in cattle?" deplored Hope. + +"Yes, though they say there's bigger returns in sheep." He pointed +ahead. "You can't see the men, but they're just around that point of +rocks, though they must be about through with the job by now." + +"You'll go along, won't you? Then you can ride back to the school-house +with me. I'm going to meet one of the twins there at six o'clock, and +we're going to see if we can get some chickens." + +"If you will promise to bring the chickens over to the camp and let the +cook get you up a good, square meal," he replied. "Jim will be back +before dark." + +"If I shouldn't happen to get any birds," she asked, "does the +invitation still hold good?" + +"Pard!" he reproved. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Livingston stood alone beside the fresh mound, hatless, with head bowed +in deep meditation. His men had returned to their respective duties, +having shown their last kindness toward the young herder gone on before +them to the great, mysterious Beyond. + +When Hope and her companion rounded the point of rocks inside the +pasture fence they came directly upon the sheep-man and the newly made +grave. The girl reined in her horse suddenly. + +"Syd," she said softly, wonderingly, "he's _praying_!" She had an +impulse to flee before he should see her, and with a look communicated +the thought to Sydney, but Livingston turned around and came quickly +down the grassy slope toward them. He greeted them cordially, heartily +shaking hands with each. + +"Is this not a beautiful day? I am glad you have come, Miss Hathaway. I +wanted you to see this spot. Could any place be prettier? See this green +slope and the gigantic ridge of rocks beside it." + +"It's magnificent!" she exclaimed. "What a monument!" + +"I had an idea he would like it if he could know," he continued. "Day +after day he has stood up there on that point of rocks and watched his +sheep." + +Hope pointed across the valley to where the grassy slope terminated in a +deep cut-bank, exclaiming: + +"There is the corral!" It came involuntarily. She shot a quick glance at +her cousin, but he was gazing thoughtfully at the magnificence of the +scene before him, and had not noticed the words, or her confusion which +followed them, which was fortunate, she thought. + +If asked she could not have explained why she felt in this manner about +it, and it is certain that she did ask herself. She had probably saved +Livingston's sheep. Well, what of it? She only knew that she wanted no +one to find it out, least of all Livingston himself. She had a half fear +that if Sydney ever got an inkling of it he might sometime tell him, and +Sydney was very quick; so she adroitly eased her involuntary exclamation +by remarking: + +"That is a queer place to put a corral! Aren't you afraid of a pile up +so near the bank?" + +"I am not using it now," he replied. "I put it there because Fritz ran +his band on that side and it was more convenient not to drive them so +far. I am using this shed below here, at present." + +Sydney looked at Hope and began to laugh, then leaned over toward +Livingston and placed his hand upon his shoulder. + +"She'll be telling you how to run your sheep next. You mustn't mind her, +though, for she's been teaching school a whole week, and dictating is +getting to be sort of second nature with her, isn't it, Hopie? And +besides that she isn't responsible. A steady diet of hard-boiled eggs +isn't conducive----" + +She stopped him with a gesture, laughing. + +"That's awfully true, only I haven't eaten even hard-boiled eggs since +breakfast, and I'm famished! It was cruel of you to remind me, Syd!" + +"You poor youngster!" he exclaimed in real commiseration. "Is it as bad +as that? I'm going over and start supper at once. The camp is just over +the hill there, up that next draw." He pointed ahead, then looked at his +watch. "It's after five now. You keep your appointment with the +half-breed, but never mind the chickens till you've had a square meal." + +She nodded in answer, smiling at him. + +"They're starving her over there," he explained to Livingston, who +looked at them in some wonderment. "They don't feed her anything but +boiled eggs. Tell him why you don't eat anything but eggs, Hope, +boiled,--hard and soft,--in their _own shells_. Maybe you can get them +to bake you a potato or two in their _own jackets_!" + +"What an idea! I never thought of that," she exclaimed. "You're a +genius, Syd. But go home or I shall famish! I'll meet Dave and come +right over there. I think the chickens will fly that way to-night, +anyway, don't you?" + +"Of course they will," replied her cousin, "they fly right over the top +of my tent every evening!" Then he started away, but turned about +quickly as though he had forgotten something, and asked Livingston if he +would not come over to camp for supper, too. + +Livingston looked up into the dark eyes of the girl beside him, then +accepted. + +"Good!" said Sydney. "Come along with Hope." + +"Be sure and see that there's enough cooked," called the girl as he rode +away. + +"Don't worry about that, pard," he answered, then, lifting his hat, +waved it high above his head as he disappeared around the reef of +rocks. + +Hope looked after him and was still smiling when she turned to +Livingston. It may have been something in his face that caused her own +to settle instantly into its natural quiet. + +"I'd like to go up there for a moment," she said, then dismounted, and +leaving her horse walked quickly up the grassy hill until she stood +beside the grave. Some sod had been roughly placed upon the dirt, and +scattered over that was a handful of freshly picked wild flowers. + +"_You_ picked them!" exclaimed the girl softly, turning toward him as he +came and stood near her. "And _I_ never even thought of it! How could +you think of it! I had supposed only women thought of those things--were +expected to think of them, I mean," she added hastily. "You make me +wonder what----" + +He looked at her curiously. + +"Make you wonder what?" he asked in his quiet, well modulated voice. + +A flush came over her face. Her eyes shifted from his until they rested +upon the grave at her feet. The breeze threw a loose strand of dark hair +across one eye. She rapidly drew her hand over her forehead, putting it +away from her vision, then looked full and straight at the man beside +her. + +"I beg your pardon; I cannot finish what was in my mind to say. I +forgot, Mr. Livingston, that we are comparative strangers." + +"I am sorry, then, that you remember it," he replied. "It never seemed +to me that we were strangers, Miss Hathaway. I do not think so now. +There is something, I know not what, that draws people to each other in +this country. It does not take weeks or months or years to form a +friendship here. Two people meet, they speak, look into one another's +eyes, then they are friends, comrades--or nothing, as it sometimes +happens. They decide quickly here, not hampered by stiff +conventionalities. It is instinct guides. Are you different from your +countrymen?" + +"No," she replied quickly. "Not in that one thing, at least. To be +honest, I have never _felt_ that you were a stranger to me; but a girl, +even a rough Western girl, must sometimes remember and be restricted by +conventionalities. I know what you are thinking, that conventionalities +include politeness, and I have been rude to you. Perhaps that is the +reason I wouldn't let you go back to Harris' with me the other night--I +had not known you long enough." + +He answered her simply: "I am not thinking of that night, but that you +have just told me you are my friend--that you think kindly of me." She +flashed him a look of surprise. + +"But I _never_ told you that!" she exclaimed. + +"Not in just those words, true," he said. "But it is so. Didn't you say +that you had never felt me to be a _stranger_ to you? If you had not +approved of me--thought kindly of me in the start, could you have felt +so? No. When two people meet, they are friends, or they are still +strangers--and _you have never felt me to be a stranger_. Is that not +so?" + +"I cannot deny what I have just said," she replied. "And I will not deny +that I believed what I was saying, but your argument, though good, +doesn't down me, because I honestly think that a person may see another +person just once, feel that he never could be a stranger, and yet have +no earthly regard or respect for that person." + +"Have you ever experienced that?" he inquired. + +"N--no. You are trying to corner me; but that isn't what I came to talk +about, and it is time to go," she said, turning away from the grave. He +walked with her down the hill toward her horse. + +"I wanted to ask you, Mr. Livingston, about the little German girl," she +said, standing with her back against the side of her horse, one arm +around the pommel loosely holding the reins, and the other stretched +upon the glossy back of the gentle animal. "When are you expecting her, +and what are you going to do about her?" + +"She should be here the last of the week. Poor girl! My heart bleeds for +her. There is nothing to do except to tell her the sad story, and see +that she gets started safely back to her country and her friends," he +answered. + +Hope stood upright, taking a step toward him. + +"You would not--oh, it would be inhuman to send her back over the long, +terrible journey with that cruel pain in her heart! Think how tired she +will be, the thousands of miles of travel through strange lands, and the +multitude of foreigners she will have passed! Think of the way she has +traveled, those close, packed emigrant cars, and everything. It is +terrible!" + +"I never thought of that. She will be tired. You are right, it would +never do to send her over that long journey so soon, though she is not +coming through as an emigrant, but first class, for she is of good +family over there. So was Fritz--a sort of cousin, I believe, but the +poor boy got into some trouble with his family and came over here +penniless. He was to have met her in town and they expected to get +married at once. He was going to bring her out here to the ranch to live +until he had hunted up a location for a home. If I am not mistaken she +has some money of her own with which they were going to buy sheep. She +has been well educated, and has had some instruction in English, as had +Fritz. + +"I thought only of getting her back among her friends again and I never +gave a thought about the long, weary trip and the poor, tired girl. She +must rest for a time. You have shown me the right way, Miss +Hathaway--and yet, what am I to do? I could bring her out here to the +ranch, but there is no woman on the place. Perhaps I may be able to +secure a man and his wife who need a situation, but it is not likely. +There may be some good family about who would keep her for awhile. Do +you know of one?" + +"There are several families around here who might welcome a boarder, but +none with whom a girl of that kind could be contented, or even +comfortable. If only I were at home, and could take her there! I _might_ +send her over there. But, no, that would be worse than anything! There +is no other way," she said suddenly, placing her hand upon his sleeve +with a quick unconscious motion. "You must let me take care of her, up +here, as I am, at Harris'!" Excitement had flushed her cheeks scarlet. +Her eyes were filled with the light of inspiration and more than earthly +beauty. She waited, intense, for him to speak, but he could not. He felt +her hand upon his arm, saw the wonderful light in her face--and was +dumb. + +"Tell me that I may take care of her. I must--there is no other way," +she insisted. "And it will give me the privilege of doing one little act +of kindness. Say it will be all right!" + +"If she cannot find comfort and strength in you, she cannot find it upon +earth," he said softly. "I have no words with which to thank you!" + +She took her hand from his arm with a little sigh of content, turned +around and stood at her horse's head a moment, then mounted as lightly +and quickly as a boy. + +"Where's your horse?" she asked, whirling the animal about until it +faced him. The wonderful light in her face had given place to a +careless, light-hearted look. + +"Up at the stable. Have you the time and patience to wait for me?" said +Livingston. + +"Plenty of patience, but no time," she replied. "I promised to meet one +of the twins at six o'clock, so I've got to hurry up. I'll meet you over +at Syd's camp in a little while." + +Before he had time to either speak or bow she was gone. As she +disappeared behind the ledge of rocks a clear boyish whistle of some +popular air floated back to him. + +Walking quickly through the pasture toward the ranch buildings Edward +Livingston thought of many things--and wondered. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +At six o'clock on this afternoon in May the sun was still high above the +mountain tops. By the time Edward Livingston reached his ranch buildings +and saddled his horse to go to Carter's camp Hope had ridden the two +miles or more between his fence and the school-house. There she found, +idly waiting beside the isolated building, surrounded by several gaunt +staghounds, not one of the twins, but both. + +The soft-voiced twin was all smiles, but Dave with his back against the +front of the building was scowling sullenly, giving vent to his ugliness +by kicking small stones with the toe of his boot and watching them as +they went sailing high into the air, then down the sloping stretch of +young green below. At one of those stones Hope's horse shied, but the +girl smiled, knowing full well the young savage's mood. She rode +rapidly, and stopped beside the boys, but did not dismount. + +"Am I late?" she inquired of the scowling twin. "I see you are on time +with the gun like a good boy, Dave, and you've brought your own along, +too. We won't do a thing to those chickens if we get sight of them +to-night!" She smiled at the boy, who became a trifle more amiable; then +she turned to his soft-voiced twin. "How is it you're back so soon?" + +He brushed a speck of dust from his overalls before replying, and his +voice was particularly sweet. + +"Had to come to report. You see when I got there they was just quittin', +so I came along back with some o' the fellers. Didn't you meet Long Bill +and Shorty Smith up the road there a piece when you come along?" The +girl nodded. "Well, I come back with them's far as home; then I saw Dave +getting the guns, so I thought I'd get mine an' come along, too. Say, +what's a gating gun?" Hope looked perplexed for an instant, then laughed +outright. + +"Oh, you mean a Gatling gun!" She laughed, then very soberly: "It's a +terrible weapon of war--a wicked thing. Why do you ask?" + +"Oh, I just wanted to know," replied the boy evasively. "I heard some o' +the men talkin' about one, so I thought I'd ask you. Must shoot pretty +fast, don't they? Long Bill was tellin' about one that fired two +thousand shots a second." + +"That must have been a terror of one!" exclaimed the girl. "But they +don't shoot quite as many as that, not even in a minute, but they are +bad enough. A few of them would simply perforate an army of men. They're +a machine gun," she went on to explain. "Just a lot of barrels fastened +in a bunch together and turned by a crank which feeds in the cartridges +and fires them, too. They shoot over a thousand shots a minute." + +"I wish we'd 'a' had one the other night," exclaimed Dave, waking at +last to a new interest in life. "And I'd 'a' had hold of the crank!" + +"Wasn't it bad enough!" remonstrated the girl. "Didn't you do enough +damage to satisfy your savage soul for awhile?" + +"Shorty Smith's got a game leg," returned the boy gleefully, "an' so's +old Peter. Long Bill, he's got his hand all done up in a sling, too, an' +couldn't go back on the round-up!" + +"I wonder how Bill done that," mused the other twin with a sweet, +indrawn breath. Hope flushed scarlet, which faded instantly, leaving her +face its rich, dark olive. + +"Come on," she cried severely, "if we are to get any birds to-day!" + +"I know where there's a coyote's den," said the soft-voiced twin. Dave +was all attention immediately. + +"Where?" he exclaimed eagerly. Hope, interested, too, leaned forward +resting her arm upon the pommel of the saddle. + +"Well," said the boy, deliberately, sweetly--too sweetly, thought the +girl, who watched him keenly--"I was goin' to keep it to myself, an' get +'em all on the quiet, but it's in a kind of a bad place to get at, so +mebbe I can't do it alone. It's 'bout a half mile back there, between +here an' home, up on that ridge behind old Peter's shack. There's a hole +under the side of the rocks, but it's hard diggin', kind of sandstone, I +reckon. I left a pickax an' shovel up there." + +"Let's go up there now," cried Dave, "an' get the whole bloomin' nest of +'em! We can get the chickens later." + +"Now, look here," said the other quietly. "The find's mine. If you're in +on this here deal, you'll have to work for your share. If you'll do the +diggin' you can have half of the bounty on 'em. How's that?" + +Dave grunted. "Supposin' there ain't any there," he demurred. + +The soft-voiced twin shrugged his shoulders contemptuously. + +"What'd you suppose _I'd_ be diggin' there for if there wasn't none? +There's a whole litter o' pups." + +"Come on, then!" exclaimed Dave, convinced of his good fortune, for the +bounty on coyotes was four dollars for each and every one. + +Hope looked dubiously at the soft-voiced twin, she thought of the supper +at Sydney's camp, then fired with the fun of the thing rode gayly away +with the boys. + +The hounds leaped after them, clearing the ground with long, easy +bounds. The girl watched them glide along, yelping, barking, filling the +air with their voices. Her horse loped neck to neck with the soft-voiced +twin's. She pointed at the dogs, drawing the boy's attention to them. + +"Why did you bring them?" she asked. "They'll warn your old ones and +they'll be far away by the time we get there. You're usually so +quick-witted, Dan, I wonder you did not think of it!" + +The boy made no reply, but gave her a look filled with cunning, cool +intent. + +So this was his revenge--his twin was to dig into a rocky ledge for an +empty coyote's den! She marveled at the boy's deliberate scheming, and +rode gayly along to see the outcome. To this sort of revenge she had no +actual objection. + +They rode up over the top of a high divide, then followed down a narrow +draw until it widened into a tiny basin, and there, in the center of +vivid green, like a smooth, well-kept lawn, nestled old Peter's cabin. +Surrounding this pretty basin were steep, high ridges and hills, +smooth-carpeted, too, except the ever narrow terraced "buffalo trails," +and here and there a broken line where sharp crags of sandstone jutted +out. To the base of one of these ridges of rock, back of the old +hermit's one-roomed log shack, the soft-voiced twin led the way, +followed closely by his eager brother. + +The twins left their horses at the foot of the hill and climbed up about +thirty feet to a narrow ledge, where a shovel and pickax marked the +small entrance of a coyote's den. + +Dave set immediately at work plying the pickax with vigor, and shoveling +out the stones and the hardened sand about the opening, while his twin +superintended the job and occasionally offered words of encouragement. + +Hope watched them from below. Evidently the soft-voiced boy was +enjoying himself immensely. He sat on one end of the ledge, his +blue-overalled legs dangling over the side, while Dave worked +industriously, hopefully on. + +The hounds evidently had found a trail of some kind, for after sniffing +about busily for a moment they made a straight line along the hill, +disappearing over the high ridge. Hope watched them out of sight, +feeling an impulse to follow, but changed her mind and rode over to old +Peter's cabin instead. The old man limped to the door and peered out +cautiously. + +He was a squat-figured, broad-shouldered, grizzled little man, with +unkempt beard and a shaggy sheaf of iron-gray hair, beneath which peered +bright, shifting blue eyes. He added to his natural stoop-shouldered +posture by a rude crutch of hasty manufacture much too short for him, +which he leaned heavily upon. He opened the door only wide enough to put +out his head, which he did cautiously, holding his hand upon the wooden +latch. + +"How d'!" he said in a deep, gruff voice that seemed to come from +somewhere between his shoulders. + +She nodded brightly, remembering to have seen the old fellow around +Harris'. + +"You have no objection to our digging out a den of coyotes back here, +have you?" she asked. + +"Umph! There ain't no den 'round here that I know about," he replied, +still retaining his position in the door. + +"But see here," pointing toward the side hill, "the boys have found one +and are at work up there right now." + +"More fools they, then," declared old Peter, limping cautiously outside +the door. "I cleaned out that den three year ago, an' I never knowed a +coyote to come an' live in a place that'd been monkeyed with. Too much +sense fer that. I always said a coyote had more sense 'n them boys! +Better go tell 'em they'd as well dig fer water on the top o' that peak, +Miss!" He shook his tousled head dubiously, watched the boys on the hill +for a moment, then limped back again, taking up his first position, +half in, half out the door. His attitude invited her to be gone, but she +held in her uneasy horse and proceeded in a friendly manner to encourage +some more deep-seated, guttural tones from the old man. + +"Do you live here all alone?" + +"Humph! I reckon I do." + +"Have you lived here long?" + +"Reckon I have." + +"Are those your cattle up on the divide?" + +"I reckon they be." + +"It must be awful lonesome for you here all by yourself. Do coyotes or +wolves trouble you much? Whoa, Rowdy!" + +"They're a plumb nuisance, Miss. Better kill off a few of 'em while +you're here. I reckon you kin use yer gun." + +"I _reckon_ I can, a little," she replied. + +"When I was in the war," he continued, "they had some sharpshooters +along, but they wan't no wimmen among 'em. I reckon you're right handy +with a gun." + +"Who told you?" she asked suddenly. + +"I reckon I know from the way you hold that 'ere gun." + +Just then the soft-voiced twin rode up to the cabin. Hope accosted him. + +"Did you get the coyotes _already_?" + +"Nope, Dave's still diggin'. I'm goin' home er the old man'll be huntin' +me with the end of his rope." + +"Oh, you'd better stay," she coaxed. "Think of the fun you'll miss when +Dave gets into the den. It's your find; you ought to stay for the +finish." + +"I'll stake you to my share," said the boy. "He'll soon find all there +is. But I guess I'd better be a-goin'." + +"Perhaps you had," Hope replied, thoughtfully; then she rode over to the +industrious Dave, while the soft-voiced twin wisely took a straight +bee-line across the hills to his father's ranch. + +This time Hope herself climbed the hill to the spot where the boy was +digging. + +"Dave, I'm afraid there are no coyotes in there, aren't you?" + +He stopped work, wiped his brow with something that had once been a red +bandanna handkerchief, then gravely eyed the girl, who leaned against +the rocks beside him. + +"But he said," pondering in perplexity. "But he said----" He looked into +the ragged entrance of the hole, then at his shovel, then up again at +the girl. "What makes you think there ain't no coyotes there?" + +She was filled with sympathy for the boy, which perhaps he did not +deserve, and she had recollected the supper at Sydney's camp, and +concluded that this foolishness had gone far enough. She coaxed the boy +to leave it until morning, but he was obdurate. + +"No, I'm goin' to _know_ if there's anything in here er not, an' if +there _ain't_----" His silence was ominous; then he set to work again +with renewed energy and grim determination. + +She watched him for awhile, then walked out to the end of the bulging +sand-rocks and climbed the grassy hill. When at length she reached the +summit, the jagged rocks below which labored the breed boy seemed but a +line in the smooth green of the mountain, while old Peter's cabin and +the setting of green carpeted basin looked very small. On the opposite +side a fine view presented itself, showing, in all of Nature's +magnificent display, soft lines of green ridges, broken chains of +gigantic rocks, narrow valleys traced with winding, silvery threads of +rushing water. Such a picture would hold the attention of anyone, but +this girl of the West, of freedom and wildness, was one with it--a part +of it, and not the least beautiful and wonderful in this lavish display +of God's handiwork. + +She stood with bared head upon a high green ridge. A soft, gentle +chinook smoothed back from her forehead the waving masses of dark hair. +Myriads of wild flowers surrounded her, and from the millions below and +about drifted and mingled their combined fragrance. The great orb of +setting sun cast its parting rays full on her face, and lingered, while +the valleys below darkened into shadow. As the last rays lighted up her +hair and departed, the yep! yep! of the hounds attracted her attention, +and turning about with quick, alert step she moved out of this +picture--forever. + +Standing upon a rocky ledge a hundred feet below the summit of the ridge +she watched another scene, not the quiet picture of Nature's benevolent +hand, but a discord in keeping, yet out of all harmony with it, in which +she blended as naturally and completely as she had in the first. It was +a race between a little fleet-footed coyote and half a dozen mongrel +staghounds; they came toward her, a twisting, turning streak, led by a +desperate gray animal, making, to all appearance, for the very rocks +upon which she stood. Not ten yards behind the coyote a lank, +slate-colored hound, more gray than stag, was closing in inch by inch. +The coyote was doing nobly, so was the mongrel hound, thought Hope, who +watched the race with breathless interest. The yellow dogs were falling +behind, losing ground at every step, but the blue mongrel was spurting. +On they came--on--on, and the girl in a tremor of excitement lay flat +down upon the rocks and watched them. Her heart went out to the dog. +She had seen it kicked around the yard at Harris', noticed it as it +slunk about for its scanty food, and now how nobly it was doing! She +wondered if any of her thoroughbreds at home could do as well, and +thought not. The others were straggling far behind, but now the blue +hound was but two lengths from the coyote, and its chances seemed small, +but on a sudden it turned and made direct for the rocks from which the +girl watched. That instant the dog saw failure, and the light of +determination, of victory, died from its eyes. That same instant the +coyote saw salvation from a quick end in the narrow crevices of rock so +near, and the next it lay stone dead with a bullet through its brain. +The gaunt hound bounded over its body, then stopped short, bewildered, +and eyed its fallen foe. Then with a savage snarl he seized it by the +throat as if to utterly demolish it, but the girl called him off, and +somehow, in his dog's heart, he understood that the game was not his. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +In the deepening shadows of the evening Hope and the breed boy rode +rapidly toward the camp, hungry for the long-delayed supper. + +"Dan staked me to his share of the coyotes, so you may have them," said +the girl. + +"Seven pups an' the old one!" exclaimed Dave; "that's better'n huntin' +chickens." + +"And supper just now is better than anything," sighed Hope to herself. +The boy heard, but did not reply, his mind being busy with a +mathematical problem. + +"How much is eight times four dollars, an' seventy-five cents for the +hide?" he asked. + +"That's a little example I'll let you work out for yourself," replied +his teacher. "You're awfully stupid in arithmetic, Dave, and it's too +bad, for in cases of coyotes' bounty and so forth it would be a pretty +good thing for you to know. You hurry up and figure that out, for +to-morrow you're going to get a hard one. It's this: If a Gatling gun +fires two thousand shots a minute how many can it fire in half an hour?" + +"Whew! you don't expect anybody to answer _that_, do you?" exclaimed the +boy. + +"Oh, that's easy," she laughed. "If you can't figure it out yourself you +might ask old Peter or Long Bill, maybe they'd know." + +The boy rode along, his thoughts absorbed in a brown study. At length he +sighed and looked up. + +"Well, anyway, it'll be enough to buy a horse or a new saddle with." +Then as though struck with a sudden thought he asked: "Say, what made +Dan give you his share of them coyotes?" She suppressed a faint +inclination to smile. + +"Perhaps he gave up as I did, and thought there was nothing there. Old +Peter said he knew there wasn't. But it's just possible Dan wanted to be +generous. Don't you think so?" + +"Not Dan!" exclaimed the boy. "There ain't one chance in a million +_he'd_ ever give such snap as that away! I reckon," he concluded after +some studying, "he must 'a' thought that den was empty an' was goin' to +pay me back. Ain't I got it on him now, though!" + +"And instead of being paid back you are getting both shares of the +coyote bounty, and you know you don't deserve it. What are you going to +do about it?" + +"You bet _he_ ain't a-goin' to get none of it!" was the emphatic reply; +to which the girl had nothing to say. + +In a few moments they came in sight of Sydney's camp. From out of the +small stove-pipe of the first of the two tents rolled a volume of smoke, +and across the narrow brush-covered valley came the delicious odor of +cooking food. Simultaneously the two riders urged on their horses to a +faster gait, for Hope at least was hungry. It is safe to say that the +breed boy was in the same condition, and this invitation out to supper +pleased him mightily. He was a large, stolidly built lad of fourteen +years, and like all boys of that age, whether stolidly built or slender +as a sapling, was always hungry. + +"I'll bet I can eat the whole shootin' match," he declared, actually +believing that he spoke the truth. + +"I think the meal is prepared for hungry people," replied Hope, heartily +agreeing with the boy's sentiments. "And I hope they have waited for us. +But for goodness' sake be careful not to make yourself sick, Dave!" + +The camp was pitched in an open flat beside a small sparkling mountain +stream. Upon one side of the creek was brush-covered bottom land, +through which the riders followed a winding trail, dim in the +semi-darkness. Then they splashed across the creek, and rode up its +steep bank into the clear, grass-covered government dooryard of the +campers. + +"Well, at last!" called a voice from the tent. "The posse was just +getting ready to go in search of you. Thought the chickens must have +lured you away. Come right in, the feast is prepared!" + +"All right, Syd," called the girl happily, dismounting almost in the +arms of old Jim McCullen, her dear "father Jim," to whom she gave the +heartiest handshake he had ever received. + +"Oh, I'm so glad you're back!" she exclaimed as he led her horse away to +stake it out. "How's everything at home--the dogs and horses, and +everything? Never mind the _people_! I don't want to hear a single thing +about them! We're late, Syd," she apologized, as her cousin held open +the tent flap for her to enter, "but oh, we've had such a stack of fun!" + +She greeted the little English cook, an old acquaintance, who beamed +with smiles as she entered. Then she cast her dark eyes about the tent +and encountered those of Livingston. + +"We were beginning to fear for your safety, Miss Hathaway," he said to +her, then wondered why she should laugh. And she did laugh loudly, with +a clear, sweet, reverberant ring that echoed through the little valley. +Before it had died away her face settled back into its natural quiet. +She threw her cowboy's hat into a far corner, and seated herself on a +case of canned goods opposite Livingston, to whom she immediately +devoted herself. + +She was not bold, this slender, well-built girl of the prairies,--no one +who knew her could conceive such an idea,--but she moved with a +forwardness, a certain freedom of manner that was her own divine right. +Whatever she did, whatever she said, appeared right in her--in another +less graceful, less charming, less magnetic, it would in many instances +seem gross boldness. But with her wonderful, forceful personality +whatever she did or said was the embodiment of grace and right. + +Many of her acquaintances aped her ways and little peculiarities of +speech, to the utter ruination of any originality or fascination they +may have themselves possessed, for such originality cannot be imitated. + +She leaned nearer to Livingston. + +"You should have been with us--we've had a great time! Just think, we +got eight coyotes! Isn't that fine for one evening?" + +"Indeed," he exclaimed, "I think that remarkable! Your cousin said that +something of the kind was keeping you. I take it that you are +passionately fond of hunting." + +"Yes, it is the greatest sport there is in this country, and where the +hunting is good, as it is at home along the Missouri River, there is +nothing like it. But up here there is really no game to speak of, though +the mountains at one time abounded with it. Even chickens are as hard to +find as a needle in a haystack. We found a den of coyotes, seven little +ones, and one of the old ones we got with the help of the dogs. You +know," she said confidentially, "I shouldn't have delayed this supper +for anything less than a den of coyotes." + +"There won't be the sign of any kind of game left up here by the time +she leaves," remarked Sydney, taking a seat on the ground beside her. + +"I heard tell as how she was tryin' to make a clearance," said old Jim +McCullen from the entrance. + +She flashed him a quick look of surprise. He answered it with a barely +perceptible squint, which she understood from years of comradeship to +mean that he shared her secret. It meant more than that. He not only +shared her secret, but his right hand--his life--was at her disposal, if +necessary. Then, in acknowledgment of his silent message she gave him +one of her rare, glorious smiles. + +"You did make a pretty lively clearing," said her cousin. "Eight coyotes +isn't so bad. That means numerous calves saved, young colts, a hundred +or so sheep, not to mention innumerable wild birds and barnyard fowl." + +"Truly, it makes us feel like conquerors, doesn't it, Dave? But we're +famished, Syd!" Then placing her seat beside the table she motioned the +others to join her, and soon they were enjoying a remarkably good camp +supper. + +The cook bustled about the tent, pouring out coffee, apologizing, +praising this dish or that, and urging them to partake of more, all in +one breath. + +Sydney and his friend Livingston kept up the conversation, to which Hope +listened, too contented and happy with the meal, the hour, and the +company to enter it herself. She finally pushed back her plate, +congratulated the cook upon the success of his supper, and gave the twin +a warning look, which he completely ignored. + +"Here, take another piece o' this pie," said the cook, who had +intercepted the girl's glance. At this invitation the boy helped himself +with alacrity, and with a broad smile the cook continued: "I never +knowed a boy yet to kill himself eatin'. You can fill 'em plumb full to +the brim, an' in a 'alf hour they're lookin' fer more. All the same, dog +er Injun, halways hungry; an' a boy's just the same." + +"Eat all you want, youngster, you're not in school now," said Carter. "I +have a slight recollection myself of a time when I had an appetite." + +"I failed to notice anything wrong with it to-night, Sydney," remarked +the girl. + +"There's nothin' like a happetite," observed the cook. "Did you's ever +hear the meaning hoff the word? This is how hit was told to _me_." He +stood before them emphasizing each word with a forward shake of his +first finger. "H-a-p-p-y,--happy,--t-i-t-e, tight,--happy--tite--that's +right, ain't hit? When you're heatin' hall you want you're _tight_, an' +then you're happy, ain't you? An' that's what hit means,--happy-tight." + +Whether this observation of the small English cook's was original or not +those present had no way of ascertaining. But since this was but a +sample of the many observations he aired each day, it is reasonable to +suppose that it originated in his fertile brain. + +"I think there's no doubt about that being the true derivation of the +word," said Hope. "In fact, I am sure it is. Isn't it, Dave?" + +"I don't know nothin' about it," said the boy, looking up from his last +bite of pie; then giving a deep sigh he reluctantly moved away from the +table. + +"Well, I can guarantee that you're happy," said Hope, "and that is a +positive demonstration of the truth of William's observation. But now we +must go," she said, rising abruptly and picking up her hat from the +corner of the tent. + +"You haven't been here a half hour yet, Hopie, but I suppose I must be +thankful for small favors," deplored Carter. + +"I've had my supper,--a nice one, too,--and that's what I came for, Syd, +dear," said the girl. "And if I may, I will come again, until you and +dear old Jim both get tired of me." + +"_Get tired_--fiddlesticks!" exclaimed McCullen, while Sydney laughed a +little, and left the tent to saddle her horse. The breed boy followed +him; then Livingston, too, was about to leave when McCullen stopped him. + +"Just stay in here by the fire and talk to Hopie till we get your +horses," he said, abruptly leaving them together. + +The girl drew nearer the stove. + +"It's quite chilly out this evening," she remarked. + +"That is the beauty of the nights in this northern country," he replied, +coming near to her. + +"Why, we're alone," she observed. "I wonder where William went!" + +"I didn't notice his disappearance," he replied. "But we are +alone--together. Are you not frightened?" + +"Frightened? No!" she said softly. "Why?" + +"A senseless remark. Do not notice it--or anything, I beg of you. I am +quite too happy to weigh my words." + +"Then you have proved the cook's theory correct; providing you have +eaten--sufficiently," she replied. They both smiled, and darts of light +from the stove played about their faces. + +"Will you allow me--this night--to ride home with you?" he asked, +watching the fantastic shadows upon her face and catching gleams of her +deep eyes as they occasionally sought his own. + +She hesitated a moment before replying. + +"You think me a strange girl," she said. "I wonder what you will think +of me now if I refuse this." + +"I think nothing except that you are the sweetest girl I have ever +known--and the _noblest_. I thank my Maker for having met you, and +spoken with you, and sat here in the firelight beside you! Your ways are +your own. I shall not--cannot question you, or impose myself upon you. +Our lives, it seems, lie far apart. But I cannot help it--the words burn +themselves out--I love you, _Hope_--I love you! Forgive me!" He raised +her hand to his lips and left her standing alone in the firelight. + +"He loves me," she thought, far into the quiet hours of the night. "He +loves me, and yet he ran away from me!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Late one afternoon during the following week Livingston drove up to +Harris' ranch and helped from his buggy a small, fair-haired girl who +looked with wonderment at the squalid log buildings, the squealing, +scurrying pigs and children, and the usual group of roughly dressed men +waiting for their supper. The pain in her eyes deepened, and she clasped +Livingston's arm like a frightened child. + +"_O_, _mein Freund_, I fear!" she cried, drawing back. + +"Come," he urged gently. "There is nothing to fear. You must trust me, +for I am indeed your friend, little girl. We will find the one who is +expecting you--who will love you and be a sister to you." + +A look of trustful obedience came into her sweet blue eyes, now +disfigured by much weeping, and without hesitation she walked beside him +past the group of rough-looking men, dirty, barefooted children, +scurrying pigs and dogs, to the kitchen door. + +An Indian woman with a baby in her arms stood in the shadow of the room +and motioned them to enter. + +"Is Miss Hathaway here?" inquired Livingston. + +At the sound of his voice the door of an inner room opened and Hope, her +slender form gowned as he had first seen her, came quickly across the +untidy room toward them. + +"I am Hope," she said to the girl, taking both of her soft little hands +in her own and looking in wonder at the childish face with its setting +of wavy gold hair. Suddenly the broken-hearted girl was in her arms +sobbing out her grief upon her shoulder. Hope led her to a seat, removed +her hat and coat, and uttered words of endearment to her, soothing her +as she would have done a child. + +Could this impulsive, loving girl be Hope, wondered Livingston, who +still stood in the doorway. She smoothed back the bright hair from the +pretty, childish face, exclaiming: + +"How beautiful you are! And what a little thing to have such a grief! +Oh, it is cruel, _cruel_! Cry, dear, cry all you want to--it will do you +good, and the pain will sooner be gone." + +"_O, Gott im Himmel_," sobbed the German girl, "_gieb mir Muth es zu +ertragen!_" + +"But you are, oh, so much braver than I. Look at me, see what a great, +big strong thing I am, and _I_ moaned and cried because the world wasn't +made to my liking! Oh, it makes me _ashamed_ now, when I see such a +little, frail thing as you suffer such a real sorrow! But I am your +friend--your sister, if you will have me." + +"How goot you are, _meine liebe Freundin_!" sobbed the girl. + +"May you never have reason to change your opinion," replied Hope slowly, +in German. + +"She speaks my language!" exclaimed the German girl, with something like +hopefulness in her voice. + +"But very poorly," apologized Hope, looking for the first time at the +man standing quietly in the doorway. + +"It will comfort her that you speak it at all," he replied. "But without +any language you would still be a comfort to her. I will leave her in +your hands, Miss Hathaway. She has had a long journey and--must be very +tired." He bowed and turned to go, but, recollecting something, came +back into the room. "I am going now," he said to the German girl, "but I +will come to see you often. You need have no fear when you are +with--Hope." + +Hope turned to him impulsively. + +"You will do as you say," she begged. "You will come often to see her." +Then added, "You know she'll be terribly lonely at first!" + +"It will give me great pleasure, if I may," he replied. + +She held out her hand to him. + +"If you _may_! Are you not master of your own actions? Good-by!" + +She took her hand from his firm clasp with something like a jerk, and +found herself blushing furiously as she turned to the little German +girl. + +As far as anyone could be made comfortable in the Harris home Hope made +her little charge so. She shared her room, her bed with her, took her to +school each day and kept her constantly at her side. + +She was a simple, trusting German girl, bright, and extremely pretty, +and her name was Louisa Schulte. From the first she had loved Hope with +an affection that was as touching as it was beautiful, and as she came +to know her better, day by day her love and admiration grew akin to +worship. She believed her to be the most wonderful girl that ever lived, +in some respects fairly superhuman. She marveled at the skill with which +she could ride and shoot, and her wisdom in Western lore. And behind +every accomplishment, every word and act, Louisa read her heart, which +no one before had ever known. + +So finding in the bereaved girl, who had so strangely come into her +life, the sympathy and love for which she had vainly searched in one of +her own sex, Hope gave her in return the true wealth of a sister's +heart. + +For some time after Louisa's arrival Hope was with her almost +constantly, but the inactive life began to tell upon her. Her eyes would +light up with an involuntary longing at the sight of the breed boys +racing over the hills upon their ponies. + +"Why don't you go?" asked the German girl, one morning, reading her +friend with observant eyes as the boys started out for a holiday. + +It was a beautiful warm Saturday morning. The two girls were sitting on +a pile of logs by the side of the road sunning themselves, far enough +away from the Harris house and its surroundings to enjoy the beauty of a +perfect day. + +"I would rather stay here with you," replied Hope, arranging a waving +lock which the wind had displaced from Louisa's golden tresses. "When +the horse comes that I have sent for, and you have learned to ride +better, we will go all over these mountains together. I will show you +Sydney's camp and take you to old Peter's cabin, and let you see where +we found the den of coyotes. We will go everywhere then, and have such a +good time!" + +Louisa looked at her tenderly, but her eyes were filled with the pain of +a great sorrow. + +"O, _Fraeulein_, you are goot, so goot to me! If I may ask, not too much, +I wish to see where lies _mein lieber Fritz_. I vill weep no more--then. +Ven I sleep the dreams come so much. If I could see once the place it +would be better, _nicht wahr_?" + +"Yes," replied Hope, "it is a lovely spot and you shall see it. Mr. +Livingston could not have found a more beautiful place. Just now it is +all a mass of flowers and green grass as far as you can see, and behind +it is a great high jagged wall of stone. It is beautiful!" + +"Mr. Livingston is a good, true man," mused Louisa, lapsing into German, +which Hope followed with some difficulty. "He was very kind to my poor +Fritz, who loved him dearly. His letters were filled with his praises. +It was of him, of the beautiful country, and our love of which he always +wrote. He was a good boy, _Fraeulein_." + +"Tell me about him," said Hope, adding hastily, "if you feel like it. I +would love to hear." + +Hope could not have suggested a wiser course, for to speak of a grief or +trouble wears off its sharp edges. + +"He was a good boy," replied Louisa. "I cannot see why God has taken him +from this beautiful place, and from me. It has been a year, now, since I +last saw him. He left in a hurry. He had never spoken of love until that +day, nor until he told me of it did I know that it was real love I had +so long felt for him. We grew up together. He was my cousin. I had other +cousins, but he was ever my best companion--my first thought. He came +to me that day and said: 'Louisa, I am going far away from here to the +free America. It breaks my heart to leave you. Will you promise to some +day join me there and be my wife?' I promised him, and then cried much +because he was going so far. It was even worse than the army, I thought, +and somehow it held a strange dread for me. But Fritz would not think of +the army. His eldest brother returned, and as head of the family all the +money went to him. My aunt married again. Her husband is a wholesale +merchant of wines. He gave Fritz a position in his warehouse, but very +soon they quarreled. He seemed not to like Fritz. Then there was nothing +for the poor boy but the army, or far America. I could not blame him +when he chose freedom. The lot of the youngest son is not always a happy +one. A friend who had been here told all about this great country and +the good opportunities, so he came. His letters were so beautiful! I +used to read them over and over until the paper was worn and would break +in pieces. For a whole year I waited, and planned, and lived on the +letters and my dreams, then filled with happiness I started to him. To +think that I have come to the end of this long, strange journey to a +foreign land to see but his grave! Oh, God in heaven, help me be brave!" + +"There is no death," said Hope, rising abruptly from the log upon which +she had been sitting and standing erect before Louisa, her dark +commanding eyes forcing the attention of the grief-stricken girl. "I +know there is no death. I feel it with every throb of my pulse--in every +atom of my being! _I_ and my _body_!--_I_ and my _body_!" she continued +impressively. "How distinct the two! Can the death of this lump of clay +change the _I_ that is really myself? Can anything exterminate the +living me? Every throb of my whole being tells me that I am more than +this perishable flesh--that I am more than time or place or condition or +_death_! I believe, like the Indians, that when we are freed from this +husk of death--this perishing flesh, that the we, as we truly are, is +like a prisoner turned loose--that then, only do we realize what _life_ +really means." + +Louisa's innocent eyes were intent upon her as she strove to grasp the +full meaning of the English words. + +"_Ich weiss; es ist wahr_," she replied softly, "_aber wenn der Kummer +so frisch ist, dann ist es unmoeglich in dem Gedanken Trost zu finden_." + +"I should have said nothing," said Hope in contrition, seating herself +upon the log pile again. + +"_Nein_, my dear, dear friend! I have now dis misery, but I belief you. +Somedimes your vords vill help--vat you calls 'em--vill _soothe_, und I +vill be better." + +"Then it's all right," said Hope, jumping from the logs and giving her +hand to Louisa to assist her down. "Let's walk a little." + +They went slowly up the road toward the school-house, and had not +proceeded far when they met Livingston driving toward them in an open +buggy. + +Hope waved her hand to him and hastened forward, while Louisa smiled +upon him the faintest of dimpled greetings, then drew back to the side +of the road while the girl of the prairies stepped up to the side of his +buggy. + +"You haven't kept your word very well," she said. "We have seen you only +twice, and Louisa has wondered many times what has been keeping you. +Isn't that so, Louisa?" she nodded at the girl. "I am glad you have come +this morning, because I want to ask you a favor." + +"I am at your service," he replied. + +"You know Louisa hasn't learned to ride yet, and Harris' have no other +way of conveyance, so I wanted to ask you to take her in your buggy--to +see Fritz's grave." The last few words were added below her breath. + +"I came this morning to ask you if she did not wish to see it," he +replied. "It might be good for her." + +"Of course _you_ should be the first one to think of it!" she said +quickly, shading her eyes with her hand to look down the long, crooked +stretch of road. "I didn't think of it at all myself. She has just asked +me if she might see it. All the virtues are yours by right," she +continued, showing, as she again faced him, a flash of her strong white +teeth. "And the funny part of it is, I think I am getting jealous of the +very virtues you possess!" + +"You should see with my eyes awhile," he replied, "and you would have no +cause for jealousy." + +"I do not know jealousy in the ordinary sense of the word--that was +entirely left out of my make-up, but for once I covet the attributes of +thoughtfulness that should be ingrained in every woman's nature." + +When she had spoken he seemed struggling for an instant with some strong +emotion. Without replying he stepped from his buggy and walked to the +heads of his horses, presumably to arrange some part of the harness. + +Livingston struggled to keep back the words which sprang to his lips. He +loved the girl with all the strength of his nature. Her whole attitude +toward him artlessly invited him to speak, but his manhood forbade it. + +He was a puzzle, she thought, impatiently. Why did he not make a little +effort to woo her, after having declared his love in no uncertain +manner? She was not sure that she wanted to receive his advances if he +should make any, but why did he not make them? She knew that she was +interested in him, and she knew, also, that she was piqued by his +apparent indifference. She knew he was like a smoldering volcano, and +she had all a girl's curiosity to see it burst forth; but with the +thought came a regret that their acquaintance would then be at an end. + +"I can take you both up there now, if you wish," he said, coming around +to the side of the buggy. "The seat is wide and I do not think you will +be uncomfortable." + +Hope had turned her eyes once more down the narrow, winding stretch of +gray toward the Harris ranch. + +"I think I will not go," she replied, still peering ahead from under the +shade of her hand. "Yes, I am sure now that's Sydney. See, just going +into the corral. Jim was to have brought me an extra saddle horse +to-day, but Sydney has come instead, so I'll go back. Louisa can go +alone with you." She motioned to the girl. "Come, Louisa, Mr. Livingston +wants to take you for a little drive. I will be down there at the house +when you come back." + +The girl understood enough of their conversation to know where she was +expected to go. Obediently, trustfully, with one loving glance at Hope, +she climbed into the buggy beside Livingston and was soon riding rapidly +up the mountain road to the grave of her sweetheart. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Hope's anxiety to reach the ranch could not have been great, for she +walked slowly along the dark, gray stretch of road, vaguely dreaming the +while, and offering excuses to herself for not having accepted +Livingston's invitation. She managed to find several reasons. First, it +would have been too crowded; second, Sydney had brought the horse, and +was probably waiting to see her; third, she had no particular desire to +go, because he had so obviously wanted her to do so. Finally, after +weighing all her excuses, she was obliged to admit that the only thing +that really troubled her was Livingston's evident unconcern at her +refusal to accompany them. + +She had reached a point in her life where self-analysis was fast +becoming an interesting study. At present it struck her as being +amusing. + +The clatter of hoofs and a wild whoop brought her out of her absorbing +study, as down the nearest side-hill the twins raced pell-mell, the +pinto pony leading the stylish Dude by half a length. They drew up +suddenly in the road beside her. + +"Now you can see fer yourself that that Dude cayuse of Dave's ain't in +it with my pinto!" exclaimed the soft-voiced twin. + +"What'er you givin' us!" shouted Dave. "Just hear him brag about that +spotted cayuse of his'n! 'Twasn't no even race at all. He had 'bout a +mile the start!" + +"Oh, come off your perch!" retorted the other sweetly. + +"Where are you boys going?" asked Hope. + +"Nowheres. We seen you from the top of the divide, an' I thought I'd +just show you what was in Pinto. He's all right--you bet! Ain't you, old +man?" said the boy, pulling his pony's mane affectionately. + +"Oh, _I_ wasn't tryin' to show off!" exclaimed Dave. "But just give me +a level road an' I'll beat you all to pieces!" + +"Where have you been?" inquired Hope. + +The boys looked at each other in a sheepish manner. + +"I'm going to guess," said the girl suspiciously, "and if I am right +you'll have to own up. In the first place your father sent you out to +bring in those cows and calves over near old Peter's basin. Instead of +that you went on farther and found a camp. You went in one of the tents +and ate some dried blackberry pie, instead of bringing in the cattle. +Now, isn't that so?" + +Dave looked dumfounded. + +"I don't see how you knew that when you wasn't along! Gee, you must know +things like grandmother White Blanket!" he exclaimed. + +The soft-voiced twin began to laugh. "I told you that you was gettin' +more o' that pie on your face 'n you was in your mouth!" he exclaimed, +whereupon the other quickly turned away his besmeared countenance, +proceeding to wipe it vigorously with the sleeve of his coat. + +"Have you got your bounty yet for the coyotes you dug out of the hill?" +asked Hope, to allay his discomfort. She glanced sideways at the +soft-voiced twin, who assumed his most docile, innocent expression, and +rode on ahead. It had become a sore subject with him. Suddenly giving a +wild whoop he spurred up his pinto and dashed in among the assortment of +tents, bringing to the entrance of her abode old Mother White Blanket, +who hurled after him numerous blood-curdling, Indian invectives. Then +she covered her yellow prongs of teeth under a wrinkled lip and scowled +fiercely at Hope as she passed along the road, causing the breed boy to +say: + +"The old woman's got it in fer you, I reckon. But don't you care, she +ain't so all-fired smart as she makes out to be!" + +"I'm not afraid of her," replied Hope. "She suspects me of having had a +hand in the shooting that night at the sheep-corrals up there, and in +consequence has a very bad heart for me. Now how could she think such a +thing as that? I don't believe she's much of a witch, though, because +when she gets in one of her fits of passion she'd ride off on a +broomstick if she were." + +"She's got eyes like a hawk," said the boy, "always seem' everything +that's goin' on." + +"She don't miss much, that's sure," mused Hope, as they passed by the +house and approached the corrals. There the soft-voiced twin was talking +with Carter, praising, enthusiastically, the points of his pinto cayuse, +and comparing it with the blooded saddle horse which Sydney had just +brought from Hathaway's home-ranch at Hope's request. The boy never knew +just how his statements were received, for at sight of Hope the young +man went out into the road to meet her. + +She welcomed him with a quick smile, which a year previous would have +been accompanied by a sisterly kiss. Carter noted its omission this day +with singular impatience. How long, he wondered, before she would forget +his foolishness. It occurred to him then, that in spite of her +girlishness she was very much a woman, and his actions toward her, which +now he most heartily regretted, had ignited a spark of self-consciousness +in her nature, raising an effective barrier between them that only time +could wear away. + +"I expected Jim with the horse instead of you, Sydney," she said. "How +did it happen?" + +"A lot of men are up with the trail herds, and your father needed Jim to +help pay them off, so I brought the horse instead. Jim will be back in a +couple of days," he explained. + +"You went down to the ranch, then, with him yesterday evening, I +suppose," said Hope. "What are they all doing there?" + +"It looks just as it did any evening last summer, if you happened to +drop in on them. Little Freddie Rosehill thumping away at the piano and +singing bass from the soles of his feet, that tallest Cresmond girl, +with the red hair, yelling falsetto, and the others joining in when they +got the chance. Then down at the other end of the room the usual card +table--your father, mother, Clarice, and O'Hara, and father and mother +Cresmond watching the game and listening to the warbling of their +offspring." + +"Is _Larry O'Hara_ there?" asked Hope in surprise. "I thought he was not +coming this year." + +"Don't you ever think O'Hara is going to give you up as easy as that," +replied Sydney, laughing. "He just got there yesterday, and was in the +depths of despair when he discovered you had flown. He told Clarice he +was coming over here to see you as soon as he could decently get away. +His mother's with him, which makes that proposition a little more +awkward for him than if he were alone. It was late when I got there and +I didn't have time to change my clothes, so I just walked in on them in +this outfit. But they seemed pretty glad to see me." + +"I'll bet they nearly smothered you with welcome! I can just see them," +said Hope. "That Lily Cresmond with the red hair always was so +demonstrative to you, Syd. I'm sorry O'Hara is there, and Clarice Van +Renssalaer, too--or rather, I mean, I'm sorry only because they are +there that I am not at home, for I like them; but I'm not very sorry +either, Syd. I'd rather be up here in the mountains, free like this, +with my poor little Louisa, and you and Jim camping over the hills +there, than stifling in the atmosphere of those New York people." + +"You're a queer girl, Hope, but I don't believe I blame you much. I was +glad to leave this morning and head my horse this way." + +"Did father--ask about me?" she inquired hesitatingly. + +"He didn't lose any time in getting me off alone and questioning me for +about an hour," he replied. "He misses you, Hope." + +"Poor father--poor old Dad!" exclaimed the girl softly. Then with a +peculiar motion of her head and shoulders, as if throwing off a load, +she remarked firmly: "But that makes no difference. I am glad, anyway, +to be here. I have you and Jim so near, and my dear little German +girl--and perfect freedom!" + +"And you have Livingston to take the place of O'Hara," he returned, "and +there is nothing lacking, as far as I can see, except a good cook in the +Harris family." + +"Mr. Livingston is nothing to me," replied Hope quickly, "and he doesn't +care anything for me, if that is what you mean to imply." Her eyes +flashed and she spoke with unusual sharpness. + +"We can't afford to quarrel, Hope," exclaimed Carter. Then, putting his +hand upon her shoulder, said very earnestly: "I was just joking, and +didn't mean to imply anything, so don't be angry with me. Besides, it +won't do. It's near noon and I was going to suggest that we go over to +camp and have William get us up a good dinner, and then we'll go +fishing. What do you say? You can invite your breed brigade; they look +hungry," pointing to the two boys sitting on the ground in the shade of +a log barn, their knees drawn up under their chins. + +"Oh, I don't mind what you say, Syd, dear," she said abruptly. "I +believe I am getting to be quite as foolish as other people, to be +offended so easily. I should as soon expect you to turn upon me in wrath +if I told you to look out for little Louisa." + +"Poor little Louisa," he exclaimed. "Where is she?" + +"We went up the road for a walk, and Mr. Livingston drove along and took +her up to see her Fritz's grave," she explained. + +"Now then, my girl, _you_ look out for Louisa! There's nothing like +consoling grief to bring two hearts close together. How did you ever +come to allow him to carry her away up there and do the consolation act? +You'll sure lose him now! I thought you had more diplomacy!" + +She laughed a little. + +"Unless a man loved me with every atom of his being, with his whole +life, I couldn't feel the least attraction for him in _that_ way," she +said. "That is the way I have planned for the _one_ man to love, my +ideal man, Syd. When such a man comes along I shall love him, but I very +much fear he does not exist." + +"Then you're doomed to die an old maid, Hope! But don't you think O'Hara +entertains that kind of affection for you?" + +"Do you know, I have a perfect horror of being an old maid. Probably +I'll outgrow it. O'Hara? No, indeed! He'll get over it soon enough, and +think just as much of some other girl. He's a nice boy, a good friend, +but he isn't just my idea of what a man should be." + +"I'm afraid you're doomed, Hope," said her cousin, shaking his head +solemnly. "What will you do, spend your lonely maidenhood out here on +the prairie, or take a life interest in some Old Ladies' Home?" + +"Did you say something about going up to camp?" she asked. "But I ought +to wait for Louisa; she should be back now." + +"I've ridden twenty miles this morning, and the consequence is my +appetite is rather annoying," replied Sydney. He called to the two boys, +sitting drowsily in the shade. "Here, you boys, if you want to go out +and get some grub with this lady, just run in her horse for her as fast +as you can." + +"Well, I should say so!" exclaimed the soft-voiced twin, who jumped up +with wonderful alacrity, followed more slowly by Dave. Another moment +they were spurring their ponies across the large, fenced pasture toward +a bunch of horses grazing quietly in the distance. + +"Those boys are all right when there's anything to eat in sight," +remarked Carter. + +"Or any fun," added the girl. + +"How in the world do you tell them apart?" he inquired. "I look at one +and think I've got him spotted for sure, and then when the other one +turns up I'm all mixed again. You seem to know them so well, you must +have some kind of a mark to go by." + +"They are so entirely different in their natures," she said, "that I +almost know them apart without looking at them. Their faces look +different to me, too. Dan has certain expressions that Dave never had; +and their voices are nothing alike." + +"I've noticed their voices," said her cousin, watching the boys as they +deftly turned the bunch of horses and headed them toward the corral. +"Well, they can sure ride to beat three of a kind! They're not losing +any time with those horses, either." + +The corral was built in a corner of the pasture fence, near the stables. +It took the breed boys scarcely five minutes to corral the horses, rope +the saddle animal wanted, throw open the large gate and lead out the +horse. The other horses followed with a mad dash, kicking up their heels +in very joy for their unexpected freedom. + +Hope watched the road, as far as she could see it, looking for the +return of her small German friend. + +"We'll ride along," suggested Sydney, throwing the saddle upon her +horse, "and we'll probably meet them. I don't think we'll have any +trouble getting Livingston to drive over to camp, and we'll all go +fishing together." + +This seemed to take a load from the mind of Hope, and light-heartedly +she rode away toward the camp with her cousin and the breed boys. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +They met Livingston and his charge just as they reached the dimly marked +trail that led up a gulch toward Sydney's camp. At the invitation +extended for dinner the sheep-man drove up the coulee and followed the +riders. + +William, the cook, greeted his guests with a generous smile, then +proceeded to do a great amount of hustling about preparing for the meal, +which he promised would be an excellent one. Being a round-up cook of +much experience, he soon set before them such an assortment of edibles +as would have dumfounded the uninitiated. + +The afternoon passed off pleasantly. Hope was unusually vivacious, and +Sydney full of amusing small talk, principally concerning his sundry +adventures and impressions during his brief absence from camp. + +They all felt the grief of the German girl, and each showed his sympathy +in a different manner. Sydney talked, often in an aimless, senseless +way, but obviously to divert the unhappy girl. Hope filled each pause, +concluded every description with rich drollery and mimicry, while +Livingston's quiet attentiveness betokened the deepest compassion. Even +William gave her many smiles and made numerous witty remarks, which were +wholly lost upon her. + +"You're in a very bad crowd of people, Miss Louisa," said Sydney. "But +after awhile you'll be so much like us that you won't notice how bad we +are!" + +"Shame on you, Sydney!" exclaimed Hope. "Louisa never could be bad!" +Then to the girl: "The truth is, _he's_ the only bad one in the whole +outfit, so don't let him make you think that the rest of us are bad, +too!" + +"You are all _so_ goot," said Louisa, in great earnestness. + +"Now listen to that!" cried Sydney. "That's the first time anybody ever +accused _me_ of being good! I'll get a gold medal and hang it about +your neck, Miss Louisa, and I'll be your faithful servant from now on." + +"And you'll bring her fresh flowers every day, and maybe you could +borrow Mr. Livingston's buggy since you haven't one of your own. But +don't soar too high, Sydney, she doesn't know you yet!" returned his +cousin. + +"But _you_ like him," said Louisa, "and daat iss--vat you calls +'em--_recommend_ enough!" + +They were all surprised by this first flash of the real Louisa, the +Louisa of sunshine and mirth, whom Sorrow had so soon branded. + +It was the first time Sydney had heard her utter anything but the +briefest monosyllables. He looked at her, astonished. For an instant +silence reigned, then Hope, with sudden abandonment, threw her arms +about her, exclaiming: + +"Oh, you're the dearest thing I ever saw! Isn't she, Syd?" And then, as +if ashamed of her impulsiveness, she jumped up and laughingly left the +tent. A few moments later she put her head inside, remarking: "The +trout haven't begun to feed yet. I'd like to know how we are going to +put in the time waiting for them! It's too hot for anything in there, +and it won't be a bit of use to try to fish for an hour, at least. All +of you come outside." + +"Yes," said Carter, rising lazily to his feet. "I've discovered a small +Eden down there under the willows, along the creek. All green and mossy +and pepperminty, but the snake's never showed up yet. Come on, we'll all +go down there." + +He led the way along the steep bank of the small creek and down its +opposite side until a parting in the willow brush revealed one of +Nature's hidden glories, a small glen, shady and beautiful. From its +very center sprang a tiny spring, forming a clear, glassy pool of water +which narrowed into a tiny trickling rill that went creeping through the +grass-carpeted arbor to the larger stream beyond. + +It was beautifully inviting, and Hope sank down upon a mossy cushion +with an exclamation of delight. + +"Now, how am I for an entertainer?" asked Sydney gayly. Hope turned her +dark eyes upon him, then about the little arbor. + +"Wait," she said softly, "don't talk for a minute--don't even breathe. +This is glorious!" Then after a brief pause, continued: "There, the +spell's passed! This place is no longer enchanting, but lovely and cool, +just the same, and is a whole lot better than that roasting tent up +there. What became of the twins? Probably they are more attracted by +William's mode of entertainment than yours, Syd!" She turned to +Livingston and smiled. "William has two regular customers already, you +know. I am afraid to think what will happen if he camps here all +summer." + +"I am inclined to add my name to the list if he entertains such charming +ones every day," replied the sheep-man. + +"I meant the _boys_," said Hope in all seriousness. + +Sydney laughed outright. + +"How do you know but what he meant the boys, too?" he asked. She looked +at him with an assumption of surprise. "A girl never makes such a +mistake as that," she said. "It was a very pretty compliment." + +"Worthy of O'Hara," he put in. + +"Worthy of Mr. Livingston," she declared. "O'Hara's compliments are not +so delicate. They are beautifully worded, but unconvincing." + +"I believe she's actually giving you credit for extreme honesty!" +exclaimed Carter. + +"I sincerely trust so," replied his friend heartily. "It would be a most +pleasing compliment." + +"Well, I should say it would be the biggest one _she_ ever paid anyone! +You're the first one Hope ever credited with honesty. You can sit for an +hour and tell her a great long story and she'll never give you the +satisfaction of knowing for sure whether she believes you or not. The +chances are she don't. She'll take your assertions, weigh every word, +and then draw her own conclusions." + +"You only know from your own experience," demurred Hope. "All people +haven't your habit of departing from the truth, you know." Then to +Livingston: "Really, he can tell a terrible whopper with the straightest +face imaginable! He only proves to you how well I know him. Last summer +he told a girl a ridiculous story about snakes. It was her first visit +at the ranch, and for several days I thought something was the matter +with her brain. Every time she heard a grasshopper buzz anywhere near +she would give a shriek and turn deathly pale. She finally told me that +she feared rattlesnakes because Sydney had told her that that particular +buzz was the snake's death rattle and that something or somebody was +doomed for sure, that if the snake couldn't get the human victim it had +set its eyes upon, it crept into a prairie-dog hole and got one of them. +Of course that is only a sample of his very foolish yarns, which no one +but an ignorant person would think of believing." + +"I remember," laughed Sydney. "That was that fair Lily Cresmond. She got +up and had breakfast with me at six o'clock this morning. Poor girl! +I'm afraid I've put my foot in it this time!" + +"For goodness' sake, did she propose to you?" asked Hope, aghast. + +"Not that I'm aware of!" answered Sydney. "No, it's worse than that. She +asked me to tell her really and truly why _you_ weren't at home this +summer. She crossed her heart, hoped to die she'd never breathe a word +of it to a living, human creature, so I told her that it pained me to +tell the sad story, but last season Freddie Rosehill had shown you such +evident admiration that your father had become thoroughly alarmed and +thought it best to keep you out of his way for the present. But I +suggested that you might face paternal wrath and come back just for one +look at the dear little boy." + +"Sydney, you never did!" gasped Hope. "_How could you?_" + +"Freddie came trotting out for his morning constitutional just as I was +riding away," he continued, "and he waved his cane in the air and +actually _ran_ down to the corral to say good-by. I really believe he +liked me for once because I was leaving, and he very gingerly asked +about you, and naturally was visibly relieved when I assured him that +you would probably not be home while he was there. Talk about your +joshers!" he said to Livingston. "Hope had the little Englishman so he +didn't know his soul was his own! She'd take him out on the prairie and +lose him, have him pop away for an hour at a stuffed chicken tied to the +top of a tree, shoot bullets through his hat by mistake, and about a +million other things too blood-curdling to mention. He didn't want to +refuse my aunt's invitation to join the party at the ranch every summer, +but his days and nights were spent in mortal terror of this dignified +daughter of the house. And I must say there wasn't much love lost +between them." + +"A brainless little fop!" commented Hope. + +"Well, it seems he had sense enough to catch that oldest Cresmond girl, +Lily, whose ears I filled with the pathetic story; but I didn't know it +then, that's the fun of it! He held out his fat little hand to me when +I started out this morning and said: 'I want your congratulations. Lily +has promised to be my Lady.' 'You don't say so,' I said. 'Lord, but what +a haul you've made, Rosehill!' 'Yes,' said he, 'she's a beauty!' 'And a +million or so from her papa'll set you up in housekeeping in great shape +over in Old England. I certainly congratulate you!' said I. He didn't +seem to have anything more to say, so I rode off, and do you know I +never once thought of what I'd told that girl about him liking you until +I was halfway here." + +"Oh, Syd, what have you done!" cried Hope. "You ought to go right back +to the ranch and fix it up for them. It might be real serious!" + +"Don't worry; they'll fix it up between them, just give 'em time," +laughed Sydney. "But then I shouldn't like to be the cause of breaking +up such a match. I sure wouldn't!" + +"I should say not! It would be terrible!" agreed Hope. + +"No, I wouldn't like it on my conscience," continued Sydney, "to break +up such a good match by my thoughtless words. It would be too bad to +spoil two families!" + +"I quite agree with you, excepting the lady, whom I do not know," +remarked Livingston. "But I have met Rosehill. He is, in my estimation, +a worthless specimen of English aristocracy." + +"Oh, they're mostly all alike, a mighty poor outfit all through, from +the ones I've known! But I guess they'll manage to fix it up among +themselves," laughed Hope. + +At this remark Livingston looked oddly at the girl, then the brush +crackled near them, followed by the appearance of one of the twins, who, +smiling victoriously, held up for inspection a small string of trout. + +"And here we've been wasting our time when we might have been fishing +instead!" exclaimed Hope, springing up from her mossy couch and minutely +examining the string of fish. + +"You'll find fishing tackle, all you want, up at camp. William'll show +you," remarked Sydney. "For my part I shall stay here and gather +strawberry leaves for Miss Louisa to make into wreaths. Isn't this one a +daisy? It's too warm to fish, anyway," he concluded. + +"You shall not decide for her, Syd," declared Hope. "Which would you +rather do, Louisa?" + +The German girl shook her head, smiling a little. "It is very warm," she +said. + +"Then you shall stay with Sydney," decided Hope. "But I am only going to +fish a little while, anyway, because I've got something else I want to +do." She looked up at Livingston, who had come near her, and laughed. +"Yes, you may go with me if you will show me how to cast a fly. Sydney +says you are an expert fisherman, but I don't know the first thing about +it. We will walk up the creek and fish down, because the boys are +fishing down here." She called to the boy, who was walking toward the +stream: "I'll be ready to go home in about an hour, wait for me!" He +nodded in reply. "Come on," she said to Livingston. + +They had fished in silence some minutes, far up the stream at an open +point where several other smaller streams joined this, forming a broad +group of tiny, gravelly islands. + +"I do think," said the girl finally, "that this is great sport, though I +cannot haul them out like you do. Now it must be luck--nothing more, for +we both have exactly the same kind of flies." + +"You leave your fly too long in the water," said the man. "You should +cast more--like this." + +"But I can't for the life of me get the hang of it," she exclaimed, +making a desperate attempt. + +"Not like that," said Livingston. "Look, this is the way. There, you've +caught yourself!" + +"Yes, how foolish," laughed the girl. "It's in there to stay, too!" + +"Wait, I will assist you," he said, leaping across the stream which +separated them, and coming to her side. + +"I think I can get it out all right," she said, throwing down her pole, +and using on the entangled hook more force than discretion. She laughed +in a half-vexed manner at her attempts, while Livingston stood near +watching, his eyes earnest, intent, his face illumed by a soft, boyish +smile of quiet enjoyment. + +"If I had another hook I'd cut this off and leave it in there," she +said, "but the fishing is too fine to leave now. No, wait a minute," +motioning him back with the disengaged hand while she tugged vigorously +at the hook with the other. "I can do it. If only the material in this +waist wasn't so strong, I might tear it out. How perfectly idiotic of me +to do such a thing, anyway!" Her cheeks were aflame with the exertion. +"You see," she continued, still twisting her neck and looking down +sideways at the shoulder of her gown where the hook was imbedded, "I +don't want to break it because we'd have to go way back to the camp and +start in over, and then it would be too late in the day. I don't see +what possessed that fish to get away with my other hook! But this goods +simply won't tear!" + +"There's no other way," declared Livingston, with conviction. "You will +have to let me help you. I'll cut it out. See," he scrutinized the hook +very closely, while Hope threw down her arms in despair, "it's only held +by a few threads. If you don't mind doing a little mending, I will +perform the operation in a moment to your entire satisfaction." + +"Well, hurry, please, because we are certainly wasting good time and +lots of fish." + +"If all time were but wasted like this," he exclaimed softly, prolonging +the task. + +She knew that he was taking undue advantage of the situation and that +she was strangely glad of it, recklessly glad, in her own fashion. She +had never looked at him so closely before. In this position he could not +see her. She noticed his broad, white forehead, and felt a strong desire +to touch the hair that dropped over it, then admonished herself for +feeling glad at his slowness. + +From the hillside above them a man on a piebald horse watched the scene +interestedly. Without warning the girl's eyes lifted suddenly from the +soft, brown hair so near, and met those of the rider above. +Livingston's head was bent close to her own, so that he did not see the +leering, grinning face that peered down at them, but Hope caught the +look direct, and all, and more, than it seemed to imply. Her eyes +glittered with anger. Like a flash her hand sought her blouse and for an +instant the bright sunlight gleamed upon a small weapon. As quickly the +man wheeled his horse and disappeared behind the hill. With a deep flush +the girl hid the little revolver as Livingston, ignorant of the scene, +triumphantly held up for inspection the rescued fishhook. + +"Making love, by the holy smoke," chuckled Shorty Smith to himself, +spurring up his piebald horse and heading off a stray calf. "So that's +what she does 'longside o' teachin' kids!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Upon the highest ridge between the camp and old Peter's basin Hope and +the twins met Ned riding slowly along, his sturdy little legs drawn up +into the straps of a man's saddle. He had an old, discarded felt hat of +his father's, several sizes too large for him, pulled down until his +ears laid flat along the brim. From under its wide, dingy expanse his +sharp, little black eyes peered out inquisitively. In imitation of a +certain French breed whom he greatly admired, a large red handkerchief +was knotted about his waist. + +He made a picturesque little figure in the bright sunlight as he rode +leisurely toward them. + +"Where've you all been?" he called at the top of his boyish treble. "You +boys're goin' to catch it if you don't bring in those cows before +dark!" + +"Who told you?" roared Dave. + +"The old man told me to come an' look you fellers up. Where've you +been?" inquired the child, riding up alongside and swinging his horse +into pace with the others. + +"Now you want to find out something," said Dan complacently. + +"I don't _care_ where you've been," said the child indignantly, "but +you'd better be roundin' in them cows or you'll catch it!" + +Hope rode up beside him. "I'm sorry you weren't home when we left. We've +been over at my cousin's camp. The next time you shall go along." + +"Let's go to-morrow," suggested the boy eagerly, to which amusing +proposition she immediately agreed. "Say," he continued, "I seen Long +Bill and some o' them fellers drive in a bunch of mavericks off'n the +range, an' they're goin' to brand 'em back of old Peter's this evenin'. +There was a cow with an O Bar brand on her, followed 'em all the way +down, bellerin' an' makin' a big fuss, an' they can't get rid of her. +They give me a half a dollar to drive her back, but she turned so quick +I couldn't do nothin' with her, so I thought I'd just let 'em take care +of her themselves." + +"Are you sure about that brand?" asked Hope quickly. + +"Sure as anything," replied the boy. "Why?" + +"I think you must be mistaken," she told him. "For it would be very +queer if one of my father's cows should be following a stray maverick up +to old Peter's place." + +"I'll tell you something," whispered the boy, leaning toward her. "They +wasn't yearlings at all, they was bringin' in, only big calves." + +Her face darkened savagely. "Come," she exclaimed, "I'm going to see for +myself!" + +"Tattle-tale!" cried the sweet-voiced twin. "Now you'll get us into a +scrape for tellin'. I'll lick you for this!" + +The girl turned her horse sharply about, stopped it short, facing them +fiercely. + +"You coward!" she exclaimed. "That child didn't know what he was +telling! He's honest. If either of you touch him, or say one unkind word +to him about this, I'll make you smart for it!" + +"I didn't mean nothin'," declared the soft-voiced twin suavely. + +"Well, I guess you didn't if you know what's good for you!" she +exclaimed, still angry. "Now what are you going to do about it, go home +like babies, or stand by me and do what I tell you?" + +"You bet I'll stand by you!" roared Dave. + +"I reckon you're our captain, ain't you?" said the other sweetly. + +"I'm a scout, I am!" exclaimed the boy, Ned, riding close beside her. + +She mused for a moment with darkening eyes, putting her elbow upon the +saddle's horn and resting her chin in the hollow of her hand. + +"It's all right," she said at length deliberately. "Ned will show you +where the cow is, and you boys drive it up to old Peter's corral just as +quickly as you can ride. Don't let anyone see you. When you have done +that, go up to the school-house and wait there for me. Now hurry, and +don't let anyone see you drive in that cow. Go around this other side of +old Peter's." + +She motioned her hand for them to go, and waited until they were out of +sight, then rode on to the school coulee which led into old Peter's +basin. It was a long, roundabout way, but her horse covered the ground +rapidly. + +From the hill behind the school-house she saw Livingston driving back to +his ranch. She stood out in full relief against the green hillside, and +if he had glanced in that direction must surely have seen her. From that +distance she could not tell if he had done so or not. She wondered what +he would think if he saw her there alone. Then to get sooner out of +sight she ran her horse at full speed up the school coulee toward old +Peter's basin. + +Livingston saw her quite plainly; from that distance there was no +mistaking her. Then he proceeded to do a very unwise thing. He put his +horses to their full speed, reached his stables in a few moments, threw +his saddle on his best horse and set out in the direction the girl had +taken. + +Hope made her way quickly up to the top of the divide, then skirmished +from brush patch to brush patch, keeping well out of sight until she +reached the brush-covered entrance of Peter's basin. There she had a +plain view of the small cabin, the rude stable, and corral, without +herself being observed by the occupants of the place, and there she +settled herself to wait the appearance of the cow, whose queer actions +had been reviewed to her. + +It was difficult to believe that she was actually in the midst of cattle +thieves, though the suspicion had more than once crossed her mind. + +She held that class of men in the utmost loathing, and felt herself to +be, now, in the actual discovery of the crime, a righteous instrument in +the arm of justice. + +The unmistakable figure of Long Bill loafed serenely in the doorway; old +Peter hobbled about, in and out of the house, while back near the corral +a man was carrying an armful of wood. This man the girl watched with +particular interest. He took the sticks to one side of the corral, and +getting down upon his knees proceeded to arrange them on the ground in +methodical order, into the shape of a small pyramid. That done to his +satisfaction, he lounged back to the cabin and took a seat beside Long +Bill in the doorway. + +Presently all three men went back to the corral, and looked over the +rails at several small creatures which were running about the enclosure. + +"Them ain't bad-lookin' fellers," Long Bill was saying. + +Hope, from her position in the brush, tried to imagine what they were +talking about, for the distance was too great to carry the sound of +their voices. + +"I reckon we might as well git 'em branded an' have it over with," +suggested Shorty Smith, the third man of the party. + +"I reckon we might as well," replied Long Bill. Old Peter shook his head +doubtfully. + +"Go ahead," he grunted. "But remember I don't know nothin' about these +here calves! You're just usin' my corral here to-day, an' the devil keep +your skins if you git caught!" + +"Oh, I don't know!" drawled Shorty Smith. + +"Well, I know!" roared the old man. "If you can't take my advice an' put +this here thing off till after dark you kin take the consequences. +Anybody's likely to ride along here, an' I'd like to know what kind of a +yarn you'd have to tell!" + +"Now you know them calves 're yourn," drawled Shorty Smith, in an +aggravating tone, as he climbed up and seated himself on the top pole of +the corral. "You know them 're yourn, every blame one, an' their mothers +'re back in the hills there!" + +"Your cows all had twins, so you picked out these here ones to wean 'em, +if anybody should ask," said Long Bill, continuing the sport. + +The old man uttered a string of oaths. + +"Not much you don't pan 'em off onto me!" he exclaimed. "My cows ain't +havin' twins this year!" + +"Some of Harris' has got triplets," mused Shorty Smith, at which Long +Bill laughed, exclaiming: + +"Been lary ever since them stock-inspectors was up here last fall, ain't +you? Before that some o' your cows had a half a dozen calves. I should +'a' thought you had more grit'n that, Peter!" + +The old man cursed some more. Shorty Smith jumped down from his high +perch and fetched a long, slender rod of iron from between two logs of +the cow-shed. + +"Might as well git down to business," he said as he threw the branding +iron on the ground beside the symmetrical pyramid of fire-wood, which he +proceeded to ignite. + +"Let up, old man," growled Long Bill, "I'll take the blame o' the whole +concern an' you ken rake in your share in the fall without any +interference whatsomever." + +"Don't git scared, Peter, you ain't got long to live on this here +planet, nohow, so you can finish your days in peace. If there's any time +to be served we'll do it for you," drawled Shorty. + +"That's what I call a mighty generous proposition," remarked Long Bill, +as he coiled up his rope. "We'll just git the orniments on these +innocent creatures an' shut 'em up in the shed fer a spell." + +"Yes, yes! Git the job over with if you ain't goin' to wait till after +sundown," exclaimed old Peter nervously. + +They set to work at once, roping, throwing, and putting a running brand +on the frightened calves. As each one was finished to the satisfaction +of the operator it was put into the cow-shed nearby--a rude sort of +stable, where it was turned loose and the door securely fastened on the +outside with a large wooden peg. + +They had been working industriously for perhaps half an hour when old +Peter glanced up from the calf upon which he was sitting and encountered +Hope Hathaway's quiet eyes watching them interestedly. She stood beside +the cow-shed but a few feet away, and held her horse by the bridle. + +"Good God!" screamed the old man, nearly losing his balance. "Where did +you come from?" + +The other men, whose backs were toward her, glanced about quickly, then +proceeded in well assumed unconcern with the work upon which they were +engaged. + +"I hope I'm not intruding," said the girl. + +"Not at all," replied Shorty Smith politely. "It ain't often we're +favored by the company of wimmen folks." + +"Those are fine-looking calves you've got there," observed the girl. + +"Pretty fair," replied Shorty Smith, assisting the animal to its feet. + +The visitor stepped to one side while he dragged it into the shed and +closed the door, fastening it with the peg. Then Long Bill proceeded to +throw another victim with as much coolness as though Hope had not been +there with her quiet eyes taking in every detail. + +Old Peter had not uttered a word since his first involuntary +exclamation, and though visibly agitated, proceeded in a mechanical +manner to assist with the branding, but he kept his head down and his +eyes obstinately averted from the girl's. + +Nearly a dozen had been branded, and only one, besides the last victim +already thrown to the ground, remained in the corral. + +Hope's whole attention was apparently taken up with the branding, which +she watched with great interest. Old Peter gradually regained his +equilibrium, while Long Bill and Shorty Smith had begun to congratulate +themselves that their spectator was most innocent and harmless. Yet as +Hope moved quietly back to her position beside the rude stable building +she not only observed the three men intent upon the branding, but noted +the approach of a large cow which had appeared from the right-hand +coulee about the time she left her hiding-place in the brush. + +If the men had not been so busy they would undoubtedly have seen this +particular cow coming on steadily toward the corral, now but a rod +distant. They would have noticed, too, the girl's hand leave her side +like a flash and remove the large, smooth peg from where Shorty Smith +had hastily inserted it in the building. They would have seen the stable +door open slowly by its own weight, and then the peg quickly replaced. +What they did notice was that Miss Hathaway came very near to them, so +close that she leaned over old Peter's shoulders to observe the smoking, +steaming operation. + +For a moment she stood there quietly, then all at once exclaimed in some +surprise: + +"Why, your calves are all out!" Instantly the greatest consternation +reigned, then old Peter hobbled to his feet with an oath. + +"Every blamed one," said Shorty Smith. "How 'n blazes did that happen?" + +"I reckon you didn't put that peg in right," drawled Long Bill. + +"Look!" screamed old Peter, pointing at the large cow that had come +nearer and had picked out from the assortment of calves one of which it +claimed absolute possession. It was at this unfortunate moment that +Livingston, quite unobserved, rode into Peter's basin. + +"I'll help you drive them in," volunteered Hope, instantly mounting her +horse and riding into their midst. Then a queer thing followed. Old +Peter, with a cat-like motion, sprang toward her and covered her with a +six-shooter. + +"Git off'n my place, you she-devil!" he cried, his face livid with rage +and fear. + +"Good God, don't shoot, you fool!" cried Shorty Smith, while Long Bill +made a stride toward the frenzied old man. + +Livingston's heart stood still. He was some distance away and, as usual, +unarmed. For an instant he stopped short, paralyzed by the sight. Then +the girl wheeled her horse suddenly about as if to obey the command. As +she did so a report rang out and old Peter, with the flesh ripped from +wrist to elbow, rolled over in a convulsed heap. It was all so sudden +that it seemed unreal. Hope sat on her quivering horse, motionless, +serene, holding in her hand a smoking revolver. + +Long Bill and his companion stood like statues, dumfounded for the +instant, but Livingston, with a bound, was at the girl's side, his face +white, his whole being shaken. + +"Thank God!" he cried in great tenderness. "You are all right!" + +"What made you come here?" she exclaimed in sudden nervousness, which +sounded more like impatience. + +Then their eyes met. Her own softened, then dropped, until they rested +upon the gun in her hand. A flush rose to her face and her heart beat +strangely, for in his eyes she had seen the undisguised love of a great, +true soul. For an instant she was filled with the wild intoxication of +it, then the present situation, which might now involve him, returned to +her with all its seriousness. The danger must be averted at once, she +decided, before he learned the actual truth. + +"Poor old man!" she exclaimed. Then turned to Long Bill and his +companion. "I'm awfully sorry I had to hurt him, but he actually made me +nervous! I had an idea he was crazy, but I never believed he was +perfectly mad. He ought to be watched constantly and all dangerous +weapons kept away from him. Didn't you know he was dangerous?" + +Shorty Smith suddenly rose to meet the situation. + +"I knowed he was crazy," he said, "but I didn't know he was as plumb +locoed as that." + +"Well, he's out of business for awhile," remarked the girl. "You boys +better bandage up his arm and carry him into the house. I'll send over +old Mother White Blanket when I get back. I guess you can get in the +calves by yourselves all right, for really I feel very shaken and I +think I'll go right home. You'll go with me, won't you, Mr. Livingston. +But the poor old crazy man! You boys will take good care of him, won't +you--and let me know if I can be of any assistance." + +"Well, what do yo' think?" asked Shorty Smith, as Hope and her companion +disappeared from the basin. + +"What'd I think?" exclaimed Long Bill. "I think we've been pretty badly +_done_!" + +"Oh, I don't know," drawled Shorty Smith, "I reckon she ain't goin' to +say nothin' about _me_!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +"I'll tell you what I'd do 'bout it, if I was you," said Shorty Smith to +the twins, several days later, as he handed back a folded sheet of +paper. "I'd git your teacher to read that there letter. There's +something in it she ought to know 'bout. Better not tell her first where +you got it. Let on you don't know where it come from. There's somethin' +there she'll like to hear 'bout, that you kids ain't old enough to +understand." + +"Oh, is that so!" interposed Dan. + +"I ain't a-goin' to tell you nothin' about it, but like enough she will, +an'll thank you fer givin' it to her," said Shorty. + +"If that writin' wasn't so funny I'd make it out myself," replied the +soft-voiced twin, "fer I think you're jobbin' us, Shorty." + +"No, I ain't," he replied. "An' I'll back up my friendship fer you by +givin' you this!" He took from his pocket a silver dollar and handed it +to the boy, who pocketed it, and, followed by his brother, walked away +without another word. + +Shorty Smith also walked away, in the opposite direction, without a +word, but he chuckled to himself, and his mood was exceedingly jubilant. + +"She done us all right, an' may play the devil yet, but I'll git in a +little work, er my name ain't Shorty Smith!" Such was the substance of +his thoughts during the next few days. + +That afternoon Hope stood in the doorway of the school-house, watching +her little brood of pupils straggling down the hill. + +Louisa, who came daily to be with her beloved friend, had started home +with the two eldest Harris girls, for Hope, in her capacity of teacher, +occasionally found work to detain her for a short time after the others +had gone. This teaching school was not exactly play, after all. + +The twins lingered behind, seemingly engaged in a quiet discussion. +Finally they came back to the door. + +"Here's somethin' for you to read," said the soft-voiced boy, handing +her a folded paper, while Dave leaned against the building with an ugly +scowl on his face. + +"To read," asked Hope, turning it over in her hand. "Who wrote it, and +where did you get it?" She stepped out of the doorway onto the green +grass beside them. + +"Read it," said the breed boy. "It's somethin' you ought to know." + +"Something I ought to know? But who wrote it?" insisted the girl. + +"A woman, I reckon," replied the boy. "You just read it, an' then you'll +know all about it." + +Hope laughed, and slowly opened the much soiled, creased missive. "Why +didn't you tell me at once that it was for me?" she asked. + +The writing was in a bold, feminine back-hand, and held her attention +for a moment. The thought occurred to her that Clarice might have +written from the ranch, but there was something unfamiliar about it. +She looked first at the signature. "Your repentant Helene," it was +signed. Helene,--who was Helene, she wondered; then turned the paper +over. "My darling Boy," it started. In her surprise she said the words +aloud. + +"Why, that's not for me! Where did you boys get this letter? Now tell +me!" She was very much provoked with them. + +The soft-voiced twin smiled. + +"I thought you'd like to know what was in it," he remarked, in evident +earnestness. + +"That doesn't answer my question," she said with some impatience. +"_Where_ did you get it?" + +"We found it," replied Dave gruffly, still scowling. + +"And you boys bring a letter to _me_ that was intended for someone else, +and _expect_ me to _read_ it!" She folded it up and handed it back to +the boy. "Go and give that to whom it belongs, and remember it's very +wrong to read another person's letter. Tell me where you got it. I +insist upon knowing." + +"Oh, we just found it up on the hill last night," replied the +soft-voiced twin evasively. + +"Why don't you tell her the whole shootin' match!" roared the blunt +Dave. "You're a dandy! We found it up in the spring coulee last night +near where Mr. Livingston's sheep're camped. He was up there before +dark, cuttin' 'em out. This here letter dropped out of his pocket when +he threw his coat on a rock up there, an' so Dan an' me an' Shorty Smith +came along an' picked it up." + +"Mr. Livingston's," said Hope, suddenly feeling oddly alarmed. "Not +_his_--you must be mistaken! Why, it began--it was too--_informal_--even +for a sister, and he has no sister, he told me so!" + +"It's for him all right, for here's the envelope." Dan took it from his +pocket and handed it to her. It left no room for doubt. It was directed +to him, and bore an English postmark. He had no sister. Then it must be +from his sweetheart--and he told her he had no sweetheart. A sudden pain +consumed her. + +"I reckon it's from his wife," said the soft-voiced twin. + +"He has no wife," said Hope quietly. + +"Oh, yes, he has! That's what they say," declared the boy. + +"They lie," she replied softly. "I _know_ he has no wife." + +"I'll bet you he left her in England," said the boy. "That's what the +men say." + +"Your repentant Helene," repeated the girl over and over to herself. + +Suddenly suspicion, jealousy, rage, entered her heart, setting her brain +on fire. She turned to the boy like a fury. "Give me that letter!" + +Frightened beyond speech by the storm in her black eyes, he handed it to +her and watched her as with a set face and strangely brilliant eyes she +began to read. Every word branded itself upon her heart indelibly. + + * * * * * + +MY DARLING BOY: Can it be that you actually refuse to allow me to come +there? Admitting I have wronged you in the past, can you not in your +greatness of heart find forgiveness for a weak woman--a pleading +woman---- + + * * * * * + +There at the foot of the first page the girl stopped, a sudden terror +coming over her. + +"_What have I done!_" she cried, crushing the letter in her hand. "_What +have I done!_" Hysterically she began tearing it into small pieces, +throwing them upon the ground. + +"Now we can't give it back to him," deplored the twin, recovering from +his fright. + +"What have I done?" repeated the girl again, softly. Then in an agony of +remorse she went down upon her knees in the cool grass and picked up +each tiny scrap of paper, putting it all back into the envelope. She +stood for a moment looking down the long green slope below, shamed, +disgusted--a world of misery showing in her dark eyes. "You're a mighty +fine specimen of womanhood!" she exclaimed aloud; then turning about +suddenly became aware that her small audience was watching her with some +interest. + +"You boys get on your ponies and go right straight home!" she exclaimed +in a burst of temper. "You're very bad, both of you, and I've a good +notion to punish you!" She went into the school-house and slammed the +door, while the twins lost no time in leaving the premises. Not far away +they met old Jim McCullen. + +"Where's your teacher?" he asked, stopping his horse in the road. + +"She's back there," said the soft-voiced twin, pointing toward the +school-house. "But you'd better stay away, for she's got blood in her +eye to-day!" + +"No wonder, you young devils!" laughed Jim, riding on. + +He knocked at the school-house door and, receiving no answer, walked in. + +"Oh, Jim!" exclaimed the girl, rising from the small table at the end of +the room. "I thought it was some of the children returning. I'm awfully +glad to see you! You've been gone an age. Come, sit down here in this +chair, I'm afraid those seats aren't large enough for you." + +"I'll just sit on this here recitation bench," replied Jim, "that's what +you call it, ain't it? I want to see how it feels to be in school again. +I reckon it'll hold me all right." + +He seated himself with some care, while the teacher sank back at her +table. + +"You don't seem very pert-lookin', Hopie," he continued, noticing her +more carefully. "What's the matter?" + +She looked down at her papers, then up at him with something of a smile. + +"I'm twenty years old," she replied, "and I don't know as much as I did +ten years ago." + +"You know too much," replied McCullen. "You know too much to be happy, +an' you think too much. You wasn't happy at home, so you come up here, +an' now your gittin' the same way here. You'll have to git married, +Hopie, an' settle down; there ain't no other way." + +"Mercy!" exclaimed the girl, "that would settle me sure enough! What a +horrible proposition to consider! Just look at my mother--beset with +nervousness and unrest; look at that poor Mrs. Cresmond and a dozen +others--perfect slaves to their husbands. Look at Clarice--she never +knew a moment's happiness until Henry Van Rensselaer died! Yes, I think +marriage _settles_ a girl all right! What terrible mismated failures on +every hand! It's simply appalling, Jim! I've never yet known one +perfectly happy couple, and how any girl who sees this condition about +her, everywhere, can dream her own ideal love dream, picture her ideal +man, and plan and believe in an ideal life, while she herself is +surrounded by such pitiful object-lessons, is a wonder!" + +"I ain't much of a philosopher," said old Jim, "but it's always been my +notion that most wimmen _don't_ see what's goin' on around 'em. They +think their own troubles is worse'n anybody's an' 're so taken up +whinin' over 'em that their view is somewhat obstructed. Take the +clear-headed person that _can_ see, an' they ain't a-goin' to run into +any matrimonial fire, no more'n I'm goin' to head my horse over a +cut-bank. They're goin' straight after the happiness they know exists, +an' they ain't goin' to make no mistake about it neither, if they've got +any judgment, whatever." + +"What made my mother marry my father?" asked the girl, lifting up her +head and facing old Jim squarely. "That's the worst specimen of +ill-assorted marriages I know of." + +Jim McCullen looked perplexed for an instant. + +"I don't think that was in the beginning," he replied thoughtfully, "but +your mother got to hankerin' after her city life, her balls an' theaters +an' the like o' that. After she got a fall from her horse an' couldn't +ride no more she didn't seem to take interest in anything at the ranch, +an' kept gettin' more nervous all the time. I reckon her health had +something to do with it, an' then she got weaned from the ranch, bein' +away so much. It wasn't her life any more." + +"And now even her visits there are torture to her," said Hope bitterly. +"She is drunk with the deadly wine of frivolous uselessness--society!" +Then sadly, "What a wealth of happiness she might have possessed had +she chosen wisely!" + +"But she was like a ship without a rudder; she didn't have no one to +guide her, an' now she thinks she's happy, I reckon," remarked McCullen, +adding, after a pause, "If she thinks at all!" + +"And poor Clarice was a baby when _she_ married," mused the girl. + +"And that Cresmond woman always was a blame fool," concluded Jim. "So +there's hope for you yet, don't you reckon there is? That reminds me, +here's a letter from O'Hara. There's a nice fellow for you, Hopie." + +"Yes, he's a good boy, Larry is," she remarked absently, taking the +letter he handed to her. + +"Why, he says he is coming over here to stay awhile with Sydney, and he +hopes I won't be----" She smiled a little and tucked the letter in her +belt. "That'll keep," she said. "Come on, I'm going over to camp with +you, Jim." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +"Your horse don't look very tired," remarked the girl as they rode +easily up the gulch toward Carter's camp. "When did you start?" + +"Left 'bout noon," replied McCullen. "No, he ain't tired; ain't even +warm, be you, old man? Just jogged along easy all the way an' took my +time. No great rush, anyhow. Cattle 're gittin' pretty well located up +here now--good feed, fresh water, an' everything to attract 'em to the +place. Never saw any stock look better'n that little bunch o' steers is +lookin'. Market's way up now, an' they ought to be shipped pretty soon." + +"Why _don't_ you ship them, then?" asked Hope, leaning forward to brush +a hornet from her horse's head. + +"Oh, you see," said the man lamely, "them cattle ain't in such all-fired +good fix but what they might be better, an' I reckon your cousin ain't +in any hurry to ship, nohow. Pretty good place to camp up here in +summer. Cool--my, but it was blasted hot down at the ranch this mornin', +an' the misquitoes like to eat me up! No misquitoes up here to bother, +good water, good fishin', good company,--an' who under the sun would +want to quit such a camp?" + +"I'm willing," said the girl, looking at him with fathomless eyes, "I'm +perfectly willing for him to camp here all summer. It's quite convenient +to have you all so near. Of course I'm getting used to the grub down +there--some, by this time. Don't think I do not appreciate your being +here, dear old Jim! But you know I understand, just the same, why you +are here! And I think," she added softly, "I couldn't have stood it if +he hadn't showed that he cared for me just so." + +"Cared!" exclaimed the old fellow. "Cared _for you_! Why, Hopie, your +father worships the ground you walk on! He's a great, good-hearted man, +the best in the world, and you mustn't have no hard feelin's agin' him +for any little weaknesses, because the good in him is more'n the good in +most men. There ain't no one that's perfect, but he's better'n most of +us, I reckon. An' he loves you, an' is so proud of you, Hopie!" + +"Oh, I know it, I know it!" exclaimed the girl passionately. + +"An' your mother's goin' East next month," concluded McCullen. "She's +very anxious to get away." + +"My poor father!" said Hope softly. Then more brightly: "I suppose +Sydney's out with the cattle." + +"Them cattle 're gettin' pretty well located," replied McCullen. "Don't +need much herdin'. No, I seen him there at Harris' as I come along. He +said he was goin' to take you an' that little flaxen-haired girl out +ridin', but concluded, as long as you was busy at the school-house, that +he'd just take the little one--providin' she'd go. He was arguin' the +question with her when I rode by, an' I reckon he's there talkin' to her +yet, er else givin' her a ridin' lesson. He'll make a good horsewoman +out o' her yet, if her heart ain't buried too deep up there under the +rocks." + +"Oh, Jim!" rebuked the girl. "It's _dreadful_ to talk like that, and her +poor heart is just _crushed_! It's pitiful!" + +"I reckon that's just what Sydney thinks about it," replied Jim, his +eyes twinkling. "You ain't goin' to blame him for bein' sympathetic, be +you, Hopie?" + +She laughed, but nervously. + +"Louisa's the sweetest thing I ever saw, Jim! She's promised to stay and +go back to the ranch with me in the fall when school is over. Isn't it +nice to have a sister like that? But goodness, she wouldn't look at +Syd--not in ten years!" + +She was so positive in this assertion that it left Jim without an +argument. She slowed down her horse to a walk, and he watched her take +O'Hara's letter from her belt and read the lengthy epistle from +beginning to end. Not a change of expression crossed the usual calm of +her face. But for a strange force of beauty and power, by which she +impressed all with whom she came in contact, her lack of expression +would have been a defect. This peculiar characteristic was an added +charm to her strange personality. She was rarely understood by her best +friends, who generally occupied themselves by wondering what she was +going to do next. + +It may be that old Jim McCullen, calmly contemplating her from his side +of the narrow trail, wondered too, but he had the advantage of most +people, for he knew that whatever she did do would be the nearest thing +to her hand. There was nothing variable or fitful about Hope. + +She folded her letter and tucked it back in her belt, her only comment +being, as she spurred her horse into a faster gait: "Larry says he is +coming over here one of these days." + +They rode past the camp and on to the flat beyond, where grazed Sydney's +two hundred head of steers. These they rode around, while Jim reviewed +the news of the ranch and round-up, in which the girl found some +interest, asking numerous questions about the recent shipment of cattle, +the tone of the market, the prospect for hay, the number of cattle +turned on the range, and many things pertaining to the work of the +ranch, but never a question concerning the idle New Yorkers who made up +her mother's annual house-party. In them she took, as usual, no +interest. + +She finally left her old friend and turned her horse's head back toward +Harris' still as much perturbed in heart as when McCullen knocked at her +school-house door. She tormented herself with unanswerable questions, +arriving always at the same conclusion--that after all it only seemed +reasonable to suppose Livingston should be married. It explained his +conduct toward her perfectly. She wondered what the woman, Helene, had +done to deserve such unforgiveness from one who, above all men, was the +most tender and thoughtful. She concluded that it must have been +something dreadful, and, oddly for her, began to feel sorry for him. She +saw him when she reached the top of the divide, riding half a mile away +toward his ranch buildings. Then a certain feeling of ownership, of +pride, took possession of her, crowding everything before it. How well +he sat his horse, in his English fashion, she thought. What a physique, +what grace of strength! Then he disappeared from her sight as his horse +plunged into the brush of the creek-bottom, and Hope, drawing a long +breath, spurred up her own horse until she was safely out of sight of +ranch and ranch-buildings. A bend in the road brought her face to face +with Long Bill and Shorty Smith. + +"Hello," said Shorty Smith, drawing rein beside her. "I was a lookin' +for you." + +"Really," said the girl, stopping beside him and calmly contemplating +both men. + +"Yep," nodded Long Bill politely, "we was huntin' fer you, Miss +Hathaway." + +"You see it's like this," explained Shorty Smith; "the old man, he ain't +a-doin' very well. I reckon it's his age. That there wound of his'n +won't heal, so we thought mebby you had some arnica salve er something +sort o' soothin' to dope him with." + +"I haven't the salve, but I might go over there myself if you want an +anodyne," replied Hope, unsmiling at the men's blank faces. + +"I'm goin' to ride to town to-morrow and I reckoned if you didn't have +no salve you could send in for it." + +"Oh, I see!" Hope's exclamation came involuntarily. "What do you want to +get for him and how much money do you want for it?" + +"Well, you see, he needs considerable. Ain't got nothin' comfortable +over there; nothin' to eat, wear--nothin' at all." + +"All right," replied the girl in her cool, even tone. "I'll see that he +is supplied with everything, but will attend to the matter myself. +Good-evening!" She rode past them rapidly, and they, outwitted in their +little scheme for whisky-money, rode on their way toward old Peter's +basin. + +Sydney's horse stood outside of Harris'. He left a group of men who were +waiting the call for supper, and came out in the road to meet the girl +when she rode up. + +"I have been waiting for you," he said. + +"And I have been over to camp and around the cattle with Jim," she +replied. + +"Then come on and ride back up the road with me a ways, I want to see +you," said Carter, picking up the bridle reins from the ground. + +"But Louisa----" she demurred. + +"Louisa's all right," he answered. "I've had her out for a ride, and now +she's gone in the house with that breed girl--Mary, I think she called +her. So you see she's in excellent hands." + +Hope turned her horse about and rode away with him silently. + +"I want to talk with you, anyway," he said, when they had gone a short +distance. "I haven't had a chance in a dog's age, you're always so +hemmed in lately." + +"Well, what is it?" she questioned. + +"There's some rumors going around that I don't exactly understand, Hope. +Have you been doing anything since you've been up here to raise a +commotion among these breeds?" + +She turned to him with a shrug of contempt. + +"You'll have to tell me what you're driving at before I can enlighten +you," she replied. + +"Wait a minute," he said, "I want to light a cigarette." This +accomplished, he continued: "I saw one of the boys from Bill Henry's +outfit yesterday and he told me that he was afraid you were getting +mixed up in some row up here." + +"_Who_ said so?" she demanded. + +"Well, it was Peterson. You know he'll say what he's got to say, if he +dies for it." He waited a moment. + +"If it was Peterson, go on. He's a friend, if he is a fool. What did he +have to say about me?" She flecked some dust from her skirt with the end +of her reins. + +Sydney watched her carefully. + +"He didn't say anything, exactly, about you," he replied. "That's what +I'm going to try to find out. He said there had been some kind of a +rumpus up here when you first came--that shooting at Livingston's +corral, you remember, and that it was rumored there had been some +sharp-shooting done, and you had been mixed up in it." + +"Who told Peterson?" demanded the girl. + +"Well, it seems that McCullen laid Long Bill out one evening over at +Bill Henry's wagon, for something or other, and this old squaw back +here, old Mother White Blanket, happened along in time to view the +fallen hero, who, it seems, is her son-in-law. She immediately fell into +a rage and denounced a certain school-ma'am as a deep-dyed villain." + +"Villainess," corrected Hope serenely. + +"Yes, I believe that was it," continued Sydney. "Anyway, she rated you +roundly and said you had been at the bottom of all the trouble, that you +had shot Long Bill through the hand, wounded several others, and +mentioned the herder who was killed." + +"She lied!" said the girl with sudden whiteness of face. "That was a +cold-blooded lie about the herder!" + +"I know that!" assured her cousin. "You don't suppose I ever thought +for a minute you were mixed up in it, Hopie, do you? I only wanted to +know how it happened that all these people are set against you." + +"Because they know I'm on to their deviltry," she replied savagely. "I'd +like to have that old squaw right here between my hands, _so_, and hear +her bones crackle. How dare they say _I_ shot Louisa's poor, poor +sweetheart! Oh, I could exterminate the whole tribe!" + +"But that wouldn't be lawful, Hopie," remarked Carter. + +She turned to him with a half smile, resting one hand confidingly upon +his arm. + +"Syd, dear, I don't care a bit about the whole concern, really, but +please don't mention it to anyone, will you?" + +"You mean not to tell Livingston," he smiled. + +"I mean not _anyone_. I shouldn't want my father to hear such talk. +Neither would you. What wouldn't he do!" + +"Of course not," he agreed. "You'd get special summons, immediately, if +not sooner. But there's something more I wanted to ask you about. How +was it you happened to shoot old Peter?" + +"How did you know?" she asked quickly. + +"Now I promised I wouldn't mention the matter," he replied. + +She studied for a moment. + +"There's only one way you could have heard it," she finally decided in +some anger. "That person had no right to tell you." + +"It was told with the best intentions, and for your own good, Hope, so +that I could look after you more carefully in the future." + +"Look after me!" she retorted. "Well, I guess he found out there was one +time I could look out for myself, didn't he?" + +"He seemed to think that more a miracle or an accident than anything +else, until I told him something about how quick you were with a gun. He +told me the old man was crazy, and had pulled his gun on you, but that +you had in some remarkable manner shot it out of his hand, shattering +the old fellow's arm. I assured him that I would see that the proper +authorities took care of old Peter, as soon as he had recovered +sufficiently. Now what'll we do with him, Hope?" She did not reply. Then +he continued: "I knew in a minute that you'd kept the real facts of the +case from Livingston. But you're not going to keep them from me." + +"Now that you know as much as you do, I suppose I've got to tell you or +you'll be getting yourself into trouble, too," she replied. Then +impulsively, "Sydney, they're a lot of cattle thieves!" + +"Why, of course! What did you expect?" he laughed. + +"And I actually _caught_ them in the very act of branding calves that +didn't belong to them!" + +The young man's face paled perceptibly. + +"You didn't do anything as reckless as that, Hope!" he cried in +consternation. "It's a wonder they didn't kill you outright in +self-protection! Didn't you know that you have to be blind to those +things unless you're backed up by some good men!" + +"You talk like a coward!" she exclaimed. + +"Not much! You know I'm not that," he replied. "But I talk sense. Now, +if they know that you have positive proof of this, you'd better watch +them!" + +"They all need watching up here. I believe they're all just the same. +And, Syd, I wanted to know the truth for myself, I wanted to _see_." +Then she reviewed to him just what had happened at old Peter's. + +"I'll have them locked up at once," said Carter decisively. "That's just +where they belong." + +"You won't do anything of the kind, Syd--not at present, anyway, for I +refuse to be witness against them." + +"You're foolish, then," he replied, "for they're liable to do +something." + +"If they're quicker than I am, all right," she replied fearlessly. "But +they are afraid of me now, and I've got them _just where I want them_." + +He tried to reason with her, but in vain. She was obstinate in her +refusal to have the men arrested, and though Sydney studied the matter +carefully, he could find no plausible excuse for this foolish decision. + +As Hope rode back once more toward Harris' the face of Shorty Smith, +insinuatingly leering, as she had seen it at the trout stream, came +again to torment her. She leaned forward in her saddle, covering her +face with her hands, and felt in her whole being the reason of her +decision. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +Larry O'Hara rode up to Sydney's camp late one afternoon, some two or +three weeks later, and finding the place deserted went in the cook-tent +and made himself at home. It had been a long, hot, dusty ride from +Hathaway's home-ranch. He had experienced some difficulty in finding the +place, and, having at length reached it, proceeded with his natural +adaptitude to settle himself for a prolonged stay. + +He was a great, handsome, prepossessing young fellow, overflowing with +high spirits and good-nature. Though a natural born American, he was +still a typical Irishman, retaining much of the brogue of his Irish +parents, which, being more of an attraction in him than otherwise, he +never took the trouble to overcome. All the girls were in love with +Larry O'Hara, and he, in his great generosity of heart, knew it, and +loved them in return. + +His affection for Hope Hathaway was something altogether different, and +dated two or three years back when he first saw her skimming across the +prairie on an apparently unmanageable horse. He proceeded to do the +gallant act of rescuing a lady. For miles he ran the old cow-pony that +had been assigned him, in hot pursuit, and when he had from sheer +exhaustion almost dropped to the ground she suddenly turned her horse +about and laughed in his face. It was an awkward situation. The +perspiration streamed from his forehead, his breath came in gasps. She +continued laughing. He mopped his face furiously, got control of his +breath, and exclaimed in deep emotion: + +"Sure and is ridicule all I get when I have followed you for ten miles +on this baist of a horse, to offer you a proposition of marriage?" + +Their friendship dated from that moment, and though Larry had renewed +his proposition of marriage every time he had seen her, yet there had +never been a break in their comradeship. + +He looked about the well-appointed camp with a sigh of contentment. This +was something like living, he thought. His enforced confinement at the +ranch had been slow torture to him. He missed the presence of Hope and +Sydney, for to him they were the very spirit of the place, and he was +filled with anxiety to get away from it and join them. + +After washing the dust from his face and hands he went through the +cook's mess-box, then, having nothing else to do, laid down for a nap on +one of the bunks in the second tent and was soon sleeping peacefully. + +He never knew just how long he slept, though he declared he had not +closed his eyes, when a whispered conversation outside the tent brought +him to his feet with a start. It was suspicious to say the least, and he +tore madly at his roll of belongings in search of his revolver, which he +found in his hip-pocket, after he had scattered his clothes from one end +of the tent to the other. + +It was not yet dark. The whispers came now from the opposite tent. +O'Hara's fighting blood was up. He gloried in the situation. Here was +his opportunity to hold up some thieving rascals. It was almost as good +as being a real desperado. It flashed upon him that they might be the +real article, but he would not turn coward. He would show them what one +man could do! + +He peered cautiously out of the tent. Two horses with rough-looking +saddles stood at the edge of the brush not far away. Larry O'Hara would +not be afraid of two men. + +He moved cautiously up to the front of the cook-tent, and throwing open +the flap called out in thundering tones: "Throw up your hands, ye +thieving scoundrels, or I'll have your loives!" + +A pair of arms shot up near him like a flash, while a choking sound came +from the farther side of the mess-box. Two startled, pie-be-grimed boys +gazed in amazement into the barrel of Larry's gun, which he suddenly +lowered, overcome with surprise as great as their own. + +"May heaven preserve us!" he cried. "I thought you were murdering +thieves! But if it's only supper you're after, I'll take a hand in it +meself!" + +The soft-voiced twin recovered first. + +"Say, where'd you come from? I thought that was the cook sleepin' in +there an' we wasn't goin' to disturb him to get our supper. What're +_you_ doin' 'round here, anyhow?" + +"I'm a special officer of the law, on the lookout for some dangerous +criminals," replied Larry. "But I see I've made a great mistake this +time. It's not kids I'm after! I'll just put this weapon back in my +pocket to show that I'm friendly inclined. And now let's have something +to eat. You boys must know the ins and outs of this place pretty well, +for I couldn't find pie here when I came, or anything that looked loike +pie. Where'd you make the raise?" + +The boys began to breathe easier, although an "officer of the law" was +something of which they stood in mortal terror. Yet this particular +"officer" seemed quite a jovial sort of a fellow, and they soon reached +the conclusion that he would be a good one to "stand in" with. The +soft-voiced twin sighed easily, and settled himself into a familiar +position at the table, remarking as he did so: + +"Oh, we're to home here! This camp belongs to a friend of ourn." He +pulled the pie toward him. "Here, Dave," he said to the other, who had +also recovered from his surprise, "throw me a knife from over there. I +reckon I ain't a-goin' to eat this here pie with my fingers! An' get out +some plates for him an' you. No use waitin' for the cook to come in an' +get our supper. Ain't no tellin' where he's gone." + +"You're a pretty cool kid," remarked O'Hara, helping himself to the pie. +"I'll take a piece of pie with you for company's sake, though I'm +inclined to wait for the cook of this establishment. A good, warm meal +is more to my liking. Where do you fellows live?" + +"Over here a ways," replied Dan cautiously. + +"Know of any bad men that wants arresting?" continued O'Hara. "I'm in +the business at present." + +"I reckon I do," replied the boy, lowering his voice to a soft, sweet +tone. "There's a mighty dangerous character I can put you onto if you'll +swear you'll never give me away." + +"I'll never breathe a word of it," declared O'Hara; "just point out your +man to me; I'll fix him for you!" + +"What'll you do to him?" asked Dan, in great earnestness. O'Hara +laughed. + +"I'll do just whativer you say," he replied. "What's his crime?" + +"Well, I'll tell you," said the boy deliberately, while Dave listened in +open-mouthed wonderment. "He's a bad character, a tough one! He gits +drunker'n a fool and thinks he runs the earth, an' he licks his children +if they happen to open their heads! I never seen him steal no horses, er +kill anyone, but he's a bad man, just the same, an' needs lockin' up for +'bout six months!" Dave, finally comprehending his twin, jumped up and +down, waving his arms wildly above his head. + +"You bet you! Lock him up, that's the checker! Lock the old man in jail, +an' we can do just as we want to!" he exclaimed. + +"But you know," said O'Hara impressively, his eyes twinkling with +suppressed merriment, "it's like this. There's a law that says if a +man--a _family_ man--be sent to jail for anything less than cold-blooded +murder, his intire family must go with him to look after him. Didn't you +ever hear of that new law? Now that would be a bad thing for his boys, +poor things! It would be worse than the beating they get. But you just +give Larry O'Hara the tip, and the whole family'll get sent up!" + +"Not much you don't!" roared Dave to his twin, who for the instant +seemed dumfounded by this piece of news from the "officer of the law." + +"I reckon," said the soft-voiced schemer after a quiet pause, "his boys +'ud rather take the lickin's than get sent up, so you might as well let +him alone. You're sure there ain't no mistake 'bout that? Don't seem +like that's quite right." + +"Sure!" replied Larry, enjoying the situation to its full extent. + +"Well, I ain't," decided the boy finally. "I'm goin' to ask the teacher. +Mebby you're loadin' us. You bet she'll know!" + +Larry O'Hara became suddenly awake to a new interest. "Where is +she--your teacher?" he inquired. + +"I dunno," answered the boy. "Mebby home." + +At this juncture the flap of the tent was pushed open and in bustled the +little English cook. + +All three of the occupants started guiltily, while William looked from +his visitors to the remnants of pie upon the table with some +astonishment. + +"Well, Hi'll be blowed!" he ejaculated. Then noticing that O'Hara was +not an ordinary specimen of Westerner, he changed his expression and +began wagging his head, offering excuses for his tardiness. + +"I had orders to get a warm bite at eight o'clock, so I went out 'untin' +a bit on my own account. Did you come far, sir?" + +"All the way from Hathaway's ranch," replied Larry. "And the way I took, +it couldn't have been a rod less than a hundred moiles. Sure, every bone +in me body is complaining!" + +"Too bad, that," condoled William. "Hit's no easy road to find. I missed +hit once, myself. I think I seen you about the ranch, didn't I? What's +yer name?" + +"I'm O'Hara," he replied. "If you haven't seen me, you've heard about +me, which amounts to the same thing. I'm glad to see you, my good man, +for I began to suspect that everyone had deserted camp. I was just going +to question these young natives here, as to the whereabouts of the +owners of this ranch, when you came in." + +The twins were sidling toward the front of the tent with a view to hasty +retreat when the cook fixed his sharp little eyes upon them. + +"Ain't I good enough to yous but you must come an' clean out all my +pastry when my back is turned? Hi'll overlook hit this time, if you get +out an' chop me some wood. 'Urry up now an' get to work! for they'll all +be along directly!" The boys made their escape from the tent, while the +cook continued: "They all went out 'untin' after some antelope, way up +there on the big mountain. They'll be in after a bit for a bite to heat, +so if you'll excuse me, Hi'll start things goin'." + +The little cook put on his apron and hustled about, while O'Hara went +out and watched the boys break up some sticks of wood which they brought +from the nearby brush. + +"Here, give me the job," the young man finally remarked. "It belongs to +me by rights for keeping you talking so long. If it hadn't been for me +you'd got away without being seen. Here, hand over your ax, and get +along home with you!" + +"Say, you're all right, if you do belong to the law," said Dave, gladly +giving up the ax. They speedily made their escape, and none too soon, +for as they disappeared a group of riders came in sight on the opposite +side of the brush and soon surrounded the wood-chopper with hearty words +of welcome. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +"My dear boy, I'm glad to see you!" called Sydney. + +"Larry O'Hara chopping wood! Impossible!" declared Hope, as Carter rode +on past her. "It's an illusion--a vanishing vision. Our eyes deceive +us!" + +"But it is a young man there," said Louisa. "A big one like Mr. +Livingston, not so slim like Sydney--your cousin." + +"True enough," laughed Hope. "But it is the occupation--the ax, Louisa, +dear. I never knew Larry to do a stroke of work!" + +"Ach, but he is handsome!" whispered Louisa. + +"Don't let him know you think so," returned Hope. "He's spoiled badly +enough now." She turned to the man who rode on her opposite side. "He's +from the ranch--one of the guests from New York. He's the _dearest_ +character!" After which exclamation she rode ahead and greeted the +newcomer. + +"It never rains but it pours," said O'Hara, as he entered the tent with +Hope and Louisa, while Sydney and Livingston remained to take care of +the horses. "I thought awhile ago that I was stranded in a wilderness, +and here I am surrounded by beautiful ladies and foine gentlemen!" + +"Right in your natural element," commented Hope. "That's why I couldn't +believe my eyes when I saw you out there alone with the ax--Larry O'Hara +chopping fire-wood!" + +"Now, what's there funny about that?" asked Larry. + +"I can't explain just now," laughed the girl. "But tell me, did you have +any trouble getting over here? Jim started for the ranch this afternoon. +Didn't you meet him on the road?" + +"Not one living soul," replied Larry. "For I took a road nobody ever +traveled before." + +"And got lost," said Hope. + +"Yes, about four hundred toimes!" + +"And yet you live to tell the tale! I'm awfully glad to see you, Larry! +Let's have a light in here, William, it's getting dark," she said. + +The cook hustled about, and soon two lanterns, suspended from each end +of the ridge pole, flooded the tent with light. + +"Now I can see you," exclaimed O'Hara to Hope, who had taken a seat upon +a box beside Louisa. "You're looking foine! The mountains must agree +with you--and your friend also," he added. + +"Louisa is always fine! Are you not?" asked Hope. + +Louisa laughed in her quiet little way. "The young man is very polite!" + +Sydney opened the flap of the tent and looked in, then turned back again +for an instant. + +"That'll be all right there, Livingston. There won't a thing touch it up +that tree! Come along in and get some chuck!" + +"All right!" came the reply from the edge of the brush. Then Carter came +inside and drew up a seat beside the two girls. + +"What's that you said, Miss Louisa?" he asked. "I didn't quite catch it. +You surely weren't accusing Larry of _politeness_!" + +The girl bit her little white teeth into the red of her lower lip. Her +cheeks flushed and the dimples came and went in the delicate coloring. + +"Was it wrong to say?" she asked hesitatingly. + +"Not if it was true," he replied. "It's never wrong to tell the truth, +even in Montana." + +"Oh, Syd, don't plague her! Larry included her in a little flattery--a +compliment; and she merely remarked upon his extreme politeness." + +"And I am completely squelched," said O'Hara despairingly. + +"Then you shouldn't try to flatter two people at once," declared Hope. + +"American girls aren't so honest," said Carter, looking soberly into +Louisa's blue eyes. + +She regained her composure with a little toss of her head. + +"An American girl is my best friend--you shall say nodings about _dem_! +Ah, here comes Mr. Livingston mit de beautiful horns which he gif to +me!" she cried, clapping her hands. + +"They're beauties, aren't they?" said Livingston, holding up the antlers +to view. "I'll get some of the Indians around here to fix them up for +you." He took them outside again, then came in and joined the others +around the camp table. + +"Mr. Livingston was the lucky one to-day," said Hope to O'Hara; "but we +had a great hunt." + +"I am not at all sure that I got him," said Livingston, seating himself +beside her. "I am positive another shot was fired at the same time, but +I looked around and saw no one. You came up a few moments afterward, +Miss Hathaway, and I have had a sort of rankling suspicion ever since +that there was some mystery about it." + +"Then clear your mind of it at once," replied the girl. "I'll admit +that I fired a shot at the same instant you did, but I was on the +opposite side of the brush from where you were, and didn't see the +antelope at all. What I aimed at was a large black speck in the sky +above me, and this is my trophy." She drew from her belt a glossy, dark +eagle's feather, and handed it to him. + +"May I have this?" he asked, taking it from her. + +"Why, certainly," she answered carelessly. + +O'Hara had been looking at Livingston closely, as though extremely +perplexed by his appearance. Suddenly he gave a deep laugh, jumped up +from his seat and began shaking him warmly by the hand. + +"Well, if this isn't----" + +"_Edward Livingston_," interrupted the other briefly. + +"But who'd ever dream of seeing _you_ here in this country!" continued +O'Hara. "It was too dark to see you distinctly when you rode up, or I'd +have known you at once. I'm glad to see you; indeed, I am, sir!" + +"How romantic!" exclaimed Hope. "Where did you ever meet Larry, Mr. +Livingston?" + +"I had the privilege of meeting Mr. O'Hara at the home of an +acquaintance near London two or three years ago. I am very glad to have +the pleasure again." O'Hara was about to say something in reply to this, +but thought better of it, and remained silent, while Livingston +continued: "I never imagined that I should meet my Irish-American friend +in this far country, though you Americans do have a way of appearing in +the most unexpected places. This America is a great country. I like +it--in fact, well enough that I have now become one of its citizens." + +"But you have not left England for good!" exclaimed O'Hara. + +"For good, and for all time," replied Livingston, the youthful +expression of his face settling into maturer lines of sadness. "I have +not one tie left. My friend, Carter here, will tell you that I have +settled down in these mountains as a respectable sheep-man--respectable, +if not dearly beloved. Miss Hathaway does not believe there can be +anything respectable about the sheep business, but I have promised to +convert her. Is that not so?" he asked, turning to her. + +"He has promised to give me a pet lamb to take back to the ranch," she +said, laughing. "I shall put a collar on its neck and lead it by a blue +ribbon! At least it will be as good an ornament as Clarice Van +Rensselaer's poodle. Horrible little thing!" + +"Now just imagine the beautiful Mrs. Larry O'Hara trailing that kind of +a baist about the streets of New York! I move that the animal be +rejected with thanks!" exclaimed Larry. Livingston looked at him in +quiet amazement, then at Hope and Sydney to see how they took his +audacity. + +"Don't worry, Larry, dear," replied Hope. "The pet lamb hasn't been +accepted yet--or you, either! I shall probably choose the pet lamb, but +rely on my good judgment, that's a nice boy, and don't let such a little +matter bother you!" + +Larry heaved an unnaturally deep sigh, at which little Louisa laughed, +and Sydney patted him upon the shoulder, exclaiming: + +"Cheer up! You have an even chance with the lamb. You don't need to be +afraid of such a rival!" + +"But she says herself that the animal's chances are the best," said +Larry dismally. Then with a sudden inspiration: "How much'll you take +for that baist? I'll buy him of you--_Mr._ Livingston!" + +"Now's your chance to make some money!" cried Sydney. + +Livingston quickly entered the mood of the moment. + +"Miss Hathaway has an option on the lamb," he said, looking at her. "If +she wants to throw it up I shall be glad to sell it to you." + +"She wants her supper mostly now," said Hope. "Come on, let's eat, for +we must get back. See all the fine things William has prepared for us!" + +After the meal, when the girls rose to depart, Larry insisted upon +accompanying them home. + +"I am going along, too," laughed Sydney, "so I'll see that he gets back +to camp all right! You might as well let him go, Hope." + +"Well, if he is so foolish, after his hard day's ride," she said, with a +shrug of the shoulders. "But get him a fresh horse, Sydney. At least we +can spare the poor tired animal!" + +Sydney and O'Hara both went a short distance away to get the +saddle-horse which was feeding quietly on the hillside. Hope led her +horse down to the water and while it was drinking Livingston came and +stood beside her. + +For a moment they remained there quiet, side by side, then the man +spoke: + +"It is of such as this that life's sweetest moments are made. It seems +almost a sacrilege to break the spell, but I cannot always be silent. +You know I love you, Hope!" + +"Yes," she replied carelessly, "I believe you told me so once before." +For an instant he did not speak. "It was here at the camp, another +evening like this, wasn't it?" she continued, in quite a matter-of-fact +tone. + +"I will not believe that you have forgotten it," he exclaimed softly. +"It may have sounded foolish to you to hear the words, but I could not +help saying them!" He stood so close to her that he could feel her warm +breath. "It may be wrong to stand here with you now, alone. How quiet it +is! You and I together in a little world of our own! How I love you, my +girl, _love you_! I may not have the right to this much happiness, but +there is no moral law that man or God has made to prevent a man from +saying to the woman he loves, 'I love you!' Are you--do you care that I +have said it?" + +"You must not--tell me again," she said, in a voice so forced that it +seemed to belong to some other person. Then she turned abruptly and led +her horse past him, up the bank of the creek, to Louisa waiting before +the tent. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +In the cool of evening, between dark and moonrise, the time when night +is blackest, and shadows hang like a pall over mountain top and crag, a +small group of men might have been seen lounging before old Mother White +Blanket's tepee, absorbing the genial warmth that came from her +camp-fire, over which the old squaw hovered close. + +In the background, away from the group, yet still with the light of the +fire shining full upon him, stood the soft-voiced twin. Suddenly the +hawk-like eyes of his grandmother swept the darkness and fastened +themselves upon his inquisitive face. For an instant they pierced him +through, then the shrill voice rang out: + +"So! It's only the sneak-dog that dare not come near! You get out and +hunt your bed!" + +"I ain't doin' nothin'!" exclaimed the boy. + +"No! An' you'll live doin' nothin', an' die doin' nothin', with a rope +about your neck, _so_!" She made a quick motion across her throat, and +gurgled heinously, letting her blanket fall low upon her skinny, calico +covered shoulders, revealing a long, gaunt throat and stiff wisps of +black, unkempt hair. + +"You don't need to think you can scare _me_," said the boy, moving +boldly forward, impelled by fear. "I ain't sneakin' 'round here, +neither! You'd better be a little politer er I'll tell the old man on +you when he gets sober again!" + +"Hear him!" roared Shorty Smith. "Politer! I reckon the school-ma'am's +instillin' some mighty high-flutin' notions into your head, ain't she? +Politer! Just listen to that onct, will yous! Say, don't no one dare +breathe loud when _Mister_ Daniel Harris, _esquire_, comes round!" + +"You let your betters alone," rebuked the old woman, shaking a stick at +Shorty, preliminary to throwing it upon the fire. "My grandson's got +more in his head than all of you!" Then nodding at the boy who, +emboldened, had come up to the fire: "Say what's on your tongue an' git +off to bed with you!" + +The breed boy shook his head. "I ain't got nothin' to tell," he said. +"Hain't been nowhere except over to Carter's camp awhile. Dave and me +pretty near got nabbed by a special officer that's over there." + +Shorty Smith raised himself up on his elbow. + +"A special _what_!" he demanded, while a sort of stillness swept the +circle. + +"A special officer of the _law_," replied the boy, with cool importance. +"Dave an' me had supper with him. He's a pretty good sort of a feller." + +"Nice company you've been in," observed Shorty. + +"Your grandmother always said you'd come to some bad end," drawled Long +Bill. An uneasy laugh went around, then absolute silence prevailed for +several minutes. The old squaw seemed to be muttering under her breath. +Finally she shifted her savage gaze from the outer blackness to the +faces about her camp-fire. + +"Turn cowards for one man!" she exclaimed scornfully. + +"Well, Harris is in there dead drunk, and what're we goin' to do without +him, anyhow?" exclaimed Long Bill. + +"He might not approve," supplemented Shorty Smith. + +"That's right; I ain't wantin' no such responsibility on my shoulders, +_just now_," declared the large fellow. + +"We'll postpone matters," decided Shorty. "I ain't after such +responsibility myself, you can bet your life!" + +The others agreed by words and grunts. Suddenly the old woman rose to +her feet, grasping her dingy blanket together in front with one scrawny +hand, while she outstretched the other, pointing into the night. + +"Git out!" she snarled scornfully. "Git to your beds, dogs!" + +The men laughed again uneasily. + +"Come on, boys," said Shorty Smith. "We'll go an' see if the old man's +left a drop in his jug." He moved towards the house, followed by the +others. The soft-voiced twin still retained his position by the +camp-fire. + +"You git too!" snarled his grandmother. + +"I ain't no dog," replied the boy. The squaw grunted. "You told the dogs +to go, not me! They won't find any demijohn, neither. I cached it for +_you_!" + +"Good boy," said his grandmother, patting him upon the head. "Go git +it!" + +When Hope and her companions returned that evening a couple of aged +Indians hovered over the dying embers of old White Blanket's camp-fire, +sociably drinking from a rusty tin cup what the riders naturally +supposed to be tea. The soft-voiced twin, already curled up asleep +beside his brothers, could have told them different, for had he not won +the old woman's passing favor by his generous act? So he slept well. + +So did the "old man" sleep well that night--a heavy drunken stupor. He +had returned from town that afternoon in his usual condition, as +wild-eyed as the half-broken horses that he drove, and for awhile made +things lively about the place. At such times he ruled with a high and +mighty hand, and even the little babies crept out of his way as he +approached. He roused up some of the idle breeds and started a poker +game, which soon broke up, owing to a financial deficiency among them. +Then he roped a wild-looking stallion and rode off at a mad gait, +without any apparent object, toward a peacefully feeding bunch of +cattle. He rode around it, driving the cows and calves into a huddled, +frightened group, then left them to recover their composure, riding, +still as madly as ever, back to the stables. But the whisky finally got +in its work, and Joe Harris, to the great relief of his Indian wife and +family, laid himself away in a corner of the kitchen, and peace again +reigned supreme. + +Hope and Louisa very fortunately missed all the excitement. + +The darkness was intense when they rode up to the ranch. Quiet pervaded +the place, and not a light shone from the house. + +"These people must go to bed with the chickens," remarked O'Hara. + +"Here's some matches, Hope," said Carter, standing beside her on the +ground when she had dismounted. "Never mind your horses, I'll take care +of them. Run right in. Such a place for you! Darker'n a stack of black +cats! I'll stand here by the house till I see a light in your room." + +Just then a group of men, led by Shorty Smith, came out of the dark +passage between the kitchen and the other part of the house, and made +their way toward the stables. The ones in the rear did not see the +riders, and were muttering roughly among themselves. They had been +making another fruitless search for the cattle-man's whisky, and were +now going to bed. + +"Come back here," said Sydney, drawing both girls toward the horses +which O'Hara was holding. They moved backward under his grasp and waited +until the men had passed. + +"Hope, you'll either have to change your boarding place or go home," +announced her cousin. + +"I'll do neither," replied the girl decisively. "Don't be foolish, Syd, +because of a darkened house and a handful of harmless men! I'm not a +baby, either. You'll make Larry think I'm a very helpless sort of +person. Don't believe him, Larry! I'll admit that this isn't always a +safe country for men, but there is no place on earth where a woman is +surer of protection than among these same wild, dare-devil characters. I +know what I'm talking about. Home? Well, I guess not! Come on, Louisa. +See, she isn't afraid! Are you? Good-night, both of you!" + +"Goot-night," called the German girl. + +"It's just as she says," explained Carter, as he and O'Hara rode +homeward. "It is perfectly safe for a girl out here, in spite of the +tough appearances of things--far safer than in the streets of New York +or Chicago. There isn't a man in the country that would dare speak +disrespectfully to a girl. Horse-stealing wouldn't be an instance +compared with what he'd get for that. He'd meet his end so quick he +wouldn't have time to say his prayers! That's the way we do things in +this country, you know." + +"It's hard to understand this, judging from appearances," said O'Hara. +"I'm not exactly a coward myself, but I must own it gave me a chill all +down my spine when those tough-looking specimens began to pour out from +that crack between the buildings. I'd think it would make a girl feel +nervous." + +"But not Hope," replied Carter. "She's used to it; besides she's not +like other girls. She's as fearless as a lion. You can't scare _her_. If +she was a little more timid I wouldn't think about worrying over her, +but she's so blame self-reliant! She knows she's as quick as chain +lightning, and she's chockful of confidence. For my own part, I wish +she'd never learned to shoot a gun." + +"It strikes me she's pretty able to take care of herself," said O'Hara. +"If I were you I wouldn't worry over it." + +"Well, I want to get her back to the ranch, and I'm going to, too!" +said Carter. Then to O'Hara's look of wonder, "I might as well be in +Halifax as any real good I can be to her here--in case anything should +come up. You see, there's been trouble brewing for months. All these men +around here are down on Livingston, because he's running sheep on the +range they had begun to think was their own exclusive property. He's as +much right to run sheep on government land as they have to run cattle, +though sheep are a plumb nuisance in a cow country. These ranchers +around here haven't any use for his sheep at all, and have been picking +at him ever since he came up here." + +He then went on to tell what he knew about the shooting at Livingston's +corral. + +"I'm pretty certain now that Hope was mixed up in it, though Livingston +is as ignorant as can be in regard to the matter. He's too much a +stranger to the ways of the country to learn everything in a minute. It +was funny about you knowing him, wasn't it? He's a fine man, all right, +and I hope this outfit won't bluff him out of the country. Harris is at +the bottom of it. If it wasn't for him there wouldn't be any trouble. +Now it's my opinion that Hope's trying to stand off the whole outfit for +Livingston's sake, and doesn't want him to know it." + +O'Hara was silent for a moment, then replied: + +"I'm not the fellow to make a fuss because a better man than me turns +up. I knew in a minute he was dead in love with her." + +Then he told something to Carter in confidence which caused him to pull +his horse up suddenly in the trail and exclaim: "You don't say!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +"It is a long road," observed Mrs. Van Rensselaer. "I had no idea it was +so far. So these are the foot-hills of the mountains. Is this Harris +place very much farther?" + +"'Bout five mile straight up in the mountains," replied her companion. + +"Then," said the lady decisively, "I am going to stop here at this +spring, get a drink, and rest awhile; I'm about half dead!" + +Jim McCullen made no reply, but good-naturedly headed his horse toward a +tiny stream that trickled down a coulee near by. Mrs. Van Rensselaer +followed, heaving a tired sigh of relief, as she slipped down upon the +moist, flower-dotted meadows beside the stream. + +"Oh, this is an awful undertaking," she declared, wetting her +handkerchief in the water and carefully wiping her forehead. + +"I thought you was pretty brave to venture it," replied old Jim, from a +short distance below, where he was watering the horses. "It's a hot day +and a dry wind. I told you just how it'd be." + +"I suppose it is some comfort to you to refer to that fact, but it +doesn't make me any the less tired or cross. Yes, I'm cross, Mr. +McCullen. It has been downright rude of Hope to stay away like this all +summer. Of course it's possible she may have her reasons for that, but +_I_ never put in such a pokey time before in all my life! I couldn't go +back to New York without seeing her, and then Sydney told me that if I +went up there I might be able to coax her to leave the place. But she's +been there so long now--a couple of months, isn't it?--that I can't see +what difference it would make if she stayed a little longer. I did want +to see her, though, before I went home, so I decided I'd undertake this +journey. What about this protegee of hers--this German girl she's taken +to raise? Sydney said she was a pretty little thing with hair the color +of mine," shaking back her fluff of fair hair, "and eyes like a 'deep +blue lake.' That's all I could get out of him--'eyes like a deep blue +lake!' That settles it! When a fellow begins to rhapsody over eyes like +a deep blue lake, it's a good sign he's cast his anchor right there. +Well, it'll be a good thing for Sydney." + +"She's a right smart young lady," remarked McCullen. "Hope thinks a +sight of her. She can ride a little, but she ain't goin' to learn to +shoot worth a cent. Hand ain't steady 'nough. They ain't many wimmen in +the world can shoot like Hope, though! She beats 'em all!" + +"You ought to be awfully proud to think you taught her." + +"Proud!" said old Jim, his voice deep with emotion; "I reckon I'm proud +of her in every way--not just because she can shoot. They ain't no one +like her! I couldn't think no more of her if she was my own, ma'am." + +"It must be nice to feel that way toward someone," mused the lady, from +the grass. "She thinks everything of you, too. It seems natural for some +people to take a kindly, loving interest in almost everyone. There are +only two people I have ever known toward whom I have felt in anything +approaching that manner. Hope and Larry O'Hara. I have often fancied +they would make an ideal couple." Jim McCullen shook his head +doubtfully, but Mrs. Van Rensselaer, unnoticing, continued: "And even +Larry deserted the ranch. He's been gone for two weeks. It's about time +I came to look everyone up!" She pinned back the fluffy hair from her +face, adjusted her hat, unclasped a tiny mirror and powder puff from her +wrist, and carefully dusted every portion of her pretty face. + +McCullen, who had witnessed the operation several times before along the +road that day, ceased to stare in wonderment, and very politely looked +across the rolling hills in the opposite direction. It never occurred to +Clarice Van Rensselaer that anyone could have found amusement in the +proceedings. In fact, she never thought of it at all, but dabbed the +powder puff quite mechanically from force of habit. + +After laughing to himself and giving her time enough to complete her +toilet, he led her horse up, remarking: + +"We'd better be movin', er like enough we won't get there till after +dark." + +Mrs. Van Rensselaer sighed, regained her feet, and suffered herself to +be helped to the saddle. + +"I reckon you won't find O'Hara up there," remarked Jim McCullen some +time later. "Two evenings ago he rode over on Fox Creek, there on the +reservation, where them soldiers are out practicin'. Lieutenant Harvey +come over to camp an' he rode back with him, bein's he was acquainted. +It ain't more'n eight mile from camp. Mebby you could ride over there if +you wanted." This suggestion was offered with the faintest smile beneath +his gray mustache. "It's a mighty fine chance to see them soldiers +drillin' 'round the hills, playin' at sham battles and the like." + +"It would probably be a pleasing sight to see them," replied Clarice Van +Rensselaer, "but I prefer an easy chair with plenty of cushions +instead." + +"I don't like to discourage you, but I don't reckon you'll find many +cushions where you're goin'," said old Jim. + +"How much farther is it?" demanded the lady. + +"Oh, not very fur, 'bout three mile, er a little further," replied her +companion; thereupon Mrs. Van Rensselaer rode on for some time in +scornful, silent resignation. + +When they reached the Harris ranch they found groups of men lounging +about everywhere. + +It looked as though most of the inhabitants of the mountains had +congregated there on this especial evening. Mrs. Van Rensselaer gasped +in astonishment, and even McCullen, used as he was to seeing men +gathered about the place, looked surprised and wondered what had been +going on to bring such a crowd. + +Mrs. Van Rensselaer gathered her skirts closely about her, as if in fear +they would brush against some of the rough-looking men that moved back +from the path as McCullen led her to the house. A couple of pigs chased +by a yellow pup ran past her, then an Indian woman opened wide the main +entrance of the abode and shooed out some squawking chickens, which flew +straight at the visitor. Mrs. Van Rensselaer hesitated in dismay, and +turned a white, startled face to McCullen. + +"This ain't nothin' at all," he assured her. "Go right on in. I reckon +we'll find Miss Hope to home." + +She drew back still farther. "You go first," she implored fearfully. + +McCullen smiled, and picked his way into the house, followed closely by +his companion, who clung to his coat. + +Reaching the interior he seated Mrs. Van Rensselaer upon a bench, and +went in search of the Indian woman, who had disappeared at the first +sight of the visitors. + +"She's out," he announced, returning after a moment. "They say she and +the little German girl went out on their horses some time ago. I suppose +you'll have to wait here till she gets back. You ain't afraid, be you?" + +"Do you mean that I'll have to wait here _alone_?" she inquired, +frightened. + +"I'll stay around fer a spell," said McCullen kindly. "There ain't +nothing to get nervous about." He opened the door of an adjoining room +and beckoned to a breed girl, who was lulling a child to sleep in an +Indian hammock. "Come in and keep this lady company. She's come to see +Miss Hathaway," he said. The girl entered the room shyly--reluctantly. +Jim McCullen pulled his hat over his eyes and turned to the door. "I'll +look about a bit an' see if she's comin'," he said, then went out of the +house. + +The girl was shy, and stood awkwardly in the doorway with downcast eyes, +not daring to look up at the visitor. Clarice fancied herself too tired +to talk, so sat on the bench and leaned back against the white-washed +logs. Quiet pervaded until a pig poked open the door and looked +inquisitively into the room. + +"Oh, drive that animal out!" exclaimed Clarice, "he's coming straight at +me!" + +The girl gave the pig a poke that sent it grunting away, then closed the +door and placed a box before it to keep it shut. + +"Will you kindly take me to Miss Hathaway's apartment?" asked Mrs. Van +Rensselaer. + +The breed girl looked bewildered. "_To where?_" she asked. + +"To her room," requested the lady, less politely. "I suppose she has a +room in this place, has she not? I should like to rest for a few +moments." + +"It's right there," said the girl shortly, pointing at a door. + +"Right there!" exclaimed Mrs. Van Rensselaer crossly. "Why didn't you +tell me so before?" + +Clarice opened the door and gasped in wonder. A vision of Hope's room at +the ranch, with all its dainty accessories, came before her, and she +thought of the girl's love of luxury and comfort. Everything was clean +here, she assured herself with another glance around--spotlessly clean +and neat, which could not be said of the room she had just left. There +was a bed, a chair, a box and some boards covered with cheese-cloth, +that served as a dressing table. Not a picture adorned the wall or an +ornament of any description was to be seen. + +Mrs. Van Rensselaer walked all around the little room to satisfy herself +that she had missed nothing. Some newspapers were fastened to the wall +upon one side, and over them hung a few garments, which in turn were +carefully covered by a thin shawl, with a view, no doubt, to keep out +the dust. That was probably an idea of the German girl's, thought +Clarice, and rightly, too, for to Louisa also was due the well scrubbed +boards of the floor, the shining window panes, and the general neatness +which pervaded the poor chamber. + +Mrs. Van Rensselaer seated herself upon a box and gazed long and +earnestly at her reflection in a small hand mirror which hung over the +dressing table. + +"You haven't the features of a fool," she remarked to herself, "but +you've added two new wrinkles by this tom-foolery to-day, and you ought +to be satisfied by this time that you're not fit to take care of +yourself! But I suppose it's satisfying to know you're doing missionary +work. Missionary work, indeed, for a girl who hasn't as much sense for +staying in this place as you have for coming! By the time you get home +you'll have two more wrinkles, and it'll take a month to get back your +good looks again! Well, you always were foolish!" + +So saying she turned away from the mirror and looked longingly at the +bed. Just then her eyes became fastened, wide and terrified, upon the +head of a small gray animal protruding from the corner of the floor +behind the bed. She watched it, spell-bound by fear, as it drew its fat +body through a hole in the floor and ran across the room. Suddenly with +a terrible shriek she threw herself upon the bed. The pack-rat ran back +to its hole and made its exit without loss of time, but Clarice sobbed +aloud in hysterical fear. Suddenly the door was thrown open, and a +weather-browned, dark-haired girl knelt beside the bed and took the +frightened woman in her arms. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +"Clarice, dear," said Hope, "what _is_ the matter?" + +"Oh," sobbed Mrs. Van Rensselaer, "_did_ you see it--_did you see it_? A +terrible thing! A terrible thing!" + +"But _what_?" asked the girl wonderingly, "what could have frightened +you so, _here_?" + +Clarice, still hysterical, only sobbed and was quite incoherent in her +explanation. Hope looked stern, as though facing an unpleasant problem +which baffled her for the time. Louisa had entered the room and stood +quietly to one side, looking in much surprise from one to the other. For +a moment Mrs. Van Rensselaer's sobs ceased. + +The German girl touched Hope gently upon the shoulder. + +"I tink it vas King Solomon," she said. + +"Why, that was just it," said Hope. "You must have seen King Solomon, +Clarice. It was only King Solomon; don't be afraid. I thought we had the +hole well plugged up, but he must have made another one." + +"You forget," interrupted Louisa, laughing softly. + +"Oh, that's so!" exclaimed Hope. "We took the soap out and used it this +morning because we didn't have any other." + +"And who's King Solomon, and what's that to do with soap?" demanded +Clarice, raising herself upon her elbow to the edge of the bed with a +faint show of interest. + +"King Solomon," explained Hope soberly, "is a friend who comes to visit +us occasionally, and generally packs off what happens to be in sight. We +named him King Solomon--not because of his solemn demeanor, but for +reason of his taking ways, and propensity toward feminine apparel." + +"What are you talking about, Hope? I do believe this terrible place has +gone to your head! What makes all the noise in that other room?" + +Mrs. Van Rensselaer seemed extremely nervous. + +"That's the men coming in to their supper," replied Hope. "I think you +must have been nervous before you saw the rat. I'm sorry I wasn't here +when you came, Clarice!" + +"And so that horrible thing I saw was a rat!" + +"Yes, just a common everyday wood-rat, for obvious reasons sometimes +called a pack-rat. But how did you happen to come up here, Clarice?" + +"If I had known how far it was, and what a dreadful place I should find, +I am afraid my great desire to see you couldn't have induced me to +attempt it. How _can_ you stay here? I wish you'd go home, Hope!" + +"Is that what you came to tell me?" asked the girl quietly. "If so, you +might just as well get on your horse and go back. I wrote you not to +come. You might have taken my advice--it would have been a heap better. +You're not cut out for this sort of place. I don't know what in the +world I'm going to do with you to-night! I'll send you back to-morrow, +that's one thing sure. One of us will have to sleep on the floor, or +else we'll be obliged to sleep three in a bed." + +"Oh, I'll make me a bed on the floor," offered Louisa quickly. + +"You won't do anything of the kind--the idea!" exclaimed Mrs. Van +Rensselaer, aghast. "Supposing that thing--that _rat_ should come!" + +"We'll put the soap back in the hole again," replied Hope. "And King +Solomon will have to keep out. Before Louisa came I used to let him come +in just for company's sake, but the poor fellow is a hopeless case. +Clarice, I wish you hadn't come!" + +"I wish so, too, if that will help you any," replied Mrs. Van +Rensselaer, lifting her pretty face dejectedly from her hands and +looking about the room in a woe-begone manner. "I'm awfully tired, Hope, +and hungry, but I couldn't eat _here_ if I starved to death! Is that +room in there _always_ so grimy and dirty? and what makes that terrible +_odor_ about the place?" + +"I think you'd better go back to the ranch to-night," suggested Hope. + +Clarice moaned in deep discouragement: "Oh, if you knew how tired I am! +But I can't stand it _here_--_I can't do it_! Let me get out in the +fresh air, away from the odor of those pigs and chickens and _rats_, and +sit down on the side of a mountain--anywhere, so that I can breathe +again!" After a moment's pause she suddenly exclaimed: "Hope, there's +something biting me! What in the world is it? I tell you there's an +insect on me!" + +"Fleas," said Hope briefly. "The place is full of them. They don't bite +me, and they don't bother Louisa much either. Poor Clarice, what trouble +you have got yourself into! I can't send you back to-night, that's one +sure thing, you're too tired." She pondered a moment, deeply perplexed, +then all at once a solution came to her. Her eyes brightened and she +laughed. + +"I have it!" she cried. "I'll send one of the boys after Mr. +Livingston's buggy and drive you over to Sydney's. They've got an extra +tent and a stack of blankets. William will get you a fine supper, and +you can be as snug as a bug in a rug." + +"Hope, you're the dearest girl that ever lived!" cried Clarice. "I just +dote on camping out in a nice clean tent!" But Hope had hurried away to +find the twins before the sentence was finished. When she returned, a +few minutes later, Clarice exclaimed: + +"But you don't intend to send me over there _alone_, do you? You girls +will go and stay with me? Come, you must! I'll not think of going alone. +We'll have a regular camping-out party and I'll chaperon you." + +"Old Father Jim and Sydney are chaperons enough," said the girl. "But +we'll go along, since you happen to be our guest." + +This decided upon, she made Mrs. Van Rensselaer lie down upon the bed, +bathed her pretty, tired face with cool water, and commanded her to +rest until the twins returned with the conveyance. + +Louisa clapped her hands in joy at the happy prospect of camping in a +tent. She declared in her pretty broken English that it had been her one +great desire ever since she had been in the country. Then she became +sober again. Had not her Fritz spent months at a time in one of those +small, white-walled tents? + +Hope viewed the project with complete indifference. It mattered little +to her where she spent the night, so that she got her allotted hours of +good, sound sleep. At first she was greatly perplexed as to how she was +going to make Clarice comfortable, but now that the matter had adjusted +itself so agreeably she became at once in the lightest of spirits, the +effects of which were quickly felt by both Mrs. Van Rensselaer and +little Louisa. + +By the time the roll of wheels was heard, announcing the arrival of +Edward Livingston's conveyance, Clarice was fairly rested, and in a +much more amiable mood than previously. + +"The only thing that's the matter with me now is that I'm hungry," she +said. + +"We'll soon fix that, too," replied Hope brightly. "The boys are back +with Mr. Livingston's team and it won't take us long to drive over to +camp. Get on your things, Clarice." She threw her own jacket over her +arm and, picking up her hat, hurriedly left the room. "I'll be back in a +moment for you," she said from the door. "Keep her company, Louisa, and +don't let King Solomon in!" + +At the entrance of the house she met the soft-voiced twin just coming in +search of her. + +"He's out there hisself with his outfit," he said disgustedly. "Thought +it wasn't safe fer me to drive his blame horses, I reckon!" + +She looked out and saw Livingston standing beside his team in the road. +He was waiting for her. When she approached, his fine eyes brightened, +but hers were gloomy--indifferent. + +"Come," he said, laughing, holding out his hand to her. "You did not +think I would miss such an opportunity to get to see you! I haven't +pleased you, but this time I thought to please myself." + +"I was in such a predicament," she cried, ignoring his hand, but +forgetting her momentary displeasure. "A guest from the ranch, and no +place to put her. Then I thought of Sydney's, and that new tent, so +we're all going over there. I sent for your buggy, because Mrs. Van +Rensselaer has ridden a long ways, is all tired out--but I didn't mean +to put _you_ to so much trouble." + +"Is it a _trouble_ to see you?" he asked. "If it is, I want a great deal +of just that kind of trouble." + +"I'll go in and get her," she said quickly. "If you will drive her over +there, Louisa and I can go horseback." + +He assented in few words, happy to do her bidding. + +She started toward the house, then turned back absent-mindedly, as +though she had forgotten something that she was striving to recall. +Finally she gave a little short laugh, and held out her hand. "You are +very kind," she said, looking at him squarely. + +He did not reply, but held the proffered hand, drinking in the language +of her eyes. She withdrew it slowly, as if loath to take it from his +warm clasp, then flashing him one of her brilliant smiles turned once +more and went quickly back to the house. + +"You will ride over with Mr. Livingston, Clarice," she announced. "He +wouldn't trust the twins with his team." + +"And who's _Mr. Livingston_, Hope," inquired Mrs. Van Rensselaer, +adjusting her veil carefully before the small mirror. "I didn't suppose +you had a _Mr._ anybody up here in this terrible country! Why the +prefix?" + +"He's a white man," replied the girl, pulling down her hat to hide the +flush that crept into her face. "An Englishman, Edward Livingston." + +"An Englishman," mused Clarice, pulling on her gloves. "But what makes +you _Mister_ him, Hope? _Livingston_--wonder if he's any relation to +Lord Livingston? _Edward_ Livingston, did you say?" + +"Oh, such a _nice_ man!" exclaimed Louisa, clasping her hands in +rapture. "He is my goot, kind friend." + +"And Hope's too, isn't he?" laughed Mrs. Van Rensselaer, at which remark +Hope advised her to hurry up. + +"But my dear, I _am_ hurrying just as fast as I can," she exclaimed. "I +assure you I am as anxious to get away from here as you are to have me. +I don't see how you've ever stood it, Hope! The attraction must be very +strong. Come, own up, is it this _Mister_ Livingston? Why, I believe you +are blushing. You're so black, though, I can't be certain. But it's a +good name--Livingston. Come on; I'm ready to see this _Mister Edward +Livingston_!" + +The three passed out of the room and through the large living room +beyond, on out of doors. The men had eaten their supper and gone out to +the stables, where they congregated in numerous groups--quiet groups, +that any other time would have seemed suspicious to Hope. + +Mrs. Van Rensselaer was led safely past the pigs and dogs without +accident, but at the corner of the house she drew back, filled with +surprise, and forgetful of all danger. + +"Hope, I do believe that _is_ Lord Livingston," she whispered. "I knew +he was out in this country somewhere. Yes, I'm sure it is he. His wife +lives in New York now," she rattled on; "but I don't know her except by +sight. She goes in kind of a swift set, anyway, but he belongs to one of +the best families in England. Isn't it surprising to run across him like +this? I'll go up to him and say--why, how do you do, Lord----" + +"Come on," said Hope, interrupting and taking her by the arm. "Lord or +no lord, you'll never get any supper if you don't hurry up!" Her face +had gone from red to white. She took Clarice by the arm and led her up +to the buggy. "This is Mrs. Van Rensselaer, Mr. Livingston," she said +quickly, before that lady could speak, then turned abruptly about and +went to the stable for the saddle-horses. + +Livingston helped Mrs. Van Rensselaer into the buggy, while Louisa ran +after Hope, quickly overtaking her. + +"She says he hass a vife. I don't belief her!" she exclaimed +indignantly, linking her arm through Hope's. "Don't you belief her +eider!" + +"I must believe it, little Louisa, because it is true!" said Hope. "But +if it were _not_ true, if it were _not_ true, I think I should be mad +with happiness at this moment!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +In a short time the horses were saddled and the two girls dashed past +the stable buildings and the rough assortment of men who stood silently +about, past their watchful, alert eyes, on after the buggy, which had +now become a mere speck high up on the mountain road. As they raced by +the house and tepees the boy, Ned, cautiously raised his small body from +behind a pile of logs which edged the road and beckoned to them +frantically. Hope's quick eye saw him, but only as the flash of a moving +picture across her mind, leaving no impression and instantly forgotten. +But later, when she had entered the cook-tent at Sydney's camp and +seated herself among the small company, the memory of the passing vision +came back, annoying, troubling her. She scented danger more than she +felt it. A sense of uneasiness possessed her. She condemned herself +roundly for the wild thoughts that had carried her away from herself, +and would have given much at that moment to have known what the breed +boy had wanted to commune to her. + +Clarice was chatting volubly to Livingston. Sydney leaned upon the +table, listening attentively. Outside, old Jim McCullen was staking out +the saddle-horses, while about the stove and mess-box William, the cook, +flitted in great importance. Sydney jumped up from the table when the +two girls entered and arranged some extra seats for them, then took one +himself beside Louisa, who flushed prettily at his attentions. + +"We beat you by fifteen minutes!" exclaimed Mrs. Van Rensselaer, +breaking off from her conversation abruptly. "But we just came along +spinning. And I must tell you that I'm perfectly happy now, and don't +regret coming one bit! Just think, isn't this luck--Mr. Livingston has +promised to take me back to the ranch to-morrow, or whenever I decide to +return! And you should see what a splendid dinner we are going to have! +After all, I'm coming out the best in the deal--in spite of Jim's +'didn't I tell you,' and Hope's 'what made you come.' This is a regular +taste of the real West--wild and rugged! You don't get it at the +ranch--luxurious quarters, Chinese servants everywhere, even the people +especially imported. You might as well be in New York for everything +except the climate. This is great--this little gulch here and these +fresh, sweet tents; but horrors, that place back there! Isn't there any +way to go around it when we go back to the ranch, Mr. Livingston? I +don't want even to catch sight of it. I never saw such a lot of looking +men in all my life!" + +They all laughed at the look of abject horror which she put upon her +face--all with the exception of Hope, who sat silently in the shadow of +Louisa and Sydney. + +"We've been to supper," said Sydney, turning around to his cousin, "so +this is an extra one for the special benefit of our guests. You'd better +appreciate it, for it's going to be a jim-dandy one. Livingston's been +to supper, too, so this is just for the ladies." + +"You're a good boy," murmured the girl, taking off her hat and pushing +back the mass of dark hair from her forehead. "We'll soon show you our +appreciation." + +"I guess we'd better light up, it's getting dark a little earlier +nowadays," he said, leaving Louisa's side to light the lanterns, which +soon flooded the tent with soft radiance. + +"I like the twilight," said Clarice to Livingston. "But then I like lots +of light, too. Some people can talk best in the dark, but I have to see +to talk." + +"It's only eight o'clock," continued Sydney, from where he had left off. +"Last month it was daylight at ten. It beats all how time flies, +anyway!" He hung an extra lantern, lighted for the momentous occasion, +right where the rays fell full upon Hope's face. From the far end of the +tent Livingston watched her. He sought her eyes as usual. They were +everywhere, anywhere, but did not meet his. Lately a new star had risen +for him--a star of hope. O'Hara had told him, quite unsolicited, that +there was no attachment between Hope and her cousin, much less an +engagement, and suddenly a new world had opened for him. + +"I don't see why you are lighting the lanterns now. It isn't dark at +all," said the girl, rising suddenly from her seat. "From the top of the +ridge out there you can see the sunset, I know." + +"Did you ever see a sunset as beautiful as the sunrise?" asked +Livingston. + +She stopped and pondered an instant, then glanced at him quickly, and as +quickly away. + +"No, I have not," she replied. "A sunrise is a baptism. It is like being +born into a new world. There is nothing so beautiful, so grand, so +promising, as the vision of a new day's sun. And to stand in the cool +morning air with the dew beneath your feet and _feel_ all the promise of +that vast, golden glory--to feel it----" She stopped suddenly, lifting +her eyes to his for one brief instant. "There is no moment in life when +one is so near to God." + +"Admitting the sublimity and grandeur of the time," said Clarice. "Yet +who ever heard of an enamored swain offering his heart at the feet of +his fair lady at such an unearthly hour? It's preposterous!" + +"In such a case he'd probably be sitting up too late the night before," +said Carter. "But it's a pretty idea, just the same," he declared, +looking at Louisa. + +"I think a sunset is prettier," insisted Clarice. "I've never been able +to rub the sleep out of my eyes to appreciate the sunrise as Hope +describes it. But I think she is an exception." + +"Would there were more then," said Livingston fervently. + +His earnestness seemed to amuse Clarice, for she turned to him and +laughed. Hope swung about quickly, stung for the instant. + +"It is sacred," she cried softly, then opening the tent-flap with a +quick movement she stepped out into the evening. + +Jim McCullen was putting up a new tent down near the edge of the stream +for the accommodation of the ladies. The girl went over to where he was +at work and assisted him by steadying one pole while he fastened the +canvas in position. + +"How's the ranch, Jim?" she asked. "Mrs. Van Rensselaer hasn't had time +to tell me yet." + +"Well, it's about the same as ever," replied McCullen slowly. "I reckon +your father's gettin' pretty lonesome without you. Feels like a lost +horse by now. That there little Rosebush--Rosehill, he and them +Cresmonds have gone back East to get ready fer the great weddin' they're +talkin' about. Them folks seem to think it's a mighty fine thing to +catch a lord er an earl. But it always seemed to me that the Almighty +left out a whole pile in order to give some o' them fellers a title. +Forgot Rosehill's brains entirely, an' he ain't no bigger'n a minute, +neither." + +"I guess you're right, about him," said Hope, kneeling beside McCullen +as he fashioned a stake pin more to his liking. "I hope that outfit +won't come out here another year; I don't like them very well. It's +nice and sweet out here on the grass, isn't it? I don't mind staying +here at all to-night. I don't see what makes me feel so sleepy and +drowsy though, but I do--sort of tired, as though I wanted to get away +and go to bed. I haven't ridden far to-day either--only a few miles +after school. Jim, I wish I were back to-night at the ranch--I wish I +could go and say good-night to my father, and go away to my own room." + +McCullen looked up from the peg he was driving, and remarked: "I'll +warrent you'll have as good a night's sleep out here in this tent as you +would at home on the ranch. Plenty o' fresh air an' no misquitoes to +bother. But I reckon your father'd like to see you just the same +to-night." + +"But he doesn't want me to go home until I've finished this school up +here. I'm earning fifty dollars a month. How much are you?" + +"A hundred," replied McCullen. "But, look a-here, your father _said_ +that, but he'd be mighty glad to have you drop in on him one o' these +times. He's the sorriest father you ever seen!" + +"But I shall stay, Jim, just as long as there is school here," said Hope +decidedly. "So don't _you_ try to get me to go home. Everyone else is. +Sydney all the time, then Larry O'Hara. I'm glad he's gone over to camp +with the soldiers. They're farther away than I thought. Louisa and I +rode over in that direction after school, but only got to the top of the +tall butte over there. We could see them where they were camped on Fox +Creek, but it was too far to go, so we went back to Harris'. Larry was +all the time urging me to go home while he was here--and now Clarice has +come. But I won't go, Jim, until the school ends." + +"Well, you just make the best of it," replied McCullen. "I like your +grit. I'm a-goin' to stay right here so's to be near you whatever +happens." + +"Jim," said the girl suddenly, "were you ever nervous?" + +"I reckon I've been, a few times," replied McCullen. "Why, you ain't +_nervous_, be you, Hopie? There ain't nothin' goin' to bother you out +here to-night. Mebby you ain't feelin' well." + +She smiled at his consternation. "No, I don't think I'm nervous, Jim; +just a little restless, that's all." + +"I expect that woman's comin' has sort o' upset you. I didn't want to +bring her, but she managed to overrule all o' my objections." + +He finished driving the last peg, which made the tent secure against the +strongest wind, then straightened himself up with his hands upon the +small of his back as though the movement was a difficult one. + +"Well, I reckon I'll bring in the beddin', an' you can fix it up to suit +yourself," he said, looking down at the girl, who had seated herself on +the grass before the tent. + +"Listen," she whispered, holding up a warning hand, "I hear +horsebackers." + +"Sure enough," he replied after a moment's silence. "I reckon it's them +breed boys o' yourn. Hungriest outfit I ever seen!" + +"Yes," she said, rising suddenly to her feet and peering into the +gathering dusk, "that's who it is. Go get the blankets, Jim." + +"Where're you goin'!" asked McCullen, as she moved quickly away down the +bank of the creek toward the dark brush of the bottom. + +"To tell them school's out," she replied with a short laugh, then +disappeared from his sight. + +"I reckon she's afraid them boys'll annoy that Van Rensselaer woman. +You'd think she'd never seen an Injun before, from the fuss she made +back there at Harris'," soliloquized McCullen as he brought a great +armful of blankets and deposited them inside the new tent. + +But Hope was not thinking of Mrs. Van Rensselaer as she stood in the +narrow brush trail holding the bridle of an impatient Indian pinto, +while the soft-voiced twin looked at her through the semi-darkness. + +"There's a bright moon to-night till three in the mornin', then it's as +dark as pitch," he was saying. + +"Who figured out all that?" demanded the girl. + +The breed boy moved uneasily in his saddle. "I reckon Shorty Smith er +some o' 'em did," he replied. + +"And they're going to meet in the sheep-shed at the foot of the big +hill," she said deliberately. + +"Yes," replied Dan reluctantly, "the one just inside the pasture fence +over there on this side. It's the nearest place to meet." + +"How many men?" demanded Hope. + +"'Bout a dozen, I reckon," replied the twin. "Mebby not so many." He +leaned forward until his face was close beside the girl's. "Say," he +whispered nervously, "if they ever found out I put you onto this, they'd +finish me mighty quick." + +"Are they aware you know about it?" she asked quickly. "Do they know?" + +"You can't never tell," replied the boy deliberately, sweetly. + +The bushes rattled and another horse pushed its way alongside the +pinto. + +"If we only had that Gatlin' gun now we'd be all right," exclaimed the +other twin enthusiastically, as his horse nosed its way in beside them. +"But if we get behind the big rock we'll scare 'em to death, so's they +won't have the nerve to do nothin'!" + +"But what are they going to do?" demanded Hope impatiently. "You seem to +know nothing except that they're going to meet there for some +devilishness." + +"Goin' to make a raid on the shed, I reckon," replied Dave. The +soft-voiced twin was silent. + +"And you think we can stand off a dozen men?" she demanded. + +"They can't do a thing to us from the big rock, anyway, an' we can watch +the fun an' pick off everyone that leaves the shed. We can do that +much," said the soft-voiced twin eagerly. + +"How you thirst for blood! They deserve death, every one--_the dogs_! +But I can't do it! There must be some other way! He must be warned, and +his men too, and the thing averted. Before, it just happened so--this +time we have a chance and warning." + +"It 'ud never do to tell him," exclaimed the soft-voiced twin nervously. +"He'd put his own head right into the noose!" + +"Never!" she cried. "You don't know what courage he has!" + +The soft-voiced twin continued to demur. Suddenly she held up her hand +to him commandingly. "Not another word! I'll manage this thing myself! +It's for me to command, and you obey orders. Remember, you're my +scouts--my _brave scouts_. Surely you want me to be proud of you!" + +"You bet!" exclaimed Dave. + +"Then do as I say," she commanded in a voice softly alluring, coaxing. +"Go home, find out what you can, and bring me word here in an hour. If +you are not back here then I will go down there and face them all, +myself--_alone_." + +"You wouldn't," whispered the soft-voiced twin excitedly. + +"I _would_!" replied the girl. "Now go--and remember I'll expect you +back in one hour. If you fail me, I'll go down there and face those +devils single-handed! I could wipe the earth with forty such dogs!" + +The breed boys turned away in silent, stolid, Indian fashion, and the +bare-headed girl stood in the still gloom of the willow-brush listening +to the sound of their horses' quick hoof-beats until the last dull thud +had died in the distance. + +"Chuck-away!" called a voice from the creek bank. + +"Coming!" answered the girl, turning about with a start and running back +along the path. + +At the bank she stopped, unnerved with a rush of thoughts, +overwhelming--terrifying. She knelt down in the long grass, clasped her +hands over her heart as if to tear it from her, and raised for an +instant a strained, white face to the starlit canopy of heaven. + +"The brave can die but once," her heart repeated wildly. "But I am a +coward--I cannot bear it! Oh, God,--if you are the great, good +God,--spare him from all harm, from suffering and death! Spare him now! +See, I offer myself instead--freely, gladly! Take me, but spare him!" + +A dimly outlined face from the bank above looked down at her, followed +by a soft, mellow laugh. + +"The bank is so steep," said Livingston softly. "Here, give me your hand +and I will pull you up." + +She took a quick step upward, then stopped just below him and looked at +him intently. + +"God in heaven," she said wildly to herself, "I swear they shall not +harm a hair of your head! I'll tear the heart out of every man of them +that comes near you! I'll kill them all, the hounds, the sneaks, the low +vermin!" + +She looked at him an instant so, then laughed--an odd, mirthless, +reverberant laugh, that echoed on the hills above. + +"Come, let me help you," he urged gently, reaching down his hand to her. +She laughed again, this time softly, more naturally. + +"My _lord_," she said with grave emphasis, "you honor me! I am +overwhelmed for the instant. Forgive my rudeness!" + +"You have heard," he exclaimed regretfully. "Your friend has told you--I +am so sorry! But then it really doesn't make any difference--only I +thought you might like me better if you didn't know it." + +"Oh, my lord," she laughed mockingly. "I must needs _adore_ you now!" + +"Stop your fooling," he exclaimed impatiently. "And give me your hand +and I'll pull you up here." + +With a sudden movement he stepped down toward her, grasping her hand +firmly, drawing her up beside him on the bank. She looked at him in some +surprise. + +"I always had an idea," she said, "that you were a very mild-mannered +young man." + +"But you've given me a title that I didn't want--you've put me out of +humor, and now you must take the consequences," he said. + +"I tried to make you angry. Why aren't you?" said Hope seriously. + +"Angry with you!" he exclaimed softly. "With you, my girl! Look at me +closely--in my eyes and see the reason!" He stood beside her. His hand +grasped hers, his powerful magnetism drew her until her cheeks flamed, +but not the flicker of downcast eyelids betrayed more than the faintest, +friendliest indifference. + +"Come on," she said, turning abruptly toward the tent, "I'm starved for +my supper!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +"You bad girl," cried Clarice Van Rensselaer from the table, "why did +you run away? See this nice dinner spoiling for you! I've regained my +good nature, which is lucky for you, but you'll have to give an account +of yourself. Actually, I had to send Mr. Livingston to look you up!" She +glanced with a well-bred look of quizzical amusement from Hope's +brilliant, flushed face to the man who accompanied her. "Well, you see +that I for one didn't wait for you," she concluded; "couldn't! I don't +think I ever was so hungry before in my whole life. Everything tastes +_perfectly_ delicious!" + +"William has outdone himself this time," remarked Sydney, as the girl +drew up an empty box and seated herself at the table, taking a little +food upon her plate and making a pretense of eating. Everything tasted +like wood. She could scarcely swallow. It finally occurred to her that +she must be acting very unlike herself. She made a violent effort to +appear natural, succeeding fairly well. + +"You haven't given account of yourself, yet," said Mrs. Van Rensselaer, +glancing from her end of the table to where Hope sat, still in silence. + +"Don't ask me," said the girl. "My excuse would sound too trivial to +you, Clarice. Perhaps I wanted to watch the first stars of evening." + +"Or follow a frog to its nest in the weeds," supplemented Sydney, "or +catch grass-hoppers that had gone to roost, or listen to the night-song +of the cat bird in the brush or--or what, Hopie? Maybe you were writing +poems in your mind, or preparing new lessons for school to-morrow." + +"Yes, that's just it," she replied. "I was preparing new lessons--for +to-morrow!" + +"How funny!" laughed Mrs. Van Rensselaer. "I had forgotten you were a +full-fledged school-teacher. Of course, I suppose you do have to think +about your teaching some. Goodness, I wouldn't like it at all! It must +be an awful task to bother with a lot of rough, dirty children! How many +pupils have you?" + +"Seventeen enrolled--but only seven or eight who attend," replied Hope +briefly. + +"Mercy, I thought you must have at least fifty, from all I saw back +there!" gasped Mrs. Van Rensselaer. "Well, I shouldn't think it would be +much trouble to prepare lessons for that amount." + +"_That many_," corrected Hope. "We don't measure them by the pound." + +"No, we size them up by the cord," laughed Sydney; "but we don't handle +'em, because they're like that much dynamite." + +"Dangerous pieces of humanity," said Livingston, smiling. + +"Hope can handle them all right," declared Mrs. Van Rensselaer. "She can +handle anyone, for that matter. She's got more tact and diplomacy than +any politician. Trust her to manage seven or eight children! Why, if +she can't manage a person any other way, she'll actually _bully_ him. +She can make you believe black is white every time." + +"Fraeulein is so goot!" murmured Louisa, in rapture. + +"Thank you," replied Hope gratefully. "You see Louisa knows me _last_, +Clarice, and her remark should show you that I have changed for the +better." + +"I always told you there was chance for improvements, didn't I, Hopie?" +laughed Sydney. + +"Yes, you have said something about there being _room_ for improvement, +but I always supposed you judged me to be a hopeless case. I'm glad +though you think there's a _chance_! I always did want to improve!" As +she spoke she pushed back the box upon which she had been sitting, +turning it over to make it lower, and seated herself near the corner of +the tent, where she was shaded from the direct rays of the lantern's +light. + +More than a half hour had already passed, she thought nervously. Then +she began to count the minutes before her messengers should return. The +time seemed endless since she had decided to wait for more particulars +before informing Livingston of what was about to take place. The twins +had learned of it only that afternoon, and they, though filled with the +foreboding of a desperate plot, could tell nothing positive about the +actual plans. These she hoped they would be able to ascertain. She +believed that the soft-voiced twin knew more than he was willing to +divulge when he advised her so emphatically against informing Livingston +of the plot. This, combined with a certain anxiety of her own, which she +was unable to define, filled her with vague uneasiness and decided her +instantly to do nothing until the boys returned with more particulars. + +"You don't mean to say you've finished your supper, Hope," exclaimed +Mrs. Van Rensselaer, as the girl settled herself comfortably in the dark +corner. "_I_ never was so hungry before in all my life!" She turned to +Jim McCullen, who put his head inside the tent: "You see, Mr. McCullen, +that good, hard, patient endeavor brings its own reward! I wouldn't miss +this for worlds!" + +"I'm very glad to hear it, ma'am," replied old Jim politely. "Reckon +you'll sleep pretty well out there to-night, no misquitoes er nothin' to +bother you. The tent's all ready fer you folks any time. Plenty o' +blankets an' it'll be a warmer night'n usual. Well, so long!" + +"Why, he's going away!" said Hope in surprise, as a horse loped down the +creek bank and on through the brush trail. An impulse to run out and +call him back seized her. Sydney's slow reply caused a delay, the +impulse to do so wavered, and in another moment it was too late; yet she +felt somehow that she had made a mistake. + +"Yes," replied Carter, after listening to Mrs. Van Rensselaer's chatter +for a moment, "he's going over to the round-up. It's camped about ten or +fifteen miles, down at the foot of the mountains. It's as light as day +out and much pleasanter riding in the cool of evening. He'll be back +early in the morning. Had some mail from the ranch to take over to the +boys." + +"The poor fellows on the round-up all summer! I bet they're glad to get +their mail," murmured Clarice. + +"What they get don't hurt them any," remarked Sydney. "Range riding +isn't conducive to letter writing, and it doesn't take long before a +cow-puncher is about forgotten by his home people, and his mail consists +of an occasional newspaper, sent by someone who happens to remember him, +and the regular home letter from his old mother, who never forgets. By +the way, here's a lot of mail for O'Hara. Have to ride over with it +unless he turns up pretty soon." + +"Dear Larry!" said Clarice. "What made him leave just when I came up +here? I'd love to see him! He's such a jolly good fellow. You didn't +send him away on some wild-goose chase, did you, Hope?" + +The girl shaded her eyes with her hand and answered languidly: "No, +there wasn't enough excitement here, so he went over to the military +reservation. They are out on drill over near here--Colonel Walsh, and a +lot of West Point fellows Larry knows, and so he pulled stakes, just +quit our company entirely, and turned old Watch Eye toward Fox Creek." + +She drawled her words out slowly as if to fill in time. Livingston, +whose eyes constantly sought her face, thought she must be very tired, +and rose suddenly to take his leave. She was upon her feet in a flash. + +"Sit right down!" she demanded nervously. "Surely you wouldn't think of +leaving us so early; why, we'd all get stupid and go to bed immediately, +and Clarice wouldn't enjoy herself at all!" She laid her hand upon his +sleeve entreatingly. "_Stay!_" she urged softly. + +"As you say," he replied. "It is a pleasure to remain, but you must tell +me when I am to go. I thought perhaps you were tired." + +She drew her hand away with a sudden movement. He seated himself beside +Mrs. Van Rensselaer, who began immediately to congratulate him upon his +good sense in remaining. + +"But it was compulsory," he returned. "I didn't dare disobey orders." + +"I should say not," agreed Clarice, laughing merrily, "we always mind +Hope. Everybody does." + +"She always knows the right," said little Louisa, looking lovingly at +her friend. + +"Why, of course," agreed Mrs. Van Rensselaer, "that's taken for +granted." + +Hope was again in her corner, silent, intent. Livingston could only +conclude that she was tired. The rest of them took no special notice of +her, nor did they hear the distant splashing of water which brought into +activity all the blood in her body and fired each nerve. Clarice was +giving an elaborate account of her day's experience, consequently no +attention was paid to the girl's abrupt departure. She smiled at Louisa +as she passed quietly out and made some remark about her horse, which +gave the impression that she might have forgotten something. At least +Livingston and Louisa received that impression; as for the others they +were busy, and besides Hope was Hope, who always followed her own free +fancy. + +The girl fairly flew along the trail that skirted the creek until she +grasped the bridle of a small Indian pony that was nosing its way +cautiously toward her. + +"Oh, it's you!" exclaimed its small rider in a relieved tone, as he +slipped to the ground and stood in the path beside the girl. "I was +mighty scared it might be somebody else." Hope raised the boy's face so +that the moon shone full upon it. + +"Ned!" she exclaimed under her breath. "Why are you here? Where are the +boys?" + +"The old man's got 'em locked up in the granary," he announced. Then +seeing the look of alarm that flashed into her face, added assuringly: +"But that's all right, _I'm_ here! They told me to tell you they'd get +out somehow 'fore mornin'. I cached their horses in the brush for 'em, +and they're diggin' themselves out underneath the barn. Here," he said, +handing something to her. "I got your rifle out o' your room an' hid it +under the house soon's ever you left, an' all these cartridges. I just +knew the old man 'ud go an' look fer it." + +"Oh!" exclaimed the girl, suddenly gathering child, gun, and all into +her arms. "What a little _man_ you are." + +"Yep," said the boy, disengaging himself; "an' I've got a lot to tell +you!" + +"And you're _sure_ about this," questioned Hope, after the boy had told +a story so complete in detail as to fairly unnerve her. "You're +_perfectly_ sure that these men are going to meet at the shed--the big +shed close to Fritz's grave, there below the ledge of rocks?" + +"Sure's anything," replied the boy convincingly. "There'll be seven er +eight from our place, some from Old Peter's an' some from up the creek." + +Hope shivered as though it had been a winter's night. + +"What _shall_ we do! What _shall_ we do!" she repeated almost +frantically. + +"Why, _fight 'em_, of course!" exclaimed the boy. "Dave an' Dan'll get +out by then, an' we'll all lay up there behind them rocks an' just +pepper 'em! There's 'bout a million peek-holes in that wall o' rocks, +an' they can't never hit us. Pooh, I ain't afraid o' twenty men! We'll +make 'em think all the soldiers from the post is behind there!" + +"The soldiers!" exclaimed the girl, filled suddenly with a new life, +"and they _shall be there_! _They shall be there!_" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +"You must think me rude," apologized Hope, entering the tent as quickly +as she had left it, and seating herself directly beside Livingston. "I +surely didn't intend to be gone so long." + +"So _long_!" exclaimed Mrs. Van Rensselaer. "Why, I hadn't missed you! +Where in the world have you been?" + +"Oh, _now_ I'll not tell you!" laughed the girl, while her face flushed +deeply. + +"But you were missed," said Livingston. "You've been gone just ten +minutes." + +She looked at him and smiled at her own mistake. It seemed to her that +she had been gone an hour. He was dazzled by the unusual brilliancy of +her face, the strange light in her eyes. The smile, he thought, was for +himself. "Did the moonlight transform you?" he asked. She only laughed +in reply. Her heart was bounding in very joy of life now that she saw +her way clear through the grave difficulty that had confronted her. A +great tragedy would be averted, a lot of unscrupulous men brought to +justice, and more than this--the boy beside her was safe. What mattered +it to her at this moment that he possessed somewhere in the universe a +wife, which irrevocably separated her from him by every social law and +moral rule? This was nothing to her now in view of the great sense of +his personal safety that lifted such a weight of fear from her heart. +Nothing mattered much since he was safe. How desperate the chance had +seemed, and now how easily the danger averted! + +Livingston knew little of the thoughts that played wildly in her brain +while she, to all intents, was listening with eager, brilliant face to +Clarice's light chatter. But Mrs. Van Rensselaer was tired. Her chatter +began to fag. Outside the shadows settled down about the tents, until +the moon rose above the mountain like a great ball of fire, casting over +everything the soft radiance of its white light. The night was almost +as bright as day. Livingston reluctantly said good-night, and went out +with Sydney to get his horse, which was staked some little distance +away. When they returned to saddle up a movement on the opposite side of +the brush attracted Sydney's attention, and borrowing the horse he rode +over to investigate. Livingston, wondering vaguely what had taken him +away so abruptly, seated himself upon the tongue of the camp wagon and +listened to the soft tones of women's voices from the white tent near +the bank. Quite without warning a hand was laid upon his shoulder. +"Where did Syd go?" asked Hope. + +"Over there," replied Livingston, rising quickly beside her, and +pointing across the brush. "He took my horse to drive out some cattle, I +think, and so I am waiting. I thought you had retired. Did you come to +say good-night to me?" + +"Yes," said the girl softly, "what of it?" + +"Everything! That you should care that much--that you----" + +"But I wouldn't need to care--so _very_ much--to come to bid you +good-night--would I?" she interrupted. + +"No--perhaps; but you _do_ care! I seem to feel that you care for +me--Hope!" + +"No! I don't care for you a bit! Not at all--I mean----You haven't any +right to talk to me like that! Certainly, I don't care for you, Mr. +Livingston. Oh, I didn't mean to hurt you! I mean----This is no time for +such things!" + +"Hope!" + +"Wait, listen! They will hear. See, Syd is coming!" She stepped back +from him, pointing. + +"What of it! You shall tell me! Look at me!" he commanded. "Do you know +what you are making me believe--what you are telling me?" + +"Nothing!" she insisted. "I am telling you nothing--only--_wait_!" She +spoke hurriedly, catching her breath. "Before day-break I will be on +that hill over there between your ranch and here--there above Fritz's +grave, to watch the dawn of day--and the sunrise and----" + +"And I will be waiting for you! God bless you, dear." He kissed the +brown hand, which was snatched hurriedly from his clasp just as Sydney +rode up beside them. + +"You mustn't believe _anything_," she gasped under her breath. + +"_Everything!_" he insisted. + +"Your horse is loose, pard," said Sydney, "I thought I caught sight of +it over there, but couldn't see anything of it when I rode over. You're +afoot! Now what are you going to do about it?" + +"Walk," replied the girl, darting a quick look at Livingston. "Half a +mile is _nothing_." + +"Half a mile," laughed her cousin. "You mean two miles and a half, don't +you?" + +"Oh, the horse isn't far! We'll find it the first thing in the morning. +Good-night, you two! It's time school-teachers were in bed--and everyone +else. Good-night!" She turned around and waved her hand at them just +before the flap of the white tent closed upon her. + +Clarice yawned dismally. "Will you never settle down, Hope? Isn't this +lovely and comfortable? So cool after the hot, fatiguing day, I just +love it! Whom were you talking to--Livingston? What a shame he's +married! He's such a dear boy, why, I'd almost be tempted, _if_ he +wasn't married----But pshaw! Lady Helene Livingston is one of those +frizzy-haired blondes that suggest curl papers and peroxide, and she +affects velvet dresses, black or purple--but always _velvet_--and a +feather! I've seen her loads of times, but she doesn't go in our set, +because she's taken up with those Grandons. You know Harriet married an +English peer, with a title, _nobody_ over there recognizes. She was such +a pretty girl that she might have done something for her family, but I +don't think the poor man fared as well as he expected, for it's well +known that old Grandon hasn't a half a million in his own name. But +Harriet lives well, and entertains a lot of English people nobody else +cares to have. Lady Helene Livingston is pretty enough in spite of her +velvet and feathers to get on anywhere, if only she didn't follow in +the train of Harriet's crowd. I wonder how it happens that she never +comes out here?" + +"The curl papers and velvet may have something to do with that," said +Hope, settling down beside Louisa, on the opposite side of the tent, +with a motion as weary as if the only thought she possessed was to +secure a good night's sleep. "Velvet and feathers," she yawned. +"Clarice, do you know that it's nearly eleven o'clock?" + +"Really!" exclaimed Mrs. Van Rensselaer. "I'd never have thought it. See +how bright it is in here--almost like day." + +"Full moon," observed Hope. "It will be light like this until almost +morning, and then darkness for a little while before daylight." + +"How well you understand such things, Hope! I should think it would be +very difficult to keep track of the moon." + +"Yes," yawned the girl, "it is. We'd better go to sleep, Clarice, +because as soon as the sun is up it will be too warm to stay in here, +so you won't get your morning nap. That's the worst of a tent." + +"What a shame!" sighed Mrs. Van Rensselaer. Then after ten minutes of +silence: "Hope, I want you to go back to New York with me next week. +Now, no joking, dear, I mean it." + +"No," replied Hope. "It's too roasting hot there at this season. I +couldn't think of it, Clarice." + +"But we're going by way of the Lakes, and take in a lot of those cool +summer resorts. Then I must get to Newport for the last of the season, +and after that, you know, it will be decent weather in New York, and we +can have no end of good times. Come now, Hope, just make up your mind to +go!" + +"You forget, I must teach my school for several weeks yet, so that +settles it. Good-night, Clarice! Go to sleep like a good girl." + +"What does this little school amount to, to you?" insisted Mrs. Van +Rensselaer. "Not a thing, and you know it! You just don't want to go +with us. Come on, please do go, that's a dear girlie!" + +"Impossible, Clarice," replied Hope. "There are many good reasons why I +really couldn't. This school up here, and my little Louisa, and, anyway, +I don't want to go. Aren't you very tired and sleepy, Clarice?" She +thought Mrs. Van Rensselaer bid fair to remain awake all night, and was +devising various schemes in her mind for getting away from her. But Mrs. +Van Rensselaer had an object in view, and disliked exceedingly to give +it up. + +"I really don't think you ought to stay up here, Hope. To be candid, I +don't just like your position. Of course, in this country, +conventionalities don't count for much, but honestly I think this +Livingston is caring for you." + +"What in the world put such an idea into your head?" asked the girl, +flushing beneath her cover of blankets. + +"Hope!" reproved Mrs. Van Rensselaer. "You know it, and I know it, so +what's the use of denying it? But, of course, if you think it's +right----Really, I have nothing further to say except that I wish you +would return with me, and bring your little Louisa along." + +The girl was silent for a moment, forgetting her anxiety to get away, in +thoughts Clarice had suggested. + +"Has he any family?" she suddenly asked. "I mean--_children_, Clarice." + +"I don't think so. But what difference would that make?" + +"No difference in reality--but a heap of difference in my thoughts. If +he had a family,--children,--it would seem more natural to think of him +as being a married man, a family man. As it is, I will remember him as a +true-hearted, free young Englishman." + +"I think, Hopie, his being married has spoiled a very pretty romance. I +wish it might have been different, dear!" + +"You are too sleepy to know what you think. Go to sleep and dream that I +shall join you in New York as soon as the school is ended." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +It seemed an interminable time to Hope, although it was in reality less +than an hour, before the breathing of the two sleepers assured her that +she could leave the tent in safety. + +When she stood outside, at the edge of the cut-bank, casting a quick +glance over the tents behind, it seemed to her that the moonlight was +brighter than ever. It was like a soft hazy day. She made her way toward +a dark object on the opposite side of the brush, the same that had +attracted Sydney an hour before. This time the small object did not +conceal itself, but stood boldly forth. + +"I thought you wasn't never comin'," said the boy softly. "It must be +'bout mornin' by now. Seems all night! We'll haf to ride like blazes if +we get there now in time! They're over here," he said, leading the way +along a winding trail around the side of a wooded hill. + +"You're a good boy," said the girl. + +"You bet I had the awfulest time gettin' away with your saddle! Every +time I'd get up near it that blame cook'd pop his head out of the tent. +I like to never got it a tall!" + +"But you did get it," said Hope. "I saw that it wasn't there." + +"Yep, an' the blanket an' bridle. I've got 'em all cached up here in the +trees--horses an' everything, an' your horse is saddled. Somebody rode +up while I was waitin' down there on the bank for you, an' I just had to +lay low, I tell you!" + +"Come, hurry!" whispered the girl. "We've got to kill our horses +to-night!" + +"Oh, I've got Dave's pinto, so I don't care," replied the child. Then +after an instant's pause in which they reached their horses: "You +couldn't kill this pinto, nohow!" + +Perhaps, thought Hope, it would not kill her horse either. She trusted +not, for she loved the animal dearly. But it would be a ride for their +very lives if the soldiers were to reach there in time to avert the +mischief. + +It was a ride for their lives. Ten miles at night over a rough country, +through tangled underbrush, and deep matted grass, across stony creek +bottoms and rocky hills, ever onward toward Fox Creek at the speed of +the wind. + +Time and again the horses stumbled to their knees, but the riders might +have been a part of them, so securely did they keep their seats. The +pinto began to lag, at which the girl stopped for an instant, rode +behind, and lashed it furiously with her strong quirt. Then for a time +it kept up with the thoroughbred, but could not long continue the speed. + +Upon a high knoll the girl reined up, horse and rider waiting, +motionless as a carved statue, for the pinto, whose easy, graceful +running gait had changed to short rabbit-like leaps. + +"Wish I had another string o' horses!" gasped the child, as he at length +gained the top of the hill. The girl pointed down the dwindling +foot-hills to something small and white in the distance. + +"See, there are the tents--a mile away. The soldiers--two troops of +them--out on a pleasure trip. I will go on--you take your time, and go +back with the men." + +"I want to go with _you_," declared the boy, half crying. + +"No," said the girl coaxingly. "You must be their guide, and lead them +to the ledge of rocks by the sheep-shed. Think how fine it will be to be +a _real_ soldier." Then appalled by a new thought: "Oh, but if you +should get tired and _couldn't_ lead them there, how would they ever +find the place? _What shall I do!_ I can't wait for them--I must go back +ahead. _If_ he shouldn't be there! If something should have warned or +detained him! _What will I do!_" + +"Oh, shoot it all, _I'll_ take 'em there all right!" exclaimed the boy, +in a very big voice. "Don't you worry. I ain't a bit tired, an' I ain't +a-goin' to be, neither!" + +Hope reached over and clasped the child in her arms, a sob coming with +her breath. + +"_My little man!_" she said softly. Then instructing him to follow her, +spurred up her horse to a fresh attempt, and so mad was her ride that +she scarcely breathed until she dropped to the ground beside a sentinel +who commanded her to halt. + +How she roused the camp in the middle of the night was a story Larry +O'Hara often delighted to relate. It was Larry who really came to the +rescue, who shouldered the responsibility of the action, and led the +troops when finally equipped to the scene of the disturbance. + +And Hope rode back alone--rode so rapidly that her horse stopped, +exhausted, at the foot of the big hill where she had planned the +rendezvous with Livingston. There she left the noble animal and climbed +up toward the summit, sometimes on her hands and knees, so tired had she +become. And the moon still shone brightly along the horizon of the +heavens. An hour of brilliancy, she thought, then darkness before the +dawn. When she had dragged herself up the mountain side, hope and fear +alternately filling her heart, and hastening her footsteps, a sudden +weakness came over her as she saw on the summit the stalwart figure of +Livingston. Then it seemed to her that the night had been a mere dream, +or at least ridiculous. How could such a strong, brave-looking man +require a girl's assistance? It was preposterous! She seemed to shrink +into herself, in a little cuddled heap among the rocks. + +Then a clear whistle sounded on the still air. She knew it was for her. +How like a boy, she thought. She tried to answer it, but could not make +a sound. + +Finally she rose from the rocks and approached him--not the Hope he had +expected, but a frightened, trembling girl. + +He went to meet her, after the manner of a boy, and clasped the hands +she gave him in his own, then kissed each one, and gravely led her to +the summit upon which he had been standing. + +"This rock is like a great throne," he said, "where we are going to wait +our crown of happiness that is to come with the rising of the sun. Is it +not so? See, you shall sit upon the throne and I here at your feet. How +you are trembling, dear! And those heavy guns, why did you bring them?" + +"To protect myself, perhaps, from one who is inclined to be over-bold," +she replied, with a little nervous laugh as she settled herself +comfortably on the throne-like rock. + +"Hope!" he reproved. A red flush dyed the girl's face. + +"And are you not the man?" she inquired. + +"Tell me then," he said quietly, "who has a better right!" + +She drew back into the very recess of the throne, away from his eyes, so +convincingly near to hers. + +"It's a long climb up this steep mountain," she remarked weariedly. + +"And you are tired! I can see it now. But it was good of you to come to +meet me here like this, Hope--_sweetheart_!" + +"No, no! you must not talk like that!" cried the girl. + +"You know I cannot help it when I am with you. I must tell you over and +over that I love you--_love you_, Hope! Why not, when my heart sings it +all the time? And have you not given me the _right_, dear?" + +"Wait! Not now," she said more softly. "Talk about something +else--_anything_," she gasped. + +"And must I humor you, my queen," he said. "Look down and let me read in +your eyes what I want to find there--then I will talk about anything, +everything, until you want to hear what is in my heart!" + +"Only daylight can reveal what is in my eyes," she replied. "The light +of the moon is unreal, deceiving. Tell me how long you have been here, +and where did you leave your horse?" + +"You are evading me for some reason. If I did not believe it to be +impossible, I should say that I am nervous--and that you are nervous. +Can you not be yourself to me now--at this time? Why did you want me to +meet you here?" + +"You say you love me. Then aren't you content to just sit here in +silence beside me?" + +"Pardon me, dear, but my love is almost too great for silence. You will +admit that." Then with a touch of amusement in his voice: "Tell me, are +you angry with me that I should speak so plainly to you?" + +"No, no! Of course not--only talk about something else just now. How +long have you been here?" + +"An eternity," he replied. "Or perhaps longer. I'm not sure. When I left +you there at the camp I went directly back to the ranch. The men were +all in bed. I went in and got my rifle and started over here. You see we +are both armed!" he laughed, taking a Winchester from behind the throne +of rocks. She took it from him and examined it minutely. + +"A good gun," she remarked, handing it back. + +"Then I started over here," he continued, "but had a brief interruption +on the road in the shape of the old squaw that lives down in your +community--old Mother White Blanket. She held me up in the +road--positively held my horse so that I couldn't move while she told a +story that would have brought tears to my eyes if I could have +understood a word she said, and if my mind hadn't been so full of the +most gloriously beautiful girl in the world. + +"Finally I had sense enough to give her some money, and after repeating +'yes' innumerable times to her broken questions she finally gave me +permission to proceed on my way. I left my horse down at the +sheep-shed." + +"Couldn't you understand anything she said to you?" questioned Hope +eagerly. + +"Not much," he admitted, and Hope, with a relieved little air, which he +noticed, sank back among the rocks again. + +A silence fell over them for a time, then Livingston raised his head and +looked at the girl intently. + +"I think she was trying to tell me something," he said slowly. "She said +it was a warning; but I paid no attention to her delirium. I believe she +tried to impress upon me that I was in danger. But I was insanely +anxious to meet you. She said something that I had heard before, that +you and the twins had driven away the men who attacked and killed poor +Fritz that night. And this much more I think I understand now, that the +'old man,' whoever she meant, had given her a beating, that the twins +were shut up in the stable or somewhere, and that you were a good girl +because you had given her all your school money. That much is clear to +me now. And also that she was very anxious that I should get out of the +country immediately--which seems to be the sentiment of the majority of +the people out here. The old woman is no doubt insane." + +"Oh, yes," agreed the girl, "there's not a doubt but that she's plumb +locoed! I'm glad you didn't allow anything she said to trouble your +mind. She's a regular old beggar. The money was probably what she was +after. You can't believe a word she says!" + +"Yet she spoke convincingly," mused Livingston. "If I hadn't been so +absorbed in the meeting I would have taken more heed of what she said. +As it was, I passed her off as a little out of her mind. Of course, I +knew you had no hand in that shooting at the corral, had you, Hope?" he +asked in a somewhat anxious voice. + +"A ridiculous idea for that old squaw to get in her head," replied the +girl, leaning in a weary fashion back upon the rock. + +Whatever suspicion Livingston had entertained vanished for the moment. + +"I am glad," he said. "I don't know exactly why, but I am glad that it +isn't so. I shouldn't like to think that you had done such a thing--for +me." + +"The moon takes a long time to set, don't you think?" she remarked. "It +must be almost time for daylight." + +"Are you anxious?" he inquired pointedly. She sat erect in dignified +silence and did not reply. + +"How much longer must you be humored, dear?" he asked, taking both of +her hands within his own, and drawing her toward him. "I do not believe +that the moonlight will tell lies. Look at me!" + +She leaped away from him with all her young strength, and stood upon the +throne of rocks, scornfully erect. + +"How bad you are--how wicked to talk to me so, to even think that I +would care for you one minute! Surely you must realize that I know your +past, _Lord_ Livingston! _Your past!_" she flashed. + +"You know my past, and yet you can condemn me," he said, pain and +wonderment in his quiet voice. "Perhaps you are right. I haven't always +been perfect. But I am not bad--Hope! Not _that_! I am a man--I try to +be, before God. Surely you do not mean what you say, my girl--_Hope_!" + +"You know just what I mean," said Hope, in a voice strained and harsh. +"And you know it would be absolutely _impossible_ for me to love you!" + +"Then there is nothing more to be said," replied Livingston, turning +away from her. "We will not wait for the sunrise. I will go now." He +walked from her with long strides. + +"Wait," she cried in absolute terror. "_Wait!_ Oh, you wouldn't be so +rude as to leave me here--_alone_!" He stopped short, his back still +toward her. "Please come back!" she begged, approaching him, "I should +die of fright!" Somehow she reminded herself of Clarice. "Surely you +will walk back to camp with me!" + +"Yes, certainly, pardon me," he replied huskily. + +As they turned, a horse came slowly toward them. Hope gave a little +nervous exclamation. + +"Your horse," said Livingston, reaching for the bridle. "I thought you +walked." + +"No--yes," replied the girl. "I walked up the hill. The horse must have +followed. We will walk down and lead it. It's too steep to ride down." + +But Livingston had stopped short beside the animal, his head bowed, +almost upon the saddle. + +"Come, shall we go?" asked the girl nervously. + +Suddenly the man turned to her, sternness expressed in every line of his +figure. + +"Where have you been?" he commanded. + +"For a ride," she replied, feeling for the first time in her life the +desire to scream. + +"_For a ride!_ Yes, it must have been a ride! Your horse is nearly +dead--listen to his breathing! Crusted with foam from head to foot and +still dripping. You have been----" + +"For the soldiers. To protect your ranch from the devils who would kill +you and get rid of your sheep--this very hour!" + +"And you have lured me here, away from danger--away from the side of my +men, away from my _duty_, with all a woman's cowardice! _But what of +them!_ You have called me bad! That may be, but I am not bad enough to +be grateful to you for doing this, that you may, perhaps, have intended +for a kindness! Anything would have been kinder to me than what you have +done to-night." + +"Where are you going?" she cried from the rocks where she had thrown +herself. But he was running, with all his speed, down the mountain +side. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +Then she knew that he was going straight into the very jaws of death. If +it had been a trap set for him it could not have been any surer. In a +sheep-shed far below, close to the reef of rocks above Fritz's grave, a +score of men were waiting, and he was rushing toward them, down the +mountain side, lighted by the white moonlight. And what was she doing, +groveling there among the rocks? Like a flash she was after him, but at +a speed much less than his had been. + +Before she was halfway down three shots rang out. The girl clutched her +heart and listened, but not a sound could be heard save the long echoes +in the valley, which sounded like a dying breath. + +On she sped from rock to rock, keeping ever out of sight of the shed, +her senses keenly alive to the one object in view--a bit of white far +below. It might have been a bunch of flowers along the hillside, but +white flowers never grew there--a heap of bones, then, she thought. She +made a zigzag line along the jagged ridge of rocks, closer and closer to +the white object below. She wondered if he lay on his face or his back. +How calm she was in the shock and terror of her grief! The light of the +moon was growing dim, she had reached the very tip of the rocks, the +white object was not twenty feet away, but out in the open in perfect +view of the sheep-shed and the score of men it hid. Another shot broke +the stillness. The white object moved, and then a moan followed, so low +that none but the ears of the frenzied girl could have heard. Like an +enraged lioness she sprang out into the open and dragged the heavy body +up toward the shelter of rocks. Several bullets rang about her, but the +increasing darkness made her an uncertain target. A couple of men +ventured outside the sheep-shed, encouraged by the stillness. The girl +laughed savagely, as if in glee, and pulled the man's body close to the +side of rocks, covering it with her own. + +"Come on," she cried to herself. "Come on, show yourselves! I shall have +you all! For every pang you have made him suffer, you shall have twenty, +and for his death you shall have a lingering one! Come on, come on!" +Three stood outside. The addition pleased her. She laughed. Taking +deliberate aim she fired again and again. Three wounded, frightened men +crawled into the shelter of the shed. Then a score of bullets splashed +against the rocks about her. She lifted the warm bleeding body closer +under the rocks, drawing her own over it to protect it from all harm and +talking frantically the while. + +"The hounds, the hounds! They murdered you right in my sight, dear, and +I will tear out their hearts with my hands! See, they are hiding +themselves again! I can wait, yes, I can wait! _My love, my love!_ For +everything they have made you suffer! Oh, you can't be _dead_, dear! You +can't be dead! Open your eyes and let me tell you just once I love you! +Only once, dear!" She put her mouth close to his ear. "_I love you, love +you, love you!_ Only hear me once and know, dear! Know how I love you! +Why didn't I tell you? I don't care if you are married a thousand times, +a _million_ times! I love you with all my life--my soul! See, he's +trying to get away! But he'll never reach his horse! See! A hole right +through his knee! Death is too good for them, dear. My love, speak to me +just once--only know that I love you, that I am mad with love for you! +Tell me that you feel my face against yours--and my kisses! See, they're +crawling out like flies! and making for their horses--and now they're +crawling back again so that I cannot get them. Oh, God, let me get them +_all_! My love, my love, how I love you, and _never told you so_!" + +With the first hint of dawn another volley came from the opposite side, +and out of the gloom a rush of cavalry closed in about the sheep-shed, +and ten men, most of them suffering from slight wounds, were taken +captive. The man lying against the reef of rocks partially opened his +eyes as Hope, with one last kiss upon his face, rose to meet a small +group of riders. + +"I say, Hope, it's a blasted shame we didn't get here in time to save +him!" exclaimed O'Hara, with grief in his voice. "I'll just send the +doctor over here at once." + +While the surgeon bent over Livingston the girl stood close by, against +the rocks, quiet as the stone itself. + +"A bad shoulder wound," he commented at length. "A little of your flask, +O'Hara, and he'll be all right. Why, he's quite conscious! How do you +feel? You're all right, my boy! A shattered shoulder isn't going to +bother you any, is it? Not much!" + +The girl moved closer. + +"Is he alive and conscious? Will he live?" she asked. + +"He's all right, madam," replied the surgeon. As he spoke Livingston +turned his face toward her, his eyes alight with all the love-light of +his heart--answering every prayer she had breathed upon him. Her own +answered his. Then she drew back, farther and farther away, until she +stood outside the group of riders. O'Hara tried to detain her as she +passed him. + +"Why, you're wounded yourself, girl!" he exclaimed. + +She looked at her sleeve, and the wet stream of blood upon her dress, +and laughed. It was true, but she had not felt the wound. + +"Not at all, Larry," she replied. "The blood came from _him_," and she +pointed back to the rocks. She started on, but turned back. "Tell me," +she said, "what became of little Ned." + +"I sent him home," replied Larry. "The poor little chap was about all +in. We met his uncle, Long Bill, riding like blazes for the doctor. It +seems that those young divils of twins shot old Harris some time during +the night, which stopped that faction from joining these fellows here as +they had planned. A pretty lucky shot, I'm thinking! They ought to have +a gold medal for it, bless their souls, but they'll both dangle from the +end of a rope before they're forty, the devils, or I'll miss my guess!" + +Larry looked around to speak to an officer, and before he could realize +it Hope had disappeared, climbing back toward the summit of the hill +where she had left her horse. + +In the gulch on the opposite side she fell exhausted into the very arms +of old Jim McCullen, who had returned in time to hear the shooting, and +was hastening toward the scene. + +"My poor little Hopie!" he cried, carrying her to the stream, where the +alarmed party from the camp found them a few minutes later. + +"You will drown her, Mr. McCullen!" exclaimed Clarice Van Rensselaer, +rushing up quite white and breathless. "The poor darling, I just _knew_ +she'd get into trouble with all those dreadful Indians! Someone give me +some whisky, _quick_! That's right, Sydney, _make_ her swallow it! Here, +give it to me! _There!_" + +Louisa, stricken with grief, pointed to the damp, stiffened sleeve of +the girl's shirt-waist. "See," she sobbed, "they have shot her, too, +like my Fritz!" + +Of them all, Mrs. Van Rensselaer was the most contained, and showed +remarkable coolness and nerve in the way she ripped off the sleeve and +bathed the wound, which was hardly more than a deep scratch, yet had +caused considerable loss of blood. + +"It's exhaustion, pure and simple," said Jim McCullen. Then he and +Sydney drew away a short distance, and examined the horse. + +Hope finally looked up into the anxious faces above her. + +"I think, Clarice," she said, "I'll go back to New York with you." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +Hope, a vision in white, leaned back resignedly in the soft embrace of +the carriage cushions. + +"I thought," she said, "you never visited the Grandons, Clarice, +particularly since Harriet made her alliance with the titleless duke." +Mrs. Van Rensselaer smiled behind the laces of her muff. "I didn't +suppose you were going there this afternoon," continued the girl, with a +sweeping look along the solidly built street. "How does it happen?" + +"Well, you see," replied Clarice, "_Larry_ wished it; and you know his +wish is law to me--_until_ we're married. That's only right and as it +should be--the _dear boy_!" Then impulsively: "I don't know how I've +ever lived without him, Hope! Positively, he is the _dearest_ thing that +ever lived!" + +"And you'll both be tremendously happy, I know. Both of you young and +gay, and in love with life and its frivolities--both the center of your +set, and both rattle-brained enough to want to keep that center and +throw away your lives in the whirling, rapid stream of society." + +"You shouldn't ridicule this life, Hope. Don't you know we are the very +pulse of the world! I had an idea you were taking to it pretty well. You +are certainly making a tremendous hit. Even mamma smiles upon you in the +most affectionate manner, and is proud for once of her offspring. You +are simply gorgeous, Hope--a perfect _queen_!" + +The girl's eyes darkened, her face flushed. "A _queen_," she retorted. +"A queen! Clarice, did you ever sit upon a throne and feel the world +slipping out from under you? A woman is never a queen, except to the +_one_ man. But you are mistaken, Clarice. I simply cannot adapt myself +to this life. If it wasn't for the continual monotony of it all--the +never changing display of good points and fine clothes--where even one's +own prayers are gilded and framed in consciousness and vanity--and +these streets--the reflection of it all--these blocks and blocks always +the same, like the people they cover--presenting always the same +money-stamped faces--oh, it is this sameness that stifles me! It is all +grand and wonderful, but it isn't _life_." She paused, then smiled at +Clarice's perplexed face. "Leave me at mamma's when you return, for I've +got stacks of things to do, and I want the evening all to myself--Louisa +and I, you know. And we'll say, Clarice, that I perfectly love dear old +New York." + +"Oh, I don't mind, dear, not at all! I know you are no more fitted in +your heart for this life than I am for the life out there with those +_dreadful_ Indians. But you've certainly been acting superb these last +two months!" + +"You are such a _dear_, Clarice," said Hope impulsively, stroking her +gloved hand. "I have you and Louisa, and, of course, I am perfectly +happy! I tell myself so a thousand times a day. My poor little Louisa! +_She's_ about the happiest girl I ever saw in all my life, but she +doesn't know it. Here she is worrying her head off because Sydney is +pressing his suit too strongly and won't take 'no' for an answer, and +she thinks she ought to be faithful to poor Fritz, her cousin, who is +really only a sweet, sad memory to her now, while all the time she is +crazy in love with Syd. Isn't it a fright? But Sydney is way out in +Montana, and his letters serve only as little pricks to her poor +conscience. Her replies are left mostly to me, so that is what I must do +to-night." + +"But your mother entertains this evening. Had you forgotten?" reminded +Mrs. Van Rensselaer. "So how are you going to get away?" + +"I suppose I will have to come down for awhile, but I simply will not +remain long." + +"Well, I will see you then. Larry and I are going to drop in for a +little while in the early evening." + +When they drove away from the Grandons' a half hour later Clarice +searched the girl's quiet face for some expression of her thoughts, but +found none. + +"So you have seen the Lady Livingston at last, Hope! What do you think +of her?" + +The girl shrugged her shoulders and looked into the street. "Your +description tallied very well," she replied. + +That evening Hope met the blond Lady Helene at her mother's musicale. +This time it was Clarice, again, who brought the meeting about. + +Mrs. Van Rensselaer was in her gayest, most voluble mood. + +"I'm _so_ anxious to have you two get acquainted," she said. "Dear Lady +Helene, this is _Hope_--Miss Hathaway, and she can tell you everything +you want to know about the West. Do, Hope, entertain her for a few +moments until I find Larry." This the girl did in her gracious way, but +adroitly kept the conversation away from the West. + +After a few moments Clarice returned without Larry. A shadow of +disappointment crossed her face as she joined the conversation. + +"I thought you were going to talk about the West, Hope," she laughed, +"and here you are talking _New York_--nothing but New York!" + +"New York is always an entertaining topic," said Lady Helene. "I do not +seem to fancy the West particularly. You know Lord Livingston has +recently been hurt out there, and so I do not enjoy a very kindly +feeling toward that country. The poor boy! I have been so worried about +him! Really, don't you know, I haven't had a good night's sleep since I +heard of his injury! Yes, you know, it's a wonder he wasn't _scalped_! +It's just fearful, really! He is so much to me, you know. Ever since my +poor husband died and the title and estates fell to Edward, I have felt +a _great_ responsibility for him. He is so much younger than my husband, +Lord Henry, and so, well, really, sort of wild, don't you know." Here +Lady Helene smiled and wiped one eye with a filmy bit of lace. Perhaps +she was saddened by thoughts of the havoc she had wrought in the life of +the late lord, and his fortunes. + +Hope sat motionless, suddenly paralyzed. "Do you mean," she asked, in +short gasps, "that Edward--Lord Livingston is not your _husband_?" + +"Mercy, no," replied Lady Helene, "my husband's brother! Indeed, Edward +is not married! I doubt very much if he ever will be. I hope if he does, +that it will be to someone at home, in his own class, don't you know! +Really, he is a great responsibility to me, Mrs. Van Rensselaer! Why, +where did Miss Hathaway go? She seems to be such a bright, dashing young +woman. Really, one meets few American girls so royally beautiful! Yes, +as I was saying, Edward is a terrible responsibility to me. Even now I +am obliged to hurry away because he has just arrived here in town, and I +must meet him at his hotel. That is the worst of not having a house of +your own! To think of poor, dear Edward stopping at a _hotel_!" + +"Which one?" gasped Clarice. Receiving the information, she abruptly +excused herself from Lady Helene, who immediately decided that some +Americans had very poor manners. + +While Clarice drove rapidly toward Livingston's hotel, Hope, in eager +haste, was literally throwing things in a trunk that had been pulled +into the center of the room. Little Louisa, no less excited and eager, +assisted. + +"To think, my Louisa," laughed the girl, "that we are going back to our +West--_home_--again, away from all this fuss and foolishness! Oh, don't +be so particular, dear. Throw them in any way, just so they get in! Our +train leaves at twelve, and I have telephoned for tickets, state-room +and everything. Isn't it _grand_? Mamma will be furious! But dear old +Dad, won't he be glad! He's so lonesome for me, Louisa. He says he can +hardly exist there without me! And Jim, and Sydney, and--everyone! Oh, I +am wild for my horses and the prairie again! And you've got to be nice +to Syd! Yes, dear, it's your _duty_. Can't you see it? If you don't, the +poor boy will go to the bad _altogether_, and something _dreadful_ will +happen to him! And it will be all your fault!" Which statement sent +Louisa into a paroxysm of tears, not altogether sorrowful. + +"You will spoil dose _beautiful_ clothes!" she finally exclaimed, +looking in dismay through her tears at the reckless packer. + +"It makes no difference," laughed Hope. "What are _clothes_! We will +have the rest sent on after us. I suppose we've forgotten half what we +really need, but that doesn't matter, either, does it, my Louisa?" + +Louisa dried her tears and assisted until the trunk was packed and +strapped. Then they took hold of hands and danced like children around +it. Suddenly Hope stopped, her face growing white and fearful. + +"_If he shouldn't forgive me!_" she exclaimed softly. + +"Ah, but he lofs you!" said Louisa. + +At that moment Mrs. Van Rensselaer opened the door and looked in. + +"My dear," she began, then stopped in amazement. "What in the +world----Why, you are going away!" + +"Yes," replied Hope, putting her head down upon Clarice's soft evening +wrap. "I am going back to----" + +"But he has come to you, dear, and he is waiting right here in the +hall!" + +"No, no!" breathed the girl. + +"But he _is_!" exclaimed Clarice, gently pushing the girl, still in all +her white evening glory of gown, into the great hall. "And he carries +his arm in a sling, so _do_ be careful!" she admonished, closing the +door upon her. + +From below came the indistinct murmur of many voices. Under the red +glare of the lamp at the head of the broad staircase Livingston and Hope +met in a happiness too great for words. + +"Louisa," said Clarice Van Rensselaer, from her seat upon the trunk, "I +hope you see it your duty to make a man of Sydney." + +"_A man_," replied Louisa indignantly, "he is already de greatest man in +all de whole world, and _I lof him_!" + + +FINIS. + + + * * * * * + + +TRANSCRIBER NOTES: + +Punctuation corrected without note. + +page 48: "through" changed to "though" (as though talking to herself). + +page 95: "bloodthristy" changed to "bloodthirsty" (more bloodthirsty +than she suspected). + +page 123: "protuded" changed to "protruded" (teeth protruded from her +thin lips). + +page 303: "upon" removed from text as redundant (patting him upon the +head). + +page 369: "close" changed to "closed" (just before the flap of the white +tent closed upon her). + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hope Hathaway, by Frances Parker + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOPE HATHAWAY *** + +***** This file should be named 36629.txt or 36629.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/6/2/36629/ + +Produced by Peter Vachuska, Pat McCoy, Stephen Hope 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. 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