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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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